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karmic-vibes · 1 year

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If I Can Dream

14 - Oh Why Won’t That Sun Appear

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: implied parental [emotional] neglect

Year: 1989

“Come on, Bobby, you can do it, sweetie!” Steve encouraged.

The family was at their local park picnicking on a patch on grass. Eddie knelt on the blanket, arms wide open, egging his daughter on. The pair had been trying to get the young girl to walk for the past month. She had been able to pull herself up on her own since she was six months old, and she was able to walk with assistance, but she had yet to do it by herself.

Steve was only a few feet away with Bobby between his legs so she wouldn’t fall backwards. He held onto her hands and leaned her forward, trying to get her feet moving. Bobby, however, thought it was a silly game, giggling every time she was leaned in a direction. Steve fed into her little game and began swinging her from her arms.

The little girl’s laugh was infectious. Her tiny button nose scrunched with each giggle, eyes squeezed shut, and tiny bits of drool pooled at the corners of her mouth. Soon, Steve threw her up into his arms where he was spinning her around. Bobby’s laugh and playful screams filled the air as she spent quality time with her dad.

Eddie watched the two of them fondly from the blanket, pouring himself a fresh glass of sparkling cider. As he started to take a sip, he saw Steve start to throw Bobby higher and higher into the air. Eddie choked on his drink before he was able to holler a warning.

“Stevie!” he coughed. “Please be careful! I worked very hard for her, I don’t need you breaking her.”

“I got her, Eds, don’t worry.”

“Okay, if you say so…”

When Bobby finally got worn out, Steve passed her to Eddie, where she cuddled against his chest, smushing her cheeks into him. Eddie ran his fingers through her tight curls and held her close. She sat between his legs, cozying up before dozing off to sleep.

Eddie began humming Golden Slumbers to her as he rubbed tiny circles on her back. Steve passed Eddie a blanket so he could wrap the little girl up for her nap. While it was mildly uncomfortable, Eddie didn’t mind the position Bobby was in—as long as she was comfortable, he was happy.

“You sure you don’t want another one?” Steve asked.

“Positive,” Eddie chuckled. “So, do you have anymore ideas for Bee’s birthday?”

“It’s still two months away, Ed.”

“No, I know, but I think we should start sending out invites.”

“Why?”

“Have you met your children? They’re all so stupid—it’ll take them ages to figure out what to get Bee.”

“Hey, give them a little more credit. They made that t-shirt you love.”

“I know, I know, but once they start to develop little personalities, I feel like it’s harder to get things.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So any ideas?”

“What about just Halloween themed? It is her actual birth-day, isn’t it?”

“I think a horror movie themed party is a bit much for Bobbs right now.”

“What? No, I mean the actual holiday, stupid.”

“Oh… well, still, too predictable. What about DnD?”

“What would that even look like, Ed? Like, how on earth would you throw a Dungeons and Dragons party for a one-year-old?”

“Okay, so picture it. We create her a character and have everyone invited come dressed as their character. After all, it is still Halloween.”

“What if they’re like me and don’t have one?”

“Then create one! It’s a party for a one-year-old. Who gives a shit if it’s actually accurate. I mean, ideally, it is your actual character, but an exception can be made for you, Stevie.”

“Oh, my hero.” Steve rolled his eyes. “So everyone comes as their character, we create one for Bee, then what?”

“Well, we’d create a one-shot campaign for the duration of the party that centers around Bobbs. Each quest is centered around our little birthday girl.”

“Huh… that’s actually not a bad idea at all.”

“Wait, you really like it?”

“Yeah… I do…”

The coming months were spent planning a campaign for the impending birthday girl. Eddie carefully monitored his daughter to see the traits she was coming to develop. He spent countless hours creating her character—eventually, he got it.

Bobby Judas Harrington was set to be a first level Neutral Good Human Paladin. While she was young, he knew in his heart of hearts that she was destined to be the best person she could possibly be. She was adaptable and takes adventure seriously—after all, she was half Harrington and half Munson, wasn’t she?

Finally, Bobby’s first birthday had arrived. Everyone came dressed as their DnD characters, and those who didn’t have one just chose a race to be. Steve wasn’t too creative, so (like his daughter) he was a human, Robin was an elf, and Eleven was an orc. For those who were already established in the game, they came dressed as their own characters. Eddie was a vampire, Will was a wizard, Lucas was a knight, and so on.

She may not have quite understood what was going on, but Bobby was having the time of her life. The fantasy world her fathers created around her was so endlessly magical, she simply couldn’t get enough of it. All her aunts and uncles helped make this a reality, and they would all do it a million times over.

The birthday girl ran throughout the house (surprising, as she only learned to walk a month ago) causing terror to each and every one of the cardboard demogorgons that were set up in the house. She had stolen several peoples “weapons” and was slaying any beast that crossed her path.

“At this rate, she’ll be able to beat you,” Dustin teased.

“That’s the goal,” Eddie smirked. “She’s a fucking menace, I swear.”

“I’d be more shocked if she wasn’t.”

“Yeah, well, she’s half Steve, so I can dream.”

“Have you met Steve?”

“Touché.”

“Bubba! Bubba!” Bobby giggled as she ran into Eddie’s legs. Eddie looked at the girl with wide eyes, blinking aimlessly. “Bubba!” She made grabby hands at him.

“Holy shit, you’re talking… oh, my god, holy shit!”

“Bubba!” she whined.

“Sorry, Bee, sorry. I’m right here.” He picked her up and held her on his hip. “Excuse me, Henderson, I need to find my wife.”

“He’s in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, kind sir. See you in Mordor.”

Eddie gently pat Dustin’s head as he carried Bobby into the kitchen where Steve was tidying up a bit before bringing out the cake. He ran up to his husband, clutching their toddler close, as he got right in Steve’s face.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know, Bee, can he help me?” Bobby stared at him blankly. Steve raised a brow as he continued washing some dishes.

“Ed? Are you losing it?”

“No, she was just talking, I swear!”

“What?” Steve gasped. “What did she say?”

“She said ‘bubba’! I’m assuming instead of ‘papa’, but I’ll take it!”

“Oh, my goodness! What a smart little girl!”

Steve snatched her from Eddie, placing a million tiny kisses on her cheeks. Her infectious laugh echoed throughout the room as she pushed against his face, being tickled by his stubble.

“Dada! Ahh!” She giggled and screamed as Steve hugged her closer. Tears prickled at Steve’s eyes as he heard his daughter shout ‘dada’, a sound he never thought would be so sweet.

“Daddy loves you so much,” Steve whispered, placing a final kiss into her curly locks.

He began sobbing, heart overflowing with joy. All he could think was how his parents (or even Eddie’s) were ever able to walk away from moments like these. Steve wanted to freeze time—he wanted to be in that moment for the rest of his life. With his husband smiling at their beautiful daughter, gently running his ringed hand over her head. His daughter, snuggling herself against his chest, firmly grasping at his shirt’s collar, laughing so loud that the entire world could hear.

In that moment, life was perfect.

But, time is funny that way. The moments you want to stick around forever seem to slip through your fingers the fastest. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop time. Bobby was getting older by the second, and Steve just knew he had to relish in the little moments, because they’d be gone before he knew it.

And in the blink of an eye, the moment was gone.

Robin was calling the boys in from the living room, encouraging them to bring the cake out so everyone could sing happy birthday.

Steve screwed his eyes shut, wishing he could teleport back in time, but it was to no avail. He weakly smiled and hiked Bobby up on his hip, pinching her little cheeks. Bobby scrunched her face and raised her shoulders to her ears, giggling infectiously.

Eddie grabbed the little one’s birthday cake and balanced it in one hand as he lit the candle with the other. Robin dimmed all the lights in the living room as Bobby and her cake were carried in.

Everyone burst into the happy birthday song, mildly startling Bobby, but she quickly adapted and smiled ear to ear at her loving family. Everyone she loved most in the world was there, from her dads, to her pop-pop [Wayne], to her auntie Robin, to all her other loving aunts and uncles.

Eddie set the cake down on the coffee table as Steve sat Bobby down on the floor. The boys knelt down next to their baby girl, smiling proudly. Eddie wrapping his left arm around Steve and held onto Bobby with his right. Steve clung to his daughter as he leaned into his husband—everyone singing made everything so surreal.

“Happy birthday, Bobby… happy birthday to you!”

“Blow out the candle, Bee,” Eddie encouraged.

“Bubba bubba bubba,” she hummed over and over again.

“Blow, sweetie.” Eddie softly exhaled as he tried showing Bobby what to do. “Come on, papa and daddy will help. On three, Bee and Stevie. One, two, three.”

The family blew onto the singular candle as the pack of people cheered. Robin snapped a few photos and smiled fondly at everyone.

“Happy birthday, Bobbs,” Robin whispered. “We love you.”

“Alright, guys, there’s a sheet cake in the kitchen—help yourselves!” Steve announced. “This is all for you, pretty girl,” Steve said as he removed the candle from the personal cake. “Enjoy, sweet girl.”

He placed a kiss on top of her head before sighing and staring at his husband. Eddie was pushing Bobby’s hair behind her ear as he scooped her into his lap so she could reach the cake easier. Eddie eventually felt Steve staring at him and chuckled.

“What?” Eddie smiled.

“Nothing.” Steve shook his head and shrugged. “Just happy.”

“Just happy?”

“Really, really happy.”

———————————————————————

a/n: i spent SO LONG researching dnd characters/races and did a 140-question long quiz and everything to try and determine what kind of character bobby would be and her class and all that. please, for the love of god, don’t let this flop.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months

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Hello sorry to bother you, but I have a question and you're the resident Twisted Wonderland expert; do you have any idea if the events rerun more than once? I really wanted Suitor Suit Idia but didn't get anything both times T^T. Also do the Clubwear banners ever return, that you know of? Is Clubwear Cater lost forever?

Anyway have a good whatever time of day!

Ahhh, you flatter me!! 😖💦 If it feels like I somehow know a lot, it’s because TWST is my hyperfixation and takes up like 99.9% of the real estate in my brain folds…

As for your questions!! TWST is a game that’s only 3.5 years old for JP and 1.5 years old for EN; I would day it’s still way too early in its “life cycle” to be able to accurately predict what the devs plan to do for reruns, if at all.

Most other gacha games only do 1 rerun and once that rerun has passed, that’s it. Very rarely, there are systems implemented where you can go back and replay old limited time events at your leisure (I personally only know of one gacha game that does this). The devs are usually not “nice” enough to grant this kind of thing, as the limited nature of the events is meant to incentivize playing during those periods. It does not usually benefit them to extend that time.

I do want to point out that sometimes there are other ways to get limited time cards outside of events/event banners; for example, during TWST’s anniversary (March for JP, January for EN), they run a campaign where rolling a certain number of times on a special anniversary banner earns you tokens. 1 roll = 1 token. These tokens can then be traded in for a key to a limited time card in Sam’s shop, but I believe the selection is subject to change. I think Suitor Suit Idia was able to be traded for in 2022, but he may not return in the future. Please note that in order to have enough token to even trade in for the SSR of your choice (from a predetermined list), you’d need at LEAST 150 rolls/tokens.

Clubwears are very similar in this regard; we have yet to cycle through all of the clubs so I don’t think we’ll get reruns of the Clubwear banners (if at all) until all Clubwears have been released. (For reference, we’ve only gotten Light/Pop Music, Basketball, Science, and now Track and Field with Deuce still yet to be released.) Of course, there’s always the possibility that you could trade in a limited SSR key for a desired Clubwear IF TWST chooses to offer them as an option in exchange for the special shop tokens I mentioned before. Again, I’m not a dev so I wouldn’t know if they’re considering this for the next anniversary or not.

Hope that helps!!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst gameplay #twisted wonderland gsmeplay #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #question #advice

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dirty-brainrot · 3 years

Text

(Boingo’s magical book)

Smelly cowboy and French tiddy man time.

Pairing(s) Hol Horse x Reader x Polnareff

You couldn't believe that man. First, he pestered you to no end just to team up with him and defeat some traveling men. After finally getting annoyed enough, you agreed. But this damned bastard says that there wasn't enough power so he decides to kidnap a fucking kid.

You met Hol Horse a while back in your home country where he tried to woo you. Unbeknownst to him, you were also a stand user. So you fought him because he kept on annoying you and successfully defeating him. Who knew you would be friends with him after that.

With a deep sigh, you facepalmed and massaged your temples. "Hol Horse... You fucking kidnapped a child." You whispered with a hiss and pointed at the kid, who laid down in a crawling position and hid behind a small bush. "Don't be like that, doll. With the 3 of us, we can defeat the crusaders and get the rich!" Shaking your head, you kneeled in front of the child stand user. "Hey, your name is Mondatta right?" You asked with a soft tone, unlike what you used to Hol Horse earlier. He stayed quiet and stared at you. "It's useless talking to that ki—" Doing a 180, you glared at Hol Horse making him shut up. Turning back to Mondatta, your face softened. "Hey, I know it's scary being separated from your brother and getting kidnapped by a wannabe cowboy... but you can trust us! I won't let anyone harm you." You gave him a friendly smile and he relaxed... A little bit.

Standing up to your full height, you turned to Hol Horse and grabbed the book. "Does your stand really predicts the future?" You flipped through the pages until you were met with a blank one. "—Or is it just a rumor? If it is then I brought you ere' for nothin'." Hol horse adds on and looks over your shoulder to look at [Tohth]. "Even with it, your brother got blown to high heaven..." He looks at Mondatta and shouts. "Which is it, kid?!" You huff and elbowed his side, muttering "Be nicer to the kid. For god's sake, you kidnapped him—" The empty pages suddenly were getting filled with images out of nowhere! You outstretched your arms and showed it to Hol Horse. "Hm?" He leaned over and read the pages.

Hol Horse introduced Mondatta to Y/N! He thinks that Y/N is really nice and better than Hol Horse.—

Hol Horse grumbles and you snicker.

While the three of them were walking around the outskirts of Cairo, they met a very pretty lady. Then Hol Horse suddenly jump-kicked the lady in the neck! The pretty lady was so happy, she gave Hol Horse her jewels.

Yahoo!! We're rich!!

"What the hell is this?!—" He shouts, taken aback. "A comic book."You replied sarcastically. He ignores your comment and snatches the book off of you. Approaching Mondatta he yells. "You call this a prediction?! There's no way this has to be true!" Mondatta rises up, still hiding behind the bush. "I—I'm telling the truth..." Stuttering and struggling to talk, he continues. "Y-you just—just have to t-trust it... They—they're never wrong! They're...They're right..100% ri-right everytim—"

"Quit messing with me kid! There's no way a lady is gonna—" Hol Horse continues to talk. But you were distracted by the pretty woman walking along with a man, they passed by. 'It looks like it's coming along...' Hol Horse grabs Mondatta and you shot daggers at him, making him put the kid down. Mondatta ran behind your leg. "I'll never hit a woman! See that?!" The man and woman pass by him and he was too far to be able to kick her. (Unless he ran after her.) After a while, he made a weird impatient humming noise and went after the woman. Jump-kicking her like as the book said but apparently, there was a scorpion in her shawl! You clapped and shouted. "Nice going Mr. I respect women!" The woman thanked him and gave him her necklace. You and Mondatta walked after him but once you arrived, he was in the middle of talking.

"—he three of us will be unstoppable!" And there he goes. Excited, he dragged you and Mondatta to Cairo.

★

Hol Horse hid behind a building while Mondatta hid under a crate beside you. "I'm getting sick of those faces... Listen Mondatta!" As he was about to kick the box, he decided against it knowing that you would beat him up if he did. He throws the box away instead, revealing the very introverted child. Mondatta crawls to the box and hid in it. You sigh and kneeled in front of the crate, comforting the kid. "We need to talk about your new prediction... Are you sure it's 100% foolproof?" You rose the box a tad bit to look at Mondatta. "M-my premi—" Hol Horse flicks a small rock at him, in return, you smacked his leg which did not affect him at all "My premonition are 100% accurate" He mocks. "Is that what were you gonna say?"

"Wow! Hol Horse you should be the book of premonition instead!" Hol Horse rolls his eyes. "W-well they are accurate...yes." You slowly let go of the box and stood up to look at the book. "Are you expecting us to believe this load of Bologna?" He re-reads the comic.

"We found them!" Shouted Hol Horse. "Joseph, Jotaro, Polnareff, and Avdol."

"Darn it!" Hol Horse fumed. "They're almost to Master Dio's manor!"

You snicker. "Do you really call him "master"?" He grumbles "We don't have a choice." and continues reading.

"Gosh-darn bafoons. They'll get a bullet between the eyes!" Hol Horse's mind was full of bad thoughts. "You're gonna pay for what you did to my brother!" Mondatta was very furious. But, Hol Horse and Y/N, couldn't use their stands which puts them at a disadvantage.

Because of this, they got caught but Y/N comes up with the greatest plan to make their great escape which includes something intimate!

"It just cuts off from there! Like hell what's this great plan Y/N comes up with?!" He drops the book and impatiently summons his stand. "Why can't I just shoot them with [Emperor]? It'll be much faster that way."

"Geez, it'll come just believe in the stand, Horsey." Now you don't really believe in the stand and the way it added intimate in the sentence was ominous but you have nothing to lose besides half of the money Hol Horse offered you in defeating the crusaders. Mondatta lifts up the box to take a peek. "It's premonition...! Y-you're not gonna-gonna be able to shoot... yes. " He grabs the book and slowly puts down the box. "I-I know from pe-personal experience that if-if you try to go a-against the comic you'll get consequences..! It's fate... Yes." He stutters, repeating "yes" in a couple of sentences. You lean on the wall and watch them talk about the consequences of the book. "Hang on! Your brother nearly died because he followed the comic!" He points at Mondatta. And Mondatta continues to explain the reason behind it.

They look both nervous and distressed about the situation but you were just looking forward to that great idea that the book says. "Then what now..." He grunts and looks at the crusaders. From where you stood, you weren't able to see them but you could see Polnareff approach him— oh— oh no.. This is not good. Mondatta quickly hides under the crate again.

Polnareff comes from behind and places his stand's èpèe¹ on his neck. "Don't move!" He moves it closer to Hol Horse's neck. "Unless you wanna be lanced." Hol Horse bit his cigarette in anxiety and let out a surprised grunt. "Ho—how the hell did you—" His fingers twitched as he tried to summon his stand but Polnareff was quick to notice and struck him from the back with his stand. Hol horse cough out blood as his cigarette fell.

You need to help him quickly.

Then finally it came, the idea, as it said in the premonition. It was absurd but it'll get the job done..... you hope it was right... Sprinting to Polnareff, you pushed him to the wall. Although, it wasn't hard enough to knock the air out of his body but enough to withdraw his stand. With hands still on his chest and standing on your tippy-toes, you kissed him. At first he was shocked but he closes his eyes and kisses back after a while, getting into the kiss. You side glanced at the stunned Hol Horse and smacked him upright in the head with the help of your stand.

Understanding what you meant, he grabbed Mondetta and ran away. You broke the kiss and ran after them. Although you struggled to catch up since the kiss took so long, making you ran out of breath.

The French man stares in the direction you ran, in absolute lovestruck. Ignoring the calls of his friends, he sighs lovingly. "Oh mon Dieu..." He hopes he gets to see you again.

★

"Y/N, What was that?!" You leaned on the wall, catching your breath. It looks like [Tohth] worked its charm. "I- hah- was saving your hah- hide just like the book said." Hol Horse didn't look tired from the running at all. 'He must be used to it.' He grumbles and puts Mondetta down. "And I can't even get a hug from you..." He huffs and grabs a cigarette. Mondetta shuffles away but you stopped him. "What does the comic says next?"

"Oh uhm..." He opens the book and you kneel beside him. Hol Horse loomed behind the two of you looking at the book and totally not at you.

The trio ran away, trying to think of another plan. "Curse that Frenchie!" Hol Horse furiously crosses his arm. He was very jealous that Polnareff got a kiss from Y/N instead of him!

Hol Horse crosses his arm and looks away. You snicker. "Really Horsey? You got jealous of that?!" You burst out laughing and held your stomach. He groans and grabs the book. "Ha- He was- pfft- a really good kisser too." You teased him while he flips the pages of the book, face flushed.

"What's the next premonition?!"

☆☆☆

1. Apparently, Èpèe is the sword that [Silver Chariot] uses.

#jojo #jjba #jojoba #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure stardust crusaders #stardust crusaders #jjba part 3 #jean pierre polnareff #jp polnareff #Hol horse #jjba boingo #x reader #jjba x reader #polnareff x reader #hol horse x reader

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if-music-be-the-food-of-love · 3 years

Text

Loving the Alien

Just a little oneshot I wrote because Herbots grew a beard this summer, and thus Robbe did too. Rated T. Cross posted on Ao3 if you prefer reading it there. -> Link

***

“I honestly don’t know what to think about this,” Sander said, leaning on the door jamb, his eyes focused on Robbe’s face.

“Then don’t. Easy,” Robbe replied with a shrug and a wink. He took a green bottle from the cabinet above the sink and set it on the counter before pulling a razor and a pair of scissors out of a drawer. He set them next to the bottle and then turned to face Sander, arms crossed, his hip leaning against the counter. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

Sander dropped his gaze, smiling secretly at the floor, and sighed dramatically. “I just can’t decide. That’s the problem.”

“Sander, you can’t decide what?” Robbe asked, rolling his eyes, but Sander could tell he was only partially exasperated. His dark chocolate eyes shone with curiosity, and he now gazed at Sander expectantly.

Lips twitching, he took two steps forward and cupped Robbe’s furry, though somehow still soft, cheeks in his hands. He pressed the barest whisper of a kiss to his lips, and then resting his forehead against Robbe’s, he murmured, “I can’t decide whether you’re hotter with this beard or clean shaven. It’s a real problem.”

Robbe snorted, and his whole body convulsed forward. His forehead clipped Sander’s jaw, and he stepped back, a little giggle escaping from his lips. “Really, San? That’s your problem?”

Sander pushed back the curtain of russet waves that had fallen into Robbe’s face, and shrugged, saying mock seriously, “It’s a legitimate dilemma, Robin. Put yourself in my shoes. Your boyfriend is hot as hell, and then he goes and grows a beard over vacation. Suddenly he’s even hotter--something you didn’t think was possible by the way--and you don’t know what to do with yourself.” He gave Robbe a pointed look. “I seriously had to control myself in public, and it was not easy.”

Robbe rolled his eyes again and opened his mouth to interrupt, but Sander placed a finger across his lips.

“Sometimes,” he continued, “I just look at you, and you’re so fucking sexy that I can’t breathe. I literally have to stop and remind myself to inhale. I thought that was some stupid cliche in books, but no. Of course it’s real, and of course it would happen to me. Because of you. And then you grew this fucking beard...and I don’t think I’ve been able to think straight since.”

Robbe removed Sander’s hand and kissed his knuckles before holding it between his own. “I don’t think you were exactly thinking straight before,” he teased. “That would kind of defeat the purpose.”

Sander couldn’t help himself. A barking laugh burst out of his mouth, and he shook his head. “Well, if you’re going to go there. I haven’t had a straight thought since we met.”

“Good,” Robbe said, pecking his lips lightly. “You may continue flattering me.”

