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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

the sex party: i

(r18+)

shinsou hitoshi x reader

ao3

part 1 (you’re here!) || part 2

word count: ~7.1k

You and Hitoshi definitely have a thing for each other, but who would've thought that a 'sex party' would produce a confession?

warnings:

COLLEGE AU! characters are explicitly aged up to college students as early 20 year olds!

not really a sex party, mutual pining, friends to lovers, confessions, reader is canonically bi, brief momo x reader, light dom/sub, spanking, references to drug use, smoking (cigarettes, salem trademarked fic thing), drinking, and smut

there is a scene where there is attempted sexual assault. it is marked with ***** before and after.

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this.... this piece is a monster. i’ve been wrestling with it for a month and now its here for y’all. the second part is already out ;^)) thank you to @keiqos for being an absolute king and beta reader this monster. enjoy y’all!!

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You never imagined that you would be where you were. It was under weird circumstances, but god if you weren’t going to try and enjoy it.

The party you found yourself attending was lit with flashing lights and rainbow projections. There were two different DJs on various floors of the suburban mansion. They bumped out remixed club music, making the walls hum and thrum and bodies writhe and sweat. One of the kitchen counters was loaded with bottles and bottles of hard liquor and mixers.

You were quickly making a third mixie. Just a vodka soda, boringly. There were certainly more fun options, but you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about this party just yet. You were having trouble discerning whether this was a ‘gin and tonic millennial’ party or a ‘jungle juice in an old cooler’ party.

Denki and Jiro had convinced nearly two car-fulls of your friends to roll up. It sounded so fun, so wild!

“Yo! Our friends from the EDM scene are throwing a SEX party! You all should come! It’s at a mansion across town!”

Their ‘friends’ were two middle-aged, white hippies who did a lot of molly for their age.

Nonetheless, you found yourself in a massive, odd house and managed to lose your friends fairly quickly (and accidentally). All the rooms stayed dimly lit and loud. You could hardly keep track of your own two feet.

Someone pressed you into the counter, a hand grazing against your barely covered ass.

You whipped around, watching as a couple walked away, one of them giving incredibly loud bedroom eyes.

Oh yeah, the ‘sex party’ part.

It wasn’t a kink party, or really a sex party at all. Sex was encouraged and provided for, but not necessary. The mansion’s massive attic was where most of the sex acts were happening with its five beds, three bondage rigs, a wall of toys of all types, condoms, lube, whippits, and even Viagra in decorative bowls. You had yet to venture up, but Denki had already spammed the group chat about it.

(It had been the first place he went upon arriving.)

You took your drink down the stairs (the place had three fucking basements) and turned into a small hallway that led outside.

It was cold, but your somewhat drunk body hardly minded. The sobering bite of wind gave a nice reprieve from the thrumming heat inside.

You immediately spotted Hitoshi leaning on a retaining wall, half a cigarette hanging from his lips. His face lit up, when he saw you, waving you over.

You smiled back at him, glad to find a friend and best of all Hitoshi.

You two were quite close.

In addition to both being sociology majors and having a lot of overlap when it came to classes, you’d known each other since freshman year and only grew closer with time. You’d spent many nights at his house off-campus, sipping cup after cup of black coffee in the midst of a paper writing and studying. You also definitely didn’t ever have close calls of affection though, no.

No.

Never.

You and Hitoshi were obviously just friends.

...

“Wild party, huh?” Hitoshi quirked an eyebrow, nodding to the house. He offered you a cigarette that you took greedily.

You placed it between your lips, Hitoshi ever so casually leaning forward to light it with his signature clipper. He’d nabbed it off some ‘milf’ at the casino which he and Denki had gone to for bingo ‘for the meme’ freshmen year.

You let out a puff, “Thank you! And yes, very wild. I’m on drink three and I still feel overwhelmed.”

Hitoshi sipped his own, nodding in agreement, “I know Jiro and Denki know some wild people from the scene, but this seems over the top.”

“It is kind of fun? But definitely an ‘I need to be a little more fucked up’ kind of fun,” You remarked.

You set down your cigarette on the cement wall, attempting to boost yourself up onto it. You nearly had it, except you really didn’t and slipped back down. You anxiously turned around, checking your dress over for any sort of tears.

Hitoshi set down his own cigarette, standing in front of you. You looked up at him and felt very small and very horny all of a sudden. It certainly wasn’t an abnormal set of feelings, given how the two of you teased each other relentlessly.

“Need some help there?” He chuckled at your struggle as you frowned up at him.

“If you insist.” You expected him to offer a hand to stabilize yourself on but no, Hitoshi’s big hands were suddenly grabbing at your waist, lifting you on the walls with little effort.

You swore you almost felt him squeeze you before letting go.

“You’re welcome,” Hitoshi just smirked as he returned to his spot, taking a deep drag to look at you through lowered lids.

You glared, but in good fun.

At that moment, a few other of your friends poured from the door to the patio. They were all shouting, jarring and drunk, and very happy to see the two of you.

You unconsciously shifted a bit closer to Hitoshi on the wall, bare leg just barely touching his shoulder.

You didn’t notice it, but Hitoshi definitely leaned into you too.

“(Y/N)! Hitoshi!” Momo addressed you firmly as Denki and Hanta snickered behind her. “You both are smarter than to smoke, aren’t you?”

“Nope,” You popped the word from your mouth to take another drag.

“We’re drunk, give it a rest,” Hitoshi waved his hand dismissively. You were both her friends, but she did have a pole up her ass sometimes.

Almost to emphasize the point, Jiro withdrew her own pack and started offering to other people.

As the ever-important smoking ritual continued, you couldn’t help but shiver from the now-painful gusts of wind. You abruptly hopped off of the wall, only wobbling a little on your heels as you hit the ground. Hitoshi moved to steady you, a firm hand on your shoulder.

(God, you wanted to melt into him.)

See, Hitoshi had been smart enough to wear a warm outfit. A pair of black jeans, a form-fitting, well-cut sweater, and a jacket which was slung over his arm.

He offered it to you, eyebrow raised, “If you’re cold, you’re welcome to this. I’m gonna stash it when I get inside anyways.”

You shook your head, pushing back on his arm, feeling the hard muscle beneath. You almost shivered. “No, no it’s okay. I’m gonna head back in.”

“Mind if I tag along then?” Hitoshi asked, eyes scanning around you. He seemed well aware that there were some creeps at this party.

Most of the time, you wouldn’t feel great about needing some tall, beefy dude to casually stand around as a deterrent. But, honestly? You appreciated it immensely.

“Right this way, smokestack,” You just had to give him shit, it was part of your cute dynamic right?

(It made the incessant flirting easier to hide.)

...

You couldn’t help but continually notice how Hitoshi had bulked up. He had been hitting the gym a lot and working on himself physically.

God, did it show.

His body had been a bit lanky and wiry before, but he’d filled out so well. With his cute sweater on, you could see how the fabric stretched tight around his biceps and his chest. You couldn’t look at his forearms in any setting or risk drooling all over yourself.

Not that you would mind drooling for Hitoshi, but you’d prefer it to be in a different context.

(But, you’d never admit that.)

The two of you wordlessly winded through the house, finding a somewhat less feral living room in one of the basements to relax in. Most everyone occupying the space was just mingling, save for a few couples making out. It seemed manageable. You settled for a spot on the carpet against a wall.

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“I feel way safer sitting on a floor than a couch here,” You couldn’t help smiling when you saw him snuff out his own amusement.

You both watched as a couple was grinding and audibly moaning on one of the aforementioned couches. Hitoshi relented, “Point taken.”

He slid down the wall next to you, shoulder to shoulder, drinks in hand.

You both sat in silence for a minute, just taking the sounds and sights of the party. People-watching could have been an olympic sport at this shindig.

“Hey,” Hitoshi broke the mild tension, tapping your upper thigh over your dress. “I’m not saying this to be a creep, really, I promise. But, I really like your dress.”

You turned your body slightly, towards him. Oh, now you needed to give him shit— “Oh, how complementary. Not creepy at all. Just my very sweet, male friend telling me how I look pretty in my party dress.”

Hitoshi leaned closer to you, mirroring you by lying half on his side. His breath and heat curled over your face and neck, “Oh, (Y/N), now you’re putting words in my mouth. I said that I like your dress. Because it’s one of Mei’s designs, right?”

You looked down, heat filling your cheeks.

Fuck your drunk mouth.

“Though,” Oh, Hitoshi was closer. He had leaned to your ear, steadying a hand on your shoulder. “I do think you’re pretty in this dress. I’d use a different word instead of pretty though.”

“Like?”

“Mmmm, gorgeous,” He hummed too casually. “As strong of a word as I can use without being a creep, right?”

“‘Toshi,” You groan, swatting his hand away. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

He just beamed at you, “I’ve been told.”

Hitoshi drew back and met your eyes.

Once more, you mirrored each other. Both of you bore comically dilated pupils, wet lips, flushed faces and slight tremors in your hands.

“You know, I think I referred to you as ‘sweet’ too...” You raised an eyebrow at him. You couldn’t help the way your gaze flickered down to his lips. It flitted back up, “But, that’s nothing, right?”

Hitoshi bit his lip, taking a big breath.

Suddenly, he was standing up.

“Hey, wait—” You stammered, standing as well. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. I only meant to tease.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hitoshi put his hands in front of himself, creating distance between the two of you. “Same. You know I can’t help giving you trouble, (Y/N).”

Ouch.

You cracked a smile, rubbing your arms, “Of course, yeah. Silly friend shit.”

Hitoshi was quick to redirect, pointing a thumb out of the room, “I’ve gotta hang this somewhere. See you in a bit, or you can come with me if you like?”

“Nah, I’ll wander,” You patted his shoulder, waltzing off your churning gut by cutting in front of him. “Take it easy, smokestack.”

You couldn’t hear if he replied.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

You did, in fact, wander. With meandering feet, you moved through room after room. You poured yourself another drink, but it’s not nearly as strong. Your run-in with Hitoshi soured your mood. While not fully ruined, you were definitely feeling weirder than you wanted to be.

Hitoshi and you obviously had energy, yeah. But the most either of you had acted on it was ‘seemingly meaningless’ flirting. It was always followed up with a ‘no homo’ or ‘aha, got ‘ya!’, yet it always felt real in the moment. You weren’t a dumbass. You had caught Hitoshi eyeing you a few (read: many) different times. There were so many close calls and contacts between the two of you.

There was one time while you were making a box of mac and cheese in Hitoshi’s kitchen circa 2 AM. You had borrowed one of his shirts and a pair of joggers to sleep in, a common act of yours. He walked past you for a glass of water, keeping the cup under the tap until it ran over just to look you up and down.

His gaze wasn’t prying or predatory, not even close. You trusted Hitoshi with your life and you knew that he wouldn’t ever breach boundaries like that. Rather, he regarded you in a way that made him lose time, something soft and gooey in his eyes. That time, it wasn’t lustful attention. It just felt-

(Like the way lovers look at one and other, enamored.)

Another time was during one of his performances. The house venue had been dimly lit and musty as fuck, but that didn’t distract Hitoshi. As Jiro’s vocals shook the basement, you met eyes with Hitoshi as he slammed on guitar. His gaze always returned to you throughout the whole set. When you had teased him about it, he claimed that looking at you helped keep his stage fright in check.

The reasoning didn’t calm the butterflies in your stomach.

There was another particularly telling occurrence where you had fallen asleep on Hitoshi’s floor in the middle of working on your final paper for your theory class the semester prior. He returned from his smoke break to find you curled up under the first piece of cloth you could find (which, in that case, was one of his hoodies). You weren’t fully asleep, and you certainly weren’t when Hitoshi hefted you into his arms, laying you so gently down on his bed and covering you with a throw blanket.

Oh, god, the sweetness, like something you’d never known when you felt his hand on your face, smoothing over your cheekbones, your nose, and then your lips. His gentle voice, deep with the late-night, “You work too hard, you know.”

He nestled next on the floor next to the bed, leaving you to sleep undisturbed the rest of the night.

There were, of course, many more instances of Hitoshi’s way-too-kind kindness, and a pile of your own moments as well.

It was all damning, but relatively ignored. Your friendship was more important than any stupid feelings the two of you had right? You refused to acknowledge your own feelings beyond semi-sexual remarks, jabs, and jests. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, right?

...

You eventually found yourself at the foot of the stairs that led to the attic. Even from the landing, you could hear various rhythmic slaps, moans, and laughter.

You ascended the stairs and took in the sight greeting you.

There were various bondage rigs that were free-standing, all occupied at the moment you entered. Loops for ropes and chains to be tied to drilled into the ceiling. Flogs, whips, canes, and other implements hung heavy on one of the walls.

The room was lit dimly, yet nothing seemed obscured. A few rainbow lights illuminated the sweaty bodies about the room. Not everyone was having full-on sex. Most people were actually clothed. A lot of folks it seemed were just there spectating.

Speaking of most people, your party peers were all lounging on the beds. Sans, Hitoshi, of course, standing and laughing with Kaminari.

The lot saw you enter and flagged you down. You walked past a heavily-tattooed man getting pegged by a woman in a tutu and a crowd of costumed partygoers doing whippits which were being handed out by a man in an elaborate steampunk top hat. A cute girl with silver hair was strung up in a nearby rig, moaning as a leather-clad man fingerfucked her.

You stood next to Hitoshi, bumping into his arm with your own, “Didn’t take you for a voyeur.”

He snorted, joshing you back, “I have my moments.”

“I didn’t take you for a prude, (Y/N)!” Denki snickered, bringing attention to you. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you walked in here.”

“Denki, please,” You rolled your eyes. “I walked into a room made for very wild sex acts. That’s a very different expression than the one you’re describing.”

That made him snort and fall back onto the bed, along with Hanta and Mina.

(How high were they? That wasn’t even a good joke.)

Hitoshi chuckled himself, something low and lumbering.

(Don’t think about how hot that is.)

“This makes me think back to that night, in sophomore year,” Hanta spoke as he sat up. “You know, kink night.”

“Oh, yeah! I forget about that,” Denki turned towards you and Hitoshi and raised his eyebrows.

You flushed.

Momo, innocently, asked, “Kink night?”

Hitoshi cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you.

“Oh yeah!” Mina piped up, hugging Momo’s shoulders from behind. Jiro was sitting in Momo’s lap, head on her tits. “We made a drinking game of exposing our weird sex acts and kinks to each other.”

You laughed uncomfortably at the memory, avoiding the very embarrassing and horny part that involved you, “That was the day that we found Mineta was into scat.”

“Oh wow,” Jiro gawked. “That was before Mineta got canceled?”

“Oh, yeah. He got wasted and ran off after that. Thank god.” Denki snickered. “You know what else happened that night?”

“Denki, please, stop talking.” It was Hitoshi placing a firm hand on the other’s shoulder.

Denki just looked at the two of you like he was some old god of mischievous, turning back to the girls, “That’s when we all found out about Hitoshi and (Y/N)’s suuuuuuuuuper compatible kinks. Like, scary compatible.”

“They got sooooo awkward about it too!” Mina snickered, looking at your and Hitoshi with matchmaker in her eyes.

You would kick her ass for it later. In that moment, you tried to keep a somewhat neutral expression as you recalled the night in question.

Sure, it was a year or two back and you and Hitoshi weren’t half as close back then.

The lot of you had been sitting on the floor of Denki and Hitoshi’s dorm, passing around a bottle of cheap, flavored vodka in a fucked up, horny game of truth or dare.

...

“You’re next (Y/N)!” Mina passed the bottle to you and fell back against the carpet. You swallowed thickly, swishing the content liquor inside. “Dare or sex act?”

The rules of the game were simple. Choosing ‘dare’ meant that someone else chose a sexually-charged dare for you and ‘sex act’ meant exposing either a kink or a sex act you’d done. It was a roulette either way, but one option gave you far more control than the other.

After the last dare consisting of Denki giving a very messy lap dance to Eijiro, and you weren’t really in the mindset to repeat anything even close to that.

“Sex act,” You sighed in defeat.

Denki snickered in the corner, “Spill it!”

Hanta cheered you on as you bit your lip in thought.

The liquor swirling in your stomach was affecting your inhibitions, and with one shy, half-glance to Hitoshi, you spoke up.

“I have a spanking kink, what of it.”

