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chrollohearttags · 7 months

Text

kinktober day nine

character: connie springer

show: attack on titan

kink: anal

word count: 1.9k

content + themes: sex toys (rose, spreader bar, butt plug, anal beads, etc), spit play, fingering, squirting + creaming, choking, reader calls him daddy and papi, baby oil, creampie in a, he is so fucking vocal my goodness, rapper connie/hairstylist reader bc I haven’t written for them in a while.

📝: I hope y’all are still fucking with my kinktober posts. Even though I’m a little delayed with them.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.

dating a rapper was not something for the weak. It was one thing you had heard constantly since your time, working as a hairstylist in the heart of Miami. In a city filled with would-be Instagram models and ladies looking for a come up by marrying some famous athlete or musician, you’d hear the horror stories of how their pursuits had gone wrong. Some left with emotional scars from being led on, others left with a child and little to no support from the fathers. It was a mess to say the least. But the same could not be said when the famed artist and one fourth of the Dead Boys Society, Connie Springer aka Prince Cee, entered your salon…or rather you’d say, for the same reasons. From the second he laid his eyes on you, he was smitten. He was rather familiar with your work and asked to come in for a color job and to put some designs on his head to match his nails he had just gotten manicured. You were more than happy to oblige. Thinking that if for nothing else, he’d make great publicity for your business. What you didn’t count on was falling as hard as you did for the artist! From the second he entered your shop, Connie was such a vibe. Sweet, respectful and so hilarious. He had you cracking up the entire time. As a way to thank you on such short notice, he gave you free tickets, extra pay and asked if he could have the honor of taking you to dinner later in the week. Rather forward, but you liked that in a man. Skip almost six months and some change…and that same man who had walked in that day was now yours officially. Caught up in what could only be described as a whirlwind romance turned beautiful relationship, he had changed your life for the better! Traveling, being lowkey and making love to one another when the time permits. Fucking on islands or the at high rise condo you called home.

by far the healthiest relationship you’d ever had and you had no plans of coming up off of him anytime soon. Especially when the things he did to you…no other man could ever dream of. It was almost your one year anniversary and Connie had gone all out planning a surprise. Gifting you expensive jewelry, eternal roses, a stay in the Maldives and the keys to your second salon. Needless to say, you were overcome with joy. And he didn’t leave empty handed either but you gifted him a new chain, grill and watch. Along with a giant gift box full of his favorite things; shoes, designer clothes and ten bands. You loved a little different when you dated in your tax bracket. But perhaps the best gift of all was not any of those but it was what awaited at the hotel. A bed scattered with rose petals, wine and…some other treasures. Ones that he was going to take great pleasure in using on you. Intense kissing ensued the second you got behind shut doors. Clothes being torn off and tongues clashing in a haze of passion. Fast forward and the next thing you know:

“Ooh..fuck. Connie…”

here you were, howling at the ceiling with your legs spread ten inches apart, courtesy of the bar between your ankles with metal cuffs surrounding them. Your wrists lie suspended in the middle of it and you were entirely under his control. Not that you minded too much. Especially when the plethora of sensations he was inflicting on your body hit all at once. Rubbing on those sensitive, erect nipples whilst the steel of his tongue ring scoured all over your delectable little cunt. Repeatedly prodding at your clit and drumming up a trail of creamy arousal, that was currently dripping down to that puckering asshole..which was also a little preoccupied with a bejeweled plug. It was so sexy and Connie was having his absolute way with you. “Don’t worry, mami. Just keep puttin’ it in my face. Imma let you come soon. Lemme’ enjoy this shit a lil’ bit longer.” That drowsy drawl of his instantly causing your privates to thump. It was something about that voice that got you all worked up. Currently sprawled across the bed in nothing more than his boxers and jewelry, Connie grasped your plush thighs with his hands, sucking on those fat lips and folds..purely enjoying the flavor of your essence. “..’Dis pussy so good, baby. Goddamn.” Even so, he craved a little more tonight. It was no coincidence that you were sporting that toy in your other entrance. Because whilst he was having his fill of your sweet sex, he’d work to train that little hole; stretching and stuffing you with a string of beads designed for this, lubing you up and finally, letting you sport that cute plug. Just for his viewing pleasure though, he’d slick that pretty brown skin of yours up with oil. It was like an adult flick, just for his viewing and tasting pleasure. He’d slowly push two fingers into your core, gently working them in and out of your tightness..his hand intermittently slipping between his thighs to stroke his cock. He was getting extremely aroused at the thought of what was to come. Growing far more excited as he thought about getting to explore that pretty little asshole. Puckering and eagerly awaiting him..suddenly, he’d withdraw and drag a trail of saliva along with him, feeding you a kiss to let you get a sample.

“Mmm, damn. Can’t wait to fuck you, baby..can’t wait to fuck that lil’ asshole.” Almost drowsy and drunk off of your essence. Connie then reached over to retrieve the tiny bottle of condensed lubricant to coat himself and your hole. In one fell swoop, he’d shuffle those boxers down his waistline and let his length spring forth. His swollen tip pulsating red and emitting slippery precum as he laid it flat across your slit. Waiting patiently, you’d find yourself huffing in anticipation..wondering how it would feel. He’d done ample prep so now, it was time for the real thing. Spread wide open, (y/n) chewed profusely at your bottom lip as he’d slowly remove that plug; toiling his thumb pad over the entrance.

“You ready f’r this dick, mama? Hmm?..” questioning sweetly whilst slicking you up with a trail of spit. “Beg for it. Tell me how much you want that shit..” and you had no issue doing so. Begging him and whimpering in that sweet little tone. “Fuck me..put that dick in my ass, please..wanna feel you so deep.” It was as you were pleading your case, you’d feel a rather interesting sensation. That swollen member pushing through your tight bundle of nerves, filling you in an instant. Those brown eyes expanded to the width of quarters and your breath hitched within the back of your throat. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt..warm, full and so goddamn good! But you weren’t the only one loving the sensation of your body right now. Tossing his head back, Connie shuddered with only half of his shaft embedded in you. But still stuffing you to the brim..he didn’t know for sure how long he’d last in it, as this was his first time doing anal as well but he’d enjoy every moment! Grasping the backs on your pinned legs, he’d ensure that you were okay for him to start moving and then proceed..

“There we go…just stay still and keep them’ eyes on me, okay?” Those rose petals pressed to your skin as you slicked with sweat and oil, lying there as you allowed him to delve deeper. Starting out with a slow pace, Connie began bucking his hips forward and developing a rhythm. Sucking his teeth to try and grit through it. He didn’t want to bust too quickly and embarrass himself but it was too much..so he’d eventually speed up and gather his bearings. That’s when he’d truly find his footing; fucking you the way he was supposed to!

“Just like that, baby. Just like that..feel good, mama? Yeah, you gon’ come for me, ain’t you?” Cooing whilst slipping a thumb between your lips. Nodding with a pathetic whimper. “Yes, papi. Keep fucking me..that dick feels so good in my ass.” “And you takin’ that muhfucka’ so good, baby. Shit…”

encouraging you as he could feel himself swelling inside of you..growing by the second. He couldn’t take it. Especially when he felt you twitching around his entire shaft and watching that pussy drip with cream from the impact. It was unbelievable how wet you had gotten from getting your asshole pounded. Those strokes turned from gentle and repetitive to fast and sporadic. He couldn’t stay still any longer nor could he feign off his urges to fuck you like an animal! Grasping for both your bars and the headboard, he’d free your wrists from the confines with one click, only to prompt you to use them elsewhere. “Grab that toy, baby. Play with that pussy real quick. Know she wet as hell f’r me.” Not even halting to give you the instructions. Only digging deeper and deeper. Grasping for the pink rose device, you’d make haste in clicking the on switch as you placed the suction part directly on your clit. The zaps of vibration combined with that euphoric fullness had you ready to shoot from the bed but alas, you weren’t done quite yet and neither was he! Those hazel eyes glaring down at you in absolute adoration as he whispered sweet nothings over your lips. Telling you how pretty you looked, how you were his good girl and that he loved you so much. Constantly rumbling on without a single breath. He was running on pure adrenaline and just at the moment; knowing that his impending climax was near.

“Fuck…fuuuuck me. Yes, stretch this ass. Don’t stop, please..”

“Not ‘till I nut all in this bitch, baby. Not till I fill you—“

at that very moment, his inflated words came to a halt and you’d watch as Connie’s face began to contort in pleasure. You knew he had just broken stride and next thing you knew, he’d halt in his tracks, but those warm strings began pumping into you, just as he promised. Stuffing you with ropes full of cum. It was the best thing you’d ever experienced. Shortly thereafter, that rose would bring you to your peak and a stream of squirt shot up against his abs. Finding yourself flailing around in pure bliss. Reality seemed to have faded for both of you in that split second, but you’d come back to as you basked in the afterglow together. Caressing the side of his face, (y/n) pulled him..

“I need a kiss. C’mere.” Shoving his tongue into your jaws as he clutched a hand around your throat. Hands down, this was the best night of your life. One you’d cherish for a long time.

“Happy anniversary, ma. I love you.”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

@greenieweeniesworld @spaceforher @anubisisthebomb @crazychaoticizzy @makaylasierra789 @momobaby227 @certified-stargirl @thickbihhwitdagapp @kameko-ko @valentineluvu @mukurosbracup @prettypink-princesss @bleach-your-panties @astrokatsuki

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5eraphim · 4 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/5eraphim/706289447610761216/medic-or-engineer-with-someone-who-ran-away-on

you touch on the idea of collars briefly at the end of this - i love it. i feel like engie specifically would stick a shock collar on just to make sure attitude is kept in check, complete with a little tag with his title on it (whether it be daddy or sir or whatever)

Character: The Engineer 🦫 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M ( MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: yandere, x reader, abduction, mind games, possessiveness, NSFW mention, dehumanization, forced domestication, reader is kept gender neutral

Word Count: 750

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

From your perspective, the collar was a cruel physical reminder of your place, forever shackled to Engie's side as his enduring live-in hostage. An untamperable heavy-industrial device which clipped your wings and effectively nullified any resilience you tried to hold onto or any kind of hope to fight him off. Let alone ever regain your freedom. With this painfully literal weight around your shoulders, the grief felt altogether too much to endure. It's not like he'd officially "won" by forcing you to wear a collar, but the collar was as depressing as it was humiliating.

From Engie's perspective, the collar was, at least at first, little more than a fun side project. An electrical collar designed to keep his favorite test subject from escaping confinement, strong enough to prevent human tampering from the inside. But as he understood exactly how it made you feel so domesticated and broken down, the more it spurs him on.

The slightest consolation you had to comfort yourself with pertaining to the shock collar and a tracking device within, at least you could trust Engie to design something comfortable and practical. Something nearly impossible for you to chip away at or to break by yourself. (As if any other Conagers would help you escape if you asked.)

It wouldn't be painfully tight or abrase your skin. Engie would be sure to pad the inside generously to keep the cold, hard metal from damaging your neck. Still, while this protects you, it has the unfortunate side effect of making the device much bulkier, forcing you to be almost always aware of the device strapped around your neck's sensitive skin.

Engie likes to mindlessly drum his fingers against the metal when the two of you are cuddling or run his thumb along the area where the lock is connected to the collar. Especially loves the sound of his gloves squicking as they rub against the collar.

Nothing is sexier to him than thinking about you stripped down in nothing but the collar, warming his bed at night, waiting faithfully for him to return home after a long day. It really fuels his possessive side to see you shackled with his collar, without any clothes to hide behind and nowhere to run, forever bound to his bedside by the threat of force. He's also turned on thinking about you desperately trying to cling to your inner resilience and attempting pitifully to fight back. Knowing you're not entirely mind-broken yet but still have that helpless look in your eye and a kind of limp quietness on account of the exhaustion that fuels his ego and libido.

It's painful to imagine breaking free now. You've been shocked as punishment for bad behavior before, and you didn't want to think about what you'd feel if you tried to go out of bounds now. Engie would also install a physical hook on the back of the collar, giving him the option to lock or chain you down physically with some kind of a leash if he feels like it. (Additionally, as a shorter guy, he likes that he has the option to force you to look up at him by grabbing onto the collar and craning your neck upward to look him in the eye.)

If you still try to fight him back and refuse to give in and let him take control, Engie would be more than happy to whip you up a pair of locking cuffs to match the collar and to see how long you want to resist while you're forced to entirely rely on him.

Sooner than you anticipated, the paranoia of being forced to live like this caught up with you. Feeling endlessly on edge, aware of the weight around your neck keeping you from letting your guard down around Engie.

Always looking over your shoulder, expecting to see him behind you when you thought you were alone. The psychological toll of having to live like this was almost as bad as the physical toll. With every passing day, you feared your grip on reality, your memories of a life outside of the Conagher family land slipping from your mind as you were reprogrammed in real-time against your will to become nothing but a subhuman docile and well-behaved pet.

The name Conager is engraved on the back, but yours isn't; as far as Engie is concerned, you're his property first and foremost and a person of your own second.

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raydom-gamer · 1 year

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So I'm curious because this is gone through my head quite a few times and either Lucifer is metal as fuck or it proves that Lucifer and his brothers were not supposed to survive the fall. Now during this entire rant I will have nothing to do with Satan because none of his marks if he has any wood kind of qualify since he is a pure demon and not a fallen angel to demon. No hate on Satan but his Angel design shouldn't really hold any weight in this conspiracy/debate.

Spoilers for anyone who has not gotten past chapter 8 and above chapters or played the Angelic event.

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So there's a conspiracy theory going around that the mark on the demon Brothers are actually from when they were angels and as they were falling from grace the jewelry (which is made out of holy or blessed metal) actually burn their skin.

This could easily be just a rumor because it's not officially Canon but there are design hints that show that it might be possible. The two main factors are Mammon and Beelzebub.

Sorry these are blurry, but you can see the white marks on Mammon and the little bit of black marks that are peeking out at the top of Beelzebub's jacket and tank top.

As you can see where the golden jewelry is on their body it's very similar but not quite a match which could be possible that as they were falling the jewelry was breaking off or they were tearing it off because it was burning their flesh. We also can't see if these marks are also on both of their arms and Beel's stomach.

And again this could always just be a coincidence that their demon marks happen to match the jewelry that was on their body when they are angels because unlike their brothers we can't really match whether or not it was because of the jewelry. Which can also be debunked if you look at the other brothers.

Asmodeus could possibly have marks but due to his demon shirt vest being in the same position covering his neck and just there's no evidence of him being burned from the metal on his angel outfit. Asmo also his sleeve cuffs cover up where his bracelets are and the leg that was wrapped in the gold medal is also the leg that has a full pants leg. He has mentioned before that he thinks that people find him unattractive because he's no longer an angel so he could be purposely covering up the marks or he just happens to like that style of outfits. Asmodeus also has marks on his arms which could come from the fact that he is now a demon or it could even be a type of tattoo because of how it's designed with one of them being outlined in pink.

Leviathan really isn't wearing any metal that I can see on his design the gold that I do see looks to be part of his clothing so that could just be gold lacing or gold fabric. He also has a similar design as Asmodeus of what looks to be diamond/scale markings that look sort of tattoo like again with the purple outline instead.

Belphegor is the only one that could be a hit or miss on this. He has marks on his neck that he also doesn't have any jewelry that would make these marks but again they could be part of him becoming a demon. But then you look at it as right foot and you can also see marks down his calf in a diagonal angle which is where his only jewelry as an angel was which had little Star pieces.

