#the very thought of you and then i’m blue a love supreme seems hard removed i get along without you very well some other nights | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solohux · 3 years

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After finishing the mandalorian i’m obsessed with Great single dads of star wars. Could you write a single dad kylo ren prompt? Hux Goes in to kylos chambers to yell at him for being late to a meeting But stops when he sees kylo holding his crying young daughter just talking to her softly and rocking her. Hux can only watch in awe, he has never seen the knight so gentle and soft!

The sheer audacity of the Master of Ren astounds General Hux. He mutters foul curses to himself whilst marching to Kylo’s chambers with his datapad clutched tightly in his hands with the relevant evidence present of his inexcusable absence of both of today’s important meetings. As supposed co-commander of this ship and Hux’s supposed equal, Kylo is obligated to attend the same conferences and take part in the same presentations but he has chosen to miss both the budget and armoury meetings today, and Hux has had enough.

Kylo is about to be on the receiving end of a very irate General Hux, one who won’t hesitate to report his shortcomings to the Supreme Leader and demand that Kylo be removed from his post and sent back to the playpen where his immature attitudes belong.

Luckily, Hux’s master-override code works on the lock of Kylo’s chamber doors too.

“Master Ren!” Hux announces loudly upon entering the Knight’s private rooms, clearing his throat and readying himself to thrust his datapad in Kylo’s face and show him the day’s schedule. “I demand an answer—uuhh.”

Hux freezes on the spot and his anger stiffens along with him, turning into confusion. The Knight is dressed in such casual attire that he’s almost unrecognisable, wearing soft greys instead of all black for once and his hair tied back from his face. But the most puzzling thing is what’s sitting in his lap; a young girl, no older than 3, is crying quietly with her face pressed against his chest.

“Ren?” Hux manages to squeak out his co-commanders name but Kylo throws his palm up to silence Hux, and the General obeys.

“Deep breathes, Mira,” Kylo says softly, sitting back against his fire-red coloured couch, cuddling the girl and kissing her head of dark hair. “Close your eyes. The darkness will help.”

“Hurts, Daddy,” the girl—Mira—says, rubbing her forehead. She’s dressed in soft-looking pyjamas, her little socked toes wiggling with her obvious discomfort.

“I know, sweetheart.” Out of the corner of Hux’s eye, he sees a pink, plaid patterned blanket floating from the adjoining bedroom and into Kylo’s hand. As soon as it’s in his hold, he drapes it over the girl’s body and wraps her up, rocking her gently as he talks quietly. “Daddy used to get headaches like this when he was little.”

The girl opens her eyes, and Hux sees their bright blue shine, “You did, Daddy?”

“Yeah. My powers hurt me sometimes too.”

“Did your Daddy make you better?”

Hux cocks his head, frowning as he sees such strong emotion flicker in Kylo’s expression. The usually-fierce Knight looks lost right now, hurtful memories obviously playing back in his mind.

“He did,” Kylo says, forcing a smile. “He always made my headaches go away.”

Hux knows very little about Kylo’s life before he came to the First Order but what he does know, he thought of it as being spoilt and uptight. The son of two rebellion heroes? Surely Kylo would have had it so cushy that he would have been crazy to leave such wealth and power behind him—despite the Order being the right side to be on, of course—but from the distant look in his eyes, Hux realises that he may have misunderstood his co-commander all this time.

“Try to sleep, Mira,” Kylo says, whispering to his daughter. “Hush, sweetheart. Daddy’s here.”

Hux’s heart melts. Even though she’s in such pain, Mira smiles as she closes her eyes and nestles against her father’s chest, drifting off to sleep with the sounds of him humming softly to her. In his heart, Hux almost feels jealous at witnessing a child so loved and protected when he has never known a love like this, never protected by his father or held when he cried. Mira is clearly a loved, happy little girl.

And Kylo Ren is everything that Hux believed him incapable of.

When Mira is finally asleep, Kylo stands up slowly with the girl in his arms and carries her into the adjoining room—which Hux assumes to be a bedchamber—before emerging again without her.

“None of your officers know that she exists,” Kylo says in a hushed tone, clearly not wanting to wake his sleeping child. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

“She’s…your daughter?”

“Incredible observation skills, General Hux,” Kylo retorts, sitting back down on the couch.

“Your biological daughter?”

“Do all Imperials ask such personal questions?” The Knight raises a frustrated eyebrow but Hux isn’t intimidated. “Yes. She is.”

“I see,” Hux says, pondering the implications for a moment before gathering himself. “And, her other parent?”

Kylo’s confident gaze falters as he shakes his head. “Not here. It’s just me. It’s always just been me.”

A single parent. Hux now understands Kylo’s absences, “You have my word that I won’t divulge a single detail about her to anyone.”

Kylo nods courteously, “Thank you. She woke this morning with a headache and I couldn’t leave her. They’re caused by her Force sensitivity, she can’t control her powers properly yet.”

“I gathered. Just like you when you were young?”

“Exactly like me. They’re debilitating if you leave them for too long.”

“And what is the cure, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Kylo seems to hesitate for a moment before answering, “Close contact with someone you share a close Force-bond with.”

“Ah,” Hux rocks back on his heels. “Then I suppose that’s why your own father was such a help with your own headaches.”

Kylo looks down, swallowing hard. “What did you want, Hux?”

“Oh. Yes. Uh.” Hux looks down to his datapad and sees the schedule still waiting to be used in evidence against Kylo’s absence from the meetings but it seems rather redundant now, having seen the gentle side to Kylo that Hux never knew existed. “The…uh. I just came to inform you of what went on in today’s briefings.”

“The budget and armoury meetings,” Kylo says, sitting forward. “I would have been there but Mira—”

“No, no. I understand, Ren. If I had a daughter, she would come first too.”

The Knight’s young face becomes unreadable as he stands up and closes the gap between them, standing so close to Hux that he’s able to count the moles on his face.

“Your understanding means a lot to me, General Hux,” Kylo says, sounding more like the co-commander that Hux has come to know instead of the soft, fatherly voice that he’s just been speaking in, making Hux feel almost privileged to have heard it. “I hope…I hope we can improve our relationship from now on.”

Hux has to resist the urge to flinch when Kylo thrusts his hand out at him, thinking that he’s going to hit him but he’s offering a handshake, clearly one of truce in their bickering wars.

“I hope so too, Master Ren,” Hux takes Kylo’s hand and shakes it, feeling as though he’s meeting the young man for the first time.

Their gaze holds longer than socially acceptable for two people who aren’t lovers but it doesn’t make Hux uncomfortable in the slightest; he welcomes Kylo’s beautiful eyes upon him.

“I’d better be leaving,” Hux says, pulling his hand free of Kylo’s. “I’ll have the briefings summaries and sent to your datapad for your reading.”

“Thank you,” Kylo smiles.

Hux turns and leaves before the bright red blush can take over his face, now enamoured by Kylo instead of angered. Their reconciling handshake may have built bridges between them but it also seems to have carved out a soft spot for the young, single father. And as he walks back to his office, Hux wonders what the perameters are for courting someone who is a feared Knight and a gentle father. He’s going to make it his mission to spend more time with Kylo; his budding feelings for him demands it.

Back in his chambers, Kylo finds himself smiling like a fool at the door when his daughter’s voice disturbs his thoughts.

“Daddy?”

Kylo turns around, finding Mira hugging the doorframe, standing on her tip-toes as though trying to be as tall her father.

“What is it, little one?” Kylo scoops her up and holds her on his hip, kissing her cheek.

Mira looks to the door, “I like him.”

Kylo smiles, following her gaze and sighing. “Me too, sweetheart.”

#kylux #kylux babies #m:writing #i had to stop myself from going on and on and on #this was so fun to write #thank you for prompting me love!#i hope you like it! <3

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

The Shape of You (3/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

7.4k ; CW: mentions of injury, mentions of past torture, angst

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

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When you wake, it is dark once again.

For a moment, you blink and stare at the ceiling, the phantom image of his face swimming in the inky black of night. Holding on to that face, you tentatively reach a hand out into the air, hoping to touch him, hoping to feel something.

In the end, it is nothing but empty air, and your hand drops.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swingin’ dancers on the radio blare once again, an official signal that the time for dreaming is over.

With this new encounter, this new…you don’t even know what it is, you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken. Everything is the same – you will get up to brew your coffee, Armitage will pound against the wall, you will share your breakfast and take three buses to work – but simultaneously, nothing will ever be the same again. Because possibly for the first time in many years, you do not dread the thought of going to work.

Not that you dreaded it, work, not really. It was a good job, an important job, a job that was part of something bigger, much bigger than yourself. But you could not deny the excitement that simmers just below your skin at the thought of it.

The thought of seeing him again.

“You’re chipper this morning.” Armitage scowls as he opens the door for you, a bright cheerful smile on your face.

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.” You breeze right past him, placing the percolator down on his pot-holder that he keeps on the counter just for this very occasion. Immediately going to his cupboards, you begin to remove the flour and sugar, giving him a knowing glance and asking even though you know the answer, “Pancakes?”

“Please, god knows I’m going to need something sweet today.” He groans, moves to sit at the table.

Sometimes, you can’t help but think how domestic this is. How your friendship had blossomed into a bond so much stronger than you had ever expected. You wonder if Armitage thinks it too, if he ever is reminded of a lifetime ago, when he was married to a beautiful woman and had a house in the suburbs, if when you pour his coffee and flip pancakes on the stove, his heart aches for that long gone time.

If he does, he says nothing about it, so you don’t bring it up.

“What have they done now?” You ask instead, knowing that this is a topic of conversation in which Armitage will always have something to say, always have something to complain about.

“It’s just these essays. Half the class it would seem, completely missed the point of the extra credit film.” He sighs, gesturing to a stack of papers once again sitting on the kitchen table.

“Oh that’s alright, at least Boris is happy.” Sliding pancakes off of the pan and onto a plate, you douse them in a generous helping of syrup and powdered sugar for the both of you, before moving to sit opposite him at the table.

Just then, the lights flicker on and off, making you both frown. The power had never had much of an issue before, what with the movie theater just downstairs needing those extra generators. You glance out the window, it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t windy – both telltale signs of potential power failure.

“Do you ever worry about what will happen when he has to shut down the building?” Armitage grumbles, carefully and very specifically cutting his stack of pancakes into wedge pieces.

“No, because he won’t.” You shut that train of thought down at once within him, knowing that while he likes to pretend otherwise, your Professor has a proclivity for the dramatics unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. “He has renters for a reason after all, and the summer tourists bring in enough to make ends meet.”

Armitage thinks about that for a moment or two, before accepting the answer.

“You’re right.” He concedes, sounding resigned.

“I’m always right.” You wink, and the two of you finish your breakfast in companionable silence.

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

When you leave Armitage’s apartment and go back to your own, you cannot deny the rush that is the thought of seeing him again. It seems so silly, and of course it is silly, but something in you wants to look nice for him.

You fix your hair and pick out your cleanest most nicely ironed uniform, concerned for the first time about how it fits you, how it forms to your body. It is a modest uniform – you are a cleaning woman after all – but you find that despite the drab color palette and utilitarian shape, you look good. The clock chimes, and you realize that there isn’t much time to fuss, so instead of standing in front of the mirror, you pick a pair of heels off your grand shoe display, and hope that he finds the bright blue color appealing.

Dawdling had never been a trait of yours before, and now you understand why.

The bus is sitting and waiting at the stop when you exit your apartment building, and you run in those bright blue heels as fast as your legs can take you to make it just in time. The click-clack of your steps on the pavement alert everyone nearby, as you bolt towards the bus. Water on the ground from the night’s dew reflects the colors of the neon signs all around you, and when your foot splashes in one of the light puddles, a rainbow scatters around your ankles.

You make a beeline straight for the doors, which are open and welcoming you like a warm embrace, and only once the momentum of your body has thrown you into your seat, do you let out a long exhale.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry!” You could bury your face into your hands with how embarrassed you are, but your hands are shaking from the adrenaline of nearly missing the bus.

Missing this bus would have been bad, very very bad. It would have meant that you’d be late to work, and you have never once, not in the entire ten years on the job, have you been late for work. Such an irregularity would have raised suspicion, would have called attention to you – more attention than there already was. They wouldn’t like that, it would compromise your larger job, your more important mission -- you could not afford to be late. So, you sigh with relief and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest; all was well, you are on the bus, it did not pull away from the stop without you on it, you will be there on time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N), no need to apologize, you know I’ll always wait for you.” Mr. Henry’s kind eyes glance at you with amusement through the rearview mirror, and you once again thank your lucky stars to have a friend like him.

Much like Armitage, you had never expected to befriend the bus driver. You had of course planned on being friendly and polite, but the extent to which you enjoyed the elderly man’s company had surprised you. And what’s more, you were constantly surprised by his willingness to be friendly with you in return. It reminded you that perhaps, there was a solidarity at the bottom – when there is no one to look out for the people like you and him, you look out for one another.

Could Mr. Henry have gotten in trouble by waiting for you? Would he be late to his other stops now? These were questions that you couldn’t help but think, but you have to wonder if they were questions he considered. Surely it would have been easier to simply leave you behind, but he hadn’t done such a thing, and you cannot express how grateful you are for that.

You resolve to thank him somehow, some way more meaningful than simply the words. It strikes you then, that despite speaking to one another every day, you still know very little about the man. You know he has a beautiful wife and a blossoming garden, you know he picks up a cup of coffee from the donut shop before starting his route, and you know which music stations he prefers to listen to. But beyond that, you have both remained relatively private.

He was not so different from you in that regard, you suppose.

Most people are not so different from one another, you suppose.

“For absolutely no reason at all, what is your favorite type of baked good, Mr. Henry?” You ask after a few moments, when the bus has left the stop and has continued its route, the Las Vegas strip a myriad of lights and colors, blinking and twirling in the night.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that – ”

“But I want to.” You insist, “Please let me?”

He looks up at you once again through the rearview window, and you see the sparkle of a smile in his eye. You wonder when the last time someone did something kind for him was, someone doing it just out of the want to see him happy.

“I may or may not be fond of those caramel brownies you make.” Sheepishly, almost as if he will be scolded for revealing such information, he confesses this to you.

You recall a time when you had to bring something to the company party, a holiday get together many years ago. You had been charged with bringing a dessert, and as a thank you to Mr. Henry’s continual kindness and hard work, you offered him one.

It makes you strangely emotional, to know that he had enjoyed it enough to remember it, after all these years.

“How very interesting to know.” You smile, and he smiles back, before he turns his attention to the next bus stop, and your window for conversation comes to a close.

She is waiting for you at the bus exchange today, standing and huddled in the large group of other passengers. It is chilly out in the desert tonight, and she has a beautiful black and white checkerboard coat wrapped around her body. In moments like these, watching the steam and fog of the bus exchange plume around her feet, Gwendoline reminds you of a movie star.

Perhaps in another life, her face would light up the screen, her silvery blonde hair and striking cheekbones commanding every man in the theater to fall head over heels in love with her. Sometimes she talks about it, about moving away from this city, about quitting her job.

Perhaps in another life, you might go with her.

Armitage would surely come too, wouldn’t he? He could get a job as a professor anywhere, he could pack up his apartment and join you and Gwen on a trip to Los Angeles, or New York City, or perhaps somewhere abroad – but you can’t, can you. You can’t leave.

And so, as selfish as it is, you hope that Gwen never leaves either, because you’re not so sure what you would do, were she to go.

This is especially true, as she catches sight of you politely making your way to where she is standing, and she smiles and throws a hand up to wave to you, as if you didn’t already see her. Gwen was, in so many ways, a beacon of color in the world of black and grey.

“(Y/N)!” She hollers happily to you, competing with the noise of the bus exchange.

The hiss and hydraulics of brakes and doors opening and closing, the sound of engines revving and radios humming, of the news playing on black and white screens behind a window of glass, of people talking and smoking and eating and laughing even though it’s too early for it all, still through this noise Gwen’s voice cuts through.

“Morning,” You smile back at her, offering a thermos as is your tradition every morning. “Coffee?”

“You’re a saint,” Gwen responds, accepting it as is her tradition. “Oh I love when you wear the blue shoes!”

She takes a step back for you to point your toe and extend your leg ever so slightly, the dazzling satin shining like sapphires in the artificial light of the fluorescent overheads. One of the men waiting in the crowd with you lets out a whistle when your skirt rides up just enough to show a little thigh, and you have to physically restrain Gwendoline from snapping her teeth at him.

“I really like this pair, I don’t know why I don’t wear them more often.” Chuckling just a little at your friend’s fierce protective nature, you draw her attention back to the shoes. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight just minutes before being in an enclosed crowded space together.

“Maybe because they’re the least practical thing for a janitor?” Gwendoline mutters, still shooting the man dirty looks. He has, thankfully, backed off – probably for his own safety. Rarely do men ever expect women to snap back, and oh how Gwendoline’s bite is worse than her bark.

“Maybe, but they are so beautiful.” You shrug, and this at the very least, Gwen can understand.

“Come, I think that’s our bus now.” She whispers to you so as to not draw the attention of the crowd around you, knowing how the rush of everyone wanting to get onto the bus and secure a seat can often lead to a mob.

Sure enough, as she pushes her way to the front and you follow her diligently, when the bus rounds the corner and the pushing and shoving begins, you two are already on your way to the back of the bus, coats and purses in your laps, a deck of cards ready to be shuffled.

In the back of the bus, you and Gwen hide your faces behind a hand of cards each, a game of Go Fish that you are sorely losing. You almost wish that the bus would hit a bump in the road, so that the cards could go scattering all over the floor and you wouldn’t be shamed with the loss, but then the thought of having to clean it all up makes you reconsider.

Gwen, for her part, doesn’t ease up on you one bit, a great big grin on her face as she claims yet another of your cards for her own little pile.

“I dreamt of him again.” You bring up, as nonchalantly as you can.

The bus has greatly reduced down its number of passengers, thankfully. No longer packed like sardines, you and Gwen have enough room to spread out, your belongings no longer piled up on your lap. Instead, they rest on the seat just across the little aisle, as you normally do. Still, it’s not entirely empty, there are quite a few stops to go before the bus pulls over into the dark of the desert and identification is requested.

All this means, is that while you can speak, it has to still be in hushed tones, lest someone from outside the building’s personnel overhear. Gwen hears you perfectly well despite your near whisper, and her face practically alights in the same way those flood lights search the sky.

“Please tell me there’s a face this time!” She abandons the cards to grasp at your hands.

For someone who prides herself on practicality, Gwendoline was incredibly invested in these dreams that you have. Every time you bring it up, she is genuinely and completely interested in hearing more, and you’re more than happy to indulge her.

“There is, and you won’t believe it, but it was, well, it was the Asset.” The last word is whispered so quietly that you might as well just be mouthing the words.

Upon hearing this, her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“You’ve seen him?” Her shocked whisper makes you cast a glance around.

Good, you think, no one is paying any attention to you, everyone who is left has seated themselves at the front of the bus, knowing that they will be getting off soon and not wanting to have to shuffle through the narrow aisle.

“I – ”

“(Y/N) you didn’t sneak into the lab after all that, did you?” Gwendoline suddenly turns frustrated, exasperated with you. She hisses through clenched teeth, “After that creep Tarkin warned us specifically not to do that very thing?”

“I couldn’t help it Gwen, you can’t tell me that you’re not so curious to know what’s going on in there!” You explain, and she only scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I’m curious! But I also have some sense of self-preservation.” She looks down at where her hands are clutching yours, turns your palms over in hers. You look down, see how calloused and rough the both of your hands are from a decade of harsh chemicals and hard work. “What if that man is dangerous? What if he hurts you?”

“He can’t, he’s behind bulletproof glass, I don’t think he can even hurt himself with how secure they’ve got him.” You try reassuring her, and it seems that at least for the moment, she is convinced.

Chewing on her lip for a moment or two, eventually she relents to your assurances, and a great big smile spreads over her face once more. You have half a mind to ask her what lipstick she’s wearing, and there you go again, daydreaming about looking nice for this man…

“What does he look like?” Gwen snaps you out of your reverie, and you duck your head, bashful.

You’ve been thinking about him and the way he looks ever since you laid your eyes on him, on his incredibly impressive frame.

“He’s huge. Built like a refrigerator, tall and wide. His face was hard to see, he wears a mask that covers nearly half of it, but his hair is long and dark, and his eyes…” You can see it so clearly, there in your mind’s eye; can see his flexing biceps, the abs, the thick trail of hair that disappears behind those swim trunks they have him in.

With a knowing smile and a shake of her head, Gwendoline sighs.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question, as it is a resignation. She knew you well enough to know that once you’ve decided something, once you’ve put your mind to something, there was very little that could stop you.

If only she knew how deep that sentiment ran.

“I have to, I promised him that I would.” You say, that giddy excitement returning to you once more.

You know that the lab is going to be on your list, you and Gwen are the only ones with high enough clearance for it, you know that at some point in the day, you’ll be face to face with him once again. And that thought thrills you, it has your leg bouncing, your pulse quickening.

Gwen can feel it in your palms, and she lets go of your hands so that you can fiddle with something to keep those busy fingers satisfied.

“Just…just be safe, okay?” She whispers, “You know I’ll cover for you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Much like Armitage, and even like Boris, or Mr. Henry, you find yourself once again wondering how you got so lucky to have friends so willing to look out for you. You would do the same for any of them in a heartbeat, of course, but something about the knowledge that Gwen would lie to Mrs. Parker, or even Robert – something that could risk her job – made your heart clench.

“I promise.” You whisper.

She looks at you hard, trying to see what thoughts are going on inside your head, before letting the conversation go entirely, picking up her cards once again, determined to beat you at a few more hands before pulling up to the shuttle stop.

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

The morning passes uneventfully, as the mornings typically do. Today though, there’s an undeniable pep in your step, a glow about you that the other janitors notice. It’s not that they hadn’t noticed you before, they had of course – but with Gwendoline around, usually she absorbed all the attention. It was flustering to be on the receiving end of it, listening as the boys in the halls got a little too chummy with you, thinking your smiles were for them. Things like:

“Lookin’ good (Y/N)!”

“Where are you off to with a smile that big?”

“Fancy a smoke with me and the boys?”

Are whistled and shot your way, much to your amusement -- funny what a little confidence and a pair of heels could do!

You politely reject everyone’s advances, diligent about getting your work done and doing it well. The sooner you finish everything on your clipboard, the sooner you can get to the lab. It’s on your list, as you knew it would be, but it’s so far down and comes after so many other tasks, that you feel as though Mrs. Parker knew you were eager to return to the tank and the man inside of it.

Thoughts of the man consume you, as you go about your list. Nothing was too strenuous today which you were grateful for, it wouldn’t do to be too exhausted to spend time with him. So, as you empty all the little trashcans and ashtrays, as you clean windows and glass panes in offices, as you take the great dust broom to the floors, you let yourself wonder about him.

What were they doing to him today? Were they going to hurt him again? Would he kill someone again?

The last time you saw him, he was wounded, and that bacta shit had healed him. Would they be wounding him further, or did they have what they needed? You wondered if the scientists in the lab would be so careless as to leave their notes out again. The boys back home would be more than interested in reading further developments, you were sure.

Reminded of the boys, you feel more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on with this man, why he’s there in the first place. Surely he must be Russian, why else would the government be so keen on keeping him as contained as he is? Although, you don’t recall ever seeing a plane like the one that was being dissected in that warehouse, so maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t human at all…the thought pops into your head, and you blink it away.

The stories of alien life in Area 51 were just that – stories. No matter how often you liked to joke about them with Gwen, that’s all that it was, just jokes. Still, that ion engine, the strange shape of the wings, the strange gel that seems to have otherworldly healing properties…it raised so many questions that you simply didn’t have any answers to.

As you sweep the floors, back and forth and back and forth with your big dust broom, you wonder if perhaps you’ll be able to speak to the man. Perhaps he could give you some answers, perhaps you could help him.

You have no idea how you could, but maybe if the two of you worked together, you could figure out a way. One thing was for certain, you felt something for this mystery man. A sense of protection, a bond of some sort. It didn’t have a name, didn’t have much to define it at all – but it was there. Much like the dream, that reoccurring dream, it was indefinite and blurred around the edges, but it was there all the same.

For a brief moment, you wonder what the man dreams about.

You wonder if he dreams at all, in the tank.

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

Time passes strangely, in the building. You’re certain that you’ve just gotten there, had just hopped off the shuttle with Gwen – but in the blink of an eye, it’s lunch time. Gwendoline very shyly lets you know that she’s going to be having lunch with Mary, and true to your word the other day, you’re nothing but encouraging.

Besides, it means that you could spend your lunch in the lab, it was the next place on your list anyway, no one could be angry with you for being there, no one could accuse you of being out of place. In the locker room though, you find yourself frozen, standing in front of the little metal locker that you call yours. There’s a compact in your purse, and you pull it out, look at yourself, really look at yourself.

You feel so foolish for all this, especially when you open Gwen’s locker and find one of her tubes of lipstick. She always keeps a couple in her locker for emergencies, something you found silly, but now are eternally grateful for. Picking out a shade that best compliments your skin tone, you apply it carefully. The damn thing is likely going to smudge anyway while you eat your lunch, but at the very least you’ll look put together when you first arrive at the lab.

He better be appreciative of all this, you think to yourself with a nervous chuckle, he better care about all the effort you’re going through. Gwen would tell you that men never care, but she’s not here right now, off playing footsie in the courtyard with Mary.

As you walk the halls down in the bowels of the building, you realize how utterly alone you are in here. Everyone is on lunch, all the scientists, the janitors, the management. Not a single soul is in these halls, the greenish bluish light no competition for the sunshine that waits them near the picnic tables outside. You don’t mind, not one bit, and in fact it thrills you, the thought that you might be with him all alone.

Swiping your keycard through the little number pad, the doors beep and slowly open. Three layers of bulletproof steel slide open, one set horizontally, one set vertically, and one set diagonally. This lab would likely be perfectly impenetrable, in case of an attack, but you recognize that as well designed as it is to keep things out, it is also designed to keep things in.

Things like the man, who finally, after what seems like a lifetime, you will get to see again.

The lab is, much like the rest of this wing of the building, empty.

Once again you are faced with the mechanical nature of it all, the dark grey metal walls and floor, the tables with all sorts of piles stacked high atop them. The lighting is dark, kept dim, even dimmer than the halls outside. You hold your breath as the doors shut behind you, as they lock time and time again, sealing the lab away from the rest of the world.

You park your janitorial cart against the wall, your brown paper bag lunch clutched in your hands, just for something to hold, something to keep your hands occupied so that they don’t shake.

"Hello?" You call out gently, hopefully.

The tank is on the far end of the lab, and you take care to approach it cautiously. There are a million bubbles filling the tank, the bacta gel having been disturbed, and recently. Those bubbles trap the air and make the gel look nearly white with all the foam. You have to get closer, have to approach the glass, straining to see inside it.