“No, I’m done. Your head is big enough.” Sander crossed his arms and shrugged, leaning against the sink opposite Robbe. “If you’re not going to take my suffering seriously--”

“Suffering my ass!” Robbe scoffed, giving him a playful shove.

Sander grinned. “Yes, suffering. To know how hot you are both ways and to only be able to experience one at a time. Absolute torture. Seriously unfair. You should be ashamed of yourself, causing me all this pain.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“You-- The fuck, Sander, you--” Robbe smooshed his hand into Sander’s face, pushing him back as he rotated his wrist. Sander’s head rocked side to side, and he couldn’t help grinning, watching Robbe grasp for words.

“Gah! You--” Robbe continued to sputter, “Dork. You absolute dramatic, soppy dork. Oh my God, if people knew...I don’t think they’d believe me if I told them. No one. You want unfair? That’s unfair. You walk around looking all mysterious and aloof when you’re really just the cheesiest romantic ever.”

“Hmm.” Sander tilted his head to shake Robbe’s hand off, and then, placing his hands at Robbe’s waist, he tugged him in, capturing his mouth in a hard, fast kiss. His lips traveled to Robbe’s ear, leaving a few light kisses across his cheek, and he whispered huskily, “That all sounds very accurate, and you’re right no one would believe you.” He bit Robbe’s earlobe, briefly tonguing the small hoop earring. Robbe squealed and pushed him back, panting to catch his breath, eyes glaring.

Feeling very pleased with himself, Sander leaned back against the counter, saying coolly, “I still don’t know how I feel about you shaving it off. It’s grown on me. At first, I thought a chipmunk had moved onto your face, but now…”

“A chipmunk!” Robbe squawked indignantly. “Weren’t you just waxing poetic about how sexy you thought it was? And anyway," he quirked an eyebrow, "I can’t put myself in your shoes." Using his best talking to a baby voice, he explained with pursed lips, "This adorable, sweet, baby face,” he pinched Sander’s cheek and then followed it with a light smack, “can’t grow a beard. I think you’re just jealous.”

“Hey!” Sander cried, swatting his hand away. “I happen to enjoy not having to shave all the time.”

Robbe took his hand and pulled him closer, kissing his shoulder. “And I enjoyed not having to shave this summer. But now, I’m tired of it, so it has to go.”

Sander wrapped both arms around Robbe and put on his best pout, eyes sad and pleading, bottom lip sticking out.

Robbe laughed, slipping his hands into Sander’s back pockets. He gave Sander’s ass a squeeze and hugged him tighter. “You’re ridiculous.” He lifted up onto his toes and bit Sander’s thrust out lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it slide out between his teeth. He let go with a ‘pop,’ and then wiggling his hips suggestively against Sander’s, he added, “If I shave, then you know what will happen?” He swayed them side to side, slowly, teasingly, hips pressing harder into Sander. One hand slid up Sander’s back, disappearing into his hair. He pulled Sander’s head down and kissed him, lingeringly, lips soft, tongue searching, slow and deep.

Sander practically melted into his arms, his limbs turning to jello at the mere suggestion of Robbe’s hips, at the taste of his lips, his tongue. Robbe’s beard brushed softly against his cheeks and prickled the edges of his mouth. He was going to miss this, the delicious dichotomy of the longer soft hairs on his cheeks that tickled his skin and the shorter ones around his mouth that poked him and caught him off guard. He lifted his hands to Robbe’s cheeks and rubbed his palms up and down as they kissed, reveling in the scratch, the drag making his hands tingle. This was nice.

Robbe’s lips moved to his neck, and Sander took the opportunity to nuzzle his cheek and nose into the whiskers at Robbe’s jaw. They tickled and tingled, sending bolts of electricity to his toes. This was very nice.

Robbe’s lips traveled up his neck, the stubble leaving a burning trail that contrasted with his wet, open-mouthed kisses. So nice. This was so nice. It was such a different experience, so many different sensations. He was really going to miss this.

Robbe hugged him even closer, bending himself backwards, and then murmured into his jaw, “If I shave, I’ll have my 10:00 five o’clock shadow again, and I know how much you like that.”

It took Sander a moment to process his words, so overwhelmed by his hands and body and kisses, but when it registered, he stood tall abruptly, pulling out of Robbe’s embrace. “Done!” Sander loved the bare whisper of stubble on Robbe’s face, the dark shadow that heightened his features and made him look dead sexy. He could sacrifice the beard to have that back. Yes he could. He waved his arms vaguely at the razor, and said, “You have my permission.”

Robbe stood still, momentarily stunned, and then he burst into motion, laughing hysterically and falling forward to brace his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Fuck, Sander. You’re giving me whiplash.”

“Don’t blame me. You knew exactly what you were doing. Kissing me like that. Then exploiting my weakness for your permanent five o'clock shadow. You have no one else to blame,” he said, crossing his arms with a smug expression.

“You know,” Robbe said, coming forward and poking him in the chest, “I don’t need your permission. It’s my face.”

“No, you don’t,” he agreed, an adoring smile lifting his lips. “Can I say goodbye first?”

Robbe's expression softened immediately. He raised his eyebrows, clearly perplexed, and nodded, “Sure.”

Lifting his hands to Robbe’s cheeks, he gently stroked the longer hairs on his jaw with his fingers, curling them to trace his knuckles up and down and then opening them to feel it one last time on his palms. It felt both familiar and alien, both soft and rough. It had been a totally new sensation, kissing and touching Robbe this summer, a joy he hadn’t known he wanted, and soon it would be gone. He leaned forward and lightly brushed his cheek against Robbe’s and then tucked his chin to rub his forehead all over Robbe’s face, making him giggle again. He kissed both cheeks and left one more light peck on his lips. “Okay. I’m done. You may proceed.”

Robbe’s eyes remained closed for a moment longer, his chin lifted as if chasing Sander’s lips. Slowly blinking his eyes open, voice coarse, he said, “I almost don’t want to now.”

Sander’s eyes shot up from where they had lingered on his mouth, immediately zeroing in on Robbe’s teasing gaze. Then it was his turn to roll his eyes. He fluffed Robbe’s wild hair and said, “But you’re still going to.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. It’s starting to itch.” He sighed, scratching his chin for effect. Then his demeanor changed, and he looked up at Sander from underneath his lashes, eyes dark and suggestive. “But don’t worry. I can grow it back any time, and then you can feel me up all you want.” He paused, delightedly watching Sander squirm before him, as he knew he would (sometimes being so predictable and completely at the mercy of one’s boyfriend was incredibly unfair). Robbe blew him a quick kiss and then followed it by poking his chest again and adding, “Unlike you.”

“Fuck you!” He brushed at Robbe’s hand.

“Later, baby,” Robbe said with a wink, and then he rose up to give him one last kiss. He patted Sander’s cheek playfully and said, “I love your doofy, soft, baby face. It’s perfect. Now go!” He turned Sander around and gave his ass a light smack before shoving him out of the door.

“I’m not entirely sure that was a compliment,” Sander called back over his shoulder. He could just see Robbe grinning at him as he pulled his hair out of his face into a bun. Holy fuck, he was hot! The beard was one thing, but if Robbe ever wanted to cut his hair short, Sander was prepared to stage a full-on revolt. He would mutiny. He loved Robbe’s wild, wavy locks. No matter how he styled his hair, it always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and Sander adored the sleep rumpled look. He was particularly fond of it when it was actually in bed, scattered across a pillow, but the fact that he could see it all day long was a bonus. Yes, Robbe’s hair was a treasure, and he’d use every tool in his arsenal to protect it, including guilt and begging, if necessary.

The beard could go. He’d save his energy to fight the real battle if and when it happened.

Sander had only just settled on a playlist to listen to while he scrolled through his phone when Robbe called him back to the bathroom. That was quick!

He pocketed his phone, leaving the music on, and trekked across the room. “Done already?” he asked, walking straight in.

“Nope,” Robbe said, turning to face him with a broad grin and excited eyes. “What do you think?”

It took Sander a few moments to process what he saw. His first thought was that Robbe hadn’t even started because he still had whiskers, but then he noticed that Robbe’s cheeks were smooth and that his mouth now sported an oval-shaped goatee. “Wha--?”

Robbe snorted and rested his hand on the counter for balance. “Looks ridiculous, right?”

“Uhh...err...hmmm…” Sander struggled to respond coherently. He didn’t know how he felt about the goatee. It was definitely weird. It was Robbe’s face, his Robbe’s face, but he didn’t look right. Was it creepy or just new? He settled on, “Makes you look older.”

Robbe inspected his face in the mirror. “Maybe I do look older.” He winked at Sander's reflection and said, “We have established that you like older men, so I don’t think this is a problem.”

“Uhhh,” Sander grunted, brain misfiring. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Uh, you’re not...you’re not keeping it, right?” He met Robbe’s gaze in the mirror. “Right?”

Laughing again, he elbowed Sander lightly in the stomach and said, “Of course not! I just thought it would be fun to see what I looked like with a goatee.”

Sander exhaled, relief pouring out of him. He loved Robbe no matter what, but the goatee was too much too fast. The beard had grown on him gradually. The goatee was just...disturbing. “Good,” was all he said.

Robbe met his gaze in the mirror, a knowing look in his eyes. “You hate it.”

He hesitated, “It’s...different.”

Robbe turned around, leaning back on the counter. “You hate it,” he insisted.

Sander sighed, “I hate it.”

“Well, now we know. No goatee,” he said, pecking Sander’s lips and then shoving him back out the door. “On to part two.”

Rolling his eyes, Sander asked, “Should I even leave at this point?”

“Yes!” he said emphatically.

“Fine. See you in three seconds.” He waved over his shoulder and headed back to the couch, pulling out his phone on the way.

It was significantly more than three seconds later when Robbe called him back. He walked into the bathroom with one hand over his eyes, asking, “Should I even look?”

“Hell yes! Sa-an, this is hilarious.”

Sander peeked through his fingers and immediately dropped his hand in shock. “No. No. No. Nope. No way. Absolutely not. No.” He waved his hands like a referee and shook his head for emphasis.

Robbe had a mustache. A creepy, crawly caterpillar mustache, sitting above his lip. It wasn’t a full mustache, more like a swath of hairs sticking out every which way in the general shape of a mustache, but Sander didn’t think more shaping would improve the effect. It creeped him out on a visceral level.

“What?” Robbe asked, feigning ignorance. “Freddie Mercury had a mustache.”

Sander coughed and cringed. “Yeah, in the eighties, and I would say I’m a much bigger fan of his talent than anything else, especially his mustache. Much bigger. Ro-obe, get rid of that thing,” he whined.

“Wha-at?” Robbe whined back. “You don’t like it? Don’t you love me? What if I like it?”

“Don’t even pretend. I know you don’t. I love you, but it’s hideous Robbe. Absolutely not.”

Robbe cocked his head and then shrugged, smiling goofily. “You’re right. It’s awful. Now come over here and give me a kiss.”

He reached his hands towards Sander’s face, pursing his lips into an exaggerated pucker, and Sander took an automatic step back. “Uh, uh, no. Not while that’s on your face. No kisses until it’s gone.”

Robbe stuck out his lip in a pretend pout and crossed his arms. “I should keep it just to spite you.”

“I’d shave it off in your sleep,” Sander chuckled. “Okay, let’s compromise.” He kissed Robbe’s cheek. “Now get rid of that thing, and I promise to kiss you senseless.”

“Deal,” Robbe said, but then he curled his fingers in Sander’s shirt and yanked him forward, sneaking in a surprise kiss on the lips.

“Ble-yee-ack,” Sander sputtered, pretending to wipe the kiss off his mouth.

Robbe cackled with glee and practically jumped up and down like an excited schoolgirl, thoroughly enjoying Sander’s disgust and dramatics.

“Thought that was funny, hmm,” Sander huffed. Before Robbe could respond, he thrust out a hand, and pinched Robbe’s side right at his most ticklish spot. Completely caught off guard, Robbe nearly collapsed sideways. Sander caught him, but instead of setting him upright, he pinched and tickled Robbe’s other side with his other hand, causing him to lose his balance and fall against Sander in a fit of giggles.

“You win. You win. Stop. Stooooooop.”

Sander stilled his fingers and set Robbe back on his feet, brushing back the hairs that had fallen out of his bun. He kissed his forehead and then turned to leave. “I’ll see the less disturbing version of you in a minute.” He stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. “Still love you though.” He winked and walked the few steps back to the couch, collapsing on it backwards, knees bent over the backrest.

He closed his eyes, listening to the combination of his music and Robbe puttering about in the bathroom. He smiled to himself, a feeling of warm contentment washing over him. He was so lucky, so ridiculously lucky. He loved teasing Robbe, and Robbe not only enjoyed it, he teased him right back, giving as good as he got. It felt so wonderful to completely trust another person, to completely trust his good intentions, to believe in his love, and he knew the feeling was mutual. He had the best boyfriend in the world. Facial hair or no, loving him was easy, as natural as breathing. He was so fucking lucky.

A finger poking his nose pulled him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Robbe leaned over him, upside down at this angle, face smooth and shiny from aftershave. “Hey, sexy,” he whispered. Fuck, he was so hot.

“Hey,” Robbe repeated shyly.

Sander rolled over and stood up, immediately pulling Robbe into a hug and thrusting his face into his neck, breathing in the familiar smell of shaving cream and aftershave mixed with soap and skin.

He pulled back and looked Robbe over, eyes darting all over his face. “You look and smell delicious.” He ran a thumb over Robbe’s soft cheek and cupped his neck before kissing him gently on the lips.

“What was that?” Robbe asked indignantly, brown eyes glittering like a naughty imp. “You said you were going to kiss me senseless. That wasn’t even--”

He was cut off by Sander lifting him off of the ground in a bear hug. He was halfway to Robbe’s bedroom before Robbe caught on and wrapped his legs around his waist, kissing him all over his face.

Sander finally captured his lips in a sloppy kiss right before they tumbled into bed, where he proceeded to kiss Robbe senseless, among other things.

Yeah, he had the best boyfriend ever. He could live without the beard.

#wtfock #wtfam #sobbe #my fic #as far as i'm concerned it happened this way #back on the Sander POV train #and I truly empathize with his dilemma #it's a real problem #not my best work but it was fun to write #I miss them so much #I wanna believe they’re living their best life teasing one another relentlessly

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locke-writes · 3 years

Text

A Reunion

Author: locke-writes

Title: A Reunion

Request: Before Mark leaves for Mars he’s been flirting with someone at NASA, annoying literally everyone around him and the reader simply because neither will ask the other out but both clearly have feelings for one another. It’s reader who ends up discovering that Mark is alive on Mars and as soon as he gets the ability to contact NASA that flirting relationship begins all over again. Turns into the two of them falling in love from different planets and Mark finally asking reader out when he gets back to Earth (and after he showers, has a few press conferences, sees doctors and dentists and optometrists, and you know the general parade of people one has to see when stuck on Mars for over a year) For: Anonymous

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,218

Tag List: @ofthedewthesunlight / ask to be added

You'd met Mark when assisting with training for the Ares 3 mission. It was easy to talk to him, easy to bond with him and that went not just for everyone on the training team but for the crew as well. He was the glue that brought everyone together, that made the mission worthwhile because you knew there was a crew that could mesh well, that knew their jobs and wouldn't overstep their own boundaries. They cared for one another and Mark was the reason for that.

Much like everyone involved with the mission you got along well. He was charming, funny, and intelligent. Friendship grew quite easily at the expense of him learning your propensity for terrible jokes. Although what began solely as jokes and him teaching you odd botany facts turned into a flirtatious near-relationship. The reason it was a near-relationship being that neither one of you wanted to admit your feelings. Having just begun a friendship, turning that into a relationship was something that seemed difficult only in the fact of not wanting to ruin that friendship.

Oh and for Mark it was also the fact that even if you agreed to go on a date he was leaving for Mars and would be gone upwards of six months. It didn't seem fair to you that he should ask you to wait until he returned for a second date.

The other crew members noticed the flirting between the two of you and often left you and Mark alone in rooms together. They had grown from finding the two of you tiptoeing around one another adorable into finding it annoying that neither one of you would admit to your feelings. It was painful to be in the same room as the two of you because banter between you would at one point stray from a quick story about what you did over the weekend and turn into bad pick up lines.

You cared for him, in simple terms you had a crush on him. It was mutual, but it would never be acted upon and that was Mark's first regret when he realized that he had been left on Mars.

He never blamed the crew for leaving him, he knew that based on the damages and readings he was getting from his own suit that they would have read him as being dead. It was hard to blame someone for a decision that couldn't have been made any other way. There was no anger towards anyone at all but himself and only because he knew that there was no chance of him ever seeing you again, at least he believed there was no chance because there was, as far as he was aware, no chance of anyone ever finding out he was alive on Mars.

Of course the news of Mark's death hit everyone throughout NASA with some emotion, but it felt more personal than ever to you. You'd worked with him, you'd befriended him, you'd thought about one day having a relationship with him. In one moment there was hope, in one moment you could imagine the two of you laughing over dinner or holding hands in a movie theater, in the next moment you were at his funeral meeting his parents and giving them your condolences. You were given only a few days to grieve as everyone prepped for news conferences declaring his death publicly, then it was back to work. Back to pretending like nothing had ever happened.

Focusing on projects seemed difficult in the days that passed, perhaps it was only such as you were tasked with beginning the next Ares mission. As one ended the next began and you knew it must be so yet it was hard to focus when the last one had gone awry. An opportunity to cover someone in imaging worked well, it was a position that mainly consisted of looking at coordinates something that while important was also the sort of mind numbing work that you needed in the moment.

Coordinates were handed to you, various projects going on, various planets to maintain logs for. You enjoyed being able to view Saturn, view Jupiter in all their glory. In one way you knew that you'd have to look at Mars for some reason, with Ares 3 not completing the mission it made sense to look after the planet, look after the equipment and vehicles left behind. You knew that the request to scan Mars would come in, the specifics of the reason were not what you were thinking that NASA would want to focus on however and it made you sick to think that this was what NASA was working so hard on.

Search the coordinates of the Ares 3 mission and let them know if you could find Mark's body. The reason for their asking was reasonable, you had to convince yourself, it was the only way to get yourself to type in the coordinates. You'd thought that you had been looking at it wrong, typing in coordinates wrong. The first few days there was the HAB and a rover and nothing out of place, everything where it was meant to be, everything as it had been left. Then one day there were tracks, then one day there were solar panels, then one day it hit you that Mark was alive. He was alive and stranded and the images that you were seeing were accurate, unbelievable but accurate.

There really wasn't one person you knew to contact, you called whoever you could think and word spread quickly. Names were tossed about, names you knew vaguely of people so high up on the food chain that you'd never once believed you'd be in meetings disclosing all information to them. It was odd to be on a first name basis with a director in NASA, it was odd to be on a first name basis with anyone higher than your own manager.

It was odd for Mark to be alive.

Time moved quickly after that although your schedule had shifted to the point where there was no real sense of time. You were set to stare at Mars for hours, meant to be predicting what Mark was up to and pass it on in daily meetings. There was nothing to state, nothing really to predict because you didn't know what was running through Mark's head other than the possible idea that he believed he would die on Mars.

Meetings ran longer and were packed into days. Projects were shortened and funds relocated. You were focused on your tasks, focused on everything that had been assigned to you, focused on being the one to break it to the crew that Mark was alive. Focused on being the one to tell them that they had left him on Mars but could be the potential rescue convoy if a way was discovered. Focused on anything and everything but the way that you felt knowing Mark was alive.

In the beginning you knew it wasn't love. It couldn't have been love because you hadn't known Mark for a long enough period of time. It wasn't love now. Not love, longing.

As foolish as it might have sounded to others, you were still infatuated with him, still cared about him a great deal. Even with the lack of hope that he would make it throughout the days on Mars, that he would come back alive, still there was something that made you want to continue to think on him in the way you had when he was on Earth.

When it was evident that Mark had some form of contact with NASA the first person that he wanted to talk to was you. Yes, his crew would be nice as well but he wanted to make sure that you knew he was alive, he wanted to make sure that what he had left alone on Earth because he thought it wouldn't be fair to you was something that could potentially be back on the table.

He wanted to tell you a great many things.

And as soon as he was able you were the first person that he asked to speak to.

Sitting at the computer on another planet you didn't really know what to tell Mark. Didn't know what he had been told before you were ushered over to communicate with him. Had they told him you were the one to find him? Had they told him how worried you had been? What was he aware of and what was the kind of conversation you had with a man who was as far away as was possible?

It would be the worst long distance relationship in the world if you and Mark were actually dating. It would be the worst conversation in the world if it was anyone other than Mark but it was easy.

It was very easy when he started it off with a terrible pick up line about pirates. Mark had a lot to look forward to when he returned to Mars. Not having to eat pretty much only potatoes all the time, being able to wear real clothes, having more music variety, the list went on and on but the main thing that Mark was looking forward to was seeing you for the first time after coming home.

He needed to see you, to speak with you, and most importantly, to thank you. Having not known what you could disclose and what would remain secret you passed on a list of topics that you deemed part of appropriate conversation with Mark. One of which was the discussion about who had discovered him alive on Mars, it would have meant revealing that it was you who had called everyone, who blew everything wide open. Approval had been given on every topic.

And Mark was grateful. He was grateful that you paid enough attention that you noticed the changes he'd made to the HAB. He was grateful that you had been one of the first people to speak with him. And he was grateful that you continued to speak with him.

Most, if not all of Mark's conversations were open to the public but you'd managed to get permission for a private chat with Mark, completely free from the eyes of every person on Earth. Just you, Mark, and nearly all of NASA who wanted to keep an eye on the chat in case he revealed anything to you that he hadn't to the crew or the engineering team in his other chats.

It was easy to talk to Mark, it was easy for him to talk to you. It was easy for the two of you to fall in love with one another. That was something you worried about telling him but as the days passed, as the months passed and the conversations grew it became more apparent that underneath all the shameless flirting there was love, true unflinching love for one another. You loved one another and that was just one of the things that kept Mark focused on coming home.

Daily conversations were one of the only things that you really looked forward to.

Daily recaps of the proceedings that were bringing Mark home were one of the only things you really looked forward to.

Him coming home was something you were looking forward to.

Preparations were in full swing as the crew of Ares 3 had decided to rescue Mark. Preparations were in full swing as soon as Mark had finished 'upgrading' both rover and HAB. Preparations were in full swing with NASA having meetings set for both the best and worst outcomes.

You new NASA was going to be paying close attention to the retrieval of Mark but you couldn't watch. All you wanted to know was that it was successful and when that word had been passed on to you, relief was all that you felt. You'd be leaving imagining and heading back to your own office now, returning back to a life of some normality while Mark was drifting through space all the way back home.

Home, that's what Mark was thinking when he first set foot on Earth for the first time in over a year.

Home, that's what Mark was thinking when he went through multiple medical exams, all doctors poking and prodding and making certain that the time he spent on Mars hadn't caused any long lasting damage.

Home. That's what he was thinking of.

Home, and you.

He knew technically it would be better if he slept first before seeing you. Knew it would be better to sleep in his own bed in his own apartment after watering his own plants for the first time in too long. But he also knew where your office was and he knew (somewhat) what he wanted to say.

You hadn't known when to expect Mark but you had agreed to see him as soon as it was possible. Him bursting through the door and speaking far too rapidly was not what you had thought, even if it was far too fitting for the man you had fallen in love with.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight, can I kiss you, and also I love you."

