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peach-the-owl · 3 years

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I think I something you might going to like. 84 but with a twist. Reader is a sorcerer and a friend of Vox Machina, the last time they seen them was battle Mind Flayer thus sacrificed themselves to froze the gate to other dimensions and stop Mind Flayer. Only see Vox Machina one final look before froze themselves. Not until Mighty Nein broke the frozen sorcerer. Only hear familiar voices, once they open their eyes they realize it's not Vox Machina, but the group who saved them.

Kinda like Avatar The Last Airbender when Aang frozen in time. Hope this is too much for you.

Some friendships transcend lifetimes… I love The Last Airbender it’s such a good show, and I’ve defiantly watched it over a dozen times, but anyways onto the story

I know I’ve called stories long before but like I thing this one takes the cake so far… here’s hoping it’s a good one

Lost Time

Vox Machina/Mighty Nein & Sorcerer!Reader (Platonic)

84- Who are you?

Spells flew left and right as you and the rest of Vox Machina faced off against a rather troublesome Mind Flayer, your ultimate goal was to destroy the gateway this aberration had opened and stop any beasts from coming through from other dimensions. Having silver dragon blood running through your veins meant you specialized in ice magic, being able to freeze just about anything with enough time and effort put in. With the rest of the team keeping the Mind Flayer distracted while you tried to use your magic to freeze and shatter the gateway, but the problem was this gate was enormous. The Mind Flayer had caught on to what was happening and attacks you causing you to lose concentration on your task, thankfully you’d managed to deal enough damage to shatter the base of the gateway causing it to crumble to the ground, falling on the Mind Flayer effectively killing it. For a moment it looked like you’d won but as the dust settled some you see the portal was still open and extremely unstable, energy crackling every which way the cavern starting to collapse around you.

"We can’t stay here the whole place is coming down on top of us." Percy calls for a retreat.

"It didn’t close, we broke it but it didn’t close!" Grog shouts still in a rage. You look over at all of them then over at the portal, you knew what had to be done so with a shaky breath you start towards the broken gateway.

"(Y/n) what are you doing? We need to leave!" Vax calls for you with a panicked tone.

"If I don’t seal this thing, it could mean more trouble then even we could handle." You continue forward against the groups protests getting close enough in range to start using your magic to freeze the opening before anymore energy can release itself. The room grew drastically colder, frost appearing along the walls as you pushed yourself past your limits.

"We can’t just leave you here!" Pike cries.

"You have to, if you don’t you’ll be buried here as well!" You yell, urging them to go without you.

"But-"

"Just go!" You scream at them, by now you could feel the cold of your magic effecting your own body. With looks of sorrow you watch as they all make their way to the exit, Keyleth looks back and calls your name one more time before being dragged off by the others. "It'll be okay." You whisper to yourself, a single tear sliding down your cheek as the gateway lets loose a pulse of energy and you unleash all your magic at once to conceal it, making your vision go white…

Everything felt cold, shadows were moved around in front of you. Were you dead? You thought you might be but then you start hearing faint voices, albeit muffled hit your ears.

"… see that?" It kinda sounded like Vex but you don’t remember her having such a high pitched, bubbly voice.

"It… dangerous." That sounded like Keyleth except much deeper and gravely.

"Wait, I think… in there." Since when did Grog become so soft spoken and educated?

"Maybe… use fire… see what’s inside." You defiantly don’t remember Scanlan sounding so shrill before.

"… not a… perhaps… could be dead." Now when did Vax get such an odd accent?

"… they're alive. We need…" Percy also sounded much calmer and relaxed then you were used to. What was going on, and why did everyone sound so different? A glowing light shines through bringing a warm feeling with it, there’s a cracking sound followed by shattering as you fall to the ground, you figured Pike must’ve used some sorta healing or restoration spell to free you. After a slight pause you gasp in actual air for the first time in you weren’t sure how long, and look up at the people in front of you. Your vision was still a little blurry trying to adjust to your surroundings and for a brief moment you thought you were staring at your friends, but when you rub your eyes to clear them you see before you a group of complete strangers making you jump back in surprise.

"Who are you?" Your voice comes out chattering both from fear and from the cold that still lingered in your body.

"Could ask you the same question." The woman who looked to be a monk shoots back.

"Well I asked first." You rebuttal attempting to stand, your legs were still shaky causing you to trip only to be caught by the firbolg on one arm and the tiefling on the other.

"Hi! I’m Jester!" The tiefling says cheerfully, holding her hand out for you to shake.

"Uhh… pleasure to meet you." You greet slowly accepting the hand shake, you then look to your other side at the firbolg.

"Hi, I’m Caduceus, how are you?" He introduces himself.

"I’m doing quite alright, thank you." You then look to the others in the group.

"Hi I’m Nott, just Nott." The goblin gives an awkward little wave, you wave back.

"Name's Fjord." There was a minor shift in his voice that made him sound more western, but only for a moment. You just nod your head in acknowledgment.

"My name's Caleb Widogast." The red head says rather stiffly, you could easily tell he was a wizard due to the large spell book stripped to his persons.

"Beauregard." The monk woman simply says.

"It’s very nice to meet you all. My name's (y/n)." You finally introduce yourself, now feeling a little more comfortable around them. "You have my thanks for freeing me of my icy prison."

"How did you end up in there anyways?" Jester asks. You explain to them everything you could clearly recall from your adventure before somehow placing yourself into some kind of frozen stasis.

"You know, now that I’ve had a better look…" You trail off slightly, taking in your surroundings once more. "This looks nothing like the cavern I sealed myself in. Where exactly are we?"

"You're in the Happy Fun Ball!" Jester happily states, you give her a confused look.

"That’s only a nickname." Caleb quickly jumps in, giving you a quick explanation of the object you were inside.

"How strange, maybe the last pulse of energy from the gateway sent me here along with most of the ruins." You look over at the broken and thankfully inactive gate that was in shambles, defiantly no way to activate that thing anymore.

"So if I may ask, why go through the trouble of coming here a second time? I mean, you know how dangerous it was the first." You question.

"Well we're looking for someone, that wasn’t you, and hopefully find a way to stop this cult for something called the Angel of Irons." Fjord gave an explanation this time. You let out a large sigh, this was a lot of new information to take in such a short time.

"That’s interesting." You say absentmindedly, still taking in this new situation you were suddenly in. You shake your head a bit and look to the group. "Well, if you need any help I'll happily oblige, it’s the least I could do for freeing me."

"Why that’s very generous of you, honestly we could probably use all the help we can get." Caduceus gives you a kind smile.

"Of course, just tell me everything I need to know about your situation." With that they all started to explain everything that’s been happening, it being a little hard to follow along sometimes with them talking over each other but you get the picture eventually. "So your friend, Yasha right? She’s under this Obann's control and they also have a creature called the Laughing Hand at their disposal. Now your here looking for the wizard Yussa because he’s been missing in here for 3 weeks and time is really strange here too, did I get all that?" You question.

"That’s the basics of it." Nott says with nod.

"Looks like we got our work cut out for us. Especially with the strange time here." You place a finger under your chin in slight thought, you had a lot of questions running through your head but had to put them aside for now, there were more pressing matters to deal with first. Finally having regained enough strength to stand on your own you set off with this new group of adventurers…

Taking down the Permaheart had been no easy feat but with Beau downing it and yours and Caleb’s combined spells it was finally reduced to frozen ashes and you’d finally located Yussa, amongst other things that happened and were ready to leave this place once and for all. Throughout all this, as helpful as you were you could tell this group still didn’t fully trust you, whispering amongst each other and defiantly not telling you everything. Who were you to blame them though, they were as much of strangers to you as you were to them, even if they did save you, so you figured it best to just keep a slight distance when they talked quietly with each other, and if you were being honest you were exhausted. Having been frozen for who knows how long didn’t cancel out the effect of having used a lot of magic, plus the magic you used to help fight off the creatures and creations that lurked in this sphere. You located the exit and the second you all arrived inside of Yussa's tower you fell to your knees panting.

"Whoa, hey are you alright?" Fjord comes over to you and helps support your weight so you could still stand.

"Sorry, I’m just a little tired is all, I suppose after everything I still haven’t fully recovered from my icy sleep." As if to exaggerate your point you let out a yawn and start leaning your full weight into the half-orc.

"Do you think it would be alright if we left (y/n) here for the time being." Caleb asks Yussa who in turn looks over at your exhausted form.

"I juss need some proper rest, I’ll be out of yer hair and rejoin with them once I dooo." You slur through your words slightly.

"Very well." He says with a soft sigh, then turns to his assistant to get a room prepared for you. When your brought in you immediately collapse on the little makeshift bed and pass out, getting some much needed rest. You awaken feeling much more refreshed and walk your way up the tower to where you hoped to find Yussa, when you enter the room you see the mage as well as the Mighty Nein and a very familiar face who stared back at you with as much of a shocked look as your own.

"Allura?" You ask almost nervously, she looked much older then when you’d last seen her. You see her eyes gloss over a little as she holds back tears.

"(Y/n)?" There’s a slight silence that fills the room before the two of you embrace each other. "I was told you sacrificed yourself to save our everyone, we all thought you were dead!" Allura practically cries, breaking away from the formal appearance she’d put on in front of everyone until now.

"I thought I was as good as dead too, but these folks here saved me, pulled me out of my frozen tomb." You say gesturing towards the Nein.

"Wait wait wait, you two know each other?" Nott looks between the two of you confused.

"Of course we do, we're friends." You simply reply.

"You haven’t changed a bit." Allura says looking you over.

"And you…" You pause slightly. "You’ve certainly gotten wiser." Allura just gives you a look that says "yes, I know I’m old". After your little reunion you refocus your attention on the task at hand, collecting information on this Angel of Irons and learning that it was in fact the Chained Oblivion, Tharizdun. You listen intently to everything being said to get a better understanding of what was going on and the more you learned the more serious and dangerous the situation grew.

"I believe it best I return to Tal'Dorei and inform the council, will you be joining me?" Allura looks over to you for confirmation.

"As much as I’d love to go home, I promised these fine people I’d help them. It’s the least I could do for what they’ve done for me." You give your friend a smile, she returns it with a worried look then sighs and nods.

"Alright, just please be careful and don’t disappear again, I don’t know how I’d handle the knowledge of seeing you alive only to learn you’ve really died this time." She places a firm yet gently grip on your shoulders, you place your hands on top of hers and give them a reassuring squeeze.

"I can’t make any big promises here but I’ll do my best. Until then it may be best if you keep my status a secret to everyone, alright? You’ll even be the first person I visit once this is all over." You look her in the eyes and slowly release your grip, once again she nods as she slowly moves her hands back to her side and teleports out of the tower.

"Aww man, I wanted to know who was on this council she mentioned." Nott looks down disappointed.

"Me too." Jester pouts. "Unless you know!" The two of them give you expectant looks making you take a step away from them.

"I can’t say I’d know for sure, a lot is different now then what I remember." You hold up your hands in defence.

After getting everything sorted out, you left Yussa's tower thinking as long as you stay with this group you should be fine. Then they split up, the girls in one direction and the boys in the other which threw you for a loop but you were able to sort yourself out and enjoy a more casual rest of the day getting to better know some of the others. The following days weren’t as you’d expect however especially when you were shopping around a little shop know as the Invulnerable Vagrant, it was no Gilmore's Glorious Goods but it still nice and you had to admit the shopkeeper, Pumat, was a charming firbolg in his own right. What was really unexpected though was the surprise attack by the Inevitable End, dealing with them was tricky when they could phase through the floor but you managed to drive them off and check in on what was happening with Yasha. Your next stop was a visit with a sorta mafia? You were really starting to question the group's moral compass, sure you have done crazy things in the past too but the Nein seemed to find a way to make things even weirder, you decided to stay out of most of it when they told you the only way to get in was to share your blood. Meeting up the next day you made your way back to Pumat's shop, being both shocked a relieved when he decided to join and help the party on this fast approaching mission…

Never in your life had you thought that the steps to a cathedral of Pelor would feel so menacing and filled with unease and yet here you were. The battle was intense, rifts opening and bringing forth creatures of the abyss, Yasha and the Laughing Hand were proving to be tough opponents and everything seemed to be going downhill. With sights set on the mind-controlled barbarian you weighed your options, you couldnt be reckless with your spells seeing as Beau had fallen unconscious so an AoE spell might end up killing her, you settle for using a Ray of Frost spell seeing as your silver dragon blood made it stronger. It works, distracting Yasha away from Beau and giving Caduceus the opportunity to dispel the control over her and spare Beau from deaths grip. With that taken care of you switch your focus to an oddly familiar situation, going to close the rifts and stopping the creatures coming through, however this time it wasn’t a large gateway at least. You were very focused on your task you didn’t notice Obann escape to the deeper chambers of the cathedral until you heard one of the Nein call to you.

"Obann's escaping we need to move!" Caleb calls, you look back and forth between them and the creatures still coming through a few of the remaining rifts, Pumat was still dealing with the the creatures as well and by the looks of things, despite his word of reassurance, he was already having a difficult time.

"You go on ahead, I’ll stay back here and help fend these creatures off!" You call back.

"Are you-"

"Just go!" You shout at them feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. You shake off the feelings, this wasn’t going to end like last time. The Nein disappear after the devil and with Pumat to aid you the two of you worked to close the few rifts and finish off the remaining cultists and creatures. It had been a long and strenuous battle but you’d done it and you were still alive, you rest yourself against one of the supporting pillars to catch your breath. After a long pause that feels like hours had passed, you feel a feathery touch against your shoulder, looking over at Caduceus who uses a quick Cure Wounds on you, Fjord also makes his way over.

"We want to thank you for everything, we may not have managed as well as we had if not for you." Fjord thanks, handing you a healing potion.

"I suppose that makes us even then." You comment with a cheeky smile happily accepting the potion and putting it to use right away.

"You know, I feel we could really use someone like you on the team, if you’re interested that is." Caduceus offers.

"I appreciate the offer, and though in reality it has been a long time since my last adventure, it still feels like it was only a short time ago to me. I really miss home, and am in dire need for a break, but if you do ever require my assistance in the future I will happily lend my aid to you again. For now I just wish to go home and familiarize myself with the changes that've taken place." You decline the offer as politely as you can, he gives you a nod of understanding. With that you get up, bid them farewell and exit the cathedral, making your way towards an area that’s out of the way before getting to work on a Teleportation Circle, as you're setting it up you think back to your time with this crazy group of adventurers, and while it was short they still made you feel welcome in their own strange ways. In some ways they reminded you of your time with Vox Machina, perhaps that’s why you were able to work with them and come to form a trust with them as quickly as you did, who knew. You finish the last symbol for your spell and the portal opens to the familiar view from inside Allura's tower, it was time to go home so with a deep breath you step through the portal.

Bonus (2 for 1 story):

Reunion

"Are you alright? You're looking quite nervous." Allura asks with slight worry as you walk through the halls of Greyskull Keep.

"I haven’t been home in so long and so much has changed, I just don’t know what to expect or how they’ll react." You admit. She places a hand on your shoulder and gives you a reassuring smile.

"Trust me I don’t think they’ll be expecting this either." You walk up to a set of large double doors.

"And from everything you told me…" You trail off a bit.

"There’s more I missed, but I’m sure they’ll be more then happy to fill you in."

"Okay…" You take a breath and reach for the knob only to pause again. "Why don’t you go in first, and I’ll follow your lead." Allura just gives a soft chuckle and nod before opening the door and heading in. You step back and try to catch your breath wondering why you still felt so nervous. You had to wonder if this was even worth it, a lot had happened and changed since you’d been gone and there was a lingering doubt that your friends might not even care anymore.

"Come in and say hello." You hear Allura's voice muffled through the door. Moment of truth, you steel your nerves and make your way through the door. When you enter you have a look around the room seeing all eyes on you, at first their expressions were blank or shocked so you decide to lighten the mood and give a small smile.

"Hello everyone, it’s been awhile." You say in almost a whisper, already feeling the tears well up in your eyes. The next thing you know your tackled into a hug by a sobbing Keyleth.

"You’re not dead! You’re not dead!" Is all you hear her say through her sobbing. You now return the hug having been able to stabilize yourself and comfort the Archdruid.

"I missed you too Kiki. I’ve missed all of you." You release one arm from her seeing as she wasn't going to let go of you just yet, and feel a slight pressure rest on your shoulder once you do. Craning your neck over you see a raven perched itself on you, you raise your hand and give him a little scratch under his beak as he leans into the touch. You look to the others seeing Vex approach.

"My word darling, you haven’t aged a day since we last saw you. What’s your secret?" She tries to add some minor humour to the situation but you could tell she was holding back some tears, being just as overjoyed as Keyleth.

"Just freeze yourself for a good 20 years or so and it’ll shave off those wrinkles in no time." You lightly chuckle, using your free arm now to offer her a hug. She accepts giving a much shorter side hug to you while the others finally came to their senses and start bombarding you with questions. You do the best you can to answer all of them as well as properly greeting everyone again and exchanging welcoming hugs from them, being lifted off the ground when Grog brought you into an almost bone crushing grip. "As much as I missed you too, I’m still fragile." You wheeze at the goliath.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just been so long." He says, trying and failing to hold back his emotions.

"Right, which reminds me, you must have stories to tell me. I’d love to hear what you’ve all done over the years."

"Oh man, where do we begin? There’s so much to tell." Pike ponders aloud.

"How about we start with what happened after my… departure." You suggest, ready for the day to be filled with stories of their adventures and exploits.

#critical role #critical role & reader #vox machina #vox machina & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #nothing romantic here

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theclosetiswonderland · 4 years

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“Now we walk and we never look back.”

First off I want to commend Jodie and Sandra for their amazing performances throughout every moment in this last scene and also Suzanne for writing the last interaction between them so beautifully.

There are a lot of details that might go unnoticed in the moments they share on the bridge... there’s too much to unpack, but I’m gonna focus on their facial expressions and what might’ve crossed their minds when they were together.

They have changed so much since the start of the season that analyzing how they feel and what they say or think is a totally different experience now.

We start by Villanelle joking about how romantic it is that the both of them had a part in killing Dasha. And when Eve asks “You know who the only people who would think that are?” Villanelle raises her eyebrow and looks at her with certain “annoyance”, like she’s ready to hear from Eve “You. You are the only crazy person that would think that.”

That’s what Villanelle has been listening from everyone her whole life and in her solitary journey in search of who she is. She’s been looking for someone who could for once tell her that she’s not just a terrible person, but only to be disappointed... like when the people in Bitter Pill looked at her like she was some kind of aberration, how her own mother said she didn’t belong there, how Konstantin said she wasn’t part of his family, how Helene said that she is nothing but a monster and how Dasha could only see a killing machine.

To everyone all that she could ever be was either a tool to be used or something to be scared of... someone to be pushed away. Can you imagine how much hurt and pain she’s been carrying? Trying to brush it off, pretending she doesn’t care.

But when she asks “Who?” Eve responds “Us.”

Notice how her expression immediately shifts, and she pauses, looking at the distance for a few seconds before saying something.

Eve is the only person who truly sees Villanelle as a person, as an individual and even has a concept of Villanelle and her being “us”. She’s the only one who accepts, understands and embraces who Villanelle is, not despite who she is but by who she really is.

No one could see past Villanelle’s cruel actions. Not Konstantin, not her tutor, not her ex lovers, not even her mother... And for them that is the only thing that defines her: her monstrosity. But it’s not like that, not for Eve.

And again, Eve uses “us”, when she responds to Villanelle saying that she doesn’t want to kill anymore.

She’s not simply comparing the two of them, she’s addressing Villanelle as a person, as a part of her life and as a part of her. Even when they were separate, the different paths they took, the decisions they’ve made... it’s always been the two of them. No matter the distance.

Their individual journeys didn’t bring them together for no reason, rather it was all about them meeting again and realizing how much they’ve changed, because they’re the only ones who can see that.

When Eve tells Villanelle she was like them, implying that she was “normal”, Villanelle doesn’t understand at first what she means and she even jokes about it “What? Badly dressed?”...

She’s right. Eve was never like them. And Villanelle knew that from the beginning. She saw that in Eve and it’s one of the reasons she loves her. Eve tries to deny it immediately “I had a life, a husband, blah blah blah.” But there is no space or time for pretending anymore. And she knows it. That Eve never existed, she was a facade, a long gone one.

Villanelle brings her back to reality, “You still want that stuff?”. With different words she is asking Eve what she really wants. And Eve? She tells her that all she can think of when she pictures her future (and when she thinks about what she wants) is Villanelle. “I see your face over and over again.”

“Us.”

And it’s one of their most beautiful moments together, in my opinion. They are so carefree around each other in that moment that Villanelle jokes about the ideia of them together, and she makes Eve laugh (for the first time).

The utter desire they have to be together right now... It’s immeasurable.

Then Villanelle goes back to “what about all the things I’ve done to you?”

They talk a lot about their past and their future together. As if trying to find a justification or a reason for them not to be together. After all the pain they’ve caused each other, they search in the moments they spend together an answer to if they’re broken... to if this could ever work between them.

