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loquaciousquark · 4 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E111 (Redux! Oct. 13, 2020)

Gooooood evening good evening good evening, all! I started the VOD late for this recap and somehow the first four or so minutes of the show have a Twitch audio copyright claim, so I am reduced to only reading Brian's lips when he asks if we're on the internet. Hilariously, Marisha's background room is a comfy-looking blue/gold fabric wall with a ceramic colorful abstract lamp and a yellow silk scarf over the lampshade, and Taliesin's is an industrial looking games room in grey and black with multiple monitors, overhead speakers, and mysterious metal fixtures behind him. What a treasure this group is, honestly.

Tonight's guests: Marisha Ray & Taliesin Jaffe, discussing episodes 110 and 111 again. I wildly speculate once more about what might have caused their absence: jury duty? Sam appearing on The Masked Singer? Something to do with the animated show? One day, we’ll know, one day... (One day this “copyrighted audio” section will come back from the wars, too. Ugh!) Finally! The audio comes back to reveal Brian discussing the endless reality of digital meetings and Marisha talking about (I think) her glare-reducing glasses she’s wearing. Welcome to the New Age (welcome to the New Age, to the New Age).

Announcements: Marisha suggests checking out Dimension20, another live tabletop gaming group, which premieres live on Wednesdays at 4pm (CollegeHumor).

Brian immediately wants to know how they feel about the revelation that Molly is alive. Taliesin’s personal reaction: he “knows some things” he can’t talk about and is aware of several possibilities that might be going on, but had a sneaking suspicion that there would not be a body for them to find. He says it’s almost all there for anyone to see in past material. Marisha’s personal reaction: she just wants to know how she’s doing with her theories, & was trying to block Tal’s face out deliberately as she was going off on her theories in the last episode. Taliesin says he thought her ideas were pretty good!

Cad has no clue what to think - it’s like listening to your friends talk about Buffy. Marisha thought it was a 50/50 Molly would still be there, but Beau had no idea. Not that it mattered, because as soon as Matt went through with it the reveal still blew their minds. Tal laid out his plans for the character with Matt during Campaign One (towards the end) after they all got their VM tattoos.

It is a “horrifying and gross” thing to dig up a body, and Beau was pretty reluctant to do it. Tal, as Cad: “Sometimes dead’s better.” The moral quandary of trying to speak with a dead friend was very different here than the frequent occasions they used the spell in C1.

Taliesin says his poker face is very bad, so it’s easier for him to over-react and let it all play out. The only other player he can see very easily from his place in their current setup is Travis, and because he knows Travis doesn’t watch TM, tweet, or participate in social media, he admits he thoroughly enjoyed watching Travis freak out at his freaking out. He says he only knew about 20% of what Matt described at the end of that episode. He was picking things to mug to increase Travis’s surprise. I love this so much.

Taliesin provided the table left leg shake; Travis provided table right. Ha!

Beau is really accepting her role in the Cobalt Soul. It’s good when “as a person, you feel like you can settle into your calling. Sometimes you can do more from the inside than fighting from the outside.” It’s a mirrored but opposite path of Keyleth from C1; Beau felt like she was too good for her duty, while Keyleth thought she wasn’t good enough.

Caduceus is not a big believer in jumping to conclusions. He does have an idea/notion of the “city of the undead” and thinks all this necrotic energy must come from somewhere, and wonders if this is the “capital of anti-death.” He’s willing to believe whatever he sees. This is one of the few things that trigger a bit of loathing and disgust in him. It was terrifying that the Wildmother didn’t know anything.

Beau is pretty confident in her Charlie Day impression laying-out-the-research last episode. She enjoyed taking the things that were known & extrapolating around them; this is a huge facet of Marisha’s own personality and she really enjoys it, so she built a character this time that would allow that kind of puzzle-solving. It’s also why she repeatedly notes when Beau journals, so she can avoid metagaming. Trent’s mention of Vess Durogna’s tomb raiding was completely circumstantial, and the only reason she’d made the connection to the Tombtakers was because she’d recently reviewed those notes for a separate unannounced project. Sometimes she tries to make connections and Matt is like, “It was...just descriptive. Just flavor. The curtains were red...” and she has to discard a paragraph of notes. She feels like it’s still something they have to do because of “look at what he does! Look! It’s totally valid!”

Cosplay of the Week: @kitsunstudios with a gorgeous Caduceus with a very intricate silk vest.

Caduceus’s takedown of Trent! One of my favorite moments in the entirety of C2. Taliesin felt Trent was an asshole; Caduceus felt sorry for him because of how dumb he thought he was. Caduceus’s response was "this is the dumbest man I’ve ever met in my life. He’s so dumb! Is nobody going to tell this guy how dumb he is? Oh, they’re all freaked out. Somebody needs to tell this guy he’s an idiot before somebody gets hurt.” (Marisha: “Before?”) Tal says it was the product of several years of therapy and many drunk conversations with Whitney Moore. It was from a genuine place of concern from Caduceus. “How are you allowed to have this much power and be that dumb?”

Brian loved how funny it was to watch everyone tiptoe around Trent and then Caduceus bulldoze through the end of the meal.

Taliesin: “Damage doesn’t make you interesting or better. It’s not what makes you good. Character isn’t found in damage. Just recovery.”

Brian & Marisha commiserate going through the stage where believing surviving something automatically made you a stronger person, better for the pain; instead it just meant you had to pick up the pieces after. Marisha talks about how strength through survival may be true for some people, but it shouldn’t be considered a necessity. Taliesin talks about how he used to think he had to be miserable to write. Brian talks about how believing he liked reading and writing miserable things only limited him for years.

Marisha feels it’s a C2 theme that almost all the PCs have someone trying to handwave or take credit for their accomplishments or explain their pain as being for their own good (Trent, Beau’s dad, Obann). She thinks it’s interesting to see all the various ways people try to take credit for your work/delegitimize you as a person. She loves that RPGs allow you to explore these odd moralities in interesting ways. The only way to fight it is to have a sense of your own self-worth, which is a problem a lot of the M9 started with.

Caduceus likes everyone, and really likes people who appear to need role models (Eodwulf). “With the right friends and the right bar and the right attitude, I think he’d be okay. Come over here where it’s so much better. That seems like an exhausting friendship that you have there.”

Marisha loves the mix of personalities in the M9; Veth, Cad, & Jester were all “we kind of like them!” after the dinner, and she immediately made eye contact with Travis and they both shook their heads. She knows Beau has to go along with it for Caleb’s sake for now, but she & Fjord are pretty sus of Trent’s proteges.

Beau is less concerned about Artagan’s relationship to Jester because “he showed his ass--she’s less worried about Jester now because a little of the magic is gone.” It’s a little like becoming an adult and realizing your parents are also just adults & human. Caduceus wasn’t suspicious of the Traveler for a long time until they got to the island. Aside: Taliesin loves the pantheon in D&D. “The notion of attempting to apply common Western conceptions of religion to a world where you have a pantheon of interventionist gods as baseline makes no sense to me. Everyone admits that every other god is there and doing shit; it has more in common with ancient Rome than anything else.” Now that he knows it was a con, he feels the wind had been taken out of it. He does have a sense that Jester’s gotten back together with an ex: “I hope that I’m really happy for you.” They’re both interested to see how Jester navigates the new relationship.

My internet goes out, of course. I panic for a second, thinking I’ve lost everything above, but all is well! Thanks, Form History Control addon!

Marisha loved punching Artagan, but regretting rolling so poorly. “I miss violence.” Dani lets us know it’s been about four episodes since the last battle.

There’s no way the Cobalt Reserve doesn’t have a single document on the Eyes of Nine. Beau believes “there are no real secrets” because people are just bad at not writing things down. For there to be no information at all seems really suspicious for her.

Fanart of the Week: @oddalchemist on twitter with some awesome Beau conspiracy red-thread boards overlaid a distant shadowy Molly walking away.

Caduceus feels a little guilty for really enjoying his time right now with the M9 and not wanting to go home. He’s starting to suspect that he’s going to go home very different than when he left. “He has the softest problems. I don’t know if I want to move back in with Mom & Dad.”

Beau is trying to get comfortable with the idea of being happy. Jester is probably Beau’s first real best friend & one of the first healthy female friendships she’s ever had. As long as she still has Jester in her life, she doesn’t care. For Yasha... “At the end of the day, Beau is a lonely person and has always been a lonely person. And I think you kinda reach this point where once you’re not lonely anymore, you can kind of come out of the fog and realize that was horrible! And terrifying! And is even more terrifying now that I know what I could have, and I don’t want to go back to that. At the end of the day Beau doesn’t want to be lonely anymore. There’s always been that flirtation with Yasha, but everyone had to figure their own shit out. And now it feels like it’s coming out a little bit of that haze, maybe this actually could be...” There are a lot of ways they complement each other & are good-different from each other. Marisha believes people can be attracted to more than person at once.

Caduceus doesn’t think nature turned against him on Rumblecusp, it was just a reality of nature being dangerous and violent. “He has a complex relationship with nature.” He doesn’t expect special treatment.

Thoughts on the mansion: “Man, it’s nice to be seen.” Marisha: “I don’t know how I ended up becoming the Scanlan of this campaign, but I’m living for it.” It felt like an echo of “I’m better for having known you.” They compare Marisha taking specific notes on the campaign to Liam taking specific notes on people’s favorite tapestries, comics, etc.

They talk about missing theme parks and daydream a park version of the mansion in CritRoleLand. It’s lovely.

Taliesin never expected Divine Intervention to work; he just wanted to roll some dice. He’s still processing what he saw/heard. They all agree it was very useful in the Vokodo fight.

Vilya! Marisha: “Ah! Ah! Ah!” As a player, Marisha was so deep in Beau’s eyes she didn’t pick up it was Vilya at first (especially since Matt really emphasized they should not be looking for C1 NPCs). Marisha’s brain melted. She bawled her eyes out on the ride home after that episode. Right after it ended, Laura told Marisha “Keyleth finally gets her happy ending,” and it makes Marisha emotional again since Keyleth’s story ended so bittersweetly. She talks about the very real feelings of “just wanting them to be happy, though!” She went back and listened to all her old Keyleth playlists. Everyone was teary after the episode. “Everyone has these 100% real memories of being these characters and having these good times.”

And that’s that for that! Thanks for your patience, all, and is it Thursday yet?

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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emberfrostlovesloki · 4 years

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# 12 Comic Con

Gif credit; @prettyboyspence

Prompt: Comic Con - Spencer and Garcia go to a convention in Pennsylvania so Spencer can see his favorite cosplayer [the reader] again in person.

Couple: Spencer Reid/ Reader (female)

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: None

A/N: I wanted to write something completely fluffy, because I’ve only written angst for either the Reader or Spencer and I thought I should switch it up a little. This one shot is based on the reader being a cosplayer, but as long as you have a basic understanding of conventions this shouldn’t pose a problem. It’s not a super romantic fic, but it leans in that direction. I hope you enjoy! Like/ reblog please.

List with all stories

Word Count: 6K

_y/n_ = your name

_y/i_ = your initials

_h/c_ = hair color

Spencer tried to make himself comfortable in the economy seat of the airplane he was currently on. With his long legs, unfortunately, the task was futile. After he gave up, the lanky man returned to his book. The genius FBI agent was not on the plane for a case, in fact he was on the plane for pleasure, or at least future pleasure. Reid was on his way to Pennsylvania to attend Steel City Comic Con. He had never attended the convention before, what was really drawing him to the state of virtue and independence was the cosplayer FrindlyFighter.

Reid had stumbled across their account a few years ago. They cosplayed from Star Trek, Marvel, and many other fandoms that Spencer enjoyed. He had the opportunity of meeting FriendlyFighter at San Diego Comic Con in 2017. She was hosting a panel about the psychology of the Red Shirt from Star Trek. Although they hadn’t gotten all of the hard science right, Spencer was still enamored at someone being dedicated enough to do the research to pull off the panel. After the discussion was over he had approached the area where the host was chatting with some of the volunteers at the convention. She had noticed him and turned and walked up to him. “Hey, how are you enjoying the convention?” Spencer had stumbled over his words as he replied, “I’m good, I mean the convention has been great. I was really excited to see that you were hosting a panel this year.” The cosplayer smiled at his statement and asked, “So you’re interested in the psychological elements of Star Trek? It’s good to hear because every time I give one of these panel’s I’m not sure why there are so many people in the audience. You might say I’ve got impostor syndrome.” FriendlyFighter laughed at her self-deprecating humor and Spencer quickly replied, “I’m very interested in what you have to say. I actually use psychology a lot where I work, and I don’t think you’re an impostor. Upon hearing that one of her fans was more qualified in the field of psychology than her, she asked, “Where do you work?” She had not expected his response of, “I’m a profiler for the FBI, actually.” Her eyes grew wide at the information and she quickly said, “Wow, that must be a very difficult job. You’re a lot better at the science than I am. How did I do up there? Did I butcher all of the science?” The woman cringed at the idea, but she had asked and wanted to know if she was super off base in her assertions. Thankfully the man said, “You did really good. Not all of your claims are bullet proof, but generally you got it right.” The cosplayer relaxed and the knowledge and said, “Sorry I’m interrogating you over here, I haven’t even asked your name.” Spencer smiled and said, “My name is Spencer Reid, it’s nice to meet you.” She at him and said, “It’s nice to meet you Spencer.” The tall man stood for a second. He hadn’t realized that a short line of FriendlyFighter’s fans had formed behind him. The panelist looked back at him and said, “Would you like a picture.” At this statement Spencer smiled and fumbled for his phone. He positioned himself beside the cosplayer. She lifted her hand in the Vulcan salute and Reid snapped the photo. He said, “Thank you so much.” To which she replied, “Of course. Have a good rest of the con.”

Spencer was brought back into the moment when the wheels of the plane touched the earth with a lurch. After he had grabbed his suitcase from the baggage terminal the agent flagged down a taxi and went straight to his hotel. The hotel was just across the road from the Monroeville convention center where the event was taking place. The hotel was already bustling with guests with large props and costume pieces on their luggage carts. The atmosphere was so different from his normal 24/7 work induced stress. After the lean man made it up to his room on the fourth floor he set his suitcase in the entrance way and he flopped down on the bed. He told himself that after a short nap he would go out on the town to find something to eat, but right now he was content to rest. While Reid was sleeping Garcia was sitting on a train, also headed to Pennsylvania. She was listening to one of her favorite trashy audio books and was thinking, ‘how the hell did Reid rope me into this mess.’ After all it had only been a week ago when she had asked him, “So do you have any plans for the weekend.” The boy genius had casually brought up that he was going to a convention. Garcia wasn’t really paying attention to his rambling conversation and she cut off his stream of conscious monologue by asking, “So who’s going to be at this convention, anyone special?” When she asked this Reid changed gears and started listing off names, saying, “Well I’m really excited to see a cosplayer named FriendlyFighter, she’s part of the opening ceremony and is holding a few panels, also Denis Lawson, Wil Wheaton, Catherine Tate.” The lanky agent continued listing the names. Garcia was about to start tuning out the man, but then he said the magic words, “and some guy named Duke Lancelot of Camelot.” When Spencer said this the technical analyst quickly swung around in her chair, mouth open in surprise. Upon seeing her expression Spencer asked, “Is everything okay?” Garcia closed her mouth and said, “Duke Lancelot of Camelot is one of the most famous players of World of Warcraft. He’s a legend, Reid.” Although Spencer had never heard of this legend he said, “Well you could come with me and meet him. Just get a two day pass or something.” Garcia was so enamored with the idea of meeting one of her video game heroes that she said, “I am absolutely coming with you Spencer.” The male agent hadn’t expected such a fast response and said, “Cool. I’ll catch up with you after work and we can figure out the details.” And that was how Penelope Garcia was convinced to go to a comic con in Pennsylvania.