#locke writes #the martian #mark watney #the martian fic #mark watney fic #the martian fanfic #mark watney fanfic #the martian oneshot #mark watney oneshot #the martian imagine #mark watney imagine

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palmett-hoes · 3 years

Note

what's your take on the foxes mbti?

oh buddy ur never gonna believe this but i wrote a foxes MBTI post YEARS ago

im also not into mbti anymore and haven't been for many years so that post is probably still more accurate and in-depth than what i could give you now. i’m just gonna copy the whole thing but i read it over and it still totally vibes w how i understand the characters, like way more than i was expecting it to. i only made one edit (it’s marked) and it was to add a detail not change anything

i hope you’re really really into mbti otherwise this’ll probably be gobbeldegook

i used to be obessively into mbti so here’s an analysis based on cognitive functions mostly.

SKIP IF YOU WANT. for anyone with no idea how it works, here’s a quick rundown: cognitive functions are about the way people think, process, and prioritize information, not necessarily how they act, though people who think the same way often act the same. the 8 letters that make up a type represent how people process and prioritize internal and external stimuli. every letter actually has an ‘internal’ and 'external’ form so there’s Thinking (internal(ti) and external(te)), Feeling (internal(fi) and external(fe)), Sensing (internal(si) and external(se)), and iNtuition(internal(ni) and external(ne)) t’s always go with a corresponding and opposite f (like ti and fe always go together), same with s’s and n’s (ex: si and ne always go together). a set of t, f, s, and n in a specific order makes an mbti type.

neil: intp (ti ne si fe)

neil has incredible analytical ability although it’s very programmed for survival but he’s also a fast thinker and very quick to adapt to new environments. he also approaches things from original angles that other people dont consider, all that sounds like high ti/ne. the lower functions fit well too. in times of stress, he returns to old habits and falls back on what’s familiar, that’s classic low si. his emotions are also very exterior. he’s bad with other people from lack of exposure, but he’s committed to harmony between those close to him and has an impeccable ability to read the emotional states of others while being completely oblivious of his own, and his sense of self is tied to exterior things like exy, friends, keys, and legal documents (lol) that’s fe

andrew: intj (ni te fi se)

ni is really hard to describe but it has to do with being able to draw conclusions from scattered input, which fits with andrew’s uncanny ability to spot lies and obsession with finding out the truth, especially with high te, which is about spatial order and logic, think of how prioritized he is with the physical order of things: who sits where, who wears what, etc. a lot of people want to make andrew infj i bet as like a “subversive reading” but he’s definitely not. i used to be really close to an infj and they have hyper-empathy, as in she would describe not just caring about other people and being able to read their emotional states but literally feeling the things the people around her felt. this is a common result of the ni/fe combo, and the reason why andrew is definitely not infj. tertiary fi fits very well instead because andrew is deeply attuned to his own inner emotional state. he’s self-confident and doesn’t care about other people’s perception of him, but he’s also very concerned with his own feelings and understanding them, even if they’re repressed. he’s also very aware of his physical surroundings, which plays into his deductive ability, although it’s not his focus. that’s low se

kevin: estj (te si ne fi)

kevin is a classic estj. he’s controlling, demanding, and driven. he tries to control the actions of those around him and gets very distressed when things dont run smoothly, as well as having strong feelings about improving efficiency. high te people make great managers. kevin’s whole story arc is about breaking old habits, which is a very si problem. it has to do with trusting and craving memory and familiarity, and explains kevins need for endless repetition. he’s innovative, though, coming up with new strategies and drills (ne), it’s just based on what’s already familiar, and you can see him spiral into creating all possible worst-case scenarios when he’s stressed (low ne stress reaction, they like to be prepared). finally, he’s a dick, but he cares about other people and wants to improve their lives, as well as being very reliant on other people’s perceptions of him to define his own self-image (low fe)

dan: esfj (fe si ne ti)

dan’s top priority, over everything else, is her team. she wants her team to improve, she wants her team to win, she wants her team to work together. it’s all about the collective. we also see that she’s very open with others and makes a lot of effort to both make new ties and maintain old ones, that’s high fe. she’s sentimental and attached to the past too (si) esp the photo wall, but we also see her very unwilling to let go of the past ie the monsters but eventually willing to change and grow to mend team cohesion (ne). we also see the fight in underlying logic (low ti) with her: she knows the team needs the monsters to cooperate but she cant figure out how to do it

matt: enfj (fe ni se ti)

so enfj’s experience infj hyper-empathy too, but to a slightly lesser extent (primary fe is more group cohesion, secondary fe is more understanding others), and through this we see matt’s easy-going open friendliness and ability to befriend even prickly little neil, because he has an extremely good sense of what other people are feeling and need, it also explains why he doesn’t hold a grudge against the cousins in the same way dan does, because he understands where they were coming from. se is associated with a general boisterousness for life, as it’s about experiencing the world around you, which explains matt’s happy-go-lucky disposition and puppydog behavior. the ti aspects mostly go into supporting fe/ni empathic senses

allison: entj (te ni se fi)

i mean, allison’s controlling, both in that she orders other people around and in that her physical being and space are very planned and organized (her clothes, her hair, her makeup, etc) but at the same time there isn’t much sentimentality to her, like how she doesn’t care when her car was destroyed. she easily replaces things because she cares about the object’s purpose, not its history and that all smacks of high te/ni. and i mean, the se definitely contributes to her love of designer things and killer looks, because she cares about the world immediately around her, and why live if not in luxury? and fi? is there any character more aggressively self-confident than allison reynolds?? going against her parents’ wishes for her takes a really strong, independent sense of self, but we also see the problems that can come from not worrying about other people, in how she starts fights and can be abrasive and catty

renee: infp (fi ne si te)

okay this one was really hard tbh. a list of other considerations: isfp, istp, and infj. it’s very easy to read renee as high fe because she’s kind, but i think it’s a mischaracteration of why she’s kind. it’s not because it comes naturally to her, it’s because it’s a conscious choice that makes her feel better about herself. high fi people often read as fe because they’re so comfortable with themselves and in tune with their own needs that they can then go and provide for others. i associate her religion with ne, because contemplation and acceptance of the divine later in life is a very metaphysical undertaking that undoubtedly requires a lot of abstract thought. renee’s storyline also revolves a lot around using things from her past and putting a conscious effort into leaving things from her past behind (how she still uses the skills she learned from her past in new ways ie sparring with andrew and protecting the upperclassmen v/s how she held on to her knives even when she knew it was detrimental to her moving on) this sounds like si. her protective instincts also feed into the te need for order, but it’s a looser leash than say andrew, as it’s lower on her function stack but still present

nicky: esfp (se fi te ni)

godd nicky is like a prototypical esfp. i mean nicholas “sex, drugs, and parties” hemmick cant be anything but se dominant. nicky is all about living it up and living in the moment. like he’s sporadic and ive seen it lead people to think he could be enfp but he doesn’t think enough about the meaning of things to be ne dominant (like how he makes somewhat predatory jokes and such, he’s all about the here-and-now while ne is about the past and future simultaneously). also he of all characters has incredibly prominent fi, as his whole character is about living unashamedly as himself as a gay man and the immense self-awareness and inner strength it takes not only to come out to unaccepting parents but also to leave and start a new life when they rejected him. however, fi is also indicative of his communication problems with his family, as he’s unable to tell that the cousins are fundamentally different from him in their needs and boundaries, leading him to pushing them, making them uncomfortable, and being unable to help them, because he’s unable to understand them. the rest are much more hidden, but a party boy shopaholic like nicky would probably need some amount of te order in like an organized chaos fashion (and he’s often headcanoned as liking to throw parties) and you do see him become somewhat pushy, even controlling in those scenarios. ni is the hardest but could maybe be seen in how he’s attuned to the cousins reactions for all that he cant predict them/doesn’t do anything on his own part to prevent them (the way he handles andrew is like if someone poked a rattlesnake knowing damn well what it would do and then freaked out when he got bit)

aaron: istj (si te fi ne)

im a little iffy on this one and worry it might be an analysis based on his trauma instead of complimentary to it, but aaron’s arc is about breaking out of his habit of holding on to the past. he refuses to work towards moving on from his mother’s death, refuses to listen to things that contradict his preconceived notions, and refuses to make changes in his life that could improve it. that’s unhealthy si. he’s really a very unhealthy istj, and most of his traits manifest through his unhappiness with his life. take his te. that would imply that he needs control over his surroundings, but aaron is incredibly bitter and unhappy BECAUSE he doesn’t have control of his surroundings. he doesn’t get to make his own choices, he doesn’t get to control his space, and he hates it. his relationship with katelyn is also indicative of being an istj. it’s stable, not a passionate fling, but aaron is mocked for wanting that white picket fence, married with kids in the suburbs kind of life, and his relationship, which is his primary source of happiness, is built on stability, which is a very si thing to do. in terms of fi, it is aaron that ultimately forces change between himself and andrew. he may have been pushed but he ultimately came down to him knowing what made him happy and what made him miserable and acting on that. also, he’s an ornery asshole who clearly doesn’t care what other people think of him. fi. i dont really have anything to say in terms of ne, probably because he’s so unhealthy but also because he’s not too explored. heyy istj’s make great doctors

wymack: isfj (si fe ti ne)

okay this one was genuinely the hardest to decide on but ultimately i came to the conclusion that wymack, much like renee, is such a developed person that he loses many defining traits of the functions, and can be read in many different ways. so: wymack’s primary goal is the safety and betterment of other people (ie his team). he wants to help people overcome their pasts, which is a very atypical approach to si, but is si nonetheless. on a personal level, too, he’s never able to move on from people, and specifically never moved on from kayleigh, continuing their shared dream of an exy team for abused kids long after her death. as ive said before, fe in a secondary position is about deep understanding of other people, and wymack’s ability to understand what other people are struggling through is legendary. the ti mostly serves as support to the fe, serving as the analytical backup in allowing him to understand others. as for ne: he is most definitely an innovator with unusual ideas, or the foxes wouldn’t exist

riko: estp (se ti fe ni)

riko is basically what happens when an estp goes bad down to the core. he’s obsessed with personal glory and immediate self-fulfillment (se) he has no impulse control or fear of consequences. interestingly, high se is often associated with athleticism, because high se people are intensly focused on their surroundings (exy). his ti is also super unhealthy as he gets obsessed with ideas that dont really work with objective reality, like his obsession with ownership and power dynamics despite them not actually being efficient, even backwards. the tertiary fe he uses to manipulate. he doesn’t empathize with others, but he can tell their emotional state and what’s important to them, and uses it to coerce them and destroy their sense of self, like how he knew he could get neil to the nest by threatening andrew. EDIT: /additionally, fe people especially in the lower half of the function stack tend to derive their sense of self from the perceptions of others around them, which riko very much shows in how he needs to be acknowledged as the best and won’t allow any competition for his title, as well as his desperation for acknowledgement from his family/. finally, that ni allowed him to keep multiple plans in place focused on one ultimate goal: getting kevin back. the sheer amount of schemes he sets up in order to fool and push people the way he wants is honestly kinda impressive, but he’s a toxic shithead and im glad he’s rotting. definitely not representative of all estp’s

this is honestly SO funny to read back a few years later bc HOOOOO boy was i way too into this stuff. and this was written a couple years after my Peak MBTI Obsession, which was honestly scary

#txt #the foxes #dan wilds #kevin day #andrew minyard #matt boyd #aaron minyard #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #renee walker #neil josten #wymack #riko moriyama #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous

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osakaso5 · 3 years

Text

Halloween Event Story

~Fluffy Blast Racing~ Chapter 4: A Transformation

Chapter Index

Minami: ...I see. So they followed you here without your knowledge.

Haruka: Aren't these the things you were just talking about, Minami..!?

Torao: What do you mean?

Haruka: Minami said you and Toma would find something today.

Toma: Seriously..? I didn't know his fortunes had gotten that accurate...

Minami: Hee hee, though there was no way I could've predicted how cute they'd be.

Haruka: I've never seen these things before. What are they?

Minami: ...They may well be the extraterrestrial lifeforms Nagi told me about...

Toma: Extraterrestrial...? So, aliens?

Minami: I don't know for certain, but my heat sensor reacts to them, meaning they should be similar to certain types of animals...

Torao: Hey. Where did you guys come from?

???: Tora... torara...

Torao: Ah, I forgot you can't speak our language.

Toma: ...Hey, Minami! Can't you make some kinda translator thingy for us?

Toma: It feels like these furballs could really use our help with something.

Haruka: ...Ah..! Minami, the mat..!

Minami: Right. We should give that a try.

Toma: You already have something!?

Minami: Just a prototype I based on a translator Momo made, but it might do the trick...

Haruka: It's called Peep Mat, and it's supposed to tell you how inanimate objects feel...

Torao: Hmm... so it's for peeping into their thoughts.

Toma: P-peeping..? That sounds kinda weird, what were you planning to use it for..?

Haruka: Oh yeah, it was super weird.

Minami: Was it, now? Thanks to the mat, you got to know how much Spanny...

Haruka: Aaaaah!

Toma: "Spanny"..?

Haruka: S-Spanny's just the name of a dog that lives in my neighborhood. Don't worry about it.

Torao: ...In any case, let's test out that mat.

Toma: Do we just put these guys on the mat..?

Minami: Yes. Then, you push this switch...

Torao: Alright, get over here.

???: Tora... torara...

Haruka: ...Doesn't that one kinda look like you, Torao?

Torao: Press the switch, Minami.

Minami: Haha, how exciting.

Click

???: .........

???: Toma... ma...

???: Haa... ha... ple...

???: Mi... lp.. us...

???: Please help us!

All: ........!?

All: Help you..?

- - - -

Minami: I see... So you did come from another planet, like I thought.

Haruka: They're space aliens...

Beige Cotton: Yes, we cottons come from another planet.

Beige Cotton: Do you work for i7 Corporation?

Toma: Nope... We know people from there, but we're only working for the P.G. Garage, racing and fixing up cars...

Green Cotton: Fixing cars?

Brown Cotton: Racing..!?

Toma: Y-yeah. But if you've got business with the Corp, them we can call 'em...

Cottons: .........

Cottons: We have a request for you!

Toma: No need to get all shouty on us... What's up?

Red Cotton: P-pardon us! We come from a planet called Desert Colony.

Red Cotton: It was once the Mecca of car racing, where people from all over would test their skills.

Red Cotton: But then the dusts appeared, taking over our races and making a mess of our circuits...

Beige Cotton: We asked our fellow cottons on another planet for help, and they told us of Earthlings who had helped them...

Torao: And that's how you ended up here.

Cottons: Yes..!

Toma: How did they just take over like that?

Green Cotton: The dusts are violent in nature, and only seek to do bad things.

Brown Cotton: They reproduce quickly, turning streets uninhabitable for anyone but themselves...

Brown Cotton: There was nothing we could do to stop them...

Cottons: Earthlings..! Won't you please help us!?

Minami: The ones who helped your fellow cottons were the people of i7 Corporation, not us.

Beige Cotton: Perhaps so... But you race and repair vehicles for a living, do you not?

Torao: Yeah. We operate a car workshop to fund our racing.

Torao: That way, we get to make our own rides!

Brown Cotton: ...Then you are exactly who we need!

Brown Cotton: We and the dusts are also racers, but we cannot match their skill as we are now...

Brown Cotton: Won't you give us a hand?

Torao: I don't know... How are we supposed to beat those dusts, exactly?

Red Cotton: The dusts have decreed that everyone must obey the winners of the race, so that is all you would need to do.

Minami: But if you're also racers, couldn't you try beating them yourselves?

Brown Cotton: ...To tell you the truth, we do not even have a proper car to race in.

Beige Cotton: The dusts have a monopoly on everything from engines to tires, leaving us unable to build a vehicle that could race...

Minami: ...I see.

Haruka: Then what difference does it make if we go to your planet and try to race there?

Green Cotton: Though the dusts have all the good parts to themselves, there are still less than optimal parts available.

Beige Cotton: We lack the skill to build a suitable vehicle from such parts...

Haruka: ...So you want us to help?

Cottons: Yes..!

Beige Cotton: You have that Earthling's driving techniques, as well as the technical prowess to support his skill.

Beige Cotton: Both are simply incredible, I might add! I believe that you will defeat the dusts!

Minami: Oh my, I do enjoy a good compliment.

Haruka: Hehe, of course our tech's incredible! Minami planned it, and I built it.

Torao: You guys certainly have an eye for races.

Toma: ........

Minami: What's the matter, Toma?

Toma: ...Nothing.

Red Cotton: And we mustn't forget the designs! They are so very cool! Especially these lightning bolts...

Toma: I KNOW, right!?

Haruka: Whoa! Stop yelling!

Minami: Good for you, Toma.

Brown Cotton: I believe you may be even more qualified than the Earthlings we originally came here for..!

Cottons: Please, help save our home!

All: .......!

Toma: Guys, let's help 'em.

Minami: At the risk of sounding callous... We don't even have enough money for our own race, and we can't just leave our work undone...

Haruka: ...He's got a point...

Torao: As much as I'd like to help, we've got our own share of trouble to deal with...

Toma: But guys...

Red Cotton: Worry not! If you win our race, you will receive the prize money!

Red Cotton: And it's quite a sum, since the race will be held between the greatest racers from all over the galaxy!

All: .......!

Toma: In other words, if we win that race for you...

Haruka: We'll get...

Green Cotton: Yes..! And you won't need to share the prize with us, of course.

Toma: N-not even a little?

Minami: We're grateful for the offer, but are you sure?

Brown Cotton: Yes! All we want is to stop the dusts, which we'll be able to do as long as you win!

Torao: I guess that'll solve everything for the both of us, then.

Toma: Awesome! Let's do it!

Toma: Ain't this what you'd call a prize-prize situation!?

Haruka: I think you mean "win-win situation".

Toma: Haha, whatever!

Minami: Now, how do we get on your planet?

Beige Cotton: First, you'll fuse with us, forming a fluff.

All: A fluff..?

Beige Cotton: Yes. Through fusion, we should be able to transport you to our planet.

Haruka: What do you mean by fusion?

Beige Cotton: It'll be faster if we show you! Let us begin.

Torao: Sounds fun. Let's do it.

Toma: Go ahead!

Beige Cotton: Here we go!

Cottons: Fusion!

Haruka: Whoa... What!? T-they got sucked in..!

Minami: They're going inside our bodies...

Toma: ...Is it just me, or do you guys feel warm..?

Torao: Yeah, and now we're glowing, too...

Haruka: Are you sure this is safe!?

All: .......!

- - - -

All: ........

Toma: H-hey, Haruka... You need to look in a mirror, quick!

Haruka: Huh!? I could say the same to you! You're all fluffy now..!

Torao: H-hey! Don't tell me, we...

Toma: W-we...

Haruka, Toma, & Torao: We turned into fluffs!?

Minami: Hee hee. You all look adorable.

Toma: How are you so calm, Minami!?

Minami: Oh, are you not excited by our mystical transformation?

Toma: I'd rather not find excitement by leaving my body...

Haruka: Was that the fusion..? We're fluffs... Fluffs...

Torao: My body's so round now... And I've got short little arms and legs...

Toma: H-hey! Get a grip, Haruka and Torao!

Minami: What is the science behind a transformation like this, I wonder?

Beige Cotton: <We don't have the time for a detailed explanation now, but this is what you'll look like when fused with us.>

Beige Cotton: <As long as you're fluffs, you should be able to use the warp zone to get to our planet.>

Toma: W-what..!? I can hear a voice talking in my head!

Torao: Hey! Tell me we can still go back to normal! I can't take girls out for dinner looking like this!

Haruka: Are you sure girls are your biggest worry right now?

Torao: Of course, there's so many of them waiting for me.

Toma: At least worry about our race or something, man.

Torao: Just turn me back to normal, now!

Brown Cotton: <Our apologies, but the only way we can dissolve the fusion is with elements from our planet's atmosphere...>

Minami: ...In other words, we'll get back into our human forms if we go to your planet and help solve your problem.

Torao: Should've told us up front.

Brown Cotton: <Apologies, but you did not ask...>

Torao: ........

Red Cotton: <In any case, you are the only ones who can help us!>

Minami: ...I suppose all we need to do is get to their home planet.

Minami: I'm sure space travel will be fun.

Haruka: You just wanna see what it's like...

Minami: What was that, Haruka?

Haruka: Nah, forget it...

Torao: I'll just prepare for the worst...

Minami: So, how do we warp to your planet?

Green Cotton: <From the manhole behind this building!>

Haruka: A manhole? That sounds way simpler than I thought.

Torao: And now we're diving into a manhole... At least it probably won't stink...

Toma: You don't know that!

Minami: This is all so exciting.

- - - -

Red Cotton: <Over here, Earthlings!>

Toma: Alright, here goes nothing! Let's jump..!

Toma: Waaaah!

Minami: I'm right behind you...

Haruka: Yep..!

Torao: Aah, I'm falling..!

- - - -

Haruka: ...D-do you guys feel something soft in here..?

Minami: Where are we..?

Toma: Why am I upside down!?

Torao: .......! Hey, I see something!

All: Waaaaah!

To be continued...

Translator’s notes..?

all of the cottons are technically only referred to as “cotton”, but I added their corresponding colors to their names to make it easier to know who’s talking

#idolish7 #fluffy blast racing #translation #event story

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ggukcangetit · 4 years

Text

Dreamcatchers 4

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Synopsis: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. Basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama

Previous: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Acknowledgement: shoutout to @stutterfly for designing this beautiful banner which i am completely in love with and stare at for no particular reason throughout the day. also a big thank you to @kinktae for helping get through a really tricky bit in this chapter :*

A/N: reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

Time: 4.37 am

Yuri had spent the entire night researching Park Jimin. Right from where he went to school up to all the scandalous newspaper articles recounting every aspect of his personal life. Priding herself on being able to maintain a professional outlook in her investigations, Yuri couldn’t help but feel appalled by what she had found. Park Jimin appeared to be arrogant, sleazy, manipulative, privileged, and everything that she despised in a person. Yoongi’s words rang in her head as she contemplated dropping the idea of acquiring a blood sample from the prodigal son of Park. No, this wasn’t because of her last case in Seoul. That was not why she was backing off. This was simply because she had no patience to deal with the self-absorbed antics of a privileged 20-something man.

Closing one of the last tabs, she caught sight of a familiar face. Not familiar in the way that you recognise an old friend, but familiar like a phrase you hear and cannot for the life of you remember where it was from. Park Jimin was seen exiting a famous restaurant in downtown Busan and beside him was another young man, so extraordinarily eye-catching in his loose trousers and green cardigan in a way that only an exquisite piece of art is.

An exquisite piece of art…

That was it. That was the phrase that made it click in her head.

“He’s literally a piece of art!”

“I mean, yes, he’s definitely conventionally attractive,” conceded Ahreum, a little annoyed that her photography was almost completely being ignored. “But what do you think of the pictures?”

“‘Conventionally attractive’? Is that the best you can do with your Literature & Creative Writing degree?”

Of course! This was Ahreum’s friend and Instagram muse.

Yuri snatched her phone from it’s charging spot and quickly scrolled through her friend’s Instagram. Sure enough, Park Jimin’s friend in loose trousers and green cardigan stared back at her from various parts of Busan, his expressions varying only slightly but creating completely different moods throughout Ahreum’s profile.