You drowned out Hitoshi’s red cheeks and the cheers of your friends with a deep chug from the bottle.

The bottle was passed to Hitoshi as you asked the question, “Dare or sex act?”

Jiro giggled from the bed, sipping at her own drink as well.

“Sex act,” Hitoshi groaned, rolling his eyes at Denki, but you all knew he loved what was going on.

“Reveal yourself, Hitoshi! What gets your rocks off!?” Mina shouted drunkenly as she rolled on the floor. You made a mental note to cut her off from having any more of the trashy vodka.

Hitoshi gave you a fleeting, but very horny look before regarding the group.

There was a twitch in your lip that made you think his smirk was all for you.

“I love pulling a cute girl over my lap and turning her ass purple while she’s begging for more.”

As everyone around you jeered and cheered, you gulped.

And so did Hitoshi.

...

“Yeah!” Hanta fell back. “That was so fucking funny. Like, all night it was all (Y/N) being like ‘I’m a filthy masochist!’ and Hitoshi being like ‘I’m a filthy sadist!’”

“Hanta, for the love of god,” You interrupted him, face burning with a fucked up mix of shame and lust. Hitoshi was mirroring you. “Why do you have to bring that up?”

“Oh, dude, because whenever we talk about it, you and Hitoshi get so embarrassed, it’s hilarious!” Hanta fucking giggled and reached for his drink.

“Are we gonna talk about how you and Denki both like fisting—” You give them a taste of their own medicine, watching the two of them choke and gawk. To the side, Momo whispered to Jiro, eyeing you.

Hitoshi barked out a laugh, losing some tension in his shoulders. You met his eye for a moment, only to see the jewelish purple taken up by his blackened pupils.

Fuck.

Momo spoke up, brow furrowed, “Can I request something a bit odd of you, (Y/N)? It’s perfectly okay if you say no.”

“Shoot,” You reply, sipping your beverage.

Momo bit her lip, eyes going to Jiro, then you, “Can I try spanking you?”

Everyone collectively choked. You especially.

You took another nervous sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact with the group.

You regained composure, refusing to look at Hitoshi, but letting the fucked up idea brew and brew in your mind, “Uh, I mean, is Jiro okay with it?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Jiro nodded, kissing her girlfriend’s jaw. “Pain isn't my thing, at all, and she’s always wanted to try it. And hey, if you’re a ‘filthy masochist’, be my guest.”

But, would you be her guest?

Your drunken mind considered.

It was the most acceptable setting for it to happen in public. You really did like getting spanked and were a raging masochist, so it would, at the very least, be fun for you. A little humiliating, but that was also a turn on. You’d also get to indulge Momo, who was dating Jiro, but they both seemed perfectly okay with a bit of platonic pain play, so what was the real harm?

Your gaze flickered to Hitoshi.

Oh, fuck.

His face was lit up with a deep blush even in the irisian hues of the sex attic. His eyes were pointed distinctively opposite of you, a hand literally over his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Your mind lit up with ideas.

Terrible, sinful ideas that you would be the peak of you and Hitoshi’s teasing.

Fuck it.

“Sure, I’m down,” You smirked and Momo lit up. Immediately, she was up and scouting out the area for a spot to go to town. Momo even seemed to be eyeing up a wall of toys.

“Hey,” Jiro whispered to you as you truly realized what you got yourself into. “Thanks for this. She’s really into this kind of stuff, and I like indulging her, but I can’t handle too much.”

“Oh, of course!” You spoke so brightly. “I have a high pain tolerance, so I’m sure I can take what she dishes out, too.”

You heard Hitoshi clear his throat behind you.

You let yourself take another glance at Hitoshi and it made you want to die on the spot. His eyes glared in anger with the sinful intensity that was entirely directed at you. You could tell by the awkward way he was leaning that he was trying to hide the bulge in his jeans.

Is... Is he that turned on by just the thought of me getting spanked?

Oh, this truly was your best teasing yet.

(Were you taking this too far?)

Kaminari was gripping the sleeve of Hitoshi’s sweater, not allowing him to leave. Judging by how the latter was looking and staring, he wasn’t going to either way.

Momo walked back over, tugging you by the hair to a bed that was a lot higher than the others. It was the perfect height for you to bend over.

“What’s your safeword?” She asked, running her hand down your back to push you against the comforter like she’d done this hundreds of times before. Your chest fell against the bed, forearms giving you a bit of leverage.

You hummed, “Just ‘red’ should be good.”

“Perfect,” Momo smiled before pressing the back of your neck, forcing your face into the sheets. “I’m gonna give you ten with my hand, okay?”

“I trust you, Momo, do your worst,” You spoke so confidently, but truly you didn’t know what was coming.

Momo smoothed a hand over your ass, hardly covered due to the angle you were bent over. The pretty fabric of your dress, pulled over your curves, was hiding less and less. Momo hummed, running a firm hand down the zipper of the dress, “Do you have a preference as to if I pull your dress up or not?”

Oh, holy fuck.

That was beyond teasing.

Fuck it.

“You can pull it up, but keep my panties on. I need some dignity,” You winked back at her.

Momo blushed. She delicately pulled the fabric back, resulting in a round of wolf whistles from your friend. Sober you was going to hate the fact you did this, but drunk you? Thriving.

(Though you wished it was Hitoshi delivering, but you digress.)

Without warning, Momo brought her hand down on your ass, a loud smack resounding around the room, causing a slight hush.

Oh fuck.

You were already drawing some attention.

Despite the pleasant haze of painful pleasure that was beginning to swirl in your mind and gut, you couldn’t help but notice the looks and stares.

Particularly, you got a nasty feeling from the figure in the far corner eyeing you up from ass to toes. He looked fairly nondescript, but the aura he was giving off felt like poison. Something sticky and unpleasant formed in your gut when you looked at him. Your drunken mind chased it away by turning your head the other way.

And then all you could see was Hitoshi’s gaze on you.

It was damn near feral.

His cheeks flushed and dewy. A bit of sweat was dripping down his temple, reflecting the party lighting like some sort of sick joke. One of his hands was raking through his violet locks. His teeth dug into his full lips as he stared you down.

Your eyes met and you refused to look away.

So did he.

Another hit, harder, made you bite your lip to suppress a cry.

Three more and you couldn’t help the bubbling sounds that were spilling from you. Soft cries and moans, maybe a whimper or two leaked from your bitten lips. Momo wasn’t holding back, and you were sure your ass would ache tomorrow.

Good.

Two more and tears leaked from your eyes. You were sure your friends were just waiting to give both you and Momo so much shit, but you couldn’t care less. All you could do was drink in the hungry way Hitoshi eyed you.

It was definitely not the way people who were ‘just friends’ looked at each other.

“Last two, make ‘em count!” Mina shouted from behind you with a cheer. Some of the others in the room were clamoring to watch.

Momo ran a soothing hand down your back, “You doing okay?”

“I’m peachy,” You push out, voice clearly tear-stricken. “Finish me off, Momo. Bruise me.”

That apparently set her off. Momo smacked your ass with such a force that your face pressed harshly into the bed, obscuring your view of Hitoshi.

The last slap was, by far, the worst. Momo decided to tease you, torturing the raw skin of your ass. She would wind up only to pet your lower back or stroke the tops of your thighs. When she finally gave you the hit you deserved (for torturing Hitoshi and yourself), it sounded across the room just as loud as your sob that followed it. Tears leaked from your eyes as your breath came out in shudders. You loved the feeling of numbness and pain that emanated from your abused cheeks. You relished it.

You turned your head upright, vision blurry. Momo pulled your dress down, helping you sit up.

You didn’t get much of a chance to catch your breath as Hitoshi dashed away and out of the sex room, very tense and very distressed judging by how Denki was shouting after him.

Oh fuck.

You kicked yourself mentally, cursing your stupid fucking hubris.

You took it too far.

He’s either turned on, uncomfortable as fuck, or both.

Probably both.

You start to sit up, ignoring the sobering pain heating up your ass. Quickly, Momo pressed you back down to the bed. A solo cup of clear liquid was offered to you.

“Aftercare, obligatory. Drink this, it’s just water,” Momo stated curtly, watching you down the water. You rubbed the tears from your eyes.

“How’s my makeup?” You asked, ignoring the rising panic in your chest.

Momo inspected you for a moment as the others came over, jeering. She quickly rubbed away smears of mascara, running a hand over the side of your face, “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, totally. Shit was fun,” You prayed you were disguising the turning of your gut well enough with your nonchalant tone. “I’m gonna find Hitoshi and make sure he has an extra pair of pants.”

Momo frowned, pressing you down and squeezing your shoulders, “Somehow, I don’t believe that. Please rest for a moment, (Y/N).”

You faltered, following Momo’s command without much thought. Your mind was still in a somewhat of a fog as you sipped at the water she gave you. Her hand rubbed at your shoulders and back, dropping praise every few moments.

The rest of your peers filed over, cheering, flopping on the bed around you.

“Holy fuck, (Y/N),” Hanta whistled, clapping your shoulder.

“That was so hot,” Denki sighed, red-faced and wide-eyed.

Momo ran an affectionate hand through your hair as Jiro fell into her lap, winking at you, “She’s so good, right?”

“Yeah, holy fuck. If y’all ever need a third, you have my number.” You breathed, shaking out a laugh. “I think I need to find Hitoshi, though.”

You stood up, wobbling for a moment, comically aware of sets of eyes on you as you dashed away. Your friends shouted encouragement from behind you as you descended the stairs.

Truthfully, your intent was to smooth things over and make the routine, ‘but we’re bros!’ comment. You knew that this wouldn’t be enough, considering how far you pushed it.

You fucked up.

Took it too far.

What does Hitoshi even think of you now?

...

Your mind was sobering with the help of the water and pain.

You had to find Hitoshi.

So, you quickly moved about the house.

You scanned room after room, checked the front and back yard, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

Where the fuck was he?

You passed by a room upstairs, door shut, and you swore you heard his voice inside.

The panic that had been brewing in you was spilling over. Your ass ached and walking hurt like hell with the bruises that were forming. All you wanted was a cigarette and to apologize to your best friend for taking things way too fucking far—

You swung the door open and was met with a scene that did not include Hitoshi Shinsou.

A mess of four very cute, very high girls, mostly but not entirely clothed, were writhing on the bed, all popping up to look at you.

You flushed, body tensing as you tried to laugh it off, “Oh, wow, sorry about this! I thought my friend was in here. I’ll let you all get back to it.”

The girls hardly seemed perturbed by the sudden intrusion, rather they seemed quite complimentary.

“Aw, you don’t wanna join?” One of the girls pouted, giving you puppy dog eyes. “You’re so pretty!”

“T-thank you,” You shook your head, “You are all very sweet, but I have to find my friend.”

“The one behind you?” A different girl asked.

Your hazed mind hadn’t even picked up that was anyone behind you.

You couldn’t help lighting up. Hitoshi had to be behind you, of course, this silly anxiety attack would come to an end—

You turned.

Your face fell.

***********

It was the creep from the sex room, grinning down at you. There was a nasty glint in his eye.

Your heart started going faster. Your gut soured with a feeling far off from drunkenness.

“Actually, uh, no, I’ll be going, thanks.” You tried to sidestep the man, but he quickly blocked the doorway, boxing you in.

“No, I think we’ll stay,” Oh, the man’s voice was sick in your ears.

You were too shocked to move at first.

His reached for your shoulder, but you managed to stumble back from him.

“No, hey, dude, don’t touch me,” You barked back, pass your growing fear.

He scoffed, muttering something about you being a ‘cheap whore’ and stalked you down.

Your back hit a wall. You froze.

You felt trapped.

His cheap cologne was choking you.

He was just inches away.

You looked helplessly to the girls on the bed, but they had dissolved back into each other. Their hands were grabbing at each other's writhing bodies, clothes being torn away with light moans filling the air. They were far too fucked to be bothered with what was happening to you. The deafening music of the party drowned out your senses beyond the small room.

You tried to slip away from him, out of the door, but his arm slammed beside you.

He caged you.

His hand shot to grab your wrap, squeezing hard and shooting pain into your shoulder as you tried to rip yourself away.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You snarled, trying to wrench out of his grip, away from him. You fell deeper into panic.

You could feel his breath on your ear, and your heart dropped in your chest. With the thrum of the party, it felt far too loud for anyone to hear you. Even if you shouted for help, would anyone come? No one even knew that anything was wrong—

A voice cracked like a roll of thunder through the man’s actions and the drone of the party.

“Get the fuck off of them before I break your fucking fingers.” A familiar, blessed voice cut the air from behind you.

Thank fucking god.

Hitoshi stood in the doorway.

You almost sobbed in relief.

His broad form took up most of the door frame, chest puffed out in his anger. His brow was lowered, mouth twisted in revulsion and fury, all directed at the man who had you caged. Only rage colored Hitoshi’s features. Until he caught your gaze, anyways.

Then, it all dissolved to fear.

“We’re busy, she’s fine, fuck off.” The guy said, digging his hand into your side.

You kicked at his shoe, relishing the way he hissed in pain.

The man glared at you, then looked to Hitoshi. The man scoffed, looking him up and down to assess whether putting up a fight was worth it.

Apparently not, as the man shoved you roughly towards Hitoshi.

*********

You tripped into the latter’s chest as he caught you easily.

Without missing a beat, he steadied you and crushed you to him. One of his broad hands moved up to almost shield the side of your face. You were surprised to find that his body was shaking just as hard as your own. You both mirrored each other in rage and panic.

You pressed your face into his sweater as tears remained dangerously close to falling from your eyes. Fear still tore through you and everything about Hitoshi made you feel a hell of a lot safer.

Hitoshi’s arm tightened as he continued his stare-down.

The man grumbled, exiting the room in a huff and harshly pushing back Hitoshi (and you). You flinched, wincing. A low, rumbling growl rumbled in Hitoshi’s chest as he stared death at the man.

You knew that this was probably all too much. There were details of intimacy and boundaries that were being broken without thought from both of you and that was very bad, probably.

But, you also were drunk on fear as opposed to vodka, and having someone safe to hold you felt better than any hit you could’ve found at the party.

You surrendered to your very obvious reality.

When the man was gone, filtered back into the party, Hitoshi looked down at you, his mood entirely changing.

His anger dissolved. His face softened as he tenderly (and quickly) assessed you. Concerned, but earnest eyes searched your face and body for visible signs of harm. When he was satisfied, Hitoshi linked your hands and pulled you from the room.

He walked you through the party, quickly but gingerly. Your mind buzzed, still panicked and anxious, but the thought of cold air and a less stimulating environment was like aloe on a burn.

Finally, you reached the front door, walking onto an empty front landing.

You fell into Hitoshi.

Your sweaty, shaking hands clung to the back of his sweater as you buried your face into his neck. The familiar scent of his woodsy cologne and natural sweat was more of a sedative than any drug you could find at the party and you fucking needed it.

Hitoshi wrapped his arms around you from the small of your back to your shoulders, squeezing as he buried his face in your hair.

You stiffened but relaxed a moment later. You couldn’t keep pretending. You didn’t have it in you.

You were surrounded by him and the cold air, and nothing felt more comforting.

You decided to forget the semantics of your relationship for a little.

(You hoped, prayed, that he would too).

Hitoshi suddenly tensed, “Is it okay that I’m touching you?”

You could only nod, voice weak and small in the back of your throat, “Y-yeah, it's cool. It’s been cool.”

Hitoshi grounded you, turning the two of you so you were protected from any potential prying eyes. He moved you just right so that his cheek rested on top of your head.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes and focus on the calming beat of Hitoshi’s heart.

He soothed you by existing; he always did. But, in that moment, after such an uncomfortably close brush with something fucking disgusting, his presence was almost cleansing. It purged you of the incessant clawing in the back of your mind.

You’re safe.

You pulled away just enough to look up at Hitoshi’s face. You felt him give you a squeeze which made the smallest, unlikely smile form on your lips.

Slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal, Hitoshi cupped the side of your face. The hold was firm, like it had power to it. You sank into his palm.

(Fuck that feels nice—)

“How are you feeling?” Hitoshi asked softly, gaze warm and honey-like.

You laughed weakly, leaning into his palm, “Like shit. Holy fuck.”

The hand cradling your lower back stroked a thumb idly, “I can only imagine. What happened back there? That guy had been in the ‘sex room’ with us, right?”

