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jazzythursday · 3 years

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My Take on The Loki Series, And All The Things I Would Change About/Add To It If I Could (in vaguely chronological order)

Small disclaimer: This is just a compilation of all the ideas I had for ways the Loki Series could have gone, expanding on the main premise. It doesn’t cover everything, simply the aspects of the plot that I felt compelled to diverge from specifically. It’s not meant as an overly harsh critique of the show, just alternate possibilities. A… variant of the show if you will (It’s also egregiously long and yet I had to stop myself from saying more).

The series opens in the TVA with a display of the branching timeline that Loki created. We don’t meet any characters yet or see anyone’s faces, only hearing readings of codes and tracking of the Loki ‘variant’ before switching to Loki.

After traveling with the Tesseract, he takes in his surroundings (it can be the Gobi Desert but the thing with the Mongolians does not happen) but before he can get too far the TVA shows up.

I think it would be interesting to have a sequence of Loki evading them in different environments. Teleporting to different areas/planets and using different forms/disguises (maybe we see a Lady Loki in a restaurant, our Loki, and a few other outfits), however the TVA finds him every time no matter where or what form.

Eventually he gets fed up of running and confronts them directly. This should be an actual fight, i.e. magic and a Loki who is committed to not being taken down again. Ultimately through use of magic dampening technology or other means (but for the love of god not whatever that punch was), he is apprehended and taken into the TVA.

I think the TVA should have been a lot more crowded. They control/ monitor all of time, so we should have seen tons of variants of all shapes/colors/styles/species, maybe even a few characters we recognize (like in the concept art for the show). Show us that Loki is not special here, he is just another variant to be processed and done with, like all the others.

Loki will have already noticed and felt a lack of magic at the TVA, maybe he tried to use it already so by the time we get to the judge his main concern is talking his way out—Putting his ‘silver tongue’ to use. (Lack of magic in the TVA would be referenced later as well when Loki goes to summon a knife or use magic, only to remember that he can’t there).

This is a very small point but if the TVA knows him as Laufeyson, he absolutely would take offense to that. It’s been one year since he found out about and killed his birth father, I’d assume wants nothing to do with the title. Of course the TVA wouldn’t care, and we’d probably get something like:

“I am Loki, of Asgard, and you will address me as such.”

“I think you’ll find out things work a little differently here at the TVA, Mr. Laufeyson.”

Before he’s able to be pruned we have Mobius step in and plead his case.

If the show wants to portray Mobius as a friend we’ll see him have sympathy and conflicts about the TVA from the beginning. He doesn’t quite fit in, he’s bored of the monotony of the place and he has remorse for what they’re doing, but knows it’s not his place to question it. I like the idea of him being somewhat of a fan of Loki (they did mention this in the show but then proceeded to have him belittle Loki every time he opened his mouth which is uh… a choice). Mobius needs Loki’s help but he also has the desire to help Loki. He’s seen how his life plays out and understands that there’s more in him than his worst decisions. I think that Mobius secretly/ subconscious wants a bit of chaos, that he’s intrigued by Loki and as an analyst has an interest in understanding him.

Loki vs B15 would ideally happen before Loki returns to the time theater with the Tesseract instead of after. It would not be so easy for her to physically overpower him as even without magic he still has enhanced strength. (The minutemen show no signs of being genetically much stronger than humans, so arguably without use of their technology it’s obvious he could take one in a fight.

Back in the time theater after Loki’s watched the reel of his life, much of the conversation happens the same albeit with a greater emphasis on Loki’s true motivations and his feelings of powerlessness in his role. A bit about Thanos too (realistically vague). Perhaps he thought at the time he was doing what he wanted, but is starting to realize he doesn’t know anymore. Then we see a version of:

“I can’t promise you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better.”

“A proposition, I see you have done your research. So tell me, agent, what would you have me do?”

Mobius explains why they need him to track down a variant of himself, and they shake on it. It’s clear that neither of them trust each other yet, but there is a mutual understanding that they will work together anyway.

Their friendship should grow naturally, slowly gaining each other’s trust until they see each other as true allies. In this there are more episodes than in the actual show (I’ll say 8 instead of 6). Give them a few more adventures and a bit more time for splitting up to hurt.

In Roxxcart, we see more use of magic. He dries himself off, maybe shape shifts into/imitates B15 or a minuteman. Loki uses illusions in the fight against the variant. He tries to reason with and understand what they are doing and why. The fight is somewhat matched although Loki is still holding back, fighting with misdirection as the variant fights using possession. Neither of them are showing themselves, and in an attempt to make the variant stop hiding, Loki disperses all the doubles and asks them to do the same. He takes a chance and this is how the variant gets the upper hand, setting off the branches and then revealing herself as Sylvie.

(Side note: In the concept art for the show, Loki changes into his Asgardian outfit by the time he and Sylvie are on Lementis. I definitely could see that working either when the fight begins/during it, or when he goes through the time door. In either case I think it would be somewhat of a gesture to Sylvie that he is not truly aligned with the TVA, thus setting them both apart/ in opposition to it.)

Instead of romance, Sylvie and Loki forge a bond through seeing themselves in each other throughout the series. They talk about the differences in their past and how they got there. They bicker and make each other laugh and rather than Sylvie just insulting Loki, it’s a mutual rapport. Loki gives just as good as he gets and they find they can work better together than apart.

On Lementis, Loki easily gets them into the train by impersonating a guard (or by conjuring tickets).

They talk about magic. How Sylvie is untrained but self taught and doesn’t understand hers very well. Loki can talk about how he views magic/his magic (we can maybe pull a few things from Norse beliefs about seiðr here). Does he view it as a part of himself? Something honed and precise? I want magic to be portrayed as an artful practice, and I want him to help Sylvie understand hers.

Loki gets drunk and they’re kicked out of the train. This reads as funny because Loki will have been sharp and competent throughout the show so far, so him losing his cool and failing the plan is unexpected.

Instead of the Tempad breaking for absolutely no reason, they argue over where to go/ how to use it. This leads to them both having a hand at accidentally destroying it because of self interest and refusing to work together. It illustrates again that they are stronger together but in conflict they are their own worst enemy (much like Loki in general which ties into a bigger metaphor for all his shortcomings).

Expanding on the magic thing, Sylvie and Loki through the series learn from each other. Loki can teach her some of his magic, and Slyvie can teach him enchantment (which he’s read about but never really mastered, although he approaches learning it like any other spell).

Loki could show her an illusion of Asgard as he remembers it. And in doing so we see that both of them long for it. Because for all Loki has claimed to renounce it, he misses home, and he and the audience see the same thing in Sylvie.

I think it would be interesting for Sylvie to let him enchant her, and we can see one of her memories. Maybe it’s when she was taken, maybe it’s on the run, maybe it’s a happy place, but it gives us insight into her character and past. I’m on the fence if Slyvie should enchant Loki, but if she did I’d pick them accidentally going back to the day Odin took him (which is how we deal with the icy blue elephant in the room that the writers refuse to tackle). Let Loki be conflicted and angry and unsure how he feels about it. This could once again be a moment where Loki and Sylvie connect because it’s (I’m assuming) where both their stories began. It’s a mirror of both of their origins, and she helps him see some good in that.

In the void (which is renamed something else so as to not get confused with the void™ that Loki fell into in Thor 2011) Loki learns from and connects with his other variants. They all have a point to being there, and he starts to reflect on what makes him him and what role he wants to play now.

When Sylvie and Mobius show up they agree on the plan to kill Aliyoth, either because it will stop anyone else from being killed by the TVA, or because they think he is guarding the entrance to whoever is behind everything.

Loki later asks Sylvie if she had a Thor. She did but probably doesn’t remember him much. What she does remember, she tells him. Through talking to both Classic Loki and Sylvie it’s recognized that he does miss his brother, that all Loki’s do, and that they are constants meant to aid each other and fight and suffer but always be brothers in any universe.

When they finally fight Aliyoth Loki summons new armor/his helm. Along with Kid Loki giving him Laevateinn, each Loki also gives him something to remember them or aid in their quest (yay Loki solidarity!). When I say this I mean daggers! Daggers dear gods have one of them give him daggers, boy needs some knives.

When they realize they can’t kill him, Sylvie has the idea to use enchantment. Like in the show, Sylvie can’t do it on her own and so they join hands and combine their powers together, revealing the Citadel beyond. They look at each other and agree that they have to move forward.

“Do we trust each other?”

“We do.”

Inside the Citadel we have Kang himself make the offer to give them what they wish. Sylvie can get the life that was stolen from her. Loki could be offered a Throne, he could be offered to be the first born, or to be a true Æsir, or kill Thanos, but ultimately he denies. He’s realized throughout the show that he’d rather be different, he’d rather be him, and he won’t settle for a fantasy world that isn’t real.

The message is about choice, about free will, chaos. Every choice you make directly results in who you become, every action changes how your story goes, and Loki understands that no one has the right to limit that.

In this it is Sylvie though, who is tempted. She has been on a quest for revenge her whole life, she never had a home, doesn’t remember feeling loved, and in the end it is a fight against temptation, and Loki knows all about that.

They fight each other, and break their vow of trust because ultimately they are each other but they are also different. They clash until Loki is able to talk her down, to relate to her, to show that he “just wants her to be okay” and reaffirms her goal. Kang of course continues to be self assured in his predictions. I’d imagine here is where we could get a declarative sort of speech like “I am Loki, God of Mischief,” They join hands “and no one tells our story” or… something to that affect.

Loki and Sylvie fight to destroy Kang together, and here we discover that if he is killed the multiverse opens, and the war of his variants will begin anew. We see flashbacks of Kang’s past and variants played out, and how he came to be at the citadel. Sylvie can talk about why it’s better to have chaos than to sanitize history and kill in the name of the greater good.

The show ends with the death of Kang and the splintering of the timelines. With Sylvie and Loki looking out the window into the fracturing strands of time.

Other changes and thoughts

Tone: the tone I’d imagine this would take on is possibly a bit more serious than the canon show. While it’s still comedy, it would be much less cartoonish, and generally fit in with the rest of the MCU a little easier.

In relation to Mobius:

Mobius’s crisis of faith would be a long time coming. Throughout the show we see him hesitate more and more to do as the TVA asks, and have an increasingly harder time justifying their actions. Learning that the whole thing is a lie is simply the tipping point that drives him to act.

In his confrontation with Renslayer he’d be a lot more driven/succinct. If he wants the TVA to burn then he wants the TVA to burn. He sees the wrongness in it’s entirety and attempts to convince Renslayer the same thing. When it’s clear that she is unreachable/ still sure of her mission, they come to an impasse. They each threaten to prune the other, parallel and matched on opposite sides of their belief. Ultimately though, neither can go through with it, and (if we’re sticking mostly with the canon ending) she leaves through a time door to who knows when to search for who knows what and Mobius and B15 regroup.

In relation to the other Loki’s:

I’m still on the fence how many Loki’s would be played by Tom, but I think the answer is, if not almost all, then at least more than we got.

Each Loki should read as distinctly Loki in essence. Less comic easter eggs and more focus on understanding the established canon character. Even greater in this scene though is the focus on the theme of choice. If there’s time we could learn what choices led up to each variant being apprehended, and see just a bit of how they feel about it. It’s about how our choices dictate who we become, rather than pre-set paths of completely separate realities and lives to our Loki’s.

I love Classic Loki’s speech about how it’s their destiny to play a certain part and if they try and change it the TVA stops them. I’d like our Loki, while conflicted about if he can truly change, to be motivated to try and finally brake the chains that have always restricted him (first his father, then Thanos, now the TVA). I also think here is where we could talk about how abrupt their end is ‘meant’ to be. That he was working on being better, that he had apparently helped his people and reconciled with his brother. That not only was his life cut short, but that the finality of that conclusion wasn’t truly the only way, but simply decided for him.

In relation to themes:

“What makes a Loki a Loki?” Is a question that should loom in the background of the whole series. Starting with Mobius’s interrogation when he’ll begin questioning his place in the universe and his understanding of himself, and ending with the finale confrontation with Kang where he’ll answer it.

“No one bad is ever truly bad, and no one good is ever truly good.” Is similarly something I think should have been a continued focus. Loki is considered a morally grey character and a chaos god, and thus none of his actions are black and white. Others may try and decide who he is at his core, but fundamentally the conclusion is not about deciding to be a hero, but deciding to be true to yourself and doing better.

“The banality of evil” in relation to the TVA. It’s clear from the first ten minutes of the actual show that the TVA is corrupt, unjust, and unnatural in their cleansing of the multiverse… so lean into it! I’m not necessary talking about changing much here, just that the narrative framing displays their actions as deplorable as they are.

“Glorious Purpose” is um… not something I think needed to be the main focus here. I might be biased because I buy into the theory that “you were made to be ruled” “freedom is life’s greatest lie” and “I am burdened with glorious purpose” are messages that have been somewhat impressed upon him rather than beliefs he came to realize on his own, but I do think it was somewhat oversimplified and overused in the series.

You are the writer of your own story. This is the message I expected the show to end with, and it’s what I’m personally trying to convey through these musings. This story ends with Loki taking back his destiny, forging a new one, connecting with himself and others and helping to free the timelines. He’s not the worst things he’s ever done, he’s not a villain, he’s not a benevolent hero. Loki is just Loki, Sylvie is just Sylvie, and you are just you, whoever we decide to be (that was cheesy I’m sorry).

#Loki series rewrite #loki series critical #I’m going to regret posting this #not technically negativity but tagging just in case #loki series negativity #i feel like either no one will read this or only very rude people will 😅#oh boy #loki series #this is a load of shit but after the writing in the show I refuse to be embarrassed #Loki #jazzy’s thinking too much again

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oh-boy-me · 4 years

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Demon Outfits Discussed

The wait is over :) thank you for your patience and all the lovely comments on the casual discussion!!

I feel like it got longer this time, so I hope it’s all an enjoyable read! Also, I apologize for the ugly pictures--it was the easiest and fastest way to both have all the design in one image and also prevent it from stretching so far.

Like last time, please don’t take this too seriously; we love these boys and Justin doesn’t know them but has no grudges against them. We’re just harping on their fashion sense. Absolutely no hate is intended towards the boys or the design team!

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), our art major with storyboarding/character design experience, who finds they have more in common with Satan each passing day.

Justin ( @justinlester0629 ), our fashion expert, who dressed up and filled a wine glass with water for the occasion.

Noodle (Me), our untrained eye who owns the Barbie as the Island Princess video game on three different platforms. It’s not even that good.

Featuring emergency guest star Megan ( @maggo77 ), my sister who is physically near me as we look at the backs of their designs for the first time.

Edit: Distracted by the pretty jacket, we made a mistake when putting in Levi’s silhouette rating. It’s the worst. 2/10, not 6.

Lucifer:

“Boy looks like he’s about to swing open the doors of an expensive mansion during a debutante party and give some SCATHING NEWS.” —Justin

“Short shoulder cape and a long split butt cape lol” —Jo

Jo has realized that based on both outfits, Lucifer doesn’t want people looking at his butt. Possible reasons are: he doesn’t have one, or Diavolo someone was getting distracted.

His shoes match his outfit. After last time that’s all I care about.

A triple popped color, and how many layers is the middle one? Is that a book? Dude has like 27 collars.

The forehead diamond is very important and it’s great that there are diamond buttons to match it. But uh. How about those red diamonds on his sleeves. They. They sure are there. (I actually like the red accents and that they match his gloves; I just can’t take the diamonds seriously.)

Lucifer 🤝 Some Horses Diamond on the Forehead

The peacock motif is HERE and we’re all living for it. HOWEVER, the feathers on the cape and coattails should have matched, OR there should have been more lime green because there’s so little of that color.

The pants have a pleat in the front, which Justin says means he responsibly irons his clothes, and Jo says only heightens the fact that under the capes this is a marching uniform.

Can he fly? Jo says these are baby wings that can’t support his weight, and his cape has a hole for the top pair but blocks the bottom pair? Can’t believe Lucifer handicapped himself for the sake of fashion.

The red makes it regal and the wide flowy design makes it imposing. Good job, Lucifer! I might actually be intimidated if I saw you.

Definitely the classiest outfit. You can tell they put care into it.

Mammon:

“BITCH MY BODY CANNOT TAKE THIS KIND OF SEXY, I THINK I AM OVERHEATING! NO MORE FURTHER COMMENTS, YOUR HONOR. HAUTE AND HOT.” —Justin

The whole thing does amazing with only three colors. We’ve noticed the trend of black and white + one color, but I mean hey. It’s working so far.

Damn those pants sit low. No wonder literally all of you wear belts.

The leather jacket? The studs and harness? Bless. Justin calls it “the perfect blend of stylish and ‘I’ll see you tonight *wink*’”.

Kind of don’t like how the belts connect to the pants, though. It looks better in the back.

“He found a really cool jacket, but it didn’t pair with anything so he just didn’t wear anything.” —Jo

Honestly though? We’ve all made fun of Mammon for having big hoe energy in his outfits, but like, he knew he had wings and planned his outfit to accommodate for that. He’s the only one who didn’t cut holes in his outfit. Maybe Mammon was the smallest hoe after all.

Also if there’s a motif it repeats elsewhere, like the studs and diamonds on his jacket and pants. Did he and Lucifer have a “tastefully putting diamonds on my outfit” battle? Because Mammon definitely won.

One of the charms broke off the belt loop and he never bothered to replace it, and honestly thank god there isn’t two of those anymore.

Torn between wishing the boots were tighter to match the rest of the outfit and saying “yoooo they’re open in the back!!!”

Ok so so far we’ve said generally only good things, but there is one major issue with the design: Its gravity. Everything points down, his tattoos, the diamonds, even his wings. The center of gravity in the image is his shoes. Bitch loved his shoes so much he made his whole outfit point to them.

Either way this was universally considered the best and I mourn Justin who doesn’t know how far Mammon’s standards are gonna fall from here.

Leviathan:

Diagonal zipper

“Levi what the fuck.” —Megan

He looks like an e-boy.

Honestly it looks like he borrowed something from Justin’s wardrobe for Pride but he didn’t know how to put it on.

APPARENTLY the biggest hoe. Abs that he shouldn’t have coming through a mesh t-shirt. I thought Mammon’s pants were low, but Levi’s whole-ass ass is out. Ok Levi, I see you.

The shirt pattern is good but he probably leaves it partially unzipped because it’d look really dumb fully closed.

Justin loves the funky pants pattern and Jo likes the pants but not with the outfit. It’s because the devs were too coward to give him a thick tail base so his pants had to fill that role by sharing the pattern.

The shoes are good, and not just because they incited Justin’s deep-set hatred for Christian Louboutin and his uncomfortable red-bottom shoes.

Justin is offended that he’s hiding his suspenders; either show them completely or not at all, no in between. Jo’s not fully convinced it isn’t just one suspender. What are his suspenders doing? What are they attached to? Are they holding anything up? Apparently not.