When Eve says she wanted it to, she acknowledges that V encouraged what was already there. She’s finally admitting she is the one that let Villanelle in. And this show so much growth from Eve’s part. Villanelle is not the only cause of her problems and also she’s not the reason Eve has a dark side, it was there all along. Villanelle took her through a journey of discovery and understanding of that part of her.

Now look at Villanelle when Eve asks her to help her, to make it all stop. Villanelle’s face... She’s devastated right now because she still believes that she is the source of all Eve’s hurt and she’s hurting too.

She wants Eve to be happy but that means giving her freedom. Freedom to choose to release herself from the past they shared. To avoid any further pain they could cause being in each other’s future.

“No more tea dances...”

She asks Eve to stand up and looks at her one last time. Even though she didn’t say any words in that moment, even though she didn’t say “I’m sorry”... and even though she didn’t say how much she loves Eve, it’s all written on her face.

There wouldn’t be enough apologies to make up for all she did to Eve. She thinks Eve could never choose her because of her actions and because of who she is. So she does the only good thing she could do for Eve, what she thinks Eve wants... She lets her go.

V tilts her head back to feel Eve close just once more before they part ways.

“Now what?”

“Now we walk away from each other and never look back.”

The only problem is... the more they distance themselves from the other there isn’t relief, there isn’t freedom... There’s only pain with each step they take. And can you see? Can you feel the hurt on their faces? Because I can.

I think there are two different moments here at the end that are just too special:

One is that the first one to look back is Eve, but the first one to stop walking is Villanelle. I think that she never really intended to not look back. Deep down she wanted Eve to look back at her, she hoped for Eve to not give up on her. She wanted Eve to stay. She wanted her to choose her. To lover her back.

Two is that when Eve is walking away she takes more time to distance herself from V, because even though she knows she wants Villanelle, she couldn’t accept those feelings. But once she saw herself losing Villanelle, when the idea of never seeing her again hit her... It was scary... painful. So she is finally able to make peace with her struggles. She’s finally able to choose to love Villanelle, regardless of their dark past.

Eve turns back and she looks like she is about to scream Villanelle’s name, but for her surprise, Villanelle stayed. She couldn’t leave her. She chose her too. They chose each other.

“Us.”

#this is so long #but if you got to end thank you #i'm still sobbing over this scene #if you read it listening to tell me it hurts more #my thoughts #killing eve

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 3 years

Text

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 23

Chapter Selection

"Are you passing all your classes", I grinned and groaned.

"Yes they're fine, all A's" I pulled the blanket up and tucked the sheets under the bed. Aaron walked over to me from the other side of the bed and wrapped his arms around me. "I'm just making sure you're okay... it's in a week you know."

I looked at him in his eyes, "Aaron, I know when my graduation is..."

"Who else is going?", I glanced at him in confusion and started walking out of the room. "What do you mean?" I went into the kitchen and started digging through the fridge.

"Y/n I know I'm not the only one going to your graduation, your friends are going to be there with you. Did you not invite anyone else?"

I stood up and shut the fridge, I shook my head. "No other friends?, family? At least your parents." My head snapped to his, "Definitely not my parents." I took a step back, putting some distance between us.

"Ok... ok, can I ask why?"

"Not right now, can we stop taking about this. I just wanna get Jack and leave... please." We had to pick Jack up from Hayleys. I wasn't really on good terms with my parents, my siblings they lived everywhere and had their own things to worry about.

I hadn't talked to them in a few years. It would just be awkward to have them there, probably silently judging me the whole time. That's only if they actually showed up.

"Come on", he grabbed my hand and interlaced our fingers. I wasn't in the mood to talk anymore.

The question just brought up too many old feeling that I'd rather not feel again. Aaron respected that and didn't try and force a conversation. He started the car and drove over the Hayleys.

Pulling into the driveway we saw the familiar car parking out front. "He's still dating her." I mumbled. Jack ran out of the house and I helped him into the car, Hayley always avoided wanting to see us. We left right after not wanting to cause any problems.

"Hi", he looked at Jack through the mirror. "Hey bud, how you doing?" He shrugged his shoulders, moving his bag to the empty seat next to him. "Okay I guess, they were fighting again this morning."

"Again?", Aaron glanced backwards. "Yeah, he was blaming her... I don't know I wasn't really listening." Jacks voice got lower and he rested his head on the window, looking at the passing cars.

How did she think this was going to affect Jack... his parents got divorced cause of her mistake. A mistake that she was still with, even at Jacks age he's not dumb.

He knows what happened, at least I know I did. Aaron continued driving, he didn't want to go back home. Being the good dad he was, he tried to cheer Jack up. Taking him some place he's been wanting to go for a while now.

He parked the car and we got out, Jack clung onto my hands. His face going from upset to happy in a matter of seconds. "Come on", Aaron led us inside the skating rink and we got our skates. "Do you need any help?", I asked Jack going over to the floor. "No I got it."

Aaron and I hung back watching him try on his own. As soon as his foot hit the floor he fell. We were going to help but he insisted he was fine. We stayed, watching him try and get the hang of it.

"Let's go", I grabbed Aarons hand and he didn't move. I snapped my head to look at him, he shook his head. "Not happening."

I chuckled, "Is this why you didn't put on the skates, cause you don't know how to."

"I know how", I let go of his hand and went onto the rink without him. "Oh yeah Hotchner— prove it." I joined Jack and we went around in circles, constantly passing Aaron. Leaning against the wall I went by him and pecked his lips.

A smile formed on his face and he dipped his head down.

Groaning to himself muttering, "This is so stupid." He sat down and threw on the skates.

Going in another circle I went to look at Aaron but he wasn't there. I felt someone grab my hand and my first instinct was to punch.

The hand grabbed my fist and brought it down to my side, "That's a little violent." I face palmed and laughed with relief, "Sorry about that, and look at you. Couldn't pass it up huh."

"Yeah you know it just looked like too much fun to hang back." I started showing off going backwards and watching Jack come up behind Aaron. ___________________

"Ready?", I looked at myself in the mirror. I let out a shaky breath, "Hell no, what if I trip on stage cause this gown is too long."

Putting his head on top of mine, he kissed the top of my head. "Then I better get a video of it, show it to every—."

I turned around and smacked his shoulder, "Don't you dare." I said playfully. "Since when did you start to think you can tell me what to do?" My mouth turned upwards, "When I clearly became the better one in this relationship."

We walked out of the bedroom and into the living room, "Now I'm not going to be up there with you, try not embarrass yourself." My face when still with a very small smirk, "Yes sir."

I went through the door and into my car. I left Aaron's going to my apartment.

I was going to try and get ready with Chloe, it started in less than three hours. Driving I walked up the stairs and unlocked the door. Anthony and Andrew were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying the food that was in the fridge. "Look who's here, where have you been?"

I raised my eyebrows at them both, them started laughing, "Never mind."

I hummed and headed to my room, getting the gown from the back of my door. "Chloe!", I called out waiting for a response. She came with the clothes she was going to wear.

"What?"

"Where's the pair of heels you gave me?", she rested on the doorframe. "The black ones?"

"Yeah can I get those", she left and gave me the shoes. I went through my closet and grabbed the black skin tight dress I had and threw on the heels.

Applying some light makeup I walked back out to the guys, "Oh shit, look who's actually trying."

"Oh fuck off, how do I look?", I spun around, facing them again. "Like if I didn't know you I'd be trying to hook up with you." I chuckled and placed a hand on my chest, "Aww that's so sweet." The guys were already finished getting ready.

Wearing a white button up and a pair of khakis.

We had a little more than an hour to get to the ceremony. "Chloe come on." I heard the clicking of her heels and she came out to us. Her appearance matched mine and we all walked out together and drove over.

Getting out of the car, we saw the crowd of people outside and the amount of cars. Inside was worse, there were people everywhere, Chloe and I went into the bathroom and put on our cap and gown. "You ready?"

I let out a deep sigh, "Nope... but we kind of have to so, let's go." We took our time walking to the chairs we were assigned to. I turned my head trying to look for Hotch, when he texted.

Aaron - More to the left

Cocking my head to the side, there he was. Smiling at me, I could see how proud he was in his eyes. We waved and both of us turned our attention back to the stage. The principle stepped on and started talking. I had zoned out for the majority of the graduation.

Just wanting to get it over with, my body was filled with anxiety. Even through we practiced a hell of a lot I still never felt prepared. The valedictorian started and I really didn't pay any attention to that. I always hated her, her name was Allison and she just always. went. on and on about— well everything.

I found her voice grating. "Now we will go on and start with the class of 2011." I whispered to myself, "Oh shit." One by one the students walked across the stage.

And the closer they got to me the more my heart raced. The more my face got red, thankfully the makeup was hiding most of it.

"Chloe Prescott", he called her up. As she got up she shook my hand and mumbled, "Good luck." Chloe walked away and shook the hands of everyone on stage. She got off and they took her picture. I saw her go over to Aaron and say something into his ear.

What the hell. "Y/n L/n", whatever it was I didn't have the time to think about it when they called my name. I got up, trying not to collapse where I stood.

Grabbing my degree from the principle I thanked all of them and walked off. That was it, I was out of it never realizing I was already standing next to Aaron.

"Congratulations", I huffed and smiled looking at him. Still being in front of everyone I couldn't do what I really wanted. Staying until it was over I was joined by my friends in the lobby.

"You're coming out with us tonight no exceptions", Anthony pointed at me. Aaron looked down as he started walking away. "Hold on", I went over to him, leaving the group.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't want to keep you from them", I put a reassuring hand on his. "Aaron... you're not keeping me. I want my boyfriend there to celebrate with me, you're going."

___________________

Permeant taglist : @errorcosplay67 @wanniiieeee @oreogutz @aberrant-annie @filthyq-tip-blog @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #Criminal Minds #fanfic #fanfiction #hotch #hotchner #SSA HOTCHNER #writing

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keyofjetwolf · 3 years

Text

We’re All Just Guys

Well it took the entire fucking season, but I FINALLY get the purpose for Henry Fondle: Sex Robot. And while the entire episode (and season, honestly) has been tremendous, that this ridiculous fucking punchline was the vehicle to deliver the overarching point with a solid knockout punch of meaning AND pathos? Absolutely floored. That BoJack Horseman can be (and often is) brilliant isn’t a surprise, but the ways is keeps proving it often are.

So “The Stopped Show”, a tale of accountability and responsibility and how we’re all just guys.

Each of our main characters closes out this season alone (sort of), in assorted stages of realizing the main themes, or completely failing to. I find Diane’s arc the hardest for me to make a decision on, which isn’t surprising, as I think in many ways, Diane’s the most complicated character in the show. She delivers, directly and succinctly, one of the major points of not just this season but the entire show, but how does it relate to her? I’M NOT COMPLETELY SURE. I think part of the problem with (and for) Diane is that she knows better. She’s the most insightful character, she has a fantastic head on her shoulders, but only for everyone else. She’s this fucked up little disaster prophet, her vision clear and her message concise, unable to ever apply her gifts to fix herself.

Diane is just as trapped as BoJack, but in a fun twist, is now lagging behind him in trying to do something about it. Nearly every single scene with Diane this season has been in this sad little room of her sad little apartment with all her sad little unpacked boxes, and no matter how much truth and wisdom she spits out, HERE SHE STILL IS, failing to correctly assemble IKEA furniture with names like Bȧcksleid. She already feels like shit for sleeping with Mr. Peanutbutter, so what does she do? THE SAME FUCKING THING. To which I groan and roll my eyes, while simultaneously being proud of her for directly and immediately setting him straight about not getting back together. Diane rides this constant line where she gets it but also doesn’t, which is so interesting to me in the level of additional frustration this makes me feel. BoJack is so self-absorbed you don’t really expect any better of him, which has the flip side of your expectations being so low that even the whiff of progress feels exceptional. Diane doesn’t come with any of that though, she knows better, you KNOW she knows better, and the consequence of this for the audience is that she winds up being more unlikeable than the guy who literally last episode nearly strangled his girlfriend and co-star in the middle of a paranoid drug-induced frenzy.

Which is fucked up! It’s intensely fucked up! And also, I think, the point! We expect more of Diane, and so feel more disappointed when she doesn’t deliver. Is that fair of us?

But there’s more here, as we pivot to the accountability portion of this episode/season. From the beginning of the show, it’s been incredibly upfront about how everything is unfair. We come back to this time and again. Privilege rules the day in the world of Hollywoo. Fame, money, charisma, gender, power. BoJack has been an asshole from pretty much the moment he set foot in the spotlight (possibly before?), and the only thing ever even attempting to hold him back has been the moments his guilt manages to scream loud enough to be heard over his internal narrative. Whatever he does, however he fucks up, he always stumbles back to his feet, and NEVER with any (broad scale) consequences. Meanwhile, here’s Diane, in her sad shitty apartment. Consequences haunt Diane, even if she’s the one doing the haunting. The crap things she’s done and the shitty choices she’s made cling to her.

There’s no fairness in that either, no justice. But Hollywoo (and the entire world around it) (and our world too oh yes) has that privilege carved into its bones, and Diane bears none of its marks. Her situation is very different from but parallel to Gina, who is just so fucked over, it keeps legitimately making me angry for her.

Gina, of course, brought none of this on herself. She made the mistake of caring about BoJack and trying to help him. OOPS YOU WERE A GENEROUS PERSON WITH AN OPEN HEART FUCK YOU LADY. For her trouble, Gina has been assaulted and traumatized, AND she is in very real danger of her career being over when it’s only just finally beginning. And she KNOWS THIS. That’s the part that I keep coming back to. All this should be an aberration, an anomaly, and while that may be true of the specifics, conceptually, it’s so commonplace that Gina already knows how it’s going to play. She’ll stop being Gina and become The Woman Nearly Strangled To Death By BoJack Horseman. Even if she’s able to keep working, this is what she’ll be asked about in every interview forever. Even if she convinced people to genuinely listen to her, BoJack would, at worst, get a slap on the wrist as he stumbles back to his feet. We know that, WE ALL KNOW THAT, because it happens all. the. fucking. time. Gina did nothing wrong, but this would still define her for the rest of her life, while for BoJack, it would maybe become a footnote on his Wikipedia page.

Nothing about that is FAIR. Nothing about it is JUST. Gina’s choices shouldn’t have to be “this becomes my entire life” or “swallow this down and pretend it never happened”. But it is, as it has been in perpetuity for the victims of the privileged.

So then what can we do about it? Well that’s really the question, isn’t it? This episode answers it in an assortment of ways (I think the entire SHOW is very much about this, really, but this episode is for sure coming with guns blazing), while also showing us why none of those answers can work. It’s funny and sad and awful and true, but also, ultimately, the most hopeful answer because it’s the only one you can actually affect: It’s you. It’s me. It’s each and every one of us, individually, making a choice to be better.

And believe it or not, we embody this with Henry Fondle: Sex Robot.

I thought the whole thing was so unbelievably stupid. Half the season, we’ve had this goddamn multi-dildo’d juvenile frat boy joke running around with its stupid ass Speak-and-Say voice, doing the same shtick over and over, and I’m like, “okay this is just the shit I have to put up with to get the clever stuff, I guess.” BUT THAT’S EXACTLY THE POINT I’M SITTING THERE LIVING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN POINT AND MISSING IT. Henry Fondle: Sex Robot is seventeen shades of overt horribleness, AND WE ALL JUST GIVE IT A PASS. It’s just the way it is, the way the world works, the price of doing business. When the whole time -- THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME -- all it took was one person to say no. One person who could see the game we all are playing and was willing to give up everything to stop it.

Hilariously, Henry Fondle IS a metaphor, sort of, but of the saddest kind. He is literally a robot, he can’t possibly change. What’s more, media fervor will never affect him, fallout will never touch him, and the powerful will always rally around themselves to retain their power. It takes Todd, the head of the company, the creator of Henry Fondle, and the one person who would benefit most from the unending efforts of the rest of the world bending over backwards to avoid the truth, to put a stop to it. In doing so, he immediately returns to his old, homeless, destitute self, but doesn’t once hesitate or look back.

It’s Todd, and only Todd, that stops that madness, because while individual people are a problem, the world at large is too. Stefani makes a great point that Diane holds herself and everyone else to impossible standards and a little forgiveness and grace wouldn’t go amiss, but when Diane suggests they apply that philosophy to their clickbait gossipy shit on their website, it’s just

Which again, is beautifully cynical and depressing, but not untrue. Fostering a more forgiving culture isn’t in stopping websites from posting clickbaity takedown articles, it’s each person deciding not to take the clickbait. We can absolutely have a conversation about the people creating their world or the world creating its people, but when you boil it down, only one of those things can you yourself absolutely and directly change, and it’s not the entire world.

A THING DIANE GETS BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT.

I can’t take myself away from this Diane thing, I know, but only because she’s the fucking CORE of each and every one of us struggling with this idea. She’s the simplicity of it and the complication all in one. Not BoJack, which is NOT where I thought we’d be when we started this journey. BoJack is more an action on the people around him at this point in the story, he IS the world you cannot change. He’s pointed to rehab, and off he goes -- or doesn’t! I don’t think it’s coincidence that we stay with Diane and watch her watching him.

Oh, Diane, indeed. As she tells her story of her friend Abby, who threw her over for the cool kids, who turned every confidence into a scar. Who Diane still helped anyway, because Abby needed her. Did Abby learn from that, did she get better? We don’t know; we stay with Diane and watch her watching Abby. Diane, who can so completely understand about personal responsibility while failing to recognize her own enabling for the shitty things that keep happening to her.

You can control yourself. That’s it. That’s the only playground with a guarantee.

Will BoJack go off to learn that? Will Diane stay and figure it out?

THAT’S WHAT NEXT SEASON IS FOR

Something I was toying with including in this, but ultimately decided against for a variety of reasons, was the contrast between BoJack’s take on personal responsibility independent of external response, and The Good Place’s argument that people need external support for personal growth. An idea I may not have even considered contrasting save that Doc’s talked before about these two Jewish creators with what are clearly very different philosophies, and basically, if she were ever able to manage a discussion between them on this, I’d love to be in the room. I’ll be very quiet and not get in the way, I promise.

#jet wolf watches bojack #a novel by jet wolf #this has been so hard to write and consolidate into a series of thoughts that made some measure of cohesive sense #i'm still not sure i've managed it #but i'm pretty sure i've kicked it around about as much as i'm able at this point #IT WORKS OR IT DOESN'T I DON'T KNOW FLY MY PRETTY

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years

Text

America’s Sweetheart 6

hola bonjour hello:)

Read previous chapter here <-

(finally) finished! The stalker is taken into custody, but Reader can’t help but feel uneasy. Spencer and Reader spend the night together, and confessions spill over onto the surface. Reader invites Spencer to be her date at the Oscars.

This chapter is 💋spicy 💋 (for my writing at least lol)

MASTERLIST __

My instincts kicked in, and I dropped to my knees. The man slipped with the sudden movement, and I brought my elbow up to his teeth. I spun around to face him, looking into the eyes of a ski mask.

He was knocked backwards by my elbow, recovering by slamming my head into the side of the kitchen cabinet. I was dazed for a moment, and he wrapped his hands around my throat. Black spots danced across my vision, and I reached my arms to his shoulders, not to push him off, but to make sure I get the position exactly right.

My back hit the floor, the ski mask leaning over me menacingly. I snapped my arms towards each other, listening to the crunch of bone as his elbows bent towards each other. He let go of me, screaming out in pain while hitting his head on the cabinet.

I rushed to my feet, stumbling towards my phone and dialing 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes, s-someone broke into my house, um, I’m fine but he has two broken elbows,” I stammered, keeping my eye on the man writhing on the floor.

“What’s your name and address?”

“YFN YLN, 325 Willman Street.”

“Oh, YFN YLN! Help is on the way, miss,” the receiver said sweetly, recognizing my name immediately.

The ambulance arrived in a matter of minutes, and I kept my head low as the paramedics checked me out. The intruder was strapped to a gurney, shouting profanities and curses at me. Police and press alike showed up at the scene, reporters shouting questions at me from behind the police line.

“You need to get out of here,” an officer said to me, eyeing the pack of news channels.

“I need to call my boyfriend,” I breathed, not wanting Spencer to see this mess on the 11 o’clock news.

Spencer was at the hospital in a matter of hours, arguing with the officer posted outside of my hospital room.

“Just let him in, he won’t go away until he sees me,” I told the nurse tending to the injury on my head. She frowned, begrudgingly opening the door to the room. Spencer rushed in immediately, his gun still attached to his hip.

“Did you fly in straight from your case? Spencer, I’m fine-”

“No, baby, you’re not okay, come here,” he gently took my head in his hands, examining my injuries carefully. Despite the situation, my heart fluttered at his pet name.

He stayed with me as the nurse finished her exam, holding my hand the entire time.

“Miss YLN, you have a minor concussion, but we think you should maybe stay the night here... there’s at least 24 reporters waiting just outside the hospital,” the nurse said, looking between Spencer and I sympathetically.

Spencer and I curled up onto the small hospital bed, both of us completely and utterly exhausted.

When we were both half asleep and alone, I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear me.

“There have been other notes that I didn’t tell you about... the creeper threatened you,” I whispered, nuzzling my head gently into his shoulder.

“The police already got a confession out of the attacker, his name is Alan Bradley, and he confessed to all of the love letters and photos left for you,” he replied, kissing me sweetly on the forehead.