While Garcia was taking the slower, and safer method of getting up to the convention Spencer was just getting to the front of the registration line. A woman motioned for him to move forward to the window that she was sitting behind. When he got to the window the woman asked, “Do you have your pass pre-printed or do you need to pick it up, or are you going to buy a pass now?” As Spencer rummaged through his bag he said, “I have it pre-printed.” When Reid finally found the badge in his bag he pulled it out and held it up for the woman to see. The convention staff worker took a moment to look at the pass before she turned to the computer in front of her. She input his name and crossed it off the excel spreadsheet. After she finished this she said, “Have a nice convention Mr. Reid.” Spencer said thanks and walked toward the main hall. The opening ceremony of the con was going to start in fifteen minutes, and he wanted to be close to the front. When he had first met FriendlyFighter, or her other name on social media of _y/i_, she was a small cosplayer who had a small following. But after a few months she had grown in size, and started appearing at more and more conventions. Spencer couldn’t tell what had changed, after all she hadn’t changed her content too much. Spencer took a moment to consider that the cultural zeitgeist had changed around popular culture and conventions in general. It was true that attendance at conventions like Blizzcon or Emerald City Comicon had been going up by twenty percent each year. As he was musing over these facts the lights in the ballroom dimmed and a loud male voice came over the hotel sound system. “Friends, fans and people of all sorts, welcome to Steel City Con 2019!” The crowd cheered as the man who was making the announcement came out from behind the red curtain and stood in the center of the stage. The master of ceremony said, “My name is Greg Hicks and I’ll be your master of ceremony for the weekend. But I know you’re not here for me, so let me introduce you to just a few of the very talented people you can meet this weekend.” At this statement the crowd went wild again. Reid had to cover his ears to stop a headache from forming. Greg continued by saying, “First of all we are happy to welcome, Megan Coffee!” Megan came out from the curtain dressed as a Pokemon Go character, she waved at the crowd and said into a microphone attached to her shirt, “Hi everybody! I hope you’re ready for a good weekend.” The woman walked to the other side of the stage. Greg announced a few more people, including Duke Lancelot of Camelot. Finally the MC said, “And last but certainly not least we are happy to announce the charming FriendlyFighter!” The crowd gave less cheers as the young cosplayer came out dressed as Catra from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. Spencer clapped quietly and listened as she said, “Good evening fellow fans. I’m so happy to get to see, and meet you all this weekend.” The gathered crowd dispersed after the ceremony. Many of the younger participants would stay up all night to talk or work on last minute costumes, Reid on the other hand headed back to his room at the hotel.

When he walked through the sliding glass doors Garcia was standing at guest services getting the key to her room. The tall agent used his stealth skills to walk right behind Garcia and tapped her shoulder and said, “Hi.” at the same time. The computer genius was so startled that she jumped up, screamed, spun around and hit Spencer in the stomach. The tall agent coughed and grabbed onto his abdomen and wheezed out, “Geez Penelope, I thought you were excited to hangout with me this weekend.” When Garcia realized who it was she said, “Oh my God Spence I’m so sorry.” She wrapped him in a hug and whispered in his ear, “Never sneak up on me again.” Spencer smiled at the pseudo threat and said, “I’ll take that into consideration.” Reid waited for Garcia to get her key and walked her up to her room. The blonde agents room was three doors down from his. After Garcia was settled in her room Spencer said, “I think I’m going to go to my room and do some reading.” When she heard this, the computer analyst said, “Would you wait a minute. There’s a 24 hour gaming room and I’ve heard the servers are really good. I’m going to go over there and play for a few hours. Would you walk me over?” Spencer was already feeling tired, but knew that it was 22% safer for a woman to walk at night with a man, rather than walking alone. So he replied, “Sure thing.” Garcia took off her blazer and put on a more comfortable sweatshirt over the bright pink shirt she wore. Of course Spencer had turned toward the door to not look at Penelope change, even though it was just a piece of outer clothing. As the pair returned to the convention center Garcia was catching Reid up on the interesting passengers on her train ride up to the con. Once inside the main lobby of the building Penelope took in the size of the convention. There were groups of people lounging around at the tables and couches, some in cosplay and some in regular clothes, or the people in their pajamas. Garcia thought, ‘Now those people have the right idea. But if I was in front of Reid in my P.J.’s I’d probably scar him for life.” As her eyes danced around the room they landed on a Catra cosplayer. When she saw her she grabbed Spencer's arm and said, “Oh my God. I have to get a picture with that woman.” Spencer followed the direction of her finger and he saw that it was _y/i_. The male agent could see that the guest attendant was talking to two other cosplayers and said, “That's FriendlyFighter, the person I came here to see. She looks a little busy right now.” Garcia looked up to Spencer and was shocked to see that his cheeks were flushed. With this detail in mind the analyst said, “Come on Reid, you know that guest attendants at cons usually wear a different costume each day. Maybe two costumes a day. This might be my only chance to get a picture with her.” Reid sighed and gave in saying, “Alright.”

The pair of FBI agents approached the group of cosplayers. As the agents approached the She-Ra group, they looked up at the pair. Garcia stepped forward and said, “You all look so amazing! Could I get a picture with your group?” FriendlyFighter smiled and said, “Sure thing.” The group got up and stood beside Penelope. Garcia waited a second and completely forgot that she needed to have a device to take the picture on. She fished around in her pocket and pulled out her phone, saying, “Wow I can be totally brain dead when I’m around talented people.” She found her phone and extended it out to Spencer saying, “Spence can you take the picture please?” Reid took the phone and said, “Of course.” As he swiped to open the camera, Penelope took her place again, and smiled broadly. FriendlyFighter put her arm around Garcia’s shoulder and gave the peace sign, while the Bow cosplayer held his prop bow and arrow, and Glimmer took her classic power stance. Reid held up his hand and signaled three, two, one, while saying, “Three, two one.” The lanky man took a few pictures and then stepped forward to hand Penelope her phone. As the blond woman checked her photos FriendlyFighter smiled at Reid. Once Garcia was satisfied with the quality of her pictures she said, “Thank you all so much. Your costumes are really amazing!” The whole group chorused, “You’re welcome!” and the two agents continued down the hall toward the gaming room.

As they were walking away FriendlyFighter was thinking about the tall man and wondered, ‘have I met him somewhere before.’ She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to find out, so she said to the other members of her group, “I’m going to find something out. I’ll find you in a few minutes.” The cosplayer walked after the pair moved further into the convention building. The cosplayer quickly caught up with Reid and Garcia. When the agents saw her they stopped walking and Penelope said, “Is something wrong?” FriendlyFighter blushed and said, “Um, this is kind of awkward, but have I met you before?” She pointed to Spencer and the agent opened and closed his mouth for a second. He was surprised that she would remember him at all. He considered, ‘Maybe she’s just mistaking me for someone else.’ After a moment of silence the cosplayer said, “I don’t mean to hold you up from something. I know it’s a weird question.” Spencer snapped out of his head as Garcia sharply elbowed him and the male agent replied, “I met you at SDCC in 2017. You gave a panel on the psychology of the Red Shirt in Star Trek. It was really cool.” The cosplayer nodded as she thought back to the convention so long ago. She muttered, “Yeah,” and then more loudly, but still with some hesitation, asked, “You were into psychology weren’t you. You said I didn’t completely fuck up the science?” Spencer smiled and quickly replied, “Yup, that’s me.” FriendlyFighter’s eyes lit up and she said, “Wow, that’s super cool. Sorry I don’t mean to keep you both standing here. Where are you walking, do you mind if I come with?” Spencer looked to Garcia and she smiled and said, “Where'd love for you to walk with us.” The trio continued on their journey to the game room and FriendlyFighter said, “My name is _y/n_, I’ve unfortunately forgotten yours.” The cosplayer extended her hand to Spencer, and he took it and said, “I’s Spencer Reid. Nice to meet you again _y/n_.’ _Y/n_ then looked to Garcia and extended her hand. Garcia shook it enthusiastically and said, “I’m Penelope Garcia.” “It’s nice to meet you Penelope, “ _y/n_ replied. The cosplayer turned back to Spencer and said, “I know this is already weird, but I’m giving a panel on Saturday on Trauma and Grief in the Star Wars squeals and I know that you’re really good at analyzing character traits. Would you be willing to look over my notes and make some corrections? You can totally say no, I get that it’s a big request. It’s just that I haven’t given a big panel over character psychology in a while. And now that I’m more popular I’d like to have my facts as accurate as possible.” The group had arrived at room #115 where the gaming was taking place and they all stopped. Spencer thought about the possibility for helping out one of his favorite creators and said, “I’d be happy to.” The two nerds smiled and Garcia looked at them and rolled her eyes and said, “I hate to break up this moment, but I’m just going to say goodnight to this dork.” _Y/n_ snapped out of her trance at smiling at Spencer and the male agent did the same. Spencer turned to Garcia and said, “Well, have fun in there. If you plan on coming back to the hotel later tonight, or some other ungodly hour just call me.” After _y/n_ had said goodbye to Penelope, her cosplay group found her and she was whisked away to a rave on the third floor. But not before she got Spencer’s email and said, “I’ll send you the document with my notes for Saturday.”

The next morning Spencer woke up to find an email from _y/n_ with a seven page document of well planned notes. At the top of the first page was a thesis statement that Spencer wanted to study right away, but decided to wait until he could procure some coffee. Twenty minutes later the agent was at a coffee shop, a five minute walk away from the hotel with this computer open, coffee in hand, ready to make notes on the document. Garcia had not called him last night and he assumed that she had stayed up all night and was currently sleeping off the late night gaming. After an hour Spencer had gotten his caffeine fix and added some notes to _y/n’s_ panel discussion. Spencer considered email that he had made some changes, but was cut off when he realized that a panel he wanted to see was starting in twenty minutes. He quickly closed his laptop and made a mental note to email _y/n_ by the evening.

Before Reid knew it the day was almost over. Whenever he was at a convention time seemed to slip away from him. He was currently sitting with Garcia, who had woken up at 2:00 P.M., in a panel hosted by Duke Lancelot of Camelot. The older man was giving tips on the best shortcuts to getting a high ranking in World of Warcraft. The panel had started at 8:30 P.M. and had been going on for about ten minutes and people were slowly trickling in. After another ten minutes there was only room to stand and sit at the back of the room. The door opened one more time and Penelope turned and saw _y/n_ walk in and take a seat at the back of the room. She was wearing her Mr. Spock cosplay. She apparently knew a few people already seated and she was quietly talking to them. Garcia looked over to Reid, who was zoning out of the discussion. She elbowed him again and leaned over and whispered. “Hey Spence, you’re favorite cosplayer is here. At least she has good taste.” Spencer looked confused and Garcia jerked her head in _y/n’s_ direction. Spencer turned to see _y/n_. At the same time he did this FriendlyFighter looked up and saw him looking at her. The cosplayer raised her hand slightly and waved at the agents. After the panel was over the duo walked out of the room. _Y/n_ was leaning against the wall and when she saw them she walked toward the pair. She smiled at both of them and said, “Hey, are you having a good time so far?” Garcia quickly replied, “Absolutely. I’ve been so excited for this panel, and it was worth coming up here for it.” _Y/n_ smiled and said, “The Duke is a pretty cool dude. Have you had a good time?” Spencer smiled back and said, “Yes, it’s been very fun. I actually have a few notes for you. I can email them back to you, but it might be easier to explain them if I could do it in person?” _Y/n_ nodded and said, “I think that would be useful. I need to do some last minute costume alterations and ironing, could you possibly come over to my room in an hour? I’ve got a photo shoot in ten minutes, but I’ll be free after then.” Spencer’s cheeks flushed and said he stuttered out, “Uh, yeah of course.” The man was panicking and added on, “Can Penelope come too?” _Y/n_ looked disappointed for a microsecond and then replied, “Sure thing. I’m at the hotel across the street. Room #301. See you two in an hour. Sorry I’ve gotta run, I look forward to it.” With that the cosplayer dashed down the hallway. Once she was out of earshot Garcia grabbed onto his shoulder and almost screamed, “Why would you invite me to the room with you! Reid this was a great chance for you to meet someone new. Someone who seems to be into you, shares the same interests as you.” Spencer was blushing now and said, “Well I realized that and panicked. Sorry I don’t want to make it weird.” Penelope shrugged her shoulders, understanding that Spencer’s social skills were not the greatest. She replied, “Hey I get it Spence. I’ll come with you for a little bit, but I’m going to have to dip after a while. The Duke is going to be playing World of Warcraft live and I’m not missing that for anything.

An hour later the agents walked up to room #301. Spencer knocked on the door and heard the response, “One second.” After five seconds the door swung open and _y/n_ stood in a long sleeved shirt and shorts. Her _h/c_ hair was pulled back with a headband. She stepped beside the door and said, “Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.” Once Spencer and Reid were in the room she closed the door and pulled out the chair from the desk for one of her guests to sit in. She continued saying, “Feel free to sit on the bed, I don’t mind.” At the offer Penelope made a beeline for the bed and sat down falling back and sighing deeply. At seeing this _y/n_ laughed and said, “I feel you Penelope. I love a con, but it’s killer on the feet.” Garcia laughed and replied, “Talk about it, I must have walked ten miles alone today.” While this conversation had been happening Spencer took a seat at the desk and pulled out his computer. He looked over to _y/n_and said, “If you give me a second I can pull up my notes, if that’s cool with you.” _Y/n_ nodded and said, ``That sounds awesome.” As Spencer booted up his computer the cosplayer walked back to the iron draped in a black robe. She picked up the steaming device and looked down pressing the seams of the fabric to create a crisp seam. Garcia was looking around the room and her eye’s caught sight of the three light sabers in the room and had to ask, “Um, _y/n_, I’ve always wanted to get a light saber. Could I test your’s out? I promise I’ll be gentle.” The cosplayer laughed again and looked up to Penelope saying, “Well they're not all mine. It was my job to be the pack horse for my group in terms of the light sabers. The trisaber is mine and you are absolutely free to try it out. Press the top button to turn on the light and the bottom button for sound effects.’ Garcia giddily got up and cautiously held the replica of Kylo Ren’s trisaber. She pressed both buttons. She swung it around carefully. Spencer turned to look at his friend being a child , and then turned to _y/n_ saying, “I’ve got my comments pulled up, if your ready.” _Y/n_ turned from Garcia’s enthusiasm to Spencer's down to earth manner. She turned off the iron and was about to sit down on the ground, but before she could Spencer stood and said, “Please take the chair.” The cosplayer smiled and said, “Thanks.” Penelope quieted down and returned to the bed. She silently watched Reid interact with the other woman. It was so rare to see him with someone else that was not the team. It made Penelope's heart glad.

The two nerds were on paragraph three and _y/n_ was saying, “So do you think that my analogy between Ben and Rey and Romeo and Juliet is too cliche?” Spencer replied, “No not at all. But I do think that you need to specifically pin down how their relationship is considered in the genre of star crossed lovers.” _Y/n_ got up from her seat and reached into a suitcase and pulled out her copy of Romeo and Juliet. As she opened the first page she said, “I need to find a scene that will give supporting evidence to the claim.” Before the girl could even turn to the second page Reid had said, “Act 3 scene one page 6.” Before Reid could quote it to her, the cosplayer said, “Get thee to a nunnery, go. Farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell.” Reid nodded and the woman in shorts said, “That’s perfect, It would totally parallel when Ben and Rey see each other through their dyad bond in The Last Jedi.” Reid agreed with the assertion. Before the pair could spring into the next paragraph Penelope got up from the bed and said, “Alright team. It sounds like you’ve done some good work, but from what I hear from Spencer you have at least another hour of work to do; and I have a panel to get too. So I’m going to boogie out of here and leave you to work.” Spencer and _y/n_ turned, almost forgetting that Garcia was in the room. Spencer took his arm off the back of _y/n’s_ chair and stood up straight. _Y/n_ got out of the chair and held out her arms and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m a hugger.” Penelope leaned into the woman's arms and said, “I hope you know you’re really cool.” _Y/n_ smiled at the complement and opened the door for Garcia, after the blond agent assured Spencer that she did not need to be walked over to the convention center. Once Penelope had left _y/n_ looked to Spencer and said, “You’re girlfriend, partner, wife, is really cool.” The cosplayer didn’t know Reid’s relationship to the other agent, and she didn’t want to assume anything. She looked up to Spencer who’s cheek’s were redder than before. He said, “Penelope’s just a friend from work. We’re not together.” Now it was _y/n’s_ turn to blush and she cleared her throat before saying, “Oh, um, sorry for assuming. I just thought..” Spencer released a breath and then replied, “So you want to get back to work?” At the last page of notes the panelist put her hands over her eyes and said, “Could I take a quick break. Looking at a screen for so long makes my head hurt.” Spencer replied, “Of course.” The young woman stood up and moved over to the bed and lay back on it, like Garcia had done an hour earlier. Spencer, who thought that being alone in a room with _y/n_ would be very uncomfortable, was finding the sound of her breathing very comforting. The man looked around the room and stared wistfully at the light saber Garcia had banished earlier. _Y/n_ noticed the direction of his glance and said, “You can try it out too if you want.” Spencer got up and inspected the light saber. After examining it closely for a minute the man said, “This is so accurate to the real prop. Did you make it yourself?” The girl on the bed smiled and replied, “I’d give most of the credit to my grandfather. I’m not very good with electronics.” After Reid had swung the object around for a few minutes he set it down. The man looked to the computer and the last page of the document. The cosplayer looked at the screen and blinked a few times before hesitantly asking, “Would you mind if you brought the computer over to the bed, and we finished it here.” The women moved over the bed to make room for Spencer. The blush was back on Reid’s face as the man grabbed the computer and sat down on the bed. It only took five minutes to finish the last page and Reid wasn’t sure how, or what to do next. Thankfully _y/n_ sat up and said, “Thank’s Spencer. I’m sure this job doesn’t seem very important, but my joy comes from talking to people as characters that I like, and I want to make the most of my fans happy as possible. My other job is a dead end, and at least here I can live a little. I owe you for this one.” Reid smiled and said, “I think you make a lot of people happy with this work. You make me happy.” The last sentence came out unintentionally but it made _y/n_ happy to hear. She got up and plugged the iron back in and looked back at Spencer on the bed and said, “You can hang here as long as you want. Just be prepared for me to curse at my inept ability to sew.” Reid ended up staying another thirty minutes helping the woman hold onto loose fabric that couldn’t be reigned in by the iron. When he left her room she had said goodnight, and he was shocked that there was no hint of awkwardness around them. It was a new sensation for him. She had even asked him and Penelope to come backstage before she went to her panel, she offered to get him the best seats in the room if he wanted.