“It’s just me, I’ve come back to visit you.” You try again, this time speaking a little louder. Maybe he just couldn’t hear you, through the glass and the gel.

Bracing yourself for him to scare the shit out of you with a startling appearance, you nearly press your nose to the tank. But seconds go by, and there is no activity. A deep deep sense of disappointment and fear spike through your body – if he was not here, where was he? What had they done to him? Where had they taken him? Was he alright -- ?

The immediate string of questions is interrupted by a splashing sound coming from your left, and you whirl around, clutching the brown paper bag to your chest.

He is out of the tank, but he is still here, still in the room with you. For whatever reason, he has been moved from the tank to the pool, and you know this because as you watch with wide eyes, he rises up out of the water, standing up to his full height on his two legs, strong legs, powerful thighs that flex and carry his body towards you.

Remaining perfectly still, you do your best not to gasp. You had thought perhaps, the glass from the tank had distorted his proportions, maybe he wasn’t nearly as big as you had thought. But you’re wrong, he’s even bigger somehow, in the flesh, in front of you. He must be over six feet tall, and twice as wide as the normal man, or at least, twice as wide as any man you had ever seen.

But the most unexpected thing of all, is that he is not wearing the mask.

You have a clear, unobstructed view of his face for the first time, and it takes your breath away. He is utterly, completely, totally handsome. Your imagination could have never come up with the configuration of his features, never in a million years. His nose, so strong and proud looks slightly broken from the front, but when he shakes the water away from his hair and you catch sight of his profile, it is beautifully sloped and triangular. His lips have to be the most full and plush that you’ve ever seen, his ears are large as they poke out from the dark drenched blackness of his hair.

You’re staring, you know you are, but he doesn’t seem deterred. In fact, he’s staring right back at you, looking at you with soulful brown eyes that seem to be sharper than anything you’ve ever seen, eyes that seem to be taking you in with the same level of intensity that you do him.

“Oh!” You realize that he can hear you now, you realize that this is the chance you’ve been hoping for, so you reach out your hand for him to shake, and offer him a friendly, “Hello.”

The man’s eyes track the movement in a way that can only be described as predatory, as an apex creature focusing all their energy on their prey. Strangely though, you don’t feel like prey. Keeping your hand extended, you take slow even breaths, showing him that you mean no harm, showing him that you won’t hurt him.

You’re not like those men, those scientists, you won’t hurt him.

“My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself, speaking as carefully and clearly as you can. “What’s your name? Can you understand me?”

The man simply looks at you, as if in a trance of some kind. You look around, check over your shoulder to make sure, absolutely sure, that no one is around.

Once you’re determined that the coast is clear, and this man continues to take in the sight of you, you move one step forward, closer to the edge of the pool.

“Can you understand me now?” These words come in another language, a switch of your tongue that would have you arrested on site if anyone had heard.

He frowns, confused, and you wonder if this is the first time anyone has tried being polite to him since his capture. You’re about to retract your hand, when suddenly, he lifts his own, his arm tensing as he reaches for you – only to be stopped by long chains that are attached to cuffs on each of his wrists, and to the metal collar he wears around his throat.

The man looks at his bindings, and strains against them with a strangled shout of frustration. His muscles bulge, but it’s to no avail, whatever he has been shackled in, is too strong for him to break through. You have to sit, your legs unable to support you for the moment as you take him all in. Settling on a step near the edge of the pool, you lean in enough for this man to do the same. He too sits, just on the other side of the edge, as close to you as the chains will allow.

Reaching your hand further, further, further still, the man freezes as you place a palm to his cheek. The skin of his scar is smooth, and you find that surprising, as you stroke his face. Eyes closing, the man lets out a shaky shuddering exhale, nuzzling into your palm. He reminds you of a bear trapped in spiked teeth out in the forest, or a lion in the cage of a circus.

“Why do they have you chained and collared like this, why are you here?” The Russian flows freely now, you no longer hold it back the way that you might have in front of anyone else.

Then, suddenly, the strangest noises come out of his mouth. You think that he might be in pain for a minute, but then you realize no, he is speaking to you, impassioned and desperate, his voice is deep, rumbling, coming from the depths of his chest, a baritone that vibrates down inside your bones.

This is the voice that you heard in your dream, you realize. The voice parroting your words back to you, now you know why it had sounded so strange, so off. This man didn’t speak English, and he had only been mimicking the sounds, not knowing what it meant. You’re not sure what this man speaks, and it pains you, it pains you to not share this with him.

“I – I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You have to cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth to interrupt him, to get him to stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what you’re saying, if he can understand but not translate it out of his own mouth, you don’t know. “I’m familiar with ten different languages but yours isn’t one of them, I’m sorry.”

The man looks so sad, devastated, and that at least feels like maybe he can understand you. All at once, you recognize that if he can understand you, there may be hope. Perhaps if you both learn to communicate in a way that doesn’t rely on words, perhaps if you can find a way, you can help him.

That will require some planning, great planning, careful planning.

The man is watching you, he rests his head on the ledge of the pool, his black hair slinking and sliding down the strong muscles of his back. It is as if he is telling you to not be afraid of him, the very same way you were trying to tell him not to be afraid of you.

It strikes you, for a moment, how human he is. Even if by some cosmic improbability he is an alien, he is human. His stomach growls then, loudly, so loudly that it makes you laugh, and you shut yourself up immediately, afraid of scaring him with the noise. He doesn’t go anywhere though, his eyes only widen, making you smile.

The man mimics the motion, smiling back at you, a small laugh of his own.

He has dimples, you think, as you only grow more and more attached to him, and his teeth are so crooked.

“Here, I don’t know what kind of shit they feed you, but you must be hungry.” You rifle through the little brown paper bag that you’ve been holding in a death grip this entire time, pulling out the first thing you see. The clementine fills your palm, you offer it to him cautiously, encouraging, “Go ahead, you can have it, I promise it’s okay.”

The man, wherever he has come from, must not have seen one of these before, because he takes it in his hand and immediately goes to bite through the rind. Your hand flies out and grabs his before he can do so, and despite it all, you laugh again.

He scowls, thinking you’re making fun of him, so you simply shake your head and demonstrate how to peel the hard outer flesh of the fruit away.

“Don’t make fun of me for the way I peel it, I can never get it to come off in one go.” You mutter, wondering wondering wondering if he can understand you.

Watching diligently and carefully, he sits patiently at the edge of the pool, his palm extended, resting near your hands. Piece by piece you peel the clementine, always trying to get it in one spiral but failing, as usual. Eventually, once the floor has been littered with peel and the clementine is bare, you pry the citrus into segments, and place one in his hand.

It looks so small, comically small in the man’s palm, even smaller as he raises the piece to his mouth and pops it in between his teeth, the juice squirting into your face, making you laugh once again. The man’s face lights up immediately, already asking with those strangled sounding words that you cannot understand, a language foreign to even your ears.

“It’s good right?” You hope that that’s what he’s saying, you hope that he likes it. Giving him the whole thing, you watch as he delicately pulls the segments apart. “Bright and sweet. It’s just about the only thing bright in this whole place, hm?”

Instead of eating the entire thing as you would have expected him to do, the man thoughtfully gives you half of the segments. You notice that they are the larger pieces, the ones that must be more flavorful, juicier. He is kind, you decide, kind enough to offer you the better of the halves at the very least.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, knowing he cannot answer. “Why do they torture you so?”

There are no fresh wounds this time, you are glad to see. Nothing healing or inflicted, just the smoothed over scars. You long to touch them, the pink lines that mar his flesh, but he is a person of agency, and you will not disrespect him the way that these scientists do.

So instead, you offer your hand out to him once more, and after careful consideration, the man presses his cheek against your palm. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against the little beauty marks and freckles that pepper his skin, and you sigh.

“I’m going to figure out a way for us to communicate. I don’t know how, but I will.” You tell him, tell yourself, “You won’t be alone, I’ll help you, I just need to figure out how.”

Out in the hall beyond the sealed off lab, a bell chimes, signaling that lunch is over. Regret and disappointment rise up in your throat like acid, you don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to go away from him. He has been in your dreams, all this time, it has been him, of this you’re now sure. But you have a job, you have a responsibility, and you cannot lose it now.

Pulling away, he makes a noise of protest, and this is a noise you can understand.

“I have to clean. You can watch me, if you’d like, but I can’t just sit here all day, or else they’ll be very angry with me.” You explain to him, willing him to understand, “And if they’re angry, then I can’t visit again.”

The man sighs, chews on the segmented clementine.

With that, you move to the other side of the lab where you’ve parked your cart. The only thing on the list is to mop the floors, and you find that you hate that, you wish there were more, wish that you could have more time. You never thought you’d think this, but you hate how efficient you’ve become, how they’ve entrusted you with the jobs they know you are quick at. It is a double edged sword, because if you weren’t good at it, then maybe they wouldn’t have assigned this lab to you in the first place.

Dunking your mop in the solution that you make yourself – vinegar and baking soda, and a little dish soap – you begin to work, the thing you’re actually there for. It is very obvious that he’s watching you, from his spot in the pool. He walks back and forth, almost stalking you, his hulking frame tethered to you by an invisible string. When you go to the right, so does he. When you double back to the left, he goes as well. You smile, hoping that he finds the incredible mundanity of it all not so mundane.

“You’re very handsome. I’m only saying this because I know you’ve got no idea what it is that I’m saying, otherwise I’d be dying of embarrassment. But you’re handsome.” You admit when your back is turned to him, swishing the mop this way and that, picking up the little stains and debris that have stuck to the floor in the time since it was last mopped. “I was wondering what your face looked like, without the mask.”

You continue to mop, and he continues to watch you.

In a strange sense, it is almost like a dance. The sound of the water splashing as he moves back and forth, as he creates little waves and currents, acts as a rhythm, a steady beat to which you mop. His breathing is calm, and he seems to be in a relaxed mood. Maybe he has been hypnotized by the repetitive motions that you make, or maybe, a hopeful part of you thinks, maybe he feels completely at ease with you.

The thought sours in the back of your throat, because you know that once you have finished this, you will have to leave.

You prolong it, you try your best, you really do. But eventually there comes a point in which you cannot procrastinate any longer, you cannot draw it out. The floor is mopped, your clipboard is checked.

Carefully, walking over the freshly mopped tiles slowly and deliberately so that you don’t slip, you sit on the edge of the pool once again, something painful like sorrow making your head hurt.

“I’m done.” You whisper, “I have to go now.”

He’s alarmed by this, the man. He seizes forward, rushes to reach for you with wide panicked eyes, but the chains around his neck yank him back, and he stumbles for a moment, nearly loses his footing in the water. You could cry, with the desperation in the words that he speaks, with the way he reaches for you with bound hands.

You lean as far into the pool as you can, your arms wrapping around him, nearly toppling over into the water with how far forward you are. You don’t care, so what if you should fall? You cannot bear to see him so sad, and so you pull him into an embrace. He holds you tightly, hands curling in your hair, breathing in your smell.

“I know, I know I’m sorry – I don’t want to leave you. But I’ve got more work to do.” Your voice wobbles, hating this, hating how he’s chained, hating how he’s going to be all alone, how he’s going to be tortured and harmed in your absence. You hate it, and he doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell by how strong of a grip he has on you as he talks and talks and talks in a language you don’t know.

There is nothing you can do today though, to help him. For the first time in your life, you feel overwhelmingly insignificant, in the way that you can’t do anything to help him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, even if it’s not on the list, okay? I’ll come back, I promise.” Your hands cup his cheeks, looking at one another, your eyes boring into his. “I’ll always come back.”

You let go of him now though, and you turn your back to him, mopping up your steps so that the footprints do not give you away.

Swiping your keycard through the number pad once more, the doors open for you, and you do your best not to cry when you hear his pained shout muffled behind the steel.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader insert #supreme leader kylo ren #shape of water au #sow au #my writing #kylo ren angst #kylo ren fluff #adam driver fanfiction #adcu

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tangleweave · 3 years

Text

Crimson Tide (Drabble / RP)

[ @illbringthechaosmagic ]

An anonymous person has been taunting Stephen that a loved one has been taken captive...

Stephen Strange was not a patient man. He didn't like it when things came slowly, but he had learned how to deal with slow processes, as long as he could be assured of rewards down the line. Even less than slow progress did he like things that threw him off his rhythm. To be interrupted in his work was to invite his wrath, and by the Fates, could he be creative with his wrath.

That had been long before the car accident and the Sorcerer Supreme thing.

But now, the odd woman who had come to him to explain to him, in interestingly explicit terminology, that Wanda was being held prisoner... not only was she an interruption, she was an active irritant. An antagonist? No... not for him. To qualify as an antagonist, there were several things that needed to happen, not the least of which being a need to demonstrate a direct threat. So far she had shown him no evidence that she posed any harm whatsoever, and certainly not within the welcoming room for Kamar-Taj, where two other sorcerers stood at polite but firm attention in the corners.

She was seated in the wooden chair dead center of the room, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her dusky skin and wavy black hair shone in the sunlight that filtered through the ceiling slats. Her accent indicated she wasn't Nepalese, though she could easily be from India or some other adjacent region. She seemed curiously calm for someone in his presence who knew the things he was capable of.

Fine. If she wanted to play mind games, he could play them too. He moved to a cabinet and withdrew a pair of long yellow leather gloves, the cuffs of which were adorned with delicate sigils of black and gold. He had his back slightly turned as he began to don them.

"What now?" he heard her taunt. "Does the great Doctor Strange mean to get blood on his hands?"

He glanced towards her with eyebrow arched as he slid the second glove on. "Obviously not," he said, "otherwise I wouldn't be gloving up."

She thrust her chin out towards him. "You don't frighten me."

"Of course I do. I'm a doctor. Being attended by one is inherently frightening. It means there's something wrong with you. And there must be something deeply wrong with you, in particular, if you thought you were just going to waltz in here, declare that you're holding a friend and ally prisoner, and then not make any demands in exchange for her release." He held up his hands, palms towards himself. "Hadn't you heard? This is Kamar-Taj, where I had my operation to restore function to my hands. These are examination gloves. We don't have the kind of funds needed for single-use non-latex, so we go for longevity instead. After we're done with a particularly... messy... procedure, we use a sodium hydroxide solution to rinse off the pairs we do have. But don't worry, it shouldn't burn your skin too badly, long as I don't touch you for more than a couple seconds."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are a doctor. Your job is to not harm others."

"Oh, I see." He frowned and tilted his head at her. "Remind me again, what year is it? 2024? That means my medical license lapsed, uh... six years ago. Y'know, shortly after that niggling little part where half the world vanished. And saving all the people that were left over, that was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Things got ugly, if you'll recall. Besides, what do you call it when a surgeon cuts someone open with a scalpel? Surely you would think that was causing harm... but in the pursuit of reducing greater harm, when removing a tumor." He laced his fingers together tightly, securing the gloves about his hands. "Wonder how many you've got." He began slowly stepping towards her.

"There is nothing wrong with me!" she protested, and her legs uncrossed. "I wished to ensure I had your attention before making demands."

"Don't worry, you have it," Stephen assured her. "And you were right about one thing, this doctor doesn't make house calls. So glad to be hosting you today. You're my first patient in months. The last one still hasn't healed up quite right."

"I am no patient!" she said indignantly, shifting in her chair as he continued to advance.

"Then we have something in common, since I'm exactly the opposite of patient," he returned, and he cupped his hands toward each other. A crackling cat's cradle of golden dimensional energy appeared, and when he pulled his hands more broadly apart, it stretched with them. Orange sparks snapped from the strands. Stephen frowned. "Well, what do you know, there's still a little hydroxide solution on the gloves after all." He shrugged. "That's fine, it should all burn off pretty quickly."

She got to her feet. "Your Cauldron of the Cosmos!" she blurted. "It is a relic stolen from the pyramids of Giza--"

Stephen whipped one hand out; the strands of energy wrapped about the woman and sizzled as they touched her, eliciting a shriek. He closed to within inches from her face. "It's an artifact forged by Agamotto the All-Seeing approximately eight thousand years ago. I'd say try again but I don't think your clothes have that kind of time. Where's the submarine?"

A crease formed between the woman's thick eyebrows at the absurd question, but the heat and crackling from the energy whips surrounding her were beginning to convince her of the threat he posed. "I... I don't..."

"Sure, sure, you don't know." He dismissed the whips, then noted the burn scarring on her clothing. "Mmm. That'll be hard to get out. I might know a tailor or two." He gestured at the chair. "Take a seat or that pantsuit's going to look like it went through a king-size waffle iron. And I don't even want to think about what it'll do to your hair."

She glowered at him but did as directed. "What do you mean 'submarine'?" she asked.

"Well, if you don't know where it is, there's not a whole lot of reason for me to explain it to you, is there?" he responded. "Sure makes you look like a schlub, though. Obviously you're not in charge, you're just following directions from whoever it is giving them to you. Whoever they are, they need to up your clothing allowance, and update their K&R policies. It's in my favor, though, they couldn't send an actual professional to negotiate for the Cauldron. I could have given the all-American line... 'I don't negotiate with terrorists.' Definitely what a Sorcerer Supreme dreams of saying to someone." He waved a dismissive hand. "That's fine, though. I've got another movie line I can hand you. 'I've got ways of making you talk.' Impressed?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am no amateur. I have been immunized to truth serums and measures intended to force me to speak truth against my will. Even you cannot coerce me."

He scoffed and gave her a mirthless smile. "Truth? Who said anything about that? I want you to lie your ass off."

She frowned. "What...?"

He brought both hands up, fingers twiddling unsteadily in odd snaking motions, and gleaming neon-blue energy appeared in the air between them. His hands didn't meet -- one wrist hovered above the fingers of the other -- but the energy they conjured twisted unevenly in a warbling circle that settled about the chair. The thick strands of plasma braided around one another, and once the circle was fully enclosed, the space within was consumed with fierce blue light.

"A sorcerer of Kamar-Taj would refer to this as a Ring of Raggadorr. But a Dungeons & Dragons player would call it a Zone of Truth... with a Strange twist to it. While you're within it, you can't refrain from answering my questions, but instead of wasting my time trying to figure out whether you can actually resist a Zone of Truth, I've sealed you within a Zone of Lies. You're completely incapable of uttering the truth. And when I ask you questions, whatever the truthful answer is, you'll be giving me precisely the opposite one, or as close to the opposite as you're able." He flourished with one hand. "So, test question, do you know my name?"

"...no." The woman looked flummoxed at the answer coming from her own mouth.

Stephen smirked. "All right then, progress. Now, you're in charge of this operation, aren't you?"

"...yes."

"Where on the ladder are you?"

"The top."

Stephen chuckled. "Oh, honey. They really don't pay you enough for this gig, do they?"

"I am paid extremely generously."

"Yeah, that much is obvious."

She stood up from her chair and tried to take a step forward. The blue light surrounding her crackled much in the manner of a Star Trek forcefield, and she jumped back as if having been shocked. She cast a look at Stephen. "I wish to remain in this space eternally!"

Now Stephen had to raise a gloved hand to hide his widening smirk. "I'm considering it," he quipped. "This is a lot more fun than I imagined."

"I am also enjoying it immensely!" she shouted.

He poked a finger at her. "Try saying it with a sarcastic bend to it, if you can, I wanna see how deep this spell goes. Does it affect just your words? You're yelling so I can tell you're agitated, at least."

"I am not agitated! I am free to walk out of this enclosure at any time and I do not fear your powers!" She crossed her arms under her chest and glowered at the floor.

"Well, if this isn't a reflection of parenthood, I don't know what is," Stephen remarked. "But while this is entertaining, I have some actual work to do. So let's talk submarines. Your bosses work out of one, don't they?"

"...no."

"I see. And if I looked all over the world for it, there's only one place I would never find it. Where is that place?"

"...the Laurentian Abyss."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me that I can find the submarine in the Laurentian Abyss?"

"No, that is not what I am telling you."

Stephen had to try very hard not to crack a smile. "How very Red October of you. I think the Cauldron of the Cosmos can probably help me along from here... though I'm curious why you would even want it at all. Is there anybody among your employers and co-workers in this little venture that could even use it?"

"To the best of my knowledge, everyone there could. The Cauldron is of no particular fascination or consequence to my employers. They are not at all fascinated by its purported abilities. They would prefer to have Wanda, as a person is far more stable a commodity than an inanimate object. Should you refuse to surrender the Cauldron, my employers are not prepared to brainwash her for their purposes."

He scoffed. "Thought so. You know, you actually make it a lot more convincing now that you can't even say it properly. Should've tried it like this before, you'd have gotten my attention even sooner. Tell you what, you can hang out here while I get this problem sorted out." He turned toward the east hall, which would eventually lead him to the portal door that connected to the New York Sanctum.

"Wait!"

He turned back to her with his eyebrow up again. "Yes, what?"

"I do not wish to know how you knew of the submarine."

This time both eyebrows went up and he rubbed his temple. "Vishanti help me, I'm actually starting to get used to this," he muttered. Then he looked at her more directly. "It's not what you lied about, it's what you told me truthfully. You said straitjacket and shock collar. That's how Wanda was kept secured when she was a prisoner aboard the Raft. The only people who would know that was a successful method are people who saw it in action. But the Raft is stationary. Eventually someone would come knocking. The only way to keep a prisoner like her off the radar is to keep her moving. And aboard an underwater craft, even if she breaks loose, where would she go? Especially as far down as the Laurentian Abyss. So... submarine made the most sense."

The crease in her brow only deepened further. "I understand completely how you were able to make such deductions."

"Yeah, sometimes I even amaze myself." He glanced to the other two sorcerers in the room, then gestured at the woman. "Make her comfortable while she's waiting. But you're welcome to have a little fun with that spell while it's still active."

Without another word, he stalked his way up the hall and found the entrance to the New York Sanctum. A variety of obstacles to the matter at hand pervaded his thought process. If the submarine was indeed in the Laurentian Abyss, it meant that it was so deep, opening a direct portal to its interior would be a death sentence to anyone aboard; the bends would see to that. It needed to be forced to surface, and its own crew made to decompress the interior. He chewed his lower lip in thought. How would he get them to do that?

He was five steps away from the Cauldron when he stopped in place and rolled his eyes. Duh. He'd seen the damn movie. Simulate a radiation leak. It's not as if he was a Master of the Mystic Arts and claimed control over a vast breadth of energies.

"Thank you, Tom Clancy," he murmured as he approached the artifact.

#illbringthechaosmagic #muse: strange

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thecandywrites · 3 years

Text

Of Heaven and Fire Chapter 19 Finale Epilogue.

Woo, it’s been way too long. But I have other projects that got in the way and I had this all figured out and an outline written up and then...the go juice ran out. UNTIL TODAY. So, after way too long, finally. We have the finale to this story that will also segway into a campanion piece that takes place at the very same time Heaven and Fire takes place, actually about six months earlier, but half a world away, on the other end of orc country that takes up practically a whole continent in my made up world.

Also behold, that gorgeous brunette, THAT is the OG The Original Audravienne, the one that Audra in Blood For Gold is named after. So think of it as Suchi and Stormbreaker are on the west coast and Yekmeni would be the east coast, different ocean, different ocean coastline.

And so in this fantasy world- you mix mouras with jade green orcs- you get aqumarine orcs. You mix moura with Yekmeni orcs that are a dark and drab olive green with dark brown splotches- and they are born looking exactly like their orc parents but as toddlers change to look kashmire blue in place of olive green and bright amethyst intense purple in place of brown. So then they got nicknamed paradise orcs, because they have the same coloring as birds of paradise, you mix aquamarine orcs and paradise orcs-you get PEACOCK ORCS that also get called paradise orcs. The Aquamarine goes to turquoise and teal, just like a peacock, with the same splashes of kashmire sapphire blue and amethyst purple. But that’s another story all together. I’ll get to it. Eventually.

Of Heaven and Fire

Part 19

A week later, you woke up to Brock’s hard cock pressing at your rear as he spooned you.

It’s been more than long enough for you to heal and recover from Brive’s birth and your first thought is you needed to reconnect with Brock on this most physical intimate level. Most women take three to four months to recover from a birth before they can have sex again comfortably. Moura women and especially moura mated women who have a moura husband to help heal them from the birth, that gets whittled down to barely a month. And it’s been a month and a half for you.

You looked down at Brive as he slept away the morning, his blond hair growing fast in gorgeous blonde curls. His mint green skin that had more aquamarine notes to it the older he got was a beautiful mix of your pale ivory and Brock’s emerald green. Even though he is only a month and a half old, he has doubled in size thanks to your milk and he has fat rolls for days, which is the sign of supreme health for all babies.

You gently moved Brive farther away from you and make sure he’s perfectly covered and warm. The fireplace in the bedroom is ever burning- keeping the room toasty warm while you can watch the snow fly outside.

Your movement stirred Brock and his arm reflexively tightened around you and your backside was then pressed into his front as he woke up and now that Brive is far enough away that your movements won’t disturb Brive, you ground your ass against Brock’s cock to see if you can stir him awake, which worked to a degree because Brock growled a grunting moan as he started to wake up before he seemed to become aware of himself and moved his hips back so that his morning wood isn’t touching you anymore.

“Sorry Babe.” He apologized sleepily.

“Bring it back.” You whined as you started scooting backwards towards him to feel it again.

“You’re still healing.” Brock gently argued as he rolled onto his back and stretched out just as Brive did the same in his sleep before you quickly rolled over him so you straddled him, your night clothes vanishing in an instant as you sit up onto his belly and braced your hands on his chest which made him open his eyes as he blinked and frowned in confusion at you.

“Moura women usually take 3-4 weeks to heal from birth. It's been 6 weeks. I’m more than healed. Please Babe, I haven’t had sex in the last 7 months, if you don’t fuck me senseless right now I’ll go mad.” You pleaded as you stared down at him and could feel his cock tap at your behind again, he was as hard as a rock and you wanted him so bad it hurt.

“Are you sure?” He asked, even though you could see the desire burn behind his eyes but he was absolutely insistent that he would never, ever hurt you again before you gave him a meaningful look and canted your hips back so that his cock fell towards his belly then set your pelvis down so that your pussy laid over his length and rocked back so that your lips engulfed the underside of his cock as you rubbed yourself from the tip to the base, your own essence making it glide almost effortlessly and watched as Brock’s eyes threatened to roll back into his head while the head of his cock spurted precum onto his belly.

“I’m sure. Please Baby.” You begged and you saw him cave.

“If anything hurts, you stop me immediately, got it?” He insisted.

“Promise.” You vowed before you got into position and slowly eased down onto him, both of you breathing out a breath of relief in being rejoined as he looked up at you questioningly.

“Nothing hurts, it feels so fucking good.” You confessed as your grin grew giddy as his did the same as you felt him dig his heels into the bed and begin to push up into you as you saw the hunger in his eyes grow before you fell into what was once a familiar rhythm but yet it felt new all the same before milk started to drip from your nipples and he was sitting up in an instant to lick it up.

