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bittersweetorpheus · 9 months

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☆ LIFE, DEATH, AND REBIRTH ☆

☆ AUTHORS NOTES ☆

(This ended up getting written from Dottore’s POV. The God featured here is reader.)

😋 SACRILEGIOUS DOTTORE X DEITY!READER ???!!!!

I know I’ve been going for M.O.N.T.H.S but I came back to drop this and leave again. I was chatting with a dottore bot on character.ai which got my brain juices flowinggg so I had to open my computer and write this!

P.S: a certain part of this fic was inspired by one of hoyoverses other games *cough* HONKAI STAR RAIL *cough* 🤭. The real ones know which part it is ‼️💪

☆ CONTENT WARNINGS ☆

Death, gore, corpse, body horror aspects, sumeru archon quest spoilers

Dottore would admit that he wasn’t the least bit religious. Unlike the families that would give thanks before each meal and the Tsaritsa who believed Celestia should be struck down for trying to gain authority while You were absent, he couldn’t care less.

Afterall, however powerful they were, Archons could still die, so what was the difference between them when they all succumbed to the hands of death in the end? Was it power? No, he, himself, had created a being powerful enough to host the Gnosis of Kusanali, the Dendro Archon. Was it their life span? No, he, himself, had managed to create doubles of himself, all from different points in his life.

So in short, he didn’t spare a thought for the Archons, left alone The Creator. This, of course, did not help his nefarious reputation by any means, but he spared it no thoughts.

He did however grow curious about the abilities about this so called Creator when rumors about their descent started. Now, he finds himself in his main laboratory in the Tsaritsa’s palace with The Creator sitting on the examination table across from him- mind you, the cot that he had stained with blood just a week or two ago.

Now that he thinks about it, he never got around to cleaning it.

“Well?” The voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns to look at them.

They wear a veil made out of a material he’s never seen before. Its sheer enough for him to make out the outline of Their face if he squints, but not more than that. Their clothes are made of the same material and seem to flow and move on their own, as if gusts of wind are constantly blowing at their garments.

Even if They aren’t The Creator, they’re definitely something far from mortal.

“Your blood is certainly unlike any I’ve ever seen before. It’s as if you melted cor lapis and combined it with crushed star sliver, but it glows like lumenstone. I wonder if it has any affect on organisms of this world, or if it just looks like this and nothing else.” He observes.

They chuckle dryly, “why don’t you drink it and find out?”

He grimaces beneath his mask, he’d rather not chug down a nefarious bodily liquid at 2 in the morning from someone who he dosen’t care much for.

Not that They were unattractive, of course. He would go far enough to say They were probably the only one who made him take more than a few glances at. No hard feelings, he just dosen’t care much for The Creator… or fakers.

They seem to pick up his feelings about what They just said and glide down from the examination table.

“Or would you rather I show you some properties of my blood myself?” They ask, pointing their intricate fan towards the corpse of his previous patient across the lab from them.

That fan had gotten Pantalone and Ningguang into an amusing biding war against each other, each hoping to gift it to The Creator. In the end, The Creator caught wind of it and ended up setting up a business meeting to stop the nonsensical month-long biding war. They left with a blush on their face and both several times richer. Apparently The Creator had managed to get them to get along and turn the business meeting from about one about a fan to an important business meeting that helped both of them build important business connections with each other.

“Give me the vial,” They command.

He’s already walken over to Them and given Them the vial before he realizes what he did.

They pour the vial of their ichor over the corpse and it springs to life in an instant, screaming and moving away from Dottore.

It seems like the people they revive retain their memories, Dottore notes.

“Are you satisfied now? Or is there something more that you’re expecting?” They ask him. He can’t see their face through the veil but he gets the uncanny feeling that they’re staring straight through his very soul.

“I’ll admit that this is quite fascinating, however, it’s… unexpected, to say the least.” He admits.

“Oh? Why is that?” They drawl.

He gets the feeling that they’re probably smirking right now.

“While some legends do say that The Creator’s ichor heals and even resuscitates people, most them say that even a drop of The Creator’s ichor could bring about the cataclysm.

Once, he had wondered if that had been the start of the cataclysm, or if it was just another fabrication.

“Hm, is that how this world sees my ichor?” They hum, “well, every universe has different theories about me.”

“Oh? Then is it true? Can a drop of your ichor cause the end of this universe?” He says, teasingly, or mockingly- he dosen’t really know either.

“It depends on the mood I’m in,” They reply.

Yeah, They’re definitely smirking right now.

“But I suppose with the type of person you are, you wouldn’t believe me unless you saw it with your own eyes,” They say, snapping their fingers, “come, my darling Zandik.”

He raises his eyebrow at that. That definitely caught him off guard, all right, however, what catches him more off guard is the portal that appears in his lab.

He takes one last glance at his laboratory. This chance only comes once in a life time, after all. Even if They aren’t what They say They are, at least he’s getting some entertainment out of this.

He steps into the portal after them. Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever ridiculous saying there is, but he’s in one piece when he steps out of the portal.

He gives himself a quick glance over. No new limbs sprouting from his body.

He takes in his surroundings. He seems to be in a universe with buildings that look similar to Liyue’s but with flying ships and surrounded by more advanced technology than he can take in.

“Look.” The Creator commands, pointing to guards dresses in what he would assume is this world’s armor.

On a side note, they’ve arrived on a huge tree overlooking the middle of a battle.

Some soldiers crouch with their hands over their heads. Looking closer, Dottore can see branches sprouting from inside their armor, (their bodies?), and growing outwards. Slowly, they all collapse and become afflicted with the same condition as them, sprouting foliage from their bodies with a grotesque scream.

Sensing his confusion, The Creator launches into a story.

“Not many people know this, but I don’t create the universes and worlds all by myself. This world was a case where I got bored and decided to create another god, or Archon, as you call them in your world, to have them shape this world instead. Whilst they was shaping this world, they grew more and more attached to the mortals in this world. They approached me and told me that everytime a mortal that he loved past away, their heart grew heavier and heavier. They begged me for a sample of my ichor, believing that if the mortals started drinking my ichor in place of water, they would remain immortal and everlasting, just like me. I warned them of the risk but he stayed adamant. I loved them, so I gave them my blood.” The Creator seemed to wilt in sadness. “Instead of being ‘gifted’ eternal life like they thought the mortals would be, the mortals became struck with a curse where, when they died, their body would start decomposing like it would a normal dead one, but they were still alive. In a last ditch attempt to save their people, the god sacrificied themself to me, hoping that their sacrifice would convince me to help their people. I buried the god in the earth we’re on right now, and the power imbued in the earth was the cause of the foliage growing from the mortals… or immortals now, I suppose.”

“Dottore stayed silent for a few beats after their story, “then if you’re The Creator, will you ever die?”

“It depends on what your definition of ‘death’ is,” The Creator replied, “I’ve died millions of times, over and over again and will continue to do so, but then again, I’ve also never died a single time and will never die. I am not the god of life, death, and rebirth, I am the concept itself. Everything comes from me and everything will return to me in the end because I am everything.”

The Creator slowly removed their veil, and reality itself seemed to break the more of Their face that They revealed. They looked him in the eyes, and it felt like he was looking at everything and nothing at the same time. He could see the void in their eyes, a place of nothingness, but also everything that was happening in the universe at the same time.

They put their veil back on. “Well, did that satisfy your curiosity, my darling mad scientist?”

Dottore could feel his heart speed up, an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest- Oh Creator, is he religious now? Well, whatever he might be now, he thinks hes not so against drinking nefarious bodily liquid after all.

#sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #zandik #fatui harbingers #genshin impact fatui #fatui x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #pantalone #ninnguang

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pluralthey · 8 months

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is there a good place to start if we want to learn about idletry? im very interested in the story and all the bits and pieces revealed so far but i dont know if youve like, stated the basics both about the characters-in-story and how you’re releasing the comic

hi there. unfortunately, idletry became a passion project very abruptly and many details were added very quickly without regard for how long the project would take. once i did realize how large the project was, i decided that i would not even kid myself on the idea of holding in spoilers for the next 5 years, and those two factors combined make the information available very chaotic and slapdash -- somewhat intentionally.

i don't even have the comics tagged separately for easier access among the idletry content -- although, i could go back and give them a separate tag.

i can summarize the story and say that it's about a funny little talking honey badger/tasmanian devil named jessie gaylord who has for the last 10 years of her life been on heavy psychiatric medication in an attempt to mitigate a pervasive delusion that the world is a fictional story. she also has a notorious aggressive streak. these medications work primarily by leaving her so tired that she sleeps most of the time.

the story begins when her medical team has run out of typical medications to try, and they must order an older, more aggressive type of drug which is not commonly used anymore, and has a lengthier process to manufacturing and approving the drug. during this time, she is not on any medication, and she becomes more urgently fixated on convincing people that the delusion is true.

she ends up attempting to contact the writer, who is referred to as God, and she receives a response. she immediately attempts to write the story herself, and she's granted the ability to do anything within the story so long as she can write it out. (the intricacies and limitations of this power have been elaborated upon in a bunch of fragmentary posts, so i won't try to condense it here)

at the end of the first act, she kills the first writer and becomes the new God of her world. the rest of the story is about what she does after acquiring omnipotence, and it heavily features a character named fate -- or shiloh, as jessie calls her -- with whom she enters an intimate relationship.

she has a happy loving family composed of a father named adam, a mother named evelyn, and an older sister named emily. there is a later minor subplot about a cult following who worships her after she becomes God, and this cult is initially organized by an ant called samanthuel -- or samwich, as jessie calls them. these are usually the other characters i mention and i am too lazy to link them right now

the comic itself is currently being written. the script stands at around 51,000 words at the time of writing this as i work on the second act. after it's written, i will let it simmer for a few months and then write a second draft to start to relieve the story of its bloat. depending on its length at that point, i will either need to write a third draft, or i will start drawing the comic.

chances are, during the second draft, i will start to thumbnail or sketch scenes which receive little to no editing, as i know they will likely remain relatively unchanged even through multiple drafts.

the sketch strips are to tide me and an eager audience over in the meantime, but they've sort of dried up as i focus all of my attention on finishing the first draft and taking care of a puppy that was kind of just forced onto me.

i've made a couple of full-length comics before and they have taken years. it is, unfortunately, just the nature of the process. for idletry, i plan to self-publish the comic. i've never published something in print before, so that is the most daunting part for me.

the plan at the moment is to crowdfund this, but, to be frank with you, i no longer pay rent, and i care very much about having this comic as a printed book. i have no issue with paying the cost of printing out of my own pocket by the time it's done and am even anticipating that outcome ahead of time, despite having a pretty reliable audience by now.

i'm on the fence about releasing a digital book version, as i very much want to retain digital color versions of the pages that are more vibrant, but due to the explicit adult content of the story, i don't want it to be free-access.

tl;dr: it's about a lesbian incel with anger issues who's given omnipotence.

i'm still working on the story because i want it to be good.

i'm planning on printing it as a physical comic book once it's done.

