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isshua · 1 year

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Messianic Aureation

Chapter 11: To Tempt a God's Wrath

Summary: With the help of a new friend, Cara sets off to steal the Holy Lyre der Himmel. It’s time to once again face the Vessels who want her dead.

I finished editing this chapter in an airport lol

Chapter 12 is here

“Look,” Bennett said when they were crossing under a large stone column left over from a civilization now long gone. He pointed to a nearby tree, thin and scraggly with no leaves. Weighing down one of its branches was a purple-and-black raven watching them with glittering green eyes. Without a sound, it spread its large wings and took to the air, circling once over their heads, and then flying north, keeping low below the everpresent mist that seemed to hover over the land bordering Dragonspine permanently.

“Follow her,” was all Kaeya said. Their journey continued.

Cara kept her eyes on the bird as often as possible while they left the Dragonspine area. They passed the Frostbearing Tree, with its unnatural warmth seeping invitingly into her chilled bones. The Frostarm Lawlachurl sitting near it gave them no trouble, but seemed to focus its gaze on her specifically as it watched them without uttering a sound. The raven led them down a noticeable road by the Fatui camp set up not far from the Frostbearing Tree, and then over the broken stone bridge that would bring them into the Windwail Highland. They did not go through the adventurer camp, even though it would have been nice to pick up some warm goulash from Harris if they had. It was probably for the best that they avoided it, since none of them had any idea how the people there would react to seeing the face of the imposter walking free among them once again.

They broke off from the road to cross through tall grass and had to stop at the edge of a small canyon cutting their path in half. The raven flew across it and landed on the roof of an empty Shrine of the Depths to wait for them. Cara peered over the cliff and down at the road below, her stomach turning slightly when she saw how far of a drop she would take if she were to go over.

“Looks like we’re going to have to glide,” Kaeya said.

“But I don’t have a glider,” Cara told him.

“Hm. Well, I guess I could carry you. I’m sure I can hold onto you long enough before I lose my grip and send you plummeting to your doom.” Kaeya studied the distance between their cliff and the one beyond.

The raven cried out impatiently and flapped its wings.

“Um, Your Grace, if I may have your ear for a moment?” Sucrose asked timidly. “I could have a way to solve this problem. As you know, I have an Anemo Vision. I can conjure up minor recreations of Anemo-based lifeforms. They are rather unstable, but I think if I can create one that’s small enough, it won’t tear you apart with its wind and can maybe carry you to the other side…now that I say it out loud, it doesn’t sound like such a good idea…but it might be worth a shot at trying.”

“Are you sure it’ll be safe?” Bennett asked.

Sucrose shrugged. “Maybe? I’ve tested it before, but only on small animals and monsters.”

“I think we should trust Sucrose!” Klee said. “She’s very smart, and her wind powers are very strong! The Anemo Archon wouldn’t have given her a Vision if he thought she couldn’t handle it!”

“That’s…very mature of you to say, Klee. And thank you. Your Grace, may I help you across?”

Cara drew in a breath and hid her hesitation. “Okay.”

Sucrose’s Vision started to glow when she stepped back and bunched her hands together in a ball. Anemo rapidly began to swirl around her closed fists. “Enhanced Anemo Module 75!” she yelled. She flung her hands outward and released the built-up energy. Wind hit all of their faces when a large Anemo spirit formed from Sucrose’s elemental burst. Cara gasped when she was picked up by the gusts of air and carried haphazardly over the canyon. The wind spirit dumped her rather unceremoniously on the other side and then dissolved away in a burst of teal light.

She stood up on shaky legs and watched her friends glide smoothly over the canyon. “Cara alright?” Razor asked when he thumped down beside her and withdrew his wings.

“Yup, everything’s still in working order. Thanks for the lift, Sucrose. That was actually sort of fun.”

Sucrose blushed at the praise. “I-oh-I mean-um-you’re welcome, Your Grace.”

The raven cawed again and took flight. “We’re almost there,” Kaeya said. “Let’s keep going.”

The afternoon was warm and clear, and Cara found herself readily acclimating to the pleasant weather she had left behind during her month-long stay in Dragonspine. The sun peeked out from behind the occasional cloud, kissing her skin with a warmth so very different from that of a fire. The wind sang through the bushes and the trees, played through the grass, caressed her hair and called out its joyful announcement to the world around it with vigor. “Here she is, our beloved Creator, returning to us from the peaks of the frozen mountain! After so much time, we can see her again, hear her again, and bask in her glorious light! Come now, creatures of Monstadt, witness the return of your god!”

“Is it just me, or are there more animals than usual out and about?” Bennett asked.

He was right. Just like her first day in Teyvat, the wildlife around them seemed to be more active than usual. Foxes watched them from beneath the trees, grazing deer lifted their heads to look at them with their gentle gazes, and birds sang a rejoicing melody. All the while the wind continued to fly and dance and sing.

“The wind,” Cara stated with partial disbelief. “The wind is calling to them. I…I can understand it.”

Her friends all exchanged intrigued glances, but said nothing when they saw how her expression was alive with wonder as she basked in Teyvat’s embrace. She was so enthralled, she didn’t even notice when her traveler outfit glowed gold and shed its winter version to return to its previous summer look.

The wind lost its strength when Monstadt City grew near. Its voice weakened to a whisper, urgently breathing its final message into Cara’s ears. “We cannot communicate with you here. He is cutting us off from you and bending us to his will. Once you are behind those walls, we will have no choice but to obey him. You will be on your own.”

Silence befell her senses. Teyvat’s presence disappeared, and she was alone. Her connection to the world had grown stronger over the course of a month, but she was still in the domain of the Anemo Archon. He would always have the upper hand while she was here…unless she got her hands on his gnosis, which felt more and more like an impossible task by the second. She breathed in through her nose and held it deep within her stomach before slowly letting it out. There would be no panicking. Just because she couldn’t communicate with Teyvat didn’t mean she was alone. Razor, Bennett, Kaeya, Sucrose, and Klee were with her, and from what Kaeya had told her back at Albedo’s camp, more allies would be joining them soon. She was going to be okay, she told herself. She wasn’t alone.

They climbed down a short cliff and found themselves back on a road again, in a secluded portion not far from Springvale and Monstadt City. The raven landed on a large boulder and cried out once. Its body grew and shifted from the shape of a bird to that of a human girl. Fischl and Oz separated and returned to their own bodies. The Electro user crossed her legs and flipped back her hair. “Behold!” she cried with a flashy smile. “Thou thought what you saw was nothing more than a simple raven! But it was actually I, Fischl, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, in the form of my faithful familiar!”

Oz landed on his master’s shoulder and bowed his head in greeting. “A fine afternoon it is, Almother Caratrice and friends of the Creator. How do you do? Mein Fräulein and I noticed you all traveling down Dragonspine during one of our usual checkups. We assumed this was a clear sign that the plan Sir Kaeya decided upon in case of emergencies was being put into action. Our other ally has been contacted, and I anticipate her arrival at any moment.”

“Thank you, Oz,” Kaeya said. “You have my gratitude.”

“Did you know I could possess Oz and take to the skies so readily?” Fischl asked, completely unaware of the conversation happening. “It is a clear sign of our bond. Oz and I are two pieces of the same whole, and whenever I deem it necessary, I call upon the tethers that bind us and unite our souls! ‘Tis quite an impressive achievement, is it not?”

“Tis,” both Cara, Razor, and Bennett agreed at the same time.

Kaeya caught Cara’s attention. “Your Grace, I may be a little late, telling you this now, but Fischl and Oz have been keeping an eye on you for the past month. Fischl can possess Oz and go wherever she pleases in his form, you know, so she was the perfect candidate to make sure you were safe and the hounds were nowhere near your location.”

“We sincerely hope we were not crossing any boundaries by doing so,” Oz added. “If we did, we did not mean to upset you. We were only worried for your safety, you see?”

“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” Cara assured him. “It’s actually nice to know you guys were looking out for me. Thank you for caring so much.”

“There is no need to thank us, Your Grace!” Fischl crossed her arms and held her head high. “We are thou devoted acolytes, after all! For the God Above All Gods, I would shed my lifeforce, spill my blood, and bring the Immernachtreich crashing down in a glorious eclipse of darkness and light if it meant to shield you from the horrors of this world! To protect you is our purpose!”

“M-Maybe we don’t have to resort to such violent actions in order to help me?” Cara suggested. “Just being my friend is enough.”

From behind them, there was the clinking of armor. The first thought that ran through Cara’s head upon hearing it was The knights. They heard us. They found me. Instantly she had her sword drawn and was in a defensive stance. Kaeya, Bennett, and Razor pressed close to her with their own weapons bristling. Sucrose grabbed Klee and retreated further behind the boulder. Fischl and Oz looked on, neither of them worried. “There is no need to attack!” the prinzessin announced. “We are not faced with the presence of an enemy, but a friend! Lower thy weapons!”

The young woman in front of them flung up her hands and shook with panic. “W-Wait, please! I assure you, I mean no harm!”

Sucrose timidly emerged out of the boulder’s shadow. “Noelle?”

“It is Noelle!” Klee exclaimed. “She made it, she made it!”

“Yes, I did.” The warrior maid lowered her hands. “I’m so sorry for startling you all. I hurried here as quickly as I could after Oz delivered the message to me.”

“Were you followed? Did anyone notice you?” Kaeya asked.

“No, I made sure to cover my tracks diligently. No one should know I’m here.” Noelle curtseyed to Cara elegantly. “Your Grace, it is my pleasure and honor to be in your holy presence. I am Noelle, maid of the Knights of Favonius. I am here to serve and protect you in any way possible.”

“Noelle.” Cara smiled when she said her name. “You don’t need to introduce yourself, I know who you are. Please, call me Cara. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

“Oh, no!” Noelle shook her head insistingly. “I must address you in the way you deserve to be! I could never speak to a god in such a casual manner, especially the Almother of Teyvat!”

“I’m-I’m not-” Cara sighed and gave up. There’s no getting through to them.

“What is the trouble? Do you need healing supplies? Food? Water? Whatever you need, I’ll bring it to you!” Noelle brought out her backpack and started to rummage through it. “I have potions as well, both offensive and defensive. If any stitches or bandage application is needed, I can do that, too! Oh Razor, don’t give me that look. Being a maid includes helping others heal! I assure you, I know what I’m doing.”

“Much of that may come in handy later, but for now, no, we don’t need any supplies,” Kaeya said. “What we do need is your help.”

Noelle nodded eagerly. “Yes, help! I can certainly provide that. What do you need help with?”

Razor pointed at Monstadt City in the distance. “We need to go there.”

“There?” Noelle followed his indication of direction. “Oh, surely you don’t mean the city. It is far too dangerous for Her Grace to go there. If the Acting Grand Master was to see her, she would kill her on sight.”

“We know,” Cara said. “Believe me, if I could avoid going back, I would. But there’s something in the city that I need to do. I have to get in without being seen.”

“Your Grace, I apologize for questioning you, but I don’t believe there is truly anything important enough in there that is worth risking your life over. You don’t understand what it’s been like since you escaped twice. There are wanted posters with your face on them covering every street lamp and bulletin board! And it’s not just the Knights of Favonius who are hunting you anymore either, it’s the citizens, too! I even had a bard ask me if I’ve seen you anywhere. The way he looked at me almost made me think he knew I was secretly one of your followers!”

“Oh no,” Cara breathed. “A bard?” The phantom pain of Venti’s arrow gutting her stomach made her clutch her middle.

“Yes, a bard.” Noelle tilted her head quizzically at her reaction. “Is he someone you know? If so, I would suggest avoiding him. He doesn’t seem to be very fond of you.”

She didn’t comment, far too spooked at the prospect of Venti tracking her every move. Razor noticed her distress and patted her back. Kaeya took over the conversation. “I understand where your concern for Her Grace is coming from, but this is a matter of urgency that cannot be ignored. We need to get into the city. It is the key to Cara gaining mastery over the wind. That is why you and Fischl are here. The two of you, as well as Sucrose and Klee, aren’t suspected by the knights as being traitors to the false Creator. You can clear a path for us and get us safely in without causing unwanted detection.”

“But that means-oh no.” Noelle gasped. “The hounds, they saw you!”

“Yes, they did. Jean must know by now that I can no longer be trusted, which means my connections and the advantages I can offer us are lost. It’s up to you now.”

“Please,” Cara added. “Help us.”

Noelle sighed. “If this is something you must do…then I will stand by you and help. I’ll get you into the city!”

“I shall also help you sneak into the lair of thy enemy and acquire the prize that will bend the power of Anemo to thy will!” Fischl announced. “Oz and I shall do all within our power to deliver Her Grace from the claws of fate that would seek to snatch her at every turn, and to ready our minds lest we be required to make the ultimate sacrifice in the performance of this noblest of duties! But first, I must comment on the fact that thou art no longer in possession of the gifts from the Immernachtreich I bestowed upon thee the last time we met.”

Cara winced guiltily when she recalled the tattered remains of the wig and Fatui mask Fischl gave her. “Yes, I don’t have them anymore. They got destroyed when I teleported to Dragonspine through a waypoint. I’m really sorry. I can find a way to pay you back for them, I promise.”

“Pay me back?” Fischl looked flabbergasted. “Why wouldst thou wishest to pay me back? Those ‘gifts of the Immernachtreich’ were only pointless baubles, now that I think about it. I have plenty more back in my abode. For such things to be destroyed during your valiant escape via timespace is undoubtedly expected. Oz and I have traveled between the waypoints countless times when possessed by your guiding light. To survive such a mode of travel without the protection your presence supplies is an unbelievable feat.”

“Indeed, you have no reason to apologize, Your Grace,” Oz agreed. “Everyone here understands how dangerous it is to use teleport waypoints. I myself have lost a few feathers when traveling between them.”

“We knew such an occurrence might happen. So, your devoted worshiper decided to have another gift of the Immernachtreich crafted so that your face may be hidden from the hunters.” Fischl held out a box elegantly wrapped in red-and-gold paper with a teal bow on top. “For you! Please, open it!”

“A gift for me?” Cara shook her head. “Oh, Fischl, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Quell thy humbleness! You are a god. It is completely natural for you to be accepting offerings from followers! Now open!”

Cara reluctantly accepted the present and carefully tore the wrapping paper away. Inside the box, nestled over teal tissue paper, was a mask of a white dragon with storm blue eyes. Portions of the wood were carved to resemble fur, and a set of three horns, with the longest on top of the head and the second two running down the sides, made it look intimidating and fierce. A single golden diamond star was painted on the center of its forehead.

“Woah, cool!” Bennett said. “That’s a windtrace mask! Back when the aristocracy ruled Monstadt, the underground rebellion would wear these to hide their identities. Nowadays, people usually wear them during Ludi Harpastum or to masquerade parties.”

“Mein Fräulein and I commissioned the kind owner of the gift shop in town,” Oz explained. “We were planning on giving it to you regardless of whether you still had the wig and previous mask, but this is a much better circumstance. It is modeled after Caratrice’s true form.”

Cara ran her hands over the mask, marveling at the craftsmanship. “So, this…is supposed to be me?”

“Mhm!” Fischl nodded. “I am sure you have already heard about the secret fire that lies within you. There is a poem I know that perfectly describes it. “The Six-Winged Queen rides the wind, with flaming breath and mouth agrin. Atop Her head is a golden star, a sign of power that spreads afar.” Your Grace, please wear this gift with all of the health and goodwill Teyvat may offer, and only cast it aside when your true dragonic body is restored!”

Cara slid the mask over her face. It fit her perfectly, and though her range of sight was now even more limited than before-having one eye bandaged and the other restricted by the peephole of a mask wasn’t exactly the recipe for perfect vision-she could still see okay. Fischl let out a little squeal. “Perfect! Exquisite! Wonderful! Now thou truly appear as a hidden dragon!”

“SO COOL!” Klee clapped her hands. “I want a windtrace mask, too! Sucrose, can we go get one from Marjorie? I want mine to look like Jumpty Dumpty!”

“Maybe later,” Sucrose said. “I don’t think Mr. Albedo would be very happy with us if we were to go shopping instead of helping Her Grace complete her mission.”

Razor observed the mask warily. “Look different,” he muttered. “Look fierce, but not fierce like wolf. Dragon fierce. Scarier.”

Cara chuckled at his comments. “I promise I’m not going to start breathing fire and burning down villages. Even if I were to turn into a dragon, I’d be a good one. One Stormterror incident for Monstadt is enough.” She turned to Kaeya. “What do you think?”

“It is truly a beautiful piece of art,” he said. “I doubt that anyone will want to mess with you while you are wearing it. You know, the legends of old never spoke of the Creator wearing a special mask. However, now? Now I think that many, many people will be depicting you with this on after you defeat the true imposter and reclaim your throne. It suits you. When I look at it, I still feel like I’m talking to the same person underneath. That, I appreciate.”

“I’m glad you guys love it as much as I do. Thank you so much, Fischl and Oz. I won’t let this mask get destroyed like the last one. From now on, it goes into my backpack if I ever need to use a teleport waypoint again.”

“We are glad you like it, Your Grace,” Oz said. “May it bring you eternal protection and good luck. I certainly believe we are ready to infiltrate the city of winds, now.”

“Yes, I agree,” Noelle said. “Where is it you wish to go, Your Grace? I will be sure to take you there safely.”

Cara lifted the mask and looked out at Monstadt. She saw the steeples of the church and heard the bell begin to ring. The wind blew, leaving her with an unsettling feeling of eyes boring into the back of her skull. She thought she could smell cecilias.

“The cathedral,” she answered. “We need to make it there without anyone seeing us.”

“Oh.” Noelle’s voice lost its optimism. “That…should prove to be a bit of a problem. You see, I’ve memorized the times of day that the church holds mass services in case I must be there to help with anything. And, if I’m correct about this, there should be one going on right now. We would be going in the middle of it.”

“The cathedral is also pretty far from the city entrances,” Bennett added. “This won’t be like the last time we snuck in. It’s the middle of the afternoon, there’s going to be so many people around.”

“That is what the mask is for, dear Bennett,” Fischl told him.

“Exactly! Cara’s the only one with a mask! How’re Razor, Kaeya, and I going to get in without being recognized? We’re wanted criminals!”

“I have an idea!” Klee piped up. “Your Grace, can I add to the big plan? Please, please, please? I know just what to do!” She whispered excitedly into her ear.

A grin split Cara’s face. “Oh, Klee, that sounds awesome.”

Klee’s eyes were sparkling. “You really think so?”

“What are you two planning over there?” Kaeya asked. “Don’t tell me you're planning on blowing up Monstadt’s walls to get us in.”

“Well…I wouldn’t say her idea is that extreme,” Cara said. “But it does involve blowing things up. Alright, I think we might have a plan to put in motion.”

A few minutes later, Cara was crouched in a crowding of bushes with Noelle. They were near Monstadt’s side gate, and she could see multiple knights standing guard. Since her last escape, Jean seemed to have upped the amount of surveillance around the city. But if their plan worked, these knights would be no problem for them to evade.

She made eye contact with Fischl, who was again possessing Oz’s form and sitting in a tree. The raven dipped her head in a silent nod, then crowed loudly. That was the signal. Immediately, Klee poked her head out from behind the tree, looked cautiously around, and then frolicked over to the edge of Cider Lake. In her arms was a bunch of Jumpty Dumpty bombs, all of them primed and ready for a round of fish-blasting.

Sucrose followed closely behind Klee and frequently glanced at the guarding knights with fear in her eyes. Thankfully, they hadn’t been noticed yet. Cara held her breath when she watched Klee pass some of the Jumpty Dumpties to Sucrose. Operation ‘Fish-Blast Distraction Time,’ as Klee had dubbed it, commenced.

The first bomb was thrown into the lake and went off with a deafening noise, sending an explosion of water rocketing into the sky. Klee laughed gleefully. “Wow, look at how big that explosion was! Come on Sucrose, you try!”

“Ah-um.” Sucrose held the bombs in front of her like she was afraid they might blow up at the slightest hint of movement. “Okay, h-here I go.” She tossed one of them into the lake. Immediately upon hitting the water, it exploded. Sucrose jumped back and squeaked when water rained down on her.

Klee clapped her hands and danced in the spray. “Woohoo! Oh, fish-blasting is so much fun!” she purposely yelled. “I really hope no knights see us doing this!”

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” As hoped for, one of the knights standing guard had heard the commotion and ventured off to investigate. “Klee and Sucrose? What are you two doing?”

Sucrose floundered for words. “Oh, we were just-um-ah…”

“Fish-blasting!” Klee finished for her.

The knight sighed sternly. “You guys know the Acting Grand Master doesn’t like it when those bombs are set off too close to the city. I’m going to need to ask you to stop this immediately, or I’ll be forced to bring you both in to solitary confinement.”

“Oh no!” Klee feigned horror. She displayed a wonderful performance of throwing up her hands…which sent the remaining Jumpty Dumpties flying towards the knights. All of them reacted as Cara wanted; screaming in alarm as the bombs went off in midair, running in various directions, all of them trying to escape the possibility of being blown to bits.

In the midst of the chaos, Fischl cawed again. She took to the air and flew through the side gate, going unnoticed by the panicked knights. Cara and Noelle followed, and out from another cluster of bushes, so did Kaeya, Bennett, and Razor. As they ran, she made eye contact with Sucrose, who sent a shaky smile her way and a thumbs up. “Good luck,” the alchemist mouthed, and then resumed throwing Klee’s bombs.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Bennett said when they were within the city’s walls. “Do you think Sucrose and Klee will be okay?”

“Oh, I have no doubt the two of them will be just fine,” Kaeya answered. “I would be more worried for the safety of those knights. Let’s hope none of them accidentally end up like the fish Klee enjoys blasting so much.” He examined their surroundings cautiously. “It looks like we’re in the clear. Cara and Noelle, you two head for the cathedral and get that lyre. Bennett, Razor, and I will prepare for your way of escape when you’re done there.”

Noelle nodded. “Understood.”

“Are you sure you guys will be safe while getting through the city?” Cara asked them anxiously. “I don’t want you three getting seen or caught.”

“There is no need to worry, Your Grace.” A mixture of Fischl and Oz’s voices emanated from the night raven perched on the stack of wooden crates near them. “I shall be their eyes. No harm will come to them while I am watching.”

“We run and stay in the shadows like wolf pack,” Razor said. “We fast, silent, sneaky. This I know how to do. I will show Bennett and Kaeya to do also.”

“Don’t worry about us, Cara, we’ve got this!” Bennett assured her. “We’ll be okay. Will you be okay, too? What you're doing is a million times more dangerous than what we’re going to go through.”

“I’ll be alright,” Cara told him. “I know how to fight, and I won’t be alone. Noelle is with me.”

“That’s right,” Noelle said. “If any harm is to come to Her Grace, my shield will activate to protect her. You can count on me!”

“See?” Cara smiled. “We’ll be fine. Just promise me you’ll be fine, too?”

Bennett smiled back. “Of course! We promise, right?”

Razor grunted in agreement. “Yes!”

“We’ll be as safe as can be,” Kaeya said. “I swear it. You must promise to be safe too, alright? If anything is to go wrong that is too much for you and Noelle to handle, your Creator’s Call will activate, and we’ll teleport to you.”

“Knowing that’s a thing makes me feel a lot better,” Cara said. She held a fist out to them. Bennett was the first to bump it back, followed by Razor, and then Kaeya. “I promise Noelle and I will get out of there alive. We’ll be back together before you guys know it.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Bennett moved with enthusiasm and started for the staircase that would bring them up to the main level of the city. “Come on! Operation Steal the Lyre is a-go!”

“But I thought Klee named mission Fish-Blast Distraction time,” Razor said when he followed him.

“No, that was the last mission,” Bennett explained. “This one is different. There are two missions that make up the entire plan, you see?”

Razor thought it over carefully. “I think…I understand. Yes, this is new mission. Mission where we act, like wolf pack hunting deer!”

“Uh, yeah, exactly!” Bennett agreed. “But instead of hunting deer, we’re hunting a lyre and a way to make our final escape!”

“Those two are certainly quite the characters,” Kaeya said to Cara with a fond sigh.

Cara chuckled. “This wouldn’t be the same without them. Please, watch over them and keep them safe. And don’t forget to keep yourself safe too, alright? Remember what I said at Albedo’s camp. I don’t want you dying on me.”

Kaeya smiled reassuringly. “Understood. You do the same, as well. Be careful. Stay safe.”

They parted ways with Kaeya, Bennett, and Razor ducking into the alleys of buildings and disappearing into the shadows. Fischl followed them from the air soundlessly. Cara adjusted her mask to make sure it was covering her entire face. “Ready?” she asked Noelle.

The other girl nodded. “Ready. Let's go.”

Cara was on edge as her and Noelle walked calmly, yet quickly, through the streets of Monstadt. Though her mask was secure and no one paid her any sort of mind, she still couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. Noelle had been right about the wanted posters; they covered what felt like every available surface, from the sides of buildings to even the front doors of stores and restaurants. There also was an incredible influx of knights patrolling the streets. Every time she saw the crest of the shield and double swords, anxiety shot through her.

“Noelle,” she said. “Are you sure no one is going to stop us?”

“Hm? Oh, most likely not,” Noelle replied. “I am well known by practically every knight in Monstadt. They trust me completely, and have no reason to think I’m doing something against the law.”

“What about getting into the cathedral’s basement?” Cara avidly remembered one of the quests back from Genshin Impact’s prologue that was awfully similar to their current situation. “From what I know, getting in there won’t be easy. We need signed papers and permission from both Jean and the Church of Favonius.”

“No need to worry about that,” Noelle assured her. “I have all three.”

“Wait. Y-you do?”

“Yup! I’m sometimes called in to help tidy up the church’s basement every few weeks. Both Jean, Barbara, and Cardinal Calvin signed off on the papers, allowing me to enter and leave at my leisure. They trust me not to steal or break anything…well, they used to, I guess I should say. But that’s not the important thing! What matters is that we won’t be stopped when we go in!”

“Noelle…” Shame hit Cara’s heart when she thought about her being punished for breaking the trust of both the knights and the church. “You don’t have to do this. I can get in and out of the church on my own. I don’t want you getting caught.”

“Your Grace, don’t say such nonsense!” Noelle insisted. “I want you to know that I don’t regret choosing to help you, not for a single moment! To stand by your side is a privilege and an honor. You have no idea how happy I am to have been spared from being infected by the Madness plaguing people’s minds. Even if my friends decide to turn against me after they find out I’m helping you, I won’t abandon my duty as one of your Vessels. I know that by doing this, I’m going to give you a chance to save everyone! So please, don’t feel guilty. I am choosing this path. Rest assured no one is forcing me.”

She sounded so earnest, and her words were so sincere. Cara knew Noelle was not one to lie. So despite still feeling guilty, she smiled beneath her mask and looked forward. “Thank you for staying by my side, Noelle.”

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do so, Your Grace.” Noelle’s tone softened when they entered the courtyard of the cathedral. “Let’s continue this conversation later, though. There are too many sisters and knights around here that could hear us. Just follow my lead, alright? I’ll keep you safe.”

The courtyard was alive with activity, with far more people than Cara anticipated mingling with each other and going to and fro. At the center of it all stood the statue of Barbatos, which, to her surprise, was much larger than how it looked in Genshin Impact. At its feet, a group of sisters were praying with the people, their hands folded piously. Cara could hear some of what they were saying: “Lord Barbatos, protect us. Lord Barbatos, watch over us.”