This could just be complete coincidence on his part or and again this is just speculation. It's possible because Beelzebub had caught Belphegor as they both fell from grace, Beel's marks don't quite match his jewelry. So it's possible that it was breaking apart and pieces of it hit Belphie in the side of the neck as it was falling apart because Beel holding Belphie above him. Beel's left arm is wrapped around Belphegor's waste and his right hand (dominant hand) is holding the side of Belphegor's head against his shoulder or chest. That way he would hit the ground first and would give Belphie something to land on in a slim chance to help his twin survives. Again, purely speculation but could any of you deny that Beelzebub wouldn't do that for his baby brother.

The whole point of me pointing all this out is the point out one demon who has a mark that doesn't make any sense if this theory is correct. I'm going to have to post underneath this because I've reached my photo limit to show what I'm referring to. So here is the link to that post if it doesn't have me underneath it ranting.

#OBEY ME #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me angel forum #obey me angst #obey me headcanons #obey me spoilers

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tiannasfanfic · 2 years

Text

Hit Points

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

[Masterlist] [Crossposted to AO3]

Summary: Eddie Munson loves it that you play in his campaigns. Even after playing in many of them, you can still really surprise him sometimes.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns. I took a break from smut writing to write something fluffy. ALL of my WIPS are up to scenes of heavy smut and gaaaaah.

CW: Nothing that I can think of. There's talk of D&D characters dying, but no details.

Word Count: 1,252

It was the end of a particularly brutal campaign.

Brutal for the players, that is. This one had been specially designed to be extra nightmarish.

Eddie Munson had been feeling kinda froggy while planning it. He had been feeling that way ever since the group had accused him of taking it easy on them last campaign. Which, admittedly, he had. It wasn’t on purpose though. He was only partially ashamed to admit that he half assed that one. He wasn’t fully ashamed because he had also been busy planning an anniversary weekend at the same time as he was planning the campaign. He’d never been with someone for a year before and had put a majority of his attention into that.

The anniversary weekend camping in the woods with you in his van was a rousing success.

The campaign, on the other hand, was not.

Rather than just admit it was his own fault, Eddie decided instead to crank the next one up to an eleven to teach you all a very important lesson.

Never gripe to the DM about his campaigns.

It was a suitable time to teach this lesson since these were new characters, they were low level, and this was a short campaign anyway.

The whole dungeon had been extremely difficult, making you all burn through most of your supplies, but it all came down to the final monster; a flying Eldritch monstrosity that your characters could barely touch. The table was filled with expressions of dismay and horror as the die rolled beautifully for Eddie, but no one else. Blows were dodged, spells were botched, and it didn’t take long before you all were on your last legs. It was going to take two rounds before the party was wiped and the game was over.

It was the top of the round and your turn. You sat there starting at the game mat with a thoughtful expression. You were silent, chewing on your bottom lip, and thinking carefully over your next move.

“Well, Princess?” Eddie finally asked after a few minutes, then tapped his wrist cuff like it was a watch. “Clock’s ticking.”

Eddie had met you not long after the incident in the Upside Down. While the town was still treating him like a pariah even after getting his name cleared, he never really expected that to change. At least he wasn’t wanted for murder, so he was just back to his regular old status of freak. But Eddie had to admit, now that he had more friends, it was a lot easier to deal with. He ended up spending a lot of time with his newfound crew after finally graduating, which now included hanging out at the video store where Steve and Robin worked. When you started working up there too, the two of you hit it off immediately. It didn’t take long before you were soon dating and soon after that were officially in a relationship.

When you showed an interest in playing D&D. Eddie started teaching you how to play, running one-person campaigns for you at home. While he loved doing this with you, he figured you’d lose interest before long like most people did. Contrary to that, you fell even more in love with the game than he was, if that were possible. His group took to you quickly since Eddie didn’t give them a choice in the matter, but they genuinely warmed up to you after a while.

“Give Y/N a damn minute, Eddie,” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “They’ve got one hit point left and they want to make this one count.”

You nodded in agreement with Erica but stayed quiet. Before Eddie could goad you further, you looked up at him.

“Can you describe the chamber we’re in again?” you asked. “And please be as detailed as possible.”

Eddie smirked, leaning his elbows on the table, and resting his chin in his hands as he gazed over at you.

“You’re not gonna escape me, Princess,” he said, batting his eyes at you.

“Wasn’t trying to,” you said seriously. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not missing anything important.”

He indulged your request, reading off the detailed description of the chamber you were all currently in. To access it, you all entered through a temple and fight down ten floors. The underground chamber was large enough that the monster could fly around in it comfortably. Near the beginning of this fight, one of the first botched spells had collapsed the doorway, sealed the chamber, and cut off escape. There was no other way out. The party had been very thorough in their search of the chamber before the monster found them. They hadn’t missed anything that could help.

After considering the game mat for another minute, you started asked about the chamber structure itself. You asked about the walls, the ceiling, the structural columns, everything. You left no detail unexamined. At this point, Eddie noticed the other players were actually patient for once, quietly listening while looking back and forth between the two of you like they were at a tennis match. They knew you never got any special treatment or hints or advantages being the DMs partner. He was almost harder on you than the other players in hopes of avoiding that accusation from happening. But they also knew if anyone could figure out Eddie’s thought process and understand his mind, it was you.

There was another period of silence while you thought things over again. Eddie could see your eyes shift between the various figures and tokens on the mat.

“And this place is old,” you said thoughtfully, sounding like you were talking to yourself.

“You’ve never seen a place more ancient, Princess,” Eddie said, then smirked. “And aren’t likely to again.”

You nodded then raised your gaze to Eddie with a look of determination so fiery it made him get goosebumps.

“How many hit points do the columns have?” you asked.

Eddie blinked.

Everyone else blinked.

That was a question no one had been prepared for.

“Uh, come again?” Dustin asked.

“Think about it,” you said, addressing the party, looking at each player in turn as you spoke. “We’re not leaving this cavern. No matter what we do during this turn, we will not survive. But we can make sure that thing doesn’t either. We take out those columns, we bring this whole place down on top of it.”

“And seal all the horrors of the temple away from the world,” Gareth said, realizing what you were saying.

“No one will ever be lost to this place ever again!” exclaimed Mike.

The Dice Gods seemed to be impressed by everyone’s sudden burst of drive, and fortune started favoring you all. The columns were easily dispatched before the monster’s next turn and the temple was brought down, wiping out the party AND the monster in the process.

Despite the fact everyone died, spirits were high. Everyone stayed afterwards to help clean up Dustin’s basement, excitedly talking about the campaign and praising Eddie for yet another fun adventure. Even you gave him credit for it, even though he knew full well that it was all on you. Had he killed everyone off like he originally planned, everyone would be moping, would’ve left immediately and you two would be cleaning up alone. But, instead, you made them all feel like heroes.

That ended up being the night Eddie decided he was going to ask you to marry him.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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mizukagami-takamagahara · 2 years

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One thing I end up thinking about a lot is the relationship between The Origin and Alpha 01.

At this time, both are characters we know very little about. We know what the Origin is to the BlazBlue story, but we really know nothing about what she was as a person, in her lifetime. With Alpha, we have her design and name, but everything else we can only glean through implication and assumption.

Now I’m not entirely sure about this, but between them, the only thing we know for certain was that the Origin was the first PFD to make it to the Amaterasu Unit.

I may be misremembering- correct me with sources if I’m wrong- but I don’t think we know for sure that she was the first PFD overall (within her line or otherwise) OR that she was even the first to be sent into the Boundary. All we know as absolute fact is that she was the first that made it to their goal, the one who took over the Amaterasu Unit, and the one who functionally ‘gave’ or ‘earned’ souls to/for all her ‘sister’ units.

As for Alpha, given her name and her design, she seems to be one of the Boundary Interface Prime Field Devices, like Lambda, Mu, and Nu. We absolutely don’t know that for sure, though. We also don’t know when she existed- was it during the Origin’s era, or early in the BlazBlue era/world/possibility? Or did she appear in both? Further, what on earth is her connection to Ragna- assuming there is one to begin with.

I do believe there is some link. Another creator I’m aware of, the man behind Fairy Tail and Eden’s Zero, likes to make characters that look the same for Doylist reasons- they’re a reference for himself and the readers, but don’t mean anything in canon/in universe. It’s my understanding that Mori isn’t doing that. Similarities between characters in the overall BlazBlue series have, thus far, almost always been Watsonian- that is to say, there is an in-story reason behind them.

With that on my mind, I am positive that Alpha and Ragna look alike for a purposeful reason. One that I desperately hope we will get enough future BlazBlue content to learn about.

My current wild, off-the-cuff, working theory is that Alpha originates from the pre-BlazBlue world, the one that created the Origin. One idea would be that Alpha was created before the Origin, perhaps within the same line of PFDs, and that she would therefore be a ‘big sister’ in the eyes of the Origin after they both gained their souls/sentience.

Alternatively, regardless of when she was made in relation to the Origin, I’d theorize that Alpha played a key part in the Prime Field War that led the Origin to recreate the world. I imagine Alpha fighting for her sisters during the Prime Field War, and ending up coming across as a ‘protector’ figure to the Origin.

If this were true, Alpha would have a sort of special relationship with the Origin trapped watching the war unfold from the Amaterasu Unit. It would be for this reason that, when making her new world, the world of BlazBlue that we know of, the Origin would base her ‘Central Fiction’ off of Alpha. Ragna would be created to fill Alpha’s role as the protector, the older sibling, the hero that the Origin saw her as.

But, for now, this is just some vague theory I have. It’s just how I imagine these plot threads would be resolved. Honestly, it doesn’t feel entirely BlazBlue to me, so I certainly won’t be surprised if I’m entirely off the mark when if we see these characters explored officially.

But, to summarize my main points;

I am confident that Alpha 01 and the Origin are not the same person.

I’m not convinced that the Origin was the first PFD at all; only that she was the first to acquire a soul and/or the first to make contact with the Amaterasu Unit.

I’m not sure that Ragna, as we know him, existed at all during the Origin’s lifetime. I theorize that she invented him, based on someone else in her life, when she created the BlazBlue world.

If the above is true, I believe Alpha would be that person.

Like I mentioned before, if anything from this theory has already been deconfirmed by canon, please let me know (with a source!) I get my fun in fandoms by treating them kind of like puzzles to solve; I wanna take my little clues and put together the most accurate picture I can.

#blazblue #blazblue central fiction #ragna the bloodedge #alpha 1 #prime field device #boundary interface prime field device #I see a lot of people in the fandom thinking that the origin and alpha are the same #or crediting the origin with a LOT of firsts that I don't THINK have been confirmed #zero shade ofc #it just kind of gets me thinking #honestly making this post did the same thing #now my brain won't stop going on about all the OTHER stuff we're still unclear on #I'd kill to know how events went down in the post CF world that led it to the epilogue we saw #ragna and terumi- the major players in pushing events- are supposedly absent from that world #but the rest of the cast seem to have made it to similar points in their lives #how did the ikaruga war go down without terumi messing with Jin's memories???#how did noel learn about her PFD life and reunite with and/or save her sisters???#etc etc I will never be able to sleep my brain is too full of blazblue #ao no imakagami #bb meta

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genderqueer-miharu · 5 months

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Anyways. Gonna rate all the caligula effect catharsis effect designs ready go

Shogo

[ID: Official art of Shogo's catharsis effect. /End ID]

8/10

Pretty nice overall. Nothing too crazy here though i guess since he's your first party member it makes sense. The cuffs are a nice detail that probably point to how trapped he feels by his past and in Mobius. The fact there's three of them with two on the same hand is also a nice hint to what happened with him in the real world. His sleeve being ripped in this one arm also seems to reference Ichika. The revolver looks badass not sure if it has some other meaning. Good design over all.

Kotono

[ID: Kotono's catharsis effect. /End ID]

6/10

This one confused me sorry. I have no idea how her skirt works or where do those white...belts? come from or connect? It's cool that that's where she keeps her arrows. And i just realized that the white fabric under her skirt are supposed to look like wings, which makes much more sense with her storyline and her original wish of wanting freedom. Still though there's a lot going on here and i don't know how to feel about most of it.

Kotaro

[ID: Kotaro's catharsis effect. /End ID]

7/10

Giant gauntlets!!! Not too many accessories or change in appearance here, which i guess you could say makes for Kotaro as a character. The only thing that i could see is that the armor that covers his arms kiiiiinda looks like a knight's armor? Not sure if that was intentional though. But anyways Kotaro is very much a "hit now talk later" kinda character so the giant gauntlets make sense with his brash personality. It also fits with his wish of wanting to be big and strong in Mobius. It would've been fun if the design had something that hinted at him being 14 in the real world. I like it though.

Kensuke

[ID: Kensuke's catharsis effect. /End ID]

6/10

This design doesn't really have much to talk about tbh. The catharsis effects i like most are the ones that change the appearance if the characters more and subtly hint parts of their characters and storylines through these. Kensuke just doesn't change much for my liking. I like how his claymore has those black stripes in the center that make it look like a keyboard, which points to kensuke's pursuit of music. He also has those petals behind his back that kinda look like wings? Specifically they remind me a lot of fairy wings which made me think of peter pan who you know could fly using fairy dust and had a fairy companion. Which definetely fits with the guy whose song and trauma are listed as Peter Pan Syndrome. The design is fine, wish there was more to it but the wings bumb it up for me.

Mifue

[ID: Mifue's catharsis effect. /End ID]

9/10

NOW we're talking i really like this design. First off, the mask looks cool as hell and second, it's a clever and interesting way of hinting at her backstory and trauma. Since Mifue has an eating disorder the mask covering her mouth serves as a way to showcase how she doesn't let any food in. I know there's mot much but i'm a fan of symbolism through character design and i like how this one accessory hints at one of the most prominent aspects in her story. Not much to say for the hammer though, apparently she was originally supposed to have a whip instead but the og caligula game couldn't work with that so they changed it to a hammer (and they did give Eiji and Stork a whip in overdose). Awesome design i like it

Suzuna

[ID: Suzuna's catharsis effect. /End ID]

7/10

I like a big ass hat so just for that i like this one. I can't really think of what it could represent. I guess maybe it could represent her shyness and how she hides herself. But yeah not sure if it could mean something deeper. It's fun that she has a giant spear, caligula games love to give the sweet soft spoken girl giant weapons like these and make them tanks.

Naruko

[ID: Naruko's catharsis effect. /End ID]

2/10

Girl sorry i love you but this look isn't it you got done dirty. She doesn't change her outfit at all, not even her hands become black like the other characters. All sge has is her backpack and the little drones which yeah makes sense she's obssessed with the internet and to get mire followers and the drones look like cameras which represent her wish for attention and recognition. But this design hust looks too boring i'm sorry

Izuru

[ID: Izuru's catharsis effect. /End ID]

8/10

This is another Mifue situation where he only has one accessory but i like how it hints to a specific aspect of his storyline. Again the mask just looks cool but it being on one half of his face is reference to the scar he gave himself in the real world. Him having a sword could also reference him playing the voilin cause it kinda looks like what you use to play it. I like this one really good

Ayana

[ID: Ayana's catharsis effect. /End ID]

9/10

Girl got a whole get up to handle that shot gun. It looks awesome so i'm glad they gave her this. You can say her having all this caution equipment references her fear of men and how she's cautious and on edge around them, as if she's literally dealing with something that could hurt her if she's not careful. Very crative way of talking about this.

Eiji

[ID: Eiji's catharsis effect. /End ID]

7/10

This fucker, mr perfect himself. Only reason why i'm giving him this much is because his tongue also changes with this effect, you can't see it here but at one point one of his sprite shows how his face looks like here and his tongue looks like a lizard's or something like that and it has piercing as well. Those black spots in the marks next to his mouth also turn out to be his skin literally ripping. Damn. The marks also look like flames which makes sense you know fire powers and also the uhh...whole deal with Kuchinashi.

