#It's been so long I made a Trek post it feels like a lifetime ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sacredcyber · 11 months

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I Think I Like When It Rains

A soft smutty SilverV oneshot, 3k words. A/n: fem V from a corpo background, nsfw.

The long trek towards her northside apartment was unusually silent and painfully dull. Normally Johnny's comments would be firing at a rapid pace. When can they start looking for Alt? Let him take control just for an evening, take a smoke break. Instead she found herself walking through night city alone, in the rain, shooting off random questions hoping it’d rouse him from whatever recess of her mind he’d hidden himself in. Nothing. No answers at all, not even a huff of frustration.

‘It’s fine.’ She thinks to herself. ‘It’ll be like that when he’s gone.’ And that thought brings out a burn in her throat. Something pained and sharp has burrowed itself in her chest and made itself home. V stops short at the corner about a block away, she leans against a light post and sighs.

‘You’re being weird again.’

It’s her voice but it’s not. The sudden realization dawns on her that Johnny could read her thoughts. It makes her feel exposed. She quickly runs the block home in the downpour, the rain soaking through her too big tank top and leather pants.

After fidgeting with the broken card reader, V stumbles inside her small apartment. The pink neon lighting and blue beaded curtains make it feel so homey, so lived in. She remembered the day she bought it, Johnny berated her about her lack of taste. V wanted to tell him about her luxury condo she had to give up when she got sacked, but a sudden wave of shame had washed over her and she simply answered with a small hum in agreement. Arasaka seems like a lifetime ago. Another life, another person, another V. Her Watson home was too painful to stay in after Jackie died, the memories of the both of them shooting the shit, Misty coming by after her shift with tacos and yakitori were all things of the past. The northside apartment had become like a sanctuary, she could be at peace here in this small shoebox of a room.

Just her, Nibbles and her tapeworm.

As she crosses the threshold, a friendly meow greets her. Nibbles jumps off the arcade cabinet and rolls on her back exposing her equally bald tummy. V chuckles and closes the door behind her, as she bends down to bless the feline with a generous scratch behind her ears, she can hear the familiar sound of Johnny’s static reappearing.

He groans and makes his way over towards the armory. V pretends not to notice him, not to be excited he’s left whatever shell he was in earlier. Instead she fishes out a pack of cat food for nibbles and walks over towards a small porcelain bowl.

Johnny immediately moves away and heads over to the bed, she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He’s a bit tense, wound up. As if he could sense her questioning gaze he simply lights up a cigarette. “I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” V asks incredulously. Johnny’s static form stutters a bit as he shifts himself onto her small bed. “Well actually you’re tired. I’m just feeling it too.” He mumbles. V makes a face, this fucking guy. “I thought engrams don’t need to sleep?” She stands and walks over towards him, his legs planted firmly on the linoleum floor. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “You really gonna fight me over this? Fuck V...” The bite he normally has in his voice is mostly gone, Johnny sounds exhausted, miserable. She sighs, the day's events hadn’t been easy on them, the sudden rainstorm plus the non working fast travel pods around the city only added to her frustration. If only her car wasn’t in the shop, she could have just driven home.

Nope, it was just her trudging through the rain. Now she’s home, dripping wet and muscles aching. V sighs, there’s no fight in her, hell she’s not even hungry. All she wants is a hot shower and sleep. “You can sleep with me tonight.” She mumbles. Johnny looks up as V begins to turn away, “ I know you don’t need to but…”

“But what?” He asks, ready to tease her. “Someone’s eager to get me into bed.” He observes her as she slips her boots off.

“You seem…I don’t know…off? Quiet maybe.” She says before disappearing into the bathroom. Johnny scoffs, before he knows it he’s in the bathroom ready to argue.

“As if I-“ he begins before he stops himself. V stands topless in front of the shower, her wet samurai top already on the ground, her hands on her pants zipper. She raises an eyebrow. “What? Never seen tits before?” She turns around and begins to remove her pants, Johnny knows he should fuck off right now, give her some kind of privacy. But something’s compelling him to stay, see what happens, V doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Wasn’t expecting to see yours.” He chuckles. “Didn’t know my little corpo rat was an exhibitionist is all.” V turns the shower on trying not to focus on the “my little corpo rat” comment, he notices the way her breasts jiggle a bit, they’re bigger than he’s used to, Johnnys always had a penchant for petite women, V’s musculature had been a bit of a turn off for him, recently he’s been rethinking that.

She turns to face him and something in Johnny’s chest tightens. She’s bare, with nothing but his tags on. Something about that does it for him, maybe it’s her lack of aggression or just how intimate it feels. “Not gonna take those off too?” He lifts his cybernetic hand and places his fingertip onto the tag, V can feel slight pressure there. She cocks her head a bit, “I’ve never taken them off.” She says following his wandering hand as it travels from the tags to her navel. She can feel him and she doesn’t know how or why, but she doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to ruin it.

V makes a motion with her hand, “You coming in?” Johnny is a bit stunned, he’s not used to V being so nonchalant about contact. Normally she’s very cagey about him being near her. He doesn’t blame her, especially since their meeting was terrible. He’s conflicted, but the need for touch is overwhelming. “You want me to?” He asks, hesitation sprinkles his words. V nods. ‘Yes’ she thinks and so he follows.

V stands under the hot shower, the steam feels so comforting, like a warm blanket hugging her. As she stretches she can feel her back bump into something solid. As she reaches back Johnny catches her hand, his ganic hand gently caresses hers. She hesitates but turns to face him, he’s there naked as the day he was born, only with the addition of that familiar blue static. She studies him, he’s definitely handsome, not that she wanted to admit that but something about his little grin tells her he already knows that. Her eyes wander from his dark brown eyes to his sloped nose down to his happy trail, she lifts her head to face him, not wanting to focus on the obvious.

“You look like you got questions.” He murmurs. V looks for her shampoo. “Can you feel the water?” He nods. “Yeah, feels nice, I guess it feels nice to you.” He moves to stand under the shower head, it merely goes through him but V supposes it adds to the experience.

She grabs the coconut shampoo and begins to work up a lather. Her back is towards him, “Where did you go?” She asked. Johnny notices a slight hitch in her voice, he watches as she scrubs her scalp. He steps in and replaces her hands with his, lightly massaging the product into her hair. “Can’t exactly go anywhere…” he avoids the question. V steps under the shower head, her back pressed against Johnny's chest. He watches as the shampoo runs over her breasts down her toned stomach. His hands move from her scalp to the sides of her waist, before he grabs her and presses her firmly against him, his mouth pressed against her ear.

V presses harder against him, he feels so real, so solid against her skin. The only difference is the lingering fuzziness he gives off, maybe it’s the static. “You…didn’t answer my question.” She manages to mumble out, Johnny simply hums “I’m here now.” His metal hand traces down from her collarbone in between her breasts. V wants to prod him, demand he tell her why he left her alone with her thoughts but his touches are so reverent, so gentle.

“I was angry.”

She turns to face him, Johnny’s brown eyes scan her face, he looks vulnerable, soft, uncomfortable. She grabs his ganic hand and presses her face against it, his thumb strokes her cheek. “Did I do something?” He simply shakes his head, everything pisses Johnny off to some extent. The shitty weather, his PTSD, the way Fuckin’ Takemura and River give her those looks when she’s not paying attention. V used to piss him off too, her selflessness, the way she’d always get involved in shit that didn’t concern her, her kindness. Her ability to just give parts of herself to anyone in need.

Now he’s before her, a starved man seeking it out for himself. He hesitates and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. V slowly allows herself to be soft, to be open for him. Love isn’t something you come across in Night City, it’s something you buy for an hour or two. But this isn’t that, this is something else, something that’s needed by both of them.

His kisses are rough, they’re desperate for dominance, to lay a claim on her. She can feel how needy he is, the way his hands press into her bruised back, how his fingers find those sore spots and rub into them. V lets out small pained cries, as she opens her mouth Johnny simply probes deeper. He wants all her sounds and cries, all of them. The good and the bad.

“V…” he whispers, her bitten lips skimming over his down to his neck, she bites into him like forbidden fruit and such as original sin she knows she’s crossed over into temptation. That pained thing that burrowed into her earlier is now growing between her ribs and it flutters so gently she can barely breathe.

How strange.

Johnny grabs V’s face and pulls it to meet his gaze. He wants to see her, needs to see her face when he’s worshiping her. Her eyes are hazed over, glazed in want and desperate for release. He plants more swollen kisses on her lips. “Let’s go to bed.” He whispers hungrily. V turns off the shower and grabs a towel. “Let’s go to bed?” She begins to towel herself off. Johnny simply grins and reappears sitting on the bed, he can see her though the beaded curtains and even though he’s mapped out her curves and scars with his fingers it’s still exciting to see only bits of her behind the blue plastic beads. Like a private show meant only for him, something no one else can have.

Because how could they? No one knows her like he does, no one ever could.

V emerges from the bathroom, her hips sway a bit as she closes in on Johnny’s personal space. “Sit on the bed.” He whispers in that whiskey’d tone. She does as instructed and immediately he appears on the floor in front of her, kneeling. Johnny’s not used to being subservient, but it feels so natural with V, so easy. Like he doesn’t have to be that “rowdy asshole rockerboy” everyone wanted. He’s simply Johnny, touch starved, pent up, needy Johnny.

He slowly trails his fingers over V’s thighs, it makes her shiver under his touch. “Know how frustrating it is watching you play nice with a pig and a corpo dog?” His tone is dangerous with a veneer of playfulness. V raises herself up on her elbows, she watches as Johnny kneads her inner thighs.

“Has Johnny Silverhand always been the jealous type?”

He chuckles, “Possessive might be the better word.” He spreads her legs out further and places a wet kiss on her clit. Her hips buck into his face a bit. “Fuck…” she gasps out. Johnny chuckles “Not yet, I wanna have some fun first.”

His ganic fingers circle her entrance, she’s already wet and dewy but he’s never been one to half ass eating someone out. He doesn’t want to rush anything. “Thinkin’ real hard down there, silverhand?” V’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Her half lidded stare and the way she runs her fingers through his tangled hair makes him feel alive again.

“I need you to ride my face.” Before V can protest or tease, Johnny’s already teleported under her. He’s taken the liberty to spread her legs as she precariously balances over his face. She holds on to the wall in front of her. “I-I’ve never done thi-“ Johnny licks a swipe over her clit and she shudders.

“Just relax.” He says as plants a tender kiss on her entrance. “Don’t think, just do.” He presses her wet cunt onto his lips as he moves her hips in rhythm. V holds onto the wall in front of her trying to set a pace for herself, worried she might hurt him.

‘You won’t, trust me. Ride my fuckin face like a cowgirl.’

Before she can even ask what the hell that means, his tongue makes its way inside her. “Oh fuck yes…” she moans as her hips move against him, her clit brushing up against his nose and moustache. Johnny holds her down even tighter against his face, sucking and tongue fucking his way through his host. He wants to make her see stars, to become so undone by his mouth alone that even after death, she’s ruined by him.

“Johnny…john- I’m gonna…” her hips swivel in that familiar way, her pussy tightens around his tongue, she’s looking for it, searching for release. He removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers relentlessly pounding into her. “Come on V just let it go baby…” he holds her hips and presses his lips onto her stomach as she fucks herself above him. “Goddamn…fuck yes yessss…” she sighs as her climax washes over her.

V wobbles a bit as her legs give out on her. Thankfully Johnny teleports and reappears to help steady herself. She’s on the precipice of sleep, yet it doesn’t stop her from trying to crawl into his lap. He laughs a bit “what are you doin’?” V presses up against him, his cock nestled between her puffy lips.

“I wanna sleep on you like this.” She moves her hips and positions his cock at her entrance. Johnny watches as V slides herself on his thick cock, his girth makes it sting so deliciously. Johnny grins and lays back in bed with V content and filled on his chest. He spreads her legs out over him and slowly fucks into her. He throbs with each stroke.

“This how you want me inside you every night?” He asks, his lips hovering over her ear as he caresses her sore lower back with his metal hand. “Get home from running around this city? Fixing everyone’s fuckin’ problems…” He whispers in her ear as he continues to slowly pump himself inside her. Agonizingly slow.

“That’s what you want right? You want someone to take care of you too.” He grips her hips and plunges himself deep into her core. V calls out for him, begging him to go faster but he relents. “Nah, I wanna savor this, wanna make sure it only fits me from now on.” He bites her harshly and with intent. Savoring the wet sounds they share between them.

“How do you think people would feel? Knowin’ Night City’s golden girl is getting dicked down by the dirty old man living in her head?” He punctuates his question with another harsh thrust. V mewls against him and sobs “t-they wouldn’t….get it!” His pace begins to pick up as he holds her down and fucks into her used hole.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t…but we get it, right baby?” His forehead touches hers as he continues to fuck into her.

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah? Because we belong to each other. From the day I met you, you’ve been mine, all fuckin’ mine…” he grips her throat with his metal hand and keeps a brutal pace. It’s a strange feeling, the agony and ecstasy of relishing in unhinged coitus, of bearing your ugliness out on the same table you fuck your lover on. It’s liberating because he knows what she’s thinking. There’s no guessing games, he doesn’t feel any fear, no hesitation, just complete and utter synchronicity.

Johnny knows he’s needs it and fuck if V also needs this as well. So he fucks her hard into completion, into submission, into a promise. A silent accord, for as long as they have each other. To have and to hold, to fuck and to kill, however the hell people pledge themselves to each other in this day and age. His very soul belongs to her.

The silence between them is comforting, only the sounds of rain drizzling outside and nibbles playing with the beaded curtains next to the minibar. V slides over to lay on his ganic arm, his heartbeat, his warmth, feels real. She shuts her eyes tight and holds onto him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if she let him go.

A whisper floats through her mind, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. He can feel her smile and press herself closer to him, less out of fear and more out of need. He lays and watches the ceiling fade from view, letting sleep take him for the first time in over 50 years.

#johnny silverhand #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk2077 #my fic #oneshot #silverV #Johnny x female v #johnny silverhand x reader #I wrote this for me but y’all can read it too💖

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whywishesarehorses · 3 years

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Limitless - 2021 Pacific Crest Trail Ride Through

3 days ago, on April 7th, Jess Goodlett started the ride of her dreams - a 2,650 mile ride of the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail, border to border. She is attempting this ride alone, with two BLM mustangs she has trained herself. Jess is part of the Limitless team, a group of women going on various adventures to prove that the things women can accomplish in pursuit of their dreams are Limitless. This ride is fantastic, and Jess is still sourcing financial support. She has venmo, PayPal, and merch set up if you are interested in helping out!

This is similar in spirit to the idea of Unbranded, and Jess has been in contact with some of that team for advice.

Below I've shared a blog post she wrote discussing the trip and her plans! Under a readmore because it's LONG.

Time to Make this Official.

Yes, the ride is on.

I am planning a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail for 2021.

My name is Jess Goodlett. I am 25 years old, and I have been a part of Limitless since the beginning.

📷Photo of the Limitless group from 2017

People seem to say that I am pretty outgoing and adventurous. When I set my mind on a goal, I definitely become very determined to make it happen. Most of my family and friends were not too surprised when I dropped the news that I was going to continue the plan to attempt a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail. This trail has been on my mind for years, and it was actually how Limitless got its start.

My trail name is Raindance (this is how I got my trail name), and these are my BLM Mustangs, Makani (10-year-old bay roan mare) and Malana (7-year-old chestnut mare).

Also, here is little Zendaya. She is too young to join in on the fun next year, but maybe she will get the chance to tag along in the near future.

📷Zendaya (Daya for short) is my youngest mustang. I hope that she will be able to join in our an adventure in a few years. She is only 3 right now, so she still has some growing to do.

Here [is a photo] of me from a few years back, when I was able to set foot on a small section of the Pacific Crest Trail. This is the moment that sparked up the passion for the trail again after dealing with nostalgia from the group’s ride on the Colorado Trail in 2017.

I had convinced my dad and uncle to drive a rental car up some narrow mountain roads just to be able to set foot on part of the Pacific Crest Trail near Big Bear Lake. It felt magical getting the chance to hike a very small section of the trail. It was like getting a small taste of a big dream. My time on the trail may have only lasted 30 minutes, but it made me realize that I was still very passionate about this trail even after my experience on the Colorado Trail.

📷Repping Limitless while dreaming of a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail.

Making Plans

The plans have gone back and forth a few times, but the goal is to set out on trail in the Spring of 2021. For me, there are a lot of emotions tied in with this thu-ride. I am sure there will be a lot of time for reflection on the days leading up to the trail, including each and every day spent out there with my horses.

This is a big trek. Every time I look at the maps, I feel excited. Maybe a little nervous. But I am focused on what is ahead. The days are flying by fast, and I know the day that I head out to California will be here sooner than I can even imagine. A lot of my time right now is being spent with the horses, and any additional free time goes toward researching the trail.

Let’s talk about the trail.

📷Hike at Kendall Katwalk (part of the PCT) near Seattle, Washington near Snowqualmie Pass

What is the Pacific Crest Trail?

📷Map of the Pacific Crest Trail

The Pacific Crest Trail is a border to border trail that starts at the Mexican border and travels through California, Oregon, and Washington to the Canadian border. The trail is 2,650 miles long, and it is open to both hikers and equestrians.

There are only a handful of completed equestrian thru-rides that are documented. I am sure there are a few more that have gone unmentioned online, but to be honest, it is much more likely for people to plan a thru-hike along the Pacific Crest Trail. Us thru-riders are very few.

For those who may not know, a thru-hike or thru-ride is a long distance trail that is completed in one go (typically one season) – from one end of the trail to other end. This differs from section hiking where one may just complete small sections of the trail instead of the entire length. Though, what a thru-hike or thru-ride is for one person may differ slightly for another. Sometimes trail conditions during a certain year results in hikers or riders having to alter the original path on the trail to detour things like a fire or trail closure. But this does not take away from the fact that the trail was completed if they reach the end. As they say, hike your own hike, or in this situation – ride your own ride.

On the note of section hiking and riding, the Pacific Crest Trail is also a very popular option for those looking to just complete certain sections. According to the Pacific Crest Trail Association (PCTA), there are a total of 29 sections: 18 sections in California, 6 sections in Oregon, and 5 in Washington.

Elevation ranges greatly throughout the entire trail, along with a vast variety of terrain. The Pacific Crest Trail travels over many mountain passes and through many wilderness areas, national forests and parks.

More information can be found on the PCTA official website.

The Difficulties of Planning a Thru-Ride

Taking on a thru ride comes with a lot of its own types of challenges that hikers will not have to face. Adding in one or two horses on trail adds its own difficulty especially when it comes to the logistics.

As I am researching the trail, I am trying to answer questions such as: How are the water sources in this section? Where can I camp? Are there any grazing restrictions? Any trail concerns?

How will I resupply? Where are some places I may be able to pull the horses off trail to rest them? Who will be my emergency contacts? And the list goes on.

I cannot really plan too far ahead with any set plans, but one of my biggest obstacles will be the snow. Trail conditions can change daily, and I have no idea how the winter is going to look at this moment. Because of the length of the trail, some decisions will not be made until I am on trail. I expect many unplanned things to happen. That is just the way it is, and that is why the focus right now is to study and learn the trail as much as I can.

📷Photo of Makani from our 2017 ride on the Colorado Trail.

Why the Pacific Crest Trail?

It was 2013 when I first heard about the Pacific Crest Trail. I was actually scrolling through Facebook when I came across a post in an equestrian Facebook group where a few people were talking about long distance trails. The main topic was riding horses from coast to coast ,but then the Pacific Crest Trail was brought up in the discussion. It was the first time I had heard of an established border to border trail. I was very interested and after a few quick searches online, I quickly became obsessed with this trail and the idea of completing a border to border trail horseback.

Though, I knew I was not ready at that time to take on such a big adventure. I kept the idea stored away in my mind. It would sneak back into my thoughts every so often. When it did, I would spend hours researching this trail and looking for any information I could find for equestrians. I told myself that one day… one day, I would ride the Pacific Crest Trail.

