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baohanhanesel · 5 months

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Mom of the TF141

Mentioned: Simon Ghost Riley, John Soap Mactavish, Kyle Gaz Garrick, Captain John Price.

It was the fact you knew how to comfort each one of them. They loved some homemade goods after a bad mission. The freshly bandages wounds, aching pain and the headaches were best cured with homemade lentil soup and homemade meatballs with potatoes. You knew they didn't remember the last time they had a homemade meal. So you took the opportunity and comforted them with it.

Ghost liked to be silent while he ate the goods and after that he'd disappear to his room to rest for the day. You'd make sure to send him a bowl of the biscuits you baked so he has snacks to munch at night if he can't sleep.

Soap was the type of guy to talk everything out and you'd listen. You'd listen to him tell you about everything in his mind mission related or not. Most of the time it wouldn't be mission related, he would just want to move on quite fast. You'd sit across from him, see him down the second plate while he talked. He'd occasionally get tired of stuffing his mouth and talking so you had to do a bit of talking as well. "You say so?" "That sounds interesting." "Oh wow. I haven't seen you talk about that before!" "Johnny..." "What? For real? What happened after that?"

Gaz sometimes had tears in the corner of his eyes while he stuffed his mouth shut with a spoonful of lentil soup. He'd never let them fall, not before you gave him the flag to do so. "Kyle, it is fine. You are fine." You wouldn't mention his tears while he ate, or when he decided to talk to you about the mission and how it could have been successful. You could see he valued your words a lot. And that made you feel special, as special as you were for him.

Price was the grumpy type. He had the furrowed eyebrows until he started to eat. After he got that done, he'd soften a bit but you'd still notice the subtle anger in him. You knew at those times joking wasn't a way out, so you just gave his shoulders a pat. "You did everything you could have, John. You know you did." If he denied so, you'd hush him. "No talking back. Why don't you go lay down?" He wouldn't be against the idea if it came from you. He trusted you and the comfortable warmth your words made him feel was indescribable. He could never put a word on it.

It was the fact they all respected you a shit ton. A recruit badmouthing you or even talking to you as an equal? They were very quick to jump at them.

Ghost would glare at first, cursing them in his head for thinking they are your equal. They were not. They didn't have the right to think you were like the others in the base. You were much more important. You were a warmth he never thought that was left in this hellhole of a world. If they went as far as to insult you, he would threaten the recruit behind your back. Grabbing the back of their throat and whispering in a deadly tone. That they were nothing other than a piece of shit on the sidewalk and they would better remember their place before Ghost would teach them where it was. Every time without an exception you'd never see that recruit look into your eyes ever again.

Soap threw a dirty look, asking the recruit overwhelming tons of questions and humiliating them. If they thought they were your equal that was embarrassing. Soap would make them realize how embarrassing they were by asking questions. "Ohh name three times you calmed down an angry Captain after a 48 hour mission." "Name me one time you walked up to Ghost and got him to talk." If they insulted you, it was nothing but a fist straight into their face. No warnings. Nothing. Just a good punch. After that? That recruit wouldn't be seen anywhere within your eye range.

Gaz would openly say they were stupid for thinking of themselves as your equal. He would give them many reasons why they are not. When he witnessed someone insulting you? He rolled his sleeves and prepared his fists but never got to attack the recruit before they ran away. Gaz didn't waste his time tracking the fucker down. He would have. If you hadn't stopped him and told him the recruit was just a rookie.

Price would lecture the recruits. "This woman right here saw more blood than any of you did. She saw more dead bodies than more people you got to know in your pathetic lives." There was no stopping him if he started his lecture already. He wouldn't stop without seeing the shame on the soldier's faces. You would try stopping him though, even if you knew he wouldn't. When would you not try? When he heard you get insulted by someone. That was off limits for you because you knew he saw red when it happened. He'd get very scary with the strict voice and if necessary a collar grab. He'd only calm down after seeing tears in the recruit's eyes or hear their babbles of apologies. If he could fire soldiers for disrespecting you, he would. But he was a smart man and instead of giving up on a lost cause he'd just bend them into manners with more force.

It was the time you called them your boys. It was a calm evening and they had made you so happy, talking and joking peacefully with each other. Seeing them so good and well mannered with one another had made you so happy back then you called them your boys. "I am so happy my boys are so good with one another. Wouldn't change anything for your team bond."

Ghost paused, looking at you in disbelief. He felt a huge crash in his heart and a huge smile on his face matching it. He didn't remember the last time he got this emotional over being mentioned before. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake. He didn't say anything and only kept joking around with the way you said it. Your phrase made him realize that he was one of your boys indeed and that he has been seeing you as his mother figure.

Soap laughed so damn loudly. "Yeah? Seeing our lady happy makes me damn happy." He would get next to you and hug you. As much as he tried to seem he was cool and he totally wasn't affected with the way you called them your boys he was affected horribly. He was so damn happy that you saw him as your boy. He had made peace with the idea in his head before, the idea that you were a mother figure for him. So hearing you say that so casually made him feel like a little child.

Gaz felt his cheeks flush. He was embarrassed. He didn't think hearing that from you could get him this embarrassed, but it had. He wanted to hear you say it again but he would rather dig himself a hole than to ask that of you. He already had a hard time not calling you mom, you were making it very hard for him to not make that mistake. Granted if he accidentally called you mom, he'd disappear for a few days to process what he just did.

Price smiled lovingly. Looking you in the eyes with admiration in them. He admired you so much. You were a brave motherly woman and for him you meant a lot. Hearing you say "My boys" got him so happy you had no idea. He had always seen this team as a family, and you not speaking otherwise gave him the flag to freely call you "mom" even as a joke. You'd take the joke well, that much he knew it. He thought of you as a comforting mother since the day you got close with him. Your smile, your words and your pats on the shoulder. You made him want to cry because of how comfortable you made him feel.

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annab-nana · 2 years

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*skips into your inbox to make a request*

can i get (with jj ofc) Having to help support the other while they walk due to an injury and Noticing with a start how cold the other is pls

- 🦭

ofc you can :))) here it is!!!

warnings: ankle injury, mentions of pain, jj being a sweetie

❀ masterlist ❀

you were really trying to hide it, but the pain you felt in your ankle was becoming harder to keep invisible. you kept telling them you were fine but john b was the only one who believed you as he as your voice in the pogue discussion taking place in front of you on whether or not they should take you to the hospital.

you sat in the sand and looked out onto the water where you had initially hurt your ankle. you were all having so much fun, but you overestimated the depth beneath you and hit the shore hard. jj was by your side in an instant and carried you to the sand you currently sat in while the rest talked about what they should do about your injury.

pope was the logical one. he suggested going to the hospital just to make sure you were alright because it could be worse than it seemed. adrenaline could still be pumping through your veins to make the pain seem less than it was.

kie just wanted to be safe rather than sorry, so going to the hospital felt right.

john b trusted you and your words. you said you were fine, so in his mind, you are and the guys are making a bigger deal out of nothing.

jj, however, knew you.

he knew you would rather not make a big fuss and suffer in silence. he knew by the look on your face that your ankle was giving you more trouble than you were letting on. he knew what was best for you in times when you weren't even aware of that just yet. and he knew now that the hospital was better than going back to the chateau and regretting not going when your ankle ultimately got worse.

pope, kie, and john b continued to talk things out while jj came over to you and crouched down. his voice shifted your attention away from the steady waves crashing on the shore to him and his worried yet calm eyes.

"be honest with me, y/n," he prefaced, "does it hurt bad enough that we should go to the doctor?" his eyes studied your face while you took a moment to formulate the answer he already knew. you were going to verbally affirm that you did need to go to the hospital, but being in the moment of not only feeling the pain radiating through your ankle but also feeling just how much jj cared for you caused tears to line your eyes. so, you gave him a subtle nod.

he reassuringly nodded back to you alongside a small grin to comfort you further. "okay," he spoke to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning to the pogues, "hey, we're going to the hospital. john b, go get the van started."

"i'll grab our boards," kie announced while she quickly ran to fetch them, pope following her to help make it a more speedy trip.

jj's hands helped lift you up and he let you use him as a crutch. your skin met his and he let out a minor hiss.

"geez, you're freezing," he commented while you two began to hobble over to the orange dinged-up van that you all had come to love, "hey! jb! grab my hoodie from under the seat too!"

the blond focused back on you and helping you walk and also trying to warm you up a bit. "don't worry, y/n. you'll be warm and pain-free in no time."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

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#anna's 5k beach bash #fmrl wndrlnd #blurbs #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank blurbs

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lydiaas · 1 year

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You know what's something really subtle I really really REALLY hated Mike for? When he said "but then I learned about hard work" TO JJ!!!!