#idletry #not art #ask #asks #as a frame of reference your average actual words-on-paper novel is 60k words

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cozzzynook · 8 months

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“Hummel?”

“Hm?”

“Vhat are jou eating?”

Looking down at the bowl in his hands filled with glowing purple energon with a few pieces of zinc and melted aluminum coating it.

His hummel was taking his time slowly chewing away with a content sway of yellow and black pedes as he sat on his lap. A little hum every few clicks as he chewed on the metals before popping a piece of energon to his dermas.

Blitzwing tried to hide the disgust in his eyes as he realized his Hummel had sprinkled a spicy flake into the dish. His hummel never ate anything spicy nor did he caee for sweets surprisingly. The one who liked spicy foods was Random and Hothead while he was the one who enjoyed sugary treats.

His hummel preferred savory over anything else so why exactly was eating something both himself and his other personalities would enjoy all combined into one?

A whirr sounded and Random suddenly yelled with manic laughter, “Jour food is so outlandish mein buggy bee vhat gives?!”

A chubby cheeked pout rests on Bumblebee’s faceplate and a shade of blue colors his cheeks. The bowl of fuel shifted as Bumblebee started to scoot off Blitzwings once comfortable lap. He slapped the servo that tried to stop him by cupping his protruding tank but Bumblebee was having none of it.

“Hummel?”

The change in the accents thickness told him it was Icy talking to him again but he didn’t care. His em fields were swinging with his mood and as tight as he tried to keep them Blitzwing took notice.

“I am sorry hummel, please eat jour..food resting on me, hm?”

There was a moment of thought flittering through Bumblebee’s optics before he huffed and nodded. It was easy for Blitzwing to lift Bumblebee back in his lap, his hummel may have gained quite a bit of weight from carrying but he was still no closer to being Blitzwings frame or size.

Putting a servo beneath Bumblebee’s plump mesh tank Blitzwing rubbed his hummels side when he felt the little mech in his arms shift uncomfortably. The warmth his hummel radiated as he melted into him tugged at his dermas slightly and if he splayed his other servo on the left side of his bugs tank to try and feel their sparkling move he wouldn’t deny it.

“You know its still too early for you to feel them move. I can feel them turning, I think, because i’m carrying them you still have another month or two,” Bumblebee sighed as he leaned into Blitzwing’s warm touch. His war framed mech began to gently rub the soreness away on his left side and hip plating and all his attention began to drift away from his fuel and annoyance to comfort as he felt his frame grow sleepy.

“I know that but I still want to feel jou, jou feel incredibly soft and jou look beautiful like this. I can’t help myself,” Blitzwing uttered his admission lowering his helm to kiss the tip of Bumblebee’s horn. “I can’t get enough of seeing jou carry our sparkling, jou’ve never looked more beautiful hummelchen.”

“If you weren’t my conjunx I’d slap you,” Bumblebee moaned as he felt Blitzwing’s servo rub the sensitive plating above his tank. There was a noticeable dent that he’d yet to have fixed, their little sparkling war frame just loved to kick now that they’ve developed stabilizers and every early morning Bumblebee felt the joys and brunt of it.

“Jou vouldn’t hit me hummel, it vould be unwise to hurt the bot massaging all jour pains away,” in the past Blitzwing would’ve said little but with his hummel’s proneness to emotional swings, he wasn’t about to chance it. Besides, he was plenty content to touch along his sparkmates growing mesh to his sparks content. He couldn’t get enough of feeling their sparkling press tiny servo’s that would one day be large as his against his own.

Blitzwing was already in the process of making plans on how to convince his hummel to have more sparklings in the future. He was sure he could win him over, so long as their sparklings emergence wasn’t too long and painful.

“Get that thought out of your processor right now, I am not doing this again,” Bumblebee grumbled swatting at his sparkbond lazily. He shifted his hip plates again and Blitzwing let him, moving to rub his digit along the tender plating while bringing his other servo to cup the underside of his tank. That brought a long sigh from his vents as he felt his sparkling lean into their sire’s palm giving momentary relief on his back strut.

His optics felt heavy and his frame grew warm as it completely sagged against Blitzwing’s chassis. Bumblebee could feel the familiar thrum of that purple and blue spark against his helm and horns. He couldn’t help but loosen his grip on his fuel bowl as he entered a light doze between recharge and floating in aware bliss.

He didn’t hear anything break nor fall to the ground so he assumed Blitzwing caught it with his servo, the quiet clatter of the dish being set down told Bee he was right and the warm servo once again cradling his tank had him turn putty as a limp frame doll.

While he couldn’t see the loving gaze his sparkbond rested on him, he and their sparkling could feel it.

It was enough to make him possibly consider experiencing this again, possibly.

But Blitzwing didn’t have to know that just yet.

Tell me what you think, I hope you all enjoy 🥰 i’m working on beewavewave & a miroah post too ^•^

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p-redux · 7 months

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Inbox Summary 9/29/2023

Hi peeps, so I'm going to try something new. For some of your Asks in my Inbox, instead of answering them individually, I'm going to do a combined summary post of all of them.

I'm doing this because a lot of the questions are about past stuff I've already answered. I don't have time to keep answering the same questions (Search is your friend, my friends), I don't want to take up space on my blog to answer stuff that has already been answered, and the main thing is, I'm TIRED.

I'm in one of my fandom "meh" moods. I get into fandom funks every once in a while, where I'm over it, and don't feel like posting. BUT, I love you guys, and I know the next big scoop is just around the corner. Every time, I say to myself, I'm just going to fandom retire, Cait gets engaged, Sam is seen with a new woman, Cait gets married, Sam is seen with a new woman, I get the scoop AHEAD of time that Cait is pregnant (remember when I posted MONTHS before that someone from Outlander was pregnant? and 'lo and behold, that August, Cait announced she'd had her son), Sam is seen with a new woman, Cait has her baby, etc, etc. So, I don't give up...because I know there's more stuff coming, and also, like I said, I really enjoy my Team here.

So, what I'm going to do is either on Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays, depending on how busy I am, I'm going to do a weekly summary of answers to some of my Inbox questions. They will be short answers. And for further details, you guys can just Search my blog or Search Google.

I'll still answer some questions individually, but it will depend on the subject, and how busy I am in RL. Please keep sending me questions and DM's. I'll answer them. Some won't be answered as in depth as others, that's all.

So, here we go for this week's round up...in no particular order:

Susie Evans is in Austin with friends.

Sam is still in the UK. Cait is in Paris.

Sam is expected in New York next week, for the Keepers of the Quaich event ON Cait's birthday, October 4. For those gnashing "why do you think Cait wouldn't go to New York to spend her birthday with Sam?! She could?! They're friends?!" Um, yes, they're friends...but REALITY CHECK: Cait is married to Tony McGill and has a toddler son with him. Logic dictates that Cait and family aren't going to schlep from Europe to New York to be with Sam, who is simply her friend and costar, and NOTHING MORE. Cait will spend her birthday with her husband and son, and she has a TON of friends, she's not going to fly to NY expressly for Sam. Plus, he's BUSY on her birthday, remember? He's going to be at that Keepers of the Quaich event.

No, Sam and Sophie Skelton never dated. Sam never posts who he dates (except when he went Instagram official with Mackenzie Mauzy, but that was after 2 years of a committed relationship), and he posted pics with Sophie on a motorcycle at his Glasgow home. If they were secretly dating, he would have been much more secretive about it. I mean, I hope Sam is into some kink, but da/daughter ain't one of them. Who's your daddy? hahaha.

By now, we all know Sam's ex, Abbie Salt is fighting some type of cancer. Yes, she hasn't posted in a while. I'm worried about her too. But her sister, Charlotte Salt, has posted, and she posts on her professional design IG accounts as well. If Abbie had taken a turn for the worse, I don't think her sister would be posting. I hope Abbie makes a full recovery, wish her all the best.

Yes, I know, Sam's ex, Anna Modler is pregnant and having a baby girl.

Thanks for letting me know that two other of Sam's exes, Hannah James and Mackenzie Mauzy recently started following birthing, doula, and parenting accounts on IG. Looks like their next adventure is motherhood. Also wish them all the best.

The podcast with that IG influencer that was supposedly going to have some Sam content, as far as I know, there hasn't been any Sam mention. So, that was all smoke and mirrors, trying to get some free advertisement. Nothing to see there.

The two blonde, blue-eyed Scottish IG influencers supposedly being linked with Sam. I see no evidence of that. Again, seems to be just smoke and mirrors, and names dropped in my Inbox to see if I would post them or not. Nothing to see there.

Asking for a cheat sheet of the women Sam has dated and what do certain initials mean. I've done plenty of posts summarizing the women Sam has dated. Please Search my blog or Search Google. As for initials, I don't use initials, I post full names. So, if you see a woman's initials, match them to the full names I've posted.

Cait's dad's funeral. And do I have questions about Sam being there? Um, that's all Extreme Shipper bullshit, lies, spin, deception, and now they've sold it as shipper canon. NO, I don't have any questions because WHO was at Cait's father's funeral is VERY clear. Again, Search what I've posted. There are pic, video of Cait sitting next to her mother, and the "Sam is sitting next to Cait but he's wearing a wig" is her brother. NOT Sam. Tony is sitting in the rows behind, holding baby BalfeMcGill, as are other spouses. NO ONE from Outlander went to Cait's dad's funeral. Please THINK. Cait has a big family and she has a TON of friends, some she has known for YEARS. If anyone was going to go all the way to Ireland for her father's funeral, it would be her immediate and LARGE extended family, all the family's friends in Ireland, and then Cait's close friends. Sam and Outlander people aren't even in the first few rungs of WHO would get invited to the funeral. And yes, that includes, Sam Heughan. Besides, Sam was in Las Vegas during the funeral, and there are lots of posts showing that.

I know the TRUTH about Cait and Sam never dating, and Cait being with Tony since 2014. I know this thru verifiable and identifiable sources who directly and personally know Cait, Sam, and Tony. So, there are NO questions for me, because I've known the TRUTH for 9 years. It's that simple.

As, for my little frothy pet troll who sends me weekly rants about Sam. You can keep going, but all I do is laugh and laugh at how pathetic you are. What you write doesn't upset me because I'm not personally invested in Sam. I'm really not. I post about him because I get info about him, and people are interested in it. But I don't care one way or the other. My IP tracker tells me where the basement is from where you gnash and froth so desperately. So, go ahead, make my day, but I'm NEVER going to post what you send me. You'll never get that satisfaction. Never. Try me.

Okay, peeps, that's it for the summary. I may do more on Sunday. And like I said, I'll still answer individual questions, depending on what they are. If you ever want to know something from the past, please just Search my blog. If you can't find it there, then go to Google and Search p-redux and names or words you're looking for, and all my past posts will pop up.

Thanks for reading!

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liapher · 2 years

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Map of the World by @seperis

[Click on the pictures for better resolution.]