It wasn’t until 2015, when I decided to reach out to some people about the trail. I talked with Gillian Larson, who had completed the trail horseback in 2014. She has been a big inspiration to me and to many others. Over the years, she has now completed the Pacific Crest Trail two times horseback. She has also completed the 800 mile Arizona Trail, the 500 mile Colorado Trail, and the 3,100 mile Continental Divide Trail, which is another border to border trail. (Seriously, check out her Instagram. Her photos and videos of the trails are absolutely breathtaking!)

I also spoke with Ben Masters of Unbranded who encouraged me to get out and “just do it.”

This is when I started to think about friends who may be interested in riding with me. Initially, I reached out to Devan Horn about riding a border to border trail. Devan was the first person I ever thought of to even contact about a thru-ride. She is adventurous and possibly the only person I knew at the time who would have been up for such a challenge. I mentioned to her that I was interested specifically in riding the Pacific Crest Trail. We talked briefly about a long distance trek, and we told each other that we would keep in touch.

A few months passed, when Ragan Kelly reached out to me about a long distance trail. She had spoken with Devan who had mentioned my name to her. Ragan knew a few more people interested in a thru-ride, and that is how Limitless began.

Now, the Pacific Crest Trail is a much longer trail than what my friends and I rode in 2017 with the Colorado Trail. But as I mentioned, the Limitless team originally started with the goal of riding a border to border trail together.

Our exact plans were to ride a shorter trail, the Colorado Trail, in 2017. Then, we wanted to ride a border to border trail, the Pacific Crest Trail, in 2020. But since the start of Limitless in 2015, a lot of things have changed.

When we completed the Colorado Trail, we could all agree it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Out of the group, I was honestly one who did not see myself fully committing to another thru-ride anytime soon. My end of the ride on the Colorado Trail was not what I wanted. Also, what they do not warn you much about long distance trails is that life continues on in the “real world.”

Life. Work. School. Other hobbies and interests. New goals and new opportunities.

There was nothing negative that happened within the team. We are all really good friends and forever will be. I love each and every one of them wholeheartedly. Though, we do not get the chance to see each other often, we will forever hold onto the memories that we created together on the Colorado Trail.

So wait… you are doing this trek solo?

Yes, that is correct. Solo. I am riding the trail alone with my two horses.

I will be honest. This was never my plan. Originally, I was unsure of a solo trek. I did not want to ride this trail alone.

When plans for a 2021 trek started, this thru-ride was going to be made for two riders. But plans changed yet again, and I had to make a decision to either hold off riding the trail or to just go after my dreams.

I know the pros and cons of going by myself, and I know the pros and cons with riding with others. I have heard the recommendations. I have heard the concerns. And with that said, I will continue on with planning this trek solo. This will allow me to put all of my focus on my horses’ needs to get them safely through the trail.

Though, I do hope to have a few friends join in here and there for sections.

How long will this trail take?

This trail will approximately take five to six months to complete. The horses and I will average 20-25 miles per day. I am also factoring in plenty of rest days for the horses. We are starting early enough to get through the hotter, dryer Southern California sections, but we will very likely have to skip around and circle back to some parts of the trail because of snow. In order to complete the full trail in one season, we need to be done sometime in September before the snow starts back up in Washington.

So What is Next?

I have a little over half a year left to get ready for this trek. I am looking forward to sharing our progress leading up to the trail and sharing the adventures that are to come.

#poc equestrian #limitless #pacific crest trail #pct #blm mustang #mustang horse #endurance riding #trail riding #equestrian #horse #hiking #jess goodlett

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rosepetalwings · 3 years

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DESSERTRUNE

okay, looks like people are interested in my AU dessertrune so..... please enjoy the upcoming jumble of words i've strung together to explain this au!

(TRIGGER WARNING - This is a horror AU and will deal with dark and disturbing topics, including gore, murder, and even cannibalism, intended to disturb the viewer. The post will be tagged with the appropriate tags to warn for such things but please do not read if such things will affect you negatively. Please stay safe and enjoy something else that may bring you joy, for you are worth it. 🖤)

Story

There's giggly chattering amongst the more naive and imaginative students of Hometown's school of a world in the shadows made of saccharine enchantment and wonder... Taffy trees and frosted fields and sweet smiles from the saccharine people that inhabit this magical land. How terrible it is to know that their innocent dreams are but sugar coated nightmares.

But all is not lost.

For you see, Legend tells of 3 brave young heroes from the Light banishing the Angel’s Confections from the land which promise to bring ruin to them all. To rid the Dark of its extra Fountain and the curious candies that have sprung up in ostentatious billboards and flashy, loud ads all through the Dark World is the Heroes’ Quest; a quest that may consume them whole.

Locations

Light World

Everything in the Light World is mostly untouched, save for the bunker which sports an odd little sticker for some strange candy... Curious when you consider the sticker's brightness and newness against the bunker's weathered and dilapidated age. Probably just some kid with new stickers wandering where they shouldn't have been.

Dark World

????? - Dark and haunting, this muted pink area sports rock candy jewels that glint strangely in the shadows that bathe the area. Best to keep moving along, judging by the strange iridescent sludge that pool around everywhere here and open mouthed grinning puzzles that seem to giggle quietly at you specifically...

Castle Town - A break from the burnt bubblegum-pink, there is an empty town that surrounds a lonely castle. It is dark, and so very quiet, but completely untouched by the sludge from before. Abandoned? Or, perhaps it is so lonely a location, everyone overlooks it.

Field - A long field of pastel purple grass and luscious strawberry pink-red trees with tall buildings off in the horizon... There’s an overwhelming scent of fruit punch on the breeze and- oh! It seems a “Lancer” has left up signage everywhere, warning others in a childish scrawl to not eat from the candy stalls that advertise so loudly and brightly on every path... "The taste of happiness!" the wrapper proclaims. Upon meeting him, there’s a sense that he is perhaps not the most upstanding child with how much he loves to call himself a villain... But- perhaps he has a point, with how the candy seems to beckon the observer with its bright, happy colors... Would you believe this mischievous young lad?

The Scarlet Forest - The smell of sweet fruit punch fades out into spicy cinnamon as the crimson trees seem to grow brighter. A few fallen leaves float on by with the wind as their vehicle, and the stalls from before disappear... Smaller strip malls and buildings abound here... Though there is a large store that calls to each Darkner that approaches with bright neon signs. “Come and see the new line of Halberd Inc. treats!” the dark-circled greeter cries out with a smile so big it looks like it aches, "New improved formula! 150% more sweetness packed in!!" and the huge line of much too eager Darkners that queue up for a taste of the reformulated sweets cheer cacophonously...

Great Board - The smell of licorice envelopes the air in the Great Board, which in and of itself, is filled to the brim with billboards and bright lights and neon signs and weathered posters out the wazoo. It is a smog ridden area, lit only by the blinding neon lights that guide the way up to the castle. There's a small maze of a city here, before the Factory. It's gritty, and dingy, and it smells like a burning dumpster fire there but it is a small bit of respite before trekking elsewhere... Perhaps one could stop at the Boardway Theater, where there's a quaint little horror musical about a killer barber. Song about having "a little ponman", the Halberd Inc. papers last said.

The Factory - Halberd Inc.'s core production facility. Every facet of it is highly secured, contained, and protected. It employs almost every Darkner in the area, in some form or another. If they do not work in the production line, they work in transportation of the products. If they do not transport Halberd Inc. products, they sell the products. Or advertise. Halberd Inc. is inescapable. Halberd Inc. loves you. Halberd Inc. provides for you. Working for Halberd Inc. is happiness. Don't you want to be happy? Feel all sweet inside? The cagey silver-haired assistant hugging his clipboard a little too tightly too his chest doesn't seem all that happy. Maybe if one presses the stressed man, he'll give up the dark secret of this sordid manufacturer... And, quickly, do inform him of where his adopted(?) son has tarried off to.

Characters

Lightners

Kris - The hero of our tale. A quiet kid, normally. Though, normally not so quiet as when they enter the Dark World. They enter a world of sweets and yet their mouth is taken from them, replaced only with a thin, red smile against the purple of their mixed berry gummy flesh. They have no mouth and they must scream.

Susie - A rude girl that's about as tough as leather. ...Makes sense as to why her hide becomes fruit leather, in the Dark World. About as sweet too, deep down. Hard to convince her away from not just absolutely wolfing down all the free food around her though. But... she does listen to Lancer's warnings, thankfully.

Noelle, Asriel, Alphys, Undyne, Toriel, Asgore, Sans, Papyrus - Unchanged. Speculate on what you'd like with them. Though I have thoughts here and there for "sweets" versions of them.

Darkners

Ralsei - A fluffy boy that smells like toothpaste. He'll correct you that it's spearmint that you're picking up and then offer you some sugar free gum. Or an apple. Or some celery. As a healthy snack.

Lancer - The bad guy! ...Or so he says, as he continues to help you through this strange, saccharine world. Just kind of seems like a little kid that means well... A little, jawbreaker-looking kid, with how round he is and the paint splatters from all the signs he makes all over his clothes. ...Are those meant to be there or not?

Seam - The local shopkeep. This purple rock candy feline knows much about this old world and how very terribly the world has been corrupted since the rise of Halberd Inc. Stay a while to keep out from the not-so-fresh air and ask about all the nitty-gritty details, Seam certainly won't mind.

Rouxls - Rex Halberd's right hand man, a frigid blue raspberry slushie of a Kaard and a yes man if ever there was one. Though, only to keep the peace and his life. He only trusts the CEO of Halberd Inc. as far as he can throw him, now that he knows what the candy contains. (He almost throws up every time he thinks about it.) He wants to see the company crash and burn and run away with Lancer to build anew but he's powerless to do so. Rex owns just about everything Rouxls knows... And if Rex doesn't own it yet, he will. A little help or direction for this hopeless assistant would be appreciated.

Jevil - Must be quite the sucker to have searched this far down in the Factory. This swirling lollipop man with a harlequin smile only laughs uncontrollably as you near the bloodied vat of... candy(?) within the room. He was locked in here a while ago and forgotten for the crime of upsetting the CEO with silly games. He wishes to open your mind, see the real truth of this world... Or kill you in the process. Either or.

King - The Rex Halberd. CEO. Father. Friend. Leader. And the most awful person alive. He has more money than most would ever see in 100 lifetimes. He would dangle his own son off of the roof of his factory building. And he would more than happily consume his own products because, just like his workers and his family, the Darkners' bodies used to create his sweets are nothing more than something for him to use and discard when they have become worthless. Kick this dude's fucking ass.

#deltarune #dessertrune #utdr #safeutdr #horrorrune #gore #death #cannibalism #murder #long post #kris #susie #ralsei #lancer #rouxls #rouxls kaard #kris dreemurr #noelle

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heroofthreefaces · 3 years

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Tagged in a you’re-tagged-if-you-wanna way by @iwilltrytobereasonable

1. Why did you choose your url?

It’s the name of my fanfiction webcomic, a play both on the title of Joseph Campbell’s seminal work and on that they’re stick figures except they’re triangles.

2. Any side blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them

The only one which has remained active past its first few months or years is @not-caused-by-those-who-love. About a year ago in the middle beginning of the pandemic and the presidential campaign cycle, I finally bit the bullet and did what I thought I perhaps should have done at the beginning of this blog, and began to separate out the activism and heavy matters reblogs and posts onto a sideblog, so that my main hopefully is safe for people who tumbl to get away from all that. The blog title is an allusion to dialog in my concluded general interest webcomic, Arthur, King of Time and Space, “The problems of the world are not caused by those who love. They’re caused by those who hate.” This is my summation of both the fall of Camelot and the present state of the USA (where I live) and the world.

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

Since the end of August 2012.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

Never. Some years ago I began queuing almost everything by default anyway so it wouldn’t have any significance.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I logged onto Tumblr with the idea that this blog would be primarily focused on The Hero of Three Faces with reprints and the kind of reader-and-creator discussion you get on a webcomic’s bulletin board, but it hasn’t turned out that way.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I’ve been using this icon, with progressively less color in the hair, on all my social media for fifteen or twenty years.

7. Why did you choose your header?

It’s a panel from Three Faces meant to summarize it (as well as any single panel could). It has the Doctor from Doctor Who, my favorite and the central character of Three Faces and in her latest incarnation, because I love crossovers and there’s no better literal and literary device to facilitate crossovers than a time machine. It has Michael Burnham, the lead of the current most long-running series of Star Trek, my other lifetime favorite; and it has Spock, the most popular legacy character in the franchise if you go by number of appearances in other series than his own, as he appeared in Burham’s series. And it depicts Spock’s first meeting with the Doctor, though because timey-wimey it’s not the Doctor’s first meeting with Spock. This is actually a year or two out of date and I should prolly pick a newer panel.

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

I think it’s The Solution of Susan, a short Doctor Who/Narnia crossover.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

I wouldn’t know how to start going about guessing that, except perhaps to page through my followees and count which would take more time and effort than my emotional investment in the question warrants.

10. How many followers do you have?

Counting any bots because I don’t take the time and effort to purge them, about 1100.

11. How many people do you follow?

714.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

I’m too uncertain of what constitutes a shitpost to confirm or deny.

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

I live here.

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

Once, and I’m pretty sure we each think we won.

15. How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I reserve the right to exercise my own judgment.

16. Do you like tag games?

Some of them.

17. Do you like ask games?

Yes.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

I think the only Tumblr-famous blogger whom I know and have seen to have followed me back is argumate.

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Several of course but they’re all taken, too young for me, and/or hundreds of miles away.

20. Tags:

You’re tagged if you wanna.

#ask memes #memes #me #friday night clearing out my drafts

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firstofficer-williamyiker · 3 years

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Ok, ok, ok, ok. I am way too focus on this but I really really wanted to list out every Star Trek ship (from TNG, DS9, and VOY cause those are the ones I have seen most of) I could think of and give my opinion on it. Why? Because I don’t wanna do my math test. Lets go down the spiral of hyperfixation and little impulse control. (FYI, this became a long ass post, so read through if you want or don’t lol)

Let’s start from the beginning.

The Next Generation: (aka gays that all share one smart brain cell)

Picard x Crusher: Honestly, I like their chemistry, and if it became canon I would be alright with that. No real strong feelings on this ship.

Picard x Q: The epitome of enemies to lovers slow burn in 300k words. The sexual tension is too much to handle, I absolutely adore these two. They probably fucked once and Picard regrets it immeasurably.

Picard x Riker: Nah, not for me. But you do you dudes.

Riker x Troi: Again, I quite like these two together. Two Bi Icons getting together, I’m here for it.

Riker x Worf: Eh, Worf isn’t really a fav of mine so that makes me bias against this ship. It cool tho.

Riker x Crusher: *war flashbacks to when Crusher had sex with a Trill worm that was inside currently inside Riker’s body* Haha, fuck no.

Troi x Crusher: Two queens getting together and tearing down the patriarchy, I stan.

Troi x Tasha: I tend to block out season one of TNG from my mind, but honestly, I like the vibe.

Data x Geordi: My OTP for this show. It should have happened. Rick Berman is a coward. They are just so sweet and they understand each other like no one else. A few of their scenes in this show made me cry. I ship

Data x Tasha: Nah, I don’t vibe. Would have been better as mlm and wlw solidarity.

Worf x Troi: They had a few cute scenes together in the later seasons, I don’t hate neither super enjoy.

Deep Space Nine: (aka no straights in space)

Sisko x Kasidy: I liked them better in the early seasons. I think the writers low-key forgot about Kasidy until she was convenient plot device.

Kira x Odo: I preferred it in the first few seasons where Odo had a little crush on Kira and it was kinda adorable. But after their relationship had become canon in the later seasons I was kinda disappointed.

Kira x Jadzia: I am here for this ship, two powerful women ready to take on the world together but also have their own insecurities that come up as the situation arises. Immaculate, I want it.

Dukat x Kira: Fuck no, they are enemies. Idk why the DS9 writers thought it would be a great idea to pair THESE two together. But thank god for Nana Visitor for being such a queen.

Odo x Quark: Again, another amazing enemies to lovers ship. I love seeing those two on screen together, their chemistry is just *chef’s kiss*.

Miles x Keiko: Miles is like, the token heterosexual on this show. He loves his wife, his kids, and his job.

Bashir x Garak: Fuck yeah, OTP of this show for me gang. It was so heavily implied and it would have been so cool to see, especially in the 90s. But oh well, at least we got the actors writing and performing fanfiction for us.

Bashir x Jadzia: Yeah no, I wouldn’t ship them romantically. And the writers definetly did not favors to Bashir when they make his crush on her a bit creepy in the early seasons. But would be a BROTP for me.

Bashir x Ezri: Hnng, I don’t like. It just feels like Bashir is trying to date the Jadzia he never had and I don’t like it.

Jadzia x Worf: It’s fine, I guess. I don’t really see the chemistry.

Ezri x Jake: I mean, it’s better than Ezri x Bashir, but like, Dax has known Jake over 3 lifetimes and watched him grow up soooo, nah.

Jake x Ziyal: I am a fan. I think these two would have been really cool together especially since they are both artistic people with Jake’s writing and Ziyal’s painting. They could have done some really cool stuff together. Plus, it would make some interesting family reunion moments between Dukat and Sisko hehe.

Jake x Nog: Again, I am a fan. Tol and smol dynamics are what I am here for.

Garak x Ziyal: No

Voyager: (aka gays lost in space)

Janeway x Chakotay: The of the few straight ships I would die for. I am quite disappointed that nothing ever formed between the two because it would have been really cute and oh my god the tension the writers made between the two. I feel baited for this ship, AND IT’S A STRAIGHT SHIP! I’m sorry I have feelings about this.

Janeway x Seven: Not a top ship of mine but I definitely see the chemistry here and I support it.

Janeway x Paris: I only bring this up because in like season 1 or 2 they have axolotl children together because the writers were probably high as a kite when they came up with this idea for an episode. But a hard pass.

Janeway x Coffee: I’m pretty sure this is already canon and I stan.

Chakotay x Seven: I haven’t completely finished Voyager yet but I heard that this is the endgame for the two and WTF. I don’t see or understand it and it makes me upset, like really upset.

Chakotay x B’elanna: I’m just glad this wasn’t canon. I more just bring it up because I remembered B’elanna had a crush on Chakotay in the early seasons before Tom. And like, I get it because if Chakotay was my commanding officer I’d probably crush too girl.

B’elanna x Paris: It’s a canon ship that I honestly kinda like. There are some moments where I’m like “oh no” and other where I’m like “YES”. But overall, I enjoy it. I just feel like there is something missing.

Paris x Kim: Fuck yea, I love these two together. Two bros turned lovers I am fucking here for it my dudes. But again, I feel like there is something else missing here.

B’elanna x Paris x Kim: Oh hell yea, I found what was missing. This is my personal OTP of Voyager. In my head I think Kim and B’elanna are just really close friends who do engineering things together. While Paris is in the corner, loving them both, but also setting the Delta Flyer on fire for the third time this week. I haven’t really looked into the Voyager tag (because spoilers) so idk if this is a popular ship. But I think they all have some really fun chemistry and I enjoy it.

Paris x Delta Flyer: This just came to my head 20 seconds ago as I wrote the last one but I’m pretty sure this one is already canon.

Kim x Seven: Nah

Seven x The Doctor: Hmm, do I dislike it as much as I do Seven x Chakotay? No, I do not. But do I like it that much? No, no I do not. I ship them as friends.

Tuvok x Nelix: No, not really. Opposites attract is not really my cup of tea all the time.

Nelix x Kes: Oh damn, I almost forgot about Kes. I know this is canon but where did this come from. The writers NEVER EXPLAIN IT! And then they never explain why the later broke up. I just... I just don’t understand.

I doubt I have covered every ship, these were just the ones that came to me while writing this. Also, these are just my personal opinions please don’t come for my knees.

#too many ships to tag #not even gonna try #start trek #Star Trek TNG #star trek the next generation #star trek deep space nine #star trek ds9 #star trek deep space 9 #star trek voyager #star trek voy

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littleghosth · 3 years

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My Will is Mine, I Will Not Soften It for You [Original Short Story]

[Authors Note: This is my first time posting one of my original short stories! This is the first draft and was written for my creative writing course, and I was slightly held back by the word count. However, I am posting it anyways to practice putting my stuff out there!]