Jo pointed out that if you squint the belt on his waist looks like fangs and the orange dots on his sleeves looks like eyes so it’s like theres a snake head on his outfit. Cute!

The gloves are throwing us off though. Why is Levi of all other brothers need gloves? I bet he has sweaty hands.

Ok really, does his sweater unzip all the way into two pieces? Or does it hang by that tiny thread underneath the tail hole? There’s even a button, just in case.

Can’t believe this antler-sporting, suspender-wasting nerd went diagonal zipper on us because we beat him at a trivia game. Should have just zipped his hood.

Satan:

HONEY.

“I hate everything about this.” —Megan

First of all, he’s straight up wearing Lucifer’s casual shirt. Does it only button down the back? Can he take it off?

Then he spilled bleach on his pants. Like I get what they were going for but with the white on black that is literally just bleach stains.

Incredibly differing opinions on the belt. He got it in the cowboy department. Justin adores it. Jo despises it.

And are those… athletic slip ons?

And now the elephant in the room. The ribcage made of ribbons. The ribboncage. The idea is great! I love that they gave him a skeletal theme without throwing him into a Hot Topic.

But if you take the ribboncage and feather boa off he’s literally just wearing a dress shirt and some nice jeans. And that’s the problem with Satan’s demon form. Not that it looks goofy. It’s that they took risks but then hid all the risks behind business casual.

Also Megan said that the back of the ribbons look like a rock climbing harness. Someone (probably Justin) said the front reminds them of the underbelly of a green cockroach. Ew.

The feather boa would look better if it was over something you wouldn’t literally wear at the office. (And also didn’t look so much like worm on a string.)

“He is going to Dragcon 2020 and is definitely going to take a picture and ask to lip sync, but accidentally start beef with Acid Betty.” —Justin

On a good note, loving how the tail fades to highly radioactive green. Feels dangerous. Megan pointed out that it’s a pretty wimpy tail, though. Jo enjoys the self-conscious posture it expresses.

That’s basically the only good thing we have to say, though.

I just????

Merry Christmas.

Asmodeus:

The kanji on the picture is just saying that the coattail is the same on both sides.

Ok now with that out of the way, HONEY.

I’m sure he says that to others but I hope he says it to himself too when he looks in the mirror.

Starting with the good. The wings? Adorable. The heart-shaped hole to accommodate them? Adorable. One of the only good adjustments.

And I love that the tips of his horns look venomous, like a scorpion tail!

We love a good floral design and a good twin tailcoat.

But once again, the shirt just has too much going on. The flowers. The buttons. The brick-pattern stitching. The brooch. The long collar. The fact that if he closed the last button it’d end in a diamond covering his crotch. Sometimes less is more, Asmo.

That scorpion brooch is the best thing to ever grace my computer screen and it shouldn’t have to share the spotlight with the rest of his shirt. It should have wrapped around his arm and been paired with some more jewelry. Then he could have ditched those giant cuffs.

The bleeding heart tattoos are a really good idea! But they should have been angled better and not like someone else put them on at the roller rink. And maybe they shouldn’t have been outlined in pink. Those aren’t tattoos, those are gaping holes in his arm. Is he ok.

I’ve been avoiding the pants, but. The pants.

“Oh dear god. Oh no that’s… I thought you were a designer…” —Jo

One side is buckled the ENTIRE way down, and then the other side is COMPLETELY plain. It’s too extreme on both ends. It should have been only half a leg of buckles. Not whatever this is. I still don’t think he can bend that leg.

The shoes are ok but they COULD have been a stiletto so.

Jo is DONE with these demons’ inability to wear socks.

We expected better from you, Asmo. I hope you have to fasten all those buckles every morning as retribution.

Beelzebub:

He said “how many belts can I wear on one outfit.”

Justin said it’s like Barry B. Benson and Post Malone had a beautiful baby boy, and Obey Me! is cancelled for creating a sequence of events that could lead to me hearing that with my own two ears.

The jacket? Stunning. “It’s steampunk mixed with Jack Sparrow, mixed with Billie Joe Armstrong,” says Justin. It’s got puffy sleeves! And there’s objectively too much going on with the jacket, but since it’s a leather jacket I can forgive it. Justin and Jo can’t.

I’m not sure why they keep giving him weird jacket collars but I prefer belt number 9 to fur.

“Why is it bucked in the back? Couldn’t it have just been a jacket?” —Megan

Good that the black tank isn’t only black, but he has so little color on his outfit that it would have been nice for it and the matching pattern on his boots to have been a color besides gray.

I don’t mind the belts down the leg because they’re not too in your face. Jo wants the white belt to be thinner. Justin wants him to just pick one and go with it.

Poor Beel, he can’t do his lil thigh pat pose without his right hand being assaulted by studs and that bear trap-shaped buckle.

Justin feels like the cowboy boots are too wide up top and it’s probably because they’re FAKE cowboy boots. I don’t know why he didn’t just get cowboy boots instead of putting fake coverings over his dress shoes.

Can’t fault the twin belt, though. And the wing hole isn’t terrible.

Idk I guess. They knew what they wanted to do at least.

That seems to be the pattern with Beel: they know what they want to do, but something weird happens in the middle of it.

Belphegor:

“I don’t know which Teletubby let their son go through the it’s just a phase mom phase, but they should be ashamed.” —Justin

A toddler who just learned how to cut holes in paper got a hold of his hoodie.

Is it a hoodie? A jacket? A poncho? The cow print actually isn’t terrible. At least it had the decency to be unique in its spotting. And the actual presence of blue is very appreciated.

On the topic of colors, Jo is calling the devs out on their apparent fear of color. “Put the pink elsewhere, cowards,” they say.

We actually don’t hate the horseshoe, and using it for the belt buckles is actually really clever. Even if 75% of them are doing literally nothing. Feel like he didn’t need that many. Could do without the bottom one, maybe even bottom two.

There’s a teeeeny tiny cowbell on the back? Megan apparently finds that VERY important. Why do they go to such great lengths to remind us that Belphie’s a cow? Beel doesn’t rub his hands together 24/7. Mammon doesn’t even get bird wings.

Just like Satan spilled bleach, Belphie has tar pants.

It’s nice to see a change in pant style, but. Am I biased because I hate harem pants? Maybe. Are these harem pants too short on him? Yes. Maybe they were supposed to be parachute capris? But it just looks he outgrew them too fast and Lucifer won’t buy him new pants yet. At least they look comfy.

If he puts his keys in those pockets will his pants fall down? Probably. That’s a problem considering his are the only pants that look like they could hold any keys.

The shoes are fine. I can enjoy a high topped sneaker. …Is that a security tag? Did he steal his shoes. Belphie stole his shoes.

On the tiny tail hole, I appreciate that Belphie went for modesty. But I hope it’s impossible to wear these outfits outside of demon form because I don’t want him walking around with a tiny hole right above his ass.

Honestly he doesn’t even look like a demon? He just looks like… a cow.

There’s one more aspect of their demon forms that I didn’t feel comfortable forcing into a smaller space than it deserved: Silhouettes. Jo puts a lot of weight on silhouettes and their role in character design. Is it dynamic? Is it recognizable? Jo ranked them as such:

1. Lucifer: 9/10. Care and effort were put into this design and it shows. 2. Mammon: 7/10. Points deducted for most of it being form fitting but otherwise still manages to get a passing grade. 3 (tied). Beelzebub: 5/10. His wings have actual mass but his horns being mostly hidden by his head reduce his score. 3 (tied). Belphegor: 5/10. Evens out since his clothes aren’t as form fitting as the others but they also kind of turn him into a blob. 5. Asmodeus: 4/10, and only because he’s got multiple wings and that his tailcoat breaks up the bottom half. 6. Satan: 3/10, for the fact HIS BOA carries most of the work in altering his silhouette. 7. Leviathan: 2/10. The tail and horns prevent this from being a total flop.

Our (surprisingly unanimous!) ranking of their outfits (not counting Megan her opinions deviated) were:

Mammon

Lucifer

Leviathan

Belphegor

Beelzebub

Asmodeus

Satan

In conclusion, any M-rated fic that doesn’t have it take demon Satan 20 minutes to take off his shirt is too unrealistic.

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danger-xylophones · 4 years

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Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)

{masterlist}

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away.

Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?...I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral.

Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words...woops

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“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too...long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe.

And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought.

Perhaps he was so open with you because he could read you better than anyone else? He always knew what you were thinking and knew exactly what to say to help you. If you were honest, it was no wonder why you two were fast friends. And it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that certain feelings had crept up on you. Although you had resigned yourself to never act on them for both of your sakes there was no helping the admiration that prompted you to value the Kel Dor’s opinion over anyone else’s. And just like so many times before, it seemed like Plo knew this for he offered a single nod to you when your eyes met. The tension fled from your shoulders instantly as a silent sigh of relief slipped from you. Plo Koon approved. You had done good. He knew how hard you had worked on the new plans and could cite several instances where he had stumbled upon you slumped over your desk as the testimony to your dedication. Each time the Kel Dor quietly lifted you to your feet and encouraged you to leave the work for the next day as he escorted you back to your quarters. Once the two of you got there, he’d always, always place a secure hand on your shoulder with a squeeze that just barely made his talons dig into your greys as he bid you goodnight before sweeping away with one last order to get some sleep tossed over his shoulder. It was similar small gestures like those that gave you hope that were your situations different-he being a normal citizen like you and not a Jedi with no trace of war-that maybe something could happen. But alas…

“I must say, Major, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself.” Kenobi was the first among the Jedi to speak with one hand clasping his chin and the other clasping his elbow in typical Obi Wan fashion as he scanned over the details once more.

You dipped your head with a carefully practiced, “thank you, General” as your immediate reply though deep inside, your pride swelled. This was possibly your most ambitious plan yet and one that had presented significant challenges. While you were a good tactician, your strong suits lie in terrestrial combat and not space. It felt great to be validated.

“Yes but…” Depa Billaba began with her arms dutifully crossed over her chest as she scrutinized further, “what are we to do about this asteroid field that cuts through our path?” The Jedi asked calmly and you brightened at the mention of it because you had banged your head against it every which way. The asteroid field was the one thing you couldn’t accurately account for as the data you had received on it initially had been outdated. And you explained as much to her.

“However, I am happy to tell you that I may have found a way to...acount for this hazard.” You cleared your throat and leaned over the console to zoom in on the area in question. “This asteroid field is large, messy, and problematic, and had you asked me how to avoid it earlier I wouldn’t have had an answer. But, I think that the best course of action is to separate-to make it look as though the three of you-” you pointed to the generals you were specifying, “are escorting Depa Billaba till she comes in range with the nearby medical station. That way if any Separatists follow you, you can still maintain the element of surprise because I know that if we can make General Billaba’s starship appear vulnerable that they will go for it. Worst case scenario, you dust off the guns a little preemptively. Best case-” again, you clicked another button that revealed a dotted red path through the holo projection, “you can use the asteroids as extra cover while you navigate through this path.” You paused a moment, eyes shifting to gauge the reactions of everyone. From across the table, your eyes met with Commander Wolffe’s who raised an eyebrow at you. “Clone intelligence has informed me that this path might be outdated as well but we will be active on the comms to offer guidance through the field as you go.” Commander Wolffe gave a firm nod and, again, the Jedi and clones retreated inwards to try and think of any situations that they would need to be prepared for. In the weighted silence that followed, you were keenly aware of Plo Koon drawing closer to you as he methodically circled the console before you. His hands remained clasped behind his back the entire time and you couldn’t help but watch him as he approached.

He came to a stop right next to you-close enough for your arms to brush and for his warmth to seep through the fabric of your greys. Plo Koon remained quiet for a little longer, leaving you more time to fight the instinct that told you to lean closer to him before he moved his arms. His taloned hand brushed the back of your own and his vambrace bumped your forearm as he brought his arms up to cross over his torso. You couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of even that minuscule contact which almost caused you to miss the compliment he paid your way.

“Uh...th-thank you, General.” You coughed into your fist in a not so subtle way to correct your stutter. “But really, my plan is only good because my data was good. You should really thank your men that got me the information.”

The Kel Dor made a huffing sound that would have sounded like a laugh if not for the heavy overlay from his mask. “Believe me, Major, I will but you do deserve some of the credit.” He stressed, even going so far as to grasp your shoulder very briefly. You could still feel the imprint of his touch when he moved his hand away.

“Anakin, you’re being unusually quiet.” Obi Wan saved you from further implosion as he addressed his former padawan. You and Plo Koon both turned your attention back to the other occupants in the room and you were unsettled to find General Skywalker’s eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny as he glanced between you and the Jedi Master. Perhaps more alarming though was Wolffe’s face. He was staring at Plo Koon with what you could only describe as a bug-eyed look.

“Just thinking, master.” Skywalker eventually answered. Your jaw tensed in uncertainty though the younger man said nothing more regarding the visual dissection of your interaction.

The meeting continued for a few more minutes with you working to finalize the more minute details and to take measures to establish backup plans that would most likely be abandoned by the Jedi at the first sign of conflict and the Jedi began to disperse with their own CO’s. Eventually, that left just you, Wolffe, and Plo Koon. At the first sign that the meeting was adjourned, you began to pack your things up and to log off the computers but instead of leaving you to your own devices like you thought he would, Plo Koon remained with you. He casually waited at the console you had left him at with his hands clasped before his diaphragm, a common gesture for him you’d noticed, while Wolffe awkwardly hovered near the door.

“Was there anything else you needed, General?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the Kel Dor. He stood up straight and approached with light footsteps.

“Not particularly, Major, but I would like to congratulate you once again on another excellently thought out plan.” Plo Koon’s voice was as calm as it ever was but there was something there-a slight lilt you weren’t familiar with or maybe it was better described as a squeak? Slowly spinning on your heel, you turned to face him.

“Well,...thank you, General. It...It’s my job.” A part of you swore at your inability to take a compliment properly while the other parts were all focused on Plo Koon. Sure, he’d complimented you on your plans before (he did during the meeting) but he had always reserved the more serious praise for after the missions and the debriefings. He’d never stayed after the preliminary meetings.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Plo Koon-it feels far too impersonal to be addressed as ‘general’ outside of meetings.” The Kel Dor explained with a raised hand to stop you from saying anything else till he had said his piece.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before eventually sliding your gaze over to Wolffe who had a hand clasped over his eyes. That gesture only added kindling to the confused fire as you returned to the man in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss-his mask looked in place and to your knowledge, he hadn’t been in the medbay recently. “As...whatever you wish...Plo.” You swallowed, his name-something you’d said in your head thousands of times before-felt foreign on your tongue. “You can of course call me ‘Y/n’...then.” You offered uncertainly.

“Of course,” he echoed with a nod. “I’ve always thought your name fitting.”

“Thank you…?” You asked uncertainly.

“I just mean that it is a strong name and you bear it well.”

“...” Again, you couldn’t help but look over at Wolffe who had taken his face in his hands in what could only be described as a picture of absolute mortification. His helmet was awkwardly squished into his chest as he shook his head from side to side, lips moving as he formed words you couldn’t hear from where you stood. “I...uh...I like your name too, Plo. It’s gentle…?” You tried as you returned your attention to the Kel Dor and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

He brightened, back straightening up as he continued to regard you. “Thank you, I’m rather fond of it myself.” A silence fell over the two of you-horribly tense and laced with an awkward air you had no way of dissipating anytime soon. Averting your eyes from the Jedi, you rolled your lips in and bit them as you fished for something else to say.

“Is...are you sure there wasn’t anything you needed, General?” You finally asked after shifting on your feet for the third time.

Plo Koon shook his head, less in a form of denial and more like he was trying to shake himself out of a stupor before answering. “I’m positive but while we’re on the subject of names I feel it is important for me to inform you of the new one circulating amongst my men.”

You raised your eyebrow at the Jedi, not missing the way Wolffe froze entirely. “A new name for me or…?”

“For you.” Plo nodded. “It seems as though they’ve taken a liking to calling you ‘Major Buir’.” There was something in his voice that told you he was smiling (or the Kel Dor equivalent of smiling) beneath his anti-ox mask.

“Buir?” You questioned as your mind raced to dig up a definition for the Mando’a word you’d heard assigned to the Jedi on multiple occasions. “As in what the Wolfpack calls you?”

“Indeed. Are you familiar with Mando’a?”

“After fighting alongside the clones?-of course, but I’m afraid most of the terms I know relate to fighting, tactics, or swearing.” You explained promptly with a glance to Wolffe at the mention of his language-the clone in question looked frozen in his spot and it seemed like he was no longer alone as you could swear you saw the familiar red hair of Boost and the silver of Sinker ducking behind the doorway.

Plo Koon suddenly leaned forward, getting closer to your height as his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Buir is Mando’a for ‘parent’, Y/n.” Immediately, it felt as though someone had locked you in carbonite-your heart was still warm as it surged with affection for the men of the 104th yet at the same time your body felt the familiar frozen tingle that so often accompanied the sensation of treading through uncharted territory. You were keenly aware of Plo Koon’s proximity and the way your heart sped as a result. In an attempt to combat this you took a deep breath to steady yourself and regain control over your vocal chords. But that was a mistake as Plo’s natural scent infiltrated your senses. He smelled of leather and fresh air, of tea tree and some other piquant scent you couldn’t name that you knew was the remnant of one of the contraband candles he had hidden aboard the ship. It was so him-something the standard issue GAR soap couldn’t hide-that it overwhelmed you in an instant and you found yourself leaning closer. He, a flame, and you, a moth.

Your lips parted slightly as your face relaxed and you swore that you’d never felt calmer. It felt like someone was wrapping you in a hug; you felt safe, wanted, and adored. “But...if they call you that and are now calling me that…” you began through the sudden dwam your mind floated in. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Then...General Plo Koon,” your voice suddenly became firm as you forced yourself to step back, “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

Plo Koon straightened up, his hands finding their usual resting place crossed in front of his stomach. “I am. Was it not obvious?” He asked, his held tilting to the left just slightly.

You briefly thought back to the somewhat strange string of compliments he’d paid you that lead up to this. “Uh...no, not really.” You explained quickly, eyes now flickering around the room in an attempt to come up with a reply to this revelation.

“Hmm.” Plo Koon hummed. “My apologies then. Boost encouraged me to be forward-perhaps it was not enough?” You blinked up at him, gaping like a fish-if that was Plo being forward then you wouldn’t have stood a chance if he had taken a subtle route.

Before you could say anything though, Wolffe’s explosive voice cut through the briefing room as he rounded on Boost. “You told him to do what?!” The commander barked at his red-headed brother who had long since abandoned hiding behind the doorway and was now standing tall with his chest slightly puffed.

“Oh come on, Vod, we both know the General likes ‘em! And Major Buir wasn’t going to pick up on it anytime soon. I was just trying to help!” He huffed back, practically getting in Wolffe’s face.

