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lathalea · 10 months

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The White Raven 6/9

Yes, it's happening, I'm back with a fresh new chapter of this fic, and I'm so nervous! It took me a while to get here but I hope you'll like the next part of Thorin and Carra's story.

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Carra Rating: G Warnings: mentions of injuries/death Author's notes: This is the story of Thorin Oakenshield's quest to find the White Raven, a mysterious creature of legends only few were fortunate enough to see. This is the story of love stronger than time, destiny, and laws of gods and mortals alike. You can find this fic on AO3.

Special thanks to @legolasbadass for being an amazing and insightful beta reader and helping me out with Very Important Things Like Commas and Temporal Issues In Middle Earth😍🤣 Extra special thanks to @legolasbadass (yes, again, OMG, you're so popular! 🤣) and @i-did-not-mean-to for our Silm evenings and very deep discussons that helped me write this chapter 💚 Thank you everyone who showed their support for this story, you motivated me to continue writing 💙 You are the best readers in the world 🤩🤩🤩

Khuzdul: Lulkh - fool Yasthûnê - my wife ’ugbalul ’uhaskhajam - [the] greatest sacrifice Adad - father Tharkûn - Gandalf

Thorin did not know how much time had passed. A few heartbeats? An hour? An eternity? Vaguely familiar shapes circled the darkening sky above him. Ravens? Eagles? He did not know that either. Thinking did not come easily any longer. His thoughts were muddled. His wound pulsed in pain with the rapidity of trickling blood. And he could not move. His foe’s blade had pierced his body. Some unknown solid weight pressed him to the cold, unforgiving surface. It was difficult to breathe. His nostrils filled with the stench of Orc blood. The icy chill spread through his limbs.

He opened his mouth, but only a whisper came out before Thorin lost the internal battle with his own body.

“Carra…”

Silence. Bird-shaped clouds in the sky. Snowflakes on his cheeks. Or perhaps tears. He could not keep his eyes open any longer. His mind slowly drifted off into the darkness.

***

“Uncle! Uncle Thorin!” A faraway voice invaded Thorin’s mind, stirring it awake. This voice sounded familiar. But he was tired. Too tired. The darkness beckoned, offering the comfort of oblivion. He needed to rest. Sleep.

“Look! Kili! He is here!” another voice replied, slightly deeper than the previous one. “Under that Orc carcass?” the first voice asked.

“There is so much blood… Isn’t that Azog?”

“Aye! Or what’s left of ‘im,” a third voice joined in. Older. Raspier.

“Look at his back!”

“Either that’s Orcrist’s tip or I’m the Goblin Queen! That son of a goat did it! Quickly now, lads, help me take that beast off Thorin. Fili, on my mark, pull!”

There was movement. More voices. Piercing pain. A dull grunt filled Thorin’s ears. Was it his own voice?

“He’s alive!”

“Thank Mahal! Uncle Thorin, can you hear me?”

“He’s unconscious, you lulkh!” “We need to get rid of that filthy Orc blade first. It’s stuck in ice.”

“Slowly now!” A sea of pain washed over Thorin, his whole body stiffening with each wave. But the darkness patiently waited for him and took him in its merciful arms once more.

***

“He’s still breathing!”

“Thorin, wake up! Wake up, ye lazy bastard!” someone growled straight into his ear. “Damn it!”

“Dwalin, look, we stopped the bleeding.”

Those voices again. Pulling Thorin back into consciousness. Into the pain and emptiness.

“Let’s finish dressing his wound and then we’ll take ‘im to Oín,” the growling one said.

“What’s that, Fili?” the young, familiar voice said. “Where?” “Over there, by that pointy rock on the other side of the river.”

“Looks like a dead Warg to me,” the one very close to him rasped out. A pair of hands kept on doing something to his chest. It hurt. He wanted it to stop.

“Too small for a Warg, Dwalin. It’s… by Mahal’s beard!”

“Where are you going, Fili? Wait for me!” The first voice sounded irritated.

A sound of hurried footsteps. Iron-heeled boots against ice.

“Those two can’t sit in one place in peace if their life depended on…” the raspily-sounding one grunted. “I tell ya, Thorin, when ye’re better, we’ll send them on guard duty. First morning shift for a month. That’ll teach ‘em!”

Somehow, it made Thorin want to smile. But now, even smiling hurt.

“It’s a raven! So big! Look at its wings! Why are you staring, Fili?” the youthful voice reached his ears again.

“I think it’s… the White Raven.”

“What?! It’s just a fairy tale!” “I’ve seen this raven before, Kili,” confidence rang in the second voice. “I think it followed us on the way to Erebor. It helped me fight off a Warg-rider in the Misties just before the eagles came.”

Thorin took a reluctant breath. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good. There is so much blood… Is it dead, Fili?” “Let me see… That’s a nasty wound.”

Thorin’s muscles tensed. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to speak. But his body didn't want to obey.

And then he heard two gasps at the same time.

“What’s happening?”

“Do you see it too, Fili?”

“It’s… it’s magic!”

“No, it’s a shapeshifter!”

“Look! Look!”

“A woman?!”

Both voices intermingled in Thorin’s exhausted mind, making less and less sense. He needed to act. He needed to… He breathed in. The air smelled like snowdrops.

“Thorin! Ye’re back! And here I was thinkin’…” A tattooed forehead and a bushy moustache appeared before his eyes. “Stop squeezing my hand so hard!”

“Carra…” Thorin managed to rasp out. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“What are ye sayin’?” Dwalin demanded.

“Help…. her…” He tried again. “She is…” “What? I can barely hear ye.”

The last wisps of strength were leaving him. He could feel the darkness beckoning to him once again. “Yasthûnê…” Thorin articulated slowly. “My… wife.”

***

Warm rays of sun gently caress Carra’s cheek, and she enjoys the sensation for a short while before opening her eyes. It takes her a moment to adjust to the bright light. She lays on soft ground, the strands of her silver-white hair interlacing with the lush green blades of grass. A multitude of colourful flowers adorns the meadow around her, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air, intertwining with the lazy buzz of bees. She rolls onto her back and stares at the perfectly clear blue sky above. Then she takes a deep breath. A distant echo of pain rings out in her mind, but there are no bruises or wounds on her body.

When a puffy white cloud drifts into her blurred field of vision, Carra wipes off the wetness from her cheeks, stands up, and looks around. The endless meadow seems to stretch for miles in every direction. A soft breeze kisses her face, bringing the faint sound of water lapping against a distant shore. She follows it, and soon, a sparse grove of trees appears in front of her. Beyond it, she sees a stream, its silvery current sparkling in the sun. For a brief moment, an orange butterfly dances just above her nose and then flies off towards the meadow behind her. Carra’s eyes follow its flight when a curious harmony of sounds draws her attention back to the stream.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

It seems to be coming from across the stream, and Carra decides to find its source.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

As she walks through the grove, she encounters a young doe nibbling on a nearby shrub. It glances at her curiously and then trots away, as if deciding that Carra’s presence is disturbing its meal.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

Carra walks on, her bare feet sinking into the silky soft moss, step after step, until she finds herself at the edge of the grove. The stream is only several steps ahead. Its murmuring waters bring a hum of voices.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Ta-tap. Ta-tap. Tap.

An irritated sigh.

“Another broken thread?” A warm, feminine voice asks. It makes Carra think of spring in full bloom.

“Too many of them. It seems like another busy day for my husband.” Another woman speaks, her voice as melodious as the nearby stream.

“And you? You have been weaving since dawn,” the first one says.

“This pattern grows ever more complicated. It changes much too often for my taste these days.” The other woman sighs again. “Tell me that at least your work bears fruit.” “Some of these seeds refuse to sprout. The taint is spreading. I feel it in the earth.”

“The Fallen One is regaining his strength,” a third voice joins in. Deep and resonant. “I see his traces beyond the veil.”

Carra takes a careful step forward and focuses all of her attention at the opposite side of the stream. There, a garden of breathtaking beauty blooms before her eyes. Within it, she notices three silhouettes, the owners of the voices she hears. At first, their appearance seems similar to Elves, but soon after, Carra quickly understands her error. They are taller, their posture and movements are even more graceful, and there seems to be an otherworldly glow about them. Whenever she tries to look up into their faces, Carra has to squint—not only because of their radiance but also because their features seem to be ever-changing, fluid, like water in a mountain stream. Each of these noble figures is clad in finely ornamented robes that sway slightly when the same gentle breeze that brought her here plays with their hems.

One of the ladies kneels on the ground, ignoring the dirt stains on her garments. Their fabric is as green as her eyes. Her right hand rests over the brown, freshly turned soil and wisps of chestnut hair fall over her eyes. The other lady, her hair wavy and black as night, sits by a strangely-looking wooden frame with numerous threads attached to this elaborate contraption. Their colours form an intricate, multi-level pattern that seems to grow—bloom—in all directions in Carra’s eyes. She immediately feels dizzy and has to look away. Then her attention focuses on the third figure that joined the others a mere moment ago. A strapping man, his aspect equally stunning as those of his two companions, strolls towards them, his movements measured and dignified. As far as she can discern, he is clean-shaven, unlike Dwarves, and his long, white hair flows freely down his shoulders. In his hands, there is a silver jug, its surface glistening in the sun.

“Even though you bring morbid news, you are a welcome sight, brother-in-law!” the black-haired lady says, clasping her hands and moving away from her loom. “May I offer you some refreshment?” He bows reverently to his companions, and before they respond, he fills three silver cups with the contents of the jug.

Carra licks her parched lips.

“The sweet water from your fount!” The Green Lady stands up graciously and takes one of the cups.

“I know how fond you are of its taste.” The man’s hair dances in the wind as he speaks. An orange butterfly flutters among his flowing strands. “You come bearing gifts but it is not why you are here.” The Weaver looks into his eyes.

“I have simply come to admire your weaving skills,” he offers.

“Dear Dreamer, you are curious about my winged children, are you not?” The Green Lady gives him a nod.

“It is only natural,” he refills her cup. “Some of them bear our blessing, do they not?” “Indeed they do.” The Weaver approaches him with her cup and states, “How interesting that you chose today of all days.”

“My visions are blurred. Inconclusive.” He stills, gazing up into the sky, and then turning his attention back to the two women. “Tell me, have our gifts to them remained a blessing or have they rather turned into a curse?”

The Weaver sits back at her loom and looks closely at the glistening fabric; her fingers run along some part of the pattern hidden from Carra’s sight. “Your children have been fulfilling their duties well. Although the youngest one tends to make my work a tad more challenging.”

“The youngest one?” the man frowns.

“The one with wings dusted with silver.” The Green Lady takes a sip from her cup, her features schooled in a neutral expression.

“Silver? That certainly explains quite a bit. Your husband and his experiments…” The Weaver shakes her head. “Why now? Why this one?”

“I truly cannot say.”The Green Lady gives her an enigmatic smile and takes another sip. “But perhaps you would rather see her for yourselves.”

“Perhaps we would.” The Weaver’s fingers hover above the countless threads of her loom while the man nods. The butterfly lands on his shoulder, folding its orange wings.

“Very well. She has been listening to us long enough,” the Green Lady says, taking a look at the dark patch of planting ground under her feet. “Come, child.”

It takes Carra a blink of an eye to realise that she is not standing in the grove any longer. She gasps and blinks twice, but her eyes do not deceive her. Now she faces three luminous beings—in their garden across the stream.

“Great Mother!” she whispers and falls on her knees in front of the lady clad in green, bowing her head. In the presence of these great figures, blinded by their magnificent splendour, she feels like a feeble, featherless fledgling that fell out from its nest.

“Rise, Carra,” the Green Lady addresses her softly, and Cara does what she is told. “Do you know why you are here, my child?”

“I…” she croaks faintly, unable to stop staring into Great Mother’s incandescent face. A kaleidoscope of images fills her mind. The freezing ice. Thorin’s face when he notices her and his widened blue eyes. The Pale Orc, his teeth bare, with his blade pointed at her mate. Her bloodied talons clawing at Azog’s face. And then—darkness.

“I have died.” She hears her own voice.

In a blink of an eye, the images are gone, dispelled like a wisp of smoke on the wind. Only the orange butterfly swirls around her head.

“Do you know, child,” there is a frown on the Weaver's face when she turns to Carra from above her loom, “how thin these threads are? How delicate? Even the slightest whiff of wind can change the pattern—or destroy it as if it was a spider’s net.”

“I have only tried to protect the pattern,” Carra swallows, feeling three pairs of eyes on her.

“You have saved some vital parts of it, that is true, but I hear that you also left us with tangles in the weave,” now her life-giver speaks, her eyes glistening like emerald waters of a fathomless lake.

“Forgive me, Great Mother. The line of Durin had to stay unbroken. I did my best. But I have failed,” Carra hears her own trembling voice. “Darkness clouded my dreams…”

“And so you staked out your own path, Silver One,” the Weaver speaks as if to herself, patting her index finger against her lips in reverie. “Which left us with all those new thread combinations.”

Then she exchanges a glance with her companions, and the man called Dreamer speaks.

“See for yourself,” his eyes, grey like a wolf’s fur, rest on Carra. First, he raises his eyebrow but then motions her towards a small rock basin. She can swear that this object has not been there a moment ago. He takes the silver jug and fills the basin with a narrow, glistening stream of water. The orange butterfly dances above it and then rises above their heads. The water’s surface resembles a mirror, and Carra’s eyes are drawn to the movement she seems to see in its depths.

Countless veins of silver run through coarse stone walls of a cave, glittering like gossamer strands that cover foliage at dawn, but instead of dewdrops, tears flow down from a Dwarf-woman’s cheeks, following the crevices of her wrinkled face. She wears a crown of snow-white braided hair and a dark blue robe with golden ornaments. In her weatherworn hand, she holds a piece of parchment with a green, rectangular seal at the bottom. Beside her sits a slightly hunched elderly Dwarf with bushy, grey whiskers and rows of faded tattoos on his bald head.

“Now we are the last ones, Dwalin,” the Dwarf lady sobs. “My boys… My brothers… And then Balin… Dain and his son… Gone.”

“Aye,” the old warrior gently closes his hand over hers. “But they will not be forgotten.”