“Uh, excuse you, ‘sex attic’, I think you mean?” You still managed to joke. “And yes. Must’ve been following me or something, fucking creep.”

“If you want, I’ll go back in there and kick the shit outta him. I’m sure the others will help. It’d be so worth getting him thrown out for,” Hitoshi snickered, turning his head towards the door as he did.

As he turned back, his eyes widened as your fearful expression returned.

“P-please don’t leave,” You knew it was too much, right? Obviously. But, you didn’t care.

You felt fairly certain Hitoshi didn’t either by that point.

You pressed yourself back close to him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, clutching at his front. “Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure if he’d return any affections (obviously earlier gestures were just to comfort you, right?).

He did. Immediately, he squeezed as much of you as he could reach, nuzzling his face into the side of your head.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” Hitoshi reassured you with his voice as well as his touch. You shuddered, feeling his lips and breath so close.

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

You retained your death grip on Hitoshi, contemplating it all. Perhaps it was the setting or the way your body was thrumming, but something was forcing you to come to terms with how you really felt about him.

You enjoyed teasing Hitoshi too much for it to just be platonic. You knew this.

You wondered how Hitoshi felt considering all of those heated looks and smirks he loved dishing out.

(An insecure thought or two crept about only being a fuck to him. You tried to repress it, though it certainly didn’t calm you.)

Despite these thoughts, you held Hitoshi with everything you had, fearing that whatever long-cultivated connection the two of you would slip away by the end of the night.

After a few minutes of slow silence, Hitoshi offered you a cigarette, which you took graciously. He leaned forward to light it, silently regarding you with warm eyes.

You took a fat inhale, breathing out with shaky lungs.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke abruptly.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, gently grabbing your shoulders, “No, (Y/N), there is literally nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“No, there is. The thing with Momo,” You shook your head. “That was bad. I’m sorry, I was teasing you and I took it too far. Way too far.”

Hitoshi went still, averting his eyes and biting his lip.

“I appreciate the apology,” Hitoshi's face erupted in red. “B-but, you don’t need to be sorry.”

He’s... embarrassed?

Oh.

(You truly were a dumbass, but god love ‘ya.)

You took another puff, nodding.

Hitoshi pulled you to him again, this time wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His thumb rubbed idly at the bare skin of your arm as he whipped out his phone.

“What do you want to do?” The air was cold as Hitoshi spoke. It nipped at your skin and made you crinkle your nose.

With a moment's hesitation, you replied in a hoarse voice, “Can we go home?”

Hitoshi visibly softened for you, “Of course. I can call us an Uber. To your dorm...?” There’s a question in his voice that you both already knew the answer to.

You shook your head, “Your place?”

He nodded, “Of course, (Y/N).”

You leaned into his shoulder, letting yourself relax.

#salem writes #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #shinso hitoshi x you

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Robert Picardo as The Doctor is the best thing about Voyager. Now I’m just imagining him teaming up with Penny.

It’s “Write incredibly niche crossover fic in response to an ask” hour! 🥳️

***

One might assume that when the ship hit an unknown anomaly, resulting in a non-organic entity that produced life signs appearing on the bridge, claiming she was from another reality significantly different from their own, that someone of significant rank would see fit to inform the Chief Medical Officer of this threatening, precarious development.

They didn't. The Doctor only found out when Paris stumbled into his sickbay, arm wrapped gingerly around his waist.

"Hiya, Doc. Don't suppose you know anything about treating hugs?"

"Hugs?"

His programming demanded that he focus on the most life threatening problem at any given time. Nevertheless, the Doctor found his gaze shifting to the woman behind Paris, hovering anxiously in the doorway. She appeared human at first glance, but the mechanisms attached to her legs and the soft, nearly undiscernible hum of a power source gave her away. She smoothed hands down the front of her skirt, casting him curious glances in turn.

Paris heaved himself onto a bed, biting off a curse. "Penny, meet the Doc. Doc, Penny. I bet you two would make great friends, I'd just prefer it if you started gabbing after we figure out if I'm dying."

"If only we were so lucky," the Doctor said, already in the midst of a scan, "Hmm. Sadly, the crew will have to weather your presence a while longer, Lieutenant Paris. Your rib was broken."

"Oh, that's just great, I — wait. Was?"

"Already healed." The Doctor waved the osteogenic stimulator in Paris' face. He bat at it like an obnoxious fly. "Really, you people do make a fuss over the smallest bumps and bruises. You're fragile too. Am I to understand that your eighth rib cracked under the force of a hug?"

Paris gestured across the sickbay, his other arm lightly palpitating his side. "Yeah? Maybe? Ask Ms. Super Strength over there."

The address seemed to break whatever stupor Penny was in. She let out a little gasp and flew to Paris' side, fast enough that the Doctor was left blinking at the near teleportation. He made a note to run a self-diagnosis later, just to ensure his optical processors were functioning properly.

"I did not mean to hurt you, Mr. Paris," Penny said, her voice soft and, seemingly, sincere. She reached out towards the biobed, only to draw her hands back before touching his leg. "I thought for sure that someone on such a dangerous mission, a part of your bridge team, would have his aura unlocked."

Paris blinked. "Aura?"

"Whatever it is she's emitting, I'd wager," the Doctor said, now scanning Penny from the top of her curls to the toe of her boots. At his words a shimmering green light appeared on the surface of her skin, seeming to be both a part of and separate from her. "Huh. Fascinating."

Penny nodded. Crisis averted and conversation turned scientific, she seemed to shake off the previous anxiety, beginning to bounce with a child-like glee. "Yes! Where I come from everyone has aura — it is the manifestation of our souls — but only a few are able to use it. You must train for a very long time and then your aura can protect you!" Penny looked down at her gloved hands, deflating just a bit. "I would like to show you, but I am not a human girl. Or a faunus one. Aura creates a shield to absorb damage and it can heal minor wounds, but though I am the first synthetic being to generate aura, my body is inorganic. Injuring myself would not provide you with the demonstration my friends could give you. I am sorry."

"That's, uh..." Paris pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me see if I understand this. You're sorry that you're not the one who's injured and instantly healing?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, that's enough alternate reality for one day." Paris hoped down from the bed, patting Penny's shoulder. "Don't even worry about it, kid. Doc's given me a clean bill of health — "

"I've done nothing of the sort. There's clearly something wrong with you, though nothing I’m capable of fixing."

" — and you saved me from another of Tuvok's drills. Can't tell you how grateful I am."

Paris only had two inches on Penny, if that, but she looked up at him like he was larger than life. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Safety drills with a Vulcan? That's this reality's torture. You're a hero, Penny, no question."

The Doctor was just opening his mouth to remind Lieutenant Paris of their protocols, which included trying to limit the subjective information given to visiting species, when the door opened and in stumbled Ensign Kim.

His expression was poised somewhere between worry and humor. It was, all in all, an unbecoming look.

"Salutations, Harry!" Penny gave a rather exaggerated wave considering they were only a few feet apart. Kim playfully held up his hands, warding off an advance.

"Don't tell me you're injured too," the Doctor said, but it seemed the trio was inclined to ignore him. What utterly rude behavior. He'd certainly never experienced that before.

Harry slung one arm around Penny's shoulders, his other over Paris', drawing the two close together. "Do you want to know a secret?"

"Oh yes!"

"Depends on the secret, Harry..."

He shot a feral grin at Paris. "Remember the fight last month? Gordon laying into Maria over those power couplings?"

The Doctor certainly remembered. It wasn't every day he got to extract a fork from a man's back. Not that Maria had pushed Gordon onto the utensil on purpose. Their rather dramatic fight had led to an equally dramatic makeup, the majority of which, sadly, took place in his sickbay.

"Well," Harry went on, "the Captain wanted me to install some cameras in the mess hall. The whole ship, really, given the number of anomalies we've encountered, you among them." He poked Penny in the ribs, eliciting a giggle. "But the majority of incidents tends to happen over meals, for whatever reason, and what I'm getting at is that I now have a recording of Tom Paris getting tackled by a little girl and crying like a baby."

"Delete it," Tom said at the exact moment Penny apologized again. For a second their three voices overlapped, demands, guilt, and elation all blending together. The Doctor observed the strange phenomenon, trying to follow what precisely had taken place. Something about Lieutenant Paris sharing his replicator rations, thus earning said, rib-crushing hug? Not that it mattered. The point, according to Ensign Kim, was that he'd secured the best moment in Voyager history on tape and, yes, he'd already sent a copy to everyone on board.

Such interactions, though humorous in their own way, were not meant for a professional environment. The Doctor had just opened his mouth to tell them all to get out, take the reality-bending anomaly with you, when the Captain saved him the trouble.

"Ensign Kim, Lieutenant Paris, please report to my ready room immediately."

"You're busted," Paris sang, doing a strange little dance.

"I'm busted? You're the one who tried to counterfeit extra rations for her — !"

And away they went, bickering all the while. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief.

That is, until he realized that Penny hadn't gone with them.

"Ah... hello?"

"Salutations!"

The Doctor winced. "No need to shout. I'm right beside you."

"Oh. I am sorry." Penny came even closer, rocking forward on the balls of her feet. "Mr. Paris called you 'Doctor.' My father is a doctor too. He is the one who built me."

"And he did quite a remarkable job of it," he said, taking another few, discrete scans. "But I am a medical doctor, not a... biological engineer, I suppose, and as impressive a specimen as you are, I have a great deal of work to do. Not the least of which is adding your information to the ship's database in case your presence causes more than just a cracked rib. Because we certainly wouldn't want to inform the Chief Medical Officer of a new passenger, now would we? So if you would please...?" The Doctor made a few shooing motions that he hoped she understood. There was no way to tell how people in her reality might communicate, especially through something as complex as body language.

Case in point: Penny gave him a salute in return. The Doctor could only stare. No one had ever saluted him before.

...he rather liked it.

"Doctor?" Another hiss as the doors opened. Penny began vibrating.

"Salutations, Kes!"

The Doctor winced. "Is that the only greeting you know?"

"Says the man who begins every conversation with 'Please state the nature of the medical emergency.'"

Today was just a bundle of discoveries. The Doctor found that he didn't like the look Kes was casting him, nor the implications of her statement. "I tried others," he defended himself. "That was the best way to greet my fellow crewmembers! It's what I prefer, thank you very much."

"'Salutations' is what I prefer too," Penny said, seeming to have missed his earlier criticism. "It's such a fun, happy word, don't you think?"

"I don't — I'm not — " The Doctor cut himself off with a huff. From the corner of his eye he saw Kes snatch a vial off the nearby tray — Ensign Harver's medication — and give a jaunty wave and she trotted out the door. He'd raised his finger to point sternly at Penny, turned it on Kes, only to turn it back when she abandoned him. Rude.

"I am a doctor," he said, “not an entertainer. It is my job to fix any and all medical problems that may develop on this ship, not to have fun with wordplay. I'm not programmed for fun."

"...programmed?"

Dismissing the whispered word, the Doctor decided that the best course of action was to simply ignore the girl. She was clearly attached to the rest of the crew already, so if he ceased engaging with her she would become bored and leave him in peace. However, no sooner had he turned away then Penny had zipped in front of him, demonstrating that impressive speed again. One moment there were the pristinely white walls of his sickbay, the next a mass of red and green had assaulted his vision, not unlike an exuberant Christmas tree. The Doctor stumbled back with a squawk.

"You are programmed? You are like me!" she cried, snatching his hand. He was too stunned to immediately pull away and Penny took full advantage of his shock, poking and prodding at his palm with an intensity he might have otherwise admired. "You feel very human. Father said that I must not get too close to people. They might notice the metal I am made of, but your father has done a most excellent job! I would never have know that you are an android too."

The description of Doctor Zimmerman as his father made something hot coil in the pit of the Doctor's nonexistent stomach, the feeling undercut only by the strange sensation of Penny holding his hand. Yes, now that she'd mentioned it, he could feel the difference: she possessed a heavier, less pliable appendage than a human would. It wasn't unpleasant, just an intimacy he hadn't asked for, and the Doctor snatched his fingers back, settling on the easiest of her assumptions to correct.

He straightened his shirt, adopting a sardonic smile. "I am not an android, I am a hologram. I am produced using a magnetic containment field and I can modulate my own projection to interact with the matter around us, or pass through it, if I so choose. It is a very convincing imitation of life, dependent on the ship's computers and the projectors in this room. In short, my existence is a far less impressive display of technological advancement than yours, something I suspect Lieutenant Torres would greatly admire. Perhaps you should visit her and leave me in peace."

Penny didn't leave though, just continued to stare up at him, obscenely innocent. "Imitation?"

"Are you programmed to repeat whatever I say? Perhaps I should be clearer: please leave!"

"You are not an imitation."

Reports were a common occurrence on Voyager, of first contacts, missions gone wrong, the current status of the ship. The Doctor considered himself quite qualified to explain any and all situations he might experience and, due to his increased memory, was arguably in a better position to provide an objectively accurate account of events. It was rather a point of pride, in fact. Yet if the Captain had asked him to explain the change that had just taken place, he would have been at a loss. Penny was a kind and soft-spoken girl, outside of her exuberance, of course. Yet someone different stood before him now, hard-eyed and burning with passion. Quite literally. The Doctor felt her core temperature rising by several degrees, the space between them growing hot as her mechanics responded to whatever emotion was currently coursing through her circuits.

How interesting, in a rather intimidating way.

"I'm... not?" The Doctor suspected that any disagreement would be a mistake.

Penny furiously shook her head, curls whipping about her face. "You are not! And I find it very upsetting to hear you speak that way. I... I suppose Ruby must have been very upset too."

Ruby?

The Doctor didn't get the chance to ask. Penny grabbed his hand again, gripping it with a strength that made him better appreciate Lieutenant Paris' injuries.

"I used to think as you do, Doctor," she said, all green-eyed intensity. "That I was not a real girl because my father built me, because I could do more than a human girl could and, sometimes, less than as well, but I was wrong. And you..." Penny took a deep breath, her face lighting up with a smile. "You’ve got a heart and a soul. I can feel it. You think just because you're got a computer and projectors instead of nuts and bolts that makes you any less real than me?"

"I... no." And to his intense surprise, the Doctor found that he meant it. So what if he didn't have a physical stomach to experience anxiety in? Or if he could only exist in here and the holodeck? He thought, felt, could learn, make decisions... what else was life, really? Unconsciously, the Doctor squeezed Penny’s hand back. "You’re right. I’m not an imitation, but the real thing. Quite a stellar example of life too, if I do say so myself."

Penny squealed and flung her arms around him, pulling him into one of those deadly hugs. The Doctor winced, hesitantly reaching up to pat her back, but it appeared that this quick formality wouldn't appease her as it did Ensign Kim. With a sigh he rolled his eyes and resigned himself to the attention.

It wasn't horrible.

"I am so very glad that I have made a new friend today," Penny said, rocking him side-to-side.

"Oh. Are we friends now?"

"Yes!"

"Ah, well then, as a friend..." The Doctor cleared his throat, letting her take just a little more of his weight. "I don't suppose you have any advice on choosing a name?"

#rwby #star trek #ST #voyager #ST fic #RWBY fic #flawartist

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Just a general FYI for newer followers....

My oh-so-controversial stance on noncon, underage and incest fics and anger in such ensuing arguments is NOT based on some quest for abstract ideological purity or an attempt to be The Most Morally Righteous. Its deeply personal for me.

I’m an abuse and csa survivor, thanks to my bio-mom who physically, emotionally and sexually abused me up until I was ten, at which point it only stopped because I literally fought my dad and stepmom on going to see her anymore for her unsupervised custody visits....which she only had because my dad, despite knowing full well that she was mentally ill and not safe to be around, never fought her on in order to keep HER dad happy, as he was the only one keeping my dad’s business afloat for years. I then grew up deeply closeted because when you’re raised conservative Catholic in a family that prioritizes appearances over childcare and basically pimped me out before I was ten, you tend to assume the worst case scenarios about being outed.

Which ironically then came true when I went as far away from them as I could for college, to Georgia, where my freshman year of college I ended up gaybashed and raped, which resulted in me dropping out and a downward spiral for the next several years, and made a resurgence in fucking up my life a couple years ago when I ended up with chronic pain and health conditions I’m still trying to afford getting fixed, and that all stem from trauma to my jaw that began with me getting kicked in the head a lot one night sixteen years ago. With very little in person real life support system because my family and I flat out don’t talk or interact anymore and I’m currently physically incapable of getting out and about and holding down a job that doesn’t let me work from my computer.