I read Map for the first time last year, and a couple months later decided to already reread it. The first time around, you're dropped into this story without knowing what's going on in terms of either the character dynamics or the setting, and it's like a puzzle you get to try to figure out. It's delightful! The second time around, you start out with a lot more puzzle pieces at hand (but absolutely not all of them yet!) and you manage to connect so many more dots. (I swore to myself to not go overboard and still ended up with a ten-way colour-coding system with stickers and writing margin notes. More recently, I decided to read all the comments on the Map AO3 pages, and they are so much fun to read! So many readers have shared really insightful observations, and the author has written a lot of very interesting replies as well. But having to switch back and forth between the story and the comment section is a bit of a bother, and I sensed an interesting typographical challenge, and that's how I found myself typesetting the fic again while adding foot- and margin notes to my heart's content. The book ended up being so long though that I decided to split it into two parts :-)

As for the cover of the first half: Each of the DTA fics introduces you---and the main characters---to a new, larger part of the world. In Map, the focus lies on Cas's cabin as the foundation for the relationship between the two main characters is laid, so Dean and the reader have to open the bead curtain together to get to that part of the story. If I ever get around to giving a similar treatment to the other fics in the series, the cover design would continue correspondingly: opening the gate to Chitaqua for Stars, entering Ichabod's main square for Lights, and stepping through one of the paintings in the white room for Game.

[Typesetting and crafting notes under the cut]

⁂

Typesetting

Okay so the thing is I love very involved typesetting. It's neat to look at, fun to plan (or as a reader, try to reverse engineer the typesetter's decisions), allows you to be a bit of a control freak about all details etc etc. The point of this typesetting project was to include lots and lots of commentary, so my priorities were:

maintain a clear visual distinction between the text and the comments

make the comments easy to read

keep the comments close to the lines they refer to

I used a combination of footnotes and margin notes to make the most of the available space. Margin notes are used whenever a comment is short enough; footnotes otherwise. Fortunately, I was able to typeset the text in such a way that there's no more than one new footnote per page, so I got away with just reusing the degree symbol ° to introduce footnotes and didn't have to work with a numbering system. Most margin notes refer to specific lines as well and here I got to add my favourite little typesetting detail: a manicule :) I based its design on this hand-drawn one.

Other notes: The longest comment is nearly 5 full pages long and is a comment thread about Dean not realizing how laundry works at Chitaqua lol.

I also wanted to prioritize reading comfort, so the margins are rather generous and based on the canons of page construction, and the leading is relatively generous: the body text is set in 11/14 and the comments in 8/12. The drawback is that this means I ended up with a lot more pages than planned (over six hundred). I also don't love that the baselines of the body text and the comments only line up every 6/7 lines, but every other leading option I tried out ended up making the text harder to read---can't have everything at once I guess.

I decided to not include any headers and footers since I think they'd only have made the page appear more crammed without actually adding a lot of useful information. Instead, the page numbers are in the margins, sharing a baseline with the topmost line of text. The beginning of each chapter and/or day is still easy to find since those black tab-like day number indicators extend all the way to the fore-edge:

2. The text block

I wanted these books to have a nice 2:3 (14 cm × 21 cm) page ratio, which meant I needed to trim the fore edge. I had a bit of a paper trimming disaster with another book last week, but for these books I found a method that worked better for me: Use the blade of the cutter to line up the end of the ruler with the spine of the signature at the head of the page, use the cutter to make a tiny cut at the 14 cm mark, repeat at the bottom of the page, and then use the marks you made as a guideline for where to place the ruler to actually cut away the edge.

This is the first time I sewed a book on tapes. I didn't have bona fide bookbinding tape and just used some leftover non-stretchy woven cotton tape (width: 1.5 cm) I had lying around. I followed the video tutorial by DAS. I don't have a sewing frame, but the tape was fairly stiff, so just letting about 2 cm of the tape protrude at the top worked like a charm.

3. Headbands

I followed the two-colour headband instructions by DAS and used a leather band with a diameter of ~1.5 mm as well as some three-ply thread that I got by separating a six-ply embroidery thread. This worked pretty well---the stiff leather band was easier to work with than the shoelace I used last time (mostly because of its even circumference). The slightly tricky thing about the embroidery thread is that the different strands sometimes try to bunch up on top of one another instead of lying flat, but I'm happy with the results. Per headband, the ideal length to work with for this kind of thread and a text block spine width of 23--25 mm was ~30 cm for the green one and ~55 cm for the blue one.

After finishing the headbands, I glued some (80 GSM) paper to the spine---but only between the tapes, to sliightly even out that difference.

4. The case

I followed DAS's video on the square back bradel binding.

The straightforward case:

Front & back: 216 mm x 140 mm

Spine: 23 mm (text block) / 26 mm (case)

Hinge: 7 mm

For the cloth-to-paper ratio of the half binding, I just picked what looked good rather than following the general ratio recommendations. Before gluing on the paper, I used a blue pen to make a couple subtle marks on the bookcloth, which helped a lot while trying to quickly place the paper.

To case in the book, I found it easiest to add a little glue to the spine edge of the back cover, put in the text block and do some quick readjustments, shut the book, let it dry for a few minutes, and then paste down the rest of the back endpaper (maybe in two or three more goes---add glue to the next couple cm, go wild with the bonefolder, repeat). Add glue to all of the front endpaper, shut the book, open it again, go wild with the bonefolder to smooth everything out, done.

For the wrap-around case, I ended up just winging it. It's mostly a square back bradel binding though.

Front, left: 216 mm × 102 mm (at the top)

Back: 216 mm × 145 mm

Spine: 25 mm (text block) / 28 mm (case)

Fore-edge piece: 19 mm

Front, right: 42 mm

The fore-edge piece is thinner than the spine piece since, unlike the latter, it's directly wedged between two pieces of bookboard, and the text block is thicker at the spine than at the fore-edge. I had initially tried making the spine and the wrap-around section level, but that looked a bit silly since you could see the gap between the text block and the right part of the cover.

For the wrap-around part, I glued the back, the fore-edge piece, and the right part of the front cover to a piece of paper (80 GSM), with one board width (2 mm) in between. In retrospect, I should've maybe added 0.5 mm to the hinge between the fore-edge piece and the front so it shuts more easily.

To secure the leather straps with the clasp, I cut two grooves into the bookboard: (Ignore that I obviously only thought of that after I'd already glued the bookcloth to the board, and also ignore the remnants of some paper that are glued to the right edge of the back cover...)

I cut out a couple small bookcloth triangles and used them to fill in the gaps along the back of the curved edge.

I painted on the cover design with some acrylic paint---super fiddly and it took forever, and unfortunately I only did it after casing in the book---before would've been easier. Oh well! I used a pencil to draw guide lines; fortunately it can just be erased from the cloth without leaving a mark or damaging the (dried) paint. (I tried this out on a scrap piece of bookcloth beforehand.)

⁂

In conclusion:

DTA, my beloved

Comments, my beloved

Involved typesetting and crafting projects, my beloved

#down to agincourt #dta #bookbinding #book design #mission update #crafts tag #this was so much work but i'm so happy with how it turned out :)

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indie-ttrpg-of-the-week · 2 months

Text

The Big OSR Post

What better way to close out the blog's first month but with a huge repository of fun OSR games? I'm not personally a huge fan, but I understand this is a genre people really enjoy, so as a compromise, I'll do every OSR submitted in a masterpost. I understand this is probably a pretty controversial move, but I simply think the genre's too similar to each other, I might be wrong but that's just the vibe I get! I'm sure there's some very fun and creative OSRs out there, they're just not made for me. I'll keep myself from sharing my thoughts on the genre for now, but rest assure these are cool games recommended by people who actually enjoy the genre!

Well, except this one:

Trespasser is really good. It's a mix of the Combat of 4e, with the dungeon crawling, character creation, and general vibe of OSR, it's a really good time, and its a high recommend from me personally Now on to the list of games actually by people who care about OSR:

This one's a very very popular one, Mausritter is based on stuff like Redwall, and it's chock full of incredibly high quality fanmade content, if you want an OSR where you play as a little rat, check this one out

This one's pretty interesting, I was debating giving it its own post because it just breaks so many OSR conventions but it calls itself an OSR, so in here it goes ig. Fist is a game that takes the narrative first approach of a PBTA game, but combines it with lightning speed disposable character creation, to truly give you the experience of being an expendable mercenary going against unfathomable odds. This game's pretty fun, I'd check it out even if you're not into the OSR genre

this one's pretty popular, Electric Bastionland is a simple OSR that focuses on exploring a huge underground city, its very rules lite so you can usually get up and running with it pretty quick so go check it out if you want a simpler game

https://punkpadour.itch.io/yokai-hunter

Yokai Hunter's Society, its a good rules light game, a recommend if you want to hunt weird folkloric monsters

https://preview.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/399483/Into-the-Odd--Remastered

This one's not on itch so sorry if you're allergic to non-itch.io websites

it's set in an underground society where one explores to find treasure. its a good fun time for all involved

look the tone isn't because i dislike these games, its because i wrote this entire post once and then tumblr glitched and made me lose all of it

https://emielboven.itch.io/tea-01

the setting's really fun, and the rules are lite, it's a good time. The setting is specifically based on Morrowind, Dark Sun, and other weird fiction.

https://graculusdroog.itch.io/vaults-of-vaarn

Vaults of Vaarn is a psychodelic ttrpg set in a postapocalyptic earth, its weird, fun, and also i believe its like entirely hand drawn which really adds to the aesthetic

https://tuesdayknightgames.itch.io/mothership-players-survival-guide

Mothership is a space horror OSR, its a biiiit more complex than the other ones, but its also got a shit ton of fan resources, and its also pretty basic in its character creation to make up for it

https://diogo-old-skull.itch.io/primal-quest-essentials

I got this one in a bundle actually

While the rules weren't for me, I think the setting is really cool, stone age fantasy is just really underrated as a concept, we need more of it!

We Deal in Lead is a weird west ttrpg, so if you're into that aesthetic, go check it out. its focused on exploration and player choice, and it can also be played with only one or two players

Beetle Knight is cool, its set in a tiny world where bugs are an organized society, think hollow knight, it's not out just yet, but its something to keep an eye on

OK I've actually PLAYED this one, so I can have an opinion on it: the WIthout Number series isn't great. BUT, there's a few rules which are ridiculously fun and well designed, so I honestly think this is a YMMV franchise. the biggest issue is how the rolling for HP works, if you can fix that, they're perfectly acceptable OSR games

Songbirds 3e is a surrealist game about being chosen (Or cursed) by death to help spirits passing on, when spirits are left stuck on earth they grow more and more monstrous every day, and its YOUR job to stop them from growing into a problem, no pressure. https://davidblandy.itch.io/lost-eons

Lost Eons is neat, its a game set in a solarpunk post apocalypse where magic's all around and actively mutating everyone around. It's got a cool post human look at the world, fairly simple yet fun rules, weird and interesting spellcasting rules, and more!

