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popi-the-fatui · 3 years

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CHILDE BF HCs

(that no one asked for but here they are anyways)

A/N: this man needs some luv. Long post, there is a whole iceberg under the “read more”. Also, I tried to keep a Gender Neutral reader so pls DM me if there are any mistakes!!

TW: DESCRIPTION OF AN ANXIETY ATTACK, SPOILERS FOR THE REX LAPIS QUEST AND CHILDE’S PAST, a little bit of angst

🐋 Let’s bust some myths first: contrary to popular belief, Childe has no experience at relationships or intimacy at all. Non. Cero. The Venn diagram of romantic/intimate stuff and things Childe has done is a void. But it’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that he hasn’t had the time to experience any of these things because he is a busy man: between fighting, training and being a Harbinger, there is not a minute left for him to indulge in other things.

🐋 The problem with this is that Tartaglia is a people’s person. He WANTS to be able to have someone that he can do these things with. At the end of the day, when he comes home tired after a mission, all he wants is someone to be waiting for him with cuddles, hugs, kisses, reassurance, caresses, or just a simple “how did your day go?” Because of this, he has a lot of pent-up love that he has not been able to give.

🐋 In that note, he is also incredibly touch-starved: not only does he want someone to give that love to, but Childe also craves to receive it. When was the last time he was touched by someone in a context that was not a fight? He loves fighting, obviously: he has trained for a big part of his life to be able to defeat everything and everyone. But he is also just a human, and there are limits to how long a person can go without a loving touch.

🐋 So when he finally falls victim to the first signs of infatuation, this poor whale man will have an internal battle: do I reach for them? Would they be better off if they never meet me? Will they accept me? Has my reputation already ruined this for me before it even began? How do I approach them? Do I look presentable? Am I going to scare them away? Childe will be torn between wanting to protect you from himself (as the Fatui business is not an easy pill to swallow for everyone) and protect himself from you (his heart would not handle rejection/disgust very well), and wanting to KISS YOU AND HUG YOU AND KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU BECAUSE ARGH WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO ADORABLE.

🐋 So he finally decides to compromise between these two stances, and let YOU decide whether you want him as a friend, a lover or a stranger. He starts greeting you whenever he sees you in the streets, subtly asking if you would like him to join you in your commissions, inviting you for lunch/dinner after a mission so you can recharge your energy, asking if you want to go and share drinks with him and Zhongli. You know, friendly stuff friends do. And he doesn’t even try to hide the happy smile that escapes him whenever you say yes to him: when it comes to you, there is nothing he needs to hide. Well, except for that one thing.

🐋 He knows that you know he is somehow associated with the Fatui, if his constant trips to the Northland Bank aren’t enough to tell. Usually, Childe dislikes going around things as he much rather hit straight to the point (being the point a fight, a deal or just a simple conversation). But he has grown so addicted to the sensations you make him feel that he can’t help but to try to postpone that tiny little detail about himself for later. He has never had anyone who genuinely wants to spend time with him and that can keep up with him. Childe knows he can be quite intense and that rumors about him aren’t really rumors but WARNINGS, and to finally have someone, even if you’re just friends, that is actively trying to get to know the real him means so much, and he doesn’t want to let that go as selfish as he knows it is because there’s a chance you could get hurt (emotionally and physically).

🐋 Unfortunately for him, everything that goes up must go down, and that fateful day comes when his plans to take Rex Lapis’ Gnosis blows back to him. After that brief, tense conversation with La Signora and Zhongli, Childe’s ego can’t be any lower: it’s not often that he loses, and much less often that he loses while feeling like a fool. He wants to scream, fight, punch, kick. Anything to take out the impotence and anger he is feeling right now.

🐋 You found him in this state while you were looking for him to see if he was alright because a WHOLE ASS PALACE JUST FELL FROM THE SKY and you’re very concerned for him as you haven’t had any news directly from him and all you know is that apparently Childe was the cause of it?

🐋 As soon as he sees you, his blood-lust disappears and he no longer wants to fight something: he wants to cry from shame. Shame at being found in this state. Shame at failing. Shame at what you would think of him now that the cat’s out of the bag because from the look in your face is EVIDENT that now you know how far his relationship with the Fatui goes.

🐋 He falls to the ground, tears finally coming out and he is crying ugly sobs while hiccuping nonsense about how he is a weak, pathetic, disgusting failure and it’s not fair it’s not FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR IT’S NOT-

🐋 “Look at me” you softly call to him, but he is panicking and hyperventilating and not responding to anything that’s outside of his head, so you decide to sit on your knees in front of him, gently cupping his face with your hands, caressing his tears away with your thumbs.

🐋 “Childe, look at me. Please?” You try again, carefulness in your tone as to not startle him. And when he finally reacts and looks up, you don’t see Tartaglia the 11th Harbinger, nor Childe the fatui flirt. All you see is a broken man that carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, exhausted from constantly fighting against everything the world has thrown at him, and your heart aches for him and wonders how long this man has suffered alone, how long has he suffered in silence.

🐋 “It’s okay, Childe. You’re okay. Can you breathe for me?” You position yourself behind him and put your hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles with your fingers to further calm him. “Breath with me, yeah just like that. Now hold it for a bit and then release it. Keep going, I’ll do it with you. I’m here”

🐋 Childe finds himself finding it easier to breathe with each inhale and exhale, and when he is finally going down from his high, catharsis hits him HARD. Is this what he has been missing all of his life? Is releasing all that pent-up frustration supposed to feel this good? And he feels a little selfish, because he knows he doesn’t deserve your comfort after the stunt he pulled, but Childe can’t help but become putty under your tender touches and your soft words, and he wishes for a different context, for a different past in which he never fell into the abyss, never joined the Fatui, never felt that the only way to survive was to fight. Instead, he wishes for a past in which he is traveling because he wants to, and he meets you, and he courts you and makes your cheeks heat up at something he said. And you are not touching him because he had a panic crisis that he himself caused. No, he imagines the both of you after a dinner date in Liyue. The sky is dark and the stars are shining but the streets are still full of people laughing and talking and the light from the lamps are reflecting beautifully in your hair. You are walking near the harbor, and you are holding his hand and he is giving you a kiss on your forehead because he can’t help himself. In another life, he would have found you and loved you the way you deserve and the way he needs.

🐋 But he knows that now is too late, and all he has left is a mind full of regret because he did, in fact, hurt you. How could you trust him after this? How could you WANT him after this? So imagine his surprise when the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a soft “Are you ok now, Childe?”

🐋 “I- how- what?” He mutters in disbelief. Why are YOU asking HIM that? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

🐋 “You had me very worried back there. I thought you would stop breathing at any moment. You are not hurt, are you?”

🐋 And he laughs. A high-pitched, almost maniac laugh. “You know I was the cause of all of…” he says, moving his arms to signal, well, everywhere “...this, right? I believe you now must know what my real business in Liyue was, and that I’m not just some random Fatui officer”

🐋 “Well… I kind of suspected it? How many ‘random Fatui officers’ are carrying a Vision, huge amounts of Mora and have so many ‘meetings’ at the Northland Bank with the Qixing themselves? I mean, I didn’t know you were a Harbinger, but I did know that you were a higher up in the organization. I’m not dumb, you know?” you answer light-heartedly.

🐋 “Then why would you keep hanging out with me? If you knew all of that, then you for sure must have known that people tend to keep me in a ‘do not trust’ list. People are wary around me, and they should! If you knew of the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve DONE. The reputation surrounding the Fatui, especially the Harbingers, wasn’t built on nothing, you know?”

🐋 “Don’t get me wrong. I do have somewhat of an idea of the things you do for a living. And let me be clear: I certainly do not condone it. And to be honest, I know that things between us would be easier if you weren’t a Fatui and I actually wish you weren’t one” you can feel how his whole body deflated at that, and even if you are sitting behind him, you just know he has a pout on his face, so you resolve for hugging him from behind and rest the side of your face between his shoulder blades, and continue.

🐋 “But in the past weeks, I also had the opportunity to get to know you. Not Fatui you. But human you. I know that you have a family that you love very much and you do everything in your power to protect them. I know that you haven’t had it easy, and that some scars you have still hurt. I know that you absolutely can’t eat with chopsticks, but your pride refuses to give up and you try anyway. I know that you’re a passionate man that holds his dearest people close to his heart. I know that you hate when I’m sad so you’re willing to make a fool of yourself if that means I’ll end up laughing. I know how you wait outside of my building until my window lights up after you get me home so you are sure nothing happened to me. I know by the way you sometimes disassociate from the world around you that you are thinking of home and returning to your family” as you speak, you feel something wet falling on your upper arms, and realize that Childe is silently crying. You have half a mind to stop, but you also know that he needs to hear this, so you tighten your hug a little in reassurance.

🐋 “I also know that whenever I see you with a new wound, I can’t help but worry for you and my first instinct is to check if you are okay. I’m now familiar with the way my heart skips a beat whenever I get to see one of your genuine smiles, especially when the reason behind them is that you get to spend some time with me. I know my eyes soften when I see you talking about something you’re passionate about. The truth is, I care for you, Childe. I really do, Fatui or not. Harbinger or not. And yes, while I would rather you not be one, I still can’t help but long for your company because you make me happy. Because I love you. So don’t underestimate me. I’m strong and so are my feelings. You being a Fatui is not gonna change that”. After this, you two sit in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not an awkward one despite your confession. You know he is gathering his thoughts so you move one of your arms that is wrapped around Childe’s torso to card your fingers through his hair, mindful of the knots that had appeared after the battle. If he doesn’t believe your words, then you sure hope he trusts your actions.

🐋 Childe is the one who breaks the silence when he asks “How could you possibly love someone like me?”. If you weren’t sitting that close to him, you wouldn’t have heard it. He says this so softly, so gently, almost as if he was trying to convince himself and not you.

🐋 “Silly boy” you laugh warmly. “Did you hear anything I just said?” You ruffle his hair, and finally, FINALLY, you can hear him giggle a little. “You don’t get to decide who I love. That’s my choice, and I choose to love you”

🐋 No kisses were shared that day. No grand, magnificent romantic gestures were made. Only the silent promise of two young lovers to love and cherish each other as they were. And maybe, just maybe, you could work things out, together, to build yourselves a brighter future.

🐋 So after all has been said and done: congrats! You are now the proud s/o of Teyvat’s biggest simp.

🐋 Childe is your number one fan. Everything you do is carefully recorded in his mind for later use. He has to go on a mission away from you? Be prepared to be pampered and being taken on several dates the previous week so this clingy man has something to hold on to.

🐋 Also: he is shameless. He will not be afraid of making out with you in plain daylight on a busy street. But fear not! If you happen to not be a fan of PDA, he will try to be low-profile. You are, afterall, a person he treasures and can’t live without, so your comfort comes before his needs. Now, I say “try” because he will still demand to hold your hand and give you the random kiss on your cheek.

🐋 HUGS. FROM. BEHIND. Watch him giving you hugs like Oprah. You are buying something? Cooking? Chilling? Expect to feel a pair of long limbs wrapping from behind you in a tight hug like a koala. It’s his hourly vibe check.

🐋 Very jealous and protective of you. He is very afraid that one day you’ll realize there are plenty of people better than him and you’ll leave him, so please remind this simp that he is more than enough for you.

🐋 He also has nightmares from the time he spent in the abyss and will take sometime for him to realize that he is no longer there, so give him a few minutes for him to come to his senses and then please for the love of the Tsaritsa cuddle the life out of him. Also on this note, I have the headcanon that he prefers being the little spoon. That, or facing each other and he rests his face in the crook of your neck while leaving little pecks there.

🐋 Also you discover, to your surprise and as stated at the beginning , that this man has absolutely no idea how to do relationships. To compensate for this and to give you only the best of the best (as you deserve), he spends time in his travels to read romantic novels to have an idea of what to do, so don’t be surprised if he says or does something corny or cringey.

🐋 The most chaotic “meet the family” you’ll ever have. As soon as he takes you to Snezhnaya, you will have all of his siblings running and tackling you into a bear hug (he sends A LOT of letters to his family about you and if you read them you would not be sure if he is talking about you or a deity).

🐋 He also tries to keep you out of anything regarding the Fatui. It’s a relief that you finally know about how deep his person runs in the organization, but he also wants to spare you from the details of what he does unless something is really bothering him.

🐋 All in all, this golden retriever is your biggest hype man and the most loyal boyfriend. You will never get bored with Childe, as everyday is an adventure with him and he will make sure you to make you as happy and loved as you make him feel.

#childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #mine #tw axiety #tw anxiety attack #genshin spoilers #genshin impact spoilers

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

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Met in the Woods

for @dukexietyweek‘s prompt Pirates/Adventure, I focused on Adventure

Summary: Remus didn’t run away, he just went on a wander through the woods. Virgil got kicked out of their home and took to the woods to try and survive. Somehow meeting was the calmest part despite Virgil attacking Remus.

Warnings: vague fighting, eldritch being mentioned, self-esteem issues, homophodia mention

/\/\

Remus hadn't run away. Really he'd barely even left home, despite packing the largest pack they had full of survival supplies and taking off into the woods one morning before anyone else woke up. There was no point in writing a note, not when he'd definitely be coming home, at some point, probably.

The woods had always called to him, filled with mysteries and adventure if only he had the time to explore and find it, and finally Remus was following the call. He already knew where the first glade was to make a camp in, after that he could follow the river some knights mentioned when reporting their patrols.

He wasn't expecting the glade to already have a tent in it, or for said tents owner to have him flat out within seconds of emerging from the treeline.

“Who sent you after me? I'm not going back, whatever crap they've told you!” The person had a staff poised to strike and with all of Remus's weapons currently under him and tied to his pack he wasn't too inclined to make it an actual fight. Besides, not being recognised as one of the sons of the areas Lord? It was basically a dream Remus never expected to happen given the amount of public appearances he was bribed into.

“Nobody sent me, not a clue who you are. Can I stick my tent over here? Heading to the river at this time of night is just asking for a patrol to catch us.” Remus shrugged, rolling to stand up again only to jump back when the staff was swiped at his legs. What was with them trying to lay him out?

A snarl curled their lips and Remus was fascinated. Most people couldn't get quite so vicious an expression, not even an enraged Roman had managed it yet, although he did get complimented on being fearsome when rampaging. “Like I'm going to believe that! They kicked me out and now expect to get me dragged back, begging for forgiveness or some shit?”

“Woah, I've never managed to get kicked out before. How did you manage that and can I try? Sounds like the best release from responsibilities ever!” Remus leant forwards, although still staying out of the staffs range.

“Writing in a journal about liking how men look. Seriously, people will kick you out for the most dull stuff. Thinking there's dangers in too thin ice, and telling people to sharpen weapons with them directed away from you to avoid self stabbing, oh that's fine. Like watching spiders and write stories without even showing them to anybody about how hot the guy next door is, nope get the hell out.” Remus frowned while listening to the rant. Those motives really did sound incomprehensible, but the persons frustrated movements did sometimes cause their top to tighten and show off muscles or make his cloak move like bats wings over their arms.

It was enough that Remus was moving forwards, bending to catch the staff as it was swung, holding it still. “Seriously? The Lord's of this land are 2 men together. We've got non-binary folks as tax collectors and both of the Lord's sons are attracted more to masculine physics than feminine and your family kicked you out for that?”

“Explains why they do everything possible to keep us kids stuck to the farm, then.” The mumble was clearly not directed at Remus but he shrugged and nodded until they looked back at him. “So if you aren't someone sent to drag me home what the hell are you doing out here?”