This kid is 16 and has been working for God knows how long ‘cause he doesn't have a single adult figure who provides for him, he worked with boats, he worked at the bar, he did small things for the Heywards 'cause yeah, Pope's dad is actually a decent man who recognizes JJ doesn't have much and offered him to help out with their family business from time to time for some extra money and the Carreras who also own an activity?What have they done to give this kid a chance?The guts Mike Carrera has to know damn well this 16 years old kid comes from an abusive household and had to provide from himself since forever and to say he doesn't know about hard work and what have you (an adult aware of the situation) done to help? He could have easily thought "ok my daughter's friend is in serious need of help and we could offer him a job" but he didn't. You have a job to offer, give it to him a sixteen years old homeless kid who also happens to be a really important person for your daughter.

I hate JJ's situation so much 'cause not only it's incredibly hard as it is but you also add the fact there isn't a single adult who cares enough to help him out of it, starting from the cops who should have reported him to social services like they did with John B but instead constantly mocked him, the school, the parents of his friends who could have easily stepped in but didn't (except for Heyward, the only adult with rights in this show)... and as if it isn't enough those same adults are also surprised and blame him for not trusting the system, adult figures and authorities, well how could he? Every single one of them let him down.

JJ DESERVES NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS AND I HOPE HE BUILT HIMSELF THE LIFE HE DESERVES IN THOSE 18 MONTHS!!

I'm gonna put you in jail for these takes in a second!

You're so right. I'm now thinking about the way that half of JJ's wardrobe are clearly things he got from places he's worked. He's been providing for himself for so long.

A lot of the way JJ is treated comes down to who his father is and it's sadly realistic. Luke is a piece of shit who has probably burned a lot of bridges and people can't look past that and recognise JJ is still just a kid who is doing whatever he can to survive.

Every negative thing JJ thinks about himself comes from other people or his father telling him so. He had no hope at being a well adjusted teen. It's really damning that Mike, someone who admits to recognising parts of himself in JJ, can't realise he could be the one to make a positive difference. This choice of characterisation for Mike is really interesting to me because it is in line with the way the writers explore flawed father figures (Heyward really stands alone).

At the anniversary party JJ says "When you see Mike, could you just let him know that I don't feel bad about the money clip? Okay? Just let him know I actually needed it". And yeah he's lobbing a grenade into his relationship with Kie because he's in self sabotage mode but there is also nothing but truth in that statement. You can feel the resentment in "Just let him know I actually needed it". Resentment that no one recognises how much he is struggling and resentment that every terrible thing he thinks about himself keeps being validated by the adults around him. JJ is drowning and Mike can't even throw him a lifeline.

#jj maybank #obx #jiara #jj x kie #again FUCK mike carrera #asks

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

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Hi!! can you write an rafe x routledge!reader with a lot of angst? like the reader is trying to manipulate rafe in order to gain her trust, and somehow rafe is falling for her (and her lies) (nothing violent).

Thank you!!

I love this, it was a bit hard to understand the phrasing of the request so I did my best! I hope you like it 😌

"Yes, Sarah, I heard you-" I start but she cuts me off with a loud huff across the line and I can hear JJ, Pope, Kie and John B yelling at each other in the background, presumably about this whole ordeal.

"You need to just talk to him- he already has feelings for you so it won't be hard for him to listen to you. Just please be careful." Sarah advises and I feel the knot in my stomach only grow tighter and tighter as I approach the Cameron house. "You're a Routledge, surely you can lie." I can imagine Rafe sitting inside, minding his own business, having no clue what's to come.

"I really don't want to do this to him." I whisper into the line, frustrated tears lining my lashline at the thought of actually doing what they want me to do, pulling a manipulative side of me that I never want to have to use against someone, not even Rafe.

"He's not even human, Y/n, just do it and get out of there." She hangs up before I can say anything else and I huff, shoving my phone into my pocket before rapping my fist against the large door. Moments later, I hear the thumping of footsteps rumbling down the stairs, presumably and hopefully Rafe and a second later, the door opens.

He looks at me with wide eyes, a subtle red blush slipping across his pale cheeks as I give him a small smile. He pauses, lips parting but no words come out, just genuine shock written across his face.

"Hey Rafe, could I come in?" I ask, hugging my arms around myself and his brows pull together, neck craning so he can look back into the house before down at me with a soft look.

"Uh, yeah- sure." His hand reaches out to rest on my lower back, guiding me into his house as I look around. It's changed a lot since I've been here. "What's up- I'm kind of busy." He asks, leading me over to the livingroom so I can sit and I feel my whole plan, all the words I planned just vanishing from my brain.

"Sarah's hiding something from me, so is the whole group, and I was just wondering if you knew anything about it." The words come out in a panic, the lie completely half assed, and for a moment I expect Rafe to see through it but he doesn't.

"What do you think it's about?" He asks, visibly uncomfortable at the topic but I know that this is necessary for me to ask, for me to pry this information out of him. Even though it's completely against everything I've stood for.

"Something they're trying to find but whatever it is, it's big enough to not tell me." I pout, looking down at my hands that rest in my lap and I can feel Rafe's sorry eyes watching me. "I'm just feeling sort of left out and shitty."

"I'm sorry." Rafe mutters, reaching over to place a hand on mine which sends goosebumps up my arms and through my spine. "I, uh, I do know what it's about. I'm just not exactly at liberty to talk about it." He frowns sadly at me and I nod, sort of relieved that he didn't tell me so I can go back to the group and say he didn't cooperate. "You almost don't wanna know." He chuckles sheepishly and he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Oh." I frown with a deep, dramatic sigh. "Okay."

"Look, I'm sorry. It's for your own good. I don't want you to get in any trouble or get hurt-"

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." I cut him off, reaching over to take his hands in mine which forces his gaze to meet mine, his blue orbs deep with uncertainty. "Your sister sent me, they wanted me to get information about the cross from you and I can't do that to you." Tears immediately fill my eyes as his fast twists in discomfort and he nearly throws my hands off of him as he rises to his feet.

"What the fuck- Sarah sent you?" He bellows, head tilting calculatedly at me and I bury my face in my hands, wishing I hadn't done this or listened to any of them.

"Rafe, I'm sorry-"

"Do you even care about me, Routledge?" He gasps and takes a hefty step away from me as if being so close to me physically hurts him. "Or are you just like everyone else who just uses me and then blames me for their own shit?" I shake my head immediately, stepping up to him with a desperate look in my eyes and I fist my hands beneath my chin.

"Rafe, I told her I couldn't do it- that I couldn't do it to you." I say sternly, trying to get him to look at me but he just avoids my every advance, finally squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he can as he fists his hair between his fingertips. "They're just desperate and thought because of your feelings that-"

"That you could manipulate me." He deadpans, eyes opening suddenly as his mood switches from something sad to something sour, jaw tensing and I begin to feel worry and dread swim through my brain.

"I couldn't go through with it. I wouldn't." I reach out to him, trying to take his hand in mine but he shoves my advance away with a pained look in his eyes, a lone tear sliding down his cheek and I can practically feel his heart breaking from feet away.

"I think you should leave." He says before I can say anything else and I feel myself shaking my head, lips parting as his name escapes me in a breathy, pathetic whimper.

"Rafe-"

"Leave!" He shouts and I jump, hands shaking at my sides and all I want to do is fall to my knees and beg for his forgiveness. I hate myself for using his trust against him, my own heart breaking as I break his.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres

#rafe x reader #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks fic

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my-johnlockficrecs · 2 years

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got my hands on the bbc sherlock casebook and here are some of my favourite bits:

“i don’t use it on you because you’re mad enough to put up with me without it” !!! don’t mind me, i’m just thinking about sherlock constantly being amazed in the privacy of his own mind by the fact that john likes him, genuinely likes him enough to share a life and a home with him, even though sherlock isn’t putting on his “charming” front

this made me think about how when you’ve known someone for a while and you know them well, some of their mannerisms rub off on you. imagining sherlock using a particular turn of phrase only to realise he’s picked that up from john 🥺🥺

“one human being in the end” “watson completes him” ladies and gents and my non binary friends, here we have the men playing sherlock and john calling their characters soulmates

please imagine them teasing each other over the breakfast table, sherlock needling john with the fondest-amused smile on his face and the tips of john’s ears turning pink while he laughs, even as he attempts to defend himself

this. this is making me absolutely insane. sherlock called the night of the pool kidnapping, the night they meet moriarty, the best night of john’s life. and john agrees. no prevarications, no joke to play it off, just a straight “yes.” the night they each made the choice to die for the other, and then made the choice to die together. and that’s not even going into all the meta and subtextual implications of this scene. i’m

jealous john always tickles me 😌

“i’ve never doubted you’d solve anything.” kil me, kill me now. the absolute trust and faith and devotion. the subtle vulnerability in sherlock’s question that john 100% picks up on and responds by explicitly making clear how much faith he has in sherlock. this is too MUCH

this comes at the end of an entire chapter of john bemoaning sherlock’s esoteric choice in interior design and the “much more of this and i’ll test them on you” is just so funny to me sndnjfjs

this. this. “i made my choice.” nothing more to say, really

#the amount of BANTER in this tho #loved it #and now desperately want an epistolary type fic that tells their story through johns casebook like this #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock casebook #johnlock

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 3 months

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The Gambit - A Malevolent Fic

Nothing to see here.