SO.

Those are my personal trauma credentials, and they’re why none of this is academic for me, nor will it EVER be. I’m intimately acquainted with pain and distress, which means I’m more than qualified to tell when things cause me pain and distress, and categorically, I’m flat out stating that being unable to go a DAY in ANY fandom without being surrounded by the awareness that people find fantasy versions of my Trauma Greatest Hits not only ‘sexy’ and ‘harmless’ and ‘hot,’ they would much rather defend them than survivors who say flat out, categorically, the casual ACCEPTANCE of these things alone causes us pain and distress......well, shockingly, this causing me pain and distress.

I’m tired, guys.

Its fucking EXHAUSTING spending your entire fucking life being told by everyone you meet that people value and respect abuse and rape survivors and only want them to be safe and happy, when push comes to shove, that’s almost NEVER proven true in my experience.

Its fucking EXHAUSTING spending your entire fucking life seeking out friends and found family of your own to replace the one you never really had, only to time and time again be blindsided when people you otherwise respect and admire trot out the oh so familiar “its just fiction” and “how naive/childish/ignorant are you that you can’t tell the difference between fiction and reality” lines.

Because its NOT just fiction, and this IS my reality: the constant, 24/7, everpresent awareness that the very REAL reactions I have to being constantly bombarded with an atmosphere of casual permissiveness about the very things that have for decades traumatized me.....like this is laughable to people. People literally LAUGH at this, when I spell this out. They tell me its my fault. Its MY problem. The only one doing anything wrong here is ME, for DARING to have a negative emotional reaction to constantly stumbling across proof that for a lot of people, literal narrative descriptions of some of the worst moments of my life are HOT, SEXY, FANTASIES.

And even the people who DON’T find these things hot or titillating prove time and time again they’d much rather defend THESE things than the people who object to these things....because the former are familiar, and comfortable and thus allow for a ‘civil, peaceable’ status quo whereas people making a big fuss about how fucking upsetting a constant casual environment where ANYTHING sexual goes, up to and including romanticizing and eroticizing peoples’ very real sources of trauma....like, we’re the REAL bad guys, we’re the REAL troublemakers. Why can’t we just let people write what they want to write? Why can’t we just let people have fun?

Well gee, I don’t know.

I honestly couldn’t tell you.

Because I’ve been asking my fandoms that exact same question for years.....why can’t you let those of us who are fucking DISTURBED by how EVERPRESENT these things are and how little people even want to question WHY they’re as everpresent as they are.....why don’t we get to have fun?

Why don’t we get to feel safe?

When do we get to be defended?

Why don’t our feelings and upset and emotional distress matter?

And time and time again, the only answers I EVER get are....’stop being so sensitive.’ ‘Its just words, words are harmless.’ ‘Stop making this about you.’ ‘Other people don’t have this same problem so I don’t know what to tell you.’

Except, when have any of those lines EVER been acceptable defenses of the offense or harm caused anywhere?

*Shrugs*

So yeah. That’s my story, if you didn’t already know it. I didn’t start out on this site casually trotting it out TMI style, I only eventually started discussing it openly after years of being pressed to display my trauma credentials if I was gonna insist on participating in discussions about rape and abuse as a cis white man. And being so open about it in the years since I started to be, has NEVER granted me any kind of hall pass or given me enough ‘street cred’ to balance out the sheer VOLUME of hate and toxicity I’ve gotten from people happy to use specific details I’ve volunteered about my traumas to harass and try and get me to shut up and be quiet....even as they then turn around and blithely reblog stuff like that “reblog this if you support male survivors” post that I’ve seen on literally EVERY SINGLE BLOG I’ve ever fucking fought with people about on this subject. INCLUDING the ones who also openly argue in defense of ACTUAL pedophilia and incest on the very same pages of their blog where they argue in defense of the romanticized fictional depictions of these things, because gee, shockingly, THERE’S OVERLAP.

And yeah. Sorry to say, I’m probably always going to become upset and angry at reminders that people who I otherwise would respect and want to be around....would rather side with and parrot the arguments of SELF-ADMITTED PEDOPHILES than survivors of csa and so on.

Go figure.

I would love to not have to be so paranoid and cautious in my fandom interactions. I don’t make 90% of my fandom content be original posts that I start on my own rather than casually interacting with other peoples’ content because I’m self-obsessed and think I make the only content that’s worth shit.....I do it because its the only way I know how to keep SOME semblance of safety for myself and I’ve too often in the past been blindsided by happily interacting with someone who posted something I found interesting and fun....only to two posts later be snorting derisively at people who like me, are just too damn dumb to get that fiction is innately harmless.

Its exhausting feeling disrespected at every turn, even by people who are quite vocal about respecting me and my viewpoints...up until it comes time to laugh at those naive children like me, who are just so irrational we simply can not grasp that we have no basis for being upset about romanticizing our traumas.

So, just FYI....that’s why I get so heated on this specific topic, and that’s why I’m stand-offish about following people back and keeping my interactions surface-level until I’m fairly confident I’m not going to be happily perusing someone’s content only to then get whiplash again when it goes zero to “incest is so hot!” in three posts or less.

If that’s upsetting to people or a dealbreaker? Well there you go. That should be all the info you need to know that my blog’s not for you.

Because I’m tired of being treated like I’m the unreasonable one because I say incest, pedophilia and rape fantasies are dealbreakers for me....not SEX itself, not even kink, not even graphic content, but just those THREE SPECIFIC THINGS.

That doesn’t make me a prude. That doesn’t make me irrational.

That makes me a survivor who wants to be allowed to fucking EXIST in fandom spaces without having to constantly defend my RIGHT to act traumatized around LITERAL. ROMANTICIZED. DESCRIPTIONS. Of my traumas.

*Shrugs*

Sorry not sorry.

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rainythefox · 4 years

Text

Broken Haven (CH.14)

Synoposis: As the world they knew burns to ash above their heads, Joseph Seed and the Deputy are at crossroads with each other. The Deputy tries to cope with the loss of her family and friends, the sins she has done, and must learn to live with her enemy. Joseph has a revelation of their purpose and what they must do before stepping out into the light in seven years. Because in this broken haven, they need each other to rebuild a new world and a new life.

Joseph Seed/Female Deputy OC Mary “Emmy” Samson (Bunker Fic)

AO3 Link

Chapter 14: Contact

A cool breeze brushed through the grassy field, swaying the parched blades. The clear, night sky seemed to stretch on forever, a billion radiant stars impossible to count in a lifetime. The huge oak tree casted a large, black shadow under their glow, and hidden under its outstretched, overlapping limbs was a yellow tent.

The tenants listened to the frogs, the cicadas, and the crickets. They watched the soft glow of fireflies dance across the tall blades of grass. All they had in their tent was a bunch of blankets, some pillows, and a couple of flashlights, and a radio. It’s all they needed.

The girls giggled, laying halfway outside the opening of the tent to stargaze. Tuffs of silver clouds slowly rolled across the sky but didn’t obscure their view.

“There’s the north star!” Mary exclaimed. “And there, not far away. The Big Dipper.”

“Actually, the Big Dipper is part of Ursa Major,” Sarah explained. “The handle is the head and neck of the bear, and the cup is his chest. Follow the bottom of the box down. There’s his legs.”

Mary squinted. “Doesn’t look like a bear to me.” She grinned and looked over at her baby sister. “You’re such a nerd.” And nudged her.

Sarah shrugged, but also smiled. “Yeah, so?”

She may have teased her sister about being smarter, but she treasured her for being the way that she was. Smart, curious, eager to discover and explore. They shared that drive for adventure and achievement. Sarah was smarter though, shier around people, more inclined to think things through and come up with better solutions.

There were times that Mary was envious of Sarah. Especially her big heart and willingness to forgive, the way she did her best to remain positive, no matter the situation. But more than anything, Mary was proud of her.

“The world’s gonna have to watch out for you, sis,” Mary said. “It’s not ready for all the greatness you have to offer.”

Sarah blushed. “Quit it, Emmy. You’re just saying that.”

“Course I’m not! Hey, you’re gonna help me through college, right? I’ll need my whiz sis around to be able to pass.”

They were still too young for college, thirteen and eleven. But they dreamed of the day it would come, to be able to say goodbye to their broken home and set sail for a new life, and all the wonders in store.

“Will we even get to go to college? Aren’t we too poor for that?”

“That’s what scholarships and grants are for. We got this, Sarah!” She winked at her sister and it earned her a wide grin. “So, what do you want to be anyway?”

“I don’t know…lots of things.”

“Well, name one. One that speaks to your heart, right now. In this moment. I wanna know.”

Sarah thought long and hard, chewing on her lip. The summer song of crickets, frogs, and cicadas continued around them, undisturbed. The moon and stars were so bright tonight they didn’t need lights, although most of the lights were still on in the nearby trailer park behind them.

“A doctor.”

“That’s awesome. You’d be so great at that!”

“Think so?”

“I know so! Duh!”

Sarah’s smile slowly fell and she pulled a blanket over her shoulders to shield herself from the cool night wind. “There’s one thing I want to be more than that though.”

Mary was curious, fishing her way under the blanket with her sister as they still sat at the tent’s opening to look at the stars. “What’s that?”

“A mom.”

“A mom?”

“Yeah. I want to be a better mom than…Mom. I want to love them and hold them and take them places and laugh. I want to do things with them, silly things, go on adventures. I want to watch them grow up and…be there.” Sarah sighed. “Like it used to be.”

Before Mary could say anything, a loud crash sounded behind them, loud, angry voices disrupting the night. They looked through the screen tent window behind them to the nearest trailer down the way, their trailer. A man and a woman fought and yelled and threw things at each other on the other side of dirty blinds inside the trailer.

Sarah scooted closer to Mary and the two young girls tried to ignore the sounds. Mary reached over and turned on the small radio they brought with them, a staticky tune filtering out to distract them.

Mary wrapped an arm around Sarah’s shoulder and they squeezed in close under the blanket, eyes to the sky to promising stars.

“You’ll be great at it,” Mary told her.

A long pause and then her little sister spoke. “Thanks, Emmy. I think you’d be a great mom, too.”

A shooting star blazed across the sky and they gasped at the blue and white light, luminous and breathtaking.

“Make a wish, Emmy!”

And so, Mary made a wish on that shooting star. Soon she would find out that her wish would not come true. But she would never know that her sister’s did…

***

How long had it been? It already felt like years, but upon looking at her clock in the bedroom it had only been a few days. The Deputy was going insane from lack of interaction.

How the hell can he do this?! No wonder he’s nuts!

Mary needed to get out of this room. How Joseph was able to thrive in isolation was beyond her. She was an extrovert through and through and needed contact.

No…I refuse to give him anything after what he pulled!

Besides the agonizingly slow passage of time alone in her room, the Deputy was also going crazy over the possibility of conceiving. She had done all she could, scrubbed every nook and cranny that mattered with vigor, and now the only way to tell would be time. Mary kept telling herself there was no way that Joseph was able to knock her up on the first try.

Not a chance in hell. Nobody has such a good aim! Especially when shooting from the hip.

Mary cringed inwardly at the mental image.

Anyway...just you wait, in a few weeks I will be shoving it in your face, you delusional dick!

...okay, pity points for alliteration, whatever. But he really was!

Cursing him out in her mind and denying any and all possibility of a pregnancy with all she had still didn’t help her nerves though.

When Mary could no longer take the hunger literally eating at her, she reluctantly left the confines and safety of her room. She paused halfway out the door, listening. The bunker was quiet, just the rustle of old pipes and a faint humming from the generators to be heard.

The Deputy tiptoed towards the den, as though the concrete floor was made of squeaky boards. She watched every step, like a secret agent on a reconnaissance mission where getting caught meant ultimate failure. Upon reaching the door to the den, the Deputy peeked inside, eyes darting around.

There was no one in there. The kitchen light was on and clashed with the blue light from the fish tank. The only movement was that of the fish swimming around in their aquarium, minding their own business.

“Looking for me?”

“AHH!”

The Deputy jumped out of her skin, whirling around to face the Father lurking behind her. With arms folded and one questioning eyebrow raised, he seemed to be waiting on her next move. Mary glared daggers at him, hoping to strike him down like the past five hundred times before. But...nothing. In fact, he seemed to be immune. Shame.

“Mary, we need to-”

She slapped her hands over her ears. “La la la laaaaa! Can’t hear you!”

“Real mature.”

“What?”

He glared at her. “Listen, you and I should-”

“Well, would you look at the time. It’s I don’t give a damn thirty. Time for dinner!”

Mary turned her back on him and went into the den. Joseph didn’t say anything but watched her the entire time she cooked. When she sat down at the table to finally eat, her stomach complaining loudly from going so long without eating, he sat down across from her. The Deputy bristled, but kept her face down on her food, eating in fuming silence.

“John once told me you could hold a grudge for even longer than him. He wasn’t wrong.”

“Your dearest baby brother was right about a lot of things. Maybe you should’ve listened to him more. You think I’m pissed? You haven’t seen anything yet,” Mary snapped.

“You shouldn’t let it consume you. Cast it aside, as I did. We only have each other now. The clean slate and forgiveness I gave you are still open and will remain.”

There he went trying to manipulate her again. Mary chewed her food extra harshly and swallowed, pointing a fork at him that she would’ve preferred to stab into a certain body part of his.

“Forgiveness? After what you did?”

Joseph sighed. “You misconstrue my actions, Mary. What happened between us was natural and intended, whether I knew of our future or not. I didn’t plan for it to happen, at least not then. My only intention was to truly and wholly forgive you. What came after was in our hearts.”

This man had a way with words. No, persuasion. Mary shook her head, not looking at him, eating more of her meal in tense silence.

After a long moment, she said, “You still took advantage of it…of me. You know, the problem is that sleeping together is like squeezing toothpaste out of the tub; you can try as hard as you might, but going back to the way things were before is as impossible as getting the toothpaste back inside the tub. You screwed this up.”

Mary scrunched up her face.

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy to pick, but...you get what I mean.”

“‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone’. You knew just as well as I did of the risks involved in our union. And you still accepted me. And I didn’t take advantage of anything. I simply realized that this was where God’s next plan would begin.”

Mary pushed her plate away and laughed bitterly. “Do you hear yourself? You’re crazy…and a liar.”

“And what exactly have I lied about? Everything I predicted came to pass, did it not? Despite how unlikely you and your friends thought it would be. Even amidst the atrocities my brothers and I have done, we always stood with the truth He showed me, saving as many souls as possible. But all of the people that called me a liar...where are they now?”

Mary lowered her eyes.

“I preach only the truth, spoken directly from the Lord. Whether I want it to happen or not, I must obey Him. When He first showed me that I had to keep you alive after all you’ve done, I was angry. I laughed at the obscenity of it! But I obeyed. Even though I still wanted to kill you. And He continued showing me more and more of what you would become, because you were meant for something greater and He had forgiven you. You play a pivotal role in the new world, Mary. Not just by becoming my wife and mother of my children, but by your soul and all of the hardships you’ve endured. Only you. It was only ever you. And I realize that now.”

Mary looked up at him then, shocked. Her heart dropped like a dead weight in her belly and she almost had flashbacks to Jacob’s trials.

“You and I were chosen, Mary. It’s time to dig the log out of your eye before pointing out the speck in someone else’s.”

Matthew 7:5, she quickly thought and snorted. Although the Father was right to call her out that she needed to look at her own sins and faults before attacking others for theirs, he was wrong about having a speck in his eye. She may have had a log, but Joseph had a whole damn forest.

But his words of her being important in the new world in more ways than one...they sounded so certain. Joseph always seemed positive and confident in his preaching, but there was something different about this prediction, and it sprouted some kind of ember within her, yearning to grow.

He had been right on everything so far, yet she was adamant he had to be wrong about them…about her conceiving. The Father had to be wrong about something. Still, she understood what he was getting at and sighed.