As I drifted off to sleep, I should’ve felt comfort knowing my stalker was going down, but I couldn’t make myself believe it. __

My agent called me two weeks after the attack while I was waiting at Spencer’s, dressed in less than modest clothes. Spencer was coming home from a case, and I decided to surprise him.

“Hey, Cathy, what’s up?”

“So, you do know that the Oscars are in a month, right?”

Spencer walked into his apartment, stunned when he saw me sitting on his couch in... very unholy attire. He cocked his head, a blush coming to his face.

“Wow, um... I didn’t realize they were so soon,” I said, trying not to laugh at Spencer’s slack jawed face. “I’m going to have to present right? Tradition for the previous Best Actress to present this year’s Best Actor?”

“Yes, but this year they’re limited on seats so you’re only permitted one partner of your choosing to attend with you,” Cathy explained very matter of factly.

Spencer stepped forward cautiously, as though if he moved too fast I might run away. He looked down, tracing his fingers over the fabric on my shoulder while a sly smile fell easily on his lips.

“Hey, Cathy, can I call you back? I’m, um... busy, right now,” I mumbled, trying not to giggle as Spencer began playing with little strands of my hair.

“Sure, just communicate with me about scheduling,” she replied, hanging up the phone promptly.

I tossed the phone to the side on the couch, Spencer’s hands wasting no time getting tangled in my hair. He crashed his lips onto mine, leaving me momentarily breathless.

“That was an important phone call,” I huffed as his lips moved onto my neck, lifting me up to move towards the bedroom.

“You’re the one that got all dressed up,” he smirked against my collarbone, and I wrapped my legs around his hips as he carried me down the hall.

He practically threw me on the bed, and I laid myself out before him, his eyes never leaving me as he fumbled with his belt buckle.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” Spencer whispered a few minutes later from between my legs.

“Ever since you landed,” I replied, barely able to get the words out.

He chuckled, making me gasp aloud, my fingers buried in his messy, curly, beautiful, perfect hair. __

Spencer’s eyes were half open, looking at me in the dark like I was the most beautiful creature in the world.

“Spencer,” I mumbled, a small smile gracing my slightly swollen lips.

“Yes?”

“Will you be my date to the Oscars?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Me? You want me to go with you to the Oscars?”

“Of course I do. You’re my man, and I love you,” I muttered without thinking.

I love you. The words were so easy, so comfortable on my lips.

I sat up, holding the bed sheet against my bare chest. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out-”

“I love you too.”

Spencer looked at me so intently, I knew he was nothing but genuine. He smiled sweetly, propping himself up on his hands. “I love you, YFN.”

I grinned, giddiness washing over me. My lips met his, not hungry or needy, but gently, both of us giggling and smiling while the kiss died.

We fell asleep together, smiles still on both of our faces.

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darthlorddiamond · 4 years

Text

Armitage Hux Fluff Alphabet (Part 1)

This is the fisrt part of this alphabet, you can find here the second part.

Armitage Hux One Shots MASTERLIST.

Black Diamond´s Story MASTERLIST.

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Although you have many different activities during the day, Hux will always look for an opportunity to try to be close to you during the workday, either accompanying you while you´re on the Command Bridge or taking you where you need to go.

When you´re alone, you spend most of your free time together, be it cooking, reading or chatting.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Hux is an extremely noble person and is something you greatly admire about him. The way he´s committed to his work seems extremely remarkable to you, apart from that, he´s also a very affectionate person with you, a gentleman and is always attentive to anything you need, and you consider that everything he does for you is quite tender (Completely leaving aside the fact that he´s a completely radical person at work and nobody could tell that he´s like this with you).

Regarding Hux, the fact that you´re such an affectionate person with him means everything, from how you caress his hair, to the fact that many times it´s you who ensures that all his uniforms are impeccable, no matter how long you have been together, he never will understand why you´re like this with him or what he did to deserve you.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

All the time, although most of the time it´s Hux who comforts you.

When Hux feels bad, it's usually because something didn't go the way it should or because he had some sort of run-in with Ren that put him in a very bad mood, but never allows work problems to enter your quarters.

However, it´s more common for you to have some type of emotional problem, almost always related to the Force and the feeling of being pulled into the light and this is when Hux comes to comfort you. He always has the right words to make you feel better or failing, he knows quite well how to keep silent to listen to everything you have to say.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

You don't think much about the future, all you want is for things to go well and for Hux to stay safe, however, Hux does think about the future with you by his side. To this man, you´re his complete adoration and all his world outside of all First Order work, so being by your side after a difficult day is what he desires most.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Most of the time, your relationship is fairly equal. Both of you divide the housework of your private life quite well, there are nights that you will prepare dinner and he breakfast.

However, in the sex aspect, you´re the dominant one, I share the links of my NSWF alphabet part 1 & part 2 so that you know more about this topic.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Very rarely do you get into an argument, but when it happens, most of the time it's because of Ren.

You spend a lot of time with Ren, either training or on a mission, and there are times when Hux can get quite jealous about this and that's when an argument begins.

They are almost always extremely heated discussions, where you can end up mad at each other for a couple of days but one of you´ll always end up apologizing.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Always, all the time.

You always show gratitude to Hux for all the details he gives you and for the patience he has in dealing with your bad character, while Hux will always feel eternally grateful just for having you by his side.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

In the beginning, you kept enough secrets to Hux, you didn´t share with him everything you knew or who you were. Talking about your past was a complete taboo, but little by little you began to open up more to him, although sometimes it still takes a little work for you to talk about who you were before entering the First Order.

On the other hand, Hux is 100% honest with you, he has never hidden anything from you or lied to you about anything, from the beginning you knew who he was and all the problems he went through at the Academy and with his father.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Meeting Hux changed your life. You never thought that you could share your time or your life with someone and the fact that this man will show you affection made something inside you change, at least in private. Hux has inspired you to trust someone more fully and to be able to show what you feel.

For Hux, well, you are everything to him, so many things he does, he does with you in mind.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Hux isn´t a very jealous, but if any man, especially Ren, approaches you, he´ll immediately lose his temper. If it´s some other member of the Order, he´ll approach you and put one of his hands on your waist, but if it is about Ren, the matter will end up being a discussion between you.

In the meantime, you aren´t jealous at all, you know that Hux is with you and that he wouldn´t notice or care for another person.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

In the beginning, Hux and you didn´t get along well. You were Ren's apprentice and therefore, Hux felt an aberration for you. Your first kiss and those that followed were under this hate/love situation. On one occasion you were in his office, discussing plans to locate the resistance, and began to discuss which options were best. The discussion continued to escalate and when you least realized, you´re already on top of each other, in a kind of "hate kiss but keep doing it".

Your kisses most of the time are quite intimate caresses, mostly by Hux, but there are also times when both try to dominate the other through a kiss.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Hux was the first to say it and it was after a few months that you started dating and both were already beginning to feel very comfortable and confident with each other.

One night, after an intense sex session, Hux prepared a bath for both of you, placed himself behind you, so that your back was pressed to his chest and while you were in the tub enjoying the hot water, he kept caressing your skin and kiss your neck and head, until at one point that he only whispers to you "I didn´t understand what I had done to deserve you, to you be with me. You´re everything I always dream, I love you so much and I would never allow something bad to happen between us".

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Not to mention it.

As much as both cannot imagine your life without the other, it´s very difficult to commit marriage.

For Hux it would be a dream to be able to marry you, however, he´s a General and you´re a Sith, so your union within the First Order is more than prohibited.

But aside from this small inconvenience, both agreed to stay together, perhaps you didn´t organize a wedding, but in private you expressed votes for each other.

#general hux #general hux x reader #general hux imagine #general hux smut #general hux x reader smut #star wars smut #general hux x you #general hux fluff #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #armitage hux smut #armitage hux fluff #armitage hux x you

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miaouerie · 4 years

Text

whumptober 2020 ------ day 31. left for dead

@whumptober2020 Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.

content warnings: implied/referenced torture, mentions of attempted suicide, referenced brainwashing/conditioning, nonconsensual body modification, references to forced prostitution, references to forced drug use, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: if downer endings aren’t quite your thing, I’ve written an alternate ending here, as well as additional author’s notes in a coda here. this is my first completed multichapter and thank you to everyone who has kept up with this story! any additional fics in this verse will be posted to my ao3.

previous: day 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / → read on AO3

When Draven gets the call to escort Cassian from the Remake Center back to their district floor in the Tributes’ Tower and stand by for a forthcoming itinerary, he doesn’t need to see his charge to know that something fundamentally wrong has happened.

The last time his schedule began with picking up Cassian from the Remake Center was that period of time after his father died, which Draven now knows the truth about. But at the time he had been told that after Jeron Andor and Irga Torres were killed in a power plant explosion that a seditioner was blamed for, Cassian tried to kill himself out of grief. After two weeks in the Capitol of being monitored in extensive in-patient therapy, he was turned over to Draven to be ushered through the media press tour for his father’s death.

How Cassian behaved back then is eerily similar to how he presently is in Draven’s custody. He’s sitting in the backseat and relaxed against the headrest, but Draven has known Cassian long enough that the lines of stress pinning him in place are plain to see. His hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible but one that Draven catches all the same.

But what disturbs Draven are his eyes. Unlike that first time Draven picked him up from the Remake Center, they aren’t pained or filled with misery. They’re empty, in an unrecognizable way that Draven has never seen in him before.

After furtively investigating the intendance records kept of his charge for the past four years, Draven knows what really happens when Cassian is brought to the Capitol for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’. But for a brief moment he feels something revoltingly similar to gratitude that Cassian’s conditioning is strict about needless eye contact.

Next morning’s briefing packet sent to his datapad has a subfolder tagged with “SENSITIVE INFORMATION: DO NOT DISCLOSE,” to be unlocked with a retinal scan. It’s a copy of Jyn Erso’s medical record and an image of a bedside chart; last night she was transported from District 5 to an elite hospital in the Capitol for treatment of a stubborn respiratory illness.

Draven knew better than to ask questions—those who did had their tongues cut out and turned into Avoxes—but he quietly looks into the matter himself while performing his job’s duties for Cassian, whose schedule is booking up like it did during the Games. Taking every precaution available to avoid detection prolongs the search, but eventually he is able to determine that Jyn’s condition is a lie. That there is no proof that Jyn is even in the Capitol.

And then, he realizes, they must not know where she is at all.

Cassian’s body language used to telegraph his condition after an appointment but he doesn’t seem capable of it anymore. Nowadays, no matter how badly he’s been abused by a client, the posture he affects in the car is always the same: his hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible.

Whatever they had Cassian relearn in therapy included perfecting his talents as an obedient whore, so he’s not often returned in a state of intoxication as he once had to be. But it’s during those increasingly rare times—and only those times—that his tongue is loosened enough to let slip some of the perpetual torment he has to live with as punishment, because of Jyn Erso’s disappearance.

It’s one such night that Draven picks up Cassian at 03:01. After the car pulls away from the curb Cassian is still for a moment, before he heaves out a shuddery breath and his arms slump to his sides.

“Did you know they made it so I can’t say her name anymore?”

The words and their meaning take a moment to register with Draven. Then he says, “What?”

“No… I don’t think they would have told you. But I mean, her. My tribute. The one I saved.”

He can only be talking about Jyn Erso. Draven doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to; tonight, Cassian is giving voice to another painful truth.

“They asked me questions about her, had me read sentences aloud… made me give responses with her name in it. And they would hurt me, every single time I said it, so I can’t say it. Not without pain. Not anymore.”

His raspy confession is made to the silence. “Her name was like a prayer to me. Snow must have noticed, so he took it away.” A broken chuckle. “I didn’t think something like that was possible. But, they made me learn.”

Draven doesn’t know if he should be hearing this. But when he turns to give his full attention to his charge it’s like a switch is flipped. When their eyes meet Cassian’s eyes widen before he bolts himself back into place—hands back in his lap and looking straight forward.

The only thing betraying his vulnerability are the tears in his eyes.

It should not surprise Draven that Cassian tries to kill himself not long after that lapse in conduct, but it still does. At least, it’s a surprise in the sense that finding out a peer of two decades attempted suicide will always come as a surprise.

The Peacekeepers come when Draven is in the sitting room, waiting for Cassian to finish showering before Kay and his prep team arrive. One moment there’s the ding of the elevator arriving on their floor and in the next, six Peacekeepers are storming in.

Draven knows better than to demand answers in the heat of the moment so he stays out of their way, listens to the sound of the bathroom door breaking and boots stomping over shattered glass, listens to the sound of Cassian’s—frankly animalistic—screams as he’s subdued, and stays out of the way once again when they drag him out naked and wet and dripping blood from his arms and neck. They stand him there until a Peacekeeper returns from the bathroom with a dark fluffy green bathrobe for his modesty, and then he’s taken away.

When they make fleeting eye contact Draven is struck by the scathing accusation in his charge’s eyes. He wasn’t the one who called for the Peacekeepers but Cassian doesn’t know that, and Draven knows what it looks like. But there’s nothing he can say to Cassian in any case, nothing that can change the outcome of whatever has been decided to change next about him.

Draven is scheduled to pick up Cassian from the Remake Center two weeks later. He has to walk into the lobby because the lead cognitive remake specialist has requested to talk to him, to show and demonstrate Cassian’s new implant.

It’s a very thin line of a scar on the back of Cassian’s neck, invisible to the naked eye but Draven can feel it when he brushes his fingers over the skin; beneath is a subdermal neuro-electrical node, grafted onto the nerves there. The specialist explains that when activated, it prevents Cassian from making sudden or any ‘suspiciously motivated’ movements. The remote that they give to Draven is for disabling it. Later on, Draven is assigned the responsibility of disabling its function for Cassian’s appointments as well as reenabling it after each one in turn.

Neither says a word as they get into the waiting car. They don’t speak for the whole car ride back, either. But more than once Draven sees Cassian’s hand creep to the back of his neck; his fingers slowly brush the scar tissue, before his hand is carefully guided back to his lap.

It proves very challenging to track where Cassian had been taken after his suicide attempt; Draven is always diligent about maintaining stealth when conducting these probes, but the seriousness of the situation called for significant preventive precautions to be taken. But once he succeeded…

…Then what?

He was able to determine that Cassian was taken to the same complex—in truth, one of several privately held black site facilities—for another two weeks of ‘in-patient therapy’ before he was transferred to the Remake Center. His process uncovered an entire network of similar private corporations and entities that operated under the purview of the government, all funded by the Hunger Games division for one apparent purpose: the victors’ covert diversion program.

But this devastative information only came about as a consequence from his attempts to satisfy an aberrant concern for Cassian’s whereabouts; Draven wasn’t planning on actively doing anything with it. Even the thought alone is treasonous: believing that victors deserved anything less than the hell that came pursuant on winning the Games was just a step below believing that the districts of Panem deserved anything more than the destitution and squalor left to them after the Dark Days. The victors’ diversion program was devised and implemented to prevent victors from believing that winning the Games meant anything other than being punished for it. Repeatedly. Because even if a new victor is crowned every year, the real winner of the Hunger Games will always remain the Capitol.

This is what Draven has always known. But then… there was Cassian.

He had come to know the boy at six years old, the first year Draven received the assignment to escort not only Irga and Jeron to the town plaza for District 5′s reaping, but the latter’s wife and son as well. Only one of the two living District 5 victors had a family, and now that Cassian was old enough to understand how to behave the Games producers wanted reaction shots of Jeron’s wife and child.

Their acquaintance proceeded as such—twice a year Draven saw the Andor boy, first at the reaping and again when escorting Jeron and Irga home after the closing ceremonies. Though he chose not to indulge in the sentiment, seeing Cassian grow up through the years in such a manner often left Draven with a feeling similar to how he felt after visiting with once-a-year relatives during Wintermas.

After Cassian was reaped and won his Games, Draven’s duties as District 5’s escort were officially recategorized with Cassian as his primary charge, relegating Jeron and Irga to second priority; if they needed to be chaperoned somewhere while he was with Cassian, there was express authorization to send a number of Peacekeepers to complete the task. But for the purpose that President Snow intended to use Cassian for, only a Games escort with discretionary expertise could do.

Draven’s choice of career tended to attract a lot of airheads and grifters, those who relished in schmoozing up sponsors or otherwise gunning for a glimpse of the glory and glamor awarded to a winning victor’s support team. But Draven derived his dedication to the job solely from esteem in his own competence; perhaps that was why the president believed his silence on Cassian being groomed and Jeron remaining unaware of it was guaranteed.

Did the president, in all of his scheming, ever consider the possibility of Draven going rogue? But even if he did tell Jeron of what President Snow was doing to his son it wouldn’t have changed the outcome; Cassian’s placement into a mentoring position could only be accomplished by leaving District 5’s mentorship short of a victor. Plus, he would have had his tongue cut out and turned into an Avox if Snow found out; if Peacekeepers were dispatched to interrupt Cassian’s suicide attempt quickly enough to thwart it, his treachery would have inevitably been discovered.

And where would that leave Cassian?

Another escort would be assigned, one who didn’t mind enabling Cassian after an assignment when he comes back horny and drunk or high, or in the mood for taking out his self-loathing on the only person available. Those moments of weakness never failed to stun Draven with their impact—they were cruel reminders of the fact that he is the only person in the Capitol who sees what became of a tormented boy, now constrained to his life as a tormented prisoner.

But Cassian’s new conditioning doesn’t seem to allow for any moments of weakness. Or rather, the implant doesn’t. His movements are mechanized and deliberate, calculated to avoid triggering the parameters for a shock, yet fluid enough that evidently he was put through his paces by his captors. Until he was well-trained, and conditioned, and became devoid of any expression at all.

Suffice to say, they don’t talk anymore. What is there left to say? Nothing, not until Draven receives an update on Jyn Erso’s health status. Then a personal summons to President Snow’s office.

The president and a trio of his advisors are waiting for Draven. The situation with District 5’s new victor has turned critical; even with the Capitol’s elite medical advancements, Jyn is not responding well to treatment.

Draven knows it’s all lies but he agrees along with their assessment. Jyn’s untimely death before the Victory Tour may be unavoidable, and the Capitol needs to control the story behind the cause to control the public’s reaction to her death. Her condition has been kept secret in anticipation of this very situation; several contingency plans to stage been drawn up, each optimized to account for potential blowback between the Capitol and the districts.

While each plan is pitched to weather Snow’s criticism, Draven doesn’t let any confusion or concern cross his face. Not when the president’s snakelike eyes are on his every time Draven chances a glance. He knows Snow is observing his reaction to this authoritarian show of might—whatever choice is made here will have a ripple effect throughout all of Panem, going much further than the conflict between President Snow and the victors of District 5. Expectably, Draven isn’t asked for any input, but he knows that’s not what he’s been called here for.

After the advisors are dismissed Draven stands alone, a respectable distance away in front of Snow sitting at his desk; the president watches him awhile before he speaks. “So, Davits. You understand how imperative it is that we control the narrative, not just here within the Capitol but in the rest of Panem.”

“Of course, Mister President.”

“I’m sure, then, you understand the necessity of what was done to Cassian.” Snow gets up from behind his desk, circling around to lean against the dark mahogany facade with his arms crossed. His stance is still threatening despite its casual assertion; Draven almost takes a step back but he remains standing where he is.

“Jeron Andor mistakenly believed that he had enough power to take matters into his own hands; it can be only him who passed along the concept to young Cassian. One would think that his father’s fate taught him that attempting to do so can only end in tragedy. And yes,” he says in answer to the sudden clench of fear in Draven’s chest, “I’ve been made aware of your interloping efforts regarding Jeron and Miss Torres’ deaths. I concede that it was not a deception that accounted for close scrutiny. Rest assured that when your inquests were discovered, the advisor and those responsible for implementing the proposal were swiftly executed.”

The president continues, “I will not question your motives for investigating the matter. I am not commending your capabilities in doing so, either. But understand this: there is nothing for you to do here except your assigned function as District 5’s escort. Nothing less, and nothing more. An unfathomably simple request, yet if only Cassian had performed his role in the same capacity his implant would not have been deemed necessary. Undoubtedly you agree that rebellious actions such as his merit consequences tailored to their severity.”

Draven’s throat is dry but his voice remains steady. “Indeed, sir.”

Snow straightens himself upright. They’re both tall people but he does have an inch on Draven in height, and his next words are spoken in a voice both paternalistic and contemptuous. “No further harm has to befall the boy, but it will be your future discretion which will determine that. Now, have I made your situation clear?”

Snow doesn’t know the entirety of what Draven knows about the victor diversion program then. Yet. It may only be a matter of time before Peacekeepers are at his door. They wouldn’t kidnap him for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’, not when a bullet to the head would be quicker, cleaner, and most effectively ensure his silence.

There’s only one road for him to take now; he can no longer abide by what the Capitol is allowed to demand from Cassian, not when they claw for everything within reach to cement his enslavement.

Where will his charge be a year from now, or three? What else can they take from him?

How did Jeron live through nineteen years of this feeling?

It should feel daunting; the thought only registers later that night after Cassian is dropped off at the Tower and Draven is heading home. That finding a way to save Cassian will take everything he’s got, in order to go against everything he’s ever known. But Draven did not get this far in his life by second-guessing his choices, and he has never been so sure of one thing.

