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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

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I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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181 notes · View notes

dboliklover · 4 years

Note

Thanks for answering my question ^^. How would the S bros react to finding out that they have a daughter with a former bride that the bride abandoned? The daughter is around 14 to 15 years old, she works her butt off at an auto repair shop and a factory to survive by herself. Her hands are quite strong, her hair is always messy and her clothes are almost always dirty from all the working, she really doesn't have the time to take care of herself, but nonetheless she is determined to survive.

I hope you don’t mind, but I made the scenario a little vaguer than you wanted - still on the same tracks, though!

Please; - REBLOG. - Comment and like! Feedback is crucial as well as reblogging! I love hearing your thoughts - Here is a link to my Ko-fi, for £3 I will write 500 words for you + give you a shoutout (if you’d like one!) - here is a link to my commission rates - You can email me at “[email protected]” to discuss potential commissions.

Money from commissions/Ko-fi is especially appreciated now, as the UK is entering a recession and I am going to university and will need all I can get - having said that, I do not want my followers to feel like they have to commission me - you already support me by reblogging and commenting, but if you like my work and want to help out, then it is welcomed. Thank you.

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SAKAMAKI BROTHERS FIND OUT THEY HAVE A DAUGHTER. 8 PAGES LONG

Shuu:

He never really thought of himself as someone who would have a family of his own.

Growing up in the world’s most dysfunctional household does that to a person - or vampire.

His father was an abusive asshole, so the idea that he would be a father himself....disturbed him, if he’s being honest - children always seemed so troublesome to him.

Generally, until he found out about your existence...he really never viewed himself as ‘fatherly’.

He never viewed himself as the type to fall in love, either - and he didn’t, not really. Perhaps, over time, he’d grown to be somewhat fond of his old bride but there was little real attachment there - it’s not even as if she ever tried to break through his walls, which he had more of than people assumed.

So when she managed to escape the manor and run away into the unknown, never to be seen again, he couldn’t say he was surprised or heartbroken. Wounded pride at most.

She’d done her duty - even if in the end she escaped, rather foolish of her to do but she was smart enough in the execution not to get caught, which he had to commend. But he had gotten what he wanted out of her, as had his brothers. Even if he’d been the one closest to her, it was far from being enough to cause any real feelings of love between him and the lost-bride.

So, finding out about the existence of a secret daughter he’d never before known about...was more than a little shocking, even if he was the master of concealing his emotions, inside he was caught in the midst of a storm.

He had a daughter.

A daughter.

All this time, there had been a little child out in the world that was allegedly his. And he was only finding this out now, in a letter from *her* - it was unaddressed, of course, she was too wary to write down a return address. Rightly so - the wrath seeping through his veins was usually reserved only for Karlheinz in this extent, but at the moment the rage was equally shared between his father and former bride.

The letter stated all it had to. That fourteen years ago, she had given birth to a baby girl after running away and left her at the steps of an adoption clinic. It was a guilt-ridden confession, but she added she knew not what became of their shared secret child.

He thought back to the time he’d been sent all alone to the South Pole. Destitute, hopeless, alone...and then he thought about how a child he never even knew existed but was his had to go through something like that - their whole lives, probably.

There was a hope that they would’ve been adopted - for the best, really, until he remembered the child was surely a halfling and with every passing year may start growing into their abilities and carnal desires of bloodthirst.

So, begrudgingly, he hired someone to search for you in his stead. There was little to go off of, but eventually, some Private Investigators managed to uncover your whereabouts, based off nothing but the records from the adoption clinic.

“I’m your father.”

It was a painfully awkward statement.

Shuu had no idea how he would fare as a father. He had doubts and knew he would be far from what you surely needed - and just from the sight of you he felt guilty to see how you’d been forced to take care of yourself your whole life - it was obvious from the hardworking and toughened gleam in your eye.

But, if he couldn’t be an effective father - especially given that you were already a teenager - he hoped to at least be somewhat of a mentor. You were half-vampire and would need his help with training to control your abilities and thirst.

Reiji:

If there was one thing Reiji did want, it was a family.

Except that, in his mind, it would perfect.

The perfect, pristine family unit - he would marry someone his father found acceptable - a noble Vampire lady from another pureblood house, perhaps - and they would wed, he would surely inherit Karlheinz’s role as Vampire King - after proving himself superior to Shuu - and then they would create the perfect, most behaved and refined offspring the world had ever seen.

Indeed, he had his entire life planned out within his mind. So it was just too bad when his plans came crashing down in the form of his discovery of his illegitimate child.

When he first met you, he’d no idea who you were - to him, you were a stupid street rat who tried to steal from him, and he was about to show you that you’d made a grave mistake when he paused, seeing your face.

You looked a little too familiar - it was making him uneasy. You looked like she did - the former bride, before Yui. And yet there was something morbid in your eyes, reminding him of himself. It was a terribly strange experience for him.

And so he just scolded you, telling you stealing was bad and let you go on your way instead of releasing his full rage on you.

After the fated meeting he could not stop considering a possibility that you had been…- but that wasn’t possible. You could not be his child, it was just a coincidence. He fathered no children.

Except the thought haunted him each night.

What if he’d accidentally and unknowingly fathered a child - fathered you?

Was pregnancy the reason the bride had decided the foolish choice of escape?

She had been a sacrifice - nothing more - and he could not claim to have loved her. He didn’t love her but she had been a beautiful woman whom he used for his experiments and pleasure often. And though he loved her not, Reiji could not lie that he’d gotten...attached, to the woman, and felt betrayal’s bitter sting when she ran.

So he’d done the only logical thing, really, and disposed of her as he did his mother - he refused to allow people to manipulate him and hurt him, hiring a mercenary to find her and kill her - which was allegedly accomplished after about a year of his mercenary’s search for her.

Had she given birth to a child, just before he had been the one to order her death? If so - how tragic fate was.

The possibility kept him awake but he felt little guilt about being the reason for the woman’s death - if...if that girl he ran into was his offspring, and if his theory was correct, then the bride had ran with HIS child in her womb and deserved it regardless.

So then, he knew there was but one solution to the problem.

He set a search to find you, and for a DNA test to be conducted. After finding you, he ordered the PIs to take hair from you and send it to a lab and give the results to him.

You were of his blood.

So he went to you, introducing himself as “Reiji Sakamaki” and explaining that he was your father, and showed you the lab results.

You can say goodbye to any individuality and freedom you obtained before his discovery because from now on he is determined to make up for lost time...and transform you from an ugly duckling into a swan.

Like you always should have been, had he known about your existence.

Even if you enjoy your messy appearance and being hardworking and labouring - well, he just won’t have it.

And since you’re only fourteen - and he is your found father - you’re forced under his wing whether you like it or not.

Best to accept your new life, at least it’ll be a lavish one - even with impossible to fulfil expectations and lessons on etiquette your found father has planned for you.

Just don’t misbehave too much, whatever you do.

Ayato:

A daughter. A strange - tremendously strange - concept for Ayato to wrap his brain around.

He never considered children - wasn’t against having them, but never gave it much thought.

As for the mother of his child...he could not deny he loved her. He wasn’t good at love, and he knew that, but still - the way she’d abandoned her life - their life - and fled wounded his heart and his pride immensely.

It hurt to be discarded so easily - as if she’d never loved him, at all!

He was the best of the best, so why did she slip away so easily. Surely...surely he’d been good enough, hadn’t he?

He had to have been. She was just ungrateful.

And it showed, now more than ever, that she had been.

Because Ayato now knew of the existence of a child - a teenage girl - out there, belonging to him whom he had unknowingly fathered and who’d been hidden from his knowledge for so long.

He’d admittedly found it out from Laito - he was reluctant to give his brother any real credit but had to where it was due; he owed Laito this.

Allegedly, the red-head triplet had gone to the poor side of town to gamble and ran into a young teenage girl who looked like a spinning image of Ayato - not to mention she did not seem fully human.

And so, Laito started his own personal investigation into the matter, discovering the secret and revealing it, shedding light onto the shadows.

And so now Ayato had to face the music and acknowledge the fact he had a child.

He was a father.

And it terrified him to know that, because he’d allowed this poor girl - his daughter - to be forsaken and alone her entire life. When he found out that his bride had left the baby by herself bundled in thin blankets on the street he was furious.

Ayato hated his parents - both of them - with a heavy-set passion. And he’d promised himself, in the rare times he had considered children, that he would do everything to make the lives of his children as good as possible.

And he already somehow managed to fail that vow to himself.

So now...now, he was determined. Determined to be the best father you could ever want - to give you everything you should have had growing up.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy - and that he wasn’t...wasn’t exactly the best paternal figure, even if he hated to admit he wasn’t ‘the best’ at something - but he was going to try and try again until he could attain a proper, good relationship with you.

Besides, you already had some common interests in sports and “boyish” hobbies, such as cars and motors.

Probably the best father to have out of them all, simply because apart from overwhelming overprotectiveness, later on, he would allow you to be yourself - messy hair and muddy clothes and all.

He just wants to be a good father and make up for the lost time.

Laito:

Let’s be honest, he’s already fathered like twenty kids at this point

Laito doesn’t exactly know what ‘love’ is - romantic, platonic or familial.

His view of it is warped and fucked up, and he actually is perfectly aware of this fact, or at least; he sure as hell is not blind to it.

He’s motivated by lust and a desire to be wanted, appreciated and adored; but he also does not want to love in return.

So, to him, the former bride was an excellent play-toy. She was attractive and flirty and his type - then again, who wasn’t his type?

When she escaped in the night, he expected it to occur eventually. Especially after she realised his lack of true romantic intentions towards her and that he only wanted her around because she gave in to his lust oh-so-easily.

But the concept of her having been with a child was...relatively surprising. Enough to make him feel uneasy and somewhat blameworthy.

Like Shu, he never really expected to have a family, but worse still; he did not want one.

The idea of being a father sickened him. He knew he was fucked up, even if he tended to look the other way at his own mess - he knew that a child being around him wasn’t going to end well.

He was terrified of becoming what he hated the most.

So much so that he initially tried to ignore the idea that you were his daughter.

He didn’t want it to be true.

Especially when he remembered the fucked up, awful shit Cordelia did to him - it terrified him to think he might do something just as scarring to his own child. He knew, within himself, that he never would - he was too disgusted by the idea of it, even if he acted carefree and without a moral compass.

But as time went on, he started to see you more often - you were scraping to get by, he could tell. And still, he told you nothing. You’d be cursed with him as a father.

At least, until one fateful Blood Moon night, when he was walking down the alley and found you, feral and beastly, as you drained the blood of a poor human soul who’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

And he knew that you did need him, even if he didn’t want you to need him.

Because without a mentor you’d be horrified and lost and he’d already allowed far too much harm to befall you as a result of his own selfishness.

And so he took you home - where you should have grown up regardless, and he tried his best.

He was...uncertain, how to be a parent. Not as if he ever had good parents of his own to be a pristine example.

So, instead, he tried to be the opposite of his own parents - to not hurt you as Cordelia did him - he was overly cautious, in an ironic twist, to never make any overly sexualised comments with you in the room. He wanted to, in a futile manner, keep your innocence as long as possible despite the fact you’d lost your childhood bliss long ago if you ever truly had it in the first place. Growing up in foster homes and on the streets since you were a child had been rough.

Karlheinz had neglected him severely, and so he tried to be the anti-example for that, as well.

It was a huge change and blow to his life, and the way he’d lived until now - but he knew that maybe...just maybe, you were what he needed too.

Perhaps you could help him become a better person by making him a proper, real father.

Just maybe.

Kanato:

Chaos.

That is what ensued when the bride had up and left that one dark moon night, fifteen years ago.

Kanato’s rage was heard all through the manor and the surrounding woods, his piercing screeches enough to render a Banshee deaf.

Kanato always struggled with love. As the youngest triplet, he had spent is life forlorn and placed on the side burner as he longed for his mother or father’s attention, never fully receiving it.

So when he had her - the bride - all to himself...he was satisfied for the most part with the constant, endless attention he demanded from her.

And then she, just like everyone else in his life - left him. Abandoned him, stopped loving him.

He knew he should’ve turned her into one of his bride-dolls instead. She could never leave him if he had. But he had been stupid and allowed her freedom.

Fifteen years later it was actually Shu who found out about Kanato’s daughter - about you - and the news was certainly amusing in the most morbid of ways.

For a while, Shu kept this a secret from Kanato, knowing his reaction likely would be far from positive. Even if, by chance, it was - well, Kanato could hardly be anyone’s father, being so very childish himself.

Especially since they already had one brat in the manor, did they need another?

But eventually, the secret came out - as all secrets, inevitably, do.

Kanato locked himself in his room for a week, refusing to believe the facts. He couldn’t possibly be a father!

There was no way it was real.

For Kanato, the denial is strong and there is a chance he would stew in his denial forever, never doing anything about the situation, disgusted by the idea of having bred someone.

If, by some divine miracle, Kanato could get over his denial, next he’d throw a tantrum. He would be furious at everyone - at the former bride, at Shu, at Karlheinz and...at you, for merely being born.

Because this knowledge made him miserable - and so, by association, so did you.

He wouldn’t want to meet you - even see you - at first. It would take a lot of persuading from his brothers to even consider it.

He didn’t want to be a father.

He didn’t want children.

You would only steal the attention HE deserved.

Kanato does not take kindly to the competition - and that would be what he’d see you as. Competition.

There’s a high chance you would go on with your life never knowing your parentage at all - but there is always the slither of chance that he would accept you. But even then...well, perhaps that’s more a curse than it is a blessing.

To be the daughter of Kanato Sakamaki would be a hellish thing.

Because he would be an abusive mess. Even if he grew to love you as his child, he knows not how to be a good person, much less a good father. His mother made him sing until his vocal cords bled. That was the only time she paid attention to him - and it taught him that he must always fight to get praise and recognition and you were an obstacle.

His words of hate aimed toward you would pierce through you, even after all those years alone - having been found by your birth father only for him to treat you worse than an insect - it would destroy you, even if you tried not to let it get to you.

But there’d be times he’d be so, so weak. So childish. So needy - you would probably have to turn into the adult in this familial relation, in the long run - taking care of him, having tea parties and dressing up like a doll.

If you’re lucky and behave and do as he says and never argue, he might just be a tolerable father.

But would that be a tolerable life?

Perhaps it would be better to be abused and hurt by him - on his bad side and be broken, rather than be a little-too-liked by your father and have him turn you into his pretty little daughter-doll, the first of your kind; the offspring of his seed, ever-so-lovely in your pretty pink gown, forever beautiful and never-ending. He’d even get to showcase you to everyone!

“This is my daughter, isn’t she pretty?”.

Subaru:

Horror. That emotion was pumping frantically through Subaru’s veins.

He was a father.

He’d been a father for fourteen years but had been none-the-wiser of it - he had to know exactly what events had occurred for them to get here, to this point.

What had happened to his former lover?

When she left, he couldn’t blame her.

He wished she would’ve remained by his side but he knew he was unlovable and a monster and filthy - so how could he ever expect her to stay?

Still...she’d promised she would, and that she didn’t mind his abrasive behaviour, that she loved him - but he knew, now, that she only did all those things because she knew that he would protect her from his brothers if she was to manipulate him.

When he first found out she kept such a deep secret from him, he punched a hole in the wall from instant rage, and then was overcome by sorrow.

There was a child out there. A child, who was his by blood and kin, and who had grown up fatherless and - allegedly - motherless, since the former bride just...abandoned their child.

And then she disappeared.

t was shocking and made Subaru sick to the stomach - even...even Christa, as scarring as his relationship with her was, probably wouldn’t have just left him by the road somewhere!

He had found you by chance - an accident, really. He was taking a walk in the city and overheard someone getting mugged - he told himself he didn’t care but it but then noticed the person being attacked was a young teenage girl with (H/C) tresses.

He tried to walk away but couldn’t, turning around to help, when, much to his astonishment, he witnessed the girl - you - beating the shit out of your attackers and taking their wallets instead. It was...impressive, but it had to be supernatural.

You were a strong, scrawny girl and such immaculate strength was abnormal - inhuman. It...reminded him of his own strength.

He realised, afterwards, that you resembled her - his past lover - to a disturbing degree.

The next time he saw you it was when you were on the run from some thugs. This time, he did intervene and saved your ass from being injured.

You were cautious but thanked him - he noted that you were a street-smart kind of kid, and he could always appreciate someone who knew how to fight- but you were rightly guarded around strangers.

That was when he saw your eyes and it took him aback. You had his mother’s eyes - they were exact replicas of Christa’s shining orbs, and he lost his breath at that moment.

Weirded out, you said your farewells and rushed away.

The idea that you were somehow related to him felt unreal. So he did what anyone would do - tried to deny it to himself, to tell himself it wasn’t possible. He did not have a daughter, and the former bride had taken with her all his happiness. Besides...even if you were his daughter, then he was just as unworthy of getting to be a father as his own was.

He was violent and aggressive - what sort of father would he make? A bad one, surely. It wasn’t something Subaru was about to risk - at least, he didn’t want to.

The thought refused to set him free from torment, however, and so he begrudgingly started observing you from the shadows.

Suddenly your lot in life seemed to improve for no reason whatsoever.

It was as though you had your personal guardian angel to protect you,

There’s a large chance he’d never reveal the truth, but an equal chance he would. Especially once he noticed your vampirism kicking in - you’d need...someone, even if it was him.

Even if he was terrified of fatherhood and failing you - it had to be done. Subaru would be a cool dad to have, but unbearably protective to a point of insanity.

- Mod Rozalia

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vicarfelix · 3 years

Text

A Team Matter

Felix Millstone x Fem. Captain

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,036

“This is our mission. You just happen to be the captain of it.”

Her team was like family to her. From the young and youthful Parvati to the auto mechanic SAM, every single one of her crew had a special place in her heart. Truth be told, none of the missions she had been on so far would’ve been possible without their help along the way. The Captain admired their hard work ethic and their loyalty. It was rare for any of them to question her judgement or decision making. Whatever she would do or say, they would be there to back her up. That was truly special to her.