“Fine, if that’s what you believe,” she muttered. “We’re both shitty people, somehow “chosen” by God to lead the new world. I still think you’re delusional. But…I’ll consider calling a truce. Once I’ve figured out what to think of this whole mess...might take a while, considering the size of it...” When she saw him smile, she quickly added, “This does not mean I’ve forgiven you for what you’ve done. This is simply for coexistence. And don’t get any ideas because it ain’t happening. Once we know for sure that I’m not pregnant, then we can start discussing how to move forward.”

“You’ll have to come to terms that you are.”

“You want me to toss that truce out the window?” she growled.

Joseph raised his hands in compliance. “I guess you will have to come to those terms on your own.”

“Just be grateful I’m willing to think about sharing the same space with you without attempted murder.”

A long bout of silence settled between them. Only the hum of the fish tank could be heard. Mary took a long drink of her water, avoiding eye contact with her bunker mate.

She hated this. It was worse than before her and Joseph started getting along. She had actually started to enjoy her new life when they were getting close. Now she felt nothing but bitterness at being used. Loneliness again. She didn’t know what to do with herself or how to pass the time. She worried…

The new year was just a couple of days away, but Mary wouldn’t be drinking or celebrating. The world was dead. Her friends and family were dead and she was trapped underground with a megalomaniac. Let’s not dwell on the fact that she had actually started warming up to him and feeling something bordering on affection for him before it all came tumbling down.

Quit worrying, her inner voice said. Nothing’s going to happen. You aren’t pregnant. Joseph is wrong. He’s gotta be wrong this time. You aren’t going to be his wife or have his children. He’ll realize he’s insane and the both of you will coexist until it’s time to part ways in an apocalyptic wasteland.

And then, suddenly it dawned on her and the Deputy spat out some water. “Wait…children?! As in…more than one?!”

Joseph wiped his arm with a grimace, some of her water and spittle having sprayed across the table. Mary had been so worked up over her potentially conceiving, that she didn’t even realize what Joseph claimed to be written in their shared futures.

“Yes,” he stated simply. “Children, as in the plural form of child.”

“How many are we supposed to have?” she asked. “In your crazy, made-up delusions, I mean. Come on, let’s hear it, Nostradamus. I need a laugh.”

Joseph studied her for a quiet moment. “If you are adamant that I am wrong, then why stress about it?”

“Just…humor me.”

The Father leaned back in his chair, unconvinced. “Three. That I know of.”

Three?! He’s definitely insane.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“No. A girl and two boys. Exactly what you’ve taken from me.”

Right…totally insane. I’mma head out...

“Sure, that’s not creepy or coo-coo at all.”

Joseph’s lips barely curved upright. “If you are so certain of not conceiving, you shouldn’t have any worries. We’ll find out soon enough whether I’m crazy or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure I know that you’re nuts now. Don’t need to wait any longer to know that. This is a pretty twisted way to get over your siblings, Joseph. By fantasizing something as far-fetched as that.”

His glare caught her off guard. “I’ve forgiven you for their deaths, but the pain is still there. I’m not over my siblings. Not even close. Just like you aren’t over Sarah.”

She snapped her eyes at him then, tensing, and they held each other’s gaze in strained silence in an invisible battle of wills. And he motioned at her with the rosary laced hand, knowing he had her full attention now.

“We do not “get over” the loss of loved ones, Mary. We heal through time and forgiveness and in seeking solace with the Lord. And we carry on, doing our best to keep them alive within ourselves, remembering what they taught us and how they made us grow.”

Tears bit at her eyes, but the Deputy refused to let them release, keeping her glare, despite the hurt in her heart over Sarah. Joseph’s face softened though, his pride breaking away for his sympathetic side, one of his few virtues.

“Our children will not be them. But it is God’s way of showing that you and I have truly forgiven one another and our pasts. It will be because of them that we will be able to grow and change into what the new world needs us to be. And we will never have to be alone again.”

She hated and yet strangely admired the way this man could form words; heartfelt, encouraging, and soothing. It was a haunting reminder on why so many people flocked to him and damn near worshipped him, impelled and bewitched and willing to die for him.

It sounded great. A promise of peace, enrichment, and freedom. Not just from the bunker, but from their pasts and tribulations. A future full of acceptance, fulfillment, and love. But it came from the best salesman on the planet, always twisting words to his advantage.

Mary couldn’t see anything good coming from them. They were both bad people and had done terrible things to each other and others. She had bought into his promise of a good life and forgiveness down here and in the “new world” before, but now only doubt filled her heart. Now it only seemed as though they survived the bombs together as punishment, destined to slowly waste away for their crimes.

Mary didn’t deserve any of the things Joseph promised. And neither did he. So why would God reward them?

***

After tossing and turning for over an hour, Joseph finally gave up and sat up in bed. He rubbed his face, feeling the familiar ache creeping into his skull. The prophet hadn’t got much sleep in the days following Christmas. It wasn’t his usual phase of insomnia. Stress mostly. Despite the Voice telling him everything would work out in the end, he still felt bad for the fallout between him and Mary.

He really had not intended it to happen the way that it did, but she wouldn’t believe him. And he didn’t blame her. He had done so many bad things in his life, all in the name of the Lord who had become angry and disappointed in His children. But he wholeheartedly believed that he had done all those transgressions for the greater good.

They sometimes upset him, but he never lost focus on what God needed him to do next. Mary was different though. He was hung on it, and he knew there was no righting it until she had no choice but to accept that their daughter was growing inside of her.

Wincing and grabbing the back of his head, the cult leader rose and left his room, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He walked through the silent bunker hallway into the infirmary to get some painkillers.

The infirmary, now cleaned up and organized after Mary’s meltdown, was lit by a small night-light on one wall, and it was enough for him to see without turning the ceiling light on. Joseph knew just where his pain pills were and got a couple before leaving for the den.

He looked at Mary’s bedroom door as he passed, closed and nothing but silence on the other side. Slipping into the den to wash down his pills with a drink of water, he stopped short in the doorway.

Mary was asleep on the sofa. The Father peered at her for a curious moment, wondering why she had let herself pass out here. He quietly strolled into the kitchen and got his glass of water. He watched her as he popped the pills and washed them down.

The blue light from the aquarium spilled across her slumbering form like an opening to a play, entrancing the audience like she was some kind of modern Sleeping Beauty.

Joseph approached the dozing Deputy, standing over her. He studied her, admiring her relaxed face that had been contorted lately from worry and anger. She was so beautiful. A heavenly creature trapped in both a concrete cage and a cage of her own making, desperate to get out, and only he would be able to free her. But first she had to let him.

He smiled tenderly down at her. He grabbed up the blanket laying over the nearby recliner and gently laid it out over her curled body, tucking her in.

He brushed his knuckles softly over her temple after making sure she wouldn’t catch a cold again.

“Sleep well, Mary. You needn’t worry...the Lord himself watches over you.”

Soon the Father left her be and went back to his room, for now ignoring the faint pounding in his head.

***

It was officially a few days into the first year of the end of the world, and Mary was about to rip her hair out. At this rate, she would absolutely lose it before they hit their seven year mark, or whenever they were supposed to get the hell out of here.

She had been too stressed to “celebrate” New Year’s, but it wasn’t as though there was much to celebrate for anyway. Things were civil between her and Joseph, having accepted a truce for now, and that was forcing it. She tolerated him at most, and barely talked to him, avoiding anything to do with what happened between them or the possibility that she may be pregnant. She also ignored his watchful eyes on her, as though he was gauging any sort of changes for his fallacy of her becoming pregnant with his child.

Mary felt the same as before their temporary “error of judgement” that had been Christmas night. It reassured her everything was going to be okay, although the little voice in the back of her head still warned her it was still too early for anything.

In the mix of doing chores, she unfortunately found herself wondering about the horrors of what would happen if she did in fact become pregnant. The Deputy refused to even think about the factors of childbirth and medical risks. Mary knew if Joseph was actually right (again), she would be tied to him forever and she just didn’t know what to think of that.

The Deputy had always wanted to eventually settle down, marry, and have a family - but not this way. Not hiding underground from the end of the world. Not with three children fathered by a Delphic cult leader who thought he was the next messiah. She had always pictured meeting another law officer with her beliefs and passion for justice, or maybe a handsome veterinarian, and they would have lots of pets. Definitely dogs and cats. Maybe horses and goats. And yes, even fish! But she had always only pictured herself having one or maybe two children.

But three? With the Father? Her children would be demons, if the Seeds were anything to go by. With her luck at least one of them would fancy filleting people like their uncle...

Her father did always say that God had a twisted sense of humor though. And with all that had happened since arriving in Hope County, well, the Deputy believed him now.

Best not think about it. Don’t jinx yourself…

Mary snorted. Yeah, as if.

Once she was finished cleaning the communications room, she turned off the record player. The old rock tunes died and the freshly cleaned room became quiet. Her boredom soon returned. There was only so much cleaning and chores she could do, after all.

Not yet ready to give in to talk to her bunker mate, she decided to sit down at the radio system. It had been over a week since she had tried reaching out. She noticed the radio was off and couldn’t remember if she had turned it off or not.

The Deputy turned it on and started running through the channels in boredom, not expecting anything as usual. She was met with the predicted silence or buzzing static, but not much else.

“If anyone is out there, please respond. This is Deputy Mary Samson of the Hope County Sheriff’s Department, currently taking refuge in Dutch Roosevelt’s bunker.”

She waited, having called out to all channels available, just like usual. And though she wasn’t expecting a response as always, it still hurt and depressed her knowing that she and Joseph could really be the only ones left in Hope County.

She sat for five solid minutes in bleak silence. Sighing in aggravation, the Deputy stood and was about to hit the off switch when a strange pulse of static came through the speaker. She paused.

That was a weird interference…

And then a beep. The green light was blinking. She gaped, frozen in disbelief. Someone was actually responding! There was another life out there besides them! She felt lightheaded, heart pounding from excitement. Her fingers twitched but she pushed the button to call up the channel that responded.

“H-Hello?” she stammered.

“EMMY! Holy shit, girl! Didn’t think we’d ever hear from you again!”

“SHARKY?!” Mary squealed disbelievingly. “Oh my God! You’re alive?!”

“Hell yeah, I’m alive, Shorty! Although, let me tell ya, it was not a good time gettin’ to this shelter with balls of fire rainin’ from the sky like some goddamn start to a blockbuster flick. And I burned my ass, no shit! I still can’t feel part of my left butt cheek. Oh, oh, oh, hold on! Let me wake the others.”

“Others?” Mary was nearly bouncing in front of the radio, ecstatic at the prospect of more survivors.

“Hurky, wake up, we got Dep! Alive and well!”

Hurk Jr.!!! Her two stupidest, most loyal friends had made it!

“Emmy? That really you?” that distinct redneck twang came through and she hopped and laughed.

“Yeah, it’s me, you fucking idiot! It’s so good to hear your voice! Where’re you guys at?”

“We’re in Daddy’s old bunker at the Drubman Fort. Plenty of food, booze, and room to party for the next decade down here. Where you at, girl?”

Before the Deputy could answer, Hurk’s voice hollered out so loud, it rattled the speaker and made her wince.

“MOMMA COM’ERE! EMMY GIRL’S STILL ALIVE!”

“Addie too?” Mary asked, rubbing one ear.

“Oh yeah,” Sharky said. “Us, Aunty Addie, Uncle Hurk Sr. and Xander man, are all down here.”

“How the hell have you guys not killed each other yet?” Mary laughed.

“Sharky stashed a shit ton of weed, and I ain’t gonna lie, I think it’s the only thing keepin’ us from turnin’ this place into the next Fight Club. Though that’d be kinda cool if you ask me.”

“Dude, Hurky, that would actually be wicked insane.”

They both yelped and there was a staticky crash. Mary frowned, worried she had lost them, until a third familiar voice met her ears and she couldn’t believe that the whole Drubman clan had actually made it.

“Emmy, sweetheart?!” Adelaide yelled. “You there?”

“I’m here, Addie! How are you doing?”

“About to lose my fucking mind with all these idiots! So good to hear your voice, sugar. We had trouble with our radio on this end for the longest time. Sharky finally fixed it.”

“Fixed it? I made a miracle happen, thank you!”

“So, where are you holing up at, Em?” Hurk Jr. asked.

“Dutch’s bunker.”

“Oh, how is he?” Addie asked. “Wake the old grouch up and get him over here!”

Mary frowned, swallowing hard. “He…uh…he didn’t make it.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“But…he never left that bunker,” Sharky mumbled.

“Oh honey, we’re sorry to hear that,” Addie replied.

“Did your other Deputy amigos make it?” Hurk Jr. asked.

Mary was quiet. She was so excited to hear from her friends again, she didn’t realize what all she would have to tell them. Now she was terrified. What would they think of her situation?

“No…we got into a wreck before getting to the bunker. They didn’t make it either.”

“Do you have anyone? Are you all alone, Emmy?” Sharky asked, sounding concerned.

She released a shaky breath, weakly smiling even though they couldn’t see it. “No…I have one other survivor here with me.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s that tinfoil hat nerd who thinks aliens are listenin’ in on him because hoo doggie would I feel bad for you,” Hurk Jr. said.

“I can’t even imagine being stuck alone with someone that crazy. Like, yowzers, blow my fuckin’ brains out right now.”

“Oh, I’m stuck with crazy alright,” Mary said with a deep sigh.

“Goddam! MERLE, ARE YOU IN THERE?” Addie yelled.

Mary covered the speaker with a wince. “No…not Merle.”

“Then who?”

“The actual king of crazy…”

Thick silence was her response and the Deputy couldn’t be sure whether her dense friends weren’t keen on her hint or if they were stunned into silence. She gulped and waited.

Addie proved to be the quicker one as usual. “Joseph Seed?! You lucky bitch! Oh, how I envy you being alone with that fuckin’ dreamboat. He can port his ship in my harbor any time.”

Mary cringed at the thought.

“Ew. Momma. Seriously. I’m gonna hurl up my Pringles, quit it!”

“Damn, Shorty. Got the short ‘n ugly end of the stick, eh?” Sharky asked. “Bunkin’ down with Broseph! Didn’t think the bastard made it.”

“Well…technically he ain’t Broseph no more considerin’ Dep killed ‘em all. Now he’s…Nobroseph.”

The cousins broke out in a fit of snorting laughter from Hurk’s stupid joke.

“Seriously though, Em, how have you two not killed each other yet?” Sharky asked, still recovering from his snickering.

“He still tryin’ to get you to join his “end of the world” cult?” Hurk added. “Joke’s on him, the world already ended.”

Mary facepalmed. “Hurk…Joseph preached nonstop about it. I think he fucking knows the world ended.”

“Good point, amiga. And so he ended up being right all along. How crazy is that, man?”

“Don’t be an idiot, cuz. Nobroseph is now trying to get her to join his “after the end of the world” cult. Which, obviously, isn’t as gnarly and epic as Hurk’s Gate.”

“Damn straight. I mean, we’re kinda short on the monkeys at the moment, but once we get outta here, monkeys galore, man. And booze. Runnin’ around buck-naked in the new world. Like a giant goddamn step for mankind towards bein’ more in tune with nature and all that shit.”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Addie groaned.

Mary chuckled. God, had she missed these knuckleheads.

“Well, Shorty, is everything…alright? Are you doin’ okay? He ain’t like…conditioning you or some shit is he?”

Mary was touched. Sharky always looked after her. He may not have been the smartest tool in the shed, but she could always rely on him to have her back. He could never be taken at face value, there was so much underneath that was uniquely…Sharky.

“Nah,” she said with a forced smile. “We’re getting along alright. Moving on from the past and slowly finding common ground. After all, we have to rely on each other down here. There’s days we still want to kill each other, but we’re civil...for the most part.”

“Gotta hand it to him,” Hurk Jr. interjected. “Cult Daddy’s sure being easy-going with being roomies with his family’s killer…whether they deserved it or not. I’m quite surprised, man. And relieved of course. Emmy, I’m even surprised in you, but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.”

“Of course he’s gonna bunk down with a hot young lady for the next several years!” Addie scoffed. “The man ain’t stupid! Emmy, sweetheart, you have to tell me how good of a ride he is. I gotta know...for research purposes...you know what I mean, hun!”

Her heart exploded into a frenzy and Mary panicked. “W-What?! Addie, what the hell?! I h-haven’t! I mean, no!”

Jeez, stop it, Emmy! Ever heard of ‘The lady doth protest too much’? You’re blabbing! Shut it.