“I'm Remus, and just felt like a wander. Male too by the way. Who are you? I've already gathered that you're here cause you got kicked out so won't ask why.” He answered cheerfully. Whomever this person was, they'd been more interesting than most people Remus encountered.

The suspicious glare that had been fading was back a full force. “Virgil. Human, and who the hell just decides to go wandering with a full pack including a tent?”

“I do. Wanted to escape for a while, and now I'm gonna stick with you too.” Remus decided, shrugging off his pack to start setting his own tent up. “All the better if someone actually does come after you, right?”

/VR\

Virgil didn't trust this guy. Who the hell just attaches themselves to a stranger they meet in the woods? There had to be something going on here, or the guy had to be freaking insane and liable to attack in a moment of rage.

“I'm going into that cave! Are you coming?” Remus cheered, pointing further along the river.

There at least was a cave this time, a large excavation into the cliff face that was on the other side of the river. The last 'cave' Remus had tried to explore had just be a darker type of rock that the mad guy had run head first into before realising.

“It's a cave on the edge of a river. You're going to slip on the rocks and kill yourself, or get attacked by a bear taking shelter in it.” Virgil ground out, but carried on following behind Remus getting closer to the cave with each step. “I'm not willing to die for a maniac who won't leave my side.”

Remus just shot a grin over his shoulder as he finally started wading through the water. “Then why are you still following me? Besides it'd be awesome to battle a bear. Maybe I could get some brilliant scars!”

“It's called self preservation, something you seem to have abandoned already. I'm more likely to survive if I have an idiot who runs into danger when predators decide human smells like a good dinner.” Virgil snarked back, pausing to take off their shoes and roll their trousers up before entering the water. They weren't going to have wet feet for hours, no matter how willing Remus was to get his shoes drenched.

They still weren't happy about entering the cave when hours later they were trudging back out a completely different entrance lugging a chest in addition to their packs. “I told you going in there was dangerous!”

“You didn't get hurt, did you? Only blood on either of us is from that, that, actually what the hell was that? We need to go home just so I can get that thing drawn, painted, memorialised for eternity on the walls and given some kind of name.” Remus was twisting to look back at the cave even as he kept moving, holding the other end of the chest.

“Can we figure out what we're doing with whatever the hell is in here? It's heavy and neither of us are going to be ready to fight with a massive chest carried between us.” Virgil dropped their end, effectively bring them to a stop and threw themself on the ground for a rest.

There was still daylight so they weren't worried about a threat approaching unseen and really needed to stop after the fight they'd just gone through. Any creature with that many limbs should be somewhere out at sea, not in caves nowhere near the shore.

“You take it. You're the one who got kicked out from home and nobody would leave something worthless in a cave like that. Bet you could get a house almost as good as the Lord's manor with the treasure in here.” Remus decided, having sat on the ground nearby for only a second before he was rooting through the pack from his back. “Snacks, pen, ink and paper. You eat something. I gotta start planning out my paintings.”

Virgil was already shaking their head, backing away from the chest as though it would be forced onto them. “No no no no. I'm not taking all of whatever's in there. We got it together. You should get some of it. How about half each? Or you get 3 quarters and I get the rest since I would literally have been killed when that thing first came out?”

“And here I thought I was just a chance for you to escape when I jumped forwards. You were fighting there too. I guess we could go half each.” Remus sighed as though accepting any of it was a hardship rather than treasure won. “Only if you come home with me. Let me introduce my family to the greatest reluctant best friend ever!”

They gaped at that declaration. If anything Virgil would just call them and Remus acquaintances. Sticking together in the middle of woods when no other people has been seen for days could easily turn to barely acknowledging each other once back in town. “If that's what it takes for you to take the treasure that's rightfully yours then fine I guess.” They agreed, already moving stuff about in their pack to find the empty bags they'd managed to grab when hurrying to leave their old home. At the time they'd expected the bags to be for any belongings or tools they could make and acquire while alone in the woods but the contents of a random chest was what they'd need to hold now.

Virgil left Remus to carry on drawing while attempting and after about 20 different tries, managing to unlock and open the chest. They sat separating the treasure by types and into 2 piles of each, kept as even as possible. With the sky clear and dusk not due for a while, it was a relaxing enough break after the cave systems.

/VR\

Looking up at the manor that Remus had just started leading them up to declaring 'Home!' had Virgil reconsidering everything they knew of the place they grew up in.

That was the Lord's manor and for Remus to live here he had to be... nope, NOPE! Virgil had definitely not just accidentally run into one of the sons of the Lord that ruled over his town. Remus must actually just be like, one of the servants, or maybe a gardener? Places like this had gardeners and knights right? Remus must be something like that and had taken some time off too....

All of their rationalisations to prevent panicking about having attacked and then travelled with a Lord's son proved futile when as soon as Remus opened the doors servants were swarming him, asking where the young sir had been, did he have any injuries, and anything else they'd only do for... The son of the Lord's also hurrying through the hall to greet him.

“I went on an adventure!” Remus proclaimed, waving off the servants and turning to look for Virgil who had fully started panicking and wondering if he could turn and run now. “And I made a friend too. That's Virgil and he's brilliant!”

A servant was immediately coming over, offering to take his bag while the Lord's looked him over curiously, listening to Remus who was still talking utter nonsense; a fairytale of a Virgil that they couldn't fathom how Remus thought was them.

“Well anyone who has Remus as besotted as this is more than welcome to remain with us as long as you care to, Virgil. Are there any titles that you hold?” The Lord asked, smiling at them now and holding a hand up to pause Remus's ramblings.

“No, My Lord. I am estranged from my family currently and would not be in line for any titles even if that weren't the case.” They couldn't come out with a rant about being kicked out in front of a Lord, but to deny that they were probably the lowest of his lands would only lead to worse things later.

The Lord just nodded but Remus glowered. “They've got money though. Helped me fight a beast in a cave and we found this massive chest of treasure that can get him a home and stuff now. Seriously, even while claiming they wouldn't risk death for me they followed me into the cave and fought just as much as I did when this brilliant creature attacked. Someone get my paints set up in the gallery across from my room. I know what's going on the far wall now!”

“Money wasn't our concern, Son. I'll check if there's any titles we can bestow on them for bringing you home safely.” The other Lord spoke up now and Virgil was really wishing their parents had at least mentioned the names of the nobility that ruled over them. Maybe they could ask one of the servants soon, since Remus was likely to forget about them now he was back home and around his family.

It definitely seemed possible since with the comment about finding them a title the Lords were heading to other rooms in the hall and Remus was racing down a different corridor while a few servants came to direct Virgil to somewhere else. They just let themself be led through getting measured for new clothes and settled into rooms that had at some point been requested for them. They could at least work on getting a home here before the hospitality of the Lord's ran out preferably.

/RV\

7 days had passed and Remus was confused. Each morning he'd asked Virgil to come and help him paint, or join him in the science lessons he'd insisted on getting. Each time they'd nod and come along but disappear somewhere on route to where he wanted to go.

His best friend kept hiding from him and it didn't feel like a game or even like something they wanted to do if the wary glances each meal were anything to go by. It was like Virgil was expecting him to tell him to leave, gained some hope whenever Remus asked for them to do something together but gave it up seconds later as a lie. Remus wouldn't lie, especially not over wanting someone's company. He just wanted Virgil to be around him.

Today he was going to put a stop to it. He still chattered through breakfast, arguing with Roman over painting styles and trying to get Virgil to agree with him but he didn't move to get up or say anything after his meal was finished. He just sat, waiting for Virgil to finish eating and hoping he hadn't been cutting their meal short with the invitations.

“Do you not want to be my friend?” Remus blurted once they were the only ones still at the table, making Virgil startle.

“What, of course I, no, I do, definitely do but you, I mean, I thought you wouldn't. I'm just a nobody and you have all these exciting things that's you basically bounce in your seat when you talk about.” Virgil tripped over their words, clearly concerned over Remus's question but not sure how to answer it.

Remus just watched them try to reply, concerned but making himself be calm, still. “Then why do you keep disappearing when I want to share them with you? Sharing them would make any activities like a million times better! Hell just arguing with Roman is way more fun when I've got you beside me.”

“But I'm nothing!” Virgil exclaimed, pushing down on the table. “Why would you want anything to do with me except because of pity?”

“Yeah, definitely, I pitied a guy attacking me with a staff and stuck with him because I thought he needed some charity.” Remus rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure you are more than any scoundrel I could find walking into town just because you don't give a shit who we are, if you think something's dangerous or harmful you're gonna yell about it.”

“And you don't give a damn and do it anyway, claiming there's nothing dangerous that could harm you!” Their response was a glare that just made Remus grin.

He'd missed being told off while Virgil was constantly hiding themself away. “Still take more care than I would without the reminder. Besides I love that, always needed someone to give reasons for why they're upset and you just give them.”

“Love? Besotted? Why is everyone talking like we should be courting now? I don't even have somewhere to live. Get them to stop playing with my heart like that.” Virgil moaned, apparently focused on a word Remus had barely realised he'd spoken. Watching them lean on the desk it was clear there had been more said by the servants too in the last week.

He shrugged leaning back in his seat. “They aren't. If you'd actually let me find you or come to help with my painting this week you might have realised that I am very likely to fall in love with you.” He held back from saying it had already happened while coming back from the cave. It seemed like it would be too much for them, no matter that the painting in his gallery had basically made Virgil his universe, cradled and treasured by the creature they'd battled rather than fighting it.

Lost eyes looked over to him as they processed the words. “So we can be together together? I'm not – not going to get kicked out again for liking you too much?”

“Nope, I mean I made sure our rooms are next to each other deliberately so we could go through the courting without being too far apart.” Remus pointed out. “On that thought, can I actually give you your courting gifts now? I keep trying to but you disappear before I've got them out.”

Virgil nodded mutely for a second, watching him, before leaning forwards for a kiss, barely more than a peck before they were pushing away trying to get more distance between them. “Sorry, should've asked, but um, yes, courting, we can do that!”

“You don't have to ask if you want to kiss me, but if it makes you feel better we can do constantly asking.” Remus couldn't hold back his grin, and knew it was the one servants backed away, concerned over what his manic joy would cause today.

Courting first, and convincing Virgil they were far more than their mind said over time.

#dukexiety #dukexietyweek2021 #remus sanders #virgil sanders #noble remus #non-binary virgil #cw self-esteem issues #cw homophobia mention

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authoressofdarkness · 3 years

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His Perfect Model - Chapter 1

Tony doesn’t need the money from porn shoots, Lord knows. It’s just a fun, extremely well paying side gig. But when he somehow acquires permanent... ah, custody... of the omega from his latest shoot, he knows he’s found his perfect model. And their fun together is only beginning. It may take him some time to convince Peter of that, but really, he’s not too worried.

Read on AO3 here. Notes, warnings, and Chapter 1 under the cut.

Notes: Hello hello! I'm back again! This is another random plot bunny that I've been fidgeting with for a while, but I was eventually convinced to get it up sooner rather than later, so here it is! This first chapter is very explicit, and it probably will be rather smutty most of the way through. Not sure how long this will be yet or what it will deal with, but just for transparency, there may be talk of past trauma that could extend to noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, human trafficking, and more. I'll tag each chapter accordingly as we get there, but none of it should be too explicit. Also, anyone familiar with GMSTS will be familiar with how I write ABO, but, as simply as possible, omegas have vaginas, alphas have cocks, and betas are what we would consider "binary." Again, I say so ahead of time just in the interest of transparency so I don't accidentally trigger anyone's dysphoria. Aaaanyway, if you've made it through my rambling and are still interested, yay! Thank you for being here, read on, and I hope you enjoy! <3

He tries not to judge.

That was probably why he gets hired for so many gigs. That and his insane amount of talent, but — well. Anyone could have that amount of talent with working with equipment if they tried. Now the fact that he builds his own… that is something special, he knows.

And, really, his technical prowess was what pays his bills more than anything, and is what made him rich. That, and his father’s name, but he tries to keep that part more under wraps. He’d turned away the responsibility that normally came with being a Stark a long time ago; but the intelligence and the mechanical prowess is practically in his blood. Unable to be rejected.

Anyway, the point is, he doesn’t need to do porn shoots; yet he still enjoys taking these side jobs. He always had, even on his way to the top, and he never made any attempt to hide it.

He doesn’t just shoot porn, of course. He’d lend his camera skills to anyone who asks and has the money to back up the offer. But of course the dirty jobs tend to be his favorites. Any alpha that says they don’t like to pose an omega how they like and look at their pretty pussy for any amount of time — and get paid the big bucks to do it — was certainly a liar.

And yeah, he takes some weird jobs included in that. But he doesn’t ask many questions except on the preferences for stylings of the job, and he’s kinky enough himself to never dream of judging the extremism of it, so… yeah, he makes pretty good money.

Today might be testing the extent of it, though.

The scene he is shooting today isn’t particularly extreme or out of the ordinary, on first glance. The omega was to be strapped to a chair with a wand tied in place to tease his pussy, and Tony is supposed to capture it in photo and on video as his torture goes through stages of multiple denials until he’s hypersensitive and begging to stop. The rest was put as to be determined based on the way it comes out.

It is far from the craziest thing he’s ever shot, and he planned it out easily enough, with a few of his favorite toys and set pieces, and he’s easily ready to go.

The weird part starts when the omega gets there.

It’s apparent immediately that this is no porn star. Aside from his experience in the field and the number of them he actually knew from it, Peter doesn’t carry himself like one. He is small and shy, with a lithe, gorgeous body, as Tony can see from the moment the two gruff alphas accompanying him strip him out of the poor excuse for a covering the omega had been wearing. All he was left in then was a slip, and it’s sheer fabric did nothing to hide the pretty nude form underneath.

Most people arrived in normal clothes and then would either change or strip.

The second thing was that he is already bound. Again, unusual. Clearly he hadn’t driven himself, of course, but… this must be a really elaborate scene for him to already be tied up. And the rope isn’t even the good stuff; it’s plain and grainy, certainly hurting his wrists and not at all his color. Tony always used rope that complimented the style of the scene and the person’s skin. It would be a waste not to.

Peter is gorgeous, and he could have used a lot of colors, admittedly. But the boy is delicate and pale — his pussy much the same in the photos — and so he’d chosen a light pink, one that didn’t wash out his already pale form and almost matched the pretty color of the soft bits he’d been paid to pay special attention to. It’s easy enough to match the background of the scene and the colors of the toys and rope together, thematically.

But that aside, all of the choices up to this point were strange. Stranger than he’s used to. But he makes it a point not to say anything. He’s not being paid to judge.

Even if Peter looks almost scared of the two men he came in with. Even if something rings off about this whole gig.

Tony isn’t stupid, but he doesn’t care much for the loss of business — at least — pushing for the truth would cause. So he pushes the thoughts down and finally approaches the omega.

“Hi, princess. Gentlemen.” He kneels down to be at Peter’s level. “My name’s Tony. I’m going to be the one taking your photos, honey. Can I get you anything before we start? A water? Bathroom break?” The omega silently shakes his head. “Alright. Let's get started then.” He holds out a hand to help him up.

Peter takes it, and Tony helps him to his feet and guides him over to the chair. “Now we’re going to start with some photos on the floor and make our way into the chair. I’m going to change out your ropes. I want you to leave the slip on, for now.” It’s white, a nice color to highlight the details of the creamy skin underneath, and doesn’t contrast with his ropes, either.