My Will is Mine, I Will Not Soften It for You

“You look too young to be a mother.”

I don’t why the other women always feel the need to comment. Perhaps it was my face. Maybe the way I dress? It could be that I slipped up once or twice, telling them my birth-year instead of my mother’s (bless her soul). Anger broiled in my stomach everytime I heard those words, but I ignored them. I’m above getting upset at meaningless comments. I look young, yes, but a mother is whoever knows best for a child.

“I’ve heard. Is that one yours?” I point at a rat playing with my darling daughter. The juxtaposition of such a precious young girl with some snotty toddler is amusing.

“She is!” The mother exclaims. “Is that your daughter playing with her? Oh isn’t that precious! Does she go to school here too?” Sitting at the same bench is not an invitation for conversation, but I don’t see any escape other than strangling her.

“No, homeschooled.” I avert my eyes from her, fingers crawling in my belly with each new question. I can feel the rays of scrutiny burning my skin. I tune her out as she prattles about homeschooling, opting to watch my daughter instead - I listen for minor disagreement or insults, and I watch for tiny hands around tiny necks. I have no idea where she gets her anger from, but it has cost her more than a few playground buddies. I could excuse it once, but after fifth I contemplated the impossible option of therapy.

“That’s my husband over there, the tall one. My name is Erinyes, by the way.” Oh she’s still talking. I smile and nod until I put a bobble-head to shame.

“Oresta.”

The conversation is killed in an instant. Through the air, bouncing from pocket to pocket, two blaring notes intrude the peace. My hand robotically moves to my empty pocket. The other mother clicks her tongue.

“Another amber alert?” Ah. Another. They’re getting desperate now. I stand the moment her eyes scan the screen.

“I’m not comfortable with my child being out with all these alerts of kidnappings. Elektra! Time to go!” I hold my hand out, and within seconds I feel my daughter’s fingers intertwined with mine. Erinyes doesn’t reply. Her brow furrows ever so slightly and my throat is filled with bile. Home is safe. As she opens her mouth to talk, Elektra and I had already began our trek towards the safehaven.

The walk home takes the two of us through the business district, and Elektra’s eyes light as the streets become the epitome of hyper-consumer culture. I beam at her with motherlike affection as she takes in the world like a newborn. She is a brightness in this cement hell, finding joy and beauty where I can see none.

“Can I buy that?”

“We need that!”

“I’ve been wanting that forever!” It came out last week.

“Forever!”

I remember when a week was a lifetime. When did a lifetime become a week?

“I’m sorry, dearest,” My voice strains as I pick her up. “Not today.”

“What about puppy? I remember long time ago we had a dog.” “Argos. You have a very good memory!” My family adopted Argos before I was born, I remember my father trying to put me on his back like he was my noble steed. Me and Elektra put flowers on his grave, Iphigenia Lilies I believe, after the funeral. Oh how she adored the old boy. She cried as the red and white petals made their final resting place, and mother had-

“There’s no place for a puppy, little one. You know the house doesn’t let us have pets.” Guilt gnaws in my stomach at the worn collar of her shirt, pulled and gnawed on and aging. No mother could doubt I let my daughter play to her heart’s content, the proof lies in the stains that a sink filled with soap could barely fade. “I promise that one day I will be able to give you everything you want, but that isn’t today. Not tomorrow, not the next, but one day.” My promise is laced with unheard uncertainty. No job, no benefits, no support. We stop at a window crafted only for the attention of children, and I let Elektra indulge. I stand with my arms crossed shield-like to protect myself from the inevitable judging stares. Who are they to judge a young mother? I am a perfect mother, better than they’ll ever be. How dare they? I look off down the street where we came from. Standing like a stone angel, my lips curl at the sight of Erinyes. And without her child? I scoff. What is a mother without her child? Shameful, that’s what. I would never leave my daughter’s side, just as she never leaves my side. To prove how much better than her I am, I take Elektra’s hand and push my way through the street. Why is a young mother subjected to such scrutiny?

The no vacancy sign pulses with erratic rhythm as my little family makes it home after a long walk. The sun kisses the horizon in the distance, Eos already painted the sky with her rosy fingers to create a picturesque backdrop for our drama. I place the key, turn it, and jiggle the handle for a few moments waiting for the handle to decide if we were allowed in or not tonight. Relief washes over me as the door pops open with a dying wheeze. Elektra skips into our room and climbs up onto the bed. A heavy weight rests on my shoulders as I’m reminded of our lonely bed and peeling paint. I turn on the television for my daughter, I value playtime but I need her busy, and sit at the table. The chair creaks and the table groans as I count the bills in my pocket. I glance towards the duffel bags in the corner of the room. I’m sorry, you’ll both be in use again tomorrow. I hesitate before standing up and walking towards my daughter.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t the life I wanted for you.” I press a kiss to her head as I whisper my lament.

“It’s okay, I still love you mum. You’re the best mom I’ve ever had!” She beams up at me. My heart warms, and then cools as knocking on the door announces someone’s arrival. I approach the door with suspicion, fear bubbling in my stomach. I open the door. Disgusting.

“Can I come in please?” I glare at Erinyes through the crack of the door. A terrible mother, and now a trespasser? Her hand catches the door as I try to shut it again. Her voice drips with desperation.

“Please! I want to help.” I freeze, rigid. “I know who you are.” Seconds pass before I relent.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m nothing spe-” I cut myself off as my family photo shines in front of my face. Me, my daughter, and my mother smile back at my grimace.

Young Woman Strangles Mother to Death, Kidnaps Sister.

Kidnap? What a load of lies. “I’m the best damn thing that has ever happened to her.” I jab my finger towards Elektra, who is still content with her little show.

“I’m not here to turn you in, I want to help.” Erinyes holds her hands up as if they could block me. “Listen to me.”

“Listen to you? Why, because you’re older? Wiser?”

“I’m the oldest child too, I understand! I don’t know the whole story but I know what it’s like to watch out for your younger siblings. But why kill? Why? Help me help you!”

“You understand nothing. She was mine to protect, and I did. Mom didn’t ever lift a finger, I raised her. She’s not my sister, she’s only ever been my daughter.” I enunciate each word as I struggle to contain the fire inside me. “I missed out on life caring for her, but when I would even think of telling my mom how she should be raised I got the lashing. I was poured into a crucible and punished for it.”

“I can help.”

“I don’t even know you.” My knuckles whiten. “Leave.”

Did you know that if you repeatedly press the power button on your phone, it will activate an emergency call? Of course I do, I’m twenty. The alert catches my attention, and I lunge towards her. My hands tighten around her neck, closing like a vice. She claws at my hands, scouring deep gouges with her manicured nails. Her eyes bulge as the air in her lungs finally start to become stale. It won’t take long now. Elektra continues watching her show, and Erinyes’ knees tremble. The blood pulsing against my aching hands roars at first, streaming to keep her alive, but it begins to slow. Her skin gradually cools. The body drops and I rush over to the bags, throwing whatever I can as fast as I can.

“Time to leave pumpkin, go get your toys okay?” We both move rhythmically, a synchronized getaway dance. I pull my hood over my head. I crouch in front of her and take her hands.

“You understand why I had to do that again, correct?” She nods in reply.

“To keep me safe.”

“That’s a good girl.” I kiss her head. Mother knows best, and I taught her well. We exit the motel, leaving the yellowing curtains dimming the blue and red lights in the distance. As I close the door, I don’t see those lights getting brighter.

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #YA #drabble #original writing #OCs #angst #urban #writblr #flash fiction

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marmolady · 4 years

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The New Taylor: Part 1

READ PART 2 HERE

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending). Saving the world takes a lot out of a person. For Taylor, growing into her new self beyond La Huerta can only happen as fast as her exhausted body will allow her....

Word Count: 5541

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

______

The light of the rising sun filtered through the thin curtains of Estela’s childhood bedroom, gently rousing Taylor from her slumber. She grumbled softly, nuzzling deeper into the pillow, and snuggling into her wife’s chest and belly. Somehow, she could just never get enough sleep. It was as if her body’s batteries were still relearning the art of recharging, some three?-- four now, weeks after Vaanu’s energy departed her. In exchange for looking forward to a lifetime of waking up in Estela’s arms, a little tiredness was a small price to pay.Some days, though, it felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

Full lips brushed Taylor’s cheek and jaw, whispers of kisses. How could she not smile? Her eyes opened to that beautiful, scarred face. “Mm… morning, babe.”

Estela beamed. It was hard not to when she had her arms around a miracle. Back home with her tio, the promise of a happy future was tangible, a hope that she could just about believe in.

“Good morning, hermosa.” She nibbled the lobe of Taylor’s ear. “Did you sleep better?”

Taylor yawned noisily, and took her time stretching out her body, enjoying the press of her back against her lover.

“Better, yeah.”

Nightmares had been an ongoing problem for Taylor for about as long as she could remember. Every now and then she’d have stretches where she couldn’t even seem to close her eyes without being bombarded. Images of her friends’ deaths… dying in a thousand different ways. The worst, though, the worst by far, was a memory of her own; Estela’s eyes going dull as she took a last, rattling breath, Taylor cradling her in blood-soaked arms. It haunted her in sleep; the feel of blood on her hands so horrifyingly real, usually waking her with a violent shiver up her spine.

“Mmmm…” she turned to press a kiss to Estela’s lips. “I’ll take every good night of sleep I can get. You sleep okay?”

Estela’s face was soft with affection. Her own nights’ sleep had been badly impacted by the traumatic period of Taylor’s recovery from Vaanu’s leaving her. After seeing the love of her life stop breathing again and again… letting go of the fear wasn’t something that came easy, and it made for restless nights.

“I think I made it the whole night. We might just be through the worst of it. I guess you’re not gonna die on me in the middle of the night after all.”

“Like I keep saying; you are stuck with me, Estela Montoya. No way you’re shaking me now.”

With a happy squirm, Estela squeezed Taylor from behind. “Nope-- you’re all mine.” She placed a big smooch on her wife’s rosy cheek. “Come on; I can smell breakfast cooking!”

________________________

Several weeks in, San Trobida remained a brand new world for Taylor. It was to some relief when it quickly became apparent that she didn’t especially stand out and draw attention. She slowly got to grips with her place in a world beyond La Huerta, and no one seemed to pay her much notice. Estela had told her, with a laugh, that San Trobidans were not an especially chatty people, and that this shouldn’t come as a surprise. One might expect a polite smile of greeting, but the general population were about as likely to strike up small talk as Estela was-- which was to say, not very.

Initially, Estela had been stuck to Taylor as if by glue, letting her presence be a safety net as her wife grappled with her identity in what was an often overwhelming environment. And it hadn’t just been for Taylor’s benefit. Reunited with her uncle in a post-war San Trobida, her beloved partner by her side, it seemed inevitable to Estela that the other shoe had to drop at some point. Life wasn’t this easy. It just wasn’t. Every other time she’d believed that the struggle was over, she’d been hit with another wallop to the gut. Trusting in ‘happily ever after’ wasn’t something she could turn on like a switch.

But everything hadn’t gone crashing down in flames. Nicolas had welcomed Taylor-- and Jake, for that matter-- enthusiastically into the family. Even for the short years she’d been away, Estela found a San Trobida flourishing without the choke-hold of oppression that she’d always expected to be there. Jake had hit the ground running, having already interviewed for positions with two local airlines to charter tourists-- the thought of tourists coming to San Trobida was staggering in itself. Estela had offered her services to do odd jobs for old acquaintances; something she’d done many years before, when her mother had still been around to prevent her from getting involved in the war. The vast majority of her uncle’s friends had been connected to the rebellion in some way or another, and standoffish as most were, they welcomed her earnest insistence on being useful. Everything around her spoke of recovery, and Estela found herself beginning to believe that she and Taylor were on their way too.

Taylor often accompanied her wife on these errands, taking every opportunity to soak up the essence of San Trobidan life, to make it a part of herself. She was met predominantly with wary looks and grunts, and soon worked out that it wasn’t worth taking such reactions to heart. Today, though, she was striking out on her own. If she was going to come into her own as a ‘new Taylor’, the fully-realised human being that even Vaanu themselves could not have imagined of her, she had to give herself a chance to grow.

“You have the bus timetables on your phone, right?” Estela asked, taking a moment to give her wife’s fingers a squeeze. “It’s still probably best if you don’t go into the city on your own, but you pretty much know your way to the closer towns anyway. And you can call me…”

“...at any time.” Taylor returned the squeeze. “Always.”

Estela blushed. “Yeah… that. Just, be careful. If you’re feeling tired, call. I can drop everything in a moment, but I need you to be safe.”

Whether Taylor’s batteries ever properly recharged these days, was something debatable. Even the simplest activities would knock the stuffing out of her. Walks along the beach were kept short. Afternoon naps were now something of a fact of life. Sex was slow and gentle. It was damn near driving Taylor crazy, and all she could do was tell herself that it would get better, that her lack of energy was a tiny price for the miracle of her continued presence on earth.

She took Estela’s face in her hands and kissed her sweetly. “I’ll be careful, okay? I know my limits.”

The bus ride up into the hills east of Estela’s home was a scenic one, and a trip that Taylor had now taken a couple of times during her solo explorations, as well as once, of course, with Estela. Passing agricultural plantations-- cassava, banana and sugar cane, she’d been told-- the surrounding vegetation became denser as the road carried on to the next town. Taylor hopped off at the next stop; if she was feeling up to it, there wouldn’t be too much of a trek back down the hill to the bay off which the Montoya house stood. With that in mind, she kept her ambling around town to a slow pace, and coffee in hand, soon took to the walking trails through the surrounding forest.

Almost certainly as a result of feeling so at home in the wilderness of La Huerta, it was in nature that Taylor felt she was at her best-- it had always been on hikes through the jungle or along the coast that she could really get lost in thought and ponder the big questions. Now, though, her body just couldn’t seem to keep up with her mental needs. When she sat down upon the forest floor for a breather-- surely after not even a quarter of an hour of walking-- her legs were like jelly.

Goddammit.

Frustrated, Taylor distracted herself by taking a picture of an odd flower. She’d been collecting snaps of just about anything in nature she came across that stood out as different to what she was used to on La Huerta. If Estela or Nicolas couldn’t identify it, she’d hit their old handbook of San Trobidan botany. It was a small hobby to keep her occupied; at least she could keep on learning even if she was usually too tired to do a lot physically. She’d also taken up knitting-- though she had a way to go before she’d really got the hang of it. Besides poring over books and keeping up a barrage of questions about life here, there was not a whole lot else for her to do. She’d had a couple of driving lessons, but like everything else, they had to be kept short. She’d usually go along with Estela when she was running errands, but if she wasn’t painfully aware of how weak and vulnerable she presently was, getting a good view of her wife’s vigour and strength did nothing to make her feel any better. Of course, there wasn’t a hint of judgement-- but Taylor was so often left feeling useless and unattractive. Estela had fallen for an energetic woman who had taken life by the horns, and right now, it felt like that woman didn’t exist.

She took her time to recover; sending a couple of pictures to Diego who’d been getting an almost blow-by-blow account of her new life in San Trobida, and doing a few easy stretches. Estela was convinced that working on core strength was the best way forward for Taylor’s rehabilitation; once her body was stronger, then they’d work on cardio and stamina.

Limbered up, Taylor walked back to the bus stop. Dearly as she’d wanted to make the trek home, something that just a couple of months ago would have been a piece of cake, she was not fool enough to think it might happen today. Getting off the bus a couple of stops before home was the compromise she’d have to live with for the time being. She plugged in her earphones and watched the world go by-- listening to a soundtrack she’d inherited as a mish-mash of her friends’ tastes. When she hopped off the bus, that beat kept her putting one foot in front of the other, a steady rhythm. From the footpath by the road up the hill, she could already see an easy route home; the sparkling sea providing a beautiful backdrop that she’d never have fully appreciated through a window. She could feel her body flagging with every step, but it was worth it.

You got this, Taylor. All downhill from here.

As Taylor turned the last corner toward home, her legs shaking, a small figure skittered out across the road and towards the beach. A small sickly-looking dog. Strays were not uncommon near the towns and beaches; Estela had said there used to be many more around the place, that with the war over there was more scope for focus on animal welfare. The fact that this one looked like a strong gust of wind could finish it off spurred her.

Well, I guess I can make a slight detour.

She hastily tucked away her earphones and crossed the street, whistling. Most of the dogs that showed up were seasoned beggars with no qualms about approaching humans. Chances were, this little one would come running. Huffing and puffing her way slowly to the beachside village, she found the dog trundling along the behind the now-closed bar. On a longer look, Taylor noticed that its forelegs were oddly bent, facing in opposite directions as it loped, and the scruffiness that had caught her eye was down to great patches of hair loss that accentuated a thin frame.

Poor little fella…. She gave a low whistle and crouched. “Hey, l’il guy… uh, girl actually. Hey, l’il girl. You must be hungry….”

The dog looked around, eyes wary, as Taylor wobbled precariously. It gave a small but gruff bark, and moved further away. Taylor huffed; if the animal didn’t clearly need a vet, she’d have left it be. After her walk down from the bus stop, her head was spinning and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe… maybe she should just come back for the tiny dog later. Then, as Taylor made to get up, she stumbled and fell.

Fuck.

Suddenly, it seemed pretty clear that the mangy little dog was not the one in most immediate physical peril. Taylor gave a weak yell and kicked out the dirt. To her alarm, her vision blurred horribly, and she went from ‘a little bit weak’ to ‘I could faint right here’ dizzy in frightening speed.

Okay, head between your legs. Deep breaths… deep….

The world swam. Taylor could just about make out the dog barking in the distance… then all went black.

_____________________

Taylor woke slowly, her head aching. The room around her seemed to spin, and it took several long moments before she recognised it as Estela’s bedroom. Propped up at the head of the bed, she’d clearly been brought home by someone after…. Crap, what happened?

“There is water for you on the bedside table,” came the sharp voice of Nicolas Montoya.

“W-what happened? I fainted? I think I… fainted.”

“Thankfully you were found by someone who recognised you as a guest of mine. Now, sit up slowly and take small sips of water. Estelita will be home soon-- I would much prefer she is not coming home to her idiot wife looking like death warmed up.”

Her lips dry, Taylor swallowed, still trying to catch her brain up with whatever had just happened. She’d been chasing after a stray dog, and then…. God, Estela was gonna freak. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ for the water, for the apparent rescue, and tried to hold off from shuddering at the bitter disappointment in her uncle-in-law’s voice. He was pissed. A strong part of Taylor was indignant; she wasn’t a fool, but this was new.

“Drink.”

There was no arguing with that tone. Taylor took a sip, then another. She tried to think. She’d been out walking and… her body had just given out on her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known she was exhausted, but….

“It happened so fast. I was on my way home, and I was tired, and then I just… crashed. Where’s Estela--? Does she know I’m okay--?”

“I didn’t take you for a dumbass--”

Anger flared in Taylor’s gut. That was not fair. “Hey-- I passed out. I’m not stupid, I just--”

“No? You are ill, wandering around defenseless… by your own choice, no? Knowing that your wife would drop everything to get you home when you are clearly incapacitated. I give you some credit; I assume you know this is not the safest corner of the world? It seems like you are a maldito idiota to me!”

Taylor could feel her whole body trembling uncontrollably. “You can try, but you’re not gonna make me feel any worse than I already do. I made a bad call, and I’m paying for it. I don’t expect you to trust me; but I learned a fucking hard lesson today.”

Nicolas turned away, seething.

“If I thought it was a risk, I wouldn’t have done it. I would never put Estela through that kind of worry. Not again.”

“Well, we are fortunate indeed it wasn’t she who found you collapsed in the dirt.” Nicolas’ eyes flashed as he looked back over his shoulder at Taylor. “Do you have any idea--”

A creaking signaled the front door swinging open. There was a pounding of frantic footsteps on hardwood floor and then….

“Taylor!”

Estela rushed in, falling to her knees beside the bed where Taylor was propped up.