Knave is a streamlined classless OSR game, i heard a lot about this one and from what I can read its actually a really fun time, so check it out https://yochaigal.itch.io/cairn

(these last two go together since they're both Knave derivatives just with different settings and some more interesting mechanics) https://killjestergames.itch.io/errant this game was pitched to me as "Maximalist second only to literally just D&D 1e hacks", so thats about as much of a pitch most people really need. It actually looks pretty interesting

https://gormengeist.itch.io/greed

GREED or: Oil for the Blood God! It's an intensely surreal game by @gormengeist, its from what I can tell a sort of deconstruction of the OSR genre of game, so definitely a bit more on the niche side, but its fairly interesting and well designed

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg #OSR #NSR #sworddream #ttrpg of the day

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avatarmerida · 1 year

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Pleeeeeeeeease do a one shot with THAT crew art...

You know the one I'm talking about...

(I'm God's miracle)

I do know it. It controls my every thought.

I haven’t seen anyone do it with evil!Hunter (insp @soldrawss) so here’s my attempt at combining the two. In my take of this version, Hunter is aware he is a grimwalker the whole time and basically has to do the Emperor’s bidding to justify existing (nothing new there) but he is aware that Belos is a liar and evil and he also believes he is these things because why wouldn’t he be? In case it’s not clear, this would be after ASIAS in a AU where Hunter keeps trying to recruit Willow to the coven as an excuse to talk to her. It’s less angst and more Megamind (who fully believes he is angsty so) ok bye

---

“Well well well,” came a familiar voice from behind her. “If it isn’t my favorite plant witch.”

“Hello to you too,” Willow asked, unfazed by his “dramatic reveal” as she was so sure he had intended it to be. She did not look up from her comfortable spot on the ground where she sat, gathering soil into her little pail. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Golden Guard? Did you follow me up here or were you just waiting menacingly in the shadows for me to show up?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the business of the Emperor’s Coven with a civilian,” he said, giving her a non answer. “If you’d truly like to know why I’m here I suppose I could entrust that information to a new recruit.”

“Hmm pass,” she said, staying focused on her task with her back to her but feeling his eyes on her. He wouldn’t ask what she was doing, he would either pretend he already knew or ignore it all together.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, uncharacteristically small. Hmm,that was new. He was clearly hoping she’d have a more elaborate response and the prepared retort he had up his sleeve wouldn’t make sense, not that digging in the dirt made any more sense.

“No, I’m almost done,” she said, shoveling the last bit of soil into her pail. It was excellent soil, a shimmering dark turquoise that helped plants be more lively and vibrant. It was well worth the distance Willow had to travel to obtain it and collecting it was relaxing. It was quiet out here, an abandoned building made it seem off-putting to other people but Willow welcomed the calm atmosphere. There was hardly anything out here to capture the attention of the Emperor’s Coven.

But that seemed to be the case wherever she found herself lately.

“Ya know it’s dangerous to be out here by yourself,” he said, kicking at the ground not expecting her attention to linger elsewhere.

“Well I’m not here by myself now am I?” She asked with a smirk he could hear. Months ago she would be terrified to find herself alone with him, especially knowing what she knew now about the Emperor’s Coven. He did not deny it when she confronted him about what the Coven and the Emperor were really like. He was not ashamed, he claimed, rather he was content with his place and what that meant. He was delighted with the rumors depicting him as ruthless and cruel (and this was mostly from the mouths of her friends) but somehow her experiences with him differed.

He loved a crowd, a perfect chance to act boastful and righteous and flaunt his status. But when it was just them his insincerity did not seem very sincere. She suspected he never spent enough time with anyone for them to see beyond his little character, but she had seen enough repeat performances to pick up the inconsistencies. By now she could tell when his words were empty, when he was leaning into this character that he was forced to method act. But she could sense he didn’t know who to be around her, and she felt that was some of his best work.

“Ya know, the Emperor’s Coven has tons of dirt,” he tried to say casually, feeling things had been silent for too long.

“What?”

“Uh, well that’s why you’re here right?” He sputtered.

“Oh so your business can stay a secret but mine can’t?” She said as she stood up and turned to face him. She could’ve sworn he stood straighter when she did.

“The Emperor makes it a point to know everyone’s business,” he said in a low, cool voice as though he himself was the Emperor. He tried so hard to intimidate her but she somehow always remained composed, as though she was merely humoring him. She wiped her hands on her dark green skirt, the access dirt blending in nicely and shook her head at him.

“Well then ask him what I’m up to,” she shrugged walking past him, purposely brushing past his shoulder as she did. She heard him chuckle deep in his throat, as though she had said just the right thing.

“I’m not so sure he’d be pleased with you trespassing, little plant witch.” the Golden Guard said with a cocky smile. He has stopped wearing his mask around Willow, maybe because it was easier to see or maybe because he thought she could be swayed by a pretty face. She’d have to ask him one of these days.

“Pssh ‘trespassing?’” Willow laughed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “There’s nothing to trespass out here, it’s totally abandoned!”

“Exactly,” he said, following slowly behind her. “There’s a reason for that; it’s condemned. Strictly off limits.Dangerous.”

“Aww so did you stalk me all the way here because it’s dangerous and you wanted to make sure I was safe before you kidnapped me again?”

“Pssh, what?” Hunter could never place her tone, how it was both sweet and sour, how it asked a question that seemed to already hold the answer. It was like an argument that he wasn’t sure how to win. “Of course not. W-why would I care about what happens to a foolish half-a-witch like you? If you’re foolish enough to come here, you deserve to learn the consequences first hand.”

“Hmm, I could say the same thing about you,” Willow sighed, looking over her shoulder at him. “But which half-a-witch is more foolish? The one who came here or the one who followed her here because he wanted an excuse to talk to her?”

“It’s business!” Hunter insisted, picking up his pace as his voice got higher. “My job is to enforce the rules and will of the Emperor and the signs on the perimeter clearly state-.”

“So are you gonna arrest me?” She asked, quickly turning on her heel causing him to nearly bump into her.

“I-I could.” He stuttered, his eyes unable to decide where to look.

“Hmm, well you can’t join the Emperor’s Coven with a criminal record so... okay, go ahead.” She set her pail down and placed her arms out as though she was ready to be escorted to prison.

He was taken back. Very rarely did his banter get a response let alone ones so calm and silly. But she always managed to call his bluff and he couldn’t tell if she was wearing him down or winning him over. Either way, what a fine addition to the coven she’d be..

But she was right, and Hunter could hardly back down from what he said without contradicting his whole deal and risking losing the advantage he thought he had. This girl wasn’t scared of him or intimidated by him, heck she wasn’t even annoyed by him. His usual tricks didn’t work on her and as much as he wanted them to, it was somewhat refreshing. But either he had followed her here and hadn't stopped her or he was waiting for her and didn’t speak up right away. He barely understood why he mentioned the trespassing, the Emperor didn’t care about this area he would find the time wasted unless Hunter had actually caught a wild witch.

He was working on it.

“So um yeah I uh-.” But before he could verbally dig his own grave, the ground began to shake. A large crack formed between him and Willow and they both kept back to avoid falling in. The crack quickly sped up and reached the remains of the building, causing it to fall forward, heading towards the pair. They quickly jumped out of the way as the rest of the buildings followed like dominos.

As the walls came crumbling down around them, Hunter went to teleport away dodging the debris as he located the way out. As he looked out of the corner of his eye to see which way the plant girl was going, his heart or the equal equivalent sank when he saw her laying on the ground. A large collection of bricks had fallen on her foot and Hunter watched her remove them as a look of pain overtook her face.

She was so focused on her current situation that she didn’t see another pile was headed her way. By the time Willow did notice it was almost too late and all she had time to do was close her eyes and brace for impact.

But she was not met with the impact she had been expecting.

The next thing she knew, she was in a blur of light. Settings came in and out of focus, the constant, jagged movement made her dizzy but it was somehow sort of mesmerizing. She looked up and saw her savior, serious and sorrowful looking ahead at his destination and not being distracted by the wide eyed girl who clung poetically to his chest.

He darted from point to point, the ground growing more unstable by the second. His focus and grip never wavered as Willow took the opportunity to memorize his features. They seemed to compliment him in every sense, they made the transition from stern to soft so seamlessly. His edges were sharp, his jawline so defined it seemed to direct her to his eyes like an arrowhead. Willow had never seen this in his eyes before; it was less certain than the way they held anger but it was softer than the fear they had known.

She wanted to see them closer, but she felt the look would vanish if she entered his sight.

When Hunter felt they had traveled a safe distance, he stopped and hid behind a wall, making sure no other threats had followed them. Willow watched in wonder as he panted, his eyes desperately scanning their surroundings to make sure there would be no more surprise demolishment. He brought her closer, as though shielding her from unseen doom as Willow’s head fell instinctively on his shoulder as she listened to the sound of him breathing.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, close enough that she could see a fresh wound above his eye, another for his never ending collection.

“We should be safe here,” he said, more to assure himself than her, not quite answering her question. Something about him saying ‘we’ and not ‘I’ or ‘you’ made her heart spin.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“You can put me down now.” Willow said, feeling as though Hunter had forgotten she occupied his arms. He held her like she was nothing and everything at the same time. Like he didn’t want to risk dropping her. Like she was precious to him. Like he wanted her close. A boy with no good in his heart as he so adamantly claimed to be could never hold someone like this. She wondered if his kindness was hidden from him or by him. She wondered if it felt familiar or forced, because it felt nice to be close to.

“Oh, right.” He said as though it was really no inconvenience and had simply slipped his mind. He suddenly became conscious of how tight his grip on her was as he gently placed her back on her feet. It felt unnatural to do something so gently, but something about her made unnatural things happen easily. As her feet touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up her body and she winced as she shifted her weight. Hunter instinctively crouched down back to her side for her to lean on him to take pressure off the leg “Sorry about that.”

“‘Sorry?’” She repeated, the shock distracting from her pain, She gave a small laugh. “D-did you just apologize to me?”

“Uh, I mean I-.”

“Were you... worried about me?”

“What? No!” Hunter’s face turned bright crimson, in embarrassment, in anger, infatuated.

“You were!” Willow exclaimed victoriously, as she summoned a large flower to sit on, as Hunter was desperate to pull away. “You were worried you might hurt me!”

“No! I meant sorry for...”

“Oh my Titan, you can’t even think of a fake reason!” Willow accused in delight, adjusting her dress as she made herself more comfortable. “It’s true!”

“Shut up!” He spat, contorting his mouth into a twisted frown. “I-I didn’t even mean to say it!”

“Exactly!” Willow said, pointing her finger at him, small yellow flowers bursting around her to emphasize her point. “You didn’t even mean to! You did it without thinking! Deep down inside of you, there is good!”

“Shut up!” He said again, but this time the embarrassment in his voice outweighed the anger. He tried to walk away from her but his pace was not a quick as it could be, he had no destination in mind.