“Gone…” Carra’s lips tremble as she stops herself at the last moment from touching the water. As she moves her hand back, a curtain of ripples falls over the image, changing the scenery.

The image of the familiar green and black shape of the Great Gate of Erebor fills the rock basin. An army of Dwarves rides to battle on their war rams, led by the King Under the Mountain. Carra recognizes his blade at once. Orcrist. It is Thorin! She gasps. The Raven Crown graces his temples frosted with grey. And his beard has the same colouring as her feathers. Silver-white. As the events unfold, she recognizes them from her past dreams. The Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills join forces with the Men of Dale. The battle is long and bloody, but the allied forces ultimately crush their enemies. At that moment, the vision changes. She does not recognize this new detail. An armour-clad warrior rides from Dale on a white war ram. As soon as Thorin sees him, he dismounts, and soon both men greet each other with a strong embrace.

“The city is safe, adad!” The young warrior grins, taking off his helmet. The wind plays with his entangled hair, which seems to glow in the setting sun.

“You did well, Thráin,” Thorin replies, his gaze softening. He presses his forehead against Thráin’s and whispers, “You made me proud, son.”

A faint whiff of wind kisses the water’s surface, transforming it into a flurry of silvery ripples.

By a gilded cradle sits a young Dwarf-woman. Her chestnut hair glints as if enchanted with fire, contrasting with the snow-white laces of her sleeping gown. The mithril beads in her braids clink when she takes her babe into her arms, and a smile brightens her heart-shaped face.

“You will be a king one day,” she whispers lovingly, kissing her little one on his forehead. Quietly humming a sweet lullaby, she adjusts the blanket her son is wrapped in. Carra notices that its hem is embroidered with little black and golden ravens.

A sudden wrinkle on the water disturbs its surface, making the water glitter like diamonds.

A cold, pale sheen illuminates the green marble walls when the King Under the Mountain ensconces on his throne. The source of this light comes from a jewel of unmatched beauty set over the king's head. The golden and obsidian crown rests on his raven-black hair. But the ruler of Erebor, Thorin II Oakenshield, is not smiling. A deep, menacing frown darkens his face. In his hand, he holds a wide dwarvish sword. Blood drips from its tip onto the cracked marble floor. There is no red-haired Dwarf queen beside him. There are no children playing at his feet. There is only deathly silence. And the shadow he casts is that of a dragon.

When the visions finally fade, Carra finds herself staring into the bottomless depths of a pair of grey eyes. She does not notice when the orange butterfly lands on the edge of the empty jug.

***

“Carra…” her name sounded like a helpless croak. Thorin’s throat was parched.

It took him a while to regain all of his senses and open his eyes. He lay on a large cot in a spacious tent that looked suspiciously like a work of Elvish hands. He grunted. Every single part of his body seemed to hurt. Bandages covered most of his torso, and he could not move his arm without inducing even more pain.

A louder groan left his lips when he tried to sit up and failed. Something in the nearest corner of the tent moved.

“Your Majesty…” A young Dwarf in a healer’s tunic appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “You are awake!”

“Where…” Thorin coughed. Even breathing drained his strength.

“All is well, my lord. Try not to speak, please. The enemy is defeated. Erebor is once again ours.”

“Is… my…” His attempt at speaking failed once more.

“Your kin and companions are alive and well, Your Majesty.” A mug was pressed against his lips, and Thorin greedily drank its contents. He welcomed the sweet taste of water on his tongue. It probably came from the spring at Ravenhill.

Ravenhill.

His heart sank.

“Carra…? Where…?” he whispered. Every word felt like a struggle.

“Forgive me, my lord, who?” the healer frowned.

Thorin did not respond. He was already asleep.

***

“The White Raven?” Dain Ironfoot’s brow furrowed as he clutched a tankard in his hand. “Here, in Erebor? Are ye drunk, Fili?”

“It’d take more than a mug of ale to make me drunk, Uncle!” the young dwarf protested. “I swear on Mahal’s beard. She fought the Pale Orc together with Uncle Thorin and…”

“She?” said Agnarr, one of Dain’s captains who sat on his left, raising his eyebrows, which resembled a thick, black caterpillar.

“Aye! I found her myself! And then Tharkûn said… well, he didn’t want to say anything about her at first, but I convinced him to tell me…” Kili started with a mischievous smirk, only to be interrupted by his brother.

“He followed the wizard day and night and bombarded him with questions, until Tharkûn had enough,” Fili whispered conspiratorially, leaning towards Dain.

“Well, I convinced him, didn’t I?” Kili huffed. “The wizard said that if not for her, Thorin’s fate would have been very different! You saw that wound of his.” “Aye, if that orc blade went in a bit lower, he’d be resting in the catacombs together with the kings of old,” Ironfoot muttered under his breath.

“Exactly. Besides, before he left, Tharkûn mentioned something about treasure, too!”

“A treasure?” Dain Ironfoot asked.

Kili shrugged in response, “I don’t think he meant the gold in our mountain…”

“Wizards and their riddles…” Dori sighed, pouring himself another mug of ale.

“So ye’re telling me,” Dain demanded, “that a creature straight from our legends appeared out of thin air and fought the Pale Orc with Thorin? And that the White Raven is a woman?”

“And a pretty one, too!” Bofur winked. “That hair of hers…! White as snow!”

“More like silver-white to me,” Fili puffed out a cloud of pipeweed smoke.

“Was she not supposed to be a great bird? Like the legends say?” Dain grunted.

“She is!” Kili nodded eagerly. “I mean, she was a bird, but then she turned into a woman, I saw it with my own eyes!”

“Now she looks more like a Dwarf,” Fili added.

“A raven looking like a Dwarf?” Vari, son of Nari, another of Dain’s soldiers, scratched his bald head.

“And a bit like an Elf, too,” Kili grinned and waved his hand in the air. “She has pointy ears, you know. Ouch, Fili, why did you kick me?”

Dain groaned, “Pointy ears…? By Mahal’s beard, I think I need another mug of ale.”

“Are ye drinkin’ without us, ye sewer rats?” Dwalin appeared by the table, followed by his brother.

“We’re all celebratin’ our victory over the orcs and wargs!” Captain Agnarr pointed at the multiple groups of Dwarves gathered around them in one of the least ruined halls of the Lonely Mountain.

“There’s nothing better for a soldier’s morale than a few casks of the Iron Hills ale,” Balin sat beside him and poured two mugs—for himself and Dwalin. “What would you say about a toast?”

“To victory?” Ori proposed.

“We drank for that last time,” Vari shook his head.

“If all you said is true, lads,” Drengi, a large dwarf, said, two golden teeth glinting in his mouth, “we should be toasting the White Raven.”

“To the White Raven!” strong voices echoed against the ceiling of the cavern as more dwarves joined the toast with their mugs raised into the air.

“To Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain!”

“To King Thorin!”

“To the Lonely Mountain!”

“To the Longbeards!”

In the growing racket, Balin turned to Fili and Kili.

“What did you tell them, lads?”

“Nothing much besides what we saw when we found Uncle Thorin after the battle,” Fili said.

“And that the White Raven helped us during the Quest,” added Kili. “Fili, I completely forgot! Remember what Uncle Thorin called her when we were taking him back to the Lonely Mountain?”

Fili nodded, but before he answered, Balin put his hand on Kili’s shoulder.

“That, my boy, is better left unsaid.”

“But Uncle Dain said that the King Under the Mountain will need a queen now and that he has a perfect candidate for Uncle Thorin. How can Uncle Thorin marry her if he…” Kili continued.

“This is the conversation that Thorin—and Thorin only—needs to have with Dain. Do you understand?” the elderly dwarf searched their faces solemnly.

“Aye, Uncle Balin, we do,” Fili reassured him.

***

“...since we moved his majesty into the Mountain. His fever has dropped and the wounds are healing well but he keeps on asking about someone named Carra.”

“Thank you, Nari, you were most helpful. Try to catch some sleep. I will stay with him now.” Words spoken in a soothing timbre of voice reached Thorin through the haze of dreams.

“Balin?” he blinked a few times, trying to chase the drowsiness away.

“I’m here, laddie,” a familiar silhouette in a burgundy robe stood before him. “You gave us a scare for a wee moment there.”

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling at the sight of the familiar face of his old mentor. As he attempted to sit up, an intense spike of pain ran through the left side of his body. The only thing he managed to do was lift his head slightly. At that moment, an additional pillow was placed beneath it. He grunted. At least the Dwarvish beds were much more comfortable than the Elvish ones.

“Carefully now, laddie. No sudden movements. Your foot needs time to heal properly. Your left shoulder and arm were badly injured too. The healers had to use a splint…”

It was a challenge to focus on Balin’s words, but as the dizziness subsided, Thorin’s thoughts became more coherent. Various parts of his body ached, his left leg felt heavy, and he could not move his left arm—it was indeed encased in a splint, exactly like Balin said—but he was able to take a look around the room. Even if he did not recognize this particular place, he recognized its walls hewn from the same greenish rock as the walls of the old chambers he used to live in as a young prince. A lifetime ago. And now, he was home again. Home.

“Tell me everything. Is Erebor safe?” With a pained grunt, he turned towards Balin.

“Aye. Worry not, the Mountain is well-protected. Dain is here with his warriors. We are working on making our home liveable again,” Balin replied, patting Thorin’s right hand, which lay on the bed. “You did well, laddie. The corridors and caverns are echoing with stories about the return of the King Under the Mountain who killed the Pale Orc and avenged his esteemed grandsire.”

Killed. He swallowed, attempting to ignore the memories of that fight that came back to him like an unstoppable flood—and of the price he paid to survive. Or rather, the price someone else paid for him. He lost her.

“King? Me? A Dwarf who succumbed to the curse that plagues his house? Who valued hoarded gold over…” With a sneer, Thorin looked away, his voice hollow. “I am not worthy of that title, Balin. Not any longer.”

“Do you remember that audience in the throne room when King Thrór met with the refugees from the White Mountains? You were still a prince at that time.”

“How could I forget? Not only did I break protocol, but also I interrupted Grandfather. I declared that if he would not send his troops, I would fight the Orcs who invaded their homes—on my own. Mother was truly ashamed of me on that day. And Father would not speak to me for a month.” “Ah, the impulsiveness of youth,” Balin nodded. “But you have always had your heart in the right place. Do you remember what I told you on that very day?”

“Life is like a battle. When you fall, you have to rise again and fight. Otherwise you lose,” Thorin said under his breath. He recalled the countless nights when he whispered those words to himself, lying on the hard ground, far from home, when the thought of retribution was the only thing that drove him forward.

“We reclaimed our homeland thanks to you. You overcame the curse and led us to victory. You have fought and won this great battle, Thorin,” the elderly Dwarf spoke softly.

“I did not. Not alone,” Thorin admitted, unable to look Balin in the eye, his throat constricted. Something ached in his chest, and it was not his wound. “I had help.”

“Indeed. I saw the Pale Orc’s corpse. It bore marks of dwarven weapons… and others that bore resemblance to talons and a beak,” the older Dwarf said.

Thorin did not reply. Not because he chose not to speak but because the right words would not come to him.

After a pause, his mentor added, “Fili claims that he heard a deafening sound, like a large bird’s screech, only moments before they caught sight of you on the frozen river.”

“A screech…” Thorin repeated to himself. Something stirred in his mind; Azog’s hideous grimace, the ice beneath him reverberating with a strange sound that filled the air, and the moment when the tip of Orcrist’s blade plunged into the Orc’s chest. He blinked several times. His own words rang in his ears.

“Carra, no!”

He remembered the darkness that came afterwards. And pain.

A life for a life.

It should have been him.

Balin’s voice seemed to come from far away.

“... I heard the guards retelling the old legends of the White Raven. And a new tale is spreading through Erebor: a story about a large, white-feathered raven that bravely fought by the King Under the Mountain’s side at Ravenhill,” he said.

Thorin remained silent, staring at the white sheets that covered him. White as ice on that day. White as the feathers in her wings. He felt cold.

Silence seemed to stretch between them like the bottomless chasm beneath the Mountain until Balin spoke again.

“Help me understand this, laddie.”

Reluctantly, Thorin’s fingers found the leather band strung around his neck and pulled it from under the blankets that covered him. His old friend’s eyes widened at the sight of a silver-white feather.

“The White Raven…” The words in Thorin’s mouth tasted like ash. “Carra. I have known her for most of my life. After Smaug's attack, she left her nest behind and followed me to the Blue Mountains.” Thorin met his mentor’s eyes.

“The White Raven... The stuff of legend, eh?” Balin hummed, examining the feather with reverence.

“I am aware of what it must sound like. Legend or not, she is real. She was,” he corrected himself, swallowing hard. “At Ravenhill… Had she not intervened, Azog would have taken my life. She chose ’ugbalul ’uhaskhajam and gave her life for me instead.”

“Thorin… By Mahal’s hammer, laddie, what are you saying?” The feather fell from his mentor’s hand onto the bed. “’Ugbalul ’uhaskhajam, the act of sacrificing one’s life in battle to protect another, is only performed by one’s kin!”

“Or a spouse,” explained Thorin flatly.

Balin looked down at the silver-white feather and then glanced towards the door before speaking again.

“Dwalin told me that you spoke of a wife,” the elderly Dwarf said. “We thought it might have been your feverish mind speaking, nothing more.”

“It was not. She is… Carra was my wife, Balin.” His own whisper sounded hollow.

Balin stayed silent for a few heartbeats and then cleared his throat, as if deciding on something.

“That certainly explains quite a bit—including a very curious occurrence. You see, Thorin, after the battle, we did not find any signs of this revered bird at Ravenhill. Instead, there is a strange woman of mysterious provenance in our infirmary, and the healers…”

“Here, in Erebor?! Alive?” Thorin grabbed Balin’s sleeve, seeing him nod. “Tell me, what colour is this woman’s hair?!”

“Her hair is like this feather: white, dusted with silver,” his mentor replied. “She lives and is under good care. We brought her into the Mountain together with you, but...”

“Thank Mahal!” Thorin rested on his right arm, lifting his upper body as much as he could. “Balin, take me to her at once!”

Swiftly, he moved to the side in an attempt to rise from the bed while a pang of pain shot through his body, sudden like lightning. He fell onto his pillows, taking deep breaths and fighting a wave of dizziness.