“’Stel…” Taylor’s eyes welled as both relief and shame washed over her all at once. I’m so sorry.

“¡Dios! Me asustaste hasta la muerte! What were you thinking? It’s okay, just… just let me look at you….”

The tone of panic and the tears rolling down Estela’s cheeks made Taylor’s heart sink down to her toes. This was the last thing she’d wanted.

Nicolas scowled. “Well, she’s in safe hands now. Estelita, I will be in the office if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Tio.” Estela did not turn as her uncle walked away; she had eyes only for Taylor. Tentatively, she climbed up onto the bed, settling down gently beside her wife.

“I really thought I had more stamina than tha--”

“Shh.” Estela put a finger to Taylor’s lips. “Let me check you over.”

Too exhausted to struggle, Taylor leaned back against the head of the bed, letting Estela inspect her for any signs of physical distress. She remained quiet, feeling the tension that hung between them, tension that shouldn’t be there.

Finally, Estela sighed, her dark eyes forlorn. “Looks like no harm done. You got lucky. But you can’t just push your luck like that. I can’t believe you’d just--”

“It was an honest mistake. Part of being human, or at least that’s what I’m told.”

“It was a stupid mistake!”

It was as though an icy bucket of water had been dropped on Taylor’s head. Estela wasn’t just hurt, she was… angry?

“Hey! I have been lectured enough by your uncle, and I am not gonna take it from you. I know you’re scared, but this is new to me. I’m still working out my limits.”

Estela winced, immediately looking ashamed for snapping. She curled up her knees to her chest and stared straight ahead. For a long while, she sat that way, unmoving.

Taylor watched her wife with concern. Where was she? Reliving the long nights in the Elyys’tel medical centre, a hair’s breadth from losing her partner forever? Or was she even further away; remembering the shattering impact of loss and fearing it touching again?

“Taylor,” Estela said hoarsely, “I can’t… I won’t lose you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“So, don’t do that to me again.That was irresponsible and dumb, and that… that wasn’t fair.”

Hurt, Taylor tried hard not to pout. She wasn’t doing this on purpose; surely Estela knew that?

“We both know that you can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never overestimated what you were capable of. I made a mistake, okay?”

Estela’s nostrils flared. It was difficult to argue with that. Sometime in the future, when he’d cooled off, her tio would no doubt laugh at the thought of her having a taste of all the worry she put him through. “Look, it might seem peaceful here, but beneath the surface, things are still broken. This is not a place that’s forgiving of stupid mistakes. If anything happened to you now, I-- I think it would kill me.”

“I know, ‘Stel. And I was being careful. I thought I was being careful enough…”

As she looked into Taylor’s face, Estela’s expression gradually softened. This sucked. It really sucked. But that wasn’t down to Taylor. She was scared too. Gently, Estela reached out a hand and stroked her wife’s cheek. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Pressing a tender kiss to Estela’s wrist, Taylor felt herself relax. They were okay. Both kind of freaked out, but they were freaked out together.

“It’s like I don’t know my own body anymore. I feel absolutely useless; I can’t even trust myself, not after what just happened. It’s… kinda shit. ”

Estela huffed knowingly, and stroked Taylor’s hair. “It’s a lot shit. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. The last thing you need is to be stressing out ‘cause I’m being an asshole.”

“You? Never. You’ve had to be scared for so long; you’d have to be a robot if you kept it together all the time.”

“Hmm. Well, if I’ve gotta let off steam, that’s what a punching bag is for. I don’t wanna hurt you. Not ever.” Estela stroked her calloused fingers through Taylor’s hair. It helped to calm the both of them.“Did Tio really chew you out? If he thinks he can lecture you--”

Taylor laughed dryly. “Nothing I can’t handle. It… kinda sucks that he thinks I’m a complete idiot, but I’ll work on that.”

The hurt, though, could not be hidden.

“Carińa, you have nothing to prove. When Tio gets protective he can be… well, pretty damn unpleasant.” Estela sighed softly. “When I found out Mom was dead, it… it’s hard to explain how bad it was. I was unreachable. And obviously it took a long, long time for me to even be close to the person I was before. I think when he found you like that, he must have had a moment when he thought it was happening again. It doesn’t excuse him being an ass to you, but you should know it’s not your fault. You’re not what’s wrong here. Jesus, you’re the opposite of what’s wrong. Okay?”

Taylor found her wife’s hand and squeezed. “I know.” For a little while, she was quiet, just taking comfort in Estela… her being there, her touch. That love was a privilege. “Your tio just… absolutely loves you to pieces. Like you’re his everything. For him to feel as though he’d lost you; it must have been something like torture.”

Her eyes closed, Estela breathed deeply against Taylor’s head, soothed by the scent of her hair. She’d let go of the guilt, but profound sadness lingered. The years since her mother’s death had been little but immeasurable pain for Nicolas, making even the triumphant rebellion hollow.

“I could never thank him enough. No matter what, he supported me, he had my back. Even when I was stuck on a mission that would take away the last person he loved.” She found herself enveloped in a hug, Taylor gently bringing her to her chest and cradling her head there. “I love him. More than I can say. More than I think I’ll ever work out how to show him. But I think… he knows. We’ve been through too much for him not to. I know I fought it; I didn’t wanna risk you even if it meant the world… but he gets to heal now. With me.” Estela looked up, pink dusting her cheeks as she looked into Taylor’s shimmering blue eyes. “You did that. And there’s nothing that anyone could ever give to compare to that. You’re my hero.”

Taylor found herself sniffing, faced with shining sincerity. She didn’t feel like a hero, but for as long as Estela needed her to be that person, she’d try to live up to it. “You’re mine.”

“So, mi querida, it’s gonna be okay.” Estela pulled herself up, so that Taylor could lean on her in turn. “How are you feeling?”

“Actually, not so bad. Like, I desperately needed rest, but at least I seem to be able to bounce back pretty well.”

Estela sighed thoughtfully. The ordeal had been a fright, but it looked like no harm had been done. “You should tell Michelle what happened. She’ll want to know.”

It was hard for Taylor not to groan at the thought of causing even more worry, but she nodded her agreement. Ever since Vaanu left her, she’d been nothing but a burden.

“Actually, what did happen? Tio said you were passed out on the beach-- I thought you were going up into the hills.”

“I did. And I was all pumped up to trek back down from the town--,” Catching a horrified look, Taylor couldn’t help but chuckle. “--cool your jets; you know I’m not that stubborn. I realised pretty quickly that my ambitions were way too high. So, I got off the bus a little ways before our stop, and I walked it. I did it. I mean, it knocked the stuffing out of me, but I did it.”

“...And then, something possessed you to take a stroll along the beach?”

Taylor felt her cheeks flush. Okay, this was the part where I get a little foolish. “There was this little stray dog. Tiny thing, and it looked so sickly. Apparently, the bleeding heart in me jumped out, and then I was on a mission. I think the thought of actually helping someone, and not just being this weak, lost little person just… just sparked something in me. Pretty sure the adrenaline just from that got me to the beach, because when I stopped moving, the fatigue hit me like a train.”

A little smile came to Estela’s face, and it made Taylor blush all the more.

“I know, I know, apparently I’ve got myself a hero complex. Maybe a little bit stupid, but my heart’s in the right place?”

Estela just laughed and held her wife even tighter. “How am I meant to argue with that? One pig-headed crusader to another; it’s not the worst thing you can be. I love you, Taylor.”

Taylor closed her eyes, breathing in the familiarity, the comfort, that came of having Estela so near. Her whole world, her everything. All that she had to give in return was so… small. Helpless and small.

“Hey…,” Estela said gently. “It is going to be okay. I know you’re all right physically, but… you’re sad.”

“I thought I was getting better. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress for the rest of my life. It’s not as if I even know who I am now, but that ain’t it.”

Estela tenderly kissed Taylor’s brow, her own furrowed with concern. “You are getting better. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but from where you came from, this now is amazing. You’re stronger even than just last week. However long it takes, I’ll be there with you. You know, ready to give you a fireman-carry to safety.”

“I guess there’s gotta be some perks to being a damsel in distress. I can’t deny it; that would be kinda hot.”

“Kinda?”

“A lot. A lot hot. I’m sorry, have you seen your arms?”

To Taylor’s relief, the atmosphere had shifted; Estela waggled her eyebrows and giggled, eliciting a weak but grateful smile.

“You’ll be back to kicking ass in no time. If it helps, we can focus more on your physical training-- at least once you’ve recovered from this little, uh, episode. But, um, that little dog you found….”

“If we can find it, I really want to help. Maybe there’s the selfish aspect of me wanting to feel capable of being at least a little bit helpful to someone, but I want to get it fixed up. It-- I think it was a girl-- looked pretty bad.”

“I always wanted to bring home strays when I was little; Tio Nicolas thought he had enough responsibility with a kid around the place, so that was never gonna happen. I’m sure he won’t mind another guest, now. Or at least, he wouldn’t say no. Do you want to get a dog, mi amor?”

“It hadn’t actually crossed my mind what we’d do with her once we brought her home and got her healthy, but… yeah. I think I’d like to have a dog.” Despite all her worries, all her fears, all her shame, Taylor couldn’t stop the small smile that lit her features. If she could somehow claw her way back to a semblance of her old self, what lay ahead looked amazing. “Look at us, ‘Stel; already growing our family.”

A giddy grin plastered across Estela’s face served to sweep Taylor back up into her own insecurities; those voiced and those yet hidden. This was supposed to be their happy ending; after everything her lover had been through, it was all Taylor wanted to make it happen. But now… was she even enough?

This might be as good as it gets. Can you really expect her to be there to catch you when you just can’t stop falling?

Estela stood up and stretched, but gave Taylor a look when she made to follow suit.“We’re not going anywhere until you’re properly rested. I’ll make you some lunch. But then, we’ll see if we can help out your little friend. What do you think?”

Taylor frowned.

What do I think?

I think… I’m scared I’m going to hold you back, when you’re capable of so much.

I’m scared your uncle’s only ever gonna see me as another burden for you to carry.

I’m scared you’re gonna wake up one day and realise I’m not the same person you fell in love with.

She swallowed hard. There was so much love in Estela’s dark eyes, and it was shining there just for her.

I won’t stop fighting to be what you deserve. We’re so close to happy ever after, and I won’t let you down now.

“I think I’ll be up to that. We’ve got saving the world under our belt; rescuing a stray dog is gonna be a cakewalk. Let’s do this.”

#endless summer #playchoices #estela x mc #estela montoya

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unsteadygalaxy · 4 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 6

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/66135538

previous | next

6. street walkers, small talkers

Notes at the end.

The three of them land in Thermal, blessedly alone. Wattson had been more than happy to agree to play today’s match more passively, and Lifeline had agreed, though Elliott could tell she really didn’t want to.

“Looking for a Wingman today, ladies,” Mirage announces, jogging over to the next supply bin. It’s got a box of heavy ammo, which he stows, and two Mozambique’s, which he steadily ignores. His brain feels foggy but over excited at the same time. The shock of seeing Bloodhound- actually seeing their face- had not quite worn off.

He flings open the door but stops dead in his tracks, words dying in his mouth. For a moment, a moment that seems to stretch out into lifetimes, all he sees is a person sitting on the hard cement floor- the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. His jaw drops open. Their face is surprised, shocked, but somehow, that makes Elliott find them all the more gorgeous. A strong jawline gives way to defined cheekbones, leading up to stunning green eyes that are filled with alarm. Their red hair falls around their face in long waves, and is set aflame by the light of the hallway behind him. Who is this person? His eyes flicker down to whatever they’re holding in their hands, and he swears his heart stops. He knows those goggles. They belong to Bloodhound.

Which means… that’s Bloodhound sitting there on the floor.

Elliott immediately smacks his hand over his eyes as words spill out of his mouth like a waterfall.

He’d been up most of the night, replaying those moments in his head over and over again. Bloodhound had not looked at all what he thought they would look like. And their hair! Their hair was incredible. He never expected it to be ginger; for some reason he had always imagined it dark, maybe brunette or black. All Elliott could think about was running his fingers through their hair and brushing out the tangles. But their eyes… he never would have guessed they’d be such a gorgeous shade of green. And they were so kind-looking, too. Ever since he had inadvertently seen their face, his stomach did flips every time he thought about them. He’d stayed awake for hours waiting for his body to settle.

Elliott remembers how rich and melodic their real voice had sounded without the modulator, and he finds himself wishing he could go back to the night before. He’d been an absolute mess in multiple ways, but being alone with Bloodhound was worth the turmoil. And their laugh! Even though it came mostly at his expense, he had nearly lost his mind actually hearing them laugh fully and uninhibited. If he focused hard enough he could hear it over and over again in his head, and the sound of it made him a little weak at the knees.

“Wingman here!” Lifeline calls. “Get yuh head out of the clouds, Witt!”

Mirage shakes himself from his reverie and looks up. Lifeline holds the sturdy pistol aloft, smirking.

“Thanks, I owe you one!” he replies. He makes his way over to her and picks up the gun, passing it back and forth between his hands. Elliott can’t help but smile as he remembers the last time he fired a Wingman. Well, I mean, technically you fired it this morning at the range but- whatever. He grins at the memory of shooting the gun at Bloodhound as they rocketed down the hill, glowing red. But now, a different image takes form in the forefront of his mind- Bloodhound flying across the field, their hair undone and billowing in a fury, their green eyes shimmering with golden light.

“Yuh gonna get a room with that thing?” Lifeline chimes, a laugh pressing at her voice. “Looks like you two need some alone time.”

“Wh- what?” Mirage stammers, jerking himself out of his thoughts for the second time that day. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He holsters the gun as his face burns fiercely.

-----

“Mirage! Duck!”

Mirage dives away from the door just as a volley of bullets comes whizzing through it. He slams it shut. “Good one, Nat!” he calls. Wattson is crouched next to the window, reloading her R-99 with flying fingers. Her pylon whizzes in the other room, generating a field of electrical energy that makes Mirage’s sinuses buzz. She sets the gun aside for a brief moment in order to place two fence posts in front of the door.

In their oh-so-fabulous luck, the final ring just so happened to be around Fragment, which had made the match a decent trek across the map. They’d held their own considerably well, and each of them had a few kills under their belts. The ring had nearly bottlenecked them in the pass between Sorting and their current location, but they had pushed up the hill, third partying a team on the way and coming out victorious.

A frag grenade comes careening through the window, only to be immediately neutralized in a flash of blue light. Thank God for Wattson’s pylon, Mirage thinks, slotting the Skullpiercer he had just found into his Wingman. The sounds of gunfire and exploding grenades pepper the air around him, and it’s giving him a headache. “Hey, Lifeline! Would you mind tossing down a care package to give us some cover?” he yells into the comms amidst all the noise.

“Won’t do much, seein’ as we’re on the second floor, but I can try an’ block the stairs, she replies. She’s crouched in the corner, her drone glowing and whirring beside her. Pulling out a small device that looks vaguely like a grocery store scanner, she leaps down the stairs and out of sight. Mirage sends a decoy after her for good measure.

Very near his head, the occasional bullet whistles through the window, coming dangerously close to both him and Wattson. He’s not sure who’s shooting at them, but he has a vague idea- only Bangalore is that accurate with the G7. He scoots over to the side and peeks through the window to try and get a look at who’s been wailing on them. Sure enough, a woman with a tidy stack of curly hair is crouched low, aiming down the sights of her scout rifle from the building across from them.

“Having fun out there, Williams?” Mirage yells across the way after he dives out of sight once more. He’s almost positive she can’t hear him, but he says it anyway.

“Is that you, Witt?” she yells back. “Might wanna get your head out of your ass and fight, instead of hiding like a coward!” Two warning shots fly through the window, and Mirage scoots away, his heart hammering in his chest. Wattson mutters something in French that he does not understand as she reaches for her Triple Take.

Ouch. Now he’s annoyed. He registers the sound of Lifeline’s care package slamming into the ground as he peeks out the window again, gripping his Wingman tightly. A large smoke grenade canister flies towards them but is zapped away by Wattson’s pylon. Now they’re just taunting us, he thinks. He takes careful aim at Bangalore’s head, but two shots from her G7 strike him in the shoulder, throwing him back. A low humming sound emanates from his shield as the pylon recharges it, and he starts to think, hard.

An ominous humming sound fills the air, and Mirage snaps his head up just in time to see Bangalore and Pathfinder running across the open square. The familiar whine of Gibraltar’s Ultimate fills the air, and missiles begin to strike the ground in a concussive barrage that makes Mirage’s ears hurt. To his dismay, Pathfinder quickly grapples away, but not after taking a hit or two. Bangalore dashes between the missiles but takes a large amount of damage, and she stumbles.

Perfect, Mirage thinks. He waits for the barrage to stop, and throws open the door. He leaps from the balcony and hits the ground hard, his knees groaning in protest. Through the smoke, the sights of his Wingman detect a red figure, and Mirage takes aim. It only takes two well placed shots to finish her off, and Bangalore falls to the ground, swearing. “What was that about me being a coward?” he taunts as Bangalore fades away.

She tries to choke something out, but she only spits blood. MIirage can’t help but feel a little sorry for her; he had been in the same position not too long ago. Bangalore slumps to the ground with a finality, just as the smoke clears. A short distance away, Lifeline stands over an incapacitated Pathfinder, and Wattson is keeping up a steady rhythm of sniper shots in the direction they had run from. Mirage ducks behind the pillars outside the building and reloads his gun. “I think there are only four people left!” he announces.

kzzzhhhCRACK!

Elliott’s blood crystallizes into ice inside his veins. He knows that sound. And he knows who is holding the fully charged Sentinel that made it.

Right in front of his eyes, Lifeline falls to the ground. Her head is bleeding in waves, and she isn’t moving. Without thinking, he leaves his cover and runs towards Lifeline’s eerily still form. kzzzhhhCRACK! Another shot divides the air around him, and the next shot connects with his head, pain blooming across his skull. His helmet fizzles out, and with no hesitation, he activates his Ultimate. The holo-emitters hum and buzz, and five decoys jump into being around him. Abandoning Lifeline’s body, he makes a mad dash for the building where Wattson is still camped, hoping and praying her pylon is still up.

The frightful buzz of a Charge Rifle chases him in bursts, and the heat of it catches his left shoulder for a brief moment. He hisses in pain, and dives behind the pillars, tucking into a deft tumble. Mirage pops to his feet and pushes the doors open. To his utter dismay, the doors shred into tiny pieces, neutralized by Wattson’s electric fences. “Dammit!” he yells, and rushes up the stairs.

Wattson is still crouched at the window, steadily shooting at the building with four bins atop it across the way. “Lifeline got Sentinel’d,” he gasps, breathing heavily. “Who’s left?”

“I believe Caustic is the third member of Bangalore and Pathfinder’s squad,” she answers, her voice even and calm as he plunges his arm into a shield battery. “I think the other remaining squad is Bloodhound, Gibraltar, and Renee.”

Mirage notes with a curiosity that Wattson had not used Wraith’s code name, and he wonders in a wild moment if there was something Wattson wasn’t telling him. He finds himself wishing he knew Bloodhound’s name, and wondering what it would feel like to whisper their name in their ear as he-

He stops that train of thought as swiftly as it had come. Focus, dumbass! Elliott shakes himself out of his thoughts once again, discards the depleted battery, and realizes with a jolt that he’d missed the last thing Wattson had said.

“Mirage?” she asks, her voice exuding patience even amidst their tense situation.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“We can still win this. I know we can!” She gives him a smile that punches him straight in the heart with how honest and sincere it is.

“You’re so damn wholesome,” he grumbles under his breath. “Alright, how are we going to do this?”

“Well,” she considers, turning back to her sniper rifle. “I am almost positive- get it?- that Caustic has barricaded himself in the train station. I saw him run over when Gibraltar sent his missiles down. Bloodhound and their team must be over near the survey beacon- that is where Lifeline was shot from.”

Mirage nods, digesting the information. “Okay, so do you think we should try and take the train station and get set up in there?”

“It’s worth a shot,” she replies. “We can make a detour through the building to our right so we are not sniped. I will also need to find more ammo for my R-99.”