The next certainty is this: he’s got to find Jyn Erso.

#whumptober2020 #no.31 #left for dead #rogue one #the hunger games #fic #sacchi writes #cassian andor #davits draven #jyn erso #coriolanus snow #rebelcaptain #word count: 2.8k #jsyk you're not allowed to read this and then hate jyn #or saw #a lot of things changed but this was always going to happen #that is why i wrote the bonus chap :')

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader -”What Death Tastes Like”

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Hi daddy,” Emma enters the kitchen and you follow, immediately greeting The Joker.

“Hello Mister J.”

“Pumpkin,” he acknowledges his daughter. “Miss Crane,” he growls at your presence and you can’t help it:

“I like your purple shirt Mister J; makes you look ravishing.”

“Oh yeah?” he scoffs, used to the 22 year old throwing this kind of stuff his way on a regular basis.

“Definitely!” you approach and point at his can of grape juice. “Can I take a sip?”

“Since when you like grape juice?’ The Clown Prince of Crime frowns but hands over the container anyway.

“I don’t,” you taste the sweet liquid and continue: “I just wanted to touch something your lips touched.”

“That’s a new one!” he rolls his eyes and snatches back his drink while Emma closes the fridge in a hurry, appalled you always flirt with her father.

“Keep her on a leash!” J advises his offspring and you snicker as she pushes you out of the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you say those things to him!” Emma gives you a nudge on the hallway, amused and horrified in the same time. “He could be your dad!”

“But he’s not,” you wink, dodging her grip. “He could be my daddy though!”

“You shameless jerk!!” she laughs and starts chasing you. “How dare you??!!”

“He’s really hot for being 40-ish!” the enthusiastic Y/N teases more, speeding up so she won’t get caught. “I’m going to marry him and I’ll be your step mom. You’ll have to call me mommy!”

“Whaaaattt??!!” Emma shouts and The King of Gotham shakes his head because he can still perceive your aberrations: the truth is he’s uncertain if that’s all they are, thus the dilemma J doesn’t care to solve regardless.

You quickly run into Emma bedroom and snatch a pillow in order to protect yourself from her attack.

“I love your dad!” you grin and she keeps relentlessly hitting you with her fluffy cushion, annoyed:

“I hate you!! I totally hate you!!!”

You suddenly start coughing and your best friend halts her rampage, concerned.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Where’s your med?”

You pull the vial out of your jean’s pocket and she opens it while your cough intensifies; Emma fingers tremble at the sight of blood stains on the palm of your hand.

“Here, take this. Two?”

“Y-yes,” you struggle to talk and swallow the tablets, finding it difficult to calm down without the remedy you failed to ingest earlier before the worse happened.

“Come’ere,” she carefully sits you on the bed and begins wiping the red spots off your skin with a clean tissue. “There you go… Deep breaths, OK?” the young woman urges on the verge of crying: although she’s used to your episodes, she can’t cope with the thought of losing her best friend.

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; she didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late.

“Better?” Emma analyzes your face and you can tell how upset she is, that’s why you try to distract her the best way you know how.

“Is your dad wearing a new cologne?”

“Huh?”

“He smells sooooo good, I swear I get this uncontrollable desire to kiss him all over,” you cough a bit more and she slaps your thigh, outraged.

“Would you stop it???!!!”

“I think he’ll miss me when I’m gone,” you playfully giggle. “Who else would flirt with an old man in his 40’s?!”

“Stupid girl…” Emma’s voice quivers since she doesn’t like to be reminded you’ll leave her. You both are silent for a few moments before she gathers the strength to continue the planned evening.

“I’m going to prepare you a nice, warm bath, then we’ll tag along with my dad at his Neon Devil club, alright?” she pouts and you don’t have the heart to admit you don’t feel like going out anymore.

“Sure… … sounds perfect,” you sigh and underline. “Only if I can spend some time alone with Mister Joker in the VIP section.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Emma concludes and you won’t quit.

“I didn’t say anything bad, you’re the perv for thinking indecencies regarding a man and a woman…alone… in the luscious VIP room… a few drinks… music blasting… attractiveness mooing to be unleashed…”

“Mooing???” she burst out laughing, forgetting she was about to admonish on your crazy ideas…again.

“Yup, mooing…” you proclaim with delight. “It’s a very sexy term, won’t you agree? … … Sexy like your dad!” you immediately blur out and stomp towards the bathroom while she hunts you down with the only purpose of shutting down the outpour of nonsense flowing out of you.

***************

Neon Devil Club, 10:36pm

“Are you going to dance?” Emma’s red cheeks pop up next to you.

“No, not tonight. Don’t worry, I’m having fun!” you point at the two empty cocktail glasses in front of you, still working on your third one. “I think I might call it a night soon, I’m tired.”

“OK, Y/N. Let me know when, we’ll both go!” she yells over the deafening tune.

“Stay and have fun, I can get a ride!” you glare at The Joker sitting at the bar a few inches away from you, totally absorbed by his text messages.

“Are you sure?” Emma hesitates and you poke J’s arm in order to get his attention.

He finally looks up and his daughter pleads:

“Daddy, can you take Y/N back to our house when she’s ready? I want her to be there when I return, this way we can gossip after the wild intercourse I’m gonna have with one of these lucky guys!”

The Clown Prince of Crime stares at her, displeased with the comments.

“Hilarious,” he growls and she jumps up and down, excited to see Bane’s son in the crowd.

“Don’t get mad, daddy!” she pecks his cheek. “I’m joking… Maybe…” Emma chuckles at his grumpiness and you are proud of her achievement in mocking the forever serious Joker: despite the nickname, the green haired menace is not the epitome of joyfulness.

“Are you supposed to have alcohol with the medications you’re taking?” he gestures at your cocktail.

“Nope,” you serenely confess and guzzle down more. “I’m a burden to my father and he doesn’t even know it,” you sniffle and J senses something strange about your affirmation. “He locks himself in the lab for days, researching on ways to overcome my terminal cancer. Did you know Evelyn left him two weeks ago?” you ask and The King feels cornered; you’re probably tipsy and in mood to chat while he’s not. “She’s perfect for him and he let her go… He would ignore her for days, immersed in his ridiculous project of saving me. The amazing Doctor Crane can’t take the hint this is a battle he won’t win. I made peace with what’s happening to me, but he can’t...,” you wave at the bartender for another glass. “Why won’t my father accept the inevitable outcome?” the pain in your tone prompts J to mutter:

“He just tries to postpone the inevitable.”

“I’m grateful for his help,” you ramble on. “I take remedies he makes for me and it’s nice to avoid the traditional chemo and losing my hair. I don’t look like I’m dying, correct? If you wouldn’t weren’t aware of my illness, you couldn’t tell, right?”

“Yes,” The impatient Joker signals the bartender to halt mixing your fresh drink; in his opinion you had enough.

“I got my test results this morning, “ you disclose, pouting. “They’re bad…” Y/N inhales the rest of her liquid courage and taps on the marble counter, disappointed at her own statement. “Did you ever taste death?” the weird question makes him taunt.

“Naahhh.”

“This is what it tastes like,” the heartbroken Y/N softly kisses The Joker and his remark hurts more than her disappointing routine evaluation:

“Strawberry margarita?”

You hop off your high chair so fast he realizes you’re flustered; it was the first time you kissed him, not that kind of kiss anyway and he completely dismissed your candor in the worst possible way.

“Can we go please?” you intensely glare at your sandals and J opts out of attempting to patch up his callous reply; possibly the best decision regarding these circumstances simply because it doesn’t affect him at all.

“Sure, we can bail,” he grumbles and escorts you out of the club, wondering if you are done talking about matters of no importance to him.

****************

The master bedroom is cracked opened and you knock until The Joker bothers to acknowledge your existence.

“What is it?”

You sneak inside, adamant to request a tiny favor.

“Can I watch TV in here?”

“Why?” he wiggles in the middle of his bed, certainly not thrilled at your proposal.

“I won’t inconvenience you, ok?” you evade his inquiry and still being a bit tipsy briefly aids your plan; your drag your feet to the humongous mattress, then slip inside the purple sheets at the edge of the bed. “You know… If I would have lived longer, I bet you would have married me,” you gaze at the man relaxing close to your body.

The Joker nonexistent eyebrows go up so high it’s possibly a new record: why did Emma have to stay at the club instead of distracting you from whatever the hell this is?!

“We would have had at least 4 kids…” you continue your story. “ I’m young so every two years I could have been convinced to get pregnant; we would have had a small army of little Jokers and Y/Ns… I picked a few names already, would you like to hear them?”

“NO!!” he sucks on his teeth, irritated.

“Hmm…” you get discouraged yet it doesn’t last. “ You would have died at 65…”

“Why would I die at 65?!” J interrupts and his interest gives you a boost of much needed confidence.

“Car accident; you’re a shitty driver,” you lift your shoulders up, instantly correcting your sentence. “I meant reckless.”

The Clown Prince of Crime huffs and the fact that he engaged into this monologue of yours hopefully suggests he won’t chase you away until you finish.

“After your demise I would have mourned you for a decent amount of months, then I would have remarried a guy my age, this way I’m not in any danger of becoming a widow for the second time. I would obviously have our children too so not to worry, I would have survived without you.”

“Awesome, I was anxious you won’t overcome the grief,” his sassiness triggers your approval.

“Indeed; yet I have to warn you: if you ever cheated on me, I would have asked my father to create a special virus to obliterate you from the face of the planet!”

“Why are you shouting?!” The Joker scratches his chin, confused about your attitude.

“Sorry,” you take it down a notch. “I always get emotional when I think about this part…”

“Is this soap opera of yours almost done?” the impatience emerges; I suppose you tested his composure enough.

“I really like you,” you cut off his vexation. “You should be happy a young woman would crave an older man in his 40’s or 50’s,” you snort while adding to his growing restlessness.

“I think it’s time for you and the alcohol in your system to take a nap!” J hints at your departure and you abruptly bring it up since he’s basically throwing you out:

“Do you like me? You never get mad or chase me when I flirt with you…” you scoot over and cuddle next to him.

“What are you doing?!” J gets pissed at your boldness.

“I’m cold,“ you lie without a problem and he’s done with the dumb night he had to put up with so far.

“Get out!” The King of Gotham snaps and his sudden aggressiveness throws you off.

“I want to stay and watch TV; I promise I’ll be super quiet from now on. Cross my heart and hope to die!” you smile and your silly pun doesn’t have the outcome you hoped for.

“You know why I indulge a shallow brat’s idiotic flirting?!” he raises his voice and you shrivel because you realize he won’t utter anything nice at this point. “Who wouldn’t feel sorry for a walking corpse, hm? Despite what people think, I’m not that insensitive!”

You gulp and slowly roll out of bed, trying not to cry in front of him; you don’t remember sensing a stronger pain in your life, not even after you got sick.

“You’re so mean, “ you whisper and can’t stop the first tears streaming down your face. “I wouldn’t have married you anyway,” you rush out of the master bedroom and The Joker reprises his movie, undisturbed at the events he created out of spite.

“Fuck…” he mumbles when it hits: Emma will chew him alive if she finds about his behavior; would you mention this to her? Or she would guess something went wrong if you depart from the mansion when she asked you to stay? The only person that counts is bound to make him rethink his awful actions; his daughter wouldn’t forgive him unless he patches up things. Might as well get it over with before he lands in hotter waters.

“Uggghhhh,” The Joker puckers his lips and contemplates his choices: not too many, thus he ends up in front of your bedroom 10 minutes after the fight.

He can discern your sobbing and opens the door without knocking because another human’s privacy is simply not his issue. You are standing by the windows and turn towards him, mad you didn’t lock the entrance.

“Your company is required in the master bedroom,” J elaborates on the subject and Y/N’s silence evokes a faint apology. “I don’t think you’re a walking corpse… … …”

No reaction.

“Come on, let’s watch TV in my room…”

“Why would you need a shallow brat’s idiotic company?” you blow your nose in a tissue and emphasize. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Crane’s a genius but the trait is clearly skipping a generation,” his way of attempting to restore the mood totally sucks. “It’s not pity.”

“What is it then?” you wipe your tears and he has no clue himself.

“Not…pity.”

Are you debating on his offer?

“Come on,” J grabs your hand and your resistance works a miracle nonetheless. “I’m sorry, alright? Not a word to Emma, deal? Or your dad, he would probably create a goddamned virus to exterminate me from this planet. Don’t laugh, it’s not funny,” he sulks, crabby at the idea of being killed for offending Scarecrow’s princess.

“I won’t…” you promise and you’re actually surprised when he lifts you up, guiding your legs around his waist.

“You can sleep in my bed if you want to… until Emma gets back,” The Joker recommends and you hide your astonishment the best way you can.

“Sleep like in dozing of or…?” you wish to determine and the response doesn’t fail to deepen the mystery:

“As I said, genius sometimes skips a generation.”

The King strolls out of the bedroom with Y/N clinging to him while he lifts her higher in his arms, closing his eyes when she kisses him.

And the only thing The Joker can think of for the moment is that if death tastes like this, it’s not the worst way to go.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #Mr.J #dcu #dc

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nvcl347 · 4 years

Text

Originally this was supposed to be an audio file uploaded directly to Tumblr to read alongside the written text, but it turns out the file is too big to upload, so here’s the dropbox link to listen to it instead. As always, be sure to listen with headphones. Warning: this mp3 contains loud noises and several moments of ringing frequencies. Listen at your own discretion.

Rung to the Case

Gentle. The soft, muffled patterns of the sky’s waters tickled the foundation of the apartment in glistering texture along the bricks of rooftop asphalt and masonry. The clouds coated the sky in a deep, tender grey just enough to conceal the brightest rays of the sun. A vacancy, shrouded in shadow. It was no less average than what the lost neighborhood was accustomed to. Rainy days made their pass more often than bright ones. A common gloom turned to a normality in society.

Dull, and tiresome.

That’s what she had thought this mission was. The retrieval of a briefcase, how important? It was unspecified. Granted, the idea of curiosity and wonder as to the importance of this special satchel sparked a sense of invigoration, however, the course of the journey to its recovery seemed harrowingly mindful of itself. There was no Combine on guard except for the normal patrol of Civil Protection in the usual areas they found themselves en-route. It was no less difficult than getting yourself in a fatuous beating with any unit of overwatch.

As she entered one of the various upper-floor kitchens of the hotel, she noted to the case’s mild weight. It was enough to be held by one hand, however, it was quite cumbersome in pain to her wrist. Shaking it ever so slightly spawned a slight jumble of belongings inside. She kept her shakings of curiosity to a minimum in order to preserve the potentially extraordinary belongings which were encased inside the large item of matter.

She had been given orders to return to base after the immediate extraction of the briefcase. Perhaps assigning such a task to someone of history with strong inquisitiveness wasn’t of the best choice. Certainly, that would turn out to be the source of her forthcoming quandary.

As she set the large case onto the table, a few small glasses of tupperware rattled at the following quiver of the table. Pushing a several close drinks to the side, she inspected the hefty black receptacle laid out before her with awe. It was the first time she was given a full moment to encompass herself to the object she had recovered without a source of distraction to snap her from her mental study. Brushing her hand against the sleek fabric, she noted to the forte of the vinyl leather construction. Silken, pristine, and most notably, cold. Bitter to the touch of a finger. It nearly made her flinch her palm away at the sudden cutting raw contact, however, she preserved herself. Fascinating and marvelous. It beckoned her, rendering her gain of interest to seek what was held inside the anomalous parcel.

She proceeded to snap away at the pair of locks that sealed the case shut with the prick of her fingers, clasping open with unexpected, yet fortunate ease. As she pressed the lid open, only ever so slightly, a glimpse was stolen of what was seen inside.

A distant clash of various rations nearly sent her heart out of her chest, snapping to the doorway which she had heard the origin of the noise protrude from. Stiff like a deer in headlights, she held her grip onto the lid of a case for a few more moments before closing it shut once more. She had sworn this apartment was safe from the infested harbors of the quarantine zone, and no lone Combine units would come out this far so silently.

Stalking to the doorway of the kitchen, she pressed the unlocked door ever so slightly to the side, peaking through the hallway which was encompassed by the single source of a beaming tan light which shone through the battered window at the end of the corridor. Not a trace of life hinted its existence through the decimated wet floors of the complex except for her own footsteps. Impossible, she had heard the noise come through this floor as well. Skimming each closed doorway with keen eyes, she slowly hatched the kitchen door shut in suspicion and blissful shrug. Perhaps a rogue headcrab had made its way through the vents instead.

Proceeding back to the table withholding the briefcase, a whimsical feeling writhed through her spine and rested to the pit of her gut. Ambiguity, uncertainty. Hesitating with a heavy step into the floor, she shook her head with a throbbing sensation to pulsate through her veins and slither to the skull of her temple. The corners of her vision phased into a discolored blur, growing evermore to take hold of the entirety of her optics. A ringing sensation enveloped the entirety of her audible perception, screening the downpour which trapped the building in coats of water. Without a tangible source, a spring of tension strung her heart into a slow barring fade of moderate rate to a flying oscillation for maintaining her own dignity.

Gone as soon as it started.

Gasping awake from the senseless trance, a realization of horror befell upon her. A drive, rushing adrenaline. It screamed for her to get out.

Bolting to the briefcase, she hooked its links shut with a shaken wrist. Swaying the large dark parcel from the counter in a panic, the various dishes and platters seated upon the table were carelessly thrust to the floor. No time to waste, all free for it to be lost.

Racing to the exit, she slammed the doorframe shut from behind, locking it shut with distress in her trembling digits barely managing to hold still. As the alloy was fastened firmly in place, she made her way down the brightened corridor with a faint shatter of an aged ceramic to follow from somewhere behind, presumably the room she had just settled herself to prior.

Finding her way to the door of the exit, she entered the way to the stairwell through another open doorframe, latching it closed from behind with haste fueled by the utmost of fear she hadn’t again felt since the times of the Seven Hour War. As her hands struggled to work at the iron mechanism she was once so easily familiar with, the loud crash of a plate shattered from behind her. Twisting to the fractions of remains, a figure loomed in shadow could only be distinguished by his tall stature and the glow of daunting luminescence which shone in his eyes. A vile, sickening giggle coasted from his throat, retrieving a gasp from her as a swelling feeling pinched at her stomach. The briefcase was his. It was as chilling as the aura which encircled him.

Wishing for the refuge of her pride over the security of the parcel, she tossed the briefcase towards the man by the impulsive instinct which swallowed her chest. It clanked and rattled onto its side as it rested to the floor without a clue of scathe. As her attempted hurl hardly managed to strike the obscure aberration from where it stood, she slammed the door shut from behind with hyperventilation finally forming its pass. Bolting down the hall, she entered the first door her eyes snatched their grasp towards. With a loose screw, the door was pried open with ease. Thrashing the door closed against the weight of her back, she attempted to catch the wind of her breath. Briefly, the ringing sensation of energy rolled through her head once again. A derailed train of thought, only avered to prosper by human instinct.

Without a door to open, she listened with overwhelming dread swallowing her as the figure stalked his way through the hall. A pace, graceful, yet poised with the devil’s tinge of wine.

“Get. Back. Here.” Threatening, decisive, concise, yet it was the most dreadful thing she had ever heard in her days. A judge without his limits of range in his verdict.

Noting the fragmented glass on the floor, she obtained the largest portion of sharp pane she could find on the spot. Certainly, it wasn’t enough to pierce through someone like a cutting-edge knife, but it was sufficient to inflict a clean cut if harsh enough of a swing. Any weapon would serve for a formidable circumstance that seemed overbearingly unbalanced in nature.

As the taps of the man’s footwear faded away down the hall, a red herring of silence descended amongst the floor. An incertitude of the figure’s departure swelled in her abdomen as she internally argued as to whether this was her striking chance to make a run for it, or to otherwise stay put and still out of caution. Shifting her head to the knob of the door, she peaked from the crevice of the frame and out to the empty corridor ever so slightly.

From the glimpse of nothingness, another door appeared right before her. A bright, pale white door. Sliding from the ground up like a latch, that same man loomed from the inside of the door. Hitching a loud, shaken breath, she smashed the door to a close without any time to secure it. The only thing keeping the door between her and the abnormal man on the other side was the mass of her form retained upon the tainted wooden bark.

Pacing to the foot of the doorway, the figure knocked at the aged board structure teasingly. Laughing mockingly through the pocket in the door towards her scarcely managing to press down a cry, he proceeded to jeer at her defensive efforts. Slamming and clawing at the panel with his long digits with insignificant performance, she nearly melted down into a flurry of tears.

Then, silence once more. A skill of the wrist, she was firm in thought she wouldn’t take the bait again. Shifting her ear to rest against the door, she listened for any collection of noise, yet it brought her nothing in gain.

Dissipation.

The familiarity of the apartment, the comfort of earth, lost in the blink of an eye. There was nothing, yet the feeling of so much more beyond what was just out of reach. Where was she? She knew, but she did not. Questions with answers forever and always on the tips of tongues both wise and innocent. She couldn’t see.