“Good?” You couldn’t help but giggle as he started to wrap his mouth around your breasts and suck in earnest before he hummed in confirmation before he moved from one to the other as you sighed happily and contentedly as you leaned back to give him room to do as he pleased before you removed his mouth from your chest to gather you closer and start kissing you as you could taste the rich sweetness on his tongue as he devoured you whole.

“Gods I missed you,” he confessed in your ear as his hips hiked up into yours as your body rocked against his.

“I missed you too.” You mirrored earnestly.

“I’m just...so sorry I made you wait.” Brock began to apologize and you could tell he was getting choked on emotion again.

“Hey, hey, don’t, don’t start this again? Ok? We’ve been through this, I forgive you. No more beating yourself up. It’s enough. We can’t go back and change it. We can only change now. And right now- is all that matters.” You insisted as you held his handsome face in your hands and looked into his eyes earnestly as you could see his eyes start to shine with tears.

“No more hurt. Only pleasure.” You repeated as you grinded down onto him for emphasis before you kissed him hungrily and passionately as all the pent up feelings over the last year came to a head and you lost yourself in the passion as did he and it wasn’t until you came down from your respective releases when you heard a giggling coo before you looked over to see Brive fully awake and giggling from his spot nearby which made you and Brock both start laughing as you untangled from Brock to go to your son as you pulled him closer.

“Well good morning Brive, did you sleep well?” You cooed to him as you laid down on your side and put him to your breast so he could eat his breakfast which he was all too happy to do, nursing and smiling up at you and Brock who cuddled his back as Brock combed Brive’s hair with his fingers as he stared down adoringly at Brive.

“He’s getting so big.” Brock murmured.

“He is, because he nurses just as fast as I can make the milk.” You grinned as you laid on your side and let Brive use your arm as his pillow while he nursed and in near record time, he had drained one breast and was ready to drain the other before you put him to your chest and rolled with him so that you could lay on your other side and let him nurse from that one as Brock cuddled into your back and rested his head on yours as he nuzzled the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pressing soft sweet kisses to every bit of you his mouth could reach.

“I love you, thank you so much for... everything.” Brock thanked you.

“You’re welcome. Love you too.” You cooed as you kissed his cheek affectionately and once Brive had nursed till he was full and had almost completely drained your other breast of milk, did he detach his mouth with a pop and smile happily up at both you and Brock.

“Ok, my turn.” Brock insisted as he reached over you and got his son and picked him up and cooed to him and kissed him all over before he brought him over to a changing table and changed Brive’s diaper while you slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom, grateful that Brock was so involved and helped with everything he could with Brive and you could tell Brock loved Brive dearly and once you two were ready, you went from your bedroom to the kitchen to prepare breakfast together.

Come spring Brock was unusually busy getting ready for the spring equinox festival since the lunar new year was the greatest celebration to date and Brock wanted the spring equinox to be even bigger and better than the lunar new year. Brock turned so much gold himself for it and saw to most of the details himself, which you didn’t mind. Your biggest hurdle was making clothes for Brive who was growing so fast and his moura cloak was coming in really beautifully but it would still be a few years at least before he learned to control it and it felt like you were sewing all day every day and you felt like you spent a fortune just in fabrics and needles and threads but Brive could wear a burlap sack and look adorable and all who saw him thought he was the most handsome baby boy any of them had ever seen and whenever Brock was around he was all too happy to insist that Brive got all his good looks from you but you could see the unmistakable resemblance Brive had with his father.

When it was time for the feast Brock had you dress in a special dress he had commissioned for you from a group of seamstresses that had settled in Drauch. You felt like a queen wearing it. It was brightly colored and almost every inch of it was embroidered and it even had the prettiest jewels sewn into the fabric. You didn’t want to think about what it must have cost him. But you honored him enough to wear it with immense pride especially when Brive had a matching outfit and even Brock’s outfit was similar, but not as fancy. With how hard he usually worked, you wondered if he was afraid he’d get it dirty or something. Brock escorted you to the main feasting tent and you graciously sat in the seat of honor which was in all realities, basically a couch at the head table with lots of cushions so that it was exceedingly comfortable to prop yourself up and Brive up as you noticed your entire extended family had come for this as they took their seats around you and all the married ones were showing baby bumps or their own little ones since they had gotten pregnant shortly after you did.

“Brock? Aren’t you sitting with me?” You asked when he had you sit down but he moved to leave.

“I gotta take care of something first.” He excused himself before he left, leaving you looking on curiously as Brive was all too happy it sit in your lap and watch what was going on with bright excited eyes as you noticed almost all the women around you who weren’t in your family were also sporting baby bumps or their own little ones along with before Brock took center stage in the tent and got everyone’s attention.

“I would like to thank everyone for coming today to feast on behalf of not just the equinox, the sewing of the fields- which was just completed a few days ago but also to celebrate my official proposal dinner to the most beautiful, goddess divine to swim in the seas, walk the face of the world and fly in the skies.” He gestured to you as you blushed but smiled adoringly at him.

“And I’m sure we’ve all heard the legends..” Brock began before he very elaborately and dramatically retold what had happened in the last year as you and your family and all your friends all laughed almost hysterically at most of it as Brock used every tiny little opportunity to praise you and practically sing your praises.

“And that is why, I would like you all for coming to my surprise betrothal feast for such an amazing goddess!” Brock announced as your eyebrows rose in surprise as your jaw dropped as everyone else cheered excitedly.

“What?” You asked as you bounced Brive in your lap as the real feast was then brought out as you realized what all of you had been grazing on before had just been appetizers before suddenly things seemed to fall into place. Your whole family and all your friends were here, they were all seated around the giant tent along with everyone in the clan and you notice that it’s Brock’s captains and generals that are the servers and it’s the men who are serving the women and the families which was a refreshing change of pace and you were drinking your favorite drinks and eating your favorite foods as Brock then left and brought into the arena in the middle of the tent- his betrothal gifts and you were shocked when they were all new, you had never seen any of them before as you started crying tears of happiness when each and every single one was actually really thought out and you could tell that Brock put so much effort into all of them. And it wasn’t just gifts for you, there were gifts for Brive and all your other future children with him and you couldn’t be happier about that and your smile was brighter than the sun and you and especially his family were practically glowing with pride.

“So, do you Benyana Auksa, accept by betrothal?” Brock eagerly asked.

“Yes.” You happily answered before you happily got up and kissed him which caused everyone to cheer.

“Wanna get married?” Brock asked when you broke for air.

“Yes!” You answered.

“Right now?” Brock asked which made you bust up laughing.

“Right now? Right now, right now?” You asked.

“Yeah, I have a wedding dress for you and everything.” Brock informed you.

“You do not.” You laughed, in disbelief.

“Yeah, it should be back in the house. I had the seamstresses look through all your other clothes and what you usually turn your moura cloak into to get a gage on your tastes and then your mom and your brothers and sisters helped put different elements to it.” Brock confessed as you gasped and stared at your family as all your siblings were giggling gleefully while your mother was looking pleased as punch.

“Let’s do it!” You readily agreed before you and Brive and all your siblings and friends happily got up and all of you practically running to your house and going inside it as your mother followed closely behind to get Brive from you while your dad had your baby sister as you walked in to see your wedding dress already laid out as you just started crying and laughing at the same time, not knowing how it was possible to be this happy. But you were.

It was hands down the most beautiful wedding dress you had ever seen in your life. It had all of your own benar, that you had cried that first night that Brock had captured you. It seemed like a lifetime ago by now and you noticed they were sewn into the sweetheart neckline. You eagerly stripped out of your clothes and your siblings helped you get dressed first before they too dressed in their own clothes that had been prepared for this that matched what had been made for you.

And it all felt so surreal but you were trying to memorize every single moment. What started off as the beginnings of a the spring equinox festival turned into an impromptu wedding feast and celebration as your siblings brought priests from every realm to make a sacred document so that it was recognized the whole world wide that you were married and mated with Brock before you finally got to exchange moura cloak collars as Brocks’ collar had to shrink down to fit your neck while yours had to grow a little wider to encompass his neck before the two seemed to form a link between them so that they both took on the traits of the other so now the two matched in both style and aesthetic, making something altogether new and different and unique. It was so much more than you ever thought to expect or want. It was perfect.

Fifteen years later

“Thanks mom.” Brive thanked you as as he held one of younger siblings and tried to feed them and himself at the same time as you passed out all the portions of pepper crab to all of your kids as Drauch had come to Suchi for another summer solstice celebration as you were wearing another silver belt that had a long tether to the rest of your smaller children while your elder children all had silver bracelets, all of them matching before you were approached by Warchief Lukher and Warchieftess Audravienne and all of their children from Yekmeni which was just on the other side of the continent to the east as they had flown in since Audravienne had come as a moura bride from the stables to Warchief Lukher 17 years prior and themselves had started a large family and their union and the other unions that followed from mouras who married into this particular clan of orcs saw a new kind of orc become born, orcs who had become known as paradise orcs. Because as toddlers they changed from dark olive green with splashes of dark brown to royal blue with bright purple splashes, like a peacock’s feathers or other birds of paradise.

“Audrey!” You greeted her as you hugged her tight as Lukher and Brock hugged too.

“Yana! It’s so good to see you!” She greeted you sweetly and excitedly.

“Oh my goodness is this Brive? Oh my goodness, look how you’ve grown!” Lukher praised Brive as he measured Brive, trying to see how much taller he was than him as Brive came up to his chest already as Brive smiled bashfully as he did his best to stand as tall as he could in the face of Lukher’s praise almost as much as he was happy to see Audravienne’s son Ahi-Shumai who had been his friend since infancy and was trying not to be too awkward to see Ahi’s sister Monrhi who was only a year younger than him and good friends with his own younger sister Brilanni as the two girls were quickly talking and sharing food and complementing each other on their clothes which were their own moura cloaks as they quickly picked up details about the other’s clothes and then began to mimic each other as Brilanni had the same coloring that Brive and all their siblings had, they had the same bright aquamarine coloring and blonde hair as Brive and Brilanni as Ahi was in a similar state that Brive was in as he was trying not to swoon too hard at the sight of Brilanni again because she was still the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life as Audrey’s sister Maisara and her husband came over with all of their kids before they retreated to Drauch where there was more room since the streets were getting almost overcrowded as they had someone with a big messengerari take a picture of all of them together as something of an extended friends and family picture as they continued to eat the fare offered on Drauch for the summer solstice.

“God, I swear Drauch makes the best fried fish.” Audrey praised as she happily bit into the large fried fish on a skewer.

“Yeah they do. Don’t forget to get a bite of the pepper crab.” You reminded her as you ate beside her, taking the special leg of king crab out of its shell and dipping it into the amazing sauce the vendor made.

“Oh how could I?” Audrey answered between bites before she looked up to see Brive trying to feed Monrhi.

“I think we have a little romance going on.” Audrey teased you.

“Between Brilanni and Ahi? Oh only since they were two.” You teased back.

“Wait what?” Audrey asked before she looked to her own eldest son to see him doing the same thing that Brive was doing by feeding Monrhi the peppered crab leg.

“Wait, which kids were you talking about?” You asked her.

“Brive and Monrhi.” Audrey said as you looked then blinked as you looked from one to the other.

“Well I’ll be blessed.” You laughed as she did the same before you snapped your fingers softly to get Brock’s attention and Brock and Lukher were talking very animatedly about griffins.

“Yeah?” Brock said when he noticed you were trying to get his attention before you nodded over to where Brive and Monrhi were talking and eating and feeding each other as Audrey used sign language to Lukher to look over at his son and daughter- Ahi and Monrhi before they both looked over and started laughing and then teasing each other about it.

“Well I hope one of them works out, just for pure curiosity because if their colors meld, then they’ll really look like peacocks.” Audrey mused.

“They would.” You had to smile fondly.

“To peacock orcs then.” You offered as you offered your cup of wine up to toast with hers.

“To peacock orcs.” Audrey laughed as she toasted her glass with yours.

The End.

#Of Heaven and Fire #Of Heaven and Fire Chapter 19 #Moura #Orcs

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leapyearkisses · 3 years

Text

Orbs Are Bad News 2/2 - (m/m) Gerrit/Llewellyn

Part deux wherein they fuck. I have no shame. Happy Sunday.

There are also some feelings.

NSFW, MESS, outdoor sex

I’m glad I decided to reread and repost these lol

---

"Are you ever going to stop sneezing?" Remembrance asked. At the same time, Cordes said, "One thousand blessings, Llewellyn, one for each." The two of them were several yards ahead on the road, and only Cordes was looking back over his shoulder. Right now, the four party members were the only travelers on this particular stretch, although as they got closer to civilization, they'd started to pass the odd wanderer, farmers with wagons, even a merchant or two. The woods here were broken up periodically by stretches of arable land, clear-cut several decades ago and now waving with wheat, flax, or various vegetable leaves. The fields were golden in the late sun. Their shadows stretched behind them like taffy, rippling on the cobblestones. The day was vanishing quickly, and Gerrit could sense his companions' impatience to move on even as he stopped again himself, drawing out his handkerchief in a now very familiar motion.

Llewellyn, for his part, could not answer them, face buried in his elbow as he ducked with another reluctant outburst. "Hahktschiu! Hahh- happtsch!"

"Bless," said Gerrit, and he stepped in front of the elf to shield him marginally from view. He laid one warm hand on the back of Llewellyn's neck and lifted the handkerchief with the other, capturing the next sneeze in the flannel folds. He settled his fingers firmly around Llewellyn's nose.

This was an arrangement that had been born out of necessity three days ago when the party had raided a bandit camp's plundered stores. Along with a good stash of gold and gems, they'd found a blue crystal orb, cursed perhaps, that had summarily become attached to both of Llewellyn's hands, rendering the sorcerer unable to do most anything... including take care of his cold on his own.

Llewellyn blew his nose into the handkerchief, wetting the cloth and dampening Gerrit's fingers through it. Originally quite opposed to such a display outside of the most private circumstances, the elf had been forced to put his pride aside and let Gerrit help him. His fever had abated the previous day, but the frequency of his sneezing had increased, as if his body was insistent now on ridding itself of whatever illness remained. It was a horrific prospect to Llewellyn to catch the resulting mess every time in the sleeve of his robes... so he suffered Gerrit to hold the handkerchief, even though they were walking along the road where any might see them.

Despite some initial teasing, Remembrance and Cordes had quickly grown accustomed to the practice and now cared not at all, except to complain. "We're going to have to camp again," grumbled Remembrance. "Five miles from Veigh and we're going to be stuck without a bath!"

"Is there anything I could do for you?" Cordes asked, somewhat exasperated. The priest had made several herbal concoctions for Llewellyn over the past few days, but none had helped the elf's nose much. Cordes's specialty was unfortunately not the curing of disease but the mending of bones and flesh.

"Ndo," Llewellyn growled, as fed up as the rest of them. "I'm beyond heh- help. Hngtschiu!"

"Bless you, arimelda," said Gerrit, trying to keep his voice even. He shifted the handkerchief so that Llewellyn could have a drier spot, trying to ignore a glimpse of slickness on the elf's face. "Remembrance, Cordes, why don't the two of you go on ahead? Find an inn, get a room, take a bath, whatever you want. It might be prudent also to send a message ahead to the Mages Guild about the orb. Will you do that? Llewellyn and I will join you when we arrive."

Cordes nodded. "Yes, I'll draft a letter as soon as- Hey!" Remembrance had grabbed his arm and was rushing ahead already.

"Let's go, man!" she said. "Everyone loves a damn priest; you're my ticket to a good room, so may your god help you if you dawdle." Her pointed tail swished as she practically jogged down the road. Cordes spluttered but could no more stand up to her as to a tornado, so off they went. It was a remarkably short time before the two of them were out of earshot, disappearing around a bend.

Gerrit sighed but turned his attention back to Llewellyn, who was blowing his nose again. The handkerchief was running out of clean corners this late in the day, but the elf leaned back this time when he was finished. "All set?" Gerrit asked.

"Yes." Llewellyn rubbed his eyes on his upper arm, wiping away a spare tear from the effort. "...My apologies." He cleared his throat, refusing to meet Gerrit's gaze. "We may arrive after dark."

"You're ill," said Gerrit, trying to fold the flannel in a way as to avoid his pocket getting wet. "We'd move faster if you let me carry y-"

"No."

"Then I don't mind taking a more leisurely pace." Gerrit smiled. Even after everything, Llewellyn was stubborn. Honestly, since they weren't really in a rush, he didn't really care when they reached Veigh; they'd only detoured here to try and remove the orb. If Llewellyn, the most inconvenienced, didn't want to give up his pride and piggyback on... well, Gerrit found his noble hauteur inexplicably cute.

He also wasn't in a particular hurry because it was awfully uncomfortable to make any sort of time with his arousal pressed flush to his thigh.

Llewellyn coughed into his elbow and then started walking again. Gerrit had pulled back his hood for him in the morning and braided his hair, and the crown of plaits caught the afternoon sunlight like an obsidian. Gerrit tried not to let his eyes linger on the sorcerer's pale nape. Or any other part of him. He and Llewellyn had been travelling together for close to three years, working for their current patron in the capital, and in that time Gerrit had felt himself growing closer to the elf. Wanting to be closer, anyway.

Llewellyn shot a glance at him and caught him looking. Gerrit flushed and turned his gaze back ahead to the road.

"You've been very accommodating during all of this," the elf said, tone carefully neutral.

Gerrit shrugged. "It doesn't bear mentioning. We're comrades."

"Comrades," Llewellyn repeated, an edge to his voice that Gerrit couldn't quite place. "Is that all it is?" He kicked a stick that had fallen to the cobblestones, sending it into the brush. Somewhere to the right, bumblebees droned over a meadow.

Gerrit swallowed. "Yes? You and I, we've helped each other before. I consider you to be a steadfast companion." Eyes on the road. Eyes on the dappled play of shadowed leaves and light on the ground. "Why do you ask?"

"So shy," Llewellyn exclaimed, a tad mockingly. "You've never been shy about taking me to bed, Gerrit." Despite his short height, the elf seemed to find it easy to look down his nose at the much taller fighter. "Has something changed?"

"Changed?" Eyes on the road.

Llewellyn stopped walking. "You called me 'arimelda.' 'Dearest.' Did you think I wouldn't hear you over my sneezing?" He couldn't cross his arms with his hands trapped by the orb, but the set of his jaw was determined and his firm brows were arched. "I wasn't so distracted then as you seem to have thought."

Gerrit shoved his hands in his pockets. He stopped walking but didn't turn. "Apparently not," he muttered. "Look, we can set it aside. Doesn't have to mean anything – doesn't have to change anything. I know a highborn elf like you wouldn't consider an official relationship with a half-elven bastard, and I've known that from the start. For my whole life. So... I care about you. But it can just be as comrades, or whatever you want it to be." Llewellyn was quiet, and after a long minute, Gerrit did turn on his heel, desperate to know what kind of reaction he'd provoked.

He saw Llewellyn standing with his eyes closed and head titled back, lips parted. The elf's nostrils flared as he gasped.

"Are you going to sneeze again??" Gerrit asked. He threw up his hands, then went for his handkerchief once more. They did have an arrangement.

He strode back over to Llewellyn's side and tucked the cloth around his nose again, thumb and forefinger just resting on the elf's nostrils. He started to rub Llewellyn's back. "You have the worst timing, you know? Here I am, spilling my heart to you and everything."

"Sh-hhuh-t up, I jh- just nih-" Llewellyn gasped again and gave in; he had no other choice. "Hahktscht!" He moaned and pressed closer into the handkerchief, thick congestion only aggravating the itch that remained inside. "Hkktschtt! Hngtscht! Hahh- ah-- ankcxttschiu!"

"Easy... it's okay." Gerrit massaged Llewellyn’s nose, tried to soothe the irritation. He guided Llewellyn to the side of the road, and, in a moment of calm, settled him to sit on the grassy bank. He followed, kneeling at the elf's side. Llewellyn was tearing up again and his nose was twitching against the pads of Gerrit's fingers. Gerrit felt electric all over. He found himself wishing the handkerchief was gone so that he might touch the soft, heated skin of Llewellyn's septum, coax the elf to relax and loose his tension, sneeze into Gerrit's palm. The mess didn't bother him; none of it bothered him. He was supremely unbothered. His cock was almost painfully hard.

It took several more minutes punctuated with more urgent expulsions before Llewellyn seemed to trust himself to speak. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, eyelids tender and reddened. His nose was brightly ruddy, running to chapped. He had to take a shaky breath, collecting his thoughts. "Gerrit."

"Yes?" Gerrit lowered the handkerchief, gently pinching as he did to clear any lingering moisture. He wasn't ready to hear a rejection, nor did he feel particularly ready for a lecture or a tirade or even a logical exploration of why a relationship was a bad idea. He wanted, if possible, to keep walking to Veigh, side by side, listening to the bees and dragonflies and songbirds settling in for the evening, feeling the light breeze on his face, replete with the scents of summer.

"Kiss me."

Gerrit blinked, mental caravan bunching to a halt. "What?"

Llewellyn nudged him in the chest with the orb. "Kiss me. You're all worked up." He cleared his throat. "And judging by the state of you, you're not put off by my cold. So?" He tilted his head to the side, gently, closed his eyes. "I want you to kiss me."

Baffled, but feeling as though maybe all was not lost, Gerrit obliged, pressing their lips together. His own eyes slid closed and he cupped Llewellyn's cheek, deepening the kiss, touching their tongues together, trying to convey how he felt. Whatever had changed. The kiss lasted for too short a time; Llewellyn broke away to breathe, eyes half-lidded, but he didn't lean away.

"I'm not going to dismiss you out of hand," he said. "You or your feelings. But I would ask for some time to think." He looked up through his lashes. "Are you feeling better?"

Gerrit could feel his pulse in every extremity. "Not really," he managed, and he kissed Llewellyn again, this time sliding one hand under the elf's head and one at his hip and pressing him back to lay in the grass. He moaned in his throat as Llewellyn kissed back, and when they had to break for breath, he started to kiss at Llewellyn's forehead, jaw, throat, wherever he could touch skin. His hands roamed over the elf's body, smoothing over hip and thigh and belly until he could start to undo the buttons on Llewellyn's close-cut robes.

"Gerrit," gasped Llewellyn. He moved the orb between them, jamming it into Gerrit's sternum. "You are not going to sleep with me on the side of the damn road! Get ahold of yourself!"

Gerrit growled at the quick pain in his chest, then shook his head and leaned back. He flushed deeply and pulled his hands away. "Oh. Oh, fuck, sorry. I-"

"Pick me up." Llewellyn lifted his arms.

"What??" Gerrit's brain was having a hard time keeping up at the moment, all of his blood being elsewhere.

"There was a thicker copse of trees back about thirty feet, on the left." Llewellyn waved the orb at him. "Pick me up. We can lay down there."

So. So Gerrit ducked his head into the circle of Llewellyn’s arms and picked him up, holding him securely and setting off down the road again, back the way they’d come. The elf was right; there, about twenty feet back from the bank, was a thick copse of pines, all grown together with wild geranium and maidenhead ferns. Gerrit pushed through, shoulder first. Despite its proximity to the thoroughfare, the inside of the stand was quiet and shielded completely from view. This would do nicely.

He set Llewellyn back on his feet and made short work of undressing him, first freeing the sorcerer from his pouches and bags, then undoing the silver buttons on his robe from his collarbone to his crotch. The rich fabric fell open appealingly. Next, Gerrit freed the elf from his boots and leggings. A long white shirt, woven from the finest of elven angora, still covered him, but Gerrit pushed the fabric up over Llewellyn’s belly, leaning in to kiss the elf again and touching him intimately.

Llewellyn moaned and nudged Gerrit’s hip with the orb. “Now you,” he said. “I want to see your body.”

Gerrit complied, making quick time shedding his cloak, pack, leather armor, breeches, boots. Two daggers, two short swords, caltrops, a bow and quiver, a glaive, and a spiked whip followed. He pushed them to the side as Llewellyn rolled his eyes.

"You can't possibly have a use for all of those," the elf said, and then Gerrit captured his mouth again.

He laid Llewellyn down on the soft carpet of pine needles, using his cloak to cover the ground and double as a makeshift pillow. The elf was beautiful in the shifting shade, skin flawless. He had the orb resting on his chest and it glowed intermittently in the inconstant sunlight. The gold chain netting that encapsulated both the orb and Llewellyn's fine-boned hands glimmered. "You know," said Gerrit, smoothing a hand down Llewellyn's bare thigh. "You'd look pretty good bound up in gold chain."

"This isn't enough for you?" He scoffed.

Gerrit laughed. "It would be fun to tease you. I love it when you fuss at me. So cute." He dodged Llewellyn's elbow and settled down on his stomach, hooked one of Llewellyn's legs over his shoulder, and nuzzled the base of the elf's cock. "Ready, arimelda?" His own cock was under him, pressed to his stomach in the confines of his shirt. He could feel his pulse in the head of it, quickening with the scent of his lover.

"Yes, you prick," sighed the elf, and he moaned when Gerrit started to kiss him and lave his skin. His fingers flexed on the orb, longing to wind into Gerrit's hair.

Gerrit took Llewellyn into his mouth eagerly, fingers curled over the elf's thighs, fingertips pressing at the sensitive inner surface as he sucked and teased and swallowed. Like this, he could focus on Llewellyn's pleasure. The noises the usually stoic and prideful sorcerer was making were enough to make Gerrit moan, mouth full, and rock his hips. Nothing pleased Gerrit more than seeing Llewellyn undone, seeing the elf flushed and open and undone for him. And he shivered, all over, when he heard the elf's breath catch and his tone go wavery. He thought he could come from this, listening to Llewellyn sneeze while pleasuring him implacably with a heated, well-placed tongue.

"Aa, aa, ahh- ih- Gerrit, I-" Llewellyn drew his knee up, curling, heel drawing along Gerrit's back. "I nih- need to snih- hh-"

Gerrit drew his head back, let Llewellyn's cock free for a moment. He didn't loosen his grip on the elf's legs, though, wound up and desirous. "Okay by me, melda, it's okay. Feel all right? Want me to stop?" He was breathless himself, had to force the words past the distraction of his arousal, but he would abide.

"No, don't stop," Llewellyn groaned, then turned his head to the side. "Hpptscht! Hah- Haktschiu!"

"Bless, bless." Gerrit kissed Llewellyn's thigh tenderly, then nipped it, drew his tongue over the hurt, sucked a bruise to mark its place. He swallowed Llewellyn down again as the elf cried out in pleasure and then bent with another helpless burst. Gerrit wondered if he could make Llewellyn come simultaneously with a sneeze and what that might feel like. The fantasy set him alight. His abdomen was tight, his cock like a brand on his stomach. He redoubled his efforts.