“Sounds good.” He peeks out the window one last time, and sure enough, he spots a familiar figure squatting atop a building, above the zipline shaft. He swears his heart skips a beat or two at the sight of them holding the Sentinel steady. kzzzhhhCRACK! A bullet comes whizzing through the window and Mirage dodges it, but just barely. “All right, time to leave!”

Wattson dismantles her pylon with the press of a button and loads it onto her back. Mirage’s sinuses stop buzzing, and he scratches his nose as the two of them run down the stairs and out the door. They round the corner, and a giddy delight shoots through Mirage’s veins when he sees Lifeline’s care package. A Mastiff hangs from one side of the package, blessedly out of Bloodhound’s line of sight. “Oh, hell yes!” Mirage yells, and he immediately dashes up to grab it. Wattson continues on, running towards the door of the next building. The shotgun almost seems to vibrate in his hands as he picks it up and discards his Spitfire. It takes everything in him to not jump in the air like a twelve-year-old.

“Mirage!” Wattson calls.

“Yeah, coming!” He slings the large shotgun over his back and darts across the open space and into the next building. The air is eerily silent, and the lack of noise makes Elliott nervous. The pair of them pass through the lobby to the double doors, and Mirage peeks through the blue glass as Wattson picks up more light ammo. Sure enough, he can just barely make out the edge of a gas trap pressed against the inside of the doors to the train station. How those doors hadn’t been blown up yet was anyone’s guess. He fishes in his bag for an arc star and emerges victorious. Bloodhound and their team shouldn’t have a line of sight on them, so he readies the arc star and opens the door. Mirage lobs the grenade as hard as he can across the street and into the double doors, and they explode in a fantastic flash of blue light. Caustic’s gas trap bursts open, spewing toxic green fumes everywhere before it collapses in on itself with an ominous hiss.

“Excellent!” Wattson exclaims, readying a fence post. “Try to get around to the north side of the building. I will fence this door.” She crouches low, checks their surroundings, and runs full speed across the street. Elliott follows, but turns sharply and hugs the wall northward. He peeks around the corner, holding his breath, Mastiff at the ready. No one is there, so he sneaks along the wall and crouches just outside the door. He readies a frag grenade, pulls the pin, and places it outside the doors before sprinting back the way he came. A deafening boom wrecks his ears for just a moment, and he can just barely make out the horrible spitting noise of the gas trap as it goes off.

Ears ringing, he turns and begins running toward the doors again. Just as the smoke and gas dissipate, he gains sight of a hulking figure lumbering down the stars. Mirage raises his Wingman, but he is too late. An entire clip of Flatline ammo slams into his chest, shredding through his armor and peppering him with holes. But his body is nothing more than blue-white light, and he flashes out of existence.

The real Mirage can’t help but giggle as his decoy dissolves into the air. “You got bamboozled,” he murmurs to himself, absolutely delighted. He checks his weapons, making sure they’re reloaded, and grabs his last grenade. Mirage twists the canister and throws the thermite. It slams into the ground just inside the doors and expands off to either side, sputtering and whooshing. He hears a grunt of pain and knows that Caustic has been caught in some of the blaze.

Mirage cheers silently and hefts his Mastiff into his hands. He prays that Wattson has had enough time to block off all the doors, and he sprints over. Caustic runs to the west side of the building, and immediately gets caught by a torrent of bullets from Wattson’s R-99. Mirage leaps over the wall of fire, aims down the sights of his Mastiff and pulls the trigger. A collection of bullets hits Caustic in the shoulder and back as the bigger man turns, making his shield blink and shatter. Wattson takes advantage of his distraction and shoots him squarely in the head. Caustic hits the ground immediately, and Mirage is reminded of the day before, when Bloodhound had taken him down. Andskoti, he thinks. He doesn’t really know what the word means, but he’s pretty sure it’s some kind of insult.

Elliott finally notices the dull burning in his legs, just as the thermite grenade stops pulsing. His shield has been depleted almost completely. “Hey, Wattson, do you have another pylon?” he asks, fishing in his bag for a shield cell.

She nods, breathing hard. “Got it!” The pylon is up instantly, and the familiar buzzing returns to Mirage’s nose. “Only one squad left!” Wattson says happily, running over to the north door to place fences. “We’ve got this!”

“We’re not done yet,” Mirage says, just as a very familiar sound vibrates through the air. It reaches his chest, seizing his heart and squeezing it uncomfortably. That otherworldly roar that had haunted Mirage in his dreams the night before echoes and amplifies inside his skull until his temples creak and groan. But he can’t help but love it; he can’t help but love the way Bloodhound’s voice reverberates inside his skull and overwhelms his senses.

Much too late, he notices that Wattson’s fence posts outside the west door have been shot down. An arc star comes careening across the way, but it is zapped away. Mirage finds himself thanking whatever God there is for Wattson’s pylon for the second time that day. He loots Caustic’s death box in a hurry and grabs the three frag grenades he had been stashing, as well as a shield battery.

A wave of red-orange energy buzzes through the air around them, making the hair on Mirage’s arms stand up inside his suit. “Bloodhound’s got us!” he yells to Wattson, who has just finished fencing the exits.

“Watch the south door!” Wattson calls. Mirage rushes by her and runs up the south-side staircase. He lingers on the balcony, Wingman at the ready.

The sound of footsteps echoes all around him, and he starts to feel jittery and anxious. Where are they going to come through first? Can he and Wattson really hold off all three of them? Is he going to be able to keep himself together? He hopes so, but the fear is starting to overtake him again, and he does not like it.

The east doors swing open and instantly shatter when they make contact with Wattson’s interior fence. Mirage leaps off the short balcony in an instant to bar the entrance. Gibraltar is on the other side of the fences, and he fires a volley of bullets very close to Mirage’s head. Some of them connect with his shoulder, but Mirage dodges out of the way and fires his Wingman. One shot connects with Gibraltar’s head, and the next three hit his shoulder and chest. He wavers, and his R-301 nearly topples out of his hands as he stumbles backwards. The larger man fires at the ground, but not by accident- Wattson’s fence sputters and disappears. Mirage fires one more shot at Gibraltar, and the man topples to the ground, dropping his gun. To Mirage’s dismay, Gibraltar falls into a blue-black rift and disappears, going with a flash of white light.

“Wraith set a portal!” he yells to Wattson. “I downed Gibraltar but he’s gone!”

“I am busy!” she yells back. Wattson dodges out of the way in a spectacular roll as Wraith takes a well-calculated swipe at her with a deadly looking knife. The two women fight each other expertly, a whirl of fists and bullets and knives. The east fence must be out, Mirage realizes. Gunfire echoes around him, and he turns back to the portal just in time to see Bloodhound emerge from it, eyes glowing red as they leap towards him.

Once again, time slows to a horrifying pace and Elliott’s heart beats immeasurably fast. He doesn’t know how many seconds have passed, but all he can see is Bloodhound. He imagines them charging at him, their blazing hair undone and their eyes glowing gold. For a wild moment, the feeling of wanting to surrender returns. But he shakes himself and releases every decoy he has, and then cloaks himself and runs up the stairs.

Another wave of red-orange light vibrates through the building. Dammit, he thinks. Bloodhound immediately follows him up the stairs, breathing heavily, growling intermittently. Mirage reloads his Wingman and darts up to the roof, hoping and praying that Bloodhound did not have time to revive Gibraltar before coming through the portal.

He leaps over the train tracks and takes cover behind a pillar. He tosses out another decoy, hoping to buy himself a few seconds, but Bloodhound is smart; they do not shoot at the hologram. Mirage switches to his Mastiff and turns sharply, aiming at his opponent. The hefty shotgun jerks massively as he shoots, missing Bloodhound’s quick form, but only just. Bloodhound aims their RE-45 at him, holding it steady. A brief buzzing noise fills the air as the bullets exit their gun and hit Mirage squarely in the chest and neck. His shields sputter, but just barely hold, and he fires another shot from the Mastiff at Bloodhound. It hits them in the shoulder, taking a sizable chunk out of their shields. Without hesitation, Mirage throws himself off the roof and tumbles to the ground, his ankles screaming in protest. He dives into the east doors, and realizes he was right- Wraith must have broken the fence that was there. He glances over to the corner where Wraith and Wattson had been, and notices that they have somehow downed each other. He tries to slide over to his teammate, but Bloodhound is right behind him, and a spattering of bullets crosses the floor without hitting him. Warning shots? he thinks wildly. Why the hell-

Mirage scrambles to his feet and runs down the stairs. He reloads the Mastiff and turns, hearing their footsteps behind him. They level their gun and shoot, catching his shoulder and cheek. Mirage’s helmet blinks out of existence, and so does his shield. He ducks and fires the Mastiff, hitting Bloodhound right in the neck. Their helmet and shields sputter and die, just as they’re reloading the RE. Blood seeps down their neck from under their respirator, and a wild part of Elliott wants to stop the fight right then and there in order to clean their wounds himself.

But this moment of weakness costs him dearly, because Bloodhound seizes their opportunity and fires their last remaining clip of ammo at him.

“Þú barðist vel. Ég er stolt af þér,” they say to him after he falls to the ground. The victory music begins to blare over the loudspeakers, and the last thing Mirage feels before it all goes dark is Bloodhound picking up his Mastiff and placing it on his chest under his arm, their fingers lingering on his hand for the briefest of moments.

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

A/N: Thanks for your patience on this, guys! I didn't feel super motivated to keep going with this for a while, but I eventually started coming up with a better framework and I'm super excited to show you all what's to come.I kind of have this idea that all the contestants have this safety armor on under their actual shields and uniforms so that when they take enough damage to “die”, their bodies are transmatted to the dropship or something. I don’t know how it works in-universe, so that’s what we’re going with. No one actually dies, they just “die” while the safety armor saves them and transmats them. Can’t have the Legends perma-dying, now, can we?

#apex legends #apex #miragehound #mirage apex #bloodhound apex #mirage apex legends #bloodhound apex legends #elliott witt #elliott witt apex #my writing #apex fanfiction #apex legends fanfiction

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x688plsloveme · 4 years

Text

Companions React To Sole Giving Them A Present

ADA: When presented with an entire "spa-day" of sorts by Sole as a thank you, Ada was...shocked. She was presented with every kind of oil, paint, and polish that she could think of. Sole told their companion that it meant a lot to them that she decided to stick around after avenging her old boss. She was free to use the workbench whenever she wanted to, to apply whatever she wanted to. Ada didn't know what to say. She hummed in the way she does when she's indicating a smile. "Thank you Sole."

CAIT: What better present to give their rough and tough friend than a nearly new customized super sledge? Sole held it out to her while Cait could just look with her jaw on the floor in disbelief. Sike smiled smugly at rendering her speechless. "Go ahead and take it. It's getting heavy." Cait didn't need to be told twice. She snatched it from her friend's grasp and swung it around a couple of times to get a feel for it. "This is amazing! Where d'ya get it?" Sole shrugged. "Off of a gunner captain who didn't know how to use it right, and I knew just the person that could use it properly." They finished with a wink. Cait turned around with an almost manic look on her face and happily exclaimed, "I'm gonna go kill something. Don't wait up." Sole laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it."

CODSWORTH: Sole's faithful robot butler wasn't big on material items, but that wouldn't stop them from trying to get him the best present ever. And after many weeks of trial and error with a certain bedroom safe, they finally got it. But when they presented it to Codsy, he was confused, they knew he would be. He had plenty of bowler hats already anyway. "Sir/Madame... I truly appreciate everything you give me, but I don't think I need any more hats..." Sole tried and failed to surprise their smile. "Ah, but this isn't just any old bowler hat Codsy, this belonged to me/my husband. It's been cooped up in that safe with the rest of our nice clothes, but I finally cracked it. I wanted you to have it to remind you that no matter what, you'll always be apart of my family." If Codsworth could cry he would. He settled for his "crying voice" and loudly saying thank you while trying his best to hug Sole. They just let him go through it while patting his head and hugging him proper.

CURIE: As a scientist first and foremost, Curie was always interested in animals. But Sole knew that she also really really loved them. And they seemed to live her right back. She was like a modern day snow white or something, but at least that made it easy to decide what to give her for being such a good friend all this time. As soon as they held up the bunny, Curie grabbed it and started cooking over it in that famous baby voice of hers that gets even angry deathclaws to calm down. "Awwwww. Aren't you just precious! Mon dieu! You need a name! What about Cotton Tail? Or Koo Koo?" This went on for some time and Sole was just watching her, endeared to no ends by one of their best friends. It took a little while before Curie even remembered that they were there at all. "Oh I am so sorry!" She gave them a quick hug, careful not to squish the bunny in-between them. "Merci beaucoup mlle/m! I must go and tend to this little darling." She started to leave in a hurry to get everything prepared for her new little friend and waved bye to Sole. They knew she'd react that way, and they were glad she liked it so much.

DANSE: Being a synth was wearing down Danse. Sole and everyone else could see. He wouldn't eat or sleep, and he would hardly move for days. Everyone did what they could, but nothing seemed to help. But that little detail couldn't stop Sole from trying. They made a meal with all of Danse's favourite foods, deathclaw steak topped with muttfruit puree and a side of mashed potatoes, courtesy of their mutual friend, The Lone Wanderer. All Danse did for a long time was just stare silently at his food until Sole insisted he started eating. He broke down crying. "It doesn't matter! It wouldn't be real! My enjoyment, my full stomach, even these tears are fake! Just a program put in me. Nothing about me is real." Sole was heart broken to see their friend in this state. They hugged their friend and walked him through some breathing exercises until he calmed down enough for them to speak. "Don't say that Danse. You hurt, feel, and cry just like any other human. All your feelings are 100 percent genuine and if anyone says anything otherwise, they'll have to go through me!" Sole puffed out their chest and tried to look as tough as possible, which forced a laugh out of Danse. Even after crying, he still looked tougher than them. But he gets what they were going at. He pulls them in for a hug, his tears finally having dried up. "Thanks Sole. You're the best friend I got. Thanks to you I'm alive and thanks to your kindness I think I want to stay that way."

DEACON: There's not much that comes to mind when it comes to personal details on Deacon. He doesn't reveal much thanks to both his job and insecurities. There is one thing that they're sure of however. That Deacon really loves pranks. Or he just does them so much and laughs with such glee to completely fool everybody. Either way, he's gonna love his gift. If his laughing and hugs have anything to do with it, a prank kit really was the right idea. Sole gives themself a mental fistbumb and start brainstorming ideas with Deacon right away. This might start a prank war between everyone, but at least they'll have fun before Piper kills them all for replacing her shampoo bottle with a dead rat for the third time. Deacon and Sole snicker at that idea.

DOGMEAT: No dog will say no to anything you give them, especially not post-apocalypse dogs. So it's not very hard to spoil a dog, and boy is Dogmeat spoiled. With no shortage of wild, aggressive animals, he always gets fresh cuts of meat instead of kibble bits and bones to chew on. When they can, Sole collects bone marrow from deathclaws, arguably the best part, and dries them into dog treats for their dog. He can come and go as he pleases, but he'll always come to sleep next to Sole on their bed at night. He is their favourite person after all.

GAGE: Gage always seemed jealous that Sole had a dog and he didn't. He always dreamed about fighting alongside an utmost loyal companion that he could spoil rotten when they're not out killing things. After finding a beautiful pitti mutt scavenging on the outskirts of Nuka-World, Sole bought the information on when Gage's birthday is from the Operators, thankful that it was soon because they don't think they could keep the dog a secret for long. On his birthday, Sole brought in the dog and despite both parties' nervousness, they took to each other quite nicely. Gage started crying when she finally let him pet her. "Never tell anyone about today or I'll kill ya. Also... Thanks boss." Sole just laughed. "No promises."

HANCOCK: The only suitable present for a guy as wild as Hancock would be something as equally as wild. And what's better than a completely unhinged party with all the best booze and chems and closest friends? In the end, about 50 different people from all over the wasteland, including The Lone Wanderer and some of their friends from the Capitol Wasteland came to the party. It was the best the world's ever seen and by the end of it, Hancock was clinging to Sole drunken and high, telling them that they're the greatest thing that's ever happened to him and he's never been luckier to have such an amazing best friend.

MACCREADY: For such a scruffy looking guy, MacCready had a lot of caps saved up. He bought tons of stuff for his son and any other kid he comes across and wasn't lacking in necessities but there was one thing MacCready couldn't readily get with caps. And that was comic books. No one sold them, and a lot burned up or otherwise disenegrated during the last 200 years or so. Thankfully, Sole's collection of mint condition, first editions were still in tip top order when they dug them out of the safe they had burried a lifetime ago. They knew MacCready would flip when he saw their collection and they were right. He almost didn't believe that Sole would let him read these whenever he wanted. (as long as he washedhis hands first)

PIPER: Sole had never been short on caps after opening Nuka World back up to non sociopathic killers. It was about time to spend some of their excess wealth on one of their best friends. All Piper wanted was to expose the truth and give a better life to her sister. Sole decided that the sisters deserved something good. When Nat's birthday came around, Sole took her and Piper to a trip to the Capitol Wasteland where all the fancy clothing stores are. They let both of them pick whatever they wanted and introduced them to Lone while they were at it. Nat was in awe. She's heard stories about the famous Lone Wanderer, but to actually meet them up close? Was a dream come true. On the long trek back home, while they were setting up camp for the night, Piper came up to Sole and hugged them. "Thanks Blue. My sister hasn't had this much of a good time in a long, long while." Sole smiled at her. "Anytime Pipes."

PRESTON: Anyone who has spent 5 minutes with Preston knows that if asked what he would want for a gift, he would just say, "More food and water for the Commonwealth's people." If you haven't left within the next few minutes because he's asked you one to many times to help a settlement out, then you would know that he is completely genuine about it. He's just that kind of person. Enters Sole, who has absolutely no clue what to give him, so far he has been the hardest one to gift something too. 'If it was a material thing, he'd just donate it, so that's out. What about...? No. Too much excitement for him. He'd have a heart attack. Oh! I got it! I'll take him to Nuka World!" After liberating the raider base and giving it back to the settlers, Sole enlisted some help and fixed almost everything enough so that it wouldn't collapse immediately. Rollercoasters didn't phase Sole much, but the real entertainment was watching Preston's reactions to every loop or swirl that a coaster made. They don't think they've ever heard a man scream that high in their life. At the end of the day, Preston was smiling and couldn't seem to stop. "This is probably the best day of my life, thank you so much General!" Sole knows that feeling of excitement of being at an amusement park for the first time. "No problem Preston. It was my pleasure."

STRONG: Sole knew strong genuinely liked poetry even though he doesn't know how to read all too well. So when they found a cache of poetry books, Sole was quick to invite Strong so that they could read some to him. Needless to say, he didn't exactly like the idea of sitting still for a long time, but relented when they threw in a glass of brahmin milk as an incentive. To everyone's surprise, Strong actually really enjoyed himself, often acting out some of the more violent - and in his opinion, the best - scenes by himself. Sometimes the others would join in on their poetry reading nights and it would be a great time all around.

VALENTINE: Sole has been wanting to get Nick something since visiting Far Harbour an meeting DiMA. Today, they finally got together all the parts and are ready to present it to him. Nick I taken aback when he sees the storage room filled with memory hard drives just like the on this brother has. "Kid...I don't know what to say." Sole pats their friend on the back. "Don't think anything of it. I know how worried you are about forgetting important things. Like your friends..." They trail off for a bit like they were afraid of the exact same thing, but continue in a much more chipper voice. "This will make sure you don't! You can pick and choose memories you want to back up so it won't be clogged with how to make a brahmin steak or something useless like that. It was tough to get together, but definitely worth it." Nick smiles at Sole. "You're the kindest person I've ever met, you know that kid? And I know Preston!"