He cuts the bonds on the omega’s wrists and reties them in front of him with the pink rope, then has him lay down on the floor, propping his ankles up on the edge of the chair so the slip falls back to expose creamy thighs and stomach and the top of that tantalizing slit from above his pressed-together thighs.

Tony suppresses the urge to purr. “Perfect.” He moves behind the chair and starts taking pictures, ignoring the stir of arousal in his gut at the sight of the gorgeous omega as he does, throwing out occasional changes in position for him to follow.

Peter, for his part, is pretty demure throughout all the photos. He’s quiet — whether shy or afraid to speak, Tony doesn’t ask — but he doesn’t look sullen or make any faces to spoil the photos. He just complies with Tony’s directions, usually silently or with an occasional “yes, sir,” allowing Tony to direct and shoot him in a dozen different positions before allowing him to actually sit in the chair.

Feet on the chair. Legs crossed. Legs open. Spread your folds with your bound hands. One leg up, then the other. Knees bent. To your chest, pussy exposed wide without your fingers. Pull the sheer over it for a few shots. Hold the wand to it. Hands above your head. Hold still while I get shots of it resting there. Tied with the rope like it will be in the video. Lick the wand. Close your eyes and hold it there. Take off the slip. Repeat a few sultry shots without it.

Finally, he picks up the slip and helps the omega to his feet. “You can sit in the chair now. Put the slip back on for a few minutes.”

Peter nods and does as he’s told, and Tony watches, unable to help himself. He doesn’t find himself incredibly attracted to a lot of his clients, at least after so long of doing it, and what with his tastes being so specific… but Peter seemed to hit everything on the head, and god, it was a bit of a problem for him. He’s supposed to be setting up his camera right now, but instead he’s admiring the curve of the omega’s spine and his plump ass as he heads for the chair he’s going to tie him to and-

He snaps out of it. He’s going to shoot the video he’s being paid to shoot, and that’s it. No fantasies allowed. At least not until after when he’s jerking off to the memory of this.

He sets up his video camera, then returns to the little omega, waiting patiently for him to come to him so they could shoot the scene. Tony grabs some more of the pink rope, setting about tying the pretty thing down, wrists to the arms, ankles to the legs, back to the back, and the wand added with a loop through the middle tying his back to the chair, letting it sit perfectly against Peter’s pretty pussy. He tops it off with a blindfold, and purrs at the completed look.

“Perfect. I’m going to get a few more shots before we start filming. Just relax.” He can smell the omega starting to get slick, even just from the wand resting against his pussy. He definitely knows what’s coming. Even though it’s not Tony’s idea, or Tony’s omega, even, he’s getting slightly excited at the thought of being in control and being the one to do this to him.

He gets a lot more excited when they actually start.

He does. He can’t help it. From the moment he turns the toy on and watches the omega’s head loll back in pleasure, eyes fluttering under the blindfold, he’s rock hard in his pants, watching, smelling the omega’s slick as he goes from slightly wet to absolutely drenched and dripping down his own thighs by the third denial. And his moans… the way he meekly whines out for alpha and those little cries of pleasepleaseplease! when he’s on the cusp of orgasm… it’s pornographic, there’s no other word for how obscene and arousing it is, matched only by the way his lithe body squirms in his bonds, fabric around his eyes darkening from tears-

By the fifth denial, Tony is convinced he could probably come in his pants right now from this, if he let himself. He’s half-ass tempted to. The alphas that had brought him in have stepped outside, and Peter is slumped as much as he can be and panting in the chair, still blindfolded, just waiting for him to turn it back on. It would be so easy to rub himself to a quick and dirty orgasm out of any of their lines of sight.

He doesn’t. He turns the toy back on and lets his cock twitch and strain in his pants at the sound of Peter’s broken cry instead, finding this edging to be just as satisfying for him as how it’ll probably end for Peter. At least it’s fair.

One of the alphas that brought him in returns sometime around the eighth denial. He joins him off to the side this time.

“How many?” He sounds almost bored, eyeing the crying and squirming omega with minimal interest.

Tony tried to keep his voice even as he answers, despite the arousal threatening to roughen it. “When I turn it on again, it’ll be nine.”

“Good.” He nods, looking satisfied.

There’s a long moment of silence except for the pitiful whimpering of the omega. Tony breaks it again. “How many times am I supposed to deny him?”

“At least ten.”

“And then?”

The other alpha turns to him. “That depends on you, I think.”

“On me?” He can’t hide his surprise. The paperwork had said to be determined, yes, but he assumed it was to be determined based on what Peter could take. “What do you mean?”

The older alpha gives him a once over and purposefully scents the air before answering. “You want him. Don’t you?”

It’s not like there’s any way of hiding it, but his cheeks still tint pink. “Yes. Who wouldn’t?”

“Well, you have a chance at him before anyone else.” The alpha tilts his head. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Excuse me?” Tony straightens. “Pay for what?”

“Him.” The alpha tosses his head in Peter’s direction.

Tony lets out a little breath. God, is it tempting, but he doesn’t need anyone else used whore, no matter how pretty he may be. “He’s pretty, I grant you, but I’m not paying to fuck an omega used by how many others before me. Thanks, but no thanks.” It sounded crude, but really. Why would he take a risk like that?

“He hasn’t been. He’s fresh meat.” The other male shrugs. “The shoot is for material to advertise him. He goes online for sale tonight… unless you pay me for him right now.”

Tony doesn’t need him to say it flat out to understand that his suspicions were right — there’s definitely something illegal going on here. And he has a choice.

But what kind of choice is it, really? He only knows two people’s names out of what is surely a ring, and in all likelihood, they’re fake names. These two alphas probably wouldn’t have shared this with him if they weren’t confident that he wants Peter enough to take it. And even the fact they were here and they did this shoot would be enough to get him in trouble, even if he turned it in himself. Not to mention the fact that they know his real identity. These two men or someone else would surely come back after him if he tried to turn them in — if they didn’t kill him flat out.

But if he bought Peter and kept quiet… it was better for him, better for business, and surely better for Peter. He couldn’t be as bad as whoever the boy would end up being sold to on the black market.

Tony meets his eyes. “How much?”

The alpha grins, pretending to think about it. “To have first go round at him? A couple grand. I’ll go back outside and let you have him until sundown, if you give us our material and the cash. To keep him? Well, I still want the photos for promotional material, but… a mil or two.”

Two whole million. For a pure, untouched, gorgeous, terrified omega straight out of his wet dreams.