“You did follow me to make sure I was safe,” Willow said smugly, hoopping off her her seat to skip beside him as tried to avoid her direct gaze. “You care about me.”

“No I don’t!” He insisted, hastening his pace.

“Really? Then why am I over here where’s it safe? Would’ve been easier to have just left me, ya know. Let me ‘learn the consequences first hand’ and all that, right?”

“I was looking out for myself and you were in my way,” Hunter lied quickly. “You just got lucky, but it wasn’t on purpose!”

“You had plenty of chances to put me down,” she pointed out with a bright smile, summoning a vine to carry her to adjust to his speed. Her knee high sock had gotten torn and she could tell her leg was slightly bruised and scratched, but she could worry about that later. “And I’m pretty sure you told me to ‘hold on.’ Now why would you say that to someone whose safety you didn’t care about?”

“I owed you one,” he grumbled, pausing for a moment to try and figure out where they were.

“Would someone truly evil care about his debt to a mere half-a-witch?” Willow stopped behind him, removing her hair from her braids to redo them. She knew he wouldn’t leave with a question like that in the air. He stopped too.

He did not have a response, but he wished he did. He could not blame it on a code of honor because he knew that she believed that he believed he did not have one.

“You care about me.” She stated sweetly. It was not a question.

“So what if I do?” He asked softly, trying to appear as though it was no concern of his, whether or not it was the truth. “The amount someone like me can care about someone doesn’t add up to much. I wouldn’t let it go to your head.”

“So what if I do?” Willow said back, mocking his solemn tone as she twisted her hair back into a braid. “Maybe I care about you too.”

“Another foolish decision on your part,” said Hunter, regaining the steady control in his voice as he summoned his staff, knowing he couldn’t risk staying with her longer. “But I know better than trying to tell you what to think. You’ve made it clear that my opinion is of no value to you.”

“It has value,” she said slowly, disliking the braid she had made and undoing it, giving up on the endeavor. “It values me, so it’s not composed entirely of bad taste.”

“I’ve been very upfront about-,” he said loudly as he turned around to face her, not realizing how close she was standing to him. The vine she summoned for support elevated her slightly so she was at his eye level, her hair free and forming small curls around her face in a way he had never seen before. Their faces were mere inches apart but she did not flinch or pull away but he swore she held her breath. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “-about your value to me.”

“For the Coven, right?” She said gently as though she had to remind him. “It’s just that, I feel like during our meetings lately, you’ve been trying more to change my feelings about you, and less about the Coven.”

“The coven and I are essentially the same.”

“To you, maybe, but I have no interest in the coven,” said Willow, allowing her vine to set her down as she tried to apply gently pressure on her leg. “So how is it that I spend so much time with the coven head?”

He turned his gaze to the ground and did not answer.

“I highly doubt you pursue all candidates this thoroughly, I highly doubt you have the time,” continued Willow. “With all the time you’ve spent chasing me you could’ve found about ten more qualified recruits. Can you honestly say I’m worth ten scouts?”

“You’re easily worth 100.”

“How?” She asked, honestly perplexed. “Because I have potential? So what? Plenty of people do. You said the coven is no place for emotions, well that’s where my power comes from. Recruiting me would remove the thing that made you want me in the first place. You’re smart, surely you’ve realized that.”

“It's because you’re stubborn, “ he said, looking up at her like he believed he was invisible to her. “You aren’t swayed by fancy words and status and it’s not because you don’t see their worth. Your approval is guarded, it’s selective, and rare things tend to be valuable things.” His voice did not ooze its usual smugness, he said it like he was reciting a poem to her. His voice held something back as though he could not bring himself to say too blunt a compliment. He removed his worn glove and reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind. He could not place the reason for the gesture.

Willow let out a small gasp, half lost in the complement half breathless from the cold touch of his hand lingering against her cheek. He turned around to walk away, hoping it looked convincing that he could get very far this time.

“So if I had liked you when we first met, you wouldn’t value my opinion?” She called after him.

“If you had liked me when we first met you wouldn’t have really known me.” He called back.

“Does that mean you’ve changed?”

He stopped for a moment and thought about what that implied. She liked him now? Is that what that meant? How? He hadn’t changed as far as he was concerned, but he had never been someone else’s concern before. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He vanished into a flash of gold before appearing in front of her again, no other destination in mind.

“What’s to stop me from kidnapping you?” His voice was cold and demanding, the way it was always supposed to be. “You’re weak, you’re hurt, you’re helpless! I could take you to the castle and throw you in a cell! I could bring you before the Emperor and frame you for any number or crimes! I could-! Er... I could...”

“That’s what you could do, but what will you do?” Willow winced, the pain in her leg growing. “I think if that’s what you wanted to do you would’ve done it by now. But you haven’t. Because you’re worried about my comfort and you’re thinking about what’s best for me. You’re stalling because you don’t know what you want to do. I feel like true evil doesn’t hesitate.”

He inhaled sharply, cursing himself for hesitating to respond to her. He should be long gone by now, or at least be pretending he was in control of the situation. But he had saved her with no ulterior motive in mind, and the reason that did come to mind was impossible. He didn’t like her seeing him like this, but why did he care what she thought?

“I see how you fight,” said Willow gently, reading his thoughts. “You antagonize and trap and dodge, but you rarely strike. You love to talk and it’s like you’re trying to distract from the fact that your blows are never fatal. You refuse to attack unless it’s totally necessary. Doesn’t seem very bloodthirsty to me.”

“It’s called strategy,” he said. “It’s smart to preserve energy, it’s efficient. That way you don’t end up hurt and in your enemy’s clutches.” He gestured to her current state as though it proved his point. But Willow only smiled. She did not consider him an enemy but did enjoy her time in his clutches.

“So you know I wouldn’t have left you there either,” she said and he just groaned at how she was able to see more than what was supposed to be there. Everyone else accepted he was no good and scary, why couldn’t she? Wasn’t he supposed to want her to?

“Well. since you value loyalty, let’s see you try and join another coven now after the Emperor’s Coven saved your life,” he scoffed as though that had been his plan all along and he hadn’t just thought of it.

But she could see there was no true flair to his actions or ulterior motive lurking in his words, he was simply not used to going against orders in a way that he could not justify. It would have been fitting for his persona not to save her, it would have been tactical to lure her into an agreement before doing so and taking advantage of her position. So why hadn’t he? Why would he risk his life and have nothing to show for it?

“Thank you Hunter.” She said softly. She was the only one who said his name like that. His name was not freely given, but she had managed to weasel it out of him. She hadn’t had to try very hard.

“When you join the coven you won’t be able to address me so informally.” he said, putting his glove back on.

“I think that’s one reason you’ve become less insistent that I do.”

“You have many?”

“I think you’re scared,” said Willow. “I think you’ve been doing what you’re told and are trying to convince yourself that it’s what you want to be doing but it’s not. But you’re scared because you know what Belos is capable of doing if he ever found out. I think you feel trapped and alone so you don’t listen to the part of you that wants something different because you don’t believe you’re allowed to. Because you know that’s what Belos believes.”

“So you think about me often, do you?” He said, hearing what he wanted to hear or at least trying to make it seem like he did.

“Or maybe you’re just impossible,” sighed Willow, seeing she wouldn’t make any ground in that subject matter today, standing up as much as she could.

“Grimwalkers are supposed to be impossible,” Hunter pointed out. “We’re taboo, an unforgivable sin, we’re damned from the moment we open our eyes. We can be nothing but ruthless...”

She rolled her eyes, as he continued his classic “born to be bad” speech. She should’ve known it was only a matter of time before he needed to prolong his presence with a monologue.

“Yeah, okay.” she chuckled, believing him less and less every time. The speech was more to assure him than her at this point.

“It’s true!” He insisted, the tips of his ears turning red. “I am heartless! And cold! I-I haven’t even asked you if you’re okay besides I don’t care! Because I-.”

“Because you’re checking my vitals like you think I can’t tell,” Willow finished, noting that while he did not say anything he eyed her injury to ensure it was leveled properly to reduce the pain. He was no healing expert, but he had suffered enough on the job injuries to know a few tricks. “You’d leave any other recruit out here to fend for themselves, so why am I any different?”

He looked up at the sky, it was getting late. He was tired and hungry and he knew Willow was meant to home before dark. He would think of something clever to say another day.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Hunter quietly as he swiftly went to scoop her up again. Consciously picking her up allowed Hunter to overthink it. He cautiously placed his arms around her back and under her knees and held her close and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, locking her fingers together to keep her close. If not for what he would later label his momentary lapse in judgment, he would never have the opportunity to be so close to her without seeing fury in her eyes. Now, they held a calm flourishing field of green, they held pleasantly surprised gratitude and maybe... admiration.

He didn’t teleport unless it was necessary, certain the sharp movements would aggravate her injury and flying was no better. So he held her in his arms and walked back to the path, traveling in silence as Willow tried to make sense of the moment.

But it was all in his head. Because at the end of the day, he knew what he was.

He knew he was the latest and therefore the greatest and maybe the last in a long line of disappointments. He was born heartless, his emotions were nothing more than a clever manipulation to imply there was variety beyond disgust and anger. He was told what he was and what he was meant for and he was oh so good at doing exactly what he was told.

He would outlive the others. He would see the plan through. He would not be distracted. He had never had an issue sticking to these mantras until he found himself risking everything to keep a silly plant witch around. He dared to think he could keep her around if he could convince her of the benefits. But why did he want to keep her around any way he could? How was he supposed to explain the twinge in his chest when he became overly aware of how close she was to him, resting safe in his arms?

No one had ever looked at him this way. Her eyes weren’t sizing him up or predicting his next move or scanning him for signs of weakness. Her eyes graced him because she was glad he was there. His eyes weren’t reverting to her every so often because he was monitoring her for a surprise attack or suspected her disloyalty or because he thought she was impressed by him. He wanted to see her face because it made him feel safe, it sent a shot through him that envied fear and lighting.

“Is the whole ‘you care about me’ theory completely off the table?” she asked once their surroundings became familiar again.

“Grimwalkers can’t feel love,” he said casually, as though it was a common fact and not something so devastating. It was a rare truly serious moment so Willow did not cheekily mention the fact that she had not said the word “love” as he set her back on the ground, her house not far from here.

“Well, that doesn’t make you a monster,” said Willow. “Plenty of people don’t fall in love or feel attraction, but that doesn’t mean that-.”

“No, I mean...” Hunter loved correcting people, but his evidence against her claim came with a personal toll that he hoped she wouldn’t ask him to clarify and act as though it was something he didn’t mind about himself. “...I mean, we cannot feel love and we cannot be loved. We can feel fondness, I suppose, and gratitude but no more than is required to know the value of something. But our skin is thick, an armor, meant to deflect any type of affection that threatens to weigh us down. How can a creature without a heart ever feel-.”