“I am afraid you are in no shape to walk, laddie,” Balin rested his hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You are on the mend, but the healers say that you will need time to…”

“Balin! By Mahal’s beard!” Thorin fisted his hand, trying to curb his temper and ignore the pain. “Do you not understand? I need to see her!”

“You are as stubborn as your grandfather,” the elderly Dwarf shook his head in defeat. “Let me talk with Nari and see what can be done. I will be back in a jiffy.”

Balin’s jiffy felt like an eternity to Thorin, but he waited, albeit impatiently.

Carra was alive.

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#thorin oakenshield #richard armitage #thorin x oc #the hobbit #the white raven #thorin fic #tolkien #thorin #silmarillion #fanfic #ravens #erebor #middle earth #yavanna #aule #mahal #irmo lorien #vaire #valar

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starfirewildheart · 7 months

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Scars and Souvenirs

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,022

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death and animal abuse. Nothing graphic I promise but if the fic continues (if y'all like it) I'll add warnings for each chapter.

Scars and Souvenirs

She watched Sy from her perch on the wooden fence as he carefully approached the skittish horse. Well defined muscles flexed and tensed under tanned skin as he galloped around the training ring, sweat building up as the morning sun was reaching its peak. The horse itself was beautiful as well.. A palomino mare, one of four horses they had rescued the night before, hoping to be able to save her and give her a good life.

"Hey now, that wasn't very nice," Sy said, keeping his voice soft and gentle while still admonishing the horse for nipping his shoulder.

Debbie chuckled. "You always did have a way with the ladies, cowboy. "

"Well, I caught you didn’t I?" He teased back, his attention always focused on the mare. Their calm voices would help her adjust to being around people.

"It was a limited dating pool baby. My choices were you, Rickshaw, Jizzy, or Boz. Rickshaw was a man whore, Boz had no personal hygiene standards and I'm pretty sure Jizzy fucked a couple of goats trying to get a section 8. You, my Captain, didn’t stink, or sleep with every woman on base or random farm animals. That and your ass looked amazing, even in fatigues."

Sy put his hand to his chest as if he was wounded. "You only want me for my ass!"

She hopped down off the fence, walked over to him sliding her arms around his chest lightly nipping between his shoulder blades as her right hand snaked down his body until she was palming his denim covered cock giving it a gentle squeeze. "I started dating you for your ass but I stayed for your dick baby," She teased.

Sy inhaled sharply and bucked against her palm. He couldn't imagine his life without her. She was the only good thing that came out of that damn desert hell hole where he toiled for eight long fucking years. Even the Texas sun couldn't stop the shiver that raced up his back from the memories. "Whatever it is that keeps you here I hope I never lose it because you are my everything." He leaned back against her and placed a soft kiss on her lips, over his shoulder.

"You're stuck with me, always. I'm never letting you go baby." She hugged him tight. "Well except for like right this second because I gotta go muck the stalls," She sighed dramatically causing him to laugh. "A cowgirl's work is never done," he chuckled, smacking her ass as she walked away.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Debbie started cleaning the stalls, and spreading new straw. Music was playing on a radio they had in the staging area and she got lost in memories about how she and Sy had met.

She was a doctor who worked the MASH unit in the green zone and also ran missions as a medic when needed. She'd been assigned to the Vikings unit as a medic after their last one had been wounded. When she reported to their Captain it didn't go well. At first she took Sy's very boisterous refusal to work with her personally and she despised him and what she took as his sexest bullshit. After a few very long hours of arguing she realized it wasn't because she was a woman that he didn’t want to take her into the field, he didn’t get her file (imagine that, the government dropping the ball) and he didn't know she had field experience. Sy learned she wasn't intimidated easily. She was a tough as nails, ball busting soldier who could give as good as she got. She earned his respect and he earned hers. Needless to say the issue was resolved and she was frequently a medic for them.

Over time she and Sy became really close and eventually started a relationship which meant she was no longer allowed to be with their unit. Sy had a lot of pull because of what his unit did and was able to keep her on base though. She continued to work both at the MASH unit and with other teams on missions and they spent their free time together.

It had been a year and a half since she’d cycled out of the Army and a year for Sy. While she served during war time and has been in some bad shit and had to do even worse sometimes, it was nothing compared to the hell Sy had experienced. The last four months of his tour were by far the worst for him. One of his unit's final scheduled missions turned out to be their worst and last.

Their objective was to shut down ordinance supply areas for the insurgents because the damn RPG attacks were killing more of our soldiers than combat. The Viking unit had made a huge impact on the supply already and they hoped to be able to take out some of the top ranking members of the opposition with today's raid. Sy had been promised a second unit as back up with the high profile target but true to form, command said they didn't have enough manpower to send back up which meant if shit got bad he'd have to call in an air strike which would be at least thirty minutes out. There was a shadow in the back of his mind that this was a bad idea and he even suggested to his C.O. that they postpone the mission but he was told he was there to follow orders not think.

Things started out successfully as they secured the facility and a cache of weapons, supplies and several high value prisoners. "Robbins, call it in. Tell them we need a clean up crew and transport for 10 prisoners," Sy ordered.

"On it Cap," he gruffed.

"Jimminez, Boz, recheck the perimeter."

"Yes sir."

"Sanchez, Richter, get 'em in restraints."

"Cap!" Boz yelled as he slammed another man through the metal doors of the building. "This asshole was on a phone out back."

"Fuck," Sy's stomach fell to his feet. This was bad. He stormed over and grabbed the insurgent by the shirt and started to question him. Within minutes Sy's life would change forever.

Explosions, gunfire and blood filled the air as several truck loads of insurgents arrived having been alerted by the man with the phone. All of Sy's men were captured and either executed or tortured for information. The insurgents did unspeakable, unimaginable things to the men claiming to want intelligence, after a while Sy came to believe they did it for pleasure.

Two weeks went by and Sy and Boz were the last two alive. As the leader of the team he'd been forced to watch his men be brutalized and eventually executed and his men were forced to watch him be tortured, the insurgents hoping to show them his weakness but Sy never begged.

It was just a few days later that Debbie got the call that he'd been rescued and was being flown to Ramstein AF base in Germany. She’d been home for four months, a choice she and Sy had both made, each agreeing to retire and not re-up. She dropped everything and flew to Germany to be by his side.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Debbie was pulled from her thoughts as Sy walked the mare back into the barn and started brushing her down. She was amazed at how much Sy had recovered in the year he'd been home. They bought his dream ranch and he'd designed their home and the barn that was built there. They had gone to a cattle auction to bid on some horses for the ranch and that's where they found their new passion.

They were walking through the stalls checking out the animals when Debbie overheard a farmer talking about selling his horses to the meat market. From that day on they researched and scouted these 'meat' auctions and bought as many of the animals as possible. They rehabilitated all that they could and gave them to loving homes; the others who'd been too abused to recover they kept on their own farm where they could live in peace and safety.

Sy looked over at his beautiful girl and grinned. "Come 'er baby girl."

She stepped out of the stall and slowly crossed over to him watching his eyes rake up and down her body. "See something you like, Captain? "

"Hell yea," he rasped, pulling her flush against his body wrapping his arms around her tight. Her fingernails lightly running up and down his back nearly made him purr as he placed soft kisses on her neck. 'It's your love' came on the radio and he started dancing around the barn singing to her.

She squealed with laughter as he spun her around. 'It's your love' was their song, the first song they ever danced to. Letting her hands slide down to his hips she softly pressed her lips to his in a loving kiss. She allowed him entry when his tounge sought its way into her mouth as he deepened it. Their hands began to roam, finding just the right spots to drag moans from each other until he was pressing her against the wall, his rapidly filling cock digging against her stomach. His hand worked its way under her shirt and he squeezed her supple breast rubbing her nipple through the silky material of her bra and was about to lift her up around his waist when they heard gravel crunching on the driveway announcing a car approaching. "FUCK!"

Debbie laughed and patted his ass. "Not now baby, your mom is here but if you're a good boy, maybe later." She waggled her eyebrows at him playfully. "You should probably take a walk for a second until the little monster calms down."

"Fuck," he whined pitifully as he laid his head on her shoulder.

"HI honey," mama Syverson's sweet southern voice rang out as she approached. A concerned look crossed her face as Sy stood with his head on Debbie's shoulder. "Everything alright?" She asked as she put a hand on his back.

He raised up and greeted her with an awkward hug, keeping his hips back so his hard-on didn't accidentally brush against his ma. He shuddered at the thought. "Yea we were just taking a break," he told her as he walked over to the mare he'd brushed down before dancing with Deb. "Let me put this girl in her stall and we can all head to the house for lunch."

"Oh, um, I'm sure Debbie has a lot of work to do," she hedged throwing a look toward the other woman. "A lot of rescues to take care of and all."

Sy closed the stall door, brow creased in bewilderment at what she’d said "Ma, what the h…"

"She’s right," Debbie cut him off. "Horses gotta be fed and watered and I need to get some round bales out in the pasture feeders. Gonna take me the rest of the day." He started to argue but she kissed his cheek and whispered, "She needs you. Go be with her." Before walking to the storeroom to start pulling out grain.

Sy's mom was a sweet, kind, loving, God fearing southern woman but for some reason she seemed to dislike Debbie. Deb had tried everything to get her to warm up to her because she knew how important Sy's mama was to him but nothing seemed to work. It worried her because she didn’t know how it would affect her relationship with Sy in the long run but there was nothing she could do about it. She sighed and went about feeding all the animals and working through her day.

@shellyshellshell

#henry cavill #syverson fluff #syverson x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader

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a-twistedheartslonging · 23 days

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I know this seems like a weird question, but for the guys that are centaurs or driders or other creatures with a specific animal lower half, how does the reproductive system work? Since the human upper half stereotypically cuts off at about just below the stomach, physically it should function closer to the animal counterparts. But your posts give the impression that crossbreeding with humans is possible which would mean that the genitalia couldn’t be so adherent to animal counterparts that actually performing the act is impossible. I’m just very interested in the biology of this.

Not, weird at all, when you're a monster lover like me it's something you'll definitely think about when it comes to creature boys.

So, for a lot of them, their junk is similar to their animal counterparts but not exactly the same. Think bad dragon dildo's.

I talked about Sliver being a horse beasty but instead of making him a centaur, he has more of a sayter thing going on but with horse instead of a goat. Junk wise I would say it's similar to a horse but not exactly size-wise since that shit can rupture your organs. Why? it's more convenient like this. Not to say there aren't centaurs in this au, I just like things to not be too complicated since I'm lazy and not all that creative.

Cats and big cat predators have very painful bards that induce ovulation and keep you stuck for a while. The painful part is no fun, so I decide they have small nubs that do the same thing without tearing up your insides.

Knots only work if you have the right junk to go with it for sex, so they interlock properly but that's no fun for a human with a beast, so I decided that the knot works regardless.

Snakes have hook dick that, again, would be painful for a human so Jamil got that cool bad dragon snake dick with a slightly hooked tip going on.

All those reptiles, mers, birbs, and spooders that lay eggs? Well, it's only the female that lays them, but I like oviposition I decided all of those guys can and will egg you up. (With your consent of course.)

Image of spider below.

I figured for drider Idia the plates below where a dick would be could shift around when arousing and a cool weird inhuman dick comes out, but actually for male spiders one of those small legs that's in the front is basically his dick but not quite, their body makes the sperm and then transfers it into the specific appendage. It's called a pedipap.

Not sure which to go with since the latter could be awkward since you're being fucking with a smaller than the other legs but not quite a small spider leg, but then again with Azul you would be getting screwed by one of his tentacle arms since one is his dick so it's not too weird when compared to the others and would make it easy to hold you while that arm/leg goes to town on you.

If you guys have your own ideas or headcanons of how some of it would work, please share, the reproduction process of creature's is very interesting to me regardless of kinky reasons.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ask #asks #nonhuman au #suggestive #kind of #smut

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bloodyshadow1 · 4 months

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my detailed thoughts on the first season of Percy jackson.

Cons:

The pacing, I know everyone says this, but really the pacing of this season was all over the place. having 8 episodes while probably the only option for the writing team really hurt the series overall. Adding an additional episode would helped keep things better I think and would allow a better flow. Not to mention it would help keep things structured in a 3 act system with a beginning, middle, and end that a lot of stories, are told in which would have just fit and flowed better. I would prefer 12 eps, for each act having 4 eps, but that is greedy since they're probably going to be stuck with 8 for the rest of the series too

Lightning, the series was just too dark in a lot of scenes, I didn't have much of a problem because I watched on my smarttv, but I know a lot of people who watched on computers or phones had trouble

The beginning, there should have been more episodes in Camp Half-Blood, at least 1 more. I get that the meat of the story is in the journey, but by not establishing camp half-blood as the first place Percy felt like home it makes it feel emptier. I do like how they including flashbacks of luke training percy in the finale but I would have liked more in camp half blood before the start

There's a less wonder and magic in the series than there was in the books. I don't really know how to describe it, but the books made it feel like there were two worlds hiding within each other and there is magic everywhere. Just small things like Ares turning his lost shield into a bullet proof vest because that's the more modern take.

I'm not with a vocal part of the fandom that bitch and moan over the kids not falling into every trap, I like that Percy is smarter, but instead of just making him smarter, I think they should have just had him ask more questions, like if he was a 12 year old with ADHD who had his eyes open to a world. By making him ask questions, it would help let them explain the world more by having people answer Percy, instead of him knowing everything. Certain things I think could have been done better, like the Kronos reveal and the Luke reveal, it could be done as a reveal instead of Percy figuring it out and I think it would have worked better. like have Percy realize it when talking through the prophecy with Luke because Luke mentions the bolt and the helm, something Percy wouldn't have told him or anyone at camp.

For the most part, I like how they did the gods, with the exception with Zeus and Athena. Zeus is such a larger than life figure, as much as I love Lance Riddick's performance, he played him too epic. The Zeus from the books feels more like a powerful blowhard while the series makes him feel too cool to me. As for Athena, I'll admit I'm bias because she's my favorite god but I don't like her being made the villain in Annabeth's story especially offscreen. I get that they're playing up the gods being shit more than the books and since they made Poseidon more sympathetic, making Athena more antagonistic is a choice to make. I just don't think it fits her cold and logical, but still cares about her kids in her way that she was portrayed in the books.