That wasn’t to say that they didn’t bump heads with each other every now and then. That was life in a nutshell. It was impossible to get along all the time. 6 different people and 1 robot...all with completely different personalities. It was inevitable for there to be tension and disagreements at times.

The person who had grinded the Captain’s gears today was none other than the esteemed priest himself. She respected Max a lot. She put a lot of faith into him. He had an interesting backstory that had a couple of holes in it. She knew he had been to prison, spent a huge portion of his life searching for...well, that as the part she never quite understood. He was a trained hacker and served as an important asset to her team. That was why she had no issue with deciding to help him with a favor. She traveled with Max to Fallbrook to find an old scholar friend of his. Although, once she arrived and located him, she discovered that “friend” was not at all the case.

She was able to detect during the conversation that Max had lied to her in order to be sure she’d accept the task of his favor. She did not take kindly to lying, especially when Max knew what the bigger objective at hand was. It was her decision to make whether Max’s request was worth taking the time to do. The fact that he had fibbed in order to manipulate her decision did not make her happy. It infuriated her beyond description.

She scolded Max and expressed her anger for what he had done. He seemed genuinely sorry, acknowledging that he let his own personal feelings get in the way of what was important. She chewed him out royally and even made him cower a little bit. Thankfully, the Captain had brought Parvati along and she was able to fizzle things out before the Captain did something she’d soon regret. She seriously considered firing him on the spot and leaving him behind in Fallbrook. In the end, she decided that wouldn’t be right. She couldn’t leave anybody behind.

Still, she made sure that he knew if he ever pulled anything like that again then he’d be gone. The trek back to The Unreliable was quiet. Not even Parvati dared to say anything to try and ease the mood. Usually, Captain tended to avoid being spotted by raptidons and go around them. However, she had some serious negative energy to burn off and she made it a point to shoot at every single one they passed.

Eventually, Captain entered the ship, closing the door behind her selected crew. ADA greeted them per usual, her voice echoing through the ship. Parvati was quick to climb the stairs to the upper level because she could barely handle the tension anymore. Max knew that the Captain had nothing more to say to him and that she likely didn’t want to see him for the rest of the night. So, he returned to his bunk and called it a day.

She usually would huddle with her crew to wind the evening down and discuss the game plan for the next day, but truthfully she just wanted to be alone for a little bit.

The rest of the crew was upstairs sitting around the kitchen area. They found it odd that Max didn’t stick around to chat, but it all made sense when Parvati explained in a hushed voice.

“I would leave Captain alone until tomorrow if I were y’all,” She advised; “She’s madder than a stuck primal.”

This surely got everybody’s attention, especially Felix’s. He always worried about Captain. Even more so now that they were an item. He knew she could handle herself and anything thrown her way, but he still didn’t like it when she was upset about something. Nyoka, who was standing at the counter, chimed in soon after;

“Why’s that, P? What happened?” She asked for Parvati to elaborate.

Parvati looked to make sure Max wasn’t in the room before continuing;

“Mr. Vicar lied to her and she found out. She hollered at him and I was sure she was going to let him go. She went straight to her quarters when we got back just now.” She said, taking a seat next to Felix.

Ellie let out a low whistle. She was standing at the head of the table, arms crossed and brows raised;

“She always checks in before turning in for the night. That must’ve been some lie to make Captain that upset.” She stated.

Felix was fiddling with the tossball that he always kept in his pocket. The wheels in his head were turning. He knew how Captain felt about traitors, liars, people who abuse their power. She wasn’t a fan when someone told a lie for personal gain, but even Felix knew it was peculiar for her to be this frustrated over it.

“I’ll say. That’s not normal at all.” Felix claimed.

Knowing that there wouldn’t be a team meeting, the rest of the crew scattered into their own rooms just to start the day over tomorrow. Felix, on the other hand, decided to pay her a visit once he knew she had some time to mellow out. He crept quietly downstairs, careful not to wake anybody up who might have been asleep. He could be a bit heavy footed and he had his fair share of being yelled at for activating SAM in the middle of the night. To avoid this, he was sure to remove his shoes to soften his footfalls.

He came to the Captain’s doorway, peeking his head in to see her standing at the long tabletop, leaning against it. He watched intently as her eyes gazed over the planet in front of her, deep in thought. She eventually noticed his stare which prompted him to offer a bright grin.

“Hey, Felix,” She said in a rather monotone voice; “I’m guessing you’re here to check on me.”

He shrugged. She was half-right. He did indeed want to check on her, but he also just wanted to see how her day went. Although, based on what Parvati had said, he was sure it didn’t go so well. He took that as an invitation to enter and approach her. He stood next to her, his hand finding the small of her back;

“I just wanted to see my favorite gal,” He said cheekily; “And to check on you.”

She knew once Felix figured out that something had gone awry that he’d come bopping in to see what was up. Truth was, she was relieved to see him and to have someone who was always willing to listen.

“You know the situation I’m in,” She began; “The situation I’ve dragged all of you into.”

“I think it’s fair to say we brought ourselves into it. You didn’t exactly ask me to be a part of this crew...I asked you for a job.” Felix corrected.

“But I didn’t tell you my mission until after I hired you,” She retorted, moving across from him to sit on the bed; “I’ve been tasked by some crazed scientist for all I know to save the colony. I wasn’t given a lot of instruction other than to take this ship and keep in touch with Phineas. I don’t even know what the endgame is gonna be.”

Felix was listening closely. He turned from the window to face her, leaning back against the table. It was all starting to make sense now. It was simple. She was stressed and the pressure was beginning to get to her. He let her go on;

“I’m the one who’s got to save Halcyon. To be successful, I need our crew to be honest with me and all on the same page. I need to be able to put my trust in this team,” She said; “That’s why I got so upset with Max today. He lied to me to ensure that I would do something that he wanted. It didn’t affect anything too bad, but that was a serious blow to my trust in him.”

Felix understood where she was coming from. He believed that honesty was extremely important, especially with the way things were now. He saw both sides of the coin. He saw her position as a captain with a life changing goal ahead, but he also understood how much finding Reginald meant to Max.

“Max didn’t mean any harm. He understands that he should’ve handled it differently,” He suggested; “The mission wasn’t affected any. We’ve still got time.”

Felix had a point, but she was still irritated. As the captain, she was the one who had to decide what was worth their time. She got to decide what they had time for. She never minded doing something for someone in your beloved crew, but she still had a big mission hanging over her head.

“I know that, Felix, but what’s going to happen when I set us out on a mission that does affect what I’m trying to do here?” She said with your voice having a slight edge to it; “Then the colony’s fate is destroyed just because I thought it was a good idea to let the vicar have a fucking book translated.”

He would admit, he would never want to be in her shoes. That was one hell of a weight to carry alone. He was just fine being a crew-hand. However, she was perfectly able. She had what it took to save Halcyon. She had a badass squad, a family, by her side to help the cause.

“What’s this ‘I’ nonsense I keep hearing? This isn’t your burden anymore. This became a group matter the second you hired the first person of this crew,” He said with a sense of urgency. He couldn’t let her go on any longer thinking this was all on her; “This is our mission. You just happen to be the captain of it.”

Her heart was warmed by his words. That was unbelievably comforting. She needed their help, each and every one. She couldn’t do this alone. She knew this. Phineas knew that when he brought her from her 70 year hibernation that she’d be able to find companions to assist you along the way if she wanted it.

“You're saying if I go down with this mission, then you’re going down too?” She asked semi-joking.

He smirked, raising and settling his brows quickly;

“Damn right we will. It’s all or nothing, boss. We’re in this together.” He said moving to join her on the small bed.

“Thanks, Felix. I needed that.” She admitted; “And I thought I told you that you don’t have to call me boss?”

Felix smiled proudly. He knew he could lift her spirits. She was sounding like herself again. He leaned back onto her pillow and stretched out. Looked like he’d be staying the night here. Not that she minded.

“I like calling you boss. Even if you weren’t my captain, you’d still be the boss of this relationship.” He laughed heartily.

She playfully smacked his leg, a little offended at his statement.

“You calling me bossy?” She asked with a giggle.

“Yeah, I am actually,” He confessed; “But I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

She blushed. What a guy. She was thankful that she ran into him that fateful day on Groundbreaker. There’s no way this mission would still be afloat without him and the team she’d built. They’d be by her side no matter what.

For that, she was forever thankful.

#felix millstone #felix millstone x reader #felix millstone x you #felix millstone fanfiction #the outer worlds #the outer worlds felix millstone #felix millstone oneshot #felix millstone x female captain

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a-lil-perspective · 3 years

Text

The Bad Batch and Axe/Knife Throwing

A/N: Uhhh I’ve had this in my drafts for weeks. I don’t actually know what this is. Just funky bro stuff that spiraled into like 2.5k words because I just don’t know when to stop, do I. The working title for this was “Bullshit and Bullseyes”, if that puts anything into perspective (I nearly made that the actual title haha). Anyway. Enjoy?

Technically, no; they didn’t need to spend credits on booking the space. By all accounts, there’s nothing wrong with chucking weapons against the Havoc Marauder’s hull. You wouldn’t believe the damage it’s withstood over the years.

Nevertheless, its walls had been taking quite the beating lately (honestly how many times has it actually been said “no weapons in the house”?) and quite frankly, Hunter was getting sick of grousing about the fact.

But when you’ve been cooped up in the vacuum of space for days as the Bad Batch has, you become acutely aware of the perpetual sensation of losing your mind—and of the stagnant air beginning to fester.

Let’s put it this way: Intelligence work is not kind to four Super Commandos, who’d just as soon wrangle a herd of Gundarks than allow anymore strategic analysis to keep them huddled around a comm system for days on end with no intermission in sight. It can’t be stressed enough the way this work was far, far beneath them. They’d just as soon tell High Command to get on with the invasion already (where their skill sets actually applied) and that if they want Clone Force 99’s help, they had best find a better way to hold their attention, because “tapping into enemy comm channels” ain’t worth a damn.

But, until then: there were other things that would do the trick.

Back within the planet’s gravitational pull once again, the Bad Batch prioritized their short timeframe of respite by not actually participating in the act of respite at all, instead seeking out the nearest weapons range. It felt something like freedom upon discovery.

The axe throwing establishment was practically empty when they arrived, which was the driving force in their eagerness, having booked the last session of the night. More room to work.

And, no one to tell you you can’t bring your own arsenal.

Hunter removed the strap of his weighty knife bag from his shoulder and set it down as the boys settled in their designated lane. While Wrecker and Crosshair dove for the bag like deprived womp rats, Tech had more gracefully found a spot on the nearest bench and planted himself to it, tapping away at the little box atop his vambrace. Predictable.

“Don’t even give me that look, Hunter,” Tech didn’t even look up, already privy to the quizzical gaze while fixated on his slew of technology. “You knew good and well I would be taking notes and collecting data during this session for the purpose of enhancing our overall performance going forward.”

As if he hadn’t been taking an infinite amount of notes the past five days.

“How ‘bout you take some notes on how to have fun,” Crosshair mumbled through the toothpick he anchored to the corner of his lip (Hunter always felt nervous when he worked out or trained with that thing in, just waiting for the day he finally chokes). The sniper didn’t bother looking back at Tech as he rummaged through Hunter’s bag in search of knives he deemed fit. He grinned wickedly at a particular set of five, all of them airy and tapered and perfect for his nimble fingers to sidle around. They were similar in size, if only a few inches wider, to the darts he usually threw in his quarters. He considered them with a sleight of hand, quickly piecing together an accurate projection of air velocity and the weapons’ overall weight.

Crosshair would make his mark. He always did.

It further came as no surprise that the Sergeant excelled in his turns from the get-go. He wasted no time in nailing bullseye after bullseye with a variety of weapons big and small. It was comical, the way Tech would make sounds of marvel and adjust his recording lens accordingly when Hunter would nail a pair of axes with a backwards throw or something of dramatic flair.

And Wrecker, oh, Wrecker.

Let’s say his turn was cut rather short—as were the rest of his brothers—when his very first throw, bearing as much care a demolition expert could muster, drove straight through the target in its entirety and brought the entire structure down wall-to-board. Hunter shuddered, grimacing instinctively at the harsh clang of colliding metals and wood that ended in a timbering heap.

Wrecker merely flashed a sheepish smile.

Hunter bit back his frustrated sigh, but the one expelling behind him was unmistakable. He whirled around to find the sensation to be correct, and that the expression marring the Devaronian’s features was unsightly.

Great. The owner of the establishment.

“I’ll pay for that,” Hunter offered immediately, gesturing awkwardly to the ghastly pile of materials. It was an auto-pilot response, really; Hunter was used to cleaning up after his rowdy bunch by now.

“Got that right,” the Devaronian rumbled, cracking his brooding knuckles as a statement that seemed more mindless than anything; he must’ve realized it foolish to get into it with four Super Clones. He turned around and stalked off, but not before grumbling something about the Clones being “mindless rank weeds” and “no better than droids”.

Wrecker must not have heard thank the Maker, otherwise the entire building could’ve been brought down on their heads in nothing short of an emotional outburst. Crosshair simply threw a crude gesture to the Devaronian’s retreating backside. It was either that or the knife in his hand.

“Cross, put your finger down dammit, we’re trying not to cause trouble here,” Hunter hissed. “You really wanna piss off a Dev?”

“You really wanna piss off a Crosshair?” Wrecker interjected with a wicked chuckle, always at the ready to tango with Crosshair and trouble.

He had a point, though.

Crosshair made a deep scoffing noise in his chest and simply turned his attention back to the dilapidated target. The sniper with no fear. Or so he’d like everyone to believe.

“Sorry, Sarge,” Wrecker rubbed at the back of his thick neck, having gone back to anxiously surveying the damage.

“Let’s just switch lanes,” Hunter countered coolly, helping Tech gather up their weaponry and move over one. It’s not like the owner would let him (or his pocket) forget, so there was no use worrying about it.

With a fresh target and a fresh turn at the ready, Wrecker eagerly began to ask for a re-do with the axes he skewered with moments ago only to be let down—gently, of course. Hunter wasn’t a mean brother, for fierfek’s sake.

He felt a bit guilty over limiting Wrecker’s turns but honestly, what was he thinking, bringing them to a place like this? It’s too... normal for Commandos—whatever ‘normal’ is. They would’ve been better off back on the Marauder.

No they wouldn’t have.

Maybe that’s why Hunter willingly ventured out on a weekend evening in the Coruscanti Districts for that sense of normality for he and his brothers; as if it could actually be found in the bustle of city life and whatever resided within.

It’s not that he wanted them to fit in, per se—Hunter can speak for the four of them in that they’re secure in their abilities and standings. But it’s as if he wanted something... grounding. In the middle of a war. Certainly a foreign term to both soldiers and citizens alike.

Grounding. Something to give the boys a sense of fulfillment and a taste of youth, even if only for the night. No expectations, no methods. Just Serotonin and sibling rivalry. Fulfillment.

Wrecker was certainly feeling fulfilled over the knives he opted to throw instead, much lighter and more controlled than the axe—which was a shame, really; he was very good at them. You haven’t quite lived until you’ve seen Wrecker at full capacity in his brute strength. The axes were just an inkling of his potential. Despite the fact that the majority of knives completely disappeared in his wide expanse of palm, he could still stick them with deadly force. Tech especially made relevance of the fact, insisting he show Wrecker a recap of his feats later.

When he wasn’t recording and plugging in data for the other throwers, Tech went a few rounds with Hunter’s smallest knives: quick and sleek and agile, much like the goggled member himself. The preference of axe or knife was divvied between the group: axe’s were more Hunter and Wrecker’s thing while knives were more Tech and Crosshair’s.

It took a bit of encouragement for Tech to actually complete his turn, as he was more concerned with the preliminaries and technicalities instead of the actual throwing. He’d stand there for what felt like several minutes, considering and trying to incorporate the use of his tech until Crosshair—how dare he—cut through his concentration with a sharp demand to “Just. Throw.”

It was rather unfortunate that there was only one target available to four people wanting to use it simultaneously. It seemed the members of the elite Commando squad still hadn’t mastered the art of patiently waiting their turn.

Hunter couldn’t help but find the hilarity in that Tech managed to land several of the knives as ‘butt sticks’: handle side in. He chuckled to himself. Only Tech.

The engineer claimed the act was wholly intentional. Hunter thought his witty brother was just trying to excuse a simple over-rotation. Tech had the aptitude for speed under his belt, but sometimes he had trouble controlling his speed. But if you thought that hindered Tech’s ingenuity or prowess in the slightest, you were sorely mistaken.

It’s times like these Hunter felt that familiar swell of pride in his chest as he relish his brothers’ unique array of strengths, weaknesses, and opportunes. All of it played a monumental part. The Sergeant in him couldn’t ask for a more proficient squad. The brother in him couldn’t ask for more unique siblings.

In no time, all four men had each accumulated their own sheen of sweat, the byproduct of a solid hour’s workout—no, two hours (Hunter should know by the way he grudgingly dumped another handful of credits into the Devaronian’s on the hour), their allotment extended all because the bros refused to be done, reduced to acting like petulant children because of.

Speaking of petulant.

“Who’s in the lead now, Tech?” Crosshair asked through a lingering pant, breaking from his turn as he took a seat next to the human scoreboard. He accepted the cool rag Tech handed him with a curt nod and slung it over the back of his neck to soak up the sweat, rolling his toned shoulders and shaking away the thought of potentially having to break from the rifle tomorrow because of how much he overdid it with the knives. Sore shoulders made for shit shots.

Tech chewed his lip and shot a single, timid glance up to Cross, who suddenly realized that maybe the gifted rag rapidly warming behind his neck was actually just an act of grooming for the disappointing news to come.

Tech cleared his throat. “In the current overall standing, it appears that Wrecker takes the lead, with Hunter a very close second, me of course making the ranks, and you being last—”

“Aw hell no,” Crosshair yanked the rag off and threw it to his feet as he pulled the toothpick out from between his now grit teeth, jabbing it around the room in emphasis. “I’ve easily got the best aim around here, I ain’t the one who destroyed an entire target and I didn’t miss one damn time—”

“It is not about missing, Cross; there are many factors to consider in the overall performance,” Tech answered matter-of-factly, with maybe the slightest hint of sympathy (more like irritation) laced within.