The next day arrived and Spencer accompanied Garcia to her photo op with the Duke and they both watched one of the cosplay competitions that _y/n_ was judging. The award had gone to a younger cosplayer that had accurately recreated a costume from Hamilton. In the next hour Spencer and Garcia were standing at the lobby of the hotel when FriendlyFighter approached them in her Kylo Ren costume, sans mask. She smiled when she saw them and said, “I’m happy you want to come backstage. It’s pretty boring, but something that not every con goer gets to see.” The group crossed the street and the panelist checked her guests backstage. When behind the curtain she pointed to two chairs in front of the room that were marked as ‘reserved.’ When it was ten minutes to the panel _y/n_ turned to Spencer and said, “How would you like me to credit you for your contributions to the panel?” The male agent replied, “You can just say that a friend looked it over.” Reid said this to both conceal his identity, and because he was just happy to help a friend out. The cosplayer was struggling to put her helmet on, plus hold her notes and light saber when Spencer offered to put the helmet on for her. _Y/n_ handed the agent the helmet and Spencer placed it over her head. Just as the FBI duo was about to walk to their reserved seats Penelope’s phone went off. The agent picked up and her appearance suddenly looked very seriously. The other two nerds looked her way when she said, “Yes Sir. We’ll catch a flight right away. Yes of course, I’ll tell Reid.” When Penelope hung up Spencer looked over to her and asked, “New case?” Garcia nodded and said, “In rural Ohio. We need to go right away.” Spencer nodded and turned to _y/n_ who was looking concerned for both of her new friends. Reid said, “I’m sorry, we have to go for work. It was really fun meeting you. Have a great rest of your convention.” Before Reid could walk away the cosplayer grabbed a pen from a nearby table and took Spencer’s arm, scribbling her number on his arm. After doing so she said in a muffled voice, “Text me, stay safe out there.” She then turned and took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves. As Spencer and Garcia ran out of the backstage area they could both hear the Imperial March playing over the ballroom speakers, The panel was beginning.

It wasn’t until the con going agents were in the jet with the rest of the team that Penelope asked Spencer the question that had been on her mind for an hour. The team had made an emergency landing to pick up Spencer and Garcia from the Pennsylvania airstrip. Garcia snapped back to the present and asked, “Are you going to text her?” Spencer’s eyes snapped to hers. He bit his lip and said, “We’re going to find a serial killer that targets people _y/n’s_ age. How can I text her when my job is to find monsters lurking among us?” Penelope looked sad and replied, “And what are you going to do when we get him Spence? Who are you going to go home to and relax with, because I sure as hell know you’re not relaxing in your apartment when you come home after cases like these.” Penelope left the question open as she stood up and sat next to J.J. After another ten minutes Spencer pulled out his personal phone typed in _y/n’s_ number. The ink from her writing still faintly showing on his arm. He texted, “Hey, it’s Spencer Reid. Sorry I had to run earlier today. I hope that I can see you again soon under less stressful circumstances for both of us.” After Reid hit send he relaxed back into his chair. It wasn’t until after the panel, that had been a roaring success that _y/n_ saw the text from Spencer. The cosplayer pulled off her right glove so she could text back, “Sounds good. Stay safe and let me know when it’s convenient to plan a get together. I’m giving a panel on The Lord of The Rings and I need my resident expert to give me notes while I plan my speech.”C

_________________________________________

Shakespeare, William, and Anne Collins. Romeo and Juliet. Pearson Education Limited, 2017.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #j.j.#reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #fluff #fanfiction #reader one shot

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero

youtube

I guess I should provide my hottt takes on the new DBS movie. A few days ago, they did this video for Comic Con announcing the title of the movie and teasing some details about the story.

I gotta say, this is exactly why I’ve never had any interest in Comic Con. They put this on YouTube, I guess because of the pandemic, but any other year they would have gathered an enormous crowd and made them stand in line for hours to watch all of this in person. I live in the Midwest, and when I went to comic book conventions it was for the sole purpose of rummaging through back issue bins. SDCC was always promoted like the biggest and most important convention in the U.S., but all I ever heard about it were trailers for movies and TV shows. Or, like, you had to go to Comic Con because that was the only way to get an exclusive Orange Lantern Hal Jordan action figure or something. They would always hype up all of this useless stuff and I just never heard of anything so important that I was willing to fly out to San Diego and stand in line for three hours for it. So now SDCC peels back the curtain with this video, about something I’m fairly interested in, but it’s really not that big a deal. I found out most of the information on Twitter before I even knew to watch this video.

But I’m just not that hyped about trailers or sneak peaks or sneak peaks at trailers. Which is probably why I waited this long to talk about it.

I’ll just go through the video. The first four minutes are Hironobu Kageyama performing “Cha La HEAD Cha La” live on the stage. That’s a pretty epic way to open this, but I feel like it oversells the importance of this event. You finish watching him and you think you’re about to see the movie itself, instead of hearing from the people who made it.

Next we have Sascha, the host of this panel. He speaks better English than I do, but I’m not sure what the point was in having any of this in English since he has to talk to the guests in Japanese. Pretty much all of the important information in this video is in Japanese, and I think everyone understood that going in. I guess it does give an international feel. If I spoke another language as fluently as Sascha, I’d want to show it off too.

4:56 is where Masako Nozawa comes out, and she’s just a joy to watch. She looks like this sweet grandmotherly figure, all warm smiles and then she busts out “Ossu! Ora Goku!” and immediately sounds like a badass.

Guest #2 is Akio Iyoku, Toriyama’s editor. Not to be confused with the awesome editor who poo-pooed all the androids and Cell’s semiperfect form. That was Yu Kondo. Iyoku comes out dressed like Goku, but he can’t talk like him so he’s immediately second-tier.

Guest #3 is Norohiro Hayashida, Producer from Toei Anaimation. He is also rocking the Goku cosplay, which would be a faux pas in most fandoms, but he can just say that he’s cosplaying as Krillin or Yamcha, which gives him greater nerd credibility because those are more obscure references.

Around 8:30 we really start getting into this, and they show us a model sheet of Piccolo. Is Piccolo being in the new movie a big surprise? He had a dry spell in the mid-90s, but he’s been in every Dragon Ball movie made in this century so far. And it’s not like they changed his look, like when they put Goku and Vegeta in those adorable coats last time. I’m not complaining about any of this. It’s nice to see that a) Piccolo is confirmed for new movie and b) they didn’t tinker with his appearance.

All I’m saying is that they only brought up this model sheet to show off how they’re using his color scheme from the manga as opposed to the anime. Hence the red belt and the yellower arm sections. In the anime, the belt was always blue, and his biceps were hot pink instead of off-yellow. But it’s such a subtle thing that even Sascha didn’t pick up on it. It’s like they were hyping up the fact that it’s such a minor change. I like it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a weird flex. Also, he looks like he still has his five-fingered anime hands, so I’m not that impressed. Give us four fingers, Toei!

Sascha asks Masako Nozawa what she thinks about Piccolo and she just starts off with “He was Gohan’s teacher,” and talks about how strong and cool he looks. She speaks of him like he’s a family member, because she’s awesome.

Next up, we have Pan, and now we’re talking. The scuttlebutt is that this was the character Toriyama was referring to when he spoke of an “unexpected character”. And I guess Pan fits the bill, since I don’t think anyone expected her to be this old in the movie. I understand this is her kindergarten uniform, so she’d have to be about five or six years old. I love Masako Nozawa’s reaction here. Throughout this video, you can see that Goku and Gohan aren’t just roles to her.

I’ll put on my fanboy hat here and point out that Pan’s age may imply that this movie takes place after the final episode of Dragon Ball Z. She looks older here than she did when she fought Wild Tiger, at any rate. So far, the entire Dragon Ball Super franchise has been set during the ten-year gap between the Buu crisis and the finale of Z. So everyone has been wondering if DBS would move beyond End of Z, or whether Akira Toriyama even still recognizes the continuity of those final chapters. They were supposed to be ten years of peace, but all the battles in DBS say otherwise. Also, I’m pretty sure Pan and Bulla’s ages in the DBZ finale don’t line up well with their appearances in Super, but I’ve never studied it very closely.

So this might be set post End of Z, or this might be Toriyama retconning End of Z altogether. I’m interested to see which way this goes.

Here’s Krillin, still working for the police, although his uniform looks more like Bronze Age Lex Luthor than anything else. Like Piccolo, the “big” story here is that he’s been tweaked to resemble the coloring in the manga, so his sclera are now white instead of fleshtoned.

Never mind that, here’s Piccolo’s house. This is probably the breakout star of this video, because I think everybody is excited to see Piccolo’s house. Because it’s new lore! No one even knew if he had one or not. It was a running gag in DBZ Abridged that he was homeless. I mean, congratulations to Krillin for getting his eyes colored in right, but that doesn’t tell me anything new about the character. But Piccolo’s house is a big friggin’ deal. What’s inside of there? What’s on the second floor? Check out his mailbox. What kind of mail does he get? It’s exciting.

Nozawa even points out that she and her co-workers would talk about this sort of thing in the recording studio. That’s a big deal to me, that the voice actors think about the same kind of stuff that I do as a fan.

Around 15:30, they start talking about Toriyama’s commitment to the making of this movie, which seems like a weird thing to focus on, because he wrote the screenplay to the last two movies. Did anyone think he was stepping back? I get the impression that there’s still some hard feelings about the failure of Dragon Ball Evolution, in the sense that they want to reassure everyone that we’re still in good hands. I suppose one of these days, Toriyama won’t be as heavily involved in a project like this, so maybe it makes sense for Toei and Shueisha to make it clear that today is not that day.

On the other hand, Toriyama was just as involved with Broly as he was with Resurrection F, and Broly was a much better film. The Dragon Ball Super manga seems to have revived the old argument over who’s to blame when the story is a letdown, and I think that misses the point. Look, the Zamasu arc sucked, and I don’t care who wrote what parts, or whether Toriyama had a bad idea or whether he handed a good idea off that was badly executed. They can hash that out behind the scenes if they want to.

About 19 minutes in, they show us this model sheet, and refuse to explain who these guys are or what they’re doing in the movie. Are they villains? Who knows? I’d like to think they’re important characters to the story, but I have my doubts that Krillin will have a big part to play.

At 20 minutes, they announce the title of the movie, and I’m not very thrilled with “Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero.” They can talk it up as much as they want, and maybe the title is relevant to the plot, but it’s just too many uses of the word “super”. Especially when they’ve got another series called “Super Dragon Ball Heroes” on YouTube.

Then we get this teaser trailer, or whatever you want to call it, with a CG Goku hopping around and doing his classic fighting pose. Now, for some reason, lots of people concluded that this means the entire movie will be done in this CG style, which has led to a debate over whether or not that’s a good thing. If they can make the whole movie look this slick, then I’m fine with it. Hell, I’m not picky. They could animate the whole thing in Yukio Ebisawa style, and I’d be thrilled.

But I’m not understanding where people got the idea that it’s definitely going to be a 100% CGI movie. They never spell that out in this video, and they even go out of their way to admit that this shot of Goku isn’t actually from the movie. So is there some other source people are referring to, or did everyone just jump to conclusions?

And that’s pretty much it. I don’t mean to sound negative on this panel, but I don’t feel like they revealed very much, unless this is actually going to turn out to be Piccolo and Pan having an adventure by themselves. I think Toei could make a movie like that and it would be a success, but I have my doubts that they’d go in that direction. If this is going to turn out to be another big slugfest with Vegeta, then I’m down for that too, but don’t show me Piccolo’s house if the movie’s going to be about Vegeta punching a guy.

Bottom line: I’m still looking forward to this, but I don’t feel like I know much more about the movie than I did before. Well, except for the part about Piccolo’s house. I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of it.

#dragon ball #dragon ball super super heroes #piccolo #pan #krillin #goku

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jlf23tumble · 4 years

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Top 10 Niche Interests

Fixations? Obsessions? This is incredibly hard because I have wayyyy too many niche interests, so instead of stressing about it, I tried to channel the 10 things that immediately speak to me and maybe aren't so obvious from what I post here, like how much I'm obsessed with wigs, doll furniture, incredibly specific blogs, all forms of clothing with pockets, swimming pools, whimsical bus stops, over-the-top bathrooms, etc. etc Instead, I opted for some specifics that feel a little more evergreen and long tailed, like, so LIFE-long tailed that it's tough to nail down when or how they became part of the national psyche. I thank @alienfuckeronmain for the initial tag, and I'm tagging her AGAIN for round two because I know she has a billion additional niche things, and she'll post them, and I'll scream because it'll trigger five other things I neglected to post here, and I'll probably post my own round two, arggggh, insert aggressive sighing. Anyway, I tag ANYONE who wants to do it, just tag me so I can see!

1. Indoor Trees

I have no idea why this concept PULLS so hard because houseplants are kind of meh to me, but you want to plant an entire-ass TREE indoors, in the place where you live? Me, too, and I'd add a conversation pit plus a combo gold/red bathroom, among other things, and, bam, we're in my imaginary dream home, which I have literally, constantly ALWAYS mentally constructed from the time I was about six or so. (If you're curious, it has multiple themed rooms, and the closest I've seen to it recently is the outstanding Dita von Teese AD feature, but Amy Sedaris’s apartment comes close, too). There are two (2) 1960s houses in Long Beach with magnificent indoor trees, but I can't find them online, so have this modern interpretation and cry with me about how I can't visit the multi-story fake tree inside Clifton's Cafeteria for a good long while:

2. Conventions of Fans of Any Kind

One thing that I don't think I'll ever lose is how much I *love* people who are fans of SOMETHING, people who have a passion and create something about it or cosplay it or simply gather to celebrate it and connect to other people through it. The Internet provides in all kinds of ways, but I'm talking specifically about IRL conventions and the way my heart pitter pats when I first walk in those doors, SWOON! And it doesn’t matter how big the convention is or how random, I've been to smaller events like CatCon and the My Little Pony convention all the way up to biggies like WonderCon and Comic Con, and I have yet to be disappointed. I might know jack shit about what I'm walking into, but I want to see the merch, hear about the panels, and check out the people who are fucking PUMPED to be there. Sadly, I think it's gonna be a lonnnnng time until these come back, but I can live vicariously through my old photos, sigh:

3. Dutch Wax Fabrics and African Fashion

I'm not the snazziest of dressers, but textiles, colors, and patterns have been an obsession that has soothed my visual soul for as long as I can literally remember. Wax fabric marries all three of those touchpoints, plus throws in a healthy dose of style, and I count myself lucky to have seen two big exhibits on the subject (this was one of them), oh, how I wish there were more! For sure, there's a fucked up underlying colonial/imperialist history here, but there's also humor and color and vibrancy, a reclamation of sorts, and multiple levels of fashion that take my breath away. I cannot do the different patterns justice at all, but the fan motif is one of my faves:

4. Hearst Castle vs. Madonna inn

These two fall into my #home tag because they're where I'm from, and they speak to me as equally sublime and ridiculous, camp and kitsch writ large and small, different (yet similar!) versions of Xanadu that two rich white men built as shrines to their own personal "taste." And the irony is that a lot of people shit on Alex Madonna for being tacky (the Madonna Inn is...uh, something else), yet praise WR Hearst for all the high-class art and architecture, most of which is fully lifted from desperate churches between and after world and yet they're both more or less the same concept (lodging for weary travelers, self-aggrandizement, questionable taste-mixing). Hearst Castle edges out slightly for me because it's bigger and has spectacular scenery and history, plus it gives me doses of LA noir thanks to the way Hearst killed a guy in a jealous Charlie Chaplin-related rage and Hedda Hopper covered it up, all kinds of old Hollywood shenanigans happened up there, etc. But I'm low-key an expert on both houses of the holy, I'm OBSESSED with both, and we can leave it at that. I mean, come on:

5. Snow Globes

I had to cull my personal collection slightly just to fit it all on the dedicated shelf in my bathroom, and I seriously need to refill all the water lines, but nothing beats a snow globe in terms of memorable souvenir, especially when you put it in a bathroom. The majesty!!! The jewel of my collection is the one from Sherwood Forest because WHY NOT celebrate a historic place and moment in the basic way?? He robbed from the rich to give to the poor, and the gift shop about 100 feet from the tree he hid in does the same! The circle of life! The irony of all the watermarks on this blessed image...protect:

6. Highly Specific Museums

Look, we can all agree that the more venerated museums in the world are a form of garbage in terms of what they represent, what they've done, and who runs them, but I'm here for the museums that collect and celebrate things that tend to get overlooked. There are too many to list that I love that are still thriving, so I'm going to say goodbye to four recently departed faves. RIP to the Pez museum, I'm so glad I saw you and purchased your stale candy souvenirs. RIP to the museum of terrible food, you were a pop up when Phoenix and I saw you, and I will forever think about the worker describing people literally vomiting during their visits. RIP to the currywurst museum in Berlin, I've had currywurst exactly once and it was not for me, but I respect the Journey you took me on, including obscure east German TV shows that helped make you so popular (??). Finally, RIP to the velvet painting museum, there's no way to mince words, the person who owned you was crazy AS FUCK and had zero clue how to run a business, but I'm so glad I saw you multiple times and purchased my own velvet treasure (not this exact one, but remarkably similar):

7. Liminal Spaces: Grocery Store Edition

Confession time for those who don't know me all that well, I'm a big time voyeur, and nothing fills my heart with joy like a walk at 7 or 8 pm, the witching hour when people haven't pulled the curtains, and I can scope out their decorations/furnishings without it being "weird." Another confession is how much I unabashedly adore grocery stores in other countries and will spend at least an hour wandering aisle by aisle, falling in love with how much everything is different yet completely the same:

8. Agatha Christie Novels:

As a child, I was a fairly compliant reader--I had to read something for school? Okay! For my mom? Sounds good! But the books that sparked the initial fire for me to read something purely for myself were second-hand (probably fourth- or fifth-hand, judging by cover art) Agatha Christie short story anthologies, which were the gateway drug to full Agatha Christie novels, then other mystery novels, and so on. But getting back to Agatha, I obviously loved all the stories, but every decade spawned incredibly good cover art (like, exceptionally good), and this particular artist's are right up near the top for me (I go back and forth on a lot of the '50s and '60s ones):

9. Scopitones

I link my obsession with scopitones both to my love of music videos in general and a shop in Austin, TX, that sold DVD compilations of them in particular, but either way, they're underappreciated and kitschy all in one! Francoise Hardy and the rest of the ye-ye's are my forever girls for this medium, but seemingly every country cranked them out, both actual set videos and "live" performances? If you don't know what they are, scopitones were machines that played music videos in French cafes in the '60s (??), so it was sort of your proto-MTV way to see your faves sing and dance. Oh, Francoise...so moderne!!

10. Cover Songs

I have so much patience and love for cover songs of any stripe, the more genre-bending and/or surprising, the better! My only minor beef is the trend in slooooooooowing down songs to make a point, but even those ones have a special place in my heart if they're effective. Live Lounge feeds my hunger the best, but my meta fave for representing this concept is Pulp's Bad Cover Version, which was already lyrically INSPIRED, a song about bad cover versions in terms of relationships, but then they did a video that was a visual "bad" cover version, with actors lip synching over an audio "bad" cover version, and all of it just worked? The cover for the single is someone in the band as a boy, making his own bad cover version of a Bowie album cover, it's meta meta meta, and I love love love, here's the video, if you're curious. In the more sublime cover category, I'm absolutely addicted to all of Orville Peck's covers, I truly hope he officially releases them sometime soon, but I wholeheartedly support any artist who does it:

#tag games #niche interests #god i have a few

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hxpefulmuses · 3 years

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[A little something I wrote based on a few inbox interactions between my partner @despairfound and myself. I'll go back and edit any name mistakes later. I just like writing their names this way for simplicity sake. Now enjoy a very ooc interaction done purely for self indulgence purposes of Izuru x Servant. I've got other drabbles I'm working on for Komahina and Saiouma]

The sound of a door creaking open was enough to draw the male sitting with his back to the wall out of his thoughts. He only heaved a small sigh when he saw the shadow cast on the ground of whom had come to pay him a visit.

"Kamukura!" The way her voice interrupted the silence made him turn his body in the direction someone had been speaking.

"Mn?" That was all the response that she really deserved.

"I have something for you." She approached him with her arms behind her back obviously holding something in them. Whenever Junko had anything for him he wasn't sure if he could necessarily count it as anything enjoyable, or entertaining for that matter.

"What is it?" Izuru heard the sound of his own voice, but he was never sure if he was only telegraphing or replying to his own thoughts; they were such a jumble at times. He would probably regret replying to Junko as it was.

"A surprise! It's Halloween after all." The blond with pink highlights in her long pigtails was in a "good" mood, and when Junko was in a "good" mood that meant that he or her servant had to put up with her antics.

Before Izuru got much of a chance to question anything the despair pulled out a pair of cat ears, and a tail, both black in color and presented them as if they were the most generous offering anyone had ever made before.

"What are these?" Crimson optics eyed what the fashionista had pulled from behind her back.

He didn't have to wait too long for an explanation as Junko was only too pleased to volunteer the details on her own.

"You're going to keep a certain someone company for me. How about it?" Junko placed a pout on her pink lips before giving a halfhearted wave of her hand.

Usually, Izuru would have shrugged her off or just listened as she went on about her ideas to bring despair to the world-- one of which she had succeeded in, yet for now he was interested. "Who?" He asked while only so slightly moving his head to the left. The dark curtain of hair seemed to move along with even such a small movement.

"That's a surprise for both of you." She told him in a sing song voice while moving forward to attempt to slide the ears on him. He dodged her attempts even throwing out a hand a few times, but in her perseverance she had managed to get behind him and place the ears on his head.

Izuru wanted this to be over and done with as soon as possible, and it was a break from doing nothing so he just decided to comply. Junko could be tolerable in doses after all. "Tolerable".

The pigtailed despair bounced with joy before placing on her cutesy persona. "Oh, I just knew you would go along with it!" She moved to fasten a tail to the back of his suit before taking his hand, this time a more mature voice and persona in play. "We wouldn't want to keep the puppy waiting, now would we? It's such a lonesome Halloween so far for him." As if she actually cared whether it was or not; much of this was for her own enjoyment too.

Izuru didn't answer that, and only chose to follow Junko towards a room down the hall. She opened the door and he spied a shock of white with shading of pink. The eyes belonging to the servant were currently occupied with the pages of a book.

"Nagi! Happy Halloween!" The despair called out as if she was just calling out to someone else on the playground. "I brought you a playmate!" A hand pushed into the long haired male's lower back urging him forward. Izuru just simply complied stepping into the room.

At the interruption to the silence the servant who had been enjoying a temporary escape frowned at the voice lilting in the air. Nagito knew that Junko only brought the silent and indifferent Kamukura by as way of keeping him complacent-- and probably her own twisted amusement in some ways as well. He supposed that was what he got in return for his unpredictable cycles of luck. Junko didn't necessarily fear him, but she was definitely wary of him all the same as if she calculated several ways things could go wrong with his very existence and planned ahead.

"Enoshima," Nagito was wearing his usual cordial smile while putting his book off to the side. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" His last word was hinted with irritation laced within it. Did she say Happy Halloween wondered to himself.

"I already said I brought you a playmate. For Halloween!" Junko said with her arms cross over her chest. Her baby blues landed on the suit clad male, and Nagito who was always watching Junko's each and every move took the sight of him in.

"You bring someone like this to worthless scum like me?" He was so temperamental. His moods could switch on and on off just like they had been shifted into the on or off positions. "I guess Halloween isn't a total bust after all." He said giving a series of giggling that earned a shift in his breathing getting hitched slightly. To say he was pleased to see the dark-haired male was an understatement.

Once he managed to steady his breathing he took note of the cat ears and the tail trailing behind Kamukura. Both of which didn't seem to bother him in the least as he was wearing his usual mask of indifference.

Izuru walked forward, but not before moving out of the way of Junko getting ready to touch him again. He made his way over to the servant, and sat down with his back firm against the wall.

"Have fun you two." Junko had merely wanted to drop Kamukura off while attending to plans she had in mind. She couldn't very well have Mr. Wildcard getting in the way either. This left her shutting the heavy steel door behind her, and enabled Nagito to finally speak to the figure radiating hope and talent next to him. Besides, it was a good idea to keep both of them on their toes. It would be so much easier to throw despair at them when they least expected it.

"The look is surprisingly becoming on you, Kamukura." Nagito said with a wry chuckle before reaching out and running his fingers over the soft material of one of the feline appearing ears. "I really am lucky to be gifted with this..." He trailed off as the dark haired male wasn't so much as reactionary.

"Can you tell me why you would go along with such a thing?" He found himself asking as he removed his fingers from the cosplay ears, and slid down the wall, but not before edging closer to Kamukura.

"Sometimes it is easier to just go along with her whims all in the name of evading boredom." Izuru explained while moving a hand to lay atop his knee.

What he wasn't saying was the conflicted impressions that came into his mind whenever he was able to spend time with the snowy haired male. How he didn't mind his company.

Nagito's eyes lit up with an interest in them. He might as well enjoy the time he could get with the mysterious Kamukura. "You could easily best her in anything, but I guess I could understand." He made the last remark while bringing a finger to his chin in contemplation.

Izuru interrupted his thoughts leaving a surprised expression on the pale-haired male's face as the long-haired male spoke. "That is an interesting opinion considering you yourself could easily think several steps ahead of Enoshima." Before he was finished he spoke once more in a softer, yet still monotone voice. "I don't mind going along with her antics if they include you." After all the servant wasn't boring, no in more ways than one he was unpredictable. A small semblance of interest to Izuru.

"You give me and my lucky guesswork way too much credit." Nagito tells the hopeful with a smile on his features. He reaches up to a dark faux furred ear tracing his fingers along it between two fingers once more. "Ah! I get it you really do enjoy my presence after all." He chuckled. "I feel flattered!"

"I would say that your lucky guesswork has more credit to it than you would think." Izuru explained while trying to regain composure and indifference once more.

"More simply put, I tolerate you." Izuru said as once more he had been proved correct in that the servant wasn't easy to read. He hadn't expected the touch yet again.

"I see," Nagito's eyes took on a swirling of black in the grey green before twisting into despair. "So you simply tolerate me. That's fine!" Everyone else did as well. He said with a laugh. "They do suit you though." If Izuru's words had stung than it didn't show.

"Yes, I tolerate you." Izuru reiterated before his face fell from the total stoic mask, eyes gazing downward as if searching for a way to word what he meant. "Perhaps, it is a different sort of tolerate where you are concerned." Emotions could be complex for one who had been designed with the sole purpose of thinking in many ways and talents. "You are skilled in more than just luck." He tried saying once more.

Instead of trying to explain himself or his jumbled thoughts once more, he just moved in closer to the servant while his fingers found the metal links of his chain, and began idly playing with it. While he was doing that he reached up to the crown of his head and removed the velvety black cat ears. Without much deliberation on his actions he moved to place them on the other males crown of white tresses.

The corners of Nagito's lips turned up as he simply moved in closer towards Kamukura. He had a feeling that the one they called Izuru Kamukura was actually kinder and held a bigger heart than all of the indifference let on. Yet, appearances were often deceiving. "A different sort of tolerance? I can take that as an answer." He said before noticing that the cat ears had been switched ownership to his own head.

"Those suit you much better, I think, but I'll wear them if that is what you want." His own fingers moved to ghost across the wrist of the hand holding the chain.

"Then I will wear them." Izuru promptly switched ownership of the ears once more, but at the compliment he leaned in and licked the Servant's cheek before giving a monotoned "Meow. Happy Halloween." It hadn't been entirely boring after all. Though he would never admit that. He still didn't understand a lot of the excitement about the holiday however.

Nagito actually blushed at the sudden lick to his cheek. “Ahah, Happy Halloween. I’ll make some treats just for you once the kids are all in bed,” he reached up to playfully scratch behind Kamukura’s ear.

#:: drabbles ::#my writing #its late but i hope still enjoyable

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

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Double-Cosplay Challenge

Author’s note: Hello-ho-ho-ho!! My gosh, is it already 25th? I can’t believe in this, neither that the world is so small, @scribbly-gigs, after all I’m your Squealing Santa too!! I really hope you enjoy this gift, because your prompt was absolutely adorable! I fell in love for its and aaaaa! Best. Idea. Ever.

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift!

But, before the fanfic, I would like to give a specially thank to @ticklygiggles for hosting this wonderful event! It was an absolutely lovely experience, thanky you veryy much!! >w<)s2</i>

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! Jeremy and Michael belongs to the musical Be More Chill.

* The song in the benning is Hide and Seek, a cover by Lizz Robinett

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 4.500 words.(I REALLY got carried away xDD) -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Portugese’s Version (Brazilian’s one) coming soon! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Have a wonderful and incredible, festive or not, day! Take care with you gonna prank anyone (And only do if they’re okay with it) , they can get revenge. ~

[~*~]

Ding Dong I know you can hear me

Open up the door

I only wanna play a little.

- What the fu… – Opened his eyes, the song suddenly swallowing him from his dream. He blinked a few times, his hands going toward his cellphone, vision finally focusing in the middle of the dimly lit darkness by sunlight, which managed to passes through the small slits in the curtains successfully. The device was not turned on.

Ding Dong you can’t keep me waiting

It’s already too late

For you go and try to run away. ~

He turned to the closet, where, on the floor, a small device vibrated, its screen glooming and being entirely responsible for proliferation of the calm background melody, which for some unknown reason made a feeling of cold, gelid fear spread through every inch of his body, growing more and more stronger as the light brown-haired reeling approached. His mind still foggy by tiredness.

Whose phone was that?

I see you through the window

Our eyes are locked together

I can sense your horror

Though I’d like to see it closer.~~

He bent down to turn it off.

Wait…

He recognized this phone cover! It was from-

- DING DONG! – The door slammed open, almost as fast as the fall from the one who just had woken up, the light suddenly invading every particle from his room along with the excitedly extremely loud scream – HURRY UP AND RUUUUUN! LET’S PLAY A LITTLE GAME AND HAVE FUN!!

- MICHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

It was crystal clear that Michael wanted to utter some words, something so easy to say by the way that small portions of sentences sought to slip through his lips. However, he was being completely hindered by his own (blood from his blood!!) uncontrollable laughter, needing a firm grip on the doorjamb to not collapse with the other’s fright. Jeremy placed his hand in his chest, feeling the heart skip some beats at a great speed and trying to control at least a small piece of his ragged breathing.

- I should have recorded this! My holy Pacman, why didn’t I record this??? – Wiped few tears that accumulated at the corner of his eyes. The onslaught of laughter threatening to come back again as he faced the poor, poor teenager with his pajamas, hair and appearance full of mess. The one who has the sad fate of being the target of his prank and now demonstrated his gratitude by showing a very specific finger to him.

- I will end with your existence, just give me a second. I-I need to recover my soul, I think it ran out the window. – Got up, finally succeeding in breath normally, his gaze was sharp, or the most close as possible with the sleep that still covered his features, but he couldn’t deny the smile, part vengeful and part because he have to give it to him: it was a good prank; that he struggled to doesn’t let its took over his face. – Why? Just… Why??

- Because today is the International Double-Cosplay Chaaaaaaaallenge day!! – Michael was literally bouncing excitedly, gesturing as if he presented the answer to a huge and attentive audience and not a young man slowly coming down the stairs, still yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes while leading the trail to the kitchen.

Oh, the Double-Cosplay Challenge.

It could even be seen as a tradition, a very ancient one, held of years without end. Not one of the seculars, though, that ones initiated in some trunk of time, which, if asked, No one would really know to explain from where it emerged. In fact, Jeremy almost remembered perfectly (‘perfectly, sure, it’s a hyperbole. Jeremy imagined his memory as a miniature of fish Dory. So, remembering more than six or five actions of a day that had gone years ago was a progress!) the way it all started.