Only a baby god... scheming.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

-----------

Court was just getting started. Magnificent beings sashayed (floated, slid, burbled) their way through Hastur’s throne room. It was a gleaming affair, in spite of being so very wet; creatures so outré they caused madness when seen without protections, creatures that could (and had) eaten entire worlds, creatures who reigned, magnificent and terrible, over their own nightmare-realms of screaming fools and weeping children.

But they made it look good.

Dripping essence and gleaming jewels, sweeping fabrics and bloodshot eyes, colors that could not be named, and fluting sounds through holes in membranous wings—it all came together in one overwhelming potpourri, a maddening maelstrom, a storming insanity.

And John was ready. Hastur, said John. I need to speak with you.

Arthur blinked. “What?” he whispered.

Trust me.

Hastur’s undulating tentacles stilled, just for a moment, as he turned toward them. “Of course, John. Right now?”

One supplicant, detecting this wasn’t a conversation meant for their ears, loped back a bit, bumping into the line that had begun to creep forward.

He was king, John reminded himself. Rex. He could do this. Yes.

“And it couldn’t have been discussed at breakfast?” said Hastur lightly.

No. John was firm. We need to have a private conversation, and we would not have been afforded that.

“Uh,” whispered Arthur. “Don’t think it’s private now.”

Yes, but this forces his hand, John hissed back. It’s strategy.

Hastur chuckled, low. It was an awful sound, and purely for show. “Ah, the impertinence of youth! Everything must happen so quickly.” He picked Arthur up. “We will return post-tantrum, and all will be well, hm?”

Polite laughter followed them as Hastur flew out of the room. Arthur put his face over his hands and groaned. “Now what?”

Hastur apparently took John’s request seriously. He didn’t choose a room, didn’t raise a sound-proofed ward; instead, he flew through one of the high, wide windows and went straight into sky.

“Whoa!” Arthur cried, feeling wind in his face.

Oh! We’re high, Arthur! So high! John laughed. The day was warm and sunny, beautiful and clear, and Hastur added a couple more tentacles around Arthur as if to be sure the man couldn’t get it into his head to squirm away and fall.

John envied the tentacles.

And now, above Carcosa, they hovered free, blazing brighter than the suns, a sight that would cause terror anywhere other than Hastur’s own home.

John envied the power.

“Well,” said Hastur. “Here we are. All alone, yet viewed by the whole world for the sake of whatever little play you’ve concocted. What, exactly, was so urgent you needed to interrupt court to bring my attention to you?”

“Drop the act,” said Arthur. “Nobody can hear us up here.”

“True.” Hastur’s tone was softer, that undone tone he’d had all through the last month. It wasn’t booming. It wasn’t authoritative. It wasn’t powerful.

John did not envy whatever this was. It’s about Sunny, he said.

Arthur inhaled. “Sunny?”

“Is there a concern regarding Sunny?” Hastur said evenly.

He is intended to merge with you at the end of the six years, John said. I am telling you not to do it.

Silence. The wind whistled; distant birds chirped. Far below, Carcosa bustled, its various sounds and conversations merging into a hum.

“You are… telling me,” Hastur said.

Yes. Don’t fucking eat him. John spoke low, stubborn, angry. Kingly. He tried to channel the anger of a lord discovering he’d been disrespected and disobeyed. Or I will never fucking forgive you!

“Oh, John,” Arthur whispered, and their eyes went a littly misty.

Hastur was so still; the only indication of any life was the subtle sense of his hearts and the fact that they still flew. “Oh, won’t you?” he said at last.

I fucking mean it, Hastur! John snapped. He’s wise! If I’m to take my place at your side, I need his advice, but if you do not give me what I want in this way, I will reject you. I will stymy you at every point. I will ruin your fucking court!

“Holy fuck,” Arthur said.

Hastur looked up as if seeing a million miles away, into the stars hidden behind the day. “I see. Yes.”

Don’t take him. I… Was this working? Was he getting anyhwere? John swallowed, reaching for Arthur’s hand. He understands. He’s helping me, even though… even though I scared him, before all of this.

Hastur was silent for another long moment. “Do you know why I have asked you to step up, John?”

Uh. Well. No, actually, he did not, and felt absolutely flatfooted by the question. No.

“The last month made me realize many things,” said Hastur slowly, as though only now putting it all into words. “I am known to mock my brother, Cthulhu. You know this of course.”

John scoffed. Hit by a boat and sleeping. Right.

“Yes.” A deep, perfect sigh, ponderous and weighty. “I need something from you. Perhaps… we can satisfy each other.”

John growled. Satisfy?

“I am weakened, John.”

Arthur swallowed hard, and his free hand clenched one of the tentacles holding him.

John didn’t answer.

“Weakened since losing you. Weakened since losing Sunny. I had hoped to regain some of my power through him. But if I am to forgo taking this piece of myself back into me, then I need something in return.”

I’m not leaving Arthur, said John, so if that’s what you want, you can shove it up your ass.

“I will never ask you to do that again.”

Arthur exhaled, and his head hung for a moment.

“I think, John… that I need… rest.”

And John put it together. Wait the fuck… you want to go to sleep? Like fucking Cthulhu?

Arthur frowned. “I thought gods didn’t sleep?”

“It is a… stasis,” said Hastur quietly. “A condition of ultimate rest for us—and one in which we heal more than at any other time or place. After this second season—or whatever Kayne called it—I think I will need rest.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”

“Not now.”

“Wait. Fucking… at the end of the six years, you’re fucking leaving us?” Arthur snarled.

“Temporarily.”

“You fucking coward! Don’t you dare!”

Hastur stroked Arthur’s hair.

Arthur shoved at him. “No! You don’t get to be all paternal when you’re leaving us.”

“Temporarily,” said Hastur again. “And I think I need to, Arthur. This isn’t a want; do you really think I would choose to miss such crucial developmental stages in Faroe’s life?”

That brought Arthur up short. Of course.

I don’t understand, said John, softly.

“I am so very old,” said Hastur just as softly. “Usually, I don’t feel it; but since my son…” He stopped. His voice caught; if he was acting, it was the best that had ever been done. “Since my son, I have… bled, inside. That is how it feels. I need rest. And that is why I need you.”

Arthur inhaled slowly. “He… you can’t put that on John.”

“For me to continue as I am, weakened, will only put all of you in even greater danger. But if I prepare to to step up and take my place for a time while I rest, then you will be safe.”

Arthur shook his head. “You can’t do this. It’s too much.”

“Not at all,” said Hastur. “John has you.”

Arthur went dead pale.

John couldn’t go pale, but he felt sure that if he could see himself right now, his color would have leached away, gone from vibrant gold to pale pee in snow. You want me to rule Carcosa?

“Temporarily. None of this is meant to be permanent, John.”

Oh. Oh, this was…

If John had been asked yesterday if he should take over from Hastur until that god got his ass in gear, he’d have said yes. Now that it looked him right in the face, he felt sick. I can’t… I can’t do that.

“You can.”

“What would this entail, exactly?” Arthur said. “You think anyone would be willing to obey us like they do you?”

“Yes. I’m laying the groundwork now.”

Arthur shuddered, hard. “I’m just… nobody is going to follow me. Nobody should follow me.”

“They will be following John,” said Hastur, “who is me. This will help. Lighten my burden, John. If you agree, I will not take Sunny within myself. You have my guarantee.”

There was no other way. Rex. He’d chosen this path for himself. This was where it got him… and he would win. I agree.

“John,” Arthur whispered.

John squeezed his hand. We’ve got this. The answer is yes.

“I am relieved. Thank you,” said Hastur simply, and flew back down while his passengers twisted in new and frightening knowledge. Hastur’s persona wrapped back around him like a cloak, reflecting power, vibrating pride, and he resumed adjudicating as if nothing at all had happened.

Arthur waited until the noise rose, until the laughter and voices grew high enough to cover his murmur. “Is this what you and Sunny talked about?”

Yes. No, it had not been. It had not, and John had a nagging feeling Sunny would be upset if he found out what happened. Sunny was wise, but not always rational.

Well, John would handle that too. He would. He could. He knew what was best here, even if Sunny did not. He was taking care of his people.

More supplicants made their way past, shuffling, sliming, floating. Praise was heaped on Hastur for being wise and powerful, the ever-flowing fountain of fear and glorious madness.

“It’s going to be all right, John,” Arthur said softly, catching John’s twitching hand to still it. “We’ve faced worse odds. All the odds are ours this time around. Even if you screw up, it’ll be brushed under the rug because they think you’re a child.” Very carefully, he added, “It’s not our first time working through that, either. We’ll make it through.”

John let out a low noise. What does that mean? Not the first time working through that.

Arthur hesitated.

It was never great when Arthur hesitated.

John suddenly didn’t want to know. Not now. Maybe they could breeze past this, and Arthur could forget he asked at all. I trust you, Arthur. Communication. Sunny had talked about communication, about talking, and he and Parker were together so that must mean he’d gotten it right. I trust you won’t let me make a fool of myself, John said finally.