“And that includes humility,” Hunter chimed in, crossing his arms.

Wrecker and his lack of knowledge on appropriate social cues left him cheering over his victory, and Hunter forced himself to swallow the smile tugging at his lips. Few things in life filled him as much as Wrecker’s youthful exuberance. It was infectious.

He gave a light shove to the solid mass of man. “That means you too, Wreck.”

“Bullshit...” Crosshair sulked, numbingly processing his loss. He found himself leaning into Tech’s supportive pat on the back, suddenly too tired to care about his dwindling dignity or even any of his prior winnings in the past. He’ll forever be consigned to his dangerous competitive streak and that’s that.

“You’re just a sore loser!” Wrecker was grinning wide again, all teeth and triumphant. Crosshair scowled further and yes, he was actually pouting up from his spot on the bench thank you very much. Blackmail him later.

“The only thing that’s gonna be sore is your ass when I shove my foot up it.”

“Hey.” Hunter’s cue to intervene. “Settle it down. We had a good run tonight, blew off some steam, got a nice workout and stretched the legs. Let’s head back home, yeah?”

Hunter received murmurs of agreement save for Crosshair, who responded with silence, which was his answer.

The Bad Batch gathered their things and headed out, with Hunter paying the owner for the property damage on the way (reaching up to smack Wrecker in the back of the head just for good measure), and the alien made no attempts at subtlety in his relief over the way the chaotic bunch were finally departing. Apparently, the Bad Batch showcased some of the more poorer examples of decent clientele.

Funny that one might assume ‘decent’ and ‘Coruscant’ actually go together.

As they emerged back into the flow of the planet-wide city, the near-midnight breeze quickly catching in all of the sweat spots, Wrecker stopped in his tracks, having been eyeing a dejected Crosshair on the way.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, vod?”

A timid pause. “Can we get ice-cream? I think Cross here could use some. With sprinkles and a starcherry on top, just how he likes it.” Wrecker scooped up the lanky brother in question, who squawked in protest. “And a nice, squishy Wrecker hug.” He pet Crosshair’s head. “That always helps him feel much better about me winning.”

#wrecker is so thoughtful XD #lol idk I’m sorry guys #star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #do y’all actually want this idk #I will happily take requests on things you DO #requests are always open for blurbies or whatever :)#butt sticks are a real thing btw #that’s how I land mine XD #my writing #it’s a lil thing

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot “Surprise Guest Stars” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Chaos ensues when some uninvited performers show up to Thomas's Christmas pageant ... (2221 words)

Notes: Blaine friendly. Assume this happens in a world that hasn’t met Covid yet. A re-write for @kbweek2020 Day 4 prompt Parents.

Part 60 of Daddies.

Read on AO3.

“You tell him!” Sebastian whispers.

“No, you tell him!” Blaine whispers back fervently - a huge fail if he was trying to keep Kurt from hearing him. For a man who’s been working in theater professionally since college, how could Blaine forget that Kurt would be able to hear him from every corner of the stage? Rule number one of working backstage - no shushing and no whispering.

“Why me?” Sebastian asks.

“Because you’re his husband! You have a child together! If I tell him, detectives will never find my body! He won’t hurt you!”

“Yeah, right. Wanna bet?”

“Sure. Can you break a hundred?”

“For God’s sake!” Kurt snaps, too overwhelmed this close to curtain to handle anything that might go hand-in-hand with those two and their whisper fighting. “Would one of you just tell me what the heck is going on? What are you arguing about?”

Sebastian looks at Blaine, waiting for him to give Kurt the explanation he’s demanding while Sebastian searches for a place to hide. He’s out of luck when Blaine catches him off guard with a huge shove towards center stage right in the path of the steely-eyed man walking aggressively toward them, the thick heels of Kurt's Jimmy Choo loafers pounding against the wood floorboards marking down the remaining seconds of their lives.

Blaine may have made his living on the stage, but Kurt takes theater much more seriously than he ever has.

“We might have a problem,” Sebastian says.

“What? What problem!? It’s fifteen minutes to showtime! Don’t talk to me about problems!”

“O … okay ...” Sebastian smiles sheepishly, splaying his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Let’s call it a hiccup then.”

“A hiccup is a safety-gated synonym for problem, and I refuse to accept that there are any problems.”

“And yet, we still have one.”

Kurt sighs, throwing a hand to his forehead to shield his already blooming headache from whatever stupidity this is, and ends up smacking himself with his clipboard. “Fine!” he groans, rubbing the sore spot. “What is it!?”

“Look up there.” Sebastian reaches out to take his husband’s shoulder and redirect his attention. But after considering the possibility of getting his hand bitten off - a hand that will become most important if Kurt decides to never sleep with him again after this - he motions with his chin instead.

“Up where?”

“Up … up there. In the Christmas tree.”

“What? Is Mrs. Popson complaining that the ornaments are unbalanced again? Are we going to have to re-Feng Shui the lights to better complement her third graders’ angel piglets?” Kurt allows himself a snicker as he follows Sebastian’s instructions and gazes up. Eight dozen ridiculous things have happened so far, and their little pageant has yet to even open. That’s probably all this is - something ridiculous. A minor inconvenience blown way out of proportion.

At least, that’s what it had better be.

But as he peers through the branches of their picturesque twelve-foot Fraser fir, he realizes no. This isn’t a little thing. It’s a rather large thing. So large, he wonders how come he didn’t notice it before now.

“Oh … shit,” he mutters.

“It's Blaine's fault. I didn't see it until he pointed it out,” Sebastian says, passing the blame off on an offended Blaine and leaping quickly aside in case this revelation has consequences.

“This,” Kurt hisses, jabbing a finger upward, "is why I told you I wanted an artificial tree for the Christmas pageant! Where did we get this thing anyway?”

“It was donated by Father Bruno at St. Adalbert’s Parish to show support for the school's LGBTQ+ inclusive program. He went out to the woods and cut it down himself!”

“Right!” Kurt folds his arms over his chest. “He probably planned this! Did it on purpose to sabotage our pageant! You can’t trust the Catholics! Don’t I always say that!?”

Sebastian looks at Blaine, and a confused Blaine looks back, each wondering if this is some inside remark directed at the other.

“No!” Sebastian pulls a face. “I have never heard you say that!”

“Well, you can’t,” Kurt sniffs. “And whether I said it or not, it’s generally implied.”

“I don’t think the man did this on purpose,” Blaine says, but does so in that soothing tone he used so often on Kurt in high school. A bad decision, Blaine realizes, the moment Kurt's head pivots his way, and he sees everything from Kurt’s neck to his scalp turn a bright, crayon red.

“Really!? Then let me ask you this - during the time it took the good father to cut this tree down and drag it over here, he never once noticed there was not one, not two, but three nests inside!?”

“I guess not! But neither did y---we,” Sebastian corrects, his life flashing before his eyes when he comes close to implying his husband is at fault. “We got the tree last minute. I guess they slipped through the cracks.”

“Obviously.” Kurt closes his eyes and drops his head, searching for an answer in the dark behind his lids.

Five minutes.

By now, they only have five minutes. He hears the children lining up with their teachers backstage while he and his husband argue. But they need to stop arguing and come up with a solution.

Fast!

He takes a deep breath in and exhales out, the inklings of a plan forming in his head.

“It’s okay,” he says, reassuring himself more than anyone, the headache simmering behind his eyes threatening to become a full-blown migraine. “It’s going to be okay. They haven’t let the parents in yet. They’re still in line outside. We can fix this. We can still fix this. We can move them, right? Just … shimmy up there and get them down?”

Blaine and Sebastian shoot each other anxious looks. This time, Blaine starts, choosing to jump on the grenade for Sebastian. “Uh … no. We can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” Kurt counters, over-enunciating consonants through teeth clenched so hard they’re about to pop from his skull. “Figure out a way to skitter up there and pluck them out. It can’t be too difficult.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt …”

“Or come at them from above. You can reach down from the catwalk. That might work out better seeing as they’re so high up.”

“No, Kurt …”

“We’re not going to hurt them,” Kurt interjects as if that might be the big hold up. “We’re going to relocate them.”

“Kurt …”

“There’s a cat carrier in the fifth-grade room,” Kurt continues desperately, unsure why it is this can’t be done, why Blaine can't say, "Brilliant, Kurt! I'll get right on that!" He’s seen people do it before. The Crocodile Hunter (God rest his soul) rescued birds left and right. That nice Officer Kevin from the SPCA who rescued the deranged pigeon from his father's auto body shop. And wasn’t there a famous Vine where some guy got an owl out of his kitchen using a broom? It can’t be that difficult. “We’ll toss them in there for the time being and then …”

“Kurt!” Blaine cuts in, raising his voice a tad higher than advisable considering the situation. “We can’t move them!”

Kurt's glare nearly takes the top of Blaine's head clean off. “And why can’t we?”

“Because those aren’t just any birds.” The three men look up at the exact moment nine fluffy faces peek over the edges of their nests and look down, probably wondering what all the commotion below is about. “Those are loggerhead shrikes.”

Kurt and Sebastian both look at their friend with confusion on their faces.

“How do you know that?” Sebastian asks.

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder and shakes his head. “That question is going to require a longer answer than we have time for. Plus, there are children in the building. Just accept that Blaine has a thing about birds.”

"PG? Or R?" Sebastian asks, needing clarification regardless.

"Try X," Kurt says in a lowered voice.

Sebastian looks at a blushing Blaine with wide, disgusted, but somewhat amused eyes.

"Continue," Kurt says, "from the part where you tell us why these birds are about to ruin our pageant.”

“Loggerhead shrikes are threatened. That means they’re protected. We can’t move them ourselves. We might not be able to move them at all without taking the tree with them.”

Kurt’s eyes bug. “We can’t … we can’t … the tree!? Oh great! This keeps getting better and better!”

“Relax.” Sebastian takes the risk and puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. He tries to massage it, but it’s hard as a rock. “It’s okay. We can still sort this out.”

“And how do you suggest we do that!? Huh!? Our Christmas pageant, which your son is starring in by the way, and is supposed to start in …” Kurt spins around in search of a clock. When he can’t see the one on the far wall, ironically because of the tree, he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and checks the screen. His eyes bug out farther “… two minutes! has been hijacked by birds!”

“Look, Kurt, they’ve been chill so far. Maybe we can have the pageant with them there and move them after. Problem solved.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees optimistically, trying to force his heart to slow down, seeing how, with no time to spare, this could be a feasible option. “You're right! We’ll let them stay! Problem solved! I mean, what’re a few birds? It doesn’t look like they can even fly yet. And they’re cute! They’ll add realism. They won’t be any trouble.”

“Not exactly,” Blaine says, and Kurt has never wanted to punch him in the face so hard in his life. Wait … come to think about it, there may have been one or two other times. “There may be a whole other bigger problem.”

“And that is?”

“Those are babies. Juveniles, specifically. I don’t see any moms. Or dads for that matter.”

“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Kurt moans, resigned to whatever fate Blaine’s knowledge is about to bestow upon them, “but … that’s a problem why?”

“Because loggerhead shrikes are protective. Being separated from their chicks, the parents will get aggressive. Also, if the babies don’t know where their parents are and they get nervous …” A series of jarring screeches interrupt Blaine’s explanation. Kurt glares up at the birds, mouths open wide, cawing loudly into the air. Blaine points up. “They’ll do that.”

“Great!” Kurt yelps, at the end of his rope. “So we have potentially agro birds loose in the theater, baby birds that spontaneously scream bloody murder, and a play set to start in half-a-minute, which we may have to postpone indefinitely in case we need to call animal control - do I have that right?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Well, skippidy do! Is there anything else!? Anything at all you’ve forgotten to tell me!? Because what else could possibly go wrong!?”

The doors at the back of the auditorium fly open, and Kurt blanches, knowing that right then and there, his question is about to be answered.

“Kurt! Sebastian!” the assistant principal yells, looking a little too much like Tippi Hedren in The Birds for anything good to come from her sudden appearance. “Come quick! It’s an emergency!”

“What? What, what, what is it now!?” Kurt asks, sounding less than sympathetic.

“Insane birds are dive-bombing parents in line outside! Three people have already been pecked! Everyone is scattering!”

With the auditorium doors thrown open, Kurt can hear the panicked yells of parents banging on the steel doors outside, begging to be let in. Above that, the shrieking of the birds searching for their babies echo through the halls, their screams so high-pitched and piercing, they make their way through the thick stone walls and double-layered storm windows. Hearing their parents’ cries, the baby birds respond, frantically flapping their wings in an effort to take flight themselves and reach them.

Bitterly Kurt thinks all of his problems might be solved if they give it a go, plummet to the ground, and break their little birdie necks.

How un-festive of him.

Sebastian looks at his done-in husband. “Do you want me to go outside and handle this one alone?”

“No.” Kurt straightens his back, squares his shoulders, hands his clipboard over to Blaine, and makes for the stairs to the stage, head held high like a gladiator going off to fight an unwinnable war. “I’ll go. Blaine? Tell the teachers … there’s been a bit of a delay.”

“Will do,” Blaine says, leaving the stage with a solemn salute and a sigh of relief.

“And Sebastian?”

“Yes?” Sebastian says, falling in behind his husband, unwilling to let him walk off into the bird battle alone.

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“The next time I ask what could possibly go wrong - gag me.”

“Absolutely.” Sebastian smirks, preparing to die on the hill of bringing a smile back to his husband’s face. “Just so I can plan appropriately … will you be asking that anytime tonight, perchance? Because I can get a babysitter and rent a room in about five seconds.”

“Great,” Kurt replies humorlessly. “Do that. Let’s pray I’ll have enough blood left in my body to enjoy it.”

#kurtbastian #kbweek2020 #kurtbastian fic #sebkurt #sekurt

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smmahamazing · 4 years

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Inukag Week 2020 - Loyalty

This is a mostly direct part two of yesterdays prompt, Acceptance.

I would like you all to know that I had to look up the name for a "gear shift", because I just call in the PRNDL (Suite Life fans anyone?). I'm still not sure if that's even the correct term, but after several google searches I just went for "gear shift", although I almost just said screw it and called it a PRDNL LOL.

FFN or AO3

Restaurant kitchens are noisy places. The bubble of the fryers as fries and onion rings are cooked to golden perfection. Peppers and mushrooms sizzling in a saute pan. Belted vocal announcements of “Behind!” and “Coming down!” bouncing off the walls, drowned out by the roaring of the industrial dishwasher.

Today though, there was nothing louder than the sound of a sharp chef’s knife whacking away at the cutting board, sharp thuds cutting through the air. It was definitely not how you were supposed to use the tool, and the cutting board sure wasn't faring any better, but Kagome could have cared less about that in the moment.

Kagome was furious.

She didn't think there was ever a time that'd she felt angrier than she did now; which said something because the event that made her completely fly off the handle happened almost a week ago.

Several weeks had passed since the incident at Inuyasha's auto shop. Things had been going very well for the couple; Kagome's declaration of acceptance had put Inuyasha in a most loving mood. The following weekend, they visited a hot spring together, washing away the stress from the previous week. On top of that, Mama had called Inuyasha and personally asked if he could help her love things around the shrine for jii-chan, with the promise of a lunch date 'with her future son-in-law'. The term of endearment was a little embarrassing for them both, seeing as they had only been dating for a few months and obviously haven't talked about that, but Inuyasha had swelled up with pride at the thought that Kagome's mother labels him as family. Kagome would have bet three for three with all the good happening to them.

If only she had cut her losses sooner. Kagome's girlfriends from high school had been messaging her about hanging out. Apparently, there was a new bistro bar that just opened up downtown with great reviews, so Yuka and Eri thought it would be a good idea to check it out. Ayame ended up cancelling due to some work responsibilities, but hoped that she and Hojo would be able to go next time.

Kagome was a little nervous at first when she suggested to Inuyasha about going out with the girls. 'The Hojo Incident' was still a little fresh in the mind, and although Hojo wouldn't actually be there this time, Kagome remembered that he didn't leave the best impression to the girls that night either. Suffice to say, she was surprised when Inuyasha was all for going out, even if he seemed a little nervous. He really seemed like he wanted to start over with Yuka and Eri.

Things would be awkward at first, but Kagome was sure Inuyasha would win them over. There was no way they couldn't walk away from the night with a newly reinforced friendship.

Hell, she would have taken acquaintanceship over what actually happened. Kagome guessed that her first mistake was assuming Inuyasha was invited at all. Usually when they have a group outing and Hojo accompanies them, boyfriends are also invited; so when Ayumi messaged everyone about her and Hojo not being able to make it, Kagome assumed that this was not a girl's only night. When they arrived at the bistro, the daggering looks they shot at Inuyasha told Kagome all she needed to know. Unfortunately for them, Inuyasha was already there, and Kagome certainly wasn't going to tell him to just go home. They would just have to get over it. Besides, Inuyasha promised her he was going to keep a cool head when it came to Yuka and Eri so she could have a nice night with her girlfriends, and Kagome had all the faith in the world of her hanyou.

The evening started out okay, despite the obvious irritated looks from the girls. They ordered some drinks and appetizers, politely chatting about the goings on in everyone's life. Eri was talkative - although definitely more muted than her normal self - while Yuka was mostly silent, giving straightforward answers to most questions geared towards her. Neither of them spoke to Inuyasha at first, which Kagome found odd but decided not to make too big a deal out of it. Instead, she constantly drove the conversation Inuyasha's way, opening up segways for him to add his own two cents in when the moment was right. By the time the server arrived with their meals, the girls had at least started to acknowledge his presence at the table and no one had yelled at one another. The night might not have been perfect, but Kagome could be content with that.

It wasn't until Inuyasha went to the bathroom that the night took a dive for the worst, when Kagome made her second mistake: confronting her friends.

"What the hell is your guys' problem?" Kagome hissed, hoping Inuyasha was far enough away that he couldn't pick up what she was saying.

"What problem?" Yuka asked, although Kagome wasn't fooled by her sarcastic innocence.

"You guys have barely spoken a word to Inuyasha all night, and when you have said something, you've been stiff as a board about it. Could you maybe lighten up a little?"

"We're just trying not to provoke your hot-headed boyfriend over there," Eri chimed in.