Grover. I honestly like a lot of the things they added to his character, but I wish they didn't take away from his canon character moments. Not many, but I liked him being a different species than Percy and Annabeth, he isn't human, he's part goat and instead of the books stuff, he's more just a kid with different legs and short horns than another creature. Also by taking away his reed pipes and not showing him being able to do magic, it limits the character.

While people complain about the show... showing not telling, I feel like there was a lack of exposition in the show that wasn't there in the books. It kind of goes with Percy being smarter in the show than the books, but there's a lot of stuff left out of the show that is good world building. small example, no one mentions that monsters don't die for good, which is a very important plot point in heroes of olympus, even if they don't make it, it's a good thing to tell a new demi-gods. Or other plot points, like Annabeth wanting to see her father after all these years, despite how badly things broke before, which just kind of resolves offscreen.

Honestly though, it was only the fandom that ever really bothered me. Too many people focusing on uncharitable changes about the series that had to be made since there is a difference between a first person perspective book series and a tv series that they had to make. That they couldn't fit everything into an 8 ep series that's in a whole book

Pros:

Honestly, one of the best adaptions I've seen despite all the cons.

The acting in the show is awesome, the actors for the kids are young but perfect for the roles they were assigned. they might not look like the books, but I genuinely think it doesn't matter if they're going to be this good. Walker, Leah, and Aryan stand out as the stars of this show and for good reason

I really like the way they portrayed Luke in the tv series, I get the twist in the books, but by bringing up stuff with him earlier I think it makes him more sympathetic. I also think by not including the scorpion to kill Percy, and instead make it clear Luke doesn't want to kill Percy makes him feel more like a kid making a dumb decision instead of someone willing to murder a 12 year old.

I like how they portrayed Sally in the show even if some people disagree. I like that she shows more flaws and character than just being the sweetest saddest woman that she was in the books. As much as Sally loves Percy, him not only being a demi-god, but a neurodivergent kid, it wears on any parent's patience, especially a single mother. Having her get angry and lose her temper, having us as the viewers know what she's been through makes her feel more real and fits better for a tv show.

I like most of the effects, I think it fits in the show and looks better than a lot of blockbuster movies. Lightning aside. I think the monsters looked good and so did the magic even if I think the latter could be better

Honestly, I think the fight scenes were great for a disney show where the main character is supposed to be 12. I know people are annoyed with how short they are, but that's how they were in the books. I think they were adapted fine.

I like that since we're not in Percy's head, we get more of Annabeth and Grover. It feels like a real proper adventuring trio than the books where it felt like it was so Percy focused with Annabeth being the secondary main and grover being a main, but kind of sidekick character. Letting Grover and Annabeth be characters, to have scenes without Percy and changing things from the books, like having Annabeth seeing the fates cut the thread, makes more sense when you're not doing a first person books

Overall I think they changed things in a very fair and pragmatic sense. There were a lot, but there were less egergious than the movie that changed the whole plot.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians spoilers #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo tv show spoilers #pjo spoilers

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cabinofimagines · 2 months

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Chapter IV; convincing

So it took a while, but at some point I realised I wanted to finish writing at least arc one before posting the rest so oops.

Word Count: 1.2k

<- prev - mlist - next ->

-Asnyox

You both re-entered the clearing, followed closely by an overly excited Mrs. O’Leary.

"No problem, I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs." You overheard Percy saying. Nico was the first of you two to speak up, letting your presence be known to the demigod and tree nymph.

"Good job, Percy. Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well." You could see clearly that Percy was nervous as he tried to smile. You were aware that Nico had made it pretty clear to Percy what his plan was, and if you were in this kid’s shoes you would have been nervous too. Luckily, you were just an idiot tagging along in the plan.

"Welcome back. Did you come by just to see Juniper? And who is your friend?" Nico blushed and you wondered whether it was about the friend thing, or about Juniper.

"This is (Y/n), and um, no. That was an accident. I kind of . . . dropped into the middle of their conversation." Blushing out of embarrassment then, you inwardly cheered. He also did not deny the friend comment you happily noted.

"He scared us to death!" Juniper said. "Right out of the shadows. But, Nico, you are the son of Hades and all. Are you sure you haven't heard anything about Grover?" Nico shifted his weight. Ah, she must have been crying worried over her lover. You had caught some of the stories around camp, however you did not know any of these people personally, so you tended to mind your own business.

"Juniper, like I tried to tell you . . . even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls." "But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?" Nico's cheeks got even brighter red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open."

"We'll find him, Juniper," Percy promised. "Grover's alive, I'm sure. There must be a simple reason why he hasn't contacted us." She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—" Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress. Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!" She went poof into green mist. You gaped at her disappearance, never having gotten close to a tree nymph before.

Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered off to find another target, leaving Nico, Percy and me alone. Nico tapped his sword on the ground. A tiny mound of animal bones erupted from the dirt. They knit themselves together into a skeletal field mouse and scampered off. You were impressed by his control, but truly you felt as if this shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

"I was sorry to hear about Beckendorf." Nico said and you downcast your gaze, having heard the news quiet recently. This was one of the first people from camp that you knew who died, and the news had taken a toll on camp.

"How did you—" Percy started, and you were reminded that he was there with Beckendorf on the ship. "I talked to his ghost." So the rumours about Nico’s powers were true – he could actually converse with the dead. "Oh . . . right." "Did he say anything?"

"He doesn't blame you. He figured you'd be beating yourself up, and he said you shouldn't." "Is he going to try for rebirth?" Nico shook his head.

"He's staying in Elysium. Said he's waiting for someone. Not sure what he meant, but he seems okay with death." You weren’t sure how to feel about these developments, but before you could give it much thought Percy started talking again.

"I had a vision you were on Mount Tarn," he told Nico. "Was that—"

"Real," Nico said. "I didn't mean to be spying on the Titans, but I was in the neighbourhood." "Doing what?"

Nico tugged at his sword belt. "Following a lead on . . . you know, my family." Percy nodded. You side eyed your friend, wanting the ask for an elaboration. However, you had felt him close the moment Percy started asking questions to him. You had heard a whisper about a sister, but there was nothing you could go off from. Nico was a mystery to you and you wished you could unravel it.

"So how did it go?" Percy asked. "Any luck?"

"No," he murmured. "But I may have a new lead soon."

"What's the lead?"

Nico chewed his lip. "That's not important right now. You know why I'm here." You saw Percy’s face fall. You knew Nico wanted you to help convince Percy, but you had barely exchanged a word with the son of Poseidon before. What were you supposed to do? Tell him you would safe him from being stabbed?

"Nico, I don't know," Percy said. "It seems pretty extreme."

"You've got Typhon coming in, what . . . a week? Most of the other Titans are unleashed now and on Kronos's side. Maybe it's time to think extreme." Nico looked towards you as to urge you to help him. You stepped forward.

“If I may, Percy, “ you looked the son of Poseidon in the eye, surprised by the distrust in them, “I’ve been at camp since April – if Nico hadn’t brought me here I would have been dead and I know that even with how hard I – we – camp has been working,” you heard sounds of fighting in the distance, “I fear we are hardly a match for the Titan army.” Nico nodded in agreement.

“This comes down to you and Luke. And there's only one way you can beat Luke We can give you the same power," Nico urged. "You heard the Great Prophecy. Unless you want to have your soul reaped by a cursed blade . . ." You hadn’t heard the prophecy fully yourself – around camp it was deemed a kind off taboo to mention or talk about.

“You can't prevent a prophecy," Percy said.

"But you can fight it." Nico had a strange, hungry light m his eyes. "You can become invincible."

"Maybe we should wait. Try to fight without—"

"No!" Nico snarled. "It has to be now!" You were startled at his outburst – but you did agree with him.

"Urn, you sure you're okay?" Percy asked and you threw him a wary look.

“Percy, look,” you started as you noticed Nico taking a deep breath, “It will be significantly harder, maybe even impossible to take this journey when the fighting starts. Maybe even too late- if you want to prevent any more losses, deaths on our side you must go now.”

“I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy,” Nico’s gaze was strict towards Percy, “but two years ago my sister gave her life to protect you. I want you to honour that. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and defeat Kronos”

"All right," Percy decided. "What do we do first?"

#request #requests #solangelo x reader #poly!solangelo #xreader #xyou #x reader #SFU #will solace x reader x nico di angelo #slowburn ig #cabinofimagines #admin asnyox #coi

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little-cereal-draws · 2 years

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ok so i've seen a lot of ppl hating on the new thor movie so i'm going to make a list abt what i liked abt it. spoilers obviously

thor rode stormbreaker like a witch on a broom

the hammer/axe jealousy and thor trying to make them both happy

valkyrie covered in ichor with a sword

the goats screamed every time they arrived someplace new/landed

when they put the goats in the guardians' ship and it's just pure chaos as peter is trying to organize everyone to check for distress calls

the music choices were on point!

the ridiculous opening fight scene that seemed a little too good to be true (until the end)

gore! he was such a creepy villain, just so unsettling. it really creeped me out when he smiled. he did an amazing job

"so how are you guys doing?" "we're stuck in a cage made of spikes."

this isn't really about the movie but i liked seeing kamala in the opening sequence

the visuals! it was so pretty! especially the space dolphins and whenever the shadow creatures were being made. it was really cool to see how they went from flat, 2D shadows to 3 dimensional monsters- like how they came up out of the ground. so cool

New Asgard already being half destroyed after the attack in the beginning and thor and jane keep blasting holes in the council room/breaking stuff anyway

valkyrie teasing thor abt jane

the whole last scene where thor's trying to get Love (that's what i'm going to call the little girl, idk her name) to eat pancakes and put on her shoes. felt like a conversation straight out of my family's dialogue

and then thor just gave her stormbreaker!! like sir,,, that ax is as big as she is

the child army!!! that was so cool! i was like 'is he really going to use these kids as an army? i'm confused but i'm here for it' and then he did but in a much more effective way than i imagined!

i also liked how they showed how the different kids fought. some of them with rocks and things that could be actual weapons and some of them with wands and stuffies. it was amazing

thor saying he didn't like meditation, it just made him angrier. i know meditation is a good coping mechanism but whenever i try it i feel like i'm doing it wrong and just get more upset. idk that was just a little thing since ppl don't usually say that in media

at the beginning, peter saying to look into the eyes of the ppl you love and thor just doing that stupid face while sliding into view

Darrel!!! He got a job at new Asgard

When they were fighting in the shadow realm and the only color was from the lightning bolt, stormbreaker, and mjolnir

Jane using all of mjolnirs pieces as an extension of the hammer

#idk there are probably more but that's all i can think of right now #mcu #marvel #thor #thor odinson #thor love and thunder #thor 4 #thor four more thor #valkyrie #jane foster #mighty thor

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kavehnanginto · 1 year

Text

pot, meet kettle

pairings: kaveh, itto x reader

synopsis: whiny and hot men smartly decide to date the only one who can match and even beat his charisma and annoying remarks, and everyone is stuck dealing with both of your dramatic characters

tags: you are very much annoying, sweet names except for babe or baby because i hate it, fluff and cuddles, they are very sweet, fun fact the creation of this fic was made because a little birdie told me to do this i just added itto because he is my man,

Kaveh swears he is a logical man, a rational man who desires nothing more than peace and tranquility. no one really agrees with him, with all the bickering with alhaitham and squabbles with dori his reputation of being sensitive is set in stone.

But with you around it truly feels that what he said was right. Compared to Kaveh and you, Alhaitham would rather spend time in hell and dead in a casket. So whenever you were around and in his house, the scribe just seemed to disappear out of nowhere. And you were now always alone with your man.

"Why would you use that as a painting, its too abstract?" you comfortably conquered the couch while watching Kaveh hang the ugliest portrait you have ever seen since the last time he hung one. "I literally went on this five minute walk to Alhaitham's house just to see you hanging this ugly portrait rather than spending time with ME."

He gasped at such comment, he can't believe he heard such nonsense from someone as attractive and ethereal as you.

"Darling, this isn't just some painting, this cost me--"

"So? Is my worth also measured in material value? Hang that painting in the wall or you'll continue to be my lover." With the painting out of the way, you were soon delivered with happy cuddles from a beautiful portrait such as he.

"Now will I continue to be your one and only?" you pat his head, thinking about it.

"Do you really think such measly act is worth my time," he shook his head. "Now let's sleep."

He obeyed and went to sleep smoothly and always remembered to bring you to every art auction after.

Everyone had their own opinion about Itto. He was loud, obnoxious, and the reoccurring theme about his public display of affection. It was getting out of hand, even to some member of his gang (Shinobu). But to you, it was simply not enough, the mediocre singing, the wilted flowers and most recently, your very own cow.

You keep on telling him that this is not what you want and say that you will eventually return feelings once he had given you the right thing. The fact of the matter is you already fell, but he really thought a cow will make you happy. I mean it did, but let your pride take you away.

Also a goat will be nice next time, and then you saw him once more, no longer with his trusted companions, but just him.

"So pumpkin, how is your amazing self today?"

"And that is the first thing you say to me? I am here offering my time and company for you!" you huffed and he immediately apologized. "Also I'm doing great! Want to commit some crimes today?"

And just like that both of you went on a spree, you insisted he holds your hand or he never will hold your hand ever again, and also that he will bring the cow with you. It seemed that Shinobu has a lot of explaining to do, but it seems you are not in trouble.

As the day came into a close, Itto realized that commiting war crimes are even better if the person he likes is around him. But as the day comes to close, and this day of temporary joy has reached its end. The lovebirds said goodbye.

"Until we meet again, my dove." you walked away slowly, the sunset brightening you eyes.

"Farewell, my fair master." he bowed and...

You saw each other again after 45 minutes.

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #kaveh x reader #genshin kaveh #kaveh my beloved #kaveh x y/n #kaveh x gender neutral reader #genshin impact kaveh #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin itto #almighty arataki extraordinary and exhilarating extreme beetle brawl #arataki gang #genshin arataki #itto x reader #itto x gender neutral reader #itto x y/n #genshin impact #genshin fanfic

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7er1ch0 · 2 years

Text

What if MC was the artist for the TSL graphic novel

So I got a bit to go before the new genshin update, so to kill time I'm going to write the most self indulgent obey shit that has been on my mind for the past few days.