Stunned, the weapon in her hand tenderly slid from her limp grasp. Crashing into contact with the floor, the reverberation of white gourmet fragments echoed timelessly in her head. The call of what could barely be a distinction between a dream and a nightmare. Feverish, to say the least. A truth left to the sick.

The cryptic man made his entrance from behind, pacing to her side in brief consideration to her frozen demeanor. To see something not meant to be seen is a privilege lost. The ringing of her ears signaled a greater presence nearing just over her shoulders.

“Not this time…”

The beating of a heart. Alive. The single characteristic, the only privilege left.

Perhaps she will see another day.

#g-man #g man #half life #gman #writing #gman x reader #x female reader #audio #edit #sfm #s2fm #photoshop

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chrysanthemums-au · 4 years

Text

Season of Chrysanthemums

SUMMARY: Within the outer limits of Corona, Cassandra meets Varian, who seems to be as insubstantial and ethereal as the black rocks. The two lost…forgotten…overlooked (?) souls decide to wander the streets at nightfall in search of ghosts.

Though, as Varian has long since had a connection to the spirits of the departed, how can Cassandra be sure if the alchemist is who he says himself to be?

CHAPTER 2-Fall from Grace

AO3 LINK

“You’re going the wrong way, Cassie,” Varian says, glancing once more at Monty’s sweets shop for the third time in a row. They had been wandering for quite some time, but they had never made it far beyond the patch of flowers on the outskirts of the kingdom.

Chrysanthemums, is what they are called. Varian frowns as he glances at the plethora of flowers that are as nigh abundant as the black rocks that have overtaken Old Corona. From a distance, the blood-red flowers seem almost spider-like, which…is fitting.

Prior to the blizzard, he…had rarely seen them. His dad, well, ever since his mother disappeared—

He had gotten rid of all traces of the accursed flower from their village. Of course, it was easier said than done. If he had ever come across one of those cursed flowers, Quirin would merely avert his eyes.

“In a certain sense, both those flowers and I are the same,” Varian muses, stride not quite meeting with Cassandra. Chrysanthemums symbolize death, and Varian…he is everything that one would not desire their child to be. He cannot fault his beloved father from avoiding his very presence.

Varian, if many from his village are to be believed, is as non-descript as a ghost. With how rarely he leaves his lab buried underneath the foundations of Old Corona, the very sight of him could be seen as an ominous foreboding of tragedies to follow.

And, considering the numerous explosions that follow in his wake…were it not for his affinity for destruction and mayhem, his existence would be that of an old legend—

His very existence…whether it be from the village or his father’s own eyes, is an aberration.

Like the numerous chrysanthemums that have sprung up all over Corona, Varian is as welcome within everyday life as a funeral procession on a sunny day.

Chrysanthemums are often used as funerary flowers and Varian…

He does not wish to follow them, but similarly to that of the black rocks—

They have embedded themselves into his life. Death is as prominent a part to his very being as breathing.

Though, try as he might, he cannot bring himself to care. As he listens to the rhythmic pattern of their footsteps on cobblestone road, he just…does not care. Or at least, that is what he tells himself.

Varian feels as if he is submerged underwater. He does not know where or how this journey will progress, but he will follow where the tides take him.

---

Cassandra is unnerved. The alchemist, he is much too…compliant. He does not speak. Varian…he is eerily observant of everything and nothing.

She feels like he is judging her.

It is a feeling she does not like, but he hasn’t exactly committed any crimes. And so, she continues to bury these feelings.

Still, she glances at him from the corner of her eye—she wishes he would not call her ‘Cass’ or any variation of her name.

They are not friends. They are not acquaintances, and they most certainly are not family. She does not need any friends except for Rapunzel, and she would like to keep it that way. This alchemist…she merely pities him.

It is true that she prefers peace and quiet above all else, but this silence is unfathomable. If it were to continue, Cassandra knows it will drown her.

She stops as she spots…another horrid chrysanthemum. The sight of it makes her blood boil, irrationally so, and she crushes it underneath her boot.

“What the hell are with these flowers,” Cassandra says, frowning. “It’s like the kingdom’s celebrating a second Day of Hearts…and goodness knows we need more than one disgustingly sweet holiday per year.”

Varian is still as he glances up at Cassandra. It occurs to her that for once, he might actually be ‘seeing’ her and not…anything else.

“I’ve never celebrated Day of Hearts,” Varian simply states. His attention is now directed to the now desecrated chrysanthemums.

“Your parents have never put a chocolate egg in your stocking?” Cassandra asks. She’s not surprised, but this is the most she has heard the alchemist talk about himself all evening.

“Wrong holidays, Cassie,” Varian states.

“Again with the nicknames,” Cassandra grumbles to herself. “Oh, shut up, kid. You know what I meant.”

The alchemist smiles, almost fondly, but it seems ill-suited and horribly mismatched on him. “Dad’s too busy to celebrate, but I don’t mind.”

“Your dad, huh? What’s he like?” Cassandra asks, curiosity piqued.

“He’s great,” Varian says. There is a light in his eyes, but it looks sad. Uncertain. He chuckles, but the sound is much too hollow.

Quickening his pace, he walks past Cassandra, and she swears that the curious streak in his hair is glowing. She looks up at the night sky, and for a minute—she cannot help but compare the serene full moon to the sad, broken alchemist.

And as quickly as Varian had spoken about himself, the ever-resilient silence had enveloped the duo once more.

Her mind wanders, and she cannot help but wonder what it is about the alchemist that has her so concerned. He is not the only troubled child in the kingdom. During the time Princess Rapunzel had been whisked away by an evil witch, the king had an iron-hold on Corona. There were many orphaned children before her disappearance, and there were many deaths. The high mortality rate is the one constant of every kingdom, but until Rapunzel had reappeared, executions were abundant.

Cassandra’s dad always shielded her from public executions, but as she grew older, she became more accustomed to them. Corona did not condone witch burnings, but hangings were much too common.

This is a facet of the kingdom the king had buried ever since Rapunzel had returned.

Quite frankly, she does not know if Rapunzel truly knows what the kingdom had been like for the last eighteen years.

Cassandra is a strong believer in punishment and justice, but executing petty criminals over thievery…she does not know how to feel about that. She is not naïve enough to believe there is no hunger or sadness in Corona.

But, the king’s word is law. Cassandra knows this, and she is a firm supporter of the royal family.

She’d never admit this, but she wouldn’t wish a gory end to someone as stupid as the princess’s boyfriend.

Eugene is the worst, but even he doesn’t deserve to be lynched. The thief’s faults outweigh his good points, but if there is one positive to be said—

Were it not for him, the princess would never have returned to the throne. Had he never stolen the crown, Cassandra would have never met Rapunzel.

Of course, she’d never admit this to his face, or anyone else, for that matter. His head is big enough as it is.

Though, as Cassandra thinks of the alchemist, she cannot suppress the sinking realization and bizarrely enough, relief…that he is not what the rumors imply him to be. In another time, in another place, Varian could have been capable of feats beyond her imagining.

However, in this here and now, Varian is nothing.

He is a blank slate, but Cassandra does not know if this is good or bad…for him and the kingdom.

---

The alchemist is apprehensive. He swears they have been walking in circles, but he does not voice his observation—Cassandra is already irritated by their predicament as it is. He does not wish to add onto her growing stress.

Still, a part of him is worried of what Cass would think of this. Surely, she’ll eventually realize he is to blame for their wayward status.

Any misfortune that Varian encountered or anyone that had the bad luck to meet him are all due to him. This is a fact, albeit one that he has grown weary of.

“Hey, kid, Varian—” This is what snaps Varian out of his reverie.

“You’re awfully silent; got something on your mind? He knows the swordswoman is unnerved by his presence. It would be more surprising if she were not, but there is a darkness seeping into his vision.

Varian hesitates, and then…

“Always,” he says. Varian can barely hear her voice. Cassandra…she sounds muffled and far away.

As his vision slowly ebbs away, Varian feels a bone-chilling cold slice through the air like a thin knife. Shadows with bright, glowing eyes—they are always there. Ever present. Vigilant. Watching.

But today, in this time and now, they scare him.

For once, they are not gathered around him. Their mirthless grins and icy, raspy whispers are not directed towards the alchemist.

Instead, they are drawn to the dark-haired woman.

He is not scared for himself, but Cassandra…what is it about her that draws them near?

Varian reaches one hand out towards her, but it is too late. The windows of the store shatter into pieces and his world is enveloped in a dark kaleidoscope of jagged edges and glass.

Cassandra’s voice echoes into the night as she repeatedly yells his name. He manages to catch a glance before falling into the depths of unconsciousness, and that is when she sees her.

The small, blue ghost girl…she is standing behind Cassandra. Her hands are clasped together in a mockery of a prayer. The girl’s eyes are large, and almost pupil-less in her excitement.

Perhaps she is not a ghost like Varian had once thought. This enchanted girl is not a phantom or lost soul, but something more. Something old and dark.

Her grin is far, far too large on her face.

“Good night, my dear moondrop,” she says.

And then…

Nothing.

---

Varian wakes up. But it is not in this ‘here’ and ‘now’. He is nearly overcome by joy when discovering that he is back in Old Corona. Ruddiger is curled up in a tight ball on his pillow, but he knows that this is not where he belongs.

Old Corona had been buried under snow and black rocks. Right now, it is a dream. As much as he’d like to stay, he knows he cannot—not as long as Varian’s father is trapped in amber.

At the moment, he is not a corpse. Quirin is not a suspended corpse buried within a translucent tomb of loathsome crystal. He knows this, but Varian cannot cope with living in such close quarters with one he can see but cannot speak with.

It is almost like how he had felt with his mother.

Varian does not remember much of her. She had left one day with promises to return…but instead, she vanished.

Only empty promises and a broken family were left in her wake.

If there is anything Varian hates more than himself, it is broken promises.

There was nothing left to bury, but Quirin tried. She had always loved apples, from what little his father had told him of her. And so, there is a small patch of earth underneath one of his their apple trees dedicated to her.

The gravestone is chipped and ugly in its imperfections, but it is also beautiful. Had it not been where it was, Varian would have truly believed his mother would one day return. Childishly, he had once believed his dad would be proud of him if he could be the one to find her.

Though, of course, these were merely the musings of a lonely child. As time grew on, Quirin neglected the grave until…it became overrun with weeds and cobwebs. His father could not bear to look at the grave—

It only reminded him of his lost wife.

Back when his dad could look him in the eyes, he’d say Varian was the splitting image of her. Varian thinks this is why Quirin will not exchange more than one or two phrases with him nowadays, or…why he does not spare him a single glance.

The alchemist wishes this to be the answer, but it is but a dream. His mother who loved alchemy and apples, she will never return. And his dad—

Quirin has never uttered these words, but he knows. Varian is well aware he is a disappointment in his father’s eyes. Afterall, Varian is a problem child, as the other villagers are more than eager to gossip.

Though, never to him or his father, of course. Quirin is the village chief, and Varian, well, they are scared of him.

More so than the explosions that follow his every move, more than botched experiments and inventions gone haywire, Varian can—

Varian can see the dead, or at least, that is what the other villagers say.

He, himself, does not know what exactly it is that he sees, but he is self-aware enough to know that they are visions no sane person should witness.

It had started off small. A faint flicker at the corner of his eye, shadowy figures roaming the halls of his home at the dead of night…it was nothing to be concerned with.

“Merely the overactive imagination of a child,” is what his father had always told him. But, they had persisted as they had grown older.

Varian tried his best to ignore them, but by then, it was too late. The damage had already been done, and the village of Old Corona regarded him with fear and contempt.

Rumors circulated that he, himself, was a ghost haunting the village, or more infuriatingly—

A wizard of all things.

Thankfully, his father had never put much stock into the rumors. For that, Varian was grateful. But he knew Quirin did not trust him. From how Quirin would walk on eggshells around him or how he could not look Varian in the eyes, much less be in the same room as him, Varian knew.

His dad was not scared of him. Rather, he was scared for him.

Visions are not normal. Disembodied shadows…are what you’d read about in a childish story.

Quirin had never outright told Varian any of this, but he had seen the pills he’d slip into Varian’s meals. It was clockwork—every morning before heading out into the fields.

And as it was a routine, Varian would toss his breakfast out every morning. He did not want to waste food, but he knew this was not the help he needed.

Varian wished he could be a perfect son; it was what his father deserved.

He wanted to gift his father a sense of normalcy in their lives. But instead, their world was an empty house and filled with the cold, mirthless laughter of silence and forgotten promises.

Involuntary, Varian raises his hand to his eyes and is surprised to find it damp with tears.

He sits down on the floor of his fake house. He stays there for hours and hours until he…is not.

---

Varian awakens to the sight of the concerned swordswoman. It is odd, he thinks, of how much she cares. No one had ever cared for him…not during his previous life, or his supposed afterlife. The sight is as unnerving at the scent of chrysanthemums that have overtaken Corona.

The comparison is gaudy, and tasteless, and macabre, but he feels like a cadaver within a coffin. With how distressed Cassandra appears, he could almost believe this to be a funeral.

He’d nearly believe it too, were it not for the dull pain radiating around his head.

To his surprise, he notices a small tear on the swordswoman’s sleeve. Apparently, Cassandra had used it as a makeshift bandage. It seems that in his fall, Varian had lightly grazed his head.

For a mere, guilty moment, Varian looks away from the swordswoman. She is prickly and chilling, but there is also warmth buried deep inside her. These kindnesses are more than he could ever deserve. He is thankful, but he knows nothing he could ever do would be enough to repay her.

He looks up towards the night sky and is entranced by the moon. It is large, glowing…he feels as if it is beckoning him to follow.

Slowly rising to his feet much to Cassandra’s protests, Varian walks forward. He does not appear to entirely be ‘there’, or present, and Cassandra is concerned for the strange alchemist once more.

She wants to help, but she feels as if she is carrying the weight of heavy lead on her back. Helpless, Cassandra looks on, and sees where it is the alchemist has gone.

Varian.

Varian is going to jump.

Cassandra curses. She had thought it better to traverse high ground as she carried the injured alchemist towards the castle. Ideally, it made for a shorter route, but now more than anything else, she regrets her decisions.

Due to her mistake, he will die.

---

The moon is comforting. Varian had always loved the night, which was just yet another reason as to why he was truly a disappointment. With the absence of sunlight, their fields would not yield any crops.

He knows there is nothing good to come from the absence of light, but it is only in darkness that he can find peace.

Varian’s steps slow to a halt as he looks over the edge. Only, to him, he sees…something. There is a person beckoning to him. Red hair, goggles that look so much like his, only hers are not quite so old and antiquated.

Her face is sun-kissed and covered in freckles. The woman’s eyes are soft as she beckons him to walk forward.

One step, and they will be reunited.

All it will take for Varian to finally achieve happiness is a single second. One quick decision and his journey will finally be over.

He takes in one deep breath, raises one foot over the ledge, but—

---

Cassandra is scared. She is terrified. While she manages to catch Varian in the nick of time, the damage has already been done. She is out of her element. Had she missed him by a single moment, Varian would have shattered into pieces atop the black rocks that have sprung up stories below their feet.

If she failed to catch him, Varian—

He would be as broken as one of the wooden dolls in her childhood. The only difference here is that some cheap glue could piece them back together, but Varian would have been beyond salvation.

She sees the light blue glow of his eyes and the curious hairstreak in his hair, but she does not care in her anger and terror.

The alchemist, he tried to end his own life, and Cassandra…she was powerless to stop him. Just a slip of the hand, and he would have been gone.

Cassandra grits her teeth as she looks down at Varian. He is crumpled on the ground, his wrist still clasped tightly in her hand. His glove has shifted slightly to reveal skin marred with bruises.

She is angry. At herself, at how broken this child is, at the lot life has thrown at him…them.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Cassandra yells at the alchemist. She knows he is not to blame here. He is a victim of life. Varian deserves help and understanding, which is something that she can sadly not give him.

Varian is not alright.

No sane person would throw themselves off a ledge.

She is frustrated with the blank look in Varian’s eyes. She wants to knock some sense into him, but he is not Rapunzel or Lance or….that ridiculous man. He is Varian, but she does not know him.

Sighing, Cassandra lets him go. She knows anger does not help, but what else is she to do? Thankfully, they are nearly at the castle.

Only there, will the alchemist finally be safe.

Varian looks at her and smiles. It is a sad smile, and not one that reaches his eyes, but it is sincere. Cassandra’s heart nearly breaks at the sight. She does not ‘deal’ with emotions, but she’s not nearly as heartless as she’d like to believe.

“Thank you, Cassie,” Varian says. He reaches into the pocket of his apron and pulls out a glass vial filled with a semi-translucent, bubbling formula.

In her tiredness, Cassandra is too slow to catch him. He tosses the vial towards the ground and Cassandra’s world is enveloped in smoke.

As the smoke clears, the swordswoman realizes the alchemist has gone missing.

He had vanished into thin air.

Perhaps there was some truth to the rumors. Had she not followed them, she would never have met this broken, sorrowful ghost.

With a shudder, she cannot help but be thankful for them. Had she not listened to them on a whim, Varian could have died this evening.

As she slowly walks backs towards the castle, Cassandra hopes the alchemist will be alright.

Now, more than ever, Cassandra is lost.

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #Varian #Varian Tangled #Varian the Alchemist #Cassandra #Cassandra Tangled #Fanfic

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avehi-the-adamant · 4 years

Text

The Other Side

Dessicated dust crunched beneath her hooves, as Avehi stepped out into the Bone Wastes. She winced, gazing out at shattered remains of Auchidoun. Immediately, her thoughts turned to Unkhra’huun… and all the worries of what had happened to him washed over her along with them. It had been weeks - maybe months - since she heard anything from the Auchenai. And she hadn’t learned much herself through her own investigation. Hopefully, it meant he was resting again, at last… But none of that was why she came here now.

The perpetual overcast gloomily hung over the landscape, leaving little contrast between earth and sky. The wind howled fiercely, sweeping through the desolate plains unhindered. It wasn’t always like this. Avehi closed her eyes, trying to imagine Talador as it once was. Seeing it again during the Iron Horde campaign was a much needed reminder of how things were before Death’s caress reached out for Draenor. Vibrant trees, proud crystalline structures, water as clear as glass… Now, it only existed in her memories. Draenor felt like the most devastating losses the Draenei people experienced. Coming back to it was always a grim reminder; as comfortable as life ever seemed, complacency would certainly be their downfall.

This business with the Afterlife was yet another case. The Fourth War had ended. The Old God threat was on the decline. But as comforting a thought as that was, dangers continued to lurk on the horizon. Dangers not everyone saw. She’d tried to explain that to Argonas in Uldum, but he was reluctant to hear the truth. Too rigid in his false beliefs. It wasn’t too surprising, looking back on it.

But the encounter had raised a lot of questions in the aftermath. Why was he there at all? He had a baby to look after, didn’t he? Sinafay should’ve had their child by now. Avehi knew Sinafay herself had no intention to keep it… Had Argonas decided he didn’t want it after all? No, not him. He was tradition given Draenei form - and as rare as Draenei children were, he wouldn’t neglect his duties in raising one of his own.

Something must’ve happened.

Avehi had met Sinafay on the alternate Draenor. They got along well, despite recent disagreements about her ridiculous choice. Nonetheless, she still considered Sinafay a friend. One of the few she had left. Worry clouded the Death Knight’s mind. She hadn’t seen Sinafay in a long time. And after looking for her, one glaring possibility was too overwhelming to ignore any longer - what if she died? It worried Avehi enough normally. But with all that was happening beyond the grave, she was all the more concerned. She came here, to Auchindoun, to look for answers to that pressing and troubling question.

She didn’t dare to venture into the city itself, however. Her presence was an affront to the resting dead here. She’d only made her way into the city under the guidance of a Soul Arbiter, before. She wouldn’t seek to go further without Dunkori. Here on the outskirts was close enough for her purposes, anyway. Auchindoun was a point where the veil between life and death was thin. Communing with the other side was easier in such places. Clearer. If she was going to find out if Sinafay was lost in the afterlife, this was the best way to do it.

She hoped she was wrong. She hoped her friend was still alive.

But hope had let her down in the past.

She knelt down, and focused her mind. Slowly, her soul separated from her lifeless body - a jarring sensation, no matter how many times she’d done it. She felt it immediately; how much more power flowed through the Shadowlands since the last time she’d stepped through. She couldn’t tell if it was just from wraith walking in a place like this, or if the dire well pulling all the departed souls into it was gaining more strength. She hoped for the former… but couldn’t help but believe it to be the latter. Troubling, nonetheless.

She calmed her mind, focusing on Sinafay’s face. Traveling here was unlike traveling in the real world. She had to will herself to various places. And focusing on certain people she knew led her soul to them. She focused intently, keeping Sinafay fully in her mind’s eye. If she were dead, Avehi would know. Avehi would sense it.

At first, there was nothing. The ambient “noise” of the Maw thrummed lowly. To and fro, in and out, like an ocean wave crashing against the shore. The ebb and flow of the afterlife was oddly soothing and jarring at the same time. It was hard to get used to it. Hard to see through the noise, and find what you were seeking. But Avehi had gained some experience in it, in her searches for other old friends. Thankfully, she found none in this terrifying place.

Until now.