Tony swallows. It’s hardly a decision. Not when he’s smelling how wet and ready Peter is sitting a few feet away and he knows he could have the money out of the bank as quick as a phone call. It’s not as if he doesn’t have it. “How soon do you want the cash?”

~~~

By the time Peter reaches the tenth denial, Tony officially owns him.

The two other alphas leave with a flash drive with the photos, the money in an account, and the promise that they’ll get the finished product of the video soon.

Soon, but not today, or the next couple, probably. He’s going to be a bit busy.

He fixes the angle of the camera so it’s situated mostly below the neck; the focus of it, of course, on the omega’s creamy open thighs, and the wet pussy forced open between them with the wand. Then he moves around, approaching the omega from the back while he’s slumped in the chair, panting and crying weakly.

He slides the blindfold off the omega’s wet eyes from behind, and Peter immediately straightens, tugging at his bonds. “H-hello? Alpha?” His voice is thick and raspy from crying.

“Hi, honey,” Tony purrs, setting his hands on the omega’s shoulders, enjoying the way he jumps at the touch as he runs them down his body. Deft fingers free the wand from its loop, and Peter sobs in relief.

“Oh alpha, thank you, gods- ngh- “

Peter starts to thank him for removing the wand, but chokes off with a broken cry when it returns, this time in the alpha’s hand. Tony smiles at the response as Peter’s head lolls back into his shoulder, turning it up a setting and shushing him gently at the sob that tears from Peter’s lips again.

He runs his other hand back up Peter’s body and settles it against his chin, grip firm on his throat, forcing him to keep his head back and on his shoulder. He drops his lips to the omega’s ear. “You can sob and struggle all you want to. I’m not going to let you come. And I’m not going to stop torturing you until you stop all of it. Don’t cry, don’t struggle, don’t beg me to let you ruin yourself. When you start saying please and thank you for the pleasure and for what I’m doing to you, and be a respectful, obedient omega, we might stop.”

“It hurts-“ Peter whimpers. “Alpha, daddy , please… I’ll do anything- oh- “ His face presses against Tony’s chest with a tortured cry. His thighs tremble viciously against Tony’s hand, back arching a little over the chair.

Tony feels a pang in his chest, but presses on. They have to finish this video before he starts going soft, at least. “You’ll sit still and be quiet. Here. I’ll even help you.” The hand not holding the wand in place comes up and covers his mouth, holding his head firmly against his shoulder. “Now be good, and I’ll make it stop.”

It takes time. Another few denials, kind of time, but it doesn’t matter. He has as long as needed. He’d given the omega an order, and he’d learn to listen, or they’d keep going all night.

Eventually, shaking and exhausted, Peter goes limp against him, eyes closed, pitiful little sobs audible but no words even trying to come from behind the alpha’s hand, still clamped on his mouth. Tony makes a triumphant little sound, and pulls the wand away. “Look at me, omega.”

Peter’s eyes flutter open, red and wet, fixing on Tony.

“Since you’ve listened, now, we’re going to be done. I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, and I want you to thank me. Don’t stop thanking me, and don’t say please, again, or we’ll stop until you can get control of yourself. Am I clear?” A nod against his hand. “Good.” He lets him go.

Peter takes a small breath. “Thank you.” His voice is barely a hoarse whisper.

“You’re welcome, omega.” Tony presses a kiss to his neck and lets the wand trail back up Peter’s thigh, suppressing a smirk at the way his breath hitches again. “Again.”

“Thank you, Alpha.”

“Good boy. Remember, don’t beg. Just be grateful.” He pauses, then slides the blindfold back on his eyes. He knows they want his full body in this shot, but he isn’t too keen on the possibility of the omega being recognized, either, knowing what he does now. Then he steps away just enough to tilt the camera back up, allowing it to get Peter’s face, and a small portion of his own neck and torso behind him.

When he returns, he takes his chin, turning his head toward the lens. “Look toward the camera, now. Think about how many people are going to see this, honey, and try show them how good you are. Let everyone see how pretty you look when you’re coming, just this once, before I take it all for myself.”

“Yes, alpha. Thank you, alpha.”

“Good boy.” With that, he turns on the wand again.

The omega’s body jumps visibly in the camera lens when the toy finds his swollen clit again. He lets out a broken little cry, but his hips don’t move, even as he starts to tremble again immediately. “Alpha- feels so good, Alpha, thank you- so close, Alpha, so close, thank you- oh god, oh- ngh- “

The force of the orgasm rocks his little body, and he nearly screams at the intensity before going completely limp in the chair again, clearly seeing stars, seeming to have blacked out.

Tony flicks the toy off and lets Peter’s head go, watching it fall to his chest as the omega pants and struggles to regain his senses. He walks over to the camera, taking it off its stand and coming closer.

He trails his fingers from the inside of Peter’s bound leg, up his core, pausing for just a moment to tease that oversensitive little bud, tearing a strangled cry out of Peter that he shushes, and then clear up to his face. He cups his cheek, stroking it as the omega’s unfocused eyes try to open under the fabric, clearly barely holding on to consciousness.

“You know you want one,” he murmurs, just loud enough to be heard. “So come get it.”

Then he shuts the camera off, setting it aside and turning completely back to Peter. It was time to get the omega home.

Taglist: @snowstark @serrabloodsong

Let me know if you would like to be added! <3

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hellroots · 3 years

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『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked - sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i usually tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health. i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours. for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !! i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using. i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you. here's something you should know about me: when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me. on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that. please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return. plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it. my own formatting is simple and clean. on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please. most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it. most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬. i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist. i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag. most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

#RULES.

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dreamcatcherfication · 4 years

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Caught in a Lie

I know this fic was meant to be angsty, but I didn’t mean for it to get this angsty.

Hello and welcome! Today’s fic is based off a request you can find here, or you can just read on and be surprised. I realized that I write most of my Cathy/Kat interactions as them fighting or being really emotional, so please ignore me reusing that dynamic. I didn’t really get to edit this, so please ignore any incoherency, I’ll try to go back soon and fix everything. I don’t have much else to say except watch out for the trigger warnings this time around and please enjoy the fic! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, my nuerological processing unit is broken.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Blunt talk of sexual abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of assisting sexual abuse, just a lot of talk about sexual abuse

Ever since starting their show and appearing in public, the queens had become used to historians’ obsessions with them. Most wanted to know how they came back and if there would be others. A good amount were more interested in the truth of what happened during their first lives. But a few of them were intent on tearing the queens apart. Many historians were confused as to why the queens got along, and they didn’t like it. How could it make sense that the six widows of the same man would become their own family?

For almost a year now, Cathy Parr had been keeping a secret from her predecessor. It wasn’t meant to be anything notable, simply an action she was taking to ensure Kat’s safety. The same historians who picked and prodded for any piece of information they could get would come after the survivor for her knowledge. How did she get along so well with Kat when she allowed Elizabeth to be sexually abused? How did the queens think so highly of her when she was anything but perfect? Why did Kat act the way she did around the other queens?

They weren’t questions Cathy should be answering, but she also didn’t want the historians to move on and start asking Kat. So she answered the questions as vaguely as possible while also making sure Kat learned nothing about what was going on. The teen wouldn’t be able to handle it, Cathy knew, so she made her decision to keep things a secret.

That’s how things went for a long time, and there was nothing remarkable about it. Cathy lied to Kat to keep her safe, and Kat went about living her life. The world was in a perfect balance, and each queen was living her life the best she could.

But these things were not built to last, and it was Kat who would learn that the hard way. She hadn’t been expecting it, much less prepared for it, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. It started with a message on her social media that attracted her attention. Kat should’ve known to ignore it, but she couldn’t help her curiosity as to why someone was messaging her what looked like an entire essay.

Skimming the essay, Kat missed some of the padding from the person who wrote it - a historian, Kat deduced - and skipped right to the point of their message. We’ve been talking with Katheryn Parr, Kat noticed how they used the old spelling of her name, about your past with sexual abusers. Kat’s breath hitched, but she moved forward, ignoring the pit of dread settling in her stomach.

It seemed so implausible that you two could hold a strong relationship after her marriage with Thomas Seymour and assistance with his abuse of Queen Elizabeth. It’s even stranger her friendship with Anne Boleyn, but both of them have confirmed that the past has been resolved. Kat adjusted her grip on her phone and kept scrolling. Miss Parr has told us multiple times that you know about the questions we ask her, but you do not wish to speak with us. I don’t quite believe a woman like her, so I’m reaching out to you directly so that you, Miss Howard, are fully informed on the events going down. Katheryn Parr is claiming that you are uncomfortable speaking to us about your past, but I would like to fact check that with you Miss Howard. Please respond to me -

The message went on, but Kat had lost interest in what the historian had to say. Cathy had been talking to historians about her? Kat hadn’t heard anything from Cathy… “It’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Kat mumbled to herself, tucking her phone in her pocket. She’d go clear it up right then with Cathy, who was in the room next to hers.

Walking to Cathy’s door, Kat prepared her words. She wasn’t going to believe a historian over her friend, but she wouldn’t let herself be surprised by anything. Slowly pushing the door open, Kat peeked her head inside. Cathy was on her bed, sorting through a mess of papers. “Hello Kat,” she greeted amiably and returned to her sorting.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Kat started, making her way inside the room.

“Sure,” Cathy shrugged. She took a break in sorting her papers and looked up. “What’s the problem?”

Sitting down on the bed, Kat made eye contact with Cathy, watching her. “A historian messaged me on Instagram today.”

Cathy groaned, “That’s a tactic they haven’t tried before.”

“Yeah,” Kat muttered. “They were saying a lot of weird stuff. That you were speaking in my place during interviews and saying that I didn’t want to talk about my past. Weird, right?” Kat asked hopefully. She saw the hesitation in Cathy’s eyes and her heart dropped. “Right?”

Opening her mouth, Cathy sat silently for a couple seconds. “Kat - I.” She went silent again. “It was for your own good.” She reached her hand out, but Kat pulled back.

“What do you mean, ‘for my own good?’” Kat scrunched her nose.

Taking the hint, Cathy leaned away from Kat. “They were asking invasive questions. How could you stand being around me after… what happened in your childhood,” the writer explained.

“I was sexually abused,” Kat stated bluntly, “You can say it out loud.”

Cathy awkwardly laughed without humor. “I know, I just thought you would prefer -”

“I don’t,” Kat stood up. “Our show is about telling our stories, if I didn’t want to tell it, I wouldn’t be on stage every night. Please don’t make decisions for me Cathy.”

Looking down, Cathy sighed. “It’s for the best Kat. They weren’t nice people, they would’ve hurt you.”

“Then they would’ve hurt me,” Kat shot back defiantly. “It’s not up to you to decide whether or not I face these people. I’ve been hurt before, and I’m still here.”

Still, there was a cloudiness in Cathy’s eyes that told Kat she simply didn’t believe her. “I know you’re strong, I do Kat, but you have to understand I was only doing it to make things easier for you.”

Holding herself back from stomping her foot, Kat felt her nostrils flair. “Nothing is ever easy for me. But you know what Cathy? I learned to live with it. So don’t control my life just because you think it’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m only -” “No.” Kat turned away from Cathy. “You’ve been lying to me. I believed you over that historian, but it turns out they were right.”

Letting her eyes drop, Cathy murmured, “I wanted to help you.”

Spinning around, Kat glared at Cathy. “You help me by talking to me, not by lying to me.”

Kat waited, her eyes boring into Cathy’s skull until the other queen looked up and their eyes connected. There was hurt in Cathy’s eyes, but she was trying to hide it. Kat couldn’t find any pity in herself for her fellow queen. “I’m sorry Kat. I won’t do it again.”

“You won’t be coming anywhere near my life any time soon,” Kat spit, turning heel.

“What?” Cathy jumped out of her bed and followed Kat to the door.

Stepping into the hallway, Kat faced Cathy one last time. “You’ve been lying to me long enough. I’m not giving you the opportunity to do that again.” She was about to leave before pausing, eyes settling on Cathy’s face, growing more pale by the second. “And for the record, I would have told them it was because I trusted you.”

With that, Kat was gone, out of the hallway and disappearing to her own room. Frozen in her doorway, Cathy’s hands slowly fell to her side. She wanted to give Kat another apology, but it wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She should’ve seen it from the start. She was just trying to help her friend. And now she had ruined everything.

Pacing in her room, Kat had to dig her fingernails in her palms in order to restrain her urge to lash out. It wasn’t common for her to get angry, but this was an exception. Kat hated being coddled, treated like a little kid. She was more than that, and she could handle herself.

Stopping her pacing, Kat’s gaze drifted to her phone, still lying on her bedside table. Approaching it, Kat picked up the dark screen and turned it on. Going back to her social media, she reread the message. It only made the rage in her chest burn brighter, a reminder that some random historian was more honest with her than one of her closest friends.

In a moment of anger, Kat pulled up a note and started furiously typing.

For years I have had to live with what people have done to be. I was sexually abused as a child and people like to avoid talking about it. They use filler words, thinking it will make me feel better. It doesn’t. It only makes you feel better. I experienced it, I lived it, and a few pretty words aren’t going to protect me.

I learned recently that people have been trying to reach out to me in order to understand my feelings on what happened. Obviously I don’t like talking about my abuse, but it’s still a reality I lived through. Historians had been blocked from reaching me by Catherine Parr, who took it upon herself to protect me.

I have been lied to for longer than I know, and it’s because of Catherine Parr. She thought that she could make decisions for me and that I would be okay with it. Out of the goodness of her heart, she betrayed my trust and completely ignored the point of our show. I tell my story every night on stage. But when someone wants to approach me personally, she believes it’s her duty to make sure I won’t get hurt. Catherine? I’ve already been hurt. You can’t do anything to change that, so stop acting like you’re allowed to be the angel who saved me from everything bad. You’re not. You’re a liar.

Everyone knows about what happened with Thomas Seymour and Elizabeth. You watched on silently as he sexually abused her. And despite all the pain that came with confronting that, Anne and I forgave you. I would think you learned that this isn’t your story to tell. You did nothing then, and you think doing something now will make up for it. It won’t, and I don’t want it to. I wanted to move on from everything, but clearly you aren’t ready.

So fine. If that’s how it’ll be, then fine. Catherine Parr, I don’t want to see you or hear from you. If any interviewer wants to talk to me, they come to me and not Catherine Parr. She holds no say in my life, and I’d like to keep it that way. Because Catherine Parr is a liar. And I’m sick of people lying to me.

Setting her phone down, Kat let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t intend on publishing the rant, but she needed to get it out. Her words were harsh and came from somewhere deep within her, but she didn’t want anyone to see them. She was going to keep playing the role of the charming girl with the bad past, not the young woman who was done with being coddled.

Collapsing onto the bed, Kat closed her eyes. She was about to let the tension leave her body when a short smacking sound caught her attention. Sitting up, Kat looked around until she spotted her phone on the floor. Picking it up, Kat went to turn it off when she noticed a small mark on the corner of her note. Posted, it read in small italics.

Hands starting to shake, Kat dropped her phone on the bed. What had she done? What had she done? The post was online, and people were going to see it. No one was meant to see it, but now it would be online forever. Even if she figured out how to delete the post, people were probably taking screenshots the second it appeared.

Curling into a ball, Kat hid her face. This was a mistake, a big, big mistake that was going to cause so many problems. If Cathy had lost her trust, then all the queens would lose trust in Kat. In one moment, Kat had managed to tear them apart unknowingly.

On cue there was a shout from the queens’ living room. “Katherine Howard, explain this right now!”

Gulping, Kat glanced down at her phone. Kat closed her eyes, and for the first time in 500 years, she prayed.

---------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thenicestnonbinary @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom @frogs-in-clogs @timetoriseabove

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #please check out the trigger warnings #they apply pretty heavily to the fic #requests #katherine howard #catherine parr #i ruined their friendship #sorry guys that one's on me #if you know what the title is a reference to #please tell me #because i will be so happy #that at least one person gets it #i never give any of you satisfying endings #that's also on me

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winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 3

aka Caleo uni AU

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Calypso gets a new friend and notices that maybe her flatmate isn't that bad after all.

A/N: Time to introduce Annabeth! I will slowly be adding more of the familiar characters, in the next chapter there will be more (but who, may that remain a secret for another week).

As usual, thanks to my friend Cris for betaing! And thanks to everyone who's been commenting, know that your comments really have motivated me to continue this fic! Please keep them coming :)

And now, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo, Annabeth

Words: 1300+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort (in the future chapters)

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