Gerrit felt it first, when Llewellyn came, in the tightening of the elf's thighs and stomach, then tasted the salt of his release. His world narrowed down to taking it in, swallowing, milking with his mouth while Llewellyn cried out, going until the elf was pushing him away, keening, oversensitive. He didn't wait to lift Llewellyn then into his lap, cradling him with one arm and stroking himself with the other hand, desperate to come as well. Llewellyn pressed his face to the junction of Gerrit's neck and shoulder, tightly gripping the cloth of Gerrit's shirt as they rocked together. The elf's nose was gently wet and he was panting, sniffling. Gerrit came with a shout, holding him close, shaking with an overabundance of pleasure. He let go of his cock and embraced Llewellyn fully. He had enough presence of mind not to confess to anything, but he couldn't stop himself from murmuring how beautiful, how soft.

Gradually the world came back. Birdsong, first, and the bees, the sounds of the trees swaying in the light breeze. The lingering heat of the day, dampened by the shade and the growing dusk. The musty smell of pine needles and the sharper hint of sap, the scents of sex, the pressure of Llewellyn astride his lap, the bite of uneven ground against his knees. Llewellyn was touching his cheek, trying to say something sweet, failing because of his cold again.

"Ah- hh- Ttschgktst!"

Wetness against his neck. Gerrit wound his fingers with Llewellyn's and kissed his jaw. "Bless you," he said. "I'll find you a healer in Veigh. We'll get you well again. Right after we free you from the orb." He laid his cheek against the back of Llewellyn's hand tenderly. Then he paused. "Wait." Straightening, he brought his hands between them. The right was laced with Llewellyn's left. "The orb is gone."

Llewellyn straightened also, looking down at his hands. His hands with no orb. He lifted them both, amazed. And then wiped his nose on his wrist, sighing in pleasure. Gerrit tried not to blush despite everything.

"Where did it go?" he asked, looking past the elf's shoulder. "Why did it come off?"

"Who even cares at this point??" Llewellyn had let go of him and was stretching, running his palms over his body, touching his own arms and face and cock, finally able to move and feel again after three days of magical bondage. He wiggled his fingers and then clapped his palms together, raising a small flame with their parting. "I have my freedom back. I can cast spells again. I can-" He smiled brilliantly. "I can touch you, too." He dropped his hands suddenly to Gerrit's lap, nimbly taking Gerrit's cock between them.

Gerrit lost track of the orb immediately.

---

It was dark indeed when the two of them made it to the inn in Veigh, but both were in high spirits. Gerrit had relinquished handkerchief duty back to Llewellyn with a great internal mourning, but he could always fantasize about this again in the future (he did, frequently), and he knew that Llewellyn, despite his best efforts, would catch more colds on the road (he did, more frequently than he would like).

Remembrance and Cordes had only been able to secure one room, it seemed, with two beds. Gerrit resigned himself, going up the stairs, to sleeping on the floor. But... it was apparent upon entering the small space that... well, their priest and thief had ended up taking up only one of the beds, together. Gerrit and Llewellyn traded glances.

"I don't think I want to ask," said Llewellyn, going for the free bed.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Gerrit replied, joining him.

In the morning, Cordes, with great dignity sprung from embarrassment (the cause of which he did not volunteer) informed them that a letter had not been sent to the Mages Guild yet. He was immensely relieved to find that one was no longer needed and quick to congratulate Llewellyn on his newly regained freedom. Remembrance just chuckled from the bed and took her time buckling her armor back on.

Already in Veigh, the party spent some time stocking up on medicines and liquefying some of the heavier treasures they'd liberated from the bandit camp. Gerrit sent a message on to their patron to expect them back in the capital in a couple of weeks, barring disaster. They purchased horses and set out, ready for the next adventure.

---

The orb lay still in the pine thicket, nestled like an egg among the ferns, waiting for the next hapless traveler.

#lyk writes #snz #gerrit truestride #llewellyn mistwalker #gerwellyn

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inventors-fair · 4 years

Text

“Surprise Me” commentary: Return to Innocence

Look, I’m not going to lie to you (unless it’s convenient for me or unless you’re about to find the body). Every time we open up a contest, we have preconceived notions about what people will send in and the kind of entries that we want to have. Every judge, all the time, even the ones I’m speaking for who disagree with me and my megalomania.

For this particular contest? I wanted to get rid of that entirely. I didn’t want to experience what I thought would be surprising, because that destroys that notion entirely, doesn’t it? I wanted something new.

I’d say that for most of you, that came across pretty well. I particularly enjoyed the return to custom mechanics, even if some of them... Well, let’s just talk about them, shall we?

@abzanhero — Simikiel, Due Vengeance

What I like: Well, it certainly feels like a WBR angel in the vein of its predecessors. The RW activation combined with the black drain does feel coherent in a way that I enjoy. Stats are good, wording’s fine. I think that this card is interesting because people will be looking for a way to combo out with this even though land sacrifice like Goblin Trenches will do just fine when the activated ability doesn’t pan out. Desolation (italicize!) is an interesting reverse-Morbid in a way.

What we can improve: I’m not personally invested in this card. I see that you made this for a custom set, but this feels entirely like a Commander card, and reactive abilities might not be what Commanders want. Yes, sometimes it’s about control, and I can see where you’re coming from. It might be the fact that because it’s a control-y card it makes it hard to want to build around as a commander. If you’re intending this for drafting and limited? Well, that’s another story, and I feel I’d have to see the context of the set. Desolation is...weird. There would have to be a lot of noncreature destruction for that, and I don’t exactly know how you’d make that happen without, well, a constructed environment. The card feels at odds with itself.

Baked Beans — Mutagenic Slime

What I like: Firstly, uh, sorry about that namesake? If you have a name you’d rather go by, then you’re free to specify in your submissions. Secondly, there’s a lot to love about this card. It does pretty much everything you would want out of a UG ooze for sure. I think it’s interesting how you retained the mana costs of the card and abilities with color weight.

What we can improve: In short, I got very confused by this card. After some discussion in the modhouse, I was surprised to learn that this actually works fairly well, considering the fact that copy effects are notorious for being frustrating to template correctly, and Mutavault-animation-copying is a whole other weird kettle of fish. I suppose that confusion is my fault, and I initially judged this card too harshly. I honestly don’t know if it needs the first ability, considering holy cow that’s powerful, but the rest of it, honestly? Not as egregious as I thought. I guess this is one of those things where my personal confusion initially got in the way — a lesson for me.

@chungus-supreme — Myriad Sliver

What I like: Well, it’s easy to see where you started and what you like. I think that Slivers were a great first tribe for a lot of people. A callback to the MH Slivers is pretty cool.

What we can improve: There’re a lot of strategies that could possibly use this card, but it feels immensely “win-more” when it comes to Slivers already. Why would this card need to exist? What interactions would it have that Slivers don’t already have with each other and with weird tribal cards? Someone would be happy with this card, but it wouldn’t be Sliver players. Minor note on presentation, too? Reminder text should be italicized following the rules, but I understand limitations on card creators. The lack of flavor text and context is just a little too weird. What possible circumstances could lead the Slivers to learning that they were every creature type? Frankly, what’s the story point? There’s a massive clash between flavor identity and reasonable storytelling.

@corporalotherbear — Pleasure in Pain

What I like: Alternate win-cons are always a nice addition to the game. I can see the sadistic side of black and the “at any cost” combo style that this card seeks to emulate. Personally, too, I’m a fan of conflicting rules text like the trigger and the static on this card. A new player might think they don’t work, and well, that’s just how new players work. And this card isn’t for them, it’s definitely for advanced Johnny players.

What we can improve: I still don’t exactly know how to make this card work. There don’t seem to be that many combos that could work well with it considering the mana cost. Ad Nauseam already does what it does, so that’s something, but I mean, I’d like to see what deck you would make with this card first because frankly, I don’t see it. Paying life doesn’t work if you don’t have life to pay, losing life is hard as heck, the whole shebang. Damage could work? Yeah, either I’m really dumb, or I don’t see the obvious exploitative combo you were envisioning outside of Ad Nauseam.

@dabudder — Perplexing Pact

What I like: Nice flavor, I think. I don’t know much about Davriel but I can totally see how it works out. It’s appropriately mythic considering how people would treat combat damage and the like, so that’s all well and good. Props for the reminder text, and for what I think is a fairly appropriate use of hybrid.

What we can improve: Where would this card exist? What kind of set would it belong to? I can’t contextualize it outside of just ‘a custom card for custom card’s sake’ and that feels frustrating to me. Ravnica mythic, perhaps? Sure, but what would the rest of the set look like? Could there be two alternate win-con effects i the same set? It’s actually kinda weird that the Guilds block had five across three sets, but still, they were different enough. I also feel that this is pretty easy to exploit with cards like the Pacts, turning this into a four-mana “at the beginning of your upkeep you win the game” effect. Not sure how I feel about that.

@deafeningsandwichpeach — Roaring Stompodon

What I like: This card was almost a runner-up! It’s a fantastic and powerful use of hybrid, it feels like a dinosaur, it’s fast and furious and chompy, and the only real questionable part is the redness of it. Could red get ETB fight like this, is the question? I feel that for this card in the right set that it honestly wouldn’t be too bad. I also feel that that’s more my heart than my head thinking here. I’m a weird control player who also happens to love fast and furious dinosaurs, what can I say.

What we can improve: Hm. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I’m worried. If you take off the “may” on the fight then it’s a little better, but whoo boy, imagining this in RDW with a slightly higher curve than usual? There’s something scary about that. I feel that erring on the side of caution would be best here. As a custom card I love it. I don’t know how printable it would be. Also, flavor text is good but retreading old ground. Consider something sillier, perhaps? Sillier or scarier, either or.

@deg99 — Azor I, Parun

What I like: Yup, it’s a callback to the quintessential Azorius namesake. With the mana cost like that, I can tell that you were shooting for a significant and austere commander for the guild, someone who requires many proper resources.

What we can improve: The problem with a card being quintessential is that everything that it’s doing has been done before. This card does not surprise me in the least. The fact that Azor creates The Immortal Sun on this card is about as expected as can be. Detaining is fine, and the draw is fine, but that’s it; they’re retreading expected ground. The mana cost doesn’t mechanically need the color weight, and as a custom Commander, this card just doesn’t seem fun. I would rather have seen you attempt to make something from the ground-up that was new rather than submit an old design that hasn’t been changed since inception.

@evscfa1 — Scales of Pitiless Justice

What I like: Pretty metal name, pretty rad.

What we can improve: Let’s...slow down a second.

There doesn’t seem to be a reason for the mana cost to be weighted like that. Without any context for the world, set or flavor, it feels arbitrary.

Speaking of arbitrary, why does this need to have both enchantment and artifact subtypes? I don’t understand how that helps mechanically.

This card does not need indestructible OR shroud. Full stop. “Bypassing any interaction” is not the same as “difficult to remove.”

Mana burn was removed from the game for a reason. It simply is not fun.

The “if” ability should be a trigger: “Whenever a player draw a card [etc], that player discards that card unless they pay 2 life.”

The last ability should say “casts” instead of “would cast.”

And in the end, I understand your frustrations with green and blue that you might see in your personal playgroup or whatever, and I understand what might be happening in standard and all the junk with that. Godmodding isn’t the answer. This contest was about seeing more of what you love, not destroying what you hate. In that context this card is antithetical to the approach we were hoping for. I would strongly consider putting love into cards that you submit rather than trying to force the pendulum in another direction.

@fractured-infinity — Sygg, Heir to Mornigtide // Sygg of the Razorfin

What I like: Sygg! Okay, so this is a... I’m envisioning this as a potential Esper DFC mer-legend in a limited return to Lorwyn, which is — aight? Shoot, the thing is, I love each side as they are. With a couple exceptions. I will say that I was both surprised and delighted to see a mythic Syggy-boy.

What we can improve: You have three set-unique abilities on a single DFC, and my friend, that’s confusing as heck. Daybreak and Moonrise just don’t seem like great mechanics, because if you need one and not the other, and you’re stuck on certain places, how are you gonna turn it? If they changed the seasons upon casting, that would be cool, right? What about that? I would maybe keep Aurora or something, and change your set’s mechanics (are you making one?) so that sorcery effects can change whether or not it’s Sunny or Moony on Lorwyn. Keep this idea, just narrow it down. A LOT.

Small note: “MorNINGtide.” Double-check your spelling. I’ve made that mistake once or a hundred times.

@ghost31415926535 — Piece of Mind

What I like: Well, it’s one way for white to interact with graveyards and the like. My favorite part of this is the flavor text. I don’t know much about Chulane but I do like the prospect of this teller having to forget a painful story from the past.

What we can improve: The first ability doesn’t get rid of replacement effects like Leyline of the Void and Rest in Peace. Honestly, I think for the sake of all custom designers, graveyard hate effect shouldn’t be hated out themselves. It becomes a mechanical arms race. That last ability, though... Nope. Nooooope. That’s insane. Mono-white draw so many cards? Four mana? Even as a one-time effect it’s absolutely bonkers and out of pie. UW mill means that you can draw three new hands by the time this is activated. And, for this contest, I can’t say that I was entirely surprised by this card. It’s doing what so many custom card designers have done before.

@gollumni — Ihren, Master of the Deep

What I like: This feels like one of those cards where it makes sense in-world and then when you put it on a card it’s like “oh, my goodness, is that the story we’re telling?” And I like that aspect! I’m imagining a happy Giant wrangling a squid the size of a bus and loving every second of it. I can say with certainty that I didn’t expect “tentacle farmer archetype” in these submissions.

What we can improve: But it’s so, so much of a “win-more” again. You get sea monsters with your giants, and then giants with your sea monsters? To what end? What’s the point of casting all these massive creatures that require you to have more massive creatures, when just the massive creatures alone could win you the game? Quest for Ula’s Temple was awesome because for one mana you were eventually able to summon the giant monsters. This card, well, it’s big for big’s sake.

@haru-n-harkel — Ozalii, Apex of Evolution

What I like: I can fully say that I didn’t expect a mutate card for this contest. Did people like mutate? I can tell one of you did! Five-color true mutate legend, yeah, that’s a niche that could have used a spot. Y’know what, props, credit where credit’s due. I like the concept.

What we can improve: I feel that the abilities should say “this creature” instead of the name, right? Isn’t that how all mutate cards work? This may just be me being lukewarm on mutate for this whole thing, honestly. Past that, I understand that this card is good, but Mutate was just so parasitic. I don’t know, this may be one of those unfortunate biases. So don’t take this the wrong way, and please do put this in a custom Mutate-filled cube if you have it.

@ignorantturtlegaming — O’Jaru, Kavu Arisen

What I like: You and Kavu. Meme all I want, but yep, that’s a kind of gaming love I can get behind. It’s a big creature, it’s a beast, it’s powerful, it’s got a strong cost, and Panharmonicon on a creature? Oh lord. OH LORD. This would be an intensely powerful commander for that alone.

What we can improve: ...except for the fact that it triggers itself. It’ll be on the battlefield, so, well, you’ll have to return four other creatures if you want this thing to stick. Hate to say it, but that’s a massive drawback, so massive that I don’t know if it would really stick. However, this is an easy fix. All you need to do is change “If a permanent” to “If another permanent” in that first part. Solved!

@macaroni-and-squeez — The Breathing Past

What I like: I can absolutely commend you for trying something new. This feels like a card where a lot of background understanding is needed, and that’s not always a bad thing.

What we can improve: That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t understand the process behind this card’s creation. In short, I don’t know why sagas and creatures should be combined aside from the fact that it’s new, and that doesn’t feel like a great precedent. The card would have worked fine as a saga (ish) and actually great as a horror. But both makes it feel messy and unintuitive. What story is being told? I don’t know. What kind of character/incarnation is this legend? I still don’t know. Clarify, simplify, and revise.

@milkandraspberry — Importation étrangère

Silver-border is not the problem here. I don’t speak French. Was that the joke? What possible set would this card appear in, and why? I think based on this card alone, cards with non-English rules text are hereby not eligible for submission from this point forward. There may be a joke, but it wasn’t even explained in the submission, so I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do here. Google Translate? To what end? If the gist of the card is that it’s supposed to not be understood, then that’s a sign already that you should consider revising your idea. Most importantly, the judges can’t give you fair critique, and that’s not fair to you either.

@misterstingyjack — Slobad, Selfless Scrapper

What I like: Planeswalker iterations are always cool. Thank you for explaining the story to me, because I think that I vaguely remembered the name but couldn’t remember the context. And man, this is an interesting card. Red artifact/planeswalker matters planeswalker? It’s narrow, but shoot, it also feels appropriate for rare. I think I’m warming up to this kind of specific concept more than I was originally.

What we can improve: Still, he doesn’t exactly feel like a planeswalker and more like a new card type entirely. ... Maybe that isn’t a bad thing. Maybe this new design space could be way more interesting than I’m giving credit for. I would have to see what the environment looked like, because wow, this would have to be balanced properly, else we end up with War of the Spark Horizon Masters of Mirrodin broken. For wording: Second ability could just be ‘Create a _ for each walker you control’ and the last one honestly could just be “Move all loyalty counters from Slobad onto another target planeswalker you control.” A little more busted, but let’s be real, more flexible as well. Who says he has to give up his spark for a specific dude? Besides the story.

@naban-dean-of-irritation — Darksteel Experiment

What I like: Yeah, I can see the problem you’re trying to solve and how you’re trying to solve it. Gotta make something as unkillable as possible, right? It’s the “anything-proof-shield” on the playground of custom MTG design. Making it Darksteel is a great callback, and the flavor text is pretty fun so I’ll give you that.

What we can improve: I’ve played a lot of Magic, and I know that getting things killed can suck. But the game is one of interaction. There are answers to everything but you have to draw them. The card specifically and maybe this specific wording (if it works in the rules, I’ll have to lawyer it) might not have been made before, but the concept? It’s been around since Magic’s existence, to the first frustration of getting a Savannah Lions Lightning Bolt-ed. When the gameplay stops being a conversation, there is no longer gameplay. Trying to find answers to that shouldn’t be what we’re looking for.

@nicolbolas96 — Abyssal Pact

What I like: You know, Mr. Shiny actually made a vaguely-in-the-same-vein card that was almost going to be an example. Well, it involved sacrifice, anyway. But the point is, yeah, same kind of interesting design space. I love winning with no cards in a library, I’ll say that much. For a legendary enchantment, a “pact” is probably as appropriate as you can get without being an object or curse or specific story moment. Interesting flavor, too! Well-conceptualized.

What we can improve: My good fellow this card breaks the game in about a trillion different ways. Treasures become 40-80+ mana. Grimgrin becomes massive. Any card that says “Sacrifice X: Draw a card” becomes an instant and I think uninterruptable win, of which there are four in this card’s colors alone. If it was, like, “the first time” instead? Or something? I don’t know, there’s a LOT to take into consideration, but the gist is: this card is a broken infinite combo waiting to happen. Maybe you intended that. If that’s the case, then shame on you but I respect it. Sort of.

@nine-effing-hells — Evolutionary Explosion

What I like: This was so close to being a winner if it wasn’t really, REALLY darn too powerful. If you have an army of 1/1 tokens, this card becomes incrementally more amazing. Is that a bad thing? I mean, I love the concept, I love the math, I love that you’re doing new things with how to make a cool mythic Overrun sorcery.

What we can improve: But we gotta compare to cards like Wild Onslaught, which is eight mana for what this card can do for sometimes half that cost. It really can just make the late game a little too ridiculous. I wish I could love it more, and I think that as an uncommon that targets a single creature it can be an amazing powerful blowout. This? Too much for a variable X cost.

Also, I sent a PM tp the Denver museum and they’re checking with their team for the proper artist credit and once they respond in a few days I’m gonna smack ya for improper artist credit. (Not really that last part, but I did message out of curiosity. That mural is dope.)

@ouroboros-breaker — Tibalt, Rakdos Insurgent

What I like: Rakdos Tibalt has been something people have been asking for for a while now, and as a fan, I hope that we can see more of him in the future. I can see that you liked the character’s chaotic nature and the way that he engages with you, plus the double-edged sword aspects of it all. There’s a lot of cleverness behind your process.

What we can improve: That doesn’t change the fact that the second and third abilities are reeeeally pushing what’s reasonable for an acceptable risk. Yeah, it’s neat for there to be some risk involved, but the possibility of -3 and losing three permanents is way too rough. Rakdos at least absolutely saved himself during coin flips and whatnot. The last ability, the emblem? I wish I liked it more. I feel that it could have been a -5 for something like a Hellrider effect: “whenever a creature you control attacks, it deals 1 damage to any target” or something. Then, maybe there could have been tokens made, like Tibalt’s WAR card, and, well, the boy might be more playable. I feel that symmetrical emblems aren’t great to have. In short, don’t be afraid to make cards, especially planeswalkers, a couple degrees more helpful.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff — Progeny of Immolation

What I like: I think that Emerge was a fantastic mechanic, and I’m happy to see it again. Eldrazi Hellion is a great creature type combo, and as a fan of Eldritch Moon this card is hitting some nice parts for me.

What we can improve: The big challenge is whether or not it’s okay for this card to effectively deal up to 11 colorless damage in something like limited. If you’re running a red deck, you can get this out early and have a fine enough red source in-pie, but even if you’re running something like a blue-white control deck you can ramp up to eleven mana and halve someone’s life total. I’ll say that yes, the Eldrazi all from EM all could be cast like this, but the off-color effects were never quite pushed to eleven damage. I fear development issues. Keep in mind what may or may not be appropriate for your costs.

@real-aspen-hours — Instant Pot Chicken and Rice

What I like: This is at its core an affordable, easy, nutritious meal that provides a fair amount of food for relatively cheap cost. Instant rice and chicken breasts aren’t hard to come by, and another great part of this meal is the fact that it’s fairly universal. If someone’s vegetarian, you don’t have great options, but that’s not gonna come up as much as long as you have people who understand what it means to eat affordable. The Instant Pot is a great addition to any kitchen as well.

What we can improve: Tomatoes are fantastic for flavor, but what else is there? I’m missing out on a lot of the herbs and spices that could turn this into a real meal. Adding additional liquid plus things like white onions, garlic, carrots, etc. would turn this from “edible” to “exquisite.” Consider thyme and basil, but also think about different flavors like Teriyaki or sriracha for more stand-out returns. I wonder how chicken chili would go? But that would be a fundamental shift, so that’s more conjecture than anything else.

As an aside, this did bring a smile to my face. However, I hate to say, this is a Magic: the Gathering blog, and I am not a cook. I have to ask that we stick to cards for the future. Still — this is our one and only consolation prize for doin’ your own thang.

@reaperfromtheabyss — Maelstrom Vale

What I like: Hnnnng cascade. This is one of those cards that I friggin’ love because I grew up on cascade, before I knew just how broken it was as a mechanic. I think that in limited and constructed, this card can be played in any deck, and I dunno how to feel about that at second glance. Five-color commander and casual play? Heck yes, this is so much fun. I love these kinds of cards.

What we can improve: Five mana giving practically any spell cascade is...busted, especially in limited. If I had had this last night at FNM, I would have swept so hard. 3-5 drops into multiple creatures and answers? Good lord. If it was 7 to activate, it would be balanced. As it is, might be too far. Small note: this flavor text would be 100% better if you didn’t have that silly attribution. Seriously, it was epic and cool and meaningful until the last part. Sometimes established things work well.

@rustyguacamole — Uth, the Impermeable

What I like: Self-mill with a cool white upside makes this card a welcome addition to some of the other Abzan reanimator builds. I like how you worked off of those to make an interesting fungal commander. I feel that it could even be part of a core set legend if it were mythic.

What we can improve: The “you may play cards from your graveyard” definitely needed a “this turn” at the end of it. And I mean, Yawgmoth’s Will remains an impossibly powerful card to this day. A repeatable version of that seems way too strong at first glance. You could do it at the end of someone’s turn too and then next turn fill that stuff back up. Also, for that reminder text... If you activate it twice in a turn, wouldn’t the second resolution then exile those cards if it already resolved once? That doesn’t feel great. I don’t know, I still don’t think that repeatable Will is a good idea. And small note, the biggest exilers, Leyleine of the Void and Rest in Peace, are replacement effects and would get around that first ability. It really, really, really isn’t a battle worth fighting.

@scavenger98 — Watched of Fanged Winds

What I like: “Wolf creatures you control have flying.” WHAT. I was kinda blown away by that when I first read it, I’ll be honest. Working with, uh, I suppose Bant wolves? Could make for some crazy stuff. The token-making isn’t impossible but it’s a work-around, and I think that I can think of a couple ways to get infinite wolves but they’re all crazy combos and aren’t really broken in any format. That’s not a bad thing! I do like combos when they’re hard to get off. Aura Shards/Lumengrid Sentinel + Ornithopter/Memnite + Watcher comes to mind. See, that sounds fun!

What we can improve: There’s...not much to improve, honestly. I think the gist of my complaints is that I don’t get flavorfully why wolves can fly. Is the spirit giving it to them through some weird magic? What are the Fanged Winds? Sometimes in Magic, there are mechanical interactions that don’t make flavorful sense, but a card has to have internal flavor consistency, and I’m still not sure about that. Mechanically I’m in love.

ShakesZX — Woodland Gratifier

What I like: This is indeed a new version of something that exists but hasn’t seen print in quite this way. That’s pretty much what we were after! It’s a powerful elf effect, and as we speak, someone’s eyeing Gaea’s Cradle and salivating.

What we can improve: This definitely needs to be a replacement effect, see Mana Reflection. That’s an easy fix, though. This submission feels...strange without any flavor behind it. As a draft, sure, this is great. Presentation is iffy. I would have liked there to be flavor text for certain. There’s not really much to say about this card without that. I love the effect, but that’s where things stop. Also, uh, I’m either a terrible person or the word “gratifier” is giving some unintentional innuendo. I may have just spent too long on the internet.

@shootingstarhunter — Jack-In-The-Box

What I like: Knowledge Pool was a fantastic card, and this feels like a callback to that and then some. The change from libraries to the battlefield makes this card really fun to play around with as a kind of boardwipe, and for seven colorless mana there’s a lot of decks that could love this. Playing it then sacrificing with the trigger on the stack? Yike-a-rooni. I’d love to play that. I might also be evil.

What we can improve: But that’s another problem. Do you want permanent exile like that? If that’s your intention, I applaud it. I don’t necessarily like how you’re not the first person to get a present from the box, but that’s a necessary evil, I think. Like Omen Machine. My mechanical suggestion would be to CAST the cards from exile for additional synergy, and to word it so that the boxes are completely optional or completely mandatory. Secondly, the name. Why is a children’s toy exiling all permanents? That’s a major effect, something like an obelisk or a maze, not, well, a box. I would edit the flavor a little bit to reflect a world-breaking effect. Magical portal, woo!