Two young children ran past them, laughing while they played. The scent of flowers was in the air, and when Cara peered up at the top of the Barbatos statue, she saw that its head and arms were decorated with woven cecilias. She paused to simply observe the people around her, heart swelling with a strange sense of proudness and pride. When they weren’t trying to hunt her down and kill her, Monstadt’s people were so good. Teyvat’s people were good. She wished she could join them in their happiness.

“It must mean a lot to you, to see your creations thriving in this way,” Noelle said. She, too, was smiling.

“I’m not the Caratrice who created this.” Cara gestured to the liveliness of the courtyard. “I could never create something this wonderful. Whatever I’ve made can’t compare to it.”

“Hm. You are right about one thing. You aren’t the original Caratrice. But even so, you are still her legacy. That means you are destined for greatness.” The bell of the cathedral started to toll. Noelle looked at the bell tower. “That’s our sign that the mass has reached its halfway point. Let’s go sit in for the rest so we don’t seem overly suspicious.”

Every head of the gathered congregation turned to look at her and Noelle when they slipped into the cathedral. The large wooden doors echoed shut behind them, temporarily competing with the mighty music of the organ being belted out through the giant chamber. All eyes were on them for only a moment, because everyone’s attention immediately returned to the booming voice of the cardinal saying mass when they saw Noelle there-she really was so well known throughout the city that her presence put people at ease. The young cardinal was not someone who Cara recognized, but with the way he spoke, it was clear to her that he was the one in charge of the prayer service.

“That’s Cardinal Calvin,” Noelle whispered to her. “He’s taken over the duties of leading the church while the Seneschal is away. We must try not to gain unwanted attention from him. Follow my lead.” She steered Cara to the farthest pew from the altar, which was, thankfully, empty for them. “Act like you are praying and follow along with the mass.”

Cara silently nodded, too afraid to speak a word. She was such an infamous person throughout Monstadt now that even allowing strangers to hear her voice could be a threat to her safety. She did as Noelle said, facing the front of the church just as everyone else was. The interior was not an exact copy of the one she saw frequently in Genshin Impact: rather, it was much more detailed, with a gigantic stained glass window of Barbatos looking over the congregation right above the altar and organ. The god’s image had his arms outstretched, with various kinds of native Monstadt birds fluttering around him, cecilias and windwheel asters held in their beaks. His wings, open wide, were accented in multiple shades of light blue to beautifully coincide with the white of his feathers. The entire building was lit up with bursts of color brought out by the rays of the sun traveling through the stained glass windows all throughout the church. Cara was moved by the sight; she didn’t consider herself a particularly religious person, but she could see why the people of Monstadt worshiped Barbatos so dutifully, despite him being absent from their nation for years. He wasn’t just the god of the wind or of freedom. He was the god of beauty as well.

“Let us kneel,” Cardinal Calvin announced. The congregation shuffled to their knees. Cara followed suit, mimicking Noelle when she lowered herself onto the wooden kneelers that stuck out from underneath the pews. The maid dipped her head reverently and closed her eyes, whispering a single quiet prayer. “Kyrie eleison.” Latin. Lord, have mercy.

Cardinal Calvin’s voice was like a thunderclap. “The lord, the Mighty One, is Barbatos. He knows, and may Monstadt also know.”

“Kyrie eleison.”

“The lord, Barbatos, knows the secrets of our hearts. Our guilt is not hidden from him.”

“Kyrie eleison.”

Cara’s mask felt heavy against her face. She stared at the great image of Barbatos. Half-lidded eyes, kind. A tender smile, arms and wings beckoning. Come and face me.

“Kyrie eleison.”

“He knows your secrets.”

The air was stuffy and thick with the scent of church. Heart heavy. Guilt starting to weigh her down.

“Secrets.”

Those eyes were looking right at her. No longer kind; rather, mocking. Amused. I know. I know. Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy. Barbatos, have mercy. Pray. Pray for mercy. Stealing from the divine. Fighting someone you love. He wants to kill you. He will lift his weapon against you and pierce your heart with the power of a thousand winds. Will you retaliate? Will you forgive him? Will he forgive you?

She pressed her clasped hands over her mask and closed her eyes to silently pray. The kneeler’s wood dug uncomfortably into the skin of her knees. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to fight him. I’m scared. I’m guilty. I love him. Barbatos, please, if you can hear me, give me a sign that it won’t have to come down to a fight. Show me that there’s still a part of you that remembers who I am.

She received no answer. Barbatos had abandoned her in her time of need.

How typical of the divine.

The rest of the mass went by in a blur. Cara did not pay much attention beyond following Noelle’s actions and trying to make herself look like she belonged there. When the closing song ended and the congregation shuffled out of their pews and through the doors of the church, the two of them stayed behind. Noelle tapped Cara’s elbow, signaling it was time for them to move. She complied without a word, feeling dazed.

“The cathedral empties out after masses,” Noelle explained. “But there will be knights guarding the lyre. We will have to be extra careful not to get caught.” She paused when Cara didn’t respond. “Your Grace, are you alright?”

Cara staggered dizzily. “No,” she struggled to say, the single word sticking to her tongue like taffy.

“Oh dear. Are you feeling ill? Do you need anything? Food? Water?” Noelle fretted over her like a mother hen. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you!”

She felt like she was in a dream. Her heart felt heavy with guilt and fear. Everything felt stifling, like the air was slowly being sucked out of her lungs.

Sucked out of my lungs…

A disturbing prospect popped into Cara’s mind. She realized, to her horror, that the air actually could be leaving her slowly. Barbatos could control the wind, but what was stopping him from controlling air in general? She grabbed Noelle’s hands and pushed her forward slightly, panicked. “I can’t stay here,” she whispered urgently. “Barbatos, he’s watching me, watching us. We need to go.”

“Barbatos?” Noelle looked confused. “How can you tell? Can you sense him? Your Grace?”

Beyond the sound of her voice, Cara began to hear something else. It started off quiet, but rapidly grew louder. Her ears focused on it against their will. The plucking of a lyre. The tune of an ominous song.

She turned around to look back at the cathedral’s front doors. And there, sitting in one of the pews, was Venti. He raised his gaze to meet hers, and smiled that same dangerous smile she had seen him wear at the Cat’s Tail. “Well, then? What are you staring at me for?” he asked. “I’m not done having my fun with you. Don’t be shy. Go.”

“Your Grace!” She was wrenched out of the trance by Noelle. “Your Grace, what’s wrong? You were staring out into space just now!”

Cara felt like she had been dreaming. She stared blankly at Noelle, then looked back at the pew Venti had been sitting in. He was gone, as if he had never been there at all. Perhaps he hadn’t. The song the bard was playing on his lyre had disappeared, too. It was just her and Noelle in an empty church again. Even the air had returned to normal.

“He’s making me see things,” she whispered. Of course, she had known Venti was capable of creating illusions, but she hadn’t thought his abilities would be this influential. Never underestimate a god, I suppose.

Troubled, Noelle tried bringing her over to the nearest pew. “Your Grace, you are not well. Why don’t you sit down for a moment, and we can take some time to rest? Maybe that would help you feel better?”

“Did you not see someone sitting over there just now?” Cara asked her, pointing to the back of the church.

“No, I didn’t. It’s just been us here since the mass ended. You were talking about Barbatos watching you, and then you went silent. I was calling your name, but it was like you couldn’t hear me.”

Cara breathed in, and out. Don’t panic. No panicking. Venti was obviously here, but he was only trying to intimidate her. As long as he wasn’t trying to actively kill her, she couldn’t stop. “Let’s keep going.”

Noelle protested. “But-!”

“I promise I’m fine. The air in here is just a little thin.” Cara forced her legs to move. She took the lead, heading to the front of the altar. The staircase descending into the depths of the building was not hard to find. They were exactly where she remembered them being from when she completed Monstadt’s Archon Quest.

Noelle was still obviously a bit shaken up, but she didn’t try to stop Cara again. “When we go down there, we will have to be as stealthy as possible. There will be many knights and members of the church staff.”

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

The staircase brought them down, down, down, spiraling deeper and deeper with the stone walls closing in. Just when Cara thought it was never going to end-that maybe this was another one of Venti’s tricks-they arrived at their destination, walking out onto a stone balcony. Noelle ushered her to crouch, and together, the two of them peeked over the ledge to see what they were dealing with. The basement was mainly filled with bookshelves and desks, most likely holding various sorts of religious documents and texts. Far on the other end of the vast room, Cara could see the Holy Lyre der Himmel sitting on a pedestal with a light shining upon it like a homing beacon. Scattered through their way were indeed many knights.

“They sure do take guarding the lyre seriously,” Cara muttered.

“They have to in case people try stealing it,” Noelle whispered. “Church protocols. But not to worry, I know the best ways to sneak by them. Just follow me.”

They slowly made their way towards the lyre. The knights were digilent and attentive. There were moments when Cara thought they were going to be caught for sure. But Noelle was true to her word, and led the way without any hiccups. When they made it to the pedestal, the lyre was before them like the ultimate prize. Its wood was scuffed, and the metal was tarnished, a clear sign of its old age.

“It doesn’t look very holy,” Cara whispered.

“No, it doesn’t,” Noelle whispered back. “But this is definitely it. They wouldn’t have this much security for an ordinary lyre. Go and take it, quickly. I’ll stand guard and watch.”

Cara stepped up to the pedestal and placed her hands on the lyre. Immediately, she felt a faint presence of Anemo lingering on it. This was indeed the Holy Lyre der Himmel. If things went right, taking this would draw Venti to her and give her the chance to take his gnosis.

“Venti,” she breathed, then paused. No, that isn’t right. She wasn’t trying to talk to Venti right now. “Barbatos.”

The air around her vibrated. “I know you can hear me,” she continued. “You're here right now, watching me, right? I’m about to take your lyre. You know what I want for it in return.”

“Your Grace,” Noelle said urgently. “I’d suggest we hurry. If we stay here any longer, they’ll find us.”

“If you want your lyre back, come and find me. No illusions. No tricks. If you don’t-” She hesitated over her next words, knowing she was playing with fire. “If you don’t, I’ll break it with my bare hands.”

“Your Grace, it’s time to go!” Noelle hissed.

Cara grabbed the lyre and stuffed it into her backpack. She followed Noelle back the route they came, evading the knights with rushed urgency. Surely it wouldn’t take long for the knights to realize that the thing they were guarding had mysteriously disappeared, but hopefully by the time they did, she and Noelle would be long gone.

“This is going far smoother than I thought it would,” she said when they arrived back in the cathedral.

“If we are being honest with one another, I thought it would be harder to take it, too.” Noelle exhaled. “That was quite nerve-wracking and not at all what I’m used to helping people with. Um…you are planning on returning the lyre, right?”

“Oh, yeah, of course! All I need to do is play a song on it to summon Barbatos. After that, I’ll find some way to get it back here safely.”

They were about to push through the church’s doors, and Cara a little lighter. They were home free! Their plan had actually worked! They were-!

“Stop! Noelle, please wait!”

A voice rang out through the church. Cara’s hand was inches away from the door, their access to freedom within an arm’s reach. But a hushed “Oh no,” from Noelle made her stop and turn to see who exactly had called out to them.

It wasn’t one of the knights from the basement. It wasn’t a churchgoer or regular civilian, either. And thank god it wasn’t Venti-though she really wasn’t exactly sure why he wasn’t trying harder to stop her even though he knew she was here. Rushing towards them, heels clicking frantically against the tile of the floor, was Barbara.

“Oh, Barbara!” Noelle’s voice was overly cheerful. “It’s wonderful to see you! Do you need help with something?”

“Yes!” Barbara avidly answered. “Yes, I definitely need your help right now! Someone has stolen the Holy Lyre der Himmel!”

Cara was thankful she was wearing a mask, because she could only imagine how terrified she looked right now. Noelle’s face twisted with horror, which, she could imagine, was definitely not a class expression. “S-Stolen?” she stammered. “How? When?”

“I don’t know how it happened! There are so many knights guarding it, I would have imagined it to be impossible for any thief to get by all of them without being seen!” Barbara looked like she was about to collapse. “I was cleaning out one of the old record drawers in the basement when it happened. A knight ran to me and told me someone stole it only a few moments ago! Whoever did this must have been studying the patterns of the guard’s routines for weeks!”

Cara glanced at Noelle. The maid glanced back and looked momentarily panicked. “W-Well, don’t worry, Barbara,” she said. “We’ll find the thief! I know we will!”

“You-you don’t think Her Grace’s imposter was the one who stole it, do you?” Barbara asked. “Why would she want the holy lyre? Must she also taint Lord Barbatos’ good name, too?”

Lord Barbatos’ good name my ass, Cara thought bitterly. Noelle glanced at her again, silently begging her to keep quiet. “If it was the imposter, then we must track her down and bring her to justice. I’ll go and report this to Jean. You should stay here, uh, in case the thief comes back to steal anything else.”

“There’s no need for you to leave.”

A new voice joined them. From the shadows of the church’s corners, a menacing figure emerged. When Cara saw Rosaria, she felt her blood turn as cold as the Cryo the sister could conjure with her Vision.

“Sister Rosaria!” Barbara said, surprised. “When did you get here? Were you there the entire time?”

Rosaria ignored the questions. “You don’t have to go tracking the imposter down, because the imposter hasn’t gone anywhere. You’ve been standing before her the entire time.”

“What?” Barbara questioned. “You mean Noelle?”

Rosaria sighed wearily. “No, I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the girl with the mask on.”

Barbara looked at Cara like she had just realized she was there. “Huh? This person is the imposter? B-but she’s with Noelle! Why would she…I don’t think I understand…Noelle, you're helping the imposter? But that means you stole the holy lyre!”

“Barbara, you don’t understand the urgency of the situation,” Noelle tried to plead. “All of this has been a big misunderstanding.”

“Has it? Or are you just trying to cover your own tracks?” Rosaria’s words cut like ice. “Just admit it, you're on the imposter’s side. No use in hiding it anymore.”

“I-I’m not afraid to admit it! I am helping the imposter. But she isn’t an imposter at all! This is Her Grace, and I’ve sworn to protect her at all costs!”

Barbara slammed her heart over her chest and let out a mournful cry. “You're even referring to her by the Creator’s holy title! How could you? Noelle, this goes beyond stealing the holy lyre! This-this is sacrilege!”

Rosaria rolled her eyes. “Barbara, you should go and tell Jean what’s happening here. I’ll take care of the imposter.”

“I can’t! They’re in possession of a sacred artifact! It’s my duty to-”

“This fight has nothing to do with you. I was appointed to be one of the people to hunt the imposter down. I’m fulfilling what was asked of me by doing this. Go, now. The lyre won’t be damaged in any way, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Barbara hesitated. She looked at Cara, then at Rosaria, and then ran for the church doors. Her movement snapped Cara out of her fearful stupor. “Wait!” she yelled, running after her. “Barbara, just listen to me for a moment-!”

Great shards of ice formed in her path. Cara backpedaled away from them to avoid being potentially stabbed. Barbara’s exit was ensured; she could do nothing but watch helplessly as the deaconess fled.

“If it makes you feel any better, which it probably won’t,” Rosaria said, “this isn’t personal. I’m just doing my job to make sure no one gets hurt. I honestly couldn’t care less if you're an imposter or not.” Her polearm appeared with a flick of her wrist. “Religious crap doesn’t matter to me. But the safety of Monstadt’s people does. By killing you, I’m making sure they stay alive.”

Cara backed away slowly, looking for a way she and Noelle could escape. Another set of ice shards had formed in front of the church’s side doors, officially sealing them inside. “How does that way of thinking make any sense?” she yelled.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the ‘Creator’ that’s sitting on the Crossroads throne right now?” Rosaria replied. “Yeah, she’s not a nice person. Not a great leader, either. The more dedicated Vessels, like Barbara, look to her with love and admiration, and all she gives them in return is pain. We follow her orders because the relationship between us and her is one built by fear.”

Cara was taken aback. “She…she hurts you?”

Rosaria nodded. “If we don’t follow her orders, she punishes us. She uses some sort of magic to get into our heads, with her control over some stronger than others. Me, I’ve been lucky. I don’t hear her voice often, and she barely interacts with me. But with others like Jean and Barbara? They’re completely wrapped around her finger. If anyone tries to disobey her, she’ll turn us against each other. I’ve seen her use Eula to nearly break Amber’s arm. I’ve watched her take control of Barbara’s body and nearly drown a man simply because she felt like it. She’s furious you haven’t been killed yet. If you keep getting away, she’s going to start hurting people again. So, I’ll do whatever I can to keep Monstadt safe, even if it means doing the dirty work of a tyrannical god. Like I said, it’s nothing personal. These are just my orders. I promise I’ll at least make it quick.”

There was no arguing, no pleading, and no further words. Rosaria lunged for Cara with her polearm aimed straight for her throat.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin imposter au #messianic aureation #genshin isekai #genshin impact #genshin fanfiction #noelle genshin impact #sagau cult au #self aware genshin #sagau venti

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atsadi-shenanigans · 3 months

Text

Feeding Alligators 33 - Dream Date

You run into a whole mess of problems. Nothing in Faerun is what it seems and everybody's a goddamn liar.

On AO3.

A woman stands over you. Short hair, more copper than scarlet, ears loaded with piercings, two barbels glinting on the bridge of her nose. The face is a bit off, and some of the piercings are in the wrong location. But she still looks so much like—

“Sasha?” you say.

Not-Sasha kneels, her hands glowing, fucking eyes glowing. Her voice is urgent, the timbre too low.

“You are transforming,” she says.

Trans…? You’re even more crushingly exhausted than you were before you went to bed. And it’s not just the guilt and turmoil of killing someone and then everything else that happened. Your skin is covered in a sheen of sweat. Your tunic clings to you. Your teeth ache and your bones feel like they’re splintering into shards.

“What?” you say. To your horror, your mouth feels mushy.

Not-Shasha’s hands move. Her face pinches in worry.

That woman on the butthole ship, her face ripped open as tentacles spilled out. They said you melted from the inside, oh god, oh god no, it’s—

But Not-Sasha’s hands are cool as she palms your cheek, runs that palm over your face. The blue glow of what you assume is magic soaks into you. Your entire body seems to settle; tissue firms up. Your teeth reattach their roots back into your jaw and your tongue remembers its shape.

“Who,” you say and sit up. Your body is yours, again. “Oh god. I was…I almost…”

“I came just in time,” Not-Sasha says. “Don’t worry. You won’t become a mindflayer. Not while I’m around.”

And who the fuck is she?

She offers a hand. You hesitate, but take it and let her pull you to your feet.

She’s taller than Sasha—not a difficult accomplishment—but scrawnier. And where Sasha’s eyes are bright, sky blue, this knockoff wannabe’s are sort of hazel.

Thing is, she’s also familiar in her own way. The echo of her voice reverberates in your ears.

The butthole ship. You almost catch the ghost of a memory, a specter out of the corner of your eye. The ship breaking up, spilling out into emptiness. Your mind blanked in sheer terror. You’d screamed, screamed until your air ran out, then sucked in a breath against hurricane winds to scream more. You do not have a visual memory; brain had spooked like a new horse and blanked that right out.

You’d stopped. That part finally surfaces all hazy in the back of your mind. Something had caught you right before you went splat all over the landscape. Kept your skull from smashing like a watermelon.

“I saved you before,” Not-Sasha says. “And I’m here to save you again. I’ll protect you from the tadpole, block the transformation.”

What the fuck how the fuck, you want to say. But Not-Sasha listens to something in the distance, and her face is grim.

“Listen carefully,” she says. “We don’t have time.”

You follow her over to a jumble of rocks, where she pulls a Yoda on and mindwhammies them off into space with a wave of her hand. Revealing a giant fucking skull with flashing lights and some kind of forcefield and a lot of warped screaming.

“There’s a fight for Faerun occurring even now,” she says. “And we are losing.”

Phantoms in space fizzle out of existence. There’s a lot more of them, fighting what looks like a shrinking group of others. Her group?

“But you might be able to change all that,” Not-Sasha says. And then explains.

Something about potential, about the parasite, about its power. Specifically, learning to use its power. Which makes your guts go all hinky like when you see tarantula legs sticking out of the shoe you were two seconds from jamming your foot into. It’s all a bit convenient. And interesting that she would wait until your bones were fucking dissolving to make this little speech at you.

And why the fuck does she look so much like Sasha. That’s the part that skeeves you out the worst.

Something explodes over at the skull. Not-Sasha’s lips press thin (Sasha had a lip ring; this…thing does not).

“The enemy comes,” Not-Sasha says. “You must return. Use the power. It’s the only way.”

And then she does a Jedi hand fling and smacks you right off into space. For the second time in a week, you slam back into your body. Bolt upright and stare at the dark fabric of your tent. The night is quiet, save for the soft sound of canvas flapping gently in the wind.

“Ghaik!” Lae’zel shouts.

***

From what you gather, y’all had the same dream. Seems to be differing opinions, generally landing in camp “GHAIK!” and camp “Astarion looks entirely too thoughtful.” You ain’t sure of the specifics, because the goddamn potion ran the fuck out. You’re reduced to hovering next to the rekindled campfire while half the crew keeps Lae’zel from going full rabies on all y’all.

Gale hands you a mug of tea. You sip that and watch the fuckery, and wish it was a mocha.

Astarion says something and he’s got that goblin grin, and it’s kind of nice to see somebody else take Lae’zel’s cold glare off’a you. Not that Astarion even notices.

All said and done, it’s mid-morning once everybody is all packed up and ready to go. The grove is quiet in the low, morning mist. Dew glints on long grass and the fur of a slumbering bear. No dead bodies, so apparently nobody started revenge killing in the night. Hopefully it stays that way.

You wonder how that’s going to go if the old auntie really is as good as her word. These people and their political clusterfuck, the missing druid, the goblins. What Not-Sasha will do with whatever propaganda Amway bullshit she was trying to sell you.

You’ll still be stuck here, still helpless, and this group will one hundred percent break apart.

You don’t think Wyll will abandon the tieflings here, even after he kills that demon woman. Maybe he’ll let you tag along and, like, wash his clothes or something? Or you can go with the tieflings (though none of them know you at all). Or someone will rescue this Halsin guy and the druids will let you sleep on their metaphorical couch (because they’ve been so welcoming to refugees).

Fuck. Fuck McFuckity fuck.

Still. Better than tentacle-face, regardless of phantom dream douche promises of protection.

What’s gonna happen is gonna happen. You can’t stop it. You can only control your reactions (lying in the mud accomplishes nothing). So you stand by as Gale does his mojo shit. As a purple portal flares open. As Wyll volunteers himself to go through first. And when he doesn’t stumble back, turned to hamburger or screaming with shredded lungs, the others follow.

Until it’s your turn. Gale—Astarion lurking just over his shoulder because he’s waiting for everyone else, isn’t he—gives you a smile and a nod. At least he’s put your dissolved ring to good use.

You step through.

It feels weird. It feels like nothing. Like you just stop. No pulse, no breathing, no thoughts. No you. Then a flash and you have legs and a spleen again. You stumble. Your foot catches something almost squishy and you barely catch yourself from tripping into murky stink water. Turn to see what you stepped on and those are human bodies.

You stare. The others have drawn close, weapons out. Astarion emerges, spots the bodies, and does a kind of hop-skip right over them. Makes a guttural “er?” sound in his throat.

Then Gale’s through—he stops before the bodies—and the portal disappears and y’all are in that fucking swamp with two freshly dead guys who have been torn open and pulled inside out like someone digging impatiently through a coin purse.

This isn’t like the bodies those redcaps left. This is much worse, much more savage. Plus there’s no viscera. These guys got filleted open and somebody scooped out their organs and those organs are nowhere to be seen.

You look at the swamp. Look at the others. Pull out your map and see that yep, you sure are right near the teahouse.

Old Auntie Ethel with her potions and cures. Gandrel coming here for information. Witches and body parts.

Auntie Ethel is the fucking swamp hag, ain’t she.

“Ethel bad,” you say.

Gale’s lips press thin. Then, you assume, “Ethel very bad.”

***

Ethel is, indeed, the hag. And she was, indeed, extremely fucking scary. Especially after she’d given you another dirt potion and then her skin split, spilling queasy, green light and she turned into a fucking swamp monster.

All she wanted for a tadpole extraction was your eye. You didn’t give her so much of a strand of your hair, because that shit is how you pick up fucking familial curses.

There was no sign of Gandrel (or his parts) (you hoped), but there was a miserable looking girl, heavily pregnant, face streaked with cried-over eyeliner.

Y’all should have let it be. But Wyll didn’t get that memo, and honestly? He was right not to. Not that you had any room to judge as your entire contribution to the clusterfuck that followed was whacking a masked guy over the head until he fell, and then systematically breaking both his kneecaps.

The corpse, once she was finally dead, looks smaller than it did in life. Less a big monster, more a collection of dried sticks and moss and swamp grass. You keep your distance (bitch was throwing poison the entire time).

Y’all are battered, bruised, bleeding, or fucking poisoned. And the girl y’all did this for is too busy screaming insults to mind a flock of fucking witch crows (you want to clock her in the mouth so bad, just once).

A crow caws. You think nothing of it until another answers. Then another. More and more, and y’all are now surrounded by a murder of them, standing, staring, and cawing at y’all. Then one launches itself into the air in a burst of black wings and the murder moves.

There’s shouting and flailing (that part from you). And through it all, you notice one crow land on the hag’s head. Hop along her face. There’s something wrong with that bird. Weirdly skinny. Its wing is broken—

Oh.

Oh, nope. Not broken. just rotted halfway off. Feathers missing in clumps to reveal slimy, brown bone beneath. And where its eyes should be are two, empty sockets.

“Oh my god,” you say.

The crow ducks down. Its black beak catches something and it tugs once, twice. Pops something free and lifts…

It’s got one of Ethel’s eyeballs, optical nerve trailing down like a diseased worm. The eyeless crow looks right at you. Cocks its head first one way, then the other, and then throws itself back into the air.

As one, the murder coalesces. Forms a swirling, clacking, coughing cloud that rises like a column of smoke to disappear back the way y’all came. When you look down again, the body is picked clean. You’d only seen the one bird, but somehow, the carcass is stripped down to nothing but bones and rags.

“We should leave right now,” you say.