#gonna continue with the caligula 2 cast later because unfortunately image limit exists #but have this

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pace02termansen · 2 years

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 12

Masterlist

Winding down from the frenzy of the last chapter... Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤

Word Count: 5.9k

Recommended song: "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy

“Mon amour, wake up.”

Pierre’s sleep-heavy voice rouses you from the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You’d fallen asleep to the sounds of his even breathing under the soothing touch of his thumb tracing patterns on your side.

You crack your eyes open to see him silhouetted by the white light of the waning moon, his bare chest left uncovered by the blanket slung low over his hips. The sight alone has your mind instantly jumping into overdrive, fighting the need to sleep with the need to continue ogling the bare skin a foot from your face.

“I let you sleep as long as I could,” he says softly, reaching behind him for his phone. “We have to be on the M1 in about half an hour.”

“Mmmph,” you groan, snuggling back under the blanket and closer to him, chasing the warmth radiating from him. “The sun isn’t even out.”

His chuckle shakes the bed. “I figured you would say that which is why I made you breakfast and picked out your clothes. All you have to do is brush your teeth and get dressed.”

You hum appreciatively and press a kiss to his bare sternum. “Is this how you’re going out today? Because I won’t complain but you might cause a few heart attacks.” A kiss to your temple is a small reward for your comment, as well as a concession.

"Don't worry, this is reserved only for you." He stretches an arm above his head, grinning when your eyes immediately are drawn to the way the muscles ripple and pull under his skin. You stare shamelessly as he flexes a little for your benefit, the action going straight to your head.

"As it should be." You bite your lip and let your fingertips dance over his chest, memorizing the way it rises and falls so predictably with each deep breath. Against your better judgement you trail kisses up over his pectoral and spot them along his shoulder, dragging another light chuckle from him.

"My love," he warns, voice tinted with mischief, "we don't have time."

"Oh I think we do." You continue your path over his collarbone and to the hollow of his throat. Taking advantage of his biggest weakness, you flick your tongue over his prominent adam’s apple. The move has his hand engulfing your upper arm, giving you a warning squeeze.

"As wonderful as this is" -he sucks in a sharp breath when your teeth graze his neck- "if I'm late Horner will kill me."

"What's new?" You say, but draw back. The mere mention of his name made you see red and shattered the moment. "Do you really want to go back to Red Bull after how they treated you?"

"No," he admits, slipping an arm around you and tugging you up and into a sitting position, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of lust. "But if I want a shot with a top team when my contract is up, I don’t have much choice."

"Where do you see yourself going?"

Pierre studies you as you slip into the clothes he had selected for you. Nothing fancy, just an AlphaTauri branded navy and white hoodie and some light wash jeans. You don't miss the way his lips twitch upward when you notice it's his hoodie, his last name embroidered in block font on the cuff a dead giveaway even if the hoodie hadn't been ridiculously oversized on you.

Cheeky bastard.

"I think I would look good in sunshine yellow," he remarks. You make a show of looking him up and down under the pretense of imagining him in a Renault branded hoodie or their signature black race suit. Truthfully it was just another excuse to drink him in like the fine wine he was and recall how he had tasted on your tongue last night.

He would look good in any color on the grid but you don't grant him the satisfaction of pointing that out. Instead, you lean forward to toy with the waistband of the jeans he had hastily buttoned seconds earlier. "You and Daniel get along just fine." You snag him by the belt loops and yank him forward back onto the bed. "I think you should go to McLaren.”

“I’d still look good in orange.”

You wind your fingers under his waistband. “I think you’d look best wearing nothing at all, actually.”

“The time,” Pierre protests lightly when you pop open the button and undo the zipper. He groans when you yank the denim down around his thighs, finally submitting to your touch and lacing his fingers in your hair. Your lips explore the planes of his abdomen, any and all thoughts of speed abandoned on your end. "If you don't hurry up we're gonna be late."

"Maybe you'll just have to drive fast. I hear you’re good at that."

**********

"So how is it that they got your car all the way to London?"

"It's got its own private jet."

You roll your eyes and smack the hand resting on your thigh. His response is a light squeeze and a chuckle before he continues, "They've got a few spares they keep around for when drivers come to town. I can't be seen in a Mini or it would cause a scandal."

"Oh yes it would be quite tragic." His hand charts a dangerous path along your thigh. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slots a thumb between your legs and presses it tight to the apex of your thighs.

You snap your knees shut, effectively trapping his hand "Now you're just being cruel."

"Only dishing out what you did this morning," he points out and wiggles his hand free to rest on your knee instead. The message was clear: he had shaken you well enough for his liking and was perfectly content to leave you frustrated until he could get you home.

“So catch me up on what I’ve missed,” you say, determined to distract yourself from Pierre’s slight teasing. “What’s new in the life of the rising star in Formula 1?”

“Rising star,” Pierre mumbles and rolls his eyes. “Not yet, my love. Getting there, but not yet.”

“Please, you’re too modest. Last night when you fell asleep- you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, don't give me that look!” Pierre picks his jaw up off the floor and shakes his head as you continue, “I read plenty of articles that called you the next big thing, right up there with Max.”

The comparison didn't seem to sit right with him. He shifts in his seat, rolling words over on his tongue. “I’m sure you’re caught up then. I haven’t done anything really besides train and race.”

“I did notice you’ve beefed up a bit.”

“Yet another reason to thank Pyry.”

“At this point I should send him a fruit basket for his trouble.”

“Maybe you should.” Pierre grins, hand leaving your thigh for a split second to upshift. “What about you? How’s year four treating you?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” you groan. “My senior project is already killing me and I’ve only just started it. We have to design a building from the ground up- I mean I like architecture but I’m trying to be an engineer, not an architect. I dunno why I have to be the one to design a building! At this point it’s just a brick box.”

“Sounds challenging,” Pierre notes, flooring it when he merges onto the highway. Though the speed makes your stomach flip, you don’t miss a beat.

“My team doesn’t do much either, I’ve been doing most of it. I could rant for hours about it.”

Pierre glances at the clock, then back to you. The blue of his eyes is blocked by his signature purple tinted sunglasses, shielding them from the rising sun that casts him in a warm orange glow. “Humor me. We’ve got time.”

The hour and a half drive was by no means dull with Pierre's teasing touches and endless string of questioning along the way. He asked after every aspect of your life that had transpired in the last four months, only stopping you once in a while to interject with an opinion or anecdote. He didn't stop at your life either, even asking after Ben's relationship. You'd been happy to report that he had indeed wooed his crush and had officially asked him to be his boyfriend.

"Those secret French lessons paid off," Pierre jokes as he pulls up to the imposing glass fronted building that served as Red Bull Racing's headquarters. The sweeping curve of the entrance was flanked on either side by two-story red and yellow bulls; proof that the team's dramatics extended far past the track. Anyone approaching for the first time would have been intimidated by the sheer size of them that suggested they were ready to stomp on their competition at a moment’s notice.

“Guess it’s time.” You sigh and undo your seatbelt and fiddle with the buckle, doing your best to stall. There was no reason to be this nervous. You were no one to these people; the focus would be entirely on Pierre. You would be an afterthought, not that you minded because it made it easier to fade into the background.

Pierre picks up on your hesitation in a heartbeat. “I’ll keep them off your back,” he promises and you nod, the single sentence taking the edge off. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You reach for the door handle but Pierre tsks and you pause.

"You know better." You bite your lip to keep back the grin fighting its way to the surface as he comes around to open your door. He offers you his hand and you gladly take it and are pleasantly surprised when he threads his fingers through yours and heads for the entrance.

The atrium serving as the lobby is breathtakingly gorgeous. You had to hand it to the interior designer; they knew what they were doing. Sleek white marble floors are accented by red and yellow leather chairs scattered in small groups throughout the grand space. A tiered circular modern interpretation of a chandelier hangs above to offer guidance to the accountants, engineers and artists that weave through the lobby on their way to their respective wings or offices.

A waist high, glass front cabinet of drivers helmets serves as the reception desk. The unmistakable scent of a fresh cup of coffee hits you as you approach and the secretary hands a steaming paper cup to someone before they scurry off, presumably to a private office if they were important enough to warrant special attention. The first rays of morning sunlight glint off the silver Red Bull logo inlaid in the black marble behind the woman at the counter, making you squint.

"Bonjour Monsieur Gasly," she says in perfect French. "Ça va?"

"Bien," he says simply and switches to English for your benefit. "Has Christian come through yet?"

"He has," the woman says, glancing sidelong at you. Whatever conclusions she draws about you are insignificant enough that she writes you off immediately, angling her body towards Pierre and resting her chin in her hand. The posturing puts her ample chest on display, nearly spilling out of her billowing blouse, but Pierre's eyes don't wander. "He's not expecting you yet. Voulez-vous un cafe?"

"I'm good." The woman may have been determined to alienate you but Pierre was having none of it. Pierre turns to you, a grin playing on his face. This was your first test as an official couple and he intended to see how you handled it. "How about you, my love? Coffee?"

The woman's eyes slip to where your hand remains clasped in his. She cocks her head so slightly you think you might be imagining it until Pierre's grip tightens, a silent encouragement. Your confidence soars. If this was how Daniel's girlfriend felt when the two of them were out, you finally understood why they didn't hide. It was a rush knowing that everyone wanted Pierre but he only wanted you. No matter how blatantly women threw themselves at him, there was no doubt in your mind that he would never give a single one of them the light of day.

It was about damn time you afforded him the same unwavering commitment as he had shown you.

"No thank you," you reply sweetly with a mocking smile directed to the woman. You lean in and drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You might want to fix your shirt though, it’s… slipped. I know I'd hate for that to happen to me and no one tell me, especially at work. I don't think I'd ever recover from it."

Her face immediately turns scarlet as she stands straight and folds her arms over her chest. "If I were you-"

"Let Horner know I'm here," Pierre interrupts and it's somehow the hottest thing he's ever said. His purely commanding tone leaves no room for argument.

"Of course," she replies with a sharp smile in your direction that makes your spine stiffen. "Good luck. Christian is in rare form this morning."

"Just ignore it," Pierre murmurs and sweeps his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you across the cold marble and down a carpeted hall. "You handled that well.”

“I may have gotten a few pointers from Daniel’s lover.” Your soft smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The short interaction had sapped most of your confidence, leaving you on uneven footing. “I would rather not have to deal with that again soon though.”

“I can handle the women easy enough when I know I’ve got you to come home to.”

The tightness in your chest eases further when the hall opens into another startlingly white space, this time packed with rows and rows of navy cubicles. But that's not where your attention is drawn- instead, your gaze is immediately snagged by the case of trophies towering high along the back wall. Cups of every shape and size shine within, each one representing a different podium for the team achieved in various years and tracks.

"There must be over a hundred," you breathe, mesmerized by the glinting silver and intricate craftsmanship. The case was easily thirty feet tall and you had to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the ones in the top row. Each one told a story of blood, sweat and tears, each one earned by a driver who had made countless sacrifices to be where they were and finish on a podium.

"A hundred and eighty five to be exact," he counters, laughing at your amusement. "Your inner architect is screaming isn't it?"

"Only a little."

Pierre laughs outright at your white lie and tugs you along. "You can stare on the way out. I'll even show you which ones were Max's."

"Did you memorize what all his trophies look like?"

"Hey, meetings with engineers get boring. It's one of the more interesting ways to occupy your time when they are going on and on about fluid mechanics and thermodynamics- you know, stuff you understand but not me."

"Oh whatever, you enjoy those meetings and you know it."

"Only a little," he quotes.

People recognize him as you pass and some nod or give a simple greeting as they go about their morning but no one stops him to chat. The air feels a bit hostile, like no one knows what to do with him now that he's walking through the building after a nearly two year absence.

"Do you miss it?" You ask after he smiles at someone for the millionth time.

"I miss the team," he admits, "but not the management culture. My team was great- they supported me any way they could but it didn't help that Horner didn't exactly encourage them to believe in me. It's hard to crank out results when there's no one on your side."

"I'm on your side," you point out, nudging him with your hip. "You've got me forever, no takesies backsies."

"I'm grateful for it," he murmurs and gives your hand a squeeze. He hadn't let go once; not when he had to open a door or the two of you had to walk single file to let people pass.

The building was a labyrinth and if it wasn't for Pierre you'd have been lost the moment you set foot inside. He navigates the twisting halls with ease, having no need for the countless signs posted along the way.

He leads you up a set of steel stairs after what seems like ages. When he knocks on a heavy oak door, his grip on your hand turns possessive like he suspects the office’s occupant would try to rip you away from him.

“Morning.”

God, even the one word makes rage simmer in your veins. The voice precedes the man and Christian Horner swings open the door, a plastic smile splitting his face. He doesn't bother acknowledging you with a greeting, instead addressing his driver directly.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest.”

“A pretty face was needed around here,” Pierre snaps back without missing a beat. You bristle, free hand curling into a fist. If there was one person you didn’t mind teaching a lesson to, it was Horner. He had little respect for anyone he viewed as disposable- up to and including “underperforming” drivers.

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Sure. She can wait out here- you and I have terms to discuss.”

Fine, Horner wanted to play dirty? So could you. When it came to staring him down, you became fearless. He was the one person you refused to let intimidate you.

Drawing on your newly minted confidence you smile up at Pierre and silence the protest forming on his tongue with a grin. “Gimme a kiss, race winner.”

Pierre doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Cupping a hand to the back of his neck you draw him in and nip at his lower lip. The hand on your hip tightens at Christian's scoff but Pierre makes no move to break away. You linger a moment longer than necessary to drive your point home: you didn’t care what Horner had to say about you, you were here to stay and he would have to get used to it.

Pierre gives you a small, blissed out smile before dropping your hand and following Horner inside. The door clicks but doesn't shut all the way, Pierre leaving it cracked for your benefit.

Uninterested in eavesdropping on small talk, you lean on the metal railing to observe the research and development garage coming to life on the floor below. Hybrid engines in various stages of disassembly dot the space, small teams of mechanics and engineers tweaking components to reduce weight or increase horsepower. Pistons and valves are scrutinized and exchanged before being placed under stress to test their strength.

An FIA official in a red jacket wove through the garage to observe and jot notes down on a clipboard. He looks over the shoulder of an engineer pouring over formulas on a whiteboard, startling him when the official asks a question. Someone calls your name from below and you search for the origin, finally spotting the woman and waving back at her.

Management may have their qualms with Pierre but it was clear there were still some within the team that had his back. They were likely the same ones that knew he would have to leave the Red Bull umbrella to find any semblance of success. They may not have possessed the guts to stick their necks out for him when Horner had cut him but they were at least happy to see him back around headquarters.

"You sure you'll rise to the challenge?" Horner's question drags you back to the mezzanine.

"I'll take seventh. I'm only a few points away and we have plenty of races left."

He had five races to catch up to be exact. Pierre currently was comfortably ahead of the pack in ninth, Sainz was only three points ahead in eighth, and Norris ten points beyond in seventh. It would only take a DNF or two from his rivals and a few podiums to pass them up.

"Right," Horner starts. "There's a reason you've done so well this season and it's not luck. You've been racing exceptionally well and I don't want that to change."

"If there's something on your mind just get on with it." Pierre's voice is calm and collected in a way yours wouldn't be if you had been in his shoes. You've been dying to rip into Horner since the day he wrote Pierre off.

"There's been a fire in you the past few months since she has been gone-"

"Leave her out of this."

The tone sends a chill down your spine. It maintains the same level headedness that Pierre had perfected over the years and you had come to expect when he was backed against a wall, but it was laced with an unspoken threat. The intent was clear: he would walk out and abandon his chance for a seat at Red Bull if it meant protecting you.