Like most things in his friendship with Michael, of course it had began with teasing that led to a semi-fight where both sides argued, yet without really having any warm in their words. For this time, the focus of the discussion was the ease and speed that Jeremy could paint every square of himself with blush as the slightest instigation…

(...)

- Could you stop??? – Heere jerked away by impulse, his cheeks already beginning to flush in pink for the squeal he uttered due the light blow that Michael dumped on his ear. – We’re in the middle of the game!!!

- Do you mean that if we weren’t playing it wouldn’t be a problem, then? – Malefic smile. Jeremy felt the blush spread even more.

- Wha- Sure it would be!!!!

- Hmmm… I bet that would be okay if it was Christiiiiine doing that. – He mimicked a singing tone as he spoke her name, losing control over his car for a minute and being hit by a tortoise shell. – Damn, Bowser!! You were my favorite character, dude!!

- Yeah, yeah. Keep talking while I take the lead!- The light brown-haired smirked, his tongue sticking out as he dodged a few drivers and climbed some positions in the ranking.

- Ha! You couldn’t win this match even if you wanted to. – Jumped and hit one of the floating boxes with the question mark. Got the cannonball. – Just as you can’t stop to being a mess flushed even by the wind!

- Is that so? And what about the Pinkberry employee? - Michael’s car was out of control for a piece of moment and Jeremy allowed himself to take his eyes off the screen for a few seconds just to catch the other’s face now painted with a light blush and a wobbly smile. – See? We’re rotten apples from the same basket, compadre.

- Lucky shot.

- Ability. – He corrected, contradicting his words, his automobile went straight towards the water. The Player Two wrinkled his nose.

- The thing is, unlike you, I can control my blush. I would win from 10 to 1 if this were a competition.

- I bet. – It was the magic word. Michael paused the game immediately, both turning to stare each other, the glare full of dangerous burning in their eyes, a grin finding space in their faces.

- How much?

A brief silence spreaded across the room, barely finding space with all the adrenaline and electricity following Jeremy’s thoughtful glaze as he searched in his mind for an award up to the challenge.

- The one who be the most blushy, for most period of time or a greater amount of times, that is, who made the best tomato cosplay earn the right to try to survive for…

(...)

- …a week wearing a cosplay that the winner, and by this I mean I, - Michael gesticulated pompously, not even paying attention to the friend and opponent, who calmly hummed as setted the breakfast. – choose. At school, on the street, in home… With a break of five daily hours to wash and dry, as well as permission to get it off to sleep, BUT, that’s all. – Evil laugh. – I hope you are prepared, Heere. Because this year I choose the best cos-

His eyes finally went to find the breakfast table, setted with a blue and red tablecloth where the phrase ‘Best Player nº1’ was practically completely hidden by the delicacies deposited on it: Pacman-shaped Pancakes, some being stuffed with hazelnut cream; Some cups with iced coffee, a small bowl of fruit salad, the common eggs and bacons; waffles with cream and blueberry spreading their sweet scent along the Special Christmas Donuts, available only for one hour after the local bakery opens. That cost great hours of Jeremy’s sleep, which immediately worth it just in watching the utterly surprised and clumsy expression from the one who wears glasses.

- …tume… – His mouth hang wide open and he blinked several times, as if it was all a mirage about to disappear at any second. Michael simply couldn’t believe all his favorites dishes were really gathered in a only table in a only one meal.

- To my faworite pewson. – The one in pajamas guides him to the chair; happily enjoying the blush consumes his friend’s cheeks.

Fun Fact: Michael is hardly embarrassed by usual teasing and/or flirting. The thing that can truly make him mirror the color of his hoodie was actions and true, sincere compliments. It was as if the boy really didn’t expected anyone to thought about him long enough to prepare a gift or perceive and admire his actions… That always reminded Jeremy why he liked this day so much.

- You play dirty, Heere. - The Mell finally managed to find words between his surprise, unable to look away and face the other with the dangerous smirk that was his mark.

- I need to get to your level. – His voice bathed itself in a (fake) sweet tune, the teasing being enough to successfully capture the attention from the one in hoodie, leading their eyes to meet. Jeremy blinked innocently.

- I just forgive you because of the donuts! They are like, an impossible legend, which I just heard being told and retold in all my years of life, waiting for the right moment when I finally could have it in my arms. – The light brown-haired rolled his eyes, smiling with the exaggerated description. – But don’t even think about getting used to my forgiveness! You won’t be so lucky ne-

His sentence and merciful act have been interrupted by a high pitch squeak from Jeremy, who jerked away instinctively from Michael’s finger that poked him, protecting his tummy defensively, a wobbly, unstable smile in his face.

Immediately thousands of memories and empirical data invaded the Mell’s mind, and, the more and more his brain reminded him, the more and more a predatory expression got strength and color in his face.

- Oh, never mind. – Jeremy gulped, all his instincts beating like a bright red ‘r u n’ signal shining in the middle of a desert road on a stormy dawn. He felt himself starting to increase the distance between both. – It seems like you are out of lucky right now.

And the race begin, this time out of the videogames’ screen.

(…)

- Oh Heeeere!~ - His tune could be described as ‘singing’ if it was not the panting voice due the attempts to still in maximum speed in pursuit of the Player Two. – Why do you keep running away from my love? This hurts. Sadface.

- I bet it didn’t hurt more than my fall for you! – Jeremy’s only relief was that Michael would rather to lock himself on the basement to play than exercise in his free time. His only sadness was that he also would rather lock himself on the basement with Michael to play videogames in their free time, which mean that neither of them had the slightest, and necessary, disposition to any sports.

However Michael at least was lucky, which uneven unfairly his chances. In the first opportunity he got, the one on the pajamas placed the coffe table between them.

- Naaah. – The prankster started to encircle the table, analyzing the friend and opponent do the same action, but in the opposite direction. – Easy peachy compared to the time you stole my heart.

- It was just to return the favor, since you stole mine first… - His gaze drifted to the stairs right behind the one who wears glasses. If he could dodge him and make to his room, he could lock himself there and spend the next hours on the safety and comfort of his computer and bed. His glare returned to Michael… All there was needed was a distraction. – No, wait, in truth, it was always yours.

- Not in the same way that I am yours. – Wink.

- But do you know what is just yours and you could give to me? – The dirty joke came and went away before it could be mentioned by the dark brown-haired, who failed in not burst out laughing. – Your hand!!

Jeremy took vantage of the small moment of carelessness to rush out.

Good Point?

He managed to dodge Michael!! Yeaah!! Phase one completed with praise!

Bad Point? (Suuuure that always it has to exists a bad one! It was too boring for your standards, wasn’t it, Universe?)

He couldn’t even research the stairs before being knocked down on the carpet. He turned himself over, fighting for a few minutes stuffed with laugh and pieces of phrases (‘Michael, don-‘; ‘Could you stop, Heere!?’; ‘Just if you let me go!’; ‘Ouch! Damn, my glasses!’; ‘Gyah! Sorr- Hey! No! Nonono!’), at least until Michael finally find a gap in his barrier, wasting no time in attacking his bare foot, pulling a squeal from the one on pajamas, which worked like a race start, being immediately followed by dozens of giggles as his fingers danced in a lively rhythm: poking, scratching and wriggling in each centimeter of available skin.

- MihihihihihihihihihihihichaACK- Michael never played any instruments for much in his life, but he assumed that this is how the musicians should feel. Wriggling: Squeal; Poking that exactly spot in the middle of his sole: Shriek; Each scratch could give him a different melodious sound depending on the spot he was attacking. - NOHOHOHOHOHOHOhohohohohOHOHO!!

- What did you said, Heere? Mind repeat? I can’t understand any word in the middle of your adorable giggles. – Jeremy rocked his arms from side to side without really managing to coordinate them to do something useful. The sensation took over his mind and all his nerves. However, he was still able to hear and understand another words beyond his own giggles, which automatically made a heat spread quickly through all his face. - Awwwn!! You already are blushiiiing. ~

- Shuhuhuhuhuhut UHUHUhuhp!! NononO! Nohohohoht thehehehere! – And then more uncontrollable laughter began to float from his lips as Michael’s nails found their way to the ticklish skin right under his toes.

- ‘There’, where? Did you mean… here? – One of his hands held his toes in order to unfold them while the other tickled without a single drop of mercy. Jeremy felt himself jump in a sit position, trying to focus his tearing eyes enough to stop the assault. It took just a few pokes in his tummy to make he lay down again.

- NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahaHAHA! – His eyes were closed and his nose wrinkled. His whole body shook with the loud, shrill laughs that spilled from his mouth without any barrier; only being interrupted by some squeak or yelp as the Player One decided to get bored with his toes and quickly changed the tickle attack to his knees. Started to switch from one to another in random patterns, squeezing his kneecaps or giving an especial attention to the extremely, unfairly ticklish skin under them.

That leading the laugh to grow even louder and the sensations more and more unbearable. Michael happily watched when Jeremy swung his legs up, seeking to curl in a protection ball, “obliging” him to retaliate with a series of kneads on his thighs, causing the light brown-haired to frantically kick, trying to free himself from the tickles, leading Michael to go back to his knees and restart the loop all over again.

- S-Sthohohohohohohop!! – He let out a frustration groan in the fifth time it happened. The Mell couldn’t help but evil crackle at that, also being helped by the fact that Jeremy’s laugh was extremely contagious.

- I don’t know what are you talking about, Heere! All I can ever hear is the victory sound of me winning the Double-Cosplay challenge this year!!

- YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU WIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHISH-nono! No, pleaSE! nHOHOHT THeherHEHEHEs!

- Is this your final answer, then? – Michael stared at him, the mischievous grin still very present, even though Jeremy didn’t saw it. The sunshine flooded the victim’s face, only further highlighting the freckles already favored by the blush, which literally cover his entire face, now. Jeremy shook his head side to side, as if denying the fate that was about to catch him, or as if answered the question from the other, Michael just shrugged and decided to ignore the act. – So, that’s it! Be prepared to the Ultimate Tickle Attack!!

He stopped.

And the Player Two used the opportunity of a break to take some sips of air, finally being able to shrunk in a defensive ball. The crackling laughter still bouncing gladly from his mouth that couldn’t at all undo the big bright smile going ear to ear in his features. It really seemed to illuminate the place.

His hand trembled a little as he wiped tears that managed to slide across his burning cheeks. The laughing now became giggling and finally starting to fade.

And then he realized.

Not even a whisper from Michael.

He opened his eyes, a little confused, and suddenly shivers ran thundering down his spine, spreading through each of his ticklish spots, making them tingle more, perhaps in the same amount of times that the Mell approached his fingers teasingly until they were a few inches above his calves.

Damn! Cursed be these years of friendship and all the tickle fights in their childhood that give him the knowledge about this particular spot.

- Mihihihichael! – His giggles came back strident, his smile threatened to widen further. Jeremy bitted softly the tip of his tongue, trying to do at least a threatening expression, yet too much excitedly for it. The one in hoodie quickly lowered his hand, stopping before he could research the place, leading the other to jump and release a pinched scream would never admitted being his in the future. Butterflies danced in his stomach. – NohohoHOT eVEn thIHIHIhihnk abohohohut th-

- Not touchin you, dude! – The prankster laughed starting to wiggle his fingers, and, even though they didn’t have touched him yet, Jeremy could already feel it. Feel the uncontrolled laughter in his chest, the nerves tingling eagerly, the eyes closing reflexively and… - If I knew it was so easy to make you blush just with that I already would won this tournament years ago!! – His face was going to melt, he was absolutely sure of that. It was going to melt and he would be obligated to wear the stupid mask of whatever cosplay Michael chose for him for the rest of his life!! – And I’m not even doing anything, literally!

- Shuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuht uhuhuhuhuhuhuhp, youhohohor sadihihihistic!! – The heat just spread stronger, arriving to the tip of his ears. He attempted to shrink more in defense; however, the Player One held his leg, his other hand resting on his chest, as if he were truly offended.

- Jeremy! – He faked another attack, almost losing control of his dramatic pose and laughing when the Heere snorted. – Now, that was not the manners I gave you! I’m not even doing anything and a puddle of adorable giggles offends me! Humpf… – He wander lightly his index finger through all the extension of his calf, each inch releasing a new squeal tone.

- Sohohorry!! Sohohohohohohohohohohrrehehehey! – He pushed his leg, trying to free himself from the deadly grip. Michael didn’t even bother into pretending to ponder about his apologies, and then the light brown-haired knew he was screwed up in the exact moment he find that glint the other’s eye.

- Nah. I would rather return the favor. – And, as he said, started to ruthlessly knead his calves.

Jeremy never had fought that much in his life. All of his muscles squirmed; reacting to the warning signals they received from his nerves, which probably were all very confused when they heard his laughter. Powerful, loud and fully stuffed with screams, laughter. His mind went in a total collapse and he could only focus on the tickling, finding his synapses unable to form a single coherent word, neither a sentence.

Michael stopped. Half because he had pity to see the tears began to wash the friend’s cheeks and the other half because he was afraid that some neighbor would call the police with the screams from the shorter; and also because he couldn’t control his own laughter anymore. Grateful to be seated, he leaned against the outsider arm of the couch, his voice mingling with the remained giggles from the other. Both flying in the air.

For a moment, the duo stayed just like this: Laughing.

- Yohohohohou ahahahahare the worhohohohost! – Wiped his tears, finally managing to remove the sensations rubbing the spot that, probably, was the most ticklish and unlikely to have. Thanked to the pure, fresh air entering his lungs, which seemed to give him strength to sit and stare the shape who still laughing.

An awesome idea crossed by his brain and camped there. A little cliché, that is true, but he felt deserving this privilege.

His hands met the armpits of the Player One, without moving, who instinctively downed his arms, an uncharacteristic squeak now running from his lips. Jeremy enjoyed the sense of power he had when the opponent, in the videogames and for this day, faced him with wide eyes, struggling with a smile in his face.

- Je-jeremy… Come on, pal, dude, friend... – The one on pajamas just smiled in response, turning softly his head, like a puppy staring you doubtfully about your despair as hold your only short in their mouth, paws flexed and about to run through the beach, to anywhere as long is far from you (Long and funny story, ask Mr Heere to show you the video later.) and wasted no time before start the attack.

Michael held his breath. His lips suppressed in a arc as they were pressed strongly, refusing to let out a single giggle from the thousands that already stirred in his throat.

- What the matter? – Jeremy chuckled, noticing the not-so-subtly effort from the newer victim to control himself, just getting even clear when his legs began to squirm. The light brown-haired positioned himself on his right, already knowing what was coming, his face approached further. – Wouldn’t you happen to be… too ticklish for that, right?

He started to slowly scribble in the other’s armpits, the glint in his eyes glowing as watched him jumping with the touch and hugging his sides, fighting more with the waterfall of giggles trying to pour from his lips and this struggle seeming about to make him explode, due how much his cheeks puffed and blushed. The Mell shook his head.

- Phew, what a relief. – The Player Two faked a relieved sigh, as if heavy chains were removed from his back. His face got closer, Michael stared at him, fear and expectation shining mingled up in his expression, red beginning to grew stronger in his face. S c o r e. – So you won’t mind if I get a itty bitty revenge, right?

And started to blow right on that spot behind his ear, something that the friend did almost daily and now tasted what he so gladly distributed. Michael squealed, the barriers finally giving in and being quickly subdued by the snorts and giggles as fingers skillfully poked and wriggled in his armpits, taking more speed and strength, just as Michael’s fight to escape from his fate.

- JEHEHEHEHEHEheheheheHEHEHEHEHEREMYY!!! NOHOHOHOHOHO!!

- Michael! We are in a serious competition here! I would like to see a little more compromising from your side!! – His head moved away as he stopped in order to teasing the other’s neck. Changing his tactics to verbal teasing and, even though he didn’t threatened back to his neck anymore, the ‘victim’ still kept his shoulders up, as if by precaution.

- FUHUHUHUHUHUACK!! – The light brown-haired was able to release his hands from the friend’s gasp, giving him some free seconds before immediately tickle his sides. – PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHhahahahahahahAHAHAHA! – His tune got a fewer octaves higher, flinching a little as Jeremy alternated between kneading his left, squeeze his right and then attack both at the same time.

Fun fact: Michael did not squirmed, he trashed his body side to side in a mad dance ruled by the melody of his own deep, frenetic and uncontrollable belly laughter that fled without any permission from his mouth. Therefore, tickle his legs or even sit on them to try pinning him down was practically impossible. His upper body, on the other hands, due his fear of tossing away his glasses, were easier to deal.