"Ugh," Kagome covered her face with her hands. "Look, I know our last get together was...a lot, but Inuyasha really feels bad about his temper that night. If you let him, I know he'd apologize to you guys. He's trying really hard to be in good spirits tonight."

"Are you serious right now Kagome?" Eri shot back at her. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're telling us to give him a chance when he has to actually think about being nice to people?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Inuyasha isn't used to going out and interacting with other people. I know he's got a hard shell, but once you crack it, you’ll see he's a really great guy once you get to know him, and it would mean a lot to me if you could try to do just that."

"We tried that last time Kagome, and he got angrier with every question we asked." Yuka argued.

"Well, in his defense, you guys come off really strong. He just felt a little smothered with the back-and-forth you two are so good at. I'm sure if you just tone it down a little, you'll have a great conversation together."

"Oh, so now we're supposed to change who we are every time your boyfriend is around?" Yuka yelled, getting louder with every response.

"N-no, that's not what I'm saying at all! I want you all to meet somewhere in the middle so you can get to know each other, Inuyasha included. Which he is trying to do!" Kagome didn't know what was happening. This isn't how the night was supposed to go. She knew that the last time they all got together, tempers were a little high, but she really hoped tonight would help cool everything down. Inuyasha was trying his best to settle between being a part of the conversation and letting the Kagome and the girls have their own time, she wanted him to be able to make amends so they could move on. Ayumi and Hojo were both extremely forgiving people, and Kagome knew that Inuyasha would have an easier time making things right with them when the time comes. It was Yuka and Eri that needed to be handled with care. And unfortunately, they seemed to be making that task especially difficult for Inuyasha.

Just when Kagome thought things possibly couldn't get any worse, Yuka effectively set off a bomb.

"The only thing he's capable of is being a hot-headed, impetuous jerk, just like most hanyous."

Yuka had continued talking after that, but Kagome didn't hear what it was, her words drowned out by the blood that pumped through her ears. In her mind, she recalled that day not even two weeks ago, when that man refused to have his car looked at by Inuyasha. How dejected Inuyasha looked knowing how people looked down on him, even if he tried to downplay how it made him feel. She remembered how angry she felt, that someone could think so terribly of him because of something he couldn't help. Yet, as soon as the words spilled from her mouth, Yuka and Eri - people that had been her friends since childhood, people who were kind despite their boldness - had become no different than the man who couldn't stand to do business with a hanyou.

"Excuse me?" Kagome asked, interrupting whatever Yuka was blabbering on about. "How dare you!"

"Kagome - "

"No!" She shouted. "You had no right to say something so awful! Inuyasha can be brash and grumpy, and doesn't always say the right thing, but being a hanyou has nothing to do with anything. How about you guys. Can you hear yourselves right now? I can't believe that two of my closest friends could say something so rude about him. He's been trying so hard tonight to get on your good side - for ME - and all you can do is talk down to him like he's beneath you!"

Yuka and Eri's eyes became as wide as dinner plates, but not just because of the verbal jabs they were being dealt. As Kagome started becoming more expressive by talking with her hands, a faint violet aura was starting to coalesce around her hands. The aura had a texture similar to fog, yet it appeared almost like steam pouring from her skin, slightly see through. The angrier she got, the clearer the wisps became. Kagome didn't seem to notice the change.

"You know what, we're not doing this," Kagome stood up from her chair and gathered up her purse. She looked up just enough to see Inuyasha walking back up to the table and grabbed his jacket.

"I am not going to sit here and make Inuyasha have to go through this. As far as you're now concerned, Inuyasha and I are a packaged deal. So if you want to see me, you'll have to see him, too. But let me be clear, I am not going to let you talk down to the man I love. You can call me back when you're ready to talk like adults. ”

Kagome turned on the spot and grabbed his arm, muttering a small 'let's go', before dragging him back to the car with her. Kagome had still not talked to Inuyasha about what happened that night. Not that he didn't try to bring the subject up, but she was quick to change the subject each time. Kagome didn't trust herself to not blow a gasket if she was forced to relive how angry she had become that night.

Yuka and Eri had blown up her phone with texts, but Kagome ignored all of them. She even went as far as to delete them. Of course they felt bad and wanted to apologize for how they acted, but they were trying to apologize to the wrong person. Inuyasha was the one who deserved their apologies. He was the one who had to sit through dinner with two people who thought nothing good of him. She could eventually forgive them, but only if they squared up with Inuyasha. It was the least they could do.

And, if causing a huge scene at a busy restaurant wasn't enough, Kagome, in her blind fury, had just blurted out to everyone who was in hearing distance that she loved Inuyasha. She groaned as she finally brought her cutting board to the dish pit to start cleaning up. She was almost a hundred percent sure Inuyasha had heard her declaration of love, which only made her feel worse. This was most definitely not the way she wanted to tell him that she loved him. They had only been dating a few months; what if she scared him off? Would he think she was clingy because of it? Or worse, what if he didn't feel the same way? She couldn't ask him to tell her right at this moment if he also loved her, too. That would be asking for far too much. So, Kagome had kept busy the past week, either with work or meaningless activities so they couldn't hash their feelings out.

Kagome spent the next half hour cleaning and taking a quick inventory of the walk-in cooler before clocking out. Inuyasha was waiting for her at the hostess stand. He had taken an early day to hopefully help put Kagome in a better mood than she had been all week.

He had been thinking about that night all week. Inuyasha had just been coming back from the bathroom when he felt a strong aura brush against his youki. At first, he was afraid a rogue youkai was about to start a rampage and became increasingly worried about Kagome. The aura didn't seem like it came from a youkai, but Inuyasha didn't know what else could produce such a sturdy aura. It wasn't until he could properly see their table that he realized what it was. Kagome looked like she was arguing with the two girls; her hands were glowing, purple wisps dancing around her wrists.

'Is that...reiki?' Inuyasha thought. True mikos and monk's were rare nowadays, and Inuyasha had never met one with enough power to be able to summon it. Kagome didn't seem like she noticed, putting all her emotion into her hands as she started waving them towards her friends. At first, he could barely make out what she was saying, but by the time he got to the table, Kagome was practically shouting.

The subsequent car ride home was silent. The energy around Kagome continued to crackle, keeping Inuyasha on edge until they had arrived home; only then did she calm down enough to rear her reiki back, which Kagome still didn't seem to notice. It was as if everyone could see it but her. Inuyasha was perplexed about her sudden burst of spiritual energy, but decided to table his thoughts on the subject; perhaps he would talk to Kagome's mother about it the next time he went to help over at the shrine. They spent the rest of their night watching television and still not talking about what happened at the restaurant before drifting off to sleep.

Inuyasha was still surprised at what he heard that night, to say the least. It was one thing for Kagome to tell him that he had value as a person in private , but to shout it to a whole section of a busy restaurant during the dinner rush was something completely different. Inuyasha didn't hear what her friends had said about him, but whatsoever it was must have been really bad for her to completely freak out like that. Then again, Inuyasha was pretty sure that the worst thing Kagome could think of was probably pretty tame compared to some of the things he's heard. It didn't really matter what they said though. Inuyasha couldn't deny how she felt about him now. Especially after hearing how she loved him.

He had expected her to bring at least that part up in conversation, but Kagome had been doing all she could to not have a sincere conversation with him. He had a feeling that was partly because of how angry she was. Kagome had been pretty tense the first three or four days after - tension, especially in the shoulders, was a sure sign of anger in that woman. But Kagome was the type of girl to get all her feelings out in the open, so not talking about it was extremely out of character for her. Inuyasha was confused by her behavior. Did she think he didn't love her? How could she not; Inuyasha spent almost all his free time with her. Kagome had even started joining his sporadic lunches with Sango, his only other friend, going as far to hang out with the girl without him. Hell, she even got the damn 'seal of approval' from Sesshomaru himself! Inuyasha had let her figure out her emotions all week, but it was time he put her back on the track.

"Inuyasha!" Kagome called out, a little surprised to see him there. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd come and pick up my favourite girl for the day."

"You know I drove to work, right?" She snickered at the small grin that had appeared in his face.

"Well, then it's a good thing I didn't drive here, isn't it?" He replied, rewarded with a small snort from Kagome. He walked them out the front door, grabbing her purse from her and wrapping his left arm around her shoulder.

"Wouldn't that be me picking you up then?"

"A technicality. It ain't like I'm letting you drive." Their laughter floated all the way to the back parking lot where Kagome's car was parked. Inuyasha made a spectacle out of adjusting her driver's seat, causing her to playfully slap him on the arm. Once they were on the road, and Inuyasha was sure that she wouldn't be able to roll out of the car if the urge came to her, he brought up Yuka and Eri.

"So, have you talked to them?" He asked carefully. Inuyasha could see her stiffen as soon as the words had left his mouth. She pulled up some random social media app on her phone and began to mindlessly scroll.

"Talked to who?"

"You know what I'm talking about wench. Don't play innocent with me."

"What's there to talk about Yash? I'm sure they're sorry and all, but until you get a heartfelt apology from them, then my hands are tied."

"Kagome, they're your friends - "

"Not if they're going to talk down to you! They've acted just like that horrible man from your job almost a month ago. We don't need people like that in our life."

"Kagome…" Inuyasha didn't really know what to say. The thought of asking Kagome to give up anything so that they could be together was almost sickening; it was something he could, and would, never do. Yet, here she was, adamant about completely cutting ties with two people who she had known almost all her life, simply because of him. Inuyasha could feel his throat closing up, a myriad of emotions threatening to explode from his body. Kagome was so loyal to him, so good to him, and so out of his league. He grabbed her hand and held it over the gearshift, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He would do whatever it took to fix her relationship with those girls. But even if nothing could be salvaged, Kagome would always have him. He was content to serve her however she needed, and that’s when it clicked for him. What they had was more than a passing encounter, or just a spring fling.

“I love you, Kagome,” he muttered softly, bringing her hand up to kiss it tenderly. He heard a small gasp come from the woman beside him. Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic way he could have told her that, but it felt right. All he felt for Kagome in that moment was pure, unadulterated love. Kagome’s grip on his hand tightened as they continued the drive home, the salty scent of unshed tears filling his senses. Inuyasha would have lots of plans to make, but none of that was important right now; it was nothing that couldn’t wait another day. For now, he would take her home, and tonight would be just for the two of them.

#inukag #inukag week #cowboy blues #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction

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yespolkadotkitty · 5 years

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Cookies, pt 2/3

Part I

“Oh, you know. Whatever.”

Loki’s dark eyes stayed on yours a second longer. “That word. You use it a lot rather than say what you are thinking.”

Your hand holding the cookie sheet bobbled as you opened the oven door and slid the treats inside, the scent of cardamom infusing into the air between you and the trickster God. You closed the oven door and set the timer for fifteen minutes. Tony had installed a smart oven a few months ago that auto shut off once the timer was three minutes overdue. It had saved Stark Tower many a time when Jane decided to cook and then wandered off to do science while she waited for her dinner. You’d seen Thor eating her blackened lasagne more than once, amiably; he didn’t seem to notice or mind that it was burned.

“What word?” You challenged, folding your arms across your chest.

Loki looked undeterred at your body language. “Whatever. You say it when there are other words on your tongue that you refuse to let loose.”

Your mouth dried up. “I do not,” you argued. Great. You sounded like a grumpy toddler. “Are all Asgardians so annoyingly perceptive?”

“Aesir,” he corrected gently, sliding his hands into the roomy pockets of the hoodie he wore. “And no. You must know this. You are well acquainted with my brother, after all.”

That made a laugh bubble up in your chest. “Well. Maybe he isn’t the smartest, but he’s very …. Nice.”

Loki took a step towards you, all that coiled, lazy power intoxicating, his gaze riveted on your face. “And is that what you Midgardians like in a mate? For them to be…. Nice?”

You backed away, knowing it was weak, but unsure what else to do. Eventually the back of your legs hit the long sofa Loki usually reclined on while reading. The sofa sat against the big picture window, twenty stories up from the ground. There was literally nowhere to go.

“Uh, well, I’m sure most people like a bit of excitement, you know, but nice is important for settling down. You know,” you babbled.

“I’m not asking about people,” Loki intoned, his voice low, intimate. Private. “I am asking about you in particular. Do you seek only a nice man to tend to your needs?”

Those needs were making themselves known very loudly indeed between your legs. “Um,” you hedged.

“Or do you wish for something a little more….” his voice dropped half an octave, “Stimulating?”

His voice entranced you. You wondered if you could orgasm from the sound of him speaking alone, if he were to get intensely dirty. You swallowed the moisture suddenly pooling in your mouth.

“I…. don’t know,” you said truthfully, your voice small in your throat.

Loki lifted a hand and stroked one long finger down your cheek, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Such things I could do to you, mortal, that you would never wonder again if you simply wanted a “nice” man to be with. You deserve much more. You deserve a God.”

Your breath came out in a squeak. “And are you… er, auditioning for the position?”

His eyebrow arched, a smile tugging at his mouth as he cupped your cheek, his palm warm, steady against your face. “Perhaps I should begin to do so.” He leaned down to you and you let your eyes flutter closed as his lips ghosted over yours, just the butterfly wings of a kiss, exploring, asking without words. When his tongue licked over the seam of your lips, you opened for him, drinking in the taste of him, the tang of coffee and the fragrance of bergamot, overlaid with the polish of leather and something else uniquely Asgardian… uniquely Loki.

You breathed his name as he nipped at your lower lip, and of their own accord, your arms looped around his neck. Your slid your fingers into his pile of raven’s wing hair, silky and soft against your skin.

“I want to feel you come apart under me,” he whispered against your lips. “Pleasure you until you are begging for mercy. Explore every inch of you until the bliss is too much, until you scream my name loudly enough to wake all of Stark Tower.”

He drew back and searched your gaze. Your eyes felt heavy; your breasts tingled where they were crushed against his chest. The place between your legs throbbed insistently.

“Yes, please,” you agreed, looking him dead in the eye, wanting him to know you were a willing participant.

The oven timer started to ping.

Permanent taglist: @arch-venus25 @myoxisbroken @amarisyousei @nonsensicalobsessions @hopelessromanticspoonie @brokenthelovely @vodka-and-sass

Taglist for this fic: @witch-of-sound @jim-the-fallen-fan @timetraveller1978 @obtain-this-grain

#loki fic #eventual smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #mcu fic

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perfeggso · 4 years

Text

Noir (yutae)

Week I pt. 2

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 2k (will progressively get way longer)

They had beaten Taeyong when he had asked. He had gotten on his knees before the leader of the Specters and implored him humbly to let him join. He would be a model warrior, he had assured: would fight unquestioningly anyone who challenged the gang and never run away. He could prove himself. The Spectors’ leader had pointed to the full red circle on his white headband. Don’t you know we don’t accept gaijin ? I’m not a gaijin , Taeyong had argued, only to be met with a venomous cackle. Taeyong was sure he had felt a thin rain of spit land on him from the force of the laugh. What are you then, Zainichi? That’s worse! Then they beat him. That was seven years ago, but it still carried trauma for Taeyong.

Gassan-ya was not Taeyong’s favorite bar, but it was doing him good to laze there at the counter drinking alone, eating peanuts, and listening to a mixture of citypop hits from the jukebox behind him and a report on Mitsubishi’s rising stock values on the television hanging from the ceiling. That’s what he had been doing, until the Specters came zooming on their souped-up bikes past the front windows, hooting and hollering in their white uniforms, and banging baseball bats and rusty pipes against the pavement as they went. Taeyong cursed to himself upon seeing the group of boys speeding off to a battle, shoving a handful of peanuts in his mouth and swigging the rest of his beer before ordering another.

He could never figure out why he was always so enamored with the Bosozoku boys he saw; why he had felt a need to become one. Was it his desire for a sense of identity and belonging? A need to act out against his parents’ authority? The terrifying thrill he got from imagining himself in battle, taking a bat to some poor young man’s head? Was it self-hatred? He figured the correct answer was probably all of the above. Walking around for almost a quarter century in Japan with the name Lee Taeyong had naturally brought him nothing but rejection – professional, academic, romantic, you name it. And those who had accepted him were often no better off in life than he was. Two of his best friends were locked away for petty theft, after all.

So, Taeyong had tried to join a violent biker gang at the age of seventeen, learning to ride his dad’s old motorbike, style a pompadour, and roll his R’s in preparation to make his case. He did it because if he was going to be an outcast he at least wanted to be an outcast that someone could give a damn about. He liked the thought of letting off some steam in a grand way, of being a source of fear for prosperous average Japanese people, of claiming his own place in the warrior tradition. And it would have pleased him to have one of those bikes too.

But it had gone horribly wrong when he did make his case, and now he was too old for the Bosozoku anyway. He spent his days working at an autobody shop and his nights drinking and trying not to get too close to anyone. You see, Taeyong was a sensitive boy, but he lived in a world where it didn’t pay to be sensitive.

The bartender slid Taeyong his Sapporo over the counter as the rumble of twenty Bosozoku bikes was finally fading into the night, and he downed the drink as quickly as he possibly could. It was a nice night and he needed to get out into the fresh air.

Taeyong left the bar on the outskirts of Tokyo and rounded the corner to a sidewalk perpendicular to a small alleyway. Taeyong noticed curiously the sound of what he could only assume was an interpersonal struggle coming from the alley behind Gassan-ya: feet scraping against asphalt, heavy breaths, and urgent growled arguing. Against his better judgement, perhaps because he had exceeded his usual drink limit, Taeyong decided to investigate, clutching the switchblade he kept in his pocket and tiptoeing cautiously as if attempting to approach a spooked deer. When he got close enough to see, he found two men in trench coats hovering over the man Taeyong recognized as managing the bar in some capacity. In the dusky light it was hard to make out anything clearly, but Taeyong was pretty sure at least one of the men held a revolver. Taeyong tightened his grip on the knife and peeked out from behind a stack of liquor crates since he didn’t know what else to do and his curiosity was getting the best of him. As if that would save him.

“I’m sorry, we’re just a little short!” The man on the ground was attempting to explain – his voice hoarse.

“Well we’re sorry, but we need 30,000 for this week.”

“Please!” protested the apparent victim. “We’ll get it to you soon. Just – just give us a couple days. I’ll do anything you need and we won’t be late again!”