You creep to the door to peer through the crack. Horner crosses his arms, a sly smile on his face. "You would sacrifice your chance at a championship winning seat for her? Everything you've worked so hard for, gone in a flash, because of her?"

"Without question," Pierre answers immediately. The conviction and commitment behind it nearly makes you stumble. "I'm sure there's plenty of other teams that would love to have me after the season I've had. She’s not going anywhere, so either you stop disrespecting her or I walk out."

You clench your fists, ready to burst in and demand Pierre stop being a fucking idiot. His long term plan saw him at another top team that would take care of him and nurture his skill- a long stint at Red Bull Racing was never in the cards. It wasn't an environment for everyone. Some people like Max thrived in it, letting the toxicity roll off their backs but for Pierre it was a cruel form of punishment. However, a seat at Red Bull for the 2022 season could mean the difference between an offer from Alpine and an offer from Haas when his contract was up for renewal.

The idea of seeing his number stickered to the floor in a Red Bull garage excites and intimidates you. Last time he hadn't been given the chance to prove himself. Would they still hold that against him? Knowing Christian, he probably would. On the other hand, it meant that they admitted their mistake in cutting him mid-season, whether they said it outright or not.

Pierre's redemption day was on the horizon and you couldn't wait to see the look on Horner's face when he finally won. And the longer Christian stays silent, the more potent the urge to throttle him grows.

Christian gives a slow clap. "Now there's the unwavering commitment that was missing during round one."

Your heart hammers in the dead silence as papers are shuffled. "Here's the contract. Terms are as discussed, you secure seventh in the world championship in 2021 and the second seat at Red Bull Racing is yours for the entire calendar in 2022. No demotions, substitutions, or shuffling of drivers unless medically necessary or mutually agreed upon by all affected parties."

"And the same spec car as the number one seat," Pierre insists, spine straight. "Same strategy."

Christian waves a hand. "Yes, that's in there too. Feel free to take a moment and read it over."

He does, allowing Christian time to pour a knuckle of whiskey and set the glass before Pierre. He pours himself an identical glass and waits until Pierre signs and initials all the boxes before raising it in acknowledgement.

"Congratulations. Welcome back to Red Bull- conditionally."

Pierre leaves the glass untouched and remains silent, staring his potential future team principal down. He gives the man no margin to question his abilities further, conveying all he needs to with a look that would have had you shaking at the knees. Even if you can't see his face, wrath radiates from him in waves and you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it when it explodes.

"Right then." Christian lowers the glass, his fake smile vanishing. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

"Don't worry. I'll deliver."

You step back and allow him to set the mood as he exits the office and slams the door behind him. Pierre sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "You heard all of that right?"

You nod. "You wouldn't have really walked out, right?"

"I almost did."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like you should know that he would choose you over all of this, that all of his dreams and everything he had sacrificed to achieve them thus far meant less to him than you did. How many times did he have to prove his unwavering commitment before you realized it was true?

Pierre laces his fingers through yours, the heat welcomed by your ice cold skin. It was as much a comfort to you as it was to him. "I just have to grab some things from Max's office and then we can head out."

His jaw is still set after his stand off with Christian and you want nothing more than to ease his mind. Publicly comforting him with a touch to his chest or a kiss to his neck was out of the question so you settle on temporary distraction.

"Hey, you know what I want to see?"

"What's that?"

"That room full of all the old chassis. You know, the one that they hold all the fancy virtual events in? I wanna see those."

"I think I should be able to get you back there." He veers down a hall and you yelp, pulled along by his momentum. His attitude brightens a little at your laugh. The grin he throws your way is your own personal sun, warming your soul.

"Hey- hold on." You pull him to a stop and lead him into an alcove. The inch of space between your chests is charged with electricity, begging to jump from one to the other.

"Can I help you?" He asks and grins down at you.

"No," you say nonchalantly. "Just wanted to be selfish for a second."

You rise up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He melts into you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other finds the small of your back. You side your tongue over his lower lip and he presses you against the door leading to who knew where and opens his mouth to you. You sigh into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and losing yourself in him.

Now that you had gotten over your anxiety, everything was so much easier. You know there's press roaming about the building and any number of them could pass by at any moment but you genuinely couldn't care less. Let them talk; you were over caring what anyone thought or said.

All that mattered was the man beneath your fingertips. You would endure a lifetime of insults if he was the one to soothe the wounds afterwards. As long as you both were happy, no one could come between you ever again.

Pierre pulls away when someone passes by and coughs quietly. "You're trouble," he murmurs, leaving an arm propped next to your head and effectively caging you in.

"And you're dangerous," you tease, tugging on his hair and exposing his throat enough to nip at it once. "Together we're the perfect pair."

He groans and leans away. "Keep that up and I might have to stay in London an extra week."

You slip out of his grasp and give him an unrestrained grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time." You spin on your heel and set off down the hall, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"You know where you're going?" He calls after you.

"Someone will point me in the right direction, I'm sure."

"Someone like me." He catches up to you and once again takes your hand in his. He was enjoying showing you off almost as much as you enjoyed hanging on him.

"Maybe we should head right to Max's office and hurry home, huh?"

"Maybe-"

"Pierre, there you are."

You both turn to a woman hustling up the hall after you. She’s slight and her brown curls bounce as she jogs to where the two of you pause at a bend. You glance up to Pierre to see if he's just as confused as you are.

"Hey Mary," he says cheerily. "How are you? Sorry I didn't check in with you when I got here."

"Oh it's fine- why aren't you in the Alpha samples I sent?” The woman props a fist on her hip and tips her head to the side. “I think I got your size right now that I’ve laid eyes on you. I was hoping for a shoot today since you've finally come by."

It takes you a moment to register that she's addressing you. You shoot Pierre a look and he offers you a tentative, closed off smile. "Um, what Alpha gear?"

The woman's chocolate brown eyes go wide. "The ones I've been sending to Pierre. Hoodies, dresses, jackets. All the stuff from the new line. They have been sending the samples to you, right?"

"Um, yeah I've gotten them," Pierre says, rubbing his neck. "I haven't given them to her though."

"Oh, I see!” Pink tinges Mary’s cheeks. “I must have missed a memo. I just thought that you'd want to do a shoot with her today, since we already had a quick one planned for you. After all, you talk about her all the time."

"He does?"

Mary nods. "Oh yes, we've all heard plenty about you. You're lucky to have someone so enamored with you. I just dropped off some more samples in Max's office as a little thank you for letting us steal him so often-"

"Okay, thank you Mary," Pierre says abruptly. "I'll get back to you on that."

Pierre steers you away and down the hall. "What was she talking about? Why would they want me to come by for a photo shoot?"

Pierre runs a hand through his hair and pauses outside Max's office. The Dutchman must have been away because Pierre pulls out his key and fits it in the lock. "I just- come on."

He waves you inside and you obey, letting him close the door and grant you some semblance of privacy before continuing.

"I never formally told anyone that we broke up. Most people came to their own conclusions once they didn't see you around for a while. Some people didn't get the message. Obviously Mary was one of them. I would still talk about you, I couldn't help myself. There was one shoot where Yuki and I were together and he mentioned off hand that you'd be a good brand ambassador. I tried to explain that it wouldn't work but Mary wouldn't hear it and she just kept sending me more and more samples.”

You draw a breath and interrupt his rambling. “But where-”

"I had it all in a box in my office but I struggled to concentrate with a reminder of you hanging over my head. I sent it over here to Max and that's where it's sat ever since. I used the excuse that Max was in town more often than I was and no one read too far into it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You whisper. "I would've taken them. I'm sure you got an earful from Mary."

"Would you have?” Pierre pauses, your silence in the face of his frustration speaking volumes. “I waited four months to hear from you. Tell me that sending you thousands of dollars in unreleased merch wouldn't have made you even more hesitant to come back to me."

Not knowing what else to say, you let your gaze fall to the carpet. Sending you expensive things would have felt something like a bribe, like he was trying to influence you with fancy clothes.

Pierre shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past now. We can take it home today and you can wear it when I take you for dinner and Alpha will get the press they’re after. Everyone will be happy.”

He wasn’t happy. That much was plain to see. He hadn’t been able to stomach seeing something intended for you, even that minute of a reminder had been too much for him to bear. God, you had thoroughly wrecked him. You were lucky that there were still enough pieces of him left to heal.

“I didn’t realize you were hurting so bad,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you cross the cramped space to him, stepping over piles of strewn paperwork carefully so as to not disturb whatever random order they were placed in. You don’t dare reach out to touch him as his shoulders slump, any and all forward momentum he’d gathered suddenly sapped.

“It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.”

Unable to let him suffer alone with his thoughts, you wrap your arms around his middle and let your cheek rest between his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to alienate you. I was waiting for you, too.”

“You needed space and I gave it to you.” His hand rests on your arm with a gentleness you’ve come to expect when he lays himself bare like this. “There were so many times I almost gave in to the impulse and just messaged you but I made myself wait. I didn’t want to rush it and make things worse. You always need time to think things through- I knew you would come around eventually. It didn’t make it any easier though.”

You rub soothing circles on his side as you blink back the tears that spring to your eyes. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I took so long and I’m sorry I made you wait. It had to have been torture-”

He turns in your embrace and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek, the metal of the ring on his middle finger biting into your flushed skin. “It’s alright. You had a lot to sort through and I had to respect that.”

“We lost so much time-”

“Hey,” he says softly, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “We’re together now. If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that you can’t let missed opportunities control you or else you’ll never be happy.”

You nod, swiping your sleeve under your eyes. “What did they send?” you ask, nodding towards the box overflowing with tan and navy threads.

“Pull up a chair,” Pierre suggests, “there’s a lot.”

You roll over Max’s desk chair and tug on Pierre’s arm. Once he gets the picture and sits, you settle in his lap. He winds an arm around your middle, the close contact already soothing your frazzled nerves.

“That better?” he murmurs.

“Much better.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

#my writing #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #pierre gasly fanfiction

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callboxkat · 3 years

Text

Banished (part 1)

Prompt: Banished

Author’s note: Mappy MerMay! (edit: I see the typo and I choose to keep it)

Summary: Janus has been banished from his pod for crimes that he did not commit. However, this merman’s bad luck is far from over. A mer is not meant to live on their own in the open ocean, and as one would expect, things do not go well. Enter: Florida Man.

Chapter Warnings: false accusations, past imprisonment, banishment, treating someone as an outcast, censored swearing, crying, death mentions

Word count: 2415

Banished Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

Ao3 Link

@badthingshappenbingo

...

“Janus, third child of Mariana and Glycon, you are hereby banished from this pod, and from all pods who condemn the nature of your crimes.”

Janus had known it was coming, but nevertheless, the merman felt the verdict stab through him like a harpoon. The water around him suddenly felt 10 degrees colder, and the walls of the chamber seemed to loom ever closer, suffocating him.

Banished.

Murmurs rippled through the small crowd. Scales shimmered as the gathered mers, most already hanging on the edges of the chamber, tried to distance themselves further from the outcast. From him.

“You will have until sunset to leave the reef. Should you be found within our territory after the sun sinks below the horizon, the penalty is death.”

Janus simply stared at the merwoman before him, holding herself tall in front of the ornate coral design upon the wall of the chamber, her face stony. Her verdict was final, and Janus knew it. It didn’t matter that he was innocent. Officially, he was a criminal. An outcast. Banished. Trying to fight her decision would only further tarnish his image, and most likely that of the family and friends he left behind.

A part of him didn’t care about that. But the part that did held his tongue.

Janus’s eyes shifted toward the back of the chamber, where he could see most of his family huddled together. His mother was crying, being held by his father. His siblings looked stunned. A part of Janus wanted to call out, to tell them to do something, even though he knew that there was nothing any of them could do to save him. He wasn’t sure they even believed him, that he had not committed these crimes. While they never told him so, their notably few visits while he was in prison spoke volumes.

His eyes slid back to the judge, and he dipped his head in bitter acceptance. His fists tightened, and the long, metal chain attacked to one of his arms clinked softly. It was there both to keep him trapped and to prevent him to use his electric abilities, as if he would ever do something so loathsome and barbaric, even if his family hadn’t been in the room.

The judge raised her hands, and the chamber began to empty. A couple of Janus’s siblings glanced back at him as they left, but mostly, the mers who had come for the show avoided looking at him now. They would not want to be associated with an outcast. He understood, even if anger gathered in his chest. Even his parents refused to look in his direction, and the glances his siblings spared him were brief.

Finally, when all who remained were Janus, the judge, and the guards, two off them swam to his sides and unlocked the chain from Janus’s wrist, one keeping a clawed hand at the back of Janus’s neck as a warning. The cuff was replaced with another, lighter, but permanent one. This one was etched with sharp symbols. Janus closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as it was locked in place, a permanent hindrance to how much of his electricity he could use without harming himself, a solemn marker of his fate, and a warning to all others of his crimes. He would never be taken into another pod, not with that on his wrist. Not unless he could somehow get somewhere far enough away that they might not know what it meant.

At last, the guards let him go. He was allowed to leave. To prepare for his departure, and to say goodbye.

Janus opened his eyes and looked up at the judge, who remained at her post, watching him. He knew that he was supposed to thank her for her mercy, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He figured that the “Go f*ck yourself” he actually wanted to say would do him and his family no favors, so he compromised and simply turned and swam from the room.

His life was over, in every way that mattered.

Outside, the bustling atmosphere of the reef seemed in sharp contrast to the somber mood within the chamber. Fish and other sea creatures weaved between glimmering mers. Cheerful gossip could be heard, as well as mers arguing over prices at colorful stalls, or calling out greetings to each other. Some kids seemed to be trying to see who could get the most pebbles to sail between the fork in a tall spire of coral.

It had been some time since Janus had been “free” this way, which only made the difference feel all the more staggering. To be suddenly thrust back into this normal part of life, even if only for the few hours they allowed him to prepare for his banishment, was… unsettling.

However, the atmosphere wasn’t quite the same as it had once been. None of the mers came close to him, Janus noted, choosing instead to take a longer path to avoid him, even as they acted as if nothing was wrong. As if it were a coincidence that they wanted to swim on the other side of the path. There had always been some nervousness that many mers tended to have around those with abilities like electricity or poison. But this was a whole level or two beyond that.

They knew. Of course they did. He was sure that everybody had been told of his “crimes”. The metal cuff on his wrist burned like a brand, but he refused to rub it, or to hide it with his other hand.

He swam away. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, but soon enough, he found himself at his destination

Of course. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere else.

It wasn’t his home that he found himself approaching, slowing his pace as it came into sight. Most of his family had said their good byes before his sentencing. Instead, he found himself at the home of his best friend: Roman.

Roman hadn’t been at Janus’s sentencing, but it seemed that the merman had somehow known he would come, and had been waiting for him. He was pacing, swimming back and forth between the two large, algae and sea star covered stones that marked the entrance to his property.

As Janus approached, Roman froze, and turned sharply towards him. His face was almost as red as the striping on his gorgeous tail, the pain in his eyes clearly visible with his long hair tied back.

“Janus,” he croaked, and pushed off of one of the rocks, swimming for Janus as fast as he could.

They crashed into each other, Roman’s arms encircling him. Janus choked on a surge of emotion and squeezed his best friend back. It was the first time they’d been this close to each other since his arrest.

“I’m sorry, Jan.”

“It’s okay,” he lied. Perhaps if he could convince Roman, Janus could believe it himself.

…

All too soon, the sky above the water began to turn pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was time to leave.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Roman asked.