Willow interrupted his latest monologue by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him down to her to place a strong but gentle kiss square on his lips. Despite her warmth, he was frozen. Sweaty, shivering, stunned. Her lips curled into a smile and Hunter’s thoughts were consumed with why. Was she delighted in the action alone or was it all done for his reaction? Had she frozen time or has they been in this moment forever? Was she just trying to shut him up? He’d ramble on forever if this was the punishment. But his chest felt like he had drank of water from the boiling sea, fizzling and burning and bubbling and the warmth spread to the rest of his body and numbed him like her touch contained venom.

He was melting from the inside out and somehow it was painless. His eyes widened in shock at the source, blissfully unaware of the ailment (or maybe she just showed no visible signs?) as she held him in place. It was as though then their lips touched, the world around them became more colorful. Willow had her eyes closed, perhaps because she already knew how colorful the world was. She was the brightest thing in it, after all. Had that always been the case?

His chest was on fire as she pulled back to look at him again, her hands lingered on the sides of his face which was now entirely red. He felt dizzy and dopey and turned around, had this been a trap she had planned for him the whole time?

“What have you done?!” He demanded angrily with a rage Willow had not seen in him before. She couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t speaking only to her. “D-Did you just curse me? My existence is already a curse! Why would you want to add onto it? Why would you-?”

“I didn’t curse you, I kissed you,” said Willow simply as though the two were often confused for each other, her voice carried an airy giggle. “It’s a way to show affection. It’s a gesture of thanks and... love.”

“Is that what this is?” He screamed, referring to the waves of fireworks in his chest that she could not see but somehow understood. “You gave me the ability to love?!”

“Well, I don’t think I gave it to you, but I think that maybe you-.”

“Well, take it back!” Hunter demanded, pulling her close to him by her shoulders and joining their lips as she had done in a swift motion. Unlike the way his hands had flailed behind him when she initiated the contact, she got over her surprise very quickly and leaned into it, reaching up to put her arms around his neck to return the pressure and keep him steady.

It felt just as scary as the first time but somehow easier. She was smiling again and while Hunter had no idea what he was doing, he was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it wrong. As he relaxed and allowed his eyes to fall closed, he could still see the dazzling display of colors as he tried to inhale the faint smell of wildflowers in her hair . Relaxation did not come naturally to him so he was quickly brought out of the moment as he suddenly remembered how he had gotten back into whatever this was and pulled away. Willow followed him as though she wasn't ready to part and when he looked at her, he saw her face decorated in a kindred flush as though she had just done battle. Another trap! Surely staying too long in the “kiss” allowed her to send the curse back to him because he felt so compelled to brush her hair out of her face again and that must be why.

“Curses aren’t really a plant magic thing,” Willow whispered, her hands still clinging to his chest. He wondered if her leg was still bothering her. He wondered why he even cared. “Just so you know.”

“Well, then it’s a reaction to one of your flowers or pollen or something,” he said. “I’m just having an allergy attack.”

“Or maybe you were raised by a liar,” said Willow. “Who convinced you that you were immune rather than neglected because he allowed no examples of any form of love.”

“Maybe...” Hunter began, dwelling over her words. He stepped back as his eyes widened when he found a solution that pleased him. “Maybe... I am the Titan’s miracle.”

“Oh geez,” Willow groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as Hunter’s ego increased and he began to pace, drafting a speech of what this could mean. “Well I’m getting out of here before you make me regret this. But… see you tomorrow?

He stopped. Something about the nonchalant way she said the words tickled his ear like there was something more buried in the words. He had just been thinking about how much her magic had improved in mere weeks, thinking about how powerful she would be if given months. He thought about how her power could benefit the coven. He thought about her often. He thought about her outside of her use to the greater good, he thought about her smile, her laugh, the way she placed her hand beneath her chin when she said something snarky, the soft peridot color of her eyes and how they shined beneath her glasses when she rolled them at him and the way she-.

The way she was the only one who made him feel this way. A way that wasn’t worthless or vindictive. A way he wasn’t supposed to feel.

“Do you intend on needing rescuing again?” Hunter inquired, looking at her over his shoulder his throat suddenly feeling tight like the question he really wanted to ask was stuck and struggling to be known. This tight dizzy feeling that he felt whenever she was around, this growing need to be beside her, did she feel this way about him?

In response, she sent a detailed yellow flower with long dramatic petals littered with pale red stripes. She sent in on a long strong stem so it reached his eye level taking in every detail. It was a remarkably unique flower and did seem particularly special at first but as he brought it closer he saw just how intricate its details were, the small patterns within the petals invisible to the casual onlooker. The scent was sweet but subtle, a pleasure you had to be close to in order to experience. He could tell this was not a flower found in nature, this was of her own design.

The flower’s vine wrapped itself around his wrist like a corsage, twirling around his pinky link it was sealing a promise. She had made her way safely into her house by now and they had an unspoken agreement that this space was off limits. But he knew their paths would cross again. He could use returning her pail of dirt as an excuse to see her. He could say her injury was a liability of the coven and he was obligated by the Emperor to monitor her.

Or maybe he didn’t need to explain himself, he was the Titan’s miracle after all.

#huntlow #huntlow fanfiction #willow park #evil!hunter #toh #the owl house #winter toh #megamind vibes but you have to read it like megamind #hunter toh

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langdxn · 2 years

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the compromise pt i | fire and reign!michael x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You get financial stability. Michael gets what he craves. It’s the perfect compromise.

WARNINGS: drug use, mention of police, sexual tension all over the place, breeding kink, mentions of birth control.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: welcome to a series i never thought i’d start but now i’m here, i can’t control myself. this will go on for some time, so please forgive me!

“Mr Langdon wants to see you in his office.”

The words that danced across Ms Venable’s smug lips sent chills up your spine, overwhelming dread washing over you as if a wave had poured through your cubicle’s ceiling tiles and bathed you in abject horror. Venable revelled in delivering the news that your recent behaviour had stirred none other than the company’s mysterious CEO.

Despite working for Kineros Robotics for 13 months, you’d never once met the man who funded the company’s dealings both above and below board, never even passed him in the hallway. The figurehead who made the final decision on the corporation’s actions, the model around which the dubious company functioned, remained a mystery from head to toe.

Office rumour has it the company never used to attract quite as much attention before his appointment, but you were hired a week after he arrived and assumed the unusual surroundings were the status quo. The unexpected combinations of celebrities from all corners of popular culture filing past your cubicle on the way to the CEO’s office on the 66th floor seemed normal to you, but you never worked out what they wanted with a seemingly innocuous robotics company. As much as you valued the job and its income sparing you from innumerable financial crises and final demand letters that poured through your front door, you certainly weren’t paid well enough to care what went on behind closed doors.

At least, that is, until recently.

——

“Take this to the 45th floor,” Venable barked, slamming a heavily-taped cardboard box on your desk. “The last girl had to be… dismissed this morning due to her failure to wear a simple name badge.”

“Yes, Ms Venable,” you blindly complied, gripping the brown package and rising to your feet. As you lifted the heavy box and made your way around your cubicle walls, Venable grabbed your arm and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Give this to the blonde mop top that answers to Mr Jeff Pfister,” she half-hissed. “As much as it pains me to admit it, he’s the more sensible of the two. Give this to Jeff only, you understand me?”

“Yes, Ms Venable,” you repeated. An obedient sacrament you hadn’t dared break in all your months at the company, not daring to find out the consequences if you did. With a nod of acknowledgement, Venable gestured toward the hallway and watched you walk away carrying the seemingly precious cargo.

After all the times you’d seen the likes of Ryan Reynolds and Elon Musk grace the hallways of the seemingly endless Kineros building, the journey upstairs never phased you. The elevator leading toward the work conducted at the robotics labs was a mere side effect of the pay packet at the end of the month. The metallic doors swung open automatically as you approached, allowing you to step in, spin around and let out a contented sigh.

Shuffling the box into the crook of your arm to free a hand ready to call the elevator, you chuckled lightly at the sudden recall of a memory of the 7 members of BTS squeezing into the restrictive metallic chamber together. As the box slid back down into your grasp, you noticed a dusty trace it left behind on your forearm. A thin, white line of powder.

Fuck. It’s cocaine.

The dramatic weight of the box in your clutches suddenly dawned on you, straining your arms to keep it steady.

Fuck. It’s a lot of cocaine.

Enough to solve those final demand letters.

Enough to solve any final demand letters.

Before your mind could calculate the consequences, your hands had already fumbled for the weakness in the box and clawed it open further, pouring out handfuls of the white powder and stuffing it into the pockets on your formal suit pants. Not enough to arouse suspicion but enough to line your pockets and earn yourself at least one less red bill.

With the soft ‘ding’ of the elevator arriving at the 45th floor, you’d already worked out your excuse before your messy-haired recipient met you in the crisp white foyer of the robotics laboratory.

“They finally sent a hot chick?” The man who answers to Mr Jeff Pfister called out as he bounded towards you, eyeing you up and down without an ounce of shame. “The last one was totally clapped but this one is a certified babe!”

A chuckle of agreement erupted from a brown-haired man across the lab without looking up from his electronic project at hand.

As Jeff’s gaze dropped to your feet, he noticed a distinct white trail behind you and audibly gasped.

“The fuck?!” He cried out, dropping to his knees and scooping up the powder with his bare hands. “Babe, what the fuck?!”

“Sorry, sir,” you apologised calmly. “This is how it came from the delivery room.”

“Well tell them to be more careful next time, will ya?” He looked up from his cleaning mission for a second before dropping his nose to the floor and snorting the remaining amount. “This is precious cargo right here, we can’t afford to lose this!”

“It won’t happen again, sir.”

In fact, the exact thing happened again. And again. And again. Until your final demand letters became a thing of the past only two weeks later, selling the contents of your pockets to anybody who would buy from the least suspicious coke dealer in the area.

Halfway through your fifth delivery, the hum of the elevator carrying you upwards suddenly snapped you back to reality, an overwhelming pang of realisation crashing over you as you turned to rest your back against the reflective doors. How much longer could you pull this off? How long before suspicions were raised in the building?

What if the CEO found out? Worse still — what if Venable found out?

Your mind raced through the consequences of losing your entire income from the company. The final demand letters would rear their red heads. You’d lose your apartment, your car, have to move back in with your parents, have to take the bus, probably serve jail time, have to apply for a new job having lost the last one due to careless management of inordinate amounts of cocaine — every outcome sounded worse than the last.

None of them were worth the risk anymore.

——

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Venable’s ever-present bark dragged your consciousness back into the present. “We don’t want to keep Mr Langdon waiting now, do we?”

Swallowing harshly and slowly rising from your chair; your gaze met with Venable’s, glimmering with mauve disdain above her narrow glasses. Both of her hands clasped over her cane, she tapped the stick against the floor so hard it nearly shattered the flagstones.

“No, Ms Venable,” you obeyed with a bowed head, tucking your chair under your desk and treading tentatively into the white hallway toward the elevator. The same crisp hallway down which you carried the class A cargo but this time, each step was taken less with anticipation than sheer terror of what lay ahead.