*it's exactly what it sounds like

*I’m not sure if it was brought up at one point of TSL having a graphic novel, but a bunch of popular books and franchises eventually get a graphic novel made of it, so it's not unlikely

*Anyway, starting off, You and Simeon knew each other before the events of the game.

*Agreeing to illustrate books, demand to talk to the author to take even more thorough notes than whatever the original books were going to give them.

*Whether or not Simeon realizes that his book is prophetic, and that Mc is technically Henery, it doesn't really matter. He agrees to meet up, talk shop about the characters, what kinda designs would be wanted/backgrounds/expressions/body language ect ect.

*This leads to Simeon describing the brothers in very different ways. Some will be entirely appearance, some will be certain mannerisms, different interests, and whatnot.

*They stay in touch during the illustrating process and well past that cause its Mc and that otome protagonist powers are strong.

*Anyways, times pass, and you get yanked into he- The Devildom.

*Slowly starts recognizing the brothers, and small things fall into place cause Simeon you ain’t slick.

*Also

*Diavolo - “Allow me to introduce you, Mc. This is-”

*Mc- “SIMEON! YOU FUCKING NERD” *Simeon - “Mc, it's been too long”

*Diavolo - “wait-”

*Anyway onto the good shit

*Levi

*”The second lord attempted to steal the lord of corruption’s platypus, which could lay golden eggs”

*They hear Solomon say that once, don't even wait for Levi to finish.

*”i know you’re just repeating Solomon to get on my good side”

*Lore dumps how the Lord of Corruption not only got the platypus but why it could lay golden eggs.

*access into Levi’s room achieved (kinda)

*Levi’s being his good ol’ self, saying how just because you know a ‘bit’ about TSL doesn't make us friends or anything even close. And just because you tricked the dumbest of us into a pact (HEY!) doesn't mean you should even think about coming after me.

*It keeps going like that for a while. And then it turns back around to TSL and how they probably just read that off the fan wiki and aren't a real fan.

*Excuse me

*This just became the battle of the nerds which poor Solomon and Mammon are stuck in the crosshairs of.

*It finally escalates to You challenging him to a TSL trivia battle

*no goating needed this time, Levi’s accepts immediately

*”Mc, why are we going to Simeon”

*”I just need his permission Mammon, then I will destroy his faith in friendship, brotherhood, and the goodwill of man.”

*The competition was brutal

*and at the very end

*”Wh…what…?...NO! THAT’S INSANE…THE LORD OF MASKS WOULDN'T DO THAT TO THE LORD OF SHADOWS!”

*What You had presented was a section of the unreleased 9th edition rough draft of TSL.

*Victory felt oh so sweet

*Until Levi tried to commit murder.

*But, you win, another pact mark under the belt and another story to tell the grandkids

*next morning

*”So, how did you get the script? Was it leaked or something, it can't be I would have heard about it…”

*”Levi, you have the graphic novels of TSL don't you, of course you do. Do me a favor and go get it”

*Shortly after leaving the table there is a scream and a loud thud coming from upstairs.

#obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mc #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #mammon #obey me solomon #om! leviathan #obey me imagine #solomon #obey me crack #this is the most self indulget piece of fanfiction ever #and most likley the only piece ever #im an artist #not an author #obey me simeon #simeon

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kochanski · 11 months

Text

Promotion

Rimmer/Lister, rated T, no real content warnings to speak of. Pre-accident fic. Rimmer gets a promotion and drives Lister absolutely bonkers. (This is a repost so you can read while AO3 is down/for further archival purposes.)

Dave Lister's life was hell.

Alright, maybe it wasn't hell, but it was pretty damn close now that Rimmer'd actually somehow gone and managed to cheat his way past the engineering exam. Just like that, everything Lister had worked so hard for the past two years was gone. For months he'd been slowly replacing those stupid little newspaper clippings with his own parody versions, and Rimmer hadn't even noticed as he'd shoved everything he owned into a baby-vomit green rolling suitcase, happy as a smegging clam. Now, the cup full of mold Lister'd been painstakingly feeding and watering served no purpose except occasionally giving him pneumonia.

His new bunkmate was mind-numbingly boring, which was saying something considering Rimmer had an aglet collection. Aglets. As in, the little hard bits at the ends of your shoelaces. Lister hadn't ever even given them a second thought before he'd moved in with Rimmer, and now every time he looked down at his scuffed old boots all he saw was double-punched brass-plated smegging aglets.

His bunkmate didn't even really have a proper name, because Lister couldn't remember it for the life of him. He was a completely average-looking guy, a little pudgy, with a round face and a mop of dark hair up top that he didn't bother combing in the morning. Well, relative morning. Lister and his roommate worked opposite shifts, so they only ever saw each other two hours a day. That meant there wasn't anyone to complain when Lister brought out his guitar, because good old Fireman Sam was off auditing the fire suppression systems or some such boring thing.

It also meant Lister had a lot of alone time. Lots of time to think. To ponder how he was wasting his youth slaving away for JMC, how once this tour was over, he wouldn't even have enough saved up for the plane ride to Fiji, how he'd be stuck here for thirty more years if he wanted a decent pension.

God, Rimmer, look what you've done, he thought bitterly. I could be cutting nipple holes in all your uniform shirts, and instead I'm thinking about me future. He couldn't bring himself to torment the new guy, not when he seemed like a nice enough sort of bloke. Or, at least, mumbled "have a good shift" from the pile of blankets in the bottom bunk as Lister pulled on his boilersuit, which was nicer than anything his previous bunkmate had ever said to him.

The bunkroom stuff was all a bunch of minor gripes, though, compared to what his work life was like now. Because, see, Rimmer wasn't just a technician anymore. He was an engineer. That meant he was bound to turn up right as Lister was finishing up his normal maintenance routine- smacking the vending machine up on five-oh-two with a spanner until it worked- and insist on reprogramming the thing for four hours.

Worst, now that Rimmer was an engineer, it actually meant something when he handed citations up the chain, because Chief Engineer Callaghan didn't tolerate disruptions. Lister thought Rimmer was off his rocker, but after a disciplinary meeting with old Callaghan, he'd learnt a new definition of wrath. So, sure, maybe Rimmer still didn't actually wield any of his own power yet, but as long as he still had his boss backing him up, he had Lister under his thumb.

"Why is it you've got to keep botherin' me, anyway? You can't tell me you get assigned to the exact same machines as me, every day."

"I don't see you every day. Thursday last week, we didn't cross paths at all." Rimmer crossed his arms. "Besides, I'm not the one bothering you. If anything, you're disrupting my work."

"I'm just saying, when it was you and me there weren't any engineers hovering around, towering over us like a giraffe in a goat pen."

"If that's a jab about my neck, Third Technician…" Rimmer clicked his pen with the sort of zeal only a bona fide maintenance engineer could muster.

"Write me up, Scotty," Lister sighed, not looking forward to the beet red bulldog jowls he was going to have to face tomorrow morning. Smeg, he couldn't even make a joke anymore. Not even a remark. Life was hell. Absolute hell.

---

Friday night was still a night for the boys, and Lister was all set to drown his sorrows in a few pints of lager and a few more pints of lager and one or two after that. If Lister was really lucky, he'd meet a nice girl tonight and Fireman Sam would have the room all to himself. More likely, he'd get sloshed beyond belief and wake up on the floor wedged in Petersen's bosoms again. Whatever else happened, he was certain of one thing: Friday was magic, it was sacred, it was blowing off steam after the horrid week and it was the only soothing ritual he had left, besides cutting up his nudie magazines and making Franken-porn.

"Why the long face?" Chen asked him as he sat down. "Ya look hungover and it ain't even Monday mornin' yet." This earned a collective chuckle from Selby and Petersen.

"It's just work," Lister said. "I don't wanna talk about it, let's get plastered."

That was the thing- when he said that, they all started drinking and carrying on like normal, but Lister couldn't quite enjoy himself. Maybe a few Fridays ago, he'd have been living in the moment, right, not thinking about the consequences, the future being the farthest thing from his mind, but… well, now all he could think about was that Friday was fleeting and in a few hours it would be Saturday, and mere hours after that it would be Monday and he would wake up, get ready, quiet as so not to disturb his bunkmate who'd just gone to bed, and wander the corridors wheeling a heavy trolley until the biggest tool on the ship decided to show up.

"Hello, Listy," someone said in his ear, and he jumped, scared out of his skin that he'd somehow summoned Monday three days ahead of schedule.

"Oh, smeg off." He had to restrain himself from taking a swing at Rimmer's smug grin. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I don't have exams to prep for anymore, and since I'm not your direct superior, it's no longer unethical for me to come over and have a drink with you, is it?"

"Yer nose is unethical," Selby started, but Lister motioned for him to stop.

"Just don't," he hissed, afraid that angering Rimmer would make things even worse.

"Why?" Petersen asked helpfully in that slow, deep Danish drawl of his. "You like him all of a sudden?"

"No, look-"

"Well, if ya like him so much-" God damnit, Chen. "-how's about you marry him, then?" Guffaws from the whole table.

"Just leave him alone, alright?" He turned to Rimmer. "And, you. Can't you give me one evening of peace? I mean, I have to spend fifty hours every week with you, I'd think that's enough quality time for the both of us."

"Right, but that's work. This is leisure time." Rimmer grabbed a chair from a nearby table where a woman had just gotten up to get peanuts, shoving his way into the group. "So. I imagine you've all heard that I finally made engineer, haven't you?"

"Tell the truth, I thought you died," Selby admitted. "Lister said he got a new bunkmate, so I figured you spaced yourself or pulled a Mad Jonesy and ran off to live on the diesel decks."

"I- no, why would I do either of those things? No, our friend Lister here has completely misrepresented the situation. I passed my exams, became a well-respected engineer, and now I can finally move on to other conquests, like friendship."

"Conquests," Petersen laughed, but Lister's stomach was starting to sink as he realized what was happening.

He was Rimmer's friend. Rimmer's only friend. Rimmer wasn't his friend, but he was Rimmer's. He was the only person Rimmer had probably ever spoken to for more than five minutes who hadn't immediately made an excuse and left the room.

God, he was doomed.

"Rimsy," he said in a strained voice. "Could you an' I take a little timeout for a sec?"

"Oh. Well, I suppose. You haven't properly congratulated me on my promotion, anyway."

"Oh, yeah, Listy," Selby said with his big fat mouth. "Better go congratulate him."

"Congratulate him so good," Petersen added, and Chen's chittering laughter followed.

"Smeg off," Lister snapped, and he headed for the door, not bothering to check if Rimmer followed him out.

"Finally. I don't understand why you spend time with those brutes, Lister. You simply shouldn't put up with that relentless bullying-"

"You know why they're bullying me?" he asked, exasperated. "They're picking on me because of you."

"What? But I'm an engineer now. If anything, that should rocket your social status right to the tippy-top."

"No, exactly. That's what they think is hilarious, that right there."

"That… that I'm an engineer?"

"That you think bein' an engineer suddenly makes you a cool guy," Lister said, exasperated. "No matter what you do, what your rank is, you're always going to be Rimmer. And I know it, and they know it, but you somehow can't get it through your thick head. That's what's hilarious. And now you've decided to hang off me arm like a barnacle with abandonment issues-"

"But- I- But this is the best we've gotten on in years," Rimmer protested, eyes cemented on his shoes. "I genuinely thought it was because you were beginning to respect me."

"It's because if I do anything out of line, you rat on me to Callaghan, and all of a sudden I've got a chief engineer up my arsehole and all my video privileges revoked for six months!"

"I… see." Rimmer took a deep, fluttery breath, the kind you took when you were trying really really hard not to burst into tears in front of your mates. "I suppose I'll see you Monday, then," he mumbled.

"S'pose you will," Lister said, and he stormed off down the hall, not even in the mood to drink his sorrows away.

---

The weekend had been a total bust. Lister hadn't properly blown off any steam whatsoever. Monday morning came around, and he just laid uselessly in bed, listening as the doors whooshed open and Fireman Sam came in.

He undressed in the dark, doing everything quietly so as not to wake Lister, and then snored softly in the bottom bunk. He was so considerate that way- no Esperanto-lessons-while-you-sleep tapes, no practicing his Schalmei horn at odd hours (come on, Lister, it's not any different than your guitar) and no rambling, one-sided conversations that started just as Lister was finally beginning to drift off. If Fireman Sam had been his bunkmate from the beginning, maybe Lister wouldn't have been so sleep-deprived all the time.

Not that it made any difference now. Lister had spent the night tossing and turning, mourning his ruined weekend, hoping beyond hope that somehow he would close his eyes and open them and that the alarm clock would read "SA" instead of "MO."

It wasn't meant to be.

Evidently their little row had gotten Rimmer wound even tighter than he was normally, and Lister had to pay extra attention to what he was doing.

"It's the wrong screwdriver," Rimmer insisted.

"Yeah, the screw's stripped. I have to use the flathead."

"Well, what about the square drive?"

"That's going to make it worse," Lister muttered, but he picked up the square drive and gave it a half-hearted try.

"Come on, Lister. If you can't get this panel cover off, I'm not going to be able to reprogram the temperature controls. Cold showers for the whole floor, Lister, is that what you want?"

"I-" God, he couldn't. "No, sir." He bit his tongue and kept turning the square drive until the center of the screw was completely hollowed out.

"Well, now you've gone and done it," Rimmer scoffed. "Give me the flathead, I'll fix it myself."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't give me cheek, Lister, or I'll write you up. I'm not in the mood."

"All I said was 'yes, sir!'"

"Right, but it's the way you said it. It's about basic decency and respect."

"I am being respectful."

"All I'm saying is, you could say it in a nicer tone, couldn't you? Service with a smile and all?"

Lister was about to burst. Seriously, he might explode right here and now. He wasn't sure what was going to happen next. Either he was going to peel Rimmer's skin off and start eating him alive, or he was going to shove the square drive up his own nose until it reached his brain.

"There we are. See? It's so easy to solve our problems when we use the correct tools, isn't it?"

Thwack.

Lister's knuckles hurt, and he realized too late that he'd punched Rimmer in the face.