There was no way she was going to tell them the truth! Never! Even though an honest answer for Adelaide would probably make the older woman squeal in delight.

“Oh, sure, honey. But it’ll happen eventually. A man and a woman locked underground alone together, for who knows how long? Yeah, it’s gonna happen. Laws of nature and all that. I’m sure Joseph’s already thought of it. Hell, probably planned it if I have a hunch of how he works.”

You have no idea, Addie…

“Who knows what’s going on in his head, Addie...”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. No one will judge you, given the circumstances. Some of us will be pretty damn jealous actually…”

“I won’t be jealous in the slightest,” Sharky drawled. “I mean, I will, but not of you fucking Joseph, but of you fucking Joseph. T-That is to say, I mean, what I’m tryin’ to say is-”

“Goddamn, cuz, spit it out, man. You’re a cringefest right now.”

Mary smiled. “Thanks, Sharky. I’m flattered.”

“I will march across the radioactive wasteland and grow an extra head, three nipples and some toes on my chin to shove his prayer beads up his back door if he even looks at you wrong...just sayin’.”

“Why would you go on foot when it’s the perfect time to go Mad Max up there, man? Grab some metal and spikes and go all out, ride or die in style.”

“That is actually a great idea, Hurky. I wonder if my truck made it through the bombs. Definitely strappin’ a flamethrower to the hood. And I always wanted, like, them crazy spikes on the wheels, but like, in gold and super shiny.”

“Homie, it’s the end of the world, you ain’t gonna be blingin’ man.”

Aaaand she lost them. Shaking her head, Mary cleared her throat. “It’s so good to hear from you guys, it really is. But I’m gonna sign off for bed. Talk tomorrow?”

“Sure, sugar. I’m happy to have someone else to talk to that isn’t a complete moron. You get some rest, hun. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, amiga! Talk to ya tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Shorty. Take care of yourself.”

Mary squeezed the mic, softly smiling. “Goodnight, my friends.”

The Deputy put the radio on standby, unable to wipe the triumphant grin off her face. Feeling overwhelmed by joy, she remained sitting for a few minutes, going over what happened. She couldn’t believe it: her friends were alive! And she wondered if more of them possibly could’ve made it...if the Drubmans survived, maybe others did, too! Kim, Nick, Carmina...I hope you’re okay...if you’re still there, I’ll find you!

It relieved her to know that she would have more people than just Joseph to talk to. She may not have been able to see or touch them, but hearing their voices, knowing they had her back was enough. Knowing they were alive and they could talk greatly boosted her sanity and her mood.

Joseph had been wrong about them being the only ones…which meant he had to be wrong about her getting pregnant.

...right?

#Far Cry 5 #farcry 5 #farcry 5 fanfic #joseph seed #joseph seed x the deputy #the deputy #bunker ending #AO3 fanfic #fanfiction

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enberlight · 6 years

Text

Radioactive (Teaser! ML AU: TTBGTS)

Song: Radioactive by Imagine Dragons

Read on Ao3

This is a TEASER from my upcoming Miraculous Ladybug & Chat Noir AU, “To the Bidder Go the Spoils.” It was supposed to cover a dream sequence but... I didn’t make it that far in 30 minutes of the song prompt challenge. Oops. So, have the start of an ongoing fic instead! Which doesn’t go with the song. But. Ah well. A little more work and I’ll have that part ready too ;)

The sounds of laughter filled the air, punctuated by the tapping of mallets, and the low grunting of workers as tent poles were rocked loose from their holes and heaved forth from the earth, and heavy support beams were lowered to the ground or stacked into waiting carts. Marinette’s face fell a little as she wove her way through the organized chaos, what was just yesterday a camp of brightly colored tents and stands was already only scattered wooden skeletons now. By sunset, even those would be gone, leaving nothing but muddy tracks and the memories of shows and stories that would be told in her town for months, possibly years to come. She sighed heavily, shifting the stack of paper-bound packages in her arms as she dodged a support pole and sidestepped a mud puddle. She turned her focus back to the task at hand, rather than the regret that the troupe was leaving. Her face brightened as she spotted her friends across the way, steps lightening over the rutted paths as she sped up to join two of the performers, waiting next to their orange and blue house-wagon.

“Alya!” Marinette called out to gain the woman’s attention, and she turned from the young man she was talking to, bright eyes glinting in the mid-day sun even from this distance. A smile lit her face, and she gestured broadly for Marinette to hurry over, then winced as the rushing young woman nearly tripped herself on one of the muddy wheel ruts. Alya’s companion dove forward, catching the stack of packages as they tipped forward from Marinette’s arms. She chuckled self-deprecatingly, righting herself before she could muddy her skirts. “Thanks, Nino.”

“Don’t mention it, kid,” he grinned back at her, blinking briefly as his arms were suddenly emptied. A glance to his right showed that the oddly lumpy packages were in the custody of his wife now, who was torn between pawing them open right there, or getting them into their home first where they could be properly (and safely) unwrapped. “Alya, honestly, slow down! Come on in, Marinette, I don’t think she can restrain herself this time.”

A genuine laugh escaped her lips this time, Marinette shaking her head as she watched Alya rush up the little ladder steps and into the structure. “I hope you don’t mind, I did some extra embellishments along with the repairs. I gave them a little extra flash…” She followed her friend up inside, to be greeted by a gasp as Alya had already eased the bindings and the paper from the packages.

“Oh Marinette, they’re perfect!” The giddy woman shook out one of the layered dresses, one that had been sewn from airy fabrics in autumn hues, the skirts formed from overlapping scarves scattered with glass beads, the facets catching even the dim light within the enclosed wagon. On the table behind her several other dresses, trousers, and shirts were laid out, in a range of rich jewel tones. Most glistened and gleamed with embroidery, glass, and simple polished stones. “These are fit for royalty, hun! I swear they’re hardly the same old, worn garments I gave you to patch! …in fact, I’m pretty sure some of these aren’t… Oh Marinette…”

The dark-haired girl blushed at the accusatory but loving stare leveled her way, and shook her head slowly to defer any lectures. “Okay so maybe I completely redid a couple of them… but I swear I had the work mostly done already! And these will go so much nicer with the production. You’d think you were using magic, I don’t know how you do it! You really make the stories come to life, you need clothes to live up to your skills!”

Alya chuckled low, a strange glint in her golden eyes as she smirked at the impressionable young woman before her. “We’re traveling performers, what would we be without a few magic tricks?” Outside the wagon Nino huffed out a soft laugh of his own, barely audible over the sounds of the camp disassembling around them.

Marinette smiled fondly, dismissing it as a joke and shaking her head. “Of course, a “Fox” has to have her tricks, doesn’t she?”

“But of course,” Alya returned, smiling slyly. “Thanks so much for this, I really don’t feel like we’re paying you enough for these. Are you sure you can’t come with us? You’ll be a famous seamstress in no time, make it big in one of the major cities on our route.”

“I really can’t,” Marinette demurred, her smile sad. “Maybe next year. Right now, Mama and Papa need me more at the bakery. And I make good enough money on the side right here…”

“But you really aren’t doing what you want to, just repairing regular clothes. I know you love doing THIS,” Alya gently shook the autumn-hued dress for emphasis, the scarves swirling and beads glistening. “Fancy things, flashy things, ROYAL things.”

“And I will, Alya, I promise. Just. Mama is sick, I can’t go just yet, it’s too much for Papa to handle alone. When she’s better…”

“I understand, girl, I do.” Alya set the dress down reverently, wrapping the smaller woman in a hug that was quickly returned. She ruffled Marinette’s ebony hair, then let it fall back down around her slim shoulders. “Family is important, and that’s where you need to be right now. But. NEXT time we come through…”

“NEXT time you come through, you can try again to spirit me away with your ‘magical’ caravan of wonders, Alya.”

The russet-haired performer squeezed Marinette’s shoulders and tutted at her. “Hey now, watch your phrasing, dear. What if I was some fae creature and that was a contract you just signed with your words? You’d better watch your tongue around strange folks, little lady.”

A bemused huff escaped Marinette’s lips. “Ah, but if you were as magical as you claim, you would have enchanted away half the populace by now, Alya.”

“Hah, see, that’s where you’re wrong, hun. If we enchanted everyone into following us from every town, who would we perform for on the next turn through? We have to leave the people here to make the money, so that they throw the money at us on the next trip around!”

Nino piped up from the front steps, laughter in his voice. “It’s a good thing you keep your true powers under wraps, then, love, I don’t want to have to fight off quite that many suitors… Or be responsible for feeding their lovelorn asses as they follow the caravan…”

“Ever practical…” Alya blew a kiss at him and he caught it over his shoulder without looking, a grin making his ears shift higher beneath his lopsided cap. “So, Marinette, can you stay long, or…?”

“Sorry, Alya, but I’m going to have to dart right back. I need to help with the evening rush, and it won’t do to be stuck outside of town when the sun sets… not now that the Troupe Town won’t be lit…” Alya pulled her in for another hug, and the two squeezed each other tight, neither saying an actual goodbye. It wasn’t their way.

“Til next turn then, little sister. Keep yourself with care.”

“And you, Alya, Nino.” He ruffled the top of her head as she passed him on the stairs, and she gave him a quick side hug. “Send word when you reach the next town! I want to hear all about the new show you’re debuting there!”

“Of course!” Alya and Nino waved as Marinette trotted off, weaving back through the dwindling campground to the town just past the rise. Alya’s eyes went to the forest that curved in to the sides of the camp, a look of focus tightening her expression as she sighed. Nino could almost see a tail stiffen behind her as she pursed her lips. “I really wish she would come with us, Nino,” she murmured, unease in her voice.

“You know we can’t make her, and the seer’s warning is no guarantee… She’ll weather this if it does come, Alya. She’ll be fine, and we’ll find her again. Maybe then, we’ll even be able to tell her…” His voice trailed off, sadness in his tone. He’d known Marinette from childhood, she was as dear to him as a sister, but she had no inkling of the world he’d become a part of at Alya’s side. A world she’d have to stumble into on her own, soon, if an old fortune teller’s vague warnings were to be taken seriously. Sometimes nothing much came of them, the pomp and flash of the profession blowing the glimpses of true possibilities out of proportion. But even Alya was on edge, which had him worried. She had a knack for reading the air, and to see her so serious did not bode well for the fledgling seamstress and her small family back in the bakery.

Endnote:

Again, this little bit is a teaser for "To the Bidder Go the Spoils," a Demon!AU I'm working on based on characters from Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noir. You might have noticed that things are a little odd here. I didn't get far enough to show you just how much, so watch the EnberDusk account for the full chapter and continuing story! I'll be adding to this and polishing it up a bit before it shows up there.

Just be aware, it will have adult themes in later chapters. I will warn for content there as necessary... It's going on Dusk because it's not a gentle kiddie fic. It will be one of my happier ones overall, though? (And as far as warnable blows go, it's going to be downright kind compared to two of my other AU arcs. I don't know why my bunnies thrive on angst...)

#enber writes #ML AU ttbgts #oops 1500 words and I ran out of time #the song and stories #the silence made me do it #ml fanfic

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my-dear-hammy · 7 years

Text

Basking in Firelight-Jamilton Sequel-Part Thirty-Eight

Masterpost

Part Thirty-Eight: Diametrically Opposed

Hang on tight everyone, I'm about to invent a brand new form of government for this fic. That's some real shit. Want details on how it works? Shoot me a message

God, I need a life..

----

Warnings below

----

Everyone looked around at each other, unsure of exactly how to start this off. The only people that did know we're at the head of the table and knew that as soon as someone said something, chaos would descend, so they were in no rush to start it themselves. Except maybe Hamilton. He was organizing his papers, getting ready to go when Burr said from across the room, "Why don't we just reestablish the old Constitution?"

"Are you fucking insane?" Hamilton gawked. "How do you think we ended up here in the first place. The fist form of government didn't work so what do we do? Oh, let's do the same fucking thing over again."

Burr glared at Hamilton, "Sounds kinda familiar, doing things over."

Someone else spoke up, "Maybe that is all we need, a do-over. The Constitution worked well for two hundred and thirty plus years."

"So this can all happen again in another two hundred years? If we keep going through a total national collapse, the nation is gonna get ripped apart and sold to the highest bidder. China probably," Hamilton countered. "We can't go through a Revolution every two hundred years."

"The Constitution is outdated and was never perfect anyway. The founding fathers knew it, and that's why it was expected to go through a change every one hundred or so years, likely through a Revolution like the one we just went through," Jefferson said.

"What're you trying to say, Jefferson?" Hamilton asked.

"*We may consider each generation a distinct nation, with a right, by the will of its majority, to bind themselves, but none to bind the succeeding generation, more than the inhabitants of another country,*" Jefferson explained.

"Dear God, you sound like you're from the 1700's," a man from Virginia complained. "English, please."

Jefferson rubbed his temples, this was going to be a long day. "I'm saying that if future generations decide that a Revolution is necessary, that's not out place to call. We'll be dead, we can't possibly know what's best for a time we'll never experience."

Burr, Hamilton, Washington, and Jefferson all shared a look like they all weren't living in a time they should never have experienced.

"So you're suggesting a Revolution every couple hundred years is a good thing?" Burr asked.

"*The spirit of resistance to government is valuable on certain occasions that I wish it to be always kept alive,*" Jefferson stated. "It makes corruption harder and less likely to happen."

"This is getting us nowhere. We're here to build a government for the people right now. We can bicker about how to make it flexible later. We need foundations, framework," Washington said, trying to steer everyone back on track. "Hamilton, if you think we shouldn't reestablish the old Constitution, what would you suggest instead?"

"A strong, central government with the power to lead the people," Hamilton replied.

"And take the power away from the people?" Madison asked, "that's exactly what got us into this mess." Before Hamilton could respond, Madison pressed on. "Jefferson and I have discussed outlines for a new government at length, late into the night on several occasions. I suggest we separate the powers even more. We started out with four branches of government, the Legislative, the Executive, the Judicial, and the States. Over time, the States faded into the background as the other branches absorbed a lot of its powers. So we'd been going off three branches for the past several decades until the oligarchy came into power."

"Get to the point," Hamilton sighed.

"I propose five branches. And each branch split down and overlapping to where none can overpower another."

"Five branches?" Laurens asked, "What would they all be?"

"Keep the three, reestablish the States, and the People," Jefferson responded for Madison.

"The people?" Hamilton scoffed, "They don't need their own branch. And with the way you're trying to form this, the people will have to power anyway, what do they need a branch for? People can't be trusted to govern themselves completely. The entire system will collapse."

"I'm fairly certain the government getting too big is what led us here today, just like the first Revolution," Jefferson said pointedly.

"And the people having too much power almost destroyed France and all of Europe," Hamilton shot back.

Jefferson grit his teeth. Usually, everyone in the room would be talking over each other and getting into heated arguments, but everyone seemed to step down to watch the one that was about to explode between Hamilton and Jefferson. Jefferson's hands clenched the table, his fingers turning white as a vision of a past political battle flashed before him.

"Life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We fought for these ideals we shouldn't settle for less..." Jefferson muttered.

Hamilton's eyes widened and James Madison's head snapped around to Jefferson. "What do you just say?" Hamilton asked quietly, the rest of the room strained to hear.

"What? I didn't say anything," Jefferson said, pulling out of his daze. Hamilton narrowed his eyes suspiciously while Madison dropped his head in his hands and pulled at his hair. Jefferson had told Hamilton that he didn't remember the cabinet battles. They were a memory with Hamilton in it so of course he didn't remember. When Hamilton told Jefferson about them, he didn't quote any lines. How did Jefferson know that line?

Hamilton studied Jefferson closely. He was slightly pale, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was shaking ever so slightly. Jefferson drew a deep breath calmed himself down. Madison excused himself from the table. Burr watched him go.

Washington watched everything closely and had a guess of what was going on. "Let's adjourn for the day," he said.

"But sir," Jefferson protested, "We haven't covered any ground. We need to at least make a little progress."

"I said we're adjourning. Take a break, Jefferson." Everyone else was already packing up, but Jefferson sat stubbornly at the table, slouched back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Washington gave Hamilton a pointed look before leaving as well.

After everyone cleared out of the room, Hamilton's eyes met Jefferson's and almost flinched. Jefferson was staring at him icily, a look Hamilton hadn't seen since they hated each other. He drew in a breath, power through, just power through. "You remembered something, didn't you?"