The mirrored doors that not two weeks ago resolved all your financial fears were now destined to carry you to your inevitable firing. The doors hastily slid open on your approach, leading you to gulp loudly and step inside its metallic chamber.

Hang on, why would the CEO personally see you just to fire you? Venable revels in that job, practically clamours for it simply to feed on the anguish of unfortunate employees whose time had come to a premature end for some reason or another. After all, she dismissed the last girl for misplacing her name badge. Hurriedly, your hand raced to your chest to double check your own badge, breathing a heavy sigh of relief to find the metal pin still in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you swore under your breath. “The money wasn’t worth this.”

You pressed the ‘66’ on the elevator keypad as if the button itself would destroy your life with one click, squinting to try and block out the next action as the doors swiped shut and encased you in its aluminium prison. Claustrophobia had never been an issue to you until this moment, eyes darting around your mirrored confinement from floor to ceiling as if you’d never make it out alive.

The jolt of the box’s motion skyward nearly toppled your balance as you braced yourself against the shiny wall, glancing up to the blinding lights above you that signposted your journey toward your fate. As if being dismissed wasn’t bad enough, your actions were far more illegal than you realised at the time. Aware that you’ve been mishandling a class A drug, Langdon could be sending you into a trap. The cops could be right behind that door when it reached its destination. You swallowed harshly, knowing full well how close you were to the end of the line.

The insensitive metallic “ding” of the elevator signalling its arrival washed yet another wave of dread over you. Squeezing your eyes tightly shut as the doors wiped open, you stepped out into the unknown and paced forward.

Your motion stopped abruptly as you clashed against an immovable force in front of you, forcing your eyes open to face the obstacle square in its eyes — a tall blonde man whose hard chest you just bumped against.

“It might be worth opening your eyes once in a while,” he sneered through a crooked smile creeping across his full lips, watching intently as you panicked and stumbled backwards raising cautious palms in the space between you to ensure you were a suitable distance away from him. He remained motionless, his hands clasped together behind his back.

“I… I…” you stuttered weakly. A deep chuckle erupted in Mr Langdon’s throat.

“I’m sure I pay you to speak at least a few words,” he smirked, his grin growing wider with every one of your panicked breaths. “Take a seat, miss.”

The elegant man spun on his heels and paced across the room to a chair behind a glass desk, tapping the opposite seat intended for you as he passed. Once the haze of fear finally dropped from your vision, focusing on his frame you noticed tumbling blonde curls pouring over his shoulders, his long black coat billowing as he moved and black boots making a satisfying ‘clack’ across the tiled floor.

Whatever you expected the mysterious Mr Langdon to look like, this definitely was not it.

“You’re not still frozen to the spot, are you?” His booming voice filled the room and caused you to lunge forward and rush to the chair across from him, perching on the edge of the seat and nervously sliding your hands under your thighs.

“Mr Langdon, I—.”

“So tell me,” he continued without acknowledging your attempt to speak, his facial features not changing to reveal his emotions. “What possessed you to steal cocaine from your employers to sell on the street?”

You gulped again. Loudly. How did he know every single detail of your actions? Did he have cameras in the elevator?

Fuck, you should’ve thought about that sooner.

“Sir, I know it was wrong and I’m so, so sorry,” you pleaded weakly, shaking your head in despair with every syllable. “Please, please don’t call the cops and please don’t fire me. I really need this job.”

For the first time, his smug grin dropped. Instead, a quirked eyebrow raised above his deep-set eyes.

“I was under the impression this company meant nothing to you,” he stated perplexed, leaning forward in his chair and placing an elbow on the glass table, resting his chin on his palm and tapping his cheek with his finger. “Particularly if you’d throw it all away over a few pocketfuls of cocaine.”

“Sir, have you ever made a mistake in the heat of the moment?” You instantly regretted your words as they rolled off your tongue without a second thought. “I made a huge mistake that jeopardised not only myself but also the company. I would take it back in a heartbeat.”

Langdon tapped his cheek again, as if dismissing your feeble attempts to resolve your own mess.

“I appreciate your tenacity, but you’ll have to try a little harder if you want me to overlook something as abominably illegal as this.”

“Of course sir, I’ll do anything.”

Langdon’s steady breaths hitched in his throat. His brow raised higher.

“Anything?”

“Anything, sir,” you affirmed.

He froze for what felt like an eternity, seemingly calculating your statement. You both sat in piercing silence, deafened by the unspoken words rolling around in his mind and the remaining desperate attempts to apologise for your mistake tumbling around yours.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, little girl,” he sneered, pursing his lips together.

“I… I’m not, sir. I really would do anything.”

This time, both of his tapered blonde eyebrows raised.

A decision had been made. And that decision terrified you.

Suddenly, Langdon rose from his chair and sidestepped around the desk, running a contemplative hand across the glass as he moved toward you. As he reached your side and his black boots nudged against your shoes, he peered down at you with wonder sparkling in his eyes.

“Stand up,” he commanded as you rose to your feet almost before he could finish his order. Even at your full height, Langdon towered over you, his blonde curls flowing around his shoulders at your eye level.

“If you do as I say, I will add the income you made from the coke to your salary so you never need to sell on the street again. If you do as I say, I will make this all go away. The police will never know, Mutt and Jeff will never know and most importantly, Venable will never know.” Langdon leaned in toward you, his voice softening with every word that left his plump lips. “But if you disobey me, I have the police on speed dial and I will personally ensure you never see the light of day again under the crushing weight of class A drug charges.”

You swallowed harshly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. Nodding furiously, you wilfully agreed to anything he had in mind.

“I have a few terms,” he continued, his face blank but searching yours for a reaction. “Number one, do you have an IUD?”

You nearly choked on thin air, eyes bulging from their sockets. You frantically scoured his face for any signal that he was joking, but his emotionless countenance gave nothing away. Realising how deadly serious he was, you shook your head tentatively.

“Good,” he affirmed with a slight quirk of his lips into a contented smile. “Second, are you taking any birth control?”

This time, your eyes darted around the room for a sign of a hidden camera, as if this were some prank. Unfortunately nothing jumped out at you, leaving you to nod obediently.

“Understood. I’m going to need you to stop taking it for at least two weeks. Do I make myself clear?”

Langdon slowly leaned into you, closing the gap between you as your breaths became laboured, until your lips almost met in the middle. You knew if you nodded in response, you’d certainly end up crashing into a kiss.

“Y… yes sir,” you whispered instead.

“Good girl,” he grinned, raising a hand to your face and tucking a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. He revelled in your fear, fed off your trepidation, bathed in your anticipation. He knew your thought process, knew you were following his plan to the letter at least in your mind. You knew exactly why he was asking this of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to question it, to hear his intentions from his own lips. You knew what your CEO was asking you to do, but verbalising it would make it real.

Suddenly, he spun around and skirted around the table returning to his seat.

“I’ll have a contract drawn up by the morning. Come back by 9am and sign if you still want those charges to flutter off into the ether.”

You gulped in a feeble attempt to disguise your irregular breathing and nodded curtly in response.

“Yes, Mr Langdon,” you obeyed, turning on your heels to the sanctuary of the elevator. As you strode in silence toward the mirrored doors, the CEO’s voice broke through the void once more.

“You can call me Michael,” he called out in the hope you would look back at him.

Noticing you briskly continuing your journey out, he tried again.

“Oh and one more thing,” he added as you finally turned to face him.

“Yes, Michael?”

“Make sure you ditch that stupid name badge before you see me again.”

#cody fern #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagines #cody fern fanfiction #american horror story #michael langdon x reader #ahs fanfiction #fire and reign!michael #fire and reign!michael x reader

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indeedcaptain · 7 months

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Spirktober 2023, day 18: With Friends/Family

I unfortunately got COVID from work so I have been floating in a fever cloud for a few days. Now that it's gone... here is some fan fiction. No porn, no plot, all vibes.

Also posted on AO3 here!

☆☆☆

After James’s parents had gone to sleep and Spock and James had retired to his room, they lay side-by-side under James’s comforter, hands tangled together.

“I sent your mom a holo of you today,” James said, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at Spock.

“I was aware of you taking it,” Spock said. “Did my mother enjoy it?”

“She did,” James said. “But she recognized the mistletoe in your hand immediately.”

“Unsurprising, if it is a beloved human tradition,” Spock said.

“Is that alright?” James sounded worried. At the concern in his voice, Spock sat up, pulling James level with him.

“Yes,” he said. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Your parents won’t think we’re moving too fast?”

“James, my father proposed to my mother five days after meeting her for the first time. It was only at her insistence that they dated for six months before becoming wed. I believe they will think we went about this rather slowly, for a Vulcan.”

“Five days?” James’s incredulous laughter was warm. “At least we were friends for years before going from that to engaged in twenty-four hours.”

“Once the mind has found a compatible partner, it is illogical to prioritize propriety over companionship,” he said. James leaned against his chest, warm and familiar.

“Did you ever think about what you wanted from a wedding?” James asked eventually.

“No. I knew who I was marrying and in what ceremony from the age of seven. And after T’Pring called for the Challenge, I assumed that I would never be wed. There was no reason for contemplation. Did you?”

“Just in general terms. I want my friends and family around, but nothing big or fancy. Did your parents have a wedding?”

Spock tightened his arms around James and breathed in the smell of his hair. “Yes. They combined their bonding and a human wedding ceremony. My mother wanted to include some of her Jewish traditions.”

“We could do that,” James said. “If you wanted.” He took a deep breath and said in a rush, “Also-I-invited-your-parents-here-in-January-because-they-were-coming-to-Earth-anyway-and-I-didn’t-want-you-to-miss-out-on-the-chance-to-see-them-”

“Perhaps we could get married when they are here. That would give our friends time to arrive, as well.”

Through their contact Spock felt James’s nervousness be replaced by the flow of warmthlovegratitudecompanionship, and it did not abate until James fell asleep.

☆☆☆

The next five days included more video-calls than Spock usually participated in over a year-long period. They had decided to invite the bridge crew, Dr. McCoy, Nurse Chapel, and Captain Pike in addition to their families, and Spock was content to sit at James’s shoulder and let him explain to the crew what they had gotten themselves into.

On the first day, Spock watched over James’s shoulder as he messaged the doctor.

>JTK: Bones! Happy holidays! How’s GA?

>TheRealMcCoy: I’m never going back to space. [Attachment: joannanoteeth.jpg]

>TheRealMcCoy: Oh wait, then who would keep you out of trouble? No one, that’s who

>JTK: funny you mention trouble

>JTK: what are you doing January 7?

>TheRealMcCoy: Hanging out with my kid and avoiding my ex. Why?

>JTK: Jo is invited. Can you come to Iowa?

>JTK: For a wedding

>TheRealMcCoy: Whose wedding?????

James grinned conspiratorially at Spock, leaning comfortably against him on the couch. “He’ll call in three… two… one…”

The video-call function alerted them that TheRealMcCoy was calling. James answered, keeping Spock out of frame for the moment.

“Whose wedding, Jim?”