@snugz — Disab, Lord of the Seven Seas

What I like: I imagine if this were come sort of commander it could come with little teardrop cutouts that you could scatter on different permanents or whatever, special flood counters. As a limited card, I think that it’s excellent, and as a constructed card it’s, well, still excellent. It’s a lot to put into a card but you get some awesome control out of it and beef up your pirate to the nth degree. I like how it doesn’t perma-change Islands, although man, there’s some fun combo shenanigans to be had there, I’m sure. Pretty great pirate-y flavor, too.

What we can improve: You know, I don’t have any comments on ways to improve this card. I’ll say that it’s the closest thing that could see print out of most of these submissions, and maybe, well, that’s the problem. It feels almost safe. It’s such a great normal card that it’s not grabbing me by the briney beard and showing me the lost skeleton treasure of Boney Jim. That’s more of an indictment on the contest than it is you or the card, so consider this an apology for having uproariously high expectations for weirdness while at the same time throwing the weirdest submissions under the bus.

@socialpoison — Forget-Me-Not

What I like: You submitted some really cool backstory for this card, and I appreciate the amount of work that you’ve put into this idea. I think that Aetherborn on another plane could work really well with what you have in mind. This card allowing for the self-mill-return is powerful without being, like, Kethis broken. I think you found an interesting balance. Green is a nice choice for the people who would want to make this a commander.

What we can improve: Phasing is one of those mechanics I think I’ll personally never like, but that’s just me. This card itself works with that well, although it hasn’t sold me. I don’t really get the timing of phasing having not grown up with it, but you know, I might have misinterpreted this card and right now I’m thinking about card advantage and realizing that oh my goodness, uh, this card really is a mythic. It’s got card advantage out the butt. Is that too powerful? Well, no, but this may give rise to a control archetype. I think this requires a lot of playtesting. In short, this card is good, but it’s not for me, and that’s no fault of yours. My one critique in an area that I’m actually versed in: I don’t really like the name, cutesy as it is. In-story it could work, but it’s also an idiom of sorts, and that doesn’t feel very legendary to me personally.

@teaxch — Trium, the Strongest Shape

What I like: Alright, this is one of those cards, I’ll admit, I started brewing with it when I saw it. Forgetting the vigilance and haste, there was the draw and the build-around of three-mana 3/3s in these commander colors, of which there are over a hundred. You got Resplendent Angel, Dauntless Escort, Bastion Protector, Verge Rangers... And that’s not counting tokens like Garruk’s beasts. Man. There’s a lot of crazy fun stuff to do with this card, and a fun design space for a meme commander.

What we can improve: Did I say “meme commander?” Good, just checking. It’s a damn triangle. I know they did a legendary Wall, but people were asking for memes before they knew what they were getting into. I love the way this card works mechanically. I’m not going to give any more kudos than necessary to a triangle. (I hope this isn’t too mean, I really do like the design.)

@thedirtside — Master Craftsman

What I like: The more I read/think over this card, the more I kind of appreciate it. It’s a nice casual build-around-me artifact mythic that’s just asking for fun budget stuff. Maybe it’s broken in some builds, but frankly, I don’t see it. I really like how you brought together all the different artifact types and archetypes in one kind of build. This is definitely a Horizons type of card, and you know, for this, that’s not a bad thing.

What we can improve: This card feels pretty cramped for space, and even then, there needs to be a little more. Most of my qualms are about presentation. There need to be commas after all the mana symbols but before the tap symbols. The black ability needs to say “two” instead of 2. The red ability needs to say “Master Craftsman deals 3 damage to any target.” All damage needs a source. And get rid of the flavor text for this one, five abilities fills it up too much already. In terms of surprise, I think after rereading and going through this contest I found myself enjoying this card after all. Just gotta clean up a bit.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path — Time Rift Tactics

What I like: I like this card a lot. The multicolored suspend is pretty interesting considering time shenanigans and blue’s flavor, and even for six mana getting those four tokens is pretty powerful. I wouldn’t say that it’s first-pickable, but it’s definitely great. I’m a fan of the flavor wherein a bunch of soldiers or some general came up with an attack strategy that involved sending soldiers through time and space.

What we can improve: Again, mostly presentation and numeric issues. Suspend definitely needs reminder text, especially for a common, and with the proper em-dashes. Each instance of “4″ should be “four” as well. And the thing is, if you have the blue mana, you can play this in a nonwhite deck for no downside, and I honestly think that that breaks the pie. A cheaper alternate casting cost might prevent it from commander play, but this card was never going to be in commander to begin with, and mono-blue access to this isn’t what blue gets to have.

@wolkemesser — Untapped Potential

What I like: Unique tokens are pretty cool. I like the strangeness of it all, and I think that there’s definitely some ways to make this card really powerful. In colors that can populate, I imagine that there’s a lot of ways to get some crazy draw engines working. I think in the workshop there were a couple people who really liked your work on the flavor text as well.

What we can improve: I wasn’t altogether grabbed by the end result of the token. So, you get a big creature and can see everyone’s hands, but then what? Each player’s token basically becomes a big creature that you’re fighting to get bigger and work with that, discouraging you from casting spells from your hand, and I don’t think I’m a big fan of that. In the end this card makes a cool token but there’s no synergy or movement beyond that, and that’s what’s not lighting my fire. Small notes: “Avatar” should be capitalized, and the two abilities of P/T and “Everyone plays with hands revealed” need to be two separate quotation marks, see Pursued Whale.

Good lord, finally done. Thank you all for your submissions. Tune in tomorrow, when we make history! Or something! We make history every day, don’t we.

-@abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #commentary #custom magic card #surprise me #entries #inventor's fair

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Note

How do you think Amy and the others would feel after Unleashed if they didn’t know where Sonic was, and he just came back after them knowing he was gone for days?

Prompt:

Professor Pickle stared out his window, the orange sky beginning to wane down into its final rest into the night. Before that, the clouds had been stretched like thinned out cotton, speckled with little grey holes that let the sunlight in from the previous rainstorm.

Amy was flipping through a book, but sighed heavily and placed it down after a few more skims of her eyes and the tips of her fingers against their flimsy pages.

“Water damage.” Professor Pinkle’s voice was one of fact, but had a little grain in them that he cleared out with a few gruffs. Digging deep to get the sound right, he finally spoke a bit more within the norm for him, “He’s been gone an awful while...”

“That’s normal for Sonic.” Amy’s usual cheeriness must have been masked over by the gloomy weather, but as she gently set the book aside, she smiled lightly to him and placed her hands delicately in front of her on the table she was sitting at. “He’s probably taking in the sights, enjoying them more now that the planet’s been saved.”

“Ah, does he usually just... up and fancies himself out without telling anyone about his... eccentric journeyings?” He seemed tied up on the idea, but Amy just tried to put together what he had said.

“Umm...” She politely looked away and up towards the ceiling, her mouth forming a pursed line before nodding to him, thinking she might have understood him this time. “Yep! Sonic loves to run! So it’s often hard to tell where he goes. Still, I try not to worry too much. Don’t fret too much about Sonic, he’s a free spirit! After all...” she hopped down from the table and glided her hand across the books of his shelf, opening her mouth to smile wider at the legends and lores they all contained.

“Wow...” she removed her hand a moment to look the whole room over, “Can you imagine? What if every mythological story is true? Whew! Sonic would have his hands full for sure.” she held her hands behind her back, tilting her body in an energetic and young, feminine way as once again--the old professor’s eye caught that mask of her true emotions.

“You’re very real... when you wish to be.” The Professor mused, “And so are legends. They all stem from some fable of truth.” he nodded his head, turning to the skies again. “That fox friend of yours... Ohh... the names not coming to mind...”

“Tails?” Amy thought it strange that he wouldn’t remember that signature feature of his. She turned around and tilted her head back, child-like, but with a sense of innocence as she walked over to the window to look up at him.

“Ah, that’s the one! He’s out there flying about and looking for the ol’sport, right?” He seemed excited to say it, “Makes an old professor wonder... what’s the logic in you not going about to do the same, hmm?” He waited a moment... before taking a peek at her reaction. “Hmm...?” he noticed her sudden glum appearance and turned more fully to her, his eyebrows arching a bit in concern. “Don’t particularly like the rain, dear?”

“It’s not that.” Amy lightly rubbed her hands against the windowsill. “I’d be running with all my heart through the puddles to find him... but...”

“Ah, the legendary word.” Professor Pickle nodded his head and straightened up from leaning over to speak with her. “Say all the more you want, but ‘But’ is a strong, connecting word. Makes me think you have tried before, and again, and again... and finally, discouragement has uprooted that wonderful spirit of adventure in you... and kept you nicely by my side, eh?” He had such a ... way... with words.

Amy’s ears bent back slightly, and she looked away from Professor Pickle.

“Do you... Do you think he purposefully doesn’t come back... sometimes?” Amy felt a bit of her heart sink at admitting her awful doubts. She had pushed them away for so many years... “It’s only when one of us goes after him out of worry and not seeing him for so long... that we ever see him at all.”

“Ah, thus is the life of one called, ‘the blue blur’, eh? An illusionary fallacy of a man and friend, when really, the true underlining of a fable book, no?” He gestured back to his stories. “If one is truly real to their feelings, then they’ll comply. But!” He raised a finger up, happy to express some wisdom to the girl in yet another use of the legendary word he had previously described--”He is very much real, and your worth to him shouldn’t be crippling on the edifice of what is real or not real. Sonic... must be opened like a book on mythology... and then he is real within you and your emotions.” Professor Pickle was a true wizard, one with a line that could combobulate a mixture of confusion with priceless words faster than a puzzling riddle.

“So..?” Amy squinted her eyes, trying to figure it out, but hinting to the kind professor that she couldn’t quite follow that this time.

He laughed, seeing her struggles, and placed a hand encouragingly on her shoulder, “I’m sure he’ll either return, or he’s waiting for you... dear girl.” He gently then turned her towards the door, as her eyes widened at what he was implying. “Go to him... he probably misses your enthusiastic smile... I hear he’s quite fond of it... along with chocolate supreme, or something or other.” He stood like a posh Englishman then, proud to see the girl off. “Take care, now. And I wouldn’t mind it if you stopped for some delectable sandwiches. Pick me one up, will you? You know the kind I like.” he hmm’d his joy at the thought. “Oh yes, quite tasty after the smell of fresh rain, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would.” Amy breathed out, unable to hide this time her true love and wish to see her blue hero again. “I’ll check up on Sonic, and I’ll find him!” her usual pep was returned to her, and he smiled to see it through his hairy, elderly brows.

“Hmm... yes... not a ‘But’ in that fine sentence. A good statement, really.” he watched her head out, dashing through the puddles in a true, bright expression of youth and joy. “Ah, the grandeur of youth.” He went on, walking up to the open door and seeing the sunset, “I do hope she remembered a coat... or at least an umbrella. Brr... best shut the windows, then.” He slowly... softly... closed the door.

Amy had traveled quite a ways from Spagonia, now racing through the cobbled city of Apotos, as her footfalls splashed up to scare the pigeons off their roosted spires of the extraordinary architecture.

The glimmer of the puddles only radiated her feelings of excitement. She paused only once to look around, her quills swishing freely as she did so, before feeling the wind brisk them forward and turning that very direction.

“Ah!” she gave out an surprised sound, but one that knew exactly what the wind was saying. “Found him!” she took off, experienced in this sort of routine, before skidding to a halt at an ice cream vendor’s cart.

“One sundae supreme, sir!” the man bellowed out happily, “Though it’s getting awfully chilly, sure you want one?”

“It’s for a friend.” Sonic’s voice rang through the streets and straight to her heart.

Tails’s plane flew overhead, and Sonic looked around the man’s tarped covering and excitedly looked back to him again, “Make that two, please!” He held up two fingers as the man just laughed, making another. “Extra on those chocolate flakes.”

“Comin’ up!”

Sonic waited as he watched the progress, but by this time, Amy had already waved out a hand and called out his name, “Sonic!!”

“Huh?” Sonic turned, his hand on his hip swayed up in a leisurely greeting, but his eyes glistened with the falling sun as he saw his friend, delighted to see her. “Thought you’d show up sooner.” he admitted.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“You... you were waiting for me?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded, “Figured you and Tails would be worried about me, sorry about that.” He scratched behind his head, looking down. “I... had some thoughts and things I needed to take care of. I’m buying these in honor of a good friend.” He watched the man hand out the newest creation he had compiled together as Sonic gave him a thankful nod and gestured one to Amy. “On the house! Or so he says.” Sonic laughed, “My treat, basically.”

Amy lovingly was touched, and took the treat. “Thank you.. Sonic! Hehe!” she licked the vanilla part and placed a hand to her cheek, “Emm~ My favorite! Light and fluffy!”

“Thought so.” Sonic gave her a thumbs up, “Now, how to get Tails down here to say the same.” Sonic teased, looking up at Tails flying about and waving. He gestured that he was landing, and arched his biplane far off into the distance.

Amy and Sonic watched both him and the sun set over the city and hills... finally resting over the ocean... before blipping out of sight entirely.

“...For Chip.” Sonic raised his hand towards the fading light, that then completely disappeared, as though high-fiving it... one last time.

He lowered his hand and then looked to Amy, “Good?” he noticed it melting as she stared at the scene and then him.

“Huh..? O-oh!” she quickly began to try and lick it up as Sonic laughed at her vain attempts.

“We should catch Tails,” He raised the other ice cream up to the night sky, “After all, now that I’m not some big Gaia monster, I can’t just stretch my arm out and hand him it. Plus, I’d like to see the look on his face when I asked the vendor for extra chips on his.” He smiled brightly, gesturing back to the ice cream man as he leaned on his cart and closed his eyes, smiling back.

It was so pleasant... the ice cream so rich.

And Sonic’s smile...

“How are you feeling... about all this?” Amy wondered out loud, as Sonic also seemed to take a moment to think about it, tapping his foot to the ground and slightly crossing his arms, gazing to the cobble streets.

“Well,... I’m used to this form, so I guess it won’t be that hard to get used to again.” He looked back up at her, and to reassure her, bounced a little as he swung a fist upward, “Guess I’ll just stick to what’s true and blue!”

Amy giggled at his antics, then followed suit, startling him as she took his hand.

“H-huh?” He watched her take the lead, eating her ice cream. “What’s this all about?” He seemed surprised, but then looked a bit awkward, “What are you feeling...” he seemed to shy back, and she just pulled him forward.

“Hmm? Oh, just that I don’t want you taking off without me!” she looked back after licking her lips as though this was nothing new, “Come on! Tails will definitely want to hear all about this one, and you know me, never a dull moment in your stories, I’ve gotta hear everything!” as is her normal way of showing affection, she charged forward, dragging him behind.

“Wha-ah-ah!” He stumbled after her, trying to not lose balance and drop Tails’s ice cream.

“We were all so worried about you... I’m glad I found you.” She kept her head forward, “And that... you feel like yourself, but maybe missing what you lost... just a little bit... we’ll try and help the best we can with that,... Sonic... You can rely and depend on us.”

Her words of comfort made him look to her again, and as his eyes adjusted to the new, but fast-pacing darkness that covered the land... he held her hand just the tiniest bit tighter... but no transformation this time.

He had been missing Chip, but also missing his friends, as well...

He loosened his grip on her hand after a moment, as though accepting that he wouldn’t become the Werehog again, and nodded to her statement.

“Sorry.”

“We’ll always worry about you! So don’t sweat it! Just know, that we’re always waiting for you to come back safely!” she looked over her shoulder, happy to be with him, and then walked quickly while she ate towards where Tails had landed, a while away... but a pleasant stroll through the city never hurt anybody...

Apotos’s was brimming with night life fancies, like lights and soft music playing on the streets...

Tails’s plane’s propeller slowly spun as he dismounted it and excitedly ran over to Sonic after checking that everything was a safe landing.

“Sonic..! Oh? For me?” Tails waited to take the ice cream, but looked about ready to take it, looking for a signal from Sonic.

Sonic had let go of Amy’s hand a while ago, which made her puff up her cheek, but she was happy he put up with it for so long anyway that regardless, she was still pretty happy to be with him.

She swayed her body as Sonic nodded and handed the treat over to his friend, smiling. “All yours, buddy!”

“Wow, thanks!” Tails excitedly took it, “Woah! So many chips!”

Sonic folded his arms, basking in the look Tails gave off. “Knew you’d love it.” He gave him an iconic wink and thumbs up, bouncing it in the air a moment.

Amy carefully held her ice cream, half-way eaten, in her hands. “Ooohh... isn’t there something special about mine too, Sonic? Something I like?”

Tails was hurriedly devouring his Ice cream with enthusiastic licks, he must have been hungry, as Sonic turned to Amy and nodded too.

“Extra whip, extra cream, and a whole lot more strawberries.” he winked, “You said, ‘light and fluffy’ before, right?”

His kindness and consideration made her blush as she hid behind the delicacy. “Hehehe~ You remembered~”

“I don’t forget a true friend.” He looked back to Tails, “But I sure do miss them...” and then up to the sparkling night sky again. “Man, I forgot how fast it changes from day to night...” he marveled a moment, solemnly.

“How could you forget?!” Tails exclaimed, “Anyway, what happened?” His face had some ‘leftovers’ on it and Amy--scoldingly--pointed it out in mime. “Oh! S-sorry...” He cleaned himself up as Sonic chuckled to himself.

“Well... it’s a long story.”

Amy saw him look straight ahead, and the sudden sorrow that matched her gloom from before.

In empathy, she smiled, “I’d love to hear a good story.” she remembered the Professor’s words, and as Sonic turned to answer her, she held up her ice cream to him with a finger sticking out, protesting, “And no ‘But’s! ‘But’s ruin the story!” she chimed, moving the ice cream out from hiding her face and wagging her finger as though Sonic from his earlier years.

Tails let out a silly, young boy laugh at her impersonation, and Sonic just lowered his eyes and shrugged openly at it.

“Guess I have no choice.” He mused, and began to retell his amazing adventure as a Werehog while the two enjoyed Chip’s last treat...

What they didn’t know... was that it was sprinkled with the chocolate Chip had loved... so much...

#sonic prompt #sonamy #cutegirlmayra #sonic unleashed #sonic unleashed prompt #sonamy prompt #sonicxamy #unleashed!sonamy #sonamy unleashed

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thesaltysocialworker · 4 years

Text

Strange Love

Loki will forever and always be my favorite, but I love Benedict Cumberbatch/ Doctor Strange, too. This was too good not to play around with.

I’ll be working on some requests this weekend. Stay tuned. <3

Strange Love

Word Count: 1, 234.

Warnings: None. Just fluff. <3

The two of you pulled apart quickly, looking embarrassed as Wong set the bag on one of the tables. “Oh, we were um-“ You started, and Wong chuckled. “Kissing, it’s about damn time. I was tired of hearing Stephen moaning that you’d never looked at him that way. It’s all he’s talked about for about two weeks.”

“Your movements aren’t fluid enough.”

“You’re have power than you’re currently demonstrating.”

“You’re smarter than that, Y/n.”

“I told you you’re not ready for that spell yet.”

“It doesn’t seem like you studied that material last night.”

Stephen Strange was a task master, he expected nothing but the best from his apprentice.

You growled in frustration, launching an energy blast at the stone wall opposite from you as the manifestation of your annoyance. Sometimes you regret coming from the Sanctum to come train under the Sorcerer Supreme. You knew this would be difficult, but you had no idea how complicated this would be emotionally. Because despite his picking and his belief that you were never good enough; you still found you were attracted to the handsome man who resided at 177A Bleecker Street. Maybe it was because he was the only positive male influence in your life, or maybe it was because he had ice blue eyes that you were pretty sure could actually cut through steel with their gaze.

You had been reading on the first floor near the fireplace, making yourself comfortable with a cup of tea when you felt a familiar presence near you. At first you assumed it was Stephen, but as you glanced around there was no one there. “Real original, Stephen. Trying to frighten me with invisibility.” You grumbled, refusing to look up from your reading. But then you felt cold air at your back, and you spun around to find the Cloak of Levitation floating behind you without Stephen anywhere near it. Your initial instinct was fear; did something happen to Stephen? Before you could move, the cape wrapped its self around you tightly in a way that reminded you of a boa constrictor. “What the hell?! Stephen!”

It lifted you off the ground, and brought you up the stairs to where Stephen was working in the library. The more you struggled, the tighter the cloak wound around you. Stephen stood from his spot at the table, removing his reading glasses and staring in confusion at the scene before him. “Call off your cloak! It’s lost its damn mind! What kind of lesson is this?!” You cried out. Stephen didn’t know you had a bit of claustrophobia and being squeezed into the cloak was not helping with the phobia.

“Let her go.” Stephen commanded, his voice echoing throughout the New York sanctum and taking on an unearthly quality as he spoke. But the cloak still refused to let you go. Stephen was surprised by this. He took a few steps towards you, trying to pull or spell the cloak off you. For a moment you thought the damn thing was going to let you go but then it wound its self around you and Stephen; pressing you together face-to-face with not space between your bodies. “I’m not doing this, I swear.” Stephen uttered, his voice shaking as he spoke. Was he frightened? Had the cloak of Levitation gone rogue and taken on a mind of its own? You and Stephen looked at each other, knowing that you weren’t going anywhere without help. “Has Wong left yet?” You asked, knowing he was going out for lunch. The one damn time that man leaves is when we need his help. You mused, bitterly.

“Wong, WONG!” Strange screamed, try to push the two of you towards the staircase. But no matter how much Stephen screamed, there was no answer. They were alone, and they were stuck this way. Stephen muttered curses under his breath, struggling against the cloak to try to free himself which only caused the damn thing to squeeze tighter. “Stephen, please stop.” You begged, closing your eyes and trying to reason yourself out of your phobia. Technically, you weren’t in an enclosed space. “I know that I’m the last person you’d want to be stuck too but the tighter the cloak squeezes the more likely I am to have a panic attack.”

Stephen seemed perplexed, his dark brows drawing together. “Do you think I dislike you, y/n? That I hate you or something? You’re my best student. If you weren’t I wouldn’t have bothered taking you as my apprentice.” You rolled your eyes, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. He was considerably taller than you. “You’ve never denied I’m your best student. You’ve never denied I’m powerful, you just ride my ass so hard sometimes, Stephen.” He cleared his throat, his features tinting red. “Could you choose another turn of phrase?” He asked, his voice dropping a few levels. “Good god, Stephen! You’re so critical of me you’re now critiquing my choice of phrasing?! Do you see why I think you don’t like me now?!” You practically shouted at the man, even being so close to him. Your frustration was at an all-time high and you could feel your blood pressure rising.

“Y/n..” Stephen sighed, looking at anything and everything but you. “I don’t ‘ride your ass’ because I hate you. It’s quite the opposite.” I was silent, staring at him and waiting for him to go on. “I—care about you a lot. I am impressed by your abilities, and only want you to be the best Sorceress you can. I—feel very strongly about you.” The realization made your mouth drop open. “Wait, what?” You asked, in the most ineloquent sentence you had ever uttered. “I love you, y/n. I have since I first met you.” He practically screamed it at me. As he said that, the cloak release us and we fell to the floor. You nearly fell to the floor but Stephen caught you, and you fell against him as your hands rest against his chest. You could feel his heart damn near beating out of it under your fingertips. “Normally one would respond with a similar response, or tell the other person to take a hike at this point.” Stephen uttered, meeting your eyes.

“I love you too.” You whispered, finally meeting his eyes. He caught your chin between his thumb and his fore-finger, tilting your head up to kiss you. The kiss was deep, passionate and he poured his soul into it. Your bodies moved closer together his arms wrapping around your waist and yours went around his neck to pull him closer; your hands playing with the ends of his hair. You two were so involved in the other that you didn’t notice Wong come back up the main staircase with a bag. “I brought you two lunch.” The two of you pulled apart quickly, looking embarrassed as Wong set the bag on one of the tables. “Oh, we were um-“ You started, and Wong chuckled.

“Kissing, it’s about damn time. I was tired of hearing Stephen moaning that you’d never looked at him that way. It’s all he’s talked about for about two weeks.” You chuckled, glancing to Stephen who had turned to check the bag. “Thanks for lunch, Benedict Arnold.” He offered you a sub sandwich, which you accepted with a smile as you moved to sit down at the table beside him to eat. “Well, now we know why the cloak was involved. Maybe it got sick of your caterwauling too.” You teased, grinning from ear-to-ear. He rolled his eyes, the cloak returning to wrap around his shoulders. “Good job.” He whispered to the cloak, a smirk dancing on his features that when unnoticed by you.

Please consider supporting the starving artist/social worker if you’re able. :)

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #mcu imagine #mcu #mcu fanfiction #imagine #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x you #marvel #marvel imagine

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eiddalv · 4 years

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Social Media’s Role in The U.S. Election 2020

2020 has been a rollercoaster of emotions for me, and for many others. This year’s general election contributes to that emotional mess 200%. For instance, it is very hard to escape having thoughts about it since campaign and election ads are almost everywhere online. I open Instagram, there are constant notices about the U.S. election on any person’s post that mentions voting in any way. Tik Tok is full of political and voting-related content the moment you start scrolling through the For You page. Snapchat has plenty of advertising and news outlets that discuss the Biden vs. Trump situation. And etc. etc., the list goes on. Social media has always played a huge role in information sharing ever since it was created but this year, it is even more important for both political sides of the party to utilize it to their advantage (and to my mental health’s disadvantage). Although it was only Trump at first, his and Biden’s campaign have had campaign ads at the top of the YouTube app and website when you first open it since September leading up till now. It might seem harmless but the ads are very satirical and attack the other candidate mercilessly just in the thumbnail alone. Those ads in particular are also not able to be hidden (most other ads are) so you are forced to see the thumbnails every time you go on YouTube. That alone has frustrated many people online due to YouTube allowing a presidential campaign to overtake the platform so intrusively without any way to hide that content. For as long as I’ve been on YouTube, I have never seen an ad that wasn’t able to be hidden AT ALL if you didn’t want to view it on your page and in fact, I had to delete my YT app because I became too fed up with the ads. The thumbnails were very obnoxious and without an ability to hide them, I had to remove the app from my phone to reduce my daily stress. It wasn’t easy since I watch a lot of videos on YT daily but that had to stop for the sake of my mental wellbeing.

All of that aside, another thing that caused a hoopla online was the confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett into the Supreme Court. There were lots of Harry Potter and Handmaid’s Tale references being thrown around but the confirmation hearing videos of her answering senators’ questions were also circulating online a lot. I’m not sure on what scale exactly, but I am confident that this rushed decision on the Senate Republicans’ part will affect how people vote. Barrett has very strong views on important issues like LGBTQ+ rights and abortion so that might turn off some undecided voters from voting for Trump or have the opposite effect as well.