Taeyong assumed the assailants would respond with something, but instead, the man on the ground seemed to spot him spying, their eyes locking, and Taeyong’s heart plunged into his stomach as the men in trench coats turned around and aimed at him.

“Come out, whoever you are,” said the closer one, “hands above your head!” Were they cops?

Hesitantly, Taeyong crept out from his hiding spot and raised his arms as his lips attempted to form something coherent to say.

“What are you doing here?” Asked the other one.

What was he doing there?

“I – I heard something. I thought it might be a mugging…I’m sorry, I’ll just go.”

“Don’t move,” said the first one. He turned to his partner. “Take him to the van. Kid’s a liability.”

“Yes sir!” The farther one approached Taeyong and all of a sudden, his mind was spinning not just from the alcohol but also from the battle raging in his mind between the urge to run and the knowledge that he could very well lose his life. If he were a wild animal, he would be playing dead.

Evidently, Taeyong didn’t think quickly enough, because his kidnapper had already reached him and taken off his hat to cover Taeyong’s face with. He was led to a van, then formally blindfolded and handcuffed and left to wait for the two men to finish doing whatever they planned to do to that poor bar-owner.

The next several hours were the most terrifying and disconcerting thing that Taeyong had ever experienced. First, they took him into the city to somewhere in Aoyama, he was pretty sure, and proceeded to have a conversation about him as if he weren’t right there with a man named Gwang-suk (Taeyong noted the Korean name with a mixture of comfort and dread). Should they kill him? Please, no . Should they let him go? That would be greatly appreciated . Should they recruit him? To do what exactly??? Taeyong had deduced at this point that he was being held by one or another yakuza syndicate, but beyond that he could not have been more lost. Then, Gwang-suk suggested they take Taeyong to someone named Nakamoto and that was that: back in the car.

A twenty-minute drive and he was marched into another building and shoved into a chair at an oak desk and finally allowed to see his surroundings. Taeyong heard a man and a woman talking muffled through a wooden door behind the desk which, when it slid open, revealed a handsome man with white hair and piercings wearing a snakeskin suit. In fact, Taeyong was briefly distracted by just how handsome the man was.

“ Shategashira !” Taeyong’s kidnappers bellowed, saluting the younger man who was now seated at the desk facing Taeyong.

“At ease,” he said coolly in a rounded Osaka accent.

The man on Taeyong’s left spoke. “We’re sorry to interrupt you and Ms. Hirai, sir!”

“That’s no problem,” said the man Taeyong could only assume was “Nakamoto.” “Work is always my priority as you know.”

“Of course, sir!”

The two men recounted their version of events with great enthusiasm and Nakamoto listened. When they were done, he looked at Taeyong straight-on and asked, “is this all accurate?”

The directness startled Taeyong. “Um – yes, factually that’s more or less it. But I was never trying to get into any trouble! I promise I would never talk!”

“Yes,” said Nakamoto, seeming to search Taeyong’s face. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But you see, the Inagawa-kai simply can’t afford any loose ends, as I hope you understand.” So that’s whose custody he was in, Taeyong realized, only the third largest and second most powerful criminal organization in Japan – maybe in Asia. No sweat.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” Nakamoto asked.

“Taeyong. Lee Taeyong.”

Nakamoto nodded knowingly. “Mm, I figured that’s why you ended up here. I deal with all the zainichi .”

Nakamoto was the first Japanese person Taeyong had heard say that word without even a hint of distaste and this fact only confused his fear even further. Taeyong had never felt more helpless. Here he was, with no idea how anything around him worked nor what it meant, his life so fully in the hands of this beautiful man across from him that it made his head pound.

“So, Taeyong. Let’s figure this out. Where are you from? What do you do? Tell me a bit about yourself.”

What is this, a job interview?

“I…well…um, I grew up in Shin-Ōkubo and I uh, still live there. I work in an auto shop fixing cars. I’m 24? What else do you need to know?”

“We’re the same age,” remarked Nakamoto with a slight smile, and Taeyong wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a means of connection between the two men or a subtle jab at Taeyong’s relative lack of status. Either way, the nervous shaking in Taeyong’s body was beginning to fade as he became more and more confident he was not in imminent danger of death. However, he couldn’t completely rule out the possibility he was being toyed with.

Nakamoto spoke again. “How about your family?”

“We’re not very close,” said Taeyong. “We only speak very occasionally.”

“Well,” Nakamoto responded, “we’re similar in that regard as well. Do you have a criminal record?”

Taeyong was a bit taken aback by the question, but he was speaking with a gangster, so it wasn’t too out of the blue. “I’ve stolen some shit, but I don’t usually get caught. Spent a couple nights in jail for property damage a while ago. Things like that, I guess? I was sort of in a gang with my close friends in high school, but we didn’t do much other than loiter. When I tried to join more established gangs I was rejected.”

“I see,” said Nakamoto, “well you could still always join a gang, if you haven’t already outgrown that impulse.”

Was this the recruitment his kidnappers had mentioned? How on earth to respond? “Oh?”

Nakamoto laughed, a sharp sound. He was apparently done dealing with his victim and turned to the larger of the men who had abducted Taeyong. “Find someone to go back home with him and monitor him tonight. I think we’ll make him a foot soldier. It’s better than the alternatives. Understood?”

“Yes, Shategashira !”

Yuta turned back to Taeyong, who had gone tense against his chair. What’s a foot soldier? For Inagawa-kai? Would he have a gun? Could he even fire a gun?? What were those alternatives that would be unspeakably worse??? And what was he supposed to say to his boss????

Nakamoto addressed Taeyong one more time. “I hope you understand that this is for your own good and that you won’t resent me. I'm confident that we can come to an understanding. I’ll be seeing you soon.” And with that, Nakamoto was back out the door and Taeyong was once more being hauled to his feet.

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corpse--diem · 4 years

Text

The Organ Trail | Nic & Erin

Tips hat in shady

@bountybossier

White Crest seemed incredibly open about their less-than-mundane characteristics and that was what Nicodemus appreciated about it. The less complicated his job, the more streamlined he could keep his internal database. It didn’t take long to find a bounty worth his time. A bigwig at Nichols’ Funeral Home. Shit, if there were ever a place to be inconspicuous while slinging a body bag over his shoulder. At least the day was burrowing into the evening and no one was likely to pay him any mind. He adjusted the body and rapped at the back door. “Evening.”

Erin wasn’t expecting anyone that night. The staff had just finished up, filling the house with that sweet silence she could only truly enjoy for a few hours of the night. Not willing to waste any of it on sleep, she disappeared to the basement, the influx of new arrivals ready and waiting. The “sky fish”, as she’d seen on the news, had reigned down on more than a few unfortunate souls that week. Between the skull fractures and the heavy bruising, she finally had some worthwhile challenges to sink her teeth into. It was gonna be a good night. But when the knock came, her first thought went to Dale. That wasn’t right, though, was it? He wasn’t due for another few days. Today was Tuesday, right? Scalpel in hand, she held it to her side as she opened the door. Not Dale. Definitely not Dale. “Can I… help you?” She asked, though her eyes were locked on the hefty bag he had in tow.

Nicodemus blinked complacently and shifted his weight to his right side. The client had told him that there’d be someone else at the building when he arrived. On purpose, too. At least she hadn’t come out swinging at him, though he could read the tension in her shoulders well enough. It wasn’t anything for him to bat an eye at. His arrivals typically ran the route of unexpected. Of course, it did likely look strange. A man with a bodybag and more than a few scratches to show for how he might have got it. “Nichols, right?” He said after a shared silence, voice gravel on a broken road. He remembered the name the client gave him, but had placed the client’s own on the backburner. It would only matter if the check bounced. “I hear you know your way around organs.” His grip tightened on the body bag. “Your boss said that you do a hell of a job an’ all.”

Her boss? Great. Erin’s lips pursed together as the initial shock eased into an angry-shocked hybrid. “Jesus,” she mumbled, stepping back to open the door wider. “Yeah that—that’s me.” Body bags were normal around here. Walking in with one slung over your shoulder? This guy was trying to look as suspicious as possible. Nonchalant as can be - like he was a pizza delivery boy or something. “Get in, hurry up,” she took a quick glance, seeing and hearing nothing, then locked it behind her. “What is this?” Her voice grew shrill and her eyes popped open. “Who is this?” That sinking feeling she got every time she slipped a bag of organs into the freezer instead of placing them back where they belonged overwhelmed her. “Who are you?”

Nic’s brow furrowed as he stepped in. “You got it.” She hadn’t been expecting him. Annoyance thrummed against the back of his eye. His teeth dug into the inside of his cheek. He would demand a higher price the next time he spoke to her boss, because dropping a werewolf body on an unsuspecting person most certainly cost extra. The hunter creed didn’t mean as much to him as it did others. Even then, he tried. “So he didn’t tell you.” Even saying it outloud had his arm clenching tighter around the still-warm body bag. He swore and took in a breath. How to explain? The straightforward route seemed appropriate. “Your boss wanted a certain set of organs from a certain type of person,” he explained, casual as the weather. Whether or not it would set her mind at ease, he couldn’t be certain. A body was a body was a body to him. “I’m just the guy your boss hired. Nic works fine.” He glanced around carefully. “There a sink I can use?”

A certain set of organs from a certain type of person. Erin hated the way those words fell so smoothly from this man’s lips. As if he’d done this before. Or something like it, anyway. She hated that this man probably also had something to do with whoever it was inside that bag. She hated that there was absolutely nothing she could do about any of this either, unless she wanted to wind up in one of these too. She pointed to an empty metal slab for him to lay the body down. “Cold day in hell before anyone does anything but dump things in my lap,” she muttered darkly. Before she even realized it, she was slipping on her scrubs, mind slipping into auto-pilot. “Over there,” she tilted her head toward the sink at the end of the room. “What, uh--” she paused to swallow, fighting with her rubber gloves. “Did he mention what he wanted? Specifically.”

For as rough as he could be, Nicodemus laid the body down carefully. He reached up and stretched his shoulders, popped the bones in his clavicle as he shook himself out. It really cramped up the body to lug a corpse around. “Ain’t that just the way,” he said in response as he headed toward the sink she indicated. He rolled up the sleeves of his henley and scrubbed away at his skin, his face, until the water went from red to clear. He dabbed at his face with paper towels as he returned, maintaining a respectful distance. “Livers and kidneys, I think,” he answered. “Y’know, the good stuff.” His expression was just as flat as his voice. “So, boss really didn’t tell you, huh?” He sighed low into his chest. Unbelievable. It could have been disastrous and he wasn’t above choking a man out in front of a grieving family. “Pretty fucked up. He prone to shit like that?”

Erin kept an eye on Nic as she unzipped the bag. Didn’t miss how warm the body was the second she touched the bag, either. This was something she’d done a thousand times. Never hand delivered by a stranger without proper documentation, though. “I’m still new to this, but I’ve gathered he’s the ‘does whatever the fuck he wants’ kind of guy.” Like, having his henchmen murder a guy and have his mortician slice him up like she was on fucking retainer or something. Her shoulder rolled, and she took a final steadying breath before unzipping the bag. Something was wrong, just not in the way that she had anticipated. Her body sagged and she glared up at Nico. “This is a dog,” was all she said, her voice flat but also slightly relieved.

The hunter watched her watch him as she opened the bag. “Yeah, I’m gathering as much. These black market types usually are, but they can’t be bothered to actually do a damn thing themselves.” As much as Nicodemus could complain about it, it kept him, for lack of a better word, employed. He folded his arms and leaned back against the nearest counter. The appearance of fur in the bag didn’t phase him a bit. Wolves died however they lived, just how the world worked. His face screwed up at her statement. “The dog has thumbs. Big fuckin’ ones,” he stated, just as flat. “That ain’t a dog.”

Erin would’ve cringed at hearing the words black market actually spoken out loud to her, but all she could focus on was the dead dog in the body bag. “A dog, a wolf—whatever. I’m not a fucking veterinarian.” She let the bag close and stepped away, searching for a cooler to put the organs into. The relief was there, but the confusion stepped in where the initial fear had been. “He couldn’t have sent this thing to a—a butcher or something to take care of this?” What a fucking day this was turning out to be. “I can’t believe this guy,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Boss guy, not you,” she corrected, not forgetting this guy had killed something before he got here. She had a rough idea of how this would go, but she’d never dissected a dog before. Her first cut was careful, intentional, desperately trying not to puncture one of the nonspecific organs requested.

Nicodemus stared blankly at the mortician. “And I’m not fuckin’ Jesus, but sometimes we have to make wine out of water.” Even if she thought it was just a dog, that didn’t stop her from grabbing organ coolers anyway. He could appreciate her work ethic and the way she handled a scalpel. “Well, if we’re gonna be frank...” He figured they had established a report of honesty, dog thumbs and all. Maybe it would be helpful if her boss continued to pull fast ones of the organ collecting variety. “Bossman said you were good when it came to matters of the delicate type. And considering that’s a werewolf you’re gettin’ handsy with…” He paused and searched for his flask to take a small sip. A shrug followed. “I can follow the logic.” A quick glance at his flask and then back to her. “...you want a drink?

Erin tilted her head a bit. Glad to know her shadowy boss figure at least had some faith in her. Was she glad, actually? At least of all his henchmen, Nic was up front about his intentions. Her nose turned upwards at the smell of dog filling the room, fingers exploring warm innards—“what?” She asked, caught off guard. Werewolf? It was a big dog but—a werewolf? It’s barely been a week since she’d just touched on the fact that vampires and bear-people were a thing. And already she was elbow deep in a fucking werewolf? “Werewolf,” she repeated the word, an exasperated laugh following. “A werewolf. Naturally. Of course it is. Of course.” She pulled her hands out of it’s chest, reaching for the flask with the gloves hand with the least amount of blood on it. If this guy killed this thing, what did it matter? “Yes,” she answered. “More than you know.”

“Yup,” Nicodemus affirmed. Better to rip the whole fucked up world view bandaid off then try and take it slow. “A whole ass werewolf.” He wasn’t attuned to any normal sense of human expression, but she seemed to be taking it well. She hadn’t fainted, screamed, or stabbed him yet. All perfectly acceptable responses. Maybe that meant it was going well. For the time being, he would assume that it did. He blinked in surprise as she reached for the flask, a quiet hell yeah sounding in his head. “You got it. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss you were drinkin’ on the job,” he said with a half-smile as he passed it off to her. The place was fucking freezing but his neck felt warm. “This not your first, uh, rodeo then?”

For all of the internal screaming she was doing, Erin was thankful that Nic was at least trying to be a calming presence during this. Plus, he brought the alcohol, and was thoughtful enough to share. “I think there’d be more cause for concern if I didn’t drink,” she gave a small smile back before she felt the liquid burn down her throat. Tried to rub off any blood onto her scrubs, but couldn’t help the little bit that stuck to the flask. She gave an apologetic wince when she handed it back. “Not my first collection. But it’s my first werewolf. Thank you so much for sharing this experience with me.” Nic kept saying it, and she’d said it a few times now, but all she could see was a dog. A massive, dead dog. She raised an eyebrow at him. Oh, great. “So did you think about whether or not bossman wanted the heart before or after you stabbed it?” She questioned, pulling out a chunk for him to see.

Nicodemus snorted and shook his head. He hadn’t expected them to idly chat while a werewolf’s entire innards were on display, but he had stranger ways of making a first impression. “Yeah, I’d hate to see you try this shit sober.” The smell was the first thing he had to become accustomed to, his grandfather all but sticking his face into gut rot night after night. After that, the rest came easy like Sunday morning. He eyed the blood on the flask, but didn’t pay it much mind when he stuck it back into his pocket. Wouldn’t be the last time blood got in weird places. “Oh, sure. Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “Not just a dog anymore, huh? Told you, it’s the thumbs. Besides, her boss had wanted him there anyway. After what he had learned, he assumed it was meant as some sort of intimidation tactic. He could only hope that her boss would see his remark of being good at killing shit other than beasts as one too. His mouth turned down thoughtfully. “If he wanted it, he should have been specific. He wasn’t. Besides, everything else is more useful.”

“It’s not the thumbs—“ Erin sighed, but gave up halfway through with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just not the weirdest thing I’ve seen in the past few weeks.” A deformed dog. A werewolf. Whatever it was, it would be out of her basement faster than she could study it. She tossed the heart chunk into a waste bin next to her, “Well if he asks, be sure to let him know you played chop suey with it, not me,” she told him rather than asked him. She realized she had very little control in any of this, but she could pretend, right? She kneeled a bit, digging in a little further, getting to the good stuff, as Nic has put it. “So,” she glanced up after an awkward moment, making careful slices around the creature’s liver. “Is this your, uh—thing? Dog catcher and delivery boy?” A hint of a smile followed, remembering again that he was still the one with the bigger knife here.

He didn’t fight the slim smile that cracked his relaxed expression. “Fair enough,” Nicodemus hummed. “Plenty of fucky stuff around here that this might as well be white bread.” His eyes crept across the room, taking in every sharp and shiny edge. A far cry from the back alley chop shops he wandered into every now and then. Erin Nichols was a lot more accommodating, let alone easy to talk to, than the last man he met that simply went by Butcher Pete. “By the time I’m done talking to him, the heart’ll be the last thing on his mind,” he said as he pulled out the flask again, tightening and loosening the cap to keep his hands busy. The hunter was about to take another drink when she spoke up again. Delivery boy? A frown lacking any true distaste appeared. “Depends on the order,” he answered after a drink. “Sometimes I deliver, sometimes I don’t.” He shot her a knowing look. “It’s different every night, but as long as the check clears...Little bit of both.” With her elbow deep in werewolf and him sprinkled with blood, honesty came easy among thieves of a varying nature. “Should I be doin’ anything other than just standing here?”

“Why, do you plan on sweet talking him? Or giving him hell for not preparing either one of us for tonight? ” Erin had seen enough crime movies to get the gist of what Nic was saying. He was a hitman for hire, from what it sounded like. Not unnerving at all. Her hand only shook a little as she tried desperately not to knick the dog—the werewolf’s—internal organs. “Gotcha,” she nodded, cautiously pulling out the thing’s liver, setting it inside the cooler. Raised a brow at his question as she dove back in. “Unless you know how to remove werewolf kidneys, just keep sittin’ pretty,” she smirked up at him. This wasn’t the worst shady interaction she’s had since moving back to White Crest. “There’s whiskey in the cabinet by the sink. I don’t think there’s enough in that little flask of yours for the both of us after this.”