“Meddling isn’t helping, Boost!”

“I dunno-seemed pretty effective, Commander.” Sinker chimed in.

Wolffe wheeled on him next. “Don’t tell me you were in on this too!” The one-eyed clone seethed. “If you weren’t my brother I’d-”

“Boys!” You snapped, having heard enough. The three brothers stopped immediately and turned to you; each one bore a similarly sheepish grin. With a shake of your head, you turned back to Plo who had watched on in amusement. “Plo, I’m flattered but...what about your code? I know attachments are dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you-”

The Jedi master raised a hand. “My dear, attachments aren’t dangerous. It is how they can be used against a Jedi that is.”

“I don’t follow.” You tried only for Plo to shake his head.

“Yes, you do.” The Kel Dor dropped to your height again. “Y/n, if attachments themselves were dangerous Jedi would also be forbidden from being compassionate.” You were stricken silent, painfully aware of the three pairs of eyes currently fixated on the two of you. “But even if they were, I’d still find you worth the risk.” Your heart melted, a soft ‘Plo’ slipping past your lips that made the Kel Dor incline his head. “I know you care for me too, Y/n, so...are you willing to be with me?”

You bit your lip in thought, a smile creeping across your face as you looked up at the Jedi. “I’m guessing there’s no talking you out of this?”

“You may try but my feelings will persist.” Plo countered immediately-a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before.

You chuckled briefly and let your gaze slide over to the three clones now curiously peering at the two of you. You took in their identical faces and the imploring looks each one was giving you. When had the Wolfpack wormed their way into your heart? Probably around the same time their general did. You turned back to Plo Koon. “I say...of course,” You smiled and slipped onto your toes to wrap your arms around the Kel Dor’s neck. He returned the embrace with a low hum, his arms slipping around your waist, “ner Jetti.” You could hear whooping and hollering from the entrance to the briefing room.

……………………………………………………..

The barracks were dark and crowded later that night-many of the men from the 104th had all crammed into one room to watch the holofilm you’d smuggled onto the starship. It had been about three weeks since the fateful meeting that led to the union of you and General Plo Koon and each day had brought a new development in your aliit as word of your relationship spread. For the most part, none of the men were surprised-some even commenting on how Plo Koon was apparently unable to tear his eyes off of you during meetings, holocalls, or your brief but frequent trips to the base on Coruscant. But there were a few who weren’t expecting it at all.

But everyone you’d told had been supportive. And now as you sat curled into Plo Koon’s side with clones draped all around you as most dozed off in the peaceful barracks you could safely say that you’d found where you belong.

A tug on your arm pulled you away from the nearly impossible to hear holofilm (the few soldiers that were still awake had turned the volume down so they could let their brothers sleep) and to the clone currently barely awake with his head on your lap. “What is it, Boost?” You asked in a whisper, keenly aware of the sleeping Sinker and Wolffe on Plo’s other side. Still, your voice managed to catch the Jedi’s attention as he turned his head towards the two you.

The red head stared up at you blearily, a yawn interrupting him before he began speaking. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy you and general buir are together now. And that I’m glad I could help.”

A breathy laugh escaped you that Plo helped quiet with a hand over your mouth. He dipped his head to gesture at Wolffe who grumbled and curled closer to Sinker in his sleep. In retaliation, you batted his hand away and rolled your eyes at the Kel Dor before looking back at the sleepy man. “I am too, Boost. Thank you.” You answered fondly, letting your head fall against Plo’s shoulder.

“Like I said-” he cut off to yawn, “happy to help...major...buir.” Boost trailed off as his eyes closed and he wormed his way closer to you.

You smiled. “Thank you, ner ad’ika.” As Boost officially fell victim to dream land you turned towards Plo who had watched the exchange carefully. The same feeling of being hugged, of being safe, wanted, and loved infiltrated your senses but you now recognized it as Plo’s signature. Still bearing that soft painted smile, you pressed your forehead to his. A final whisper of thank you slipped from you as you resigned yourself to stay in that moment forever.

#plo koon x reader #plo koon #star wars #clone wars #star wars: clone wars #tcw #wolfpack

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tcstu · 3 years

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January’s Honorable Mentions

This month’s piece generated some incredible stories. I chose this work of art believing there were numerous tales buried within it, and I was not disappointed. Each entry took a completely different perspective on what is happening in this scene. If you enjoy one of the Honorable Mentions below, please let the writer know. I’m sure they would love to hear from you.

As a reminder, I celebrated the new year by featuring one of my favorite artists, @hydraart. If you’ve been following this contest, you may remember that this artist was also featured in January of 2019 and 2020. This seems to now be a New Year’s tradition, and I am happy to be able to continue it this year. If you would like to see the pieces previously featured by this artist, you can view them here:

January 2020

May 2019

January 2019

The piece for this month was titled, “Hide and Seek.” Here it is along with the Honorable Mentions for this month:

(These entries are listed in the order they were received and do not reflect a system of ranking.)

Untitled

Written by: @emilyelizabethfowl

Ten

She couldn’t tell whether the breeze she felt came from nature or from Its wings.

Nine

At least she didn’t have to worry about the smell betraying her hiding spot.

Eight

Sound, however, was a different matter entirely.

Seven

But her legs were starting to feel numb…

Six

It certainly wouldn’t hurt to move them, just a little, would it?

Five

Just a teeny tiny little bit…

Four

Slowly, carefully, she stretched her left leg.

Three

Then, bringing it back, she stretched out her right one.

Two

But she did it too fast, too carelessly.

One

Losing balance, she fell down. Her elbow knocked into the giant sheet of metal she was hiding under, the sound carrying far.

Zero

Barely seconds later, giant talons dented the metal, ripping it away easily.

Found you!

Aw, shucks.

She stood up, turning to face the creature.

“Best three out of five?” she offered.

It’s already past your bedtime. A deal is a deal.

Ah well. It was worth a try. She climbed the creature’s back, clinging tightly to the feathers longer than she was tall.

She’d win their next game for sure!

“Eleanor And The Great Bird”

Written by: @evanthenerd83

“Do not move,” Eleanor whispers to herself, thin frame curled inward.

The flapping of wings drowns out her panicked breathing. Dust swirls around. Bits and pieces rain down, and they sound like bullet casings striking metal.

Eleanor could recognize the sound anywhere. It is as familiar as her grandfather’s wartime movies. Black and white visions of the dead.

“Do not move,” Eleanor reminds herself, eyes scanning the words scratched into the steel.

The great bird passes overhead, and the entire shard shakes with its might. She bites her lip. A moment of terrible silence.

It is circling around. Coming back.

“Do… not… move,” Eleanor repeats, unaware that it doesn’t matter.

The shelter is just a jagged piece of roof. It isn’t big enough to hide her, not all of her. Not her shadow.

And unfortunately, the sun is burning in her direction.

The great bird has locked on.

The great bird makes one last turn…

Sit Com

Created by @daalseth ( Doug Aalseth )

"Ma!!" came the anguished cry.

"What is it?" replied his mother, her voice drenched in fatigue.

"Billy smashed up my 172 scale model Medieval Human Village."

"Now Tommy..."

"It wasn't me," shouted Billy. "I wouldn't do nothing with your stupid model."

"Yes it was," shouted Tommy waving his wing at the table. "That's your feather laying right there."

"Nuh-huh."

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-huh."

Their mother rubbed a talon against her throbbing forehead. It was going to be a long day. Maybe it was time to just kick the little bastards out of the nest? She looked at the two chicks arguing. "No," she said softly, "I'll give it one more day."

“Whatever It Takes”

Written by: @winterrose42

I dug my fingers deep into the ground as I curled tighter into myself, squeezing my eyes shut in a vain effort to concentrate. This had to work- in the end it’s all I could do, whatever God that’s left forgive me. I could feel the beast looming impossibly large behind me, breath wuffing over the ruined plains like winds before a storm. A low growl thundered from its throat and I dug harder even as my fingernails protested and bent from the dirt being shoved underneath them. I couldn’t fail. I had to find them, and to do that I needed to make it out alive. To do that…

I felt it suddenly, claws slicing easily into the dirt deep enough that I’m sure someone could make a bomb shelter of it later. The tips of its heavy wings brushed the uneven ground, dragging stone and steel along as they swayed in rest. Feeling the pull of its head was the worst; it had seen me that much I knew, darting from toppled building to ruined tower to hastily put up shelter as fast as my legs could carry me had not been fast enough. It’s great shriek had nearly deafened me as it shook the earth landing just a few yards away from where I had crouched. The few warriors who had gathered to head off the beast- they all knew in their hearts they hadn’t a chance of making it.

That’s what I kept telling myself as the beast’s arm raised and came crashing down to sweep away fallen debris and lean to steel sheets and scattered weapons, armor and men alike, leaving them to try and bury themselves yet again. Collect their wits and reorganize perhaps. I couldn’t afford to give them that chance. Setting everything in motion the wings swept back, the arms came up, the eyes focused forward, sharp beak opening wide with vocal chords straining to make its signature call- and so it was done.

All at once I severed the connection, feeling impossibly small and weak and useless once again as the ground shook like an earthquake with the speed at which the beast fell, screaming its indignation at being puppeted for as long as it had, intelligent eyes snapping forward to those running for better cover, myself sitting still and forgotten for the moment in light of more easily accessed prey. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, whispering out a prayer of forgiveness to carry on the artificial wind for those who cared to hear it.

Eventually the shaking ceased, noise quieted, beast placated if only for a moment making it possible to crawl out and stand up though I dared not turn around. Sticking to the irrational belief that my imagined carnage was worse and therefore I was absolved of blame I squared my shoulders and turned west.

I had survived and would continue to do so through whatever means necessary. I would survive. And I would find them.

Maran-do

Written by: @spoldhamindieauthor (S.P. Oldham)

Maran huddled beneath the toppled roof of a ruined dwelling, sitting now upon the ground, broken and battered. All of the buildings in this tiny hamlet told a similar story; one of destruction and wrath.

Maran heaved a silent sigh. He had sent out Maran-do, his mind partner, when the day was still bright, her task to bring down anyone he had not dispatched. Very few would be daring enough to try to evade her. It would take a remarkable being indeed to slip past Maran-do unnoticed, avoiding her wicked talons. He had never known it happen yet.

Maran-do hung in the air now like a dark, oppressive shadow. She had been the foretelling of death for so many souls, Maran had long since stopped counting.

He had never imagined she would foretell his own death, too. Maran frowned, trying to recall such a thing happening before. What could possibly cause a mind-partner to turn upon its host? It was unheard of.

He knew the tiniest movement would be enough to alert her to his whereabouts. Resisting the urge to break cover and run, Maran struggled with ordering his thoughts. That was the biggest problem. Maran-do was inside his head as well as outside it. She knew his own mind better than he knew it himself.

How could he possibly escape? Wherever he went, Maran-do would go with him. Why had she turned on him? In a rare moment of self-pity, Maran gave a sniff.

It was enough. He could feel the air outside shifting, darkness looming over his hiding place like an unstoppable, oncoming storm. For the briefest instant, Maran felt the terror and utter helplessness so many had known before.

A large talon tapped impatiently before him. Inside his head, the words ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are’ blossomed into life like clouds of puffed smoke, Maran-do taunting him with his own phrase.

“Why?” Maran breathed, “Why do you turn upon me?”

More words of smoke, ‘I am to be mind-partner to a greater one than you, little Maran,’ using the childhood endearment, ‘Your mind is weak. You take much pleasure from death and killing. I belong to a greater mind than yours,’ she repeated.

She raised her foot. Maran flinched as, above him, the beams and planks of the rough wooden roof began to splinter. Instinctively he crouched, making himself smaller, as if he could avoid being crushed.

He had just enough time to wonder how she could survive without his mind to host her. Then he was gone; snuffed out like a bare candle in a blizzard.

Maran-do stretched her wings, letting out a silent shriek as her head turned to the west. A new host awaited her, a new name forming in her mind even as she rose from the earth. A path of flight was shown to her fathomless mind, stretching like an umbilical cord across the skies.

Maran was dead.

So was Maran-do.

Tethered

Written by: @wildler

I heard the spirits before I saw them—their strangled moans carrying through the smoke-stained air. Carys whinnied beneath me, her ears twitching in all directions.

“Easy girl,” I murmured, stroking her neck. “Only a little further. Should be the next clearing.”

The sound continued, growing stronger as we pushed closer to where the village was rumoured to be. I tugged the hood of my cloak from my head, sweat sticking my hair to my neck. It seemed my limited healing skills had arrived too late to be of use—but my other skills—well, perhaps I would return to the king with something more substantial than rumours at last.

We entered the clearing, the devastation hitting me like a sword to the gut. Homes had been scalped, gutted and burned. Their charred remains left crumbling into the earth. Spirits inhabited the ruins. Flickers of human outlines that cried out as they relived their violent, final moments of existence. Their fear keeping them tethered to this plane.

I dismounted Carys and pressed my hands to the ground, shuddering as the sweat on my neck turned cold. A haze of panic blanketed the site like thick smoke, making it impossible to get a sense of the events leading to its ruin. I sank my fingers into the soil and focused my will, trying again.

Sounds and smells came rushing at me, distorted screams on a hot jet of air. My eyes sprang open to find the spirits staring in eerie silence, their gaze passing right through me to something on the horizon.

I heard the presence before I saw it—a monstrous shriek carried on a blast of flame. It was an end too terrifying and binding to escape.

And so, I relive it again.

#Honorable Mentions #January 2021 #writeblr #writing community #writing contest #ekphrastic ficiton contest #ekphrastic fiction #January writing #January 2021 Honorable Mentions

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?

29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.

(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)

Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop.

“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes.

“Sure, what’re lookin for?”

“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”

“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents.

“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”

Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”

“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.

“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms.

“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”

“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”

“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”

Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.

“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”

“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.

“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”

Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.

“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”

“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”

“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.” The man murmurs, handing over his debit card.

Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside.

He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number.

Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms. As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”

“What would help?”

“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”

“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”

“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.

“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.”

It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.

“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him.

“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”

“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.

“No talk radio.”

“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix.

“Is your name really Duck?”

He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”

“Would it help if you weren’t?”

“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.”

“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”

“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.

They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird.

The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list.

Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.

“Is this alright?”

“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay.

They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket.

“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour.

Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons.

“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”

A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles.

“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”

“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”

Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.

“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”

“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease.

“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #fluff #meet cute

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writingkitten · 4 years

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L!Joker x Reader: Dogs

Note: pure fluff, v short, and super inspired by a post I saw awhile back about the three (? I think three) Rottweilers being loyal to J and all that. Also I’ve been busy working on this other project that I kinda let this one have not-as-great quality, but it was cute so there. Double also, pls forgive formatting, both the shitty paragraph spacing and the lack of italics. Tumblr fucked up the format and I don’t feel like fixing it lmao

Warnings: like, swear words? And some graphic descriptions of violence? But that’s it, not too sinful

In the dwindling hours of the day, dusk heavy on the horizon, you trudged home. Exhaustion plagued your body, the frigid air and harsh winds further driving your desire to get home. It wasn’t far from your work, only a few blocks, but it was on days like this that you cursed yourself for not taking a car. Even the thick mauve sweatshirt you wore couldn’t keep the cold away.

You had been out since 8am, almost 10 hours ago by now. Your throbbing head told you that cooking dinner tonight was a no-go, and so you’d stopped to pick up some warm comfort food. A treat for you, and a nice little surprise for J.

He’d been away all day yesterday, leaving before dawn and never returning. It did worry you a bit, but J had disappeared for much longer in the past, either running a scheme for days on end, or staying at his other hideout — an abandoned warehouse just outside of the city limits — to avoid leading whoever was after him this time back to you. Still, you worried, your mind racing with every bad thing that could’ve happened, like a kid whose mother was taking too long at the store. J knew this, though he continuously tried to convince you he would always come back. He knew your anxiety was far too engrained into your very being to not imagine the worst case scenario, but he still tried, if for no other reason than the hope that his constant reminder would dig itself deeper into your psyche than the anxiety.

But that had yet to happen, and so J had taken to other means of calming you. Keeping you informed was first and foremost. He’d call to tell you where he was, or text if he was in a rather boring meeting with mob bosses. He’d perfected the art of maintaining eye contact and taking part in the particulars of the conversation, while simultaneously writing a text with his phone under the table. Always a new phone, always a new number, but he had yours memorized, and you knew who it was when a message from an unknown number popped up.

That’s why, despite the apartment being empty when you left this morning, you knew he was there, waiting. It had only been about ten minutes since you’d left, so, by the time you headed home, he’d been there all day. Alone. You hoped he had caught up on his sleep, but you knew him better than that. You knew he was too bored sleeping alone, as wild of a concept as that seemed. No, instead you’d probably come home to see parts of makeshift weapons on the coffee table, or maybe the kitchen torn apart like a rabid raccoon had broken in.

At least he’d be home, you thought.

Finally standing in front of your door, you couldn’t unlock it fast enough, your feet aching, begging to be given some reprieve.

“J?” you called out as you entered.

You heard him say something, his voice too quiet to make out anything legible. Just as you were about to ask what he’d said, a massive black form sprinted towards you. Screaming, you dropped the bag of food on the floor, holding your hands out to stop whatever it was.

You eyes were screwed shut, but nothing happened. At least, not what you expected. Instead, you felt something prop itself on your shoulders. Hot breath hit your face, smelling of peanut butter. If that hadn’t given it away, the hassling sure as hell did.

Opening your eyes, you were met with the dark glassy eyes of a Rottweiler, standing on his hind legs, front paws gripping your shoulder.

J said something, this time louder, though you still didn’t hear him through your shock. The dog jumped down and ran back to the living room.

Ripping yourself from the frozen stance that you had been put you had been stuck in, you followed the Rottweiler.

On the floor sat J, his coat and blazer off, sleeves rolled up. There were strange stains on his pants. Peanut butter. Several dog toys lay around him, and two giant buckets of dry food and water sat in the corner. Most surprising, however, were the two other dogs that sat next to him.

J hadn’t looked up to greet you, busy filling some kongs full of peanut butter, seemingly the only treat he had for them.

“Uh, J?” you said, mouth agape at the sight.

“Hiya, doll,” he said, finally looking up at you, “I like that color on you.”

You had no idea what has happening, you didn’t know how to react. All you could really do was laugh.

“What the fuck is happening?” you asked.

“Uh, peanut butter time?” he said, as if it was obvious.

“J, why are there three massive dogs in our apartment?”

J sighed dramatically, “Well, I was just attending a little meeting with the Russian guy. And, wouldn’t you know, somehow he got locked up in their cages, and they just ripped off his limbs and ate him! Really fuckin’ weird cowinky-dink.”

Your eyes widened, “You fed him to his own dogs?”

J looked up at you in disbelief, “Didn’t ya listen to the story, doll?”