No one argues.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #slow burn #plus size tav #demisexual tav #feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads

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cleric-of-jank · 10 months

Text

companies can make additional money in a variety of ways. some of these ways are anti-entropy and advance the pareto frontier for society:

1. increases in productive efficiency 2. solving the problems of new consumers they didn't realize could be solved 3. motivating workers to do something they're passionate about 4. dissolving stupid social conventions into thin air to further realize people's talents and desires

but some of them are basically just zero-sum wealth transfers

1. refusing to pay your bills until your suppliers give you a discount 2. using deceptive marketing to convince gullible customers to pay more money for your product than they needed to 3. forcing your workers to work harder than they were bargaining for at a job they dislike with the implicit threat of starvation 4. damaging third parties that your transactions implicitly affect because of an incomplete legal reckoning of property rights

the government would like to incentivize actors to focus on the former set rather than the latter set, but the market doesn't really see a difference between the two. the typical recompense here is for the government to simply regulate in such a way to mitigate the latter set or else hope competition makes it not a productive option, but there are a variety of issues with these approaches

1. it's hard to distinguish between these two sets from the point of view of a regulator, so regulation can muck things up and 2. the market will have more or less competition at any given time depending on a litany of factors so it might be ineffective at resolving problems 3. regulation makes it harder to compete because of increasing barriers to entry

so i've been thinking of alternative solutions. thought for a while about forcing holders of some given company to also be "exposed" to that company's suppliers/consumers/workers/environment so any attempt at going the zero-sum route just wouldn't do anything for the shareholders, but that doesn't work mathematically - it basically requires the company own the whole economy.

what if you took a different tack? try to align management, not capital. run some sort of selection mechanism over your suppliers/consumers/workers/environment to select some random group of people who will care more about their condition as suppliers/consumers/workers/randos than as agents of your company, and somehow make them have some authority over your decisions.

okay the reason I typed this whole post up was originally because I was going to poke a hole in my own idea by pointing out that doing this would technically be indistinguishable from bribery on the supplier/environment (assuming you're talking to an actual bureaucrat and not some dude off the street) fronts because you'd surely need to compensate them to waste time going to your meetings and that would look awfully like paying them to treat you better but I actually don't think that's much of a problem - suppliers are probably much more interested in your business than some random consumer who probably spends less than a thousand dollars a year on you, so you could probably get away with not compensating suppliers/politicians at all. You'd need to compensate retail consumers, randos if you talk to them, and workers, but suppliers, b2b consumers, and politicians would probably be fine at the table without extra incentive.

obviously doing this makes it harder to make a profit so most businesses aren't going to go for it but I wonder if you could get a bunch of smaller, privately owned businesses to do it, maybe start a big marketing thing around it like organic farming

(since this is the communist website I suppose I should pre-empt the whole “or just abolish the firm :)” thing - your anarchist communes and central planning committees have just the same incentives to ignore people who aren’t in the meetings, and even if you have great mechanisms for the whole thing to be as open and responsive to outsider feedback as possible that somehow don’t get subverted by the people responsible for putting this whole edifice in place you’ll still have a great preponderance of people who’d rather have more time in their day than needing to sit through a meeting that mostly doesn’t concern them. compensating random people to sit in your meetings and have some say might help to make sure you don’t run into alignment issues is the big point in what i’m saying here)

also while i was writing up this post i thought of an analogy between this and telemetry. i didn’t bring it up because i thought it’d be mostly a distraction but now that i’ve written it i can think of an application for that context. while a lot of privacy advocates really decry telemetry because it’s so often been used to pivot software from fulfilling what users installed it for to being an adtech company that undermines user privacy for the benefit of third party buyers, well-intentioned devs still often think it’s often more valuable than other feedback collection mechanisms because it gains feedback from less engaged users. a way to do telemetry without running into trust problems could be to, instead of asking for data from all users, instead only ask for it from a very limited selection of users, and then compensating them for it. you’d need to have an actual budget which is beyond the capabilities of a lot of open-source projects and you’d need some way to prove users are authentic and not just redownloading your software a lot to try to win the lottery but if you solved those problems it might be neat

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kieraelieson · 3 years

Text

No Rest for the Deathworlders

Logan had always loved the stars.

Still did, though his love had been dampened by the way in which he was currently seeing them.

He watched out the window, or rather, screen, but it was made to show the outside of the ship, and thinking of it as a window was oddly comforting. A bit of something close to home.

A lump grew in his throat at the thought of home, pressing against the collar. He forced himself back to a neutral, tugging the collar away from the front of his throat as far as it would go. A brief flicker of anger replaced the nostalgia. Anger at the collar, at his own inability to remove it, at the monsters that had forced it onto him, at his own complacency now that it was on.

He didn’t have it as bad as some other humans did, he was well aware. All the collar did was teleport him to the location of the person holding the remote. Granted, it was unpleasant and incredibly disorienting, but nothing like the near-torture he’d heard was the more common method of keeping humans captive.

The captain of the ship was smart in choosing Logan, as far as the welfare of the ship went.

“You’re invested in your own survival,” He’d said through the translators. “If the ship goes down, you’ll go with it. If you sabotage the ship and try to escape on a pod, I can get you back to me immediately, and you’ll meet the same fate as you intended for us. It’s in your best interests to cooperate and to bond with the crew.”

Well, Logan could agree that it was in his best interests to cooperate. But no one could make him get attached to anyone. And no one could stop him from making little problems.

Like ignoring the insistent, “Human, where are you? Human!” that was coming from his communicator.

The window dissolved in front of him, and Logan felt abruptly as if he were on the world’s worst rollercoaster for several seconds. It took him a minute to register the angry captain now in front of him. He was yelling something, but not through the communicator, so Logan couldn’t understand what. And he was far too dizzy and almost nauseous to pay attention even if it was understandable.

He shook his head slowly from side to side and up and down once, hoping to clear the vertigo somewhat.

“You must come when called!” The communicator translated. “Or at least answer!”

Logan stubbornly remained silent, the dizziness gradually clearing.

For an alien that looked more like a slime monster than anything with a real face, the captain still managed to look extremely displeased. Not that Logan cared.

“There are ------ trailing our ship,” the captain said, one of his words not translating properly. “We need to go faster or we’ll get boarded.”

Ok, maybe Logan did care.

“Humans are supposed to be good at making ships go faster, fix it.”

Logan frowned. “I’ve been here three days,” he said into the communicator. “I hardly know how anything in the ship works, much less how to improve any of its functions!”

“I’ve studied humans, I know better than that, fix it.” The captain said shortly.

Logan opened his mouth to protest, but the room around him dissolved, the horrible spinning sensation back. His legs gave out and he dropped onto the floor in a different place.

He swallowed hard, his stomach threatening to upend itself.

“And they call you deathworlders,” someone scoffed. “A transporter has you on your knees.”

Beyond his sick feelings, and the anger at being mocked, he caught onto that plural reference. Was there another human on the ship?

In addition, there were apparently multiple remotes to the teleporter around his throat, which ruined his plan of trying to steal or fight the captain for the one.

He slowly sat up, his head still spinning. He hoped that his body would eventually grow accustomed to the teleportation and the dizziness would stop being so awful.

There was a chittering sound beside him that the translator didn’t attempt to process. He turned to see an alien that would likely be very tall if it wasn’t on all fours. It was very thin, with long arms and legs, which ended in smooth nubs, without hands or feet. The front two, which Logan thought of as arms, though the alien probably would have a different name for them, seemed to be perforated along the last six inches. As Logan watched, one of them was extended towards him slowly, and something softer could be seen on the inside. It was able to be extruded through the holes, and was likely the way in which the alien could grasp things.

He backed away from the limb before it could touch him, and the alien also backed away a step, making a low woody sounding whistle, like air blown over a jug. It’s head looked rather moth-like, with antenna that curled and straightened, and large eyes.

The alien seemed sentient, though Logan was confused that the translator wasn’t picking up on its speech.

Until he saw a very familiar collar, only around their waist. They were also captive then. And possibly, though it disappointed his hopes of meeting another human, they were the other deathworlder, also affected poorly by the teleportation.

The strange attempted touch then, could have potentially been intended as comfort or aid.

“You’ve been sitting long enough, get this ship to move faster,” the other alien in the room grumbled.

Logan glared. “How am I even supposed to do that?” He snapped. “I don’t have training or experience, I don’t know what half this stuff is and I can’t read your labels!”

“You can either fix it now, or we can teleport you between here and the captain until you do.” The alien's tone was disgusting and wet, and Logan was glad he could focus on the robot sound of the translator as his stomach lurched again.

He could try.

If nothing else, he might learn some new things and be able to convince them that he really wasn’t able to just do things he’d never tried before.

The room was smaller than he would’ve expected, presuming he was in a kind of engine room. Around the edges of the room were a number of bins, holding substances ranging from powders to liquids.

In the center of the room was a glass tube that went from floor to ceiling, and seemed to be filled with a glowing crystal stalagmite. From the top of the tube dripped some kind of liquid, and at the bottom it flowed out in small pipes, glowing the same as the crystal and possibly converted into fuel.

He could assume that with all of the powders and liquids that there was a chemical reaction causing the substance to obtain the glowing quality and become fuel. But what that was, and how to know what was safe to change about it, he had no idea.

“Well?” The alien, whom he now assumed to be what served as the ship’s engineer, asked.

He was making so many assumptions, and still was barely anywhere. They could all be wrong.

“Explain to me how it works,” Logan said. “Then I’ll try to ‘fix’ it.”

The alien made an unpleasant sound that the translator interpreted as a sigh. “This is a ——-, the liquid is a mixture of ——, ——, ——-, and ——, but it could be made with any of the ——— family instead of the ———, or you could replace the ———- with ——— for better efficiency at different energy levels. We also have several forms of ———-, which ought to make more potent fuel for higher speeds, but every time we’ve tried the ———- smokes and explodes and there’s residue in the tubing for several rotations which puts us at a standstill.”

Logan grimaced. He had a very small idea of what was being said based on gestures, but he’d much prefer to have names and details. It seemed this was a very large and dangerous version of chemistry experiments, with no textbook, and his only advice coming from someone who hadn’t studied.

Well, there was the other ‘deathworlder’ in the room. He could only hope they knew something about any of this. Though the difficulty in communication might make that knowledge impossible to access.

He turned towards them anyway. “Can you understand me at all?”

They made another low whistling sound, followed by chittering. One arm waved, with… could he call them fingers? gesturing towards Logan.

He hoped desperately that he could consider that to be a yes.

“What would you do in—“

The engineer’s communicator interrupted him. “We thought we’d have a few more rotations but they’re closing in, has the human done anything yet?”

“No,” the engineer said. “It’s just staring at everything.”

“Well get it to hurry!”

The other ‘deathworlder’ made a long series of noises, pointing at one bin in particular and then at a place where it seemed the not-yet-fuel liquid was.

It was a foolish thing. A very foolish thing. But Logan took a scoop from the bin and dumped the powder into the liquid.

It bubbled and fizzed on contact, sending up thick clouds of a dark blue smoke.

An alarm blared.

The ship lurched, knocking them all to the ground.

And then the new ingredient actually hit the crystal, and there was a loud, high pitched ringing.

Logan covered his ears and shut his eyes, feeling like a weight was pressing him to the floor.

Everything was spinning, and loud, and then it was loud in a very different, but no less painful way.

“Protect me!” The captain shrieked.

There was a pained, screeching scream.

Logan was shoved, but he was barely aware of which direction, let alone what he was supposed to do about any of it.

Something grabbed onto his shoulders, and he flailed, hitting and kicking indiscriminately. Something burned on his side, and he kicked into something much more solid, sending a throbbing pain up his leg.

Everything was noise and pain and lights and movement and he didn’t understand any of it!

Logan struck out blindly at anything that came near him.

He thought he’d backed into a wall, but something must’ve been behind him, and it hit him hard over the head. He dropped to the floor, tears swimming in his eyes and blurring everything even further.

Everything dissolved around him and he was falling, spinning, dropping, tossed.

He was grateful more than anything when unconsciousness took him.

•^*^••

He woke slowly, feeling hazy and heavy. It was quiet, and not too bright, nothing was touching him. So he didn’t bother to open his eyes, just laying still.

He wasn’t dead at least.

Probably the pirates had attacked. Definitely he’d ruined the ship he’d been on.

The question was, was being with pirates any better than living on a ruined ship with aliens that considered him to be some kind of hyper-intelligent slave?

Or perhaps the question was, where was he now?

He forced his eyes open.

He was in a relatively large, empty room. The floor and walls seemed bare, though patched, not all of a single material.

He pushed himself up. There was a loud skittering noise away from him, and he yelped, flinging himself away clumsily.

He turned, and saw the other deathworlder, front legs shaking and making a rattling noise. He wasn’t sure if it was a fear response, a method of communication, or even some kind of threat display.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly, backing up a little farther.

The other alien didn’t try to come close again, so he figured it was mostly likely not interested in threatening him. There wasn’t an echo of his words in an alien language though, and he patted his shoulder to discover that the translator had been taken. His hand went to his throat, disappointed to find that they’d left the collar.

It was still there on the other alien also. They were both still prisoners then, wherever they were.

Looking around, it seemed that they were in an empty cargo space, rather than a proper holding cell, so there was a slightly greater possibility of escape.

There was that low whistling sound again. Logan was certain it was meant as a form of communication.

He tried whistling back, as low as he was capable of.

The alien chittered and shook its legs again, but Logan couldn’t tell even if it was a positive or negative reaction.

“I… don’t know how to talk with you,” he said, keeping his tone low and calm. He sat in a comfortable, loose position, hoping to get across the calm in his tone and posture. “But I’d like to try. I’m not sure what anything you’re doing means, and it’s possible you’re in the same situation. I’m hoping that you have more knowledge of humans than I do of your kind, and that you’ll be able to make better inferences than I’m currently capable of.”

The alien cocked its head to the side, watching him as he spoke. It took a tentative step forward on its spindly legs, and then propped itself on three, holding the fourth out to him.

Logan eyed the appendage. The softer inside substance was filling the holes, making it appear to have small bumps, rather than holes. He held out a hand to it, but didn’t try to touch.

The alien bumped the end of its leg into Logan’s palm.

That seemed… good? Perhaps this was a greeting similar to a handshake?

Logan very gently grasped the end of the appendage, the softer inside substance feeling cool to the touch, and almost like a stiff putty, whereas the harder outer shell felt very smooth and rigid, similar to metal, but light.

The alien retracted their arm, and then looked between their arm and his hand. The inner substance reformed, pressing out from several holes into a clear attempt at fingers. It seemed to be fully controlled by the alien, and moveable, albeit much more slowly than Logan could move his own fingers.

“That’s very impressive,” Logan said.

The alien chittered back at him.

Perhaps they could get somewhere through a kind of charades.

•^*^••

“I think that’s all we can carry,” Roman said, looking over the wreckage.

“We can hold more, we aren’t full yet,” Remus protested, still sad that some of the ship’s inhabitants had taken the escape pods. Aside from the power crystal, which was far too unstable to take, they were the best value on the little ship.

“The whole 3rd cargo bay is empty for the two deathworlders, we’re full.” Roman insisted.

“Oh. Forgot about them. Well, if we can hold ‘em, they might be enough to make it worth it.”

“If we can refill,” Roman grumbled. “I was expecting usable power from this ship.”

It had really been a not-very-great raid. They’d lost Aide, and Bill, and Rahgezis, and hadn’t even gotten much of anything good out of it.

And the deathworlders were far too grumpy to join the crew. If they’d had enough room they would’ve separated them, but he just took away the translators and hoped they weren’t already pack-bonded, and wouldn’t become so. Two single deathworlders were bad enough, two together? Their ship would be a wreck from the inside out.

They needed to give them a rotation or two to calm down, try and have a talk, and then drop them off at the nearest Embassy and get away before bad things happened.

Maybe the Embassy would even pay them for handing over deathworlders. Or maybe they’d arrest them for being pirates.

But without Rahgezis, Remus didn’t want to attempt anything on the black market with such a high demand as deathworlders.

And the teleportation bands should make it a little easier on them. They were super old, and no one in their right mind would use them, except as a practical joke, or a way of keeping enemies too off balance to attack. The ones on the two of them had been fused closed, rather than the usual buckle, so he felt more safe trying to hold the deathworlders than he would otherwise.

They’d only found one remote, but Inshes was already working on making a second.

“I’m going to see if the Scraascik is on any registries,” Roman said. “And I’ll check for the Human, but that’s less likely.”

Remus nodded. “I’ll handle getting us moving again. If they’re awake, maybe you could see about dropping some food into the cargo bay.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Roman sighed.

Remus set a claw on Roman’s back. Roman grumbled, leaning into Remus’s side, and then went off to do his research.

It’d been a hard day for both of them.

•^*^••

They’d managed to exchange names… sort of. The alien’s name was two notes, whistled lower than Logan was capable of, and likewise there was no way of the alien being able to pronounce the word Logan.

But the alien made a deep, almost resonant sound, that was as close as it seemed they could get to anything involving vocal cords. And that was their version of Logan.

Logan considered the two note sound, and came up with a slightly similar-sounding name. Virgil.

Neither of their names for each other were really very similar to their actual names, but they were able to understand each other, and that was what mattered.

As it turned out, Virgil was stronger than he was at pushing things, or hitting, but they couldn’t pull with any strength.

Logan was focusing his attention on the door, and had been so far unsuccessful in prying it open. It was solidly locked, and the lock seemed to only be on the other side of the door. Which likely meant that this room was detachable from the rest of the ship, in case of emergency or danger.

“Virgil.” Logan said, and Virgil turned to look at him from the patch on the wall they’d been inspecting.

Logan hit the door with his palm, his arm straight, in an imitation of the way he’d seen Virgil hit some of the patches, trying to break them. “Hit here.” He pointed at Virgil, and then at a spot where he suspected the lock was.

Virgil made a chittering sound and shambled over.

Logan again mimicked the strike, and then pointed at Virgil.

Virgil got into position. They were able to balance on three legs and rock their whole body weight forward to strike that small point their arm hit with all their strength and weight together.

They tried three times, but the door held firm.

Logan was impressed that they did not seem hurt by the attempt. Their exoskeleton must be very strong indeed. Which was possibly a part of why they were considered a deathworlder.

Logan wondered what their home planet was like.

The door suddenly opened, an alien clearly holding up one of the remotes to the teleporters.

Virgil backed away, turning and running to the other end of the room.

The alien spoke into a small microphone, which translated. “I brought food. Don’t come near me.”

The alien’s body looked almost bear-like, but with longer legs, clearly bipedal. They were only about half the size of a bear though. The fur also was shorter and sparser, and a very reddish kind of brown. The hands looked more useful than a bear’s paws as well. The head though was very unlike a bear’s. Logan didn’t know what to compare it to.

The alien was wearing clothes, which Logan had learned was entirely optional to most aliens, in bright reds and goldish yellows.

Perhaps this meant that this particular alien was more… Logan hesitated to say civilized. He scarcely knew anything about aliens, and could hardly make such judgements about them. Still, he believed he had a bit more chance reasoning with this one.

“Let us out of here,” he said, grateful that the translator picked it up and interpreted it.

“No.”

“We will leave you alone, we will not harm the ship. Let us go,” Logan said calmly but firmly.

The alien again said no, pushing in a tray of what could be food into the room with their foot, already starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Logan said, stepping forward.

The alien jumped, and pushed the button on the remote.

It didn’t seem to affect Logan, but instead Virgil was teleported close to the door. Virgil stumbled, falling against the wall and letting out what could only be described as a scream.

The alien who had delivered food looked even more scared now, and quickly shut the door. Logan pushed through his shock and alarm to try to open the door before it could be locked, but he was too late.

Virgil slumped to the ground, scream fading to a whistling wheeze.

As bad as the teleportation felt to him, Logan was scared that Virgil was being injured by it. Perhaps on the inside, where they were softer. Or perhaps it put too much strain on their rigid exoskeleton.

Was there anything he could do? He didn’t have any idea about what Virgil could need for medical care, and he didn’t want an attempt at comfort to be construed as an attack, especially while Virgil was vulnerable.

He knelt close to Virgil, a bit farther than an arm's length.

“Virgil?”

Virgil’s eyes opened, and from this close Logan could see the differentiation between pupil and iris. Virgil’s eyes were moving back and forth, like Logan had seen before in children who’d been spun in circles. He was likely still extremely disoriented then.

Virgil lifted one arm and waved it around slowly. It knocked into Logan’s shoulder lightly, and Virgil kept tapping it against his shoulders and head. Logan allowed it without complaint, guessing that it was grounding to Virgil, being able to verify that Logan was in one place and not moving, not spinning.

Virgil gradually steadied, taking their arm back.

Logan wished he had a way to ask ‘are you ok?’, but he didn’t. The best he had was, “Virgil?”

The whistle-clack he got in return seemed more positive than negative, though he had no way of accurately judging alien tones.

“Logan.”

Logan nodded, as it seemed the correct response.

Virgil pointed towards the nearly-forgotten tray, and Logan went to get it. Virgil struggled to their feet, looking something like a very large baby deer first trying to stand. If Logan had to guess, Virgil’s kind didn’t frequently sit or lie down.

The tray had a number of small round roll-like things that Logan was now accustomed to seeing. They were similar to banana bread in texture, but the taste was salty and rather bitter. When he’d asked, he’d been told that they were the standard in rations as they kept for a long time, and held an array of nutrients that was sufficient for the basic needs of a majority of species.

He suspected that he would require some greens or fruit if he continued eating these primarily, but he hadn’t seen any anywhere, only these.

Virgil stood over him and leaned down as much as they seemed easily capable of, which still left their head several feet above the ground. Logan was just wondering if they would need assistance to eat when a very long tongue, or perhaps proboscis, unrolled from their mouth and curled around one of the rolls, pulling it up into their mouth.

“What do you eat natively?” Logan wondered aloud. “And do you need water?”

There was a pitcher of water and two small cups. Logan poured one cup full and held it out to Virgil.

Virgil seemed to still be chewing, however, and incapable of drinking while doing so. Or perhaps they didn’t require water. Though, now that Logan was watching, he didn’t believe they were chewing at all. Certainly there was no jaw movement. They could be massaging the food with their tongue, and have particularly effective saliva perhaps.

Logan started eating a roll, setting Virgil’s cup down and filling the other for himself.

A minute later Virgil’s tongue unrolled again and drained the cup, seemingly effective as a massive straw.

“You really are fascinating,” Logan said softly. “Were we not in such a situation I would love to learn more about you.”

Virgil responded with a series of clicks and whistles.

“As it is though, we probably ought to attempt an escape. They haven’t tried to get anything from us, which makes me think they intend on trafficking us further. Most likely they don’t have the power to force us into work like the last ship did, so I think, despite the danger, that this will be our best chance. Of course, the danger is greater for you, the teleportation seems to hurt you much more than it does me.” Logan thought for a while. “I think our best bet would be to try forcing our way out the door the next time it opens. Perhaps one of us could knock the remote away. It is enlightening to know that the remote only works on one of us at a time.”

Logan sighed. “Of course we don’t know when or if they’ll enter again. It’s possible we’ll be held here until we reach wherever we’re going.”

Virgil made a low, soft whistle.

Logan laid on his back. “I can’t even properly ask you for your partnership. It’s infuriating to not be able to succeed at anything I attempt. There’s such a wealth of knowledge that is necessary, and I have no idea of any of it. Nor a way of learning, save through painful experience. I can’t become complacent, I have to effect change, but I never know when my efforts will be simply overturned.”

Virgil nudged his arm with their own.

Logan turned to look at them. Virgil chittered at him, bobbing up and down on their legs.

“What is it?”

“Logan.” Virgil said, still bobbing up and down.

Logan sat up. “I don’t understand.”

Virgil tapped his legs with their arm. “Logan.”

Logan stood up. “Is this what you want? Oh. If you don’t lay down to sleep, you must’ve been concerned when I did. I’ll have to sleep sometime though, and surely you’ve been exposed to aliens that lay down to sleep.”

But rather than relaxing, as Logan would assume Virgil would do if they were concerned, Virgil stepped closer, almost over Logan. Their antenna tilted towards him.

“Oh I see, this would be how you would confirm that I’m healthy, by feeling with your antenna, yes?” Logan remained still, unsurprised when there was a soft touch on his head.

But he was not at all expecting the sudden mental image of himself tackling the alien who’d delivered the food. It was so vivid it was as if he was already doing it, seeing the door open, tackling the alien, smashing the remote, and running forward to climb onto Virgil’s back as Virgil ran them both through the hallway.

Logan jerked back, falling on his butt. “What was that?! You have telepathy??”

Virgil made a movement that could be best described as a shrug.

Logan stood up again, reaching his hand out, battling his speed from excitement in an attempt not to scare Virgil. “Can we do it again?”

Virgil brushed his hand with their antenna, and the same scene flashed before his mind’s eye.

“Yes, yes I’ll do that! Can you understand my answer?”

Virgil made a whistle that Logan was almost certain was affirmative.

Logan paced back and forth excitedly, thinking out loud. “So you can communicate with me even if I can’t communicate with you well. And you very much want my partnership in escaping. We have a plan now. And a form of communication. Virgil, this is amazing!”

Virgil made an almost trilling noise.

•^*^••

“No, it hurt the Scraascik,” Roman said, already changing the ship’s course. “We can’t hold them safely, we have to get to the Embassy.”

“We didn’t even ask them to join us yet!” Remus protested.

“Would you join a strange crew after they hurt you?” Roman retorted, sending a message to the engine room to increase speed.

“Well what about the other one?”

“Remus. It won’t work.” Roman glared at him. “I don’t want to take chances with deathworlders.”

Remus sighed. “Fine. But let me try talking to them before we get there.”

Roman’s face went hard. “You have until we arrive,” he finally conceded.

Remus hurried down to the cargo bay.

He burst the door open, and it slammed shut behind him. Both deathworlders jolted, staring at him.

He then realized that he’d entirely forgotten the remote and the duplicate, and also that he was locked in a room with two deathworlders.

Well, there was a reason people joked he was addicted to adrenaline.

“Hello!” He said, waving. “I’m wondering if you’ll join my crew.”

The human moved first, standing up to a height decently taller than Remus was. And the Scraascik was even larger.

Perhaps he really was in serious danger.

“We just want to leave,” the human said, sounding rather threatening.

Probably telling them about the plan to hand them over to the Embassy then wasn’t a good idea until he was sure that he wasn’t in attack distance anymore. “You can, leave with us. Join our crew and you can adventure with us, raid ships, explore planets!”

“We want to leave alone,” the human said firmly.

“We? So… you bonded then? I guess that rumor is true, deathworlders all really do bond super fast.”

The human bared its teeth at him. “I will not be bonding to your crew based on your desires. I will not remain here, I want to leave. We want to leave.”

The Scraascik agreed in some of the most heavily accented Common Remus had ever heard. No wonder the translators hadn’t picked up any of his yelling when they’d boarded the ship. He’d probably need a translator to touch his antenna, but good luck getting a Scraascik to let anything touch their antenna.

“So you won’t even consider it?” Remus asked, not yet daunted.

“You’ve essentially kidnapped us, and both can and have hurt us! Why would I consider it?”

Yikes, the human sounded angry.

“Well we didn’t mean to hurt you, really, it’s not meant to be that bad. And we only kidnapped you from other kidnappers, and also I can’t hurt you cause I forgot the remote.”

The two deathworlders looked at each other, and Remus knew he really had gone and shoved his whole fist in his mouth. The human shifted position to a much more threatening crouch, as if it was going to pounce on him.

Remus held his arms out, claws at the ready. He might not have a hope of winning against deathworlders, but he could certainly make himself a pain of a target.

“I know I’m a pirate, but this was supposed to be just a talk,” Remus said, wondering if he’d be able to hit the communicator in time and if rescue was possible. Violent deathworlders in an enclosed space was not something he wanted his crew walking into, even for a rescue.

“It’s not much of a talk when we don’t have a say,” the human said, looking more and more threatening every second.

Iaoth , he wanted this human on his crew.

“Of course you have a say!” Remus said. “Name it, what position do you want, what pay, days off, I’ll give you whatever room in the ship you want as your quarters.”