“Does that answer change your answer?”

“Maybe! I’d like to know what I’m getting myself and my daughter into!”

“Mine,” James said. McCoy spluttered incoherently. “Ours.” He extended his arms, revealing Spock over his shoulder.

“Doctor,” Spock said. McCoy stared at him, blue eyes wide in disbelief and mouth slack. He glanced from James to Spock and back again before narrowing his eyes.

“Is this a joke?”

“Vulcans do not joke, doctor.”

“You and Jim are getting married?”

“We are, doctor.”

McCoy stared at them for six seconds longer before wiping his hand over his face, muttering, “Well, I’ll be damned. Yes, I’ll be there. Of course I’ll be there.” He turned over his shoulder and yelled, “Hey, Jo! Wanna go see Uncle Jimmy?” An offscreen child wailed in excitement, and when McCoy turned back to the camera his eyes had softened. “Congratulations, Jimmy. You too, Spock. Will you ring us on Christmas to say hi to Jo?”

“Of course,” James said, and the same offscreen child screamed again. “Thanks, Bones.”

“I’m happy if you’re happy, Jimmy,” McCoy said.

“I am,” James said. “Talk soon.” McCoy hung up and James rolled his head back on Spock’s shoulder. “That went well, I think.”

“I had predicted more yelling,” Spock said.

“Ah, well,” James said, looking slightly guilty. “Bones was the one I drank with and complained to when it was looking like I was pining after something that would never happen, so he’s not exactly surprised.”

“Others knew of your feelings for me?”

“Just Bones, assuming he kept that information confidential. We’ll see.” He pulled up Uhura’s contact, but Spock put a hand on his wrist.

“I would like to tell Nyota.” He pulled out his own padd and brought up their messages.

>STS: Good morning. How are you?

>NUhura: Good! How are you? Pike’s not working you too hard, is he?

>STS: He is not. I did not stay in San Francisco for the duration of our leave.

>NUhura: You didn’t? Where are you?

>STS: Iowa.

>NUhura: ??

>STS: With the captain.

>STS: I am well.

>STS: I am very well.

>STS: Are you available on or before January 7 to travel to Iowa?

[Incoming call from NUhura. Answer?]

Spock answered the call and Nyota’s face filled the viewscreen. He held the padd out from himself and displayed the truth of the matter immediately: he had no doubts that she would be able to piece together what had occurred. In the image of his camera’s view he could see what she saw: himself in one of James’s sweaters, tucked under a blanket on the couch, James leaning against him. Her eyes flicked from him to James and back again, narrowed.

“Spock,” she said, and her voice was full of fondness. “What happens on January 7?” He did not know what she could read in his face, but even before he answered her expression was evolving into one of pure joy.

“We will be wed,” he said, and she laughed out loud.

“That’s wonderful! Just wonderful. I’ll be there, certainly.” James lifted his head.

“You’re not surprised,” he said: a statement, not a question.

“Not particularly,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if this would ever happen, but I’m not surprised that it has. Congratulations, captain.”

“Nyota, I have a question of an interpersonal nature,” Spock said. She inclined her head. “We would like to invite Nurse Chapel, as we both consider her a friend, but I have concerns for her feelings, given her… former statements of amorous intent towards myself.”

Nyota laughed. “Amorous intent? A valid concern, but she no longer harbors those intents, I can tell you that.”

“Has she discussed the matter with you?”

Nyota’s eyes twinkled and the room behind her shook and spun as she walked from one location to another. “Chris, do you have feelings for anyone right now?”

“Very funny, Ny.” A deep voice came from offscreen before Christine Chapel’s face swooped into view, pressing a kiss to the corner of Nyota’s mouth. “Wait, who are you talking to?” Nyota laughed.

“I see we aren’t the only ones spending shore leave productively,” James said quietly, watching the screen with glee. Nyota angled her padd towards Nurse Chapel, who saw them and smiled.

“Hello, Captain. Mr. Spock.” Then she seemed to process what, exactly, she was seeing. She pressed one hand to her lips, the edges of her smile peeking out from either side.

“Chris, we’ve been invited to a wedding in early January. We can attend, can’t we?”

“Oh, I’m sure we could rearrange our busy schedules to accommodate,” she said. “I suppose we can move ‘laying in bed all day watching holovids’ to the week after.”

“Spock,” Nyota said softly. “Nash-veh u'thet k' du.”

“Nemaiyo, Nyota,” he said. He held up the ta’al and she did the same before disconnecting. “Do you think anyone will be as surprised as we were to learn of our mutual sentiments?” Spock mused.

“No,” James said immediately. “I am starting to sense that it was as much a secret as Scotty’s distillery.”

“Lieutenant Commander Scott runs a distillery on the ship?”

“You didn’t know?” James laughed at him, worming his hand under Spock’s sweater to rest on his ribs, over his heartbeat. “A secret to some, then.”

They had similar conversations with the rest of their friends over the next few days: Chekov, who was spending his leave in St. Petersburg but would be back in North America by the new year; Sulu, who bring along his husband and their child; Scotty, who Spock suspected of having acquired illegal modifications for the Enterprise’s warp core during his time on Earth.

Captain Pike agreed to attend, with Number One as his plus one. He turned his steely gaze on James and said, “When I told you to take care of my science officer, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Apologies,” James said, unapologetic. “I’ll send you another gift about it.”

Number One popped her head in behind Pike and said, “How about wine this time?”

“You’ve got it, ma’am,” James said.

The only call left to make was the one to his parents, and Spock found himself hesitating over the ‘call’ button. Illogical, he told himself. He knew his mother would be thrilled that he had found partnership at all, and he believed that she already harbored a fondness for James, given that they were communicating on their own. But what would his father say?

“Do you want me to call her?” James said quietly, and he slid the padd out of Spock’s hand when he nodded. He pulled up Amanda’s contact on his own padd and tapped her name. The connection rang for an interminable amount of time before---

“Jim!” Amanda’s voice was warm, friendly, unguarded. This was the voice she used with other humans, so unlike the tone she had adopted for most of her life on Vulcan. It was one Spock had heard infrequently. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I believe we promised you a video-call on leave, ma’am,” James said. “And there’s something we’d like to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”

“I do,” she said easily. “I was just tidying up my office. Where is Spock?” James looked up, and his expression said, How do you want to tell her? Spock nodded and squeezed James’s shoulder, because like this was fine. James pulled the padd back away from his own face to reveal himself leaning against Spock’s shoulder. Spock raised the ta’al.

“Hello, Mother.”

She raised the ta’al. “T'nash-veh sa-fu,” she said. “You boys look cozy. How is Iowa?”

“Wonderful,” James said, as Spock said, “Cold.” She laughed at them.

“Jim, I have to admit I’m shocked that you convinced him to go somewhere colder than San Francisco in the winter.”

“I’m as shocked as you are that he agreed, but I’m certainly glad he did,” James said, and he reached across his chest to squeeze Spock’s hand where it rested on his shoulder, bringing Amanda’s attention to their proximity and to the contact of their bare hands.

She looked at their hands, renanalyzing the way James leaned against Spock, and raised one eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “What precisely did you call to talk about?”

“Do you think you could get away from the embassy on January 7th?” James asked.

“May I ask what for?”

“For us to be bonded and wed, Mother.”

Her smile broke containment and spread across her face. She covered her eyes with both hands, and when she looked up again they were wet with emotion. “Oh, Spock,” she said, and her voice wavered. “I’m so happy for you. For you both!” She laughed. “Yes, we’ll be there. I’ll make Sarek make it work. I can’t wait to see you, and meet your parents, Jim.”

The nervous knot in Spock’s stomach that he never would have admitted to dissolved at his mother’s easy confidence that his father would attend. “And how are you, Mother?”

The rest of their conversation was made up of primarily updates on Vulcan politics, but every few moments Amanda’s eyes would flicker to the way James’s shoulder was pressed into Spock’s chest or how their hands brushed and she would tear up again. After fifteen minutes and forty-seven seconds, Amanda said her goodbyes and hung up.

James turned to him immediately. “That went well, I thought. What did you think?”

“Adequate,” he said, and buried his face into James’s collar, pushing them both prone on the couch. James accepted his weight, smoothing his hair back from his face. “I must admit I find it difficult to believe that this is not only allowed but celebrated.”

“The people who love you want you to be happy,” James said quietly. They remained on the couch until James’s parents arrived home, and then they were set upon to prepare dinner.

☆☆☆

After dinner, while they were cleaning the dishes away from the table and loading them into the sonic dishwasher, James caught Spock’s eye and nodded. Spock set the dishes he was holding down quietly on the counter and slipped out.

“I have something to talk to you about,” he heard James say, and he opened the front door and stepped out onto the front porch. The night was cold, the temperature hovering at 28 degrees Fahrenheit, and the snowfall from the week before had yet to melt away. It glinted in the moonlight, reflecting the clear white light back up against the fenceposts and the trees, which grew few and far between. Spock tucked his hands into his sleeves and observed the still, silent night, content to wait.

After two minutes and forty-three seconds of solitude, the front door opened behind him and George stepped out, coming to stand next to Spock with his hands in his pockets. He wore a heavy plaid flannel and the denim pants James favored, seemingly unbothered by the cold.

“So you’re marrying our Jim,” George said. He did not turn to look at Spock, just watched out over the land before them.

“Yes, sir,” Spock said.

“I must say, we never thought he would be the type to be tied down,” he said. Now he glanced over at Spock: gauging his reaction.

Spock weighed his potential responses: what he knew of James’s father, James’s reputation, the gulf he knew between James’s persona and his soul, before deciding upon honesty as the best policy. “I do not intend to tie him down,” Spock said. He kept his eyes forward on the snow and clasped his hands behind his back. “I intend to stand by his side and safeguard his well-being as he inevitably does whatever he thinks is right, regardless of risk. As I have for years.”

George let out a gruff half-laugh. “Safeguard his well-being, huh?” Spock nodded, unsure of George’s sentiment. He waited for clarification. The older man straightened his shoulders, and in the set of his spine Spock could see the way that James held himself on the bridge. “He’s lucky to have you, son. When we were just starting to get reports of the messes the Enterprise was getting into, Winona said that she thought Jim had a guardian angel, pulling him out of harm’s way. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it might have been you.”

George turned back to the door, opened it, and gestured Spock through. “I know Vulcans aren’t big touchers, so watch out for Win. She’s gonna want to hug.”

☆☆☆

Their wedding guests started arriving on the fifth day of January, and Spock was shocked to discover that the sensation of comfort and familiarity that he had always felt on the Enterprise and nowhere else was due not to the ship itself but to the presence of those he had come to love. For the first time in his life, though, the thought of emotional tethers to others was not followed by shame. He was marrying a human, after all, vowing to spend his life with his James. It would be illogical to refuse to participate in their bonds. He was beginning to think that there was a certain logic to love, anyway.

#k/s #spock #spirk #kirk #my writing #spirktober #spirktober2023 #kirk/spock #k/s fanfic

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