- Wait… Oh no, Michael! I discovered! – His eyes even attempted to meet with the other’s, but these were tightly closed, tears starting to welling up in the corner. The Heere forced himself to slow the attack, noticing the crackling laugh and shrieks that started to took over Michael’s loud, and completely contagious, laughter. He drank a little of air, still letting squeals and giggles escape from his lips for the soft tracing in his tummy, one of the Mell’s hand holding his wrist, but didn’t doing nothing to really stop the tickle. – You are not able to command your laughter!

- Nohohohoho shi- A lightly squeezing in his hips was enough to make a yelp interrupt the rest of his sarcastic sentence.

- This is extremely serious! But do not fear, as your best friend, I will help you! I am almost sure that I find a Resert Buttom!!

The one who wears glasses felt his smile grow wider, more for the nonsense from the other than anything else. He tried to ignore the rising heat spreading now across his neck.

A finger poked his navel and the jump Mell did nearly broke the ceiling, together with a squeal that Jeremy definitely would remind him later. The Player Two used all his willpower to not fall on the floor laughing with the other’s reaction, especially when this one actually began to really try to remove his hands from anywhere closer of his most ticklish spot, miserably failing when Jeremy suddenly started to give quick tickles in any and every where to distract him.

-Heere, dohohohohon’t you dahahahahahare! – His hands were in a total uncontrolled frenzy, just as his euphoric giggles.

- I-I’m just- Their laugh were now mixed as danced through the room, especially when in an act of pure despair Michael attacked his ribs, making him really start laughing for real. Oh no!! He wouldn’t win this one!! – I’m juhuhuhuhuhst trying tohohoho hehehehehehelp, yohohohour ungreatuful!!! Boop!

And then his finger finally was able to tickle his belly button, wriggling, poking an causing a real scream to leave the other’s lips, as a small signal before the loud, mad and extremely frenetic laughter exploded from his mouth. He jostled and babbled non-ended words that even he had no idea with what they were supposed to mean.

He was getting crazy. Michael was absolutely sure. His head was thrown back with the strength of the laughter and for a moment everything, even the tickles that spread through every little inch in his body as unbearable and hilarious shivers, disappeared.

A piece of rationality, the last one, made him attack and scribble his fingers in some unprotected skin from his opponent. It didn’t mattered where it was, and yes that seconds later Jeremy’s laughter started to go along his owns, showing that retaliation was working.

Both rolled out on the floor, laughing, snorting, yelping, squealing, squeaking, giggling and equally trying to make the friend released the same sounds as himself. Their members shuffled, seeking to tickle any and all minimally reachable tickle spots, both unwilling to give up and both waiting to the other give in first.

Maybe it was the so-called ‘friendly telepathy’, the same one which allowed them to chat just with glares and always know what and when the other needed something. However, the duo slowly begun decreasing their attack almost simultaneously. The squeezes and kneads becoming pokes before turning into scratching and scribbles until they finally broke apart, staring the opponent for a few hesitant seconds (not that they really could properly see each other through all their tears happily spilling down their cheeks ) before laying on the floor. The remaint laughter being the only thing filling the silence, along with the panting breaths.

For a while they just stayed like that: laughing.

The sun’s rays started to heat the room, showing it wasn’t that early anymore and probably the donuts were already cold by this moment. Cars were passing outside and some dog somewhere barked desperately, the sound not echoing louder than their hearts, which stilled seeking to calm down themselves after the strange and high dose of adrenaline.

Jeremy was the first to speak, raising his arm and waving as it like a white flag.

- Draw?

- Keep dreaming. – Michael’s voice was slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat while the one on pajamas rolled his eyes, none of them really succeeding in removes the bright smile in their faces. – Truce for breakfast?

They sat, not taking too long to get up as hear the angry protests from their stomachs, they shook their hands, sealing the quick agreement. Their eyes met and, for a piece of moment both ignored how much redder they were, their minds now just focusing on the eagerly awaited meal.

- Truce for breakfast.

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thebifrostgiant · 5 years

Text

If You Know Where to Look - Part 12

Summary: in which a couple of inches are gained on either side. And also some funds

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 3,762

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Chapter 12: A Soft Answer

The room is quiet aside from the slow, sleep-steady cadence of Loki’s breathing, and a curious clicking noise that has begun to emanate from one side of the room. In the faint orange glow of the one lamp you’ve left on, you can see a set of pipes just under the window which seems to be the source of the sound.

It’s that noise that woke you, perhaps. The sun is down now, and you’ve missed dinner, but you needed the sleep. Loki shifts, and his bed creaks as he turns over. You both needed the sleep. A quick glance at the strange clock with the glowing red numbers on its rectangular face reveals that it’s still early in the night, barely even evening, yet the sky behind the pale pink curtains is black as full night. Perhaps Midgard has shorter days than Asgard. The realm also seems to be less bright overall.

The clicking continues and you face it, squinting at the metal pipes. What do they do? What’s so important that they interrupt your sleep? Not that you mind terribly. Even the few short hours you had slept had done wonders, and after the food, and that interesting but very lovely bath with the water falling down on you from above, like warm, sweet rain, you’re feeling very cozy and refreshed.

You swing carefully out of the bed and shuffle across the rug to peer at the pipes. The room is warmer, much warmer, over here, and as you hold out a hand, you can tell that this is the source of the heat. You tip your head, looking at it. That’s... neat. Iron and... steam, possibly? That’s certainly a very creative way to heat a room, and along with some of the other fascinating bits of Midgardian engineering you’ve seen so far, you can guess that the Midgard people are quite bright, and impressive in their own way.

Steam...

That gives you an idea. The iron pipes are hot, hot enough to radiate throughout the room into even the chilliest corners. They’ve also got to be hot enough to, say, dry clothing after it has been washed?

With that in mind, you make your way, quietly as you can, to the washroom and gather up the pile of dirty clothing. Most of it is dry by now, so you shake off the crusted mud, brushing at the clinging pine needles and bracken, and rinse out the tub of the mess. Then you fiddle with the stopper and set to filling the basin with warm water, adding in a drop or two of the liquid soap in a colorful bottle, which smells a bit like clover and warm grass. The water foams and you set your tunic and leggings in to soak, and Loki’s tunic as well. His breeches have large sections of leather on them, so you grab a cloth, wet it and wring it out, and wipe at the leather until it’s smooth and shiny again, and gently dab the dirt off the fabric portions.

You do the same with his boots, but when it comes to your own shoes, those horrible, painful slippers, you pause. You’d rather not have to put them on ever again. Just thinking about it makes your ankles twinge in protest. But you’re sort of starved for opinions, so you rinse them as well and hope the water loosens them and softens them up. Then you squeeze the excess water from the tunics and your leggings until they’re just damp, and you drain the tub of the now brackish water. You set everything out to dry by the heater, with a towel laid out underneath, and as you tiptoe your way back to your bed, exhaustion creeping back in, you catch a glimpse of Loki in the dim light, still sound asleep. He’s sprawled out on top of the covers in a way that seems uncomfortable, propped on his side with a pillow cushioning his ribs. The front of his robe is pushed open, and you can see the slope of his chest, his shallow breathing, the line of the wrapped bandage. You look away and swallow. Suddenly, your ankles don’t seem so bad.

***

In the morning, you find that the clothes are dry and still toasty warm to the touch, even though the heater has stopped its clicking. Loki stirs, and you toss him his clothing.

“You... washed these?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

And truly, you think, he must have slept really well if he’s asking such a stupid question. But you suppose what he really meant was-

“Why?”

“Because they were dirty, and we don’t have much else to wear.”

And he might not be bothered by traipsing about in nothing but the robe — or maybe he would be, come to think of it — but you certainly feel much more comfortable dressed in something that comes down past your knees and doesn’t cling uncomfortably in all the wrong places.

“No, I meant-“ Loki blinks at you. His hair is a mess. “Never mind.” He picks up the bundle of his tunic and pants and hold them to his chest as he stands. “I’ll just go get dressed in the bathroom. You can change in here, or wait until I’m finished, whichever you’d prefer,” he says, making his way toward the door.

“Yes, your highness,” you mumble, in a moment of temerity letting it come out more facetious than respectful.

Loki pauses with a slight frown and you brace yourself, but he says nothing, and just steps into the washroom and closes the door behind him.

You do change in the bedroom, because it’s private enough, and you know Loki’s going to take longer than you, with his buttons and hurt ribs slowing him down. And, you think, amused, he’ll have his work cut out for him fixing that hair. He, unlike you, had not thought to put it in a braid before sleeping, and it had dried every which way as he slept. Your hair is perhaps a bit frizzier than normal, but the tresses are relatively neat and wavy. Even so, you slide on your leggings under the robe, and turn your back to the door as you let it drop and throw on your tunic.

When Loki emerges some minutes later, his face is freshly washed and dewy, and his hair is, miraculously, tamed, and pulled back sleekly into a tail.

“Your hair looks nice,” you say, and you give him a half smile as an apology for your earlier fit of impertinence. And because, well, it does look good. Really good, actually, if you’re being honest.

Loki jerks his head up, and you fight a blush. That frown is back, but it seems more confused than anything. Eventually, he nods, and on anyone else, it might almost have seemed awkward.

“Yours does as well,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes, and then he turns toward the door to the hallway. “It’s almost time for breakfast. Are you coming?” he calls over his shoulder.

And you take it back, because that definitely was awkward.

***

Breakfast is a chatty affair, with several of the other travelers all gathered around a big oak table set with embroidered placemats and napkins in buttery yellow with white dots all over and piled high with all manner of breads, baked pastries, fruits, eggs, porridge, sliced meats and cheeses, and spreads. There’s even a pot of what you’re pretty sure is soup, and several varieties of juices, teas, and some bitter smelling Midgardian drink labeled Colombian Brew.

You serve yourself some of the porridge, which looks so much like what your mother would make that you can’t help but crave a bit of home, even when there’s all this new and exciting food around, and top it with blueberries and a touch of honey. You look around, hoping to find some more cider, but there doesn’t seem to be any, although there’s an orange-colored beverage that’s sweet and tart and pleasing all the same.

You take the seat next to Loki, because he’s at least a familiar face. He scoots his chair over a bit to give you room. Or to get away from you, but he was the one pretending that you and he were lovers or something, so he should have thought that one through. He sips at a mug of the Colombian brew like he hasn’t a care in the world, though, and you can’t tell if he’s pretending or not. But of course he would go for the bitterest drink there. It’s fitting.

You take a bite of your porridge and oh. Wow. You didn’t know porridge could be this good. Familiar, comforting, homey, yes, but this porridge is creamy and rich and has a wonderful sweetness to it that not even your mother’s cooking can compare to. Well, when you pay with jewels...

As you savor your breakfast, your thoughts turn to the previous night. It hadn’t at all been what you were expecting. It was surprisingly peaceable, although far from peaceful, with quiet conversation and shared disquiet. Loki, for all his faults, does seem willing to work along side you, and not against you, at least in this. It’s... well, maybe not quite reassuring, because at this stage, nothing short of a way home would be, but it’s something, and it’s one less thing you have to be anxious about. At least... at least Loki is smart.

A heavyset man with a friendly smile sits across from you and Loki and introduces himself as Brian.

“And who are you supposed to be?”

Loki swallows his mouthful of seasoned... potatoes, you’re pretty sure, and primly wipes his mouth before answering.

“I’m Loki, of Asgard,” he says, eyebrows drawn together and looking very serious.

Brian nods easily.

“You’re headed for the Renaissance faire, then? I didn’t realize there was one in town. Or- I know! You’re doing that, oh what is it the kids called it. Cosplaying, I think it was,” he says all at once, the speed and unfamiliarity of half the words leaving you a bit dizzy. Fortunately, Brain doesn’t seem to need a response, just continues talking. “And who might you be, my lady?”

You introduce yourself, and Brain beams at you. Loki shovels more food in his mouth, eyeing him warily. You’re pretty sure he’s doing it more to avoid conversation than because he’s just that hungry. You decide you like Brian, and smile back, striking up an impersonal but pleasant conversation between bites of food.

Somewhere along the line, Loki’s arm finds its way along the back of your chair, resting casually, and you must have been more invested in what Brain was saying — even though you can’t understand a majority of it — than you’d thought, because you hadn’t noticed him move. But, you find it doesn’t bother you as much as you might have thought it would. He’s finished eating, and is sitting back watching you talk and occasionally lifting his mug to his lips. When your eyes meet, he lifts a sleek brow at you and you smile sheepishly.

“It was nice meeting you, Brian” you say politely, and offer him your hand as you make your excuses to leave. He bows over it grandly, and raises it to his lips with a flourish, an overdone but sincere imitation of a prince or lord. And really, it is rather charming.

“The pleasure’s all mine, my lady.”

“Are you ready?” You turn to Loki, still with a slight grin on your face. He nods, but frowns, and you let the smile fall, mystified. Is he mad at you, or not?

Loki stands and lets his arm remain on your shoulders until you’re back up the stairs, out of sight. You’re not really sure what to think, other than that you prefer the warm weight of it to his cold indifference or outright acrimony.

***

Loki frowns for what feels like the hundredth time that morning, yet still, he remains confused. In-Hvassa seems in a much better mood since... since some time last night. Is she just making that much of an effort to keep the amity, or... Then again, he had all but told her to show deference. He hadn’t expected her to actually comply, especially not to the degree she had. He would not have asked her to do his laundry. She is... not relaxed, exactly, but far less dicey, less short-tempered. And she had been. Since he’d been nearly polite to her. And that... that makes the least sense of all.

It is tremulous, that is true, not a real show of trust, but she is... giving him the benefit of the doubt, and he isn’t sure what to make of it. She shouldn’t. And not because he doesn’t deserve it, even though he knows he doesn’t, but because it wasn’t good enough reason to. A few words spoken without rancor should not change much of anything, except to avert a worsening of their predicament. But she had smiled at him, or nearly so, and he had... well, he'd liked it and felt guilty in equal measure. He never had been very good at apologizing.

In the bedroom, he slides on his boots — also brushed free of dirt — and gathers his knife from its spot on the bedside table. The place where the emerald had been is conspicuous and jarringly empty under his thumb as he runs it over the center of the handle. It looks, wrong, and Loki feels a pang if loss at it. It’s stupid. It’s just one little gem, and Loki likes this knife, yes, but he has — or had — countless others. Valuable, but not too much to part with, not superficially. But he can’t help but feel like some part of his life has been chipped away and left behind here on this quiet, lonely little planet. Certainly, he feels a bit empty, too.

Thor had been right. It wasn’t a thought Loki was used to having, but his brother had spoken truly. He should have gone with him, with their friends when he could have. Now he doesn’t know when he’ll next have a chance to waste a day in good spirits and company, with no goal in mind but the uncomplicated joy of it. Not when things have gotten so complicated, so quickly, not when he’s still unable to access his magic, not when Heimdall still can’t see him. He’d tried, again, and again. But his ribs still hurt and there was still no answer and they were still stuck for the foreseeable future. Loki doesn’t like not knowing what to do at the best of times, and this does not qualify as one of those times.

“There’s a dress shop the next door over, and I’m sure there are more like it in the central square,” Loki says, still pathetically unable to look away from the hole in his dagger. “We’re drawing too much attention to ourselves dressed as we are, like Asgardians.” Honestly, Loki isn’t sure what precisely is meant by Renaissance faire, but it certainly has a ring of mockery to it, like a game of pretend. “It would be in our best interest to rectify the situation.” Carefully, it is not phrased as an order of any kind.

“Do you intend to pay with that? Or did you have something else in mind?”

Loki lets a grin fill his face as he flips the dagger around to tuck it away out of sight. He turns to face her.

“I have a plan.”

***

Whatever Loki’s plan was, it involved meandering about the courtyard between shops, among a sprinkling of other people about their business, strolling the cobblestone walkways or sitting on benches beneath trees in gradient shades of green, orange, and gold. The air is chilly, and you wish you had one of those knitted scarves like some of the pedestrians are wearing to wrap around your neck, or maybe a pair of gloves. Loki seems unbothered by it, the breeze doing scarcely more than ruffle the ends of his tied hair behind his head.

He’s watching for something, casting his eyes around with an intent look on his face. He looks like some kind of guardian, or a statue, silent and vigilant and still, save for those flickering green eyes and the dark hair trailing in the wind. And then he stiffens. Whatever he was looking for, he has found, and you follow his gaze, figuring it would be more helpful than staring at him. Still, you can’t find the point of his focus, and you’ve no idea what to be looking for in the first place.

Loki moves nearer to you, and leans down a bit to speak close to your ear.

“That man with the red hat and long grey coat. By the tree there.“ He cants his chin to indicate the direction. “Do you see him?” he says lowly. You can feel the movement of his breath as he speaks, a warm contrast to the cold air.