"I- Christ, mate, I didn't mean to- I mean- look, you don't have to-"

"Lister," Rimmer said, oddly cool, though his eyes were watering and there was a definite bruise forming on his cheekbone. "Get the first aid kit."

"Y… yes, sir," he said, certain now that he could say goodbye to the next three weekends, at least.

There was something strange about Rimmer today, as evidenced by the fact that he hadn't clicked his pen and damned Lister to thirty-plus hours of janitorial purgatory yet.

"Here's the medical kit," Lister said, unsure what to make of the whole thing. Rimmer shook his head, patting the spot next to him on the floor.

"Sit."

"What, why?"

"You broke it, so you're the one who's going to fix it."

Lister couldn't argue that. Well, he could, but he really didn't want Rimmer to write him up for this. So he sat down cross-legged next to the prick and opened the box.

"I'm not missing any teeth?" Rimmer asked, curling his lips back.

"No, no. I didn't think I hit you hard enough for that."

"You hit me pretty damn hard."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Oh, come now. You shouldn't apologize unless you mean it, and I know you don't."

"How's that?"

"You hate me. Of course you're not sorry. You hate me just like all the others, maybe more. No- definitely more." Rimmer smiled weakly. "Right, then. Put the ointment on."

Lister handed him the ointment, confused when Rimmer didn't accept it.

"You put it on."

"Rub this on your face?"

"Yes."

"With my hand?"

"Good point. Clean those things first."

"But can't you do this yourself?"

"It's called a power play, Lister. I gave you an order, so do it, or I really will report you for punching a senior officer."

Hm.

Hmm.

Alright.

Lister rubbed some sanitizer over his fingers first, then squeezed some of the topical cream out of its tube. This was the good stuff- he'd used it plenty of times after his own scrapes. Probably, Rimmer would wake up tomorrow morning righter than rain, no soreness, no discoloration. Like it'd never happened. And Lister would still have Friday night.

It was odd, though, smudging paste on Rimmer's swollen cheek, sort of a strangely tender moment. Like they were in the trenches in some old war movie, and he was dressing Rimmer's wounds with the kind of care you reserved for the guy you'd gone through hell with. Nevermind that Rimmer was the hell.

"Excellent," Rimmer murmured when he'd finished. "There's just one more thing I want from you before you pack it up."

"Okay?"

"Kiss it better."

"What?"

"Well, not like that."

"Yeah, an adult man kissing another adult man on the cheek. S'the most heterosexual thing I've heard all week."

"It's meant to be like a mafia kiss. You kiss the ring as- as a show of fealty, you know, a sign of respect."

"But I don't respect you."

"You'll have to, now."

"But if I don't respect you, and I don't mean it, then it's just a gay kiss, isn't it?"

"What sort of logic is that?" Rimmer shook his head. "You're not squirming out of this one. I want you to show me I'm the boss, and it's this or licking the soles of my boots."

Lister considered it very, very, very hard.

"Oh, grow up."

"Fine, I'll give you the smeggin' gay kiss. But in exchange, I want a week off. No threats, no hoverin' over my shoulder, no showing up on my days off."

"You're not in any position to bargain," Rimmer started, but before he could decline the deal Lister put his lips to Rimmer's cheek.

Sure, he could've gone the easy route, given him a second-long peck and been done with it. But this was a prime opportunity to mess with Rimmer, his only opportunity in weeks, and Lister'd been going through withdrawals.

So he lingered a second or two too long, nuzzling Rimmer's cheek with his nose and suppressing a laugh when he felt it go red-hot with embarrassment.

"How's that for respect?" Lister said softly, still only about a centimeter from Rimmer's massive head. "Prick."

"A week," Rimmer nodded hurriedly. "A week is great. Fine."

---

Those first four days might well have been heaven. Work went smoothly without Rimmer around to sabotage things, and Lister actually finished his tasks ahead of schedule most days, with plenty of time to bum around. When Rimmer did show up, which wasn't often, he was quiet and avoided eye contact. It suited Lister just fine. And that seemed to confirm what he'd suspected- Rimmer didn't actually need to stalk along his route every day, and had been doing it out of either straight up sadism or desperation for social contact.

Lister still couldn't enjoy his Friday night.

To be fair, it had started out fine. The four of them- the boys, him, Chen, Selby and Petersen, terrors of the disco- were on the pull, eager to make up for last week's disappointment. And there was a new face in town, an decent-looking astro surveyor with curly dark hair down to her waist, and Lister had managed to talk her into a dance somehow.

They swayed along to the noise from the speakers- some artificially nostalgic 70s cover of a 40s cover of a song from the 2090s- and Belinda, or Brittany, Berta, whatever it was, wrapped her arms around Lister's neck.

"Thanks for the warm welcome," she smiled, and kissed Lister's cheek, her fingers flitting across the side of his neck.

"I need the toilet," Lister blurted. He tore her hand away and made a run for it, leaving the poor woman standing in the middle of the dance floor, utterly confused and probably a bit insulted.

Goddamn Rimmer. Smegging Rimmer. He couldn't even leave Lister in peace for one week, had to go and ruin something as lovely as a kiss on the cheek.

Yeah, so maybe it was Lister's own fault that the ghost of Rimmer past was haunting him tonight, but that didn't mean he couldn't get mad about it. He stared in the mirror at the lipstick mark on his left cheek. It looked a bit like a bruise.

He wasn't going back to Brenda's tonight, was he.

---

"There," Lister sighed, checking his watch. "The week's officially up. You can torment me again."

"Good, because I've been dying to remind you that you can't use your pliers as a hammer. You'll ruin them that way."

"Fine, so you try fitting a hammer between these supports."

"I'm not going to do your job for you. Just try to hit it at an angle."

"What angle? Me arm's inside the smegging wall!"

Rimmer clicked his pen.

"Alright, alright," Lister muttered, picking up the hammer.

"Alright…?"

"Yes, I heard you, I'm doing it."

"That's not how you speak to your superiors."

"Alright, sir," he grumbled.

"Better." Rimmer hovered closer. "You know, I think you and I could possibly learn to get along. Reach a sort of… common ground."

"What is this about?" Maybe the week of silence had made him lonely.

"No need to sound so suspicious. All I'm asking for is a little cooperation. I scratch your back, you scratch mine."

"Is this more fake mafia nonsense? Are you going through one of your phases?"

"No, Lister, I'm proposing a ceasefire. I'm sure you had a rather restful week, and I'd like to extend that privilege to you again. One more week, in exchange for…" He struggled with the next words, and they came out in a jumble. "Another kiss."

"Hmm." Lister put the hammer down. "Well, I'd be crazy not to take a deal like that. Even if you chargin' a protection fee for a problem you created is mad shady."

"There's a catch." Rimmer stared down at his clipboard, lips tight, toying with the metal clip. Snap. Snap. Snap. "I want it on the mouth this time."

"Ah."

"Of course, one could argue that leveraging my power over you for- for romantic-adjacent means could be taken as unethical. So. If you took this deal, the reports to Callaghan would naturally have to stop for fear that you would report me back."

"Oh, naturally," Lister parroted.

"It would be a stalemate. You and I would be on equal terms again."

"You must be desperate to kiss somebody."

"It's not like that! This is- it's an equalizer, you understand. It's quid pro quo. It's a non-zero-sum situation."

"You must be desperate to kiss me."

"No- it's a- it's a pawn sacrifice in our little battle of wits. It's just to- it's to level the playing field, it's a tactical move-"

Rimmer went on like that for a few more rambling sentences, giving Lister a moment to mull it over.

The prospect of another week was tempting, but more than that… he wanted to take him up on another kiss, didn't he? There was a pretty sizable part of him that got all tingly at the thought of pressing Rimmer against the wall of the corridor, showing him who was boss. That'll teach you, telling me not to ruin my pliers. Mwah.

At the same time- he'd turned down the opportunity to spend the weekend in bed with a beautiful, smart, funny woman with huge cans. If this continued, Rimmer was probably going to ruin him. Probably had done.

"Well?" Rimmer asked, gripping the clipboard so hard his fingers had turned white.

"Okay," Lister said, against his better judgement. "You've got a deal."

---

Of course as soon as they'd shaken on it, the once-empty corridor had come alive with the bustle of miners and technicians hurrying down the hall on their lunch break.

"Look, come to my quarters after your shift," Rimmer had murmured below the chattering crowd, pressing a scrap of paper into Lister's hand. "I have a single now. Engineers get single rooms." Oh, smegging engineers.

It was a nice room, though, only a little smaller than the one they'd shared. With some amusement, Lister noticed the fake clippings he'd made were sitting in the bin- how long had it taken Rimmer to notice? Although there wasn't a window, there was a nice armchair bolted to the floor near the foot of the bed, which would be perfect for all the pretending to read Rimmer did. There was an angled desk with some nice-looking diagrams of something clipped onto it, which Lister understood absolutely none of. Dots and lines. He realized Rimmer had drawn it after a few moments of squinting- there was that telltale block lettering, almost perfect except for the squashed O's and unfinished R's. Huh. It made a twisted sort of sense that he'd be good at this. Rimmer had always liked taking a ruler to a perfectly good piece of paper and turning it into a schedule from Satan's nightmares.

Other than that, the room wasn't that interesting. Lister had done all the snooping he wanted to do, and twenty minutes later Rimmer was nowhere to be found. And sure, Lister knew Rimmer was a bit of a flake any time he needed to do something that involved even the tiniest bit of bravery. He waited until the last minute to get any of his shore-leave vaccinations, or didn't leave the ship at all. It was just- did he expect to be able to avoid his own bunk forever? Did he expect Lister to give up after a half-hour, go home, and pretend nothing had happened?

Lister laid back on the bed, shoes still on, smudged with grease, and made himself comfortable. Rimmer wasn't going to go back on this, not with a week of total blissful solitude on the line. Lister had no issue waiting it out. Actually… he looked around the room one more time. Like Rimmer'd said, they were equals again. Lister opened two of the pens sitting in a tray at the bottom of the desk and swapped the ink chambers. It was a lame prank, but he knew Rimmer would get disproportionately angry about it when he realized the black was writing in red and vice versa.

There was a hesitant knock on the door, and Lister jumped, diving back onto the bed.

"You- er- you're here," Rimmer gulped as he opened the door. "I halfway expected you wouldn't be."

"It took you long enough to get here. I thought you'd stood me up in your own room."

"They had me working on something down in the diesel decks," Rimmer sighed. "It took me ages to get there and back. To think, I got into this job because I didn't want to commute."

"I thought your dad forced you to sign up."

"It was a joke, Lister, I thought you enjoyed those."

Maybe Rimmer'd forgotten all about their deal, because he sat down in the armchair and took off his boots like it was just a normal day.

"Anyways, you wouldn't believe who I ran into down there. Do you remember that skutter- the one that was a shade of blue different than the others? The mispaint?"

"No way. Thunder's still around?" Lister couldn't contain his smile. "He was my favorite. Always let him bum a cig off me."

"You mean you used it as an ashtray," Rimmer scoffed.

"No, I swear the little bugger smoked 'em!"

"Well, from what I understand, they had to pull it apart to clean all the ashes out. But-" A smile tugged at the corners of Rimmer's mouth. "They didn't end up removing that little lightning bolt you drew on him. It's still there, if a bit chipped."

"You had a fit," Lister reminisced. "Defacing company property an' all."

"Well, it- yes. It's still a punishable offense. But, I don't know, seeing it now was a… moment of reprieve from an otherwise miserable sort of day."

There was a second or two there, Rimmer smiling to himself, where maybe Lister would have kissed him without any strings attached. No- this was still Rimmer, after all. They were only getting along because they'd finally had the opportunity to spend time apart. As soon as the smothering began again, Lister would be back to hating him.

"Let's get this over with," he insisted. "I've got things to do."

"You're so right, Listy. I wouldn't want to keep you from curing cancer or building the galaxy's first quantum engine." Rimmer twirled into the spot next to him on the bed, fingers picking at the seam of his crisp uniform pants. "Get to it, then," he said quietly.

Lister took Rimmer by the chin, tilting his head so that they were face-to-face. It felt uncomfortable. Rimmer clearly had no idea where to look, his eyes flitting from meeting Lister's gaze to his mouth to his forehead.

"Close your eyes, alright?"

"I'll keep them open, if it's all the same."

"That's unnatural. Just close 'em."

"I don't trust you. You're going to do something weird, I just know it."

"Maybe I would normally, but I want a week of peace an' quiet. Close your eyes and relax." Lister put his hands on Rimmer's shoulders, lowering them by a few inches, and Rimmer sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. Much better.

It wasn't as difficult to kiss him as Lister had thought it would be.

Obviously he'd been stuck on the first one for a week, but he thought for sure there'd be some sense of disgust when it happened for real. Rimmer would do something off, and he'd wake up and realize he was snogging the human equivalent of queuing at the post office, and that would be that.

Instead, Rimmer's lips felt like… lips. By some miracle, his hands made their way to the sides of Lister's neck and jaw, and his breath was warm on Lister's cheeks. He knew how to kiss, which was a pleasant surprise, even if it was a little unsteady, and his lips clung to Lister's, alternating top and bottom, softer than expected. He smelled good- kind of sweaty, yeah, considering the belly of the ship could get miserably cold or miserably hot depending on what section you were in. But it was a good smell. Soapy.

Lister hadn't noticed they'd been kissing for so long, too wrapped up in the experience, and he quickly pulled away.

"That's one week," he said. Rimmer had definitely noticed.

"Yes. One week, as promised." Rimmer paused. "Of course, we- we could do it in bulk."

"Bulk?"

"Get another one out of the way, while you're here. I doubt you'll want to come all the way back here again come next Monday, will you?"

"You have a point," Lister agreed. He didn't. He didn't have a point, not really, but at this point any excuse to just stay in this weird warm spot was a good one. "Two weeks."

"Two weeks," Rimmer nodded, and he leaned in.

Lister scooted forward, throwing his arms around Rimmer's neck like they belonged there. Comfortable. Something about this was comfortable.

This kiss was a lot shakier than the last, as though whatever courage Rimmer had plucked up was quickly faltering. That was alright- Lister stroked the soft hairs on the back of his neck, satisfied when Rimmer shuddered. It was so easy. It felt so easy.