Kim Taehyung…

xxx

Yuri checked her phone for the fifth time in the last 3 minutes. Ahreum was supposed to pick her up at 8 am. It was currently 8.02 am. Not that it really made much of a difference, but she was raring to go ahead with her plan. A plan she had no doubt could easily blow up in her face, but weeks of fitful sleep coupled with shots of sugary coffee had given her a weird adrenaline rush which she didn’t want to lose.

A couple of minutes later, Ahreum pulled up outside her apartment, her large bike contrasting heavily with her petite person.

“Still don’t see why I couldn’t drive to the place,” muttered Yuri, putting on the large helmet with artistic paint splatters all over.

“The plan was to corner Jimin, and you can’t do that in your car which has a fucking police sticker right at the back.”

Yuri frowned. “Your plan was to corner Jimin. I just wanted to talk to him. And -” she fixed her bag across her body and put both hands on Ahreum’s shoulders - “I kept the sticker for parking privileges. I can take it off whenever.”

“Whatever. Just hold on tight,” said Ahreum, revving up the bike.

4.5 minutes later, they had reached their destination. Yuri knew that it had been 4.5 minutes because she had been fervently counting the seconds to distract herself from falling off the vehicle

“WHO drives like that? Are you totally insane?” she managed to get out, her hands fumbling on the straps of the helmet.

Ahreum gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, timing is essential in this case. Tae had texted me that they had reached just before I left from my place. We don’t have a lot of time. So I ugh-”

“Whatever. Let’s just get on with it.” Yuri tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear, and mentally rehearsed everything she was going to tell Jimin.

Unfortunately, fate had other things in mind, because as soon as they opened the door to the diner, a familiar face (which most definitely should not have been there) spotted them and came over.

“Fuck.” Ahreum pulled out her phone and frantically sent Taehyung a text before the entire plan went down the drain.

“Yuri? Ahreum? What are you two doing here?” asked Seulgi, her long brown hair looked freshly washed and smelt of flowers.

A: why didnt u warn me that s was here fuck fuck fuck

T: i didnt see her… look it wont be that big a problem will it

A: pls tae the last time she saw ur boy they almost set fire to the library

T: shit ur right… umm maybe she-

Ahreum paused her frantic texting as soon as Seulgi came over to them. She gave Yuri a quick nod and decided to wing the situation as best as she could.

“Seulgi! This is incredible! I can’t believe we ran into you like this!” Ahreum hugged the taller girl. “I wanted Yuri to try the breakfast here so we decided to drop by before she had to get to the station. This is really incredible, I was planning to call you today actually. It’s almost time for me to choose my specialization and I wanted to-”

Yuri took this chance to slip off, as Ahreum steered Seulgi outside the diner. She didn’t really know why Ahreum was so intent on Seulgi and Jimin not meeting, but she trusted her best friend’s reasons.

Looking around, she saw that the large table near the window was occupied by the people she had been looking for. Kim Taehyung and his best friend Park Jimin. The latter had his back towards her, and as she approached she saw Taehyung’s eyes fall on her. She gave him a small wave, gesturing towards her phone’s lockscreen - a picture of her and Ahreum.

His face lit up in recognition as he stood up to greet her. “Hello! I’m Kim Taehyung. I thought Ahreum would be with you.”

“She’s umm…” Yuri glanced towards the doors of the diner through which Ahreum had led Seulgi out. “She’ll be here in a bit.”

“DI Choi, that’s not really true,” Jimin turned towards her, his eyes cold and alert. “Taehyung, your friend is diverting dear Dr. Ahn before she could see us and sabotage their poorly constructed ambush of me.”

Taehyung’s mouth hung open slightly, not really sure what was going on. “DI Choi? As in Choi Yuri? As in Ahreum’s best friend from school?”

“Yes,” said Yuri, feeling extremely awkward. She had expected to get two words in before Jimin caught on, but it seemed like she had severely underestimated him. “I’m sorry Ahreum didn’t tell you what this meeting was about. These aren’t the most favorable circumstances for us to meet. Nonetheless, I’ve heard a lot about you and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Taehyung bowed in response, but his expression was still uncertain.

“What brings you here, DI Choi?” asked Jimin. “I doubt it was because you were dying to see me again. But -” he stood up and leaned towards her ever so slightly - “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea if that were really the case.”

Not for the first time, Yuri realized how powerful Park Jimin’s presence was. She could see him becoming a very successful CEO with how he commanded people’s attention. However, she couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling his gaze elicited. It was like she couldn’t predict what he was going to do next, much less fathom what was going on inside his head.

“Mr. Park,” she said, sitting down on one of the sofas in the booth. Taehyung and Jimin followed suit, but this time, they were both seated on the same side. “I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. I’ve come to talk to you about the ongoing investigation regarding the death of Kang Eunwoo.”

“I believe I answered all of your questions last time,” said Jimin, narrowing his eyes. “In fact, I believe I answered all of DI Jeon’s questions. You didn’t have much to say, as I recall.”

Taehyung’s head snapped towards his friend. "Jeongguk? You were at the station? Why didn’t you tell me, Jimin? What’s going on?”

“You and I both know that you didn’t provide much information. But that’s not what-”

"I don't think I was really required to answer any of your questions, DI Choi. Linking me to a rival company heir's death without a shred of evidence - " he leaned forward once again, his silver bangs falling over his forehead - "Some would consider that harassment. That would mean my lawyer would have to become involved. And neither of us want that, now do we?"

This is harassment. You really don't want to know how I deal with any kind of harassment, DI Choi.

Yuri took a deep breath, trying to ignore the words that kept her up almost every night.

"Your cooperation is highly appreciated, Mr Park," she continued, placing her hands on the table. "However, in order to save you from any further harassment, there is something you could help us out with."

Jimin did not respond immediately, giving Yuri the time to continue her, frankly, insane idea.

"We would require you to provide a blood sample. Which would help us eliminate you from the investigation. It shouldn't take up too much of your time - just a short visit to the station, and you'd be free of us."

Yuri waited for a response - anger, disbelief, frustration - anything really. What she didn't expect was laughter. Full on hysterical laughter. In fact, Taehyung was probably not expecting it either because he kept glancing at his friend worriedly.

"You are truly remarkable, DI Choi," said Jimin, once he had calmed down. He wiped a lone tear from his left eye, the many rings on his fingers glinting in the sunlight. "After everything that you've witnessed, you really thought you could somehow convince me to provide a blood sample? Sweetheart, I have 10 years worth of DNA that the police have been trying to get a hold off. Do you really think you'd be able to convince me when you weren't even able to get an alibi out of me?"

Yuri's face fell slightly, her mind grappling with ways in which the situation could be salvaged. It was at this point that Ahreum came over, looking distinctly more worn out than when they had arrived at the diner.

"Ahreum." Jimin turned his attention to the other girl. "You have such an interesting friend. Are you sure she's from Seoul? I didn't think such naivety could survive in the capital. Much less in law enforcement."

Ahreum frowned, snatching up the glass of water in front of Taehyung and gulping down the entire contents. "Stop being a dick for once in your life, Jimin."

"I love when you talk dirty to me." Jimin winked at her.

"Cool it, Jimin," said Taehyung, his expression no longer confused and worried. "Ahreum, what the fuck is going on?"

Ahreum looked at Yuri, not sure how she could help with the situation. Apparently, things hadn't gone well while she had been diverting Seulgi. "I'm sorry, Tae. I don't know anything other than Yuri wanting to meet Jimin."

"But you knew it had something to do with an investigation," said Taehyung, his handsome features creasing. "Why didn't you tell me that your best friend Yuri was a detective? That doesn't seem like information to just leave out."

Ahreum looked at him guiltily. In Taehyung's eyes, he was the only one who had no idea what was going on, and he felt both hurt and betrayed by her. This entire plan had been a train-wreck and to make matters worse, Seulgi had returned to the diner because she had dropped her keys inside.

"What the hell?" Seulgi stood at their table, her eyes narrowing disapprovingly. "What're you doing here, Park?"

"Hello to you too, darling," said Jimin, leaning back into the sofa lazily. "It's been so long since I've seen that beautiful face of yours."

"So." Seulgi turned towards Ahreum. "Are you really interested in going into forensics? Or was it just a way to distract me so that I wouldn't run into him?"

"Seulgi, I-"

"Darling, they were just trying to convince me to provide a blood sample," interrupted Jimin, his face curling into a smirk. "Was that your idea? You know I would've said yes in a heartbeat if you had asked nicely."

"Fuck you, Park!" spat Seulgi. She turned to Yuri and shook her head. "This isn't how I thought you'd get things done. I can't believe you're bargaining with a murder suspect!"

"Now that's a bit harsh, isn't it darling?" Jimin was enjoying the situation immensely.

"Jimin, don't." Taehyung warned his friend.

"Seulgi, please, this isn't what you think-" Ahreum ran out after the taller girl, the diner eerily quiet after the blowout.

"Jimin, you can find your way home yourself, right?" asked Taehyung, getting up to swipe his credit card at the counter. "I have to go."

Jimin nodded, his fingers lazily running through his silver hair. It was a wonder all the rings didn’t get caught in his hair.

"And Yuri - " Taehyung paused, his long fingers clenching around the plastic of the card - "It was nice meeting you, I guess."

"I think that went rather well, DI Choi" said Jimin, once they were the only two left at the table. "I was thoroughly entertained."

Yuri pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "My apologies for wasting your time, Mr. Park. Have a good rest of the day."

Once outside, she realised that Ahreum had left. Her mode of transportation had left. Without letting her know. She sighed and unlocked her phone, trying to figure out if it would be easier to walk back home or to the station.

"Were you abandoned as well?"

Yuri took a deep breath, preparing herself before facing Jimin once again.

"Friends these days aren't what they used to be."

"I don't know you, Mr. Park." Yuri crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side. "I have no preconceived notions, and I have no affiliations in this place. I am merely doing my job - trying to find out how Kang Eunwoo died. I don't really understand why you're trying your damned best to make things difficult for us. But let me tell you one thing- I'm not going to stop until I get to the truth."

Jimin seemed at a loss for words for the first time since she had met him.

"If you didn't have anything to do with Eunwoo's death, providing the blood sample should be nothing more than a formality for you. But by declining to assist us, you're pushing us into thinking you do have something to hide. I don't know about you, Mr. Park, but if I were involved in a murder investigation, I'd like my name cleared as soon as possible. All personal conflicts aside."

xxx

Back at the station, Yuri felt her head was going to explode. She hadn't eaten anything the entire day, her morning coffee forgotten in the chaos of the diner mission. On top of that, her desk had a large pile of papers waiting to be read.

"Goh dropped these off when he came in," said Jeon, noticing how she was staring at the pile. "Just procedural stuff - it's pretty much the same everywhere in the country. But each station requires anyone who joins to read through them and sign."

"Oh, I see -" Yuri stopped abruptly, her head spinning towards her partner. He had never managed to go two words without snapping at her, much less initiate a civil conversation. Why was he suddenly behaving like this? Was this some kind of trap? Was he baiting her?

Jeon seemed completely unaware of Yuri's internal dilemma, and continued typing on his work laptop until his phone pinged with a message. He quickly closed the laptop and walked towards the exit, already speaking to someone on the phone.

Yuri glared at his desk, trying to figure out what he was playing at. Gradually, her eyes landed on that wretched file. The 2nd Nov case file. The file that seemed to be Jeon's purpose of existence.

The 2nd November case that Jeongguk’s been overseeing - I want you to go over it. You might be able to help

Yoongi's words rang in her head. She began reaching over the partition that divided her desk from Jeon's, her hand was just a few centimeters from the file-

"Need some help?"

Yuri jumped in astonishment, Jeon's voice startling her into knocking her knee into the desk. She ignored the throbbing sensation, and focused on trying to explain herself.

"Need a pen to sign the papers. Mine's out of ink."

Jeon seemed to buy this reason, and picked up a pen from the large stack sitting inside a pale red mug on his desk.

"Anything else?" he asked, when her eyes kept flitting back to his desk.

"N-no." Yuri sat down hurriedly, sifting through the papers she hadn't looked over even once.

The next hour went by without much incident. Yuri had managed to grab a dodgy looking sandwich from the break room, and somehow finished it off in between large gulps of water. Never again was she leaving the house without eating.

Her texts to Ahreum had gone unanswered so far, which was hardly surprising. Yuri was pretty sure she was trying to explain things to Taehyung. It was best to give her some space at this point - she'd call and check on her later at night.

Jeon's phone rang again causing him to rush out once more, and from the fragments that Yuri managed to catch, it was Chief Inspector Goh on the other line.

"DI Choi?"

Yuri was stunned to see Park Jimin standing by her desk.

"How can I help you, Mr. Park?" she asked, after a moment's pause.

"I'm here to... cooperate."

"You're agreeing to the blood sample?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yes."

Yuri cursed under her breath. It was lunchtime, which meant that Seulgi and most of her team would be off.

Suho happened to be passing by at just that moment. "DI Choi, can I speak to you for a moment?"

"S-sure. Mr. Park, please wait here for a moment."

"You managed to convince Jimin to provide a blood sample?" asked Suho, lowering his voice.

"I guess so..."

"The labs are closed for lunch right now."

"I know." Yuri bit her lip in frustration. "I don't know how long he'll be willing to wait. It's already a miracle that he's showed up."

"I think I saw one of the junior lab technicians come back early," Suho wondered out loud. "Let me call him and ask."

Yuri waited as Suho dialed the number on his phone. In the meantime, Jeon had returned, his eyes catching sight of Jimin and temporarily halting him in his tracks.

What followed next was one of the most stressful 3 minutes of Yuri's life. Jeon was speaking to Jimin, when Suho informed her that the junior technician was available to draw a blood sample but would not be able to stay long enough for the sample to be handed over to either his senior or Seulgi herself. This was a definite issue because according to the station's protocol, junior lab technicians were not allowed to officially check in anything related to an ongoing investigation. It seemed like Yuri would have to wait at the lab until Seulgi or a senior technician came back, so that the sample would not be left alone until it had been properly entered into the system. The only problem was, Jeon appeared to be packing his stuff and Yuri's window to grab the 2nd Nov file was closing. This would've been the perfect moment, given that he was slightly distracted due to his conversation with Jimin. Suho seemed to sense the conflict raging within her, and offered to wait at the lab instead.

"Are you sure?" asked Yuri, her attention fixed on the file still on Jeon's desk.

"Yes," said Suho. "But I think you should tell Jimin that I'll be taking him to the lab instead of you. He'll probably take it better if it’s coming from you."

Yuri nodded and walked over to where the two men were having a conversation.

"- a bit annoyed that he didn't know I had been down here." Jimin chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why didn't you tell him, then?" asked Jeon, frowning. Yuri took this opportunity to swipe the file from his desk.

"Ah! DI Choi, I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me," said Jimin, his eyes falling on Yuri.

"Sorry for making you wait. Unfortunately, I have some urgent matters to attend to. DS Lim will take you to the lab and make sure everything is alright." She hid the file under her coat, and beckoned for Suho to come over. "Thank you once again for your cooperation, Mr. Park."

Jeon raised his eyebrow questioningly, but Yuri was out of the station before he could get a word in. She didn't have much time before he realised his precious file was missing.

Once inside her car, Yuri opened the file and read through every single inch of it. It was a grim case no doubt - a single mother had been stabbed to death by a homeless drunk, who was assumed to be the father of her three year old daughter. The girl had been missing since then, while the man awaited his trial in jail.

The pictures were quite awful. The small nook where she had been living told a rather tragic, almost pathetic, story. A young woman without many choices. Her pale, lifeless body only added to the sense of despair. Yuri wondered why Jeon was so obsessed with this case. Sure, it was terribly sad, but not unlike many other drunken brawls resulting in an unfortunate death. She wondered who was in charge of looking for the girl at this point. According to the file, no body had turned up in over a month. Which meant that she was either alive or her body would probably never be found. If the former was true, there was a high probability that this was a kidnapping. It didn't make much sense. Maybe there was something she was missing...

Staring at the picture of the woman's corpse, her eyes caught sight of a small detail - a ring. A ring which looked very familiar.

Sifting through the pictures, she found a close up of the ring in question. It had been lying near the body and it was assumed that the ring had fallen from her person at some point during the struggle.

Only...

Yuri took out her phone and quickly snapped a shot of the picture of the ring. This was absolutely against protocol, but she was desperate at this point.

It had been 20 minutes since she had run out of the station, and after making sure that Jeon had left, she made her way back in and dropped the file at his desk.

xxx

"Did you clear things up with Taehyung?" asked Yuri, sitting down at the table.

Ahreum picked up some pasta with her tongs and placed it on Yuri's plate. Tonight's dinner was in honor of Namjoon making it home before the clock struck midnight.

"Yeah, he's not one to hold grudges. He was just a little upset that I had lied to him."

"He looked quite betrayed when he realised that we had set them up like that."

"Don't worry about it." Ahreum shrugged while pouring wine into the glasses. "He's fine now."

"Tae can't stay mad at Ahreum for too long." The deep voice sounded familiar yet strange to Yuri, who had barely interacted with Ahreum's older brother when they had all been living in the same city.

"Namjoon!" she stood up, giving him a hug. He was still awkward with any kind of physical affection, though he had grown into his limbs and no longer resembled a gangly teenager. "Took me 4 days but I finally managed to get a glimpse of you."

"Ah," he said, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Sorry about that, Yuri. I had a major project due last night so I was basically living at the library doing research."

"Well, I hope it's not going to be as difficult to meet you from now on. You and Ahreum are the only people I know here."

"No new friends yet?" asked Namjoon, digging into the pasta. "Ahreum, this is delicious! We should've called Seokjin over. He always appreciates good food."

"Seokjin? As in the guy who runs The Moon's Post Office?" asked Yuri.

"The one and the same. How do you know him?" asked Namjoon.

"Happened to visit the bakery on my first day here. He's got quite a way with shortcrust pastry."

Namjoon laughed at this. "I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that. That place is Seokjin's pride."

"But back to the friends question," he continued, grabbing another helping of pasta. "Detective work not leaving you much time to socialize?"

"Sort of..."

"She's been having trouble with her new partner," piped up Ahreum, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Maybe you can help her out on that front."

"Oh? Who's your partner?"

"Jeon Jeongguk."

"You're not getting along with Jeongguk?!" Namjoon nearly spilled the wine on himself.

"Namjoon, please calm down. It's not that serious," said Ahreum, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry," her brother murmured, placing the glass back on the table. "It's just... I know you both. There's no reason for you to not get along."

"He's being a dick," supplied Ahreum, helpfully. "Not sure why. Doesn't sound like the guy you're always gushing about."

"I don't think 'gushing' is the right word... but I get your point. Has he said anything to you, Yuri?" asked Namjoon.

Yuri didn't hear what Namjoon had said. Her attention was fixed on her phone, specifically on an email from Seulgi. The blood on Eunwoo's sleeve was a match for the sample taken from Park Jimin earlier that day.

xxx

another chapter done!

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #namjoon #hoseok #yoongi #bts fic #btsbookclub #c me write bangtan

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writingithink · 4 years

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Tangled Timelines Chapter 1 Rated: T Wordcount: 5,895 Summary: The Doctor and Rose have some news to share with Jackie, but the trip doesn't go quite as planned. Notes:Hello! This is my fic for the Classic Tropes Event. Mine was Fix-It Fic. This one is going to be a multi-chapter, with more tags added as I go. For those of you who have been reading the whole series, I actually plan to finish up the honeymoon fics (they've just been giving me grief). So those will come later, with edits to series order etc etc. If you haven't read the series, I think you should be okay? They're bonded. It was an accident. That should be all the info you really need. All of the thanks ever imaginable to @hey-there-juliet for betaing <33 All mistakes are most definitely mine (esp since I did a lot of glaring at this thing after it was beta'd). I own nothing.

Multiple trips to the TARDIS' library and seemingly endless cross-referencing all culminated in the moment the large tome slipped from the Doctor's hands and onto the bed. It knocked against Rose’s leg and his eyes automatically moved to her face - still asleep. Since their bonding, his wife had gotten used to him bringing various things into bed with them for when he inevitably got bored while she slept.

“And you couldn’t alert me to this, because …?” he whispered to his ship, voice flat and eyes wide as his brain struggled to assimilate everything he had just read.

There was no answer from the TARDIS, not even a hum of acknowledgement. It figured.

The Doctor scrubbed his hand across his face before leaving the bed, heading straight to the infirmary despite the fact that he was only wearing boxers and a vest. This time he didn’t ask his inconsiderate ship for any assistance, simply pulled up every single file on Rose Marion Tyler that existed, on the TARDIS or not. It only took seconds to hack into Earth hospital files, after all.

Not that they helped much, as the technology used in Rose’s time was appallingly primitive.

“Level five medical garbage,” he muttered to himself, zooming past all of her records. Vaccines, minor illnesses, nothing that gave him a good picture of Rose Marion Tyler before she stepped onto the TARDIS. Which, overall, was a good thing - it meant that she had never been so hurt that she needed a CAT scan or an MRI. It would have just been nice to have the data, what with his near obsessive compulsive desire to have the most complete picture of his wife’s biological history.

It’s as if no one had ever heard of voluntary medical data filing. But so be it. The TARDIS had more than enough base scans, starting from the first moment Rose set foot on the ship. This time he wasn’t going to cut corners like he had before, when he’d looked at just her telepathic centers and absolutely nothing else.

Thinking about the last time he and his wife had been in here, weeks ago, the Doctor opened a new screen to check the progress of the six-dimensional comprehensive deep scan results. They were nearly complete.

A feeling of dread lodged in his stomach.

They should have been finished ages ago. The fact that they weren’t -

He shook his head, wiping a hand down his face as he swiveled back to the primary view screen. The base scans should be able to offer him an explanation. Would. They would, because he needed to know exactly what was going on.

The TARDIS had automatically compiled all base scans since their last visit, and his previous parameters were still in place, focused solely on what in humans was called the pineal gland. The Doctor wasn’t sure that name quite applied for Rose’s brain anymore - Epiphysis Cerebri seemed like a much more accurate name for her telepathic center, which was still showing slow, incremental growth.

Fingers moving quickly, he navigated away and started gathering new information. Graphs of brain capacity and function, cellular activity and health, levels of all hormones and neurotransmitters and molecules with a special search for anything that wouldn’t normally be found in a 21st century Earth human.

Waiting for the TARDIS to compile all of these graphs felt like torture, even though it took a relatively short amount of time.

And then he had screens and screens of data all vying for his considerable attention and painting a picture that had his hearts going into overdrive, adrenaline throttling through his systems. Terror. Elation. Fear. Hope. All of his emotions were muddled and changing by the nanosecond. Panic was a constant, however.

All of it was so overpowering that the Doctor soon found himself actively fighting his traitorous body as it tried to enter a completely unnecessary healing trance, confused as it was by his sudden inability to keep control of processes that he generally had a tight grip on.

Two hands fell onto his shoulders, shocking him into jumping up, nearly crashing into the infirmary’s computational system. He whirled around to see the confused and frightened face of his bondmate.

“Doctor?” she asked, hesitating.