In terms of voting, I actually did vote in person for the first time ever this year. I went during the early voting period in NYC and the process was surprisingly fast. I half-expected to see lots of elderly people and outdated polling machines but I fortunately only saw the former. The lines weren’t that long, moved fast and the technology was sufficient enough to identify individuals and process their ballots without hassle. All in all, a painless experience which should be allowed for the future elections to come. In the past I sent absentee ballots since I would've been on campus instead of being home but this year, thanks to the beauty of online classes, I was able to stay home in Brooklyn and go to my polling place in person. Many of my friends actually sent in mail-in ballots or dropped them off at polling places, which was tempting but with so much uncertainty surrounding the USPS I just decided to go in-person. My only possible regret about the entire process is not getting involved in getting out the vote or endorsing a candidate. Although I mainly didn’t look into it due not wanting to potentially bring back coronavirus to my home and infect my parents, but I also didn’t love neither of the congressional candidates running in my district. There were lots of advertisements for the Republican candidate since my district is the only swing district this year, in New York City nonetheless. Living in a blue state with mostly blue districts surrounding me, it was a shock to find out that my district is the only district to vote majority red almost every election. In the upcoming elections, it would definitely help to be more proactive about how I stay active politically if I want to help bring in more Democratic votes for my mainly red district.

I think that all of us will be anxiously watching the results pour in for this year’s election. With mail-in absentee ballots, I imagine the process will drag out into next week, which isn’t ideal but with a pandemic still affecting the country, it’s not realistic to expect full voting results the night of Election Day. As I am writing this, I already am feeling my anxiety levels go up but at this point, I already cast my vote so all I can do is wait and hope that the rest of America votes in a similar fashion as me.

#election2020 #social media

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emotionalsupportmanteau · 5 years

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Anon, here is my response to your prompt. Sorry, I got a bit carried away.

Prompt: Snake! Crowley sleeping in cozy corners around bookshop and Zira not noticing until customers start screaming.

After the Apocaneverhappened, the oldest of friends found themselves at the Ritz as was their unabashedly hedonistic wont, sat on the same side (oh the symbolism!), toasted “To the World” with the finest of champagne and then went home. Separately. I know. Sorry to disappoint you. Aziraphale muttered something about “inventory that mustn’t wait” and Crowley mumbled something about having a hot date with a cold bed and then blushing redder than his hair. The angel’s response was to titter and then utter an equally ridiculous “Good Lord.” Good lord, indeed. Wherever She was, She was certainly rolling her many celestial eyes.

Later that night, an angel picked up books and put them back on the same shelf without even looking at the titles or admiring the beautiful binding and gilt lettering. The books were miffed and ruffled their pages at him but Aziraphale was distracted. You see, the whole thing had been rather anticlimactic as it were. And not just the part about the world not ending. He had thought—he was certain—something was going to happen. With Crowley.

But the dear boy seemed to be ignoring all Aziraphale’s quite overt hints! His lingering gaze should have been the tip off. Wiggling closer at the table so their sleeves touched. Sitting in the car outside his bookshop, sighing pointedly, waiting for something, for anything to happen. The Bentley was silent for once. It was up to them now. Our two conquering heroes had Too Much to Say and So They Said Nothing. Except “See you tomorrow, Angel.” Then Crowley peeled off, treating the streets of London like a video game. Tomorrow. There would be a tomorrow. That was something.

Crowley had some thinking to do and a fair amount of self-chastising, but first he really needed a long nap. And he slept better in snake form. He was profoundly tired. It was all over and yet it was just beginning. The Alpha and the Omega and all that. Crowley took a breath and transformed into his reptilian self. It always seemed to feel better morphing from his human body to snake form than the other way around. The fancy black suit vanished, as did the sunglasses, and in an instant a handsome black snake wriggled happily across the smooth cool floor. Ahh, that’sss better.

But it wasn’t better. Crowley curled up in his Eden green linen sheets, closed his golden eyes but sleep eluded the poor demon. His creature comforts surrounded him: whiskey, whiskey filled chocolates, chocolate flavored whiskey, his secret plush angel, heat lamp on high, David Bowie’s greatest hits playing on his mint 1970’s turntable, but something important was missing. After an hour of shifting and slithering irritably in his soft, many pillowed nest he realized what was missing

Assiraphale.

He needed his angel. Can you blame him? He thought he was going to lose him three times and Three is a Very Significant Number: when the bookshop burned and Crowley couldn’t find him, when Satan showed up and almost permanently crashed Earth’s Party, and when they weren’t sure if swapping bodies would save them. He’s still a bit worried that he might still lose Aziraphale. Upstairs and Downstairs might be looking for retribution because an angel and a demon and a small boy spoiled their lovely war. Sandalphon, Gabriel, and Beelzebub were incensed. Aziraphale. He needed to see his angel. Right now. He would know what to do and what to say. His Azira was the only creature he had ever met who ever offered him true understanding and real comfort.

An exhausted Crowley arrived at Aziraphale’s front door. He swayed in indecision. Should he knock or ring the ornate lion shaped bell? He didn’t want to be a bother. He was so tired. And it had taken an effort to change back to his human shape. He just wanted a nap. Crowley pointed his finger at the keyhole and mimed turning a key. The door opened slowly. Crowley and Aziraphale, sometime around 1942 had agreed that in case of an emergency, they could miracle each other’s doors open even if the other wasn’t there. Because really, who has time for keys these days?

Crowley felt dizzy. Where was Aziraphale? Oh well, he’d just sit down on his nice squashy brocade sofa and wait for him. There was a lovely fire crackling in the fireplace. Crowley stretched his weary, old bones and then changed into a snake without a second thought. Ahh, that’ss it. Sssweeet relief.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale had removed his little gold glasses, put them in their case, and laid his curly sugar sand blond head down on a nice thick volume on Audubon. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment. Surely, he had earned it after all they had done. Saving the world was hard work. He yawned loudly. As an ethereal entity, he simply didn’t get tired but found he didn’t have the energy to remain upright. A few minutes later, Aziraphale was sound asleep. He slept through Crowley’s quiet break in, slept all the way until morning. The Angel had Gone Native!

The next morning dawned just like any other. Million of ungrateful Londoners had no idea how close they had come to extinction. Aziraphale woke rather well rested and quite refreshed, miracle the wrinkles off his suit and readied himself to get some freshly baked croissants from his favorite French patisserie. Chef Henri always set aside the choicest breads and pastries for his best customer. So intent on his breakfast treat, Aziraphale didn’t see the snake curled around the ancient cash register.

Crowley was blissed out. Every spot he found to snooze in was comfy and smelled like his angel: a heady mix of Madagascan Bourbon Vanilla and a few centuries worth of rare book dust. It shouldn’t be the wonderful perfume it was, but it was to the sensitive and let’s face it, besotted snake. He grinned his snake grin (like a human smile, just more fangy and with a slightly indecent hint of forked tongue) and slithered off to nap on top of the Oscar Wilde first editions. Just friendsss, he hissed to himself, not bloody likely, Assiraphale, but supreme exhaustion overcame his righteous indignation and jealousy and he found his eyes closing against his will. He was just going to rest for a little while before he found Aziraphale and gave him…. gave him something.

Aziraphale was pouring himself a perfect cup of Lady Grey tea to go with his generously buttered and raspberry jam laden croissant when he heard something he had never heard in his or any other bookshop: screaming. Excited screaming he had been forced to endure during the Blessed Harry Potter Years, but this was different. These were fearful screams. Human screams. Aziraphale raced to the front of his shop, worried that someone from Upstairs or Downstairs might be torturing one of his customers. For news of Aziraphale and Crowley, he was certain. They’ve come for us. We will never be free to live together! What? That’s not what I meant. I meant free to live in peace but not celestial harmony until the end of our days.

There were three humans in the front of the bookshop, and they were indeed screaming. But there weren’t any annoying supernatural emissaries to be seen. An old man in a tattered raincoat was yelling “Snake! Snake! Snake!” and brandishing his umbrella before him. A uni student with half a shaved head and tattooed forearms didn’t look frightened at all, just bemused and continued to browse the occult section. A teenager with headphones slung around their neck, in a striped red and white jumper that was very Where’s Waldo? stabbed their finger at Aziraphale’s bookcase of treasured gay literature and there He was. Crowley. Lounging atop Oscar’s Collected Works. Cheeky bugger. He would know that snake anywhere. What in heaven’s name was he doing here? And why was he in snake form?

“No need for alarm,” Aziraphale reassured the small group. “That creature is indeed a snake and he is my pet. My store mascot, if you will.”

Crowley opened his eyes and glared at Aziraphale as if to say Really? Really, Aziraphale?

“He won’t hurt you. He’s tame.” Crowley hissed and stuck out his forked tongue.

The old man and teenage Waldo jumped. The uni student said “Wicked.” Crowley bobbed his head as if to say Got it in one.

What do you want me to do? Aziraphale asked his serpent friend desperately with his wide Delft blue eyes.

You figure it out, Angel, Crowley’s amber eyes said and slithered over to Aziraphale, crawled up the shocked angel’s pleasingly plump side and wrapped around his arm. He was always much bolder in snake form. Ssso warm. Somehow I always knew you would be. Warm like ssstarss are warm. Crowley was afraid the angel could hear his thoughts. They were the ones screaming now. In ecstasy. Oh go-Sa- somebody. Help me here.

“I’m going to call Animal Control. You shouldn’t have a snake in here. Its revolting is what it is. That thing belongs in the zoo,” the old man bellowed at Aziraphale.

Crowley tightened his hold on the angel’s arm in fear and Aziraphale stroked his head scales gently. He had never touched Crowley in his snake form before. He felt cool and smooth beneath his trembling fingers.

“I assure you this is all perfectly legal, sir,” Aziraphale said through gritted teeth. “I will completely understand if you no longer want to frequent my bookshop. In fact, it is best for all concerned if you leave immediately. Since my snake is so distasteful to you. Try the Waterstones down the street.” The old man’s jaw dropped, and he sagged, as if all the fight has left him. Aziraphale took hold of his arm politely but firmly and steered him out the front door, closing and locking it for good measure.

Waldo inched closer to Aziraphale. “If he’s your pet, what’s his name?”

“His name…hmm” Aziraphale leaned close to Crowley’s head and whispered “Puer Carissime,”in Latin, their old language though Love is the oldest language of all. As our two man shaped creatures were finally learning. It had only taken 6,000 years.

Crowley shivered in delight, then slithered up and around his neck, nuzzling Aziraphale’s left shoulder. Aziraphale felt a small bonfire happening in his body and cleared his throat several times before returning his attention to the inquisitive customer. “You may call him Genesis.” You see, Aziraphale had always been just enough a bastard and Crowley loved him for it.

“Genesis? Like the Phil Collins band? Me mum loves his music. I prefer The Arctic Monkeys myself,” said Waldo.

“Yes, my dear. The Phil Collin’s band.” Crowley snorted which sounded like an adorable little sneeze. Aziraphale hadn’t the faintest idea who Phil Collins or The Arctic Monkeys were. Bebop, most likely. Crowley would know.

“Wicked,” helpfully added the uni student and started humming the hit song “D is for Dangerous” under their breath. Aziraphale privately had the rather uncharitable thought that the young person must be smoking the devil’s lettuce. Crowley thought the same thing only he followed it up with the entertaining idea of what Aziraphale would be like if he smoked grass. He would just have to tempt him into it! Yes, groovy idea! Capitol, as his angel would say.

Crowley nipped the angel’s ear gently and Aziraphale turned red as rhubarb pie. “My dearest boy!” he exclaimed. Crowley flicked out his tongue, licked his round cheek and proceeded to move downward and coil himself around Aziraphale like a belt. This is getting a bit inappropriate, he thought. The humans must exeunt. Before we lose all sense of propriety. He quaked in pleasure at that delicious idea.

“Alright then, Cro-Genesis is tired, and I have calls to make to book buyers so I will have to ask you both to leave.”

“Wicked,” said the uni student a bit gloomily and dropped the biography of Aleister Crowley they were holding.

“I wanted to pet him,” sulked Waldo, but they put their head phones back on and headed for the door.

“Maybe next time, dear. If Genesis gives his consent, that is.” Crowley shakes in silent laughter.

“How long is he staying?” Waldo asked, strangely voicing the exact question that the angel had been wondering about since he saw his favorite wily serpent in his bookcase that morning, looking as if he belonged nowhere else.

“That rather depends on him.” Crowley remained still. “I should like him to stay forever,” the angel said it all in one brave whoosh. Crowley loosened his hold on Aziraphale’s waist, slinked up to his chest, nudged aside his immaculate white shirt and pressed his snoot to his rapidly beating heart.

“It looks like he really likes you,” remarked Waldo with a smile. “Aw, I want a pet now.”

“Wicked,” the occult enthusiast agrees.

“Farewell, young folk. Come back another time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fell. I’m Theodore H. Richards. I’ll be back. I am writing my doctoral thesis on the occult history of England throughout the ages and I have some questions to ask you, if you don’t mind,” the uni student said shyly.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “Of course. What an interesting topic, Theodore. I am here to help,” he said brightly. Crowley thought, hmm, now here’ss an interessting human…Aziraphale won’t mind if we help them get top marks.

“Bye, Mr. Fell. My name’s Taryn. Rhymes with Karen. I can’t wait to tell me mum about Genesis. She’s in love with Phil Collins. It’s gross. He’s so old.”

Azirophale laughed at this and saw both his customers out the door.

It was quiet. So quiet. It was just the two of them. After all this time. And when was someone going to say something? Do something? Aziraphale started to sweat and felt his heart about to punch through his delicate chest and run off if Crowley didn’t make a move. Then, “Close your eyess, Angel,” Crowley hissed.

Azirophale obeyed at once. He didn’t think it would be hard to take orders from Crowley.

Crowley quickly transformed back into his human shape.

“Open your eyes, Angel,” he said quietly.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and gazed at Crowley with more love than any angel had ever been able to feel. His beautiful Crowley. In a simple black suit that shimmered, reminding him of his snake form. No sunglasses. His gorgeous, expressive eyes of the oldest, richest yellow clay glistened with tears.

“Darling,” Aziraphale threw his arms around his beloved demon, embracing him with everything that he had.

“Did you mean it, Zira? Can I stay forever?” Crowley’s voice shook as he pulled him closer.

“Forever, my love.” Aziraphale cradled Crowley’s face in both hands, learning his friend in a completely new and wonderful way.

“L-love? You love me?” Crowley stuttered.

“I love you. I love you so much, my dearest boy. Puer carissime.” Azirophale stroked Crowley’s soft pomegranate hair.

“Angel, “Crowley kissed the crown of his dear head. “I love you, Angel. Have done since Eden.”

Aziraphale melted. “Since Eden.”

“We’ll make our own garden, Zira.” Crowley ran his arms up and down Aziraphale’s arms, setting off little sparks.

“And you will yell at the plants.”

“And I will yell at the plants,” Crowley laughed. “Zira?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been waiting to try something for 6,000 years,” he growled.

“That long, my dear? I wonder what it is?”

“Bastard,” Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s rosebud mouth and bit his lip.

“Try it, Crowley. I promise I will like whatever it is,” he said coyly.

“As much as profiteroles?” Crowley said salaciously and licked his lips.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I rather like profiteroles. Let’s try it and find out.” Crowley surged against Aziraphale, his cock hot and hard against the angel’s soft stomach. Aziraphale gasped.

“You are quite naughty, you know, my love.”

“Demon,” he pointed to himself.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way. Though I don’t mind you in snake form. It felt quite nice having you- “

“Angel. Less. Talking.” They closed their eyes in unison. Crowley took a deep breath and pressed his lips once against Aziraphale’s. His lips so soft and tasting of sugar and salt. They rested their warm, damp foreheads against each other, their rabbit fast breathing the only sound in the shop.

“More, please,” Aziraphale drew close and said against Crowley’s lips so it tickled a little.

“Greedy,” Crowley giggled.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“That’s true. Since you asked so nicely.” Crowley slung his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissed him properly this time. Aziraphale’s mouth opened like a flower to admit Crowley’s tongue, stroking his until every cell in his body filled with sunlight.

“Crowley, my dearest boy,” Aziraphale murmured between deep kisses that nourished the parched earth inside him. “I am yours. Everything I was. Everything I am. Everything I will be.”

“Zira,” Crowley groaned into his nectar sweet mouth. “As I am yours. Everything I was. Everything I am. Everything I will be,” he repeated like a mantra. His breathing hummingbird quick. “Zira, angel. I want- I want to touch you. Every part of you. I want to be entwined with you. So I don’t know where you end, and I begin. As if we were the only two in the world.”

“We are, Crowley. This is Our World now. We create it. And we begin and end together.”

“Yes, my love,” Aziraphale kissed him like he was saying an oath, and perhaps he was. He took Crowley’s lovely, slender hands and pulled him in the direction of the bedroom where he resisted the urge to miracle something better than his 19th century iron sleigh bed with threadbare lace edged sheets. Crowley didn’t want perfection. He just wanted him.

“Let’s go to our garden, darling. Together, I do think we could help it grow.” Crowley bowed his head like it was a willow tree heavy with sudden, life giving rain, kissed Aziraphale’s hand and followed him through the unassuming wooden door with the old-fashioned glass knob and into eternity.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fic prompts #spent 7 hours writing nonstop now what do I do with myself?

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sp4c3-0ddity · 5 years

Note

"A Love Supreme Seems Far Removed" for the Hozier prompt!

ack sorry this took so long but i hope you like it Ivy!! inspired (if indirectly) by @rueitae and @cgf-kat, though they may not thank me for the credit

Pidgedidn’tresist when Lance took her hand and tugged her into his arms, but she didhalfheartedly complain, “I haven’t even taken my shoes off!”

He laughed as his other hand pressedagainst the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. “Ifit makes you feel any better, I’ll vacuum in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes but rested her foreheadagainst his chest so he wouldn’t see the smile curving her lips. “Deal.”

They danced in the soft candlelight oftheir apartment while Lance’s phone, set on the kitchen counter,played a soft, corny tune and her own propped up on a bookshelf recorded avideo of them. Pidge had no doubt he’d planned this - down to the song - sincethey decided on their spontaneous courthouse wedding, so she went along withit, her chest warm and fluttering, her hand on his shoulder as they swayed in acircle in their tiny living room.

“Whenmarimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make we sway…”

Lance pulled her a little closer, his nosein her braided hair and his steady heartbeat under her cheek. His fingerstightened around hers, his thumb sliding her new gold wedding band up and down.

Pidge sighed as she reveled in his warmth,in that strength and sweetness she loved him for. She lifted her head andcupped the back of his neck, and when his dark blue eyes met hers a gentlesmile tugged at his lips.

“What’reyou thinking about in that brilliant brain of yours, my love?” he wondered in alow voice.

“Otherdancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you…”

She could make a joke or tease him or sharea fact that would boggle his mind; instead she confessed, “I’mjust thinking how I can’t remember ever being this happy.” Heat rushed to herface - it was always tricky for her to discuss her feelings, even with him -but she held his gaze and watched his grin creep a little wider.

(She did not think on why they married in such a hurry with only theirfamilies and Hunk present to witness, about his first impending mission intospace - away from her.)

When Lance’s palm rested on her cheek, she cradled itcloser, her eyes slipping shut as he leaned down to kiss her. She hummedagainst his lips, her stomach flipping pleasantly, and murmured, “And what are you thinking about, my darling goofball?”

“Likea lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more…”

“Howdang lucky I am I met you,” Lance said. “How lucky I am to love you.”

She shivered when his nose brushed hers,his breath warm on her cheek, but teased, “You’re lucky I gave you the chance.”

(She almost didn’t,she thought regretfully. He was her nuisance of a teammate - a pilot who triedso hard to show off he made his crew fail - while they were cadets, so whatirony she fell so hard for him once she saw he could buckle down when he neededto?)

“It’sjust because I’m cute, right?” Lance teased, his thumb skirting under her eye.

“Makeme thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now…”

Pidge slid her hand up and down his chest,over the smooth fabric of his gray suitjacket before she plucks at his slender blue tie. “Somethinglike that.”

She’d tried to convince him to wear hisGarrison uniform jacket, to show off the new stripes in the pictures her motherand his sister took, but now she found herself grateful for the tie.

She tugged him down and kissed him, alittle longer than last time - long enough it left them breathless when theyparted.

Lance recaptured her hand and they resumedtheir dance, sweeping around in a wider circle while she followed his lead. Hisforehead fell onto hers, and he said, “I never told you earlier but…you lookbeautiful.”

“Likea flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with ease…”

Pidge smiled, face warm. She swished herlong white hem around and sighed when Lance’s warm hand wandered up to where the dressleft her back bare. “It’s not exactly a wedding gown,” she told him, “but itdid the job.”

“Itmore than did the job,” Lance agreed. He kissed her, and when his lips partedover hers heat pooled in her stomach.

She gripped his tie again and tangled herfingers through his hair that was almost more carefully styled than her plaits.He cupped her face between his hands, kissing her like a man starved, like henever would again.

(She loved him so much - wanted him closeand with her - she couldn’tbreath when she thought of them parting.)

The air she needed to live was almost notworth it, but the smirk Lance flashed her once he caught his breath made hervery grateful she stood within the fold of his arms.

“Onlyyou have that magic technique, when we sway I go weak…”

His hands fell to her waist. “Youmust be glad Hunk talked me into wearing an actual tie.” He lowered his voiceand whispered in a tone of mocking horror, “I wanted to wear a bow tie.”

Pidge snorted but she couldn’tfight the laughter bubbling through her chest. “Why?” she demanded. She wrapped her arms aroundhis neck so they returned to their lazier slow dance. “Oh my God, that would’vebeen worse than committing murder.”

“Whatdo you have against bow ties, Pidge?” Lance asked. He raised an eyebrow, buthis attempt at being serious fell flat the instant he dissolved into giggles. “Youjust like tugging me down for one more, huh?”

“Whenmarimba rhythms start to play, hold me close, make me sway…”

Her face warmed impossibly more, but sherolled her eyes, fingers tightening around his tie, and grumbled, “Yes,so shut up and kiss me, Mr. Lieutenant Holt.”

“Withpleasure, Mrs. Lieutenant H—”

Kissing Lance was an easy - and pleasant -way to quiet him. Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice faded into the background,the candles burned low before their own wax quenched the flames, and Pidge lostherself in Lance’s arms as he unraveled her kiss by kiss and touch by touch.

“Whenwe dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me…”

What little Pidge can see of the dark videoblurs behind a curtain of tears she frantically wipes away. She can do withoutthem, without the awful tightness in her chest and the heaviness weighing downher very soul.

They’re useless to her, but not even her workdistracts her from the pain anymore.

A harsh wave of anger washes over her, herjaw clenching and her fingers tightening around her blasted phone. It takes allher self-control not to chuck it, still playing the video with its soft musicand softer, incomprehensible voices, across the lab at the far wall. At theleast she wants to insert it into the UTM and let the pistons crush it intoshards of fiberglass and silicon.

The empty shell - the non-cog - sitting onthe stool beside her is far from a comforting presence. The entire time thevideo played, she dared to glance at his - its- face, dared to hope for a sign of recognition or just a change in itsexpression.

But nothing - just a blank, flat affectwith not even a hint of the smile that, even in quiet moments, would playaround his lips.

“Youhave to be in there,”Pidge hisses, furious. She squeezes her phone, cradling it close to her chest,and wags an angry finger in the shell’s expressionless face.

It doesn’t even blink.

“H-how’reyou—you can’t be—but you haveto be—”Pidge cuts off with a strangled gasp. She stumbles to her feet, dropping thephone on the lab bench before rounding towards the shell with her headspinning. She feels as unbalanced as she did the last time she drank too much,as unsteady on her feet as she is in her soul, but without Hunk or Keith orMatt there to catch her.

“We’rebringing you back,” Pidge swears, not for the first time. Her fingers find theugly device protruding from its hair - once so carefully groomed, now unwashedand shaggy - and says, “I’m going to find a way to take this damn hoktril outwithout killing you even if I have to question every Altean neurologist in theuniverse myself.”

But the body that used to be Lance’sstares dispassionately past the woman he loved, as indifferent to her anger andgrief and touch as it was to the video of their first dance.

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #ask to tag??#qna #reem writes fic #voltron #hope it was worth the wait!!#not sure the first scene had the effect i was going for #i had this idea very early this morning #but when i woke up (again) i felt like i lost the spark for it a bit #but i think it came out all right #anchoredtether

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 5 years

Text

In Nitrous Veritas

Words: 5700+ (oneshot)

Genre: Fluff/Romance

Pairing: Hakuei/Paimon, background Judal/Hakuryuu

Characters: Ren Hakuei, Paimon, Ren Hakuryuu, Judal (technically), Ren Gyokuen

Summary: When her girlfriend has to be put under anesthesia for the first time, Paimon is a nervous wreck thinking of what might go wrong. She doesn't stop to consider that everything could go perfectly right, in more ways than expected.

...Or, the one where having her wisdom teeth removed unlocks Hakuei's full gay potential.

(Takes place in @mayelamker‘s and my RA Family AU!)

~0~

Paimon still looked very suspicious at her lack of concern.

“Hakuei, they are going to yank your bones out with pliers.”

Hakuei resisted the urge to sigh in annoyance. Again.

“It’s fine, Paimon. I’m just getting my wisdom teeth out. It happens to everyone, no need to worry. And no need to press so hard on the gas, either.”

“Yeah, the turn’s coming up right there,” added Hakuryuu from the backseat. “And they don’t use pliers, they use...regular stuff.”

Paimon grumbled unintelligibly as she pulled into the office parking lot, but didn’t say anything else until after they had filed into the oral surgeon’s waiting room, checked in, and sat down. She fidgeted in the rough cushioned chair, one Ren sibling on either side of her, and after a few minutes opened her mouth to say something else.

Accustomed to this after weeks of her poor girlfriend’s fretting, Hakuei laid a hand on top of hers and murmured before she could respond, “I’ll be fine, hon. Don’t worry.”

“...I’ll worry anyway. Routine or not, anything could go wrong, you’ve never been under anesthetic before!” Her lips twitched as if she wanted to chew at one, but she resisted the impulse. “It could be like that movie — you know the one where they cut Anakin Skywalker’s heart out? Or that one X-Files episode — ”

“Hakuei Ren?” the nurse said from the doorway, and Paimon jumped as if she had shouted it. Hakuei gave her a quick peck on the cheek and squeezed her hand, before letting it go and standing up.

Hakuryuu, earbuds firmly in, lifted his head from his notebook to nod to his sister as she crossed the spacious waiting room. “Good luck.”

Hakuei gave the two a reassuring smile as the nurse led her into the hall and closed the door behind them. The last thing she saw before it shut was Paimon, swallowing a whimper as she watched her go, and she felt a small pang of guilt in her chest. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to brush off all Paimon’s fears so easily...But it would be fine. When she got out of surgery, she’d make up for it somehow.