"Th- three?" Rimmer stuttered after they'd separated.

"Yeah. Three."

---

It was only eighteen hours into the month and a half Lister'd earned when Rimmer came to bother him again.

"What's this about?" he groaned.

"You know damned well what this is about," Rimmer said, holding up two pens.

"Ah, c'mon, man, you left me alone in the room. You knew the risk."

"I'm not angry," Rimmer lied through his teeth. "I just want you to fix it."

"Can't you do it yourself? You're not holdin' up our agreement."

"I can't, Lister, it's the principle of the thing. You broke it, you fix it."

"Ohhh." Lister put down his tools. "You can't, can you?"

"It's the principle of the thing," Rimmer repeated.

"You're a big bad engineer, and you can't figure out how to take a pen apart."

"Just fix it, alright?" he squeaked, shoving the pens at Lister.

Lister laughed and pulled the ends off, swapping the cartridges easy as anything.

"Thank you," Rimmer said tersely. "Touch my things again, by the way, and I don't care about our agreement- I can and will disembowel you and use your entrails as a jump rope."

"Sure, Rimmer," Lister smiled. "Anything else you need?"

"I… well, no, that was it. I suppose I should bid you adieu."

"Yeah. Guess you should."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Actually-" Lister pointed at the mess of wiring inside the junction box. "You're killer at organizing things. You could help me with this mess."

"Well, Lister, I'm a very busy man, and I have a lot on my plate, but… for old time's sake, maybe I could slot it into my schedule."

"Thanks," Lister said, stepping aside and slipping Rimmer a handful of connectors. "So, the travellers are the real problem…"

---

"You seem a lot less depressed." Selby nudged him. "C'mon, don't hold out on us. What's her name?"

"What d'you mean?" Lister laughed. "I can't just be happy for no reason?"

"You?" Chen shook his head. "You're a gloomy fucker in between relationships."

"Ja. You always have this look like a puppy kicked you," Petersen added.

"I think it's 'like a kicked puppy.'"

"I'm happily single," Lister insisted, nursing his pint glass. "Maybe work's gone better than usual."

"So, what? They fired Rimmer?"

"No. We're just- we get on now, y'know?" This line of conversation was really dangerous. Lister doubted the boys cared a lick if he kissed a bloke- it was more the fact that he'd kissed Rimmer that would make him into an instant pariah. Well. Not a pariah, but he'd never hear the last of it, never ever. "Er- yeah, I think us not being stuck together day and night makes it easier not to toss him down an elevator shaft."

"How's bunking with Tillery? I heard he's a total bore."

"Who?" It took Lister a second to realize they were talking about Fireman Sam, and the next second the nickname had sent the group into a fit of laughter.

"That's just perfect!" Chen chittered like a hyena. "Spot on!"

"Look, he's a nice guy. I just don't get to have a lot of-" Lister's eyes caught a figure standing awkwardly in the middle distance. "Ah, hey, I've got to use the head. Watch me beer, yeah?"

"Too much spicy food," Petersen scolded him. "I told you to stay away from those vending machine curries."

"Right, shame on me," Lister said, making a quick escape.

"Rimmer, what are you doing here?"

"Not- I wasn't here to bother you," he said frantically. "I didn't even know you'd be here tonight. I was just- trying something different."

"No, it's good to see you out. I always said you needed to get your nose out of those boring war books and make some friends." Lister gingerly grabbed his elbow, steering him towards an alcove where they'd be less likely to be seen by his group.

"Unsurprisingly, I'm not having any luck in that pursuit. As it turns out, you were right about not many people being impressed by my status." He sighed. "This was sort of a last attempt, before I go back to studying for the astronavigation exam. At least as an officer, I'll command some sort of respect-"

"What? But you're a brilliant engineer."

"I- no I'm not?" Rimmer's confusion was genuine. "You think I'm a good engineer?"

"I've seen those drawings you did. Those were really good, I think. I mean, I didn't know what any of it meant, but it looked good."

"Oh." He looked pale and shaken, like Lister had just told him how he was going to die.

"Anyways-" Lister glanced back towards the table. Petersen had drank his beer pretty much immediately after he'd left. "I should get back to my boys, but… I dunno, I'll see you Monday?"

"Next next Monday," Rimmer nodded.

"Well- yeah, next next Monday." It was what Lister'd earned, after all.

---

It felt like forever until the next time Rimmer asked him for a kiss. At some point, Lister had given in and taken to fantasizing about him- those soft curly hairs on the back of his neck, the way his breath stank of regulation toothpaste, the little tremors in his breath when they pulled apart.

It was the day today, and Lister couldn't help but feel nervous despite himself. There was absolutely a non-zero chance that Rimmer wasn't going to ask him. Maybe he'd changed his mind, or met someone, against all odds. Maybe he would chicken out, like always, and he wouldn't even show up to work.

He did the unthinkable and showered, scrubbing everything clean, brushing his teeth furiously until all he could taste was mint and blood. He put on his least ratty boilersuit, cursing the fact that he hadn't done his laundry in a week.

"Mmrph," Tillery grunted from the bottom bunk as the door slid open, leaching fluorescent light into the dark room.

"Sorry, man," Lister whispered. "You get some rest."

"You look… nice," Rimmer said stiffly. "Surely you didn't gussy up for my sake."

"Have a date tonight," Lister lied on impulse, and he immediately wanted to shoot himself out an airlock for that one.

"Oh." A pause. "So you probably don't want to-"

"No, we can. We can." He set his wire strippers back in the tool cart, giving up the pretense of working. "This floor's kind of deserted, right, I mean- it's just all cargo bays and machinery-"

"So you think you'll just get it all out of the way now, and go about your day." Rimmer was angry! His arms were at his hips, jaw squared, angry, and Lister hadn't realized how much he missed this expression.

"If you don't want to-"

"No, Lister, I do. Let's. Let's go behind the pallets of astronaut diapers. I can't think of any better place to do it."

"Look, if-"

"Come on," Rimmer snapped, and he briskly made his way into the labyrinthine supply stacks. Lister followed, unsure if he'd smegged the whole thing up yet or not.

Bam.

Rimmer grabbed him by the collar, pushing him against a large metal crate, and Lister hated what that did to his downstairs.

"Oh, Rimmer," he sighed, smirking when Rimmer turned bright red.

"You- Just so you're aware, I'm changing the price."

"You what?"

"I think a whole week is too cheap. You're getting far too bold, knowing you can just banish me for months at a time. So-" He loosened his grip, unsure- "One day."

"A day?" Lister tried to seem irritated. "Only a day, for all this?"

"It's- it's just what's fair. I'm not a lowly technician anymore, and I'm re-evaluating myself."

"Alright, well, can we still do it in bulk?"

"Fine."

"Then I'm gonna do a month. Get it out of the way."

"What?" Rimmer froze. "Here?"

"Mhmm," Lister hummed, pulling Rimmer forward by his tie.

The first kiss was electric, brilliant, and Lister could feel all the tension in him release. When Rimmer started to pull away, he tugged the tie again, biting his bottom lip gently. Stay there.

This wasn't going to be a quick process. He was going to keep Rimmer's mouth on his mouth all shift. He was going to get way behind on repairs.

Lister didn't let Rimmer get a word out before the second kiss happened. This time, Rimmer's tongue slipped between his lips, awkward, and their teeth clicked as he pushed Lister back up against the container, and it was sloppy and messy and a little gross and absolutely perfect.

And then the third kiss…

---

Dave Lister was in heaven. Or, close to it.

He didn't mind his job so much. At least, it was sort of satisfying building things, fixing things, and he was good at it. Every Friday night, he went to one of six bars with his boys and got absolutely sloshed. And then, Saturdays.

Saturdays he spent in Rimmer's fancy single room, because they'd gotten caught a few times kissing in the corridor or in whatever corners they could find, so it was far more practical to just come over to Rimmer's and do it there.

And sometimes he stayed over, and it turned into Sunday.

"Wait," Rimmer said as Lister climbed into his bed one evening. "I don't think we can keep doing this."

"What?"

"Well- we're returning to Earth in a week. I don't want to owe you."

"You won't owe me, Rimmer, if anything you'll be sticking to the agreement. I mean, if you're up here and I'm down there, you won't have any problem avoiding me the whole day." They often had to re-do days or even weeks. It was sort of a flimsy excuse at this point.

"Right, but it's… I don't know. I suppose you're right."

"Hey. Don't look so gloomy."

"It's our last Saturday on the same assignment."

"I'm here now," Lister said, and he earned himself another day, pressed it gently against Rimmer's lips.

"You're still dead set on going back to Liverpool?" Rimmer asked when they separated.

"Yeah. I've been away from home long enough. Four years, and the place is probably all paved over."

"As it should be," Rimmer clucked. "I don't see what's so great about Liverpool. It's a slum compared to Io."

"There's tons to love about it."

"Name one good thing that ever came out of that blasted city."

"The Beatles?"

"Well-" He struggled. "So what? That was two hundred years ago."

"You like me well enough, and I came from there." Lister stroked Rimmer's cheek, delighted when he turned pink.

"A whole town full of Listers." Rimmer made a disgusted face.

"You'd love it. We have trees there, real ones, not like that bio-engineered crap you have on Io. It's historical, too, you could learn all about your world wars and trains and ships and things."

"Historical, how would you know? You've never been in a museum in your life."

"Been to the Beatles museum."

"Oh, of course you have."

"I'm serious," Lister continued. "You'd be happy in Liverpool, you know. I mean, it's a welcoming place. They need maintenance engineers everywhere, and you could get a cute little flat above a shop somewhere, make some friends who aren't half-mad from spaceship fumes…"

"I'd walk down the street and have a panic attack. There's no routine there, you know. People just walk around willy-nilly doing whatever they want."

"Sure there's a routine. It's just not enforced by anyone, y'know, it's like the city breathing in and out. There's real days there, people follow the sun. And I'd be in town. I'd help you figure it out."

"A week to move my entire life from outer space to England isn't enough time," he protested.

"Your entire life is about two lockers worth of stuff. And anyways, you could stay with me at my gran's old place for a couple weeks. I wouldn't mind."

"It's been abandoned for four years. It's probably caved in and full of vermin."

"So help me fix it up. And I'll owe you."

Rimmer leaned in, kissing the corner of Lister's mouth. Twelve hours.

"Lister," he said softly. "What happens when you get off this ship and you aren't stuck with me anymore?"

"I guess you'll be stuck with me instead, then, won't you?"

Rimmer went quiet for a moment, glancing away.

"I… I'll think about it."

They went back to necking without any further discussion.

And as much as Lister loved this new sense of desperation, the way Rimmer dug his fingers hard into his back, the soft moans Rimmer might have usually suppressed, he couldn't help the brick of disappointment that sank heavy to the bottom of his stomach.

---

The shuttle was mostly empty. Really just Lister and Selby. Chen was going to stay on another few days while the ship was docked with that blonde bird he'd been seeing, Petersen was signed up for another tour.

It had been sad, saying goodbye to this great red beast that had let Lister squirm around in its belly for a whole four years.

He'd said goodbye to Holly, and the vending machine that always gave him double rations ever since he fixed its intake valve. He'd tried and failed to find Thunder to smoke one last cig together, and settled on leaving a few scattered around the diesel decks where he thought no one would immediately find them.

He'd given Tillery a long, tight hug, much to Tillery's vague confusion, told him he'd been the best bunkmate ever, decided against telling him who'd started the now ship-wide Fireman Sam nickname.

And he hadn't heard anything from Rimmer.

He hadn't heard a single word since two days ago.

And it made sense- Rimmer hated change, and he hated getting jabbed with needles, and he hated the idea of leaving his comfortable, seasonless spaceship, with everything planned out for him for the next decade, down to the hour. He was a coward. And that was fine. Lister hadn't really expected him to change. He hadn't actually thought for more than a minute that Rimmer would run away to Earth with him. But smeg, he couldn't even have said goodbye after they'd been not-dating for a whole year?

"You alright, man?" Selby asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Fine. Just- y'know, feeling a bit down leaving this place. Might even be a bit homesick."

"Yeah. It was a good gig."

"It was a good gig," Lister nodded back.

FINAL CALL FOR BOARDING… PLEASE ENSURE ALL CARRY-ON LUGGAGE IS SECURED PROPERLY… the speakers blasted across the docking bay.

"Wait!" someone shrieked from outside.

"Look at that," Selby chuckled, but Lister wasn't in the mood to do anything but sulk. "No, look. Rimmer the engineer's out there, trying to haul around five suitcases."

"What?"

"Yeah! How does he think he's gonna fit all of that in the shuttle?" Selby laughed. "Typical- where are you going?"

Lister had unbuckled already, all-but-diving out the shuttle door.

"Oh, you smegging idiot, you dimwitted bastard of a man," he huffed, grabbing one edge of Rimmer's stupid heavy wooden trunk.

"Sorry," Rimmer wheezed. "The clerk told me I couldn't bring half of this on the shuttle- so- I had to complain at him for twenty minutes-"

"Yeah, they've got a cargo hold! You're s'posed to check this sort of thing!"

"And risk scuffing my father's trunk?" Rimmer said incredulously as they managed to get it across the threshold. Rimmer set down the rolling suitcase, large military backpack, and duffel bag he'd been carrying, and Lister immediately threw his arms around him, squeezing tight.

"You came. I didn't think you were going to come," he murmured into Rimmer's neck.

"I nearly didn't, thanks to the luggage clerk." Rimmer's fingers slid up Lister's back.

"Wait a second! You two- I knew it!" Selby hooted. "Oh, I fuckin' knew it! Oh, Chen owes me fifty dollar-pounds…" His excitement faded as he realized he was about to spend the better part of six hours stuck in a cramped shuttle with them.

The shuttle doors snapped shut and sealed with a hiss, and Lister reluctantly let go of Rimmer, grinning like a madman as he fastened himself back into the chair.

"You'd better be right about this," Rimmer muttered, glancing at Selby, red with embarrassment. "I can't believe I've derailed my entire life and career for you."

"Yeah, horrible decision on your part. But we'll figure it out, together." Lister smiled, sliding his fingers around Rimmer's hand, and in the next moment the shuttle roared to life. "Promise."