Her heart sank; she could feel her! A thousand questions all raced through her head. What happened? How did she die? How long had she been dead? She grunted, focusing on her friend’s essence more intently. But… something was different about her. Very different. As she drew closer to her… that strange feeling grew stronger.

She worried even more. What had happened to her to change her like this?

~*~

Time was irrelevant in the Maw. Nothing but eternal darkness and nightmares. There was no way of telling how long Sinafay had been here, but it felt like forever. Not that it mattered… she’d begrudgingly accepted her fate the moment she’d arrived. The devastation of realizing where’d she’d been sent had done her in.

After all she’d done to help other people… the sacrifices she and Argonas had made…

Argonas… she was happy he wasn’t being tortured here like she was. Hopefully he was one with the Light… where she had hoped to be with him for eternity. Was he reunited with Kairei while she suffered eternal damnation? Had he bothered to search for her at all? She felt jealousy rise inside her, literally burning her.

She shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. Emotions turned against her here, amplifying emotional pain into physical. She had to numb herself, lest it served as a beacon for the monsters to find her. They’d find her eventually… they always did. Ripping her apart, limb from limb, leaving her in pieces to be reformed and hunted again. Over and over…

Her tail twitched as she felt something approaching. Her nails dug into the ground as she curled in on herself, trying to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. Was it already too late? Her body trembled, but she couldn’t help but look up. She’d initially been relieved to have her sight restored in death, but soon realized it was a curse to have to see the horrors and atrocities that happened around her.

But what was coming felt different than the hunting aberrations. This felt somehow… benign.

“Who… who’s there?” She called out.

“Forgot me already, did you?”

The Death Knight could feel her - the strong fighter’s spirit railing against death itself was unmistakably Sinafay’s. And yet, it felt so weary, flickering in and out of defiance and utter hopelessness. The Maw must have broken her quickly.

After a few moments, Avehi’s ethereal form came into view, hooves touching down into more grey, desolate dust. She looked down at the curled-up Draenei before her, face conflicted; happy to have found her, but distraught to have found her here.

“Sina…” she reached out. “How did this happen? How did you die?”

Sinafay was wary of the woman. She acted familiar, yet the shaman had never seen her before. She tilted her head, looking the figure over. She knew some of the living had ways of reaching out to the dead. But why would anyone reach out to her? If it was a trick, it was a new one she hadn’t experienced before.

“I… died on Argus,” she answered, straightening up some, “Argonas and I… together in an explosion.”

She kept looking the woman over, now more curious than anything else.

“I’m sorry… I don’t recognize who you are.”

“--On Argus? That…”

Avehi retracted her hand, and looked the woman over more closely. Eyes wide, yet peering. Appraising. It was beginning to come together; she felt different. She didn’t recognize Avehi. That could only mean this wasn’t Sinafay. Not the one she was expecting, anyway.

The Death Knight’s brow furrowed. There was a comfort knowing this wasn’t the Sinafay she knew. She didn’t sense her anywhere else, which led her to believe she was still alive somewhere. But having found the other Sinafay… complicated things. Clearly, her death on Argus happened after the wheel was broken. It went back further than she thought. And this one thought Argonas died with her.

“... Apologies. I am Avehi the Adamant. Once a Vindicator, now a Death Knight of the Ebon Blade. You recall them, I presume?” she explained, tone calm, even… and devoid of previous familiarity. “I came here looking for the other Sinafay. The one from alternate Draenor. Instead… I found you.”

Sinafay couldn’t help but frown at the mention of her alternate self. Her tail flickered in annoyance. How was her dumb double still relevant to anything anymore? She’d stayed on her own Draenor and the portals had closed, never to be opened again… right?

It was odd, Avehi reintroducing herself. After all she’d heard about her, both from Argonas and the Sinafay she actually knew, meeting this one felt strange. She felt both like she knew this Sinafay well enough, and yet not at all. This one had been a shaman, in life - that itself was a comfort to Avehi. Mierne had shown her that shamanism, ties to spirits and elements, was a benevolent power. Far less judgmental than the Light. Avehi definitely had grown to favor it over the Light, in recent years.

It also meant this Sinafay knew what it felt like to be set apart from their kin. Avehi knew that well enough, too.

“I’ve come to help, if I can. Tell me what’s been happening here - but be quick. It won’t be long before the denizens of this place find me out.”

“I’m not sure,” her voice was steadier now, not broken up as it had been before, “There’s a lot of people coming in everyday… I thought the Maw was made for the worst of the worst, but there are so many people here. I thought I’d join the Light with Argonas but…”

She shook her head again, closing her eyes And bringing her hands up to her head as though she had a headache. That wasn’t too far off, she couldn’t bear to hope she’d been sent here by mistake.

“Of course everything is wrong with this place. It’s the Maw! Nothing… nothing makes sense!”

"--Temper yourself!" Avehi scolded her. "Your emotions will betray you!"

Sinafay didn’t need Avehi’s warning. She knew well enough what her negative emotions would bring about. Still, having someone at her side to snap her mind back in place was a luxury she usually didn’t have. She calmed herself, listening to Avehi’s words intently. The Death Knight had been through the dark depths of the Shadowlands enough times before...

It was for this reason she was mindful of what to tell this Sinafay. Her emotions would only draw more dangers to them both. And Avehi being from the world of the living was already drawing enough attention; she could sense the dangerous horrors growing ever closer, even now.

But Sinafay deserved to know. She couldn't be left to think she was damned to this place intentionally.

"You're perceptive; this is not as it should be." Avehi told her, keeping calm. "Malevolent forces have disrupted the afterlife. Now, everyone who dies is sent here… whether they deserve it or not. And the many you've seen are casualties of yet another war on Azeroth, sparked after the victory over the Legion on Argus."

That sparked something Sinafay hadn’t felt in a long time - hope. Something she had always clung to in life, no matter how dire the situation. If what Avehi said was true, it meant a possibility of leaving this place someday! It was obvious in Sinafay’s face, the way the glow in her white eyes returned… the way her shoulders straightened. The fighting spirit she had lost was returning.

“Everyone…” she mused, “So… you’re saying Argo is here somewhere as well?”

"--Tch… no. Argonas is not here." Avehi replied, expression betraying a hint of displeasure in him still being alive. "Somehow, he survived that explosion that took your life. He's on Azeroth once more."

She pondered how much more to tell this Sinafay. Seeing her renewed like this, was it wise to tell her about the other Sinafay, and their baby? She withheld it for now…

"But if he had died, he would be. He doesn't know it, or understand it." she went on. "It's… irritating how bull-headed he can be. --Aah, but you know this, I'm sure."

“He… He’s alive… and thinks I’m with the Light, now,” she thought out loud, “That’s why he never tried to reach out to me.”

She smiled wide, bringing a hand up to her mouth as she couldn’t help but chuckle. Avehi described him all too well for this all to be a trick. She wanted to wrap her arms around the ethereal form in a tight hug, but knew that wasn’t possible.

A realization struck Avehi; this chance meeting could prove to Argonas that her actions and intentions were good. Finding his dead wife in the Maw? Even he couldn't dispute that the cycle of death was broken and flawed.

"Listen… if he knew you were here, I believe he would help me, yes?" Avehi explained. "His grieving you for well over a year tells me you meant a great deal to him. Even now, I get the sense he's unable to fully let you go… this can be of all our benefits. I need to prove to him you're stuck here."

“Of course! I’ll help in any way I can! You can locate me here again? If I stay in pla--”

She gasped, suddenly peering over her shoulder with wide eyes. Their time was short! Her radiating happiness brought about just as much attention as her sorrow. Happy souls here were usually targets to be broken.

“They’re coming... “ She turned to face Avehi one last time, her expression determined, “You need to leave. Now.”

The Death Knight grunted, glancing back behind Sinafay. She could feel them, too - monstrosities of the Maw. They were closing in fast - on her or Sinafay, she couldn't tell. Both, probably. She turned to depart, centering herself and focusing her mind once more…

"--Wait!" she called out. "How do I prove to him I met you here? Something only you know? Something only he would know?"

“Just tell him I said to stop being a dumbass and that he’d better have some alcohol ready for when he brings me home!”

Avehi smirked - already, she was starting to like this Sinafay better. She nodded once, before her ethereal form began to dissipate, joining again with her body in the Bone Wastes.

"Stay safe…" she bid Sinafay, before vanishing.

Sinafay smirked. Obviously, Avehi didn’t know her at all. She turned to face the approaching swarm defiantly. She had no weapon, and her shamanism didn’t work in this place, but she still intended to put up one hell of a fight!

((Co-written with @kidcatgemini. Both Sinafays belong to her! @archmage-stillwater for mention, creator of both Unkhra’huun and Dunkori! ))

#character story #Avehi the Adamant #Sinafay #Draenei #Shadowlands #The Maw #Warcraft #Undeath #co-writing #Auchindoun

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 3 years

Text

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 29

Chapter Selection

Two hours later I was getting to the point where I was losing some memory. It took so long because I was drinking more fruity drinks than hard liquor.

I glanced around the table and I found myself staring face to face with Hotch. I didn't notice but everyone was doing their own thing.

"Are you okay?", Hotch asked, trying to make conversation. "Yeah I'm just... you know what, never mind." I said, sliding out from the booth.

"Where are you going?", I sighed.

"Somewhere else Hotch, I can't right now", I walked— more like hobbled over to the dance floor and cozied up to the first guy I saw.

"Hey", the guy said I put my finger on his lips. A signal not to talk and he took it. Not saying a word, we were just in the moment.

My back was against his chest and I was grinding into him. Hotch looked over in his tipsy haze, he saw me with the man. He could tell I wasn't okay, that something was bothering me.

Whether we were together or not he wanted me to be happy.

But seeing the sight in front of him made him upset and angry.

For a second the man's hands were rising up from my hips to my waist. It felt like they got replaced after they disappeared. When they appeared again they were larger, turning around there he was.

"Talk to me." He pleaded.

"I don't wanna talk." My hands went around his neck, trying to look normal. Everything had slowed down around us.

"Why not?", sadness was written all over his face. I didn't owe him anything but I felt like I owed him everything.

I didn't need to talk to him but he's done so much for me.

"Because Hotch, I fucking hurt. I just—", I flicked my eyes down to his lips then back to his eyes. He saw the sudden change in my gaze and against his better judgement his hand slid into my hair. He pushed me towards his lips and he captured mine.

I wanted to keep going, the way we moved against each other made everything okay for a while.

Then the feeling dissipated and reality crept in. I was the first to pull away and my hand left his cheek and rested on his chest pushing him away.

"Why'd you do that?", he stared at me blankly. He had no idea why he did it, not having an answer for me.

"I don't know", he whispered and over the loud music I almost missed it. "I need to get home", I walked away from him.

Aaron stood there watching me move farther from him. I eventually disappeared from his vision, I went outside and called a cab.

Getting in I went home, leaving the team behind.

___________________

Three months later

We had pretended like the kiss never happened, it was a moment of weakness and honestly I didn't regret it. I had lunch with Emily later in the morning.

It was 9AM and I was waiting for the time to roll around. I'd need to get dressed, I was still moping around, only ever having energy to go to work and maybe a few other things

The rest of my time went to working out and trying to stay alive and well. I heard my phone vibrating on the table, I leaned forwards and picked it up. "Hello", I asked.

"Y/n something came up later this afternoon can we actually do breakfast instead." I glanced over at the food I had just eaten.

"Yeah that's fine, just tell me where", she told me the time to meet her and I flipped the blanket off my body. Getting a cold rush all over causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin.

I was always cold, no matter how hot it was. That was something Hotch would help me with, my own personal heater...

I walked down the hallway and into my room, having half an hour to get there, I wasn't in a rush. The restaurant was a few minutes away.

"What to wear?", I mumbled to myself and settled with a pair of light blue jeans, a tank top and a grey sweater.

Locking the door I made my way down to the car, getting in and I drove to the restaurant. While going inside I didn't see anyone but a single man sitting alone at a table. I took a seat across the room and waited for Emily or the waiter.

I felt someone staring at me then sensing someone standing over me

I glanced down and saw their feet, "Are you y/n?" I put down the menu and crossed my arms, subconsciously protecting myself.

"Yes", he took the seat in front of me and made himself comfortable.

"I'm sorry but, do I know you?" He looked confused. He had dirty blonde hair and a light grey t-shirt. Some wash blue jeans, we actually almost matched. His blue eyes were piercing into mine. "I'm Steven."

In no time in my entire life did I know a Steven. The man sitting with me was a complete stranger. When I didn't say anything he felt the need to explain the situation further.

"Emily set this up, she told me to meet you here."

That sly bitch. I wasn't mad at her but I wish she would've told me before getting completely set up. Emily noticed I was almost always on autopilot and she wanted to help.

I never went out with her when it came to dates because I was still stuck one the one person I couldn't get over.

Although she didn't know that, I needed to get over him in my own time.

He was reading the situation, my clueless state, "Emily— she didn't tell you this was a date... did she?" I pulled my lips into a line and looked back down at the table. "Yeah she uh... didn't exactly do that."

"You know what if it's too weird, I can go", something in my mind told me to tell him to stay. That part of my body was hoping this would make the pain go away.

"Stay, you already took the time out of your day and we can make Em happy for once", I smiled lightly at the late words.

He grinned and sat down in the seat he was in previously.

"So, what do you do? Em didn't tell me much about you. She told me to just trust her." That did seem like her, she was the person behind the curtain pulling all of the strings.

I took a deep breath, "Around I wanna day nine months ago I started working at the BAU in the FBI. It all happened kind of quick but I'm really enjoying it."

The waiter came over briefly and took both of our orders. I gestured for him to speak, "Currently I'm working over at Interpol in the DC office, I worked with Emily a few years ago."

"How is it over there", he went on about how the job made him happy. That he was excited to have something new almost every day and the cases were always interesting.

We were served breakfast and spent the entire time talking. His presence was comforting, someone that wasn't just trying to get into my pants.

Even though Morgan and Reid weren't either, something kept me away from being close with them.

Steven talked about his experiences in the field and even with my limited knowledge we exchanged stories.

The waiter came over and gave me the check, "I'll pay for it." He took the check and I reached over and slid the paper back in front of me.

"It's the least I can do, seeing as this was kind of sprung onto you." I appreciated the offer but I really didn't need people paying for me, let alone someone I just met.

"We can split it", he smiled at me. He liked that I could take care of myself, even when the offer presented itself I still wanted to pay.

A small gesture but it didn't go unnoticed. As we stood up we went to leave the restaurant, "I can take you home if you want?"

"It's fine, I drove but thank you." Steven took the liberty of walking me to my car, "We should do this again.

Within those few seconds I had a small battle, I didn't mind him but I wasn't sure if I was ready. "That'd be nice."

I got into my car and drove home, as he saw me drive away he realized he didn't get my number.

He would go to call Emily later that day and get my number, he did want to see me again.

.................................

Permanent taglist : @oreogutz @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @errorcosplay67 @qtip-blog @aberrant-annie

#aaron #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch x reader #hotchner #hotch #fanfic #aaron hotch fanfiction #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner fanfiction #writing

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firesoulstuff · 5 years

Text

Til The End of The Road

A super prompt from the @dccwrarepairswap, for @singledarkshade

Gideon has a human body now, but whether or not it actually works is an entirely different matter. Rip waits rather impatiently for the answer to that question, and passes the time by thinking back on some key moments he's spent with her.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992136

========================================================

“Ok.”

Such a simple word, Rip thinks, perhaps a tad ironically. He must have used that word over a billion times in his life, yet he can barely recall even a handful of instances in which the situation at hand were actually ok.

This situation is hardly among those.

The word hasn’t even come from him, but from Nora Darhk, her hands on her hips and her voice a breathy huff that doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Now we just wait and see.”

He nods; numb, and then he catches himself so he looks up at her, and he pretends not to see the uncertainty on her face.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She says in return, her expression unchanged, and she’s quick to follow Dr. Palmer from the room.

Leaving him alone with Gideon.

She looks much like he’d always imagined she would, and yet so much more real than any dream could ever provide. Her hair is a bit shorter than he’d always thought, but he likes it, it looks good on her.

He reaches out cautiously and takes her hand in his, unable to help the tears that start to well up in his eyes when her skin is soft and real in his grasp. She’s on oxygen right now, things had turned bad very quickly in the seconds following Nora’s spell. They knew it was a possibility; her body not aware how to function yet might not be able to breathe on it’s own at first. Luckily she stabilized almost immediately once the mask was placed on her face, and hopefully she won’t need it much longer.

He sighs, short, relieved, but still so scared as he traces his thumb over her knuckles.

They’ve been through so much together the two of them, and sitting here with nothing but the beautiful sound of her heart monitor’s soft beeping to keep him company, he can’t help but think back on it all.

=====================================================

There is a part of him that can’t believe he’s really here. After everything that happened in the academy, after he was nearly kicked out for no reason other than loving Miranda, and after she so selflessly sacrificed her place with the Time Master’s so that he may keep his. After so many degrading years, many more than what is typical, of serving as an apprentice, he can’t believe that he is finally here in The Hanger.

Time Master Declan has seemed more irritated than proud ever since he showed up, but then again he never did agree with Miranda’s decision.

Rip still isn’t sure he does either, but it was her choice, he couldn’t stop her, and she was going to make it regardless of his actions.

Declan opens the loading ramp of the ship without a word.

“The Waverider has been out of commission for quite some time.” He says as they board, and Rip is TRYING not to let his excitement show, even if he is receiving the most beat up of the hand-me-downs. “Her last Captain was a great man, served us for many years before retiring, I suppose we almost retired the ship as well.”

Declan stops then, in the middle of the corridor, and raises a grey eyebrow at him.

“Can I trust that you are going to be another great man?”

For a moment he falters, caught off guard by the question, but he does his best to recover.

“Yes Sir.” He says, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

The look Declan gives is more than enough to make it clear he has already, years ago, let him down.

They move on to the bridge, and really the ship looks just like any other Rip has ever been on board, but there is something about looking around this one, because this is his ship.

“Allow me to introduce you to the ship’s AI.” Declan says, “Gideon?”

Above the holo-table a light blue, minimally featured, female head appears with a smile.

“Hello, Time Master Declan.” She says, and then turns her attention to him.

“Gideon.” Declan says, gesturing over to him. “This is Rip Hunter, The Waverider’s new Captain.”

“Hello, Captain Hunter.” The AI greets him. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well, Gideon.”

=======================================================

“How ya holding up?”

The words pull him out of his memories.

Sara has appeared in the doorway, her arms folded across herself and her gaze lingering on Gideon.

“I’m alright.” He promises, his gaze following hers and then flitting up to the heart monitor, and then back. “Gideon is too, I believe.”

Sara nods, tiredly. It’s been a rather long day, and he was only here for the second part of it. He’s only been gone, dead, frozen in time… whatever, for a year and already so much as changed.

It may not seem like a lot, but all the little changes add up.

Sara and Ava are a proper couple.

Ms. Darhk has joined their team, and with an apparent change in the timeline so has Ms. Tomaz’s brother.

Magical creatures are a part of the world now.

History as he knows it, more or less, is no longer the reality of the world.

=========================================================

He doesn’t sleep after leaving Salvation.

It took everything in him to peel himself away, after weeks of lying low to throw the time pirate’s off their trail, as well as make a few repairs to The Waverider, he almost didn’t go.

If not for the promise of Miranda and their unborn child waiting for him, he might have stayed.

Jonah stayed, and he won’t deny it’s lonely that first night in the time stream.

“Gideon?” He asks, for she is his only company now. “You feel emotions, don’t you?” She must. The way she speaks to him and Jonah sometimes, particularly after they make an ill-advised decision, he can’t imagine she doesn’t.

“Of a sort.” She answers, and he thinks the pause between his question and her answer might have been almost a hair too long, as though she were thinking. “I am programed to assist my Captain and crew in protecting the timeline, and to advise them of the course of action that is most in their best interest. So, I suppose, I am programed to care.”

He frowns, that is hardly the answer he’d been hoping for.

“Yes,” he says, “But… You think, don’t you? For yourself? Do you ever wonder if we’re doing the right thing? Leaving history as it is rather than improving it?”

This time, Rip knows he is not imagining it when the silence drags out.

Though, eventually, she answers him.

“We should arrive at The Vanishing Point within the next six hours, Captain.”

=========================================================

“Rip.”

“Gah!” He jumps awake, (when had he fallen asleep?) and nearly falls from his chair.

Ava is looking at him, worry etched into her features as she backs off. The room has gone dark around him, at some point, but not so dark he can’t see he is about to receive an order from someone he once gave orders to, it seems to be a pattern in his life.

Speaking of which, the first person to ever realize he was full of bull more often than he wasn’t, the first to realize she was really in charge, but oftentimes followed his lead anyway (and look where it got her) is still sleeping soundly in the bed next to him.

With her oxygen mask gone.

“She’s making progress Rip.” Ava assures him. “Fast progress. There’s no reason to believe her body will reject Nora and John’s magic. Go sleep.”

“I was sleeping.” It’s a weak, no; it’s a pathetic response. One that earns him nothing more than an angry glare from Ava.

But, he stands by it.

Ava rolls her eyes, her stance tightens; she is thinking over her next move. But the fact of the matter is that there is no next move, no argument, which she can throw at him that will get him to leave this chair.