It was the morning of Calypso’s first day at the university. The first week would mostly be orientation, meaning getting to know her fellow students, the professors, the campus, her program and so on a bit better. She was feeling quite nervous because aside from Leo she hadn’t really met other students living in the area yet, and if she was honest with herself, her friend making skills weren’t the best. Due to the circumstances at her home, she had never had a close friend, and her relationships tended to end after a couple of months for various reasons. But this was finally a good chance to find other people interested in the same topics as she was, and she didn’t want to blow it up.

As she was making herself breakfast, her roommate showed up and sat down on a chair next to her, leaning his chin against the backrest. His fingers were tapping against the hard wood of the table like Calypso had already seen them do a few times in the past few days. The boy never seemed to be able to sit still.

“First day in this university, huh?” Leo asked. “You nervous?”

“What do you want?” Calypso asked suspiciously, not answering his question. She wasn’t feeling like opening up about her nervousness to this boy who for some reason made her feel even more restless. It was almost as if his nervous energy was contagious.

“Listen,” Leo started, now looking at her directly and stopping the tapping for a moment. “I know we haven’t exactly started off great, but we’re still going to be living together for a while so I thought we should at least be even. So. I fixed your desk.”

“I don’t want to owe you anything,” Calypso said matter-of-factly.

“You’re not owing me!” Leo exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air for a bigger impact. “I… well, Festus, but it was my fault… broke it so I thought it was the appropriate thing to do. But if you are too proud to…” His voice started to rise a bit. He had not expected Calypso to be that stubborn.

“Okay,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder briefly to stop his rambling. “I’ll accept it. Thanks. I guess.”

“Not exactly the reaction I was expecting but I’ll accept it,” he mocked her tone and earned an angry look from Calypso. “I was hoping for something more like ‘thank you so much, my favorite roomie, you’re the best!’” To avoid another lash from her, he quickly changed the subject: “Anyway, I also wanted to tell you that we should probably take weekly turns with cleaning the common area, like I did with Jason. I can take this week if you want to.”

“No, I can take it.” Calypso said with a tone that meant this won’t be discussed further.

“Is there anything you can’t make an argument about, Miss Sunshine?” Leo stared at her with frustration while his hands were reaching for the chips from a bag he had left on the dining table the other day.

“You make it rather easy, Valdez. Also, who eats chips for breakfast?” She shook her head with disapproval. “Manners,” she mumbled under her breath before turning to put the milk back into the fridge. “Now, I’d like to finish my breakfast so if you excuse me…”

She took her bowl of cereals and an orange with her into her room and closed the door behind her.

…

“Don’t forget to get your books for next week, we’re already going to start with…” A professor announced at the end of his long lecture. The rest of his speech was drowned by the sound of the students starting to get up and collect their stuff to leave the class.

“When I signed up for this, I was not expecting them to have full blown lectures on the first day,” a blonde girl behind Calypso noted. Unlike Calypso, who felt overwhelmed by the amount of information she had just received, the other girl seemed almost bored as if she already knew everything they had been told.

“Yeah, me neither,” Calypso admitted, realizing that the girl was talking to her. “But I guess that’s university for you…”

“Right,” the blonde agreed. “Anyway, what’s your name? I don’t know anyone in this group yet but I’d like to change that.”

“Oh! I’m Calypso. Calypso Astal,” she gave the girl her hand to shake. “You can call me Cal, though…”

The other girl took it and shook it firmly. “Annabeth Chase. I’m actually an architect student but I’m also interested in history so I decided to make it my minor subject. I guess that means I’ll be seeing you a lot this semester!”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Calypso exclaimed. “I like drawing too but I doubt I would actually be good enough to design buildings.”

“There’s a lot that you need to take into account when designing,” Annabeth agreed, “but practice makes perfect.” As the girls passed a window that showed them the beautiful old main building of their university, she gestured at it and added: “One day I’d love to design something that will make people stop and say ‘hey, did you know this building was designed by none other than Annabeth Chase?’”

“To be honest, I haven’t thought that far,” Calypso admitted. “This is all still so new to me, I’ve been…” She decided she didn’t want to reveal her home circumstances to someone she had just met so she changed her approach: “well, there’s a lot I still want to experience so I have not devoted myself to just one path yet. I came here because I needed to get away, and history was an easy choice because I’ve always been interested in it. I still don’t picture myself researching the past events for the rest of my life.”

Annabeth nodded understandingly. “I think a lot of people of our age feel that way. My boyfriend… Well, now he’s having a swimming career but we both know that isn’t gonna last forever so I’ve been trying to get him to think of other possibilities for when he no longer feels the passion for competing. But he doesn’t see it the same way, he says I always plan too much ahead. Which I guess may be partially true,” she chuckled and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly, feeling she may have revealed a bit too much.

“Yeah. I like to go with a similar ‘go with the flow’ attitude as well.” In her head Calypso added: ‘because of what happened at home’.

“Anyway,” Annabeth decided to change the topic when she noticed Calypso had gone quiet. “This is a bit of a random question, but are you familiar with this town yet?”

“No, not yet.” Calypso shook her head. “I moved here only a week ago.”

“In that case, would you like me to show around some day?” Annabeth asked, opening her phone calendar. “I’d have time for example tomorrow.”

“Oh, sure, that would be great!” Calypso said. “Definitely beats listening to my roommate’s tinkering all day long.”

“Tinkering? You wouldn’t happen to be flatmates with Leo Valdez?” Annabeth connected the dots. The campus wasn’t that big and he had heard some stories through her boyfriend about one very enthusiastic mechanic.

“Unfortunately, I am. How did you know?” Calypso asked curiously.

“Oh, he has a bit of a reputation here,” Annabeth said mischievously. When Calypso looked at her suspiciously, she added: “I’m just kidding, my boyfriend is good friends with one guy named Jason who used to be Leo’s flatmate. I’ve never met him but I did keep hearing that he was constantly building something in his room. And also, Leo likes making a number of himself so he has put plenty of flashy ads on the uni bulletin boards telling about his mechanic business.”

“I guess I should have known that,” Calypso facepalmed.

“You don’t seem to like him very much, do you?” Annabeth asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Um…” Calypso wasn’t sure why she was revealing all this to a stranger, but it just felt right. “Our chemistry just… isn’t working. We’re very different and…” She tried to think of other reasons for their issues, which turned out to be harder than she expected. She realized that she didn’t really know him yet. “Uh, his dog broke my desk on the day I moved in and I’ve been mad at him ever since. He did apologize but… something about his attitude irks me. I don’t even know what it is.”

Annabeth’s mouth curled up a bit in amusement. She wanted to say that sounded a lot like her relationship with her boyfriend Percy had started. “That happens sometimes. Maybe… give him another chance, though. I mean, I don’t really know him or anything but sometimes the first impressions aren’t the best ones. You haven’t been living together for a long time yet, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about him.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I feel kind of silly for complaining about that to a stranger. But thanks for listening!”

“No problem! Listen, I should get going now because I have a meeting with some architect friends but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah! You bet!”

The girls quickly exchanged their phone numbers before separating to their own ways. As Calypso was walking towards her flat, though, she felt a small smile spread on her face. Maybe she had just made her first friend.

When Calypso got inside, to her surprise she found her broken desk waiting for her near her room. Only, it wasn’t broken anymore. She had wondered where it had disappeared after the incident but hadn’t really given it too much thought considering the state of the desk, thinking that Leo might have taken it to a recycling center or something. However, it turned out he had done a lot more than that. The broken board had been replaced with a new one and he had also sandpapered the surface, painted it and varnished it so it looked better than it had looked when it was brand new. Calypso could only stare with an open mouth at the fine job he had done. Once she had finally recovered from the surprise a bit, she yelled:

“Valdez!”

“¿Sí?” he peeked from his room, not sure what to expect. To his surprise, he saw the first genuine smile he had seen on her face.

“Would you like to help me to carry this into my room?” she asked in a friendly manner, still smiling. Leo took that as a win and agreed to help.

When they were done, Calypso did another thing that surprised both herself and him: she gently touched his arm and said: “Thanks. It looks good. And I mean it.”

“Leo Valdez, always ready to help.” He made a silly bowing gesture that made Calypso snort.

“You know, maybe you’re not quite so bad after all.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time,” he said, but there were no ill feelings behind his words.

“Now go before I change my mind,” Calypso said playfully. Leo gave her his signature grin and as he left the room, he felt he had finally managed to crack her cover a bit.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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twen-nee6 · 4 years

Text

Language Learning Sucks

So, I’ve recently decided to take up learning Russian for when I hopefully eventually go back to school, so I won’t need to take a foreign language course there. In this little journey I have began, I have been seeking out advice from people who have learned foreign languages, and it really interesting (and demotivating, sometimes) how pretentious some people are about other people not knowing a second language.

I actually just watched a video of two people talking about their language learning together, and they actually said something like:

“When someone tells me they aren’t good at learning a language, I think it’s absolute bullshit-- they learned English! They just don’t have the motivation to apply themselves.”

Hearing that honestly bothered me a lot, because I have tried my damndest throughout my life to learn languages through classes. I took Spanish for five years in junior high and high school, and I never was able to truly retain it. I took an Italian class in university, and I did so poorly my teacher told me to drop it. I took a completely different language class, Zulu, and had the same issue. Fuck, I have even tried taking a Russian class with the same results.

There was no lack of application, nor motivation. I think languages are really cool, and I slaved over every class only to fail fucking miserably due to how language is traditionally taught, which, in my experience, was always focused on the speaking aspect.

I have auditory processing disorder. I can barely understand people speaking to me in English. I watch things with subtitles. I look up transliterations of things without subtitles. I can’t listen to podcasts.

So, as you can imagine, when the main route of educating people on foreign language is through a lot of auditory input and speaking, of fucking course I wasn’t going to be learning very well. I even brought up these issues with the teachers of all these classes, and they basically told me I was SOL and that “everyone has the same issues as you!” Fast forward a week and it’s, “See me during office hours.” or “I can tell you’re not applying yourself, drop the class.”

To circle back to the quote about “you learned English,” yes, yes I did; however, I think it is very important to say that, to this day, I cannot pronounce things very well. In fact, there are nuances in words that have had people poking fun at me my entire life. Did you know “color” and “collar” are pronounced differently? I think people are still fucking with me on that one, honestly.

I mean, I’m not saying that I can’t speak English or anything-- I can. Hell, I even figured out how to alter my speech so I didn’t have as heavy as an accent in university (because, as we all know, having a non-neutral accent makes you uneducated /s), but I constantly get shit from people for not pronouncing words correctly, so I literally have taken the incredibly laconic approach to speaking to strangers so I don’t have some jackass mansplaining how to pronounce ornithischian to me.

So, language learning: I cannot get a degree without meeting a foreign language requirement. I have tried many different languages, and every time it is a problem with me “not applying” myself. Years pass, and I’m nearing the end of my degrees, and I still haven’t knocked out a single class of a foreign language because I evidently suck at learning languages. Now imagine, “Well, you learned English, so you can learn another language, you saying that you can’t is an excuse.”

I understand that the comment is supposed to be motivating in some roundabout way, but hotdamn, man.

I mean, in retrospect, I probably should have tried to get into an ASL class even though they were always booked within an hour of class scheduling opening. I probably still should try to learn it because I’m nonverbal sometimes, and the whole auditory processing disorder thing makes it next to impossible for me to comprehend speech in noisy environments (although lip-reading and the little bit of info I get from sound in those situations is usually enough to get me through it), but that’s all another story.

I wanna learn Russian, I need a language to get through college, so here I am learning Russian.

Of course, all the advice that one gets when they’re trying to learn a new spoken language is to listen to it, but... we just went over why that has not worked for me. While I still think listening is important so I may one day have hope of understanding someone talking at me, that is obviously not going to be how I learn, and, sadly, there are not many people who go about learning a language without a heavy listening aspect. As such, I don’t really have anyone to look to to figure out what kind of methodology I should be employing here.

So far, I’ve been working through the Russian textbook I have from college, doing Duolingo and Anki and watching some Russian YouTube with Russian subtitles (even though I don’t even think I understand even 2% of the words, lol) to get a general idea of basic Russian. I plan, once I finish the Duolingo course and my textbook, to graduate to reading basic things (how-to articles and maybe some mid-grade YA if I can understand a decent amount of it) and inputting the stuff I don’t know into Anki to study later.

Will this work? I have no idea, I guess time will tell. I might do updates here and there, we’ll see. My goal isn’t necessarily to be able to listen to Russian and understand it, and nor do I particularly care about speaking it; my motivation is to be able to read Russian literature and write general storytelling / character building advice in Russian (and, uh, also get my degree one day).

Also, random side note, but when I asked around about any resources that weren’t listening-heavy, people were telling me it’s important to listen so you can read? And when I asked what they were on about, they informed me, “You know, so the voice you hear when you’re reading knows what the word sounds like?” Do y’all have little reading worm voices in ya heads? I don’t have an internal monologue so I guess that’s why I don’t have it, but-- man, that would be neat, lol.

#anecdote #language learning #auditory processing disorder #learning russian #personal #if anyone has tips for me please share tho fr because i have had 0 luck

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 4 years

Text

The Bounty | [Fem!Twi’lek!Reader x Din Djarin] | The Mandalorian

Notes: This will get a 3rd part which will probably be the last one. It took a little longer since I had so many fanfics in my drafts and I just added stuff when I was in the mood but I still hope you enjoy it :) Also If you don’t play Star Wars: The Old Republic you might not have realized it in the first part, but Eli is a Miraluka. What this species can do will be revealed here or you just google it I guess xD

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Some Angst, Original Characters, Longing, Slight OOC

Summary: Din Djarin and Y/N, the smuggler meet again, but their circumstances do not benefit the relationship Din wishes they could have.

Word Count: 5534

Once again, the Reader is a Twi’Lek!

Part I

________

Months went by and their journey continued on. His and the child's. They traveled across the galaxy, landing on desert planets, hiding on moons, hunting a bounty here and there even though he wanted to stop, and more often than not they had to flee in a hurry.

It was the same old routine. The only thing that changed was that Din couldn't go to sleep right away. The occurrence wasn't rare at all but now he didn't stay up because of his insomnia, or bad memories which would haunt his dreams.

He laid awake in his cot, the child on his chest and all he could think about were those mesmerizing eyes. It felt like a joke. He had met her only once and the time they spent together had been less than 3 hours but he still got swept off his feet. He wouldn't admit it, he couldn't. If he told Cara that a random smuggler was able to catch his heart she would probably laugh out loud and say something like: "I knew you were a big softie."

But he couldn't stop thinking about Y/N. The way her eyes had lit up when she laughed, how she swayed slightly with her hips when she walked. The way her clothes complimented her figure. There was a burning in his heart, a longing, and Din felt shame for thinking about a woman he barely knew in such an intimate manner. He tried to tell himself that he only felt that way because he was starving for affection and body contact, and anybody would do but his heart told him otherwise.

He tried to busy himself, tried to forget her or that she ever existed and it seemed to work, at least a little until fate appeared like it wanted to torment him.

They met again. But as things seemed to always go wrong for him, she was his bounty. And he was supposed to bring her in cold.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Kecha?”

Y/N stabbed his hand with her knife. The Delphidian cried out in pain and tried to grab her wrist but she warned him with a glare. His bodyguards pointed their blasters at her, even so, the Twi’Lek didn’t react.

“I told you I won’t give you shit if you can’t pay the full price!”

She twisted the knife in his wound and he groaned. His pitiful state satisfied her anger a little and she jerked her knife out of his hand. Kecha pulled his hand back and used his robe to stop the bleeding. Slowly, she sat down again and leaned back in her seat, her eyes not leaving his hunched figure. Since their boss didn’t say anything his gang members lowered their weapons.

“We had a bad month, Y/N, I can only pay the amount I have here...”, he stopped and pointed to the credits laying on the table, "but I can pay you in another currency."

The smuggler wiped her blade clean with a cold expression.

"I'm not interested in slaves, you should know that."

The pirate boss nodded, of course, he knew. She had almost split his skull once for offering her a male Twi'Lek slave.

He hesitated and then waved one of his boys over. He whispered a few words in his ear while Y/N watched him with a wary look. The pirate left to get something and returned some seconds later with a bounty puck and a tracking fob. She narrowed her eyebrows. Somehow she had a bad feeling.

"This puck was in the possession of a Duros we encountered a week ago."

He didn't need to explain how their encounter ended, the green blood on the device told enough. He activated the puck and Y/N's expression darkened instantly when she recognized her own face with Wanted written in Basic underneath. Her right hand traveled to her hips where her blasters were located.

“So what now? You wanna kill me?”

The Delphidian shook his head and she relaxed slightly. Nonetheless, her hand rested on her gun.

“Of course not, you’re a valuable business partner.”