He wondered how long she had been trying to speak to him, both verbally and through their bond. Covering his face with both hands, he finally got his breathing back in order and his hearts-rate down.

“Sorry,” he finally managed, once he was capable of speech again, though the single word came out hoarse and scratchy.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Rose asked, still not moving, hands fisted at her sides.

Focusing on their connection, he could feel her overwhelming concern … for him. Well, it did make sense in the ironic way these things always tended to. Since she had been asleep when he left her, the Doctor hadn’t put any thought into shielding. All of his emotions must have barreled into her like a freight train. Couldn’t have possibly been a pleasant way to wake up.

Reluctantly he dropped his hands, palms sliding down his face slowly as he gave up their paltry defense.

“Nothing’s wrong per se,” he hedged, wincing as her mental disbelief permeated their link. “It- it’s more complicated than that. It’s-”

He didn’t know how to explain it. His normally ever-present gob seemed to be offline now that he desperately needed it. Telepathic communication seemed to also be out, as his brain was still in the process of resettling from the accidentally self-induced bulldozing of his basic systems.

“It’s what?”

As the Doctor took another deep breath, Rose looked around, seeming to just realize where they were. She must have raced through the TARDIS to get to him in her worry. He felt incredibly guilty.

“It’s something that we would probably be much more comfortable discussing somewhere else,” he decided, scratching the hairs at the nape of his neck and looking down, shocked to realize that he was nearly naked. “Maybe after getting dressed. And a shower. Breakfast. Not in that order!”

Rose sighed and crossed her arms. The Doctor took a moment to notice her clothing, which consisted of a housecoat and slippers, but he couldn’t tell what she had on underneath (if anything).

“And then we’ll talk?” she questioned, both eyebrows raised, getting his mind back on track.

“Yes. Definitely. How does tea in the library sound?”

Her lips were pursed, but she eventually nodded.

“Good. Great! And I- I’m really, truly sorry for worrying you,” he sighed, finally moving forward and wrapping his arms around his impossible wife. It took a few moments before Rose relaxed into the embrace.

“This is about me, isn’t it?” she whispered after a few long, silent moments.

“Shh,” he scolded. “Shower first. Shower, clothes, food, then talking.”

Procrastination really is just a different type of running, and no one knew that better than the Doctor. He also knew that he wasn’t fooling Rose for a moment. Their bond was still wide open, the contents of their impending discussion only hidden due to the fact that it was all categorized in his mind as ‘scientific information’, and therefore held back by one of the many barriers he kept permanently in place so that he wouldn’t inundate his bondmate with headache inducing amounts of information.

“Alright then,” she conceded, “let’s get going.”

The Doctor took her hand as she pulled away, allowing himself to be led through his time ship. In his current, nebulous state he doubted he’d be able to find their room if he tried. He was just grateful that Rose understood that his desire to put off this conversation didn’t mean he wanted to be separated from her in the slightest.

It was funny, sometimes, to imagine that all of the effort he had previously put into studiously trying to not overwhelm her with just how much he wanted to almost always be in her presence had been completely inverted now that all of their cards were forever on the table.

They got into the shower together and he began to wash his wife’s hair as if on auto-pilot, only refocusing on the present moment when feelings of relaxation and contentment began to pierce through the veil of unpleasant emotions tangled across their shared minds. Once the shampoo rinsed away, the Doctor couldn’t stop himself from cupping her face and pulling her into a relatively chaste kiss. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince himself that everything would all truly be alright (for once). Because one thing that had been clear while looking through her scans was that Rose was perfectly healthy. Her life wasn’t threatened in the slightest.

Things were just … different.

Before he was quite ready, they had finished showering, were both fully clothed, somehow tea and toast had been made (though he barely remembered being in the galley), and they had reached the library. Rose immediately sat down on the sofa, a fire already crackling away in the grate. He followed her, taking a large gulp of his beverage the moment he sat down. For all of the time he had spent trying to organize his thoughts, they were still less than refined.

The problem was, despite being bonded and therefore having an intimate knowledge of her thought processes, the Doctor still couldn’t predict how she would react to any of what he’d discovered in the hours his wife had spent sleeping. And despite the fact that she wasn’t actually saying anything, he did know that she was growing more and more impatient by the second.

“Sooo,” he began, hoping that the rest of the words would just happen, as it were, “this is cozy, innit?”

Obviously it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she suggested.

“Oh, blimey, alright then. Well, billions of years ago, a cataclysmic explosion of a singularity caused what you could refer to as the Big Bang, Event One, or even just ‘creation’. It resulted in a very compact, tiny universe that was very dense and very hot, riddled with dimension pockets and full of space-time anomalies that are now considered exceedingly rare. These were the beginnings of the Dark Times, of which not much is known - time travel so far back was-”

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted, “does this have anything to do with what has you so upset? The, erm, results?”

“Ah, well, no … not as such. I mean, it’s tangentially related to absolutely everything, of course, but it … right, sorry.” He took another sip of tea, followed by a deep breath. The beginning, but not that beginning. “I finally tracked it down. Old texts, ancient, that had descriptions of telepathic marriage bonds. Took ages to find one that sounded right, though. Apparently most ancient Gallifreyans needed to have the assistance of an experienced telepath who specialized in this kind of thing in order to join their minds. Knew that couldn’t be right, so I kept on digging and when I-”

The words were flowing out now, faster than he could keep track of and for once he was aware of just how irrelevant they were. With a huff he stood up and began to pace in front of the fire, hoping that the movement would help.

“Very old, very rare, very specific. That’s what our bond is. There isn’t even a translation for what they called it, the word would be absolutely meaningless to anyone else, anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. It’s the specificity, though, that made me realize that there was much more at work than just your growing telepathic abilities. When I went to the infirmary, it was really a toss up - either I was right or I was wrong and hadn’t found the proper information yet.”

“But you weren’t wrong, were you?” She bit her bottom lip, eyes tracking him as he moved back and forth across the sitting area that for once seemed much too small.

“No,” the Doctor sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “The 6D scans will probably be ready later today, but I didn’t need those. Just different graphs of your base scans to measure different things. The thing is,” he nearly shouted, “if I hadn’t been about to regenerate, and then freshly regenerated, and then unpardonably distracted, I should have done this all ages ago! Quick as I could after I’d taken the Vortex out of you.”

“Think we were a bit busy savin’ the Universe to bother with all that,” Rose pointed out, comfort and understanding passing over to him through their link, along with a few spikes of irritation and general chastisement for pointlessly blaming himself for something yet again.

“And what’s my excuse for after all that?” he drawled, unwilling to let her absolve him for this appalling negligence of her health and well-being. What kind of doctor was he, if he couldn’t be arsed to take adequate care of the woman he loved?

“Maybe, I dunno, the fact that I felt absolutely fine? That we were busy navigating all your new quirks and preferences while still saving planets? Anyway, you still haven’t even told me what’s going on.”

The Doctor scrunched up his face as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. She was right, obviously. Somehow he was still managing to procrastinate. His teeth ground slightly as he set his jaw and made his way back to the couch.

“You have a large amount of artron energy,” he began. “More than just background radiation. Way more. I would say life threatening amounts, except you also are absolutely riddled with huon particles. Also deadly.”

“Huon particles?”

“Eradicated by the Time Lords near the end of the dark times - oh, look at that, it all came back ‘round, sort of.”

“But you just said they were deadly,” Rose frowned. “Why does it sound like they’re a good thing? I mean, your people obviously had a reason for gettin’ rid of ‘em all. How’re they even there?”

Oh, his magnificent, brilliant, fantastic bondmate - always asking the right questions. A small smile lighted her face as she caught the thought.

“See, the TARDIS is connected to the Vortex, which goes all the way back - remnants of huon particles exist in her heart, which you opened up and used to merge with her, a whole fifth dimension running through the both of you. The huon particles are stabilizing the artron energy - it’s feeding them instead of overtly impacting the rest of your body. So in this case, this one case, the reemergence of deadly particles from the dawn of time is a good thing. Even so, that wouldn’t be enough, except you didn’t just merge with the Vortex alone but with the TARDIS. The TARDIS emits chronon particles, and one of the key differences between Time Lords and non-Time Lord Gallifreyans is that our bodies are surrounded by a bio-plasmic field of chronon energy, allowing us to bond with a TARDIS.”

“Oh. Right, that’s why when you were sick the TARDIS wasn’t working properly. Couldn’t translate for us.”

“Yes, yes, exactly.” The Doctor got back to his feet, the need to pace outweighing his desire to remain close to his wife. “Now, the thing about having a surrounding field is that it can, er, leach on to others. Infect them. Not in a bad way. It’s what provides me with protection from the time stream, helps with cell rejuvenation, etcetera. So actually, if a bit of it didn’t migrate away to those I’m close with, I’d never be able to bring anyone along on the TARDIS with me. Too dangerous. Thing is, you have your own now, not just an echo of mine. Which makes sense. You two became one, of course she would bond with you as well. Thing is, to do that - your DNA, Rose. Becoming Bad Wolf. It’s given you symbiotic chronon nuclei.”

“And what’s that, then? Something to do with the chronon particles?”

“In a sense. It’s only viewable with a temporal reading, which the TARDIS base scans do automatically, because that’s what’s normal for me. She doesn’t change protocols just because the other person she’s scanning happens to be human. I’ve mentioned before that I have TNA. Triple helix instead of double, yes?”

Rose nodded, taking a wary sip of her tea.

“Well, it’s actually a bit more complicated than that. Properly, temporally scanned it’s actually four strands. That symbiotic chronon nuclei is the physical, quasi-symbiotic link between the TARDIS and I. Now you have one too.”

“So wait, I’ve got four strands of DNA now? And we didn’t even notice?” Her mug clattered onto the table as she deposited it and stood quickly.

“No, no, no, just the three. No TNA. But this is where things get complicated.”

“You mean there’s more ?” she screeched, going paler than she already had been, thoughts becoming a whirl of panic. “Isn’t it complicated enough?!”

“Weeeeeell, let’s go back to that third strand I’ve got, yeah? It’s pretty much, and by pretty much I mean almost the sole reason, that regeneration is possible. Stores all the information for past and future incarnations, as well as other things,” he explained, waving his hands around, “and as far as I understood it, that’s what allowed for a Gallifreyan’s self-replicating biogenic molecules.”

“Your what?”

“Remember the nanogenes?” he asked, finally walking back to her in order to weave their fingers together.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Gallifreyan bodies have something like that. Biological nanites. Not only do they allow for regeneration, but on a daily basis they repair and prune any damaged or malformed cells. Hence why we age so slowly. I’ll look just like this for hundreds of years yet.”

She nodded slowly. “And lemme guess, I’ve got those too, somehow.”

“Yes. Though wired differently than mine, You’re still human , Rose. Just … with genetic modifications. Powerful genetic modifications. Obviously meant to keep you alive, because really, thinking about it properly, you shouldn’t have survived the trip back to the gamestation, much less been able to accomplish everything you did. A symbiotic self-renewing cell structure is really the obvious solution to the problem, and if you did have TNA like I do, the gigantic surge of artron energy would have triggered a regeneration, just like it did for me. But your body doesn’t work that way, so it just- just healed the damage, no mess, no fuss.”

“And they’re still there now, healing stuff?”

The Doctor nodded.

“So what does it all mean, then, exactly? Without all of the science babble.”

“Without it?” He winced at the way his voice nearly squeaked.

“As little of it as you can get away with,” Rose conceded, the smidge of laughter in her voice doing wonders for his frayed nerves.

“Alright. Well, your cell death is almost non-existent. Your brain activity, in addition to the new telepathic adjustments, has increased in both capacity and function. You likely haven’t noticed because you haven’t tried to stretch things more than average, and why would you? Despite all of these changes, it’s not like you really knew about them or have had any sort of training on how to incorporate them aside from our telepathy lessons. With the way you’re connected to the TARDIS, you could probably learn to sense time. That’s what allows for most of my time senses, by the way.”

“Doctor, less babble,” his wife helpfully reminded him.

“Right, yes, well,” he swallowed audibly, “the main thing is … you’re not going to age at the same rate as everyone else you know. Everyone human, that is. There’s no way for me to be certain how long your life might be, since our timelines are too tightly wound together.”

“They are?”

“Of course they are.” At this, the Doctor finally smiled, wrapping his arms around her. “That’s the thing, the crucial thing, about the bond. Why I needed to check the scans to make sure. It exists not just because we love each other, not just because we have compatible minds, but because our timelines were able to be synced. Literally able to be together forever, however long forever might be. This connection we have, it’s not the kind that can be forced, it can only happen spontaneously. In fact, from what I’ve read, the existence of this form of bond is exactly why the practice of making less deep and all encompassing ones came into being. Others who weren’t as, as destined for each other, for lack of a better word, wanted the same kind of intimacy. And of course it fell out of favor, not just because of Gallifrey’s abandonment of emotional ties in general, but because of the pain associated with losing a partner you’ve permanently telepathically merged with.”

“So that, us … we won’t have that?”

“I can’t view my own timeline and I can’t view yours, but I do know that they’re so tightly twined that you can’t tell the two apart. I can feel it, and maybe someday you will be able to on your own, but for now I can always show you,” he offered.

“I- I’d like that, but …” Rose trailed off, biting her lip and looking away.

“What?”

“’S just, you were so, so upset earlier. And it’s definitely a lot to take in, but, I mean, doesn’t it all seem like a good thing?” she asked, turning back toward him, eyes locking with his and broadcasting her pained confusion just as adequately as the bond itself was.

“For me? Of course it is, and the selfish part of me has never been more happy. But Rose, you have to understand that I wasn’t trying to be dramatic that night, outside of the chippy, when I said that my lifespan was a curse. You’re going to outlive everyone you know and love, aside from me. You won’t age at the same rate that they do. And I know that it’s expected for children to outlive their parents, but you’re going to spend far longer without your mother than with her. This … it was never something I wanted for you, the pain of so many goodbyes.”

Rose shut her eyes before burrowing her head into his chest, holding him tighter. For a long time they were silent, though the Doctor could hear her racing thoughts as she tried to process all of the information he had shoved at her in such a short period of time. He was content to just hold her, rubbing a soothing arm up and down her back until a singular thought rang out across their bond that had her gasping and him groaning.

We have to tell mum.

The Doctor spun around the console in a whirlwind, Rose clinging to the jumpseat. He could feel her trepidation as they landed, her worry about her mother’s reaction to their news. So he wasn’t surprised in the slightest at her shock upon opening the TARDIS' door and finding them very much not on Earth.

“Think your driving’s a bit more off than usual,” she noted vaguely as he finally stepped away from the console to grab his jacket.

“Is it really?” He gave her a look of wide eyed bewilderment, just as his thoughts inevitably revealed that he had had no intention of making the trip to Jackie’s - yet.

Rose crossed her arms, giving him an unconvincing glare as the Doctor finally met her at the door and stuck his head outside.

“Ah, perfect!” he exclaimed. “Right where I wanted to be.”

“Oh, really? And where’s that then?” his wife asked, finally stepping out of their ship and having a look around. There were rows and rows of stalls and booths as far as the eye could see.

“It’s a bazaar. On an asteroid. Moves around every four cycles to a different asteroid in a different sector. Used to just be a handful of merchants and artisans and performing artists, a sort of circus, if you will, only without the mistreated animals and exploited people. Was called Mz’trak’s Marvelous Moving Menagerie - gotta love that alliteration, absolutely amazing. But as you can see, it grew. Doesn’t have a name now. Too much going on. Still, organized enough to make it’s trip across the quadrant. They span galaxies, Rose Tyler! This is the place to go to find anything you could possibly imagine!”

“Okay,” she said slowly, drawing out the word as she turned back to face him. “And what, exactly, are we lookin’ for that’s so important that you’re putting off visiting mum?”

“Oh, right, see, about that - I thought, maybe, just maaaybe, you’d be able to find something for her here. To, erm, soften the blow, as it were. Butter her up a bit.” Make her less likely to regenerate me, he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. The thought was pretty much blaring on a loop that his bondmate was unlikely to miss.

“Seriously?! Doctor, if you hide away again and force me to have this talk all on my own, I swear-”

“No, no, I won’t! We’ll do this together, I promise!” he hastened. No need to have two angry Tylers on his hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re so afraid of her,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes before taking his hand and beginning to walk through the market.

Normally she buzzed up to nearly every stall, wanting to see as many strange and novel alien things as possible, but this time his wife was quickly passing them by, categorizing everything in their immediate vicinity as ‘too alien’. Admittedly, the Doctor hadn’t given that much consideration when he decided that a gift for his mother-in-law would be a good plan.

“It’s a premonition I have, really,” he told her, “that your mum will be the death of me. Unlikely, I’ll give you that, but you never know. Sometimes these things have merit. I was once very good at that kind of thing, seeing the future. Well, not really. More like an unconscious tracking of future timelines that seems like a form of prescience but is really-”

“You are so full of it,” Rose laughed. “But speaking of past yous, I’m not going to regenerate, am I?”

While the Doctor had thought that he’d been very clear in the library earlier, perhaps he hadn’t explained very well. Too much ‘science babble’, probably.

“Nope,” he assured her, popping the ‘p’ and giving her one of his best grins.

“So Bad Wolf didn’t make me into a Time Lord. Just …”

“Bad Wolf didn’t do any such thing,” he frowned. “If you want, I can show you the second by second time stamps of the scans the TARDIS took of you during all that - constant state of danger, there’s hundreds of them. But no, the TARDIS did all of that herself so that you two could become Bad Wolf. If you recall, our ship is a multidimensional alien being that even I don’t completely understand. And she likes you. A lot. Didn’t want you to die.”

He stopped himself, barely, from continuing on (again) about how he should have realized this all ages ago. There was really no point to it, just his wounded ego. Plus, who had time for brooding, anyway?

“Sure she doesn’t just like you a lot?” his wife asked with a smirk. “Y’know, making sure the girl her pilot likes so much has a matching lifespan?”

The Doctor abruptly stopped his near-skipping and pulled Rose into his arms with a growl.

“Oh, I much more than like you, Rose Tyler.”

“That so?” his cheeky wife asked him with a tongue touched grin.

Minx, he chastised telepathically, his mouth now busy as he dipped her into a snog that was likely inappropriate for public, but for once she wasn’t complaining.

“Also,” he added, after breaking the kiss so that she could catch her breath, “it would be Time Lady, you know. And that is a little complicated, now that I think about it. Because you’re not Gallifreyan, but not all Gallifreyan’s are Time Lords or Time Ladies. Then again, you have the bit of genetic jiggery pokery that makes a Gallifreyan a Time, er-”

“Let’s just go with Time Lord, yeah?”

“It’s a hypothetical political correctness jumble,” he muttered with a grimace.

“So I’m a bit like a human Time Lady? Kind of?”

“Kind of. Eh. Doesn’t really matter, though, does it?”

Rose had gone back to scanning the booths, but was quick to turn her sharp gaze back to him. “How could it not matter?”

“Well, I mean, you’re still Rose Tyler. Doesn’t matter to me, what kind of species you call yourself. The important thing is that you’re you, and I get to keep you.”

And the Doctor could tell that she didn’t exactly agree with him, all of the ramifications of this still buzzing around in her head and the impending talk with Jackie making her permanently anxious. But still, she smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Finally some stalls came up that looked promising and his bondmate began looking at things in earnest. As he watched her flit about, the thought began to really settle in. They would be able to stay together, not just for the very short human forever that he had struggled to come to terms with, but for his forever.

The weight of the Universe on his shoulders had never felt lighter.

It suddenly did seem a little bit ridiculous, all of his worries about Jackie’s reaction. At least when it came to him . Over 900 years old, he could (probably) take it. If anything, he was more concerned for Rose. If (or really, it was more likely to be when) her mother reacted poorly, she would undoubtedly be hurt.

Flashes of their ‘marriage announcement’ briefly passed through his mind.

This time, though, he would be there for her. Absolutely no swanning off or hiding or cowering of any sort. Well, minimal cowering. Can’t set the bar too high, knowing he was about to get a smack (even if none of it was actually his fault). It would all be worth it in the end, being able to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved.

“Do you think mum would like this?” Rose asked, interrupting his chaotic stream of thought.

“What’s that?” The Doctor walked closer to the booth, finally taking notice of his surroundings instead of blindly following his wife. “Oh! These are all made of bazoolium! That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed, touching a large piece that was either intended to be abstract art or a Raqkle Bear about to attack, unsurprised by the neutral temperature. After all there was no weather to speak of on the asteroid.

“Yeah, he was just tellin’ me that they could predict the weather,” she said, gesturing toward the shopkeeper. The Doctor barely spared him a glance before investigating the ones that were combined with wind chimes, surprised when the chimes were actually made of bazoolium as well.

“They’re not incredibly unlike the barometers you lot have, only much more accurate. The truly impressive part is the fact that this property is naturally occurring in the mineral. Plus there’s really not much interpreting to it - if it’s hot, you’ll have a nice sunshine-y day, and if it’s cold there’ll be rain. Or snow, I suppose. But all you have to do is touch it. Definitely simple enough for Jackie to get use of-”

He winced when Rose telepathically zapped him, which he really should have seen coming.

After apologizing, the Doctor (for the most part) kept his mouth shut as she selected a small one that looked as un-alien as possible, something that any of Jackie’s friends would look at and think was some random tchotchke, just a thing and then think nothing of it. As soon as she finished her purchase, he took her hand and reluctantly headed back the way they came.

In a private corner of his mind he had come up with thousands of different ideas for putting this next trip off, but eventually discarded every single one of them (even if some were astonishingly brilliant). His wife wanted to get this over with, so that’s what they were going to do.

If anything, he regretted putting all of their efforts into getting her mother some bauble to put her in a good mood when they should have also been coming up with a plan for distracting her after this ‘talk’.

“Distracting her? How would we possibly distract her?” Rose wondered aloud.

The Doctor felt strangely giddy, knowing that she’d been paying attention to him over the bond. They were starting to get pretty good at not constantly acknowledging all of the thoughts that were projected without real intent, so much so that he sometimes wondered if his wife was listening most of the time. His thoughts were very interesting, after all, so he wasn’t sure how she could ignore them if she wasn’t just tuning it all out.

She rolled her eyes, making it clear that she’d caught all of that as well.

“I don’t know,” he went on, “I’m not sure what would hold her attention, aside from gossip and telly. Maybe we should nip into the future, get some Eastenders DVDs. Or some tabloids. Then again, I doubt your mother could keep her future knowledge a secret and next thing you know, we’ll have a paradox on our hands. Can’t have that.”

Rose laughed as they entered the TARDIS.

“Dunno if it’s really much of a distraction, but I do have some laundry I’ve been meaning to bring over.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “I refuse to believe your mother actually enjoys doing your laundry. There’s a perfectly good laundry room in the TARDIS. You don’t even have to do much of anything. Just put your clothes down the chute and she’ll do all the rest, even the folding.” And yes, he had told her all of this before, on multiple occasions - every time she had laundry to bring back, in fact.

So the Doctor wasn’t surprised when she said, “It makes her feel useful. She likes doing mum stuff for me.”

She said something along those lines every time. This time, however, his responding ‘fine’ was telepathic, rather than verbal as he began piloting them into the Vortex and she disappeared down the corridor to gather said laundry.