~0~

For the next forty-five minutes, the waiting room was in a sluggish state. Patients passed through, but Paimon barely saw or heard any of them. The rapid, muffled tapping of her heeled boot against the carpeted floor as her leg bounced nervously was unceasing. She had tried to distract herself with her phone, but an email notification from her own doctor’s office made her jump, and she’d shoved it back in her pocket where it stayed. That was the last thing she needed right now.

Having drifted out of awareness of her surroundings so, it took a few calls of her name before she recognized the word and looked up.

“Hey.” Hakuryuu held a Hershey bar in one hand and a Snickers in the other, and was offering the latter out to her. One earbud was still in, the other hanging loose over the front of his sweater, and she could hear the faint strains of violins streaming from it. “You hungry? Because you’re not acting like you.”

Paimon rolled her eyes as she accepted the candy. “Great. Hakuryuu’s a comedian and Hakuei’s ignoring me now.”

Hakuryuu snorted as he sat back down and returned to his science notes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“You are the last person I want to hear that from,” Paimon declared with an aggressive bite of her Snickers.

Hakuryuu gave her a ‘that’s fair’ tilt of his head, but pressed on anyway. “She knows you love her, and that’s why you worry. She knows.”

“Hmph. Never thought I’d see me more worried about her than you.”

“I’ve had mine out already, and I can rest in the assurance that it can’t possibly be as bad as my operation was,” Hakuryuu reminded her, grimacing. “I’ve always had issues with anesthesia, and they were all in there so damn deep. It hurt so much that even my mother didn’t have a joke to make about it.”

Paimon, who had repeatedly borne witness to Ren Gyokuen’s great love for making fun of her sons, immediately understood the significance of this.

“And I’m trying to be less panicky in general, anyway. Hakuyuu says it isn’t good for my blood pressure,” he continued, with the haughty tone and slight upswing of the head he always took when repeating the words of his older siblings. It never failed to sound as if he were quoting a sacred text, and it never failed to make Paimon stifle a laugh. Now was no exception.

“...What?” Hakuryuu’s brows furrowed in confusion and mild offense. “Something funny?”

“No, no, nothing, I was just, uh...thinking maybe I shouldn’t have brought up Anakin Skywalker to prove my point?” she offered.

“Oh. Well, you should still do what Yuu said, too. It will probably help.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, trying not to smile. “Fine, then. I’ll try to relax. Get my blood pressure down.”

“You promise?”

“Hell no,” said Paimon immediately, taking another nibble of her chocolate and knowing better than to make a promise she couldn’t keep.

And it was well that she did. Not two minutes later, a nurse opened the door again to inform them, “Miss Ren is in the recovery room, if you’ll come with me?”, and Paimon inhaled the remainder of the Snickers bar as she leapt to her feet, eyes going wide.

Hakuryuu rose more slowly, and asked the nurse as they proceeded down the hall, “How did she do?”

“Oh, just fine. She’ll be pretty loopy for the next few hours, and she’ll need you, Miss Naifeh, to look after her closely until the effects of the gas wear off.”

Paimon nodded vigorously, heels clacking on the tile floor. “I can do that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s all she wants to do,” Hakuryuu added, slipping his earbuds case into his pocket with one hand and patting Paimon’s shoulder with the other. Not as nice as Hakuei shoulder pats, she decided, but it would do. “Walk, don’t run, okay?”

Paimon nodded again, but that did not stop her from jumping when the nurse opened the door to a side room and she could see Hakuei, looking considerably less together than she had when they had arrived. She was lying like a wet leaf against the large padded doctor’s chair, the room’s only real feature, with vacant eyes and a mouthful of red-stained gauze. She had known that this was how she was going to find her, but she still had to quickly bite her lip to keep from yelping.

The nurse stayed with them as they stepped inside, and with all three of them in there, it was something of a tight squeeze. Paimon heard her talking, Hakuryuu responding and shuffling around with something, but she barely registered any of it.

“Hakuei?” she said, stepping up to the chair. “Sweetie? Can you hear me?”

Hakuei twitched at the sound of her voice, and her head roved slowly around to its source. Her pupils were so huge that Paimon could barely see the rim of blue around them.

“Ohh...” she breathed, somehow both clear and dazed. “Oh, you’re so pretty.”

She said it with such awe that Hakuryuu snorted behind his hand and Paimon felt her face heat right up.

“Uh...Yeah,” she responded intelligently. “You are, too.”

Hakuei nodded slowly, as if this was a brilliant point. “Who are you?”

“H-Huh?!” Paimon startled. “Me? You know who I am!”

“No need to be alarmed, miss,” the nurse said, while Hakuei gave her a supremely puzzled look. “She got quite a heavy dose of nitrous oxide, so I told you she’ll be out of it for a while. But it’s not at all permanent.”

“Oh...” Paimon shifted her feet nervously. “So what do I — ”

Hakuryuu rolled his eyes. “Just talk to her. You — ”

“You’re beautiful,” Hakuei cut in loudly, as if she couldn’t hear or see anyone but Paimon. “Who are you?”

Paimon found a smile on her face in spite of herself. “I’m Paimon,” she reminded her, loud and clear. “I’m your girlfriend.”

Paimon hadn’t thought it possible for Hakuei’s eyes to go any wider, but go wider they did, as her mouth shaped into a perfect O of shock. The nurse promptly reached over to nudge the gauze back into place, but Hakuei didn’t seem to notice.

“My? You’re my girlfriend?!”

“Yeah,” Paimon blurted again. Hakuei was a naturally affectionate person, but Paimon was still wholly unused to being gazed upon like she was a divine being. “Yeah, I am!”

“Ohhh.” Her hand twitched over towards Paimon’s on the arm of the chair, and Paimon took it and held it delicately in hers. “Oh, that’s amazing. That’s just amazing!”

Paimon giggled, surprising herself, and it was easy to slip back into a familiar teasing, loving tone. “Nooo, you are.”

“No, you, you’re...!” Hakuei shook her head so hard in defense of her point that she swayed dizzily for a moment, her face turning slightly ashen. “Oh, whoa, don’t like that...”

Paimon took her shoulders in her hands to still her. “Hey, it’s okay. Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“Wow, you’re an angel...!”

“This angel’s here to take you home, come on...”

“Home?” Hakuei staggered a little, as she was helped up out of the chair. “We have a home?”

“Yeah. You put all those ceramic vases and flowers and weird pattern wall blankets everywhere. You think it gives the place character.”

“Does it?” Hakuei asked, eyes big and bright as the blue galaxy painting in their bedroom.

Truthfully, Paimon could take it or leave it, on its own. Her eye was for fashion and body art, not interior design. But all the stuff kept Hakuei in their home even when the woman herself was gone, and the calm that brought Paimon surpassed beauty.

“It’s the best place in the whole world.”

Hakuei made a soft, comforted chirruping noise at the back of her throat. Her legs were gelatinously shaky and her arms hung in the air in front of her like a T-Rex’s, as Paimon guided her back down the short hallway back into the waiting room. She seemed more interested in trying her best to fall against Paimon’s side than she was in walking.

“Oh...Oh, you are just a wonder, you are...” Hakuei was nuzzling at her neck and collarbone, while Paimon and Hakuryuu waited at the checkout desk listening to the receptionist’s short spiel about post-surgery care. Despite the newly limited ability to move her mouth and speak coherently, she was determined to keep talking. “Did I tell you about that before? I should.”

“Yeah, of course you have,” Paimon assured her, knowing damn well that that was not on Hakuei’s extensive list of sweet words, while trying to keep up with the receptionist. “Yeah, we got the painkiller prescription — she can eat that soon? Then yeah, I can start her on liquids when we get home, so — ”

“I’m glad. I should,” Hakuei said again, sounding fascinated by the very concept and still blissfully ignorant of all that was not Paimon. “I can’t tell you anything through all these...fluffy peanuts in my head...”

Then, if Paimon had been paying attention, she would have noticed the expression that suddenly struck Hakuei’s face: that of one who has just been visited with a life-changing epiphany. And she would have seen it coming when Hakuei’s head shot upward to kiss her far harder than was probably intended, right on the jawline.

“Oof!” Paimon stumbled for a moment, her arm reflexively tightening around Hakuei’s waist. Hakuryuu and the receptionist both glanced up in concern, but quickly shifted to trying not to laugh at Paimon’s predicament. “Take it easy on me, honey.”

Hakuei gave her some truly devastating puppy dog eyes in response.

“You mean I can’t kiss you through these fucking peanuts either?!” she cried, and Hakuryuu went red and burst into laughter.

“Shh, yeah, those have got to stay in, babe. I’ll take care of all the kisses for now, too, okay?” Paimon said through her own fit of giggles, planting one on Hakuei’s cheek to prove it.

Hakuei whimpered. “Didn’t even feel that...”

“All set,” Hakuryuu managed, while he fiddled with the phone in his slacks pocket some more. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Feel better soon, Miss Ren!” chirped the receptionist, waving with a set of long cyan nails, and Hakuei spun around so fast Paimon was momentarily afraid she’d fall right out of her grasp.

“This is my wife!” she shouted, and it damn near echoed off the waiting room walls. The elderly lady in the corner said nothing, but did grin into her knitting magazine. Hakuei, on the other hand, kept at it: “This is my wife Paimon! She’s the best ever!”

From Hakuryuu’s gleeful snickering as he one-handedly held the door open for them, Paimon could only assume that the look of shock on her face was truly priceless. “N-No, honey, remember? I’m your girlfriend.”

Hakuei just grinned, entirely unfazed, and Paimon had to stick the gauze back into position in her mouth yet again. “Oh? Then I’ve still got to make you my wife, huh?”

“Huh?!” Oh, Paimon had to put every bit of focus into not tripping straight over the curb on that one.

“Yeahhhh...” In all the years they’d known each other, Paimon had never seen such a smug smile on Hakuei’s face. She was partially remembering how to work her arms, and using them to cling to Paimon’s waist in a vice-grip of a hug, which would have been nice if it didn’t mean they were in danger of falling all over each other as Hakuryuu brought her car over to the edge of the sidewalk. “Paimon, I wanna marry you!”

Paimon was very grateful that she didn’t blush, because she felt her cheeks burning something fierce. “Not saying I don’t agree with you, hon, but — ”

“You don’t want to?”

“No, I’d love to, honey, I just...” Paimon sighed, as she dislodged her girlfriend from her waist and bundled her into the passenger seat of the car. “Let’s just save that question for when you’re sober, okay?”

Hakuei glared up at her as sharply as she could, edges dulled as they were by copious amounts of drugs. “I’m not drunk!”

“No, you’re not, my mistake,” Paimon laughed. “Just wait until we get home, then, okay?”

While she got in, took the wheel, and started to drive them out of the medical park, Hakuei busied herself pawing at her empty jeans pocket. “Where’s my phone? I’ll get us home...”

Hakuei’s phone was, as per her sober request that morning, lying safely on their nightstand at home, where it could not be used to send any potentially embarrassing messages. “I know the way, hon, don’t worry.”

“Would you drop me off at the mall first, though?” asked Hakuryuu from his new seat in the back. “I promised Judal I’d meet him there.”

While Paimon agreed, mentally calculating their new route, Hakuei’s head jerked backward, looking shocked to realize that there was someone else with them. “Oh! I’ve met you!”

Hakuryuu grinned. In the rearview mirror, Paimon noticed him holding his phone upright. “Yeah, you do know me. Who am I?”

Hakuei’s face screwed up in concentration. “You’re...we have the same name.”

“Not quite. What’s my name?”

“Uhh...Haku...yuu?”

“Nooot quite,” Hakuryuu snickered. “You missed a letter.”

“No, I didn’t! I have a brother Hakuyuu!” Hakuei froze, and then let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, I have brothers!”

Hakuryuu’s raucous laughter filled the car, and Paimon was struck with another giggling fit. “Yes, you do, babe,” she said, grinning as she turned onto the expressway exit. “You’re getting your memory back fast.”

“I lost those?!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

~0~

After dropping Hakuryuu off at the mall food court, where he was excitedly ushered over by Judal (waving with both arms to make up for his huge mouthful of cheesy pretzel nuggets), Paimon got back on the expressway towards their apartment complex. Hakuei’s father, bless him, had offered to at least assist in paying their rent. But it wasn’t an exorbitant luxury place like the Ren family home, and between both of their jobs, they managed expenses well enough on their own. Hakuei had always been a little embarrassed about being born a rich girl, and Paimon would have felt weird too, asking for handouts from her future father-in-law.

In-law...

Paimon glanced over at Hakuei, now quietly whimpering to herself in the passenger seat as she tentatively poked at her own sore jaw. They had talked about their love before, of course, how could they not? They were both fairly free with affection in their own ways. But they’d never really talked about marriage, and she was wondering now if that had been a mistake, just drifting along like that after all these years. Hakuei hadn’t gotten drunk enough to spill her guts like that since college, and laughing gas wasn’t exactly like alcohol. Still, in vino veritas: maybe Hakuei had had more on her mind lately than Paimon had realized. More than she was willing to let on...

When they parked in front of their building and left the car, the gas had worn off not completely, but just enough to make Hakuei aware that there were now four bleeding wounds in the back of her mouth. “Ungh...Paimon...”

“Shh, it’s okay, honey. You’re walking great, just stick close to me...”

The stairs to the third floor were slightly perilous (the ascent made poor Hakuei dizzy again), but with some more clinging and low moaning they made it through the door. Their bedroom was at the back of the place. With one quick stop to the freezer for ice packs, Paimon guided Hakuei there and laid her gently down on the neatly made covers, the throne of pillows she’d put together that morning to keep her head elevated. She tucked a soft throw blanket over her, and leaned down to lay a kiss on her temple.

“There. You okay, sweetheart?”

Hakuei’s eyes were still dark and hazy, pupils dilated with the residual high. But as Paimon continued to tend to her — removing the blood-soaked gauze and replacing it with clean folds, wrapping a neck pillow around her head to hold the ice packs against her jaw — they glittered with starry affection while she tried to smile up at her.

“‘Mmm fine...You’re fine...You’re...”

Paimon ran gentle fingers through Hakuei’s loose hair, warmth swelling in her chest. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that?”

“Aww, you’re just saying that!”

“Oh, no, I mean it. You just rest now, okay? I’ll be checking on you to change your gauze and ice, so don’t feel like you have to wake up for it, okay?”

“Soon?” Hakuei murmured, body limp and eyes drooping shut as Paimon got up and turned the light down.

“Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

She couldn’t sleep off the pain, sadly; they had been informed that Hakuei was in for about a week of recovery time. But she could sleep off the hold of the gas, and while she did, Paimon made herself busy.

She left the bedroom door halfway open so she could keep a watchful eye on her sleeping beauty, as she set about doing the morning chores that she had been too fretful to do in the actual morning. She dusted and Magic Eraser-ed, did the dishes, mopped the kitchen and bathroom tile. Somewhat unnecessarily, too, she arranged the food in their fridge (none of which was anywhere near old or spoilt enough to toss) and triple checked to make sure that she had all the ingredients necessary to fix up some soft meals, ice cream, and smoothies to soothe her girlfriend’s ailing mouth, when she felt able to try and eat. She had enough to snack on herself, as well.

So when there was nothing more to occupy her brain, Paimon sat on the freshly dried kitchen counter to work through a small bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, liberally drizzled with chocolate sauce, and finally let herself dwell on the thoughts she had been trying to avoid.

She and Hakuei had lived together for years, and been together even longer. They had settled into a comfortable routine, and life wasn’t exactly a lazy river (that was impossible, between both their families), but it was great. Content and loving. Paimon had never felt anything more right in her whole life than coming home to Hakuei’s open arms. Of course she intended to stay by her beloved’s side for as long as she was welcome there; she no longer cared to imagine her path going any other way. So why did the thought of making their bond official — making it legal — send such a ripple through her body?

The first theory she hit upon was that she was just taken by surprise and blowing it all out of proportion. Again. Life, especially their life, was no cheap whirlwind romance, no trashy drama. Even in their families, that was a reach. Exactly what kind of disaster was she expecting the words “Hakuei, will you marry me?” to bring?

Barring storm, fire, terrorist attack, runaway semi truck — no, no, no, she was already starting to feel her pulse pounding, she had to stay realistic here. The worst thing that could conceivably happen at their wedding was Hakuei’s mother getting wine drunk at the reception, either sobbing all over her only daughter or starting a fistfight with her twin and having to be dragged out by her sons, and to be wholly honest the former was likelier than the latter.

And if she was being wholly honest, they were good at this stuff, if having a healthy relationship could be considered a skill. Sharing responsibilities, working out disagreements, supporting one another, simply finding happiness in each other...They had it pretty well down, in her opinion, as well as any two people could do. Their feelings for each other weren’t set to change anytime soon, no matter what they did with their lives.

Thoughts of death and disaster she would banish from her mind one way or another. Her future brothers-in-law were right: it would do nothing but raise her blood pressure, and she refused to ruin this relationship with a premature heart attack of all things. It was change, that was all. A big one, but a natural one. Looking at it as rationally as she could, perhaps it wasn’t quite as big a hurdle to clear as she had feared it might be. Perhaps it was no such thing at all.

A small noise from back in the bedroom drew Paimon’s attention, and she set the half-finished bowl on the counter to go and attend to her beloved.

Hakuei was still lying out on the bedcovers, awkwardly holding her head and tensed in every muscle. The pain must be starting to make itself known, Paimon realized.

She stepped softly up to the bedside, taking a moment to remove the gauze before reaching down to lay a gentle hand on Hakuei’s shoulder. “Hey. How’re you feeling, hon?”

Hakuei murmured incoherently for a moment, before opening her eyes a fraction and trying yet again to smile up at Paimon. It was a shaky attempt, but passable. “Sober.”

Paimon laughed. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Hurts — my mouth and head hurt a lot — but the cold is nice. Really nice,” she explained drowsily.

“We’re going to be replacing those every twenty minutes, okay? And you just tell me when you feel up to me fixing that bowl of ice cream you ordered this morning. You need to take your medicine with food.”

“Okay...”

“Attagirl. You mind if I come down there and hang out with you?” When Hakuei gave her a short and careful nod, still wincing when her swollen jaw did not agree with the movement, Paimon settled down on the covers next to her and reached her arms questioningly out. “In the mood for a cuddle, or are you gonna puke on me if I touch you?”

Before she was even finished talking, Hakuei was already snuggling up to her as closely as her ice-wrapped face would permit. “I would never. Am I too cold?”

“Not at all. Don’t you know you’re always warm?”

Hakuei hummed contentedly at that, and they laid in silence for a long while. Paimon was just starting to feel her eyes droop and her body turn numb and heavy, when Hakuei’s voice woke her back up again.

“Paimon?”

“Mm? Yeah?”

“Thank you. For taking care of me today. I...think I was trying to say that before, when you were bringing me home, but it didn’t come out quite right.”

“Oh, honey, no need to thank me for that. I’ll always take care of my girl.”

“But that’s just the point. All you’ve been doing is being worried about me, and I was just brushing you off like you were annoying me...” Hakuei nestled closer up to her, eyes turned guiltily down. “You weren’t, I was just — ”

“Shhh.” Paimon ran a hand over her hair, from head to ends. “It’s okay. In hindsight, I’m sure I was laying it on a little thick.”

“You care about me. You want me to be safe. I shouldn’t treat that like...like...”

Paimon kissed the top of her head. “Hey. You’re going to have to get used to telling me when I’m being too much of a worrywart, if you’re going to spend the rest of your life with me.”

She had spoken without thinking, and a much more pregnant silence fell on top of them.

“...Yeah. You’re right.”

“Hakuei...Do you remember what you told me? When you were, uh...high?”

Hakuei snorted. “I remember thinking you’d descended out of heavenly light just for me. Did I say that out loud?”

“Well, you did call me an angel, so technically yeah. But...the other stuff. About wanting to marry me.”

“...I said that?”

“Yeah. Really loudly, too, actually. The waiting room was quite amused.”

Hakuei made a breathy noise that was trying to be a nervous laugh. “Do you ever think about it? I’ve...been thinking about it a lot. What it would be like to call you my wife.”

The words, soft and sweet from her love’s voice, felt like fingers playing lightly down her neck and spine. They stopped her breath for a moment, sent a frisson of shock over every inch of her skin.

“I like that,” she said faintly, her tongue feeling as if she’d just run ice water over it. “I love you.”

She never wanted Hakuei’s arms to loosen their grip from around her waist. “I love you too. No matter what we do, I love you. So...let’s sleep on it for a while? Then talk when we’re both wide awake. And my mouth’s not numb.”

Paimon wrapped her arms more snugly around her, one around Hakuei’s shoulders and the other around her hip. She ran her fingers over Hakuei’s hand, imagining what it would be like to feel a warm ring on that left hand. Her ring.

“Sleep on it. Yeah. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“...At least until my ice melts and gauze soaks through.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll set an alarm for those...”

~0~

“Did you thank your Aunt Sheba for driving you two back home?”

“Yes, Mother. Every time.”

“Good boy.” Gyokuen did not turn from her vanity mirror even while addressing her son, briskly running a comb through her loose hair. “And more importantly, did you get that other little task for today done? All of it?”

Hakuryuu smirked, leaning back against the doorway of the master bedroom. He took his phone out of his pocket and waved it triumphantly. “Oh, absolutely. Recorded every last second of it. It definitely beats Yuu and Ren’s wisdom teeth videos, that’s for sure.”

Gyokuen grinned. “Good boy. Her surgery was just wonderful timing; this year was so dry in decent content for the New Year’s video reel.”

“You still might want to save it, though. I’ll take a boring family party show over passing up the chance to show Hakuei’s original proposal for the first time at the wedding reception.”

Gyokuen laughed. “Yes, of course! She really did that?”

“Oh, she did, just like I told you. Paimon may or may not have noticed that I was taking a video, but Hakuei and the nurses sure didn’t.” Hakuryuu’s smirk broadened. “They had a No Recording sign up in the recovery room. I was breaking the law for you, Mother.”

“Yes, well, you know how much I appreciate a flawless crime,” Gyokuen agreed with a snicker, as she set the comb down and reached for her hairpins. “It really is about time one of you went ahead and gave me a wedding to plan. Hakuyuu isn’t an option, but what’s holding you and Hakuren back?”

Hakuryuu rolled his eyes. “Because Ren is still playing will-they-won’t-they with his roommates, and Judal has made clear his intentions to propose to me with a Ring Pop and I know that if he tries that you’ll kill him.”

“Indeed I will, his father be damned. My boys deserve finer.”

“And I don’t recall either Hakuei or Paimon saying they’d let you be in charge of any part of it.”

“Ridiculous. I am the mother of the bride, of course I’ll be involved.”

“You know,” Hakuryuu said slyly, “Hakuei might have mentioned something about wanting Aunt Arba to run the show instead.”

Gyokuen’s head snapped around so fast that Hakuryuu swore he heard a crack in her neck. Her glare was made twice as unsettling by one eye bare and the other turned sharp by mascara and liquid eyeliner. “Don’t joke with me, boy. I will kill her if she does anything to ruin this.”

Privately, Hakuryuu was fairly sure that for once, Arba was not the more threatening Abraham twin here. “Mother, do not kill Aunt Arba at Hakuei and Paimon’s wedding.”

“Of course I won’t,” Gyokuen scoffed, returning to her makeup. “Not without reason, at least. We will all ensure that my darling’s wedding is perfect. She’s not likely to have another one, after all.”

“...You’re aware that she hasn’t technically proposed yet, right?”

“Well. All the more time to plan, then. Now, you head off, but text your father too: we’ve had this dinner in the books for weeks and he had better be on his way home to pick me up for it.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Hakuryuu, detaching his back from the doorway and starting to make his way to his bedroom.

“And call your sister!” Gyokuen called after him. “Make sure she’s feeling all right.”

“Yes, Mother,” he called right back, from the stairway at the end of the hall.

On the short walk, in which he sent the instructed text to his father and was satisfied to receive a “Driving — Do Not Disturb” automated message, Hakuryuu considered whether or not he ought to be making that call tonight. It was before the hours when such a thing would be considered rude. But then again...

He sat down at his nearly arranged desk and woke his phone with a soft click. The lock screen behind the open keypad had been the same for months on end: Judal with a delighted grin on his face and his long arms thrown around Hakuryuu, the two of them pressed cheek to cheek. The barely visible background was simple blue sky and trees; the second Judal noticed Hakuryuu’s camera open, even a simple walk in the park could and would turn into a combination cuddle-fest and photo shoot.

Judal would hold him tight, never seeming to get close enough to fully satisfy him, and pepper his face with kisses. Hakuryuu, for his part, could never seem to stop smiling. Nor could he quite put a finger on the feeling that washed over him at times like this, but words like security and love came to mind. Whatever it was, he was quite certain that his sister was feeling it too right now, miles away and safe in Paimon’s arms, and he would not intrude on that for the world. Once, he hadn’t thought that he would be able to trust his only sister to anybody. Now, he knew he would be perfectly happy to see her given away to Paimon.

Tomorrow, then, he decided, setting his phone face down on his desk and beginning to dress down for an evening of reading. His disturbance of their peace could certainly wait until tomorrow morning.

~0~

The next day, Paimon had an afternoon shift and Hakuei had, of course, taken off. So the pair of them only blinked awake in the late morning, both roused by the soft buzzing of their nearby phones.

Paimon worked her dry-tasting mouth for a moment, as Hakuei retrieved her phone from her pocket. “Ugh, God, we slept in our clothes...”

“So we did, but it’s not going to kill us.” Hakuei squinted at the bright screen, winced at the soreness still in her mouth, but half-smiled at the message she saw there. “Oh...Good morning to you too, Hakuryuu.”

Paimon smiled as she unlocked her own phone, following a second notification about the update on her medical chart. “You gave him quite a time yesterday t — oh...”

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“I...” Paimon’s smile had slid off her face as she read the doctor’s message, and she sighed. “Remember my last checkup? When they looked at my throat? It looks like my adenoids...are going to have to come out.”

“Ah, I see.” Hakuei paused. “You’re nervous about this, too?”

Paimon looked down abashedly at the bedspread. “I...A little. I mean, it’ll hurt, and I’ll have to take more time off, and you know, they’re gonna go in my mouth and cut pieces out of my throat...”

Hakuei listened intently, and then leaned over to delicately kiss her cheek. “Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you this time. You can count on that. Now, is there anything else you were worried about...?”

#i had my own wisdom teeth removed about a month ago so of course i spent my recovery indulging in best rarepair #RA Family AU #ren hakuei #magi paimon #ren hakuryuu #magi #kaen's fics

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housebeleren · 4 years

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Random Commander Challenge: Medomai the Ageless

I’m a little behind on these, but catching up fast. For the month of November, my random Commander deck challenge landed on a Legend I had thought about making before, but decided against in favor of some other, newer goodies. The first Commander to pop up was Medomai the Ageless, from Theros. Somehow, after 4 months of Legendary Creatures that had all been printed within the last couple of years, I got one (slightly) older.