“I won’t.” Arthur threaded his fingers between John’s.

I don’t want to mess this up.

Arthur sighed. “Remember. It’s not about messing it up. It’s about what you do after.”

Time for a terribly unkingly question. Will… will you still love me even if I do fuck up?

Arthur’s smile was soft, beautiful in the mirrors. “John, if there’s one thing I think you and I have proven, absolutely nothing can drive us apart—including each other.”

All right. Good. John sighed deeply. I want to play jazz after court. And I want to practice walking.

“We can do both,” Arthur promised, and John knew Arthur (King’s own, his own) always tried to keep his word, just as he should.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent au #surrogate series #surrogate fic #surrogate malevolent #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #kiy malevolent #hastur malevolent #king in yellow

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 3 months

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7th February >> Mass Readings (USA)

Wednesday, Fifth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green: B (2))

First Reading 1 Kings 10:1-10 The Queen of Sheba saw all the wisdom of Solomon.

The queen of Sheba, having heard of Solomon’s fame, came to test him with subtle questions. She arrived in Jerusalem with a very numerous retinue, and with camels bearing spices, a large amount of gold, and precious stones. She came to Solomon and questioned him on every subject in which she was interested. King Solomon explained everything she asked about, and there remained nothing hidden from him that he could not explain to her.

When the queen of Sheba witnessed Solomon’s great wisdom, the palace he had built, the food at his table, the seating of his ministers, the attendance and garb of his waiters, his banquet service, and the burnt offerings he offered in the temple of the LORD, she was breathless. “The report I heard in my country about your deeds and your wisdom is true,” she told the king. “Though I did not believe the report until I came and saw with my own eyes, I have discovered that they were not telling me the half. Your wisdom and prosperity surpass the report I heard. Blessed are your men, blessed these servants of yours, who stand before you always and listen to your wisdom. Blessed be the LORD, your God, whom it has pleased to place you on the throne of Israel. In his enduring love for Israel, the LORD has made you king to carry out judgment and justice.” Then she gave the king one hundred and twenty gold talents, a very large quantity of spices, and precious stones. Never again did anyone bring such an abundance of spices as the queen of Sheba gave to King Solomon.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 37:5-6, 30-31, 39-40

R/ The mouth of the just murmurs wisdom.

Commit to the LORD your way; trust in him, and he will act. He will make justice dawn for you like the light; bright as the noonday shall be your vindication.

R/ The mouth of the just murmurs wisdom.

The mouth of the just man tells of wisdom and his tongue utters what is right. The law of his God is in his heart, and his steps do not falter.

R/ The mouth of the just murmurs wisdom.

The salvation of the just is from the LORD; he is their refuge in time of distress. And the LORD helps them and delivers them; he delivers them from the wicked and saves them, because they take refuge in him.

R/ The mouth of the just murmurs wisdom.

Gospel Acclamation cf. John 17:17b, 17a

Alleluia, alleluia. Your word, O Lord, is truth: consecrate us in the truth. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Mark 7:14-23 What comes out of the man, that is what defiles him.

Jesus summoned the crowd again and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand. Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what defile.”

When he got home away from the crowd his disciples questioned him about the parable. He said to them, “Are even you likewise without understanding? Do you not realize that everything that goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters not the heart but the stomach and passes out into the latrine?” (Thus he declared all foods clean.) “But what comes out of the man, that is what defiles him. From within the man, from his heart, come evil thoughts, unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, folly. All these evils come from within and they defile.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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woodsfae · 1 year

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Babylon 5 s02e03 The Geometry of Shadows

table of contents • previous episode

That’s a pretty cool tricorder medical diagnostic device.

“Sinclair I could trust...this guy I don’t know.”

Honestly I can only hope that Sheridan won’t put up with nearly so much assaulting civilians. Hold him to a higher standard.

“I keep wondering what qualifies me to take back my job,”

me too,

“and I don’t have an answer.”

me neither.

Londo, instead of enjoying the curiosity and adulation of the other Centauri, maybe be worried about what the fantastically powerful war crimes committing Morden Et Al are up to??? And promising favors to more shady people, even if they’re Centauri, isn’t improving things! Londo needs - very badly - to learn to look beneath the underneath (I am so sorry for quoting Naruto but it really is a good life lesson put succinctly).

Bazaar fight with a previous un-introduced (I think?) species is a great way to roll into the opening credits, hah. Drazi fight! I’m guessing they aren’t just paler Narns.

They took away Na’Toth’s lipliner for the s02 opening credits!

Techno-mage - another new thingy. They use science to achieve the effects of magic. The Centauri have and have had them. They don’t like to leave their places of power, so seeing them is rare, and to the Centauri, seeing one of them is a bad omen. And here’s three! There are endless new mystical aspects to this show!

YES promotion and diplomatic training for Susan Ivanova!! Really, she only needs a reminder that her more thinly veiled threats like “You’re too young to experience that much pain,” is more diplomatic than “I’m going to put your seats in the fusion reactor and you along with them.”

Vir’s cosmological views are both interesting and make total sense that he believes that (derogatory).

I 100% believe that Londo Mollari would be utterly miserable with more power. As the Emperor, or whatever he has in mind, once he gets there, he’ll be miserable.

Unfortunately, John Sheridan is going to convince Garibaldi to stay. But hopefully him staying does come with some character development that I find less annoying. How sad for me that in the Gathering I was like “He’s adorable. A wringable dishrag of a man,” and now he’s just a cop who is a little bit likable.

Green vs Purple Drazi is an absolute nightmare of a way to try to begin diplomatic training. Hope that tackle didn’t break anything!

Oh, Vi (Vir Cotto, apparently!)r. I don’t care about him at all. But I do care about these extremely cool technomonsters!!!

Technomage: “You don’t frighten easily.”

Vir: “I work for Ambassador Mollari. After awhile, nothing bothers you.”

Laughed out loud at that.

Technomage: “There is an old saying: do not try the patience of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.”

Are these guys human? That’s mostly a Tolkien quote. Londo will certainly go storming in there, since Vir seems smart enough to refuse to go back. I wanna know where the technomages are headed. Are they going to oppose the Shadows? Join them? Investigate them? Fuck around with something totally different? Any of these eldritch beings that Catherine encountered going to come into play?

It is extremely interesting that, while the Minbari seem to be the most mystical, we have been shown more Narnuan direct connections to actual mystic things, like the eldritch beings, the previous war against the Shadows, and these technomages which seem to straddle science and magic.

Ivanova did break something(s)! Drazi 1, Ivanova 0.

The Drazis’ habit of dividing themselves arbitrarily and killing each other till only one faction remains sure is a cultural trait of all time.

There’s over a hundred technomages on b5! That seems like a lot when they don’t usually ever leave their places of power at all.

Technomage: “Captain, you have been used. This...creature...has been seeking an audience with me ever since I arrived.”

lmao.

Technomage: “You must learn manners and respect. From this moment on, you will!”

Well. I’m down for Londo Mollari learning some sense of a.) common sense, b.) empathy, c.) practical morality, but idk if I’m down for whatever this gothic af dude’s going to dish out.

I do want his robe, though. SO BADLY. I am trying very hard not to mentally plan out a whole new sewing project on top of all the others I’ve been daydreaming about.

“It is within that ambiguity that my brothers and I exist. We are dreamers, shapers, singers, and makers. We study the mysteries of laser and circuit, crystal and scanner. Holographic demons, and invocations of equations. These are the tools we employ, and we know many things.”

These guys are my aesthetic. I want to quote literally everything he says.

And they do know about the Shadows that are coming, and they’re going to hide themselves and their knowledge from being either destroyed or misused. New life goal: be a technomage. Love the drama, the robes, the poetry, the pretentiousness, and the practical ability to back all that up.

Smart of Ivanova to deal with one color of Drazi at once. Greens first, since they’re actively killing off the Purples now. Love that their solution for stopping the fighting is to vent all the Purple Drazi into space.

It’s a heavy-handed metaphor, but it checks out.

Goddamn it, Garibaldi is going to, very likably, go back Ivanova up just based on his gut feeling that she needs backup.

What did I say! Faking selling Acme products a la Looney Tunes and bringing back his love of the cartoon from the Gathering is absolutely adorable.

Mollari is having his life being hacked to embarrassment and inconvenience by the technomage and actually I am absolutely here for what is being dished out. Idk what a spoo ranch is, but I hope it’s deeply embarrassing to Centauri. Londo needs his hubris checked before he gets literally every sentient in the universe killed.

BAHAHAHA Drazi Rules haven’t been changed because they’re caught up in committee, therefore, Ivanova is the Green Leader since she’s holding the green star scarf.

It’s...depressingly nice to see that Mollari is capable of apologizing, and almost without caveats and qualifiers, too.

Sheridan: “In other words, you’re perfect for [Head of Security] because you’re compulsive and paranoid.”

Garibaldi: “Or, compulsively paranoid!”

both funny, and also kind of a good point.