X6-88: X6 likes cats. X6 doesn't like dogs. What about reptiles? Hopefully he'll at least take care of it. "Dammit Lone! Always giving me weird things... It's fine. When you think about it, this tamed deathclaw that I'm currently dragging by a leash is just a really big chameleon. . I had one when I was young. They're friendly, and cute, and are funny cause they hold on to little swords and the like when you hand it to them-" The deathclaw snorts and Sole can clearly feel it's breath on the back of their head. "Yep. Nevermind. This is not going to work. I gotta get rid of this thing." When they get to X6's house, a little ways past Sanctuary's borders - he prefers being alone - they're met with the most surprise they have ever seen on their friend's usually stoic face. Sure, all X6 is doing at the moment is raising his eyebrows but it's not usually that high. He just silently waits, obviously waiting for this decidedly crazy person to say something. Sole coughs nervously. "Um... Surprise?" X6 just keeps staring, compelling them to keep speaking. "It-It was a gift, all right? I couldn't say no, I actually think he's kind of cute, but u do not trust myself to not accidentally get killed, but I don't want to just murder it without it giving me a reason ya know? It's perfectly tame though! My friend keeps one as well and they're not dead yet!" X6 releases a sigh. "Sir/ma'am. Why did you think I would want to take care of a giant lizard that may or may not try to kill me in my sleep?" Sole started scratching the back of their head and looking anywhere but at him. More nervous ticks. "Honestly you're the only person I can think of that could handle a deathclaw as a pet. Please~~~ X? It's kinda cute once you get past the razor sharp teeth and claws." They looked up at him with hopeful eyes and X6 sighed once more. "... Fine. Only because it's you. Having a trained deathclaw would be useful to have around too I suppose." Sole's whole demeanor lit up. They leaped foward and hugged their friend. "Thanks X! I knew I could count on you!" The courser rolled his eyes slightly, but despite what he was showing, he was actually rather excited about having a pet deathclaw. It sounded...fun. He pat his friend on the head. "Anytime Sole."

This was actually requested by @mysticfaust ! Their patience knows no bounds considering I think they sent that prompt in a year ago. I hope you see this and enjoy it! It's the first thing I've written in a while so I may be a little rusty, but there are some parts I genuinely like.

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elopez7228 · 4 years

Text

Scenic Route 14/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After giving BB8 more to drink in the parking lot, Rey met up with Ben to watch 4th of July fireworks with the band. There would definitely be a show in central town and Rey would rather sit with the party crowd than sip her beer all alone.

She headed towards the ski lifts, very much hoping that they could transport her and BB to the very top of the mountain.

Alas, they had a strict policy against dogs. She found herself relegated to the valley below. She was wearing her trainers and her backpack, the latter of which contained her hotel purchases: a water, a muffin, a banana, and a packet of beef jerky.

She looked around to make sure the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. Did she stop following or was she just getting better at being discrete?

She scratched BB’s head pensively, even as worry coiled in her stomach. And so she was fretting again—when she could be taking advantage of the day in front of her. After a quick google search, she decided to take a trek in the surrounding area. A walk could really do her some good.

The vast landscape looked nothing like the English countryside. Instead, mountain plants grew underfoot: traup flowers, pines, sage, heather, lichens and thorn bush. The air was buzzing with the sound of insects. Rey unclipped BB’s leash so the dog make her ascent freely.

Suddenly, she felt alone in her chagrin. It would have been nice to share the sights and sounds, the serenity of the moment with someone else. Where was Finn? What was he up to in that instant—after having ruined all her plans? She felt like she had spent an entire lifetime in London. One that blurred into the distance with her departure. She still thought about him every day, but doing so had become far less painful, less consuming. Her memories were instead soft and hazy, like she was looking back at him through a pair of rose-colored glasses. They had separated only two weeks ago and yet she found she did not miss him as much as she thought she would.

She felt utterly liberated, free to make her own choices and follow her own desires. She had been in a relationship for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like not to be beholden to someone else. To make decisions alone and selfishly, without having to compromise for anyone. And sure, having someone in her life had been reassuring—but it had also been stifling.

And besides, he had never really liked hiking, Finn was the kind of man who stayed within city limits. Their time together had consisted of television marathons, sushi takeaway, cinema outings, and concerts. Sometimes Finn would play football with his closest friends, especially Poe. Bloody hell—she should have seen Poe coming!

No, it was obvious now that Finn would never truly appreciate the value of a moment of peace and solitude in the mountains. She would rather share this moment with...

Ben.

Wait. That was ridiculous. They had only really known each other for a couple of days. Never mind that she had made a terrible first impression on him, and that was putting it nicely.

Why then did her mind imagine him there, alone at the top of the world with her? He always emanated a sort of melancholy. Why was his gaze so sad? Rey wondered how much of his cocky rockstar was just for show. Was music really his bread and butter? There was no way he could afford to drive a massive pickup like that after only three self-released CDs. So where did the money come from? Where did he—and his knights—really work?

It was useless to occupy her thoughts needlessly; she would have the chance to ask them about it tonight. If she played her cards right and asked discretely, that is.

Sitting on the river bank, she ate her last-minute picnic, turning to throw a few pieces of beef jerky in BB8’s direction.

BB8?

Where was that girl?

Rey got to her feet and places her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

“Bee Bee!”

Well, this was probably why they had put up that “dogs must remain on leash at all times” sign at the trail entrance. They were probably trying to save the squirrels from puppy wrath.

Chipmunks, whispered the voice in her head. Rey seethed mentally. Now was not the time to squabble over vocabulary!

The rustling of leaves a little further up the path got her attention. She recalled that BB8 liked to dig hiding places for her sticks. As Rey approached, a little striped rodent launched belly-down through the forest, zigzagging around rocks and roots as it flew into a thorny bush and found purchase on low hanging branches. BB8, previously disinterested, jumped up to chase the animal with a surprising amount of vigor. Before Rey could grab her, the dog disappeared into the bushes, like a greyhound chasing a lure.

Rey sighed a few choice words. Deciding not to waste time, she shoved the leash into her pocket and went in search of her dog.

And that’s how she found herself in a bloody sumac bush that left prickling imprints on her calves that caused agony with every step. The thorn bushes here were just as unforgiving as the ones in

England.

“I swear when I get ahold of that dog again I’m going to have an absolute fit,” she grumbled in between panting breaths. Her legs were on fire but the sound of BB8’s groaning wasn’t far off. She let it guide her toward a pile of withering branches. She found the little dog perched on her hind paws, barking at the trunk of a cedar tree that she had been leaning on.

Rey slipped the leash back onto BB’s collar and tugged a little harder than she probably should have. The dog yelped in protest. Feeling guilty, Rey leaned down to pet her.

“C’mon girl, let’s go.”

She retraced her steps, finally finding the place where she had stashed her knapsack. A large silhouette appeared to be rifling through her things. It looked rather large, and it turned to grunt at her like a bull.

Rey cried out. There, in the middle of the forest, stood a decent-sized bear. It was currently in the process of emptying out her bag, having eaten half of the banana and chewed up the muffin wrapper to sugary bits.

BB8 rose up and growled, baring her teeth. “Gently, steady now...” Rey whispered, backing away slowly.

She didn’t know anything about bears. Couldn’t it kill her and climb back up into the trees? But she had to get her knapsack back—it contained her phone and her travel papers—if the bear hadn’t already crushed them under its massive paws. She contemplated confronting the bear with the business end of a...stick? No, ridiculous. She could just imagine her equally ridiculous tombstone: Here lies Rey Jakku, who thought she could defeat a bear with her bare hands. Discouraged, Rey opted for patience. Surely the bear would eventually leave.

She took care to leave as much distance between herself and the beast, not realizing when BB8’s leash suddenly slipped from her grasp.

“BB8, NO!”

But the dog ignored her, descending on the bear at full height, teeth bared and frothing at the mouth.

The bear never saw her coming, too engrossed in sniffing out the food from the open bag. It turned around brusquely, getting up on its hind legs and letting out a roar that left Rey’s whole body shaking. BB8 retreated a few paces, though still maintaining a defensive stance. She certainly made up for her minuscule size with tenacity.

A nightmare scenario flashed inside Rey’s mind: The bear would kill her dog, and then finish her off.

Here lies Rey Jakku, mauled by a bear on her honeymoon. She was a rebel until the very end.

Or even if she survived, how was she to tell the Skywalkers—wherever they were—that she had left their little doggie at the mercy of a raging bear.

Here lies Rey Jakku, strangled to death by a woman who loved her orange dog above all else.

Without second thought, she began waving her arms around to distract the bear.

“Hey! Baloo! Over here!”

With the help of a stick she found on the ground, Rey banged on the trunk of nearby tree, still shouting at the top of her lungs. The bear turned towards her, snarling and roaring anew.

Rey felt her knees wobble.

Here lies Rey Jakku, devoured by a bear at age 26. Her life was shitty.

The bear then proceeded to swipe a massive paw at BB8, which she easily dodged. She snapped her jaws in response. Finally, the beast got onto all four paws once more and charged suddenly.

She was going to die. Without having told Finn that she forgave him. Without having told her mother she loved her. Without having the chance to slide her fingers through Ben Solo’s mesmerizing hair.

It was insanely stupid.

All of a sudden, a sharp click pierced the air, echoing off the mountain. A projectile whistled past, lodging in the trunk of the tree next to her. She didn’t immediately realize the situation. The bear stopped, jerking its head.

Rey stood paralyzed, comprehending the scene at a glance. There had been a shot fired in the woods. The animal’s ear was bleeding. The moment took forever to pass. Someone was shooting at her.

It was just too much for her, and she fell to her knees with her hands on her head. The bear, the shooter, the sound of fire, it was all too much to process.

The bear, to its credit, turned around to roar again. BB8 kept barking even as she began to run out of breath, as though she could chase the beast away with sheer perseverance. Another bullet whistled past. Rey curled up on the ground, a strangled noise escaping her. The bear growled once more and then, with agility belying its hulking frame, skittered off into the woods.

Rey hesitated, still lying in fetal position against the soil. Her entire body trembled. She looked up when she felt the warmth of BB’s tongue against her hands and face. It was then that she managed to catch her breath and clamber to her feet.

She gazed at the horizon, searching for traces of the bear, or the shooter. Everything was calm again. The birds that had scattered with the opening shot had once again returned to their branches.

Losing her adrenaline and her ability to stand, Rey crouched on the ground once more, eventually falling onto her back. Tears of relief flowed down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her trembling hand. She reached out and hugged BB8 tightly against her chest.

“Bravo, girl. Good dog—what a good dog, you’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

A voice inside her head whispered that it was ride or die with this dog. And the invisible shooter? Rey owed whoever that was a massive debt of gratitude.

Once the pounding of her heart had died down, she shouldered the remnants of her bag and took out her Swiss knife. She used the blade to carefully carve out the bullet lodged in the trunk of the fir. The projectile was buried so deeply in the wood that she had trouble dislodging it. When she finally managed to retrieve the gnarled piece of metal, she was overtaken by a violent burst of emotion. Someone had literally saved her life. She would have here, thousands of miles from home— and yet she was alive and unscathed. She held the bullet in her fist before slipping it into her pocket. And then she began the lone journey back up the trail.

Fifty feet away, Syed stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. She put away her gun, still warm to touch. His orders echoed through her mind.

Follow the girl wherever she goes. If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally responsible.

She hadn’t thought it would be so complicated. This Rey had a supernatural ability it seemed, she was a magnet for all kinds of trouble. Keeping her in one piece was not going to be easy.

It was almost three in the afternoon by the time Rey made it back to the city, exhausted and covered in scrapes and scratches. Fortunately, her car was still there and the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. She still checked to make sure that no one had slashed her tires or broken a window or stolen so much as the air freshener. No, it seemed the Falcon was a dingy yet invincible as ever. And that was the first good news she’d had all day.

It was still too early to join Kylo and the knights in the marketplace so she decided to take a nap. She was still crashing from the adrenaline high and her limbs could barely move. Not to mention that she’d barely slept last night, tormented by the looming presence of the blonde and the abrupt absence of Leia Skywalker. She had the feeling tonight was going to be an equally long night. Time to recuperate while she could.

She moved the car under the shade of a few trees at the very edge of the hotel parking, rolled down the windows, and let BB8 inside before blowing up her air mattress in the trunk. Just like last night. It was warm outside on that sunny summer afternoon, but a fresh breeze brushed against her skin through the open windows. And so she let go. But she wasn’t able to find sleep just yet. Something tugged at her mind, deep in her subconscious.

She had almost died today. Death had flashed before her eyes, and she’d thought it was over. And in those final, terrifying moments, she had thought about three people.

Finn.

Her mother.

And Ben Solo.

#reylo #fanfiction #Modern AU #scenic Route

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supernaturalee · 5 years

Text

Then & Now: Part 1 - Gwilym Lee x Reader

Pairings: Past!Gwilym Lee x Reader, Platonic!Joe Mazzello x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Drunk! Joe, and hypothetical talk of swallowing razor blades and drug free root canals.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: It has been nearly ten years since Y/N had last stepped foot in London and made a promise to herself to never return. Yet, here she is back again for two weeks with her best friend in tow. After being left the apartment of her late mother. The same one where she had her heart taken and broken into two by the blue-eyed boy across the hall. When a mistaken knock is answered, blue eyes come flooding back into her life and suddenly two weeks seems like a lifetime.

Author’s Note: So this will be my first piece on this site after years of lurking and second guessing my abilities as a writer. However, thanks to some amazing people: @gwilyoubemine and @slutforbritdick who gave me the confidence to post this, here we are! I hope you all enjoy.

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Y/N huffed as she struggled to lift her carry-on luggage into the overhead bin above the row of seats.

“Being short isn’t fair.” She muttered under her breath as she tried with the uneven bag and the fact that her arms were cursed with what Joe called, ‘T-rex shortness.’ He was her best friend, they had been inseparable since the moment they bonded over the fact they both thought the Yankees were the greatest sports team to ever exist and that even if someone was lactose intolerant they would still eat cheese cause, come on, who wouldn’t. He rolled his eyes as he took the bag from her hands and put it in the overhead bin with ease. He took his own bag and placed it next to hers, as he shut the overhead bin he look down upon on the woman.

“There you go munkin.” He said. His brows lifted with his smirk, Y/N wanted to wipe it off his face with a reminder that he would be missing a few key Yankees games in the future if he continued with her nickname which she pretended to hate but in reality truly loved. Unless someone else called her that which was not how it would go.

“Call me munkin again, and there will be two bloody stumps where your ankles used to meet your feet.” She smiled as she moved into the seat against the window on the plane. She looked out the window at the gloomy sky over her home city of New York. It was like the city did not want her to go either. She was only going to London because she had to sort out her Auntie Amelia’s apartment (or flat depending on who you asked) that had been left to her after her mother had passed about a year and a half ago. It was finally time to get it worked out as her own work had settled back down and she felt somewhat emotional capable enough to do it.

She had convinced Joe to go with her because she needed the emotional and humorous support that he offered her. In his payment for cleaning the place and his support, Y/N had taken part of her small inheritance and purchased her best friend a ticket as a gift. Her way of showing him who had been there for her through both of her parents’ deaths that he indeed meant the whole world to her. She made herself comfortable in the seat as Joe sent a few final texts to his own mother and to check his work email. Something both of them had promised not to do once the plane left American airspace.

Y/N sat silent on the plane two hours after takeoff. Joe had his attention on the movie playing on the screen in front of him. Some horrible ripoff of the ripoff of the classic science fiction film about scientists taking things to far and bringing back monsters. Y/N thought the movies were hot garbage, Joe loved them. Her eyes moved from her best friend to the window to her left looking out of the pinkish-yellow clouds as they had flown above the gloom. With the sunsetting behind them, the plane continued its trek. In that moment of serenity with only the sounds of the breathing of the other passengers and the soft whirring of the engines, she thought of her mother. Her mother was the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Not only in looks but in the ways she treated others with respect, kindness, and compassion. Y/N could remember when her father would just look at her mother and be quiet for a few moments something that was hard to do for the native New Yorker. He would just smile and say, “How in the hell did I get that incredible woman to fall for me?” Everyday for nearly thirty years he would say that, even on the day he passed it was still the same smile and the same words. It was one of the few reasons that when her mother passed on, Y/N knew that her mother and father were together again. It gave her a sort of peace and allowed her healing to begin.

Her mother’s passing eighteen months ago was the reason she was on this plane. Heading back to the place where she had experienced her first heartbreak, where she had lost her first love, and the place where she promised herself to never return. It had been nearly ten years since she had been to London. Nearly ten years since she walked into the university dorm, youthful and giddy, to surprise the boy she thought was her true love. Only to find him, no. She would not think of this moment. Him, him with his blue eyes like...no, no, no. He would not invade her thoughts, he would not ensnare her heart again. This trip was for her mother, about closing a chapter, this trip was about her family. It was not about him. It would never be about him again.

Y/N let out a long breath and put on her headphones. A few swipes and clicks, and the voices returned. Filling her head with their true crime facts mixed with the comedy of the sisters who inform their listeners about terrible crimes and mysteries. You know, perfect plane listening material. She drew the blind down over the window and closed her eyes. She drifted off to a light sleep after about twenty minutes. Four hours later, after a relatively calm customs process and a slightly less calm taxi ride down the M4 which Y/N did not miss. Thought the train would have been quicker, Joe had been drawn in by what he called “the fanciest fucking taxis,” he had ever seen. The two Americans stood in her Aunt Amelia’s two bedroom apartment.

“Holy shit. This place is nicer than the shoebox you live in now.” Joe said dropping his duffel bags onto the floor. Dust kicking up from being disturbed.

“Thanks. I think it was pre-war but then partly destroyed during the Blitz. But that could have just been my Aunt Amelia stretching the truth. No one has been here since my mom was here two years ago. There is no food but I think there may be some old wine and definitely some cleaning supplies.” She moved from the entryway towards the kitchen.

“Wait...cleaning supplies?” Joe asked.

“I know we just got here and we’re tired. But nothing like acclimating our bodies to the time change with some heavy duty cleaning.” She smiled at him. He pouted, leaning against the counter as she moved to look in a pantry.

“Yeah but I don’t wanna. Remember you sold this trip to me as a vacation. ‘How would two weeks in Sunny London sound Joe?’ “ He says mimicking her voice as best he could. Y/N laughed. “I was to play the role of the supportive best friend and you were basically allowing us two weeks in a beautiful London apartment with touristy things in mind.” He said removing his Yankees cap and running his fingers through his hair.

Y/N looked up at him, her mouth a flat line before the edges of her lips curled up into a smile.

“I know I promised you a vacation, which this will be once we clean. And the faster we clean, the faster we go to one of the greatest pubs in all the land.” She held up a rag for him to grab almost as a symbol of the promise she was now making him. He took it before laughing.

“Alright, alright. How far is this pub?” He pulled off his jacket moving back to his bags and tossing it down with his cap.

“Oh sweet, sweet, Joe that is the beauty of London, it is literally right at the corner of this block.” Y/N smiled wide as she pulled her hair back into a messy bun, tossing her coat onto her suitcase. She moved back to the pantry pulling out the bin of still good cleaning supplies and the two got to work.

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A few hours later, after scrubbing the apartment from top to bottom. Getting clean sheets on the beds, cobwebs from the corners, and cleaning up what felt like forty years of dust. The two New Yorkers sat at a high top table at the pub on the corner. Y/N had moved to the bar, ordering two pints of lager before carrying them back to the table. She put down their beers and looked curiously at her friend. Joe was staring at his thumb.

“What are you doing?” She asked after taking a sip of her beer.

“I think I have lost all feeling in my left thumb nail from cleaning.” He said looking at Y/N. She couldn’t help but start laughing at him. He smiled, “What! It's true. I have no feeling in my left thumb nail.”

“Joe, sweet boy, you really never have any feeling in your left thumb nail.” She laughed again as he joined in.

“I guess I’m tired.” He says before taking a sip of beer. The two sat there and continued to drink in silence for a moment. “So this is pub, can you believe we’re in London? Not at the Four Faced Liar in the West Village?” He laughed, as Y/N nodded.

“Can you believe I am not playing your fake girlfriend to avoid that horrible woman from flirting with you again?” She said as Joe huffed.

“Hook up with the resident bar fly once and you never live it down!” Y/N laughed as she wiped her forehead. “I didn’t know she was going to be crazy and try to steal my socks to add to her Joe-centric collection. Who the hell does that? Who steals a man’s socks!?” He says exasperated.