Y/N snorted but her eyes looked unamused. She grabbed the tracking fob and activated it. The beeping was obnoxiously loud and fast. Well, its quarry was holding it after all. The thought of someone putting up a bounty for her worried her more than Kecha probably imagined. Her demeanor was unfazed but unease claimed her heart.

“Anything else you found out?”

The pirate boss nodded and rubbed the sweat from his forehead, pain was clearly visible in his eyes. The fact that he didn’t lash out at her for injuring him showed their unusual bond. After all, they had been partners for years. She started to feel a little guilty for hurting him but she would never admit it.

“They want you dead. 300′000 credits for your cold body.”

His voice had a worried undertone and the Twi’Lek paused. So many credits for her? The amount was intimidating and she wondered who the rich stranger was, who wanted to pay so much for her death.

“Wait, why would they - whoever wants me dead - hire the bounty hunter’s guild for this? This sounds more like a job for an assassin.”

Kecha shrugged his shoulders.

*I don’t know but if I were you I would lay low for a while.”

Y/N let out a small laugh.

“You know I can’t do that. Business is everything and I can’t lose any customers.”

The Delphidian frowned but she couldn’t tell if it was because of his wound. He used his uninjured hand to push the credits on the table towards her then he leaned back and let one of his henchmen give him a cloth to wrap around his hurt hand.

She took the credits and put them in a bag attached to her hip. She also grabbed the puck and deactivated the tracking fob. The smuggler stood up and walked over to the spice containers she brought him. With quick fingers, she unlocked all of them and deactivated the lock feature. When she turned around to see if he was satisfied, she noticed Kecha’s troubled expression. Her eyes softened.

“Don’t worry, I won’t get killed that easily. I can defend myself just well.”

He sighed and replied with an annoyed undertone:

“I know, you don’t have to remind me.”

Y/N turned her lips into a grin and she grabbed something in her bag and then threw it to him when she turned around to leave. Kecha caught the bacta patch and smiled.

“Thanks, Cap.”

She waved dismissively and left the room. No one followed her and she walked back to the Icarus. The moment the door closed behind her, the corner of her lips dropped. How would she get out of this mess? A bounty for her head? That was something new and Y/N she didn’t like it.

If Din had known who exactly he had to find he wouldn’t have taken the tracking fob. But that was the problem; he didn’t know. He didn’t receive the bounty from the guild, obviously not, after all, he left them behind. He got the job from a fellow on Taris while staying there. They needed supplies but he realized that they were short on money.

So he left the child on the Razor Crest - his heart clenched in worry but they needed food desperately and when he watched how the ramp of his ship closed, his child looked at him as if he understood.

It hadn’t really been his plan to do a bounty, he wanted to leave the profession behind because he needed to care for a baby but it was the quickest way to get good money.

Only once more, was his thought when he received the tracking fob. Neither did he know who put the bounty up nor who he had to hunt, but it was more than a guild traitor could ask for so he didn’t complain. He would get the money from his informant, he would make sure of that.

The beeping was slow and all he knew was the last location of his bounty and the fact that he should bring it in could but he didn’t let himself get discouraged. It had been the same with the baby and he found the little womp rat so he didn’t worry too much. Since he had one crucial information, the person he was about to hunt, was a notorious smuggler. Which meant he needed to be careful with his approach.

The first thing that went through his head when he heard that was, of course, Y/N. Stars, that woman stole his heart and he let her. Why was he so careless? With the cock of his blaster, he chased the beautiful Twi’Lek out of his mind and left the cantina.

He bought a rusty but still functioning speeder with the last of his credits and set off. He had no destination in mind, he just drove around to see where the tracking fob would start to beep louder.

He saw the remains of a city void of any intelligent life, fragments of former wars and battles. Nature took back what once was hers and the beauty of how she did it, made him pause. Would he be able to settle down in a quiet place like this?

It made him wonder why this was the first thing that crossed his mind but after seeing so much violence and death in his life, dying like a warrior seemed less desirable for him.

Peace and quiet, a goddamn second for him to take a breather and an evening where the child could eat and sleep without any disturbance was a wish that resonated deep within his soul. Maybe he got old. But he wasn’t old enough yet to not hear how the fob’s beep turned louder.

He stopped the speeder and jumped off. In a radius of 10 meters, he walked around it and listened to any change in the rhythm of the device. He needed to head north. The beep was not fast enough yet so he mounted the speeder again and continued to drive towards his bounty. What he didn’t realize, he wasn’t the only person who listened to his tracking fob.

“You sure it’s going to work out fine? You have a bounty on your head now...”

Eli voiced his concerns and she sighed. Of course, she knew, but as she had already told Kecha, her customers weren’t waiting and business was important. She couldn’t stop now, not when she almost got enough money to save her.

“It’ll be alright. This will be the last deal for a few months, okay? We can lay low for a while after this.”

His expression showed how he wasn’t exactly pleased with her answer but she ignored it and once again checked her datapad. It was almost time for her customer to show up.

She could understand his worry. Not only did the deal happen in a location where they would be presented on a silver tablet to any enemy, but they also didn’t have back-up like usual. But she had had no choice. The customer wanted it like that. And she wouldn’t dare anger a Hutt. Especially not him.

Y/N licked her lips and realized how dry her throat was. She decided to grab something to drink from her backpack, which laid in the shade next to the containers with the spice and their speeders. She had just drunk a few sips when a speeder approached.

“That must be the announcer”, remarked Eli and his head turned to the direction from which the approaching person came. She laughed.

“Well, Taro always had a flair for the dramatics. Announcing your arrival, does he believe he’s royalty?”

Her mocking tone caused the Miraluka to smile and she raised her voice when the roar of the speeder engine came to a stop a few meters away. Eli shifted and gasped. Was the announcer so ugly? She grinned.

“What a nice day isn’t it?”, she turned on her heel, “For a deal with spi-”

Their eyes met. Actually no, her eyes and his T-shaped visor met. Her breath hitched. She recognized the armor immediately. It had some more scratches and traces of blaster shots but she had dreamed about it so many times that she just knew. “It’s time for us to leave. Thank you for your hospitality.” The flutter in her chest from that day returned. What... What is he doing here?

Her eyes traveled to the thing in his hand that beeped obnoxiously. Oh.

Y/N raised her head and stared at his visor again. A bitter grimace crossed her face. Both of them exhaled slowly, almost painfully.

“Shit.”

Din’s mind was a mess. How was it possible that the person who stole his heart suddenly appeared before him like this? Oh, Mand’alor, how could fate be so cruel? His bounty was her companion?! How could he kill him, what was his name - Eli, who traveled with her and obviously meant much to Y/N?

He felt slightly dizzy from the storm inside his head and all he could do was curse. When she said the same thing as him, his heart clenched and he almost let out a breathy laugh. This situation was the worst.

“So we meet again.”

Y/N started talking first and her voice was as melodious he remembered. Her e/c eyes were filled with something that caused his heartbeat to quicken and he was once more thankful that she wasn’t able to see his face. This way she couldn’t see what she did to him. His cheeks and ears were burning and he prayed that his voice regulators weren’t sensitive enough to pick up his quick breathing.

While he seemed to have completely forgotten what the tracking fob in his hand meant for both him and the other two, the Twi’lek continued to speak with an ugly grimace on her beautiful face.

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined we’d meet again, Mando.”

He realized how her hand landed on the blaster on her right hip. The gesture was like a bullet to his heart. Did she seriously believe he would do something to her friend? The thought didn’t cross him when the storm in his mind continued raging. Of course he was worrying about the child and the money but still. No way.

“I- It’s good to see you again, Y/N”, he replied lamely.

He wanted to tell her so many things but it looked like his brain had a short circuit. The woman’s grip tightened around her weapon but she didn’t point it at him. Her smile was still bitter and his heart seriously ached from seeing the frown.

“I don’t know if it’s really good. I see you’re here for the bounty. So what now?”

Her hostility was clearly audible in her voice and Eli stepped beside her as if he wanted to protect the smuggler. The way his hand touched her shoulder so casually made jealousy flare up in him. Were they together? This possibility struck him like lightning. He never even thought about it that the stunning woman could already have someone in her heart.

Actually, he didn’t even know what he thought. All he ever daydreamed about was holding her close. Seeing her laugh, watching how her charming eyes light up because of something that he said.

Okay, truthfully he had also had some rather... impure thoughts about her but that was when his mind wandered late at night when he wasn’t able to sleep at all and the snores of his child couldn’t help him to doze off.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he never actually imagined meeting her again much less, what he would say to her. He groaned because of his own stupidity. On what cloud had he been floating?

“Y/N, this doesn’t seem to be a good time to discuss this...”

The brown-haired man tilted his head and the veil in front of his eyes swayed slightly. Din disagreed with him.

“I’m not here to hurt you”, he tried to show his sincerity in holding up his hands with the tracking fob still in his grip.

“You sure about that, big guy?”

Seeing her antagonizing him with a fierce look in her eyes and a dark expression on her face, made Din think: Fuck, she’s hot. His brain clearly turned to mush after meeting her again. There was no other way to explain the lack of his reasoning and rationality. He could only nod, his stance was extremely stiff.

Y/N pursed her lips, and his heart skipped a beat - Mand’alor, in what kind of lovesick fool have I turned? She relaxed her hand slightly but her expression was still as cold.

Unknown to Din, the Twi’lek’s mind had turned into a mess too. Delight, Anxiety, and Helplessness coursed through her veins all at the same time and she had troubles trying to figure out what she was supposed to do now.

The man she had fed and protected and who had infatuated her a few months ago, suddenly showed up in front of her, right before she was about to wind up the last deal for her goal. She was filled with joy but at the same time with dread, since he was obviously here to kill her. Definitely not the reunion she had expected.

But the way he stood there, no intention for attacking visible from his body language gave her hope. Maybe they could talk this one out.

“You know...”, his voice sounded emotionless through the regulators of his helmet but the way he hesitated showed his uncertainty, “I wanted to tell you something. After the child and I left your ship I...”

She didn’t see his eyes but she knew they were focused on her. She could feel the burning of his stare.

“Y/N, I wanted to tell you that I-”

A single gunshot ringed through the air and the smuggler staggered. A round burning hole appeared in her chest, her armor didn’t protect her at all.

At that moment Din realized that he had it all wrong. Eli wasn’t the bounty. It was Y/N. And somebody just fucking shot her.

A shout reached his ears and when he leaped forward to catch her, Din didn’t realize he was the one yelling.

Eli caught her first. How the apparent blind man managed to do that, he didn’t know but at that moment he didn’t care. A noise in his ears was all he could hear when he pushed the other man and Y/N to the containers to take cover.

He turned around, his rifle already in his hand, the tracking fob had been dropped to the floor mindlessly when he tried to catch her.

His eyes found the shooter immediately. It was a human man with a sniper rifle. He wore a blue jacket with a red symbol Din had seen before. The man wasn’t far away, in fact in shocked him how close he was able to get. Had his senses become dull? Or was it because he was talking to the person he liked? Burning fury exploded in the Mandalorian’s chest.

While Eli cradled the Twi’Lek in his arms and spoke to her in a panicked manner, all he could see was red. His hands moved automatically and efficiently when he cocked his gun and he seemed deadly calm when he slowly raised his rifle. His outside appearance was completely the opposite of his inner turmoils but maybe his rage was able to get him to focus.

Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. KILL. KILL THAT BASTARD!!!

He shot once, then twice and he continued to shoot until he had to reload. His finger still pulled the trigger when his plasma gun didn’t have any ammunition left. But Din hadn’t shot the man fatally. His aim was slightly off because his hands had suddenly started shaking when Y/N’s friend called her name in a desperate attempt to stop her from fainting. Nevertheless, he had wounded the foolish bastard who dared to attack the person he loved.

He was about to stomp over to the soon-to-be-dead fucker, who had tumbled to the mossy ground behind some trees when a painful grunt cut him short in his tracks.

“Sith, that hurt like a b... bitch...”

Y/N’s breath was haggard and her grip on Eli’s arm was weak but she didn’t lose consciousness. At least not yet. The way her eyes had turned misty was a warning which made both men’s blood run cold. The Mandalorian’s wrath extinguished as fast as it ignited. All that was left was cold dread and the feeling of helplessness. He ignored the man who shot her thinking: That bastard will die of his wounds anyway.

Din walked to the fallen smuggler and her companion and fell to his knees. His distress was clearly audible through the regulators of his helmet.

“I don’t have a b-bacta patch”, was all he could say through his gritted teeth.

“Neither do we...”

Her tone was light but she couldn’t hide her pain. The Twi’Lek grabbed her companion who seemed to be in a daze. Her face showed a grave expression.

“Fuck... Eli, promise me you’ll free her... okay?”

Din had no idea what she was talking about but she was obviously talking as if she was about to die. Which could be because she was only lightly injured right? There was no way that the woman, who melted his already frozen heart, would just die here when they just met again. Right?!

The blind man choked and his arms who held her trembled. The scars on his face wrinkled when he frowned and Din felt how ice-cold terror washed over him. No, no no, this can’t happen!!

He grabbed her hand without thinking and the fact that she wasn’t cold yet stopped his spiraling momentarily. Her e/c eyes found his visor and she tightened her grip as if to tell him that everything was going to be fine. Y/N smiled weakly and it was a wonder that he didn’t keel over right then and there.

“Don’t say that. I won’t do it. I’m not promising you shit, Cap!”

The brown-haired man exhaled slowly.

“I’ll make sure you hear what that stupid Mandalorian wanted to say to you before you got shot like an idiot. I told you it was a dumb idea!”

He swallowed. What was Eli even talking about? They had no way to help her without a bacta patch! He held the Twi’lek’s hand like it was a lifeline. He felt like he was the one who was dying. And maybe he was. If Y/N left him here and now, he was sure he would never recover from the loss. The loss of never having something he wanted. The loss of never being able to tell her what he wished they were. The loss of a lover who never was one.

“It... not... my fault...”, murmured Y/N, her face definitely paler than before.

He wanted to say something to her, at least tell her how he felt when they had first met but no words escaped his lips. It was as if he lost his voice. He could only watch with burning eyes how Eli put his hand on the deadly wound. The man breathed out slowly and Din could see how his jaws clenched.

“After this, you’ll need to pay me back with a kyber crystal”, growled Eli, his expression totally different from the harsh tone of his words. Once again he had no clue what the blind man meant.

It was as if the galaxy took a second to breathe and slowed time while doing so. Din could see how the eyes of Y/N widened slowly, her mouth turned into the shape of an ‘o’, wind ruffled the brown hair of the man and the blue veil lifted only for the Mandalorian to see that Eli had, in fact, no eyes at all.

This revelation shocked Din more than it should. But what shocked him the most: Y/N sucked in a breath and when the man whose species he couldn’t name right now took his hand away, the wound was gone. He blinked. A memory crossed his mind.

His child did the same thing. A few months ago. He lifted his head to watch Eli closely and the man exhaled and started to smile. This person had just saved her from dying in his arms.

“Still got it”, he whispered and Y/N whose expression had turned from pained to baffled laughed disbelievingly. Her chest heaved and even though her body was healed she still looked like she just survived a deadly injury.

Her fingers gripped Din’s tighter and she turned her head slightly to face him. Maybe it was because the sun had already set but her eyes looked so beautiful right now it took his breath. The way she stared at him, stars. The relief that washed over him turned his whole body into jelly. He weakly fell on his ass and leaned back, his hand never leaving hers.

His tone was stunned when he whispered: “Mand’alor, I thought that was the end of the beginning.”

He said it in a low voice but both of the others heard him.

“The beginning of what?”

Y/N’s eyes were full of innocence and Din was too shaken up to get embarrassed when Eli responded jokingly instead of him:

“Your relationship.”

But the reaction of the smuggler made his heart flutter. Her cheeks flushed and she stuttered wide-eyed:

“Wa-What? What are you saying, Eli?!”

She looked between the two men but both of them looked away. Din out of shock because of her strong reaction and the other because he felt a slight headache.

Y/N realized immediately that something was wrong.

“You okay? I thought you said you wouldn’t use the force anymore?”

The Mandalorian perked up, while Eli waved his hand.

“I just saved your ass, might as well be grateful, don’t you think?”

His teasing undertone couldn’t hide his exhaustion but the Twi’lek didn’t seem like she wanted to point it out. She wanted to say something else but a voice interrupted her.

“My, what do we have here? Captain L/N what happened?”

It was spoken in Huttese and Din turned around alarmed. On the hill behind the shooter stood a male Weequay. The newcomer looked surprised seeing the smuggler lying on the floor, two men hovering over her and holding her close to them.

“We had run into some problem, but”, responded Eli and shot a glance to the trees where a stiff body laid, “we got rid of it.”

“Do you need medical attention?”

Din guessed that this was a customer and the reason why Y/N and Eli were even here. The fact that the man seemed rather friendly surprised him quite a bit.

“Thank you, but there is no need. When will Taro arrive?”

How the woman could just go into business-mode after almost getting killed, was a wonder to him, but it also raised her even higher in his eyes. Stars, what just happened?

After that, they had somehow wrapped up the deal with Taro and her eyes almost filled with tears of happiness when she received the credits who would buy the freedom of her little girl.

The Mandalorian watched over her like a hawk during the talk and even though they really didn’t know each other at all, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, it felt natural. When she remembered his presence next to her, she smiled.

Taro had left and they decided to ride back on their speeders. Eli insisted on her riding with Mando and even though she had glared at him, she silently praised him when she held onto the sturdy frame of the man. She had leaned her head on his back and she could sense how his heartbeat sped up, which caused her to crack a smile.