Jefferson just kept glaring. "I didn't realize you such a bigoted prick," he said, his voice sharp.

"What?" Hamilton didn't understand, Jefferson hasn't said anything like that to Hamilton since before...since before... "What did you see?" Hamilton demanded.

"Our cabinet meetings," Jefferson sneered, "You always had something awful to say about me, didn't you?"

Of course that'd be what Jefferson remember first. Out of everything it had to be that. "Don't act like you're innocent, you had plenty of insults to throw at me!"

"I was trying to help the small people! You were too focused on building industry and climbing the latter to high power!" Jefferson shot back.

"You couldn't see five feet in front of your face let alone what was good for the nation!"

"I didn't know what was good for the nation? Well apparently when I died, I left you in charge and look where we are now! Everything's gone to shit. Really good job you did there Mr. Ten Dollar Founding Father."

Oh, that was low, pulling the death card on Hamilton. "Asshole."

"You little bitch."

Hamilton's heart sank. That wasn't right. None of this was right.

"Umm, what was all that?" A voice asked from the doorway.

Hamilton and Jefferson swiveled to see Madison. "What? Oh, nothing James, Hamilton and I were just discussing politics," Jefferson waved it off.

"Yeah, politics from the 1700's," Madison said, crossing his arms. Jefferson and Hamilton looked at each other. Oh shit. "Tell me what's going on."

Jefferson and Hamilton were at a loss for words. Then Hamilton remembered how when Jefferson mumbled about his memory, Madison went pale as well and left the room. Hamilton rounded on Madison, "You just got them back, didn't you? Just now, during the Convention?"

Burr clapped a hand on Madison's shoulder, making the guy jump in surprise. "I finally found you," he said, "We should talk."

"Don't bother Burr," Jefferson called out from lounging on his chair, "we were about to have that conversation."

***

The next day arrived and everyone was sitting around the table again just like yesterday, except there was one more person with memories of a different life, James Madison.

"Okay, okay, let me get this straight, you want two presidents with two vice presidents each and then a separate cabinet for each president that has to collaborate with each other? So there'd be two Secretaries of States and two Secretaries of Treasuries?" A woman from Kentucky clarified. Hamilton knew her, she was Bonne Watkins, relatively new to the whole politics game.

"That's utterly ridiculous," Hamilton said. "There's too many strings. It's going to get all tangled up."

"It's a spider web," Madison said. "Prevents corruption. There are way more hoops to jump through."

"Yes, but also way more hoops to jump through before anything can get done," replied Angelica. Hamilton heard she'd come back from London, but he had no idea that she'd be representing New York alongside him. Peggy and Eliza were there too. Well, at least New York wasn't under-represented.

"Not if we do it right," a New Jersey girl said. That'd be Mrs. Theodosia Burr, she was there along with her husband. Turns out, she'd much more outspoken than Burr. Who knew? "It's like a chain of command, except everyone's on the same level. If they cooperate right, things can get down in no time at all."

"If they get along," Peggy responded, " and we all know that no one gets along, especially if they're required to be from different parties."

"If they're from different parties, there's balance. If one party is in charge, the nation changes too fast and collapses. If the other is in charge, then the nation changes too slow and turns to dust. But if you balance the two, the nation can move at just the right place without falling apart. Everything about government is a delicate balance," Jefferson explained.

"The original Constitution didn't allow for political parties, no one thought of it," Madison jumped in, "We need to prepare for it this time."

"Last time we made the Constitution, it was a shilly-shally thing of milk and water. I'm surprised it's lastest this long," Hamilton retorted.

"You all talk as if you've done this before," Laurens commented. "It's disturbing.

Jefferson, Burr, Hamilton, and Madison all shut up at once and the room was suddenly unnervingly quiet. Someone coughed.

Hamilton decided this was his chance. He stood from his chair and addressed the room. "*Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of men will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice, without constraint.* I'm not saying the people having power is a bad thing, I'm saying too much power is a bad thing. People are prone to do stupid things, especially those who are not educated in the area. *Here, sir, the people govern; here they act by their immediate representatives.* Yes to the Senate and the House. But we can't have so little power to the government. You're suggesting a system where a state can almost just refuse to follow a law. If we institute a government that seems like it's optional, we'll descend into anarchy. All the states will become their own nations. *We are now forming a republican government. Real liberty is neither found in despotism or the extremes of democracy, but in moderate governments.* A strong government built to unite the entire nation as one whole." Hamilton paused. "*Men often oppose a thing merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike,*" he looked pointedly at all those he knew were against him, his eyes lingering on Jefferson the longest. "*It's not tyranny we desire; it's a just, limited, federal government.*" Hamilton sat back down and watched how people reacted.

Jefferson mulled over Hamilton's words. Chewed on them. Then he finally stood. Hamilton raised an eyebrow at him. Jefferson wasn't one for public speaking unless he had to. "*I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending too much liberty than those attending too small a degree of it.* *The way to have good and safe government is not to trust it all to one, but to divide it among the many, distributing to every one exactly the functions he is competent to.**We are not to expect to be translated from despotism to liberty in a featherbed.* We have fought, we have bled, we have lost for our rights, for the rights of the people to be who they want to be. I will not stand for a government that could easily build itself up overnight and take that away again. *The natural progress of things is for liberty to yield and government to gain ground.* Too much government leads to forgetting that those affected are living, breathing people that fight day to day. That those living under the laws passed are not a number, are not a ratio, are not a percent. They are you and me, our mothers, father, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, wives, husbands, and friends. Which in turn leads to oppression and then war. *I have seen enough of one war never to wish to see another.* *A government big enough to give you everything you want, is a government big enough to take away everything that you have.* That is what needs to be avoided. Liberty does not come in the form ignorant bliss but from taking what you want out of life with your own two hands. Being your own person." Jefferson sat down. States started whispering amongst themselves as Jefferson and Hamilton stared each other down.

The Kentucky girls were arguing heatedly with North Carolina. Virginia and New York were practically having a death match. After a long, long time, Washington finally adjourned.

***

Several days passed. Days turned into weeks. Ever so slowly, the government was taking form.

As was Jefferson's dislike for Hamilton.

It was settled that there would be two presidents and four vice presidents, each elected in a different way. Hamilton was placing money on George being the first president. One president would be elected by the people and the other would be elected by the state. Each vice president would be elected by the Senate, the House of Representatives, the Judicial Branch, or the States. Each Vice President was the head of a different branch than the one they were elected from. The two presidents had to be of different parties and the vice presidents couldn't both be of the same party under the same president. More power was given to the people and the branches of the State and the People were just as closely intertwined as the Legislative and Executive, if not closer. The Judiciary branch was partly elected by each of the other branches. Basically, each branch had checks and balanced over each other in so many different ways it would take centuries of extremely poor choices to unravel. And there were checks against that too. Between the State and the People branched, if it became necessary, the people could call a convention and redesign the entire government if amending the New Constitution didn't work. The Bill of Rights had a couple of additions as well, including same-sex marriage and gender equality.

Now came the hard part. Getting people to accept and ratify it.

----

Warnings: None?

#alexander hamilton #hamilton #jefferson x hamilton #hamilton x jefferson #thomas jefferson x alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #alexander hamilton x thomas jefferson #hamilton x thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x hamilton #jamilton fanfic #jamilton fanfiction #jamilton #basking in firelight

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thebrightsun · 7 years

Text

Virus

Here’s today’s Fanfic! This is twice as long as normal I would write! I’ve been practicing writing this genre recently. I really put a lot of effort in this. I really hope you like it! I love you all~ And I’ll upload another later this afternoon haha. I can make this a double ending if you want~ Send me asks on whether I should or should not~

I feel like “Tears” by Daydream match this fic. It’s a piano song. Go check it out to see if that’s your cup of tea~

Pairing: Analogical

Warnings: Major Character Death. Implied Panic Attack/Panic Attack. Incurable Disease.

Once again, Logic woke up with a severe headache and fever. He had been feeling terrible for three days already and now he was just feeling worse and worse. Getting up used almost all of his energy. Since when did he get this weak?

Logic recalled Morality’s worry, “Don’t get sick! Prince and I are taking Missy and Pranks out for about a month. Stay healthy!”

He still remembered his snorted response, “It’s not like we cannot live without you. Just go already. Have a safe trip. Bring me some books back.” Well, it seems like they do need Morality, Logic thought to himself.

“Love, feeling better? We promised yesterday, if-”

Logic rolled his eyes and cut off Anxiety’s sentence, “if I’m still not feeling well. Sure, let’s go. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong. It’s just a little…” Suddenly Logic felt sick. He rushed out of his bed and vomited. Nothing came out. Logic hadn’t eaten since he got sick.

Anxiety gasped. He quickly ran to Logic and put his hand on Logic’s back, attempting to calm his lover down. “That’s it. We’re going to the hospital. Can you stand up? Let’s clean you up,” Anxiety sighed.

Logic nodded and went to the bathroom.

———————————————————————————-

Logic thought he heard the wrong thing. He looked at the paper in his hand again and again.

“We’re sorry sir. We have to isolate you. Ebola can spread fast. Your friend will have to go through screenings too,” the doctor said with an emotionless tone.

Ebola? How did he get Ebola? He looked back to Anxiety, confused and scared. Logic walked toward Anxiety, but he was stopped by the doctor.

“Sir, sir. We’re sorry. You have to go with us now. There’ll be a time when you can see your friend again,” the doctor insisted. Two nurses came into the room and dragged Logic out.

“Please, please! I just need to talk to him for a moment!” Logic cried.

The nurse whispered apologetically, “We’re sorry sir, you have to be isolated.”

Anxiety was terrified. What should he do? Ebola? Is Ebola curable? He had a vague memory that there’s a 30% chance the disease could be cured. He was lost in this spiral of thoughts until he heard Logic’s yell.

“Logic! Logic where are you going? Logic!” Anxiety rushed to the door but was pulled back by the doctor. He struggled violently, attempting to shake him off, but it didn’t work out. “Let go! I need to find him! He needs me! Please…Please…He needs me!” Anxiety snapped at first, but it slowly turned into a whimper.

The doctor watched him with a stern face. He waited for Anxiety to calm down and announced, “Sir, we need you to go through the screenings as well. You’ll have time to see him after this.”

Anxiety gave him a disgusted look. How could he be so ruthless? The doctor ignored him and led the way out.

———————————————————————————-

“Sir, we’re gonna put you in bed. There’s an emergency bell on your left-hand side. If you don’t feel well, just push that button.” The nurse pointed to the red button and mentioned, “Also, you cannot leave this room until you are cured. Your friend can only see you from outside the room.”

Logic nodded mechanically. Normally, he would be the most self-collected person in the family. However, at this moment, he was just scared. He had read tons of articles on Ebola. He knew this is an incurable disease, yet he still asked, “…Will I be cured?”

The nurse turned her head back toward him. She pressed her lips together, hesitated for a moment, and answered, “There’s a chance. Don’t get too upset. Positive emotions can help cure the disease.”

Logic closed his eyes. He knew this line too well. Every tragedy involving character death had a line similar to “there’s a chance.” He laughed bitterly. “Then this will be the end of me,” Logic muttered.

“Logic! Logic, can you hear me?” Logic heard a tiny sound. He sat up and saw Anxiety banging on the glass window. His hands were severely bruised.

Logic stormed to the window and choked, “Stop, stop Anxiety. You’re hurting yourself. Stop it.”

Anxiety smiled a little when he saw Logic standing in front of him. He bit down a sob, raised a finger to the glass window, and started writing.

Anxiety slowly spelled out the words, “A..are, yo…you ok..? Are you okay? I’m wo…worri…ed. I’m worried.”

Logic put a hand on the window, overlapping Anxiety’s hand and mouthed, “Don’t worry. I’ll conquer this disease. I’m sure we can get out of this place before Morality and the others come back.”

They knew each other so well that, even without Logic’s voice, Anxiety still could understand what he was saying. He nodded. Neither of them said anything more.

They stared each other for a time - maybe a second, or a year. The grief, love, and fear in Logic’s eyes matched with Anxiety’s. These emotions enveloped them until the obnoxious doctor came back.

“Sir, you have to leave now. The hospital only allows a patient’s friend to visit for an hour. It’s time to leave.”

Anxiety couldn’t hold it in anymore. He retorted sarcastically, “SIR, I assume you are either blind, or your brain has fallen into absolute stupidity. Can’t you see we are a couple?”

The doctor taunted, “Well, our hospital doesn’t welcome gays.”

Anxiety did something Logic could never believe he would do. He punched the doctor right in his face and hissed, “Don’t you dare talk to us like that ever again.”

The doctor was about to throw back his fist but was stopped by the security. He cursed incoherently.

Anxiety ignored him and looked back. He mouthed quickly to Logic, “I can’t stay here any longer. They won’t allow me to be here. I’ll be back tomorrow. Hang in there my love.”

Logic stared at Anxiety worriedly and replied, “What just happened? Are you ok? Don’t leave, please? I’m…I’m scared.” But Anxiety had already left. He glared at Anxiety’s back, banging on the window, trying to get Anxiety back.

Logic sat back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Why did he leave him? Is it because he’s sick? Is he not wanted anymore? These scary thoughts were stuffed in his brain and slowly ate his calm away. He sobbed harder and harder, thinking that Anxiety might not be back again. Who would help him out if Anxiety left? Everyone thought he’s cruel, he only uses logic to solve things, and never listens to his heart. Only Anxiety understood him. How could he go through this without Anxiety? Logic slowly drifted off to sleep with these thoughts.

———————————————————————————-

Anxiety got back home and turned on the light. It was so bright that the light hurt his eyes. He shut them down and collapsed on the couch. How dare the room be so peaceful, and the light be so bright when Logic’s in danger?

“Ding!” His phone made a sound. He picked it up and checked. It was Morality. He sent a picture of the traveling four. They all smiled so brightly in the photo. The happiness on their faces stabbed through the screen. He threw his phone across the room and cried, “Logic…Why did this happen to you? Why not Prince? Or Pranks? Look at them. They have everything we want - joy, love, happiness…I don’t have a lot of things. Why did fate have to take the most precious thing away from me? Is asking you to be with me forever too much?” He stumbled across the living room and pulled out a bottle of Vodka. There was no need for be sober.

For the next several days, Anxiety didn’t go to the hospital to see Logic. He was too scared to see him. Just thinking about Logic’s pale skin and sick body made his heart ache. He stayed in the house and pretended that Logic was just out for a business trip. That was where he was. Anxiety felt that he was just a coward, only knowing how to run away from problems. He deceived everyone, even himself, until receiving a call from the hospital.

“Mr. Sanders? I’m afraid that your friend won’t live for long. He fell unconscious yesterday and kept mumbling your name. You left your contact number on the paper, so we figured we should call you.”

Anxiety freaked out. He stormed out of the room, not even bothering to clean himself up.

———————————————————————————-

Logic was feeling worse and worse. Each day he would vomit out more and more blood. His muscles were always painful and he was always exhausted. More importantly, he was losing hope.

Each day Logic would stare out of the window, waiting for the brunette boy to come, but each day he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So he gave up on me, didn’t he?” Logic whispered. He pressed his lips together and lowered his head, staring at the ground unemotionally.

Logic came up with reasons to explain why Anxiety wasn’t here. The first day he said to himself that Anxiety must be sick too as it was a stressful day. The next day he told himself that Anxiety might be busy. He probably needed to clean up the house and go food shopping. Day after day, he would make up ridiculous lies, until today, he knew he could not cover things up anymore.

Logic felt a sharp pain in his heart. He ignored that and stood up. After searching around the room, Logic found a pen and a piece of paper. He thought, “At least I can leave you a letter, right?” He sat down next to the table and started to write.

The pain grew more and more until he realized it was not caused by Anxiety’s absence, it was his stomach. He stumbled to his bed and pushed down the emergency bell, then collapsed on the ground.

“I still love you, Anx.” That was Logic’s last thought before he fell into the complete darkness.

———————————————————————————-

Anxiety sprinted to Logic’s room, greeted by Logic’s unconscious body. Only his shallow breath could prove that he was still alive. He sobbed, “No…No, I’m sorry Logic…I shouldn’t have run away…I’m sorry…Please wake up dear…” He leaned his head on the glass window and blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his blurry vision caused by the tears.