“I fundamentally disagree with joining people that would knowingly traffic other people,” the human growled.

And then it leapt forward.

Remus yelped, swiping at the human and hitting the communicator with his other hand. “Roman!”

He was tackled to the ground, and the Scraascik pinned one arm while the human sat on his middle and held his other arm down.

“Remus?!” Roman’s voice came through the communicator.

“Let us go,” the human growled. “Once we’re out we’ll let them go.”

There was a tremor to the floor that Remus recognized. Roman must have been overloading the engine, they’d arrived and were docking.

“Is Remus ok?” Roman asked, sounding terrified.

“I’m fine, just a little stuck,” Remus said, trying to not sound scared so Roman wouldn’t get even more worried. “Laying under a deathworlder~ not quite as fun as I always imagined.”

Roman made a sound somewhere between a sob and laugh. “I’m coming to let you out. Don’t hurt him. Please.”

Remus was honestly a bit surprised that he was only pinned. The human was leaking blood from its shoulder and across its chest where Remus’s swipe had connected, but it hadn’t retaliated.

“Hurry,” the human said coldly.

The communicator turned off, and Remus had a strong suspicion Roman was calling the Embassy to have guards outside the ship when the cargo hold was opened.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Remus asked. “I know it won’t look like it from your end, but we don’t traffic, we take from ships we attack, but we’d either let them join us or take them to the authorities, we don’t just continue the traffic. And we could use people like you, you could help us take down so many more ships.”

The Scraascik leaned harder on his arm, and Remus grimaced.

“What would the authorities do?” The human asked.

“Uhhhh… well with the Scraascik, probably drop him back on his own planet, or with a Scraascik colony. Your planet though is still restricted, so they’d probably keep you until it’s opened.”

The human’s face contorted into something that did not look good for Remus.

“We’re on our way there, aren’t we?”

Remus wasn’t sure he dared lie, not when he was pinned to the ground with two very angry-seeming deathworlders over him. “Yeah.”

The human hit the communicator. “Listen.”

“I’m listening,” Roman said warily.

“Don’t open the cargo hold,” the human ordered. “You’re a pirate ship. You have smaller ships for scavenging, yes?”

“…yes.”

“Give us one.”

There was a long pause from Roman.

“Put food and fuel and translators in it,” the human said firmly. “We’re taking this one with us until we’re safely inside.”

This was probably wrecking Roman’s plans. There would be authorities involved and now no deathworlders to give them.

“Alright,” Roman said.

•^*^••

The door to the cargo hold was opened. Logan had the bear-alien in a tight hold, and Virgil was above them, looking like they were ready to strike out at anything that got within range.

They managed to walk along the halls until they reached the smaller ship. Logan had no idea how he was going to fly it, but it was the biggest chance by far that he’d had yet.

He shoved the bear alien away and slammed the door shut.

Virgil went immediately to the pilot’s seat, and Logan was amazed to see that there were places in the ceiling that fit their antenna. Soon there was a fast and loud humming, and the tiny ship lurched into motion.

•^*^••

Patton was being sent, since they didn’t really believe that there could be a Human and a Scraascik on the cobbled-together ship that had docked. So it was just him and Janus.

Janus wrapped his long tail around the back of Patton’s neck for balance as Patton walked back and forth, waiting for the ship to open its cargo bay.

It sure was taking a long time. They’d seemed so rushed when they called, but now they just wouldn’t open.

And then there was an engine powering up.

A teeny little scavenging ship took off from the bigger one, flying off. Patton scanned it, alarmed to see that there was indeed a Scraascik and a Human signature on board.

“Hey! Hey wait!”

He pulled out his radio, quickly setting it to the bigger ship’s frequency. “Let me in and go after them! We can’t let a Human go flying around unattended!”

“If they don’t let us in fast, go take the SC Meteor,” Janus said.

Patton wasn’t too surprised when the ship started undocking without answering him.

“We’ll get them!” He yelled, running for the Meteor.

#Forgot I meant to post this on tumblr and never did 😅#my own work #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #humans are space orcs

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tascha-schwarz · 3 years

Text

Imagine… John Dutton comforting you after you tell him Beth doesn’t like you

Standing on the porch in the gray of twilight, a little chilled in cold November air, you enjoyed one of the last evenings that still preserved impressive beauty of local landscapes. A few more days, and nothing would be left of this fairytale picture but gloom and dampness. So sad. Of course, the reason for your sadness laid deeper than grieving over a change of seasons. It was all due to the riot in your soul, which made you oversensitive about the surrounding, and these dark clouds on the horizon seemed so untimely.

You were waiting for John, you missed him so much during the day. You believed that once you found yourself in his strong arms, dissolved in his warmth, all the bad thoughts would wear away.

The sun has already gone down. John’s been absent for too long. Your eyes were on the road.

Finally, headlights appeared in the distance, and your heart speeded up. As the truck approached, you recognized the silhouette of John’s pickup. You felt relieved that he was back at last and at the same time excited to see him.

While John was parking, you stepped off the porch, wrapping yourself in the flaps of your jacket.

John smiled when he saw you. So much warmth in his gaze, so much tenderness. All your problems seemed to fade into thin air. Smiling in return, you slowly walked towards him.

“Hello, my dear,” John drew you into his embrace and you crossed your arms on his back, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes with a peaceful sigh. There was no place on Earth you’d feel safer.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, snuggling into his chest, so that your words blurred into indistinct mumble, but he understood you perfectly. John kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. You made him so happy.

He pulled away a little to look you in the eyes, but something in your expression set him alert.

“Is everything fine? You look upset.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled softly, grateful for his advertency. It touched your heart that he always noticed even the slightest change in your mood. But you didn’t want to bother him. “I’m just glad that you’re finally home. I hate it when you leave for the whole day.”

John had no doubt you were glad to see him, had no doubt you hated it when he left, but he didn’t believe everything was fine. He frowned.

“Let it out.”

Keeping back the truth was useless – he caught you. You respected him too much to try his patience, so you resigned you’d have to confess.

“Shall we go inside?”

“And you tell me everything,” he insisted.

You remained in your jacket when you entered the house. Only now you realized how much you froze.

“God. How long have you been standing there?” John started rubbing your hands.

His care brought you to tears sometimes. You couldn’t help smiling as he tried to warm you up. Seeing his focused face, you felt warmth spreading through your body, this warmth arose right from inside your heart reaching your soul while your hands – to John’s displeasure – still remained cold.

“So, what happened while I was gone?” he set you down on the sofa by the fireplace and took a seat beside you, half a turn, to be able to look you in the eyes – they can’t lie.

“It started much earlier, John,” you admitted. “From that very day I suppose, when you introduced me to Beth. She doesn’t like me.”

“But just today she told me the opposite,” smiling softly, John took your hand in supportive gesture.

His words surprised you. This morning you had an unpleasant conversation with his daughter.

“She said she approved my choice,” John couldn’t take his eyes off you, admiring how beautiful you were. “Of course, you should understand that I don’t give a shit whether she approves you or not,” he grinned, stroking your cheek, “it’s not the issue that needs her opinion. But I’m sure she spoke sincerely. I know my daughter. But I also know how intolerable she can be.”

“Oh yes, she can!” you felt easier at heart.

“What did she tell you?” John frowned again.

“It’s the little things. Anyway, it wasn’t pleasant.”

“You should’ve told me. I would remind her where’s her place.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t want to cause a conflict between you and your daughter. Please don’t tell Beth, I beg you, John!”

“Come here,” John sank on the backrest pulling you to himself. You laid your head on his shoulder and relaxed in his arms. You wished you could sit like this forever.

John’s lips touched your forehead. You felt his breath on your face. “I’ll talk to her.”

He met your worried look with a soft smile. “No conflicts, sweetheart, I promise,” he gently caressed your temple.

John leaned in a little more, and all your troubles dispelled in a kiss. His hot palm on your neck, his fingers in your hair. He was so close, and you knew he was on your side. All thoughts left your head, only delightful sensation of his lips on yours remained and pleasant little flutter inside which followed with it.

#john dutton #john dutton x reader #yellowstone #kevin costner

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bigasswritingmagnet · 3 years

Text

Seek a Little Strange and Unusual

Fandom: Psychonauts Pairing: None Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Chloe Barge Summary: One day at the grocery store, Loboto overhears two parents discussing their...problem child. It's a very familiar sounding conversation. He may not understand why, but he won't let history repeat itself. Chloe isn't particularly fond of her human caretakers. The dentist who smuggled her out of the store is strange...but so is she. And he, at least, understands the importance of space helmets on alien planets.

[don’t make tumblr funnyposts about headcanons guys because you WILL become attached to them]

Cucumbers, lighter fluid, toothpaste, apple sauce, quick rise yeast, mineral oil...

Almost everything! All that was left was condiments. Except...had he written ketchup, or catsup? Did it matter? Of course it mattered, they were totally different things! Weren't they? Well, they had different names.

Lobot stared between the bottle of catsup and the scribbled list, trying to read his own handwriting.

"No, no! Put it down--Chloe put that down right now."

Ooooh, drama! He loved drama. Loboto poked his head around the corner of the aisle in time to see a small child standing on their tiptoes, arms outstretched to the cereal boxes on the upper shelf. A brightly colored box of sugar pretending to be a nutritious breakfast was wrapped in a purple glow and descending, slowly.

A woman materialized next to the girl. Her face was tight with anger and she snatched the box out of the air. Shoving it back on the shelf she hissed "What did I tell you? How many times do I have to say it, Chloe! Don't do that! Especially not in public! And I told you take that stupid helmet off when we're in the store!"

The child's response was unintelligible, muffled by the space helmet they were indeed wearing. He wondered what the big deal was. It wasn't the 1940's; nobody cared if you wore a hat in public anymore. Just look at him! He was wearing his showercap and no one had said a word! They just left the aisle as soon as they saw him.

“Take it off, now!”

A man appeared and grabbed the woman's arm.

"Keep your voice down, people are going to come see what the fuss is."

The woman rounded on him, her expression one of frantic desperation.

"I can't do this anymore."

I just don’t care anymore.

"I can't deal with this, the helmet and the moving things around--!"

He’s a monster!

"I know, I know--"

Soon we’ll be free of this devil child.

"I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this! If I have to deal with one more dismantled radio, one more time trying to get her to take it off for company, one more bent spoon--"

Every! Spoon! Bent!

"I've been asking around, and Johnson knows someone who can do a procedure that’ll fix her--"

They all agree on the diagnosis and what must be done.

He felt strange. Cold and hot and angry and...sad. The child didn't seem to notice the conversation. She was trying to float the cereal box back down again. She probably didn't understand what it all meant. She was young. Very young.

Younger than he had been.

He hadn't understood either, until it was too late.

The humans were arguing again. They were always arguing these days. Arguing about such petty problems, when they could be focusing on the whole galaxy around them. She ignored them. It wasn't like they listened to her anyway. How many times had she explained to the woman why she needed to wear the helmet whenever she left the hermetic seal of her room? It never mattered.

The box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs landed gently in her hands. Excellent. She would slide it into the cart under the frozen peas. By the time they got to the cash register, the woman would be bound by social convention to make the purchase, or risk making a scene in front of the cashier.

Chloe still hadn't figured out what making a scene meant. The term was definitely in regards to public behavior, but was applied to anything from yelling in public to silent refusal to remove her helmet. Human rules were so strange and arbitrary.

The boxes in front of her rustled. Chloe tilted her head to one side. Odd. Sometimes things around her moved on their own, but usually she got that strange tingle in the back of her head when they did. She wasn't feeling it now.

The boxes of cereal parted, excess tumbling off the ends of the shelves. Two small lights gleamed in the newly made gap. One red, one green.

A metal claw shot out, grabbed Chloe by the shirt, and hauled her through.

She had half been expecting to be pulled into another dimension, but instead she was just in the next aisle. There was no time to feel disappointed before she was dumped unceremoniously in a grocery cart. Someone loomed over her, but Chloe only got the impression of blue skin and flowers before the stranger scooped up half a shelf's worth of bags of macaroni and dumped them on top of her.

It didn't hurt. She could breathe fine with her helmet protecting her face--see, she wanted to say, I told you I needed it--but she couldn't move very much. The cart rattled and bumped, one wheel squeaking obnoxiously. They paused briefly, and Chloe considered shouting for help, but didn't. She wanted to see where this was going.

So she stayed quiet and still, holding the box of cereal to her chest as a cheerful voice cried "No need to do your beeping scans! I know what I bought! Keep the change!"

Then they were off again. The sounds around her changed as they left the store and rattle bumped their way through the parking lot. She heard a trunk open up, and decided now was a good time to figure out what was going on. She had no interest in riding with the groceries.

Chloe made the purple glow around her hands and pushed until the groceries around her lifted enough for her to move. She popped out from beneath the macaroni like a beach ball being released underwater.

The stranger was. Strange. Very tall. The lights Chloe had seen were his eyes--or rather, small tubes where his eyes should be. They twitched and turned independently of each other. He was smiling at her, and his smile seemed to stretch much, much further than most human smiles.

He was wearing a labcoat and a shower cap.

"Hello!" he said. "I'm going to kidnap you and raise you as my own so your parents can't stick an icepick in your brain to take away your psychic powers!" He tapped his chin, brow furrowing. One of his arms was made of metal, and ended in three claws. "Although I already did that first part, so...I have kidnapped you and am going to raise you as my own so that your parents can't stick an icepick in your brain to take away your psychic powers!"

Chloe considered this with some alarm. She didn't know what an icepick was, but she was sure she didn't want anything stuck in her brain. Psychic powers? Ah. That would explain the purple glow. Her caretakers had been very frustrated by it. But could she believe that they would stick things in her brain just so they could be less frustrated?

Yes. She could believe.

Her chest hurt. The macaroni was heavier than she first thought.

"Will you let me wear my helmet?" she asked.

"Of course!" He patted his showercap. "Headwear is a very important personal choice!

Chloe thought some more.

"This is acceptable," she said, and lifted her arms. The stranger stared at her. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

"What are you doing."

"You need to lift me up."

The stranger stuck his hands under her armpits and did so, holding his arms fully extended out in front of him. She dangled in the air, up, up, so high up, higher than she'd ever managed on a swing, and without the heavy weight of rope and swing seat to remind her she was pinned to this mudball planet. She felt weightless, floating, a dizzyingly wonderful feeling.

They stayed like that for several moments.

"Is this what parenting is?" the stranger asked. "It's a lot easier than they made it sound."

Chloe was so high up, her vision extended over the sea of cars, and she spotted her caretakers--former caretakers--rushing out of the grocery store, looking around wildly.

"Put me down," she said. She would have liked to stay up there for longer. For hours. Maybe she could get him to do it again later. The man used to do it all the time, before the arguing started. The stranger set her feet on the pavement, and began to toss the cart's contents into the trunk without any care for fragility. He did not seem particularly rushed or concerned, for all that he said he was kidnapping her. And wasn't kidnapping illegal?

The car was nothing like the sleek blue sedan her parents drove. The man washed it obsessively, and acted as if you had removed an organ if you so much as borrowed a single sparkplug, even if the project was important.

Not only did this car look as if it hadn't been washed, ever, it also looked like it might dissolve if you tried. It was mostly rust held together by duct tape. The car was decorated in strange patterns picked out by objects hot glued to the sides: rubber ducks, dice, plastic flowers, and many, many teeth. From the looks of it, mostly Odocoileus virginianus and Procyon lotor, although she had to wonder about some of the molars.

"Chloe!" someone shouted. "Chloe, where are you!"

Chloe opened the door of the car and climbed inside. There was a moldy grey blanket on the car seat. She unfolded it and draped it over herself. It smelled like seaweed and toothpaste. She tried to look as much like a non-child lump as she could.

The trunk closed. Through the thin blanket she saw the shadow of the stranger--her new caretaker--lean over her. He wound all three seatbelts across her, pinning her to the seat.

"Safety first!" he said.

The car's engine whined and groaned and the calls got closer. They wouldn't be able to see her under the blanket. She was hidden. It was safe.

All the same, she felt a rush of relief when the engine finally growled to life. The car shot backwards and then came to an abrupt halt with a crash and the tinkle of glass. The seatbelts held her so fast Chloe didn't even move.

"Whoopsie!" the man said. The car lurched forwards and came to another abrupt halt with another crash. "Sorry!" Forward. Smash. "Oopsie daisy!" Back. Crash. "Almost got it!"

This time when the car sped forward, it did not stop, although Chloe did hear a scream and a bump as they turned a sharp corner.

"There we go!"

Chloe waited a few more minutes before working her arms free and pulling the blanket down from over her helmet. The car was zipping down the road, swerving violently between the other cars. In the space of three minutes they shot through two red lights. Her new caretaker was humming an offkey ditty to himself, as if he was taking a casual stroll through the park.

"Who are you?" Chloe asked.

"I am Dr Calligosto Loboto! The greatest dentist in the world!" He threw out an arm dramatically and his claws punctured the roof of the car. She could see many similar holes clustered in the same area.

"My name is Chloe. I hail from the planet Cygnus A."

"Ooooh, you're an alien! That explains the helmet! You better keep that thing on, I don't want you suffocating in our atmosphere!"

Chloe couldn't name the feeling in her chest, except that it was a good one.

"That's what I kept telling them! Just because I can breathe your air doesn't mean it doesn't have a detrimental effect on my lungs!"

"Of course!" the doctor said, genuinely annoyed. "That's Alien 101! Boy, your parents are weird."

"They aren't my parents," Chloe said, firmly. "They're my human caretakers. They were looking after me while I'm on the planet. Someday my real parents will return for me, and take me back to the home planet."

"Makes sense to me! I wonder if that makes this less of a felony."

#caligosto loboto #psychonauts #chloe barge #i have...no excuse #i can't decide if i want to make like a whole thing out of it so here you go for now #pre-canon fic

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love-and-monsters · 3 years

Text

Deluges and Droughts

M water elemental X gn human, 7, 206 words

Your farm is being drowned by a flood, and, desperate to stop it, you recruit the services of a water elemental. But when the tides change, will you be able to help him?

It hadn’t stopped raining for the past eight days. The sky was still thick and gray, with clouds that descended to the treetops. It didn’t fall in a constant barrage, going back and forth between heavy rain and something of a drizzle, but it was nonstop. Even in your house, the air was damp and heavy.

You couldn’t get dry. Every day, you went out, checked your fields, and tried to care for your animals. The ground sloshed under your feet as you walked, muck loose under the grass. Your sheep bleated irritably at you whenever you entered the barn, usually dripping wet. The roof of the barn sagged dangerously in one area, a thick damp patch spreading toward the back. You made an effort to reinforce it, but there wasn’t a lot of chance it would hold. If the barn flooded, you would be in a lot of trouble.

When you woke up to water droplets trickling down your face and water seeping through your floor, you decided to go looking for a water elemental.

You fed your animals in a hurry, then strapped on your most waterproof boots, tugged on a raincoat, and headed out into the fields.

All elementals were tricky to find. They tended not to hang around humans settlements, mostly because they weren’t fans of humans in general. Rarely did they even take on human form. But you needed to find something that would stop the damn weather.

You hiked to the one spot in the fields near your house that would house a water elemental- a lake fed by a massive river. The banks had swollen and overflowed thanks to the abundance of rain, so you had to give it a wide berth. Once you had made it as close to the bank as you felt was safe, you swung your pack off your shoulders and started looking through it.

In your bag, you held what you hoped would be sufficient to summon a water elemental. There was a shell that had been formatted into something like a wind chime, or a bell, an offering of coins that had spend the past three days submerged in brackish water, and a few pieces of sea glass that you had collected from the beach as a child.

Delicately, you approached the edge of the water and placed the sea glass into the waves. Once they had been pulled away from shore, you placed the coins on the bank so the water lapped over them, and held the windchime out until it caught the wind and the soft sound of bells echoed across the water.

You took a deep breath. “You who lives in waves and water, who is one with the sky and sea and storms. Source of all life, I call to you, and request your presence.”

Your voice barely carried over the sound of rain against the lake. Wind whipped stinging cold raindrops against your face. You snuffled against the running of your nose. For several minutes, you stood on the shore of the lake, staring out into the misty silence.

Just as you were ready to assume it hadn’t worked, something out in the lake splashed. You felt your shoulders stiffen, creeping up toward your ears. Cold rain slithered down your back and dripped down your shoulders.

Something in the water splashed again. You squinted out over the lake, trying to make out anything through the haze of mist. As the splashing grew closer, you could see something moving under the water, a dark shape that grew more distinct the closer it got.

Within moments, the shape had approached the shore. It remained in the water for a moment, then the surface rippled and it emerged.

For a moment, its shape was indistinct, like a pillar of water was rising from the lake. Then the water rippled and started to take on a humanoid form. At first, the shape was only vague, like a shadow, then details started to emerge. It stood on the surface of the water as steadily as you were standing on dry land. The water seemed to solidify, not like ice, but like the water was growing thicker and thicker, drawing in tight until the details were evident.

He (he looked like a he) was taller than you, at least six and a half feet tall, with an impressively broad chest. His facial features were surprisingly detailed, from the hooked shape of his nose to the ice-white chips of his eyes. His hair looked like waterfall, rippling down his back and ending in a frothy white cap. He was entirely nude, but with doll anatomy, something you were both grateful for and slightly disappointed by.

“You were calling for me.” His voice had a strange quality to it, like the sound of waves against rocks. It was more intimidating than you’d expected and it sent a shiver wrapping down your spine.

“I did.” Your voice shook, but the water elemental barely seemed to take note of it. He stepped closer to the shore, where only a thin barrier of water kept him from stepping directly on land.

“And what did you summon me for?” the elemental asked. He sounded slightly impatient.

“The rain,” you said. “The land is drowning. It’s been raining nonstop for eight days. It’s destroying everything. I need your help to prevent it.”

The elemental looked at you levelly. He seemed neither surprised, nor concerned. “Yes, it has been raining. My own territory has been expanding thanks to this.” He tilted his head at you. “Did you wish for me to stop the rain?”

You swallowed. “Can you?”

“No.” His voice was cool and unconcerned. Despair rolled through you in a massive wave. “Nor would I if I could. The rain grants me great strength. I can feel it seeping into the land.” He lifted his arms and the mist seemed to thicken around him.

Panic lanced through you, hot and sharp. “Wait!” you said. The elemental looked at you. “What if I can make it worth your while?”

He lowered his hands again. “I would be terribly interested to see how you would do such a thing.”

You took in a deep breath. This plan would work. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. “You gain power based on how much water you have in your… territory, right?” The elemental gave you a skeptical look, but he nodded. “So, obviously, you’re going to want more water in your territory, yes?”

“That would be beneficial to me, yes,” the elemental said. “You are offering to being me water?” He didn’t seem all that impressed.

“Sort of,” you said. “Water elementals can control water, right? If you really wanted to, you would be able to draw it out of the land.”

“Yes,” he said. “Thought it is rarely work the effort. If the water is in my territory, regardless of the form it takes, it adds to my power.”

“Well, if you come to my land, you can have the excess water. It’ll be added to your territory, so you’ll grow more powerful, and I’ll get rid of all the water I don’t need. It’s a win-win.”

The elemental looked at you for a long moment. He seemed to be thinking it over. His form rippled as if he were about to dissolve and your heart sank. Then he smiled wolfishly. “Yes. Your terms are acceptable.”

You sagged in relief. “Good. All right. Then we should start right now.” You started to head back up the bank, realized he wasn’t following you, and stopped. “Are you coming?”

He smiled, like you were being funny in some way you didn’t fully understand. “I require water to travel,” he said.

“It’s pretty wet,” you said. “You can’t travel in the rain or something?”

“There is not enough water in the air to sustain me,” he said. “And the ground would need to be much more saturated than it is for me to walk across it.”

Despite him pointing out problems with your plan, he didn’t seem all that concerned about it. You narrowed your eyes and folded your arms over your chest. “I assume you have some kind of plan?”

The elemental smiled. “Indeed.” He lifted one watery hand and pointed at you. “Humans are made of seventy percent water. Enough water for me to hitch a ride.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What, you want me to carry you on my back all the way back to the farm?” you were strong, but you weren’t entirely sure if you could carry an entire man on your back over such a long distance.

The elemental’s smile grew wider. “Not precisely. I have an easier method in mind.” He held a hand out to you. “Touch me. You will see.”

That was mysterious, and you weren’t a huge fan of mysterious things. But you had a feeling he wasn’t going along with you unless you did as you were told. You gritted your teeth and placed your hand into his.

It was like you had thrown yourself face-first into the ocean and gone limp. The tide caught you and heaved you back and forth. Water rushed around you, tugging at your limbs almost hard enough to wrench them out of their sockets. As much as you could feel it on the outside of your skin, you could feel a tide pounding against your insides. Your blood pulsed in the same rhythm as the sea, like waves were crashing against the inside of your skin.

Gradually, you became aware of the ground underneath you once again. You were on your knees, sinking into the mud. Rain dripped down the back of your neck and soaked your hair. But within you, there was still that pounding of the tide. Your blood pounded through your veins, rushed in your ears. You were aware of the way it thundered through your veins, like the entirety of the ocean’s power had been tucked under your skin.

You forced your mouth open. “What did you do to me?” It was almost impossible to hear your own voice over the tides of your own body.

The voice didn’t come from outside. It echoed in your head, a rushing sound like a waterfall had learned to speak, like the tides in your body were forming words. Your body is seventy percent water, he repeated. I can stay within the water in you.

You pressed a hand to your chest. The tide still thrummed under your skin, but you were getting more used to it. The pulse was almost comforting, like a second heartbeat. “You’re inside me?”

In a manner of speaking. I am within the water you carry inside you. The rushing sensation within you grew stronger, as if the elemental was doing it deliberately. Now you may carry me back to the land with you. I will emerge, take in the water, and you can carry me back home.

Slowly, you got to your feet. You found yourself swaying involuntarily, moving with the tide inside you. Even though he was no longer speaking, you could feel the elemental lingering in the back of your mind. It was a sensation not unlike the feeling of being watched.

“Comfortable for your trip?” you asked, trying to sound casual. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped. The tide pulsing inside you made it hard to focus. A sudden wave of amusement hit you, and you almost laughed before you realized that the amusement wasn’t your own. It was his.

You are actually quite comfortable. The tide inside you gave a powerful surge, like the elemental was shifting in some strange way. I have not done this in a very long time. Your body is far better than my last travel partner. They were tight. You are not too cramped and not too large. Cozy. Your blood surged once more and you had to stop moving to reorient yourself.

“Can you try not to move so much? It’s… uncomfortable.” The elemental didn’t say anything, but you felt his answering apology. After allowing your heartbeat to stabilize once more, you headed back home.

You trudged across the flat, open plains. You felt hyperaware of the water against your skin now, like every trickling drop of rain was electrified. The water elemental pounded through your bloodstream, heavy and heady with power. You felt like you could taste the storm as it rolled across the sky.

Something in the back of your mind shifted and your attention refocused. Somehow, you weren’t entirely aware of how, you could feel the water elemental poking around in your head. He seemed to be flipping through your memories with the mild interest you associated with looking through an acquaintance’s photo journal of their vacation.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked out loud. The water elemental spared you only the tiniest flicker of attention before returning to his sifting.

I want to know about the life of my carrier, he said. I know so little about humans. You are fascinating.