=========================================================

“Open this door Gideon!”

“I’m sorry Captain,” Her voice chimes from the ceiling, though he hardly hears it between his fists pounding against the door and the blood boiling in his ears. “But you need to calm down first.”

“Shut up!”

He shutters with regret the instant that phrase leaves his lips, but he punches the heavy steel of the door all the same and doesn’t apologize.

“I need to get to the Time Council!”

“What you need to get, Captain, is some rest. If you address the council in this state-”

“Oh shut up!”

He can already hear Mother’s nagging voice in his mind, as well as feel the light slap of her hand on his arm. He knows better than to act like this, throwing a tantrum like a child. But this is justified. Miranda and Jonas….

He needs to get to the Time Council.

Gideon doesn’t speak again for a long while, not until after he has wailed himself into exhaustion and taken a seat against a crate, nothing else to do in the loading dock.

“I might advise not shouting at the Time Council to “shut up” in the event that your mission does not go according to plan. Best of luck, Captain.”

========================================================

It’s been days now.

Fast progress indeed, he thinks to himself with an impatient huff. He has been sitting in this chair in the Time Bureau med-bay for nearly a week, and aside from no longer needing her oxygen mask there has been no change in Gideon’s condition. The Legends and their friends, nearly all of who are practical strangers to him, look less and less hopeful with each visit. Sara, Ava, and Raymond keep trying to get him to leave.

But where would he go?

He’s near certain his apartment is no longer there; he’s been dead for over a year, surely the landlord has rented it out by now. Besides, it isn’t like there is anything in that apartment he’s eager to get back to. There is no family, no pictures; it was always just bare bones and a mattress to sleep on. He was never there when he was running The Time Bureau, always telling himself his work was too important to be wasting time watching television or whatever else it would be that he would do in an empty apartment.

He shutters thinking about it, and wonders how it is he managed to lie so profoundly even to himself.

The answer is lying right before him.

==========================================================

The Time Bureau is working.

Five years strong, no disasters. The opposite, in fact. History is on a safe and stable course. There have been no dire aberrations, missions are running smoothly, and new recruits are showing progress. Not to mention their science department has managed to improve on time travel itself.

They’ve come up with time couriers: small devices that allow for individuals to travel through time without the need of a clunky ship.

Which, up until recently, hadn’t even been an option.

He knew when he founded The Bureau that time would eventually catch up with him and he would stumble upon The Legends, it was part of the reason he went all the way back to 2012 to start with. It was near enough in their own pasts that they weren’t likely to show up too soon, yet far enough that he could have either a well-established system in place by the time they caught up, or he could have failed and found a different path in life. When it turned out to be the former outcome he was proud, gleeful even, but that victory is proving to be bittersweet.

He must prevent any disaster like them from ever happening again, no matter the cost.

“Gideon.” He pleads; they key for her systems in its slot but not yet turned, his fingers gripping it firmly. “Please understand. If there were another way…” He really doesn’t know what it is he’s trying to tell her, because there is no other way.

“You have my word that The Waverider will continue to be used for training purposes.” He tries, thinking that perhaps it might put her at ease, to know he isn’t simply scrapping the ship. No. He would never.

“Of course,” she finally says, a wounded edge to her voice that he’s expected and yet it hurts him all the same. “Goodbye, Rip.”

========================================================

He was – is - such a stupid, stupid man.

He wondered back then, often, why he did turn her off. He would tell himself it was necessary, because the Waverider needed to be off in order to use it for training purposes, and she was part of the ship.

However, for a stupid man, he can’t quite seem to fool himself forever.

He knows, now at the forefront of his mind, and back then probably somewhere deep down, that the reason he did it was stupid and selfish.

He had finally done something right in creating the Time Bureau. After all of his mistakes and his failures, he had done something good. But then The Legends crashed, Gideon with them, and he just knew that somewhere in the Time Bureau, something had to be wrong. It was his creation, of course it wasn’t as good as it seemed, he just hadn’t known where the fault lie and he didn’t want her finding it first.

Of course, the fault was him.

He wipes some of the unshed tears from his eyes with one hand, the one which isn’t holding hers.

“I am so sorry Gideon.” He blubbers, “Truly I am.”

He shudders, tries to breathe and compose himself enough to speak even as the fears fill his head.

He has made so, so many mistakes. He sees that now, missing an entire year of one’s own life can certainly give you some perspective. He’s tried; oh he has tried so many times, to find his place. From the Time Masters, to Salvation, the Legends, and the Time Bureau… but in one way or another he’s always managed to ruin it.

He can’t have ruined her, them, too.

His eyes are burning with tears by the time he gives in, accepts that he isn’t going to be able to compose himself.

“But please… I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t wake up.”

#dccwrarepairswap #singledarkshade #timeship #rip hunter #gideon

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years

Text

Aberrations || 8

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Chapter: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07

A/N: This is gonna hurt!

Sweaty and red faced, Ara and Doona emerged from the throes of dancing bodies and fell over the bar counter, giggling.

“Man, it’s been a while since we’ve danced like that.” Doona said.

“Tell me about it. Do you think Sehun’s still keeping Y/N pressed to him or would he give her up for one dance?” Ara asked, drumming her hands on the counter and the bartender passed two glasses of water for the tired but still excited girls.

Ara gulped hers down in three swallows, looking up at Doona who was frowning over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” Ara asked.

Doona shook her head but didn’t turn back as she kept staring at something. Ara followed her gaze to see Yerin standing some distance away with Jungkook, looking like she was ranting about something to her boyfriend as Jungkook kept frowning and throwing dirty looks towards the loud boisterous group hiding the birthday boy.

“Something’s wrong.” Doona muttered.

“What do you mean?” Ara asked.

Doona shrugged but even Ara could feel something was going downhill as Yerin finally seemed to stop talking, instead pulling her phone out and beginning to type in it.

“Do you think it’s about Y/N?” Ara mumbled.

“I don’t know. I can’t see her. She must be with Sehun.”

Both friends exchanged a look before straightening and heading for the group of boys, looking for Y/N.

Just a few meters away, the same scene was being watched by Jimin and Hoseok, both watching the group of boys with mild contempt on their faces.

“I think I see why Suga doesn’t want be here with them. The singing class sucks.” Jimin said.

“Careful, Y/N’s a part of it.” Hobi pointed out.

Jimin threw his older friend a snarky grin but didn’t answer, choosing to take a swig of his beer. “I heard he gutted you when you went to see him in the studio.” Hobi continued.

Jimin cursed, “Can’t that man keep anything to himself?” he growled.

“Not with me, brother, what did you say to him anyway?” He asked.

“Absolutely nothing, I just told him he shouldn’t be a hermit and join us and somehow the conversation became about Y/N and I told him to tell her,” he said.

“You know how he gets when it comes to her. Why would you even?” Hobi asked calmly.

“I doubt you would be the one getting chewed off if you talk about her.” Jimin said sourly.

Hoseok grinned but it was grim.

He knew Yoongi better than anyone, even his own family. There was nothing about Min Yoongi that Hoseok didn’t know with the exception of Y/N. when it came to her, all he had was what he already knew about Yoongi and the assumptions he made out of his behaviors, which, honestly weren’t all that subtle.

His eyes trailed over to her friends at the other side of the bar and then the third girl, talking to Jeon.

He frowned before shrugging it off.

“Are you planning on taking someone home?” he asked a sullen Jimin already knowing the answer.

Jimin cast a derisive look at Hobi. “No, are you?” he asked.

Hoseok laughed. “Hell no, come on, let’s get out of here,” he placed his empty bottle on the counter and both boys got up, looking once at the main group then shrugging walking off without another glance.

Sehun wasn’t anywhere near the large group, who were supposed to be his birthday crew. It had all gone to hell.

He was sitting at one of the booths at the very back, trying not to let the sulkiness win out but it was a losing battle. He already had a bottle in his hand, his eyes sullenly watching people, friends, some siblings…couples, having a good time and he was missing out on it.

All because of one girl, the girl he claimed to love, his girlfriend.

That same girl had walked out on him, not once but twice now. Where had he gone wrong?

No…

Sehun knew exactly where he had gone wrong. He had known the exact date, time and place where he himself had allowed everything to go wrong. He had to, though, he had had no choice.

It started with one single thing, but then it escalated and with it, so did his unease and his guilt. Stupidly, he kept trying to cover that guilt by doing the exact thing more, this time willingly.

He sighed, taking another bitter gulp.

Did he still love Y/N? Yes, without a doubt. She was a great girl and he was terrified of permanently losing her, he could feel that fear oozing from him. He hadn’t even thought about following her both the times she’d left him standing in this exact Club and even though he wanted to, he couldn’t get up and walk out either.

His image was everything, after all. He was Oh Sehun. He would do anything to protect that.

And he had done everything to protect it; maybe that was where it all went wrong. Who knew? He certainly didn’t.

He pulled out his phone finally, and thumbed down to her contact, wondering if he should call or text. Did he even want to talk to her right now? No, he was drunk and he would be foolish. He settled for a text while his mind was still lucid and pushed it back into his pocket, some of the guilt lessening. He’d tried to reach out now. What more could he do?

Great, his entire birthday was no ruined.

But hey, at least he had a decent bank account and booze, right?

How bad could I be?

Cold, I felt too cold.

I shifted around on the bed, trying to reach out for the AC remote on my nightstand to shut off the conditioner. My fingers brushed against sheets, a blanket, and any second the wood of the nightstand should be under my fingertips but no…

My fingers brushed against something smoother, softer, warmer.

My eyes fluttered open. Someone was in my bed.

I was on my back, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling with a beautiful motif carved into it, too expensive and high end than my green and white wallpapered one and naked under the silky sheets, not my cotton ones.

I was in somebody else’s bed; somebody who definitely wasn’t Sehun, because even he had cotton sheets and a yellow ceiling with a fan, not central temperature.

Where in the world was I?

I turned my head, slowly to the other side and involuntarily flinched.

His back was to me, lying on his side, the blanket almost completely wrapped around him, leaving the cold sheets to wound around me. His torso rose and fell slowly, with the tempo of his breath, one arm under his pillow, the bicep of which I’d felt under my sleepy fingers.

I pulled my hand away, an amused smile crossing my lips. He was a blanket hogger. Why wasn’t I surprised?

I sighed, straightening my body under the sheets while pulling them up to my chin to cancel the cold. My body was stiff and felt sore in just the right places, a nice reminder of just how long it had been and how good last night was.

Even my head wasn’t pounding all that much. Who would’ve thought Min Yoongi was such a great preventative measure?

I grinned to myself; feeling exulted and for the first time, without a single shred of that horrid dread and guilt always lodged in my stomach. I had pulled myself away from Sehun and finally showed Yoongi how I felt and from how he had reacted…maybe, he felt the same.

We needed to talk about that after all, when he woke up. I turned on my side too, watching his peaceful slumber and reached out to stroke his silky hair. He grumbled; his morning voice low and husky and turned around to the other side, now facing me. I smiled at the fact that as sexy as Min Yoongi could be, he was still adorable as hell.

I felt my heart swell slightly at the sight of him, hands under his face which was puffy from sleep and so smooth, unmarred from his usual tensions. His eyes still had circles around them but he looked more relaxed, his lips puckered as he slept on.

I was in love with him.

I blinked as the words crossed my mind but this time I accepted it, almost peacefully. I wouldn’t be feeling guilty or scared of it anymore.

I was in love with Min Yoongi.

I pulled myself closer to him and brushed my lips against his lips, pulling away to see him puckering them more, mouthing at something.

Grinning, I slipped out from under the sheets, walking over to where his large black t-shirt lay at the foot of the bed and slipped it on with my underwear, throwing a careful look at him before letting myself out in his living room.

I moved to stand in front of the gilded mirror on the wall. My hair was a mess; my makeup, mostly dry still smearing my face, my lips swollen. There were also some faint reddish marks along my collarbones. I winced at that. I would have to hide those.

I glanced at the pale light shimmering through the large windows, realizing it was still way too early but I just didn’t feel sleepy.

I glanced at my bag still on his coffee table and went to it, fishing out my phone.

I had calls from Ara, Doona, Taehyung and two texts from Yerin and Sehun. I opened Yerin’s first.

I respect your choice of wanting to be alone but please tell me you are safe. Call me, Y/N, please.

I sighed, moving to Sehun’s.

Tell me when you get home.

I scoffed at his text. Who did he think he was? Why would I tell him anything? We were over. I had ended it last night.

I chewed on the phone cover. Maybe I had mentally ended it last night but I still needed to tell him, I also needed to tell Yoongi. It wasn’t fair to either of them, no matter how much Sehun had hurt me.

I just…wanted to stay in this comfortable bubble of untouchable safety for a bit more before exposing myself to the inquisition.

Deciding to get it done with quickly, like ripping off a band aid, I dialed Sehun, sitting on the couch, eyeing the rising sun, hoping it would bring hopefulness in my life.

“Y/N, where are you?” Sehun asked even as he picked up the phone.

I ignored the question. “Sehun we need to talk.” I said.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say babe, tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up.” He said.

“We can talk here Sehun.” I said.

“What? No, I need to see you. Where are you?” He said. I could tell he was growing impatient.

“I don’t want to see you and stop asking me where I am,” I snapped.

There was a pause before Sehun spoke again, his voice cautious. “Y/N, are you…with someone?” he asked.

“Well, even if I was, what would it matter, wouldn’t you say you deserve it, Sehun?” I asked sarcastically.

Damn it, Y/N, did you do something with someone or not?” his voice rose and my temper flared too. “Yes, I did, and don’t get all judgmental on me, you drove me away, you made me do this.” I hissed.

“You’re lying, you wouldn’t do this to me,” he said through gritted teeth but I had already hung up.

I tossed the phone to the side, running my fingers, trying to bring some semblance of tame to them. I suddenly felt exhausted. I just wanted to go back and cuddle against Yoongi’s warmth but that thought was jarred away when I heard a rough throat being cleared.

I turned around to see Yoongi standing in the hall, looking equally rumpled. He’d pulled on his sweatpants and a grey hoodie, his eyes gazing out the window.

“Hey,” I smiled softly, standing up. His eyes flickered to me but didn’t stay, instead choosing to look over my shoulder. “You’re still here?” he asked. My smile faltered slightly as he moved to go to the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t make any coffee.” I said.

“You didn’t have to.” He said, coolly, plugging in the machine.

I stood where I was, watching him move around efficiently and pouring the coffee in a mug, only one mug, which he picked up and put to his lips.

I blinked, suddenly feeling small, none of the warm confidence inflating me anymore. Yoongi was off today. I glanced back up at him to see him leaning against the counter, eyes fixed on me.

He watched me with cold, hard eyes, the same eyes that had looked at me the first time we’d met, like I disgusted him.

It hit me so hard; I nearly fell back into the sofa. Yoongi wasn’t acting strange. He was back to how he was before we’d reached the mutual agreement to become friends. He was the frigid Min Yoongi again, not the man who’d slept with me last night.

I shook myself, trying not to believe it, though. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t take advantage of me like that. Whatever, he was, he wasn’t a bad person.

“Yoongi,” I began, watching the way his eyes tightened when I said his name, “is something wrong?” I asked, my voice coming out mousey.

He didn’t answer for a moment before arching a well practiced eyebrow at me, “Why would there be anything wrong? You should go now.” He said.

“Go…where…home?” I asked.

“Obviously, what, you thought I was going to let you stay?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out as he smirked, walking around the counter, his expression contemptuous. “I don’t like to keep my one night stands around unless I plan to fuck them again and believe me sweetheart, I don’t plan on touching you again.” He said.

A gasp escaped me this time. A…one…night stand…? Is that what he saw last night as? He just…used me like that…and was just throwing me away now? The word ‘sweetheart’ was also back to the first night we’d met, meant to be hurtful and demeaning.

“What the hell, Yoongi?” I couldn’t help but breathe out, my eyes going hazy.

“Oh don’t get sensitive on me now, you had no problem coming to me last night and using me, begging me like a shameless desperate bitch.” He spat out.

“I used you?” I screeched.

“To get back at your loser of a boyfriend; yes, you both deserve each other, actually. Both of you are honestly pathetic.” He smirked as he took a sip of coffee again.

“What is your problem?” I asked, blinking back tears now. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. I would not cry in front of him.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “As usual, sweetheart, I don’t have a problem, it’s you who creates the problems. You got me to sleep with you, ok, I’ll give you credit for that but hey, I was bored anyways and it won’t be happening again. You bored your lame boyfriend out of his mind and now you’re groveling in front of me like the idiot you are.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a bastard! I…I thought you changed, I thought you actually cared enough to want to be my friend and…I’m so stupid, I thought you actually cared last night. I am an idiot. I actually fell for a jackass like you!” I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling heat bubble up behind my eyes but I was stubborn to not let him see.

He didn’t deserve to see them.

Silence rung out around us at my admission and I kept my face hidden, taking in deep breaths to keep the hot tears from bursting out from the corners of my eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t argue with you there. I needed you to stop being a difficult know nothing for the project. I’d be damned if I let a dumb girl like you fail me. It’s pretty low actually. I’ll admit though, you were a good lay.” He sneered.

I removed my hands, glaring at him. “Fuck you, Min Yoongi,” I gritted out.

He raised his mug at me. “Been there, done that, will you leave already? I have better things to do…literally.”

It took everything in me to keep my head up high as I walked back into the bedroom and changed back into the party outfit from last night, tightly wrapping my coat around me but it was futile. The doorman, if he was still working the shift had seen me; there would be no hiding my walk of shame.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to sit and just weep at how admittedly stupid I’d been. I’d let myself fall for Min Yoongi, a man; I knew was a certified bastard. Just because, he’d said a few kind words, I’d let my head become filled with fluff.

All for that stupid project…

I wished I’d never met Yoongi, I wish I’d never been in that damned class in the first place.

Clutching my hair, I took a shaky, rattling breath to steady me but it failed the moment I was out the door. I tried to walk out the door without looking about to where he sat, hunched on the couch, eyes back to staring at the window. Anyone else would say he was thinking about his words. Not me though, he was probably just thinking of what else he could call me.

I yanked open the door before, without being able to help myself, I turned to look back at him. His position had changed, legs crossed, head tilted in my direction. When he saw me pause, he gave an exaggerated look at the clock. I scoffed at the gesture but I just had to tell him.

“For the record, I meant everything. From the beginning to last night, every word, every action, I meant it all. I did care for you…nice to know what you thought of me. I hope you can finish the project yourself because I’m backing out, from the project and you. You can go to hell, Min Yoongi.” I slammed the door as I walked out of his life for good.

I didn’t call or text. I knew she would still be asleep but right now I didn’t care.

I rang the doorbell as many times as I could until I heard loud cursing from inside, profanities being yelled about how the person on the other side of the door better be important or she was going to use her baseball bat.

It would’ve made me laugh if not for the circumstances.

The door flung open and Yerin stepped out, her eyes widening and mouth falling open when she saw my state. I didn’t need a mirror to tell me what she saw. Clothes from last night; make up hastily wiped to look ok but no matter how much I rubbed it only made my eyes look redder.

She stepped out into the hallway, hands held out warily. “Y/N,” she said.

I threw myself at her, wrapping my arms tightly around her as I let the long awaiting sobs flow into her shoulder, crying for the love I’d so recklessly let myself walk into, for a love that didn’t even love me anymore but most importantly because I hadn’t let myself cry properly in a long while.

Hot water cascaded over my head, burning my scalp and the sensitive skin on my back and neck but I didn’t care. I felt dirty and the water was cleansing me. Yerin had quietly handed me some of her clothes and pointed towards the shower and I had obeyed.

Wrapped in one of her spare robes, I stood in front of the mirror, using the sleeve to wipe the steam off, watching my eyes subside slightly after the 20 minute long crying session.

“Stupid,” I snapped at my reflection before putting on the leggings and oversized sweater Yerin had given me, padding out to see her sitting with her arms folded on the couch.

“So,” she began and grimaced when I immediately flinched, bracing myself for the third degree.

“Don’t do that. I’m not going to say anything bad to you. I just want to know. Did…did you go to Yoongi?” she asked. I nodded, still standing.

“Did you…” she cleared her throat, “You slept with him, didn’t you?” she asked.

I paused before slowly nodding again.

“Y/N,” she sighed, leaning forward, “What happened?” she asked. I silently went to sit next to her. “You were right. He was just being nice to get through the project. He never liked me, he never…he never cared for me,” I gulped as a bout of fresh tears stung in my eyes.

I looked up to see Yerin’s soft, concerned face. “He kicked me out.” I said.

Anger twisted her features immediately. “That son of a bitch, I am going to kick his ass with my bare hands, I swear to god.” She gritted but I just shook my head slowly.

“No, it’s my fault. It was so obvious, after all. No one can turn 180 degrees like that in one night. I should’ve known something was wrong.” I said.

“Will you tell…Sehun?” she asked.

“I…already did.” I muttered.

Her eyes widened. “Y/N, what did he say?” she gasped. “He didn’t believe me first, I don’t know Yerin. I am so confused. I don’t know what I want anymore. I am not even sure about Sehun.” I said, feeling disgusted by myself.