Oh man, I am so about this technomage in every possible way. When people in the future ask what my pronouns are I will say techno/mage. When people ask what my gender identity is, I will hold up a little printed out photo of this guy in an anatomically-realistic locket. I am a little crossfaded right now because that’s way more fun than a max dose of tylenol/ibuprofen combo.

Sheridan likes to repeat things that series guests say to him, and I like that about him.

next episode

#babylon 5 #technomages #michael garibaldi #susan ivanova #john sheridan #woodsfae b5

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adelaidedrubman · 2 years

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Local vampire John Seed has begun to accept a dreadful truth about immortality — it’s incredibly boring. Every night, every feeding, every century feels the same as the last. Until a delightfully untamed werewolf wanders into the isolated wilderness of Hope County to break up the monotony, brighten his world, and bring some life back into being undead. Now he just needs to convince her to allow him to take her under his wing. also available on ao3.

notes: vampire!john/werewolf!jestiny. this is a repost of a supernatural au fic i posted last halloween and then deleted during a category five girl moment, with some important revisions and bonus content. i hope to dig up and revise the rest of the series as well before the month’s end! mostly all parody.

wordcount: 4.8k

warnings: john is both vampire creepy and regular creepy. references to stalking behavior. emotional manipulation (ship standard plus vampire power enhanced). a little blood and violence (nothing serious). some brief sexual content (all john’s internal musings, but he’s specific). werewolf jessie’s lack of socialization can at times read as born sexy yesterday adjacent. obnoxious number of vampire media references.

“Perhaps I could offer you just a bit of friendly advice before you go in there?”

The redhead’s hackles raised just as John expected. She froze in place, toned shoulders tensing and arching upward and thin ginger hairs catching sunlight as they stood straightened upward along the back of her neck following his introduction from the shadows. He pressed flush against the side of the building, slinking in the cast of its shadow to join her under the cover of the bar’s awning before she could finish reaching for its front door.

She turned — slowly, cautiously, and with canines barred. Her cute little upturned nose twitched as she studied him, trying to find his scent.

She gradually lowered her top lip over the whites of her teeth as she took in his form: thoroughly human, and leaning against the wood siding casually, non-threateningly.

Her chest rumbled with something between a growl and a clearing of her throat.

“What do you fuckin’ —” her tongue stilled in her mouth, likely clumsy from disuse, and her words textured with rough gravel despite her sharp, ringing pitch. She gave another half-growled cough before trying again. “Who the fuck are you? Why are fucking talkin’ to me?”

John stepped forward, making sure to do so slowly, and with hands behind his back, keeping his head bowed to the side with exposed neck displayed in a sign of submission, so as not to frighten her. He flashed her a closed mouth smile, willing gentleness into his eyes before speaking.

“Think of me as a friend,” he said, carefully extending an open hand towards her once satisfied she wouldn’t retreat. “My name is John. And you are…?”

Her eyes narrowed, honing in on him as she jerked her head forward to hover even with his hand. This close, he could finally make out their warm, bright amber shade, seeming to dance with the lively golden rays of every sunset he’d ever missed for the past two hundred years. She kept those fiery golds locked on him as she leaned in to give his outstretched palm a quick sniff, making no effort to take it in her own.

Oh my, he thought, she really was out of practice. It must have been quite some time since she’d ventured into civilized society. John reflexively licked his lips at the thought, flicking eyes down to the sharpened points of her claws.

“Well, what the fuck do you want, John?” she snapped back without answering his question, subtle snarl quivering along her plump upper lip.

He willed himself to keep his smile light, not allowing it to twist into an amused smirk. She’d clearly identified something in his scent she didn’t trust, but had yet to figure out exactly what it meant.

“As I stated,” he purred, slow and syrupy thick with pause as he savored the opportunity to admire that flaming red hair up close. God, she must have the most gorgeous russet coat when fully transformed, it was a shame he hadn’t caught her in a completed wolf form yet. “I’d like to give you some friendly advice.”

“Well, John,” she spat, an extra growl rumbling through the syllable of his name as she swung her arm forward to reach for the handle of the door again. “I’m not fuckin’ interested in your friendship, or whatever fuckin’ advice you have to —”

“I’d like to warn you,” he interrupted, flinging back his own arm to drape across the threshold, throwing every bit of otherworldly strength into the deceptively casual resting of his fingertips against wood to keep the door shut tight as she tugged at the handle, “that you’re not going to pass for human if you go in there looking like that.”

She gave one last yank to the handle before leaping back in shock. “W-What the fuck are you talkin’ about, you fucking weirdo?”

“Come now, don’t play dumb. You’re certainly not hiding anything from me,” he replied calmly, finally allowing curved lips to part with a widening of his smile, revealing the sharp points of his own incisors.

Her jaw snapped shut with a click of her teeth and another rumbling growl as she processed, amber eyes alight with sudden understanding, subtle musk of fear reaching his nose before she could react to conceal it.

He grinned. It was a lovely moment of recognition he’d quite been looking forward to.

He’d watched the little wolf girl from the shadows for some time now as she stalked around the outskirts of town, working her way up to entering it properly.

And he couldn’t say exactly when it happened.

But he thought it was at some point between watching her dig up every flower bed at the Jessop Conservatory then clawing out a hole deep enough to curl up and fall asleep in and watching her run half human, half wolf, and completely naked through the open range of the Woodson Pig Farm dragging a hog in her mouth, blood dripping down her chest as she sprinted, that he decided he simply must have her.

“I’m only trying to help, my dear,” he added sweetly, stepping to the side to block the door with his body, now face to face with her.

“I am not your fucking dear,” she barked back, her words articulated with more precision as she gained practiced and the driving motivation of anger. “I’m not your friend, I’m not your dear, and I’m not fuckin’ interested in hearing any advice on humanity from some undead creep.”

He gave no response to the insult, instead pausing to drink in the cadence of her speech. As she eased back into the practice of speaking the language, he could hear a certain accented twang begin to color her words. Appalachian, he thought. But an older version of the dialect he hadn’t heard in centuries, lilt of the original Scotch-Irish ringing through.

He’d always heard there were packs roaming the still isolated expanses of those hills with bloodlines that could be traced back long before the first vampire ever risked sailing the seas to the New World, but he’d never imagined he would meet one.

And what was the little creature doing all the way out here, anyways? And wandering around on her own trying to enter a human town? It was all so intriguing.

Yes, he simply had to have her.

“That means get the fuck out of my way, asshole,” she added with a quick flash of her canines and a forward lunge.

“If you so insist,” he sighed, moving away from the door by stepping forward, into her space, rather than to the side the way he was sure she would have preferred. “Although, I fear I really should warn you first…” he trailed off, casting eyes to the side coyly as he creeped infinitesimally closer.

He was close enough now to feel her animal warmth, the creature radiating enough powerful heat to flood the stale air between them until it was sweltering with life against his own pale flesh, as if he were by some miracle once again being kissed by the loving caress of the sun after all these years. And the soft copper down of her coat shone with every beam that creeped past the awning to leak onto the patio, reflecting it back to grace his eyes with the sparkle of indirect sunlight as beautiful as he’d ever managed to catch.

God, it really was like being in the presence of the sun again, so warm and bright and beautiful. She was his own little ball of sunshine.

“You should get the fuck out of my way before I decide to shove my fist so far up your ass you’ll have a fucking heartbeat again.”

Silly wolf girl, he already felt as if he did.

“And quit fuckin’ doing that thing where you drop a hint and wait, like you want me to ask what,” she snapped, taking a quick step to the side, then behind him reaching for the door handle. “I’m not gonna ask what, I’m not fuckin’ interested in anything you have to say, and if you’re gonna fucking say it anyways just hurry up and —”

“I’ll come right out with it, then,” he finished for her with a flourish of his hand, interrupting her attempt to open the door in the same beat by leaning his shoulder against it, then slumping into the posture to even their heights. “I feel I should warn you, the Fairgraves are a very superstitious family,” he said, pointing an index towards the bouquets of dried garlic flowers and wolfsbane entwined and hung from the windows. “Mary May in particular has had the good sense to never once invite me to come inside the establishment. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a full round of silver bullets at the ready to load into her gun the moment someone steps into her bar looking like you.”

She inched back, nose crinkled in a show of aggression but lips still pulled down over her teeth. He watched with satisfaction as her eyes followed the point of his finger, considering his words as her eyes settled on the wards he’d gestured to.

“What’s wrong with how I fucking look?” she grumbled, head lowering in momentary surrender.

“Oh, to my vampire eyes, nothing,” he reassured, finally allowing them a luxuriantly conspicuous roam along every inch of her form. “In fact, I would consider you one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous creatures I’ve ever —”

“The fucking point, John.”

“But from a human perspective, however,” he continued accommodatingly, holding up a hand to signal pause before bringing it up towards her thick copper mane, unable to resist giving the locks a few careful strokes. “For starters, this lovely hair of yours is terribly matted, and humans are rather fond of washing and brushing theirs.”