“Fascinating as I may be, I don’t appreciate you- hey!” The elemental hovered on an image of you and your ex buried in a particularly heated kiss. “Cut that out!”

Swapping fluids seems to be a particularly intimate form of human communication, the elemental said. There was no mistaking the amusement in his tone. I approve.

“Cut it out!” you protested. The elemental’s amusement became thicker in your head, swirling like some heady storm. Fine. Two could play at this game. He was inside you, his thoughts inside your head. All you had to do was swim against the tide and-

You plunged into his mind like diving into a great ocean. The currents of his thoughts buffeted you, but you were able to turn against it. A memory drifted by you, buoyed on a stream of thought, and you reached for it.

He twisted, curling, a puddle barely big enough to stand in, but he could feel it, the rain and the stream that fed him. Yes, he was here, he was new, but he could grow stronger and powerful-

The storm overhead raged and he raged with it, his surface surging to catch every drop of water. The river that fed him was swollen, overspilling its banks and feeding him in a great, surging wave of power. He could feel it growing stronger, yes, yes, the power, the feeling of becoming greater, stronger-

It was the sun, the blazing heat that was destroying him. He slunk to the depths of his lake, barely able to feel the trickle of his river feeding him. No matter how hard he struggled, he could still feel the pull of each tiny drop being drawn away from him by the sun, a slow death of heat until he was nothing more than a damp patch on the ground-

The sun was hot, but his river was feeding him and the air was thick with delicious humidity. Humans splashed in his shallows. He looked at them curiously, feeling their motions through the water. They played, hands entwined, laughing with delight at the feeling of his water. Delighting in him, in his power. His awareness was drawn to the two humans at the edge of the lake, standing in his shallows, their bodies pressed together, mouths connected. Some strange emotion flared within him, something tender and sad and happy all at once-

Enough! Something slammed into your mind, like you were being violently shoved. You wobbled in place, the unsteadiness in your mind transferring into your body. The water elemental surged within you, twisting and writhing. Stay out!

There was rage in his voice, but it barely managed to conceal his terror. You looking into his mind had scared him- he hadn’t known you could do that. “I could say the same to you,” you replied. The elemental churned inside you for a moment, but you could feel his anger wane.

Very well. Truce. He did the mental equivalent of turning his back on you, deliberately putting his attention somewhere else. You waited for a moment to make sure he wasn’t just trying to get your guard down, then continued walking toward your home.

The ground sloshed under your feet as you entered the outstretches of your land. The fibers of grass were no longer properly holding the ground together, and you could feel everything slipping under you, threatening to trip you up. It was part of the reason you hadn’t been letting your sheep out. The last thing you needed was for one of them to get stuck in the mud and break their leg.

The skies opened up once more as you approached your barn and you picked up the pace, hurrying get inside. The water elemental perked up as the rain drenched you, soaking through your clothes and straight to your skin.

Your sheep bleated anxiously as you stepped into your barn. The damp patch on the roof was still dripping and starting to sag dangerously. Your concern about that, however, paled under the sudden weight of the elemental’s curiosity. What are those!?

“They’re sheep,” you said. “Have you never seen sheep before?”

No. The elemental cautiously started poking at your mind again, shuffling through your memories.

“Hey!” you said. The elemental froze guiltily. “No looking through memories, got it? If you just ask, I’ll tell you.”

The elemental shifted sulkily in the back of your mind for a moment, then stretched out toward you again. What are sheep?

“They’re, uh.” Well, you hadn’t wanted him to poke through your mind, but now that you were actually being questioned, you weren’t sure how to explain sheep. “Uh, they’re animals. They grow wool that I shear and sell and sometimes I butcher them, if they get too old or injured. I take care of them, deliver lambs when it’s lambing season. They’re a lot of work, but it’s better than working in an office or something.” You gave one of the sheep an affectionate pat. It bleated at you. “And they go ‘baah.’”

I am aware. They are doing so right now. Another one of the sheep butted against your hand and gave a low bleat.

The sheep gathered around you, nuzzling and butting at your hands. As much as he was clearly trying to hide it, the elemental was delighted by the sheep. When you brushed your hand along their wool, he could barely suppress his glee.

You spent several moments indulging his curiosity before another groan from the roof drew your attention. A few splatters of water slipped through and splashed on the ground. “Okay. We should actually do what we came here to do. Can you control the water or something?”

Not from in here. Do you have water that I can enter? You snagged one of the basins that you’d been using to collect the dripping water and dragged it a little ways away from the sheep.

“Will this work?”

Well enough. If a bit cramped. Place your hand in the water. You crouched and rested the palm of your hand on the surface of the water. The elemental shifted inside you once more. It was a strange, twisting sensation, and the pull and rock of the tide began to yank at you once more. You closed your eyes, breathing in and out slowly. For a moment, you could feel the elemental pouring himself out of you. Then there was a strange quiet in your body.

Your body was lighter without him inside you. But there was also something strangely empty about it. For some time, you had felt the power of the elemental pulsing inside you. Now there was nothing in its place, and you felt light, but also disconnected. You couldn’t even feel the pulse of your own blood.

“Are you well?” The voice drew you out of your thoughts. The elemental was looking down at you, formed from his knees-up in a bucket of water. It was a little bit of a ridiculous sight.

“I’m okay. Just- I don’t know, it feels a little like when you’ve been straining your muscles for a while, then you stop and you kind of feel all floaty?” The elemental tilted his head to one side, eyes completely blank. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know a lot about that, huh?” You stood up from where you’d fallen on your butt and brushed the dirt off your pants. “What do you need to do now?”

The elemental closed his eyes. “I must gather the water to me. I should be able to collect a great deal of it- possibly enough to stop the oversaturation of the land.” His form wavered and shifted like he was taking in a deep breath.

Your skin started to tingle all over, almost like static electricity. The air felt thick and damp as you tried to pull it into your lungs. Dampness stuck to your skin. It felt like the air itself was growing thicker, like you were trying to breathe underwater. The sheep bleated and shifted frantically.

Just when you were sure the air was about to turn to water and you were going to drown on land, the tension that had been rising in the air popped. Within a second, the air went from nearly oversaturated to bone dry. Your mouth had been open as you tried to suck in breath and you felt the moisture wick itself from your tongue. You choked as your mouth and throat were completely dried. The sheep were shifting in a near panic, crushing up against you.

Something soft and jelly-like hooked itself around your waist and dragged you across the floor, taking you away from the panicked sheep. You fumbled, trying to seize the appendage, but your fingers went right through it. Yelping, you pulled your soaking hands back. It was water, a column of water that had just enough solidity against your skin to pull you around. You followed the column with your eyes. It led back to the water bucket. The elemental was looking back at you, expression placid.

You made an attempt to speak, but your mouth was still completely dry. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth and no matter how much your throat spasmed, you couldn’t swallow.

“Apologies,” the elemental said. “I was only trying to pull water from the air. I didn’t expect it to pull water from you as well. You should probably have kept your mouth closed.” You were too busy trying to get your mouth to not feel like you’d been chewing sand to replay. “Here. Drink.”

You refocused on him. He had changed position in the bucket, turned fully toward you and lowered, like he was kneeling. His hands were out in front of him, cupped around a drop of water. It was clearly differentiated from the water of his hands, glistening like an oversized dewdrop.

It was fundamentally pretty weird, but you were too thirsty to bother with any sort of discomfort. You bent your head forward and slurped the water up from his palms. It was ice cold and it tasted crystalline and sweet, better than any other water you’d ever tasted. Whether that was just due to how thirsty you were or if he had some sort of way of making water taste delicious, you didn’t know.

Once you had drunken your fill, the elementa withdrew his hands. “I pulled as much water from the land as I could. I will guarantee nothing, but I should have taken enough to prevent any more flooding. Possibly even enough to lessen the storms.”

You turned to look at your leaking roof. The damp patch was completely gone, dry as if it had never been there. The roof still sagged alarmingly, but that was something you could fix. Peeking out the barn door showed that the sky had lightened considerably. There was even sunlight peeking through a few tiny gaps.

“Thank you,” you said. The elemental looked away from you, one of his shoulders rising and falling in a smooth shrug.

“It was a beneficial arrangement for the both of us. There is no need to thank me.” His voice was oddly reedy, a quieter trickle of water than the great rushing noise that his voice usually was.

“Still. I’m grateful.” You tilted your head in a gesture of appreciation. The water elemental made a noise similar to a grunt. “Give me a few minutes to inspect everything.”

He rolled his eyes, but also waved a hand dismissively. You took that as a sign to leave and hurried outside.

The fields outside were firm under your feet as you ran toward your house. Even the air was free from the oppressive mugginess that had surrounded you for over a week. It was easier to breathe.

A quick jog around your property revealed that the awful dampness had receded and everything felt much clearer than before. The worry that had been resting in your chest for the past few days lessened.

When you returned to the barn, the elemental was crouched in the bucket, holding his hands out to the sheep. They appeared to be biting and snapping at his hands, fighting for the best position. A snap of alarm went through you. “Hey! Back up!” You clapped your hands and the sheep scattered obediently.

The elemental straightened back up. “They aren’t harming me. I believe they were thirsty.”

“Yeah, they’ve got water buckets,” you said. The elemental turned his attention to you as you approached. “Ready to go home?”

“I am. Brace yourself. This will feel… more than before.” He extended his hands toward you as you reached back toward him.

The instant your fingers came in contact with his, you were hit once more by the sensation of a powerful wave crashing over you. This time, you were braced for the sensation. It didn’t knock you on your ass, but you felt the power.

It was stronger than before, the pounding of water in your veins. The elemental surged in the back of your mind. Pressure pounded against the inside of your skin, thundered in your ears.

Move with the tide. You are fighting it. The elemental’s voice sounded in the back of your mind, above the pounding waves. You relaxed, letting your hackles drop. The water pulled you along and, for a moment, you felt that you were going to drown. Then the tide calmed and you found yourself drifting, pulled gently by the water.

You opened your eyes. The sheep had scattered back, giving you a wide berth. The elemental’s thought surged in the back of your mind, a sudden and intense urge to pet them.

You laughed and gave the sheep affectionate pats as you headed out of the barn. “You know, you can come back and pet them any time you want.”

The elemental shifted in the back of your mind, disgruntled and a little embarrassed at being caught. I cannot. This is outside my territory and I cannot be brought here without being carried.

“Oh.” The disappointment you felt was surprisingly keen. You felt the elemental shifting in your mind, like he was trying not to look at your feelings. Embarrassed that your thoughts had an audience, you distracted yourself by trudging across the land.

You were back at the edge of the lake sooner than you’d anticipated. The elemental surged with excitement at being back in his home territory. You could feel the boundary in your own body, like a massive case of the warm fuzzies. It almost made you giggle, like being tickled from the inside out.

The edge of the lake lapped over your feet as you approached. You crouched and placed your hands beneath the surface of the water. This time, however, the elemental didn’t come pouring out of you. He hesitated, churning beneath your skin. you could feel his longing to go home war with some strange other desire that you couldn’t place.

“Don’t you want to leave?” you asked, keeping your voice as gentle as possible.

Yes. I am merely making sure that I don’t pull the water out of your body when I leave. His statement would have been more intimidating if you hadn’t been able to feel how flustered he was.

“You didn’t have to do that before,” you teased. The elemental only got more flustered, twisting within you like a cyclone.

I am leaving. Again came that strange pouring sensation and you fell back on your rear in the mud. The elemental rose out of the water in front of you. He looked more solid than he had before, his hair billowing around him in misty waves.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and brushing your pants off once more. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I suppose it is,” the elemental said. Despite being composed entirely of water, he managed to look as stiff as a board as he spoke to you. “If you ever wish to summon me again, simply place you hand in the water and call for me. I will come.”

“I don’t know your name,” you said. The elemental shrugged.

“Elementals rarely take names. If you wish for something to call me, pick anything. I’ll be fine with it.”

You considered for a moment. “Cerulean,” you said. “I’ll call you Cerulean.” He shrugged.

“If that is what you wish to call me.” His voice sounded mostly even, but he had been in your head and you had been in his and he couldn’t completely hide his pleased embarrassment from you. “Farewell, human.”

With that, he dissolved into the water. You looked out over the surface of the water for a moment, feeling the cool mist of rain on your skin, then you turned around and returned home.

You had planned to visit him sooner, but it ended up being over a month before you went back to the lake. Life was busy as ever, and the weather had one-eightied so sharply that walking to the lake had been profoundly unappealing. It was hot, the sort of heat that made you think crawling into an oven might be the cooler option.

When you hit the third day of drought warnings, you decided to go see Cerulean. Just out of concern. After filling two massive canteens with cold water and strapping them to your thighs, you headed out.

Your house was well-watered, thanks to an underground reservoir, so the drought wasn’t affecting you all that much. But you’d heard that several rivers had dropped precipitously in level, and your mind kept wandering back to the image Cerulean had inadvertently showed you- the one where he struggled in the blazing heat, in a tiny puddle, feeling himself drawn away bit by bit.

The lake had receded. The edge of the lake that you’d stood upon to summon Cerulean for the first time was dry as a bone. The edge of the water, several feet away, was murky with muck and silt. You walked closer and dipped your hand beneath the surface.

“Cerulean?” The water was barely cool to the touch. Sweat dripped down your back as you bent forward. “Cerulean!”

There was silence. Panic flickered in your chest. “Come on, where are you?” You unhooked one of the canteens from your side and dumped the water into the lake. The water rippled. Some distance away, the surface of the lake shifted.

Hope sparked in your chest. “Cerulean!” You dumped the other canteen and plunged your hand back under the water. “Can you hear me?”

The water underneath your hand surged, reaching up until it was encasing your forearm. Slowly, as though it was taking a monumental effort, the water shifted and formed Cerulean’s torso.

“It’s you again,” he said. His form wavered, threatening to fall apart. “I’m afraid if you need my help, I am not in the right condition to do so.”

“I came here because I thought you might need my help!” you said. “Are you okay? The lake looks really low. And the river…” The usual flowing water that fed into the lake was barely more than a trickle.

Cerulean pulled his form further together, rising out of the water to his knees. “I have been… I suppose the human term for it would be asleep? It conserves my energy, but I am not aware of the world around me.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you said. “Mostly okay, anyway. I was worried about you, with the drought.”

“Is that why you brought water with you?” he asked, gesturing to the empty canteens.

“I thought, maybe if the lake levels dropped enough, these might help.”

“It would take monumental effort for a human to maintain the lake in the middle of a drought,” Cerulean said dismissively. “Especially considering your own water needs.”

“I’ve got enough water,” you said. “But the lake looks bad.” It had lost at least half its volume since the rains had stopped.

“I have had worse,” Cerulean said.

“They’re not predicting rain for at least another week,” you said. “And that’s only going to be a drizzle, probably. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“There is little I can do about it either way,” Cerulean said with a flowing shrug. “If there is a drought, there is a drought.”

“What happens if the lake totally dries up?” you asked.

“I die,” Cerulean said. “In a manner of speaking. I will evaporate. Eventually I will reconstitute, but I will lack my memories.”

“So, you’ll forget me?” you asked.

“I will forget everything,” Cerulean said. “That includes you, yes.” He shifted in the water, his form rippling. “This upsets you?”

“A little,” you said.

Cerulean looked as though he didn’t know how to feel about that. His expression rippled, facial features dissolving before he managed to reform them. “Then I will endeavor to remain here,” he said. “Though I have little control over it.”

“Is there a way you could get to a more secure location?” you asked. “Somewhere with more water?”

“If there was another lake or pond of some sort that was not already occupied by a water elemental, it would be possible for me to move there. But there are no areas close by that are suitable.”

“You would know if there were other elementals nearby?” you asked.

“I would sense it,” Cerulean confirmed. “We can tell when we cross into another’s territory, and we can sense where our own territory boundaries end.”

“There weren’t any on my land, were there?” you asked.

“No. I did not sense any when I was there. Though I was not particularly looking hard for anything.”

You considered that for a moment. “Would the lake have to be above ground?”

Cerulean gave you a funny look. “No. Any particularly large body of water would work.”

“Okay. Well. If you’re okay with it, I might have somewhere in mind.”

It took some convincing to let Cerulean come check out the underground reservoir. He was reluctant to leave his home, especially when he was in such a vulnerable state. Eventually, however, you pointed out that there was no harm in just taking a look at it.

“If it will make you happy,” he finally sighed. He poured himself into you again. This time, it no longer felt like an overwhelming wave of power. It was weak, barely enough to make your blood pound. Worry crawled through you at how weak he was.

Your worry is irritating, Cerulean said in your mind. You felt a little embarrassed at the intrusion, but your concern overpowered that.

“Let me worry a little bit. You’re not used to someone being worried over you, huh?” you said. Cerulean bristled in the back of your mind.

No. Elementals are solitary by nature. But you could feel his mind in yours and, as much as he tried to hid it, you could feel that he was pleased someone was caring for him.

You trudged across the land until you got into your house. Cerulean’s attention shifted to the sheep with interest. “We can look at them in a bit,” you said. His attention snapped away again and there was a swell of irritation and poorly hidden embarrassment.

There was a well not too far from your house that was also attached to the reservoir, and that seemed to be the easiest way for him to get to it. You carefully filled the bucket and pulled it up. “You can get in the bucket, and then I can lower you to check it out. Will you need help getting back up?”

No. I will find my own way out. There are many connections to other areas. Cerulean flowed away from you. The water in the bucket rippled and shifted as he entered. You replaced the bucket on the hook and cranked the winch until the bucket had vanished with a quiet splash.

You sat by the edge of the well, swinging your legs. The minutes ticked on as you waited for him to return. By the time thirty minutes had passed, you were starting to get nervous. Could he actually get out on his own, or was he just being overconfident? How would you even get him back out?

Just when you were starting to consider actually getting in the well, your sheep set up a bleating alarm. You scrambled to your feet and bolted toward your barn.

It took you a moment to discover the source of the alarm. One of the spigots had turned itself on and was gushing water onto the ground. Your sheep bleated and skittered away from it. Grimacing at the interruption, you stalked over and tried to twist the spigot back off.

It refused to turn, no matter how much force you tried to put into it. Water splattered at the ground, forming a puddle that soaked your toes. You grimaced. God dammit, you couldn’t afford to be wasting water.

Just as you were about to go find some tools to shut the water off, a familiar form emerged from the water. Cerulean gazed steadily at you, a faint smile gracing his face. He looked far stronger than he had at the lake. His hair was a waterfall behind him and his form was so solid it was hard to see through.

“I thought it was connected to your house,” he said. “It took me some time to fond the correct pipes.” One of the sheep cautiously stepped closer to him and he offered a watery hand. “The reservoir is much larger than I anticipated. It descends a great deal underground and is fed by multiple rivers. Even with water being drawn out of it, the whole thing dwarfs my lake.”

“Then it works for you?” you asked. Cerulean smiled.

“It is a far better territory than my old one, even if there were not a drought.” Cerulean hesitated for a moment. “You would be all right with me taking up residence here?”

“It’s mutually beneficial, isn’t it?” you said. “You have a safe location from the drought, and I’ve got someone who can help out my farm if the rains come back.”

Cerulean gave a small, soft smile. “Mutually beneficial. Yes.”

Weeks passed and you got used to his presence on the farm. It wasn’t uncommon for one of your taps to turn itself on and for Cerulean to appear in your sink or tub or wherever he felt like turning up. Eventually, his presence became a near-constant thing. He would assist on the farm, keep you company in the evenings, and even managed to be good enough at math to help you with your taxes, which was certainly not something you were expecting.

A couple of months after he had come to the farm, you returned home and sank onto your couch. Cerulean peered at you from the kitchen. “Are you well?”

“Sore. Ugh, my muscles are killing me. I don’t know what I did, but I think something happened to my back.” You lay on your stomach, groaning as your back muscles strained and protested. “I’m not moving from this couch.”

Cerulean slipped closer to you. “Would you like some help?”

You opened one of your eyes. “You can help with this?”

Cerulean answered by flowing his shape over you. It was cool for a moment, then it warmed until it was pleasantly heated against your skin. Then the water started to move, currents buffeting your muscles like a massage.

You let out a low groan. “Oh, that’s so good. Thank you, thank you.” your mind hazed with pleasure as you drifted into a state where the only thing present was the feeling of your sore muscles being soothed.

“I miss you,” you murmured absently. Cerulean paused and you whined in displeasure.

“I’m right here,” Cerulean said, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“I know, but- you remember when you were in my head? I miss that. It was… nice.” You felt relaxed, so relaxed that you were no longer able to guard the words coming from your mouth. “I could feel what it was like to be you for a little bit.”

Cerulean’s massage started again. “You enjoyed that?” There was a long pause. “I enjoyed it as well.”

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” you said.

Cerulean was quiet for a moment longer. “If we are thinking of experiences we would like to try,” he said slowly, “perhaps there is something else we can try. In the show we watched the other day, some humans did something I was interested in.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Yeah? What was it?”

Cerulean leaned forward, tilting his head and his mouth pressed to yours. It was cool and strangely textured, but it tasted sweet and bright as spring water and it made your stomach flutter.

“Do you- Do you know what that means?” you asked as soon as his mouth broke away from his. Cerulean couldn’t blush, but you saw tiny cyclones swirling inside him that indicated he was flustered.

“It’s a gesture of affection,” he murmured. “Between humans who are living together. And it often leads to other things, that often occur between humans who are close.” He leaned his head close to yours again. “I enjoy spending time with you. I feel close to you. And it would be mutually beneficial.”

His tone became more flustered the longer he spoke. Perhaps if you hadn’t been in his head, you would have believed it was just for some passing curiosity. But you knew the look in his eyes, could detect how flustered he was and how much he wanted this. And you had to be honest: you wanted it too.

“Mutually beneficial, huh?” you said, voice teasing. “Well, if it’s mutually beneficial, then why not?”

As Cerulean’s form shifted and flowed over you, trying to cover your body, you murmured a quiet, “I love you.” He didn’t respond, but you knew he had heard you. And he would say it back when he was ready.

For now, you were just happy to have him with you.

#exophilia #monsterxhuman #monster boyriend #water elemental #monster lover #my writing #OC

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astrolovecosmos · 4 years

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The Signs and Boundaries

Aries typically doesn't have issues with people breaking their boundaries, but if they do, one tip to rebuild those fences is by protecting the self through privacy, be more mindful of who you tell secrets to or share your intentions with. Aries don't have a problem saying no but through their openness and trusting nature can their boundaries be unhealthily crossed. Growing a skeptical and realistic side may be beneficial next time they jump to help someone or have the desire to please another without considering their needs.

Taurus can easily be pressured into pleasing others or keeping the peace. They are a sign that highly desires stability and contentment. But they need to remember to use that stubborn side to say no more often, to stay on the path of what makes them happy. Overcoming fear of instability or losing someone is important for a Taurus building up boundaries. Accepting change is the constant can be helpful, letting go of control or expectations in relationships is empowering.

Gemini’s talent for talking their way out of trouble can actually be a good defense for those trying to break through their boundaries. Their natural desire for space and independence can also help with those trying to control them, guilt trip them, take advantage, or impose. But Gemini is a social, forgiving, supportive, and flexible sign that can have a huge desire to befriend others, gather information, learn, and fit in. A tip for healthier boundaries is a practice in assertion and giving solid stances. Of course a Gemini's opinions may change, they can be change and duality itself, but it is about being firm in what they are saying and feeling in the moment.

You would think Cancer's guarded nature would help them build strong and healthy boundaries, but this sign is giving and sacrificing, having a desire to take care of others. Discernment is needed when dealing with those who would take advantage. But there is a line Cancer must learn to balance between protecting their own heart and becoming closed off due to fear or bias. A Cancer must be careful of not becoming all or nothing when it comes to building up boundaries, are those healthy boundaries or stone cold walls?

Leo does have a huge desire to entertain and please! Their generous and trusting side could get used and abused. You'll hear a lot of themes about self-empowerment via confidence and self-expression with a Leo, and these themes can help with setting boundaries. For Leo there is an importance in possible detachment from expectations, admiration, and possibly ego. They may seek "applause" either tangibly or metaphorically and there's protection in valuing what is authentic and intimate by separating public vs. private, want vs. need.

Virgo despite any hard or overly practical reputation can certainly struggle with keeping healthy boundaries. With a desire to serve and care combined with a flexible, humble, and appreciative personality you can imagine how easily they feel imposed upon or used. Sometimes a Virgo needs to learn how to say no or to refuse to get involved - especially when no one asks them to. Other times Virgo must not rationalize their way out of a situation because despite the logical impulse to do so, it could generate guilt in the future, maybe instead value protecting one's self, value not getting burnt out or drained, approach a situation mentally in this way instead of giving a purely logical reason not to help someone or be used by someone.

Libra - the famous people pleaser. For Libra the goal is to say "no" and overcome fear of conflict, but the work up to that takes inner honesty, understanding what they want, and to be real - practice. Practice makes perfect and Libra is a sign that could use some practice in asserting themselves and setting stronger boundaries. Libra's relationship with independence and dependence can be a topic to discuss when it comes to boundaries. Is there a fear of being alone or just a desire to partner with another? Is it about status, competition, or companionship? There are no wrong answers, just self-reflection and honesty for Libra. Taking care of the self, learning to love being alone with the self is important, fostering independence can be so empowering when it comes to building stronger boundaries for Libra, after all being an air sign - independence and space may be something they fall in love with.

Scorpio’s boundaries can easily be crossed, and they may cross other's boundaries frequently too. Their desire for rawness and intimacy + water's compassion, reception, sacrificing nature, and caring makes them susceptible to burn out, over extending, being used or abused due to unhealthy or non-existing boundaries. For Scorpio accepting that they cannot control people is helpful along with understanding you may get hurt but that is the nature of love and trust. Objectivity or being able to put themselves into other people's shoes can be helpful. Scorpio’s black and white take on the world can cause misunderstandings and disappointment. Sometimes it just takes a lesson learned via experience that not everyone has good intentions for better boundaries, but they need to be careful of being paranoid or distrustful to the extreme.

Sagittarius ain't one to let you hold them back, most burn out is due to themselves and they are self-focused, they won't get caught up on other's guilt trips or manipulation BUT they can be overly open, naïve, and have high hopes which shows where their boundaries can be broken. Coming down to earth with skepticism or realism and understanding not everyone is as honest or good-natured as Sagittarius is one step towards better boundaries. It is Sagittarius’s high expectations that is the hardest to overcome. This is the sign of hope, belief, and optimism, and I don't think it is right or fair to say they have to curb this completely but learning when to let go of an impression or belief of something/someone is important.

Capricorn is usually a sign that does not struggle with loose boundaries, but a desire to conform, provide, protect, be part of/give back to society, or to prove something may give a window of opportunity for boundaries being crossed and them feeling used, underappreciated, or burned out. It is Capricorn’s own guilt, self-criticism, and pressure they must be careful of. You bet there are people out there who will take advantage of how a Capricorn beats themselves up. Capricorn must know their worth, rely on their stability, and accept love or help from others when it is offered.