“……” Anxiety saw Logic mumbling something. He wiped down his tears and hoped that Logic would say it again. "Anx…“ He saw it this time. Logic was mumbling his name. Anxiety felt the tears were coming up again.

He looked down and mouthed silently, "I’m sorry…I’m sorry Logic…”

“Beep! Beep! Beep!” The machine’s sharp noise slit the quiet night into pieces. Anxiety jerked up, panicking at the sight.

Nurses and doctors were rushing into the room, checking every machine. The doctor ordered, “Get prepared for CPR. He’s losing his vital signs.”

Anxiety felt like he was frozen, unable to move. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even lift a foot up. Anxiety started to shiver, and his eyes were blurry again. His breathing pattern got more and more rapid until he couldn’t get any oxygen into his lungs. He fell on the ground.

“Sir, sir, are you okay? Can you hear us? Sir?”

Slowly, Anxiety gained back his control over his body. He looked up and blurted out, “How’s Logic? Is he fine? Can I go see him?”

The nurse turned away her head and whispered, “I’m sorry, sir. He didn’t survive…he’s gone.”

Anxiety thought his eyes couldn’t get any more water out, but he started to weep again. He stood up and rushed to the door, only to be pulled back by another doctor. “Sir, you cannot go in…I understand…but sir, the threat of virus is everywhere. We cannot let you in!”

Anxiety screamed, “Please! Please, I just want to see him for the last time! Let me in there! Please! I beg you… Please…”

The doctor soothed, “I’m sorry, sir. We cannot let you in.”

Anxiety shook his head, but then stopped when he saw the letter on the table. “Doctor, doctor please…at least let me read his letter! I bet that is for me!” Anxiety whimpered.

“We’re sorry sir, nothing can leave the room. The virus can live for days at room temperature,” the doctor explained apologetically.

Anxiety leaned his head on the window, watching the nurses taking away his loved one and everything his loved one left. He closed his eyes and muttered, “I’m sorry Logic…I love you.”

#angst #so much angst #i still love you #sorry not sorry #analogical #loxiety #anxiety sanders #logic sanders #fic #major character death #character death #implied panic attack #panic attack #rigger warning #incurable disease #ebola

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ginnyzero · 4 years

Text

Completely Harmless Ch. 15

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Fifteen Nefarious Counter Plots

Antonia did call begging for help moving things. Bjorn offered up his truck and so while half the girls stayed behind to do the daily chores and check ups around the Manor, the rest went with Bjorn to New Hillcrest going through an empty farm in Epona.

Bjorn told them about the area as he drove slowly so they could keep up.

“But the Dews disappeared. Don’t know who owns the olive farm now,” Bjorn sucked on the stem of the edible flower he kept in his mouth.

“Then, who are we to pay to get the olives,” Melody asked.

“Isn’t Maya over in Moorland a Dew?” Regina added.

Pauline nodded. “She is!”

“Well, she’ll know what happened here with her family,” Lily said. “We can ask her on the way back.”

Bjorn muttered about the trees in the road in the Marsh and how the New Hillcrest mayor wouldn’t look beyond their own nose despite their whole “planned” town. “If no one can get to your town because of trees in the road, what good is it,” he said crankily as they dragged big logs out of the road with improvised rope hoists from his truck.

Antonia had a good portion of her things packed up but not all of it. And she’d run out of boxes. So, they ran over to Jamie Olivetree the local (and horrid) baker to see if she had any and if any of the other stores had boxes they could use. They came back with boxes from Jamie and the different clothing stores and were able to finish packing up Antonia’s stuff quickly, carefully packing all the items with newspaper.

“I know the cottage is smaller. I mean, I’m getting rid of a lot of stuff. I was so hopeful when I moved here that the Winterwells would want a restaurant other than Jamie and nothing opened up.” Antonia raked a hand through her hair.

“But the Baroness wants one and that’s even better,” Regina said as she wrapped up some lamps. They loaded her things into Bjorn’s truck and boxes onto the horses and Antonia locked her house for the last time. “Let me go drop this key off with the Mayor,” she said.

Lily accompanied her and they informed the Mayor about both the new Restaurant and Event area opening soon at the Manor but also the Farmer’s Market run by the Summer Chipmunks. The Mayor sounded pleased about it all.

Bjorn grumbled. “Now if she’d be pleased enough to clear the roads.”

They headed back at the same pace as before.

Lily promised to meet them at the Village after she went and talked to Maya. She trotted off to Moorland.

“Maya!” She called out and waved as she got close. “You probably don’t remember me, I’m Lily. I was a camper here.”

Maya leaned on her shovel. “You’re right. I don’t remember you.”

“There are a lot of campers, it’s no matter,” Lily said. “Say, Bjorn, the Silverglade Manor gardener says that big old farm in Eastern Epona belongs to your family. We’re opening a Mediterranean restaurant,”

Maya held up her hand. “Belonged,” she said dryly and a little bitterly. “The G.E.D. bankrupted us and bought us out.”

Lily bit her tongue as not to swear. “I’m so sorry, Maya.”

Maya slumped. “Yeah. What are you going to do?”

“We’re going to help, that’s what we’re going to do,” Lily put her hands on her hips. “We aren’t going to give G.E.D. and the likes of Mr. Kemball money. And it’s not like they’re guarding it or doing anything with it from the looks of it. We need the olives for the restaurant.”

“It’s too late,” Maya moaned.

“It isn’t. Look, where did your family go to?”

“There’s a farm in the Forgotten Fields. But forget it, they won’t deal with you. They hide every time someone comes along. We’re ashamed. That farm in Epona had been in our family for generations.”

“And we’re going to help you get it back.”

“How?”

“By paying you for materials for the Restaurants. Look, the Manor is opening a restaurant and doing events. The Forgotten Fields is right across the South Silver Waters, right? Then, we give orders to you. You give them to your family and we’ll pay you for it. And we’ll tell other restaurants that are going to be opening soon to also use your family’s farm with their orders.”

“We can’t supply all of it!”

“Maybe, maybe not, there are a lot of farms in the area and they aren’t going to have everything we need either. But if all the families and tenant farmers got together and worked together so that everyone was growing different things with enough overlap there’s enough, everyone will benefit and your family will be making money again. You can get your farm back. Especially, since you’re the only family that does olives and we’re going to need a lot of those.”

Maya looked skeptical.

“Look, the Summer Chipmunks are putting together a Farmer’s Market.” Lily got out her phone and scribbled down the President’s number. “You take your family’s goods there and we can figure out what your family needs to plant in order to make money while they work to get their Olive Farm back. And, hey, if we do it right. Your family will have two thriving farms instead of one. It’s a traditional Greek menu this summer, we’re going to need olives, tomatoes, and cucumbers. We’re going to need milk for yoghurt and the different cheeses. We’re going to need chicken, beef, and lamb. I’m not sure about eggs because she might be using the duck eggs from all the ducks at the Manor.”

Maya looked dazed.

“Antonia, the head chef, is moving into Silverglade today. She’s going to want to talk to all her local suppliers. You want your family to be on that list.”

Maya burst into tears and then latched onto Lily. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. No one has had any ideas, any good ideas.”

“Hey,” Lily patted her back. “This area is about to see a revival. You’ll see.”

Maya nodded, let her go, and wiped her eyes. “Thanks.”

“I’ll talk to the President of the Summer Chipmunks about encouraging Steve and the others to come up with a farmer’s collective. I know the Sunfields have a creamery and that the Goldspurs and Will have flour mills.”

Maya nodded again. “Most of the farmers barely talk to each other. Jasper has a Pumpkin Farm in the Golden Hills.”

“Pumpkin is more of a fall thing,” Lily murmured. “I’ll go tell him about it. He can’t be as cranky as he was before.”

Maya wiped her eyes. “I hope not.”

Justin jogged over. “Hey, no upsetting the help.”

“Happy tears, Justin, happy tears!”

“Oh,” Justin rocked on his heels. “Things going okay over there in Silverglade.”

“We’re going to make a huge difference. You’ll see. Things are going grand,” Lily assured him.

Justin glanced at Maya who had composed herself.

“If you’re sure,” Justin said. “Since, you’re making Maya cry and all.”

“It is classified information, Moorland,” Lily said. “You aren’t authorized to know.”

Justin pouted. “Be that way.”

Lily winked at Maya.

Maya bit her lip.

“We don’t want G.E.D. to get wind of our nefarious counter plots,” Lily whispered.

Maya nodded rapidly.

Lily looked down her nose at Justin. “Well, I best be off, much counter insurgency to attend to.”

Justin scoffed.

Maya gave her a thumbs up.

Reassured that she’d made someone’s day better, Lily went to help Antonia finish unpacking and tell her about the fate of the Dew’s farm. Antonia was flabbergasted. “How could they do that? No. You’re right. I’m not giving G.E.D. any money. Not after the things they’ve done. We’ll get the money to the proper owners of the farm.”

“I don’t want to scare them by going to explore their farm now,” Lily fretted.

“Hopefully, someone will turn up at the first Farmer’s Market,” Linn said. “Even if it is only Maya. She can relay the news to her family. If they don’t want to be seen, then Maya can be their public face.”

“And she’s cute, people will be sympathetic since she’s cute.”

“Well, she mentioned Jasper has a bigger farm in the Golden Hills. He grows Pumpkins.”

“I don’t need pumpkins until at least October.” Antonia made a face.

“We can tell him that,” Lily grinned.

Once Antonia was settled, Lily and the other girls decided to check out the Golden Hills. “We used the transports, I only really saw the village,” Lily said to Abigail.

“We were on a timed schedule,” Pauline told her. “There are a lot of villages!”

They all laughed.

They rode down the road instead of winding through the dead gardens.

Jennifer sighed. “That is going to be a lot of work.”

“I don’t think Agnetha cares.”

They went past the Riding Arena. Sabine still practiced inside, though she’d hired someone else to time her.

The road led to a large iron gate and on the other side was the Golden Hills.

“So,” Lily asked slowly, “are the Golden Hills, golden?”

There was some giggling.

“I mean, this isn’t like the Golden Fields that used to be canola flower fields.”

“You think they’ll do anything about that,” Melody mused, meaning the Summer Chipmunks.

“Not our area,” Elsa said.

“Oh thank goodness,” a couple said together.

The Golden Hills were indeed golden. And they’d be more golden in the fall, Lily observed. However, now it was high summer so it a soothing blend of green and eye catching yellows. The Birch Trees continued on the other side of the gate. Their leaves would turn gold in the fall.

But among the Birch Trees were trees with green leaves and long chains of yellow flowers.

“What are these?” Lily asked Linn.

“Golden Chain Trees,” Linn said.

“Pretty,” Lily said.

Now, the girls from other places weren’t sure if it was accident or by design, but the many different bushes and flowers of the Golden Hills area that they noticed as they rode down the road to get to Jasper’s Pumpkin Farm were some color of yellow.

There were three bushes that were yellow that no one knew the names of. Though one had bunches of white flowers.

For flowers, Lily recognized goldenrod, though it was more of a weed than a flower. There were black eyed susans, yellow pansies and yellow daylilies. Grace, who knew more about flowers, pointed out yellow primroses, yarrow and of course, there were buttercups and some yellow snap dragons. There were also yellow impatiens.

This was fun according to Grace, because snap dragon seed pods looked like skulls and impatiens seed pods exploded when you touched them. There was a funny looking round flower that was called a Billy Button. The Garden Tickseed had bright yellow flowers with burgundy centers.

Elsa wanted to know if the people of the Golden Hills went out and just ripped out anything that wasn’t yellow. That made Linn and Tyra laugh. There were Mums and Marigolds for the fall of course. Right now they were growing as green plants and shrubs not yet flowering. And in Spring, among the birches, Linn said there were yellow daffodils as far as the eye could see.

“Those are bulbs,” Grace said looking down.

“They push out the tulips,” Linn said.

“Well, tulips aren’t currency anymore,” Grace sniffed.

There were some giggles.

They explored a bit before actually going to Jasper’s farm. The Golden Hill’s forest was a huge Birch forest and there was a race there run by a girl named Emma. The race itself had jumps and such of fallen trees and big rocks. The pumpkins were trying to take over the forest around Jasper’s farm. The pumpkins were still small and not at all ready to be picked yet. They told Jasper about the Farmer’s Market and that in the Fall, the chef of the Silver Glade was planning on using Pumpkin for something.

“Pumpkin and Pumpkin Spice is all the rage in fall,” Jasper agreed. He thanked them for the information.

They returned to Silverglade feeling they’d done their part to help out the Summer Chipmunks.

The next day the decorator arrived. He’d seen the pictures. He’d seen the ideas. He wanted to get his own take on the space. And, he wanted hard numbers. He needed to know exactly how many people they could sit in there because that was going to help determine how much money they could make for the floor space and how much each seat was going to cost.

Antonia nodded along and talked about food pricing and how she wanted to keep it low by sourcing from local vendors.

Linda hung off to the side and had the girls help her take pictures of the goings ons as a couple of the other girls were given measuring tapes and told what needed to be measured.

“For a nice modern space, we do want it to be something neutral, but not taupe,” the decorator raved. “We’re calling it the Silver Glade, then grey, grey that actually says something. French grey, dove grey, something warm so it’s not cold and then if we use more classical furniture in darker colors it will stand out like the dark slashes on the paper birch trees.”

“He’s making this up, right?” Stacy asked Theresa in a low voice.

Theresa shrugged.

“French paneling, definitely, Le George has that right,” the decorator nodded. “And these windows are spectacular. We don’t want to draw away from them and this gorgeous view of this amazing reflecting pool with curtains. “No. No. No.”

Agnetha presented him with a board of the different flowers she expected to put into the back gardens and the array of roses.

“Brilliant,” he said. “And you said the Baroness loves purple?”

“It’s a Winery, she adores purple,” Elsa said dryly.

“All right, we’ll have the Wedgewood intaglio vases and they’re smaller and then we can also have large purple glass vases to put the roses into and I know an artist who can make us purple and clear glassware for the tables. Let the purple of the glassware and the flowers be the only colors in the room to draw the eyes to exactly where you want them. Otherwise, use greys and silvers. There’s a plaster artist I know that can do a plaster bas relief above the doors like at the Le George if we want.”

“That sounds great,” Antonia said. “Anything to make this place seem posh and upscale and reflect the Mediterranean but still be classic.”

“Fresh and young,” Lily reminded them.

“That will be the purple glass,” the decorator said. “I think I have a handle on it. Up the stairs we go.”

He raved of the view from the roof. “All right, here is my thinking. We’re definitely going to want the same chairs. Though the ones in the dining room will be cushioned better. But I saw these antique roman style chairs like you wanted with something similar to the Silverglade Clan swirl on the back. We can have them up here and down there with grey or silver cushions. No grannie is going to want to come all the way up these stairs for a meal, so downstairs will be much more comfortable with back support cushions too. Otherwise, Ms. Agnetha, plant your roses everywhere for a romantic look and don’t worry about vases overly much. We can put some lights on the pillars here and along the walls if necessary among the flower boxes and call it a day.”

Everyone looked relieved that this probably wasn’t going to be a huge deal.

“We can get the flowers and lights in before the furniture arrives,” Agnetha reassured him.

“And I’ll be off to hire some workers to do the walls of down below and get my artist friend on the line.” He beamed at them. “We’ll need a chandelier in the same style as the rest,” he murmured making notes as he went.

“He seems to know what he’s doing at least,” Lily said.

“Relief,” Grace wiped her forehead. “I was worried he would call the place hopeless.”

“It’s a big empty room,” Elsa said.

Antonia leaned against a pillar. “This doesn’t quite feel real.”

“It will soon enough,” Lily told her.

Agnetha dusted her hands together. “Better get the lights order in then for up here.”

“Anastasia might have already.”

“Pish, she might have put in an order for designs, but she doesn’t know how many we need,” Agnetha said.

Lily decided to let Agnetha, the decorator, Anastasia, and the lighting artist sort it out. It sounded way to dizzying for her to do. The other girls agreed with her. But it looked like things were going to pick back up again very quickly.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

#star stable #sso #star stable online #fanfic #star stable salt #jorvik reimagined #silverglade reimagined #completely harmless #many nods to ruth westside

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