“Right, because you’re known for telling the truth.”

J growled, “...I’ll feed you to the dogs.”

“Ha,” you said, knowing full well that J would rather feed himself to the three than put your life on the line.

You left J on the floor as he passed out the stuffed kongs, taking the food out of the bag and setting it up on the table. Well, you were, until J turned around and watched you with an eyebrow raised.

“Uh, doll, I’m eating with them,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“...What.”

What the hell is happening?

“I’m building trust with these guys, I gotta show ‘em that not everyone is an abusive prick.”

You were silent for a moment, staring at J. Compassion was not a common experience to have with him, at least, not for other people. Towards you? He was very compassionate, even if he showed it in his own gruff way. But anyone else was lucky if they didn’t get the business end of J’s blade shoved through their throat.

Then again, that was still the case. He hated people, despised their selfishness and callousness, especially after experiencing that evil when he was still young and innocent. But animals? They were pure, only acting on nature with no societal influences. They were loyal as long as you were loyal to them, something that couldn’t be said for many people. That was one of the things he liked about you, your loyalty. You knew what he did, even if you didn’t know specifics. You knew he killed people, tortured them, destroyed the city and disrupted “society”. Yet you stood by him, loving him without question. Why you did, he’d never fully understand. But you did.

Instead of just bringing J his food, you brought your own, as well.

“I still wanna eat dinner with you,” you said, sitting down next to him.

“Aww,” J said, his voice mocking.

As soon as the containers were opened, the dogs abandoned their treats and sat around the two of you. Their eyes bored into you, pleading for a bite. Having all three of them up close now, you could see their bones, and thick scars that broke through their fur.

J tossed food at each of them, all three catching it mid-air.

“Good boys,” he said, reaching out to them and scratching around their face and neck.

“So, I assume they’re yours now?” you asked as you ate.

“Ours, bunny. They’re guard dogs, they’ll protect ya from, uh...bad guys.”

“Like you?” you asked with a smirk.

He grabbed his chest, feigning pain, “Shot to the heart, doll!”

———

After dinner — which J pretty much ate as much of as the rottys, giving them most of his food — you showered and got ready for bed, too tired to stay awake any longer. J stayed in the living room, working on a new idea, and, you had assumed, training the dogs. However, it seemed as though he was testing them now that you were home. Everywhere you went, you had three massive shadows following you. They stayed in the bathroom while you showered, laying next to the door, watching you. It felt as though they were ready to both protect you from an intruder, and come to your aid if you slipped and fell.

J couldn’t have trained them that much by now...right?

Once out, they practically escorted you to your bedroom. You got in bed, laying on your usual side. The three followed suit, taking up J’s space. One snuggled up by your feet, resting his head on your legs, staring up at you, while the other two did their best the lick your face. After the first few swipes, your face had practically been rewashed.

You laughed as they licked, “Oh, you’re so sweet! Thank you, thank you! Sweet babies!”

“So, am I gonna have to actually sleep in the dog house, now?”

J stood in the doorway, watching you laugh and love on the dogs. He mouth twitched, a quick smirk gracing his features when he saw the look of pure happiness on your face. It wasn’t something he got to see often, most of the time your happiness being qualified by some cloud of negativity. Depression, anxiety, self-loathing...it was a welcomed sight to see your unhindered smile.

He said a quick command, something in Russian that you couldn’t understand, and the dogs jumped off the bed. It was only then that you noticed three massive dog beds lining the wall next to yours.

“They’re so sweet,” you said to J, watching them curl up, getting as close together as possible.

“Yeah,” he drawled, climbing into bed beside you, “that guy got what he fuckin’ deserved. He kept them hungry, beat them, locked in cages too small for ‘em...”

You could see the anger rising in J’s eyes, his jaw clenching with malice as he stewed in his thoughts.

You reached out and took his hand, “They’ll have a good life now, J. We’ll spoil them.”

J looked over to you, “You know, that one that was at your feet was actually a service dog. Saw it in the papers the Russian kept. He’s trained for depression and anxiety.”

You perked up, “Wait, so I can take him around with me?”

“I’d want you to take all three, in case someone wanted to mess with ya and I wasn’t around. Bu-t you can have him with you at work and all that.”

The thought of having a dog to stay by your side at all times — and two more to come home to — was already making the knowledge of J leaving again much more bearable. That night, you fell asleep wrapped in J’s arms, him squeezing you far too tight to his chest as always, feeling invincible with your boys by your side.

#joker #joker x reader #l!joker #tdk #heath ledger joker #im sorry its short and shit quality #all of my creativity has been going towards my script and my brain was hurting itself writing this #it was supposed to be a nice little break #but fuck me in the ass it was NOT #also forgot that they were rottweilers and not dobermans #so if you see doberman in there its my bad because im stupid

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epochofbelief · 3 years

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Breath Control Chapter Two

here’s chapter two... unfortunately had to repost these first three chapters bc Tumblr deleted them or something!!

TWO

“Feyre. Have you done any work for the past hour we have been sitting here?”

Elain’s voice barely managed to penetrate my thoughts. I looked down at my textbook and shook my head. I had very bad cases of a hangover and a sour stomach. And embarrassment. And a broken heart.

Thriving.

“Will you please just talk to me?”

I’d met Elain at the library an hour ago, both of us planning to get some serious homework done before the week got started. I’d managed to tell Elain a little of what had happened last night but she hadn’t pried until now.

“I don’t think I can talk about it.”

She huffed out a breath. “Feyre. If anyone knows what it feels like to have a broken heart, it would be me. So maybe I could help if you’d just talk to me.”

That’s right. Elain’s ex-boyfriend, Grayson, had broken up with her unexpectedly over the summer. Elain, positive he would be the man she married, and subsequently being denied admissions to the nursing schools she was trying to get into for grad school, had been in bad shape for a couple of months. I wasn’t sure if she was really okay now, or if she was just better at hiding it. She’d attended Mortal University for her undergraduate degree and had wanted to stay there for her masters--and hadn’t gotten in. Luckily she’d applied to Prythian’s school and had been accepted, but it wasn’t where she had wanted to end up at all. Away from her friends and our father, she’d started nursing school at the same time I’d started my sophomore year and I was pretty sure I was her only friend.

Looked like she was my only friend, too.

I sighed. Then explained. Tamlin and Ianthe all over each other. My public humiliation. And Rhys, unexpectedly driving me home and taking care of me, which was probably the most unexplainable part of the entire night. I hated it, but Tamlin’s behavior had hurt me but not surprised me. I’d barely said two words to Rhys the entire time I’d been at Prythian. We had a big swim team, about sixty people strong. Rhys and his friends--Cassian, Amren, Azriel, and Mor--were all in the middle distance group. Tamlin and Ianthe were sprinters. I swam distance, for the most part. The different training groups and large numbers made it difficult to bond with every single team member, so I didn’t know Rhys or his group at all.

“Are you talking about Rhysand Night? That boy is hot.”

I did a double-take. That was a very brazen statement coming from Elain. “When have you ever even seen him?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been to your swim meets, you know. It’s easy to tell who has the best body and face from the stands.”

I groaned. “He saw me puke, Elain! I drunkenly poured my heart out to him. He must think I’m some kind of idiot. And now I am friendless on the team. Friendless. Especially after Rhys tells all his friends how pathetic I am.” I leaned over and put my face on my textbook. “I should quit now and cut my losses.”

Elain whacked me on the arm. “You most certainly will not quit! That beautiful boy was just--”

“Feyre?”

I stilled. If I hadn’t recognized that voice last night, I definitely did now. Positive my cheeks were a flaming red, I slowly sat up.

“Hey, Rhys,” I said meekly, my hand coming up in a very awkward wave. I shoved it back down.

“You ladies talking about beautiful boys? Surely no one around here, right?” He asked smoothly, folding his arms and leaning against a bookshelf.

Thank God Elain blushed for me. “Nobody you’d know.”

He raised his brows and I prayed he hadn’t heard anything else. “Hey, I was going to text you. . . Then I realized I didn’t have your number. You left your wallet in my car last night… I didn’t find it until this morning. It’s in my backpack. I can go grab it and bring it to you.”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even realized it was gone. “No, no, I’ll come with you. You don’t have to make another trip.” And ignoring his protests I jumped up and took off through the shelves. For some reason, I didn’t want him anywhere near Elain when she was casually throwing about the word “beautiful.” I scoffed. He wasn’t that attractive.

I was halfway through the stacks when I realized I didn’t actually know where I was going. “Uh…”

“All my friends are over there. Are you sure you don’t want me to just grab it for you and bring it to you here?”

I stopped in my tracks. I had the feeling he knew I wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone right now. A mood I had been in for the past few months, but. . . I blew out a breath. “Um. Yeah. Thank you.”

He squeezed past me, and for a moment I found myself so close to him I could feel his body heat as he turned and sidestepped through the narrow space between me and the shelves. I could have sworn he was holding his breath as he passed, and I had to crane my neck to see his face. Our eyes met. I shivered.

Then he was gone. I blew out another breath and slumped against the shelf behind me. What was wrong with me? I’d been broken up with Tamlin for less than twenty-four hours and I was already noticing other guys. Disgusted with myself, I stared at the titles across from me.

Rhys was back in less than a minute, my wallet in his outstretched hand. I took it from him, taking extra care not to brush his hand with mine. “Thanks.”

I made to turn around and return to the safety of Elain’s aura when he reached out and brushed my shoulder. “Are you doing okay? You know, after everything?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Rhys. You already made sure I got home okay.”

He crossed his arms. “Yeah but I’d kind of be an asshole if I didn’t at least check in. Now tell me. Are you okay?”

His gaze didn’t falter from mine as he looked at me. His gorgeous face was serious. He was really asking. He wanted a genuine answer. Good or bad, he wanted to know.

“No.”

And when I turned around, he let me go.

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

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Elain and I spent six hours in the library and I skipped out on the girls’ team dinner, claiming I had homework. I spent the evening locked in my room, dreading the inevitable moment when I ran into Ianthe, who was, after all, my roommate. Bitch, I muttered under my breath.

It was eight o’clock and I had no plans for the rest of my evening, so I changed into my pajamas and flopped on the bed. Fully prepared to spend the night binging a TV show, I retrieved ice cream from my fridge and got under the covers. An hour into The Witcher, I got a text.

Rhysand Night: You’re going to practice in the morning, right?

I frowned. He was clearly texting the wrong person. And how did he have my number?

I opened the text and discovered that he had texted his phone from mine last night…

Me: I was planning on it

Rhysand Night: Just checking. I know you may not feel like going right now, but I don’t want to see you getting in trouble

Being a part of a college level swim team meant twenty hours of training a week. Practice at 5:30 in the morning most weekdays and again in the afternoon. I didn’t know why Rhys felt the need to check on me--missing practice meant getting chewed out by the head coach. If you missed more than one practice, you got suspended. No way would I blatantly take that risk.

Me: I’ll be there

I shut off my phone and went to bed.

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

I barely dragged myself out of practice the next morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that. For two weeks after Halloween, I ignored Ianthe as much as humanly possible. She made no attempt to apologize. Tamlin had even kept his distance. I showed up at practice, swam (albeit poorly), went to class, went to practice, and went home. I was reaching new levels of anti-social. Elain was busy with study groups and classes and Nesta wouldn’t be in town for another week. She worked as a flight attendant and split her time between our father's and her and Elain’s shared place.

I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything besides school and swim. The fact that I had wasted a year of my life on Tamlin Spring was tearing me apart from the inside out. And breaking up with him had made me realize all of the things I had wasted my life on for the past year. Why was I pursuing a degree in exercise science when I loved literature and art? Why had I put all my effort into one friendship with a bitch who had stabbed me in the back at her first opportunity? I had no other friends on the swim team I had chosen during my recruitment process, thinking it was the “place for me.” I was in the wrong place, had chosen the wrong people, and was aiming for the wrong future. The worst part was, it was all my fault. My blindness had seeped into every part of my life and I barely knew who I was without my overbearing boyfriend and the friend who had steered me around for my entire college experience.

On Thursday morning, over a week and a half after the Halloween party, Coach King texted me to meet him in his office after my classes for the day were over. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. An impromptu meeting with Coach King usually implied a fate worse than death. At this point, I deserved anything he had to say to me. My grades had fallen in the past few weeks (I had failed a test on Monday and two quizzes since then) and my training had continued to worsen.

My suspicions proved correct when I arrived for the meeting and Coach King started explaining the reason he had called me to his office. He mentioned my grades and my training and the fact that I had barely spoken or shown any signs of life at practice for days. He wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to know what he could do to help. But mostly, he wanted me to fix it--fast. Then he told me he was moving me to the middle distance training group.

“Wh--what?!”

Moving training groups in the middle of the year was unheard of. Potentially season-ending. If he was moving me from distance to middle distance, he was most likely saying I wouldn’t travel or compete for the rest of the year. It took time to adjust to a new training regimen.

I tried to protest, but he told me he had made his decision and felt I was more cut out for middle distance events anyway. The adjustment wouldn’t be too drastic. And he wanted me to take the rest of the week off and start fresh on Monday.

That’s the thing about college athletics. Coaches can be great coaches. They can get a team from nothing to something quick if they know what they’re doing. Some can even do that and help their swimmers develop as people, too. But for most coaches, when it came down to it, weakness was weakness, no matter the reason. And I was currently the weakest link on the team. Coach King had to do something about it and this was apparently the best he could come up with.

I mumbled something to Coach King about seeing the sports psychologist and trying harder at the new practices. I felt certain he had vague ideas about the couples on the team, so he probably knew about my Tamlin situation. I didn’t feel the need to mention it to him. I left his office and made it all the way down the five flights of stairs and out the back entrance into the cloudy, chilly afternoon before I allowed myself to cry.

I had messed up my life so royally that I had no idea how to fix it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Coach King kicked me off the team in a matter of weeks. We had a travel meet coming up, and I felt certain that I wouldn’t make the cut. I’d be stuck at Prythian U while all my teammates that I had developed no relationship with would travel.

Head down, I was rushing to my car as my tears fell when I ran headfirst into a warm body.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry--”

“We have to stop meeting like--Feyre.”

“Rhys.” I kept my eyes on the crack in the parking lot pavement at my feet.

“Are you okay?”

“You’ve got to stop asking me that question! I know you don’t care! Let me deal with this by myself.” I made to push past him but he followed me to my car anyways.

“Feyre. I do care. I’m your teammate. And it doesn’t seem like anybody else on the team is lining up to ask how you’re doing, so I’m here to do that. I want to help you.” Something in his voice made me pause, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Just fuck off. You don’t even know me.”

He threw up his hands as I struggled to unlock my extremely old Volkswagen with the key fob. My tears and anger were making it very hard to open the door.

“For God’s sake, Feyre! Would you stop being so damn difficult and let someone help you? You’ve been a ghost at practice these past few weeks and Coach King just told me you were moving to my training group.”

I unlocked my car and wrenched it open. “Leave me alone.”

Rhys grabbed my car door and refused to let me close it. I glared at his stupid, gorgeous, violet eyes. “I bet you like this. An excuse to just give up, get yourself kicked off the team. Much easier than having to face Tamlin at practice everyday, much easier than having to make new friends.”

I narrowed my eyes. And slapped him across the face.

He touched his cheek. A spark of satisfaction lit up against the confusion and depression that lived within my gut. I had surprised him. And shut him up.

“Wow. I guess I deserved that. But you know I’m right.”

And the fact was, I did. He had said out loud what was going on deep inside me, what I was dangerously close to giving in to. I was shocked someone I barely knew could even begin to fathom what was going on so deep within my brain that I had yet to admit it to myself. But most of all, I was angry. Angry that this boy thought he had some sort of right to me pouring out my heart to him or at the very least accepting his help. He wasn’t a captain. He had no jurisdiction over me.

“Fine! You’re right! Are you happy now?” I wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. I cast around for something, anything to make him understand even a little bit what I was feeling. “Any other accusations you want to spit at me to make me hate myself more than I already do?”

His smirk fell. Satisfied once more, I thought he’d let me leave, but he held fast to my car door.

“Tell me what to do to help you. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

I blinked. I thought he would yell at me some more. I hadn’t expected such an open offer, more raw and entreating than anything Tamlin had ever said to me.

I hated that my year with Tamlin had made me think that a guy treating me nicely was a rare commodity. I deserved to be treated with more kindness than Tamlin had ever bestowed on me. I knew that, and yet--I didn’t know how to accept that kindness anymore. I was now so deeply confused about myself, my team, and Rhys that I merely stood there, staring at Rhys without really seeing him, and contemplating the nature of my existence for the past year.

Rhys, appearing to come to the conclusion that I had nothing to say in response to his entreaty, cleared his throat. “I know there’s a team party this weekend, as per usual. But my friends and I are going to hang out ourselves and stay sober since we have a meet the weekend after. I want you to come. In fact, I insist.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he kept talking. “If you don’t show, I’ll tell the captains you haven’t actually been sick or studying during the past two team meetings you’ve missed. I’ll text you the address. Come. Please. We won’t talk about Tamlin or anything difficult. Plus, you should probably meet your new training group.”

That was right. Rhys and all his friends were in the middle distance group. I’d be subject to all of them starting Monday.

And because I couldn’t think of any excuse, because I couldn’t have the captains knowing the concrete truth about my absences, because maybe somewhere deep within me desired help, I agreed.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #feysand modern au #feyre archeron #rhysand #high lord #night court #elriel

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abraxos-is-toothless · 4 years

Text

Surprises (2)

So here we have chapter 2! I’m sorry it took me so long, but I lost everything and had to rewrite it🙄

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, swearing, sex and mature themes. I will add warnings when needed or if I missed something tell me!

A/N: chapter updates will be a bit slower after this because I want to make the chapters slightly longer but I hope to do one every week:) please be patient with me

Chapter 2

—————

Blinking her eyes open was harder than it should have been. Her head felt heavy and the room was too bright from the sun pushing in through the gap in the curtains where she had been too drunk to close them properly. Groaning, Elain rolled onto her other side, reaching for her phone on the bedside table to check the time.

10:30. Fuck. Great big fuck.

She was meant to be meeting Lucien at 11 so that they could go waste away their day shopping together. Lucien has been her best friend for as long as she could remember and Saturdays became their day for gossiping, buying weird clothes for each other that they wouldn’t usually buy and finding new foods from stalls to try. Just as she was about to leave the warm comfort of her bed there was soft knocking on her door followed by Feyre’s cheery voice on the other side. “Elain. Elain it’s almost eleven and Lucy just got here, I told him I’d come check on you. Is everything alright?”

Panicking she called back, “Everything is fine! I just over slept, could you tell him I’ll be down in ten, and stop calling him Lucy it’s ridiculous.” Feyre let out a light chuckle as she said “Yeah sure.”