Despite Aquarius's detachment and aloofness they can be a sucker sometimes for peer pressure and at times their humanitarian trait can be taken advantage of. Aquarius is independent, is the rebel, but their desire to belong to a group, to fight for a cause, to connect socially, to connect mentally can all lead to being easily influenced by a group of people, by trends, by the collective. Aquarius’s celebration of individually and separation is one way to help overcome this, another is through intimacy with another. One super supportive friend or adoring lover could give them better insight into why the "few" can be more powerful at times than "the many". Living by the code, "fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me" may be something an Aquarius who struggles with boundaries may want to pick up. Learning to help those who want to help themselves.

Pisces, the queen/king of dissolved boundaries. First there is an upside to crossing boundaries but that is for a whole different convo, in this piece we are talking about unhealthy lack of boundaries. Pisces desire to merge, help, care, and sacrifice creates this atmosphere. Before Pisces can say no and concentrate on protecting the self they need to recognize the downside of crossed boundaries. It comes so naturally, even recognizing a lack of boundaries can be a challenge. There must be awareness about how nonexistent or thin boundaries can cause Pisces to be used or abused OR can even cause them to drain another or a relationship. It isn't always about asking what they want or need but protecting those things and going after those things. For Pisces it's about not fearing being alone or being separate. It can be about fostering their individuality or general confidence. The merging of souls, feelings, individuality can be a beautiful thing, but so can being your own person.

#boundaries #zodiac #astrology #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #healthy boundaries

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bumbleleewrites · 3 years

Text

Slipping

Written using this prompt from @fluffallamaful. Thank you so much! I had a lot of fun with this. (Set between the events of 6:23-6:29 of Tommy’s vlog.) Summary: Tommy and George have been messing with Wilbur at the water course all day, and he’s had enough of their antics. [IRL] Ler!Wilbur, Lee!Tommy, Lee!George

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I worked on this instead of studying for finals. It was worth it, in my opinion./lh

George fell over on the inflatable platform, giggling. Anticipation filled his eyes as he saw Wilbur approaching, with a cheeky grin on his face and one hand outstretched. The taller boy shoved him lightly, laughing, as George rolled onto his side.

“Noho! Please! Ow! Please!” the eldest halfheartedly pleaded.

Wilbur chuckled, prodding at a gap in the man’s lifejacket.

“NohoHO!” George squawked at the touch as he flinched away. The other one noticed the sound and scoffed amusedly. “Gogy, what was that?” Wilbur asked, repeating the motion. George squeaked and rolled onto his stomach. He began to roll off the platform, and grasped at the colorful, slippery surface desperately. The professionally-clad man considered letting him fall, but got an idea. He promptly reached over and wrapped his arm around George's side, hauling him back up. George looked up at him, still giggling and confused. Wilbur kept his grip on him and looked over to Tommy, with a mischievous smile. “Tommy!” he yelled. He hastily threw the camera in his general direction.

“The fuck?” Tommy yelled back from a distance. The sound of the camera sliding off the platform and landing in the water with a loud splash could be heard. Wilbur turned back to his captive, who was now squirming in an attempt to escape his hold. He hugged the man against his chest and rested his hands against the padding of his lifejacket. George tilted his head back to look up at him, with a puzzled smile. Wilbur smirked and dug his fingers into the same spot, beaming when heard the other shriek. Keeping his grip on him, the taller one plopped down onto the platform, pulling them both down into a seated position with George on his lap. The man in question shouted when Wilbur wiggled his fingers in the spot, and quickly dissolved into a fit of loud laughter. His thin wetsuit offered little protection from the man’s hands. “Nohoho, Wihihilbuhuhur!” he protested. Wilbur removed his hands and wormed them underneath his fluorescent vest, so he was better able to spider against the sides of his stomach. George’s laughter became shrieky again, and more frantic. “StohoHOP, NOHOHOHO FAHAHAHAIR!” Wilbur raised an eyebrow and countered, “Hmm, no, it’s perfectly fair, considering you tricked me into coming here in a fucking suit. And you’ve been messing with me nonstop the entire day!”

He moved his hands further to his sides and began squeezing them. George writhed back and forth, to no avail. “Bad spot, Georgey?” Wilbur teased, wiggling his fingers slightly during each squeeze. George’s face turned a light shade of pink, and he moved his hands to cover his face. He shook his head wildly as he continued to laugh. “SHIHIHIT!” he complained, as Wilbur moved his hands to knead at his hips. “NAHAH- WIHIHIL-” Meanwhile, Tommy had been fishing the camera out of water. He was quite annoyed at that, but when he looked back over to see the commotion, he couldn’t suppress a grin. He carefully tread over to them, still soaking wet, and smiled fondly. Wilbur felt the surface bounce, and turned his head to see the blond standing over them. He made eye contact and smiled back, continuing to wreck George all the while. “Hey, Tommy,” he spoke casually, as he reached down slightly further to pinch George’s upper thighs. The darker-haired man yelped and took a hand away from his flustered face to bat at Wilbur’s.

“Hello, my friend!” Tommy chirped in response, inching further forward, “What’s up?” “Oh, not much,” Wilbur replied. He moved his hands back up to scuttle on George’s stomach and he bucked, his laughter now becoming breathier. “Just getting revenge on Gogy here for making me come here wearing a goddamn suit.”

Tommy chuckled and nodded, crossing his arms in mock frustration. “Yeah, Gogs, how dare you do that to him!” Wilbur rolled his eyes at the hypocrisy of that sentence, and moved a hand to trace around George’s neck and ears. The man shook his head to try to escape the tickles, splattering small droplets of water from his wet hair. Wilbur jerked his head back when many of them hit his face, sputtering. “Yeah, but you know what’s worst of all?” said Wilbur, stopping the tickling completely and allowing George to relax in his arms, still giggling from the residual feelings. “What’s that?” Tommy asked, falling right into his trap. Wilbur helped George onto his feet and replied: “There were two of you involved in this,” he smirked. Wilbur lightly shoved George and the man came toppling down into the water with a loud splash. He continued to walk towards Tommy, who was now looking up at him with a wobbly smile and backing away. “Well Wilbur, you have to be reasonable! I mean, he’s the responsible adult here!” Tommy pleaded as the brunet inched closer. “But I thought you were a big man!” the other one replied. He suddenly lunged at the boy. Tommy shrieked and turned to run from him, but he seemed to forget that he was on an unstable inflatable structure. He ended up slipping and falling abruptly on his face. Wilbur couldn’t help but snicker at that. As the blond desperately flailed his arms to try to get up, the man kneeled down beside him and grabbed his wrists. Tommy now kicked his legs rapidly, but Wilbur solved the problem by kneeling on his knees. “Remember when I told you I was going to make your life a living hell?” The brunet asked with a smirk. “Yeah, but co- cohohohohome ohohon!” He squeaked as Wilbur’s hands shot down to drill into his hips. He screamed overdramatically amid his laughter, pounding his hands against the bouncy surface. From afar, George saw the racket. He picked up the camera, which had been previously abandoned, and hurried over. Meanwhile, Wilbur had snaked his hands under Tommy’s lifejacket and was scribbling at his stomach. Tommy’s laughter slowed down, and became more giggly. “Well that won’t do”, Wilbur teased, noticing the spot wasn’t as sensitive, and shot his hands into the boy’s armpits. Tommy shrieked again and flailed, making small kicks with his heels.

“That’s better. You know, you have such a charming laugh!” the brunet taunted, “It almost makes up for today.”

“HAAAA- FUHUHUCK- AAAAAAA- YOHOHOU!” Tommy jeered.

The brunet laughed lightly and fluttered his hands even quicker. The youngest screamed, before his laughter turned into silent wheezes. “Tommy, respect your elders!” said the taller one. He noticed that the boy was getting severely weakened, and took the opportunity to get off of him and flip him into his back. Tommy gasped for air, and tried to hide his red face in his hands. Wilbur, however, was having none of it. He grabbed his pale wrists and held them above his head, at which the other whined. “Wil,” George interrupted. He’d been standing there, watching silently and grinning for some time. “Don’t you think he’s had enough?” Wilbur snapped his head over, startled by the sudden voice. He hummed thoughtfully and looked back at Tommy, who was squirming in anticipation. “Well, I suppose, if, Tommy, you’ll behave for the rest of the day?” Wilbur asked.

“Wilbur I’m not a goddamn child, get off!” “Is that a yes?” Wilbur replied. He let go of Tommy’s wrists and returned his hands to the boy’s hips, squeezing at them. Tommy yelled and pushed at the man’s hands. “OkahAY! Ihihi- I’ll stop just get ohohoff!” he complained.

Wilbur stopped immediately and playfully messed up his hair before standing up. Tommy remained laying down, still a mess of giggles. He gazed up at the others, who stood over him, watching him fondly. The youngest slowly rose to his feet as his blush faded. “You bitch!” he glared, but he still had a soft smile on his face. Wilbur scoffed and lightly pushed him, causing him to nearly lose his balance. “Quick, Gogy, help me!” Tommy shouted as he lunged at Wilbur. George, who was on the brunet’s other side, stepped back a bit in surprise. The youngest managed to jump on Wilbur, keeping a hold on his shoulders. They both came toppling down onto the bouncy platform, giggling in amusement. Tommy rose to his knees while Wilbur remained panting from the sudden impact. “Tommy!” shouted George, tossing him the camera. Tommy clumsily caught it and held it up. He powered it back on and faced it towards Wilbur. The blond reached out his hand and held it up to Wilbur’s neck pretending to choke him. “I’ll kill you,” Tommy growled in what was supposed to be a threatening voice. “Tommy, no! Tommy no!” Wilbur complained jokingly. He rolled away from the boy’s hand, letting out a wavering cry. George raced to the pair and shoved Tommy over, which provoked all three of them into roughhousing, trying to shove the others into the water. This went on for a while, with no clear winner, but lots of slipping and falling.

Wilbur, in all honesty, didn’t mind the playfulness. He didn’t mind getting soaked each time he was pushed overboard. He wasn’t really even that bothered by the fact he’d come dressed in a suit. All that mattered to him was that he got to spend a fun day with his friends. And while it certainly was chaotic, that made it all the more better.

#mcyt tickle #tickle fic #lee!george #lee!tommyinnit #ler!wilbur #sfw tickles #tickling community #tickle blog

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x Reader) Part 8

Summary: how do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brothers’ best friend?

Word Count: 4.8K

You woke up late the next morning, having forgotten to plug in your phone which also functioned as your alarm. Instead Hange had busted into your room and ripped the blankets off of you, exposing you to the chilly air. You yelped and reached blindly for the covers, your mind too foggy with sleep to comprehend how late you were.

"Rise and shine sleeping beauty." Hange sang as she jostled your shoulder.

"Wha..."

"School starts in like thirty minutes come on bust a move." That woke you up. You tossed your legs over the edge and stumbled around your room, pulling on a pair of joggers and a large t shirt. Hange had left once she was sure that you were awake, leaving you alone to get ready. You didn't bother with make up, not that you ever really did. You double checked that you had all of your supplies for school before zipping up your bag and meandered down the steps. Erwin and Hange were already pulling on their shoes by the door, Erwin was wrapping one of his scarves around Hange's neck. You scrunched your nose in disgust at their outright display of affection and shoved your feet into a pair of old sneakers.

The three of you exited the house, and made a beeline for Erwin's minivan which had been heating up to melt off the frost and snow. The drive was slow and cold, the van was dated so no matter how early Erwin woke up to heat up the car for you, it would always be colder than the Arctic. Erwin also drove like a god damn grandpa in the winter due to the icy roads which didn't help. Finally you made it to school with only five minutes before the bell rang, you bolted into the building, you were in such a hurry that you didn't bother to stomp the snow off your feet as you entered. Which was a mistake because in your hast you lost your footing on the already slick floor, you yelped as you fell flat on your ass. You blinked as you tried to comprehend what had just happened, you were brought back to the present by the sound of boisterous laughter. You turned to glare at Connie and Sasha who where standing to the left munching on a bag of hot cheetos.

"You should've seen the look on your face!" Connie howled as he slapped his thigh. Sasha giggled and nodded as she wiped cheeto dust on Connie's white shirt while he wasn't watching. You rolled your eyes as you picked yourself up off the floor, you ignored them and pushed forward down the hall. Sasha and Connie trailed after you since they had the same first class as you, making jokes as they went.

"You know they really should put out those yellow signs, you know the ones with the person falling?" Sasha joked loudly.

"Yeah I know what you mean, then we could print out a picture of (Y/n)'s face and then stick it on the sign." Connie quipped which lead to the two of them dissolving into another fit of laughter. You ducked into the class room as the minute bell rang weaving through the desks to get to your seat. Armin watched you with wide eyes as you pulled your things out for chem, after your desk was covered in notebooks and pens you topped it off with your phone, which was still dead. The bell rang and then Sasha and Connie staggered in, your teacher shook her head and marked them tardy once again.

"Did you get my text last night?" Armin asked, eyeing your phone on your desk.

"Aw no Armin I'm sorry, I didn't charge it last night so it's dead." you apologized as you attempted to organize your cluttered desk. Armin smiled sweetly and nodded,

"It's all good! I was just wondering what your schedule for this week was and if you wanted to study together again?" Armin explained as he pushed his pencil across his desktop.

"I'd love to study, Geometry is kicking my ass right now." you moaned, the thought of your math class made your stomach heavy with dread.

"I can help you with that if you can help me with poem for English." Armin said softly, his blue eyes sparkling with a playful glint. You rolled your eyes you knew that Armin wouldn't need your help with any of his classes, he was just trying to make you feel smarter.

"Whatever you want baby doll." Armin's face flushed at the pet name that you used for him, you had recently started calling him the nickname due to his doll like features. He averted his gaze to the board where the teacher had written a warm up question on the board to get class started. Instead of working on the problem like a good student, you decided to use the first five minutes of class time to revive your dead phone. You plugged your charger into your laptop and then plugged your phone into the charger, once you saw the tiny lightning bolt you turned your attention to the board.

Chemistry went by uncharacteristically fast, the teacher kept the class busy with a lecture as well as a rowdy game of kahoot in preparation for your midterm. You had no time to check your phone, so it wasn't until you were walking through the hallway with Mikasa and Sasha that you noticed that Levi had responded. According to your phone, he had responded only fifteen minutes after you sent the initial message.

"My bathroom schedule is none of your concern."

You smiled at your phone, it may not seem like he was pleased with your text but you knew better. You had come to appreciate Levi's own weird way of showing that he cared, it had been no small feat either. So you decided to interpret his response as "don't worry I'm fine." you shoved your phone back into your pocket and continued to push through the throng of students in the hall. Sasha walked a few paces in front of Mikasa and you, swinging her lunchbox and humming along to whatever song was playing through her ear buds. Mikasa tugged her scarf up over her nose as you passed Eren who waved vaguely in your direction. Your eyes roamed over Mikasa's form, she had recently switched her aesthetic a bit, changing her wardrobe to a more soft goth mixed with grunge.

Today she wore a green plaid skirt with a belt cinched tightly around her thin waist. She had selected a black turtleneck that clung to her curves with a thick silver necklace with a heart pendant. And of course she wore her red scarf around her neck. You had to admit that it suited her, she looked hot as hell. Sasha on the other hand often dressed in a more causal manner. Today the brunette wore a pair of baggy jeans that hung off her hips, only staying in place because of the shoe lace that she had tied around her waist to function as a belt. Despite the cold weather Sasha wore a tiny pink cami with cute little strawberries on it, she also wore a light pink cardigan over the cami, presumably to prevent herself from being dress coded. Seeing how cute your friends had dressed made you feel embarrassed, you frowned down at your sweatpants and your t shirt that had an ugly bleach stain on the front. You'd do better tomorrow, you thought to yourself as you and Mikasa followed Sasha to your next class, which was World History.

The three of you arrived just in time, not that it mattered anyway. The history teachers always took their time on Mondays, spending a minimum of at least twenty minutes in the hall chatting about sports. You took your seats in the back of the room, surprisingly Connie and Jean were already seated and arguing quietly.

"-I don't know that's a bit sus but hey I won't judge." Connie retorted, crossing his arms and averting his gaze while Jean glared at him.

"What are you guys talking about?" Sasha interrupted as she dropped into her seat next to Connie. Jean's cheeks flushed as he hardened his glare on Connie who waved Sasha off.

"Oh nothing" Connie winked at Jean who eyed the pair suspiciously, knowing that neither one could keep a secret.

"Aw ok then." Sasha looked a bit disappointed as she dropped her huge lunchbox down on the desk.

"Got anything good in there?" Jean sighed, eager to change the subject.

"Duh you dummy." Sasha scoffed as she opened the bag and began pawing through it's contents.

"Let me rephrase that: Got anything to spare? I have practice tonight and I didn't pack any snacks." Jean exasperated as he pointed to the lung box. Sasha paused and pursed her lips in thought while Connie poorly covered his laughter.

"Hmmm what's in it for me?" Sasha hummed thoughtfully as she pulled out a variety of granola bars and fanned them in front of her face tauntingly.

"I'm giving you the chance to be a good friend that should be enough!" Jean fumed with his eyes locked on the bars. You watched the pair go back in forth as they bartered for the snacks until they finally settled that Jean would be the designated driver for the party this weekend. You watched as Jean stuffed a handful of granola bars in his soccer bag and Sasha opened up another bag of hot cheetos. You giggled and turned to gauge Mikasa's reaction, she had a small smile on her full lips as she jotted down some notes.

"Speaking of parties, where is the party this weekend?" You asked as you pulled your own notebook out to take some notes. Connie cocked his head, his thin eyebrows furrowing as he stared at you.

"Your house I thought." Connie remarked as he drummed his pencil against the desk.

"Oh, I wasn't really planning on hosting but..."

"No Connie it's at Marco's remember?" Jean stated as he rolled his eyes.

"My bad." Connie chuckled.

"Well still I don't think I was invited so I wouldn't want to impose." you admitted.

"Nonsense! Marco would love to have you over." Sasha assured you as she once again wiped her hand on Connie's sleeve.

"Yeah Marco wouldn't mind if you tagged along." Connie shrugged, not even noticing that Sasha had left a bright red stain on his sleeve from the cheeto dust. You noticed that Jean looked a bit uncomfortable, the tips of his ears turning a bit pink. Strange, maybe something happened between the two of them.

"I don't know guys, I really wouldn't want to take advantage of the guy, he seems really nice and I wouldn't want him to think badly of me." you sighed, thinking about the sweet freckled barista.

"I'll ask him, don't worry about it!" Connie waved you off before he turned back to his work. You nodded, deciding to throw in the towel with this argument.

____

After history, you went your separate ways with your friends and went to your next class. English was easy enough, your teacher was an older woman who also doubled as the theater director. This meant that she would often assign some busy work at the beginning of the period and turn you loose so she could make preparations for the next production. So once you finished the assignment for today's class you allowed yourself some time on your phone. Levi's message remained unanswered as you ran through all the possible replies. Everything that you thought of didn't seem to fit so you decided to leave it unanswered until you could think of something good.

Levi tapped his foot impatiently as he watched Farlan and Isabel fumbled around the small flat. Farlan was rooting through a bin filled with shoes searching for his loafers. Isabel was standing in front of a small mirror holding up two different pairs of earrings up to her head to see which best matched her outfit. Finally they both found what they were looking for, Farlan slid on his brown loafters and Isabel fastened her hoops to her ears and then they were off. The streets of Paris were dusted in about a foot of snow, which Farlan bitched about due to his poor choice of footwear.

"Can we please call an uber? My toes are going to fall off!" Farlan complained as he shook snow out of his shoes. Isabel giggled and tossed her scarf over her shoulder.

"I like the snow." her green eyes sparkled playfully as she teased the older boy.

"So do I but that doesn't mean I want it between my god damn toes." Farlan hissed as he lifted his other foot to shake out more snow. Levi watched the pair bicker with a certain fondness in his gaze. They had been his first friends and for a time his only family. After his mother died, he was sent to live in an orphanage where he met the odd pair. Even if he was only in the orphanage for two years, he still had come to love the idiots. Thankfully they never lost touch, Farlan had turned 18 in July so he now had custody of Isabel and rented a flat for the both of them. Isabel was still only 16 so technically Farlan was her legal guardian, and so far he seemed to be doing a good job.

"What do you think Levi, should we call an uber?" Isabel asked, bumping her shoulder into Levi's to grab his attention.

"We're already almost there." Levi deadpanned as the three of them meandered down the sidewalk. The city was surprisingly busy for a Monday evening, couples walked with arms linked, families were window shopping, and students sat perched on barstools as they drank coffee while they typed away on laptops. Levi couldn't remember much about Paris, at least not this side of the city. He had grown up in the north-eastern district, which was known to be poorer than the central district or southern district. Farlan had managed to get a job at a law firm as an assistant which had allowed him to move himself and Isabel to the central district. Of course Kenny sent Farlan and Isabel a monthly allowance to keep their heads above water, but it was mostly Farlan who had scrounged the money together to move the pair.

"Then it's settled! We'll walk!" Isabel whooped as she skipped ahead of the two boys. Farlan groaned and shot Levi a disappointed look.

"Don't look at me like that, you're the idiot that wore loafers." Levi scolded.

"I hate how you're always right." Farlan chuckled. The trio walked the rest of the way to the restaurant in relative silence. Thankfully the walk wasn't too long, they sat themselves in a booth. A waiter came and took their orders, Levi was slightly taken aback when Farlan ordered a bottle of wine, but he quickly remembered that the legal drinking age in France was 18. The waiter left them to put in their order, Levi took the moment of peace to check his phone. A hand full of texts from Hange, a meme from Erwin, and.... no response from you.

He frowned as he stared at his own response, looking back at it he wasn't sure how she could respond to that. He mentally kicked himself, for the first time in your odd relationship you showed an interest in him and all he was doing was pushing you away. Levi was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he failed to notice that the waiter had already brought them their drinks. Isabel tapped her straw on the table a few times to rip the paper, once the tip of the straw was exposed she lifted the straw to her lips and blew. The paper shot off the straw and hit Levi square in the chin. Farlan snorted and spat his wine back into his glass so he could laugh at Levi's exasperated expression. Isabel howled with laughter, she banged her hand on the table dramatically as Levi frowned at the two of them unimpressed.

"How old are you?" Levi ridiculed as he stooped to pick up the scrap piece of paper. He balled the trash up and set it down on the table top. Farlan sighed as he finally managed to quell his laughter.

"Someone has to keep you humble Levi." Farlan teased as he took another sip of wine. Levi reached for the bottle and poured himself a glass, Isabel was drinking a root beer loudly through her straw. Levi sat his phone down on the table as he gave his friends his undivided attention. Isabel told him about her job at a doggy day care where she cleaned kennels and watched dogs. Farlan told him about his superiors and how they told him he would make a good lawyer one day. Levi felt a huge sense of relief as he listened to his friends, he was glad that the two of them were finally making a living for themselves. Levi was politely listening to Farlan rant about one of his annoying coworkers when he noticed that Isabel had grown uncharacteristically quiet. His heart dropped when he saw that Isabel had his phone and was frowning at the screen. Farlan followed his gaze and grew quiet as well.

"Isabel what do you think you are doing?" Levi enunciated each word, his tone dripping with venom. Isabel looked up at him, her cheeks tinged pink when she realized that she had been caught.

"Your phone was open and I saw her text..." Isabel trailed off as she turned to show Farlan. Levi slapped his palm over his face and sighed deeply. Farlan whistled lowly as he read the text.

"Shot her down real quick didn't you Levi." Farlan chuckled as he took another sip of wine. Levi frowned, another wave of guilt washing over him.

"Didn't mean to." he mumbled as he lifted his glass to his lips. Isabel had already set his phone down and favored her own phone, her eyes were scanning over the screen quickly as she scrolled through her phone. A few minutes of silence passed before Isabel showed Levi her screen, she had pulled up your instagram.

"This her?" she questioned, Levi only gave her a curt nod as he finished off the wine in his glass.

"Aw Levi's she's adorable!" Isabel gushed as she scrolled through your page, pausing on one of your more popular posts. A series of pictures of you on a beach towel wearing large sunglasses and a huge sun hat, the quality was amazing. He was sure that Armin took the photo, the kid had a knack for photography.

"Damn if you don't want her I'll take her." Farlan hummed as he looked over Isabels shoulder. Levi shot Farlan a disapproving glare.

"What's her number?" Farlan pressed, Isabel choked on her drink as she burst out laughing.

"Forget about it." Levi hissed as he snatched his phone off the table top.

"I'm just teasing you Levi." Farlan waved his hand dismissively as he poured another glass of wine. Levi rolled his eyes and let out a grunt, his own version of acknowledging Farlan's good natured jokes.

"You should call her." Isabel mused as she chewed on her food. Levi furrowed his brows, what would he even say to you? It's not like the two of you casually conversed, he usually only called you if Erwin couldn't reach you, which rarely happened. He glanced at his watch and frowned, if it was eight o'clock here that meant it was about two back home. Therefore you were still in school so he would have to wait until later.

"That's a dumb idea." Levi monotoned, Isabel rolled her eyes dramatically.

"No it's not, even if you're just her friend I'm sure she would like to know that she's on your mind!" Isabel insisted enthusiastically, Farlan nodded in agreement as he shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

"She's right you know-" Farlan paused as he swallowed his mouthful of food, "not everyone can handle your cold demeanor as well as others." Farlan chided as he lifted another bite to his lips.

"Fine I'll call her." Levi caved in as he stabbed his fork into his salad. Isabel squealed in excitement.

"This is great Big-bro! I'm so proud of you!" she gushed, her eyes glimmering with adoration. Levi couldn't resist reaching across the table and ruffling her hair affectionately. Dinner ended without any more noteworthy events, Farlan and Levi split the check and then bundled back up to walk back to the flat.

___

You sat at your dining room table staring hopelessly at your geometry homework. A bowl of cold soup sat untouched, you had been too stressed to eat dinner, a habit that you had recently picked up. Erwin and Hange had made dinner so you could get straight to work, which had been very sweet, but you felt guilty because truthfully you had barely made a dent in your assignment. You thought about calling Armin, he would help you. No you couldn't bother him, he was probably doing work of his own.

So you suffered in silence, the shapes and numbers spinning in your brain the longer you stared at the page. With a frustrated sigh you flipped the page only to see more blank problems that needed to be done. You stood up intending to stretch your legs and take a brain break. After you'd walked around the island in your kitchen three times you came back to the table and dropped down into the chair. You cracked your knuckles before clutching your pencil in a death grip and began to attempt one of the questions. As you scribbled on the page, attempting to make sense of the numbers and letters, you pressed too hard on your pencil and snapped the lead. You watched the tiny piece of lead roll across the page, out of spite you swiped your hand over the page to wipe the lead off.

Your eyes widened at the large smudge that now marred your paper. It all started with a single tear, it rolled down your cheek and splashed onto your paper. Before you could really understand why, you were absolutely bawling your eyes out at the dining room table. Was it because you were frustrated with school? Yeah that was definitely part of the reason. Before you could spiral into a dark pit of self deprecation, you were rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. You squinted through your bleary eyes to see that it was already 10:30 pm. You sighed, not really caring who was on the other end of the line you answered the phone.

"What" you blurted, not really in the mood to talk.

"..."

"Well? I'm kind of in the middle of something right now." your voice quivered as you fought back tears .

"Is...this a bad time?" your heart dropped at the sound of Levi's smooth voice.

"Uh" you sniffled and wiped your eyes.

"No it's not I can talk, what's the matter Levi?" you asked as you continued to wipe your eyes.