The two mermen floated together at the edge of the reef. Behind them, bioluminescent lanterns had begun to glow, and the sounds of life had begun to lull as most everyone went home for the night. Everyone except for them. Janus had a bag strapped to his back, with what few supplies he had allowed himself to bring. Some food, his gloves—which still fit over the cuff that would forever mark him as an outcast, thankfully—some bandages, a compass, and two carvings: one of his family made just after his youngest sibling had been born, and one of Janus and Roman, smiling for the carver.

Roman and Janus had gone back to Janus’s home to fetch the supplies. It had been nice to have Roman there, for his support. Most of his family had avoided him, even though he could tell they were heartbroken. A couple of his siblings had told him good-bye, and to take care of himself. Only his littlest sibling, who probably knew very little of the situation, had hugged Janus. She’d grown, since he’d last seen her. Janus had remained resolutely calm as he clung to her for the last time.

“Of course I’ll be okay,” Janus lied, now, looking out at the dark water.

Roman looked unsure, but Janus only turned and offered a half smile.

“So, uh… where are you going to go?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked. Janus still didn’t know how to answer.

“Maybe I’ll find another pod to join,” he shrugged eventually.

Roman’s eyes went to the metal cuff on Janus’s wrist, letters etched within it to symbolize his condemnation. He knew as well as Janus did that no mer pod who knew its meaning would take him, not when it was so clear to see.

“Maybe I’ll cover it up,” Janus said, putting a hand over the cuff self-consciously. He did his best to seem casual about it. He’d been almost defiant, back in the busier part of the reef, but it felt different, with Roman.

“Maybe,” Roman agreed halfheartedly.

“You know those arm bands the guards wear? Maybe I’ll get something like that. Or I’ll get thicker gloves.”

“You are pretty good at weaving,” Roman allowed. “You could make them look nice.”

“Naturally.”

They looked out at the open water.

“You could add some beading,” Roman suggested.

“Sea glass,” Janus nodded.

Roman nodded vaguely. “Oh—Jan, I have something for you.” He took off his own pack and started to dig through it.

“I hope it’s not too heavy,” Janus said dryly. “I’ll probably have to swim pretty far. If you’re giving me one of those statues of yours, I’m going to have to say no.”

“Ah, shut up,” Roman said, smacking his arm lightly. A heartbroken look flashed briefly on his face, and he quickly went back to digging through his pack. “No, it’s… here.” He pulled something out with a small flourish. He looked at it for a second, as if hesitating, then handed it over.

It was a small, red scale, a little bigger than the pad of Janus’s thumb, attached to a cord.

Janus took it in careful hands. “One of yours?”

Roman shifted, tucking his hands behind his back. “Yeah. You know, so you don’t forget about me on all your marvelous adventures to come.”

“I’d never forget you, Roman.” Janus looked down at the scale for a few seconds, tilting it so it shimmered in the fading sunlight. He glanced up, biting his lip. “I’m sorry I don’t have any to give you.”

They glanced down at Janus’s tail. It was sleek, nearly black, with a thick yellow stripe down the center that flared out at the fin, with yellow hints at the fins on his sides and back as well. All in all, it wasn’t all that different from most mers’ tails, except that rather than scales, its surface was made up of smooth, thick skin.

“It’s okay,” Roman said. “I’ll remember you, anyway.”

Janus nodded. He put the necklace around his neck, but kept turning the scale in his hands.

Silence fell over them. Above, the sun seemed to dip further below the horizon, signaling just how little time they had left.

And then Roman began to cry.

“Sh*t,” said Janus, looking down at the ground. “Don’t do that. You’re embarrassing me.” You’re going to make me cry if you keep that up.

Roman shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying—I know you want to just act like it’s normal, like this is just a normal night, but—Janus, I’m never—” his voice broke, and he had to take a shuddering breath to continue—“I’m never going to see you again.”

Janus knew that. Of course he knew that. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“This f*cking sucks.”

Roman, still crying, nodded emphatically.

“Come here,” he sighed. He reached out and put his arms around Roman. They floated there for a moment, holding on to each other. Roman’s grip was so tight that it almost hurt. Janus tried to memorize the feeling of his bracelets where they rested against his back, the texture of his hair against the side of his face, the way the merman felt in his arms.

“I just… How are you—how are you just okay with this? Why aren’t you yelling and screaming? Why aren’t you angry? Go fight them on this! Appeal or something. Fight. You’re… it’s not like you to just accept this.”

“It won’t change anything.” Janus said, his chin on Roman’s shoulder.

“You could at least… try.”

“I did try, Roman. I promise you I tried.” All the yelling and swearing and fighting in the world had gotten Janus absolutely nowhere. All his attempts to prove his innocence had been stricken down. One last attempt at an appeal would simply be rejected. It was too late to try, with the sun nearly set; and doing his trial over again would made no difference, anyway. Janus’s fate had been decided the moment he was arrested.

“Damnit,” Roman mumbled. Somehow, he managed to squeeze Janus tighter.

Normally, Janus was not the most cuddly mer in the ocean. But he’d allow it, tonight. …For Roman’s sake.

“What if I let you stay here?” Roman asked. “I could hide you. My parents left me a pretty big property. It has plenty of hiding spaces.”

Janus shook his head. “They’d figure it out eventually. And then they’d just kill us both.”

“Then… then I’ll come with you.”

Janus shook his head. “Roman, what about Patty? We can’t take them with us.”

Roman turned his head briefly away. He didn’t answer, other than to drop his head down so that his forehead rested on Janus’s shoulder, defeated. He never could have abandoned his sibling, or forced them to share Janus’s fate.

The sun sank lower.

“Just tell me you’re going to be okay,” Roman sniveled. “Really. Promise me.”

“Of course I’m going to be okay,” Janus lied. “I promise.”

It was okay that Roman clearly didn’t believe him. It was just what he was supposed to say, wasn’t it?

…

The moment that Janus was far enough from the reef that Roman could no longer see him, Janus broke. He just hadn’t wanted Roman to see him cry.

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wingedwizardcat · 3 years

Text

For @gingerpilotweek Day 2: Stranded Together

Warning for discussion of reconditioning.

“This is a bloody awful attempt at a kidnapping.” Hux stated with barely concealed amusement, watching the Resistance pilot attempt to gain control of the escape pod he’d forced them both into, “Couldn’t you have chosen a pod that wasn’t undergoing maintenance? Or is this another element of your simply incredible plan?”

“Shut up, Hux.” Poe muttered, fiddling with the wires he’d managed to free from beneath the control dashboard and attempting to repair the navigation of the pod. Taking Hux had been a spur of the moment decision after he’d stolen the data he was looking for from the First Order ship and already he regretted dragging the ginger along, “The circuit board is missing completely, I can’t even tell how much power this thing has left.”

“Move aside.” The General took hold of his shoulder and forcibly moved him to get closer to the electronics, examining what they were left with, “We need to use as little power as possible, I doubt there’s enough to get us to the nearest planet with life support intact.”

“Wait, you were cuffed...” Poe realised, glancing back at the seat where Hux had been sitting but the cuffs were now resting instead.

“I was taught to escape cuffs at the age of five.” the ginger scoffed, slipping off his coat and taking the time to carefully fold it before he pushed his sleeves up and got to work on the wiring.

“Five? Isn’t that a little young to start teaching someone about escaping cuffs?”

“It’s a necessary skill in war.”

“So all you’ve ever known is war?”

“Isn’t that the same for you?” Hux glanced back at him, “A war does not only have one side. Surely you were also raised to fight?”

“Actually no.” Poe admitted, “My parents were against me joining the Resistance. They wanted me to be away from any fighting.”

The ginger said nothing in response, merely considering the other’s words as he got back to work on the task at hand.

“You don’t have to keep fighting, you could always walk away.”

“We haven’t even been in here an hour yet, Dameron, let a little more time pass before you try and recruit me.”

“What’s the verdict?” Poe asked, looking up as the lights went out and Hux moved to sit down next to him, “Bad news, right?”

“Three hours of air, if we’re lucky.” the General sighed, “I’ve turned all the propulsion systems off, leaving only basic life support. An emergency message is being broadcast on a loop on Resistance wavelengths.”

“Why not Order frequencies? Surely they’re closer?”

“They will shoot us down, as is protocol. The Order doesn’t rescue kidnapped Generals, they presume desertion and eliminate the traitor.”

“That seems... harsh.”

“It’s necessary. Anyway, don’t the Resistance travel in packs? Where’s your back-up?”

“This isn’t an official mission. They told me not to do it, I went ahead anyway and now we’re here.”

“Your incompetence knows no bounds.” the ginger murmured, but his tone was teasing, “If you were under my command, I’d have sent you to reconditioning long ago.”

“Since you’re a traitor in the Order’s eyes, it won’t matter if you tell me what reconditioning actually is, right? Finn’s mentioned it, but you’ve probably got more understanding of how it works.”

“It’s a form of coercion designed to prevent thoughts of freedom and rebellion. Subjects are... challenged... with stimuli and encouraged to take a different line of thought.”

“Who designed it?”

“My father.”

“So you’ve-?”

“Yes, I was his test subject for a time. Before it became apparant that the process can be damaging if used repeatedly over a small amount of time.”

“If it was used repeatedly on you, does that mean...?”

“He needed to repeat the process to confirm his results, but yes, there was a point where my thoughts were not particularly positive towards the Order. After his treatment...” he looked down at his hands, “It hardly matters, Dameron. I’m not a victim or someone who can be saved.”

“Everyone can be saved. You may not be able to change your actions or fix the past, but you don’t have to be the same person in the future.”

“You seem more okay with this than I would have expected. Being labelled as a traitor and facing certain death, I mean.”

“If we keep talking we’ll use up the air far quicker.”

“I’m not sitting in silence, Hux.”

“While the traitor tag is admittedly somewhat offensive, perhaps my disappearance will give my officers something to consider about their own service to Supreme Leader Ren. Many are loyal to me, losing me may cause them to question the Order which will only help to destabalise Ren’s already shambolic rule.”

“So, in theory, if we were to survive this and you joined the Resistance as a prominent Order defector, would there be a revolt of some kind?”

“Ren’s powers are feared, that would keep many from trying to walk away, but I’d hope that there would be some who would if that were the situation.”

A beep startled them slightly and Poe moved to check the barely functioning radar, “That’s one of ours!” he said with relief, turning to face the ginger, “It looks like we may get to try out that theory afterall!”

“I don’t have to wear the same clothing, do I? I’m far too pale for neutrals.” Hux sighed, getting to his feet and unrolling his sleeves. He carefully pulled on his gaberwool coat and tidied his appearance by touch alone, “And I’d like to keep my coat, even if the General stripes will need to be removed.”

“You want to keep your coat?”

“Only Generals and above are allowed to wear a coat like this, it took a lot of hard work to earn it. I am... was... the youngest General in either the Empire or the Order. It may just be a coat-”

“But it means something to you. I get it. You can keep the coat and we’ll see about the stripes, we could do with an experienced military man.”

“Isn’t General Organa the one to decide on the fate of prisoners?”

“Yeah, but I can speak to her on your behalf.”

“And what’s in it for you?”

The pod shook slightly as it was brought aboard a small Resistance cruiser.

“Maybe I’d like to see you make something of yourself instead of destroying more planets.” Poe replied, looking him over, “And maybe I’d like to get to know the man beneath the cold exterior.”

#gingerpilotweek #gingerpilot #armitage hux #poe dameron #words by cat

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davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

now that it's over, thoughts on Bendis' Superman as a whole?

pretenderoftheeast said: So, thoughts on Bendis' Superman and Action Comics' tenure altogether and separately now that it's over?

Anonymous said: Best and Worst things about Bendis' Superman run

Anonymous said: Now that it is over, what are your thoughts on Bendis' runs on Superman and Action Comics as a whole?

Anonymous said: Retrospective thoughts on Bendis' Superman as a whole now that it's, I guess, done?

Anonymous said: Hey so since Bendis’ Superman stuff seems to be done, what did you think of the run as a whole?

I decided to hold off a bit on writing on this one, if only so that I could reread the Action Comics side of it since Superman stood out in my memory a lot more. But now I have, and as we’re heading into a bold new era of Superman (and it’s coming in fast - just since I made my Superman in 2021 predictions we’ve gotten Ed Pinsent finally reprinting his legendary bootleg Silver Age Superman, Steve Orlando announcing his Superman analogue book Project Patron, an official shonen Superman redesign for RWBY/Justice League, PKJ’s Super-debut turning out far better than I ever expected, Superman & Lois’s first proper trailer largely taking people pleasantly by surprise, and my learning that there’s a Sylvester Stallone Old Man Superman analogue movie titled Samaritan coming out this summer) we’re ready to take a look back with at least a touch of perspective. I’ll lead with complaints, so everybody who’s been waiting for me to say that Bendis on Superman was Bad, Actually, savor this because it’s as close as you’ll get.

The Bad

* I hate to say it, but rereading that side of the run there’s no two ways about it: the structure of Action Comics as a whole is a mess. It baffled me from day one that it was the more acclaimed of the two books for so long - I guess people are hardwired at this point to think of ‘street’ stuff as where Bendis is supposed to be - because it was immediately clear that Superman had a well-defined story he wanted to tell, while Action was the usual Bendis off-the-cuff improvisation. It’s barely even a story in the same way, and it’s certainly not the ‘Metropolis crime book’ people took it as: it’s 28 issues of Superman and his supporting cast stuffed a pinball machine with the Red Cloud pinging off of each other as we wait to see who falls in the hole at the bottom, and partway through Leviathan and the Legion of Doom and 90s Superboy are tossed into the mix to keep it going a little longer. On an issue-to-issue basis it’s frequently really good, but the core plot of the book is *maybe* six issues stretched out over two and a half years.

* I’ve gone into this some before, but structure-wise Unity Saga also has problems: Phantom Planet rules but either it needed to be cut or the back half needed to be a year all its own in order to accommodate the scale of what it’s attempting. It’s got an interstellar civil war leading into the formation of the United Planets, family drama, Rogol Zaar’s whole deal, and Jon’s coming of age, and I’d say only that last one is really properly served. Even Jon forming the United Planets, while contextually somewhat justified in terms of 1. The situation being so far gone he’s the only one who’d even think in those terms, 2. Things being bad enough that these assorted galactic powers would be willing to try it, and 3. Him having the S on his chest to sell it, isn’t at all built up to within the run itself.

* Rogol Zaar sucks. He’s made up of nothing but interesting ideas - he’s an ersatz warrior ‘superman’ of a bygone age of empires up against the new model, he’s the sins of Krypton as a conservative superpower come home to roost, he’s while not outright said to be definitely Superman’s tragic half-brother and the culmination of everything this run does with Jor-El - but none of them manifest on the page, he’s just a big punchy dude with a dumb design who screams about how you should take him seriously because he’s totally the one who blew up Krypton. Even a killer redesign by Ryan Sook for Legion of Superheroes can’t fix that. There are lots of bad villains with good ideas who are redeemed with time and further effort, but I can’t imagine Zaar getting that TLC to become a fraction of whatever Bendis envisioned him as.

* The second year of Action Comics, after establishing itself in its first as one of the most consistently gorgeous books on the stands, leads with Szymon Kudranski’s weak output and then concludes with John Romita Jr. turning in some career-worst work. The latter is particularly egregious because for that first year Bendis writes a really collected, gentle Superman so him getting pushed into being more aggressive should have an impact, but Romita draws such a craggy rough-looking Superman in the first place that it mutes any sort of shock value.

* WE NEVER LEARN WHAT’S UP WITH LEONE’S CAR, WHAT THE HELL. You don’t just DROP THAT IN THERE and then NEVER FOLLOW UP.