"A little somethin' like that," Nicodemus said as he tipped his head to the side. "Givin' him hell an' all, 'cause I'm a little rusty at sweet talkin'." The hunter tried to gauge her reaction, but if she was bothered at all by what his words all but confirmed, she kept cool about it. The werewolf's liver came out and he was looking at that instead of her. He didn't stick around too long to see what the parts he delivered were ever truly used for. There was a distinct feeling that would change while he was in White Crest, especially if the two of them made a night of organ harvesting a weekly endeavour. "Well, can't say I do, so yes ma'am, sittin' pretty it is." He bit back the dry smile that threatened to creep. At the suggestion of whiskey though, his brows rose. Oh, really? He hadn't expected that. Unlike her boss's surprise, he liked that one a bit more. Hell of a lot more. The bottle was quickly found and he held it up to the light. "Well goddamn. Probably makes it easier dealing with your boss."

“You? Rusty at sweet talking?” Erin scoffed, but she still shot a smile his way. “I don’t believe it.” This guy was dangerous, but there was something… warm about him? Maybe that wasn’t the word, but she probably wasn’t as terrified as she should have been. Or maybe she was still numb to this. Either way, he was doing a fantastic job at making this oddly casual. “I didn’t start keeping that down here until I found out about our mutual… friend,” she grumbled. A few more organs came out and Erin gave pause, almost forgetting the big one. “Sorry, buddy,” she murmured to the wolf as she dug around for her brainsaw. It wasn’t often that she got to use it, as the medical examiner usually got to this part first. “Hope you’re not squeamish,” she said a little louder to Nic as the saw buzzed to life. A few minutes later, and some snipping around the edges, the surprisingly large brain joined the rest of the organs in the cooler. “That should do it,” she said, clicking the container shut. Thank god.

“Well, shit. Give it time, you’ll see.” Bashful was not a word the hunter would ever use to describe himself. Nor would anyone else under threat of an imminent throat punch or nighttime garroting. That being said, socially unprepared for anything less than a business conversation wouldn’t be inaccurate. Her smile unnerved Nicodemus. He wanted to frown back as some sort of equalizer, but his face, the bastard, betrayed him. Just like he knew it would. Something would have to die after this, that would probably help stifle anything. Suddenly, he became very interested in the organs she pulled out. “This isn’t my first impromptu anatomy session. I ain’t gonna faint.” The top of the bottle came spinning off as soon as the organ cooler shut. All he had done was bring the werewolf in, yet he felt like a drink was suddenly incredibly important. “Looks good to me,” he said with a nod. Considering the blood and guts, he turned on the sink for her and stepped aside. A thought slipped by him and he snorted. “Got any clean jars around? We could really old school the hell out of this if we wanted.”

Was this supposedly dangerous man trying to fight that smile on his face? Was he actually having a good time right now? Despite the circumstances, the better question - was she? Erin was wholly perturbed at the thought, even as she pulled the bloody scrubs off and watched him turn the sink on for her. “Glad to know I’m not your first,” she smirked, then narrowed her eyes in confusion (mostly at herself) after she turned. This was weird. She needed that drink more than ever. After washing her hands, she leaned down and sorted through one of the cabinets. “You’re just in luck,” she said as she dug, the sound of glasses bouncing off each other echoing through the room. “I promise, these have been thoroughly sterilized.” She set them down on one of the empty metal tables, snatching the whiskey back from him. Found herself smirking up at him again as she poured. “I can’t imagine all of your ‘meetings’ go exactly like this though.”

The hunter made a sound like a cross between a snort and a laugh. Nicodemus was glad for the momentary reprieve from her gaze, as he looked down at the floor, completely bewildered. What the utter absolute hell was happening? Biting the inside of his lip brought him back to reality, as well as the smell of blood that settled heavy in his nose. At least he could thank his senses for making him completely incapable of just projecting his way out of a room. “Holy shit, I was half-joking, but hell yeah,” he said as he found his voice again, gravel and all. “I’ll take your word for it, but if I get dysentery, I’m gonna be pissed.” His hand stayed suspended after she grabbed the bottle. Right, hands were used for shit and he grabbed the jar. Damn it, he’d need to kill something else while he was out. “They sure as shit don’t, but it hasn’t been that bad. Was it good for you, organs an’ all?”

Erin wished she could blame some of the flush in her cheeks on the drink from his flask earlier. But nope. All her. And a lot thanks to him, too. “Dysentery for two, then,” she laughed, lifting her jar and clinking it to his. She almost choked on her sip, the alcohol burning her sinuses as it tried to force its way back up. “Wow, well, when you put it that way,” she nodded, sure that now whatever cool demeanor she’d been projecting was entirely out of the window. “Not my worst organ collection, no. You’re better company than the usual guy. Dale? Total dick. Never offers booze. Just a lot of creepy smirks and vague threats.” She let out a longer laugh now, shaking her head, trying to stare at her drink instead of him. This was her life, huh? That’s when her eyes fell back onto the wolf carcass. “You’re going to take that with you too, right?”

"Dysentery for two," Nicodemus agreed, eyes on the shaking surface of the whiskey for a beat before he finally looked at her. He took a long draw of his drink, relishing the burn to distract him from the heat rising up the back of his neck. He was a grown ass man, this was ridiculous. But she was also a grown ass woman and she was smiling at him like he'd never really been smiled at before. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that? The tally for the night grew larger. They were supposed to just be digging for organs and calling it a night, not whatever this was. "Dale, huh? Yeah sounds like a real chip on the shoulder." Fuck he needed to leave. Immediately. The distraction of the carcass worked wonders. He finished the rest of his drink with a hefty swallow. "Well, appreciate the drink an' all but gotta hit the ol' dusty trail…" He set the glass down and swiftly shut the body bag as an answer to her question. It was easier to fall back into that rhythm. Body bag slung over his shoulder and a small smile on, he went for the door. "See you at the next harvest."

It was hard to gross out a mortician, but the feeling swelling in Erin’s stomach was enough to make her nauseous. Especially when she was torn between relief and disappointment when he started to pick things up. Be cool, she internally screamed at herself. This guy had killed a… thing she wasn’t entirely unconvinced was just an oversized wolf he found in the woods. “Safe travels,” she nodded, shaking her head at the harvest joke. Fuck. He was funny. She held the basement door for him, handing off the cooler like she was handing off his lunch pail. “Hey, uh—give bossman a little extra hell, just for me, won’t ya?”

#chatzy #chatzy: nic #chatzy: the organ trail #wickedswriting

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justablogjs · 4 years

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Love Nikki: I wish I'd known when I stared

In Game Clock/Server time In Game Currency Level Types Momo's Tips + Memory Style Types Free Diamonds Facebook Diamonds Stylist Arena Suit Recipe Tracking Deconstruction/Workshop

In Game Clock

At the very bottom left hand corner is a clock, it displays the date and time according to the Love Nikki Server. Any and all times found within the game (such as the Association Co-op or Neighbourhood Tea Party times) refer to this clock. Your local time may be very different, make sure you know how far out the Love Nikki Clock is to yours, because the end of Events are listed in the Server's Time.

In Game Currency

Stamina used to complete levels Gold Coins used to buy certain things, common currency Diamonds Used to buy things, rarer currency, used for Events – the bane of a player's existence, Hoard Them!! Star Coins Used to buy recipes, materials and dyes, rarer currency

The levels in the Mystery house, Dream Weaver, Association and Competition stores all require special currency which can be earned within by doing draws or pulls. (The two “Rooms of Mystery” have daily free draws, while the other four are free every 2 days.

Level Types Maiden Easy levels with no attempt limit, cost 4 stamina to do, You can auto-complete 1 [or up to 10 if you have the stamina and the V-Level for it (I believe it's V4)]

Princess Trickier, 3 free attempts per day, or pay diamonds for more (available extras depend on you 'V Level'), you can auto complete 1 [or up to 3 if you have the stamina and V-Level]

Levels are divided up into Chapters, Maiden Levels must be complete first before the Princess equivalent can be attempted.

Momo's Tips + Memory

After the tutorial stretch of level 1 Momo will start giving tips on how to get passing scores for each level (or S-rank). You can see these even before you start the level by tapping the little diamond-square on the level panel.

If Momo suggests an item in both normal and S-rank tips (especially if you don't have that item) it is likely a special requirement for the level.

Once you're in the level, Momo's tips can be found above the skills Icon at the bottom left of the screen, which is above the 'go fight' arrow icon.

Across from these Icons are the “Search”, “Suit”, “Background”, “remove” and “Memory” Icons

Search can let you see you clothes based on which tag and style they have, or you can search them by name. (By name is fastest when applying Momo's Tips (which will look hideous), but you don't always have to type the full name to find an item, some words appear frequently in item names, other words are much rarer, figuring out how best to search is up to each player.)

Suit lets you automatically apply any complete suit you've accepted the reward for in the achievements book. (If you haven't accepted the reward for completing the suit it won't show up in the list.)

Background just changes the background which has no baring on the final scores but is good fun in Free Dressing or Starry Corridor, while Remove automatically removes all clothing and accessories.

Memory has two options: “Best Score” and “Last Suit”. These are only available after the level has been completed the first time. Best score will automatically dress Nikki in the suit which earned the highest score for that level no matter how long ago it was, while Last Suit will put on the last thing Nikki wore to the scoring even if it failed miserably.

Style types

Gorgeous/Simple, Mature/Cute, Warm/Cool, Elegant/Lively, Sexy/Pure

There are 10 (2 lots of 5) Style Types used on all pieces in Love Nikki, but each suit will only contain 5 of them. The 10 tags can be divided in 2 (As shown above by the / marks) opposing lists, no suit will have two opposing tags (for instance you cannot have a piece that is Both Mature and Cute.) These Styles have ratings C, B, A, S, SS, and are what the Giftys (the little orange maybe bird things) score each level.

In addition there are 44 Style Tags which include things like “Modern China”, “Rock”, “Rain”, “Goddess”, “Gothic” - these are separate from the Style Types above and only appear on a few pieces, there are some levels where these Tags are important for your score and whether you use pieces with the correct tag can affect whether or not your clothes count towards your final score.

Level Tips

After the first several levels in the first stage, an icon labelled “Momo's Tips” will appear

Free Diamonds

Do Your Dailies!!! I cannot stress this enough, always do your dailies, you can earn an easy 53 Diamonds per day doing your dailies.

Dailies can be found on the right hand side of the screen up top, the open book icon labelled quests

- If you are saving for a stamina event you can do your “Complete any 5 quests with S rating” in Maiden and earn back what you've spent in stamina while earning 15 points for your dailies.

Vote in the Competition, every ten votes you do, you can get a prize, just tap the tiny picture of a gift box at the bottom of your screen. Prizes in the box include a few diamonds, or a crystal rose (currency for the competition store), or a couple hundred gold coins, or some stamina.

voting can be time consuming, but it is okay to farm by selecting one side and tapping the vote button slowly until you're out of votes if you're after the free stuff (we've all done it, anyone who's said otherwise is being less than truthful.) You get 30 votes max which recharge slightly faster than stamina, so you can get 60-90+ in a day which is an easy 6-9 prizes

Participate in the competition, this pay out can vary wildly and only comes twice a week when the competition ends, but it is free diamonds so even if you slap on whatever is at the top of your list and damn the theme: do it

Long Term Event: Daily Lucky Draw. The Balloon Icon on the right hand side of the screen about midway down, right hand tab and scroll down. This is a lucky draw event which can give a few diamonds, a couple hundred coins, stamina or star coins.

Long Term Event: Stage Bonus: the first time you complete each (most) stage(s) in the Maiden and Princess levels you will receive a prize containing (two of the four following:) Diamonds, Coins, Stamina or recipes (These recipes are generally used to complete the Stage specific suit and are occasionally needed to pass one of the levels in the stage.)

Achievements: completing certain tasks enough times earns you free diamonds and gold coins and occasionally suit pieces – Achievements are the golden medal between Quest and Event Icon.

Facebooks Diamonds

If you link your Love Nikki account to your Facebook page you can get some free suit pieces during certain events (Like the new wishes during the Frozen event or the Frost Flutters suit during the Miku event.

you can also earn about 15 additional diamonds per day through 'shares'.

You can actually get these without linking you facebook page, In the 'Change' tab of the competition, in both the Free Dressing and Go Home sections you can share for 2 Diamonds a piece, the first time you complete a level per day and win you can share for another 2 diamonds plus about 500 additional gold coins. When you do a level and get and 'F' for the first time each day you will see a 'help' button where the 'share' button normally is and '2 diamonds' under it, it isn't asking you to pay 2 diamonds to receive help, it is a share button like the other and will give you the 2 diamonds plus additional gold coins for subsequent shares.

When you raise your score (typically in a Maiden or Princess level, but Stylist Arena works too) enough to get a higher rank than you previously had (for the first time each day) you can share for a whopping 5 diamonds.

The easiest way to do this is to do a level in the Stylist's Arena, because of the way the rankings there work, just a single win per day should be enough to raise your rank for the Diamonds.

Stylist Arena

During that win you can also share for 3 star coins

Stylist Arena is the bane for many a player for a few reasons.

Reason 1: The Brief – each round has a Theme, but the Theme doesn't actually mean anything, what you're looking for in each Theme description are the words that match the style types

Reason 2: Momo's estimates – Up the top of the screen, each opponent is gauged by Momo and given an estimated score, you can use this to find an opponent you can beat by hitting 'Next' on your opponent's image but Be Warned: Momo's estimate Does Not take Skill usage into account so his estimate can be Under by as much 15,000 points (I personally try to never face an opponent who's score is over 45,000 and prefer to find opponents with scores Under 40,000 because I can't recall my score averages off the top of my head and I find it safer to fight a weaker opponent I can definitely beat than risk losing my streak. There's no penalty, it's just super frustrating, especially when you're trying to complete Arena Streak Achievements.)

"Finish ASAP" will reuse whatever your highest scoring outfit was in previous attempts and complete the battle in even less time than it takes normally, and you don't have to waste those few seconds tapping through rewards or rank up animations, which is awesome if you've forgotten to do your Arena battles until five minutes before the day 'resets'.

Like the Styling competition you get diamonds at the end of the season as well as a small bounty of Star Coins, these are used to buy Recipes, materials and dyes. (You can also get those from an association, but you're better off using the Star coins and saving you Association currency for the evolving outfits whose pieces are available at random when the store refreshes each day.)

Suit Recipe Tracking

Just below your Personal Icon at the top right hand corner is a small Icon called Guide, Selecting one of the three target spaces and select change to select a suit from the achievements tab (you can search by name or by origin type (level evolution/ from the store/ from a recipe etc) once selected the Guide will show you not only how many pieces of clothing you need to make the suit, but any recipes, material or dyes. You can deselect various pieces to show how much you need for a specific piece. When you have enough to construct the clothing piece, the Guide will let you know with a little 'go make' tag across the piece.

Deconstruction/Workshop

In your Workshop is the tab “Decompose”, which lets you turn excess pieces of clothing to coins (gold and Star), materials for customising, and Reconstruction Materials.

There is a small selection option “select extra clothes” near the top right hand corner which will select any clothing/accessory/makeup item which can't be used for a recipe, quest, evolved or customised. The list will always show 1 less in the tally of each item since it only displays duplicates of items, there will always be a piece left in the wardrobe.

If you want to throw in some of the recipe/quest/evolution/customizable clothes, you will have to do that manually. (I would suggest items which are only used in customisation, and leave yourself at least four since there's typically only four colour variations at most.)

There's a key up the top under the “Decomposition” banner to tell you what the symbols mean for the 'useful' clothes.

Spending Real World Money and closing thoughts IF you plan on spending real money on your Love Nikki Account, I would suggest ensuring your account is 100% linked to your Facebook page or you run the risk of losing your account if anything happens and the Devs will not (have never to my knowledge) refund lost-account money.

You do not have to spend real world money if you don't want to.

If you have the money, if spending it on Nikki won't hurt your finances and this is what you want to spend it on, go right ahead.

If you have the money, if spending it on Nikki won't hurt your finances and you don't want to spend it on Nikki, or if you don't have the money to spend, then don't that's fine too.

I spent a year playing before I spent real world money on the game, because until I hit the year mark, I wasn't sure I'd be playing it for very long.

Love Nikki is not Pay to Win, it's not even Pay to Play. Lately the Devs have been making Paying Players bleed for the extra suits and that's not okay, but pay or no pay:

The only way to play Love Nikki wrong is to not have fun.

If you're having fun then it doesn't matter how long it takes you to complete a level or stage or whether or not you do the Events in any percentage.

And yes, sometimes the most fun we have is having a go at Momo or crying theatrically at chapter 15 and then refusing to read any lore afterwards because you're too emotionally scarred to ever allow yourself to become invested again... ahem... moving right along!

Nikki's Info

Nikki's Info is an independent site which is honestly a godsend and if you find yourself struggling to complete a level, or if you want tips on how to do good at Stylist's Arena, I definitely recommend checking it out. I have an account over there, and I keep my wardrobe (manually) updated (the cloud doesn't like me) which means I can see a level and how to get the best out of my wardrobe.

If anyone has anymore tips they'd like to add please do (or if my information is no longer valid because updates or I've misremembered something, please tell me.)

#love nikki #love nikki dress up queen #wish i knew then #long post

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thecollinhartman-blog · 4 years

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Collin’s Coronavirus Thoughts

Corona Diaries

I know what you are thinking. It is Day 4 of the Quarantine and Social Distancing and Collin has gone so crazy without all the busy-ness of life that he is writing a blog post. And you would be absolutely correct. Like every other millennial twenty-something, I have a lot of really great ideas that haven’t quite come to fruition. By now I thought I would be operating a volleyball facility, or traveling the US in a VW van driving for Uber, or pursuing a PhD program in England while playing volleyball, or coaching a small college team in Southern California.