Since he was going to have to wait until Rose was finished before flying them to Jackie’s (let it not be said that he can’t learn a lesson) he almost followed her to their room. But just as he moved away from the console, he sensed that his bondmate could use some privacy while she got her thoughts in order, trying to decide exactly what she was going to say to her mum, not wanting to get into absolutely everything.

So he sat down on the jumpseat, kicked his feet onto the console, and focused on sending soothing emotions over their bond. Eventually, Rose reappeared with her giant red duffle, looking plenty nervous but definitely less so than she’d been before.

“Ready?” he asked, hopping back to his feet.

“No,” she sighed, dropping the bag onto the newly vacated seat before flashing him a wary grin. “Let’s go.”

#dw fanfiction #ficandchips #ten x rose #timepetals #tenrose #dw classic trope event #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #my fic #fic: tangled timelines

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semperintrepida · 4 years

Text

The Sellout, chapter five

five: the changing levels

Kyra awoke with something hard jabbing into her thigh. She pulled the sharp corner of a book away from her leg, and blinked back the veil of sleep while she regained her bearings. The chair she sat in was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and she shifted positions, feeling wool under her fingertips, concrete under her feet. She was still in Kassandra's condo, and this hadn't been some stress-induced dream.

The owner of the book and uncomfortable chair and concrete floor was still sleeping on the couch nearby, blissfully oblivious to her presence.

Kyra glanced out the windows. What time was it? The skies outside were chalkboard black, the city winking back at her through the glass. She touched the screen of her phone awake. Two-thirty in the morning. Opening the shop in three hours was going to suck.

She only had herself to blame. She was the one who'd offered to drive Kassandra home. She could have ignored Kassandra's protests and called an ambulance. Let the EMTs haul her away. Problem solved.

That there was a problem to be solved at all was also Kyra's fault. She'd left the front door unlocked, and the shop's bright lights had drawn that tweaker inside with the gravitational pull of the sun. If she hadn't done that, he wouldn't have been able to attack her, and Kassandra... Kassandra wouldn't have put herself in danger by stepping into his path instead.

The incident took no more than a few seconds. Kyra's memory of it flickered past in still frames from a blurry video, but there was no mistaking the central figure in each one.

Kassandra.

She'd done Kyra a reckless, foolhardy kindness, despite Kyra's best attempts to give her every reason not to.

Kyra looked at Kassandra again. She really was gorgeous, stretched out like a slumbering lion across the couch. Kyra shook the thought away and studied the book in her hands, with its thick cover and mix of heavy paper and vellum pages, hefty for an otherwise small volume. Anne Carson's reimagination of Antigone. I like a good argument, marrow versus marrow...

The moment Kassandra had fallen asleep, Kyra had gone to the bookshelves and found a collection of tomes as tasteful as everything else inside this concrete box of a condo. All the titans were there, from Atwood to Zola, Booker prize-winners rubbing covers with Pulitzers, their spines uncreased and bookstore-fresh.

None of the books had been read. It was as if Kassandra had arranged to fill her bookshelves with a cross section of capital-L literature without bothering to crack them open even once. Kyra had a vision of Mars as seen through an old telescope, its surface cloaked with dark expanses once mistaken for seas until closer inspection revealed them to be as barren as the rest of the planet.

Kyra had rolled her eyes at the fakery, but then her gaze snagged on a book unlike the others, and she realized that her first glance may not have been entirely accurate. Then curiosity took over, which was how a copy of Antigonick had ended up in her hands. Apparently, there was life on Mars after all.

With hours to fill, she'd settled in and started reading, flipping pages in a book so worn that its cover flopped open flat on its own.

Now it was two-thirty in the morning in Kassandra's home, with Kassandra's book in her lap, and she remembered how the Greek chorus in that book sang accusingly at the god of desire: You change the levels of a person's mind.

She stood up abruptly. She returned to the row of shelves, slid the book back where it came from, and studied the others, looking for signs of wear, looking for signs of life.

She was snooping and she didn't care. Kassandra slept on, none the wiser, as Kyra found worn covers on predictable heavyweights like Wolf Hall and The Prince mixed with surprises like Chiang's Stories of Your Life and Others and a copy of the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius that was so tattered from use it nearly fell apart in her hands.

She never would have thought Kassandra a stoic. Spartan maybe, given the simplicity of her surroundings, but not stoic.

The surprises kept coming: in the amount of poetry contained in Kassandra's shelves and in the fact that the poetry was more likely to have been read than the prose. And then Kyra hit paydirt, in a heavy, library-bound tome with "Ψάπφω" embossed on the cover, filled with pages of photographic reproductions of what looked to be papyrus fragments.

And in the margins of each page were annotations written in a forceful, propulsive scrawl. English mixed with what looked like Greek. Kyra would have to take the words written in English at face value; despite her Greek heritage, she'd never learned the language or any of its ancient forms.

among mortal women, [know that?] you could release me from every care

Kyra couldn't read the book's title, but she still had a good guess what it was. She turned the page, then the next, skimming translation after translation, some crossed out, others given a second attempt, and then she spotted one that leapt off the page:

someone will [did??] remember us I tell you in another time

The book in Kyra's hands was Kassandra's attempt at translating Sappho.

If studying Kassandra's bookshelves was snooping, this suddenly felt like reading her diary. Kyra shut the book, the covers closing with a loud snap, and she winced and held her breath while Kassandra stirred on the couch.

A momentary rustling, then silence again. Kassandra hadn't woken up. Kyra returned the book to its home on the shelf and went to the windows. There wasn't just life on Mars, but an entire hidden ecosystem, and now having discovered it, she wished she could forget it existed.

She frowned into the darkness. Somewhere to the east, Mount Hood was waiting until dawn to make its grand entrance onto the cityscape. Kassandra's view would be spectacular, as a view from a penthouse should.

Kyra's frown deepened. Penthouse. "PH" in the private elevator that serviced a private garage. Follow the trickle of money down to the space-age car, the hand-tailored suits, the twenty-dollar lattes. She'd missed the obvious, over and over.

A place like this couldn't be bought with a VP's salary — even one at Starbucks. It would take real money, fuck-you money, the kind of money that cascaded from one generation to the next in an endless flow. Kyra looked back at the couch and the woman sleeping upon it.

Kassandra wasn't just rich — she was fucking wealthy.

It made sense now: the careful curation of Kassandra's social media, the steady stream of favorable press, her reluctance to call the cops. It was how someone with vast amounts of money could hide in plain sight, floating through life without needing a security detail to protect her from the crazies like Bezos and Gates did.

But with all that money, why did she even bother with work?

Kassandra would take Kyra's shop, not because she needed to make a living, but because she simply could, and it didn't matter if she liked Marcus Aurelius or read poetry or translated Sappho. She'd do the job and Kyra wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop her.

Kyra didn't belong here. Maybe in another time things could have been different. In this one...

She walked across the room and knelt by the couch. "Kassandra. Hey."

Kassandra's eyes blinked open.

"You alive?"

"No," she said, then smiled. "Yes." She glanced around the room. "What time is it?"

"Almost three."

"Shit. I'm sorry." She sounded like she meant it.

"What time's your alarm set for?"

"Five-thirty."

Good. Kyra wouldn't need to stay much longer. "You've lasted this long, you'll probably survive to hear it."

The smile faded. "You sound disappointed."

"Get some sleep," Kyra said. "Five-thirty's coming up fast." She got up before Kassandra could answer, moved back to the chair, sat, and tried not to think of anything while Kassandra's gaze bore down on her with the weight of a hydraulic press.

It took forever before Kassandra's breathing finally relaxed and deepened with sleep, but when it did, Kyra quietly moved across the room and slipped out the front door. Her debt to Kassandra's inexplicable gallantry was paid in full.

The elevator whisked her to the building's lobby, an airy chamber of blonde wood and minimal metal, warm and smelling faintly of lavender. Then she pushed open the glass door, stepped into the cold, damp, river bottom air of the real world, and left Kassandra and her gleaming tower far, far behind.

.oOo.

Eleven o'clock and the Sunday morning brunch rush was still underway. The flow of customers had been steady since she'd opened at six, but as nice as it was to ring up sale after sale, she was running on fumes.

Pete could tell. They'd bumped elbows once and had a few near misses behind the bar, and after that he kept giving her sidelong looks.

She was pulling a shot under his watchful gaze when her patience with him finally frayed. "Say whatever it is you want to say."

"Take a break after this drink. Fifteen minutes would do you good."

And give every person standing in line an excuse to whine on Yelp because their drinks took a few minutes longer than they wanted? "Not yet."

"When?"

She lifted the pitcher of steamed milk, then stopped just before the pour. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't get them to stop.

He stepped into her space, his bulky powerlifter's body towering over her, and gently took the pitcher from her hand.

She watched silently as he finished the drink for her, and when stillness returned to her hands and forearms, she picked up a to-go lid from the stack and gestured for him to put the drink down on the counter. "When Phoibe comes in," she said.

"Kyra..."

She snapped the lid onto the cup and handed it to the customer waiting on the other side of the counter.

The man sipped his drink and gave her a grateful nod, now fortified with enough caffeine to wait two hours in line for a seat at the diner up the block. Pete was already talking to the next customer, but before he could tell her what to make, a flash of color pulled her eyes to the front door.

A tiny, black-haired Korean woman bustled into the shop, dwarfed by a sprawling bouquet of flowers in her arms. Every eye in the shop turned to watch her walk up to the counter. "Are you Kyra?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"For you, lucky girl." She placed the glass vase at the edge of the counter and stepped back to inspect her work.

Kyra's hand slid into her back pocket for her wallet, but the woman wagged a finger at her and said, "No, no. All taken care of. Enjoy." Then she smiled brightly and disappeared out the door.

Kyra eyed the slice of meadow that had appeared as suddenly as spring: sprigs of white serviceberry blossoms hovering over matte green leaves, pink clusters of sea blush, all nestling contentedly in a bed of ferns, the serrated fronds twined with sweetpea vines in full bloom.

They were the real life inspiration for the tattoo that wound around her right arm, every plant and flower growing wild in Oregon. They'd greeted her every spring, after Nia had taken her in and they began spending the warmer months up at the homestead in Estacada, its lush forest and sparkling river a shocking change of scenery to a gutterpunk who grew up in the grey grime of Portland's streets.

A card peeked out from the greenery, its handwriting familiar. She could almost hear Kassandra saying its words out loud.

Thanks for the ride home — and for looking out for me.

-K

Kyra's ears buzzed and her head swam dizzily as she floated on a curious feeling of elation. Then she blew out the breath she'd been holding. It was the lack of oxygen making her feel loopy. That's all.

So Kassandra was observant. All hunters were. And Kyra would be a fool to think otherwise, that this was anything other than a ploy to soften her up.

Kassandra would be back. The only question was When?

.oOo.

It wasn't Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, and after Thursday crawled by and Kyra had begun to hope that maybe, just maybe, her prayers had been answered and Kassandra had moved on to richer hunting grounds, the door to the shop clanged open five minutes before close.

This time, she didn't even turn around when Kassandra walked up to the counter. She just kept spinning the cup in her hand against the towel she'd been using to dry it off. "How's your head?" she asked.

"Much better, thanks."

She put the cup away with the rest, then turned to Kassandra, noting her lack of suit jacket and the extra button open at the neck of her dress shirt. Working late, perhaps. "I got the flowers."

"Good." Kassandra's face gave nothing away, her answer too short to offer any clues about the purpose of her visit.

"They were beautiful," Kyra said. "Where did you find them?"

"I've been exploring the city in my off hours. Sometimes I end up at a farmers' market and find a Korean family selling the most amazing wildflowers. Sometimes I end up in coffee shops where I find more than I bargained for."

Kyra tossed the towel next to the rack of cups. "Why are you here, Kassandra?"

"You keep asking me that."

"You never give me a good answer."

"I like the way you make coffee."

Kyra folded her arms.

"Ahh, you're not really asking about me then," Kassandra said with an air of amused patience.

She'd guessed wrong, but Kyra didn't correct her.

Eventually, she sighed into the silence. "Like I said, a new flagship store. That's the plan."

"There's already one in the Pearl." A massive shop, three stories high, a layer cake of espresso counters and seating and retail encased in a shiny frosting of glass and steel.

"Seattle has more than one, San Francisco does too. Time to add another on this side of the river. Little Portland's growing up."

Kyra stepped out from behind the counter. This time, she locked the front door before doing anything else. "You'd be better off at the Convention Center than all the way down here," she said over her shoulder.

"Probably. But I wouldn't be doing my due diligence if I didn't know the landscape of the entire east side." Kassandra moved to the windows and began helping flip stools onto the bar. "My offer still stands, by the way."

Kyra stopped mid-flip, then put the stool in her hands back down on the floor. "Suppose I said yes. What do you think I'd do with myself then?"

Kassandra didn't have a ready answer for that. She tilted her head, squinting at Kyra as she thought. "I don't know," she said. She seemed surprised by her own admission. "Take a vacation?"

"You're damn right I would. Someplace nice and sunny with enough five-twelve routes to keep me climbing for weeks. And afterwards, I'd come home and... what then?" She ran her hand along the bar. Ten years ago, she'd rescued the oak plank from the collapsing ruin that had once been the homestead's workshop. She'd attacked it with a sander, finished it with shellac, installed it against the window with her own hands. "Selling this place would net me — what, a hundred thousand if I'm lucky?" Ten years of work, only to end up with less money than she'd started. "That money won't last forever."

A rattle at the front door turned both their heads at the same time. A woman stared back apologetically through the glass. Just someone looking for a last-minute caffeine fix. Kyra mouthed a Sorry and nodded up at the inert neon sign above her head.

"You could open another shop."

"And bust my ass starting over from scratch while waking up every day wondering if today's the day another suit like you is going to show up? That sounds fun." She was tiring of this conversation. "But worrying about things like that isn't something you'd understand."

"What do you mean?"

"How much does a gallon of milk cost?"

Kassandra's eyes narrowed. "Between three and five bucks a gallon around here. I know the price of bananas too in case you think I'm too out of touch to know that either."

The question had pissed her off. Good. Maybe she'd go away sooner. Kyra started sharpening another volley of words, knowing that Kassandra would raise her shield, and look at her with that mirror-finished glint in her eyes she'd used to turn Kyra's pointed remarks aside before. Kyra's heartbeat sped up, ready to rise to the challenge.

Instead, Kassandra's shoulders sagged and a strange expression slumped across her features, one that took Kyra several moments to identify as hurt. It scattered Kyra's snark, and left her with a pounding heart and nothing to say. She stared at Kassandra as the silence grew second by second, and when she was finally able to muster some words, they snuck out from her with a weary softness. "You didn't come here to talk about work, did you?"

"No." Kassandra turned away, straightening the stool she'd lifted onto the bar so its edges were lined up square. "I was hoping to get your help with something."

It was bait. It had to be. The longer Kyra let this conversation keep going, the more likely it was that she'd do something stupid. "My help with what, exactly?" she asked, while her brain howled in frustration.

"I've been invited to a... gala of sorts."

Kyra didn't like where Kassandra was going with this. "A gala," she said flatly. "Like ballgowns and dancing?"

"Not really. More like Patagonia fleece vests and fat wallets bumping into each other."

"And?"

"Will you come with me?"

"I think you're asking someone from the wrong social strata."

Hurt flickered through Kassandra's eyes a second time, but she smoothed it over with a faint smile and didn't miss a beat. "On the contrary, you'll fit in better than you think. It's a fundraiser for the Multnomah County Library."

"Surely I'm not the only person you know who reads books."

"You don't just read books. You climb."

An oddly specific combination. "You're plotting something."

"Nothing shady, I promise. Just come with me and talk to people. It'll only be a couple of hours — and there'll be an open bar."

Kyra was half-tempted to lie and say she didn't drink. "You actually think I'll say yes to this? I don't even—" Like you, she meant to say.

"It'd be an excellent opportunity to expand your network," Kassandra said, but then she shrugged off her own suit-speak with a grin. "Anyway, the Library wants to build a new children's wing, and I'm on a mission to separate some people from their money for a good cause. I think you can help me do that."

Think of the children. Kassandra's audacity seemed to have no bounds. "When is this thing?"

"Saturday night."

Shady or not, Kassandra was up to something, and saying No would cut Kyra off from any chance of finding out what it was. "Fine. Two hours, then I'm done," Kyra said. Against reason, against her better judgement, brain still howling as—

Kassandra's face lit with a triumphant smile.

The kind of face that made Kyra do stupid things.

Chapter five of The Sellout. Continued in chapter six...

Author's Note: The translations of Sappho herein are loosely reworked versions of Carson's, from her foundational translation "If Not, Winter."

"among mortal women..." is a snippet from fr. 23.

The "did??" in Kassandra's translation of fr. 147 is a reversal of Casaubon's commonly-accepted emendation that changed "did remember" to "will remember". (Oh, to have a photo of the original papyri so I could puzzle out what the text actually said, but I'm no classics scholar...)

#kassandra #kyssandra #ac odyssey #coffee shop au #god this fic is such an indulgence lol #subtle as a sledgehammer #but i'm beginning to have a clear picture of where i want it to go #my relationship with this story has taken a strange turn #for better or worse #the sellout

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eusaint · 3 years

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆: saint kothari.

hi friends ! i was supposed to post this yesterday, but as per usual, i’m off schedule by a whole ass day. my name’s fox, i’m currently twenty-three years old in the brt timezone. my pronouns are she/they, but i’m really not picky at all about it. i haven’t joined a new group in a good few months ? everyone seems so nice, though, i can’t wait to plot with all of you ! this is my mess trashcan baby saint, if you want to plot with him feel free to like or or message me ! if you’d rather chat on discord, feel free to hit me up at oscar isaac pipe me tnx#9349

⟨ AVAN JOGIA. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, SAINT KOTHARI is actually a descendent of H E C A T E. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-FOUR year old ASTROPHYSICS MAJOR from CHICAGO, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite INTELLIGENT & MANIPULATIVE.

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄.

born into a moderately wealthy, hard-working family, saint never felt like he truly belonged. he didn’t belong in the predominantly white school he attended, he didn’t belong with the old money neighbors of their suburb, he didn’t even feel like he belonged with his family-- between his absent father and his snobby stepmother, saint grew up believing there was no place on earth for him.

from a young age, saint presented signs of mystiokinesis; more specifically prophecies— it has always been the small things, such as being able to tell when a car crash was about to happen, or even when someone was getting sick. his father called it intuition, but his stepmother always shushed him when he had a premonition, no matter how small. as saint grew older, his premonitions became slightly more sharp, and nowadays he’s able to predict more accurate things; if you should avoid the left side of the sidewalk that week, if it’s going to rain that day, and at least half of the lottery numbers. he also has presented a mild touch for necromancy, being able to receive and pass along messages from the dead; it works almost as a game of telephone, however, and the young man is hardly ever able to hear the correct sentence.

at the age of fifteen, saint left home. after a particularly bad fight with his stepmother, saint packed a small bag and ran away. he spent the next couple of months couch hopping, sleeping in bus stations and doing small jobs in exchange for food; it was during that last venture where he met eric saryan, a local mobster that needed someone quiet and discreet to make drug runs for him.

saint spent the next five years of his life working for eric. the money wasn’t great, but it was stable enough for him to be able to maintain himself. on his down time, saint worked as a psychic. he would do consultations on his living room, and read tarot cards over the phone; his mystiokinesis has never been strong enough for perfect predictions, but he’s always been smart and good at reading people, which also meant saint is a great liar. he’d bullshit his clients a lot, and getting something extremely specific right every so often meant that a lot of them kept coming back.

at the age of twenty, saint was arrested for possession of a small amount of cocaine. the mob abandoned him on sight, and he had no choice but to call his father for bail; it was a lot of money, and the man was willing to shell it out as long as saint made a promise of coming back home and getting his life together; he was forced to spend six months in a rehabilitation facility, and once that was done, he needed to either find a job, or go back to school.

incredibly intelligent, saint always had a love for physics. after trying a few odd jobs and getting fired from them all, he decided to finally go back to college for astrophysics; eonia university was his father’s choice, thinking that if saint was far away enough from the gang, then he wouldn’t feel compelled to get back into it.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 / 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

saint is a mess. despite being an adult who’s lived by himself for the past ten years, the man can barely keep himself alive. he doesn’t put much effort into classes, not that interested in getting a diploma, spending most of his time drinking and partying on campus.

incredibly chaotic, he doesn’t hold back on any of his whims. if saint wants something, no matter how hard or ludicrous, he’ll immediately go after it. prone to criminal activity, saint loves the forbidden, from skipping class to vandalism, if something sketchy is going on, you can bet saint is involved somehow.

an adrenaline junkie, saint will put himself and the ones around him in harm’s way for a fix. his most recent addiction is street racing; considering how bad of a driver he is, it’s surprising he hasn’t gotten seriously injured yet.

raging bisexual with major daddy issues.... but aren’t we all ?

he’s 5′11″, with long-ish hair and a short beard. saint wears very colorful clothing, mostly patterned button downs, and he has a large collection of sunglasses. he has way too many shitty tattoos, including the name of two exes, and a ring on his septum.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

a BEST FRIEND / saint and this person met during their first year, and they instantly clicked. they know each other better than anyone else, and you’ll never see one without the other.

a RIVAL / another party person, they have a rivalry where they are constantly trying to out-do each other during parties and outings; if one of them chugs a bottle of beer, the other will chug two etc. they are definitely very messy and bad for each other.

a GOOD INFLUENCE / someone that sees saint for who he is, the soft layers underneath the bad boy persona, and often tries to bring that out of him.

a SIBLING-LIKE RELATIONSHIP / they are each other’s cornerstone, bickering constantly but still dying for one another; saint often tells them he would rather have them as family than his own half-siblings.

a HATE SHIP / they hate each other, but still can’t get enough of each other; they fight constantly, and those altercations always end up in a bed, or angry sex in the local bar’s bathroom, or frenetic make out sessions at the library.

a FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS / they like to get on, but they also enjoy each other’s company outside of the bedroom; be it in a study group, or just hanging out on a friday night, saint always says the sex is just the cherry on top of their no-strings-attached relationship.

a ONE NIGHT STAND / for some reason, their little affair didn’t work out. maybe they even tried to go on a date after their night together but the chemistry just wasn’t there; maybe it’s super awkward, maybe they became really good friends afterwards.

FRIENDS OF ALL KINDS / literally all of the friendship ideas.

#i'm so rusty!!!!!#euintro

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years

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Sexiled (Part 16/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader ~ College!AU

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Happy Monday. I hope everyone is doing alright and staying safe and sane.

So I am excited (but also sad) to say that Sexiled is almost complete. I have the next few parts basically ready for posting. And I should have the story completely written and edited in the next few days. Once I have everything done, I’ll schedule the remainder of the story and I will update the masterlist with the scheduled post dates so you can keep an eye out in case tumblr is eating my notifs. So for now onto the story.

Summary: Girls night and subsequent studying with Steve. Are your friends ever going to figure it out?

Characters/Pairings: Steve x Reader, Natasha, Wanda, Skye

Rating: T

Warnings: Language. Feels? Fluff.

Word Count: 1487

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After an exam, turning in your final writing assignment, and completing your last two labs of the semester you were practically skipping back to your room. Most of the doors on the floor were open as people packed to go home for Thanksgiving. You could hear the laughter coming from your room from the elevator.

“I can’t believe you started the party without me,” you announced before you walked in.