You nod, then realize Loki might not see it.

“Yes. What about him?”

“I need you to go talk to him.”

“What?” you ask, puzzled. “Why would I- oh. No. No! You don’t mean to-“ You jerk your head toward him and the truth is right there on his face, unhidden and unmissable. “You do.”

Really, it’s not that much of a surprise, or it shouldn’t have been. You should have known that smirk had meant nothing but trouble. But you are surprised, or horrified, or something, because the blood is loud in your ears just now, and, and stealing is wrong.

Loki, of course, is unrepentant.

“Unless you’d like to kindly ask him to give you his money, we don’t have many other options.”

“You still have the dagger, and the-“

“And how many times would you guess that we’d be able to successfully pull that trick? Not everyone will be so willing to accept that it is a real stone, not everyone will accept payment that isn’t the currency they expect.”

You take a step back from the quarrel and press your lips together. Loki is right, but you don’t like it. Maybe if he was as reluctant as you are, this would be easier. Maybe if he didn’t seem so eager about it. But it is Loki, and he seems to delight in misbehaving every bit as much as Búrakki, the scamp. And here you’ll be, following him down into mischief.

“What am I even supposed to say to him?”

Loki blinks, perhaps not expecting you to agree so easily. Perhaps you shouldn’t have.

“Anything. It doesn’t matter. Ask him for directions or talk about the weather. Just distract him for a moment.”

You nod shakily, and walk toward the man, trying to make it seem like coincidence, not at all intentional. Loki must be somewhere nearby, but you can’t hear him move, and you’re not sure if that’s a relief or if it just makes you that much more nervous. Because you are nervous. Very nervous. So nervous you want to call it off, to back out, to tell Loki to figure out how to do it himself. Instead, you focus on the man from the side of your eye, try to piece out what had made Loki think he was an... easy target. That thought doesn’t help at all, just makes you feel that much more guilty, and you swallow back the lump in your throat.

“E-Excuse me,” you say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear to calm your shaking fingers. “Excuse me, mister. I don’t mean to bother you, but I was just wondering if you could point me in the direction of,” you come up short for a second, not knowing what to ask for, eyes slipping as they search around the man for a familiar figure you’re hoping will make this quick. But there is nothing. Where is Loki? “In the direction of... the Apple Shack,” you blurt, because it’s the only name you know.

Recognition flashes on the man’s face.

“The orchard? Why, it’s just up the road.” He points somewhere vaguely to your left. “Thataway. Big white sign, on the right. You can’t miss it.”

And when you turn back from looking where he had pointed, you do see Loki, crouched on the ground like he’s picking something up.

“Excuse me, sir,” he cuts in, standing and proffering whatever he had to the man. “You seem to have dropped this.” It’s a wallet. Why is he handing the man back his wallet?

Then you notice Loki’s other hand, tucked behind him, between the man and you, holding a wad of paper money. He shakes it, and you take it and quickly slip it into your sleeve.

“Well thank you, young man!” the man exclaims, beaming at Loki and shaking his hand.

“I appreciate the directions, mister,” you say quickly, before you start trembling too much to do so. Your skin is tingly all over, the bundle in your sleeve practically burning against your arm, blood all in a rush.

“Not a problem! You have a nice day, now,” he says, and you smile, and it’s all you can do to keep from running in the opposite direction.

Behind you, the man thanks Loki profusely, and Loki graciously accepts it. He doesn’t deserve it. But, you think giddily, his plan had worked.

You sit on an empty bench, feeling the opposite of discrete, feeling like everyone is paying attention to you. They aren’t, of course. Loki sits next to you a heartbeat later, and he looks at you, and you look at him.

And then he grins, all teeth and dancing eyes, and you feel something bubbling up in your chest. And then you’re laughing, no, giggling, and Loki is laughing too, somewhat hysterical and overwhelmed, because it had worked and it was wild and you’d gotten away with it.

“Did that, did that actually happen?” you ask once you’ve calmed enough to speak, still not quite believing it. You’d really stolen something. Or helped, anyway.

“Yep. Without a hitch.” His smile also fades. “Good job.”

“There wasn’t really anything good about it, though, was there?” you argue, because again. Stealing. It’s wrong.

“Nope,” Loki agrees easily, and another little laugh slips out of you. Because... because as ridiculous, as awful, as bad as it was... it was kind of fun as well.

Part 13

#loki fic #loki fanfic #loki/reader #loki/you #loki x reader #loki x you #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki fandom #loki imagine #if you know where to look #bifrostgiant writes

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jinmukangwrites · 5 years

Note

Forcibly stripped/chained to a bed with a little bit of manhandling sounds like something that will happen to nightwing during your bad things bingo writing tbh is it gonna happen?

Tis it’s happening now, my friend.

X/Completed Diamond/Next Fire/Requested (getting kind of low on the requests guys! Make sure you send an ask of what point in Dick’s life you want it to happen and it would help out if you had an idea of what the one shot should be about too!)

Since this chapter has heavy references to Nightwing 93, only a small part of this will be put on Tumblr (because I’m still scared of the Staff), make sure you click the link to AO3 where an intense, 6k chapter awaits you!

-o-o-o-o-

Dick groaned. Even behind closed eyes his vision swirled; not making his mysterious headache feel any better. He felt like he was waking up with a hangover, but he didn’t remember drinking… not that most people that wake up with hangovers actually remember getting drunk. For a moment, he thought that maybe he had gone to a party, but then he remembered that the only thing worth celebrating in his plans for the next two months was Tim’s birthday, and alcohol would absolutely not be present at that event.

It took a few seconds of wracking his brain for his body to jolt and for him to realize that the last thing he remembered was patrol. His nerves awoke with a spark of electricity and he recognized the familiar feeling of his Nightwing suit tight around his skin. The pressure at the top of his nose became significant to him, making him almost sigh in relief that his mask was still on.

He dared himself to move—surely if his head hurt so much his whole body would as well—but when he began to shift his hand up to his forehead, his wrist met resistance. His stomach sunk with the sound of chains clinking and if were any less trained, he would have jerked up and struggled. Instead he carefully moved his other limbs and unfortunately met the same resistance of shackles and manacles.

He opened his eyes and ignored how his headache seemed to travel to the back of his irises.

He had expected to be chained down in some kind of dungeon or torture room, but he was surprised to meet the sight of a normal bedroom ceiling; the kind where children would lay on the ground and make shapes out of the random squiggles like they would with clouds. It took him a couple seconds to look around the rest of the room he was in, and with those few seconds his confusion grew.

He was in a normal bedroom… by the looks of it it belonged to a teenaged girl—judging by the bright colored walls that popped out even in the shadows of the moon clawing itself through the closed curtains above the window. Posters were taped to the wall, of various bands and celebrities, and a wardrobe sat half open to reveal clothes that definitely belonged to a girl. He found himself in a full sized bed placed center of the far wall across the door. He was chained spread-eagle to each of the bed posts with just enough room to slightly bend his knees and wave his arms in an “are you kidding me” kind of gesture.

He flicked his fingers towards his wrist and his gut dropped when they get nothing. He lifted his head from the plush pink pillow below him and studied his outstretched arm with a growing sense of horror.

He was disarmed… effectively. With a bit of searching, he found all of his secret pockets and hidden weapons searched and made useless. At the moment, he was just an abnormally strong guy in a kevlar suit. He was practically reduced to a Dick Grayson wearing oddly good cosplay.

The metal bands circling his wrists and ankles we’re thin but extremely tight and didn’t look cheap. The chains connecting from the bands to the bed posts were about the thickness of his own pinky finger, but they too didn’t look like cheap metal, that—along with the thick padlock securing the chains around each post—did not bode well.

Then it hit him.

There was only one person who could effectively kidnap, disarm, and restrain Nightwing.

A chuckle reached his ears just as a growl rumbled in his throat. “Deathstroke,” he snarled and kicked at the quilt below him to scoot himself up into a somewhat sitting position.

Out from the shadows emerged the one and only Slade Wilson. His mask sat annoyingly on his face, cored half yellow and half black, allowing a hole for only one eye. Deathstroke wore his classic uniform which made him look like he crawled out of a call of duty game. The last part of Nightwing’s patrol suddenly came back to him; he remembered jumping over the gap between two apartment buildings before something stabbed his neck mid leap. He could feel the bruises on his shoulders and ribs start to smart as he recalled fumbling the landing on the other building and rolling into darkness.

“What’s your game?” Nightwing growled as he tugged on the cuffs on his wrists. They were too tight, cutting off circulation and making sure that if Nightwing dislocated his thumb to get out the escape would be very painful band would permanently damage his digits.

Deathstroke let out a cocky snicker at the back of his throat and casually leaned back against the wall, folding his muscular arms across his chest. “You think this is for my own amusement?” Deathstroke asked with a smirk lacing his vocal chords. “Not everything is about you, Grayson. Actually, this is just a job, you squirming, trapped, is just an added bonus.”

Nightwing’s muscles rippled with the mentioned use of his name; reminding him that Deathstroke knew full well what his real identity was, but he pushed that to the back of his mind because he already knew that Deathstroke knew, right now the important thing was that a third party excited in the situation, which was never good.

“So?” Nightwing said slowly as he attempted to shift into a more defensive position—though he failed miserably in the sense he had a very limited range of motion. “Are you going to kill me?”

Deathstroke suddenly took a step forward with heavy boots pounding even on the carpeted floor, yet the chuckle that reached Nightwing’s ears were so much louder. He felt his throat go dry and his fingers cold as the fact that if Deathstroke really wanted to kill him: he’d most certainly be dead.

“Now that would be the norm, wouldn’t it?” Deathstroke asked with an almost bored tone of voice. He stopped just a few feet from the bed and stared through his mask like Nightwing was an interesting animal. Nightwing tensed his muscles and stretched his limbs to the limit so he could sit with Deathstroke in front of him… so he could attempt to defend himself if Deathstroke decided the talking was over. “However, my job is already done. I was paid just to bring you here and leave you to whatever my payer has planned.”

Nightwing snarled and jerked his arm when Deathstroke put a hand on his shoulder. It churned his stomach when he couldn’t remove the hand from his body; it made him feel completely helpless… completely open for any kind of attack.

“Make sure you get out of this one, kid,” Deathstroke said, leaning forward, “it would be a shame if this defeated you.”

“Let me go, Deathstroke,” Nightwing said lowly, granted it hurt his pride to say that to Wilson, but he honestly had bad feelings about where he was and what could happen. He’d much rather take a blow to his ego by begging a bit than whatever Deathstroke’s “payer” had planned.

Deathstroke didn’t say anything, but Nightwing could just tell that he was grinning. He gave Nightwing’s shoulder a pat before he stood and began to walk over to the door.

“Wilson!” Nightwing called out. He pulled against the chains and kicked his legs, in futile hope to get free, as Deathstroke opened the door and closed it behind him. Nightwing swore and began to recheck his suit, hoping that just maybe there was a lockpick that had been missed. He heard the low, smooth voice of Slade Wilson say something difficult to make out on the other side of the door, followed closely by calm and retreating footsteps.

#jin writes #fan fiction #badthingshappenbingo #dick grayson #nightwing #fan fic #batman #whump #cross posted on ao3 #dc comics #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Oracle #Barbara Gordan #Nightwing 93 #references to it

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sushigirlali · 6 years

Text

Finding You - Part IX (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

Summary: Unseen forces move against Kylo Ren from within the First Order as he struggles to unravel Snoke’s deceptions / Rey must balance her relationship with Ben Solo and her dedication to the cause that opposes him / Leia Organa makes a desperate plea to an old friend in a last ditch effort to restore the Resistance. Pairing: Rey x Kylo Ren/Ben Solo [Reylo] [ReyBen] Continuity: Set directly after Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi ends. Warnings: There will be a lemon in Part II. Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything that relates to Star Wars. A/N: Hello again, friends! In honor of Star Wars Day, I finally found the time to finish up this chapter! My big work projects are winding down, but I have several cosplay conventions to get ready for, so I’m still struggling with time management. Thanks for being patient with me! May the Fourth Be With You!

Finding You - Part IX By: sushigirlali

Get a little bit wrong, get a little bit wild Get a little bit high off of this love tonight Get a little bit raw, come a little undone Get a little bit reckless, I can't get enough

Ben tapped his foot, waiting for Rey to emerge from the impromptu dressing room that Pooja had set up in the spacious drawing room. It had been five days since Rey agreed to marry him on Naboo, but the deed had yet to be done.

After being told of their intentions, his mother had put up one obstacle after another. Initially forbidding them from "acting hastily" outright, she had come around to having the wedding at the end of the week if, and only if, the preparations were up to her standards.

Although Ben had protested, Rey wanted his mother’s approval before they married. And so here he was, waiting semi-patiently for his bride-to-be as she tried on a tenth gown, his mother sitting imperiously at his side. So far, Leia had summarily rejected each and every option, so Ben wasn't optimistic that they'd find a wedding dress before the war ended.

"Rey, how much long—" Ben began, his jaw dropping as the woman in question parted the curtains to reveal an extremely flattering eggshell white gown with a floor length skirt and strapless beaded bodice.

Rey's slender frame was encased in yards and yards of delicate silk, the skirt nipping in at her hips, a sliver jewel-encrusted belt circling her tiny waist. The structured top clung to her breasts lovingly, the heart shape bust bearing a hint of cleavage. She floated toward them, seeming to hold her breath as she waited for their reaction.

"Well?" She demanded when neither mother nor son said a word.

As if being released from a spell, Ben stood up to take Rey into his arms, kissing her gently.

"You look beautiful." Ben said huskily.

"Really?" Rey asked self-consciously.

Ben pulled back to look into her eyes. "I've never seen a more lovely sight in all my life."

Rey blushed at the compliment, throwing her arms around his neck to kiss him more thoroughly. Ben's massive hands slipped around her, relishing the silken feel of her bare skin where the corset dipped low in the back. Rey fused her lips to Ben's, purring like a kitten as he stoked her tenderly.

A delicate cough brought them back to reality.

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with the will of the Force." Leia said sardonically.

"What do you mean?" Ben asked, throwing an arm around Rey’s shoulders to keep her close.

"That was my wedding dress." Leia admitted.

Rey's eyes grew huge in her elfin face. "Really?"

"Yes, my dear." Leia smiled nostalgically. "Han reacted the same way as Ben when he first saw me in it."

"Like father like son." Lando chuckled as he waltzed into the room with Pooja on his arm.

Where the comment would have hurt him only weeks ago, Ben felt proud to be compared to his late father.

"Solo men have impeccable taste." Ben said with a straight face.

"And an overabundance of confidence." Leia deadpanned. "I expect you to keep this scoundrel on his toes, young lady." She directed at Rey.

"I can pretty much guarantee it." Rey laughed, winking at Ben.

"Stop giving my fiancé ideas, mother." Ben joked. "She's difficult enough to handle as it is."

"Difficult to handle?" Rey arched an eyebrow at him. "I'll show you ‘difficult to handle,’ Ben Solo!"

"Oh, you've done it now, my boy." Lando grinned. Young people were so entertaining!

“Alright, I believe we have everything we need to pull off a half decent wedding.” Leia said, forestalling an argument. “Rey has chosen a dress, the menu has been selected and provisions purchased, and decorations collected. We can’t send out invitations to anyone beyond Naboo’s borders, for obvious reasons, but the wedding party will still be quite large. I’ll work on the seating arrangements with Pooja tonight.”

“What?” Rey asked, startled.

“Well, including everyone here, the rest of my family, and some villagers of local importance, we’re looking at about 50 people.” Leia counted the guests off.

“Oh!” Rey squeaked.

Ben looked down at her as her shoulders tensed up. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful…” Rey started hesitantly.

“Yes, my dear?” Leia indicated for her to continue.

“It’s just…I don’t know a lot about marriage or weddings or parties, and I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of so many people, so…” Rey trailed off awkwardly.

Leia stood and moved to stand before Rey and Ben. She put a hand on each of their shoulders, smiling kindly. “We’re a family, Rey, and we take care of each other. I promise that neither of you will have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. And if you are, please tell me at once so I can fix it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Rey agreed, sounding relieved. “Thank you, Leia.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” Ben said with a sly grin.

“More like I’ll protect you!” Rey shot back.

“No doubt.”

“You’re the one always running off into danger!” She insisted.

“Marry me anyway?” Ben teased.

Rey met his warm gaze. “Absolutely."

Baby when we're touching in the dark, can you feel it? I can hear the pounding of my heart, can you feel it? When you take my body to the stars, I believe it Boy this love is supernatural, can you feel it?

Rey smiled as Rose walked into the room with a long black bag slung over her arm.