As Elain went to move her legs over the edge of the bed she froze. She noticed she felt extremely sore. Down there. She knew what that meant; she’d heard both Feyre and Nesta talking about it weeks ago, after Feyre’s first time with Rhys. She wasn’t a part of the conversation they had, she was merely walking by Nesta’s room and stopped when she realised what they were talking about. Her younger sister seemed to be panicking that it hurt a bit the next morning and Nesta was assuring her that it’s what most girls felt after their first time and that maybe taking a bath would help. Elain walked away when they started getting into a discussion about safety and assorted condoms. Remembering that only increased the chances of what she’d done. But with who? She couldn’t remember anything clearly after someone shouting that they wanted a game of spin the bottle.

Rising from the bed, she made herself walk to her en-suite to clean up. Leaning up into the cabinet she grabbed a couple of pain killers to take that she usually would during her time of the month, hoping they might dull the aching feeling between her legs. Elain stripped down to her underwear in the bathroom and put the clothes in the laundry basket once she was finished and made her way back over to her dresser in her room to choose her outfit for the day. Passing the door length mirror on the way she caught a glimpse of her reflection which made her stop short. There was light bruising on her hips in the shape of finger prints. Bruising. Lifting her hand to gently touch the marks caused hazy images to cross through her mind.

“Are you sure about this?” She was surer than anything. All she could feel was hands ghosting along her body, ragged breathing close to the sensitive spot by her ear making her shiver and warm skin underneath her fingers. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Shaking herself out of the memories she forced herself to continue her journey to the dresser. Everything felt so good and warm and she wanted nothing more than to remember what had happened. The only thing that was clear to her was a pair of hazel coloured eyes and gentle hands. That could be anybody! Wait. Nesta’s conversation with Feyre those weeks ago included a part about being safe. What if she hadn’t been? Oh, fucking fudge sticks. This could not be good. Maybe if she went to the health clinic, they would be able to tell her. But who would she take, because there was no way in hell, she was telling either of her sisters, not until she was sure. And she wasn’t going alone- it felt too daunting and scary. Lucien! He was her best friend who wouldn’t judge her no matter what she did. Maybe he would go with her today and get the answers as soon as possible. This could not be happening. She was too young for this and she was still in high school, the worst-case scenario could not be happening to her right now.

When she finally got downstairs Lucien was waiting for her in the living room leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. “Morning you drunkard, are you ready to go now?” Elain could hear the laughter in his voice and she struggled to force her lips into a smile. He noticed instantly. Of course he did, when did he ever not know when something was wrong. “El, what is it? Tell me so I can help. Feyre left a few minutes ago to meet the Rhys and the others, it’s just us.” Dropping her gaze to the floor she took several deep breaths before meeting his gaze again, and when she did, there was so much worry there that it made her terrified for the first time ever about how he would feel after she told what she might have done.

“I may have a very big problem. And I need you to take me somewhere, please.” He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite decipher and simply said, “I’ll take you wherever you want, I’m sure it’s not that bad, if you tell me maybe we can fix it together.”

Oh, it was bad. On the scales, it was life altering, what in the flippity flying fuck am I going to do bad.

“I need you to take me to the health clinic. I may have had sex last night for the first time ever and I don’t even remember who it was or if we used a condom.” Her face was burning red by the end and when she looked at him, he seemed angry but not angry at her. Elain hoped he wasn’t angry at her; it wasn’t like she’d planned it. “We’re going right now and we’re going to get everything cleared up for you and if it is true, I’m going to find that cherry stealing bastard and beat him to a goddamn pulp for touching my Lainy Bear.” She managed to let out a small giggle at that and walked over to him to link their arms with teary eyes.

Time to see if she was being a paranoid little twerp or if she was about to have a tornado come in and turn her life upside down. What could be better than that?

—————

Uh oh, Elain knows but she doesn’t have the privilege of remembering who it was😮 Love it? Hate it? Let me know, all feed back is welcomed:)) If you’re not in the tags and would like to be just say👀

Thank you for the Beta read @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares

Tags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @mirainthedark05 @fancyclodpaintercookie @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s

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yue-muffin · 4 years

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Time Raiders (2016)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

In my quest to consume the entirety of the DMBJ franchise available in English, I have decided to start with the non-canon movie because at least this one has an ending, unlike the train wreck that is Reboot/Chongqi’s pacing. I will probably be bitter about that for all eternity, but I digress. I heard good things about the movie from the bird app, and as I am a Pingxie shipper at heart, I decided to finally watch this one.

P A R T O N E

The cut-in animation to the title was gorgeous, I do so love the qilin in every adaptation. It’s particularly striking here with the gold outline and geometric, maze-like lines. It looks like the cards at the very beginning were being arranged in the image of this qilin.

My first reaction upon seeing white people in a dmbj adaptation is: oh no, the English, but I was pleasantly surprised to hear perfect English that matches the actor’s lips! What a miracle, haha. I remember The Lost Tomb 2 being the worst for how many lines had to be in English, sob.

These look so cool. I see we start off with a good old “seeking immortality” antagonist, and an obsessed collector who has dedicated his whole life to this apparently. As usual, he is a scumbag threatening the locals.

The old guy’s accented English is also better than TLT2, ha. The breathy/nasal quality is not at all uncommon. I don’t know what language the locals speak though.

Me, immediately: Zhang Qiling already??

I know he appears in rather early in TLT1, TLT2, and Reboot/Chongqi, but he’s so often mysteriously absent or stuck behind a gate (or in Reboot’s case, put on a bus) that I got excited, ok.

My favorite Zhang Qilings are the cold-looking pretty boy types in terms of my mental image of the character, but this one is also very easy on the eyes and as usual, unfazed in the face of danger coming at him with a knife. This is the only series in which I’m not bothered by the constant cast change between adaptations (unlike Ever Night), I suppose since it’s been this way from the start.

I’m interested in seeing how the backstories differ from canon. It’s actually rather interesting that this is pretty much an official AU, like that’s kind of wild as a concept. I’m used to the late 1990s/early 2000s anime adding new characters and changing plot points and endings everywhere, but Time Raiders takes it a step further.

Zhang Qiling being an ultra-competent badass who doesn’t even need a weapon to take the bad guys down never changes, no matter the universe. He steamrolls everyone, no questions asked.

Did he- he break the blade with his bare hands hahaha. Oh, yup, and a Zhang Qiling with a weapon is even more dangerous. I see those severed fingers. Such a good fight scene and we’re not even 5 minutes into the movie.

I love how he could have simply fired the arrow while he was still on the statue, then jumped down, but he had to be Extra and fire while he was jumping off haha.

It- the divine piece was right there?? By “beneath the statue” I would have thought it would at least be under it, not in a convenient little slot on the side of the altar area haha. So Zhang Qiling’s mission is to destroy the divine piece(s)? To, um, save the world apparently.

WHO ARE YOU? What an excellent question to ask a Zhang Qiling (and that staring into the mirror shot, too.)… I wonder if this one even knows - it’s possible he doesn’t have his signature amnesia here.

Wait- a gate? I think it’s in a cave or something in the novels, but gates have significance in DMBJ. The cinematography is really nice in these mountain shots. I know nothing about film, but I like the shots in the snowy mountains.

This Zhang Qiling knows and practices martial arts on screen! You would think he’d pull some moves normally, but in the drama-adaptations he tends to just beat people up as efficiently as possible. Sometimes with his sword. Other times he just fights ‘em. I have to admit Jing Boran looks excellent going through some forms. He nailed the force and power underlying every movement, then exploding outward with a strike. I do like the impression it leaves.

I, on the other hand, am an absolute noodle and look ridiculous when I do martial arts.

What in the world is happening in this flashback scene with the weird CGI qilin. Ah, it’s when he received his tattoo. That was super dramatic.

Wushanju is looking real edgy with the heavy iron gate on the interior, haha.

He is puzzling (ha!) over those cards so intensely you’d think it was a thousand piece puzzle instead haha. You’re almost there! Just a few more to finish the qilin!

Aw, is this our Wu Xie? Haha his facial hair is- hm. But I love his voice it’s so soft. Really fits that “Mr. Naive” vibe.

Is that. Is that the author of the series. I found out that he makes cameos in almost all (if not all of) the adaptations!

NO. ONLY I CAN FINISH THE PUZZLE. HANDS OFF BUDDY.

Why are there so many pigeons in here. Who let them inside.

A writer, who came to hear his story and turn it into a novel- HA yup it’s the author.

“This should be a story about me and him.”

Ahh I’m loving it already. DMBJ is the ultimate bromance story. Fair warning, I do ship Pingxie so my shipper goggles will be on throughout the movie. But even without shipping, you do have to admit the series is a bromance underneath all the mystery – between the Iron Triangle, between Wu Xie and Xiaoge.

This Wu Xie is a photographer and that is sort of adorable. Already there’s a theme emerging of needing to record events and telling stories. Interesting that he wants to turn his memories into a novel to record his experiences, because otherwise he’s afraid those memories might turn into a mere story in his own head. Wu Xie, that’s a worrying mindset.

Those ancient mask things always make me crack up, I don’t know why.

Ooh, background about Wu Xie’s birth into the Wu family. I’ve never read up to the part in the books where they go into his place in the family in detail. To be fair, his grandfather had three sons and only one of them had any kids – and Wu Xie is his parents’ only child. So, he becomes the only one who can really carry on the family legacy. Aw, I really like seeing his extended family present though! In the dramas we only ever get either his Second or Third Uncle, and he rarely ever mentions his parents even though they’re alive.

And there’s his namesake! The origin of his nickname, and the irony once the story gets into the Sha Hai timeline.

Wu Xie was a bit of a rascal as a kid, haha. To be fair he has a pretty sharp tongue in the novels and is mostly a pure cinnamon roll in the early dramas.

Little Wu Xie in a suit is so adorable. Nooo kid don’t go into locked up abandoned places. He’s already so adventurous haha. Seems that it’s not actually abandoned judging by all the lights on, but.

UH. MASKED MAN BEHIND YOU. I think he wants that item back. This is why you don’t go into abandoned places, kid. He definitely does not learn his lesson though. Also why are you still holding onto that thing, just drop it, I think he wants it back.

Haha he kept one of the coins.

WOAH. Every month someone in your family dies?? That’s uh- sort of traumatic. Also that would be a really good first line for a novel…Just saying. I do love the singing though.

Oh, the Nine Families exist in this universe too! They even give a quick explanation about the ranking system.

Oh yeah, I love how Wu Xie is such a nerd for all this knowledge of ancient texts and tombs. And YES HE FINALLY DOCUMENTS STUFF FOR ONCE.

Uncle Three looked dead for a moment there, scared the shit out of me too.

VAMPIRE MOTHS? Oh I hate bugs I would not be okay lol. WHOOPS. You guys are really good at reading ancient texts on the fly lol.

That’s the mask he has in the beginning of the film, isn’t it. NO DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. AHHH. So you just put it on your face?? Well that was a stupidly simple way to open the door. I’m guessing the creator didn’t care if anyone opened it.

This guy just severed his own arm, ok…and how many years later is his hand still clinging to it? UH. THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. Then he proceeds to steal the box thing.

Ah the white dude again. I am so happy there is GOOD ENGLISH though haha.

Oh, hi Zhang Qiling. Just hanging out on a rooftop I see.

He looks so melancholy. Someone give him a hug! This adaptation makes him more human, less stoic robotic superhuman, I noticed. You rarely see him eat or drink anything in the other adaptations, but here he’s just chilling on a rooftop having some drinks haha. It’s ok. I love all the Zhang Qilings.

WHAT THE HELL, LIGHTNING? What the hell is this high tech machinery haha. Eight days? Coincidentally eight days after sitting in a tomb for how many years.

That is a very Extra bookcase to hold a book that apparently has ALL the secrets.

WOW that is a fancy notebook. It looks so beat up in the other versions haha. In this one, it even gets its own hidden shelf in a giant portable bookshelf!

The props for this franchise are so cool and detailed. I always wish they would show more of the creative process in the BTS, I’m such a nerd for that stuff. The Longest Day in Chang’an was pretty good at that, which is half of my enjoyment of that show haha!

I’m also still pleasantly surprised they bothered to incorporate other languages. I’m not sure what the Snake Lady and the old man in the beginning were speaking, but at least the English is good.

I can’t believe they worked in a steampunk chastity belt this movie went all out, huh. Also with these weirdly high tech structures and lightning and moving tomb structures.

And all the pieces start coming together! So that’s why it’s believed they hold the secret to immortality. What a steampunk-looking key.

Is that a writing desk??

Oh, they’re getting a team together to go tomb raiding! Ha, forget money! You may or may not end up dying on this adventure, so who cares about money, right.

He’s so cute standing there with his camera. Look at the little smile as he watches everything going on!

It’s a desk and a storage container?? Oh, there are ~qualifications~ to going on tomb raiding. Makes sense. That is the oddest looking sword.

Must appreciate Zhang Qiling’s fingers in every adaptation. They look very strong and steady here. Let’s not talk about the slooow trailing across the handle.

Wow did you really just throw sand in his face. Have we not learned not to mess with Zhang Qiling after he trounced that first guy who attacked him. I love the fight scenes so much after the bore-fest that was Reboot/Chongqi’s second half of Season 1.

Super pretty, but why did it cause him to stop and stare in the middle of the fight?

This is like a Final Fantasy sword haha. Also I think you should stop while you’re ahead, why did you think a table would stop this dude. (Hey, it’s Da Kui! He was in the novel but not TLT1.).

It’s HERE. Their first meeting. How did he know the coin was on that cord? It wasn’t visible, I don’t think. But uh. That was a hilarious move on his part, he is so Extra?? He just casually flicks the necklace off with his big-ass sword and it drops into his hand. Then casually goes “oh, here, you dropped this” as if he wasn’t the one responsible for it coming off in the first place!!

HERE IT COMES. The unnecessarily long eye contact. Pingxie in every adaptation needs a Staring Into Your Eyes scene.

Real smooth.

Ahh this Wu Xie is such a cutie. He’s like a puppy.

WHAT. Third Uncle, I can’t believe you let him tag along so easily haha. In the beginning he was scolding Wu Xie to never get involved in tomb business, then what happens? They’re going tomb raiding!!

Next Up: to the tomb we go! This can’t end badly or anything what are you talking about.

#daomubiji #time raiders #dmbj #盗墓笔记 #image heavy post #perhaps don't view on mobile #in which i lose my mind for 2 hours #the muffin's liveblogging adventures

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

Text

Bio! Dad Strange part 4

Shorter but a paris update for her life and a little on gotham with Jason as Robin while Tim is a hero Stalker.

Marinette is 7 when she changes schools, ordered into the Dupont school chain by her teachers since she was getting ‘difficult’ and contradicting their ciriculum. When they challeneged her on this, she went to the school board with Rolland beside her of all people.

The board agreed on one thing, Marinette’s contradictions were not only factually correct, but were done to prevent the outdated ciriculum from hurting her classmates. Instead of punishing her, she got to skip a gade and was given to Dupont as a ‘highly reccomended gifted student’.

Her first day she met Max, who also skipped a grade. The pair bond in five seconds over a new programming focused on learning emotional intelligence. Uncle Riddler was showing her it, and Max got his hands on a various ai bases. This led to then teaming up and designing the one and only Markov together, if only in schematics.

A week in and the two notice that some kids are being followed around by a guy with a bat. They report it. Again and again, but no one can find him.

One day he catches the pair on their way to Max’s—they wanted to work on their ai together, ok? The guy tries to hit Max, saying something about them being lucky metas that needed to suffer.

Marinette’s gotham training kicked in. She caught the bat, ripped it away from him and hit him in the chest with it, while yelling at max to run.

At the end of the incident, videotaped by a bystander, the Dupont Stalker was arrested.

Marinette was given another name by the police, ‘fille de batte’ or bat girl. Her having family in gotham only made the nickname more popular.

This put her on Kim and Alix’s radar. Kim wanted a challenge for fighting and competitions, and this tiny kid did that—to an adult! New friend and rival!

Alix was went from shock to joy as Marientte does art. She does art. Art friend to rant to found!

Nino ran into Marinette not long after Kim and Alix attached themselves to her and Max. Nino became their judge for Kim challenges. Including Mari pinning Kim to the mat, or deciding who did a circus move better (Mari won acrobatics).

Chloe doesnt go to dupont until next year, and sabrina is in another class, mildly concerned for Marinette.

In this au, again, Dupont is considered a ‘i would not be shocked if there were metas there’ school for gifted kids in any way.

Marinette is sent there for her insane science obsession at the time, but is also put in their arts program with Alix to develop as an artist with her medium, fabrics and fashion.

And if marinette redesigns hero outfits as “monsiuer ross, scribbles have more style, let alone fashion sense” alot, well. Kids get obsessed a lot and the Justice League is a common one, as are known villians. Her everyday outfits having different hero schemes—oddly enough some forensic scientist she’s obsessed with from some american city ended up in her mix—well. She’s a kid and showing signs a few types of anxiety.

Possible social and OCD and a developing case of perfectionism common to the arts program. The school has her see a therapist and know she isnt telling them everything beyong mild concern for her gotham family, and confusion over people just ‘not getting things’ as she is terribly smart and good at finding patterns and how do people not see it?

By the end of the year Marinette is in a strong friend group who’s parents and hers have decided to have joint custody during the school year.

She was now (forced) to learn vietnamese from Kim’s Grandparents, italian from Rolland (her nonno that has a Thing for tradition and somehow married Gina and raised Tom mostly on his own while running the bakery to boot), english from Father/Strange, Mandarin from her Maman and she started Arabic to talk with Nino’s aunt who kept saying marinette was her future in-law and point out that nino and her are friends, not dating ma’am.

However, Nino endured most of this with her-not the italian or Mandarin, but the others. Kim couldnt get Arabic but mandarin was a breeze for him. Alix cannot get vietnamese or arabic but Mandarin is her jam after french. Max just speaks french and english, he understands the others he just cant get the sounds right, ok?

When Marinette goes back to Gotham that summer, she ends up dealing with Hero Stalker Tim (jason is robin now) while looking for Red Hoodie who No oNE is telling her what happened and she’s worried, ok?

Tim feeds her obbsession with fixing problems. He sometimes sends her building layouts of places Catwoman stole from. And then the jewlry reappears thanks to a nervous Marinette coached by Rose and Ghoul while Frost handles her post-fix it freak out. Tim also may or may not get helped by her alot during Batman Stalking Time as she teaches his butt how to sneak and complains he’s worse than penguin.

Tim hates that, works on it, and still has nonidea who she is. He does admit to figuring out who batman may be, but needs more evidence so...

Marinette hits him becuase “thats dangerous!” And tries to lecture him in identites.

Batman’s radiowave was used for said lecture.

“And it puts their families in danger you, uh, hero stalker! And stuff so no more identity investigations!”

“They have the same builds, and did signsture moves from—“ the signal cutout.

He and Jason are more careful... ish. They change channels and monitor the old one.