“Oh, excuse me for not having the aesthetic fucking sensibility to smother it in gel, since that’s apparently —”

“Not to mention you’re not wearing shoes, and they’re considered something of a necessity in polite society these days.” He tipped his head down, motioning towards her feet.

“Well it’s a bar, not the fucking opera, I’m sure I won’t be the only one —”

“And then there’s the unfortunate matter of what you are wearing...” He swooped a hand downward to gesture along the length of the stiff dark wash denim shorts covering the woman from the waist to the end of her thighs, frayed hem tickling the tops of her knees.

She looked down with a questioning cock of her head, ears twitching with genuine curiosity.

“These?” she asked, slapping hands atop her denim clad thighs. “You got a problem with my fuckin’ shorts now?”

“Those,” he spat, jabbing a finger towards the offending item, “are not shorts,” he stated, his words as firm as the thick starched material he pointed to. “Those —” he paused, a shudder of revulsion ripping through him, “are jorts.”

She flexed her jaw as she lifted her head to set narrowed eyes on his face, hooking thumbs through her belt loops and tugging upward. “Well what’s fucking wrong with that?”

“The mere fact you don’t know tells me just how out of touch with human sensibilities you are.”

“Okay, so maybe people don’t think they’re cool anymore —”

“People never thought they were cool,” he said gravely, shaking head heavy with pity and dismay. “Of all the things I’ve witnessed through the ages — empires rising and falling, human inventions to rival the most powerful magic, discoveries that shook generations, the unending entropy of the universe! Never — during any of it — the entirety of the centuries I’ve walked the earth, have jorts ever been cool.”

“— and besides, I’m not taking fucking human fashion advice from someone wearing a cape with little planes on it, like a fucking kid playing superhero dress up!”

“It’s my flying cape. Airplanes are a hobby of mine, a passion humans find quite endearing —”

“And even if my clothes aren’t cool!” she shouted in interruption, baring her fangs as she bit the words out. “It’s not like they’re enough for people to think I’m not a completely normal human!”

“Perhaps not,” he granted, softening his tone and pausing to catch his breath and regain composure. “But the fact you’ve neglected to fully finish your transformation certainly will.”

He reached for her hand before she had the chance to belt out more arguments, pulling it to hold between them.

“Just look,” he tsked, stroking a thumb along the thick bristle of fur poking from her knuckles. “Your claws are far from retracted, and you still have a noticeable bit of fur here that I’m afraid simply doesn’t look natural for a human woman,” he explained, finally trying his luck with a quick brush of his lips to kiss the fur covered knuckles.

She jerked the hand away with a snap of her teeth, claws extending further. She gave him a quick growl before looking down at her paws thoughtfully, angry rumble fading into an annoyed huff.

“How much is — How much hair is a human woman supposed to have?” she asked, trailing eyes along his fully bearded jawline with apparent confusion.

He perked up, stroking his whiskers as he answered. “Well, that’s somewhat a matter of ever evolving cultural standards and personal aesthetic preference. It’s been a rather thrilling series of trends to witness over the years, if I do say so myself,” he offered thoughtfully, lowering his hand towards his chest in self-referential gesture. “I for one appreciate anything on the spectrum, from full bush to hairless, although I’m particularly fond of some subtle trimming to really sculpt —”

“You know what,” she barked, pushing him to the side. “I think I’ll just take my chances in there. Silver bullet’s better than this conversation.”

John stiffened, cold panic racing up his spine. “I seriously wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned, lowering his tone. “At least allow me to find you some shoes. Or more attractive bottoms.”

“Pass,” she spat back, waving him off and reaching for the door.

“Wait,” he called out authoritatively, holding a hand with outstretched fingers in front of her face to signal pause.

Fuck, he’d really hoped he could do this without having to hypnotize her, but he supposed that’s what he got for getting sidetracked discussing personal grooming.

“You don’t want to go in there,” he said, soothing but clear and firm, waving fingers in a tight, subtle circle in front of her face. He was relieved to see her eyes carefully following his movements, the ridges and furrows of tension on her face loosening and slackening. “You know that it would be dangerous to go in there,” he continued, amber eyes now pinpoint focused on the movement of his hand. “You’re going to let me take you home and show you — aaah!”

The motion of his hand was abruptly halted as she lunged forward with jaw unhinged and captured index and middle fingers between her teeth before snapping her maw shut tight.

John attempted to jerk the hand back, only succeeding in further scraping teeth along the skin, slicing along tendons.

Her eyes shot up to look at him with that same pinpoint focus, lips curling outward to display the now bloody teeth buried in his flesh and sinking deeper as her throat rumbled with a low growl that vibrated up through the sharp points of her canines to spark fresh hurt where they punctured him.

His own animalistic impulses snapped to the surface as a sensation of undiluted pain he hadn’t truly felt for centuries now flooded his senses, causing him to instinctively bare his own fangs with a forward thrust of his neck and a long, piercing hiss whooshing between the sharpened teeth.

But the show of aggression only caused her to sink teeth deeper and let out a lower, more threatening growl.

To which he pushed up air from lungs in an even stronger gust to let out a more piercing hiss.

Undeterred, she met him with a louder, quaking growl and a slight back and forth shake of her head as she clamped down on his fingers, like a dog refusing to let go of a bone. And he sucked down a fuller breath of air to her off with a longer, more shrieking hiss.

And they continued like this for some time, taking turns growling and hissing with his fingers caught between her teeth.

(In retrospect, he would frankly find himself surprised that the exceptionally conspicuous racket didn’t cause Mary May Fairgrave to simply run outside firing silver bullets and brandishing a stake at the commotion, slaughtering them both right then and there.)

But finally, once the red wolf’s mouth had begun to overflow with thick crimson that dribbled down her chin, she unhinged her jaw to let him jerk the wounded fingers back to nurse with his own mouth while she spat the remainder of his blood onto the patio with apparent disgust.

“You bit me!” he cried indignantly once his faculty for language returned, holding up the two fingers to display the puncture wounds that were gradually shrinking as skin knit together in healing — much more slowly than a normal wound would heal, he might add, the accursed beast.

“You tried to hypnotize me!” she shouted back, a bit of his own blood flying to splatter along his chest with her spittle.

“Would you have rather I let you get killed?”

“YES!” she screamed, chest puffing and heaving with the exclamation, making him worry the whole thing would devolve into another growling and hissing fit.

Instead, he calmly raised a defensive hand and took a step back in a signal of retreat.

“You’re right,” he said softly, lowering his hand when she turned to growl at it with a look of bitter suspicion. “I shouldn’t have tried to hypnotize you. But I really didn’t want you to go in there and put yourself in danger.”

“Like I’m not in danger out here with you,” she snapped back.

“You’re not,” he said, taking a step towards her with the same hands behind back, neck exposed stance he’d first approached her with. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need any fucking —”

“You don’t have a pack, do you?” he asked bluntly, hungry eyes eagerly drinking up her reaction. “How long has it been since you were with one?”

“That’s frankly none of your goddamn business.”

“Perhaps not, but I can tell you’ve been on your own for a good while,” he responded, gliding forward a step to make up the distance she’d jumped back, moving away from the entrance to the bar. “And whatever pack you come from is a long way from here, isn’t it?”

Her eyes fell at that, despondent. Reminded of just how lonely she was, he was sure. “Maybe,” she muttered under her breath, taking another slow step backward but no longer leaping with a mind towards running.

“I imagine it’s terribly difficult trying to survive as one lonely little wolf girl, all out her own,” he cooed, softening his eyes with a gentle sympathy as he inched closer. “And how long has it been since you’ve lived among humans, for that matter?”

“It’s been a minute,” she admitted with teeth pinching her lower lip, scooting back again, by a shorter distance this time, so that he was allowed to gradually maintain proximity, setting a pace to the dance.

God, and if that were true, how long could it have been since she’d been touched by someone who really knew what they were doing? But he knew that wasn’t the question to ask just yet.

“And whatever is bringing you to human society now, after so long as a lone wolf?” he asked, taking another step forward.

“There’s —” her lips now quivered with an emotion much more human than the animalistic fury they’d trembled with previously, amber eyes darting towards his face in search of sympathetic understanding. Which he happily provided with a reassuring smile, patiently waiting for her to continue. She eyed the distance between them, taking a tiny, obligatory step back before continuing. “There’s a human I’m looking for. Someone I used to know, and owe something to.”

If it was an old flame she was seeking out he’d certainly have to drain them of life before there was any risk of reconnection, but he’d keep that to himself for now, too.

“Let me help you, then,” he offered, with another evenly paced move forward. “I’m well assimilated into human society. And my home is just to the southwest of here, just before you hit the river. Stay with me — for no more than a week, unless you decide you’d like to remain longer. And I will… guide you. Help you remember all those little…” he paused, searching for the right words to artfully convey the extent of his meaning, “... human details.”

Fuck, he could practically feel his tongue tingle already with how good she was going to taste. He might have tried to take her right then and there if they hadn’t already been conspicuously loud.