“The crazy women you like to date.” Y/N said. “Though Miranda wasn’t too bad. I liked her. She brought the best bottles of wine for dinner.”

“Oh I know you liked Miranda but if we are talking about exes the other liked. We could talk about the Lydia the florist for you or Andrew, he was the fire eater and bartender if I remember correctly. Why not talk about the blue eyed devil? You could tell me about him then.”

“No. I would rather swallow razor blades. I would rather see the Boston Red Sox win a world series” Y/N said putting the stopper in that conversation. Joe gasped.

“You don’t mean that! Take it back! Take it back from the air!” He says. Y/N put up her right hand and imagined pulling the words from the air. “Never say that again!” He said before the two burst into laughter.

“Let’s just figure out some of the stuff we want to do while we are here.” She said.

They moved on from exes to experiences. Talking about the things they wanted to do on their vacation. Y/N had a few places she had to go to honor her mother and father. London is the place where her parents had met. An American Air force admin assigned here, and the young British writer he had fallen for. She let out a long breath.

Joe wanted to see the Tower of London and Wembley. He wanted to see where rock gods had played their greatest shows, Y/N had quickly agreed to that one as when drunk ‘We are the champions’ was the duo’s anthem. Y/N wanted to see one show on the West End and compare it to the American counterpart she had seen weeks earlier. Y/N worked for a website writing articles about experiences around New York. She had told her editor that she would come up with some article ideas while across the pond.

The conversation moved onto the Yankees. They talked about this year was going to be the year that they went to the World Series and won, they talked like this every year. After some food and a few more rounds, the tab was paid and the two somewhat drunk Americans slowly and carefully walked back towards the apartment building.

Y/N spotted them first, a tall man whose face she never saw and a perky blonde woman who seemed to have her lips attached to the tall man. His neck, his cheek, his ear lobe, his lips, you name a place and she kissed it. As the young lust filled couple headed up the steps and into the old apartment building, Y/N turned around to locate Joe who had been walking next to her. When her eyes finally focused she saw him talking to a lamp post very animatedly about something to do with popcorn and Kurt Russell. At least that is what she thought he was saying her vision was a bit blurred.

“Joeeeeeeeee….” She let out a laugh before moving to him.

“Y/N Shh! I’m talking to you, you don’t have to yell. By the way did you get taller or did I get shorter? Have I shrunk?!” He asked before laughing. Y/N laughed again before taking his hand. She pulled him towards the building slowly and somewhat unstable. It was like the blind leading the blind over a narrow mountain pass.

“Honey, that’s a lamp post. I’m at least like three inches shorter then it. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Oh! Well, I guess beer and jet lag don’t mix.” He smiles, following her. Y/N got him carefully up the stairs and into the building. As she leaned Joe against the wall, she fumbled around her bag for the keys. She could already the giggling from the doorway across the hall and the sound of the bed moving from people jumping onto it. She found her keys and unlocked the door. She moved Joe inside and to one of the bedrooms. Y/N sat him on the bed as she removed his sneakers.

“Thanks munkin. You are my best friend you know that.”

“I know, I know, and you are my bestest best friend. Now get some sleep.” She turned the light off, closing the door behind her as Joe was already asleep. Moving to her own room, she stumbled and shushed herself. She kicked off her shoes, took off her bag and coat before laying in the bed. She stared at the gray ceiling as she worked on getting undressed. Kicking out of her jeans and pulling her bra off through the sleeve of her shirt, she was finally completely comfortable, before she knew it she was out like a light.

In the morning as the chimes of Big Ben could be heard, Joe turned over in his bed. As some sunlight flooded into the bedroom. He groaned, kicking the blanket off him and onto the floor. Y/N leaned in the doorway of the bedroom after Joe moved from the bathroom, rubbing his temples.

“Mornin’.” She smirked as she drawn from a coffee cup. Another one in her hands.

“Fucking hell. What time is it?” He moved his fingers to rub the sides of the bridge of his nose.

“About 9 am.” She held out his coffee for him. He took it eagerly, taking a tentative sip. He relaxed instantly as the caffeinated beverage slid down his throat.

“Ugh gross. Morning.” He groaned. “Thanks for the coffee. How long have you been awake?”

“About an hour and a half, I took a shower, put on clothes and went for coffee. It allowed me to see the neighborhood again.” Y/N took another sip of her coffee. Joe groaned again as he sat back down on the bed.

“How in the hell are you functioning? You drank just as much as me.” He asked her.

“Oh I’m not really. This is all a facade.” She chuckled, sitting beside him. She pushed

back her hair from her face. Her own head pounding like a soft drum beat as she waited for the aspirin to kick in. “We do need some groceries. I know it's only two weeks but we need some food in this place.” Joe nodded.

“Can I shower first? I smell like I bathed in a barrel of beer.”

“Yeah.” She sniffed him. “You smell like my last landlord so yeah, take a shower.” She laughed moving off his bed. She moved to the couch, looking out the front window. She had missed this city, missed the morning traffic which sounded differently than New York’s. She missed the views from this very window. She missed the connection that she felt here, that connection to her parents. Yet, he was here somewhere. Hopefully out there married and happy, even if she didn’t like him, she wished for his happiness as long as she did not need to see him.

While Joe showered, Y/N got engrossed in her phone. Checking social media and watching some Youtube, she barely heard the knock at her door. When it happened again after a few moments, she put down her phone.

“Babe! Did I leave my bra?” A voice said through the oak door. “It was pink and lacy, I don’t want to lose that one, its my favorite.” She moved to the door, opening it. There stood the same perky young blonde woman from the night before. Y/N offered a small smile.

“Don’t think you left it here.” The blonde laughed though Y/N would admit the blonde was gorgeous.

“Sorry dearie wrong door!” She turned on her high heeled foot, and knocked on the door across the hall. Y/N had turned to go inside when the door across the hall opened up, you know this would be a good chance to see her new neighbor. She watched for a moment as the man held out the blonde’s bra. Y/N looked up at his face and the striking blue eyes looking down at the blonde, a smile on his lips. She knew those eyes anywhere, she knew that stupid gorgeous face anywhere. It may have been ten years but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the man standing there, for he was the man that broke her heart.

“Y/N?” He had said as he looked back at her. It had been nearly ten years since he had seen her face. Time had been good to her but it had also been very good to him. She grit her teeth as they started to chatter from angry. She turned back into the flat and slammed the door behind her so hard the wall shook. So much for being happy for him.

“Fucking stupid fucking England.” Y/N repeated to herself as she moved and sat on the couch. There was no way in hell that she was going to stay here for two weeks while Gwilym fucking Lee lived across the hall from her. She would rather swim in bloody water with sharks, she would rather get a root canal with no novocain, she would rather be anywhere with any of her exes but here. In his blue eyes, she had seen the hurt she felt all that time long ago and it scared the hell out of her. Even under that she had seen the ember of love that she once held for him laid under all the bullshit. “Fucking England.”

#gwilym lee x reader #joe mazello x reader #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #ben hardy #rami malek #bohemian rhapsody #ben hardy x reader #Queen #borhap #then & now #tnn #gwilym x reader #gwilym lee imagines #borhap x reader

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per-ineptia-ad-astra · 5 years

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So, as I mentioned a while ago, I had to move to an irregular schedule because of life stuff. I’ve since been going back and forth somewhat on whether I should go into detail about what that stuff is. I don’t really mind talking about it (lord knows I overshare enough on my main blog) but it seemed...unprofessional, somehow, to drop all this personal stuff on one’s readership.

Eventually, though, I realized that it was probably better to be upfront, given how directly all this impacts this blog. So here it is, but I’m going to put it under a cut, so no need to read it if you don’t want to. It’s nothing terrible, just a lot of mental health stuff, but I realize you may well be here only for funny Star Trek jokes and not my personal unfolding life drama.

About a year ago now, I took a long overdue psych test and was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, and ADHD, It was also indicated that I was on the autism spectrum.

Some of this was pretty much what I expected. Some of it was very surprising, but over time I realized it explained a lot. I’d struggled all the way through college but managed to make it to graduation, and then, with no structure to fall back on, pretty much immediately crashed. I started trying medication and eventually therapy, and none of it was helping, and it was after about a year of that that I finally took the test. It gave me a better picture of what I was dealing with, and made me finally realize that I had a number of problems that were not going to be solved by yelling at myself for being lazy--but of course, in and of itself, the test didn’t fix anything.

Getting effective medication has proved to be a frustratingly long process. Every antidepressant I tried took at least a month before I could tell if it was working, and I had to do this over and over again because none of them were working. Realizing I had ADHD was a relief because I had not previously thought there was anything I could do about [gestures vaguely] all that, but it also meant starting another series of medication trials. And any hope I might have had that this one would be any easier was pretty quickly dashed. If anything this one was more complicated because it posed the extra challenge of finding an ADHD medication, almost all of which are stimulants, which accomplished anything without blowing my anxiety skyhigh. (Trying to medicate three mental illnesses at the same time seems to be a lot like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube, except every time you move part of it it has a chance of exploding.)

I started writing these recaps at some point during all this, mostly because I just wanted to write something. I didn’t have the motivation or concentration to work on any of my own original story ideas, and anyway I felt too much in a state of limbo to start anything. I didn’t post them for a while; I wasn’t even sure I was ever going to. It just gave me something to do.

Last fall, after going through what felt like every other one that exists, we finally landed on an antidepressant that seems to work for me. That was an enormous relief. But none of the ADHD meds we’d tried so far had helped, and I was still struggling. Now, at least, I could want to do things, but actually doing them was still posing a problem.

I was nervous about taking another stimulant, but I’d reached a point where it seemed it was either keep trying medication, or face a lifetime of staring blankly at open documents while wanting to cry. I realize that some amount of staring blankly at open documents while wanting to cry is just part of being a writer, but it was proving to be about 98% of being a writer for me and that’s just not a feasible percentage. So about a month ago I started Attempt #4.

To be honest, I still wasn’t actually expecting it to work, and wasn’t sure what to expect even if it did. I suppose I figured it would work by helping me to focus, so I could actually sit down and just write without constantly getting distracted. I was initially disappointed, because it didn’t do that. I am still every bit as prone to wanting to check tumblr or mess with spotify or start thinking about another project altogether or just staring aimlessly out the window.

But it did do something else. It made things easier. It made the thought of having to do a thing go from absolutely not. die. to oh well okay I guess I could. I never quite realized what an intense and exhausting effort everything was until that effort got lessened somewhat. Sitting down to write feels less like going for a hike with a forty-pound backpack to carry and more like going for a hike with a ten-pound backpack to carry. It’s still a fair bit of effort, but much less daunting.

Given that, I realize it probably sounds strange that this blog has been less active recently. But it’s not been a straightforward process. I had to take it a while before it sort of leveled out and started being effective. And in the meantime it’s had side effects--insomnia and anxiety were not helping me be productive, and while that’s all gone down a whole lot with time, I’ve also had medication with big ol’ side effects that didn’t present themselves for some time, so I’m still tentative. The dose may need to be adjusted, or I might wind up having to try another one altogether--it’s just not been long enough to be sure. Going from having no proof that any ADHD med would do anything for me to having proof that at least one of them can have some benefit is huge, but it’s not the end of the road.

Plus, actually being able to do things is weird and I’m still getting used to it. It’s been a learning process. I’m having to figure out how to actually be productive in a way that’s not just beating my head against the wall until some kind of progress is made.

Getting better also means, well, having to do other things as well. After two years of being sick and doing pretty much nothing, it would be kind of nice to actually do things like my own writing and earning money and moving out of my parents’ house sometime before my natural death.

That doesn’t mean this blog is going anywhere! I still love talking about Star Trek with you all. But it probably is going to be a bit slow for a while. Getting better feels a lot like moving from a shitty old apartment to a nicer and more comfortable apartment; the end result is obviously preferable, but you have to go through the hectic period in the middle first, which can be quite overwhelming when, metaphorically speaking, you’ve been sitting around your shitty old apartment not doing much of anything for a long time.

So that’s what’s going on. I’m sorry Court Martial is taking so long--I’m working on it, I promise! I very much appreciate your patience. We’ll get there eventually. In the meantime, I’ll keep the memes coming.

#blog chatter #life of the writer

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hadesgoddess · 5 years

Text

Dawn is Coming, Open Your Eyes; Chapter 1!

Here is the first chapter of my Aster/Rose fanfic. I typed this a few years ago and polished it to post now that I’ve listed Bunny as one of my f/o’s. TW, some light cursing and light alcohol usage.

p.s. yeah I know Jack is Nightlight but I wrote this before the final book came out, so I already wrote some great interactions between the two. Also movie Jack is very different from book Nightlight.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

For some, it seemed like winter couldn’t end fast enough and that summer would never come. But Rose knew that the seasons would turn in their own time and there was no hurrying Ostara. It was one of the things she had learned over the years.

Of course that didn’t mean that she was going to do as she pleased and take her sweet time waking up with the Earth. No, the consequences of that lesson were still fresh in her mind and well-learned.

So when the snow began to melt and the icicles started to drip off the low icy boughs of her willow tree, Rose sleepily blinked awake.

It had only been a mere half of a year since she went into hibernation with the rest of the animals in her glen, and yet it seemed like a lifetime away. She wasn’t too surprised; it always felt like that at the beginning of spring. At first her body was weak and tired having been still and lifeless for 6 months, but as the sun rose, she found warmth flow through her toes and fingers.

Brushing her carefully braided, flower-entwined hair out of her eyes, Rose lithely somersaulted out of the shade and into the sun’s beams. She sighed in pleasure as heat hit her bare stomach and legs. As her body soaked up the warmth and drew power from the rays, she floated up to a stand.

Her feet barely touched the ground and the icy crystals beneath them vanished in their presence. She shook out her hands, loosening the joints and drawing in such a slow, strong breath, her whole body seemed to expand. She blew it all out in one quick breath and released the power of the East wind upon her meadow. The tendrils of the wind bent and twirled through the trees, catching icicles and snowy boughs and shaking them tremendously. Behind the wind, Rose ran as quick as a hare and as gracefully as a doe, dispelling the piles of snow and ice that fell in her path.

The sun had almost trekked its way up into the middle of the gentle blue sky when she finished. She sighed contentedly, this time only using her own breath and not the East wind. Oh, she could never get enough of the sun, the sounds of birds in the trees, the gentle babble of the brooke.

“May Ostara strike me dead if I ever forsake my love of spring.” She thought quietly. It had been so long since she had had a conversation with someone who talked back. She had quite forgotten what it was like to make any sound other than a shout of joy or to scream with the howling wind.

Speaking of nonverbal conversationalists, she spotted a tiny spot of black and blue in the distance, flying toward her hidden glen. Nightlight reached the meadow in no time at all. He had always been fast; it had been a requirement to be the bodyguard of the royal family. But those days were over even though Nightlight never stopped being light on his feet. She giggled at her little joke as she rode the wind up to the top of the ridge that encompassed most of the glen and joined Nightlight on the edge.

Up here, she could hear no birds save for the screech of a golden eagle far above. It was a quiet peace and there was never an awkward silence between Rose and her companion. She would have been content to stay here all morning, but Nightlight had other plans.

He brought a finger up to her forehead and softly brushed a knuckle against her temple. A small jolt ran through her body and images bloomed behind her closed eyelids like ink spilled on a fresh piece of paper. Hazy memories spread as vibrant as watercolors, from Nightlight’s perspective to Rose's.

Nightlight stood upright and impossibly still behind the Lunar Prince, both peering out of the viewing port on the bridge of MiM’s ship. MiM had called Nightlight to him centuries ago when The Guardians had defeated Pitch during what the humans called the Dark Ages. Nightlight had never left. He felt it best to resume his duties as the Royal Bodyguard, even if the Lunar Prince was no longer in danger or a child.

So if Pitch was gone, what could MiM possibly want him to witness?

Below them was the Arctic Circle, North’s workshop aglow with warmth and activity despite Christmas being over for the year. Something had agitated the Yeti’s and by extension, North.

Nightlight’s eyes widened in shock as he observed a black, frothy mass of what looked like sand cover North’s globe and whisk away with a sinister snicker. Not two minutes later, North sent out the signal to the other Guardians, calling them to arms.

The memory shifted sideways and drained away like a pile of melting snow slipping off a narrow branch. Another one sparked through her mind.

It had taken the Guardians merely a day to come together. They scampered to North’s workshop like persecuted Romanian folk seeking sanctuary at the doors of the Church. Nightlight and his charge watched from above silently, waiting for them to figure it out.

It seemed amazingly simple to understand from Nightlight’s point of view, but perhaps that was because he could see the whole world at a glance.

It didn’t take long for the Sandman to notice them snooping in on their conversation. Nightlight wasn’t surprised; Sanderson Mansnoozie was an old captain of a shooting star and had became extremely aware of his surroundings so as to be on the lookout for any wishes sent his way caused by him streaking through the sky.

Nightlight’s lips tightened in a small show of disapproval at the Guardians waving hands and the barest of acknowledgements that they gave to Sanderson. Perhaps this new Guardian that MiM had picked would be the driving force to return the main Guardians to the path from which they had wandered from.

When Sanderson finally caught their attention, albeit with creative methods, the Guardians straightened up. Even though they were a bit uncoordinated, they knew when to be serious. MiM quickly filled them in, confirming to North that Pitch indeed was back and at large.

When the Lunar Tsar called forth the moonbeam to choose the newest guardian, the Guardians were all agog. Nightlight’s own moonbeam struggled in its place in his staff, begging to reconnect to its kin. But the apparition emitted from the crystalized moonbeam pulled his attention away from his weapon.

Jack Frost.

She was startled from the memory. Jack Frost was the new Guardian? He was so reclusive that She had a hard time believing that sat well with him. Before She could speculate further, Nightlight took her face in his hands again, impatient. She grinned at his youthful mannerisms and relented her mind to his again. His memories flew by faster and faster; fights between the Guardians and black horses made of sand, Sanderson’s death, and Pitch finally defeated by ironically, the children.

Satisfied that she was up to date, Nightlight released Rose and sprang to his feet. If him bouncing from foot to foot was any indicator, he wanted her to follow him. She knew that there would be no rest until she did, so she rose up and took off into the air, passing him completely. He sped forward, understanding, and so their race began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The spirits spiraled down to the roof of North’s Workshop, Rose’s landing a bit rough and Nightlight’s as perfect as ever. She never did well riding the North wind: it was consistently abrasive and tricky to control.

Rose struggled out of the snowbank that she had fallen into with no help from Nightlight. The soft snow hadn’t hardened in the freezing air yet and was loose and powdery, allowing her to roll forward and out. The boyish spirit was silently giggling and attempting (failing) to hide it. She tossed a heated glare in her friend’s direction and marched determinedly to the staircase leading from the roof’s observatory platform to the main room.

Once inside, it was as if she had stepped into a physical wall of cinnamon and hot chocolate, with a hint of mint on the breeze. She let out a grateful breath. Winter may be the opposite of her season, but North embodied the spirit of Christmas into everything he built and it was hard to feel vulnerable here.

A real shindig was going down at the workshop and it seemed everyone was invited. She felt a touch of love for Nightlight to have come and retrieved her personally. She was pleasantly surprised to learn that she was not the only warm season spirit in the vicinity. She spotted several woodland sprites conversing with Mother Goose by the globe, emitting strange hisses, quacks, and rasps at times. Oh and up there, by the mantle, a Leprechaun was in an avid conversation with Father Time, or as Nightlight and Rose knew him, Ombric the Wizard.

Rose had had an unfortunate run in with one of Ombric’s defenses when she was younger, the Spirit of the Forest. She was tempted by wretched curiosity to learn what the source of such marvelous sparkling was and had become ensnared in a trap. If she had not acted like the cacophonous crow and had not desired to take the source of the shimmering, she would have been able to pass through Ombric’s woods without harm. Rather, she found herself turning to stone, toe by toe. It was so painful that she let out a dreadful yell, catching Nightlight’s attention. He bargained with the Spirit and she was let go on the promise never to be so selfish again.