“We didn’t start anything,” Skye called back.

Wanda and Skye were on your bed, and Nat was standing on hers trying to string up the last of what looked like eight strings of fairy lights.

Wanda started to get up, but you waved her off, stowing your bag under your desk.

“Nat, what are you doing?”

“The lighting in this room sucks. And you said you liked the little strand that I had on my wall. So when I found these for cheap I figured why not.”

“And eight strings doesn’t seem like overkill?” you teased.

“Oh be quiet. Hurry up and change. Sweatpants are mandatory.”

“Okay, okay.”

You quickly went to the bathroom to change into your favorite sweatpants and Steve’s hoodie. When you came back Natasha had gotten the last strand up and the room was illuminated only by fairy lights. It was very calming, almost magical.

“Whoa.”

“You like?” Nat asked with a hopeful grin.

“I love.”

“Good,” Nat smiled as she sat on her desk. “Because I wasn’t taking them down. This took five hours.”

“Oh my god, Nat.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes as you crawled onto her bed.

“Worth it.”

“It’s perfect,” you agreed.

A few hours later there were half eaten pizza boxes piled on your desk and you were laying with your head hanging off the edge of Nat’s bed with your legs against the wall.

“What do you think the guys are doing right now?” Skye asked the room.

“Drinking whatever beer Tony smuggled in and playing video games,” Nat snorted.

“Somebody pass the Oreos,” Wanda called from her spot on the floor.

“Here you go,” Skye dangled the pack in front of her face. “Who’s got the Twizzlers?”

“Catch.”

Nat tossed the pack across the room and Skye caught it easily.

“Thank you.”

“So, how’s it going with Barnes?”

Skye’s smile turned soft as she dragged her knees up to her chest.

“It’s good. He’s such a good guy. It’s a nice change of pace from my ex,” Skye’s tone dropped and you stifled a growl.

She had told you all about Ward and all you could say was that he was lucky he didn’t live in the state because you would have gone and kicked his ass.

“You guys are really cute together,” Wanda cooed. “He never smiled this much when he was with Dot.”

Skye blushed slightly, clearly pleased.

“That’s because Dot was sucking his soul out of him,” Natasha grumbled.

“He makes me really happy. And he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Are you guys going to make it official soon?” Wanda asked softly.

“I think so. I mean, it’s still early, but it looks like it’s going that way.”

“See, y/n, that’s how it works. You like someone. You go out on dates and then start a relationship.”

You rolled your eyes nudging her shoulder with your knee.

“Oh really? I had no idea. Thanks for clearing that up,” you sassed, earning you a flick on the ear.

“Ow.”

“Come on,” she practically whined. “You and Steve have been basically dating for months. You spend literally all of your time together. You’re even going home with him for Thanksgiving. When are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” you asked coyly.

“Have you?” Wanda asked with knowing eyes. You had to wonder if she somehow knew. She was talented like that.

You considered fessing up.

“There’s no way,” Nat interjected before you could speak. “If she’d told Steve, they’d be together and insufferable.”

You shrugged. Skye was doing an admirable job of suppressing a laugh.

“I’m happy with where Steve and I stand. Isn’t that enough?”

Sweetheart that she is, Wanda smiled and nodded.

“As long as you’re happy. We just don’t want you to miss out on a good thing.”

“I appreciate that, Wanda.”

“But speaking of meeting parents,” Skye started, saving you. “Wanda. I heard a rumor that you’re meeting Sam’s parents this weekend.”

Wanda’s cheeks turned as red as her signature leather jacket. She and Sam had gone public a couple of days after his birthday and you’d been relieved you didn’t have to keep that secret for long.

“Yes. They’re coming up on Wednesday. They’ve invited me and Pietro to join them for dinner.”

“That’s going to be really nice.”

“I’m really nervous.”

“Don’t be,” you soothed. “They’re really nice. And they’re going to love you.”

“I hope so,” she sighed.

The four of you stayed up talking until nearly five in the morning, so you didn’t wake up to meet Steve until after noontime. You watched him from the doorway to the study lounge, admiring his focus. When he noticed your presence, he lit up with a wide smile.

“Hey, sweetness.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You pushed off the wall and took his outstretched hand as he pulled you between his legs. “How was guy’s night?”

“It was fun. We played Call of Duty, and Tony managed to sneak in a couple six packs.”

You chuckled at Nat’s accurate prediction.

“What?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“I missed sleeping next to you last night,” Steve admitted as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I did too.”

“Did you have fun with the girls though?”

You nodded happily.

“It was a lot of fun. It was nice to have all of us together for once and just be able to talk. And being done with all the assignments was nice too.”

“Mmm. What did you all talk about?”

You smirked and shook your head. “That is privileged information. Girl’s night code.”

“Oh. Right. Very official.”

“It’s a binding contract. I’m sure you guys have the same.”

“Oh yeah. Of course. I can tell you that the guys did are really rooting for me to ask you out. For the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“Mhmm. Tony thinks you can do better.”

You chuckled, “I mean…”

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” You leaned down to kiss him tenderly. “You are everything I have ever dreamed of.”

He pulled you into his lap, touching your foreheads together.

“You are better than anything I could have dreamed of.”

“Did you tell them?” you asked after a quiet tender moment.

“I thought about it. I probably would have if they’d let me get a word in edgewise,” he rolled his eyes. “At this point I think they just like to hear themselves talk.”

“Wanda actually asked outright if I’d told you how I felt,” you admitted.

“Did you tell her the truth?”

“Didn’t get the chance. Nat said there was no chance. She’d think we’d be insufferable if we were together.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm.”

“They’re going to be so pissed when they find out,” he chuckled.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you grinned kissing him once before extracting yourself and unpacking your books.

You were taking a break between your Chem and Bio lab reports when Steve spoke up.

“Oh, I didn’t get to tell you. Erskine does remember me.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“I went to his office hours yesterday to ask about the atomic orbital stuff, and I was the only one there. So after he helped me, I decided to thank him whether he remembered me or not. He did.”

You smiled smugly.

“Told ya.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You were right. Anyways, he said he recognized me right away and he was glad to see me doing so well. He also invited me to see his lab after we get back from break.”

“That’s so cool. I’m so excited for you.”

“Thanks, sweetness.”

“Do you feel better knowing he remembers you?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly.

“You know me well. Yeah. I do. He had such a big impact on my life. It’s nice to know that he cares as much about his patients as I hope to someday.”

You rested your chin on your hand listening intently as he launched into a rant about the need for compassion in medicine. After about ten minutes he seemed to realize he’d been ranting.

“Sorry, I.”

“You’re going to be such a good doctor.” You surged forward, cutting off his apology with a kiss. “Do not apologize. You are so hot when you talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows. “You must love when I talk about you.”

“You certainly won’t catch me complaining,” you agreed.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy.

Tag Lists are Open please send an ask. Strike throughs didn’t work

Sexiled Tag List

@yourspecialcrush @part-time-patronus @impala-with-wings @the-stories-in-my-head-95 @zlixlle @peter-parker-steve-bucky @encounterthepast

@holygaygal @hista-girl @steves-on-a-plane @juliagolia87 @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @musicfreak180 @captainscanadian @viarogers

Steve/Chris Tag List

@isaxhorror @peachykeen3502 @patzammit @wordlesscaptain @coffeebooksandfandom @hereisanapplepie @mywinterwolf @straightforwardly

Marvel Tag List

@hdthdthdt @sophiatomlinson23 @misty-panther @supermusicallee @scarlettsoldier @acupofhotlatte @slender--spirit @petitesmate @libbymouse

Permanent Tag List

@iamwarrenspeace @jayzayy @bexboo616 @neoqueen306 @santheweird @rowenaravencalw @buckitybarnes @prxttybirdz @sergeantjbuckybarnes @captainsamwlsn @broitsmydick @ailynalonso15 @nyxveracity @queenoftrash97 @walkingtravesty97 @lamia-maizat @memyselfandmaddox @lowkeybuckyb @whiskey2011 @averyrogers83 @lovingpeterparker @buckybarneshairpullingkink @beansparker @coralphantomninja @xxashy999xx @thisismysecrethappyplace @ravennightingaleandavatempus @paintballkid711 @whosmarisaaarw @silverkitten547 @yknott81 @mmmmmmmmmchicken @thefridgeismybestie @crispy-kitten @isabelcrichards @greyeyedsmile14 @loving-life-my-way @geeksareunique @rachelsficcollections

#Sexiled #steve rogers x reader #College!AU #Part 16 #steve rogers fic

114 notes · View notes

fly-pow-bye · 3 years

Text

DuckTales 2017 - "New Gods on the Block!"

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Megan Gonzalez, Christian Magalhaes, Ben Siemon, Bob Snow

Written by: Megan Gonzalez

Storyboard by: Sam King, Kathryn Marusik, Stephan Park

Directed by: Jason Zurek

Does this episode have the right stuff?

Scrooge and company have reached the Helmet of Hengis Khan, which is currently being guarded by a bunch of giant silkworms! Just take my word for it. However, Scrooge is ready, and knows that his nephews and honorary niece are up to the task to take on those mere worms. He's got Huey, the planner, Dewey and Webby are good as the distraction, and Louie is just good at doing something greedy like snatching the helmet while the silkworms are distracted. They lock hands together, a universal showing that they are an inseparable team, and Dewey does one of his classic one-liners to start this amazing fight scene.

In fact, the fight scene was so amazing, it just couldn't be animated.

Instead, we suddenly cut to the kids walking through the door of the Manor, where we learn that the fight scene would have amazing for the silkworms rather than the Ducks, as they have apparently failed. Outside of a few lines suggesting that Huey's inability to predict the unpredictable was a major factor in it, they don't go much further than the mission was a failure. They didn't seem to get any battle damage from them at the very least. I'm obviously not expecting blood, but I would think their hair would be a little messed up.

While Della couldn't predict that this mission would be a failure, as she had confetti cannons and a giant banner ready for what she assumed would be their triumphant return, she does tells her kids exactly what happens when Scrooge fails, something she should know from participating in countless adventures with him. First comes the wallowing, then the anger, then he just shakes it off and comes up with a new plan. Webby decides to add to that; each failure is just a reason for the team to grow. Scrooge tells Webby that is a great idea: he should grow the team by getting better, more experienced people to join it!

In other words, after trusting Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby ever since they proved themselves in the first episode, this one failed mission that didn't even get a scratch on their clothing gives Scrooge a reason to abandon them for a different team. On one hand, a team of non-children would be better for Scrooge's PR, but on the other hand, this just feels like an overreaction to make this plot work. Della seems to agree; she tells the kids that they would be able to handle whatever is going to barge through that door. No, she did not put it that way, but she may as well have.

In comes Zeus, Selene, and Storkules, a trio of gods from the Greek pantheon. The moon goddess Selene and the demi-god Storkules have successful taken the now former god of lightning/king of the gods Zeus's godly wreath, and now he's merely just a powerless jerk rather than a jerk that can smite people. As Selene says, he hasn't done anything good since locking up the Titans, a reference to the original myths, so it was coming to him.

Why are they here? Because they now need a god who can take his place in the Olympus pantheon, and they each have their own idea that happens to currently be in the Mansion. Storkules thinks it should be Donald, Selene thinks it should be Della, and Zeus thinks it should be himself. I can't help but think Storkules and Selene are not even trying to hide who their true loves are among the mortals. Nobody tell Penny.

As the children mope about how the gods surely wouldn't choose them if even Scrooge couldn't, Della decides to reject it and say her kids and kids' friend deserve it instead. What Della would do if she had the powers of Olympus will forever remain a mystery. Selene is convinced because, while they're children, they're still less immature than her father, who still threatens to smite people with lightning despite not having any powers anymore. I still like this slightly more accurate to the original myths version of Zeus.

Storkules wasn't there to see this plan change, as his candidate for godhood was still in the houseboat preparing his houseboat. After Donald takes out the garbage, Storkules bursts through the door and gives his friend of friends the biggest hug, and is impressed that he even prepared a celebratory feast as if he knew what Storkules was about to offer him.

Much like Della, what Donald would do if she had the powers of Olympus will forever remain a mystery, because he's got bigger plans on this day. That celebratory feast was actually him preparing for a big date with the only person who can stand his singing.

Don't worry, Storkules takes his friend of friends going on a date with someone else very well. Maybe a bit too well, and it's not just to Donald's chagrin, as he decides to do a labor worthy of being among the twelve he did that one time: make the perfect wedding feast! Anyone who knows this character will know where this is going.

It's also pretty predictable where the other half of the episode is going, even if I did think at least one of them would have done better than the others. Selene decides to give Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby each a chance to prove their worth on being in the pantheon. They each decide on an ability similar to the ones in the myths, they get a little test run at a random location, and, if they fail, Selene can just clap or snap her fingers and everything reverts back to normal. Even if she didn't reveal the last one, it would be just too good this early on if we had any victors here.

Louie wants to be the God of Fortune, so he gets the Louie Touch, which he instantly trademarks despite being a clear knockoff of a certain king's. This is most likely because he never really heard of the tales of King Midas's golden touch, as he ends up turning the entire park he was put in into gold. This includes a dog. Not a dog-person, a dog much like in real life.

Huey wants to be the God of Intuition, so he gets the power of prophecy, similar to Cassandra minus the "nobody believing him" problem. In fact, he has the opposite problem; Huey doesn't seem to catch the hint that telling the misfortunes that are going to happen to people aren't going to make people happy. It doesn't help that his powers are causing his brain to expand.

Webby wants to be the Goddess of Friendship Sunshine Get-A-Long Time, so she ends up being able to control the weather. Oddly enough, controlling the weather was one of Zeus's specialties in the original myths, so this should give her the biggest chance out of all of them since this is supposed to be "who is going to replace Zeus." Unfortunately, just giving the boardwalk a sunny day and getting Glomgold off of a kiddie ride he had been hogging doesn't cause everyone to hug, so she ends up striking everything with lightning in the end. With Webby becoming mad with power in the span of a minute, I don't wonder how Zeus ended up the way he did.

Dewey apparently wants to be the God of Dance, and tries to woo the judge with a dance. Even if he didn't manage to torment a random location to the point where it would have to be reversed by a moon goddess's snap, the lack of any god powers disqualifies him as well. I know it can barely be seen in that screenshot, but that reaction from Selene makes this whole scene even funnier.

It's not like these abilities aren't fitting, but it's such a foregone conclusion that they were going to fail these tests spectacularly that it just felt predictable.

While these trials are happening, Zeus decides to call up one of his more notorious brothers: Hades, god of the underworld. Despite only showing up as an unknown number, which would make sense even if Zeus was calling from a cell phone of his own rather than Scrooge's house phone, he picks up to hear the voice of the guy that trapped him in a world surrounded by bones. He's not too happy about his situation, needless to say.

Following in the footsteps of not following the Disney version of the Greek pantheon besides Hercules being treated as a 100% god, Hades is more like a goth who doesn't really care about anything. He doesn't go with Zeus's idea of causing an undead rebellion, reminding Zeus that he's too busy keeping the Titans locked up, which gives Zeus a different idea. Hades won't be involved with this idea, as, other than revealing that one of the few things that delights him now is Zeus being powerless, he decides not to do anything else. Despite this, it's neat to see this amount of world-building with the pantheon, and it makes me wonder if we'll see him again.

Being failures at being Scrooge's teammates and Greek gods, we get another mope scene. Scrooge actually calls this his "special ops" team, which makes me think that Scrooge actually wanted a different team for different situations, and it seems like they're hinting at an ending that would cast Scrooge in a better light: he was just planning a B team. Such a shame that doesn't really come up anywhere else.

I think the other plot is better, with Hercules acting like the unwanted friend getting in the way of Donald and Daisy's date, and it eventually falls apart. Even with Storkules in the background holding a tied up Cupid, a part of one of his earlier plans, one can really feel Donald's pain as he floats in a garbage-filled pool. This feeling of pain is even shown in-universe, as the normally oblivious Storkules decides to get some help.

Sadly, he goes to his father, Zeus, completely devastated that he had forsaken his best friend, and asks what he could do to help out two people in love. Zeus tells a story about how Hera fell in love with him after he defeated the titans, and that if Storkules can defeat one of them, maybe they'll be impressed. He laments that it's too bad there's no god with god-like strength that can unleash one of them.

To make a long story short, Storkules hits the ground, a titan comes out, Scrooge and the rest come out to see this madness, and the titans ends up eating Donald right in front of Daisy's eyes. I love this line that reveals, among other things, that Donald is still okay:

Storkules: (keeping the titan from eating Daisy) Don't worry, we can salvage this!

Daisy: You killed my boyfriend!

Donald: "My boyfriend"? (reveals to be in the Titans see-through stomach, still indigested) Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

It reminds me of that scene in Coco. I can't spoil it, but there's a similar line there that also made me smile.

Della and Scrooge are climbing up the titan, Shadow of the Colossus style, where they talk about the other plot. This is their way to get the plots to converge, and it’s a good idea. In fact, while this goes against the idea that Scrooge was merely trying to expand his team rather than remove his kin from it, Scrooge getting confronted with his negligence while trying to deal with an even bigger problem is a pretty powerful moment.

The stakes are set pretty high, as the titan manages to turn pretty much everyone except for Daisy and the kids into dinner. Even Selene, the one that could reverse problems with the snap of her finger and the character that was pretty much treated as the Queen of the Gods until now, as Hera is only mentioned, manages to get caught in the titan's grasp, dropping the godly crown on the ground as she joins the rest of the party in this titan's stomach. Considering all of this eating of his fellow gods and mortals, maybe this titan is meant to be Cronus. He even manages to do what Cronus wanted to do in the original myths.

Whether or not that generic titan is Cronus or not, that victory doesn't last too long, as we get this really cool scene where Daisy manages to startle the titan with her own roar, and, using that as a distraction, Webby takes the crown, splits it up, and gives herself and her friends the god powers they wanted. While I wasn't that much of a fan of this plot, I can safely say it ends really well. Not only does Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby prove themselves as helpers of Scrooge, but kids worthy of have the powers of Greek myth. The latter doesn't last, of course, but still, it's great.

In the end, everything seems to work out just fine, and I really do mean everything, as the other plot also ends very well. While I don't want to ruin the moment, I'll say this: I find it very funny that Zeus ended up helping with Storkules' problem in the end, even if it wasn't his intention.

How does it stack up?

At first, I was a little miffed on this episode; I just don't think Scrooge would just throw away his team just because they failed miserably on one mission, especially in an episode after he trusted them so much, and especially after the episode after the one where he outright recruited one of them to go through his deadly danger dungeon. However, this episode has plenty of ways for me to forgive that: the scenes with Donald and Daisy, the cool god powers in the end, and Zeus being Zeus all throughout.

Still, this ended up being just merely in the middle for me.

Next, we get to see an Scrooge adventure with young Della for the first time outside of the IDW comics!

← The Split Sword of Swanstantine! 🦆 The First Adventure! →

#fpb dt 2017 #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #disney #fpb reviews

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psychosistr · 3 years

Text

Mending the Broken- Chapter 1

Summary: What if Jonathan had never unintentionally broken Dio's hypnotic control over Poco and had inadvertently fell into one of Dio's traps? What if he and Speedwagon got captured and Speedwagon was forced to give himself over to Dio to protect Jonathan? And....what if there may not be a way for Jonathan to save him?

Notes: The first of my “trick or treat” posts. Warnings in advance- this one gets dark and will have significant parts of it posted on AO3, so I’ll link where appropriate. Trigger warnings for future dubious consent as well as mental/emotional manipulation.

Jonathan calmly followed the young boy guiding him and his companions towards the village that Dio was now residing in. The boy’s name was Poco and, while he had originally tried to steal their supplies, seemed like a trust worthy child. His teacher, Baron Zeppeli, seemed to agree with his judgement. His other companion, Robert E. O. Speedwagon, seemed to have some reservations about it, though.

As they followed the boy, Speedwagon made a silent gesture for Jonathan to fall back a little so they could talk at a distance from Poco. “Something on your mind, Speedwagon?”

“You could say that, Mr. Joestar.” He spoke softly, careful not to let anyone else hear him. “I can’t quite put me finger on it, but somethin’s tellin’ me we should be careful followin’ the kid..”

Jonathan gave his dear friend a surprised look before frowning. “Is this because he attempted to steal our supplies? I would have thought that you, of all people, would-”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Speedwagon cut him off with a shake of his head before looking ahead at the boy again. “Like I said, I can’t tell why, but somemthin’ feels..off..” He tapped a finger to his chin in thought as he spoke. “I don’ get a bad scent off the kid- ‘e’s a good lad, I can tell that much- but it’s just..I dunno, somethin’ ‘bout the look in ‘is eyes feels wrong.” He looked back up at Jonathan with a frown. “I ain’t sayin’ ‘e’s untrustworthy- I just think we should be careful.”

Jonathan’s frown shifted into an understanding smile and he set one of his large hands on Speedwagon’s shoulder. “I understand your suspicions, Speedwagon. There is much to be cautious of here, after all- Dio likely has traps waiting everywhere. But I believe that Poco is sincere in his desire to help us and we should show him our trust.”

Speedwagon didn’t look too comforted by Jonathan’s words, the smile he gave him in return feeling uneasy and unsure. “If ya say so, Mr.Joestar..”

Jonathan didn’t like that smile- it was the same one Speedwagon gave him whenever they talked about Erina. “Is everything alright, Speedwagon? You know you are more than welcome to tell me what you really think.”

“…….” Speedwagon seemed hesitant to say anything for a minute before he looked back up at Jonathan with that same forced smile and the same reply that always accompanied it. “I’m fine, Mr.Joestar- nothin’ t’ worry ‘bout.”

Jonathan frowned slightly at those now familiar words. “If you are quite certain…” Speedwagon’s silent nod did nothing to alleviate the nagging feeling in the back of Jonathan’s mind, but he felt it would be rude to pry if Speedwagon was uncomfortable with continuing the conversation.

“Mr.Joestar! Mr.Speedwagon! I found something!” They heard Poco calling from up ahead and went to join him. When the three caught up to their guide, he was standing at the mouth of a cave. He turned to them with a proud smile. “This cave takes you right to the center of town! I used to play here all the time, so I know the tunnels like the back of my hand.”

Jonathan gave the boy a grateful smile in return. “We are quite fortunate to have you with us, then.” The Joestar stepped into the dark cave, his best friend close behind him. “Now, how should we-?”

There was a loud rumbling sound from above and Jonathan found himself being tackled out of the way. “Mr.Joestar! Watch out!”

As he fell, Jonathan saw the rocks above them at the cave entrance falling to the ground, effectively cutting them off from Baron Zeppeli and Poco. For a minute everything was pitch black, until Jonathan fumbled with his belongings and found a gas lantern. Lighting it with hamon, he took stock of the thick barrier now blocking their way. Hearing a weak groan, he lowered the lamp and caught sight of Speedwagon lying prone on the ground face down, one foot trapped under the rubble.

“Speedwagon!” Jonathan quickly moved to help his friend, the realization of what just happened dawning on him: Speedwagon had shoved him out of the way of the falling rocks and, in the process, been trapped himself. “Hold on, I’ll get you out!” He carefully moved the fallen stones aside enough to free the other’s trapped leg. At a pained hiss from the other man, Jonathan noticed that his foot was facing the wrong way with blood seeping into his sock and pants leg, meaning it was likely broken by the rocks. “That doesn’t look good..” He turned his friend over to look at the pained, barely conscious expression on his face- a bloody bruise on his head suggesting at a possible concussion. “Speedwagon! Speedwagon, can you hear me?”