#red dwarf #rimster #writing #I am way too tired to remember what my summary was/write a decent one lol sorry...

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musekicker · 7 months

Text

A concept for a bunch of Helluva Boss oc's I'm working on. The general idea of this group is based off the theme of animes with one central love interest and multiple other possible other love matches (though in this case it will end in poly relationship) . I'm still trying to come up with more love interests ocs though. But here's what I have.

Pink: a imp, though possibly might have more to her then she knows...

Her horns are short, the tips curved back into a u shape. And she has a white slash mark scar over her chest, often covered up by clothes. Speaking of clothes, Pink's clothes generally have some element of it being pink. It Can be a pink patch, embroidery on the pocket, ribbons. The rest of her clothe might be black but other wise, a pop of pink.

Bubbly and fun loving. She does have a competitive side when it comes to games however so watch out.

Works at a cafe, though not allowed anywhere near any cooking equipment. She just can not cook. Does a great job as a waitress though, some customers loving her sweet attitude and her interest in how everyone is doing.

Oh, she also might have some form of power that she knows nothing about just yet.

Dove: a bird type demon, looking like a bleeding heart pigeon. From a rich family.

He always had liked to read books while drink coffee at the cafe that Pink works at now. Though Pink getting hired was a new thing to him. Something that shouldn't had really been something he really noticed. But then he saw her heart. Or rather, he saw her heart and could read nothing from it.

See, His power is to read peoples hearts and see their secrets. This works on almost everyone. But Pink is the only imp so far whose heart that Dove just can't read. It's his trying to figure out why that is that has him sticking around more and eventually bonding with Pink.

He becomes a good back up for Pink when things start to get dangerous.

Bite: a shark punk type woman, a pale tan color with brown spots. Her tail fin has three gold hoops in it, and she's always seen wearing a black coat, a fish hook stuck into the fabric of the jacket pockets.

The shark punk ended up in Pink's life when Pink was almost hit by a car. Bite had pulled her back just in time. After that, Bite becomes more a part of Pink's life when someone or something is after Pink. Thankfully Bite's a good fighter, and she sticks around when she realizes Pink might be in trouble.

Dove and Bite do not get alone most of the time, having a different way of looking at things and different personalities.

Bite is also looking for her missing sister.

Giggles: A orange furred, candle head goat with yellow eyes. She is on the short and fat side. Always wearing clothes with fun patterns.

Almost always laughing and making jokes. This is to do with her dream is to be a famous stand up comedian.

Giggles and Pink met when Giggles came to the cafe for performance night to do her stand up routine. She did not do well and Pink got her a snack and drink to be comforting. After that, whatever is coming after Pink goes after Giggles as well. Because of this, Giggles is brought into the household to keep her safe.

Best cook in the house really.

Her main reason for wanting to make people laugh is a sad one. Her parents were going through a messy divorce and when they got in yelling matches, Giggles would try to tell jokes and perform to keep her younger siblings from focusing the yelling. It didn't always work, but it did help.

#helluva boss

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worldismyne · 11 months

Text

Piper Ch 1

Rating: T

Pairing: Harv/Finn

Summary:There is a common misconception that witches steal children. The reason why varies depending on who you ask.

The truth is, when people don't want their children in Cailburry, they'll leave them in the forest and wash their hands of them.

This time, Finn found one.

(Takes place during Finn's 3rd/4th year at WU)

Ao3 link

Finn hated going into the garden by himself, especially at night. He knew, logically, that the rose bushes were no longer looming towers and Hevvin was too afraid to be lurking between them anymore. All the logic in the world did little against the clamor of his heart every time he had to venture more than a foot away from the front door. Mother had a headache and the garbage needed to be taken out, so if he didn't want the kitchen to smell in the morning he needed to venture outside.

He lugged the indoor bin to the refuse heap where their discarded food slowly decomposed into a soil mother used for the gardens. Every light in the house was left on, but couldn't reach the far end of the yard where Finn had to walk. Dewy roses in the shadows always made a chill run down his spine. He dumped out the bin as quickly as he could when something shiny in the brush caught his eye. It was too slick to be one of the yellow roses, too pink to be a stone. Not that mother kept any stones in the flower beds anyway.

He grabbed a spade and tentatively poked it. It was soft, pitting under the pressure of the blade, with something hard underneath the surface. He recoiled, expecting something to jump out or run away. Nothing happened. He nudged it again with the space, this time rocking the mass forward. When it rolled back, more of it fell into the light. Finn immediately dropped the spade. There were few times he'd risk injuring himself to fish something out of the bushes. This was one of those times.

-0-

Harv was used to Finn having a very loose understanding of things like personal boundaries and time. Getting strange phone calls at all hours of the day was a common occurrence, especially when they had a day off from school and Finn was bored. That night Finn was in the middle of working on his midterm assignment, some kind of memorization thing. There was absolutely no reason Finn would want to call in the middle of the night, long after Harv's family had turned in for the evening.

"Can humans drink goat milk?" Finn had asked before Harv could ask him why he was even awake.

"Yes Finn, I- You know my family sells goat milk to people." Harv was ready to hang up the phone, but Finn started talking again.

"But, like, can babies have it?"

"...yeah, if you water it down and cook it." Harv groaned, longing to be asleep again. "Why?"

"I might need a few cups until the lost and found opens up. Someone dropped their baby while walking in the woods." Harv sat up, alarmed and fully awake.

"What do you mean someone 'dropped their baby'?"

"Well, I just assume that's what happened." Finn sighed at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She was naked and covered in dirt. I don't imagine that happens if you're keeping an eye on where your baby is. It was disgusting. When I was done hosing her off, there was white stuff stuck in her hair. It took three rounds of soap to get it out."

"You really shouldn't use soap on a newborn, Finn." Harv started gathering some of Puck's old stuff. The more Finn told him, the more sick to his stomach he felt. People normally wouldn't leave a newborn baby in that state if they wanted people to find them.

"Well, I wasn't just going to leave her covered in dirt and cheese, Harvey. I'm not a monster."

"I'm coming over." Harv filled a jar of milk and an old swaddle. "If she cries again, just give her something to suck on, like your knuckle." He wasn't sure what all Finn might need to know, given Finn had zero experience taking care of younger siblings. He could only imagine how much Finn would freak out if he had to change a nap. Was the baby even wearing one right now?

"She hasn't made a peep the whole time, but okay, weirdo."

"I'm not-" Harv paused loading up the basket. "She didn't cry when you were bathing her?"

"No, slept through the whole thing." That wasn't good. "Was she supposed to?"

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." He hung up the phone and rushed to the cart.

-0-

Harv pulled up to the large house in the woods, a warm glow coming from the downstairs window. Before he got a chance to knock on the large double doors, Finn had opened the small entrance to the home and lifted a single finger to his lips, his other hand pressed to his chest.

"Mother's sleeping." Finn gestured for him to come inside.

"You didn't-" He received a sharp glare from Finn and lowered his voice. "You didn't wake her up for this?"

"No? Mother has a strict 'outside things stay outside' policy." Harv gave him a mortified look. "I'm not completely useless in a crisis, I can handle a tiny human for twelve hours." Finn rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. "...but I'm glad you're here, I kinda need to use the bathroom." Harv looked all over the living room. There was a huge mess of blankets on the couch, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Where..." Harv turned and saw Finn open up the strange robe he was wearing and realized Finn's hand wasn't pressed against his chest, but holding the baby. As soon as her pale skin was exposed to the outside air, dark red spiderwebs spread across it. She was smaller than a head of lettuce with a puff of auburn hair. She didn't shiver or make a face, but she was breathing. Finn handed the unswaddled baby over to Harv and ran to the bathroom. Harv wrapped her in a blanket, but the webbing continued to spread up her cheeks. She couldn't keep herself warm. "Finn, how long has she been sleeping?" Finn popped his head out as he washed his hands.

"I don't know, a few hours." He dried his hands and came back into the room. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Finn, I don't know how to tell you this, but feeble babies usually don't..." He bit his lip. "If she doesn't eat, there's nothing we can do." She wasn't reacting to the sound of their voices or touch, but Finn scooped her up none the wiser and put her back against his chest. The warmth of his skin chased away the chill and the mottling in her cheeks disappeared.

"Then get her milk ready."

There was no telling how long she'd gone without food or when she was born, but Harv knew what his brothers looked like and all of them were twice her size and loud. Sleeping babies didn't latch to a bottle or breast. You couldn't just make a baby eat before they were ready. But Finn was insistent and there really was no harm heating up milk just to throw it in the trash.

Harv boiled a small batch on the stove in heavy silence, then poured the milk into a jar and ran it under a cold stream of water until it was a safe temperature to drink. He poured the milk into a small wooden boat called a pap. When he came back into the living room, Finn was cycling through scenes on the crystal ball.

They both tried to offer her the pap. Her mouth was slightly open, but she wouldn't latch or suckle. Neither the smell of the milk or a drop on her lips got her to move.

"Finn..." Harv didn't know what else to say. Finn dipped his finger in the milk and put a drop on her tongue. It rolled down and finally she closed her tiny jaw and gave a weak swallow.

"She's eating." Finn insisted, hoping to inspire confidence, but his expression was far grimmer. "Go get mother."

-0-

Just like Finn had feared, he was in trouble for dragging some strange thing in from outside, even if it was a baby. He had explained to both her and Harv how he'd gone outside to take out the trash and found her in the rose bushes. At first, he thought the unicorn had gone and left one of his 'presents', but when he realized what it was, he couldn't in good conscience just leave her there.

"If I had a nickel for every time a dying kid ended up in my roses..." Leenan said. "What? I'd only have two, but it's weird it happened twice. I mean, the trash can was right there."

"Mother!" Finn knew his mom had a dark sense of humor, but Harv was not used to hearing such horrible things said for the sake of levity. Besides that, it was becoming clearer that she had not just been dropped, but purposefully left behind. Finn understood not wanting to deal with children, but not to this extent. He had managed to get a few drops of milk in her, but after a while, it was too hard for her to close her mouth and she had fully fallen asleep again. "Is there a spell or something you have that could make her better?" Finn said. Leenan sighed and sank into her chair.

"If she was sick, maybe, but she's not. She's just tiny and weak." Leenan said. Finn looked to Harv. He dealt with small living things all the time, but he also seemed to be of the opinion their options were limited. No lost and found or whatever peasants called it would take a child that couldn't eat. "We can keep trying to get her to eat little bits every few hours and hope she finds the energy; other than that, the best thing you can do is keep her warm." Leenan said with a shrug. Finn looked down at the little puff of hair that peaked through the folds of his robes, denial creeping back in. He had seen her swallow. There was still a chance they could make her eat. "You know, Finn didn't eat the first day either." Leenan recalled with a sad smile. "Then he vomited up this clear stuff, next thing I know he's hungry. So, there's still time." He knew she was trying to be comforting, but still.

"Must you embarrass me in front of my friend?"

"It's the middle of the night, you'll be lucky if that's the worst that happens." Leenan warned sternly. "Now then, let's get some tea going, hunh?" She went into the kitchen to grab the kettle and froze. Dirty towels and other gross things had been tossed around the floor and sink. "Finn did you put that baby in the good saucepan!?"

"Where else was I supposed to put her?" Finn shouted back. "She'd sink in the tub!" He heard the pan get tossed in the trash with the linens. "Well, don't throw it away if it's ruined, what if she gets dirty again?" Finn said. Harv pat him on the knee.

"I'll handle the cleanup." Harv could tell this was going to be a long and stressful night. At least they didn't have school to worry about tomorrow. They'd try to feed her again in an hour and hopefully at some point get some rest.

-0-

Finn had dozed off on the couch sometime after sunrise, having been unable to get the baby to take more than a few drops at a time, when suddenly a small sound came from under his robe. It was so quiet and short, Harv thought at first that a cat or a bird had wandered into the yard outside. A few minutes later, another short peep, more of a grunt then a cry. Finn was sleeping through it, but Harv wondered if finally the baby had woken up. He opened the front of Finn's robe and the small babe scrunched up her face and peeped again. As soon as Harv tried to lift her off Finn's chest, there was a hand on his wrist, and Finn sniffed as he woke up.

"What, what happened?"

*peep*

He looked down, shocked.

"I've never heard a baby cry like that, but maybe..." Harv tilted the pap to her lips, both of them too scared to move her. Finally, she took a full swallow of milk. She smacked her lips and stuck out her tongue, unable to root or open her eyes, but hoping another drink was out there waiting.

"Thank god." Finn was too exhausted to cry. She fell asleep after three swallows of milk, but it was more than she'd taken in twelve hours.

"Will you finally hand her over and get some sleep?" Harv asked. Finn looked down at her.

"You're going to hold her, right? You're not going to put her down?" Harv nodded, but Finn was still guarded. "Cause she starts changing colors if she's not on another person, I don't like it."

"I'll hold her the whole time, I promise." Finn sat up and carefully moved her from his chest for the first time in hours.

"Open your tunic."

"What, why?"

"Well, if you're not going to do it right, I'll just..." He went to sit back down.

"No, I'll do it. I just can't really." He lowered the neck of his shirt and Finn slipped her down his front. "Why's this so important?"

"She changes color less against skin." Finn said and yawned. He laid down on the couch, too tired to make the journey upstairs to his own room. Besides, part of him was terrified if he wasn't in the same room as her, she'd disappear or cry the whole time. He didn't want to risk it. He couldn't fight sleep any longer and drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Harv sighed, and leaned back in the chair, unable to do much now that he was stuck being a baby bed for the next hour or so. He felt her warm back up from the journey from one chest to the other. She opened and closed one of her hands, a single nail scratched gently against his chest. Her tiny breaths synced up with his, and each time seemed deeper and fuller than the last. When he accidentally held his breath too long, so would she. Weak as she was, she was listening to them. She was aware.

His time raising animals had taught him to try and be realistic, to not get too attached to a baby who'd yet to make it a hundred days out of the womb. It was easy to say Finn was being too stubborn when she was just a lump in his robe. It was harder to stay objective with her sleeping on top of him like this.

"If you don't keep eating, Finn's gonna kill me." Harv murmured. She moved her hand closer to her face.

#warrior u #fanfic #harvfinn #little finnharv things

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