“What’s in it for you…?” she questioned with a dying hint of skepticism, raising an auburn brow in an effort at displaying suspicion despite the almost pleading look in her eyes, staying locked in place rather than inching back this time.

“I’m merely trying to help a creature in need,” he purred, experimentally raising a hand, bringing it closer to her face when she didn’t flinch.

God, he could practically feel it all now — her claws digging into his back in perfect synch with his teeth sinking into her neck, opening each other up as he entered her. Their bodies moving together in a masterful, bloody symphony, completely connected. It would be delicious.

“Let me take care of you,” he pleaded softly, bringing his palm to her cheek and cupping it.

Upon seeing that she remained in place, not shirking from the touch, he shifted the hand to stroke a thumb along her lips, barely pressing against the point of a canine still worrying there. The rosy expanse of skin spread soothing, exhilarating warmth along the creased flesh of his palm, while the back of his hand blistered with searing, excruciating pain.

“Fuck!” he cursed as he jerked his (now sizzling) hand away from her for the second time that day, inspecting the festering sores forming where sunlight scorched him — the result of his thoughtlessly reaching out to stroke her cheek without realizing she’d retreated far enough to stand just beyond the protection of the bar’s awning.

The little wolf girl now barked with laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubled over and pointed at the sight of him dumbly cradling his injured hand.

“Ah man, I did not think you were actually gonna fall for that!” she guffawed, wiping a tear from her eye. “I thought y’all were supposed to be all smart an’ shit,” she snorted, attempting to reign in her laughter. “Guess ya didn’t use the whole eternal life thing to actually learn anything, huh?” she taunted.

He could only give a weak, offended hiss in reply.

“But you win,” she chuckled, canine returning to its previous place pinching the plump of her lip as it stretched into a crooked grin. “I’ll take your deal. Now that I know you’re relatively harmless.”

“Harmless?” he parroted, drawn out with incredulity. “I’m extending you an offer of kindness, but make no mistake — I am the world’s most dangerous predator,” he bit out. “You are safe with me because I’m keeping you safe, out of the goodness of my heart. But I am designed to kill. I have the strength to snap your neck with a single flick of my wrist, the fortitude to withstand any pitiful attack of yours that might slaughter a lesser creature, the power to bend your will to my every whim if I so choose, the —”

“You got tricks is all,” she replied dismissively. “But now you know I got ’em too,” she huffed with a wink, tilting her head towards the plume of smoke still wafting from the burned flesh of his hand. “Harmless.”

He waved away the last of the smoke, lowering the hand and stiffening to tower over her. “How on earth you’ve managed to survive this long with such an obvious lack of self preservation is completely beyond —”

“How the fuck you’ve managed to live for thousands of fuckin’ years and not get sick of hearing yourself talk is completely beyond me,” she interrupted with a roll of her eyes.

John cleared his throat, dusting off the front of his clothing. “Centuries,” he corrected, holding his chin high. “I’ve only been around for a couple of centuries,” he stated plainly. “And I was only thirty two when I was turn —”

“Good fuckin’ god, it feels like I’ve been having this goddamn conversation for centuries,” she shot back with a lazy rumble of a growl. “Does the fucking offer still stand or not?” she demanded, widening her stance and placing clawed hands at her hips. “You still wanna take me back to your creepy ass Dracula castle and teach me human stuff?”

“The offer stands,” he confirmed, adding a slight hiss of anger to the words. “But it’s a ranch, not a castle, and I’m a vampire, Dracula was just one —”

“Not human stuff, don’t really care to learn,” she shrugged. “And I do have a few ground rules.”

John sighed, weighing very carefully in his mind the value of hot, vigorous, cross-species monster sex against the torment of constant insults, bitemarks, and third degree burns — scales ultimately still tipping in favor of the former as he reached for the hefty black umbrella at his waistband to open, emerging from beneath the awning and beginning to walk in the direction of his home.

“What are your terms, my dear?” he asked, motioning for her to follow.

“First,” she huffed with clawed index pointing upward as she jogged to catch up to him. “No more trying to fucking hypnotize me, or any of your other little vampire tricks.”

“Very well,” he agreed pleasantly. “And?”

“Stop fucking calling me ‘my dear,’” she added with a snarl.

“I can also accept that term, conditioned on one of my own,” he replied, veering closer to the woman keeping pace strolling at his side, so that she was now with him beneath the arc of his umbrella. “You tell me what I should call you. I think this undertaking warrants us being on a first name basis, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” she snapped, bounding forward to break past the perimeter of his umbrella’s shadow, as if flaunting her ability to bask in sunlight. “But if it staves off any more creepy ass pet names, you can call me Jessie.”

“Jessie,” he purred, drawing out the ‘s’ sounds with a pleasant hiss, savoring the subtle music of the name passing through his lips. “Is there anything else that you desire from me then, Jessie?”

“For our time together to be brief,” she chirped, turning to flash him a sarcastically sweet smile — the sight of shadows pooling in the dimples sinking into her cheeks making his chest flutter with warmth as if it still contained a beating heart all the same. “And for our conversations henceforth to be limited in duration and to the relevant fuckin’ topics.”

“Oh, listen to you,” he taunted, gliding along faster to bring them side-by-side again. “Ten minutes around me and your mastery of the English language is already improving.”

“My English is perfectly fuckin’ fine already, bastard,” she snarled. “Just because I don’t have to hear myself talk all the fucking time like some people doesn’t mean I don’t fucking read.”

“Really?” he exclaimed with feigned excitement. “What do you possibly find the time to read between rolling around in the mud and chasing cars?”

She shot her head back to glare at him again, fangs on full display. What an empty threat it was becoming already. “Where’d you say your house was again?”

“Ah, yes. Southwest just before you hit the river, a somewhat sizable ranch with natural cedar wood siding, an attached guest house and airplane hangar, you can’t miss —”

“Good!” she barked back at him before sprinting forward, front limbs shifting to join her hindlegs on the ground. Fur spread along her body as it twisted and cracked into the shape of an animal, allowing her to race off ahead of him in full wolf form.

“Do not transform in the middle of a populated town!” he shouted towards the wolf as her form grew smaller on the horizon as she continued to run. “That’s lesson number one!” he called, shuffling along in an attempt to catch up. “Jessie!” he yelled one last time in protest, now exceptionally far from the beast.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he finally cursed, ducking beneath the shade of a tree and tossing his umbrella into the woods. He drew in a deep breath of frustration before willing himself into the form of a bat, hurrying to flap his wings and soar the distance between him and the wolfwoman dashing through wheat fields.

This was definitely going to take longer than a week.

Perhaps an eternity.

#otp: stop bothering these nice folks #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #v: eternal flame #ch: john seed #writies and wordies

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gumnut-logic · 2 years

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He was there.

Always there.

There had never been a time he didn’t expect it, yet he had never taken it for granted. His brother was just there. Usually somewhere in the background.

Quietly watching.

Thinking.

He didn’t have to say anything. Scott could tell by the cant of an eyebrow, the settling of a hip or the shift of his shoulders. It was subtle, but Virgil broadcast his thoughts on a frequency Scott was tuned to and indicated his opinion.

Scott valued that. Ever so much. He lauded his brother’s capability and trusted him more than he did himself.

So, when Virgil stiffened at the sight of the man who walked into the office, Scott definitely took notice.

Virgil wasn’t even meant to be there. He had simply accompanied Scott into the office in London as a prelude to the main reason why they were in town. Gordon had already gone ahead to Penelope’s along with Alan and Grandma. John was due down in the afternoon. Virgil had come with Scott to the office just to keep him company.

And now he was wired tighter than one of his piano strings.

Scott eyed him a moment before standing up and walking around the desk. He held out his hand in greeting. “Mr Yost, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Scott Tracy, well I never. May I call you Scott? Call me Hows. It is great to finally meet you.”

Scott’s hand was gripped with both of the other man’s and far too tight.

Exuberance abounded.

Virgil stood up slowly and buttoned the jacket of his charcoal grey suit.

There was nothing aggressive about the movement, but it set alarm bells ringing in Scott’s head. He straightened and gestured in Virgil’s direction. “This is my brother, Virgil.”

Virgil had been sitting beside the desk, thumbing through his phone a moment ago, waiting for Scott to finish signing the pile of papers his secretary had dumped on him when he walked through the door. So there was no obstruction to walk around to meet the out thrust hand of their guest.

But Virgil didn’t move and ignored the offered hand. He only dipped his head. “Mr Yost.”

“Er, uh, yes, nice to meet you.” The man fumbled and wiped his hand against the white of his suit pants.

Scott blinked and wracked his brain for a reason why Virgil was so hostile. What had he missed?

Yost frowned up at him.

Scott cleared his throat. “Well, Mr Y…Hows. What can we do for you?”

“Oh! Yes, I heard you were in town and rushed over immediately. I would have sent my proposal electronically, but since you were here, I just knew you would want to see me in person.” The man was positively babbling.

Scott was seriously reconsidering his decision to let the man in.

Yost must have picked up on Scott’s thoughts because his expression changed to one more of panic. “Right, yes, my proposal. How would you like to be the owner of the tallest building in the world?”