Their meeting had started shitty but it turned out well if you forget the fact that she had almost died. But who cared about that. If she pondered over every little thing or accident that happened in her life she would have already died from sadness.

She remembered how it had all begun. How her thoughts were invaded by the Mandalorian.

When they first met, she had looked at him longingly. The way he was able to hold his child while she couldn’t hold hers. It made her jealous. A reaction that was unreasonable but natural for her. Every parent she had met caused this feeling. But with him it was different. There was something else.

An appeal she hadn’t been able to name. But when he had held her hand during her “time of dying” she realized what she felt.

“You know... The thing you said before. It kinda sounded like a love confession wouldn’t you say?”, she told him when they dismounted the speeders at a landing bay where the Icarus stood and both men had turned around to face her.

He had stiffened and she noticed that she might really like to tease him. Eli rolled his eyes and walked past behind her to get to the ship.

It was then that an invisible force caused her to lose her balance and she tumbled into Mando’s arms. She knew immediately who made this accident happen but she got distracted by the strong arms that caught her and held her close to the man’s chest. Damn, he really was hot. Her cheeks began to burn and she averted her eyes.

“S-Sorry...”

He only grunted and put her back on her feet. Her hands lingered on his chest a little longer than intended but he didn’t comment on it.

“It’s fine.” Fine. Great. Absolutely perfect.

Din’s chest was feeling light and he felt a sudden urge to talk to his Ad’ika and tell him about what he encountered today.

“Oh.”

He remembered the child he had left on the Razor Crest and when he looked to the Horizon he saw the setting sun. Fuck.

“My boy”, was all he could say while he stood there frozen.

“You forgot your child?”

Y/N didn’t hide her teasing undertone at all but her face showed a slightly worried expression.

“He’s still on the ship, I didn’t want him to come with me on the bounty hun...”, he trailed off and his head turned to watch her. She tilted hers.

“So you really were chasing after me, huh?”

He ignored the ambiguous words and lowered his eyes. Guilt burned in his heart and he seriously worried that she would hold this against him.

“I didn’t know it was you. I apologize. I would’ve never accepted it if I had known it was you.”

The way he said you made her chest tingle and she raised an eyebrow and the corner of her lips. She stepped closer to him, sudden confidence coursing through her veins.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t chase me?”

She twisted his words in his mouth and he knew but damn, it attracted him even more to her. He also liked the way she smirked, it made her look alluring.

“No, I’m saying that I would never chase you if it meant you have to die at the end of it.”

The seriousness in his voice caused her e/c eyes to soften. They turned into crescents and in a swift motion, she grabbed his hand, stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his helmet.

“Well, then you better be happy that my best friend can use the force!”

He couldn’t even react, she already scurried inside the Icarus laughing.

Din stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Heat crept up his neck and his cheeks flushed.

“Shit... What is that woman doing to me?”

He didn’t know if he was happier about the kiss or about the fact that Eli apparently was only a friend and she seemed to welcome his advances but one thing was clear: Today was a good day.

The comlink inside his palm was proof. He clenched his fist in victory and stood there for a second before turning around to return to his child and tell him about that one woman.

What he didn’t know...

“So you gave him our channel?”

Y/N nodded, her whole face still hot but she grinned from ear to ear.

“And you kissed him?”

“Not a real Mandalorian kiss, of course, but who knows what’s next.”

The smuggler winked at him and passed the Miraluka. Eli laughed and pressed the button to close the ship. With the force, he was able to see the dust that the Mandalorian’s speeder kicked up.

“Who knows what’s next...”, he mumbled and when he turned around he reached out to the force connection and told the little boy that everything was fine with his father. He was on his way home and had many things to tell.

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End Note: Wohooo, second part finished yaaay :D Actually I feel like this one is a little rushed. For me it’s like the reader is suddenly shot, Din is like D: and then Eli swoops in to save the day but I was rewriting that part 3 times and in the end just left it like that xD Also, was it a plot twist that Y/N also has a child? I wanted for her to have a reason why she became a smuggler but this will be adressed in the last part. Also, also, there wasn’t that much “action” as in romantic stuff at all but I wanted to leave that for the last part, since these idiots seriously only met twice... But yeahhh, hope you enjoyed it anyway :)

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Part I, Part III [Coming soon]

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem reader #the mandalorian x reader #fanficsforheartandsoul #fem reader #twi'lek #x fem!reader #fanfic #baby yoda #din djarin #miraluka #jedi #mandalorian #bounty hunter #smuggler

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shinglescat · 5 years

Text

Previous or all stories at once.

I wanted to make separate parts, but guess what.

They left their horses near the cave under the embassy in the sake of convenience and security; Visenya was left in charge of their horses, hidden in tall bushes. She was told to stay at home, but instead caught up with them past Dragon Bridge later. The trio talked her into going back to her parents, naively thinking she'd be there safe and away from the trouble, but she foolishly did the exact opposite, tailing them instead. They had to come up with with an important mission then, such as keeping the horses safe, "as they will need their steeds in the best shape to escape soon", when in reality no one really wanted to babysit the girl. According the plan, Meltem went on her own, listening to the reports from the men through some crystal shards from the Void that Mark happened to know how to make. He went to that odd place and recovered three pieces for everyone except Visenya. Because Visenya should've been out of picture. But she's not. - How do these shards work exactly? - he heard from Aspen numerous times along the way. - Do I look like a scientist? - Mark replied every time in annoyed tone, - Quantum entanglement, I believe. Before Aspen could open his mouth one more time, elf groaned, interrupting him altogether. - Listen, smartass, if you want to study these rocks, be my guest. They just work, and I don't care how exactly they do it. They had a good laugh back at home with these things: all three separated, dispersing throughout the city, just to test their connection and to actually learn how to use the pieces. The shards required squeezing in hand to go online, warming up in the process. One doesn't have to actually talk with their mouth during the session, just think the message for it to be transported to the receiver; all three pieces are also connected between each other, so it doesn't really matter who the actual addressee is. "Meltem, would you be so kind to get that sweet roll for me?" Mark thought, another thought appearing in the background then, as he reached out to his butt, "Fuck my ass is itchy...", he instantly caught the thought, closing his eyes with his hand, face red, too late to do anything about that, as he heard an explosion of laughter somewhere in the distance. "Don't worry, I've got some hair growing on my boobs, it's worse if you see it," was heard in return, to which he snickered, "...I... I didn't mean to send that". Obviously the shards caught and forwarded all the thoughts they could hear. The men went inside with Maurice's invitation, ready to guide Meltem through. It was also in their interest to keep anyone from discovering a break in should the things go south. They both agreed on splitting up inside, covering twice more ground than together. One should be monitoring the inner courtyard, while the other stays in the main building, being on lookout for any sound of trouble for Meltem. - Fuck, you look gorgeous, - the elf noted, looking over his companion once again. Gods won't let him lie, the man looked magnificent and regal. Compared to Mark's plain attire of black dress, cape and veil, Aspen's outfit was majestic, more suitable to a breton prince. - Thanks, - the man replied, adding, - No need to say that in nineteenth time. - I seriously can't get over it, fuck me, - Mark just couldn't shut up, totally lovestruck, - Wait, did you really count that? - and the man just shrugged his shoulders, only nodding once in answer.

The guard at the gate checked their invitations, making sure they're genuine: a couple right before them got apprehended for handing over forged papers; the lady started screaming and demanding to meet the emissary herself, but was arrested instead; her companion managed to keep his cool, however both were led somewhere from the view. Probably for interrogation. Hopefully not for their demise. Mark got nervous, but didn't let that show. - Welcome to the Masquerade, gentlemen, - the soldier had a fake smile of sheer politeness, handing the papers back to Mark, ordering the guards behind him to open the gate for them. Elf made the first step inside the outer courtyard, followed by the man behind. The amount of guard there was insane, more suitable for a very important international meeting than to a simple masquerade party. He tried to look around himself as discreetly as possible, counting the number of guards and noting possible places to use as a cover if something goes wrong. - What's with the guard? - he asked quietly in the air, as the man caught up with him, - Twenty soldiers here, three wizard. It's overkill for a party. - Why do you even bother? - A bit suspicious, don't you think? - elf looked back at Aspen, - Like if they are expecting someone of importance or even looking for trouble. - You are being paranoid, - Mark received a condescending pat on the shoulder, winching at the man, before stopping altogether to studying the embassy from the bottom to the top. There was nothing worth of attention.

It was already crowded inside, ladies and gents dancing around the hall in their exquisite masks and party dresses, gossiping and laughing to each other; servants running around them. Where did the emissary even managed to find all these people? They definitely belong to either Cyrodiil or High Rock, but definitely not Skyrim. - Care to dance? - he heard from the nonchalant man. Elf grunted. - Yeah, two dudes dancing together, a sight to behold, - Mark hissed, - Dance to that old lady in the corner instead, - he pointed at one of the fancy looking ladies, seemingly bored with everything, - I'll eavesdrop a little.

- Your loss, - Aspen said, moving towards the said lady, asking her for a dance. Mark found a place to sit near the drinks, people already drunk. He heard them talk some gibberish, mostly lewd stuff, and he couldn't care less if he hadn't heard a familiar name. Esmir. What was about her? He relaxed, leaning against the wall, trying to understand their nonsense, picking up random lines. "She's got a nice ass", he heard, "And a nice set of tits for an old hag," the drunkard told to his buddy, hanging on his shoulders, "And the, eh, that walking cupboard?" his buddy asked, "I'll fuck him in his ear, the fuckhead asks for it," he gulped his poison, before continuing, "Bet I'll bend her over her desk this night, spread her cheeks real good and..." Ew. Mark couldn't listen to this anymore, concern growing rapidly. It's not like the chat between two drunkards would hurt his feeling considering they were talking about his grandmother and her bodyguard, it was just... too lewd for his taste. He couldn't handle this talk with his friends without blushing into Oblivion, and now this. Even worse. Even worse if he imagines it. He felt pity towards Orlan, imagining him getting wrecked into the ear Mark managed to bite off ages ago. Before he got back to his feet, Mark reached to the inner pocket, squeezing the shard in his hand. It went warm right away, allowing him to transfer newly found information to Meltem. - Esmir's here somewhere, lapdog with her, - he addressed to the woman, sneaking somewhere in another building. - I know, - he heard in his head in return, - Just saw them going outside. - Did you find the archives yet? It's probably somewhere upstairs. - No, I'm yet to get there. I have to go. With that connection ended, and shard went cold. Aspen probably heard their conversation too; elf noticed him near the same woman that's been whispering something into his ear with a lewd expression on her face. Something twisted unpleasantly in his stomach as he approached the pair.

- Can I borrow him? - Mark uttered, smiling to the lady with a fake smile, making a bow before her. - Oh! Look at you, sweetheart! Of course! Just don't forget to bring him back, we still have a matter to discuss, - a vulgar smile on her face as she slapped bottom of the ashen haired man with her hand. The elf opened his mouth and closed it again in disbelief, as Aspen himself dragged him away into the crowd, swaying him gently.

- Did you offer her to bend her over a table too? - he hissed at the man. - Excuse me? Jealous much? Mark shook his head in disbelief.

- I've heard some drunkards talk about my grandmother a moment ago, - elf explained quietly, looking at the man, - This was the reason I... borrowed you from your lady over there, - he looked over Aspen's shoulder, standing on his tippy toes: she waved her fingers at him, sending an air kiss, - that's incluned on bending you over a table instead, ew, - elf took him by his arm and away from her view, - My grandmother is here somewhere.

- I heard that. What's your plan then? - As before, you go to the inner courtyard and monitor the situation from there. - "I" go? - Aspen smirked. - Yes, unless you want to get raped in a closet, - Mark pointed at the closet door nearby, squinting angrily, - You heard Meltem, Esmir's somewhere outside. - That esteemed woman actually proposed an orgy after the party, - he said nonchalantly, as the elf in front of him let out another "EW!" sound, - Whatever you say, boss, - the man grinned, patting the elf on the shoulder before heading to the exit to the inner courtyard.

Mark was left alone in the room full of strangers.

...

The crowd outside cheered as fireworks went off, loud clapping and joyous howling all around; masks sparkling and twinkling under the dark night skies that were filled with the most beautiful adornment today, somehow even more magnificent that ever - stars. She's yet to see a masquerade more beautiful that this, no, even better - this was the best night she's ever seen. She hurried into the crowd, blending in with dancing people, spinning round with merry men and women, as the music went on and on. Marvelous atmosphere made her drunk, crave for more, as she was carried around in this living, shining current of hundreds and thousands of gleaming faces. The girl couldn't believe her friends wanted her to miss all of this, such a celebration.

She laughed as someone took her by her hands, taking her deeper and deeper into the eye of the storm. She danced like she's never danced before, feeling alive, yet unreal. Dozens of hands reaching out to her like if she was a distant bright star, illuminating the darkness with the light of her heart. The brightness, the happiness; she was radiating it all, making everyone around her cheer with overwhelming love. She's never been more happy than today, forgetting her worries under thousands of lights, intoxicated with everlasting joy.

"Visenya," - she heard someone call her name, - "Visenya," - she turned her head around, smiling to caressing hands, feeling tired already with a pleasant bliss. The white haired man, like a prince, stood out among the crowd, reaching out for her. She stretched her arm to him, letting him to carry her away from the joyous storm and into the quiet of the night.

She couldn't think of how she missed the fresh air, breathing in until until her lungs started aching. The drunkenness soon began to fade, as she recognized the concerned man in front of her, still smiling at him. - Are you alright? - he asked, still holding her by her hands. - Are you my knight? - she giggled, - Yes, I am, - she couldn't hold back herself anymore, bursting with a strong feeling of love for everyone around her; she hugged him, going limp, - I've never been better, - the girl snuggled into Aspen's shoulder, breathing in his scent.

- You were told to wait us with the horses, - he said, barely catching the limp girl, - You shouldn't be here. - But it's... so amazing here, I couldn't wait any longer...

The man lowered himself to look the girl in the eyes.

- You are drugged..., - her pupils dilated, not reacting to light anymore, - Let's go, hold on to me. He was about to carry her, but someone took him by his arm, effectively stopping in his tracks.

- Hello, young man, - the woman smiled at them wickedly, - young lady, - she bowed with her head, - Do you mind to make me a company this lone yet charming evening?

- I must apologize, my lady, - Aspen refused, - My companion is not feeling well, we have to go, - he picked her up, carrying in his arms, but someone big appeared right in front of him.

- I'm afraid you are not going anywhere, - the woman behind him said, reaching for his shoulder and turning him around; he had to let go of the girl gently lowering her on her feet. Elf lady signed to someone, as the two were forcefully grabbed and taken after the her. It took a long minute for Aspen to realize who was this woman.

Esmir.

He tried to reach to the Void shard in his pocket, to warn his companions, but a soldier suddenly yanked Aspen's arm too hard, and it fell on the ground, shattering on the impact, shiny stone becoming dull in a blink of a eye.

...

She tried to interrogate the girl first, but it didn't work out - the kid was drunk with that drug those noble asshats managed to spray all around the courtyard - instead she switched over to the man that seemingly cared for her in his own way, a total stranger wouldn't give a dog's shit about some random intoxicated girl roaming the party.

- How does he look? His costume. Mask. Answer, - the woman crossed her arms on her chest, looking at Aspen. She asked this for the fourth time already, no reaction whatsoever, - Orlan? - she looked at the giant wood elf, making a nod with her head.

The elf took hold of the girl, twisting her arm, grabbing one of her fingers. - Talk. Otherwise he'll break them one by one. The man stayed silent, not looking at the girl, probably calculating their chances of survival. - Is it really worth dying for a petty kid? - the general asked nobody. A loud sound of crack followed shortly after. Visenya screamed in pain.

- Think again if you're going to be silent this long night, - Esmir rounded the table, grabbing weeping girl by her jaw, - Costume? Mask? Or maybe I should ask her again? - she looked at Visenya, all of a sudden getting a knife out of nowhere, stabbing her in her injured hand. The girl cried even louder, her scream probably echoing all around the embassy. The woman waited a moment, before twisting the knife in girl's stabbing wound, elf holding her steadily.

- He wears a veil, - the man finally spoke, looking at the grimace of agony on Visenya's face, - Black dress, black and red cape with a silver chain, - he sighed. Esmir looked at her general. - Bring him here, now, - and the giant cupboard of an elf left the room, - Anyone else with you? - "no," was heard in return, - Alright then, - she pulled the girl off the floor, taking a good look of her face, - Who was this dumb of you to take the girl with you? I can recognize this face from miles away, be damn that old punk, - Esmir shoved her to the side, making her way to Aspen, grabbing him by his jaw, - Shame, you have a good set of genes even for a human. You'd be a good Altmer otherwise. You are going to be a great addition to our breeding facility. Visenya was barely conscious from the pain in her hand, drugs still lingering in her bloodstream, intoxication made everything harder for her. She looked at her hand one more time, wincing, before pulling the blade out. She cried aloud, as it felt to the floor; the elf lady glanced at her, diverting her attention back to the man again, speaking of vile; so open and careless, totally unprotected without that monster of hers. The girl could've swore the drunkenness made he bold, as she quietly picked up the knife back in her good hand. Visenya moved slowly, nauseous from all that's happened to her in within a span of an hour, before rushing forward, blade pointed somewhere in the center of old hag's back. The woman stopped her mid flight, catching her by her hand, magic cracking in the air. Esmir snatched knife from her hands in one swift move, driving it into girl's belly, violently pushing it forward. She pulled it out then, thrusting it instead in the side of her neck, leaving it there. Visenya whined, choking on her blood as it escaped her mouth, life fading from her eyes. The man couldn't do anything but watch her die, frozen in space by the unleashed magic, as the body of the girl fell to the floor.