“Pooja asked me to bring this to you.” Rose said, handing the package over.

“Thanks, Rose.” Rey replied, unzipping the garment bag to reveal a classy knee-length emerald green chiffon dress.

“Where did everyone else go?” Rose asked as Rey inspected the dress.

“To the capital. They had to visit the royal bank in person in order to setup a remote intergalactic access link. Lando said Leia will receive an encrypted datapad to use off world.” Rey informed her.

“And you stayed behind?” Rose sounded surprised.

Rey walked toward her, holding the dress up to Rose’s body. “Well, they asked me to go, but I have a lot to do before the wedding tomorrow. Besides, Poe, Ben, Finn, and Lando are with Leia. It’s not like anyone is going to get past those boys.”

“That’s for sure, but—Rey, what are you doing?” Rose batted the dress away as Rey pressed it against her front.

“Seeing how your dress will look on you.” Rey said distractedly. “I think the color is great, but the length will need to be adjusted since you’re so petite.”

“My dress?” Rose stammered.

“Yes, for my wedding.” Rey sent her a sideways look. “Didn’t Leia or Pooja fill you in on the arrangements?”

“They did not.” Rose responded with a nervous laugh.

“I never had a mother, so all the trappings and trimmings that go along with a marriage ceremony are very mysterious right now.” Rey admitted. “Leia and her cousins have been a big help, but I’m going to need you too, Rose.”

“Me?!” Rose exclaimed.

“You.” Rey laughed. “Who else is going to be my bridesmaid?”

Rose looked dumbfounded. “You want me to—really?”

Rey rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, I want you to stand up with me. I’ve been told that it’s kind of a tradition, and seeing as you’re my best girl friend…”

“I’m you’re best girl friend?” Rose grinned happily.

“Definitely.” Rey said wryly, refraining from pointing out that Rose was her only female friend.

“I know that Finn is your best man, but would it be possible for us to walk down the aisle together?” Rose asked excitedly.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you!” Rose beamed. “So, what about the groom’s side?”

“Poe and Chewie have agreed to be Ben’s groomsmen.” Rey replied.

“Ah. I’m glad Chewie has finally started to come around.” Rose said sincerely.

Rey frowned slightly. “Chewie didn’t exactly volunteer for the duty, I believe Leia asked him to do it as a personal favor, but hopefully this is a move in the right direction. I know Ben desperately wants to reconcile with him, but I don’t think Chewie is over Han’s death, or Ben’s hand in it.”

“I’m sorry, that must be so difficult for him.” Rose said kindly.

“It is.” Rey said candidly. “I think he was always a little jealous of the relationship between Han and Chewie, who had been friends for years by the time Ben came along. And when his parents sent him to train with Luke, well…”

“He felt abandoned.” Rose finished. “I know the feeling.”

“You do?”

“My sister Paige and I grew up on Hays Minor in the Otomok system. When the First Order invaded, they used our planet to test weapons.” Rose said quietly. “A lot of people died.”

“Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry!” Rey said sympathetically.

“That wasn’t even the worst of it. After they finished destroying the planet, the First Order rounded up all the remaining children and took them for the stormtrooper program.” A pained look crossed Rose’s face. “My sister and I were nearly among them, but we managed to escape.”

“What did you do after that?” Rey asked, riveted.

“We joined up with the Resistance.” Rose smiled sadly. “Paige wanted to make a difference.”

“She did.” Rey said with conviction. “Her actions led to the total destruction of a Dreadnought! The First Order will feel the sting of that loss for years to come.”

“Thank you for saying that, Rey.” Rose pulled the young Jedi into a hug. “I haven’t spoken to anyone but Finn about Paige until now. It feels good to talk about her again.”

“You and Finn have so much in common, it’s no wonder you found each other.” Rey patted her on the back. “But just so you know, I’m here for you too.”

“Same goes for me.” Rose promised, rubbing her red eyes as the separated. “Now enough about that, what about Ben and Chewie? I don’t want anything to dampen your spirits tomorrow.”

“I want to do more to help Ben, but I can’t force Chewie to speak with him.” Rey paused. “Well, I could, but I don’t think that would improve the situation.”

“No, definitely not.” Rose laughed.

“They’ll work it out when the time is right.” Rey knew this to be true. “So how about we focus on another important task.”

“What’s that?”

“Fitting your dress!” Rey held up the pretty gown again, along with a pincushion. “Finn is going to lose it when he sees you in this number!”

Boy this love is-- Su-per-nat-ur-ral Baby when we're touching in the dark... I can hear the pounding of my heart...

Ben fidgeted nervously in his chair as his mother stood over him, attempting to put some sort of order to his raven locks.

“Stop moving, I’m trying to do something with all this hair.” Leia scolded him. “You really do need a haircut, Ben.”

“Rey likes it long.” He said absently, forcing himself to sit still.

“You’ll go a long way with an attitude like that.” Leia chuckled.

Ben looked up at her. “Why do you say that?”

“You listen to Rey, and take her opinion into consideration whenever you need to make a decision.” Leia said with a touch of envy.

“Of course I do, we’re partners.” Ben said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

“One would hope.” Leia laughed. “Your father, well, he definitely liked to do things his own way, regardless of what I thought.”

“But he loved you, didn’t he?” Ben queried.

“Of course he did, and I loved him.” Leia responded. “But that doesn’t mean communication was his forte.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Or mine, for that matter. All I’m saying is: I’m proud of the man you’ve become. Rey is a lucky girl.”

“Thank you, mother.” Ben flushed under the weight of Leia’s compliments. “Um, actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Yes?” Leia said expectantly.

“What if the dark side pulls me back someday? What if I hurt her?” Ben’s voice cracked as he vocalized his greatest fear.

“Ben, I’m not going to promise that you’ll never be tempted again, we all are from time to time, but I believe you’re strong enough to resist falling into darkness a second time.” Leia said earnestly.

“But if anything ever happened to her, I—”

“You would persevere in her memory.” Leia cut in. “Because that is what Rey would want.”

Ben was quiet for a moment as he took in his mother’s words. “I hope you’re right.”

“Don’t you know by now, sweetheart? I’m always right!” Leia finished styling his hair with an appreciative hum. “Now, let’s head downstairs and get this wedding going before all my hard work wears off!”

Ben’s whole body clenched as Rey turned the corner on Lando’s arm. With her chocolate brown hair twisted up into an intricate knot and his mother’s gown perfectly fitted to her slender form, she was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her. At the same time, Ben knew there was nothing in the universe that could pull his attention away from the woman in front of him.

Rey’s glistening eyes lit up as they met his, and he wondered for the hundredth time that day what he had ever done in his life to deserve her.

“You take my breath away.” Ben whispered in her mind.

“You look wonderful too, my love.” Rey responded, loving the flush that crept up his neck.

Ben’s wedding robes, fashioned in charcoal gray, were layered with a dark brown leather vest and matching sash. He looked happy and healthy in the elegant ensemble, the Naboo sun having put some color into his pale cheeks.

“I was sure you were going to wear all black.” Rey teased.

“Those trappings belonged to Kylo Ren.” Ben said thoughtfully. “You’re marrying Ben Solo, and with you by my side, I’ll never have to hide behind a mask again.”

“I love you.” Rey said out loud, touched by his words.

Several members of the audience snickered at her involuntary proclamation. Rey smiled bashfully, but she wasn’t embarrassed. Nothing had ever felt so right as marrying Ben Solo.

As Rey reached his side, Lando placed her hand in Ben’s, smiling at the pair before he took a seat next to Leia. The head of the Brotherhood of Cognizance, a mostly forgotten religious order that had strong ties with the Naberrie family, stepped forward to preside over the nuptials.

The priest lifted an ancient scroll, clearing his throat to get the crowd’s attention. “Once in a lifetime, if it is our destiny, a perfect match may be presented to us. It is our responsibility to nurture and grow this gift, linking ourselves irrevocably to another soul. Only through love, compassion, understanding, and respect can we achieve a higher self.”

Rey smiled at the intent look on Ben’s face. As someone with Jedi training, she knew he took the concept of predestination very seriously. The will of the Force could not be bent or steered, as far as the Jedi were concerned, only accepted as destiny. She was still getting used to the idea herself, but the more time she spent with Ben, the more she believed in it.

The priest indicated for Finn and Chewie to bring forward the rings. Rey held her breath as Chewie stopped in front of Ben, but she needn’t have worried as the Wookie gathered her lover into a bear hug, speaking to him in a comforting tone. While she couldn’t understand what was being said, Rey sighed in relief when Ben returned the embrace, clearly pleased with Chewie’s words.

“Thank you, Chewie.” Ben said sincerely. “And I’m sorry.”

Meanwhile, Rey accepted Ben’s ring from Finn with an affectionate hug. While the Naberrie’s had managed to save Padmé’s ring after her death, Anakin’s was another story. Since the original was lost to history, Rey had asked R2-D2 and C-3PO, who had witnessed the secret marriage of Ben’s grandparents, to help a local craftsman create an identical ring.

The resulting simple white gold wedding band was solid in her hand, and she knew Ben would appreciate the sentiment.

“Ben Solo, if you accept Rey of Jakku as your mate, present her with this symbol of unity and seal your bond forever.” The priest instructed.

Ben quickly placed the amethyst solitaire onto Rey’s ring finger, much to Rey’s amusement, before bringing her hand to his lips tenderly.

“Rey of Jakku, if you accept Ben Solo as your mate, present him with this symbol of unity and seal your bond forever.” The priest said again.

Rey slid the wide gold circle onto his thick finger, watching his reaction carefully.

“How did you…?” Ben asked in astonishment, recognizing the ring.

“I have my ways.” Rey pressed a sweet kiss to his knuckles.

“That you do, Rey Solo.” Ben said adoringly, pulling her close for a proper kiss. “You’re the love of my life, and I can’t wait to live it with you.”

Rey was so focused on the love burning bright in Ben’s dark eyes that she barely heard the priest announce their marriage, only jolting back to reality when the crowd erupted in cheers and well wishes. Looking around at the happy faces of her friends and family, Rey realized that she had never felt so at peace. Finally, after so many years alone, she was home.

Rey tried to pay attention to whatever her new mother-in-law was saying, but all she could think about was getting Ben alone. He looked so handsome in his formal robes, and she couldn’t wait to tear them off his impressive body.

“Rey?”

“Yes?” Rey asked Leia absently.

“If you’re thinking about kidnapping my son from this reception, you have my blessing.” Leia winked.

“This is a lovely party, Leia, thank you for planning it.” Rey blushed, hoping Leia hadn’t read her impatient mind. “I wouldn’t want to leave early and—”

“Oh, bullshit.” Leia stopped her. “As your newly appointed mother, I absolve you from all guilt and demand that you do exactly as you please for the rest of the night!”

“But—” Rey protested.

Leia shut her down with a look.

“Never mind.” Rey leaned forward to give the General a hug. “Thanks, mom.” She said huskily before dashing off to find her husband.

“Remember when we were young and in love, Han?” Leia whispered softly as she watched Rey tug Ben out a side door. “Those two are going to give us some beautiful grandchildren, if we can ever get around to destroying the First Order. One thing at a time, I suppose.” Leia paused as she felt a gentle tremor run through the Force in answer. “Never fear, I’ll see you again in the next life, my love. Wait for me.”

It was either a testament to Rey’s strength or Ben’s unwillingness to refuse her anything that led them up the back stairs so quickly, she wasn’t sure which.

“Rey! There are fifty people downstairs!” Ben protested weakly as she continued dragging him toward their room.

“Good, they’ll all be too busy with each other to notice we’re gone.” Rey opened their door and hauled Ben through it.

“Rey!” Ben held his hands out in a placating manner. “Not that I don’t want you—I always you want—but—”

Rey gently Force-pushed him toward the bed, giggling as he landed with a yelp on his back. Standing between his sprawled thighs, Rey hastily flicked open his fly, pulling his pants and underwear down far enough to release his rapidly growing erection. Ben’s face flushed as she stared at his body hungrily.

“Don’t you want to undress first?” Ben asked hoarsely.

Holding his gaze, Rey pulled up her skirt to show him that she wasn’t wearing any panties. “No need, I’ve been hot for you since I woke up this morning.” Rey laughed as Ben groaned. “Still want to go back to the party?” She teased.

Ben gave up, drawing her down to him without further encouragement. He took her mouth in a heated kiss as she straddled his hips, rubbing her wetness against him. Rey lifted up slightly to palm his erection, bringing their bodies into intimate contact.

“Wait!” Ben gasped. “Don’t you want—”

“Shh, I’m ready for you, baby, no foreplay necessary.” Rey smoothed his hair back from his face. “I need you inside me, husband. Right now.”

Ben’s eyes filled with emotion. “Your wish is my command, wife.”

Rey moaned as he ran his hands under her dress to palm her bottom, caressing her soft skin before slowly lowering her body onto his rock hard member. They had made love countless times over the past few weeks, but the first hard thrust of Ben’s thick penis never failed to take Rey’s breath away.

Rey gripped the back of his robes as Ben’s lips covered every inch of exposed skin above her corseted top. He sucked on her pulse, trailing down to the rise of her constricted breasts, his hot breath warming her sensitive skin. Wanting more contact, Rey reached behind her back and loosened the ties holding her bodice together enough to free her breasts.

Ben immediately pulled the top down and attacked her stiff nipples, sucking on her sweet berries like he was a starving man and she his oasis. Bouncing up and down on his lap, Rey gasped as one of Ben’s hands returned to her ass, forcing her closer still, while the other slipped between her legs, rubbing her clitoris in time with each thrust of his rigid body.

“Ben! I can’t!” Rey whimpered, overcome with the pleasure he was giving her.

“You can, Rey.” Ben growled. “Give into to the pleasure. Give in to me, baby.”

“Oh, stars!” Rey screamed as he rubbed and sucked faster, struggling to get as close to him as possible. She felt like they were the same person, two halves of one whole.

“We are!” Ben groaned as her walls clamped down on him, using every ounce of strength he possessed to hold on for her. “Rey, I love you!”

Rey’s body twisted and strained against his as she neared her peak. The pleasure she felt was almost unbearable in its intensity, but she wasn’t afraid of it. Not with Ben holding her, his deft fingers playing her like a fiddle. Despite his passion, there was an underlying gentleness in his touch, underscoring how much he wanted to please her, how much he loved her.

And then Ben shifted his position and Rey was coming, screaming, crying out in joy as her husband exploded inside her, filling her up with his essence.

“I love you too.” Rey whispered weakly as they collapsed on the bed in a tangle of sweaty limbs.

She savored the deep feeling of euphoria that coursed through her body, though his. Making love with him felt as incredible as it always did, but there was something more between them now, something precious.

“We’re completely connected.” Ben whispered, reading her thoughts easily. “I was afraid to open up fully before, afraid that one day you would leave me. But now…”

“Now you know that I won’t.” Rey smiled. Who ever said commitment was overrated?

“Yes.” He replied warmly. “Neither one of us will ever be alone again.” Ben vowed, touching her face reverently. “Nothing can come between us now.”

“Ben, what about Kali? What about the First Order? We have a lot of enemies out there.” Rey started apprehensively.

“It doesn’t matter what they throw at us, I know we can defeat them. That we will.” Ben said with conviction.

“But how? There are so few of us and—”

“We have everything we need.” Ben asserted, kissing her gently.

Rey absorbed his confidence, seeking comfort from his certainty. It was the will of the Force that Ben and Rey Solo bring balance to the galaxy. And that was exactly what they would do.

~FIN~

A/N: I went more modern with the dress to match what Leia may have warn vs the more opulent Naboo fashion. I think Rey is still a simple desert girl at heart, and it would’ve felt weird to put her in anything too extravagant. I’m planning to finish up this tale with a few more chapters, but I won’t post again until they’re done. I hate making you guys wait, but hopefully it’ll be worth it. Thanks for reading! You can find me on ff.net and AO3 as sushigirlali as well.

A little something extra!

Kylo: So, what’s your greatest weakness? Ali: Merch. Kylo: Merch? Like…merchandise? Ali: Yes. Kylo: Okay…what kind of merch? Ali: All of it. Kylo: Can’t you be more specific? Ali: Tanks, purses, enamel pins, buttons, bracelets, shoes, plushies, baseball hats, candy, towels, posters, pillow cases, barbies— Kylo: Okay, okay! Stop! Get some self-control already! Ali: Hey, you asked. Kylo: … Ali: … Kylo: Don’t you want to know what my greatest weakness is? Ali: Rey. Kylo: How did you know that?! Ali: You’re a lot of things, babe, but one thing you’re not is subtle.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfic #may the fourth be with you #star wars day #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #my fanfiction #finding you

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