At the memory of herstone turning to flesh, Rose shuddered; She had never forgotten her promise. But she thought to herself, as they approached a thick tangle in the crowd, that she was a tad grateful for it had made her and Nightlight friends. Her ponderings were cut short as they reached the thick of the bulk and found that it was not a tangle of people but rather, spirits surrounding a ring of Guardians. In the center was a frightened looking Jack Frost.

He had the appearance of a deer in the headlights, unsure whether to wait it out or flee. It made sense; he probably had never been around this many people at once, with every eye fixed on him expectantly. He held up well and put on a brave determined face, not letting his easy smile slip and continued to greet newcomers and the like.

By the time the two spirits squeezed through, the crowd had almost dispersed. The Guardians dealt with the last straggler and turned their attention on Rose and Nightlight. North gave a visible sigh of relief while Toothiana ‘s face split wide with a smile. Rose had the feeling that they preferred their company over others because of their twin silence.

Her friend and Sanderson immediately launched into a complicated conversation of sand symbols and hand gestures known only to them. She hugged North and Tooth in greeting.

“Ah, Rose, it is sweet relief to hear your silence!” North laughed uproariously at his little joke. “You have not met Jack before, have you?” He drew Frost closer to his side and gestured to him graciously. She bowed slightly from the waist, a small salute from one Herald of a season to another. Frost somberly bowed as well, still a bit withdrawn but polite.

“And well, I know that Sandy is glad to see you again.” Of course, Sandy and Nightlight were still engaged with each other.

“Bunny! There you are, stop lurking by eggnog and greet guests!” North yanked a disgruntled E. Aster Bunnymund away from the refreshments and shoved him forward. Rose unconsciously took a step back, out of fear that he would topple over and land on her, and a tiny bit from the shame welling up inside. She chanted in her head, “It was ages ago, doesn’t matter now, ages ago, doesn’t matter now... I bet he won’t even remember you, it’s been that long.” and bowed again to the Guardian and Master of Spring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All Aster wanted to do was to tap out a tunnel, race back to the den, and sleep until the week was over. He was still aching from the battle with Pitch in muscles he didn’t know he had. Nothing a good hibernation couldn’t take care of, but the Spring equinox had passed and the instinct to burrow down into the cool dark earth had gone with it. Running a paw over his ears, he knocked back another cup of eggnog.

“Crikey! I swear North adds more alcohol every time he has a party.” It wasn’t all that bad. Traces of cinnamon stuck to his front teeth and made his nose twitch, but otherwise it served to calm his impatience.

“Bunny! There you are! Stop lurking by eggnog and greet guests!” Before Aster could even turn around, North’s hands clamped down on his shoulders and hauled him away from the drink table. With a spin, North presented him to the latest guests. The eggnog had slowed Aster’s reflexes by just a hair, but it was enough to make him trip over his own feet. Catching himself just before he collapsed onto the poor spirit in front of him, Aster came nose to nose with a pair of sparkling hazel eyes.

Oh.

It was Rose. The Herald of Spring swallowed nervously and gave a stiff little bow. The awkward silence permeated the air before Aster choked out a small, “G’day.” Either she had nothing to say or she was shy as ever . North left them alone, wandering off to talk to other guests, “Bastard. Sure leave me all alone with the shelia too scared to talk to me.” He caught himself before his thoughts got too mean.

“Boy, you’re being a right ocker, ain’t ya?” He noticed Rose edging away, back towards the crowd. Screwing up some famous Púka courage, Aster blurted out, “Do ya want a cuppa? Or there’s some milo, if ya want instead.” She froze, uncertain of whether she should believe that he wanted to talk to her or not. Of course he did; it was only because of her avoiding tactics that they never talked.

To Aster’s relief, Rose nodded and joined him at the refreshments table. He hadn’t been lying when he said there was more than eggnog to drink. She poured herself some tea, cradling the mug to her heart as Aster forced himself to reach over the pot of milo and take another cup of eggnog. The eggnog might have a drip of alcohol, but the consequences of drinking it were better than what they would be if he drank the cocoa.

“Didn’t expect to see ya so soon after the start of Spring.” Aster remarked. ‘Course Spring had come late this year, thanks to that bloody groundhog. There were still parts of the world covered in a thin layer of snow. Well, some of them weren’t supposed to be.

Rose's tiny shoulders jumped up and down in a quick shrug. Aster sighed internally; she was always so quiet, but it seemed that she clammed up even more around the púka. He guessed he could understand. They hadn’t spoken to each other as friends since...

“How is he?” Aster’s ears flicked forward in interest at her question. Ah, he should have known the sheila would ask.

“He’s out of hibernation and shed his winter coat. I haven’t seen him since Easter; he likes to hide away for a bit every year, you know.”

“No... I don’t...” Aster froze, realizing what he just said. Boy, he really jammed his foot in his mouth right then. Slowly, so as not to startle her like a deer, he reached for Rose's hand.

“Listen, East...” At the mention of her nickname, she jolted and tugged her hands away. Ashamed and sad, but still determined to have a normal conversation with the spring spirit, Aster charged forward. “Maybe you should visit him–” Now she stepped away and turned her back to him.

“What I said cannot be forgiven. I know that in my heart and it hurts everyday. He deserves better.” At this, she fled.

Letting out a long sigh, Aster sat in an armchair. Those two needed to get over themselves and make up all ready. It didn’t help that Rose was being a right drongo about it. It had been 500 years already!

“That’s it, I’ve had enough of this angsty shit.” He made up his mind about how to fix this. “But first, I’ll have to find that slippery little hare.”

#ship: new life new beginnings #e. aster bunnymund #bunnymund #rotg #ridse of the guardians #s/i #f/o #self ship #self shipping #self insert fanfic #rotg fanfic #my writing #tw: cursing #tw: alcohol #tw: alchohol mention

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falcon6 · 6 years

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Learning to Create

It’s really difficult for me to admit that I’m an artist of any capacity. A lot of times, I consider that sort of term to be dedicated only to the working artist. You know, the ones who actually get paid for their work. The ones who end up creating things for everyone. The ones I admire greatly, to the point that I consider them to be living on Mt. Olympus while I’m stuck at a temple waiting for a chariot up a very steep road.

The place I work at now is a place where I don’t get to really create for myself. I create for other people. When I’m done there, I seldom get to make things for myself at home. There is an effort, of course, when I’m able to do so, but it’s hard to be that focused after toiling a retail job for 7 hours a day. You end up taking the opportunity to decompress and that ends up becoming an 8-hour decompress and you need to go to bed. That’s how it is for an adult, I guess. Don’t recommend growing up.

And that “9-5 Job, Now Do Nothing For Hours” mindset is something I need to work on, to be sure. In my mind, I see myself as someone who needs to be able to do something. I can’t make art to decompress, because art is supposed to be something important. I toil and toil, thinking about the process I need to decide on doing. “How do I become an artist like my favorite artists?” “What is the correct methods of learning it?”

How do I climb the mountain and join the greats?

In my monthly stint of introspection, I was watching a friend play Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door. To this day, it may still be my favorite game. Watching it again brings back a lot of genuinely good memories, both inside and outside of the game. The charm that filled the game’s varied and interesting world and cast has still yet to be matched for my personal tastes. And for years, it was the game I played whenever I needed a good pick-me-up.

Watching him play it for the first time and getting to hear the same sort of reactions I had to it 14 years ago ended up bringing an...odd memory back to me. And it involves this image.

Low-Quality Vivian For The Low-Quality Needs

Perhaps not this specific image in particular - the internet could have phased out that one- but something similar to it.

See, back in 2004 I was just getting in on the whole Internet thing. This was back when people used what was called an “internet forum”. This was a place where people can post their thoughts on a wide range of topics, such as: “How do you jump in Metroid?”, “This game sucks”, and “Do you think Kingdom Hearts 2 will be on Gamecube?”.

I was part of one forum for a good part of my teenage life. I started at around January of 2004, in fact. I suppose I consider that a turning point in my life if I remember it to that degree.

I was fairly active in that forum. And as I began to make my posts, I began to notice something. At the bottom of every post was what you called a signature.

They were a cute little way to signify that you were the one who was making the post. It was one of the small creative outlets this particular forum had given users, though you still needed it to be both 45-ish pixels tall and kept at a low file size to help those with 56k modems.

Typing that out makes me feel really old.

There were people who were making these small images underneath their posts and the cool, hip guy I was as a teenager was like “OH BOY I WANNA DO THAT TOO!”. Of course, in order to create this sort of stuff I had to be...sneaky.

Back then, I found a pirated copy of Paint Shop Pro 7. It worked decently enough for me, but as I was a young lad with strong moral values - I didn’t even curse until well into my later teens, the frickin’ twit - I felt extremely guilty doing this. So for my birthday that year, I ended up getting a legit copy of Paint Shop Pro 8. It was at that point, I suppose, that my desire to create stuff was ignited. I was thrown into the wide world of graphic design, making sigs for myself and others.

I eventually upgraded to Photoshop 7 - after throwing away all of those moral values and growing the confidence to say the fuck-word - walking even further into this new world for me. I started making signatures for people in flashier ways, abused lens flare to the point of blinding half of Nintendo fanboys, and even dabbled in creating wallpapers for people to use. This was back when 1024x768 was the norm, if you can believe that.

I talk about this because when my friend was playing TTYD, I decided to look up art of some characters again, and found Vivian - one of the party members in the game - once more. Only, this time, in a way higher fidelity than I had 14 years ago.

Best Girl in A Good Resolution.

In general, I’d consider TTYD as the game that first got me encroaching into graphic design. This was not due to the game’s art, which is still fantastic, but because of so many people suddenly wanting signatures of their favorite new party members in that restrictive 48 pixel height.

I would get private messages in the forum asking for sigs with Mario, Goombella, Koops, Yoshi, Vivian, Bobbery, the X-Nauts, Bowser, Peach...Rawk Hawk a few times...even had Zess T. the cook in there. It was wild.

So imagine my surprise going through Google Image Search for a post about Vivian and finding an image of her that was extremely close to the kind of art I had to work with back then. I worked for a long time trying to figure out how to deal with the blur of the pisspoor scan with its low resolution and JPEG artifacts. Back then, finding official art was pretty difficult alone, and official art that actually looked like it was scanned with proper care? You were basically stuck with what you had and needed to figure out how to hide it. The people who could find clean concept art became our dealer providing the good shit while we provided our services to others.

Otherwise, you just worked with what you had. This was problem solving. Back then, you didn’t have access to as many tutorials as you do now. You absolutely didn’t have as much access to tablets. Those were from Wacom only and they were expensive. So you were essentially on your own, only getting help from the occasional artist who decided to make small tutorials on the forum.

Thankfully most of the people for signature requests were also teenagers as well, who just thought you were amazing for doing this for them.

I suppose all this reminiscing got me thinking about that mountain again. The paths up the mountain are long but they’re rarely ever getting longer or shorter, just easier to traverse. Nowadays, tablets are so much easier to acquire and art programs have gotten a lot more manageable. Art you want to look at or study or even use for your small projects are readily available, with services that makes buying personalized art easy and supporting artists even easier.

The knowledge about art programs and processes is nigh-infinite at this point. You can get a young artist’s commentary about their own virtues of art in a single tweet at lunch and get an experienced artist’s commentary at dinner. You can get atelier-level art lessons for free on Youtube.

Almost anything you want to learn is feasible now. Climbing the mountain is easier than ever.

So naturally, with my inferiority complex in full swing, I always have to ask myself why I haven’t started climbing the mountain yet. Why haven’t I just started the trek up the mountain pass already towards becoming a technically-skilled artist?

And the answer is, I am.

It’s just at my pace.

When I was a kid playing make-believe with others in the playground, I was making steps. Throughout all my teenage years of making signatures for people, making wallpapers for others, and even making a properly-awful sprite comic, I was making steps. When I was getting people stealing my sketchbook and making marks over my drawing of a Sonic character at lunch in high school, I was still making steps. When I was being critiqued by people for my skills in ways I felt were unfair or spiteful, I was still making steps. Every time I open Photoshop or SAI and stare at a blank canvas and will myself into making a mark on there, I’m still making a step.

Every step further from the start point, which is far and away from where I am now.

In my mind, I still can’t help but feel like where I should be is as some sort of master of art, but it’s really not fair to me. In hindsight, if I had drawn something every single day with intent, I could be a technical genius with knowledge of all the principles of design lodged firmly in my mind. It sounds amazing, but that’s not something I did.

Considering “what could have been” ignores what I am now. I am someone with knowledge in these various programs for over 14 years. I’ve dabbled in multiple projects, some in my own design. I can consider those things invariably shit, but the stuff I did there was stuff I did on my own terms, which I learned from. I wrote fanfics, did signatures for people, made wallpapers and webcomics, designed websites, did roleplaying, made a storyline based on friends’ characters in an MMO, and played tabletop games creating characters that became some of my favorite creations in my lifetime.

I would never want to trade that away for some sort of technical skill level-up. I’ve made too many great friends because of all of this. I am who I am because of how I’ve gotten here.

Learning how to create is all about taking the opportunities as they come along. Even this post is, essentially, me seeing one image online after a game session with friends and getting a nostalgia blast for something completely unrelated to the game itself.

The act of creating is simply doing. If you do, you create. If you create, you create art.

If you create art, you are an artist.

Don’t let your inner thoughts dissuade you from that fact, ever.

Thanks for reading.

#falcon's inner ramblings #text post #art talk #bobbery is also pretty cool too

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veridium · 6 years

Text

Short: Welcome Back Inquisitor

Author’s Note: I want to write these little tender moments wherein my romantic pairings reunite after one of them returns from missions, etc. so I will be posting them here. It’s a neat way to see a side of each relationship. Just a short exercise for me to get into writing longer stuff.

Summary: The Inquisitor has returned to Skyhold after another perilous mission to The Exalted Plains in order to secure a bridge reconstruction plan and return injured personnel. Word has been communicated to Skyhold of their ordeals with dark spawn, the remnants of the Civil War, and of course, demons. Nonetheless, seeing one person again in particular reinvigorates her.

Characters: Inquisitor Theia Trevelyan, Ambassador Josephine Montilyet (#Theiaphine)

The road back to Skyhold had been an aggravated journey -- making the trek all the way back simply to execute plans for a bridge reconstruction, and to “resupply” wore on the Inquisitor’s patience. Still, seeing her troops’ faces when they finally made their way to the gates -- the relief and readiness in their expressions -- gave her some solace. And, admittedly, weeks in the Plains with nothing but letters from Josephine was as melancholic as always.

Arriving in the courtyard, like she had done many times now, Theia resisted the urge to feel the endearment of being home. Skyhold was just as much a holding of the land around it as it was the Inquisition -- in many ways it felt like they were merely under its patronage and mercy, rather than being owners or occupiers. Still, the familiarity of it was a blessing after so many days abroad.

Lowering her traveling hood, Theia patted her horse on the side of its neck, appreciative of the relatively smooth ride home. Dismounting swiftly, and handing off her horse to one of the stable staff, she felt the ache in her muscles as she made her way up the stairs. People were hugging and patting each other on the shoulders as friends, lovers, and comrades reunited. Infirmary staff gathered around the few injured souls they had brought back with them, going swiftly to work.

Theia took one look behind her, overseeing the stoic commotion. A part of her would always want to ensure that things were being taken care of and people were being attended to. It gave her a significant comfort that would otherwise go unrested if she simply dove into her own concerns.

Content with the scene, she grinned to herself and continued her way onwards and upwards. She tried to keep her heart from leaping out of its place in her chest as she anticipated who would be awaiting her at the stop of the second flight of steps. The face she always looked to when she crossed the threshold of the gates; the face she saw smiling with pride and relief when she did so just minutes ago.

Rounding the corner and walking up the stone steps, she finally let herself look up and soak in the moment. The tense and tired breath in her chest released herself as, inch my inch, she was able to see the exquisite woman she dreamt about in her waking and slumbering hours. For, there she was, Ambassador Montilyet: standing without her clipboard, for such things were unnecessary in these particular greetings. Her hands were holding each other in front of her waist, her eyes keen on her approaching company.

It was the same feeling of butterflies and contained ecstasy every time: decorum and a kind face covering up the celebration in her heart that Theia was returning in one piece.

The Inquisitor’s heavy steps finally brought her to the top, on the stone plateau connecting to the stairway which would take them to the great hall.

“Inquisitor,” Josephine smiled, bowing her head as she was finally able to see her face-to-face at eye level. She gave her a once-over: taking in her dark leather traveling armor, the scarf wrapped cozily around her neck in case she would have to protect her face from sand, rain, or snow. Her weathered and worn riding gloves encasing her hands at her sides. Her pale face with dark circles under her purple, effervescent eyes. Her white hair tucked up in a bun.

It never got old, not once.

Theia placed her hands on her hips, an endearing smile cracking on her lips.

“Ambassador,” she said knowingly, being playful with the formalities.

“I trust you have had a safe and efficient journey,” Josephine replied, taking a step closer.

“Yes, it was quite...stimulating,” Theia sighed lightly, “but I am relieved to be in a more captivating environment now.”

Josephine felt her stomach flip. The tone Theia had in her voice when she embarked on wordplay was irresistible, especially after weeks of not hearing it in person and having to imagine it via her language in letters.

“Surely, Skyhold does not compare to the vast countryside between here and the Exalted Plains,” Josephine’s chin tilted, her brow furrowing in a clever expression. Theia smirked, sliding off her riding gloves one by one and stretching out her right hand’s fingers and wrist. Josephine’s eyes watched as the hands she had come to know and crave so much revealed themselves. Her lips slightly parted as she did so.

“Josephine, I was not referring to the Fortress,” Theia’s voice said low. Then, the Inquisitor capitalized on her enticing charm. Stepping closer and remedying the problem of distance between them, she tossed the gloves to the floor and reached for Josephine’s waist. She pulled her in with a strong yet careful grip, causing the Ambassador to gasp softly at the audacity.

“Inquisitor!” she said in a hushed tone, trying not to draw more attention to the maneuver from below. Everyone could see the platform they were on, and any bodacious activity would surely garner an audience.

Hearing her title as her lips began closing in on Josephine’s, Theia chuckled under her breath. Her eyes flickered between her lips and her eyes, engrossed in both aspects of her features as well as everything in between.

“Josephine,” she breathed, one hand taking hold of the side of her gorgeous face. Their noses and foreheads gently touched as Josephine began to melt in her lover’s hold. Her eyes said remember decorum, but her body said toss it out the nearest window.

Her eyelids fluttered at the sound of her name, and she exhaled with a smile. “Theia,” she whispered in return.

The Inquisitor leaned into her more, finally receiving the greeting she had been longing for the entire time. Manners and etiquette be damned. Smiling broadly, Theia finished off her agenda with a passionately devout kiss. It wasn’t the most lustful, but it was consumed in love that was aching and reverent. Josephine kissed back, emboldened and liberated in one moment to be the woman who had been waiting for her lover to be back in her arms, flesh and bone, since the moment she left.

They kissed as if time stopped existing. They kissed like the war was another lifetime. Josephine’s arms wrapping around Theia’s neck as her back arched into her tightening hold. Theia’s protective grip on her woman, the only woman who could ever exist for her.

The audience could be the whole Capitol of Val Royeaux, and not a single face or opinion would count.

The moment of reverie passed, and when at last Theia broke her lips away from the embrace, she kept her eyes closed and her forehead to Josephine’s.

“I missed you with every inch of my soul,” she whispered, hands moving higher up Josephine’s back. Inhaling a most ravenous and lucid breath, her lungs were filled with the aura of her perfume and oils that she had craved every night of sleeping alone, every aching evening nursing wounds and reading reports.

The Ambassador blushed, her heart skipping beats as if they were treading on rocks across a river.

“And I missed you with every ounce of air in my chest, mi amor,” she whispered back. Josephine dared to love perhaps the only woman in all of Thedas who felt like a doom to do so. She did it without questioning: she was alive, and for a split minute in time, she was hers before being the world’s again.

In the open air, no doors or walls to fortify their defense, they forged the sanctity of their moment like all great pairs of lovers do: unapologetically, and with enough raw intention to take your breath away.

#oc stuff #theia trevelyan #josephine montilyet #inquisitor x josephine #theiaphine #short story #long post #text post

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