"Are you sure?" Levi probed, you nodded despite the fact that he couldn't see you. You stood up and began to pace around the kitchen once more.

"Y-Yeah-" you hiccuped and cringed, Levi sighed on the other end of the line.

"(Y/n) be honest with me....are you drunk?" Levi interrogated, you gasped it was a Monday night! Did he really think that you were that much of an alcoholic?

"No! I just...."

"Hm? What is it?" Levi quipped clearly enjoying your frazzled state.

"If you must know, I was in the middle of a mental break down." you admitted with a heavy sigh. Levi went silent on the other line, you were beginning to regret your honesty.

"It's only Monday." Levi cringed at his less than empathetic response.

"Yeah you're telling me." you chuckled, Levi immediately relaxed at the sound of your laughter even if it wasn't as bubbly as it usually was.

"What's bothering you?" Levi asked, surprisingly softly. You furrowed your brows surely he didn't call you just to hear about your day? He was probably just being nice.

"Oh uh... just school I guess." you paused your pacing to drop onto the sofa and kick your feet up onto the coffee table.

"I see." Levi mused as he reclined in the armchair he was seated in.

"Anyway, enough about me, why did you call me? Is there something you need?" you asked, you were sure that he didn't want to hear you complain about geometry.

"It's fine, tell me about your day." Levi grimaced, tell me about your day? Who was he your mother?

"O-Okay. Well I guess it was fine up until I tried to do this stupid geometry." you grumbled, the mere thought of your homework making your stomach sick with dread.

"Geometry?" Levi hummed, crossing his leg so his ankle was over his knee.

"Yeah." you sighed dejectedly, waiting for his scathing remark about how stupid you were.

"That one can be tough." Levi huffed, you could hear him re-situate so you waited to respond. Once you were sure he was settled you inhaled sharply to prepare yourself.

"It's just not clicking for me." you groaned, Levi snorted and once again you could hear some shuffling.

"Want some help?" he asked. You blinked slowly, not fully processing his words.

"Help?"

"Take it or leave it."

"I would be an idiot to decline."

______

"That wasn't so bad was it?" Levi asked, a playful glint in his grey eyes.

"It was awful, but I'm grateful for the help." you sighed, resting your head on the table. You'd been on the phone with Levi for almost two hours now. After he had offered to lend you a hand you had switched to facetime so he could see the problems. Levi tapped his pen on the counter top he was sitting at. Yeah you heard that right, Levi does math with a fucking pen like a psychopath.

"Anytime." his lip twitched upwards ever so slightly.

"God, I'm sorry that all we talked about was fucking math." you apologized.

"It's fine really. " Levi shrugged once again tapping his pen on the counter.

"Tell me about Paris? How are things on the other side of the pond?" you joked, finally able to genuinely smile now that the stress of your homework was lessened.

"First off, never say 'pond' again. Second, it's cold as a witch's tit over here." Levi enunciated each point by tapping the pen against the counter.

"Really? Is there snow over there?" You asked, suddenly very invested in the weather in France.

"Yeah there's a fuck ton." Levi stood up and brought his phone with him to a window. You could tell that he was on a high floor, you could see the lights of the city through the flurries of snow.

"Woah, it's so pretty!" you gushed as you admired Levi's view.

"Tch, I guess." Levi clicked his tongue as he flipped the camera back onto his face.

"Hey what time is it there?" you yawned.

"Six am." Levi deadpanned.

"What!! Why did you let me keep you up so late Levi! My god go to bed." you huffed incredulously. Levi rolled his eyes as he listened to you lecture him on the importance of a good nights rest.

"I mean seriously Levi no wonder why you're always so grumpy." you finished your rant as you closed your bedroom door and began pulling out a pair of flannel pj pants and a large hoodie since your room seemed to be particularly chilly. You dropped your phone onto your bed (camera down obviously) and began to change into your pjs.

"Don't worry about it sweetheart." Levi drawled, his voice a bit muffled by your comforter. Once you picked up the phone you dropped down onto your bed and sighed.

"Seriously, I'm just adjusting to the time change." Levi shrugged, he was now in his own room, also laying on the bed a pale morning glow seeping into the room.

"Uh huh sure." you teased, a smile spreading across your lips. After a moment of silence you decided that it was time to call it a night.

"Well, unlike you I need my beauty sleep." you said groggily.

"Good luck with that." Levi scoffed, his own voice a bit scratchy.

"Thanks again Levi. Goodnight or erm, Good morning I guess." you giggled as you watched Levi try to cover up a yawn.

"Yeah yeah whatever." He scoffed, you waved as you hung up. You rolled over and plugged your phone in, having learned from your past mistake. You sighed contently as you snuggled beneath the covers, your head filled with thoughts of geometry and Levi.

111 notes · View notes

therenlover · 3 years

Text

Red Nights In Jupiter (A Jimmy Darling/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Tags: Cuddling, Prostitution, Wound Care, Hurt/Comfort, Referenced Past Non-Con (it’s not Jimmy, don’t worry), Implied Sexual Content/Innuendo

Rating: 16+

Warnings*: Mentioned Police Officer Abusing Their Power, Referenced Non-Con, Jimmy Drinks A Beer, Non-Graphic Wound Care

Word Count: 3000~

* - This fic includes a reader who is a prostitute and has recently been taken advantage of by a police officer in exchange for not going to jail. There are no graphic scenes and it's mentioned only a couple of times in passing, but the ending portion of the fic is Jimmy helping the reader recover from wounds (just bruises/scratches) they got during the incident. If this is potentially triggering, please steer clear!

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

--------

“How did the show go tonight?” You mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

“It wasn’t anything special,” Jimmy responded as you spit, “some dumb kids snuck in a couple of rotten tomatoes but their aim was shit. Nobody got hit, so I’ll consider it a success,”

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder over the tiny kitchen sink in his trailer, clumsily going through the motions to wind down from an exhausting day. Outside the sky was a deep red. The last of the sun’s dying light shimmered over the ferris wheel as it made its last run, cutting through the muggy Jupiter air. In the last weeks of July, everything was sweltering. Even the walls of the little trailer were hot enough to leave a burn in the full heat of the noontime sun. Thankfully for you, as the sun receded so did the worst of the scalding heat, leaving behind a hot, wet, and thick fog over the nighttime landscape.

Jimmy finished washing his face while you rinsed your toothbrush. “Elsa and I were thinking that maybe, in the next couple ‘a years, we should invest in another ride. Not a ‘coaster, nothing huge, just something other than the ferris wheel that would keep the kids busy while their parents watch the show,” As he spoke, he wet a washcloth under the tap before wringing it out and tossing it over his shoulders. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think-” you held your tongue, your biting reply dissolving into bitter acid in your mouth, “I think that if that’s what’s best for the show, we should start investing sooner rather than later. It’s always best to be prepared so we can figure it into the budget ASAP,” With a practiced hand you bundled up your toiletries and tucked them away in the drawer. The shake in your tired digits was barely perceptible in the dimly lit room. What was best for the troupe was what was best for you. Still, you couldn’t help but sneak a gaze at the half-full mason jar sitting on the counter by the door.

“You sure?” Jimmy asked. He was down in the mini-fridge now, pulling out a can of some cheap beer. You closed your eyes and offered a curt nod. There was no need to argue over an impossible dream. If Elsa wanted a new ride, she would get a new ride.

“I’m sure, Jimmy. I’m just tired,”

Thankfully, he accepted your excuse with a shrug, settling in at the pull-down table. “Whatever you say, sweet thing,” he cooed, “now get over here. I missed you today,”

You gave in to his request easily. After everything you’d been through over the last 12 hours, you weren’t about to turn down a little affection and attention from the man you loved. Your sunburnt shoulders stung as you clambered into Jimmy’s arms and allowed your face to settle into his sweet, sweaty embrace. His heart thudded under your ear, a steady quarter-note rhythm guiding your own soaring staccato down to normalcy.

Somewhere out in the field, probably in one of the other rusted-out trailers where your friends were settling down in their own nighttime routines, a radio buzzed to life. The sweet sounds of Paul Anka crooning his newest hit loosened your nerves. Over your shoulder, Jimmy took a long swig from his can.

“How was work?” you whispered. Jimmy set down his drink with a little more force than usual. One of his fused hands found its way into his hair. You both knew you weren’t asking about the show.

“I didn’t make much today, but I’m almost fully booked for Thursday. That’s the last party until next week unless the ladies want to throw something after church on Sunday. Wednesday we don’t have a show, so I’m all yours,”

His voice was tired, a departure from his usual confidence. This wasn’t Jimmy Darling the leader and performer, it was your Jimmy boy, the man who held your broken heart together with his unusual hands. You relished in the vulnerability, letting yourself nuzzle closer to his skin. He smelled like sweat and grease and cheap cologne but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It was him. That’s what mattered.

“I could take Wednesday off, Wednesday is never that busy,” you mused.

“Then we’ll go out on Wednesday,” Jimmy was jovial but not loud, dropping his hand down from his hair to rub abstract patterns into your back above the starchy cotton of your day dress, “I’ll take us down to the beach on my bike and we can have a picnic lunch by the ocean. I know a spot off the road that nobody would ever think to go to, it’s like a private beach we’ll have all to ourselves, and the guy at the deli owes me a favor so I can pick up sandwich stuff for cheap when I run in tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even spend a little extra a grab a bottle of that white wine you like. How does that sound, doll face?”

You hummed out an affirmative, far too deep into your newfound relaxation to form words. Your boneless, half-lucid state made Jimmy laugh. His smile only fell when he found a fresh bruise on your back, making you wince.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, pulling his hand away. You whined at the loss of contact. It was rare for you to have the time to wind down together these days, every second of attention was something to cherish.

“It’s just a bad bruise,”

In an instant, Jimmy had you straddling his lap to face him with your face in his large hands. “Did somebody hurt you?” he asked, running a thumb over your cheek to check for concealer or any small cuts and bruises he might have missed, “‘cause if somebody hit my girl I’m gonna have to show them what’s what. I don’t care if they paid, they don’t get to do that shit to you,”

You couldn’t help but avert your eyes, letting your gaze linger on the veins bulging in Jimmy’s neck instead of his face. It would be too difficult to risk seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “It was a cop, Jimmy. I got busted,”

He groaned. “Those bastards…”

“Thankfully this time he just took what he wanted and let me off with a warning. He’ll be back, though, they always are. I’m sorry, Jimmy, I’m just so tired,” A shudder wracked your shoulders, a silent sob you couldn’t quite choke down. You had to take a minute to remind yourself that you were safe. Jimmy had you. You were tucked away from the world in his arms, and he’d kill someone before he let them do anything to hurt you. Nothing and no one could touch you as long as he was there. When he wasn’t, though…

You gripped his thin, white undershirt a little tighter.

Jimmy was with you, not some stranger who had picked you up off the streets for a little fun. You were at home in your caravan with Jimmy and he was holding you and nothing else mattered. There was no reason to be afraid.

He gritted his teeth. Obviously, your distress wasn’t as invisible as you wished it was. “Don't be sorry, doll, this isn't your fault. You know what? You don’t have to go back out there. There are plenty of other ways we can make the money, sweetheart, just say the word and I’ll make it happen. You never have to deal with them again,”

“But the new ride-”

“To hell with the new ride!” Jimmy was shouting in earnest now, but you weren’t afraid, pushing yourself further into his touch. Part of you liked watching him come to your defense. It was something he would only do for someone he loved, someone who was a part of his family, not just any horny housewife that used him to chase their own desires. “Your safety is so much more important than a new ride a couple years down the line! I’ll go tell Elsa to scrap the idea right now if that means you feel better. You’re the most important thing to me, Y/N. You say jump and I say how high. I’m not gonna force you to do anything, if you choose to keep working I have no right to stand up all high and mighty and tell you not to, but if you do wanna stop… I guess what I’m sayin’ is that I want you to be happy, and if I have to pick up the slack for you to do that then so be it,”

You were cradled against his chest again by the end of his schpiel. Your anxiety wasn’t quite as bad as it had been before, and the newly fallen darkness added a sort of buffer to your feelings. Everything was fuzzier in the dark. In that place past dusk where the problems of the word lost their sharp edges you let yourself abandon everything that scared you during the day. Children were afraid of the things they couldn’t see by moonlight but you relished in the anonymity of the night. Life was much scarier by the light of the sun.

“Thank you, Jimmy, I mean it,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before pulling away from his touch, “but we both know I can’t quit,”

“But doll, I-”

“No buts. I bring in more in a week than the troupe makes in a month, not to mention that I get half the essentials for the mess tent at a discount from customers who are sweet on me. Someday, and that day can’t come soon enough, we’ll have enough saved up to get out of here, but until then we both just have to do whatever we can to make that future a reality,”

Jimmy nodded, draining the last warm dregs from his beer and tossing the empty can into the trash. “I just hate thinkin’ about you standing out there alone while those assholes look at you like a piece of meat,”

“I get by well enough,”

“I know you do, but you can’t blame me for worrying,” In a moment of drowsy bliss, you let a soft yawn escape your lips. Jimmy grinned. “Are you fallin’ asleep on me?”

You offered him a loose, gummy smile. “Maybe a little,”

He was quick to sweep a well-muscled arm up under your knees, lifting you up bridal style. You let out a small shriek of surprise. Jimmy didn’t let that distract him, though, as he carried your wriggling form over to your shared bed before setting you down with a low chuckle. “Now dollface,” he said, pulling off his sweat-damp undershirt and the washcloth that had been resting on his shoulders, “you up for a little bit of the Jimmy Darlin’ magic tonight, or would you rather just cuddle?”

“Can we just cuddle tonight? I’m still sore as hell. That asshole cop had me up against a brick wall and didn’t exactly take the time to lighten up his grip when I started to bruise,”

Jimmy nodded. “I tell you what,” he said, running a fused digit over the top button of your dress, “first let’s get that dress off you, then I can rub on some of that arnica gel we got as a gift from the new girl last month, alright? She said it helps with bruises. Once you’re all taken care of, then we can cuddle,”

“That sounds heavenly,” You smiled up at Jimmy as you unbuttoned the front of your dress, easily sliding out and discarding it as he changed out of his work jeans and into some thin cotton pajama pants. Your bra came off last, and much to your surprise your beau didn’t spend much time ogling you, instead turning quickly to go recover the ointment from the shelf in the bathroom.

From your viewpoint on the bed, Jimmy looked like Adonis. He was always handsome, sure, but you loved how the moonlight hit his bare back, revealing each plane of thick, workers muscle as it caressed his skin. As your eyes fluttered closed, you could almost feel the ghost of his body above yours. The radio across the field was still droning on outside the window. In your bed, watching Jimmy putter around the trailer and listening to the fuzzy music that drifted in from the outside, you felt complete for the first time in a long time. There was only one thing left to do that could make you feel better.

“Jimmy,” you asked, “tell me about the future?”

He turned to you with a sigh, the glass jar of arnica gel in hand, “Doll, I’m no Dr. Seuss...”

“Pleeeease, Jimmy,” you whined, “for me?”

It didn’t take anything more for Jimmy to give in. “How could I ever say no when you ask so nicely,” He sat down at your side on the bed, nudging you to roll onto your stomach and give him access to your bruised and scraped back. As he began his gentle probing of your wounds, he started to talk.

“Once we save up enough money,” he whispered, scooping up some gel from the jar before rubbing it into a particularly tender purple spot, “we’re gonna get out of here. You and Ma and me will find a nice little house somewhere with some land, and we’ll be happy there. When we get there, I’ll find a job somewhere where people won’t gawk at me. I can work construction or grow produce in the yard, and you… you, doll, will finally get to rest. You can stay home with Ma, cook, sew, read; you’ll never have to sell yourself on the streets again,”

You squirmed under his touch. “Now tell me about the kids,”

Jimmy groaned. “Really?”

“They’re the best part!”

“Alright, alright, because you won’t stop buggin’ me I’ll talk about the kids, but next time I’m down and out after a fight you’d better return the favor. I expect you to talk my ear off about all the sinful things I wanna hear while you’re busy holding a steak to my eye,”

You grinned. “Since when have I ever let you down, Mr. Darling?”

“Not once, sweet thing,” he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head before going back to focusing on your flesh, now doing more of a massage on the less marred areas than anything else. “Now where were we?”

“The kids, Jimmy,”

“Oh right, the kids!” You let your eyes drift closed as he spoke, relishing in the feeling of his hands against your skin. Every moment in his arms was heaven. It was a real shame the rest of society didn’t see him the way you did, but it kept any potential competition away, and for that you were grateful. Life without Jimmy would be like baking with no sugar; just plain wrong. “Once we have our own place and the money is coming in, I won’t have to waste my pocket change on rubbers anymore. I’ll get you nice and pregnant and then, after nine months of getting looked after by yours truly, you’ll finally have your own little Darling, yours an’ mine. Won’t that be a sight? A little Jimmy Jr. runnin’ around in the yard, absolutely spoiled rotten by his grandma. I dunno much about bein’ a good dad, but I sure as hell know what not to do. No matter what the child ends up looking like, I’ll be there every step of the way. Who knows, if you and I get real busy we may have a whole brood of Darling children before long,”

You wanted to offer up some sort of placation, a witty reply, but you found that your tongue was too heavy and your eyes were drooping lower by the second. It was cooler now that the moon had started her ascent into the night sky, cool enough to stay comfortable with the little air conditioning unit in the window running full blast. Suddenly, the bed shifted next to you as Jimmy screwed the top back onto the jar and got up to return it to its shelf.

“Hey, Jimmy?” you called, voice thick with exhaustion. He was quick to respond, slotting the jar into its place and stepping out of the dimly lit bathroom to check on you.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your back and getting comfortable on top of the sheets, “I just wanted to say I love you, so much,”

Jimmy was back at your side in an instant. “I love you too, doll. I dunno what I ever did to deserve you-”

“Oh stop!” your words were slurred now, dripping from your lips as you watched Jimmy climb into bed. You found your place at his side quickly. It was muscle memory to link your leg with his and set your head on his chest no matter how tired you were. "You're the most handsome, wonderful, perfect man I could have ever asked for Jimmy Darling, and don't you forget it!"

“It’s time for sleep now, doll,” he whispered, burying his face in your hair and wrapping his arms around you, “There’s plenty of time to talk about how wonderful you think I am in the morning,” The smile on his face was clear from the tone of his voice, but you heeded his words, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep while he protected you from the rest of the world.

Things weren’t perfect. You would still wake up the next day and watch the man you loved leave as both of you sold your very bodies in search of an impossible dream for the future, but that was okay. As long as Jimmy was by your side, everything would be.

--------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this fic! I intended for it to be a short drabble where I could practice writing for jimmy, but in the end I’m really happy with how it turned out. This is, genuinely, something I’m really proud of, so please let me know if you liked it. Thank you so much for supporting me!!!

#ahs #ahs freakshow #evan peters #jimmy darling #jimmy darling x reader

93 notes · View notes

scullydubois · 3 years

Note

What about a time when mulder meets up with scully to go for a walk with queequeg?

i may have gone overboard here, but how could i not? this prompt is so precious, thank you.

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

Friday Night with Queequeg, 2.4k--set in season three

“I can’t, Mulder,” his partner insists, her voice dialed up a few intervals for dramatic effect. “I’ve got Queequeg to worry about.”

Mulder drops his Washington Nationals tickets on the desk in disappointment. How lame to be overshadowed by a dog. “That fluffy little guy?” he whines. “Or girl, I'm not sure.”

“He’s a boy.”

“Okay well, he reminds me of one of those Tamagotchi things, have you seen the commercial?” Mulder rambles while shuffling various stray papers from his desk into a single incoherent stack. He’s careful not to sweep the tickets into it. “It’s a pocket pet--”

“I know what it is, Mulder. I have a godson.”

“And is Queequeg not just a glorified version of one of those?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. He needs food and attention and care. But, in case you didn’t know, he is also real and capable of giving much of that back to you.”

“Eh, reciprocated affection is overrated,” Mulder jokes, though life would be a lot damn easier if he believed that. “And it’s one of the few Fridays where we’re not traveling or jet-lagged or wholly tired of each other.”

Scully purses her lips. “I see significantly less of Queequeg per week than I do you,” she mutters, and Mulder wonders whether some of her feigned contempt might be genuine. He’s used to being subtly disliked, but the thought sure makes him sad.

Seeing the passion in his face dissolve, Scully realizes that he’s backing down. It’s not like him to back down, no matter how frivolous the issue is. She knows this about him if she knows anything. It’s as if he’s giving up, and that strikes her more than anything.

“Haven’t you ever had a dog, Mulder?” she asks, ignoring the chair in front of her to perch on the edge of his desk.

“Once. After Samantha.” He laughs out of pure scorn. “I think it was my parents’ way of trying to replace her.”

Scully frowns. She should know by now that any journey into his past will turn into a probe of his eternal wound, and that’s no fault of his own.

“What was its name? And were you fond of it?” Scully feels like a therapist--hopefully a kind and supportive one.

“Sparky. I’ve got no clue where the name came from, or the dog for that matter. He was just kinda there one day when I got home from school. And then in a few months, he was gone in the same way. Taken to my uncle’s cause my parents couldn’t stand all the upkeep.”

A thought pops into Scully’s head that is evidently shared by her partner. “No, he didn’t “go live on a farm’ or whatever, I was old enough not to fall for that,” Mulder insists. “He really did go live with my uncle. Lived like seven more years.”

Scully raises an eyebrow. “But did you like him? Were you sad when he was gone?”

“I was sad about a lot of things at the time, Scully.” He opens his desk drawer and pops a piece of gum in his mouth. He’s out of sunflower seeds. “But about the dog? Eh, he was fine to have around but it wasn’t a quintessential boy and his dog moment. He was already a couple years old and well into his grumpy old man phase, if I remember correctly. And he was a mutt, so I think my parents hated him because he didn’t match the furniture.”

“Mmm.” Scully rolls her tongue over the roof of her mouth. It would be a shame to put Mulder through this whole conversation only to insist that she can’t attend the game. But she wasn’t just making excuses. Queeqeug has been home alone all day. and she always takes him for a walk when she gets home from work. He’s used to their routine now, sitting there at the door when she unlocks it like he’s got an alarm set. He gets his dinner when they get back home and falls soundly asleep. Scully’s convinced this is the only thing keeping him from rebelling for being on his own for ten hours a day, and she doesn’t want to test that theory.

Mulder glances at the office clock. 5:46. First pitch is at 7:05.

“How about this...” He props his feet up on the desk to give himself the air of confidence that he’s lacking. “I’ll run over to your place, walk him, make sure he does his business...the whole shebang. You can finish up here then take a taxi to the park, and I’ll meet you there. Sound good?”

The edges of Scully’s lips turn downward. Mulder notes that today, they are brushed over with a very nice coral. Must be a new shade.

“Do you really care that much about me attending this game?”

Mulder shrugs. Yes he does, but he’ll be nonchalant about it. “I bought the tickets cheap through a newspaper ad. I just thought it would be nice for the two of us to do something that’s not chasing phantoms.”

“Phantoms?” Scully’s left eyebrow arches. “Have I finally broken your spirit?”

Mulder smirks. “Sorry, I thought flattery might get me somewhere here.”

Scully taps a heel against the ugly linoleum floor. He’s so adamant about this...boyhood loves stick, she supposes.

“If it means that much to you, go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when you’re late for the start of the game. Queequeg takes his time.”

Mulder claps his hands together. “That’s fine, that’s fine!” Surely he can hurry the canine up. “You take one ticket and head to the seats, and I’ll find you.”

Scully pulls her lips into a thin line, a hint of humor gleaming in her eyes. “Okay, Mulder. Do you have your key?”

He nods, pulls on his jacket, and edges toward the door. “See you there, Scully!”

“Bye.” Scully smiles at the empty office. Her partner’s enthusiasm is endlessly endearing.

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

Mulder has no time to register that he has no clue where Queequeg’s leash is, or if he’s supposed to bring some sort of bag to pick up any...ehm, droppings, or if there’s some special trick to walking a dog that makes it look easy when it’s secretly hard. In fact, he can’t recall ever walking Sparky. Thirty years old and never walked a dog before...surely that qualifies him for the Guinness World Record books.

Queequeg is alert at the door when Mulder opens it, and he’s glad the thing is more teddy bear than canine--he doesn’t have to deal with any barking or biting. He checks the coat rack for a leash, then begins rummaging around in the front table when he comes up short. It’s all old issues of girly magazines he never would have expected Scully to subscribe to.

Begrudgingly, he looks into Queequeg’s beady eyes. “Where’s your leash, boy? You wanna go for a walk? Show me where your leash is.” He uses a baby voice he didn’t even know he had.

Queequeg does nothing but paw the ground in annoyance.

“I know the feeling,” Mulder quips. He pulls out his phone and chooses Scully’s name from the speed dial list.

It rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. Mulder ends the call, grumbles, then tries the office number instead. She picks up after one ring.

“Hello?” her dainty voice projects through the line.

“Scully, you haven’t left yet?”

“I was just locking up the desk. Is there a problem?” she asks like she knew there would be.

“I can’t find Queequeg’s leash.”

“It’s by the pantry, next to his treats.”

Mulder sighs, heads into the kitchen. “And I suppose I have to take his treats too?”

“Uh-huh. And there’s plastic grocery bags in there that you can use to clean up after him.”

Mulder opens the pantry, sees the hoard. “I feared so.”

“We always go left down the block,” Scully tells her partner. “There’s a patch of grass that way he likes to chew on.”

“And how much does he pay you for such indelible service?” Scully doesn’t listen to a word he says, but she’s at the dog’s beck and call apparently.

There’s a bit of silence as Scully decides not to reply with a smartass remark. Then--”I’m leaving the office now,” she murmurs into the phone. “Better hurry up or I’ll beat you there.”

During this teasing, Mulder attached Queequeg’s leash to his collar. Now, as he tries to lead him into the living room, the dog refuses to move.

“Uh, Scully?”

“Yes?”

“I put his leash on, but Queequeg won’t budge.”

“Do you have the treats?”

Mulder shakes the treat bag and makes kissy noises to encourage the canine. (How humiliating.) Still, nothing.

“He doesn’t want to come with me,” Mulder says. “Even the treats won’t lure him over.”

“Are you sure it’s the right treats?” Scully asks.

“Since when are dogs picky about their treats? Treats are treats. And these are the only ones in the pantry.”

“Huh.”

“If you’re rolling your eyes, I can’t see it,” Mulder mutters.

“I’m not rolling my eyes, I just--we’ve never had this problem.”

“Has anyone else walked him?” Mulder wiggles the leash, which does nothing.

“My mom.”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t like men,” Mulder remarks.

“He lived with Clyde Bruckman…”

“Exactly.”

Scully takes a quick exhale. He has a point. “I’ll head over, okay? But I doubt we’ll make the game.”

“We’ll see.” Mulder sighs. He’s being...well, cockblocked isn’t the right word for it--but something like that--by a dog.

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

Scully arrives half an hour later to find Mulder crouched on the kitchen floor rubbing Queequeg’s belly.

“Am I interrupting something?” she teases. The dog rolls over and leaps into excitement at the sound of her voice, abandoning Mulder altogether.

“Hi buddy.” She scratches his ears and dodges his attempts to lick her face. “You ready to go for a walk?”