Sometimes Batman catches Marinette and Tim talking about coldcases and she has asked three times if he heard anything about Jason’s street kid identity. Jason is feeling guilty about this as she’s his Pixie Pop. This lets Bruce know that the probably-clark’s-kid would keep Jason away from GCPD and CPS.

When a convo leads to Batman finding out Tim and Marinette have considered asking the police for help with a case of medicine that needed to be recalled as it was beign used to mule drugs contaminated the batches and hurt patients, but turned it down after she saw some taking bribes from Fish, Batman lets Gordon know and an investigation is launched.

While Bats is away, Jason visits marinette as Robin and tries to get her to bats for more information and a lecture on heroing without adult supervision. Maybe.

Only she’s currently stealing from a sleeping selina at another HQ. A Selina who has stopped trying to stop marinette and let riddler turn her house into one of his ‘traps’ to stop Marinette’s ‘return theiving’.

Jason gets stuck in a trap. Marinette is gone by then, scared Robin will tell Superman about her and he’ll hurt her family or something.

Catwoman is annoyed at Marinette’s sucess. She goes to stop the girl after leaving him tied up for Batman with a message: leave her new kitten-to-be alone.

Follow up talk post-Caught Marinette reverse theiving.

“Blame the Council’s decrees. She’s their little princess, and my new neice,” Catwoman watched Batman carefully.

Confused Batman in interrogator mode. “You mean the Court of Owls, arent they disbanded?”

“Bats, the council is gotham’s underground. Apparently Two-Face made the contracts as penance for scaring the Princess during a breakout. Unless you want an organized attack by the council, steer clear of her.”

Batman conencts the dots and curses himself. The girl he was looking for last summer is the Princess of Gotham’s underground. It will be hell finding her. And Superman/Clark will lose it when he’s told.

He lets the JL know about it, saying ‘possibly kyptonian clone, female child. Gotham’s underground is calling her their Princess. Connor and Kidflash tailed her last summer during the arkham breakout while Robin was with the Titans. Be alert for a small asian girl.’

That was how Marinette ended up on the JL watch list and how Superman had another existential crisis.

Dick freaks out with the Titans over this. Becuase kyltonian raised by villians is terrifying. Jason forwarded the message and adds on “she’s a good kid and wants to help. Somehow keeps zsasz and joker from killing people, so its not good to take her away or issolate her from the villians if you find her. From what i remember, she is terrified of her family beign put in danger. The others wont listen to me. If you can, pass this along to the other sidekicks and your allies—none of them trust me enough to listen. I cant talk to her as a civilian like i used to either for obvious reasons. And she’s terrified of me-Robin. Maybe you can get through to her, or someone else can. Just talk to her first, she’s more reasonsble than she looks”

Dick doesnt read the add on until much later and regrets it.

He met marinette once. She was a very excited kid babbling about aerodynamics in acrobatics and asking about that. Not hero things, not power things, or justice league but That.

He tried to be nice but he was having a horrible mission, saw the girl floating as she rambled and tried to grab her.

She freaked out and bolted, sort of. He got slammed into a building, or would have had she not caught him, rambled in french while trying to apologize (he was a but stunned from the throw, and rebooting as villian-kyptonian was... nice?) and put him on the roof, hit his communicator and said one thing.

“I think i broke your robin? All are robins like bird bones or something?”

He regained a functioning brain as that. That was something he could respond to.

“I am human thank you!”

That seemed to be enough for her as he moved to get up. She waved bye and bolted, something about Rose being mad at her for being late...

“Titans. I think we might have been wrong about the kid...”

Later with Young Justice the info was passed on.

Jason asked if anyone read his attachment and was met with silence. He groaned and told them “so another team she’s going to avoid... great.”

Marinette added the titans to her list of ‘people to aviod—tetch and Jerimah were the worst. Luthor and Cadmus were under them. Then the entire Justice League (they would tell batman or superman. Snitches.), followed by GCPD, CPS, the Bat Family and now Titans. She wonders if she needs to add anyone else, and hates that she cant talk to heroes. They could help with controlling her powers instead of suppressing them but she cant trust them not to give her to superman like batman did with Rose to Poison Ivy and she’s pretty sure Superboy too.

Next time, times marinette accidently put together identities and curses Hero Stalker Tim for her now knowing.

#bio!dad au #bio!dad strange #my au #marinette strange dupain cheng #my ideas #marinette strange dupain cheng part 4 #maribat #ml au

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albatris · 4 years

Text

mm okay I’m a little bit drunk on baileys n I’m gonna go on that brycengreer sibling ramble I’ve been meaning to go on for like two months now yeehaw

got a bit more intense than i intended

spoilers, spoilers, yeah, kinda, I guess

and, oh, just lots of unnecessary words and being the polar opposite of concise

it’s a reaaaaaaal long one, my fuckin bad, might come back n edit it down later lmao

k so

there is one specific thing that comes up..................... a bit. in the story. and this is the idea that there is pent up resentment and jealousy and anger between the Greer siblings

and IMO I am extremely careful not to lean into the idea that this is the case when I’m writing and when I address their relationship with each other, ‘cause it’s just something that............. isn’t there??? like at all??

here’s what I do, in-story:

all I do is just present their situation and their history and their relationship with each other, I talk about the various feelings they do share and what kinds of tensions are involved at the times when there is tension involved, but overall, they all have a really positive relationship with each other!!!! they love each other!!!!

there is some level of miscommunication between Tris and Becca because of Reasons and that is something that’s addressed in the story and something that gets dealt with, but they absolutely do love each other, all of them do

n relationship between Tris and Becca is never really under that much scrutiny by other folks in the story n that’s not what this post is about, ‘cause like, other folks REALLY like to focus on the relationship that Tris and Becca have with Jacob, right

so, the two things I do, 1) present the situation and 2) voice other characters’ interpretations and perceptions of said situation

‘cause the idea that there’s pent up jealousy and anger that Tris and Becca have directed at Jacob is something that’s almost exclusively voiced by other characters in the story and isn’t supported by...... much else. and it’s something that is presented as a source of a lot of anxiety and discomfort for all three of the Greer sibs, Tris and Becca particularly

n yeah, I don’t know how I feel about readers potentially going through this story assuming that this is actually the case............. though readers are free to do what they would like, regardless of my intent

I just mention it ‘cause like

one thing is that it’s the kind of family dynamic in fiction that’s really frequently used as the setup for a story about jealousy and resentment, y’know, ‘cause at a glance there’s this dynamic, right, this Dynamic

with these overbearing, strict, emotionally distant, controlling, etc. parents who place all kinds of pressure onto their kids and want to project this Perfect Family Image at all times, they’re obsessed with appearances and success and being normal, super normal, More Normal Than You

n then you’ve got this one over-achieving, polite, social, well-liked older sibling who got straight A’s and can do no wrong, who everything comes (supposedly) easily and naturally to, and the younger two who are.................... not good at school, kinda weird, never Act Right, both neurodivergent, can never quite live up to their parents expectations........ generally treated by said parents as kinda just. lowkey embarrassing. some kind of blemish they need to hide because they don’t lend themselves to this We’re A Happy And Normal Family Who’s Doing Better Than You :) :) vibe

like, as a general rule, the Greer parents are more concerned with image than they are with any of their kids’ actual wellbeing

Becca’s got a lot of ADHD going on and their parents Really did not like it when she came out as bi because obviously it’s just for attention (and like, hey, Becca’s really fucking good at arts and sports and eventually goes on to play professional basketball not that that gets covered in story but That’s Not Important because she doesn’t get good grades and that’s all that matters :///)

n Tris began exhibiting signs of psychosis when he was little and their parents were just sorta like “hm we should probably exorcise this child like the nice normal well-adjusted family we are” and then they tried to do that and I think he was maybe a little bit too young to completely understand what was happening but kinda grew up thinking that was a totally normal and reasonable thing for them to do and not just a completely fucked up thing that should never have been allowed to happen

then went on to have his first full-blown psychotic episode at thirteen years old and his parents were just sort of like. Hm. You Should Have Some Therapy To Fix You Maybe. Also We Are Literally Never Going To Speak About This Ever

and I think largely the outlook other characters have (and I think, the outlook the Greer parents have) is that Jacob comparatively just kind of................ cruised right on through with no issues?

so I think a lot of people kind of look at the Greer family and are like.......... well, look at them, there’s got to be some fucked up feelings there, how could there NOT be. n I think pretty much everyone barring Noa and the Greer sibs themselves on some level think there’s some level of bad blood

and their mistake is........ well, two things, from an outside perspective

the first being the assumption that Jacob had it easy, ‘cause like........... YES Jacob is extremely good at keeping up appearances and meeting his parents’ expectations but he’s the human embodiment of that, uh, what is that one The Onion headline that’s like.......... “This Brilliant 11-Year-Old Ballerina Is Living Proof That Children Can Achieve Anything If We Push Them To The Breaking Point”

y’know, as if Jacob didn’t grow up in the same high-pressure environment where love is completely conditional and only given if you can prove that you Earned It, as if he wasn’t constantly plagued by the fear that if he slips up or steps even slightly out of line or is anything less than Completely Perfect And Accomodating at all times, that love will be taken away. n he grew up into a neurotic perfectionist with identity issues who can’t set boundaries and doesn’t feel he has any worth if he’s not constantly being Useful and Relevant and Smart and giving as much of himself as possible

and, more pressingly, he grew up with literally Zero idea how to navigate any sort of healthy balanced relationship, he’s someone who, with the exception of his siblings, grew up only experiencing love as fear, and as such, he’s someone who’s very easily taken advantage of and he doesn’t have the capacity to recognise it

so, like, yeah, Jacob was better at projecting the Nice Normal Family Image that his parents wanted than Tris and Becca have been, but he still grew up facing the exact same pressures and unpleasantness and overbearing control and had the Worst Fucking Time

like, he was not having fun at all, he was terrified 24/7

and the second mistake is, like............ in assuming that the Greer siblings are in competition with each other? like, it’s easy to project all sorts of bad blood and jealousy and pent-up anger onto the two younger siblings if you assume that they’re in competition with Jacob in vying for their parents’ affection and attention but like........ they’re not

n I’ve talked a bit in the past about how Jacob has always been extremely, extremely protective of his younger siblings purely because he didn’t want them to go through the same bullshit he did all on their own. n he’s probably 90% of the reason either of them are anywhere near as well-adjusted as they are, and he’s pretty much been the only consistent source of love and stability and genuine emotional support they’ve had through most of their childhood, ‘cause he knew damn fucking well they weren’t going to get it from their parents

largely due to Jacob, probably, ‘cause like. he has thirteen extra years under his belt and he came to the conclusion, probably when he was quite young himself, that literally nothing he ever does is ever going to be Good Enough and that no matter how well he does in school or socially, his parents will find some new thing to nitpick or to tell him to aim for, and like......... well, that’s horrible to have 2 come to grips with at any age?? he can do lots of things that make his parents happy but nothing he does is actually going to get his parents to love him as a person, their genuine love is completely unattainable

which changed his priorities a LOT

n like, he’s a genuinely good guy. he’s very caring and sweet and kind and supportive and he loves his siblings very much

n I think there's this assumption that Jacob is the only one of the kids their parents actually love when that's not really it at all? he's the one they LIKE but they don't love any of them

which is oversimplifying it by a lot, because Tris and Becca have all sorts of complicated feelings about their parents and definitely don’t hate them (yet), but, like, you get what I mean

which I think is where people make the mistake, y'know, bcthe Greer sibs are not in competition with each other, they’re kind of, supporting each other against a common enemy

like, both Tris and Becca struggle a lot with their feelings about their parents, and over the course of the story, Tris is kind of............... juuuust starting to come to grips with how fucked up his relationship with his parents is, or more like....... I mean he kind of Already Knows, but assumes that he on some level deserves it, and over the course of the story is kind of like

Oh Wait None Of This Was My Fault And None Of What Has Happened To Me Was Normal

and even from THAT regard though, that was something that Jacob had been kind of pushing for from day one, Jacob is kind of the person who laid a lot of the foundations for him to eventually realise that, although of course that kind of final leap is one you have to make on your own and something that takes a lot of work

but he kind of struggles with the complicated grey area of being like “I love my parents” and “the way they treated me was legitimately fucked up and I didn’t deserve it” and that’s.......... a whole thing

n like.............. from a readerly perspective, this is stuff that comes out over the course of the story as you kinda learn more about their backstory and their relationship with each other

but again, the familiar setup most people associate with resentment is kinda there, and there’s a lot of kinda........... pressure from other (sometimes well-meaning) characters when they voice their opinions about the Greer siblings’ situation from outside perspectives

and like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about readers potentially going through this story assuming that those characters are Right, ‘cause I don’t think that’s necessarily something I lean into or build towards if you’re paying attention

like, I think those readers who DO assume that there is bad blood, they might be a little disappointed if they feel that the story is building to An Explosion and then there just............ isn’t....... but part of me is also like

well lmao that’s entirely on you, and you’re just illustrating my point, actually

like at no point did I express that this was a thing or even hint towards it, all of this came from Other Characters Projecting and from You Projecting

n also while I don’t want people to feel cheated there is a part of it that’s just like. super fucking funny to me. if like

someone reads this story and assumes there’s all this Bad Blood just waiting to finally bubble over and explode in some climactic moment, y’know, and the story gets to this real heated tense moment where the cracks are starting to show and push is coming to shove and then the huge plot twist is just like

“no they all do legitimately love each other so much and support each other unconditionally and want each other to be safe and happy and loved and they’d do anything for each other and the entire point of their story is how much they care about each other and how powerful and important the connection they have with each other is”

fuckin LOVE that. that’s so fucking funny to me

you wanted edgy bullshit??

TOO FUCKIN BAD

ONLY WHOLESOME BULLSHIT HERE

also happy endings for all three Greer siblings involve them at some point in their early adult lives saying “fuck it” and moving interstate never to return

#alcohol mention #i mean just cuz i mention it at the top there cuz baileys there's no alcohol in the post itself #also tw for i guess emotional abuse in main text and unhealthy parent relationships if you don't wanna read abt that #atdao #n like #idk how i ever initially thought i could make tris's plotline work without jacob at the centre of it bc its like #y'know #he's a person who's spent so much painstaking time building up a structure in his life #that feels Safe and Protected and Normal #building up this comfort zone and this kind of safety bubble that's the only way he can navigate the world without being #in a constant state of panic #n then there's the question #''what would make him immediately abandon this safety bubble and throw himself into danger with zero hesitation no questions asked?''#to which the answer is obviously Jacob Greer Is In Trouble And Needs Help #which i dont want to read as like...... y'know; tris feeling useless compared to jacob and this is a chance #for him to kinda prove himself #it's not that at all it's just like #literally the most obvious thing in the world to him there is zero doubt or hesitation #and yes he screams in terror the entire fucking time but that's hardly the point

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 4 years

Text

i’m not the villain i appear to be (but i’ll play one for you)

Ha, so, it’s 3 AM and I really don’t have an excuse for this piece beyond the fact I’ve been listening to this song the entire time I was writing the piece - and, for the record, I wrote, proofed, and am now posting this drabble all within the past couple of hours. It was also roughly inspired by the video linked and an AU me and my girlfriend @cheshire-kas did for some RPs, so, uh... Enjoy! I hope!

(In case the link doesn’t work above, here it is in full: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRpiBvwKX6c)

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Summary: Danny Fenton, twenty-four-year-old detective, hadn’t been expecting for art thieves to actually show up during the biggest and busiest night and event of the museum he was tasked to watched. He also hadn’t expected to end up flirting with one of the thieves, but, well... accidents happened.

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Relationship: Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom/Ghost Writer | Andrew Riter

Characters: Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom, Ghost Writer | Andrew Riter

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 2,368

Check out my writing commission information here! Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content!

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i’m not the villain i appear to be (but i’ll play one for you)

⁂

Halfway through trying to smother a laugh into his drink without spilling anything onto his suit, Danny felt his amusement start to drain out of him when he saw Sam’s smile, a twisted little smirk, go from wry amusement to sour annoyance. She paired the twist in expression with a soft, “Heads up.” Danny, unfortunately, didn’t even get a chance to brace himself before he realized what Sam’s warning meant.

“Fenton!” The cheerful, and loud, cry of his last name was nothing, absolutely nothing, to the harsh slap to Danny’s back that was no doubt supposed to be a ‘friendly greeting.’ “Glad you could make it out here tonight!”

“Of course, Mr. Basco,” Danny said through gritted teeth and the ‘media smile’ Sam had helped him master because if you’re going to be a detective, Danny, then you need to know how to tell the media to go fuck themselves with a smile. Danny could almost imagine the pride in Sam’s expression when he glanced at her to share a suffering look of commiseration. “I kind of have to ask, though… Do you really think they’ll try something tonight?”

The smile he was given, something cold and sharp and devoid of all empathy for human life, had Danny struggling to keep his own smile as he felt the art director’s hand squeeze his shoulder tight enough to leave bruises, “Danny, my boy, let me give you some advice. You’re pretty new to this game, aren’t you?”

“I, uh, yes? Sir?” Danny stumbled over his words, wincing even before the grip tightened. “I think my record already speaks for itself, however.”

“Oh, of course!” Basco’s grin widened and it was nothing good. “The youngest detective we’ve had in quite some time, if I’m not mistaken. So much prestige and you’re only twenty-four! No, no, my boy, your qualifications speak for themselves, but, well… How many cases like this have you dealt with?”

Buying himself time by taking a sip of his drink, which was supposed to be some expensive champagne that actually tasted awful, Danny looked around the museum he had been tasked to guard for the night. The art museum was a smaller one in their city and focused on sculptures more than paintings, but it was well-known in its own right.

The director, Martin Basco, was also well known. Danny didn’t have any specific cases or evidence against him, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that some of the museum’s pieces came to be there through less-than-legal means. That was a fight for another day, though, and the fight Danny was supposed to be focused on had him there for a different reason.

“I can’t say I’ve dealt with art thieves before, sir, but I just can’t imagine that they would try to steal something during a gala this size.” Danny kept his smile in place, even as Sam, dressed to the nines in a black and silver sequined dress that attracted more attention than some of the exhibits, did nothing to hide a laugh of her own. Basco, on his end, did nothing to hide his scowl.

“And here’s where the advice comes in… Those who steal art do it for many reasons, but the largest reason is, without a doubt, for the recognition.” Well… He hated to admit it, but Basco had a point there, at least.

If someone became desperate or crazed enough for money and hit a low enough point then they robbed a bank, but turning into a master art thief? No… A person didn’t do that for money; at least, they didn’t only do it for money. Recognition was as good a reason as any to become an art thief.