The Good

* Superman got his real clothes back after 7 truly ridiculous years.

* Bendis fundamentally gets Clark’s voice in a way unlike almost any other writer - even all-around better writers of the character almost never approach how spot-on he is with having Superman speak and act exactly how Superman should.

* Supporting cast front and center! He writes a dynamite Lois, Perry, and Jimmy (even if many of Lois’s more out-there decisions in the run don’t end up retroactively justified the way you’d hope), Ma and Pa are more fun than they’ve been in decades in their brief appearances, he manages to turn having Jor-El in the mix into a positive, and the Daily Planet as a whole has an incredibly distinctive vibe to it like never before that I hope is taken as a baseline going forward.

* The non-Rogol Zaar baddies? All ruled. Invisible Mafia and Red Cloud are both brilliant ideas executed solidly if overextended. Zod as Kryptonian Vegeta, Mongul as a generational perpetual bastard engine primed to be incapable of self-reflection, and Ultraman as “what if Irredeemable but he’d never been a good guy and also he was a Jersey mobster” are the best versions of those characters by numberless light-eons. Lex is on-point in his sparse appearances. Xanadoth as a mystical cosmic monster older than time who still talks like a Bendis character is however unintentionally a hoot. The alt-universe Parasite is a more intimidating Doomsday than Doomsday ever was. And Synmar as an alien culture’s attempt at creating their own Superman and messing up the formula when they make him a soldier can and should be a legitimate major ongoing villain coming out of this run.

* Pretty much all the art other than what I mentioned already. Fabok does a good job bookending The Man of Steel and Ivan Reis does the work of his career anchoring Superman (special props to Reis as well for drawing the first ever non-Steve Rude interesting-looking take on Metropolis), and meanwhile you’ve got Jim Lee, Jose Luis Garcia Lopez, Doc Shaner, Steve Rude, Kevin Maguire, Adam Hughes, Patrick Gleason, Yanick Paquette, Ryan Sook, Brandon Peterson, and David Lafuente doing their own parts.

* Closely related to the art, all the little flourishes with the powers. Super-speed having a consistent visual with the background coloring changing, Clark internally putting numbers to the degrees of force behind his punches and what situations which numbers are appropriate for, ‘skidding to a halt’ mid-flight before crashing through a window, the shonen-ass major throwdowns as portrayed by Reis, how his super-hearing is handled as a prevalent element. Lots of clever bits that added flavor to what he does.

* While Unity Saga has problems, the whole of what Bendis does in Superman as a means of forward momentum for Clark and his world is excellent. The sort of three-act structure of:

** Clark is led to question his place in things over the course of a few adventures

** Involvement in the larger cosmos and the impact it has had through and on his family makes him realize the answer to his questions is that he needs to step up in a bigger way because there’s no benevolent larger universe to welcome Earth with open arms, nor a cosmic precedent for everything turning out for the best without some help

** As a consequence of the lessons learned by this change in the status quo Clark is inspired to make his own personal change in revealing his identity (with Mythological basically being an epilogue showcasing a ‘standard’ standalone Superman adventure while simultaneously highlighting his new status quo and how it fits in as a summing-up of Bendis’s take)

…does a great job of shepherding through ideas that lend a lot of forward momentum to Superman of the kind he hasn’t seen in a long time. Not perfect, but far lesser stories with far lesser ambitions have made huge impacts, so I’d certainly hope at least some of this sticks around even if, say, regardless of any retcons to the main line there are always going to be stories with Clark as a disguise and Jon as a kid. Oh, speaking of whom,

* KISS MY ASS, EVERYTHING WITH JON KENT RULED

Ahem. Probably a less confrontational way of putting that.

Do I think there was more gas in the tank for Jon as a kid? Totally, making him likeable and viable was the one really good thing the Rebirth era accomplished for Superman and I expect we’ll continue seeing more of it in the future one way or another. But whether or not him being aged up was Bendis’s decision, or working with marching orders to set up the eventually-(kinda-)discarded 5G, the coming of age narrative here is fire. He keeps the essential Clark Kent kindness and bit of Lois Lane cheekiness that reminds you he’s still their kid, which is a combination Bendis is basically precision-crafted to write, but his trials by fire give him a background entirely unlike the by-the-numbers “and here’s how Superman’s great kid grew up to be a great superhero too” narrative you’d expect while still arriving at that endpoint. If superheroes live and die by metaphors then Jon in here is what it means to grow up written as large as possible: leaving home for the first time (and seeming to shoot up overnight!), getting into the muck of how the real world works, being beaten down by authority wearing faces you’ve been taught to trust, scrambling to get through with the whole world against you, and in the end getting through by learning to rely on your own strength while keeping your soul intact and your head held high, and even managing to speak some truth to power. It gives him a well-defined life story with room to go back to and explore the intricacies of each leg of for decades to come in a way Superman hasn’t had since the original Crisis - someone someday is going to write a The Life & Times Of The Son Of Superman miniseries and it’s going to be one of the greats - and negates any question that he’s earned his stature as the heir apparent.

* Coming out of this, Superman’s world is fascinating. He’s out but rather than giving up his day-to-day life he’s openly spending part of his life as CLARK KENT: SUPER-REPORTER and part of his job on the cape-and-tights side of things is now KAL-EL: SUPER-SPACE-DIPLOMAT, Lois Lane coruns a foundation helping people whose personal continuities have been fucked over by Crisis shenanigans, Jimmy Olsen owns the Daily Planet but is still doing Jimmy Olsen stuff because that’s how he gets his kicks, and Jon Kent is going to college in the future. I’m not anywhere near naïve enough to think that’s how things are going to be forever, or shortsighted enough to think there’s no value left in the traditional setups, but god I hope these developments stick around for a long, long time to come and potentially become the new ‘normal’ as far as the ongoing shared universe stuff goes, because it all feels like the right and promising next steps to take for the lives of these characters. However it got here, for all the pluses and minuses along the way even if I maintain the former very much outweighed the latter as a reading experience, Bendis has a lot to be proud of if that’s the legacy he leaves on these titles.

* The recap pages at the desks!

#Superman #Brian Bendis #Jon Kent #Opinion

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louezem · 4 years

Text

Saying Yes

Summary: Katniss and Peeta had a bitter break up years ago and went their separate ways. Katniss knows nothing of Peeta’s life now, until a stunning blonde walks into the exclusive bridal salon were she works, to buy her a dress for her wedding - to Peeta Mellark.

Part Four - Sisters…..

Part 4 - Sisters

“Prim? Are you here?”

Katniss threw her keys and bag down and toed off her shoes with a sigh of relief. It had been a long and frustrating day at work. All she wanted was to shower, eat and then sleep.

“I’m in the kitchen!” her sister replied. “Dinner’s almost ready!”

Katniss offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t have to face another takeout or frozen pizza for dinner tonight. She knew how to cook but was lazy about it when she only had to cook for herself. Prim, however, loved to cook.

She followed the delicious aroma wafting down the narrow hall to the tiny kitchen. It was barely big enough to hold a small table and 2 chairs, but Prim had set it with the nice plates and cutlery and a small bud vase holding a single, yellow dandelion.

“What’s all this?” Katniss waved at the table. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Does it need to be a special occasion for me to show my appreciation for my favorite sister?” Prim asked, lifting a spoon to her mouth and offering it to her for a taste.

“Mmm, that’s so good.” Katniss licked her lips. “It tastes familiar. What’s in it?”

“It’s lamb stew with dried plums.” Prim smiled as she added an extra dash of red wine to the simmering pot. “I remembered how much you love it and I thought I’d try to recreate the recipe. Besides, lamb was on special at the market today.”

Still thrifty with the budget. Katniss thought. Old habits die hard.

“Go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. I just need to warm up some crusty bread to go with this.”

“I love you, little duck,” Katniss said, pulling her sister in for a hug.

“I love you more, duck potato,” Prim grinned.

An hour later and Katniss was feeling full and sleepy as she curled on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, sipping on a second glass of red wine.

“Thank you Prim, that was wonderful,” she sighed, patting her full tummy. “I always appreciate a home cooked meal but I thought you had plans to go to the movies with Rory tonight?”

“I did but he caught an extra shift so I decided to come over and bug you instead.” Prim said, joining her on the sofa.

“So, did you happen to catch any news today? Hear any juicy celebrity gossip at work?” she asked, taking a sip from her own wineglass.

Katniss looked sideways at her sister, wondering why she was asking such an odd question. Prim knew Katniss was not big on the news or gossip – celebrity or otherwise.

“No, I was run off my feet all day. I don’t have time for gossip. There’s a trunk show on all week and they can get a little crazy.”

“Huh,” Prim starting tapping on the screen of her obnoxiously large smart phone. “Then you haven’t seen this?” She slowly turned the phone screen to face her sister.

Katniss fought to keep her composure as she watched the images unfold in front of her. The video captured a gorgeous smiling couple standing close together, hands intwined, on a gilded balcony overlooking the park. A fireworks display was lighting up the night sky behind them. Once the fireworks come to an end the couple and their guests start to clap and cheer and someone pops a champagne cork as music begins to play and other couples start to filter onto the dancefloor.

Dressed in the one-of-a-kind flowing white and gold reception gown created by Cinna, paired with custom Jimmy Choo couture heels and her golden hair flowing in loose waves almost to her waist, the bride was every bit as breath-taking as Katniss knew she would be. Holding her close to his side with an affectionate smile on his face was Peeta. He looked equally handsome in a perfectly tailored white suit with gold accents at his throat, breast pocket and cuffs.

Though Cinna never talked to her about it – most likely to spare her feelings - Katniss knew he’d worked closely with Portia, the designer who created Peeta’s outfit, to ensure the bride and groom perfectly complimented each other on their special day.

She couldn’t help looking carefully at Peeta’s left hand now placed on Glimmer’s waist expecting to see the shiny glint of a new gold band on his finger but he didn’t appear to be wearing one.

That’s odd. She thought. No wedding ring?

She always thought Peeta was the type of guy would like to wear a ring when he got married.

When they were dating he was always very open about showing his feelings for her, and would tease her gently when she got embarrassed by his frequent public displays of affection. “I want the whole world to know I’m yours,” he’d told her, more than once, gently tugging on the end of her braid as she’d scowl.

Unable to continue watching him display affection for another woman was more then she could bear and she pushed the phone away.

“They make a very lovely couple,” Katniss said quietly. “I hope they’ll be very happy together”.

Prim snorted out loud. “Katniss did you even read what’s under the video?” she held the phone up again.

“The Show Must Go On!”

An official spokesperson for the Snow family declined to comment following the cancellation of the nuptials between heiress Glimmer Snow, granddaughter of Coriolanus Snow, and her fiancé Peeta Mellark, Culinary Director for the “Arena�� chain of restaurants owned by the Snow Corporation. However the brother of the groom, Mr Ryan Mellark, confirmed that the decision by the couple not to proceed with the wedding was both “mutual and loving” and that the couple would remain friends.

“I don’t understand,” Katniss looked to her sister, confused. “Are you telling me they didn’t get married?”

“Yep. No wedding. They called it off at the last minute but went ahead with the dinner and reception anyway, which is kind of cool. One of Rory’s classmates was working the bar for the evening and he says it turned into one hell of a party. But then I guess the Snow family does know how to do things in style.”

“Wow. I wonder what happened to make them call it off.” Katniss stared into space as she tried to process this new information. She’d purposely avoided all news and social media over the weekend, hoping that if she distanced herself the sooner she’d be able to forget the intense look in Peeta’s eyes as she’d driven away from the hotel. “So much time, money and effort went into those dresses, poor Cinna worked for days hand beading the reception dress—"

Prim rolled her eyes.

“Lord almighty Katniss, you can be so dumb sometimes,” she took another sip of her wine. “Isn’t it obvious what happened? Peeta claps eyes on you again for the first time in forever and the next day his wedding is called off. He still loves you.”

“That’s not true.” Katniss jumped off the sofa and quickly gathered her wine glass and the near empty bottle. “Don’t say that. Why would you say something like that?”

“Hey, give that back!” Prim tried to grab the wine bottle from her as she stomped past into the kitchen and began angrily slamming their dirty dishes into the dishwasher. It wasn’t long before she heard her sister’s soft footsteps behind her.

“I’m sorry Katniss, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Prim apologised quietly. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. You haven’t been yourself since you found out Peeta was getting married.”

Katniss sighed. “I’m fine Prim, really. You’ve no need to worry about me. Peeta and I were over a lifetime ago. I’m over it. I know absolutely nothing about his life now.”

Prim tilted her head and regarded her sister with cool blue eyes. “Will you ever tell me what happened between the two of you? You’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Does it matter now?”

Prim shrugged. “I’d like to understand. I was still a kid when you two broke up and no one bothered to explain what was going on to me. It was confusing. All I knew was one day you were getting ready to leave for college, the next you were staying in District 12 and applying for any low paid job you could get. Why didn’t you go?”

“Because things changed,” Katniss scowled. “Family comes first.”

Prim squinted. “Really, Katniss? You’ve fobbed me off with that line for years. I was hoping you were finally ready to open up with a few more details. I know you loved Peeta, don’t bother denying it. Your feelings for him weren’t the problem. Or his for you, everyone could see how bad the guy had it for you. It wasn’t Mom, or money issues. She was fine then and you had a full scholarship. There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

“All right, if you want to know I’ll tell you.” Katniss reached up into a small cupboard a produced a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. “Follow me. This conversation is going to require something a bit stronger than wine.”

Settled back on the sofa once again, she tossed back a shot and took a deep breath.

“Peeta accused me of cheating on him,” she began. “When I tried to defend myself, he didn’t believe me. He chose to take his brother’s word over mine.”

“No way.” Prim gasped, her eyes widening.

“It’s true. Rye told Peeta he caught me making out with Gale after a graduation party at Madge’s house. Rye didn’t believe me when I told him that Gale kissed me, that I didn’t invite it and I didn’t kiss him back. After cussing me out and calling me a few choice names he went straight to Peeta and told him.”

“Oh, shit.” Prim’s mouth dropped open. She picked up a full shot glass and threw it back before fixing her sister with a stare. “Okay. In the interest of full disclosure I have to ask – did you make out with Gale?”

“Of course not!” Katniss yelled. “Gale was my friend! I’d known him since we were kids. Besides, Madge liked him and I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”

“But did you like him? Let’s face it, Gale is attractive. In a Hemsworth kind of way.”

“No. I only ever saw him like a cousin, or maybe an older brother. I never felt anything romantic for Gale. It shocked the hell out of me when he kissed me. We didn’t talk for a long time afterwards.”

“Okay, okay, I just needed to clarify that. Continue, please.“

“Peeta and I had a huge fight and he broke up with me. He was horrible to me Prim.” Katniss voice cracked a little as the memories assaulted her. “He wouldn’t give me a chance to defend myself. He was so mean, I’d never seen him like that before. He was like a totally different person.”

Katniss felt the familiar sting starting to build behind her eyes and bit her lip in order to try and gain some control over her emotions. It still hurt, remembering the words that came out of his mouth.

“He asked me had I led Gale on, and told me to crawl back to the slag heap I came from.”

“Oh my god, Katniss,” Prim’s eyes softened and reached towards her sister “I’m so sorry—"

“Wait! It gets worse!” Katniss let out a hard laugh. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, somehow Peeta’s evil bitch of a mother found out about what happened. She called Mom and threatened her. She told her that if her seam slut of a daughter went ahead with her plans to go to the same school as her son, that she’d report her to Child Protective Services for neglect. She’d tell them about Mom leaving us alone at night while she worked, and that you would be left at home by yourself at 14 if I left town for school. She even knew about the bouts of depression after Dad died. All stuff I’d confided in Peeta about.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Prim jumped of the sofa and started to pace up and down. “It’s so unfair. And untrue! Mom and I talked about what would happen when you went to school, I was going to stay overnight with Hazelle at the Hawthornes when she was on nights!”