Queequeg whimpers and sits as if she commanded him to.

Scully looks to Mulder with a brilliant, taunting smile. “I think he’s ready.”

Mulder stands up, every disk in his back rebelling against him. “That thing--” Mulder jabs a finger in Queequeg’s direction--”has a Jekyll and Hyde situation going on.”

“Really, cause you seemed to be having a great time until I came in.”

“No, no, no, don’t spin this. I had to get down on the kitchen floor because he wouldn’t move! What was I supposed to do while we were waiting for you, ignore him?”

Scully shrugs, tries to hide her smirk. “Well, if you were so bothered by him…”

“Whatever, whatever. Let’s just go for the walk, okay? I don’t want to miss this game, it’s against the Red Sox. It should be good.”

Scully takes Queequeg’s leash from her partner, gestures for him to go ahead. “After you.”

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

It’s a beautiful spring night--the perfect occasion for a baseball game, Scully will give Mulder that. The sun is drifting down the cloudless horizon, and the chill that has hung in the air for months is finally admitting defeat. The sidewalk is crowded with other dogs and their humans, eager to end the week on such a lovely note.

Queequeg trots blissfully in the usual direction. Scully lengthens her stride to keep up with him--for once she and Mulder are walking at the same pace.

“So this is DC on a Friday night, huh?” Mulder says, glancing around at their fellow pedestrians and bicyclists.

Scully nods. “If you got out of the office before seven, you’d know.”

“Doubtful. My usual impression of DC on a Friday night is the traffic on the 14th Street bridge, and I’m pretty sure I can witness that at all hours.”

Scully allows herself a sidelong glance at her partner. She had never realized someone could be too dedicated until she met Mulder.

“Have you ever considered getting a pet?” she asks tentatively.

His gaze snaps to her. He chuckles and sticks his hands in his pockets. “My complex has a hefty monthly pet fee. Rent is already bad enough.”

“Well it’s not like you go out often…” Scully starts, knowing this is short of a compliment. “You’re not a big spender, surely you have the extra cash on hand.”

“Ha, thanks,” Mulder responds. “Should I put that on my resume?”

“I just mean that…” Queequeg finds his beloved patch of grass, and they pause to let him chomp at it. “...you could use the companionship of a dog. Or cat, if that strikes your fancy.”

“I have enough companionship, Scully. More than I know what to do with. Have you heard my answering machine?”

“A woman from an 800 line is not companionship, Mulder. And you never actually answer any of your messages. Friends don’t count if you never see them.”

“Ouch.” Queequeg finishes up, and they resume the walk. “And what are your plans this weekend, Scully?” he asks, hoping to catch her in her own hypocrisy.

“As a matter of fact, I’m going to visit my mother tomorrow afternoon.”

Mulder busts out laughing. “You’re a real party girl!”

She ignores him, focusing on Queequeg. “But you get my point, don’t you? It’s not good to be alone all the time.”

“I seem to recall being told that we spend more time together than you and your dog,” Mulder wisecracks.

“That’s different,” Scully swears. “That’s work.”

“That’s the bulk of modern life, my dear.” He delivers this statement in an old-timey mid-Atlantic accent like some leading man of the 40s. It makes Scully smile.

“I have an idea,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh boy.” Mulder glances at his watch. 6:51. Damn it. “We’re gonna miss the game.”

Scully nods. “Let’s go to the animal shelter instead.”

Mulder stops. It makes Queequeg, and therefore Scully, stop too. “What?”

“You could make some dog very happy, you know. And Queequeg would have a playmate...I think it would be really good for you, Mulder.”

“Come on, I can’t just adopt a dog on a whim.”

“I did.”

“Shit.”

Scully laughs. “You’re realizing there’s no way out of this, aren’t you?”

Mulder grins. “Yeah, I--” He looks down and sees Queequeg taking a dump in the middle of the sidewalk. Scully readies the plastic bag she brought, then bends down and scoops the pile up like it’s nothing.

Mulder screws up his face. “On second thought…”

“Nuh-uh.” Scully ties the bag and taps it against Mulder’s arm. “You’re empty-handed, take this. It’ll be good practice.”

Mulder frowns but takes the bag. His partner’s huge smile is not lost on him, and it makes him smile despite himself. She knows how to get what she wants, and he has a feeling this one will benefit him too.

#txf fic #txf prompt #the x-files #txf #mine

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gentlemancrow · 3 years

Note

jonmartin, pre-romance, #15/28??

I did manage to get BOTH of these in! So we have a combo of "You called me, remember?" and "It's too early for this". Much like the others, the MINUTE I read this prompt an idea popped into my head that I just HAD to go with! This is actually based off a real life incident I had with a friend (They know who they are...) but it fit both Jmart and the prompt PERFECTLY! The names have been changed to fictional characters to protect the innocent. (Hint I was the Martin in this situation) Anyway this was super fun and cute to write and I made myself all squishy a lot. HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3

There were precious few reasons why Martin’s mobile should be ringing at exactly 5:47 am on a Tuesday, and precisely none of them were good. Still, the anxiety inducing sound alerting him to something ominously, ambiguously amiss struggled to worm its way through a rather lovely dream of his acceptance speech after being awarded poet laureate. The poem he had prepared for the occasion was marrow-deep and hauntingly beautiful, or at least he remembered it that way until suddenly he was reciting the lyrics to Abba’s ‘Waterloo’ instead and sweating profusely as the audience began to murmur in disgust amongst themselves. Waterloo was indeed blaring, but from the ringtone of his phone, not from his lips, and his stomach performed a cold somersault with the force of the wave of anxiety that had begun in his dream and crested up to lap at the base of his barely functional brain. The few synapses he needed for basic motor function and reading comprehension crackled to life as he clumsily batted the buzzing device on his nightstand into his hand and squinted blearily at the name.

It was small. That was an immediate relief. If the care home had been calling about an incident with his mother, either her health or the staff’s as a result of her, it would have been the full moniker of ‘Sunrise Acres Care Home’ ticking across the caller ID. Yet small implied a name, a person, someone he had in his phone and not just a random spam call, and anxiety spiked again as Martin scrubbed at his eyes until ‘Jon’ appeared in white hot letters on the screen. Sleep dissolved from him in an instant and he sat bolt upright in a tangle of covers as he smashed the green answer icon with his thumb and threw the receiver to his ear.

“Hullo?! Jon? R’you okay? What’s happened?” he demanded, voice still slumbery thick and groggy.

“Martin!” Jon’s silky, prim voice, thinned out to a tin can vibrato over airwaves, answered, “Good, you’re awake. I need your help. Urgently.”

Martin was already out of bed by the time ‘need’ reached his ears, yanking on the first pair of jeans he spotted in the laundry heap on the floor and hopping on his free leg to the en suite with his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder.

“I’m on it!” he assured him despite having no clue what ‘it’ was, exactly, “I’m coming to you as soon as I can. Where are you? Are you hurt? Should I bring a first aid kit? I don’t think I have a first aid kit… should I buy a first aid kit? There’s a Boots just down the block from my flat, I could-“

“Martin, stop! What the hell are you on about?” Jon’s annoyed tone cut through his panic like a scalpel.

Martin stopped in the doorframe of the bathroom, brows knitted, jeans puddling around the one leg he’d managed to get through and left once again in naught but his boxers as he gripped his phone back into his hand.

“Huh? What are you on about? You said you needed help!” he snapped.

“I do! But not like… not like THAT. What kind of mortal peril do you imagine I would find myself in at a quarter to six in the morning?”

The initial surge of adrenaline fizzling out uselessly in his veins the more Jon talked, Martin sagged against the doorway and pinched his temples as he strained his words through a colander of civility.

“I don’t know, Jon. You called me, remember?”

“Right, right…”

A terse, lowly hissing silence of dead satellite replaced Jon’s voice, twisting Martin’s nerves as acrobatically as he twisted to avoid the point. He kicked off his jeans and stalked grouchily back to bed where he threw himself face down and unmoving.

“So, what is it then? Wi-Fi gone tits up? Forgot how long to steep Darjeeling?” he hissed into his rumpled duvet, a little nastier than he would have liked given the deadly combination of interrupted slumber and primordial biological survival instinct.

“I uh…” Jon’s voice deflated over the speaker, “I have a… problem.”

“Yes, we’ve so very, very clearly established that. What kind of a problem, exactly…?”

“A problem of an upsettingly… Arachnid nature.”

“A spider…?”

“…Yes.”

Martin propped himself up on one elbow, eyes narrowed with genuine and curious concern.

“Wait like a… like a spooky spooky spider? Or just an ordinary kind of spooky spider?” he inquired with as much levity as he could muster, given one of the likely options.

“Stop saying spooky. And the ordinary kind. I think. No, I’m sure of it. It’s merely the sitting on my kitchen wall like it owns the place and staring at me rudely with all eight eyes, judging me for skipping breakfast again, kind,” Jon answered with clinical pointedness.

“O… kay…?” Martin drawled, suppressing a giggle, “So, what’s the problem then?”

“What do I do?”

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again as he doubted that he had actually heard Jonathan Sims, the irascible, pompous, only capable of truly looking at him down his nose Head Archivist Jonathan Sims, ask him, a lowly assistant, what to do. With a spider. It would have been almost adorable, had he not scared the life out of him initially, but even that knocked it only down a single peg to helplessly charming.

“I-I mean, the normal thing one does when encountering a spider in one’s home? You kind of only have the usual two options? Er well, three, if you count just leaving it be, but I doubt you’re amenable to that one.”

“No, absolutely not, out of the question,” Jon declared swiftly.

“Didn’t think so,” Martin chuckled, rolling onto his back and sagging in relief into the mattress.

“So?” came the impatient invitation to continue.

“So what?”

“So, then what do I do?” Jon repeated brusquely.

“Well, you either kill it or let it go, of course! What else is there to do? Invite it to brunch?”

“I know that! I’m not an idiot!” Jon erupted furiously, “Good lord, Martin! Do you really think I would have called you because I didn’t know the only two options for dealing with an eight-legged criminal invading my home were kill it or let it go? Really?! Did you suppose this was the very first spider I ever encountered in my life? Is that what you thought? Or perhaps I had my own personal valet to attend to all of my insectoid tribulations, hmm? Just call the bug butler, he’ll attend to it straightaway! Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth? Or do you customarily just air out whatever inane notions blow through your ears, no matter how puerile? Christ!”

Martin let the phone drop onto the bed beside him, away from the verbal darts hurled directly into his eardrum and taxing the output matrix of the speaker, as Jon launched into an affronted, mortified tirade, smirking and shaking his head.

“It’s too early for this…” he mused to himself ruefully, rubbing both hands over his face and eyes.

Once the phone stopped humming and glowing white hot with remote rage, Martin scooped it back up and yawned into the receiver.

“You alright there, Jon?” he asked in a gentle tone.

A ragged sigh crackled into a blip of feedback from lips too close on the other end of the phone.

“…Not really?” came Jon’s tremulous reply, “Listen, I’m sorry I went off on you. That was unfair of me. I-I just… I really… really hate spiders.”

Something squeezed in Martin’s chest, something about the confident bass flayed neatly out of Jon’s usually assertively solid mannerisms, leaving it abnormally thin and rickety. He sat up on the bed, cradling the phone much more gently to his cheek.

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he assured him, “If anybody sympathizes about being afraid, you definitely called the right person. Need me to stay on the line with you while you whack it? A good heavy book will probably do the trick, or if you need speed and agility a rolled-up newspaper or a magazine might be better?”

“No! I wasn’t calling because I needed advice on how to murder the damn thing! I’m quite capable of doing that on my own. Frankly, I’ve taken rather a vested interest in honing my spider termination methodology over the years. I called you because… well you were going on about how you thought they were…” Jon trailed off in a series of garbled sounds of disgust, “Cute… of all things.”

Martin grinned and had to put the phone on his bare chest a moment, as if Jon might somehow perceive his giddy glee through the receiver.

“To be fair I’m a little odd that way. Most people feel much the same as you do about them,” he commented as he picked it back up.

“True, but that’s not even the whole of it!” Jon went on exasperatedly, “I also overheard you talking… must have been to Tim or Sasha but… you were explaining about how helpful they are to the ecosystem and what a vital role they play in that natural order of things, and how we always see images of them eating butterflies and beautiful things that make them look sinister, but how really they mostly control pests and the like… how you thought they got kind of a bad rap?”

“Wow I uh… I can’t believe you remembered all that,” Martin muttered, freckled cheeks dusting a light pink, “But what does that have to do with your unwanted houseguest in particular?”

“It was the last part, mainly. That’s what got me. The part about fear. That they’re afraid, too… You said there had been studies that showed a clear fear response in spiders… to us. They’re afraid of us, demonstrably more so than we are of them…”

One word of all of those slipped between Martin’s ribs and into his heart. Too. They were afraid, too. His thumb stroked and consoled the edge of his phone unconsciously as Jon blustered on, unbothered by his own unconscious admission.

“And now I can’t do it! Now I have to set this bloody spider free because you think it’s cute and want to make friends with it, and I can’t make it an innocent victim of my fear and I have no idea how!”

Martin couldn’t help but smile, imagining how Jon must be in his flat on the other end, scrunched in a corner all hunched up shoulders and furrowed brow with hackles bristling, squaring off with a creature who was possessed of no knowledge of the fear she symbolized, or the grace to understand the iconographical divorce to her salvation. Only Jon, quivering and still bed-rumpled and frazzled, could understand the magnitude of cupping that fear in the palm of his hand while reaching out to him with the other. And now Martin understood it, too.

“Hey alright, I’ve got you. Steady on Jon, we’re gonna get through this together. I’ll talk you through the steps, you just follow what I say, okay?” he instructed in his best 999 operator performance.

A beat of silence ensued, followed by a much more robust and emboldened, “Okay.”

“So, what you want to do first is get a glass.”

“A glass?”

“Yeah, like a water glass. And a stiff piece of paper or cardboard or something. If you’ve got a bit of post lying about, flyers and coupons and the like, those usually work well.”

There was a period of distant shuffling, clattering, and indecipherable muttering as Jon gathered his weapons, then sucked in an audible breath through his teeth.

“Alright I’ve got them, now what?” he asked, sounding a bit winded.

“Now you very carefully put the glass over the spider, then slide the paper under the glass so you trap it inside. Then you can take it out without touching it or worrying about it scuttling off on you and set it free wherever you think it’ll be happy!” Martin answered sweetly.

“Okay, okay. I think I can do that,” Jon chanted for steadiness, “I’m putting the phone down so I don’t louse it up, but d-don’t hang up, stay on with me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jon. I promise. You’re okay.”

“O-Okay… Okay… Okay…!”

Martin listened as Jon’s voice grew distant, but somehow stronger, more like a war cry, with the soft pad of socked feet on tile, then a short stretch of silence, and then a chorus of oaths and yelping, rising to the crescendo of a door being messily flung open, shut, then opened and shut again. A drumbeat of returning feet rolled mutely close and melded into the scratchy rustle of the phone being picked back up.

“I’m back,” Jon announced.

“Is it done?”

“The deed is done… your little friend is enjoying some lovely pink dahlias out front as we speak.”

“I’m pleased for her! And… for you, too,” Martin said, voice melting into lilting tenderness, “I’m honestly really proud of you, I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I… Ah… No, it wasn’t. Thank you, Martin,” came the sheepishly measured rejoinder.

“You’re very welcome.”

Martin smiled privately to himself, and ran a loving thumb down the edge of his phone once more.

“So then may I rightly assume I have permission to come in an hour or so late today so I can go back to sleep?” he continued, already knowing the answer as he flopped back down on his pillows and rolled up into the covers.

He was relieved to hear a husky chuckle rumble through the phone.

“Yes, yes. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

“Brilliant, see you in a bit then? And for lunch?” he added hopefully.

The brief silence as Jon calculated his response hung thick and palpable in the digital airwaves.

“Lunch sounds good,” he replied at length, “See you then.”

“G-Great! Great! See you!”

Their phones clicked mutually off without the awkward jumble of sign-offs, pleasantries, and accidentally stumbling over each other’s words. Martin thought glimmeringly of the spider hunting free in plush pink petals, none the wiser, and of Jon, with new and irrefutable proof that not everything ugly or quietly cunning in the world lurked behind to cast its shadow over him. A spider could be just a spider, and Martin back asleep with both hands still clutching his phone to his chest, dreaming of singing Waterloo again, but this time to a rapt audience and thunderous applause.

#The Magnus Archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #jonathan sims #Martin Blackwood #Spiders #Crow Writes #Ask Drabble #distortingbones #Suddenlyapples

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “The Plan.”

Getting excited for tomorrow. I have had this idea for a while and am pleased to be able to execute it. Building up to something good :)

Dr. Krill, Adam, and Dr. Katie stood in the low ceilinged Vrul council chamber at the center of the city. The entire room was as Adam had remembered it, with large glass windows looking out at all 360 degrees of the city. At one point he had assumed it was just the selfish desire of the ruling class to look down on the citizens, but as he looked, he could now see that there was some utility to the tower, almost a watch tower over the city. The canals and structure of the city itself could be sectioned off if there was ever an emergency, cut like a pie into triangular sections that could be excluded from the force shield if it was ever needed.

As soon as their historian had put forward her hypothesis, the Vrul council had been called to order, and a few other GA members were now sitting in on the meeting remotely. They would have come themselves, but upon hearing about the horrible creatures that were, even now, clawing at their walls, the council had ordered the shield sup for what must have been the first time in millennia.

Luckily for them, they had never let the shields fall into disrepair, and as he looked out the window he could see the shimmering blue purple nexus of power glistening in the sky above them.

It worried him thinking that the ancient Vrul had deemed it necessary to have a force field that went into the sky as well. Dr. Kell had had a ruptured helium sack when they brought him in, but that gave the assumption that, perhaps, he would still have been able to float in his infected state, which was not something that bare thinking about, though it WAS an important item to consider.

“Yes, all the evidence does seem to point to that.” The counselor said, their head turned towards the GA chairwoman as they spoke, “We have contacted the other cities along the central line and they report their cities are built in much the same way. Satellite imaging shows clusters of…. The nesting sights all over the world, though their greatest cluster happens to be around our city. If each circle has approximately seven of the creatures burrowed below it, we estimate about 49,000 of the creatures possibly burrowed below our landscape. The animals in the area seem to know to steer clear of the nesting sites. The larger animals have moved in great migrations towards the poles where there are few of the nesting sites, and the animals who have a lighter step are prone to avoiding the circle when they can. Zoomed in pictures DO show the occasional skeletalized remains of some creature or another, but it is hard to tell what they died from.

The GA chairwoman was nodding, “So you believe that the cities were built for a different reason than originally thought.”

There was a pause and then the council nodded, “Yes, it seems likely that Vrul lived in open cities before the outbreak began and then built the city in defense against the creatures. The Deltas, we have found are the main spreading vector, since they are stronger and faster, they are more mobile, but the disease affects everyone similarly causing acute aggression and infected pustules filled with sores that rupture and spread a cloud into the air.”

Dr. Krill stepped forward just then to cut into the conversation, “Dr. Katie and I have examined the infection under controlled conditions, and it is clearly a disease that originated on this planet. It does not have the structures you would assume from a viral or bacterial infection common on worlds where the creatures are more animal than plant. In this case the subject does seem primarily interested in infecting our species. The disease is transmissible primarily through respiration where the spores enter the body and into the lungs, as it were, where they are dissolved and the toxin spreads directly through to the brain. It will then destroy most of the decision making and memory centers of the cortex, amp up aggression, and then start germinating more spores in those packets that we have seen.”

“So it isn’t contagious to other species.” The Chair woman asked

Krill shook his head, “I did not say that. While it is a disease that is meant for plant-like liforms, any creature with lungs similar to ours are also under direct fire of infection. Humans for example send blood directly to their brain from the lungs, and have cortical centers that are generally analogous to our own. Of course, humans have the blood brain barrier that would be much less likely to allow that to happen, so I don’t see a mental breakdown as part of its affect on humans, but I do imagine they could develop sores that could burst and be contagious.”

“I see, than what is your plan?”

Another of the council members took the moment to step forward, “Clearly we restrict movement outside the city. It worked for us for four thousand years and it shall work for the next four thousand years.”

There was a murmur of agreement around them before.

“You’re not fucking serious.”

There was a pause as the entire council chamber turned to look at him, Admiral vir standing just before the window and staring down at the city.

The human looked on in absolute consternation.

“Do you have a problem with that, human.”

Admiral Vir drew himself up, “Damn straight I have a problem with that. You have an opportunity to take your planet back. You have all the weapons and all the allies in the galaxy and you won’t even fight for your own planet. Living in your air tight cities and using it as an excuse to bring down even greater restrictions on a group of people who have never known any sort of freedom before.”

“Watch your ton-” “No, I am not one of your citizens, and I won’t be silenced for my opinion. At the end of the day it IS your decision, but you have to understand. The Vrul home planet is one of the greatest sources we have of natural gas and yet Vrul economic power is at an all time low, and that is because the group of you wont leave your cities to harvest it. Now we learn that there is a reason, a stoppable reason, and you just want to sit here and do nothing about it always watched by the fear of what if something happens, what if one of them gets in somehow, what if the strain changes, what if what if what if.” He looked around the room, “not to mention that if you took control of these things, you would be able to expand your cities, which would mean no more termination orders for those who are deemed, by the government mind you, to be useless.” he gave a very pointed look at Krill, “You would have had the doctor dead if it wasn’t for my intervention, and then as soon as something went wrong you called him back. I think that is a perfect example on how this system just isn’t working.”

The Vrul council stared at him, and it was pretty clear that they weren’t a fan of the words coming out of his mouth. There was one problem though, there were other citizens in the room than weren’t going to keep their mouths shut. There was Krill of course, who they had already discredited, but the Admiral had waited for the perfect opening, the the psychologist was there, the historian and more than a few other assistants, who he could see were Betas.

He knew from what Krill had said that Betas were insufferable gossips. So anything that happened in this tower was likely to get out.

With grudging slowness the council grinded back into movement, “Than what do you suggest, Admiral? We are not well versed in military tactics which is what this would require. You can hardly blame us for turning back to the one thing that has always worked.”

Good job hiding behind being pathetic he thought to himself.

“It is a good thing that I am Admiral of the GA armada and have some experience with the tactical side of warfare.” He turned to look around at the others, “We will want to continue doing our tests on these creatures. I want to know what their weaknesses are, and I want to know how to kill them. This is to hoping that bullets do the trick, but I also want to know what they are attracted to. Some of you have suggested vibrations in the ground, in which case, I can use that.

Krill and katie agreed with him.

And he walked with them as they stepped from the room.

“You are really toeing a line the way you speak to them, I think.” Katie whispered quietly

He leaned in, “I have a feeling that the Vrul weren’t always like this. The traditions of government they have now are based on martial law that was present during a zombie apocalypse four thousand years ago. They don’t want to give up their power, but my duty isn’t to their government, it is to their citizens.”

Krill hummed his agreement from Kati’s opposite side, “The Admiral is right, I believe. The more I think about it, the more I have come to a conclusion that we are not as….. How shall we say…. Fragile as the council would make us believe. A lot of what they say is based on the idea that we need to be protected, but I think that ideology is something that was passed down from when we actually DID need to be protected. What other truths about the Vrul don’t we know because we haven’t been allowed to look into it further.”

Adam tapped his fingers against his crossed bicep, “The maximum age of a Vrul for one. I read a paper that said that the average age of a Vrul before termination is only around thirty or forty years, but if what they are saying is true about these zombie vrul, than it is likely they are around four thousand years old.” He glanced over at Krill, “how old does this make you past your termination order/”

Krill shrugged, “I was evaluated early, so I am only considered 35 in your human years, a little bit older in the Vrul reckoning of things, but that does pose an interesting hypothesis. I have never actually seen a Vrul die of old age. But it would make sense with the termination order. If we were forced into cities, than it would make sense that they would do these things out of a need for population control, that is assuming that we can live forever, a thought that seems ludicrous to me, but still.”

Adam nodded, “Starting off though, I want to know what kind of music does what to the creature.”

Dr Katie looked at him skeptically, “Music?”

He nodded, “Music.”

“What are you planning, she said suspiciously, looking him over with a critical eye.

He smiled, “Dealing with the hoard all at once, but if we can do that, and use music against them, well then I would want to use all of my inherent advantages now wouldn’t I?”

Katie nodded with some thought and motioned him onward.

They went back to the chamber, while he and some of the marines went back to the wall, where the group of ravening Vrul were still tearing at the base.

“Lower the shields.” he ordered on of the Betas.

The creature looked at him like he was nuts, but the look on his face made clear, in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to argue and hurried to do as Adam ordered.

The small section of the field opened, and he leaned out over the drop looking down at the creatures still clambering at the wall.

“Huh, Maverick, come here.”

Maverick trotted over behind him, rifle bouncing in a sling against her chest and she skidded to a halt next to him, “Yes Boss.”

“Think you can shoot one of them in the head from up here?”

She paused, frowned but then shrugged, “I mean…. yeah , probably.”

“Go on, target practice.”

She looked at him a bit confused for a second, before shrugging and leaning out over the drop. He grabbed her by the back of the shirt just to give her that extra bit of security while she got a good angle.

There was a small pause, and then a sharp subsonic crack as the rifle fired. The Vrul flinched at the shockwave and Adam’s ear’s rang. Damn idiot forgot to put in some hearing protection before she did that, but what was done was done. Not even a millisecond later there was a sharp explosion as the Vrul in question shattered into its component parts. It cracked open like an egg and the strange, and deadly pollen ruptured out before falling back onto the ground.”

Maverick drew herself back inside the shield which shut quickly.

“Huh, that worked better than expected.”

“Yeah, but did you see the polen?”

He frowned and nodded, “I did. I don’t think any Vrul should be going on this mission with us, and as for the humans. IT will be full suits and respirators for everyone. I want to see how long these spores can last in the environment by themselves. Hopefully it isn’t long, because if it is then that puts my whole plan out the window. I also want to see how long it can last in the air, because that is going to be super important.

***

When he returned to the lab later on after coordinating his original idea Dr. Katie and krill were waiting for him with their results.

“So, what did we find.”

“A couple of things.” Krill announced, “FIrst of all, the spores last a very short time outside the host, maybe twenty four hours at most, though that is only when provided with the perfect condition. They cannot infect the surrounding plant life or the soil. The spores themselves are rather heavy and so they don’t stick around in the air longer than the wind can keep them up, and they seem to be neutralized by water, or water ruins their infectivity when outside a subject, so that is also good news. His helium sack would still work if it was not for the tear, which means that these creatures can float, and we know that the deltas can burrow to some degree.”

Adam was nodding slowly, “And how about the music?”

“Ah, that we found is interesting. A steady and predictable beat does cause them confusion, so most human songs will get them. Anything without a measured beat isn’t an issue, like classical music for the most part. Songs that have no drumline don’t confuse them as much, and songs where the drum line isn’t as noticeable also don’t affect them as much. A good predictable drumline as seen in many rock songs will get them nice and confused, but your best bet for neutralizing them is a hard rock or metal drumline with additional patterns coming from the guitar and vocal track.”

“Hard rock and metal to save the day then.”

They looked at him with a curious expression as he grinned at them.

“What are you planning.”

“I am planning to kill zombies, and I am planning to do it in style.”

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