Something made Scott look at Virgil at that very moment. The sudden fire in his brother’s eyes was startling.

Apparently, they didn’t want to be owners of the tallest building in the world.

Back to their guest… “Uh, no, I don’t think we are interested, Mr Yost.”

The man frowned. “But you haven’t seen my proposal yet. It’s called Tracy Tower, after your father and shaped perfectly like a rocket.”

Virgil took a step forward and Scott stepped between the two men. “No, I’m sorry, Mr Yost. Thank you for thinking of us, but we are not interested in building anything right now.” He began to shoo the man out.

“But, but, but, you were calling for proposals!”

“Sorry, my mistake.” He held open the door and gestured to his assistant. “Carly, could you please show Mr Yost out. Thank you.” Scott smiled politely to the flabbergasted man as his EA ushered him out.

Scott shut the door quietly behind him.

Virgil grunted and sat back down. “Thank you.”

“Speak to me, Virg.”

“Two words. ‘Crystal Spire’.”

Scott blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m not.” Virg was fiddling with his phone again.

“I thought that guy had his…everything revoked.”

“So did I.” Virgil put his phone to his ear. “Penny? Yes, we will be there shortly. I have a quick one for you.” A pause. “Yost just tried to sell Scott a development proposal.” There was a sharp sound from the phone. “Uh huh. Thank you, Penny.” Virgil smiled. “Tell Gordon he can wait. We will be there shortly.” A grin. “See you soon.” And he hung up. Virgil looked up at his brother. “Whatever he has, he will no longer have within the hour.”

“You really don’t like this guy, do you?”

“He burnt my ‘bird while Alan was in it.”

Cold washed over Scott. “That one.”

“Yes, that one.” Virgil grumbled and went back to playing with his phone, conversation obviously ended.

Scott walked back behind the desk and took his own seat, determined to plough through the last of the reports he had to sign. It wouldn’t hurt to get over to Penny’s asap.

To check on his littlest brother for no reason whatsoever.

Virgil was a quiet presence beside him. It felt right.

Because he was always there.

Where Scott needed him to be.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #nuttyfic reblog #started the next part of Number Four this morning #but work ate my life

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automaticdata · 7 months

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Okay so my ankle is having issues which means I can't pace around when I'm doing fandom brainrot stuff so here I am typing out my brainrot instead.

One of the things about UnOrdinary that gets me is just how fragile the hierarchy system is, and how the authorities need to do some pretty shady stuff just to keep it alive. Like, I think it's taken for granted that "oh, authorities bad, of course they're doing shady shit," but like … if they didn't, the system would collapse all by itself, no need for the conflict in the story.

Let me explain.

(A note to those not familiar with UnOrdinary – it's a world where superpowers are common, and "cripple" is used to refer to those without superpowers. I'm not trying to be ableist, and I don't think the webcomic is, either, as the term is used to highlight the toxic way of thinking that exists in the world.)

One of the things that gets addressed in John's corruption arc is that the different tiers don't interact much with each other. Like, god tiers will interact with high tiers, high tiers will interact with god tiers and elite tiers, elite tiers will interact with high tiers and mid tiers, etc, but you don't usually get high tiers interacting with low tiers. The whole system is supposed to basically be a pyramidal structure, where god tiers police high tiers, high tiers police elite tiers, all the way down. We see this in the beginning, when everyone is so scandalized by Sera (a god-tier) being best friends with John (who the believe to be a cripple.)

We see this in how John is completely able to call out Remi on how lower tiers are abused and high tiers doing nothing about it. We see this in Remi being surprised to notice that John is right, that she wasn't noticing what was going on on the lower tiers despite trying to be conscientious about making sure everyone's behaving. We see this in how Elaine thinks that the reason Sera isn't acting "properly" is Sera's friendship with a lower tier. We see this in how low tiers shy away from X-Rei even though she just saved them, because they don't trust high tiers.

Even our heroes, even the ones who aren't John, have problematic behavior when it comes to interacting with lower tiers. While John is partially using other people's bad behavior as an excuse for his own, he's still right when he points out that Blyke shot laser beams at him for snapping at Remi, that Isen broke his wrist just because he could. You especially see this with Elaine; the first thing we know about her is that she degraded John for being a cripple, and in the beginning arc she's the one who sets things off by pointing out the taboo friendship of a god-tier and a "cripple" to Arlo. Arlo himself literally comes to the conclusion that John isn't a cripple or a low tier because John isn't afraid of him – and he's so invested in the hierarchy system at that point that he doesn't see a problem with that logic.

In later chapters, we find out that Jane's family disowned her because she married a cripple. By this point we've kind of been trained to think this is normal in the UnOrdinary world, what with people being so taken aback by Sera and John being friends, but like …. this is actually a pretty major indicator of how closed off the tier system is. Jane was disowned because she chose to start a family with someone of a much lower tier than her. Her family don't even seem to know she's missing, because they won't listen to her cripple husband when he comes to them to give them information. I actually doubt they even know John exists.

And we get more subtle hints during John's corruption arc that this isn't normal. All the high tier characters are taken aback by John's behavior, and multiple times they say "didn't his parents teach him about the responsibilities of a high tier?" No one even poses the possibility that he didn't have a high tier parent around to learn from – which is exactly what happened. John became super powerful super quickly. In normal circumstances, since abilities are genetic, they would have a parent who could step in and discipline them and teach them how to use their powers responsibly, but John doesn't have that. His cripple father is at a loss of what to do, his low tier friends can't do anything, and it's implied that he started to even surpass the staff members at his school. And his mom's family can't intervene because they disowned his mom and probably don't know he exists.

John's existence, by itself, breaks the hierarchy system. He's the child of a god tier and a cripple, and the system literally doesn't know what to do with him. I actually have a theory that the other "late bloomers" mentioned during John's "reeducation" courses were also children of high tiers + low tiers, which would explain why their abilities developed late, and makes the already dark "late bloomers like you are doomed to failure" even more horrific. Any product of a union that breaks the system is deemed a "failure," because no one wants to admit that the system itself is flawed.

Late bloomers also pose a huge problem to the system. They go through a period of time where people think that they're lower tier than they actually are, so they get treated like they're a low tier – and low tiers get treated horribly. Low tiers and cripples are at the bottom of a system that literally punches down, and they're told the abuse and negligence and everything else they suffer is because they aren't strong. Might makes right. Low tiers aren't taught about the noblesse oblige that high tiers are, because no one thinks they need it, so when they get abused for their tier status they think "this is just how things are supposed to be." So what happens when someone who lived in that situation suddenly becomes a high tier? Probably something similar to what happened with John. They've only seen the worst sides of high tiers, so they think that's how they can and should act.

A side note, but I think John's inability to listen to people is actually a product of his being considered a "cripple." It was a defense mechanism. When everyone was telling him he was weak, that he deserved to be beaten down, that that was his place, it allowed him to go, "no, I'm not listening to that, I know I deserve basic dignity." However, once he became powerful and it got to his head, what was once a defense mechanism became a major flaw. Now, instead of people telling him he's weak and deserves what he gets, what he's not listening to is all of his loved ones saying "John, please stop, you're scaring us."

It's also worth noting that William's attempts to teach his son the responsibilities of a high tier creates a huge disruption to society. All the man does is write a book to show John the possibilities of what someone could do with their power, and it's enough to make his book get banned, have students suspended for being caught reading it, for teenagers to get put on watch lists for having it in their possession. And it's not the responsibilities part that the authorities have a problem with, it's how the book encourages high tiers to protect and listen to low tiers. It disrupts the rigid system they put in place to stop the hierarchy from breaking down. It unintentionally causes high tiers to become vigilantes, because they realize that the system they live in doesn't allow them to protect lower tiers. One book, written by a cripple in an attempt to help his god tier son, is enough to make the authorities panic.

The relationship between Jane and William was also unique enough that the authorities were able to use it to exploit Jane. We get some major hints that the way Jane was "captured" and experimented on was through coercion, not force. Jane is too powerful for anyone to threaten directly, but they were able to manipulate her by threatening William and John. Because of that, the authorities were able to start using her blood to try and develop new ways of making their own agents stronger, which is part of what sets the more overarching plot elements in motion.

Once, I was told that all stories either are stories where someone leaves home or someone new arrives, but the fact is it's not the leaving or arrival that really defines stories – it's the disruption to the status quo. That's what Jane and William's relationship is. That's what John is, by merely existing. A god tier is not supposed to fall in love and marry a cripple. A god-tier isn't supposed to be raised by a cripple, or to be treated as a cripple growing up. They broke the status quo just by living their lives.

John, Jane, and William literally needed to expend little to no effort to become a major problem for the authorities. So what do the authorities do? They blackmail Jane, they torture John, they develop new ways to be powerful and use them against high tiers that try to break the system. Their system is so incredibly fragile that they feel like they must do it, because they can't maintain "order" by playing by the rules.

#data reads unordinary #UnOrdinary #data rambles #long post

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