White-Blue is completely in my wheelhouse, so the real challenge here was going to be how to make this one feel distinct and have its own voice and feel.

Art: David Palumbo

Theme

Medomai is part of a grand tradition of White-Blue sphinxes in Magic. Hell, the very shorthand by which we name color combination is Azorius, named after a Legendary White-Blue sphinx. And while many of these sphinxes share elements in common, I took it as my challenge here to figure out what makes Medomai unique. So essentially, how do I not just make an Azorius deck, in the actual sense of the guild name? In other words, how do I make this deck so it doesn’t feel like it could just as easily have been led by Azor or Isperia.

My second challenge was how do I make this not just “extra turn tribal”?

(As an aside, I am actually a big fan of extra turns in EDH, provided you execute on them quickly and without tons of useless deliberation. Nobody wants to watch you play masturbatory Magic. If you’re going to take extra turns, either have a win prepared or plan what you intend to accomplish in those turns.)

But yes, I’ve seen Medomai decks before where people just throw every card they own that says “extra turn” on it into a pile, and literally nobody wants to play with or against that. So I decided to not include any other cards that can generate extra turns, and instead capture the feel of time travel through other means, which I’ll get to below. That said, I can’t ignore the power of his ability, so the deck has ways to generate value off of extra turns, and ways to get more utility out of him.

The real thing that makes Medomai different from so many other Legendary Sphinxes is that his ability triggers off of combat damage. So this deck needs to be at least medium aggressive and have ways to push damage through. So that’s the jumping off point I used. The deck is designed to with with creatures who have combat damage triggers, with some wins centered around his turns.

This being Theros, I also decided to include some of the gods. Thassa is great in the deck and can help get attackers through, while Ephara is steady card advantage in a creature deck, and also suggested a minor flicker sub-theme.

Card Groups

Combat Triggers - The first thing I looked for were more cards that had good combat triggers, either on attack or hit. Both Frost Titan and Sun Titan seemed good. Augury Adept and Daxos of Meletis are both great early drops that stay relevant late if you can get them through. I also really liked Dragonlord Ojutai and Broodbirth Viper, though they’re on the costlier side of the spectrum. The final touch was Bident of Thassa, which is super flavorful and a massive source of card draw.

Combat Helpers - Next, you need some ways to get things through as the board clutters up. I already mentioned Thassa, who’s an all-star here, and Rogue’s Passage does a passable imitation if she gets removed. Blustersquall and Thoughtweft Gambit are good for one-time swings, and the deck also really loves Venser, the Soujourner, as he plays nicely with both the flicker and combat damage themes. Lastly, I added Archetype of Imagination, which is great for the endgame.

Medomai Enablers - Medomai is a 6 drop that needs to attack to work, so protection and Haste are essential. Boots and Greaves are musts, and I also included Gift of Immortality as a flavorful bit of protection. There are also some good ways to get bonus triggers out of him, even though he can’t attack on extra turns. Silverblade Paladin will get him 2 hits when soulbound, and Strionic Resonator is a Medomai staple for a reason. Both go in, and you can include some similar pieces like Duelist’s Heritage if you’d like more.

Flicker - This is more of a sub-theme, but it stemmed from wanting to include Ephara in the deck. Sun and Frost Titans already work here, as does Venser. Deadeye Navigator is obviously great. This is also a great place to include some recursion, a la Karmic Guide & Reveillark, plus some much needed ramp for white with Solemn Simulacrum & Boreas Charger.

Control - White/Blue needs some control, so the trick here is to not include cards like Render Silent or Absorb, which feel Azorius. Instead, Swan Song, Dissolve, Cryptic Command, and Rewind feel much more in line with how Medomai works. Curse of the Swine is one of my favorite control spells that is nicely Theros flavored. I did include Supreme Verdict, as it’s hard to escape how good that one is, and a couple more general boardwipes and spot removal of your choice do the trick.

Card Draw - Some good sphinx-like card draw such as Ponder, Preordain, and Brainstorm always fit right in. I know Sphinx’s Revelation is technically Azorius flavored, but I think it works well here too. And in the vein of “time travel”, I included some Blue wheels, such as Time Reversal, Day’s Undoing, and Echo of Eons, which are also good disruption against tutors and graveyard decks.

That’s a lot already, but also don’t forget you need lots of ramp for a deck like this. I would recommend 8-10 mana rocks or sources that can find you lands, like Boreas Charger & Solemn Simulacrum.

Win Conditions & Lines of Play

Identity Thief - The big frustration with Medomai is his restriction that he can’t attack on extra turns. Well, this nifty little shapeshifter gets around that by being able to declare as an attacker first before transforming. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “But Medomai comes back into play while Identity Thief is still a copy, so you have to sacrifice it at end of turn!” TRUE. Identity Thief is not a one-card combo with Medomai (and to the best of my knowledge, there aren’t any.) However, there are ways around this. Mirror Gallery is an option, but it’s a completely dead card if you don’t have both pieces, so I opted out. But you can also use some recursion like Karmic/Deadeye to easily bring back the Identity Thief for extra attacks. It’s janky, but the pieces are all good individually. So Identity Thief is effectively a Time Warp that’s easier to reuse. Sometimes it’ll just be the one extra turn, but occasionally it’ll outright win you the game.

Approach of the Second Sun - This may seem like a strange inclusion, but I thought it was appropriate, given that Medomai plus just a little draw power can easily get it cast twice. It’s an unexpected way to pull off a win that a lot of decks can’t deal with.

Flicker - Deadeye Navigator allows for some ridiculous value, particularly when paired with cards like Archaomancer & Mnemonic Wall, both of which I included. Once the late-game hits, this lets you buy back counters and removal and basically shut down the game. It’s kinda dickish, but it works.

Beat Face - You have some heavy hitters in this deck. Even just using Medomai as a White/Blue Aurelia to get extra combats is totally a viable option. You can keep your board protected with your counterspells, and get 2-3 attacks each time around the table. Most of the time, this is how you’ll win the game. It’s unfancy, but totally reasonable.

Conclusion

So I admit, I did struggle with this deck a little bit. I think the concept was right, but I got a little unfocused. I unwisely included both Teferi, Time Raveler and Narset, Parter of Veils in the build, which ended up just feeling like dick moves. If I could do it over, I’d replace those with just pure card draw spells or utility creatures, since they felt more like the asshole control I was trying to avoid. And I had some one-off cards that just didn’t feel like they did enough. I also might have cut the Archaeomancer/Mnemonic Wall loops, for the same reason.

That said, the deck did work. I only got a chance to play 3 games with it, but of those I won 2 and we had a draw for the 3rd (though I honestly was not going to win that one). And truly, the way the deck won was just through attacks and extra combats. It played kinda like a White/Blue version of an Aurelia deck, and I really liked that about it. Not my favorite White/Blue commander I’ve ever built (That honor goes to Taigam), but still reasonably enjoyable and a nice way to approach the color pair from somewhat of a different angle.

The budget was actually pretty reasonable here as well. I did need to get another copy of Thassa for the deck, which isn’t cheap, but almost everything else I already had or was inexpensive. I think I went just a touch over my $25 target for cards I didn’t already have. It should be possible to build a version of this deck for under $100 and still include everything you need, if you’re going combat focused like I did, and not extra turn tribal.

For December, I got another Jund dragon, Darigaaz Reincarnated, so my next challenge is building that and having it feel different from Vaevictis Asmadi (Shouldn’t be too difficult... they’re radically distinct mechanically). Should be fun!

#MtG #edh

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0poole · 5 years

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Harry Potter!

Finished rewatching all of the movies. I must confess, I am a movie plebian. I haven’t read any of the books yet. Call me when the solar flare that destroys and erases all electronics and data finally comes. I’ll probably be reading it then. Probably.

Anyways, I love what I’ve experienced of the franchise so far regardless. The whole story is so fantastical and fun, interspersed with pretty real dangers that come about through magic. That, I think, is the one thing all kinds of fiction should adhere to: If your world has weird logic, the conflict should be somehow based in that weird logic, instead of being somehow parallel to something more normal/real. That’s probably why people hate the Star Wars prequels; too much politics, not enough lightsabers.

Seriously, though. Practically all things derived from Harry Potter are great. The movies, the music, ESPECIALLY the video games (or the first three, to be exact.) Also, the one perk of living in Florida is being able to go to the theme park. It’s nice and all seeing a made up setting presented to you on a screen, but to actually be there, walking around the world? It’s nuts. Even the Fantastic Beast series isn’t perfect, but still very alright at worst. I’m really just going to have to piece together my thoughts to organize them all.

The Movies:

They say dumbing down an experience and presenting it to an audience in a neat little package is a bad thing, but really... The movies are extremely good. I do prefer the style of the first two, where everything seemed more light and charming. Of course, it was about the third movie when Harry realized that the world wasn’t as bright and shiny as the first two years led him to believe, so it’s fair his take on things would be altered. I just wish it wasn’t so consistently, you know... dark blue and cloudy. I mean, I get that it’s England and all, but it’s fantasy.

Either way, I guess I’ll have to put all of the emotions that I probably would’ve experienced anyway if I read the books first here. The absolute best part about the series is the characters. I’ve already gushed about how Hagrid is the absolute most wholesome character in all of fiction. Another seriously good one is Mrs. McGonagall, who comes off as the serious, “do your homework!” type at the beginning, but by the end becomes a super charming and genuine person. In the last movie, her line “I’ve always wanted to use that spell!” Is so cute. I mean, you really can’t name a non-charming character in the whole series. The entire Wealsey family is insanely lovable. The Malfoys are supreme assholes at the beginning, but seem to slowly turn for the better as things get super dark.

Obviously the major deaths are so major because of how much you loved the characters. Dumbledore was definitely the type to realize when he must die, but seeing the serious amount of respect people had for him it just makes you choke up. Dobby’s death destroys anyone with a heart, because he died swinging. Snape as a whole is such an amazing and fun character to just watch exist, despite being so dark and brooding all the time. I’m sure his death the first time around was sort of confusing, until we got to see his memories, at whichpoint you’d be dried up in your seat due to dehydration. I wasn’t exactly emotionally mature when I first saw it so I have no major memory of how I felt, although I definitely feel it now. Considering how pure the Weasley family was, Fred’s death was also super heartbreaking, mainly because the twins were nothing but joy even in the worst of times. Even the brief cut-away to Lupin’s body got you. And, that’s only in the Deathly Hallows movies... What about Sirius? Hell, even seeing Hagrid caring so much for Aragog makes you feel bad. It’s a serious testament to how good these characters are.

The music has become so impossibly iconic too. That’s what you get when you get John Williams. I’ll tell ya, I couldn’t sing you any non-soundtrack song from the past few years of movies I watched. Sure, the music did them good I guess, but they never felt like actual songs you wanted to listen to. If you played anyone the soundtracks to the first two movies, they could identify what they’re from in the first two notes minimum. It’s so great. I’d kill to have movies do this again. I mean, you can always go for more good music.

The Games:

The year is, I dunno... any year before like 2010. A kid’s movie comes out, and BANG there’s a game for it. “Oh, I like the movie. Maybe I’ll like the game?” No. No you won’t. That’s not how it works. If you’re lucky you’ll have some nostalgic memories from it, and hell maybe that’s the reason why I think the Harry Potter games are so damn GOOD.

Seriously, how did this happen? The games (or, as I said, mainly the first three and that Quidditch one) are so fun on their own, regardless of the movies. I have fond memories of the first, but the Chamber of Secrets on PC is where most of my love lies. God, I’ve been listening to the music the whole time while writing this and it’s so perfectly ingrained into my mind. Like the movie, the themes are so wild and singable. Even the fucking GBA game planted its seed into my memory, despite me only getting like 10% of the way through it. It had its own soundtrack apart from the PC games too, and didn’t even try to recreate the music from them. They literally wrote new music for their shitty cashgrab game. It’s so good.

Plus, the games seem to include stuff that wasn’t even hinted at in the movies. Remember when Harry used Spongify to bounce up to different parts of the castle in the movies? Or used Skurge to remove some stray ghostly ectoplasm? No. That’s only in the games. More importantly, can we talk about Quidditch? The game, but also as a whole?

Harry Potter really made me realize that I LOVE fictional sports. Like what I said with the conflict of a fictional story, having a sport built upon the weird logic of a world is just as, if not more, interesting. Even though the rules of Quidditch are absolute BS (seems like nothing but the Snitch matters) just watching it is so fun and interesting. You’d think that brooms would exclusively be transport, but OF COURSE they’d use them for sport at some point. Toss in a few magical balls, and boom--- you’ve got something some wizards would love to watch. The verticality of the field is easily what makes it so much cooler, since it would obviously require so much more space, and to any unaware observer, just seeing the field would show that nothing normal is played there. If they ever release a movie that’s just another generic sports movie with all the expected twists and turns, except the sport in question is Quidditch, I’d watch the shit out of that.

In the meantime, we have a Qudditch video game. Again, another original soundtrack, and apparently an anthem for each world team? God, really? You did all that? Anyway, from what I remember, the game isn’t too hard, but I’ll have to find it again and try to shoot for the big leagues to see if they step it up. About the world teams, though: they’re the absolute best part. You play basically college-level Qudditch against the houses for a while, but then you see how big the game actually is around the world, not only being able to play as a worldly team, but in a worldly stadium as well. Someone had to design a stadium, style, animations... for each team. That’s nuts.

So much effort was put into the first few Harry Potter games, it’s shocking. Sucks that, as far as I remember, they basically slowly turned into wizard FPSs after that. I kind of remember liking the fourth one a bit, but I’ll need to find it again. I lost that stupid little disc holder thing with all the nostalgia-filled games I loved on it. The day I find it is going to be one hell of a day.

The Wizarding World:

The curse of being so damn amazing is people swarming to it and ruining the experience just by overcrowding. Either way, the place was actually amazing. I’m a sucker for any real-life place that tries to mimic a very fantastical setting. That’s really the reason why I prefer Universal as a whole to Disney, since it feels much more like you’re stepping into a different world. Kind of helps to distract you from the BS prices and tourist pandering.

I mean, There’s not much to say apart from it looking cool. The rides are good, I guess. It’s weird, when we got there my mom was like “We HAVE to try Butterbeer” and, to be honest, I’m struggling to think of an actual drink more disgusting sounding than “Butterbeer” that isn’t just insect guts or something. I’ve never had the slightest inclination to try normal beer at any point, and I can sure as hell say that suggesting that someone putting butter in it makes it so much worse. I don’t know why, butter and beer just feel like they shouldn’t go together. Hell, maybe they don’t even use butter. I know at Universal, at least, it’s not actual beer, since kids would surely want to try it, but the concept just feels really disgusting.

That rant aside, here’s the valuable knowledge: I’d have to say that I’d be a Hufflepuff. In my more Incel-ular days I thought I’d be a Ravenclaw, since they smart and all, but really I feel more of a Hufflepuff. That’s not even decided by a web quiz. I just think that I’d chose to be a background character above all else. I pretty much am, anyway. Not that that’s bad, I’m just, you know... in the background. Plus, I’m assuming they’re the more artsy of the four houses. Really, I don’t know exactly what it stands for. “Talent?” What the hell is that supposed to mean?

#harry potter #movies #game #hp #hogwarts #poole #thoughts #opinions #rant #rambling #hufflepuff

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evilincarnatemoon · 5 years

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Character Profile

+1 to be graced by the beauty of Dr.Sofen ꧁ ❦ | · Karla Sofen · | ❦ ꧂

【 Biodata 】 Name: Karla Sofen Aliases: Dr Sofen, Moonstone, Kate Sorenson, Meteorite, Ms. Marvel Sex: Female Age: Late twenties to early thirties Species: Human Mutate Race: American Relationship Status: Single Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Occupation: Psychiatrist, SHIELD consultant, Initiative psychology teacher, Thief Education : Medical Doctorate and Psychiatry Doctorate, Masters in Psychology [Undergraduate] UC-DAVIS California, USA Place of Creation: Captain America (1968) #192 » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Physical Specifics 】 Hair: Blonde Eyes: Blue Height: 5’11 Weight: 130 Ilbs (59 kg) » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Relations 】 ❦ Karl Sofen Relation: Father Status: Deceased ❦ Marion Sofen Relation: Mother Status: Deceased » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Quotes 】 “Wh-what are you doing to me? I’m – I’m Moonstone again? I’ve been ‘reality-punched?’ That’s the stupidest @#%* thing I’ve ever heard of .” ”It always amuses me how people so ready to do the Devil’s work fall into asking for God’s help when things don’t play out as planned ” ” It’s hard to confront the deep truths about ourselves. Naturally you flee them at first ” » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Personality 】 Dr. Sofen defines herself by her intelligence. And she is defined by a bitter, vengeful desire for social revenge and showing the world who’s the boss and who’s the bitch. She’s a user and a predator, desiring to be as independent and high-status as possible, through both money and influence.Sofen is proud of having neither morals nor ethics. She sees those as yet another set of constraints that only applies to suckers with a less prodigious IQ than her own. She regrets nothing and stops at nothing. Her only goal is to make it big. She’s greedy, and very open about it.But she is also smart and disciplined enough than it doesn’t constitute an Irrational Attraction in game terms. It was a while before she began to want to change. Or before she admitted it to herself, anyway. She seemed to initially stay with the others for the safety of numbers. The desire to redeem herself was so different from her normal way of being and thinking that it took a long time, and intervention by an alien intelligence, to make her understand that she actually wanted it. She never quite got the being a hero part though. Karla constantly questioned herself about whether she was simply doing what others wanted her to. Her superiority and need for independence make it difficult for her to ask others for help. She developed a big-sisterly affection for Jolt, and romantic feelings towards Hawkeye, both of which could have influenced her path.Indeed, she worried it was Hawkeye’s influence in particular which had guided her down this path. This doubt may have stopped her being as committed to the relationship as she might otherwise have been. » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Background History 】 Karla grew up in the mansion of a Hollywood producer, the child of a butler. After her father died, her mother worked three jobs to put her daughter through college, and Karla vowed never to end up like her mother, to never put another’s needs before her own. Despite building a successful psychological practice, Karla so disliked being dependent on her patients for income that she entered the super-criminal world as an aide to Doctor Faustus. Learning of Moonstone (Lloyd Bloch), she became his psychologist and manipulated him into rejecting the source of his powers, an extraterrestrial gem of considerable power, which she then absorbed to gain the powers of Moonstone. Karla worked briefly for the Corporation, controlling the Hulk and manipulating General “Thunderbolt” Ross into a nervous breakdown. She continued to pursue greater power, stealing Curt Connors’ Enervator and searching the moon’s surface for further moonstone fragments. First Egghead and then Baron Zemo recruited Moonstone for their Masters of Evil, and she aided each against the Avengers. After the last of these fights, she decided to serve out her prison term and give up her criminal life. However, when Zemo formed a group of villains to masquerade as heroes, he broke Moonstone out of the Vault and she returned to villainy as the Thunderbolt Meteorite. Upon encountering a young victim of Arnim Zola’s genetic manipulations, a youngster by the name of Jolt, Moonstone nudged Zemo into accepting her in the team. She soon became a mother figure to Jolt and used her enthusiasm to create a power-base inside the team, rallying the others behind her. Zemo exposed the true nature of the team, but Moonstone opposed him, followed by MACH-1, Songbird, and Jolt. Zemo had brainwashed the Fantastic Four and the Avengers, but the small team of Thunderbolts, with the help of Iron Man, was able to defeat Zemo and Techno, his ally. After the battle the Thunderbolts had decided to pay for their crimes, but they were unwittingly teleported to an alternate dimension. In this world, known as Kosmos, Moonstone led the team to safety from the Kosmosian army and eventually executed the Kosmosian Primotur to ensure their return to Earth. Inspired by Jolt, she made the Thunderbolts see that it would be preferable to work for their redemption as heroes, rather than to be in jail. After gaining fake identities for the team, she led them away from S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Lightning Rods, and she managed to defeat Graviton using her psychological skills, making him see that he did not truly have a goal, that he lacked vision . However, the Thunderbolts disagreed with her, for she merely thought of the present and did not care for the future consequences of her actions. When the former Avenger known as Hawkeye joined the team, claiming they would be pardoned if they followed him, she stepped down as leader and allowed him to get the position. Soon after the Thunderbolts fought the new Masters of Evil, a veritable army of supervillains, and Moonstone decided to betray the team. But something inside of her snapped, and she defeated Crimson Cowl and returned to the team. Weeks after, Graviton returned, having pondered the words of Karla. He took over the city of San Francisco, turning it into an island in the skies. Thunderbolts attempted to stop him, but they were captured. Graviton offered Moonstone a place at his side, as his queen, but she laughed in his face. As the youngest members of the team saved them, Moonstone wondered why she didn’t take Graviton’s offer. During a mission against the Secret Empire, she become romantically involved with Hawkeye. But as time went by, she became haunted by nightmares of an ancient alien warrior woman, who whispered in her thoughts. Soon after, the team was targeted by Scourge, who killed Jolt. The death of the youngster hit Karla deeply. Subsequently, Citizen V asked for help against her own team, the V-Battalion, and the Thunderbolts agreed to do so, engaging the V-Battalion’s operatives in battle. Karla was torn about fighting them, for they were heroes. She released a surge of her powers to stop the fight, making them all intangible, and fled, trying to find out what was wrong with her. Her first stop was Attilan, but the Inhumans were gone. She then searched the Fantastic Four’s computers and found the answer she was looking for. She flew under her own power to the Blue Area of the Moon, where she sought the Kree Supreme Intelligence and demanded the truth. The Supreme Intelligence revealed to her that the fragment she referred to as the “Moonstone” was part of a Kree Lifestone, which used to empower the Guardians of the Galaxy centuries ago. The alien warrior woman that haunted her dreams was the previous owner of the moonstone, whose memory was etched into it, and kept steering Karla into the path of heroism. The Thunderbolts managed to catch up with her, and so did Captain Marvel, who offered her help. Led by Captain Marvel, the Thunderbolts went to Titan, where Mentor and ISAAC attempted to remove the moonstone from Karla’s body. After a serious discussion about Karla’s potential to do good, Mentor allowed her to keep the gem but erased the memory of the previous owner, leaving Karla’s mind, and by consequence, her decisions, to herself. The team returned to Earth, only to find Jolt alive. She exposed Hawkeye, revealing the pardons Hawkeye promised would not be honored. Soon, the Thunderbolts chased Scourge, who was being manipulated by Henry Peter Gyrich. Thunderbolts fought the V-Battalion’s Redeemers but eventually teamed up with them to defeat Gyrich, who was being manipulated as well. Valerie Cooper offered the Thunderbolts pardon for saving the world from her own people, with the condition that they would hang up their heroic identities forever. Karla Sofen was soon contacted by Graviton, who hired her as a tutor. In the following weeks Karla helped Graviton understand and control his powers in ways he had not even dreamed, making him fall in love with her. Graviton soon attacked the Redeemers, slaughtering the team. He also managed to keep many of Earth’s heroes unmoving in the sky, as he lifted hundreds of cities all over the world as well, for he wanted to reshape the face of Earth into a semblance of his face. The Thunderbolts re-formed to stop him, only to find Karla at his side. In the end, she hesitated fighting them and helped them stop Graviton. However, his power imploded, sending most of the Thunderbolts to Counter-Earth. While trapped on Counter-Earth, the Thunderbolts became true heroes at last, rescuing thousands in their flying city, Attilan. Karla was given the task of reshaping the minds of the world’s leaders, creating a new way of thought to ensure the survival of all. Soon after, Karla removed a second moonstone from that world’s Lloyd Bloch (known there as the Phantom Eagle), dramatically increasing her own powers. The Thunderbolts eventually returned to Earth, leaving Jolt and the Young Allies to complete their task of saving Counter-Earth. When the Avengers later interfered in the Thunderbolts’ plan to control the world’s “transnormal energy”, a failsafe was triggered– a device that Karla had planted in her private plot against Zemo. The stolen energy was funneled into her moonstones, further increasing her powers. Karla attempted to use this energy to flee, but the Thunderbolts and Avengers combined forces to stop her. In the end, Zemo ended up in possession of both moonstones and Karla was left comatose. After recovering, Karla reunited with the Thunderbolts first with Zemo then under the leadership of Norman Osborn. Eventually she took the mantle of Ms. Marvel when Osborn created his version of the Avengers. Once that venture failed miserably, after the siege of Asgard, Karla found herself back in the Raft prison, but again she was allowed to participate in the Thunderbolts program now led by Luke Cage. » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Abilities 】 The Moonstone embedded in Karla’s body works through manipulation of gravity, and gives her a large toolbox of powers. She has high level super strength, speed, and durability. She is able to manipulate her density and the density of objects around her, allowing her to become intangible and phase through objects and attacks. She can manipulate gravity directly, using it to bend light (making her invisible), increase the gravitational pull of things around her, absorb energy, and even teleport. She can project beams of light as powerful lasers or simply emit bright light to blind opponents. She is a brilliant psychologist and uses her insight and way with words to get into the minds of her opponents in the middle of fights and effectively manipulate them Along with this ability, Karla also has perfect control over her voice. She can alter her pitch and modulation to varying degrees to literally drive a man crazy, as shown with what she did to Red-Hulk.. She is a skilled fighter and can fly at high speeds. She can generate and alter her costume at will, and can regenerate from wounds at a heightened rate. » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Themes 】 ❦ A Beautiful Lie [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Kvd-uquuhI ] ❦ Pray 【https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLwKCdxN9vk 】 » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « [| Admin’s introduction |] [| Hello, I see you’ve stumbled unto this other account of mine, whereby I roleplay as the human mutate who happens to be a hero/ villain Karla . Karla is an intricate villainous woman who I shall portray to the best of my ability and these are things you can expect to find here |] ~ Things related to the Marvel Universe ~ Quotes and edits on Moonstone ~ Roleplays ~ Admin posts/ shitposting for those moments when I feel so uninspired [[ And these are just some of the things I wish to lay down ]] 1) I wish to emphasize when I’m speaking in character, I shall be using ❝ ❞ and for ooc character interactions , I shall be using [[ ]] or the dashes. 2) I’m a fairly nice person (despite the nature of the character I am rping as) so don’t be afraid to ask me if you wish to rp. My replies varies on how many lines one could reply with or if I’m feeling rather inspired during such moment so don’t worry if you think if your reply is too short or too long. Also if I seem to be taking too long on a rp, it’s either I forgot or I got busy. 3 ) No starting any sort of unnecessary drama on my account please for I wish to get along with everyone. With that said, if you have a problem with something I said or posted, don’t be afraid to talk to me about it so we can solve the issue.

#marvel #karla sofen #moonstone #dark avengers #roleplay

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