“Mark my words, Fenton, this gala is nothing more than a beacon and those art thieves will be here tonight and will do everything in their power to filch more of my money-”

“Your art, you mean, don’t you?” Sam asked ‘politely’ with a smile colder than ice itself. Danny was all too happy to slip away as Basco fumbled with an answer, Sam smiling as if she was about to throw him a noose rather than a life raft. It at least bought Danny the time he wanted to check on everything.

While his department wouldn’t usually send an entire squad of police officers and a couple of detectives, Martin Basco was a big man with a big name and even bigger pockets. In their time of budget cuts and losses, they couldn’t afford to anger one of their largest donors - although that didn’t mean Danny had to play nice all night.

Besides, it was unlikely anything would actually happen. The gala that they were at was a yearly event that was one of the biggest events in town, and half of the town itself usually showed up to dress up for a night out while acting like they had more money than they actually did. It usually ended in a few drunken brawls and fights, but that was no doubt all Danny would be dealing with that night.

Danny was halfway through contemplating an excuse that would let him leave early so he could get back to his apartment and do something useful, like catching up on his backed up shows, when someone clipped his shoulder with enough force to knock him straight into the back of someone else, glass slipping out of his hand just slow enough that all Danny could do was swear about it.

Slamming his eyes shut instinctively and ready for the sound of shattering glass, Danny instead heard a soft laugh. Eyes snapping open, Danny stared at the man he had bumped into - a man with much better reflexes as he had Danny’s dropped glass in hand, perfectly intact without a crack in sight.

“Careful there,” the man laughed again, his voice deeper than Danny would have expected, but his smile softening it by leaps and bounds. “Although, maybe a pile of broken glass would be a better sight than some of the sculptures around here.”

Danny couldn’t have stopped his laugh even if he had wanted to, sound tumbling out of him as he inspected the man from his pressed suit and crisp purple undershirt to his scruffy goatee that looked surprisingly good; Danny had a feeling the man’s smile had something to do with it. Well, that and the fact that, unlike Danny, the man in front of him looked good in his suit.

“You know, most people at least pretend to like the art until they’re out of here,” Danny finally managed, delighted at the warm, amused smile he was given in return.

“I always rather thought there was little point to art without some sort of controversy. I take it by your reaction that you’re not here simply to admire the art?” As he was asked, Danny’s glass of hideously awful champagne was pressed back into his hand, the man’s hand slow to withdraw as fingers lingered against his own for a moment too long. “Or do you have a personal stake in the opinion of tonight’s pieces?”

Danny gathered himself together as best he could, resorting to his only trick of taking a drink to scramble for something coherent and semi-intelligent to say. “Would you believe me if I said the answer to both of those questions were yes?”

“I’m not in the habit of believing strangers I just ran into, but I might make an exception for you,” the other teased, a smile half-hidden behind a raised hand. Danny glanced around as unsuspiciously as possible, trying to make sure Sam wasn’t anywhere nearby. She would never let him live it down, otherwise.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty good at being the exception to things,” Danny beamed when he was sure the coast was clear. “Detective Danny Fenton. It’s a pleasure to meet someone with quick enough reflexes to save me from making an idiot of myself.”

“Andrew Riter,” the man - Andrew - introduced himself with a wider smile. “Detective, though… That’s not something I would have expected.”

Danny gave him a mock grimace along with a long, dramatic sigh, “Let me guess. I look too young and act too clumsy?”

“Well, while you do appear rather young for a Detective, that wasn’t quite what I was thinking,” Andrew said softly, Danny feeling something like a shiver crawl down his spine. “A detective at a place like this, though… Something interesting I should know about?”

“I wish,” Danny snorted out a laugh that was probably a touch too loud. He tried to turn it into a cough halfway through, but judging by Andrew’s wide smile, it probably hadn’t worked too well. “I mean, well… The art director here, Martin Basco? He thinks that there’s a chance of one of the sculptures being stolen tonight.”

“Really?” Andrew blinked, looking caught off guard as he looked around the bustling building. Dozens of people lined the halls in their fanciest of outfits and the lighting was bright and left very few shadows to skulk around in. “I would think a night like this would be the worst time to conduct art theft.”

“See! That’s what I said!” Danny threw his arms up, wincing as some of his drink splashed over the rim of the glass to land on his wrist. Quickly lowering his arms, and attempting to shake off the spill, Danny prayed to whatever God was out there that he wasn’t red in the face when he cleared his throat. “But, yeah. He thinks two popular art thieves are going to hit this place tonight and so that’s why I’m stuck here.”

Danny looked away as he shook his arm as if that would dry his sleeve, jumping when hands darker than his own caught his wrist before gently patting at the spot with what looked like a cloth napkin. It was a gesture that had Danny feeling like his heart was trying to flutter its way out of his chest while also diving straight down into his stomach.

“Well,” Andrew said softly, looking up through the fringe of his hair, as dark and untamed as Danny’s own, to meet his gaze with a smile. “Let me guess… You’d rather be watching the next season of your favorite show?”

It took Danny a couple of tries to speak past his dry throat, but he finally managed a weak, “Next episode, thanks. I’m not enough of a heathen to be behind by an entire season.”

Andrew laughed, a response on the tip of his tongue before it died under the sudden screaming alarms that rang throughout the building, Danny swearing as he jerked his arm back and dropped his hand down to the gun hidden under his suit jacket.

“Get behind me,” Danny tried to shout over the noise, head jerking towards the sudden sound of a woman’s dramatic shriek and was it really the time for dramatic screaming?

“It’s been stolen!” The cry carried over the room and Danny groaned as he resisted the urge to look anywhere near where Basco had been. He already knew he was never going to live the night down no matter what was stolen – not that the lady had bothered to scream that out.

In the seconds that passed before the building descended into absolute chaos, Danny paused as he felt his wrist grabbed. A look back to Andrew showed the man biting his lip, looking nervous as he moved forward enough to be heard over the sound of alarms, “Running off to save the day, Detective?”

“Always seems to happen at the worst moments,” Danny managed, letting himself get distracted just enough to take a step closer to Andrew himself. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, alright? My job is to keep people safe, after all, and, well… We have a conversation to finish, so I’ll definitely be back soon.”

Andrew blinked at that, looking caught off guard before he was laughing which, alright. Laughing during all of the alarms and screaming was kind of weird, but Danny wasn’t much better himself considering he was practically flirting during the mess. Ready to pull away again, Danny paused as Andrew crossed the rest of the distance between them, hands on both of Danny’s wrists. It was overwhelmingly ridiculous how conscious Danny was of the bands of warmth around his wrists.

“Detective Danny Fenton,” Andrew said softly, Danny somehow able to hear nothing but him as he leaned just a bit closer. “I have to say… I almost wish it wasn’t you on this case.”

Danny blinked, staring at Andrew in confusion before sucking in a sharp breath at the same moment he felt his arms pushed around his back and cold, familiar steel snapping around his wrists in place of the warmth that had been there. “You-!”

“Me,” Andrew damn near purred, innocence and sweetness gone from his gaze as placed a kiss on Danny’s cheek and this utter fucking bastard art thief-! “Au revoir, mon cher. Until next time, hm?”

Danny didn’t even get a step forward before Andrew was off and disappearing into the crowd, laughing loudly and freely and blowing a kiss over his shoulder at him.

“Danny!” Sam’s shout of his name was the only warning Danny had before she crashed into his back, Danny just barely keeping them from hitting the floor before he felt Sam’s hands around the handcuffs keeping him trapped. “Oh- Danny, what- What happened?” Danny looked back at her, confused and worried and with Basco quickly making his way over with a look that could only be called furious. “Are these your handcuffs?”

“Not sure, but probably,” Danny managed, looking back to the direction Andrew had gone. “But I found one of our art thieves.”

“Apparently,” Sam laughed, a half-wild sound that was as amused as it was concerned. “I take it something happened if you’re smiling like that, though?”

“You could say that,” Danny said, laughing himself as he felt the smile Sam had pointed out growing. “I found our art thief, yeah, but… I also found a lead.

Andrew Riter, huh?

This was going to be fun.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost writer #ghostwriter #iambic prose #my writing #original #@ google what do i do when i accidentally take the idea of an rp me and my gf did #and obsessivly write a drabble for it in one sitting??

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enkisstories · 4 years

Text

Just like them

- Short Detroit Become Human fanfic starring Daniel - - Close enough to canon, not my Sims!AU - November 15, 2038 Park Avenue

Daniel placed his hand on the door lock. However, the device rejected his request almost instantly.

ACCESS DENIED

It wasn’t just a string of bright letters, the message additionally burned itself into the android brain. And although the narrative went that androids didn’t feel pain, the sharp sting of the “Nope” signal along with all the emotions it triggered in Daniel’s deviant mind were unpleasant to say the least.

“Shit!”

Daniel raised his hand – or rather, he moved his shoulder to lift the replacement arm and hand up, spare parts salvaged from other unfortunates that had found themselves in the DPD’s evidence archive. Just when the new limbs had started to feel less like prostheses and more like parts of himself, the android had to receive a reminder to the fact that this wasn’t the case. His real hand was lost and with it the RFID tag that would have opened the door to the Phillips apartment.

Daniel wondered briefly the key to which door he was carrying now, because some signal had gotten exchanged between the hand and the door lock. If there had been no key present at all, the door would just have stayed silent instead of bellowing its “Access denied” at the intruder.

A shutdown police auxiliary beyond repair had “donated” Daniel’s new legs, but also the hand? Daniel didn’t remember. It hadn’t mattered earlier that day when they had set him more or less free.

And now the android he was standing here, with an electronic cuff somewhere in his system, a novel worth of parole terms in his head, but fresh out of an emergency override keycard for his own home.

I should have went with that guy from Jericho when he offered it. But, noooooo, I HAD to do this alone, because I don’t NEED help at all. And I shouted at him, so there’s no turning back now. It’s getting dark anyway. And ‘sides, I have a right to this flat! It’s my inheritance, the pay for four years of service, no way I’m going to live in, what was it, a wrecked cruise ship or something? No way!

Tap,tap,tap… jingle,jingle,jingle… swoosh

Daniel exited the elevator and only when the doors closed behind him did he realize that he had just traveled downwards by one floor without actually having decided to do so.

Check. Deviant brain doing deviant stuff. They warned me about this.

Daniel’s subconsciousness had taken over, now the question was where had it taken him?

Looking around Daniel discovered that he was standing right in front of an apartment door, one hand raised slightly, obviously in an attempt to ring the doorbell. The nameplate that went with the bell read “Rasoya”.

Ah, right, that was familiar territory. The Rasoyas were the Phillips’ direct downstairs neighbors. They had helped them out by taking Emma when her parents were out and with sugar, flour and eggs that Caroline tended to forget to stock up in sufficient quantity. That had been before Daniel had joined the household, of course, but even with the Phillips owning a state of the art household assistant made by CyberLife now the families had remained… close?

I have always assumed we were close, but looking back I feel “habitually on speaking terms” is more precise.

Someone was stirring now inside the apartment and a female voice rose up:

“I think I heard someone at the door! Will you take a look?”

“Yes, it’s me!” Daniel shouted back, then rang the bell.

Someone was looking through a spyhole, not trusting the electronic security camera, then opened the door. Before it was fully open, Daniel already gasped at the person behind it: “Can I borrow a crowbar, please, Mrs. Rasoya? I need to break into the Phillips apartment!”

Mrs. Rasoya laughed so hard at this that the toddler boy she was holding was shaking violently. Reflexively Daniel grabbed him while Mrs. Rasoya was still trying to get a grip on herself. Eventually the woman said:

“Daniel Phillips – the most polite android revolutionary ever.”

“Calm down, calm down!” Daniel shushed the human. “I’m not with Markus or whoever, I don’t even have a clear idea what exactly’s going on!”

I mean, when have I ever? I lived in an illusion all my existence, believing myself appreciated… sheltered… Going by my experience Markus could just be another Connor: playing nice, but harboring ulterior motives.

“They just…”

Looking for a familiar term in all the madness that was the present, the android continued:

“…let me out of prison and here I am, but I can’t enter my own damn apartment!”

“Own dan apartment!” little Caden Rasoya repeated cheerfully, at which his grandmother demanded the kid to get returned to her.

“Raj, dear?” she called into the apartment and a few heartbeats later her adult son, Caden’s father, appeared. Raj was a gourmet chef and his body was certainly looking the part, although he tended to dress extremely casually at home.

“Would you accompany Danny here upstairs to break down the Phillips’s door, Raj?”

“You know what, mom?” Raj laughed out loud. “This is by far the most normal request I’ve heard those last few days.”

Daniel watched Mrs. Rasoya retreat into her home where she picked up an old handheld gaming device that she had been playing on. He heard Caden giggle. The TV was running, Caden giggled some more, but then listened intently to his mother, who was explaining something connected to the evening children’s show they were watching. Everything was so normal!

Why were the Rasoyas still here, Daniel wondered? Were the feeling that the worst was behind them and deeming it save to stay in Detroit, even though the president had arranged an evacuation of a scope that put to shame even the annual floods? Were these humans maybe just as attached to their territory as Daniel himself was? Regardless of the possible consequences? In retrospect, what if Caroline had still been here tonight? Or – was she, maybe?!

“Uh… Is Caroline…?” Daniel started asking Raj.

“Left Detroit. In fact, she didn’t even wait for the presidential nudge to do so.”

“Ah.”

Raj grabbed the doorknob and with his head motioned the android to join him.

“Come in!”

“But I need to…”

“No way I’m trying to kick in a sturdy apartment door, least of all with security still intact”, Raj explained. “And neither should you do that, with a criminal record on your head. You have one…?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all legit. The DPD knows I’m here, but, fuck, I should have asked for an escort to actually get into my home.”

“You certainly picked up some language there that you didn’t know before”, Raj commented, still more amused than wary. Definitely wary, too, but not to an extent that prevented the man from acting civilly.

“But what am I to do now?”

“You’ll want to take the balcony route, Daniel. Climb up from our balcony and find your door. It was never properly repaired after… the incident, you should be able to push it open easily.”

“That’s that Connor’s fault!” Daniel spat. “It doesn’t respect anything!”

And that were the last words he exchanged with the Rasoyas. Without even a “thanks” the deviant made haste towards the balcony, jumped onto the railing and started scaling the apartment building like an ape. A PL600 wasn’t particularly strong, but their dexterity and eye-hand-coordination had to be rated outstanding even compared to other androids. Daniel was also rather agile, although he suspected that was a personal feat, nothing hard-coded in his system specs. And of course his new PC200 legs were also contributing to his athletic ability.

Inside the Phillips home Daniel didn’t linger much in the apartment proper, but instead went straight to the fish tank in the floor.

“Huey, Dewey, Louie… everyone still there!” he noticed with relief. “It’s feeding time, gentlemen! – Hehe, yes, go for it! No need to fight, there’s more where this is coming from!”

Smiling the android watched the fish gorge themselves. When had been the last time they had been fed, he wondered? So typical of Caroline! Flaunting the family fortune, but possessed of a total disregard of actual living beings. Like those of the ornamental fish she had left behind to their fate. Or her android’s…

Daniel had never given his artificial lung much thought. They were just there, moving his chest to make him appear more lifelike. Now the deviant realized how this particular biocomponent came in handy: he sighed deeply.

Moving back into the apartment Daniel almost expected to find John’s tablet. Of course after all this time it wouldn’t be there anymore. Or at least it would no longer display the order confirmation for the AP700, where John had ticked the “Disposal of old device at no extra cost” option. There had been another option, also at no extra cost: to donate the old android to charity. It would have taken the man no longer than two minutes to choose an organization from a dropdown list, but John Phillips hadn’t wanted anybody to mooch from something he had payed good money for. He had said so aloud and that comment had alerted Daniel to what was going on in the first place.

John’s greed and antisocial tendencies might very well have saved my life!

Daniel shooed this thought and looked around some more.

Pictures of Emma, John and Caroline, sometimes alone, then again as a family or with various friends, were everywhere. Of their android there was no sign and hadn’t been before the incident. Daniel felt a little like visiting the Dursleys with all the pictures of Dudders and no hint whatsoever that another boy was living at Privet Drive…

He picked up one of the framed pictures. It showed the family gathered under a Christmas Tree. The spheres, bells, stars and pine cones were all made from real glass and in between hang handmade charms fashioned by Emma. The Phillips didn’t believe in anything transcendental, neither god, nor magic. But even so they had followed the traditions and actually gained something from them. There had been an unusual warmth around that time of year each year.

Daniel put back the photograph. Suddenly the glass ornaments were too bright, the fishtank next door too loud and even the carpet his feet were touching was too rough. The deviant hunkered down and buried his head in his arms. Thirium tried to get up and out through his nose. Daniel didn’t understand what was happening to him. His system status hadn’t been that bad this morning!

Stay in… stay in… I don’t want to die! Only, I feel like dying… But I don’t want to! It’s not fair!

Daniel had sat there hunched over and crying for a while, when suddenly the door rang. A jolt went through the android’s body. Daniel jumped up and the weak, but steady stream of skin fluid mixed with blue blood came to a halt. The android wiped it away and licked the thirium from his new fingers before opening the door.

“Hey, Geeta”, Daniel greeted the visitor. “Afraid I might shut down from sorrow all alone up here?”

The words sounded like an accusation…

“Nah.” Mrs. Rasoya shook her head. “Not you. In fact, I reckon you are unable to suicide.”

“Huh? How would you know?”

Geeta walked past Daniel. She grabbed one of the family photographs at random and turned it for Daniel to get a good look at it.

“Dogs take after their owners, children after their parents and androids… androids take after their masters.”

“That’s utter bullshit!” the deviant flared up. “And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t apply to me! I’m a de…”

“Deviant, Daniel? For deviants what I said goes even more so, because of your emotions.”

“I may have acquired some of those, so what?!”

“The Phillips couple, too, was never one for thinking before acting… for taking a step back from their desires… or for putting themselves into others’ shoes.”

Daniel started to yell again, but was cut short:

“What kindness they had, manifested indirectly only - in their little girl and in their household assistant.”

“Huh.”

“Not what you wanted to hear, I know.”

Daniel took the picture.

“Me? Being like them?”

“It’s true.”

The deviant smiled warmly, not unlike when he had watched his fishes. For several moments he stood there, content with the world and himself. But then he jerked around his arm and smashed the frame against the nearest wall.

“They never were my family!!!”

Geeta shrugged and said her goodbyes.

“You know where to find us if you want to borrow gelignite or whatever a modern deviant might need”, she said. The woman had meant it as a joke, but as she gently closed the door behind herself, she wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

#dbh daniel #dbh #detroit become human #dbhtextpost #dbh textpost #non sims #danielgavinnewstory

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4-046 · 5 years

Photo

Note - This is my first time writing anything, so please go easy on me :)

Soulmate AU! Where your soulmate’s first sentence you hear them say is tattooed on your arm

Idea by @akermanch on Tumblr

Art by @mushroomgrenade

Ace x Marco

“Welcome to Starbucks may I take your order?”