All this to say I’m a big-time dreamer and a mostly incredibly poor “executer”. I often mistake my busy-ness for full-ness. I have seven unread books on my night stand, I haven’t been grocery shopping in weeks, I never got around to painting the trim in the bathroom my dad and I remodeled, my phone hasn’t been at full charge since November, and there has been an overflow of recycling sitting outside my house from the garbage disposal and mattress I got for Christmas… and now it’s March. Welcome to it, friends.

Let’s start here: I stopped by my parents’ house this week to print something – which I often do because I have a lot of printing needs but haven’t ever purchased a printer. It’s nice because I can print some papers I need AND I can always count on cool ranch Doritos and a Mango Orange Crystal Lite…. that I’ll likely take one sip of, leave on the counter, and finish when I’m there 4 days later.

Anyway, here I am printing in my dad’s office and running late for a meeting (all because I napped for too long). I rush out the door of the house, accidentally leaving one document on the printer, pens and paper everywhere, and a cupboard desk drawer open. A few minutes later, my dad sends me a picture of his office, which was without a doubt entirely put together five minutes prior to me being there. The tone of his text is sarcastic but loving but semi-annoyed which I can handle. I spend six seconds feeling bad about my reckless and disorganized self until Hillsong’s Highlands comes on the radio and I turn it up. I don’t spend time reflecting on things that would make me sad, I’m a 7.

In the midst of my frantic printing and meeting prep, my dad told me he was going to call me “F-5”as my new nickname. By the look on my face, he could tell I was confused as to why. He begins to tell me that tornados are classified in F-0 through F-5 categories, with an F-5 tornado being the wildest in nature. My quick google search defines an F-5 tornado as the most “violent damage, homes lifted off foundation and carried considerable distances, autos thrown as far as 100 meters.” I think what my dad was trying to say is that my general way of life is to rampage my way through different spaces, groups, situations… often times in an assertive, proactive, somewhat wild, chaotic way and then just… leave (I think this how I drive too). Stop go stop go stop go. I go from this thing right on to the next without pause. I show up, jump out of my car, race to wherever I’m supposed to go, be (mostly) present there until BOOM, it’s a Monday evening and I’m in the Eagle gym, shutting off all the lights, gathering volleyballs, turning on the alarm, leaving for Young Life – all in an attempt to get there three minutes before it starts so I can prep items for the game I’m leading ALLLLL before being interrupted in the parking lot by a mom of a U11 kid who is reminding me (probably for the 3rd time) about the t-shirt they ordered and are waiting on. Following? Me neither.

In short – my life actually is like an F-5 tornado. I run run run from one thing to the next, filling my world to the brim with as much as I possibly can all until I arrive back at my house at 10:30 pm, gas light on, eat whatever I can find in the fridge before my head hits the pillow 4 minutes later, only to set my alarm and do it again.

I’ve been living my life like this for a really long time until…. well until Sunday when we got the news that school is cancelled, which means volleyball activities are all cancelled too, and Young Life gatherings paused and suddenly my wild Monday is WIDE OPEN.

This blog post / journal / diary is my attempt to articulate from my squirrel brain some things I’ve learned about myself in the last 48 hours since this craziness called coronavirus officially stopped my (and probably your) collective world right in their F-5 tornado tracks.

First, let me tell you about my day today paint a picture of how my world feels just a bit (LITERALLY ENTIRELY) different…..

1) I didn’t set an alarm and I woke up at 8:30 am.

2) Shortly after, I went on a quick walk to the nearest coffee shop and ordered a Misto: I am on my journey to black coffee and I just graduated from a latte to this half coffee half milk concoction (with caramel) and I feel accomplished.

3) I stopped by my neighbor friend’s house to say hello.

4) I got home, cleaned a couple things around the house, washed a couple plates in my sink, and went on a bike ride to downtown Boise where I enjoyed a takeout lunch from Whole Foods. I would like to tell you that I rode my bike home, but a friend happened to see me and my girlfriend (she is working remotely from Utah and visiting right now) saw us and somehow realized the journey completely uphill from downtown to my house on the bench might not be all that fun so we piled our bikes in her car and she took us home.

5) I took a 20 minute snoozer.

6) I got up and did some yard work outside, gathering pine needles from underneath my big backyard tree and finally broke down those big boxes that have been sitting outside my house for months and was able to fit them all inside my recycling can.

7) It started to drizzle so I came inside, crawled under a big blanket and read the first couple chapters of Prodigal God by Timothy Keller.

8) Kinslie and I then stopped by the store to pick up some things for dinner and I grilled some steaks and shared a giant salad and some grilled asparagus.

9) After a few girl scout cookies (they stopped by yesterday), we watched the last half of Ellen’s Game of Games and picked a movie on Netflix.

10) Now I’m lying in my (perfectly made) bed (because I had the time to make it) writing all my thoughts down in a word document wondering if I’ll actually post this or if there is really anything of worth that I’m typing. I think there is but not sure yet.

Well, friends of the interwebs, you might be wondering why you just read a detailed list of my day from start to finish. Here’s what I want you to know.

1) Upon arriving at the coffee shop, I had a cheerful silly conversation with the barista about what drink I should order as we laughed about me wanting to eventually enjoy drip coffee. We engaged in authentic dialogue for a few minutes and on the way out I thanked her for the drink recommendation.

2) Before leaving for our bike ride, my tires were flat so we walked them to the gas station and filled up with six quarters before we went on our merry way. I empathized with the Chevron employee as we talked about coronavirus and how it might impact our lives. I wished him well and went on my way.

3) While bikeriding downtown I noticed there are five…. FIVE… different types of massage or spa places between my house and Curtis, which is the next main stop light.

4) At Whole Foods, I asked the clerk their favorite pasta salad as she walked over and told me all about the 2 for $6 deal. I noticed the different textures of the floor and the neatly stacked chairs and how the vegetables were perfectly arranged in their place.

5) While doing yardwork, I stopped and looked at Kinslie as she was raking leaves into a pile. I went over and looked, I mean REALLY LOOKED into her eyes and noticed how the Irish green edges melt into a light sky-ish blue before meeting her pupil. I noticed the way she parted her wavy blonde hair and the way it fell just barely over the sweatshirt she was borrowing of mine. I noticed how thankful I was I had someone to share this day with and even more thankful for her idea to do this yardwork that surely wouldn’t have been started for maybe forever.

6) While reading, I noticed the way the soft sunshine pressed through my semi-open blinds onto my page and made the black ink pop off the page. I contemplated Keller’s words of Pharisees and tax collectors and a story of two sons on their journey of deeper understanding of God’s steadfast love and grace in the midst of their own struggles.

7) While making dinner I couldn’t help but take just a little extra time to delicately cut each cucumber and carrot slice with care as I heard sounds of clattering branches from my cracked window as dusk began to settle in.

8) And while writing this blog post, I can’t help but notice all the things I noticed in my own world for perhaps the first time.

While I can’t be sure what life will look like in a few short days, weeks, or even months, and while I’m not positive what my income will be, and what daily routines or rituals will be impacted, or how our schools and communities will be changed – I can be sure of this: I hope in the midst of my crazy F-5 tornado life that surely will be back in busy routine before I know it – I hope for a couple things.

I hope I can continue notice the little things. To notice the wildly interconnected, perfectly-timed, awe strikingly beautiful, crazy detailed, little details of this world like the way I noticed the lines on the fresh steaks as I pulled them off my garage sale grill.

I hope to breathe deep and see, I mean REALLY see the world around me, to engage in relationship in more authentic and honest ways, to stop for a moment wherever I am to truly connect with the people around me.

I hope to take my time through a home cooked meal, and to not be so filled with anxiousness and fear of the future and unknown that I my eyes are blinded to see the way God is working in and through my (and our) world, possibly even through something like the freaking COVID-19.

While I’m sure there will be more lessons to be learned in the next little while, I challenge you to take a couple moments to really press in and reflect upon the way this Zombie apocalyptic ish tirade is impacting your world. I truly hope in the midst of empty toilet paper shelves and hand sanitizer hoarders there is something beautiful in your world that you’ve noticed, too.

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luobingmeis · 5 years

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note after making this post: so i might be throwing a bunch of bs rn but this post kinda became the representation of me spiralling down the rabbit hole of theories and becoming this picture

note (part 2): i deleted this post but im posting it again bc i have no shame and also cannot shut up abt anything

okay so i just finished relistening to the newest amnesty episode and between that and @zinglebert-bembledack ‘s post from last night, i’ve been doing some... thinking

and, i’ll be the first one to admit it, but this might not be a hot take? i haven’t seen anyone say this yet but i don’t know if this could be considered obvious or not

but what if the monster... isn’t a shapeshifter in the way we have been thinking it is? like, with “shapeshifter,” i’ve been seeing it as “it sees a person/kidnaps them, and is then able to mimic them”

but, i mean, it’s a little more precise than that, yeah? it has memories that it did not experience itself and can mimic voices perfectly, among other things

so, what if it’s a shapeshifter, but more than that? what if it’s a hard-drive?

i mean, okay, again, idk if this is something that other people have already been thinking, but, looking back at this monster, it would make so much sense if this thing was, above anything else, a storage device. it trapped ned in its own “network,” which only billy was able to break him out of (which i’ll cycle back to) and, as many others before me have stated already, cycled through ned’s memories

also, not to read too deeply in it, but it does act sorta like a computer program/one filled with a shit ton of, like, malware or some shit? it’s incredibly digitalized, it has access to knowledge that it technically shouldn’t have and can reason like an AI, it can “wipe out” memory (since dani cannot remember where she was the night of the attacks), even the fact that it can step through rifts in reality gives a vibe like that. and, i mean, for shit’s sake, it has a literal virus! it has a virus that is making it glitch!

this now brings me to some other things that have been standing out to me

(smh im putting more thought into this post than i am into an essay i have due in a week)

1) the monster, when talking to ned, mentions a “partition,” and then reveals that it’s billy. in the post i linked above, op mentions that that is a very particular word to use and, well, turns out that there is a computer-geared definition for the word

partition: each of a number of portions into which some operating systems divide memory or storage

so, what could this mean? honestly, this is the point that still makes my head hurt, because does that mean that billy actually knows this abomination? or is of the same caliber? i honeslty don’t know, but considering that a lot of things surrounding this monster are very digital (from the music to the way it acts), i don’t think it’s just coincidence that griffin used a technical term like that

2) the monster, when talking to ned, states that it is “breaking protocol” and that if “other bodies” found out about what it was doing, they’d be pretty pissed

i feel like that gives the implication that this thing has an... agenda? that it has done something like this before? and the mention of “other bodies” (which that in itself is really weird wording to use if it just meant other people) makes it seem like this thing is... reporting back to something?

hence, if this thing is truly a hard drive, that means that it is just gathering information for a bigger thing.

like, what if this monster is a henchman, like how billy was? what if this thing, time and time before, has been sent to other worlds to destroy it, to gather as much information as possible, and then just bring it back to something much bigger and much more dangerous?

2.5) so, going on the hypothesis that this thing might be working for something bigger, and that it has done this before, and that it has caused war in other places, where the fuck has it been before? has it shown up in other places where the gate had shown up before? can its rifts change worlds? could this thing be related to the war that destroyed minerva’s planet? ik this might be reaching, but it did tell ned that its job in kepler is almost done, and say that job was to start a war between humans and monsters, then could it have been connected to what happened to minerva’s planet?

3) i don’t know how but i still feel like whatever the fuck happened with thacker in that one episode is super connected

4) okay, this one might really be me reaching, but something that has been stumping me all along is that this thing knows what the pineguard’s next steps are gonna be. it knew that they were going to be at the morgue. it knew that aubrey was going to be at the cryptonomica, hence putting all of ned’s stuff back. and i’m 99% sure that there have been so many other things that this thing just knew was going to happen

ik there has been a small theory going around that, in the slightest chance, this thing might be indrid cold, but i really doubt that. because, let’s say this is right and that this thing is a hard-drive and is geared towards acting similar to a computer, not to get super down the rabbit hole here, but a huge part of a computer is kinda... assuming ahead? there’s auto-correct and auto-fill for search engines. websites know what to advertise to you based on other sites that you’ve been on. again, ik this is probably a bit farfetched and i’m feeling this theory slip through my hands bc i’m talking so gd much, but i’m kinda in that phase where i’m talking now and i can’t stop

and, again, i know this might have been obvious, and i get that, so i apologize if i’m stating stuff that people already knew, i just can’t help but think that this monster is definitely Big Picture related, but i don’t think it’s The Big Picture that will segway us right into finale territory, i still think there’s something left in between this and the end

#this might be a mess of a post im so sorry and also so tired #also omfg i hope you dont mind me tagging you i wanted to give credit to your post #taz amnesty #taz amnesty spoilers #headcanons #not really but i dont have a theory tag????#omfg i almost feel embarrassed posting this theory bc it feels ridiculous now even to me #but i just am incapable of deleting this large block of text #so im sorry if this is super bad please dont drag me im so tired

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thedistantstorm · 5 years

Text

Phoenix Protocol 30

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

“Okay,” Miyu says to Tamashii. “We’ve done this before. We just need to do it one more time.”

They both look at the portal then at the group behind them. Miyu meets the gaze of Sedia, who nods grimly. Petra flicks her fingers in a casual salute. They step carefully through the great black maw of the portal. The Ascendant Plane is cold and stale, just as they had left it..

“As long as you don’t drink that Tincture of Queensfoil garbage again, I think we’ll be alright. Slow and steady.”

She pouts, “I didn’t enjoy being ascendant. I didn’t ascend, I only seemed to attract every enemy around me.”

“Around us,” Her Ghost corrects. “I love you, Yu-mi, but it… well, that wasn’t your best idea.”

“Technically, it was Lilith’s idea. She had the bounty.” Tamashii looks at her knowingly, and her cheeks puff, just a little. He's missed her quietly expressive nature. “Okay, so I wanted to try it. Once was enough. I learned my lesson,” She ducks her head. He thumps her cheek affectionately.

“I know,” He replies, feinting up and around her. “Now let’s get to work, get this over with, and go home. Ready,” He asks, and she nods. Then, "Excited?"

Miyu moves her helmet from under her arm. Just as she’s about to put it on, she smiles. “I wonder if he’ll be surprised,” She muses aloud.

“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” Tamashii coos, melding into her armor as she puts her helmet back on her head. “I think he’s believed in you all along.”

Lilith lets her Ghost take control of the ship when they break through the atmosphere, coming out of Orbit. Her Ghost is not a pilot, so she grasps the armrests of her chair tightly as the vessel shakes and rattles. The planet seems to be experiencing a downpour. Everything seems dingy, dull, and shaded gray.

“After spending a few months in the Dreaming City, this is almost a welcome change,” The petite Warlock jokes to her partner.

The little being chirps and hums her agreement. “Almost,” She quips lightly. “I know you won’t appreciate how much colder it is. Your body temperature is around thirty-nine point eight degrees centigrade.”

“What is the temperature here?”

“Negative two.”

“Shouldn’t it be snowing?”

Her Ghost whirls, calculating. “The rain here is sixty-five percent water and thirty two percent methane. The additional three percent is comprised of mild acid precipitate, pollution from Golden-Age artifact. Chemical composition of the actual rain itself makes it stay liquid. Before the Traveler terra-formed this planet,” The little bot continues, academically, “It would have been approximately negative one hundred eighty degrees centigrade, instead.”

“Still,” Lilith says, wishing she’d exchanged her Reverie armor for something a bit heartier. “I’m going to freeze.”

“If it makes you feel better, the temperature on Mars right now is negative fifty-three. Thankfully the Vanguard sent us here, instead.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be warmer in the Arcology.”

“Based on what I gathered from previous strike logs, it will be warmer inside. And even so,” Her voice takes on something softer, doting, “You’ve been practicing, Lilith. Your solar energy can help keep you warm.”

The Exo shivers anyway. “I know, Nizana,” She replies. “I just forget sometimes.”

The Ghost's intricate shell spins thoughtfully. “I would wager that to mean you don't know, clearly.”

The sheer numbers of Taken are more dangerous than anything else. As Tamashii had suggested, they move slowly, Miyu thinning out their numbers from afar. Whenever they take a break, he synthesizes more ammunition as rapidly as possible. She'll run out of bullets before she dies, though the first could very well lead to the second.

She's meticulously combing through area by area, following the tips Tamashii gives her, flagging the direction he believes will lead them through the great maze at the beginning.

When they're through, she slips into a nook, a great crack that starts at the top of the building and becomes wider as it trails down. He heals her quietly while she catches her breath. She's exhausted already.

“I stopped counting at three hundred,” He tells her. “I realize it's easier with two, but I feel like there are more Taken here than there were last time.”

Miyu checks her gun, eyes hard. “Let's keep moving. I'd rather pick off as many of them as we can by surprise. It only gets more difficult from here.”

“Just remember to use your glide. They can't jump as high as you.”

Tamashii phases away with a shimmering spark and they're off again.

Sloane is pacing across the open-air command deck. “It's a standard mission,” She's telling them. “Get in, disable their ritual, get out. Don't dally. The Hive in these parts are ruthless and use Guardians and their Ghosts as unwilling sacrifices.”

The Hunter next to her shifts, uneasy. Meanwhile, the Titan that accompanies them nods, almost eagerly. “It’ll be fine,” he tells the human woman between himself and Lilith. “Easy peasy.”

Lilith’s Ghost makes some irritated sound in her Guardian’s mind. The Warlock can’t help but agree. They’re just doing this to pass the time until Miyu returns. She never thought she’d miss training, but there’s something soothing in the structured discipline. She pulls out her sword and looks at her reflection in the blade.

Well, if nothing else, if she can have a good story to return to Miyu with - maybe put some of her new skills to good use - maybe she’ll be shown some more advanced katas. Miyu’s been holding out on her. Lilith knows it; Just like she knows where it is Miyu goes in the mornings - in the mists, overlooking the bay - for her own private training.

Getting into the Archology is an easy thing. There's some Hive but it's nothing horrific. Compared to some of her rounds in the Blind Well, it seems like a breeze. Even the runes spelled to keep the main buildings closed fall easily.