“That’s because you love Min Yoongi.” Yerin said, smiling sadly when my neck snapped to her. “Oh come on, I’m your best friend. I knew the very second you fell for him. I think Ara and Doona did too but they never looked at anyone past Sehun for you. I guess, being in a group with him desensitized them.” She shrugged, placing an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

“What will you do now?” she asked.

“I’ll go home now. I need to…sleep, forever, preferably.” I said.

“And…the project,” she pressed.

“It can go to hell. I’ll fail the class but Taehyung won’t. Don’t tell him, please. Don’t tell the girls either, I’ll do it myself.” I said.

She nodded.

“Promise me, Yerin,” I insisted.

She gave me a piercing look but nodded anyways, “I promise.”

True to my word, I went home, still in Yerin’s clothes while she promised to throw the damned dress away. I opened my door and froze immediately as a tall figure, folded neatly on my couch, looked up at my entrance.

Sehun’s hair was standing on end, as if he’d pulled on them for hours. There were creases on his face and his lip was bleeding slightly, probably from biting it too hard.

A time ago, I would’ve rushed to him to demand what was wrong, but now I just stared at him, expressionless.

“Y/N,” he said his voice hoarse.

I just stared.

He stood up, approaching me apprehensively, like I was a caged animal, he had let loose. He stopped a safe distance away. “Why are you here?” I asked, softly.

His eyes snapped up to me.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I came to see you. You can’t just tell me that over the phone and expect us to be over, Y/N.” he said, his brow furrowing.

I smiled humorlessly. “Funny, that was exactly what I was going for, actually.” I said, undoing my scarf and coat and hanging them up.

“Y/N, look, I know I messed up but you didn’t have to lie like that. It wasn’t…good. We can get through this.”

“I didn’t lie.” I said turning back to look at him and his eyes immediately dropped to where the large sweater hung loosely around my smaller frame, exposing my neck and shoulder to his widening gaze.

Marks were still visible on them, faint but easily distinguishable. Marks that Sehun hadn’t made, which just got Sehun madder.

His eyes darkened, fists bunching as his muscles tensed under the jacket.

“You…you actually…”

I didn’t say anything.

He sighed harshly, looking around the apartment before meeting my gaze.

“You were right. I made you do this. It was a onetime thing. We can get past this.” He nodded, as if trying to convince himself.

“Sehun, we were over the second I left you yesterday,” I said slowly, ignoring his wince, “and I slept with someone else. Why do you still want me back? So, you can push and boss me around? So you can use my sleeping with someone else as more ammunition? I don’t think so.” I said, slowly.

“I want you back because I love you.” He snarled.

“You stopped loving me the moment you decided I was disposable.” I argued.

He sneered, eyes again falling to my neck and his face contorted. “Who was he?” he asked.

“I fail to see how that is your business.” I said.

He stalked forward, stopping a little bit closer to me.

“It’s my business because the son of a bitch slept with my girlfriend!” he growled. “Ex,” I corrected.

His hand shot out, wrapping around my arm. “Listen to me, Y/N,” he began when the door opened and Ara and Doona came in, chattering, their arms laden with groceries. They stopped, their smiles vanishing when they saw the state Sehun and I were standing in.

“What’s going on?” Ara asked.

Sehun dropped his hold on my arm with a bitter laugh, giving me one last look. “Ask your best friend.” He walked around me and brushed past the girls, their eyes following him out as Doona came to me.

“Did he hit you?” she asked urgently.

“No, can we talk later? I need to sleep.” I said, wearily, my body feeling heavy and empty.

“Y/N,” Ara began but Doona nodded. “Sure, we’ll talk later.” She said.

I nodded, walking down the hall to my bedroom, wrapping up in my comfy blanket and closing my eyes, wishing I was just dead already.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts #yoongi #min yoongi #abberations

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magmasliveblogs · 5 years

Text

1.10

a bit early compared to recently! this is the 11th chapter! to recap: last chapter erin met pisces, a mage who has been using illusion magic to scam people out of their money and food! we learned that the seed cores are poisonous and that humans tend to be racist, at least in this area. we also heard of some sort of academy and that this mage dabbles with necromancy!

At some point Erin slept. At some point Erin woke up. These were minor details. What mattered was the sound.

Knock. Knock.

She tried hard to ignore it. But it kept going and going, waking her up from her peaceful oblivion.

After a while, the knocking was too hard to ignore. Erin opened her eyes and sat up. It was far too bright in the world. And noisy.

Someone was knocking at the door. Erin thought about going back to sleep, but the knocking hadn’t ceased for the last few minutes. So she reluctantly got up and opened the door.

“What do you want?”

Pisces the friendly mage gave her a brilliant smile.

“Greetings Good Mistress. I was wondering if I could impose upon you—”

Erin shut the door. After a few seconds she opened it.

“Less words. Get to the point.”

“Um. Very well. Are you open today?”

Erin looked around.

“Who?”

“You. This establishment.”

“Here?”

Pisces blinked a few times. He spoke very carefully.

“Is this place open? Do you provide sustenan—food? I pay, I eat?”

Erin glared at him.

“It’s early. Yes, I guess I am open. Come in.”

quick note, some parts of the text are in italics, that doesnt seem to carry over. also this is quite funny

She stomped inside. After a moment Pisces followed.

“I would like to peruse your menu if I m—”

Erin tossed a plate on the table and left. She came back with four blue fruits and tossed them on the table too. Pisces stared at the fruit and opened his mouth. He looked at Erin’s expression and amended whatever he was going to say.

“If I might trouble you for a knife and fork—”

She slapped them down on the table and walked away. She would have liked to go back to sleep, but the sounds of Pisces shifting and the clink of silverware on pottery was too distracting. Instead, she got her own blue fruit and started a fire to warm up her pasta. She munched on the sweet fruit in dour silence.

Outside, it began to rain.

—-

you can practically hear erin internally saying “its too early for this!”

Rain. Rain fell down from the heavens like hail. Well, actually it fell like rain, but these were bigger drops that fell a lot faster and harder than normal. The hammering of rain against the rooftop was nearly deafening.

Nearly. Behind her Pisces set down his knife and fork and sighed loudly. Erin wished he wasn’t here. It wasn’t that she disliked company; she was starved for it. She just wished her company wasn’t him.

“That’s a lot of rain.”

She was talking to herself, but he seemed to take it as an invitation to speak.

“It happens quite often. A natural weather phenomenon, you know.”

Erin turned and glared at Pisces. He raised both eyebrows and held up his cup.

“Another drink if you would. My cup has run dry.”

“Where did you find—stay out of my kitchen.”

“I would be only too happy to. But I fear I was quite parched and if you would be so good…?”

Erin’s eye twitched. But she went and got a cup for herself as well. She didn’t pour his drink, but rather set the pitcher of juice on the other end of the table so he had to reach for it.

its the little victories

“Does it rain like this a lot?”

“Seldom. It’s a seasonal weather pattern. Actually, this is an aberration. Normally it rains for far longer, but someone’s been messing around with the weather. So we’ll have a brief storm, that’s all.”

She glanced at him.

“Messing with the weather? How?”

He smirked at her. She noted with displeasure that he was already on his second cup of blue juice.

“With magic, how else? Some shortsighted fool must have cast a localized weather control spell. Impressive I suppose, but clumsy in execution.”

Erin looked outside.

“Seems impressive to me. I mean, it’s raining hard. Wouldn’t you have to be a pretty powerful sorcerer to do that?”

“The term is mage, Good Mistress.”

“The name is Erin, idiot.”

ooo weather mages are a thing!

“Aha. Accept my apologies. But if you are referring to one of my exalted brethren, mage is the best term to use.”

Erin stared at him. He didn’t appear abashed in any way.

“You don’t have wizards or sorcerers or…warlocks? Witches? You’re all just mages?”

“Rather, shall we say that those are titles for mages who meet certain requirements? A wizard is an arcane researcher and true student of the arcane arts. Such individuals are similar to myself, but prefer to study the mainstream branches of magic. Sorcerers on the other hand are quite simplistic and refer to those who educate themselves and have little formal education. Warlocks obtain their powers from other sources such as summoning, while witches practice alchemy along with specialized schools of magic. Thus, mage remains the generally accepted title to refer to all those who practice magic…”

He trailed off. Erin was staring at him.

“Okay. I didn’t need to know all that.”

Pisces shrugged.

“You asked. I was merely fulfilling my role as a guest.”

“Good. For you. So what, a—mage did this?”

“Yes. And it’s not as if this is a particularly difficult task. I realize it may look so to the uninitiated, but a spell like this could easily be cast by a level 30 mage. Less I suppose, if the individual were specialized.”

ah yes a rant from a scholar, good way to get info. plus level 30 seems a bit high considering how slow erin is leveling

“So…?”

“As I said, not that impressive. Many mages could cast a spell like this.”

“Can you?”

Pisces paused.

“My specialization lies in other areas.”

“Like dead bodies.”

He avoided her gaze and drained his cup.

“Merely another branch of magic, good mistress Erin.”

Erin stared at him. She opened her mouth, but then the door slammed. Both Erin and Pisces turned as a wet, dark figure sauntered into the inn and threw his arms wide.

“Good morning cold folk, warm-blooded Human and—oh.”

Relc paused and stared at Pisces. Klbkch closed the door and bowed slightly at Erin.

irony! also it seems this mage would want to avoid guards

“Please pardon our intrusion. Is this establishment open for business?”

“What? Oh. Yeah.”

Erin scrambled for words. Relc was still staring at Pisces who studiously ignored him as he refilled his cup.

“It’s been a while. I guess. But come in. Or come in more. Have a seat. Want something to eat?”

“If you would be so kind.”

Klbkch wiped his feet and stepped over to a table. Relc was still staring.

“You multiplied. Can Humans do that?”

“What? Oh no, that’s just Pisces. He’s annoying so ignore him.”

Erin waved Relc over to a seat as she went to the kitchen for plates.

Relc kept staring until Klbkch kicked him and motioned him to a seat.

“I believe staring is considered rude in most cultures. Sit down and cease your rudeness.”

Relc glared and sat. Klbkch turned and nodded to Pisces.

“Please excuse my companion’s rudeness.”

relc is becoming suspicious! this isnt good for pisces

Turning her back on him, Erin smiled at Relc and Klbkch.

“So um, hi again. It’s been a while. Klbkch and…?”

Klbkch nodded while Relc looked expectant.

“Um. Uh…”

“Relc.”

Klbkch murmured softly.

“Relc! Right, right.”

“What? How come you remembered this idiot’s name and not mine?”

Relc looked aggrieved. Erin blushed.

“Um, sorry.”

“Aren’t I the better looking one here? What gives?”

“Sorry. It’s just—uh, you know. I’ve got a bad memory.”

“Really?”

“…No. Sorry. It’s just been a busy two days.”

“Oh.”

He looked deflated. Erin tried to cheer him up.

i mean it has been busy

“I’ve got more pasta. Well, it’s old pasta but it still tastes good! And more blue juice. And blue fruit! It’s uh, not poisonous if you only eat the outer bit.”

“Ooh, pasta!”

Relc perked up instantly. Erin went to fetch the pasta and placed two steaming plates in front of the two.

“My thanks.”

Klbkch nodded at Erin and both began eating. Around mouthfuls, Relc eyed Erin and then Pisces.

“So, how’re you doing? Level up again?”

“Actually, I did. Right after you two left.”

“Ooh, congratulations! Did you get a new skill?”

“[Basic Crafting]. It helped me make a basket out of grass.”

“That’s quite useful! Most craftsman and artisan classes get that early on. I guess innkeepers are sorta like that, right? Got to take care of the inn, repair windows, fix tables, and all that.”

“I guess. I haven’t ever tried that and besides, I don’t have a hammer. Actually, I’ve never swung a hammer in my life.”

“Well, you’ve got the skill for it, so it’ll be a breeze. And you can buy a hammer no problem. Just head down to the city and you can get a good one for only a silver coin or two. Tell you what, if you’re ever in the area I’ll help you get one at a discount.”

“Really? That’s really generous. Thank you.”

Erin smiled hesitatingly at Relc who grinned back at her as he slurped down a noodle. Klbkch set down his fork and nodded at his companion.

“Not entirely. I do believe my companion would earn a small fee for directing any business to his associates.”

Relc glared at Klbkch.

“Shut up. Do you have to ruin everything I say?”

“I am merely pointing out the truth.”

“Well…stop it.”

Erin had to smile as the two began bickering. However, she was the only one amused. Across the inn Pisces drained his mug and plonked it down on the table.

“If we’re done with the lovely chatting, my glass is empty. Isn’t attending to one’s customers part of my service?”

Erin glared. Relc glared too. Klbkch—well, she still couldn’t read the ant man’s expression, but he definitely gave off a silent air of disapproval.

“Nice customer you’ve got here.”

“Yeah. Hey—shut up!”

Pisces raised his brows.

“How discourteous. I believe I shall bring my business elsewhere next time.”

“I don’t want it anyways. Besides, you tried to rob me last time. You’re here on sufferance, and because I feel bad for you.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. Erin sniffed and debated whether she should refill his glass anyways, but felt a sharp poke at her side. She screamed and jumped.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t—don’t do that!”

Erin rubbed at where Relc’s claw had poked her.

ooooookkaaaaaaaay it seems drakes can be just as racist as humans. good to know klb is polite

“Sorry. Again. But…you said rob? As in, that guy over there tried to rob you?”

Relc’s voice was a low hissing whisper as he glanced over as Pisces. He needn’t have bothered, though. Pisces was still engrossed in his cup. Erin grinned maliciously and whispered back.

“Yeah. Last night I was visited by a scary monster. But when I hit it with a pa—pot, it turned out just to be him. So I got him to pay up for scaring me and the food.”

“Extorted.”

“Shut up! You’re lucky I didn’t just toss you in the stream and let the fish eat you!”

“And…you let him come back for breakfast?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s dangerous. Just annoying.”

“And you didn’t think to report him to anyone?”

“Like who?”

Erin stared blankly at Relc. He stared at her. Klbkch finished his plate of noodles and set down his fork. Then he stared at Erin too.

“Oh. Oh. I forgot. And besides, you weren’t here yesterday.”

Klbkch nodded.

“Very true. Our absence was most lamentable. But allow us to perform our duty now. Incidentally Mistress Solstice, the pasta was delicious.”

“Yeah, it’s great! Hold on.”

Relc grabbed the fork and started shoveling the pasta in his mouth. He was able to cram nearly half the plate down his throat in one huge gulp, and munched down the rest in seconds. Erin stared with fascinated horror and a tiny bit of envy as he gobbled.

That done, Relc exchanged a glance with Klbkch. Then he turned to Pisces.

“Hey you!”

Pisces looked up with a scowl. He glared at Relc and made an irritable harrumph.

“Do you want something? I don’t do magic upon request. If you seek a certain spell, I would be happy to discuss my remunerations…later.”

“Really?”

Relc grinned in his seat.

“How about you do the magic spell where you turn into a monster? I’d love to see that. Or better yet, do you have a spell to get out of trouble? Because you’re going to need one now.”

Pisces’s face went blank. His eyes flicked to Erin, and then back to Relc and Klbkch.

“Ah. I see the good innkeeper holds a grudge. Well, I’m not sure what she told you two, but I assure you, I have compensated her more than adequately for my…mistake. It’s nothing two soldiers need concern themselves with.”

“Oh, but it is, it is! And you’re wrong, by the way.”

“About what?”

Relc exchanged a glance with Klbkch. He grinned. Or rather, his mouth opened and she showed Pisces his teeth.

“We’re no soldiers. We’re guardsmen.”

“Ah.”

For a second Pisces was very still. Then with a surprising burst of speed he leapt out of his chair and ran for the door.

Relc’s arm moved. Erin was only aware of a blur of movement and then his arm shot forward. She screamed and his spear blew past her ear, but the spear didn’t strike Pisces. It flew between his legs as he tried to run and tripped him up. He sprawled to the ground as Relc pushed his chair back. Klbkch was already on his feet.

“Do not move. You are under arrest for intimidation and attempted theft. Remain still. Any sudden moves will result in bodily harm.”

the jig is up pisces! also im skipping a bit because the guards start beating pisces up and erin protests, along with a bit of pisces trying to use his academy connections to get out of this

“Humans. You’re so arrogant and crazy. It’s almost funny. If you’re so full of powerful magic, dodge this.”

He swung his spear forward, the butt of the spear first. But where the spear should have cracked Pisces over the head, Relc’s swing met nothing but air. Pisces was suddenly gone.

“What the—”

Relc blinked. Erin gaped. Klbkch instantly swung his swords in an arc, slashing the air around the chair. But he touched nothing.

“Gone.”

Relc swiped the air where Pisces had been with his spear and growled deep in his throat. Erin stared.

“He’s not invisible? He did that once.”

Relc shook his head angrily. “No. I’d be able to sense if he were in a few feet of me. No, this was an illusion spell. A damn clever one, too. He pretended he was here and walked off while we were busy chatting.”

Klbkch looked to the door.

“I am unsure of when he left. He may have escaped only a few minutes ago. We may still catch him if we hurry.”

“Right, right.”

Relc cursed and swung his spear angrily. It made a terrific whooshing sound as it cut the air. Erin held her breath, afraid he’d let go and accidentally cut her.

Klbkch turned and bowed his head to her.

“Thank you for informing us of his class, Mistress Erin. Although he posed no threat to either Relc nor I, he is far more dangerous than we had believed.”

“Really? I thought—he didn’t seem dangerous. I mean, I hit him with a pot and that knocked him out.”

“Oh, he’s probably as dangerous as a frog in a fight. That’s not the problem.”

Relc shook his head.

“We thought he was just an illusionist. That’s annoying, but really all he can do is scare folks into giving him things. But a necromancer’s worse. Far worse. We could let him go if he was just a normal mage, but we’ve got to find him now and he knows it.��

“Why?”

Relc muttered to himself. He was still looking around and his tongue was flicking out of his mouth, as if tasting the air. It was the first time he’d really reminded Erin of a lizard from her world.

“A rogue necromancer on the loose does nasty things. Even a low-level one can bring down villages if you give him enough dead bodies, and they level fast when that happens. We’re gonna have to hunt this guy down. If we can’t catch him today, I’ll have the Captain send out multiple patrols once we get back to the city.”

yep, necromancy is glared upon in this world

“We should be able to cover the distance in approximately ten minutes if we run.”

Relc nodded in agreement.

“So we’ve gotta go. Why? Are you worried he’ll attack you?”

“No, not that. It’s just—the city.”

“The city? What about it?”

“Um, where is it?”

Relc and Klbkch stared at her silently and then exchanged a glance.

“…You mean, you don’t know?”

“No. Should I? It’s not like there’s a sign or anything around here.”

Relc looked amused.

“Don’t be snippy. But it’s easy to spot. Look, you can even see it out the window here.”

He walked over to a window and pointed. Erin squinted out it.

“…Is it that black spot there?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, it’s really not. It could be a rock.”

“It’s not a rock. Why are you having a hard time believing me? Can’t you see the buildings?”

“No, I can’t.”

“I do not believe she can, in point of fact.”

Relc and Erin turned to look at Klbkch. He studied her and then brought his face close to hers. Erin flinched as his face came close to hers.

“Do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm.”

“Sorry—sorry. It’s just the pinchers. And the eyes. It’s just—sorry.”

Relc laughed.

“Don’t mind Klbkch. He’s ugly even for an ant. But you really can’t see the city from here?”

Klbkch nodded. He seemed focused on Erin’s own eyes.

“I believe Humans have more limited eyesight than you or I.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

Relc huffed to himself. He pointed out the window at the black dot.

“Look, the city’s that way. It’s only a twenty minute walk and there aren’t many monsters along the way. Besides, once you get within a few miles the area is regularly patrolled so you won’t have any problems. And if those idiots at the gate stop you – which they won’t – just tell them you know me.”

Klbkch nodded.

“Or me. However, you should encounter no problems. Only those with past records of crime are unwelcome in Liscor.”

welp it seems erin completely forgot the settlement in the distance, which turns out to be liscor!

“And speaking of which…we’ve gotta go. It’s my day off, but we’ll report that annoying human maggot-mage back at the barracks. If we move fast, we might get him before he runs too far.”

Relc was on his feet. He moved so quickly that Erin was left gaping. One second he was sitting down, the next he was at the door.

“Hey Klbkch, coming?”

And then Klbkch was there too. If Erin hadn’t seen the black blur that swept past her and felt the rush of air, she would have sworn he’d teleported.

“Indeed. It is unfortunate we must leave so soon. Our apologies, Mistress Solstice.”

“No—no problem.”

“Well then.”

Klbkch nodded to her. Relc waved and was out the door in a flash. Erin was left sitting with a table full of dirty plates and a state of mild shock.

She had just picked up the first plate when the door slammed back open. She jumped, but Relc waved at her.

“Oh, sorry we forgot to pay. We’re in a hurry so—put it on our tab!”

The door closed. Erin stared at it hopefully, but it didn’t open again.

“…What tab?”

it seems erin needs to learn innkeeper customs

also thats the end of the chapter! will pisces return? will he be caught? will erin remember this tab? will erin go to liscor soon?

see you tomorrow!

#chrono

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