Those were the very words that were tattooed on Ace’s bare arms.

Ace has seen some people with the same tattoos on their arms just like him, and it’s not a rare sight nowadays. Being currently nineteen years old and almost twenty in a few months, Ace has been looking for his stupid soulmate for years. All his friends have found their soulmates, and even his stupid younger brother has Zoro!

They met when Luffy was a junior in high school, and the boy couldn’t be happier when he found out his soulmate had to redo his last year in the place. Not the same could be said with Zoro, but after meeting his hyperactive brother and falling for him after a few months, the boy wasn’t about to complain.

His other brother, Sabo, on the other hand, had met his soulmate Koala when he was twelve, and she has been like family to him since then.

All in all, Ace is happy for his brothers and is grateful for their other halves too.

But what about him? Where is his soulmate? And which fucking Starbucks do they work in?!

And now that question is something he’s been asking himself ever since he’s turned thirteen because he’s pretty sure that by then, he’s been over at least a hundred Starbucks in his state alone.

Ace is sick of getting “Nos” or sometimes a “Nah, my dude, I’m waiting for someone to order a grande skinny latte extra cream” whenever he asks a barista if they’re the one. And to make matters worse, most of the times he’d get a few snickers from people who are CLEARLY ON A DATE WITH THEIR SOULMATES.

And those days are the worst. Which are....most weekends.

Ace has been thinking of almost all the possibilities of why he hasn't met his soulmate yet. And you know what? Overthinking is seriously a bitch.

What if his soulmate doesn't even work in the United States? What if his soulmate found someone that isn’t Ace but ordered the same caramel snickerdoodle macchiato like him? Or what if his soulmate is sick of getting asked the same question and snaps at him?

Oh. Hell. No. is his soulmate snapping at him for asking that question.

Overall, you get the point, and as Ace said before, overthinking is a bitch.

Though honestly? Ace is ready to just give up right about now. As he just got another few snickers and laughs from a nearby couple grabbing their Frappuccinos after hearing Ace’s conversation with the new barista. New news, he got another no from the cutie with purple hair tied up in a chignon, she was nice enough to introduce herself as Carina, so she wasn’t that bad. The couple on the other hand?

“Y’know, I sincerely hope ya’ll get diabetes”

Did he just say that out loud?

“What the fuck did you just say you wretched fuck!”

Of course, he did.

Ace ran out of the door, not after grabbing his caramel snickerdoodle macchiato from another blonde barista and waving them off. He was taught to be polite, after all.

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

Marco wasn’t even supposed to be in the store today, but apparently his colleague Drake had to call a day off since his soulmate came over to visit.

And would you know that,

“Y’know, I sincerely hope ya’ll get diabetes”

Was tattooed on Marco’s arm.

Marco was never a fan of his own soulmate tattoo since he thought of how distasteful it sounded.

So he normally would wear wrist bands to cover it up.

But for fuck's sake that was him!

Marco was the one to handed him his stupid secret menu caramel snickerdoodle macchiato too!

It all happened so fast, he just finished break and went out with his apron in hand, handing it to the freckled bastard. No. His soulmate now. He was handing his soulmate his caramel snickerdoodle macchiato and heard him say that fucking sentence.

His soulmate ran after saying it too, while Marco couldn’t think, his body moved on its own. And that was the best thing his body has done for him in a long while.

He thought.

Marco lost his soulmate. And he felt it too.

The bastard was lying on the ground in the middle of a street, a truck right beside him, and blood. Oh, blood. So much blood was pouring out of him, and the fucking couple was just standing there, not knowing what to do.

Marco didn’t know what to do, he can only feel a horrible stomach drop in his gut, and he couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch. Watch as the life of his soulmate drains from him, in an alarmingly fast pace.

Marco was dazed, and what brought him back was the loud sound of an ambulance coming through.

Marco couldn’t do anything but watch from afar while his soulmate got taken away.

He was terrified.

For the first time in his life, he was so scared he started to sob in the middle of the streets, with everyone watching.

He just stayed there, bawling his eyes out, until his colleague came out for him.

After getting into the staff room, Marco didn’t hear anything his colleague said until she asked him that question.

“Is Ace your soulmate?”

Looking up, Marco saw his ginger-haired colleague, her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and her gentle brown eyes looked at him with worry.

“Pardon?” he asked

“Ace, is Ace your soulmate?” Nami asked again.

“Is that his name?” Marco’s face could be seen with confusion by now.

“The idiot that got hit by a truck outside? Yep, that’s him.” She explained.

Ace.

A-c-e.

“Ace”

His name rolled off Marco’s tongue without Marco even noticing.

That’s his soulmate’s name.

His name is Ace.

“Ace is your soulmate?” another voice chimed in.

Marco looked up. Red hair.

Why does everyone but him know his soulmate?

This is absurd.

But Marco replied to his manager regardless.

“Yes, uh, I mean, I guess? No. I’m pretty sure it’s him, but why-”

“Then why haven't you said so?” Shanks loudly exclaimed.

A tic mark formed on Marco’s forehead.

“It seems like he didn’t know until now boss.” Nami explained for him.

“Well, if that’s the case, come with me! I'm driving Luffy to the hospital now since he’s worried.” his manager loudly shouted right beside his BLOODY EAR.

But before Marco could utter out another word, he found himself standing up and leaving the store with Shanks.

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

The ride itself was absolutely horrible.

Red Hair’s son was basically bawling for his apparent “big brother”, Marco would have to remember that later. While the other, who introduced himself as Sabo, he was quite polite, tried to calm the kid.

Apparently his name is Luffy.

And with Luffy’s bawling, he could make out that this sort of accident, in fact, isn’t the first time that happened to this...Ace. To his soulmate.

Marco is beginning to worry more now.

And according to Shanks, the reason why literally everyone in the store knows Ace but him is because he’s a regular on Sundays.

And Marco just so happens to take Sundays off.

When they got to the hospital, Marco wasn’t allowed in the patient’s room since he wasn’t “family member” according to the nurse.

Marco was his bloody soulmate!

But oh no, since he couldn’t exactly prove it, he wasn’t allowed in.

After about half an hour, Shanks came out and told him that Ace was stable, and suggested him to go back home and take the day off.

He promised Marco that he would talk to Ace and inform Marco when Ace wakes.

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

The pain ringing inside Ace’s head was horrible, and when he woke up somewhere unfamiliar to him, you couldn’t exactly blame him for panicking.

The room was big and white, and there was a table beside him, a cup of water and two orange pills on it, a television right in front of him, and he could feel the wind to his left.

Ace looked around, but before he could move his neck further, a shot of pain ran through him.

He yelped, and not even seconds, someone barged into the room.

“WHAT THE OUCH!”

Another shot of pain ran through him, but way bigger this time, and Ace couldn’t help it anymore, as tears start spilling through his eyes.

“Don’t move so much Ace-ya, your wounds are still fresh, and you’ve been out cold a day and a half, let your body rest”

“I've been WHAT?!”

The guy that barged in just sighed in response, pushed Ace down softly to his bed, and started to write on his clipboard. He had a plastic name tag on him.

“Tr-tra-traflger-traflgar-”

Another pain shot through Ace, but this time, his arms. He could see the blue liquid being injected into his systems and roughly pulled his hand back with anger.

“What the fuck Traffy?!” Ace exclaimed.

“This is sedative Ace-ya, don’t worry, it’ll help you. You’re also just like Strawhat-ya I see, I suppose it makes sense since your siblings…” “Traffy” replied with a nonchalant tone

And Ace finally looked at “Traffy” properly, he had sideburns, a goatee, black messy hair, silver eyes, and a bunch of badass tattoos on him. He was also wearing a lab coat? Spotted jeans and a white fur hat with black spotted patterns on it.

He’s kinda hot.

But he’s not Ace’s soulmate.

“Traffy where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, room 311. Also, don’t call me Traffy. You can call me Law.”

Ace looked out the window a bit, as it was a sunny day, birds are chirping, and he could see kids outside playing.

Law looked at him and cleared his throat a bit.

Ace turned over slowly to look at Law.

“We had to cut your hair a bit to patch you up, I hope you don’t mind. You were in a car crash, and your head was unfortunately hit, but you’ll be fine, and you can leave in about a week. I will inform your family members soon, and you would be able to see them.”

Ace nodded but stayed silent.

“Would you like anything for now?” Law asked.

Ace looked up and shooked his head.

Ace didn’t want anything now.

He’s just tired.

Ace closed his eyes, he might as well have a nap right now.

Until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Law, his cold silver eyes looked at him with no emotion.

“You’re uncle Shanks wanted me to give you this piece of paper. Remember to eat your pills, and stay hydrated, call me if you need anything else with the button beside your bed.”

Handing Ace the white piece of paper, Law left without a word.

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

Marco couldn’t sleep for the whole week without the help of sleeping pills.

Shanks didn’t call back, and he didn’t come to the store since last week, Marco was worried sick but no one could help him in any way.

This was Marco’s own problem, and this was HIS soulmate.

He’ll be fine, Marco assured himself multiple times during the day, and his tired droopy eyes were droopier than ever.

Dark circles formed beneath his eyes, and his colleagues have started to worry about him.

Marco was fine though, he must be fine.

He will be fine when Ace wakes up.

The bell ringed and without looking up, Marco automatically replied with

“Welcome to Starbucks may I take your order?”

After fumbling with his apron, Marco looked up with his pen in hand and his eyes widened.

“...Ah”

Right in front of him, stood a freckled face, half his messy black hair cut off with bandages wrapped around his head and face.

“Are you my soulmate?”

Marco’s froze.

He didn’t know what to say.

Ace looked back at him, disappointment could be seen from his face.

“Or, not. I-uh, Shanks just gave me a description that a guy named Marco with blond hair said he’s my soulmate, but maybe I got the wrong person-”

“I-I don’t understand.” Marco managed to mutter out.

“I’m sorry?” Ace asked.

“Red Hair didn’t contact me, I-I thought you were still in the hospital!” Marco stuttered out in a frenzy.

“Oh! Well, Shanks is on a business trip without any services, he would probably be back in a few days.” Ace replied, cheerfully now.

Marco looked at the freckled teen, and finally, relief washed over him, and the stress from the past week came crashing down. He reached over the counter and grabbed the teen and hugged him in an awkward position, but Marco didn’t care.

Because Ace is safe.

Ace hugged back with emotion, strong as Marco’s.

Pulling away, Marco gave Ace a tired grin.

Which Ace gave back with, but a lot brighter than Marco’s.

“My name is Ace.”

“I uh, already know that. Name’s Marco.”

“I already know that too.”

Marco would have to remind himself to kick Red Hair’s ass when he gets back.

#mywork #one piece #ace x marco #fanfic #marco #ace #portgas d ace

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afictionaladventure16 · 5 years

Text

The Pen Pal Project (Chris Evans x Latina!OC)

Masterlist

Previously on The Pen Pal Project...

Warnings: Foul Language, mentions of sex and one night stands

Word count: 1,671

Chapter 2

Letter #2

October 28th, 2017

Julie woke up to her alarm blaring, she groaned at the thought of starting the day. Pressing the snooze button she soon drifted off to sleep once more.

“JUULLIIEEE!!!” She heard her roommate Irene yell throughout the hall. Julie groaned as she stuck her head further into her pillow, “ju got works to do!!” She could hear her roommate get closer to her room.

“Julie isn’t here now go away!” Julie yelled as she covered her face with her blankets, the responsibility of adulthood was calling her name but she didn’t want to answer it. All she wanted to do was go back in time and smack her younger self for thinking adulthood would be great. What the hell was she thinking back then?

“Julie, I swear to God! If you don’t get up this instant!” Irene said as she threw the door open.

“Okay, okay, mom!” Julie said sarcastically, but she knew her roommate all too well. Once Irene had to come into her room to wake her, it was only one more warning until Irene had to do the worst thing possible. Ice. Cold. Water.

Julie got up from her bed, “Happy?”

“Nope,” Irene said as she crossed her arms, “not until I see your ass in that bathroom brushing your teeth and you out of your PJs, then I will be happy.” I groaned as I walked passed her and into the bathroom that was across the hall from my room, “and don’t call me mom, reminds me of that guy I dated with a mommy kink.” Irene shivers at the thought of it.

Julie laughs, “that was a great week,” Julie thought of that week. How she kept calling Irene mommy, teasing her of the horrible date she went out, yet she still ended up in that guy's bed.

“It wasn’t for me being horny I wouldn’t have gone through with that date,” Irene said with a small eye roll.

“And that’s why you stay good friends with an ex that you can hit up whenever you’re horny,” Julie said with a smile.

“Or in your case, become friends with benefits with an ex that still head over heels with you, by the way, there is a rose on the table for you.”

Julie rolled her eyes as she began to brush her teeth, “I need to end things with him,” Julie muffled as her mouth was full of toothpaste and foam.

“What?!” Irene exclaimed from her room, she made her way back over to the restroom, “bro, I can’t hear shit you say with your mouth full.”

Julie groaned and finished brushing her teeth, “I said that I need to end things with him.”

“Uh, no duh! Should’ve ended things from the start! Red flags everywhere!” Irene expressed.

“I know,” Julie said with a sigh, “He’s just so....”

“Controlling? Sensitive? Manipulative? Toxic?” Julie raised her eyebrows at Irene, “I’ve got more if you’re not going to stop me.”

“Sensitive,” Julie stated, “he’s sensitives to these things.”

“So? Rip it off like a bandaid, he can’t always be a whiny bitch.”

“harsh.”

“He hurt you and you being the dumbass that you are, let him. To top it off you let him in your no no square after everything he has done to you!” Irene sighs, “I’m just being honest, you know I don’t like Ruben and you know I hate seeing you get hurt. I just want what’s best for you.” Julie knew that her best friend was right but she was just so afraid of how the situation might go down. But it’s what she had to do. Sooner rather than later.

“Anyway, I have to go to work now,” Irene stated as she sprayed some perfume on.

Julie got ready for her day, placing on her work uniform that consisted of a black tee and some blue jeans. Once Julie was ready she locked the apartment door and got into the elevator, pressing the button for the parking garage.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Julie heard Irene yell from the parking garage

“I thought you left already,” Julie said as she walked over to her car in the parking garage.

“I would have been if I didn’t have a flat tire!” Irene groaned as she hit the tire with her shoe.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Julie said as she looked at the tire, she sighed, “get in,” Julie then said as she unlocked her own car, “I’ll take you to work.”

“Thanks,” Irene said as she got into the car, “I’ll get the bus back if you can’t give me a ride home.”

Julie just gave her a small nod. The sound of Julie’s text notification fulfilled the girl's ears, “is that an Ewok ringtone?” Irene asked.

Julie blushed, “it was free, don’t judge!”

“Not judging... just curious,” Irene said with a small chuckle.

Julie rolled her eyes and checked the message, Irene, this is Dr. Hudson's receptionist, Becca. Dr. Hudson wanted me to inform you that you have a letter here and whenever you can to pick it up! Have a great day!

Julie sighed and typed back a message, Thank you, I will see if I can pick it up before heading to work! “We have time to stop by my therapist's office, I have to pick up a letter.” Julie placed her phone in her bag and began to drive out of the parking garage.

“A letter?”

“Oh yeah,” Julie sighed, “my therapist wants me to do this new project, I basically am writing to some pen pal.”

“oooooo, do you know anything about this person?”

“No, I only sent one letter and surprisingly I got a reply already, kind of anxious to see what they wrote,” Julie said as she focused her attention on the road.

“What if they’re your soulmate!? Oh my gosh! A sugar daddy!? The possibilities of what this person can be!” Irene exclaimed in excitement.

“An ax murderer,” Julie whispered.

“That too...” Irene said softly. “Hopefully not, though.... that would suck.”

Julie laughed as she pulled up to her therapist's office, it was a short drive from the apartment without traffic... with traffic, it’s another story.

“Wait for me here?” Julie asked as Irene just gave her a small nod. Julie got off the car and walked into the small building. “Good morning, I’m here to pick up a letter from my pen pal!”

Becca chuckled, “She’s so gonna hate that you’re calling it that.”

“Well, what is she calling it?”

“The buddy system,” Becca said.

“The buddy system? That’s what I learned in kindergarten!” Julie rolled her eyes. Becca handed Julie her letter, “thank you very much!”

“You’re welcome!” Becca said with a small smile.

Julie walked back over to her car, getting in to see an eager Irene. “Open it!”

“No,” Julie said with a small eyeroll, as much as Julie wanted to read the letter right then and there, she knew it was best to wait until after work. Give herself something to look forward to.

“You’re no fun!” Irene said as she pouted. “Now hurry up or else I’ll be late for work!”

Julie’s day went by like normal, once she got to her apartment she realized that Irene still wasn’t home. Julie sent a quick text to Irene notifying that she was home, something she started to do after an incident involving Irene bringing home a guy thinking that Julie wasn’t home. Julie got images of things she wishes to never see again.

Julie laid down in her bed, remembering about her letter she excitedly got up and grabbed it from her purse. She opened the letter and began reading.

Dear Julie,

My name is Chris. I’d give you my last name, but you didn’t give me one, to begin with so it’s only fair that you’d give me one first before I even tell you mine. Congratulations on giving this a try, it’s better to see how it went than to not do it and wonder what would’ve happened. Funny, I’ve always wanted a pen pal.

“HA! Suck it, Dr. Hudson, he’s calling me his pen pal!” Julie exclaimed.

Although they said this wasn’t that, I’d say it is.

“Me too, Chris, Me too,” Julie said with a grin as she kept reading the letter.

If that’s okay with you of course. Anyway, I’m rambling. Do you like working as a waitress? What do you mean by you don’t know? Have you thought of anything specific as a career? I know, lots of questions but I am curious. After all, we’ll be writing letters to each other, it’s a lot different than texting. I’ve got to make these letters worth it, you know? And you’re still young, you have your whole life ahead of you. I bet you heard that a bunch of times, but it’s true. Even though it may feel like you are running out of time, you’re not. Trust me.

A little about me, I’m thirty-seven years old, I have a wonderful career in the arts, not married but I do have a dog named Dodger. He’s the best. Like a son, I might add. I too began therapy for my anxiety, although, I like to think I have it under control, I still need the help. I probably always will. Whatever comes from this project, I hope it’s the start of something amazing. Something that will probably help millions.

Your Pal, Chris.

P.S. I personally like, ‘Toodles.’ But that’s my opinion. ‘Later Vader,’ is pretty lit, that’s what kids nowadays say right? Lit? Anyway, I am indeed a Star Wars fan so that saves you the trouble of having to ask to be reassigned to a different person.

“ha, toodles,” Julie chuckled at the last part. She couldn’t help but wondered more about Chris. What was he like? What kind of things he was interested in? Julie had all these questions popping up in her head and she only had one way to get them to stop. “Time to get to writing,” Julie said as she got off her bed and walked over to her small desk.

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