It's only once the doors close behind them with a boom and a flash of green, that Lilith realizes it just might have been this easy for a reason. She realizes it even more so when she sees a Knight with a blade she's only seen once before.

Miyu has Tamashii transmat her Tigerspite - a gift, from Lilith following one of their early training sessions - into her hands to traverse the narrow ballasts between one area and the next. The near-constant fire keeps the Ogres from knocking her off and into certain death.

All in all, she makes it through with little issue, the number of enemies reduced severely due to the limited terrain. Tamashii bumps her cheek proudly and swaps the auto-rifle for her Service Revolver.

Then, she lingers in front of the doorway to the next phase. "The barriers and miasma will be heavier since you're alone," Ghost wagers. "Just keep moving and you should be fine."

Miyu nods. "Alright. Ready?"

"Ready."

She steps through.

It feels like her soul is being crushed, like the weight of worlds is forcing her into the ground. Tamashii was right in his guess; It's far worse than before. Her vision swims, and her eardrums feel like they're going to pop.

She makes it up the first staircase, thrall practically licking her boots they're so close behind her. Then, she high-tails it to the left and up the next.

That's when things get a little strange.

"Anata," She hears. "Miyu."

Her footsteps falter. She looks up and around, searching for the source of the voice. His voice.

"It's a trick," Tamashii says from beside her.

"I know."

The miasma gets heavier. "We have to get out of here," He screeches, when she only takes another two steps and pauses. "MOVE!"

"I am," She says, slowly. Delayed. Tamashii circles her, notes how the Taken Thrall seem to wait carefully out of reach. His danger senses are white hot, on alert. Something is very wrong here.

"Faster, Yu-mi. Whatever this is, your helmet isn't filtering it. Listen to me." He thunks the whole of his tiny body into her chest and she staggers. "Only me."

"Finally, you're here," Miyu takes a shuffling step forward, dropping her gun. Tamashii is screaming something, but it's far away, like she's under water. "How I've missed you, Anata."

She sees him, like a light at the end of a tunnel. Her feet move slowly, though it doesn't seem that way in her mind. There's something cloyingly sweet about the air in her helmet, but it's almost pleasantly fragrant and each breath makes her relax more and more each time.

No, some rational part of her mind challenges. She was here to do something. Tamashii said not to let her guard down.

But…

But, he's here. She wants - has wanted - more than anything to see him.

"Don't worry," Zavala says, so gently it makes her heart hurt. "You must be tired from your journey. Come to me, dear one. Rest."

"I missed you so much," She mumbles, ambling closer. His words become her truth. She is tired, she realizes. Her limbs feel heavy, her head is buzzing, and she just wants to rest in his arms.

Miyu makes it to the top of the staircase after a long moment. Tamashii is still screaming at her, but she makes no indication that she can hear him. "Guardian! MIYU! LOOK AT ME!"

"You have done so well."

She smiles, behind her helm. "I can't wait to show you…"

"Wait, wait. Yu-mi? Who are you talking to? What are you looking at?"

"Let me see you."

She reaches for the clasps on her helm. Her Ghost fights her, knocking her hands away and phasing around attempts to brush him off like a pesky fly.

"I need to see you, Anata. I want to look into your eyes."

"I want…" She trails off, hands stilling. "I have to tell you…"

"Yes," The vision in front of her breathes aloud, coalescing in a great violet-black plume of dark, speaking with the inflection of the Vanguard Commander. Except, to Tamashii, he can hear the anger. The fraud. He is not impacted by this miasma, the Taken essence pumped into the stale air. "Tell me everything. But first..."

Miyu rips off her helmet. Tamashii screams. She looks over to him with clouded eyes, blinking slowly. A smile steals over her face.

"You're tired, Miyu," The voice says, "Such a long journey, it's only natural that you should want to rest."

"Oh," She slurs, staggering. Her brows furrow sleepily, "Wass'n't I-"

"You're home," He says. "How I've missed you.”

Miyu hums. "Tha'ss… yes," She agrees.

"Rest, beloved." In her mind, she sees a hand reach out to cradle her head that looks so unlike the dark Spectre her ghost sees. She's so tired, she could fall asleep standing up. "I am never letting you go again."

Belatedly, she realizes that statement doesn't make sense. Zavala would never… never…

A brilliant white light steels into her vision, and, in that moment, everything becomes clear.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY GUARDIAN!"

"Tama-Tamashii?!"

There's a chink! then, a thunk as her partner hits the ground. Miyu looks over to see the Thrall - that's right, what was she thinking? - rushing his shell. Panic and fury bleed her vision white. She calls forth fire and lunges toward him.

It's the opening the Knight that's definitely not Zavala and has been waiting patiently for her at the top of the staircase needs to bring down his blade.

#destiny fanfiction #commander zavala #zavala x oc #oc: miyu #miyu the sweet bean warlock #collection: phoenix protocol #oc: lilith

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fatcatsarecats · 6 years

Text

JayTim Rec List 1/?

In an effort to extricate myself out of the deep, dark, dank cave that is the marvel cinematic universe (or just marvel in general) for more than two minutes, here is a list of jaytim fics that I recently read, enjoyed and or generally love under the read more.

Please remember to kudos/like/bookmark and tell the author how much you enjoyed their work!

READ:

dick grayson, snooping? it’s more likely than you’d think by dragonryder94 Words: ~3k | Complete

dick knows that something is up between jason and tim. he just doesn’t know what...not yet at least.

Comment: A Dick armed with memes and trying to have good ol’ brotherly Bonding Moments™ with Tim and Jason is just downright hilarious. A quick laugh and an absolute banger.

In Which Conner is Meddlesome for Tim's Own Good by GeneratorCat Words: ~2.7k | Complete

“Homecoming dance!” it proclaimed. “Saturday, Oct. 24th”. And then, at the bottom some bastard had written, “Do you have your date yet?”

Tim wanted to scream because no, he didn’t have his date yet, and he probably never would. He was too scared to ask them.

Comment: *slams fist on table* you have no idea how much I love high school aus goddamn and this is the cutest!! Do you want awkward teen angst? Kon being chill but also hilarious??? Tim making a fool of himself??? Then this is it. This wins all.

Plus note: Anything by GeneratorCat is great. Puns everywhere, a humour that will hurt your gut laughing, and a writing style that’s tighter than Jason’s abs.

do you wanna feel a little beautiful, baby by Sister Words: ~42k | Complete

"They're watching me," Jason says, when Daisy Mae has left.

"Who, the drag queens?" Tim says. His face is an inch from Jason's chest, and when the strobe lights flash their way he can see a drop of sweat moving down Jason's pecs. His mind feels staticky, bouncing from general outrage to a general desire to put his mouth on Jason's skin. He's too horny to be rational about any of this.

Tim goes to a gay club and finds himself embroiled in one of Jason's cases. Glitter is involved. Also crises of morality. Also booty shorts.

Comment: Case fic, baby!!! Listen, I have many weaknesses and they’re usually words starting with C and case fic happens to be one of them. The case was a riot, the secondary cast was a riot, and the jaytim was a blazing hot riot. This fic is lit from beginning to end. Guns, gangsters, glitter and gays everywhere. Really hits the G spot.

this pen was inked with the promise of you by clarityhiding Words: ~21k (4/5) | WIP

Everyone has a mark-match, someone whose mark will match their own. No matter what, you will always meet your match after your mark comes in and before you die, it's just a fact of life.

Tim's mark starts to come in the summer he turns twelve. Less than a week later, his match is dead. He doesn't meet anyone at all in the time between.

Comment: I usually steer away from a/b/o fics since gender dynamics is not my thing but this is a goodie. I’ve only read the first chapter of this but I already know this is going to be a great time!!! But by great time, I also mean in a dark sense— @themandylion really hits the melancholic, listlessness, apathetic vibes of depression in the most wonderful, nuanced way, and when the emotions come, they’re explosive. Plus, the world building is amazing, and this is all in one chapter!

Cats, Bats, Kittens, and Hatchlings by ThePackWantstheD Words: ~72k (18/?) | WIP

In which Selina finds Jason trying to steal Batman's tires and offers to make his sticky fingers a bit stickier, Bruce finds Tim taking pictures of him and thinks that an orphan can take care of an abandoned boy, and the boys learn that life is a lot easier when there's another sidekick around to talk to.

Comment: This fic took my broken heart—my broken, fragmented, crowbar-shaped holed heart—and lovingly stuck cat shaped plasters all over it. This fic was sweeter than a raspberry mocha with one sugar and cream on top. This fic will probably give me diabetes faster than any sugar addiction. This fic is just pure and warm and will shield me through torrential storms. It’s just that good.

Selina and Bruce as great mentor figures and Stray!Jason (not something I see quite often!) with Robin!Tim. Slow Burn.

Day 5: Fake/Pretend Relationship // Royalty AU by CatChan

Tim stayed deathly silent, hoping that his iciness alone would convey the weight of his disapproval.

No such luck. The old earl kept prattling on about how much more suitable to rule Tim was compared to his older brother because at least Timothy had been adopted from a ducal family and not street performers.

Tim took a deep breath to calm himself, then smiled as sweetly as he could, and told the old fart that he would be sure to relay his message to his father the king.

Earl Duchamp blanched, and started stuttering. Tim didn't give him any sympathy, or wait around for his rushed excuses, instead storming out of the room.

Comment: Historical AU with exposition that’s so fascinating, it doesn’t feel like exposition. That’s a amazing feat alright. It’s just a lot of fun for such a short chapter (Like a fun pilot episode to a historical tv drama) and I don’t want say too much of the interactions because it might spoil the fic. Suffice to say, the world it builds leaves you wanting more so might as well jump in and read the whole collection while you’re at it.

"Mi cama es su cama" by redrobinfection (ChristmasRivers) Words: ~9k | Complete

JayTim Week 2018 - “Bed Sharing” (Day 6)

Tim and Jason aren’t friends. They’re barely allies at this point. But for whatever reason, they keep crashing each other’s apartments, lairs, and safehouses, all in search for a bed to crash in for a bit. It starts out simple - it’s just a safe place to catch a nap, a safe place to recover after an injury, a safe place to hang - but with each visit, it turns into something more - it’s a welcome place to hang, a comfortable place to recuperate, their safe haven in dire times. It might take awhile, but, slowly Jason and Tim turn into something more too.

Comment: So I read small bits and pieces of this during Jaytim Week, and while I haven’t fully read it cohesively in one sitting (before I fell into the marvel hole *cough cough*), what I do remember it was that it was a very soft and healing fic. If I had to describe the feelings and associated scenes this fic evokes, it’s a cosy, intimate blanket, and a warm body snoring beside you. Comfort packaged in a fic. Tim’s sleepy/sick talk was damn hilarious, and I really liked the gritty details involved with wound cleaning. I thought it was skilfully described.

Mania by Pisces314 Words: ~6k (3/?) | WIP

“I didn’t realize,” Dick’s voice startles Jason, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Tim. When he looks up, Dick is staring at them with wide eyes. “That you two were...uh.”

It hits Jason then, what the position they’re in might look like from Dick’s point of view. His restraining hold on Tim, and Tim’s now submissive posture, curled up against his chest, probably look to an outsider like a comforting embrace between two people who are much more acquainted than they actually are. His face flushes, but he doesn’t bother to correct Dick’s misunderstanding.

Comment: @glaciya is almost always an auto-read for me. The fact that she can flip from cute space, jolly ranch kisses that kills you from sheer amount of fluff and goodness to this is mind blowing.Just from the first chap, it’s already got a great emotional reveal (count me shooketh), descriptions that really immerse you in the terse atmosphere between all the characters and writing that captures a great deal of nuance/overtone of hurt/comfort. It’s wild.

Dreams From the Sargasso by RivetingFabrications Words: ~46k (17/?) | WIP

Timothy Drake ventured out to solve the mystery behind his parents' deaths, but being taken captive by the most wanted pirate in history hadn't been part of the plan.

Comment: RivertingFabrications is also another auto read for me, and while I read this a long time ago, I remember that the JayTim interactions were fiery and terse, on the brink of something great, and the camraderie between Jason and the secondary characters was an absolute joy to read.

Viking AU | The Red Hunter by @drabblemeister Link is only to the first instalment

Comment: The only way I can describe the writing is just, lush. Amazing descriptions of the environment which intermingles with Tim’s inner monologue to create a tension that is off-the-charts and an action scene that demands heavy drums and an orchestra. It’s suspenseful, gripping, and engrossing, and this is only the first two drabbles.

Casebook of Detective Timothy Drake by chibi_nightowl Works: 5 | Words: ~150k | Series in Progress

Comment: The thing about @chibinightowl is that if you asked me to rec one of her works, I’d probably just start listing off her ao3 portfolio. Everything she writes is gold and I will accept it as actual currency if they let me (one day).

If I had to pick one (a harsh, cruel, gruelling etc. ask for a mortal like me) it would be this series. A series of case fics with never-was-a-vigilante Detective Tim, a fully fleshed out cast of secondary characters (Tim’s partner in particular is a favourite), exciting, intriguing cases that will keep you guessing and friction with Batman that is riveting to read. Gives me Nora Robert’s Eve Dallas Series and Karen Rose vibes. Love love love love love this series.

TO READ:

These are fics on which I plan to read, but the premise sounds too good not to be advertised:

If You Don't Grow by GeneratorCat Words: ~28k (8/?) | WIP

“I need to take care of myself. I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to, you’re just a kid.” God, does Dick know that. He knows what it feels like to be doing things you shouldn’t have to do at such a young age. About feeling like you have to take care of yourself, be strong and useful.

He knows now it’s bullshit.

(Officer Dick Grayson meets Jason on the street.)

((Alternatively titled: In which Dick pulls a Bruce))

Comment: What more can I say. I’m a sucker for flawed mentor types who try their best!!!

Build A Dream With Me by Myoneloveismusic Words: ~10k | Complete

Tim fell hard and fast when Batman and Robin first appeared in Gotham. He followed them for years, taking pictures, and watching in awe form the shadows. But after one fateful encounter with the second Robin, Tim found himself falling in a different way. Everything got torn apart when Jason died and Tim forced himself to take on the role of Robin if it meant keeping Bruce sane. But when Jason returns from the dead and makes his reappearance back in Gotham, can the two repair what had been blown apart or will they be separated forever?

Comment: Teen!! Angst!! *throws confetti* but also paired up with @my-one-love-is-music‘s crafty way to frame fic like a movie scene and this sounds like a fun time.

Astra Inclinant by SociallyAwkwardFox (Maze_Runner_Fae) Words: ~30k | Complete

Every hero has a story. A tale spun by the Muses destined to pass from generation to generation, until the end of time. At the time of their conception, Fate already knows the paths they will walk in their lifetime and how it will end. She knows the stars they will see, the people they will meet, the scars they will bear-like badges of honor etched into their skin. With this knowledge, She designates a few to ensure every hero follows the correct path and completes their duty to the universe. These immortal beings act as a hero’s guide and watch over their lives, until their journey is complete. From one hero to the next they go, dedicating their lives to the universe and Fate’s will.

Comment: A ‘Hero’s Journey’ narrative never gets old (like BP!) and mix that with Greek Mythology and like a great, angsty jaytim fic. Featuring Seer!Tim and Hero!Jason.

Flying Blind by TheSkyIsALie Words: ~4k | Complete

In the wake of a catastrophic loss, it's the path Jason sets that Tim follows back to safety.

Comment: I mean damn look at the summary already! It’s premise I haven’t seen for jaytim before and the tags have the dangerous combo of Domestic Fluff and Hurt/Comfort aka just looks amazing.

Making Amends by writemydreams Words: ~11.8k (3/12) | WIP

A new drug called Cupid’s Heart arrives in Gotham and Blüdhaven. Highly addictive, it also serves as a potent aphrodisiac. Jason enlists Tim’s assistance in rooting out the drug in Gotham and discovering the source. Along the way, Jason hopes Tim will see he’s changed and that he’ll learn to trust him.

What started out as a simple drug case becomes more complex when Dick discovers Cupid’s Heart comes from a resort for struggling couples. Jason and Tim go undercover as pretend fiancés to find the drug, something difficult for Jason since all he wants is to be in a genuine relationship with Tim.

Comment: A case fic!!! And damn, the tags looks delicious, ‘Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, and Dick Grayson is a Good Brother.’ It just looks like a really good time.

Turnabout is Fair Play by Skalidra Words: 5.5k | Complete

When Jason gets an invitation to the Continental's latest competition, a simple game, he gladly accepts. It's a bit of fun, an opportunity to win a couple prizes and some recognition. That is, unless one of the other people assigned to his group gets in his way. May the best killer win.

Comment: I mean, Skalidra is a guaranteed good time, and she does action scenes better than most published writers. The way she balances detail and action still results in a fast-paced, tense scene so this sounds like a perfect murderific jaunt for a bad day.

At Cosmos' End by RivetingFabrications Words: 11.8k (4/?) | WIP

Tim has quit Starfleet and gone rogue – the system can’t help everyone, despite its best intentions. But when he finds an olden spacecraft in the outermost reaches of space where none should be, he finds more mysteries than answers.

Comment: The tags says you don’t have to be a hard core trekkie to get the gist of what’s going on. It sounds amazing nonetheless.

SPECIAL MENTIONS:

@sociallyawkwardfoxwriter and @my-one-love-is-music who are both doing Write 365. A crazy feat and not all of the drabbles are JayTim. List of AUs are only from what I recall and there’s more on their blogs!

Write 365 by @sociallyawkwardfoxwriter

Star Wars AU; Dancer AU; Pacific Rim AU; Tomb Raider AU; Oracle!Tim AU; Werewolf!Jason AU and more.

Write 365 by @my-one-love-is-music

Barista!Tim AU; Werewolf!Jason AU; Mermaid!Tim AU; Hunger Games AU and more.

and:

JayTim Week

A place for ongoing JayTim weeks.

Remember to kudos/like/bookmark and tell the author how much you enjoyed their work!

—

Published: 4th June 2018

#jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #red hood #red robin #fic rec #fic recs #fanfic #rec list #long post #first of many hopefully #jaytim rec list #long #what must she be procrastinating to compile such a huge list you ask #well my friend the answer is everything #praying that read more works for mobile users

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