“You know that and I know that, but Mom was terrified. She didn’t know what to do.”

Katniss downed another shot.

“After she threatened Mom, I tried talking to Rye one more time. I begged him again to believe me that what he saw wasn’t real, but he insisted I was lying. That Gale had been seen at the slag heap with a girl from the Seam, and I must have made it worth it when he could have had Madge instead of my skinny ass. His words. I never really understood that part.” She frowned.

“I told him about his mother’s threats and he finally said he’d talk to his Dad about keeping her off our Mom’s back, but only for your sake and only if I agreed to stop trying to contact Peeta. So I did what he wanted. I gave up my college place and started applying for jobs and signed up for a few classes at the Community College.”

“So, it was me.” Prim’s eyes filled with tears and she crawled towards her sister and wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. “You did it for me.”

Katniss shrugged like it was no big deal. “You’re my sister. I’d give my life for yours in a heartbeat.”

“You’re such a dumbass but I love you.” Prim began to cry harder. “You sacrificed so much Katniss. Your education. Your future. Peeta. I’ve never seen you as happy as when you two were together, not even when you were with Darius.”

“Hush now, no more of that talk.” Katniss soothed her crying sister, tears forming in her own eyes. “It all worked out for the best in the end. I was here when Mom got sick and I took on a second job to help pay the bills. We got by, and we stayed together. That’s what Dad would have wanted. Family comes first.”

“Peeta was a part of our family. He was like a brother to me when I was a kid.” Prim sniffed. “Why didn’t he believe you? And what the fuck was Rye’s problem?”

“I don’t know. All I know is his mother always hated me, but I never knew Rye did too. Peeta and Rye were always close, and once Rye started filling Peeta’s head with lies I just couldn’t get through to him after that. He never spoke to me again after he broke up with me. A few weeks later he left town for school and I never saw him again until that day on the steps of his hotel.”

“Katniss, I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry. It sounds like his mind was poisoned by his brother and that horrible old witch who gave birth to him. God, I’d love to give her a piece of my mind. As for Rye? I swear, if I ever see that guy again I will dick punch him.”

“I saw Rye the day before the wedding, he has mellowed quite a bit,” Katniss continued to stroke Prim’s blonde hair soothingly, taking comfort from the continuous motion herself. “He was almost pleasant once he realized I had a legitimate reason for being there.”

“I owe you so much Katniss,” Prim sat up, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Because of your support, I got to come here, go to school, do everything you missed out on. Everything I’ve achieved is because you. How can I ever repay a debt like that?”

“Don’t worry, you can pay for my luxury retirement home on the beach in District Four when you find the cure for cancer,” Katniss quipped and laughed as Prim hit her with a cushion.

Later that night, after Prim had left and Katniss was getting ready for bed, she couldn’t help but look for a small box she kept hidden in the furthest corner of her closet.

Inside were a few sentimental items that even after ten years, she never had the heart to throw away.

A pencil drawing of a dandelion he’d put into her locker one day, after she told him they made her think of him.

A movie stub from their first date. She smiled at the memory. Peeta had taken her to see “I Am Legend” and got embarrassed when he cried over the dog, Sam, dying. It was still one of her favorite movies.

A photo of them together at Senior Prom, and another of their High School Graduation, big smiles on their faces just days before he broke up with her and her world came crashing down.

“Oh Peeta,” she mumbled, “why didn’t you believe me?” She sniffed. No, she wasn’t going to cry. She’d already done enough of that for this lifetime.

“… maybe you should crawl back to the slag heap you come from.”

She felt a spark of anger in her own stomach when she recalled the things he’d accused her of. It was an old spark, but one that had helped her keep going and moving forward over the years. She slammed the box shut and shoved it back in the darkest recess of her closet before crawling into her bed. She had run from the bakery that day. Run from his words and the rage and hurt in blue eyes that had only ever looked at her with softer emotions.

She closed her own eyes and pulled the covers over her head, hoping she wouldn’t be hearing them over and over in her nightmares that night.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Read on AO3

#promptsinpanem #15Days #for Kika #Kristin Rouse #baronesskika #authoresskika #in loving memory

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inthehytes · 2 years

Note

Could you write a bratpack highschool au where Gia Kendall and synth realise they have feelings for eachother after a sleepover where other girls are telling them it’s not normal to kiss your best friends and spend all their time together?

Hi! Thank you for your request, this was a lot of fun to write ☺️

—

“Hey, I’m running downstairs to get some snacks, what does everyone want?” Kendall asks over the upbeat bass of the music that played through her radio.

“I left my phone downstairs, I’ll come with.” Gia offers, threading their fingers through Synthia’s hair one last time, tapping her cheek gently to signal her to sit up.

“Do you want help?” Synthia asks quietly, sitting up to allow Gia to slide off their shared air mattress.

“We’ve got it angel don’t worry.” They smile, pecking her cheek before following Kendall out the room leaving Synthia with Juice, Pythia, and Icesis. They were all crowded in Kendall’s room for her birthday sleepover and having a lot of fun already.

“Hey Synthia? Can I ask you a question?” Juice scoots onto the air mattress with Synthia.

“Sure! What’s up?” She smiles brightly at her. Juice was new at their school and she and Synthia had become fast friends.

“We’ll, it’s just that I was wondering if you’re dating Gia and Kendall? You guys are just so close and spend a lot of time together.” Synthia’s brows furrowed at the question, glancing toward where Pythia and Icesis were wrapped up in their own world arguing over some designer’s Fashion week choices.

“No, we’re just friends. It’s not weird to spend a lot of time with your best friends.” Juice wasn’t being rude by any means and yet Synthia still found herself getting defensive.

“No it’s not! But you guys kiss and hold hands and stuff all the time and best friends don’t really do that you know? There’s nothing wrong with it of course, I was just curious.” She shrugged returning to her air mattress and magazine as Gia and Kendall returned.

Synthia tried not to dwell on the conversation, not wanting to ruin Kendall’s birthday, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Even once everyone went to sleep and she was curled into Gia’s side, a position that normally put her right to sleep, she couldn’t turn her brain off.

Was her relationship with Gia and Kendall strange? She was no stranger to the fact that she was gay and that she thought her friends were gorgeous, but they were just friends right?

-.-

“Alright blondie, fess up. You’ve been too quiet all week, where’d our chatterbox go?” Gia teases her the following Friday night. They were once again at Kendall’s, crowded onto her bed. It was just the three of them that night, even her parents had gone out of town.

“I dunno, just a lot on my mind I guess.” She shrugs, hugging her arms tighter around her waist.

“Is everything okay Syn?” Kendall frowns, laying a hand on her thigh and definitely not making things easier for Synthia.

She shrugged, eyeing Kendall and Gia nervously before spilling. She told them about her conversation with Juice the week before and her worries. She toyed with a loose thread on the cuff of her jeans to avoid eye contact.

“Maybe I’m just thinking about this too much and am about to make things weird, but is it so bad that I want to be more than just best friends with you both?” Nerves itched in her stomach and she was already drafting an escape plan when Kendall spoke.

“I think I’d like that too. We’re already holding hands and stuff so how different would it really be? What about you Gia?”

“I, I really want it too. I don’t want to think about having to share you both with other people.”

Synthia’s eyes snapped up at their words, disbelief out-ruling the hope that was beginning to blossom in her chest.

“Is it really that easy?”

“Why not, it doesn’t have to be difficult. We’ve always been each other’s so why not just make it official.” Kendall shrugged, tangling her fingers with Synthia’s.

The blonde cracked a huge smile, tugging at them both until they were close enough to kiss despite the fact that she couldn’t stop giggling through each.

“Besides, I get the prettiest girlfriends in the whole school all to myself this way.” Gia grins wildly, kissing both of their foreheads before the grumbling of Synthia’s stomach ruined the moment. The three of them shared a look before dissolving into a fit of giggles, Synthia’s cheeks flushing pink.

“C’mon, my parents left money for pizza on the fridge.”

#synthia kiss #gia metric #kendall gender #bratpack #brat pack #my writing #drabbles

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

Text

A Pink Ribbon and a Leather Cuff

I swear this started as a sprint fic and after my first 15 minutes were up I just... kept going...

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete.

Except of course on this one, I did one sprint that morphed into an entire writing session... oops!

Prompt: "My soul chose yours. And a soul doesn't just forget that."

Read on Ao3

In her Dream, Marinette walked through an endless room filled with innumerable objects. Everywhere she looked there was something different. She wandered through, searching—or more accurately, her soul was searching. For what, it was impossible to guess. Whichever object called out to her, whichever one she chose, would be imprinted on her wrist for the rest of her life. Just like everyone else who had the Dream on their sixteenth birthday.

She stopped to touch a silver necklace with a neon green paw print. It warmed under her fingertips, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. She let her fingers trail over the piles of objects beside her. A pair of headphones, a pencil, a unicorn mobile, a pair of glasses, a mirror— everything seemingly random but connected to someone she knew. Or maybe didn’t know yet. Nothing was jumping out to her. She’d heard of this happening. There was always a little fear. Maybe there isn’t someone out there. Maybe none of these objects are mine. She let the worry float over her and kept going.

A bright flash caught her eye and she turned her head to look for it. It was on her left, and the closer she got to it the brighter it started to glow. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch it, expecting it to burn, but it was cool to her touch and still glowing like the northern star. She clutched it to her chest and felt wakefulness rush back to her. This was it. This was hers. The one her soul had chosen.

When she woke up, Marinette instantly stared down at her wrist to get her first glimpse of the object she’d chosen in her Dream. She squinted down at it, unsure at first what she was looking at. It was a tube of some sort, with writing on it. Like a paint tube or… she glanced over to her vanity where her makeup lay waiting for her. Or a tube of foundation. She groaned and flopped back on her pillows.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She lamented to her mom once she’d gone downstairs. “It makes no sense!”

“Well, sweetie, it usually doesn’t at first.” Her mom sat and pulled her sleeve up to expose her wrist, showing Marinette the bag of rice flour that was replicated on her skin. “When I first got this, I had no idea what it meant. But as soon as I walked into your father’s shop and saw him with this bag of flour on his station, I knew.” She smiled fondly at the memory before she reached out to take Marinette’s wrist. “When the timing is right, you’ll know, too.”

***

It had been three years since Marinette first got her mark and it was still just as meaningless as the morning she’d woken up with it. Her parents had both told her so many times it was better not to look, to let it find you, but she couldn’t help it. She frequented makeup stores, but none of them carried the brand that was on her wrist or had even heard of it. No one she knew used it, either. Most likely it was something that wasn’t on the market, yet. Which made her obscure and useless clue even more obscure and useless.

She started going on blind dates instead, hoping to find someone that she could be happy with. Alya had made that decision and she seemed perfectly fine. Nino wasn’t her soulmate, and she wasn’t his, but they were in love, and Alya insisted that was what mattered.

Marinette started keeping a wide pink ribbon tied around her wrist and tried not to think about it too much. After all, that’s what her mom kept telling her. But patience was not Marinette’s strong suit. And her mark was always in the back of her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget about it. Somewhere out there was someone she was meant to be with. And all her blind dates ended the same way.

“I’m sorry. You’re not the one.”

***

“You did what?” Marinette snatched Alya’s wrist to look at the brand new ‘soulmate tattoo’ she sported.

“Had it changed. Nino did, too.” Alya was gleaming with pride, even more than the sparkling diamond on her left hand.

Marinette dropped Alya’s wrist and fidgeted with her ribbon to adjust it, covering the edges of her mark that had started peeking out. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Well, not officially, but this tattoo artist is amazing. You can’t even see that awful thing anymore, look!” She traced the old outline of the broken rocking horse she’d had since she was sixteen, carefully covered by a dark green tortoise shell.

“Yeah. It’s great, Alya.” Marinette tried to smile and be happy for Alya. But the concept of changing your mark had never occurred to her. What would she even change it to, if she could?

“He said he does coverups for single people, too, M.” Alya’s eyes flicked to Marinette’s wrist, to the ribbon she always kept tied around her enigmatic mark so she didn’t have to worry about it. “He said he could make it something that actually has meaning for you instead. Maybe you could get those flowers you always use in your designs?”

“Covering it up doesn’t change the fact that it’s still there,” Marinette mumbled.

“No, but it does prevent you from shooting down anyone who doesn’t fit the bill.”

“I don’t mean to! It just—”

“I know.” Alya squeezed Marinette’s hand reassuringly. “Not everyone is like me and Nino. I know you want to find them. Just… promise me you’ll think about going to talk to him at least? He’s a nice guy, and he understands that sometimes choice is more important than fate.”

***

The bell to the tattoo artist’s shop jingled quietly as Marinette opened the door. The smell of antiseptic greeted her and made her nose wrinkle. There was artwork hung at regular intervals throughout the room—samples, Marinette guessed, of the artist’s work. And in between the framed pieces were polaroids tacked up with push pins of people proudly displaying their new tattoos. Mostly couples, Marinette noticed, holding up their wrists and smiling. Alya and Nino were probably on that wall somewhere.

“Be right there!” A voice called from somewhere in the back.

She wandered up to the counter and flipped through a book of pricing and common images while she waited. The Chinese characters offered had been well-researched and it made her feel a little better about talking to this guy—Luka, she remembered Alya had said. His name was Luka.

“Sorry about that,” Luka said as he appeared. He was tall and lanky, with a shock of black hair dyed electric blue at the ends and gauges she could fit her pinky through. For a tattoo artist, he was suspiciously void of tattoos, and she noticed instantly that he had a wide leather cuff on his right wrist. Her nose wrinkled again as a fresh waft of rubbing alcohol hit her. “Just cleaning up. What can I help you with?”

He leaned against the counter easily, as if she were an old friend, and focused not on her face, but on the book she was looking at. Or maybe on the pink ribbon tied around her wrist. She pulled her hand away self-consciously.

“My friend, Alya, she wanted me to… well, you see, I haven’t figured out my mark and it—well, it’s stupid, really, but Alya said that you might, well—not that you might, but that you mentioned you could…” she trailed off and tugged at the knot.

He nodded as if he understood. “Alya, yeah. I remember her. And Nino. She said she might be sending someone my way. Wait right there.” He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the counter and gave her a kind smile before he turned and walked back to the back. She heard him rifling through something and he returned relatively quickly with a few small tubes in his hands.

“Now, before I do any coverups, especially for marks, I always recommend…” he eyed her forearm then switched through a couple, setting them down beside him as he seemed to rule them out. He seemed to settle on one and offered it to her. “I always recommend covering it up with this for a while first. Less permanent, and if you decide you want it after all, then no harm done.”

With trembling fingers, she took the tube of foundation he was offering her.

“This stuff—” he tapped on it while she held it— “it’s amazing. They use it in Hollywood all the time. For actors, you know? You won’t even know it’s there.” He smiled at her again and started picking the other bottles back up.

She stared at it in her hands. She knew that tube of foundation. It was the same brand—the same color even—that she’d been staring at for three years. Looking for, for three years. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might’ve been something specifically used to cover tattoos. Her eyes snapped back up to Luka and to the leather cuff on his wrist. Luka believed in choice, Alya had said. Should she even tell him?

“If after a week or so you still want it gone, come back and see me,” he said. He flashed her a brilliant smile and she was too stunned to even form a word of thanks in return. She left the shop still staring at it. When she finally came to, she had found her way to Alya’s door.