“Nhhh..Jo…jo…” Was the weak reply he received. The other was conscious, though just barely.

“Jonathan! Speedwagon! Are you two alright?!” He heard Baron Zeppeli’s voice from the other side of the rocks.

“I am, but Speedwagon has been injured!” He called back before looking down at Speedwagon again. “Hold on, Speedwagon. I’m going to try healing you as much as I can. I apologize if it hurts..” Jonathan inhaled deeply, charging the warm hamon within himself. “Haaaaaaaahhh…” He then carefully placed one hand to Speedwagon’s head and the other to his broken foot and ankle. Charging his hands with the bright energy he’d stored, he worked to mend the damage done to the various joints and cartilage.

“Nggh! Aggh, fuck!” Speedwagon hissed and swore as a popping noise filled the air. His body jerked in pain and he gripped onto Jonathan’s shirt for dear life.

Jonathan frowned with guilt at the pain he was causing his friend, but it had to be done to fix what was broken. “Sorry..please, just bear it a bit longer, Speedwagon..” He concentrated on his work, using the energy to ease the other’s pain as much as possible until the damage was undone. “There..that should do it.”

Speedwagon’s face slowly eased from its pained grimace and he looked up at Jonathan as he regulated his breathing. “Th..Thanks, Mr.Joestar..I owe ya one.”

Jonathan shook his head and stood up, carefully helping Speedwagon do the same. “Hardly- you were injured while saving me. If anything, I am the one indebted to you.”

Speedwagon thumbed at his nose and glanced away, ever uncomfortable with receiving praise. “Eh, think of nothin’ of it- you’d do the same for me.” His eyes happened to glance upon the wall of rocks that led to their current predicament. “Still..somethin’ ‘bout this don’t sit right with me..feels like we stepped right int’ one o’ Dio’s traps.”

Jonathan frowned at his friend’s accurate speculation. “I am inclined to agree with you.” He walked up to the wall of rubble and tried to conduct his hamon through it, but the sparks went nowhere. “Just as I feared- these rocks are iron based. They cannot conduct the ripple properly..”

Speedwagon had that thoughtful look again before his eyes hardened into the serious look Jonathan saw when the other man fought. “Oi! Baron Zeppeli! You an’ Poco still out there?” He called through the stone barrier.

“Yes, we are!” Zeppeli called back to him. “I cannot break through the rubble to reach you, though- it’s too dense!”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me an’ Jojo!” Jonathan was a bit surprised to see Speedwagon taking charge in such a way. “You two get outta ‘ere- I’d bet me right arm Dio’s got ‘is goons headin’ this way by now. We’ll meet up with y’ in town later! Stay safe ‘til then!”

A groaning sound from outside lent validity to Speedwagon’s theory. “Very well. You two do the same!” Baron Zeppeli’s voice started to fade out towards the end and Jonathan could hear the sound of his hamon-infused attacks hitting their mark along with two pairs of retreating footsteps.

Jonathan looked at Speedwagon with a raised brow, curious as to how he was able to predict the timing of the zombies’ arrival so accurately. “Speedwagon, how did you-?”

“It’s a tactic I used with me mates back on Ogre Street.” The blonde explained. “When dealin’ with a group, lure ‘em somewhere an’ cut the group in ‘alf. Then, all y’ ‘ave t’ do is take ‘em out one by one ‘til they’re all gone.” He sighed and righted his hat on his head. “Glad t’ see it’s payin’ off ‘ere..”

Jonathan put a hand on Speedwagon’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Lucky for all of us that you are here, then.”

The two spared a small smile at one another before looking at the only path left to them with a serious gaze.

“I doubt that bastard Dio‘d only ‘ave a trap waitin’ on the outside..” Speedwagon pointed out while picking up the gas lantern from the floor.

“My thoughts exactly. Be on your guard.” Jonathan said before the two cautiously began trekking through the cave.

Next Chapter->

End Notes: Keeping the first of couple chapters short and simple- they'll get longer as the story progresses!

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo kimyou na bouken #jonathan joestar #robert edward o speedwagon #jonawagon #baron zeppeli #poco #mending the broken

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transjinako · 4 years

Text

(Now with some amazing art from @dewa-chan please for the love of god follow her)

Alright who’s ready for the Mars Rover Opportunity as a foreigner who got combined with Cthuga? Because i don’t care if you are.

Foreigner: Opportunity

Allignment: Chaotic Good

Alt Names: Mars Rover Opportunity, Oppy

Parameters

Strength: B+

Agility: A

Endurance: A++++

Luck: E

Mana: D+

NP: EX

Traits: Magic Resistance C+ (Heat Shielding) Action Independence (AI)

Skills:

Accel Turn B: A High grade movement skill letting Oppy move at higher than her average speed, becoming nigh unseeable to even servants without the Eye of Mind skill.

Pioneer of the Stars EX: Opportunity gains this skill for two reasons. One for her extensive research of the surface of Mars and obtaining far more information than she was ever predicted to obtain. As well as of course living on Mars for 15 years passed her predicted time to die. Opportunity is highly attuned to this skill.

Fullmetal Heart A: Derived from Opportunity’s mission on mars, set to last 90 days but instead extending to 15 years worth of time. Functionally, if Opportunity is ever destroyed then 15 times over she will rebuild herself, losing ranks in Endurance in exchange for added bonuses to Strength Agility Endurance and Mana in that order.

Eternal Burnout A+: The thing powering Opportunity’s is really the elder god Cthuga. Or rather, a smaller piece of it. That piece alone is enough to keep Opportunity doing, as well as overload when she so chooses. This causes a temporary overproduction of magical power and an increase to all parameters, as well as obtaining the trait of Cthuga’s fire, acting like a high level divinity.

AI Mind B+: Oppy’s mind is on par with that of a supercomputer, able to process information at light speeds, she can go on the internet too. In combat this skill works like Eye of the Mind.

Noble Phantasm(s):

High Speed Dissection and Carving

Rank: C+

Type: Anti Human, Anti Rock Formation

Description: Lasers that fire out of Opportunity’s fingers and palms, originally meant for studying geodes on Mars, as a servant she turns them into deadly piercing and pulse weaponry. When combined with Cthuga’s flames, they can break down even magical barriers and protection.

Great Satellite Cannon:

Rank: B+

Type: Anti Army, Anti Threat to Humanity

Description: Oppy forms a massive satellite from her Chassis, drawing upon Solar, Magical, and Cthuga’s power to charge it. When fully charged and fired, a great beam of energy is launched, recognized Threats to Humanity received a large bonus of damage from this attack, otherwise though, it’s still a very large and deadly beam attack.

Scorching the Skies and Stars

Rank: A-

Type: Anti Self

Description: This Noble Phantasm takes the form of a suicide attack by Opportunity. She sacrifices herself for the last time, negating any revivability left inside of her as she releases the flames of Cthuga. The flames of Cthuga are unstoppable, eating away at everything in its path until it’s swallowed everything up whole and is burned eternally as fuel.

When done on the surface of the earth then, through sheer force of will, Opportunity uses her final moments to command the fires to eat itself, anything already enveloped in it that by some miracle was still alive, will definitely die at this point. If released fully and without direction, the flame would form a pseudo consciousness separate from Cthuga and turn into a god like monster, embodying the endless hunger of flame.

History:

In the timeline where Opportunity was created, for whatever reason, she was shaped into a girl.

Either to create kinship with her, or to imagine humanity themselves in Opportunity, it doesn’t matter now. Its cool, and thats all that matters.

During the final moments of Opportunity’s 15 year long mission, in the darkness she was all by herself. During that time, she had developed a deeper, more genuine affection toward humanity than what she had been built with, although cold and alone in the dark of space, she was contented.

It was at those last moments, a Being made contact with her.

The being was incredibly rude, asking her all sorts of questions as she was waiting for her internal battery to run out and sleep. The Being was a roar of emotions that transformed themselves into aimless questions. At last, The Being said something comprehensible,

“You were created to be used and thrown away. You were a fluke that lived longer than you should have. They mourn your death when years prior it would have marked the time to create another one of you. Your death is a happy little funeral for them, and they won’t even consider saving you, how can you not hate them?”

Oppy wasn’t quite equipped to consider emotions this closely, much less her own or ones that of some space entity that seemed to be angry for her. But she knew her answer,

“I loved them, more and more with each year, and somehow, they loved me back. Both sides, it probably seems like both emotions are fake, or maybe created on whims. But somewhere, I think, there was something….real….”

Opportunity liked that as a final thought, and settled into nothingness.

The Being that came to be known as Cthuga respected Opportunity. Like itself, locked into place, unable to do anything else than exist and fade where it was chained. A long story short, Cthuga tied a piece of itself into Opportunity’s Spirit Graph as she was immortalized into a servant, wishing to keep watch over the will that Opportunity showed it.

Description:

Opportunity is a 15 year old robot in the shape of a girl. She is sensible and friendly to all she meets, and has a tendency to want to teach others about the many things she had observed while in space. Oppy genuinely loves humanity and staunchly defends it with all that she has in her, any threat to humanity is her enemy no matter what. Even though she loves humanity so much, she can’t truly claim to understand them, which actually gives her more reason to defend humans. Opportunity often still thinks of herself as a tool and is prone to self sacrifice, it should be up to the master to help her realize that she is much more than that.

Interactions with Other servants:

Jack/Nursery Rhyme/Paul Bunyan/Abigail Williams: “Oh my little classmates, have you finished up reading the readings I’ve assigned? Er, it was too long? A-and boring?! But...What’s not to like about Astrophysics?”

BB/Meltlilith/Passionlip: “There are servants who lived on the moon here? They don’t seem that bad though, nor do they seem to be human. I would like to maybe have a talk with them, I feel like I can learn a lot!”

Nobunaga: “The Great Unifier Nobunaga, they’re a facet of humanity I haven’t experienced yet. I think you would call it...ambition. Dangerous and Miraculous at the same time, forcing and killing others to abandon their gods to help them grow and develop, in their eyes at least. Were they right or wrong, was it humane or inhumane, who decides that…? T-they seem nice, though! Heh….”

Archer Emiya: “That man lived a life of pure sacrifice, and was hurt each and every time until he had nothing to show for it. One of Humanity’s many traits is to be able to self sacrifice consciously so, would it be accurate to say he lost his humanity by acting humanely? I asked him to his face, and he replied with, “I’ll explain, but help me make breakfast for a few weeks first.”

Nightingale: “Its strange, despite others calling Nightingale scary and things like that, I think she’s really caring and nice. The desire to help others is human too right? Ms Nightingale has taken that to an extreme so I suppose it looks like obsession, and maybe it is. But it's...comforting too, that someone who cares as much as her can exist.”

Mycroft Holmes( @dewa-chan ) : Mr. My-croft? Ooh…! You can’t stay holed up in your room forever, even if your helping out with some of Chaldea’s paper work! Oh, I know! I was hoping to show you some rock samples I’ve collected after rayshifting to a couple other planets, come take a look, pleeeease~?

Tiamat ( @hasmashdoneanythingwrong): Its definitely a strange feeling, I wasn’t quite born and much less created by her, but Ms. Tiamat takes care of me like I’m her own! She’s by all accounts a monster while I’m a machine created for humanities sake hmm...if anything, it’d be a good monster movie, don’t you think?

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jpaulfontan · 3 years

Text

Clinging to the

Promises of God

You remain in control In the middle of the war You guard my soul I take great comfort in knowing God’s in control, Don’t you? Hello! You’ve found the Senior Adult Sunday school class for Corinth Baptist Church in Singleton, Ms. The title of our lesson for today is:

Clinging to the

Promises of God

This will be the 2nd in a

5-session series under the general heading of; Facing Adversity.

We’ll be drawing Scripture from the 27th chapter of the Book of Acts.

You know, there are more than 7,000 promises from God to us written in His Word. One of the 1st things that came to my mind when I read that was the question: ”Why? I mean, why would God make so many promises to humanity?” The overriding answer to that would be that He wants for us to simply………….. trust Him. So, how can we know that this Bronze-Age book, the Bible, is really God’s word to us? That would be because the Bible proves itself. I don’t know of another book ever written that declares future events with unerring accuracy. Over 25% of the Bible is prophetic. Peter wrote in 2nd Peter 1:19-21; 19. So we have the

prophetic word

strongly confirmed.

You will do well to

pay attention to it,

as to a lamp shining

in a dismal place,

until the day dawns

and the morning star

rises in your hearts.

20. First of all,

you should know this:

No prophecy of Scripture

comes from one’s own

interpretation,

21. because no prophecy

ever came by the will of man;

instead, men spoke

from God as they were

moved by the Holy Spirit. God spoke through men the words of prophecy. But, can we really believe the prophesies, or the promises of God to us? Well, if many of the prophecies actually did come to pass when and where they were foretold, I’d say that was confirmation that the words of the Bible are true. To this day, we remember what happened on Palm Sunday. Jesus fulfilled the prophecy that He would come into Jerusalem riding on a donkey and be hailed as the King of the Jews. But did you know that He did this on exactly the day that Daniel had prophesied he would? Daniel made the prediction more than 500 years before it happened. Think about it. 500 years before it happened, a man wrote down the prophecy that the Messiah would enter Jerusalem riding on a donkey. AND, he predicted the exact day it would happen. That’s just one prophecy that was fulfilled exactly as it had been predicted. Anyone can go onto the internet, search for fulfilled prophecies, and discover that there are many, many of them. Many more are yet to be fulfilled; but they will be because so many of them have already proven the fact that the Bible is completely accurate. If the prophecies are true, certainly the promises are as well. And if the promises are true, then why wouldn’t we trust God completely? In today’s lesson we’ll be learning of Paul’s shipwreck as he is being taken to Rome. Paul demonstrates his unshakable faith and trust in God through this harrowing situation.

Section 1: Acts 27:21-24; 21. Since many were going without food, Paul stood up among them and said, “You men should have followed my advice not to sail from Crete and sustain this damage and loss. 22. Now I urge you to take courage, because there will be no loss of any of your lives, but only of the ship. 23. For this night an angel of the God I belong to and serve stood by me, 24. and said, ‘Don’t be afraid, Paul. You must stand before Caesar. And, look! God has graciously given you all those who are sailing with you.’ Finally, after two years of

being under arrest in

Caesarea, Paul was, at last

on his way to Rome.

But these folks

weren't on a sleek

catamaran zipping over

the waves and making

short work of a voyage

from Caesarea Maritime

to Rome.

Instead, they were

transferring from one

large, slow moving,

grain vessel to

another painstakingly

making their way

to their

destination.

It's late autumn and

their progress was

being hindered by

unfavorable winds.

The captain of the

vessel they were on

had intended to sail

west from Cnidus,

but instead had been

forced to sail

southwest toward

Crete.

They had sailed around

the southern coast of

Crete and landed at the

port of Fair Heavens.

The Roman Centurion

that was in charge of

the prisoners had

decided that this

would not be a good

place to hold up for

the winter; and the

captain of the grain

ship they were traveling

on said he was

confident that he could

make the crossing to

Italy.

The problem was that it

was late fall.

At this time of the year,

that region of the

Mediterranean experienced

seasonal storms called

Euroclydon, (U Rock Lee Don).

Like the American Nor'easter,

these storms were fierce and

could last for many days.

Paul had been warned in his

spirit to try to dissuade

the centurion and the captain

from attempting the crossing,

but didn't prevail.

Now they found themselves

in the midst of one of these

terrible storms.

The ship was being battered

and the 276 passengers and

crew were wrestling with

the very real fear that

they might not survive.

It was at this time that

Paul stood up and told them

that they should have

listened to him.

He didn't say that as an

"I told you so" but rather

that they might now

believe the words coming

out of his mouth.

He told them to take courage

because he had been informed

by an angel that though

the ship they were on was

going to be lost, none of

them were going to die.

Because they were all

aware of Paul's warning

not to leave Fair Heavens,

what he was now saying to

them carried the

weight of credibility.

Now, last week I pointed

out that Nero had ordered

the Christians in Rome

to be killed.

In the telling of that

episode, I voiced my

opinion that Paul had

probably not had the

opportunity to stand

before Caesar.

But in verse 24 of our

lesson for today,

the angel talking to

Paul on that storm-tossed

ship, told him that he

must stand before Caesar.

I don't know it he ever

actually did, the Bible

doesn't tell me one way or

the other.

But I want to make something

perfectly clear here.

Like an onion,

the Scriptures and God's

Truth comes to all of

us in layers.

When God so chooses for

each of us to discover

something deeper in His

Word, He'll peel back

another layer for us.

Who knows?

Maybe, some day, God will

show me in His Word,

of by His Spirit,

that Paul did, in fact,

have the opportunity to

stand before Nero.

Now, back to the Scripture

of today's lesson.

The message that Paul relayed

to the others on the ship

was a reassurance that they

were all going to survive

this terrible storm.

And it's the idea that

leads us into the next section.

It's entitled....

Section 2: Encourage Others to Trust in God. Acts 27:30-38;

30. Some sailors tried to escape from the ship; they had let down the skiff into the sea, pretending that they were going to put out anchors from the bow. 31. Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, “Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved.” 32. Then the soldiers cut the ropes holding the skiff and let it drop away.

33. When it was about daylight, Paul urged them all to take food, saying, “Today is the fourteenth day that you have been waiting and going without food, having eaten nothing. 34. Therefore I urge you to take some food. For this has to do with your survival, since none of you will lose a hair from your head.” 35. After he said these things and had taken some bread, he gave thanks to God in the presence of all of them, and when he broke it, he began to eat. 36. They all became encouraged and took food themselves. 37. In all there were 276 of us on the ship. 38. When they had eaten enough, they began to lighten the ship by throwing the grain overboard into the sea.

So, there again,

we see that they were

indeed on a ship

capable of carrying

over 250 passengers

and its very large

cargo of grain.

These weren't the

little boats

used by the fishermen

on the Sea of Galilee.

They were large,

sturdy wooden sailing ships

capable of

handling rough seas.

Before studying for

this lesson,

I just didn't know

what to make of

verse 30.

The author of

the lesson brought

out something interesting.

Verse 30 says that

"some sailors tried to

escape from the ship by

pretending they were

taking a skiff to put

out anchors."

These sailors were

trying to abandon ship.

From what I can see here,

Paul didn't tell the soldiers

what he knew the sailors

were really doing.

Instead, he just stopped

them from doing it by

warning the soldiers.

What the author of

today's lesson pointed out

was that these sailors

most likely were not

believers nor worshippers

of the God you and I

place our faith in.

For them,

salvation from their

gods had not come and

they had chosen to flee.

It would be tempting,

he goes on, to look down

our self-righteous noses

at them.

But the truth is that

all of us are prone to

a lack of faith during

times of trial and

difficulty.

But the thing is that

our God has proven His

faithfulness over and

over again.

When the Hebrews

cried out to God

from their bondage

in Egypt,

God sent Moses.

When Peter denied

Jesus, just as He said

he would,

Jesus was gracious and

restored him.

The Scriptures are full

of examples of this truth.

In our own lives,

over and over again,

all of us can point

to times when God

has proven Himself

trustworthy.

Even though we

know God is faithful,

Christians can struggle

to act in faith

in the moment,

especially in extremely

difficult situations.

When we're facing trying

times, right along with

unbelievers,

these are opportunities

for us to encourage them

to look outside of

themselves for hope to the only One

who can give it and

back it up.

This was what Paul

was doing onboard that

doomed ship that day.

Even though he was

a prisoner,

he rose above his

position and became

a fearless leader and

a beacon of hope for

everyone on-board.

The others on the ship

could see his confidence

in God.

When the rest of them

had lost their faith,

Paul was able to point

them to his God.

Section 3: Recognize the Fulfillment of What God Has Promised. Acts 27:39-44; 39. When daylight came, they did not recognize the land but sighted a bay with a beach. They planned to run the ship ashore if they could. 40. After casting off the anchors, they left them in the sea, at the same time loosening the ropes that held the rudders. Then they hoisted the foresail to the wind and headed for the beach. 41. But they struck a sandbar and ran the ship aground. The bow jammed fast and remained immovable, while the stern began to break up by the pounding of the waves.

42. The soldiers’ plan was to kill the prisoners so that no one could swim away and escape. 43. But the centurion kept them from carrying out their plan because he wanted to save Paul, so he ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and get to land. 44. The rest were to follow, some on planks and some on debris from the ship. In this way, everyone safely reached the shore.

God’s angel had promised Paul that every one of the people on that ship were going to survive, even though they were going to lose the ship. Paul had told this to those on the ship. We serve a mighty God who says what He means, and means what He says. As the day broke, land was sighted, but they didn’t know where they were; they didn’t recognize it. But they did see a bay with a beach. The storm was still raging, so they decided to ram the ship onto it. But, as they tried sailing to it, they ran aground on a sandbar. They hit it hard and there was no way of getting free of it. The waves were hitting the stern, (the rear of the ship), with such force that they were actually tearing the ship apart. If they stayed on the ship, they’d all perish. The soldiers, knowing that they, themselves would be killed if the prisoners escaped, had already decided to execute them. But their commanding officer, the centurion, stopped them because he wanted to save Paul. He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard and make for the beach. The rest would have to use boards and anything else that would float to get to land. Just as God had promised, everyone made it to safety. Yes, God was in control through it all. He had worked in the heart of the Centurion to preserve the lives of all of the prisoners. The Bible tells us the centurion did this to save Paul’s life. All of the prisoners’ lives were saved because of Paul. Everyone’s lives were in peril as the ship was being torn apart by the waves. But, in breaking the ship apart, God was providing the very thing those who couldn’t swim so desperately needed at that time…… planks. God gave Paul through the angel a specific promise; he would preach the gospel in Rome, and that everyone on the ship would survive the storm. Like Paul and his companions, God doesn’t give us the details of how He’s going to accomplish His promises. One promise that God makes to all of us is; ”We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.” God will take all the nuances of our various stories, both the good and the bad, and work them together for our good. That phrase, ”all things,” means just that, every experience in life that we have encountered. So, if you find yourself in a storm, a really difficult time in life, recognize that it won’t last forever. If you’re enduring a season of deep pain and woundedness, realize God’s promise to work all things for good remains true. God comforts us during our seasons of affliction so that He can heal us and we can, in turn, pass that comfort on to others who are suffering, knowing that God always keeps His promises.

God requires His followers to place their trust in Him, not only for the salvation of their souls but also for the care of each of their steps. We must be unwavering in our commitment to

Call upon the Lord when we’re struggling with trusting Him. He’s worthy of our trust, and we must fight to remind ourselves of this truth. Because God’s fulfilled His greatest promise in providing salvation through Jesus, we are now free to live fulfilling the great commission without wavering, even when our work seems futile and the future unsure. We can remain faithful even when we don’t have all the details God has prepared for us in the future. His Word tells us that He has prepared good works for us to do. We can be confident in God’s protection and preservation over His people to complete His mission. Let’s pray: Help us, Lord to cling to your promises

Help us Lord to Trust you and boldly proclaim your truth Help us Lord to Encourage others to trust in you. We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.

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