***

“But this is good news,” Alya said as she tossed the foundation back to Marinette. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“I don’t know! I… I blanked. I was just… surprised? I guess?” Marinette pouted down at what was undeniably her object. “Three years of wondering, and it’s as simple as that. He just hands it to me and walks away.”

“I wonder what his mark is,” Alya mused aloud. “He was pretty quiet while we were there, just kinda listened while we talked and smiled as he worked.”

“He’s probably changed it already.”

Alya shook her head. “I don’t think so. He said he thought people should be able to choose, not that he personally wanted to.” She shrugged. “Besides, I don’t know why it’s such a bad thing. Maybe you could get to know each other as people before dropping the big ‘soulmate’ bomb.”

Marinette paused to consider. It wasn’t a bad idea, not really, to get to know someone first. She pulled the ribbon away from her mark to look at it. Now that she had the object in her hands, the mark itself seemed more devoid of meaning than she expected it to. Her mom always smiled whenever she looked at hers, as if remembering something special. But Marinette was still waiting for the realization to catch up to her.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she said decisively. She uncapped the tube and smeared a little of the makeup across her forearm. Luka hadn’t been lying; her mark disappeared in seconds and she was staring at a blank expanse of skin. It made her feel giddy—free, even. “And he did say that he wanted me to be sure.”

***

A week later, she was wrinkling her nose again as she opened the door to Luka’s shop. She had ditched her ribbon in favor of the foundation. Luka glanced up from the tattoo he was working on and smiled when he saw her before his head dipped back over his work. The angry buzz of the machine prevented much conversation, anyways. She chose to walk around the room instead and look at the artwork he had framed.

He liked flowers, she noticed. They showed up a lot in almost every large tattoo he had pictured. The polaroids were her favorite, though. She liked looking at the different objects, the before and afters, and the absolute change in the people pictured. How they held themselves differently, their shoulders up higher and their smiles brighter. Luka was even in a few of them, his arm thrown affectionately around the people he had helped.

“You’re back,” he said, and his low voice in her ear made her jump. He leaned back, chuckling, and put his hands up. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sneak up on people.” He pointed to her wrist and raised his eyebrows. “Shall we take a look?”

She nodded and her heart started pounding in her throat when he placed his hand on her back just under her shoulder blades to guide her over to a low table and couch off to the side.

“All right, so I’ll need to see it first before we can talk about changing it into anything.” He pulled open a drawer and set out a pen and a pad of paper before he grabbed what looked like a package of baby wipes. When he caught her watching him, he shrugged. “You’re not the first to come in with it on.” He gestured for her to hold out her arm and wiped gently at her wrist.

She held her breath as the lines of her mark started to appear. Not that he would recognize it. Would he? Maybe he would—it was his suggestion and he’d put it in her hand. As he continued wiping, she tried to watch him for any hint of recognition, but his hair was falling over his eyes and hiding his face from her.

Finally, he stopped and looked at her uncovered mark. His eyes came back up to meet hers. He understood. He knew. She bit her lip and waited for him to say something.

“I don’t think I got your name before,” he murmured. His thumb rubbed against her wrist gently in what seemed like an unconscious movement.

“It’s Marinette.”

“Marinette.” His breath came out in a shallow laugh and he leaned back and covered his eyes with his hand. “Marinette,” he repeated, more to himself than to her. He shook his head and started to undo his leather cuff. “All this time I thought…” he laughed and shook his head again. He rubbed at the skin of his wrist once it was uncovered before he looked down at it incredulously. She resisted the urge to peek, even though her heart was fluttering in her chest. Something had clicked into place for him, too. That had to mean—

He glanced up at her before he bared the inside of his right wrist. His mark was stark against the skin that was pale from being hidden for so long. It was a simple puppet, held up by strings connected to a cross at the top.

“It’s a marionette,” he said with a breathless laugh. “I looked it up.”

She touched her fingertips to it lightly.

“I always thought it was something you saw, not something you heard for the first time.” He was grinning again, that same bright smile. “Marinette.” Her name rolled off his tongue, only off by a syllable.

He sighed deeply and sat back up to pick up his pen and lean over his notepad. "Okay. So what were you thinking on the design for this?"

She blinked back at him. "You still want to change it for me?"

"It's your choice." He smirked sideways at her.

"You never changed yours."

"Well, that was my choice."

She reached over to fidget with her ribbon before she realized it wasn't there. Her hand dropped back into her lap limply. When she glanced over at him he was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Why didn't you change it?" she asked.

"Because…" he grabbed his leather cuff from where he had dropped it and offered it to her. Shyly, she held her wrist out for him. He wrapped the cuff around her wrist before he glanced up at her again. "I am a hopeless romantic, and I like the idea that someone…" he smiled as he snapped the clasp shut. "Someone out there chose me and I chose them."

He lingered before he let her hand go.

"Looks good on you." He turned back around and she caught a pink tinge to his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "Um, but that really only works if that someone chooses me, too. And I don't think it should be because of a mark, or a sign, or fate, but because they want to be with me. So, if you want to change yours, then I think you should change it."

He tapped his pen on his paper nervously and kept his eyes down. She looked at his cuff on her wrist and smiled.

"I like this," she said quietly. He looked up and caught her eye. She gulped before she continued. "Do you think I could maybe… hang onto it? Just while I decide, you know on the… on the change?"

His lips quirked up into a smile. "Yeah, sure."

"And do you think we could maybe meet for coffee? Just, you know, whenever… to talk about it?"

His pen stilled on the paper and he turned to look at her, his eyes soft and his smile widening by the second. "I'd like that."

#miraculous ladybug #mlb fic #ml fic #lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #soulmate au #panda sprints

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Day 19

Prompt: Everyone is born with a compass on their wrist, the needle of the compass points towards your soulmate.

Word Count: 2,161

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, sirprplsnail

Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

Virgil’s thumb ran over the compass needle, comforted by the raised skin telling him he wasn’t alone. For as long as he’d been aware of it, he’d loved it. Loved knowing there was someone on the other end of it, loved knowing he wasn’t trudging through life alone, that no matter how broken and messed up he thought he was there was always going to be someone out there destined to love him.

He was jostled out of his thoughts by the sound of someone calling his name. Looking up, he found it was his turn to present. He took a deep breath, let his thumb brush over the compass one last time, and moved to do it. Once he was up there, he performed with minimal flaws.

He collapsed back into his chair, mentally exhausted already and the morning wasn’t even over yet. He stared at his compass needle, watching the tip waver slightly but stay steady in the same direction, off to his right and behind him slightly. He smiled at the thought of his soulmate being the north for his compass.

He tuned back into the meeting as his supervisor stood. “Now, we’ve only got one last order of business.” Roman said, hands on his hips as he tried to grab everyone’s attention. “We have a new member on the development team so if you could all give him a warm welcome, that’d be appreciated.”

Virgil shrugged and clapped half-heartedly. A man stood as Virgil watched his compass shift, following the man’s movements as he made his way to the front of the room and stood beside their supervisor. He straightened his tie, allowing Virgil to notice that his compass was covered with a wide leather cuff. “Salutations. My name is Logan Kelsey and I’m pleased to have joined the team.”

An hour later, Virgil was staring at his wrist. He twisted in his chair, watching the needle swing back and forth, staying steady on Logan across the room. He still had Roman’s voice ringing in his ears, asking Virgil to partner with Logan for the project the man was already halfway done with, showing the new guy the ropes and all that.

The man that was now advancing across the room, straight for him. Virgil turned his wrist over and put it palm down on his leg. “Can I help you with anything, Kelsey?”

Logan nodded, looking down at him. “I’d like to begin working on the project now, if you have the time.”

Virgil smiled, swinging the chair around and scooting into the desk. “Sure! Pull up a chair while I get this set up.” He wiggled the mouse, causing the screen to power on. Clicking through a few files, he set up the next stages of what he’d been working on before the meeting.

A chair rolled over and Logan sat beside him, a notepad propped up on his knee and a pen in his hand. “You’re going to have to brief me on what you’re working on as I was given no directions on what I am to learn from you.”

Virgil nodded, picking up a pencil to twirl between his fingers. “I’m just working on a simple graphic at the moment. Really, this could have been done by one person.” He glanced to the side. “Are you working more on the graphics department or the slogans? I’m asking because you look like you belong in the finances department instead of down here with everyone else.”

Logan looked at him then, eyes dragging over Virgil’s frame. The emo felt like he was being judged, as if his comfortable hoodie and ripped jeans were suddenly inadequate to Logan’s slacks and dress shirt and tie. Logan shrugged. “I don’t see the problem. I didn’t know the dress code was more casual than other departments. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Virgil couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that. “No, there’s no dress code here.” He paused. “Do the other departments have dress codes?”

Logan bobbled his head. “Yes and no. They don’t have official dress codes but everyone is pretentious and stuck up so they think they’re better than everyone else and dress like it.”

Virgil nodded. “I like you better than I thought I would.”

Logan coughed into his fist, his eyes darting down to the notepad on his lap. “We should probably get started.”

“Right!” Virgil directed his gaze back to the screen and briefly ran over what he’d done to get to this stage of development for the ad before explaining his process as he did the next few parts.

The next day, they picked up from where they left off. Virgil pulled Logan into the decision making, asking him what colors he thought would contrast well and why, asking where he would put the text, and slowly getting him used to making these kinds of decisions himself.

Soon, a month and two projects had gone by. The pair had bumped into each other in the parking garage and rode the elevator up, talking about personal interests and other things. When they got to the floor, they were pulled into a meeting by Roman. Most of the team was already there with a few others trickling in around them. As they waited, the conversation turned to soulmates.

Logan nodded to Virgil’s wrist, the compass covered by a leather cuff since that first day. “May I ask why you decided to cover it?”

Virgil shrugged. “I met him already and I have no idea how he feels about me. So, I covered it. I’d rather be accused of having a broken compass than actually have a broken heart.”

Logan nodded. “I can understand that. I’ll admit, it scares me a little, knowing there’s someone the compass points to. So, I cover it, not wanting to look at it. I don’t know why I’m so scared of the inevitable.”

Virgil internally released a sigh of relief, knowing now why Logan covered his wrist. “It’s not like that for me. In the beginning, I was glad to have the compass. I have pretty bad anxiety so it was nice to be able to run my fingers over it and know someone was there for me, that someone would always be there on the other end, waiting just for me. Now that I’ve met him, I don’t think he’ll feel the same about it. So, I covered it.”

Before Logan could respond, Roman called the meeting to order. “So, it seems that Mr. Kelsey now knows what he’s doing when it comes to graphic design. Is that correct, Mr. Storm?”

Virgil nodded. “Sounds right to me, sir. He’s a fast learner and a hard worker.”

Roman nodded, smiling. “With that in mind, it’s time to say goodbye to Mr. Kelsey as he’s now off to the advertisement department.”

Virgil looked at his soulmate. “Is that true? You’re leaving us?” He shouldn’t feel so hurt or betrayed by this revelation but here he was, his heart feeling like it’d been torn to pieces.

Logan had an apology in his eyes that never made it past his throat as Roman called attention back to himself. “I know it’s sad to see him go. However, we have to realize that he was always going to be with us for a short time. We should learn to appreciate the time we’ve had with him.”

Virgil smiled, sadness lingering at the edges and tears damming behind his eyes. “Yeah, appreciate him.”

Logan looked over at him, probably wondering how he was, but Virgil turned away. He ignored the man for the rest of the meeting, focusing on keeping the tears inside and trying to pay attention to Roman.

When it was over, he was the first to leave. Before Logan came that wouldn’t be abnormal but ever since the other man had been there, Virgil had socialized a bit more, he’d become friends with Logan in a way he’d never done with anyone else. He’d trusted the man, not knowing he was leaving.

He walked away, the heels of his hands swiping at his eyes. He heard a voice behind him, someone calling his name, but he ignored it and continued on. He pushed through a door, not knowing where he was going. The voice sounded again but he was barely paying attention. A hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around as Logan said his name for the third time.

“Virgil, is there something wrong?”

Virgil covered his face with his hands, knowing he was being childish. “No, nothing’s wrong.” He lied.

Logan’s hand stayed on his shoulder. “Then why won’t you look at me? Or even say goodbye to me?”

Virgil squeaked at the mention of his soulmate’s imminent departure. His hand fluttered, wanting to curl around Logan’s tie, wanted to keep him from leaving, but he knew that wasn’t an option. So, the hand never landed, just went to his side as the other hand stayed over his tear-tracked face.

Logan sighed, pulling him into a hug, one arm around his waist and the other hand cradling his head. “Talk to me, please.” His voice was a whisper in his ear, easily making itself heard over the roaring battle between fears in Virgil’s head.

Virgil leaned his head on Logan’s shoulder, the hand covering his face coming down to grip weakly at his own belt loop. He wanted to explain, to say he felt betrayed, but didn’t have the words. So, he stayed silent.

They stayed like that as Virgil’s tears slowly dried and his breathing went back to normal. Some time into the hug, Logan’s hand had started rubbing the length of Virgil’s spine in a soothing manner, the other hand staying still on his head. When Virgil’s breathing evened out, he felt Logan pull away, hands coming to cup the graphic designer’s face.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was still soft so Virgil wasn’t sure if he imagined the tone of impatience hidden beneath it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” Virgil had no way of explaining his feelings, so he asked about the root cause of them instead.

Logan’s face revealed his surprise before it softened. “Don’t you remember? You were told at the very beginning that I was only here temporarily.”

Virgil thought back to that day, when he was still in love with the idea of a soulmate rather than actually in love with his soulmate. He had a vague memory of Roman mentioning a temporary member of the team. He felt heat rise to his cheeks as he knew this was his inability to listen correctly that had caused this. “Oh.”

Logan chuckled. “I’m sure this is also a communication error on my part. I should have told you rather than rely on Roman’s less than stellar memory.”

Virgil giggled softly as he used his hoodie sleeve to scrub at the salt crusted on his cheeks. “So, what do we do from here?”

Logan looked around. “Maybe we should go back to your desk and talk about why you had this reaction to news of me leaving. Besides, I’m not leaving until the end of the day anyways so we might as well get some work done.”

Virgil nodded and the pair headed back to Virgil’s desk. Virgil dabbed a bit of water from his thermos onto a nearby tissue and scrubbed the lingering salt from his cheeks. Logan sat silently and patiently, waiting for him. When that was done, Virgil stalled by booting up the computer and flicking open the files they’d need for the day. Logan softly said his name to get his attention.

Virgil sighed, his hand moving from the mouse to unlatch the cuff on his wrist. Logan watched, curiosity in his gaze. He revealed the back of his wrist and quietly muttered, “I got attached to you, you idiot,” before turning it to show him.

Logan pulled it closer, turning it left and right as he tried to see if it was true, that he was Virgil’s soulmate. At last, he put Virgil’s wrist down and unlatched his own cuff. He chuckled at Virgil’s words. “To tell the truth,” his voice was louder than Virgil’s but no less sincere, “I developed feelings for you as well.” He turned his wrist to show Virgil his compass, the needle firmly fixed on Virgil.

Virgil smiled but it was still tinged with sadness. “But you’re still leaving.”

Logan laughed, reaching to draw Virgil close, pressing their foreheads together. “Two floors up. I'm heading to advertisement.”

Virgil frowned. “What do you even do?”

“I survey the different departments to see how they use their budgets. I actually have an office three floors up.”

Virgil laughed, pushing his shoulder just hard enough to rock him but not enough to push him away entirely. “You jerk.” Still, he tilted his head for a kiss that was quickly granted.

#tsshipmonth2020 #analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #office romance #with a healthy amount of a poor memory #soulmate au #ace writes

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