Anger filled Esmir. She kicked the lying body into the side time and time again, losing herself for a moment of frenzy. - Get them out of here! - she shrieked, commanding to someone behind the door, wrath fuming around her, as four soldiers carried both of them out of the room, trail of blood following Visenya's body, - And keep the girl alive for a couple more hours, I am going to need her, - Esmir tucked loose hair back into place, her breathing erratic, - Insolent little bitch...

She took a sit behind her table, trying to relax. She preferred Orlan getting his hands bloody for her, but still enjoyed bloodletting herself. It reminded her of her old days, when she used to do it all herself. The girl's move was reckless, she could've gotten out of here in one piece and alive. But she had to try to attack her from behind. How quaint. Esmir would lie if she said she didn't enjoy it though, however she would've liked to avoid unnecessary confrontation, otherwise her grandson wouldn't follow her back to Summerset. She can't afford herself to lose another grandchild, now that Livaen was kidnapped. The Prince becomes more and more desperate. She caught her thoughts drifting towards the red headed whore once more. Oh, if it wasn't for Markus, she'd gut her right there with her own hands, skin her alive. The woman smiled to the thought. - Sire, - she heard, and Orlan dragged someone inside the room, face familiar yet unknown; skin of gold, eyes of silver, brows knitted; high cheekbones, sharp jawline, plump yet small lips. She didn't let it known, but she was highly impressed: her grandson's grown up looking rather princely. And what a pleasant surprise, he was actually wearing the colors and style of her house.

Esmir smiled. - Hello, Markus, - she raised her hands in greetings, - I wouldn't ever guess you've grown up to be such an exemplar of our race, - her voice sounded more satisfied than she'd like it to be, - Would you enlighten me, what brought you here?

The elf looked around the room, noticing a trail of blood, heart starting to race in his chest. Who did she injured? - Whose blood this is? - he asked instead, voice cold.

- Oh, this is? Don't bother yourself, it's of no importance, - Esmir got to her feet, making her way to Mark, - You definitely didn't get here in full parade just to hug your grandmother, did you? - she reached his face with her hand, stroking the cheekbone.

- Livaen, where is she? - Mark preferred not to waste their time with courtesies, choosing rather a direct approach. The look on Esmir's face changed. She was more concerned now against her own volition. - She's fine, - the only thing she said, voice stern. - Yeah, - he looked her straight into the eyes, - Talk of bullshit. Esmir made a growling sound, alien for her behavior. This night was definitely too bizarre for her liking. - Ever wondered about your parents? - she smirked, changing the subject in a completely different direction. Mark raised his brow in question, trying to seem ignorant, yet shiver running down his spine. He was ready to ask what this has to do with Livaen's disappearance, but was interrupted with crystal shard from the Void getting warm in his inner pocket. "Mark, we have an emergency", he heard in his head a voice, “We had to leave you behind", Meltem sounded distressed, “I have Livaen's whereabouts, but you're on your own now. Get out of there. Go to Riften and lay low, wait for us and don't do anything stupid, we will get to you when we can... I'm sorry”, she said with unmanageable sadness in her voice. What was that all about? He was about to open his mouth, when Esmir continued her speech. - My poor child, you still have no idea, have you?, - she snickered, but when she was about to say something else, some lieutenant has entered the room, breathing heavily.

- Someone broke in into the archives, sire. They stole the dossier. The prisoners are also gone. Esmir fell silent, processing the information she's just received, emotions on her face changing quickly. It was the right moment to escape, Mark thought to himself, backing off a little.

- Where are you going? - Orlan spoke, still keeping the kid in place with his giant palms. It was now or never. Mark turned around, facing the elf. He stretched out his arm, trying to reach his face. Orlan was confused, unaware of what's about to happen. The closer kid's hand got, the more sparks formed around it. - Knock him out, you idiot! - Esmir suddenly shouted at her general, as the bosmer grabbed kid's arm only to be bit through the glove as the spell went off. It was too late to do anything about that. The woman barely had any time set up a ward, as the explosion hit hard, sending everyone in the room in the air, stone crumbling, wood and fabric catching flames. She was stupid enough to forget about this rather annoying ability of her grandson to make explosions out of any magic outbursts. She should've cut this potential when he was too young to do anything about it.

The flames engulfed the building, as Mark rushed down the stairs, his head aching. The explosion has thrown him out of the room, helping with getting out of there in a way. He didn't met much resistance yet on his way out, mostly because he caught everyone here off guard. The explosion probably hadn't killed Orlan, and his death wasn't his goal, he simply wanted to set the place on fire, to get himself proper distraction and barrier against the soldiers that are about to chase him at any moment; they will definitely run towards Esmir's office first where they will actually receive their catch and retrieve order.

He heard shouts. The soldiers were on his trail. He couldn't just escape to the Void, he needed some time to prepare. There was also no place for him to hide, as the trail of Orlan's blood marked his path. The best option was to run forward and never look back, make the dungeon collapse behind him too, he thought to himself as he fell of the ladder to the cave under the Embassy.

The adrenaline was still rushing down his veins as he made another turn in the cave. The same turn it seemed. He was lost; the dread was quickly devouring him, his senses crying out loud to stop and give up, surrender to the pursuers. Panic overtook him, thoughts running around his head like roaches as shouts and footsteps were getting closer. There is no way out of here, he thought again, succumbing to the terror. But he needs to go forward, he said to himself again, his cousin needs him, especially now that Meltem has the information about her. He can't give up now, not yet. He didn't notice how he got on the ground; his mind becoming clearer with each new breath, tunnel vision starting to disappear. The sounds of chase weren't so close actually, and he could swear he heard a sea somewhere near. Mark got to his feet, still trembling in horror, making slow steps towards the sound; he wanted to speed up, his legs unable to produce any more power now that the adrenaline is washing out . They actually started aching badly, and his whole body hurt from the explosion - he managed to hit a corner with the nape of his neck when the shock wave knocked him from his feet, and that fall of the ladder - he probably injured something too. The sound of waves was getting closer; after one last corner and one last push through the throbbing pain in his muscles he exited the cave, collapsing on the beach. He heard a neigh near him, but his whole body just refused to move yet.

They left a horse for him to get out at least. - Hey, neigh-neigh, fuck, come here, - he called the horse, unable to come up with horse noises, - Yeah, come here, - he smiled as the animal obediently approached him. Mark reached out for the saddle, pulling himself in place. It was hard as the horse kept moving around, probably scared with the explosion and shouts coming from the embassy. He finally got in the seat, almost lying one the horse's back with no energy left. - Just go, - he told the animal, getting the reins in hands, heels kicking it into its sides, commanding the horse to run. Mark couldn't hold any longer, losing and gaining his consciousness every couple of minutes.

...

- Meltem, I'm so sorry, - the woman lowered her head to look at the girl in her arms, her voice faint. The bandage on her neck already soaked in red. The bumpy road must've woken her up. She felt tingling in her nose again, tears filling her eyelids.

- Shhhh, don't talk, - Meltem said, grabbing her firmer, pressing her to herself, smiling as softly as she could, - Don't talk, - she tried to disguise her shaking voice, as she was ready to burst to tears. But she can't let herself do it, not in front of the poor girl. She must not see her cry. The woman found them in the torture chamber, through which she attempted to escape. No one noticed her presence yet, so she had to hurry. She had no time to warn anyone, nor search for her companions. But it happened she came across two of them. For some unknown reason they both were in a cage, with an elven mage casting spells upon Visenya. What was she doing in there when she had to guard the horses, Meltem questioned herself. The closer she got, the more concerned she became. She crouched in shadows closer to the guard, suddenly grabbing him by his throat, making him stop whatever he's been doing. - Let him go, - she heard a familiar voice, belonging to the ashen haired man. She allowed herself to look down at him, him pointing at Visenya covered in blood, her skin pale, lips completely drained of color. She couldn't hold herself, letting loose of the mage. Meltem dropped to her knees, barely able to contain herself. The elf resumed sustaining her while Aspen seemingly tended to her mortal wounds, trying to stitch cut flesh together with a thread and a needle. Te man told her of what happened to them both. Meltem got quickly got angered, yelling at him in desperation for making her suffer, but ultimately she knew he's not the one to blame here, but the girl herself, who refused to listen to anyone, her own foolishness brought her to her demise. Meltem let a single tear run down his cheek, as she commanded Aspen to take the mage hostage to keep the girl alive for the time being. They weren't wizards, nor possessed any kind of magic; Mark was nowhere to be found, and he was the only one who could keep her alive with those explosions of his, so all that was left for them is to take the thalmor elf prisoner and hope for the best. There was a physician in Solitude, who used to tend to wounds worse than that. Now she was their the only beacon in this sea of darkness, their Polaris. She nearly forgot to tell Mark that their mission was over, and they had to leave him in a hurry. As they were almost out of sight of the embassy, they heard a loud bang, fire erupting from the hill. She wanted to reach out to him if he was okay, he couldn't loose another kid, but her hands were already busy with dying girl. Aspen couldn't contact him either, his shard shattered upon encounter with the guard. - I don't wanna die, - was heard again in a seemingly quiet night, so that even Aspen turned around to look at the girl, - I so don't wanna die, - Visenya cried with dry tears, blood running down her mouth. The woman couldn't hold back herself anymore, hugging her, pressing her closely to herself. She pressed her forehead against hers, feeling cold of her skin. She tried to breath steadily, to warm her frozen face at least for a tiny bit, tears falling on pale skin. Meltem took hold of her good hand, already cold as severe winter, squeezing it gently, feeling barely noticeable heartbeat. - Hold on just a little while longer, - she sang quietly with a smile, voice trembling, loudly swallowing her tears, - Everything will be alright, - Meltem kissed her, not willing to let her go. She squeezed her gently once again, letting go of horse reins, holding on the back of the running animal with only legs, just to calm the girl, to comfort her. The woman let her go, looking at her face again, only to find out, Visenya was already gone. She didn’t hold back herself anymore.

...

Mark woke up in a moving carriage, sun bursting through the windows. He had no idea how he got there, nor who picked him up. The last thing he remembered is passing out on a horse on somewhere along the road to Dragon Bridge.

- Ah, I see you've awaken, - he heard someone's familiar cheerful voice and looked into speaker's direction. The dark elf was situated in front of him, completely covered in furs. Only now Mark has noticed how cold it was inside. He looked around himself, puzzled, - Oh, don't look so confused, I've picked you up on my way from the party, - Maurice smiled, passing a bottle of something to Mark. He had to sniff it before drinking whatever's inside, to what dunmer noticed with a smirk on his lips, - Worry not! It's not poisoned. - It's not what I meant, - he said in low and hoarse voice, wheezing sounds heard from his throat, sick from being exposed to the cold for a long time. He sniffed it again, only to find notes of honey, berries and alcohol. Mark winced, handing over the drink back to dunmer. - Well, alright then, - the elf shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from the bottle. Mark covered himself better with furs, noticing the wild pain in his bones. He could probably guess the amount of bruises he had after the explosion. His whole body was throbbing as if someone tried to beat him to death, slightest move making his muscles ache. - Where..., - he wanted to ask something, but his throat got dried out, - Where are we?

- The Pale, - answered elf, getting himself comfy, - You did quite a mess up there, I had to change plans quick, - Mark glanced at him, question in his eyes, - Thalmor patrols everywhere in imperial-controlled holds, looking for you and your friends, - Maurice answered darkly, - You don't want to get in trouble, do you? - Mark looked outside again. There was a town in the distance, but it wasn't their goal apparently, - We barely made it out of Haafingar and Hjaalmarch. - Thanks for picking me up, - elf said, closing the eyes again. He really meant it.

#skyrim screenshots #SC_Storytime #very post wow long #SC_Mark #SC_MeltemEsteban #SC_Visenya #SC_EsmirSorano #SC_OrlanAmaerylKaran #FV_Maurice #FV_Aspen #it's a fucking opus magnus jeez

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moshofmuses · 5 years

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Da Rules

⚠️ = A pretty important rule on my blog. If you’re in a hurry, just read these bullets. The rest is basically either common sense or not very important.

—-

⚠️This blog has gone through many changes recently. As of right now, Grimm is the main muse. Main muse gets most of their drafts published right away. While side muses are slower and go through the queue most of the time.

⚠️None of the icons belong to me (a few do, but idc if they’re credited or not.) If you are the artist, let me know if you want it taken down. I DO NOT accept people who are NOT the artist telling me to take it down. Do not speak for others.

⚠️I try to stay with one thread per muse with your muse. If you want your muse to have a thread with each of mine, that fine and I encourage it! If you want 15 of your muses to rp with one of mine, that’s fine too! AUs are also fine! I just don’t want 50 threads between the same muses. When you start a new one, I will drop the old one unless I am really into it (if that is so, i will keep both.) CRACK + ONE LINERS are not included in this. Feel free to reply to any crack and I will keep any threads we have still!

Opens are for anyone! Too timid to approach and ask for one? Just look on the open pages for the muses, and see if there are any that floats your goat, go ahead and reply and I’ll get back to it when I can! Honestly I encourage replies to opens.

⚠️NSFW is allowed, but not smut really. I don’t like smut really, but things like violence, gore, and all that is fine and I like it. I also don't like fighting RPs

Any age is welcome to my blog. I will be honest, I have a LOT more patience with younger folk than adults.

⚠️If you send me an IM, don’t expect a reply back, or at least for a while. I would really prefer NOT to use IMs, as it causes anxiety and I just don’t like it. I only answer IMs on breaks at work (which is early morning.) If you spam my IMs, it’s automatic block. To contact me (and preferred and quicker) ask for my discord. I will pretty much give it to anyone, mutual or not.

-If you have me on discord, and you message me on IMs here, I will not reply. IMs are for people who don’t have discord or wish to build up trust before adding me.

⚠️Please only ask about a thread if you have actively seen me replying to threads. And keep this in mind before you ask me; Would I want to be asked this soon? If the answer is no, then probably don’t ask. All that I ask, is if you do ask, do so once. I don’t like to be poked a lot. This goes the same for PMs. Also I do not want any poking regarding threads, this includes: Liking the post after a day or so (unless you are saving it) asking if I got the thread, asking anything about the thread, reblogging the thread again. Etc. DON'T DO IT.

⚠️Generally, please wait about three days before asking.

I usually don’t reply to tags. It’s not that I am ignoring you, I just forget due to me drafting everything asap.

This blog is no longer mutual only. I will RP with anyone. No matter your skills or characters. Though keep in mind, if you do taboo things such as god mod and such, then I will NOT RP with you.

I will no longer RP with personals. Due to events on my previous blog that made me move, I don’t want personals interacting with this blog at all.

Me unfollowing you will happen for the following; You have untagged stuff I don’t want to see, post too much ooc (I am perfectly fine with ooc talk, but if you’re reblogging pictures and random posts that has NOTHING to do with your muse, I will PROBABLY unfollow (unless it amuses me or I don’t mind it.) WHEN I UNFOLLOW it means I will STILL RP with you. I just didn’t want your stuff on my dash.

Blocking= You give me bad vibes, I don’t like the way you talk to me, you vague post, issues that are with YOU and not the blog. WHEN I BLOCK SOMEONE, I will NOT RP with them or talk to them or anything. I give no warnings, cuz I don’t have to.

I will never soft block someone.

I will RP with ANY fandom. Whether I know it or not. (I honestly like to go in blind. My muse doesn’t know yours so it makes it more realistic and I learn things with my muse.)

Mun =/= Muse.

Paragraphs > one liners. That being said, most of my starters will be one liners.

I REALLY do NOT like RPing nothing but one liners. I don’t mind it here and there in an RP when it’s just a paragraph, but nothing but one liners.. I can’t focus on them and I lose interest, thus I will drop it. Sorry if you can’t do longer threads, but I can’t do nothing but short replies.

Note: If you do do one liners, I will make an honest attempt to keep the thread going. I can keep one going if the other person tries as well. It’s called effort and I can work with effort.

I ship with chemistry. Please don’t be hurt if I don’t approve of a ship.

This blog is mutliship.

I usually stay away from multi threads. (Unless with multi muses and it’s with a different character.)

Don’t like a starter call if you don’t intend to reply. I don’t remind people due to anxiety.

No god modding, auto hitting, etc. We all know that stuff. Don’t do it. Unless you get permission of course

I do not send pass words for rules read. I admit, I DO forget, or I’ve read so many they blend together.

Mun is a potato.

Mun uses he/him pronouns himself, however, I really do not care what you refer to me as. Whatever you see me as is okay by me~. (He/him/she/her/they/them. It all works.)

⚠️If you make a starter in my ask, reply to it in a separate post. Honestly if you don’t do this, there’s a big chance I won’t reply.

⚠️Please do not spam me. Whether it’s asks or IMs. I don’t mind continuations off of a message, but spamming me is a no no. As in don’t send another message after your 2nd message to me. This ALSO includes like spamming. That will get you blocked. (Unless it’s a friend trolling me or something.)

This blog does contain considerable amount of OOC posts, they are tagged as ‘Ti speaks.’ or if it’s a pic of video ‘not rp’ or ‘ooc’

Do not reblog RPs you are part of.

⚠️I AM NOT YOUR THERAPIST. Please do NOT come to me with your problems. Only very close friends may vent to me that I feel comfortable with. I’m sorry this sounds mean but it really affects my own health when I start helping random strangers. If you come to me starting something, I will probably ignore it.

I AM FLEXIBLE, I CAN and WILL make exceptions! Just ask about whatever is on your mind.

I am perfectly fine with RPing with someone who doesn’t use icons. I use mine out of habit and it doesn’t feel right NOT using them. But I imagine pictures and scenes of what’s happening in my head.

⚠️I work a full time job. I am at work for nine hours or more, five days a week. I work from 10pm-7am PST. I sometimes have very low energy at points and don’t do much. Work seriously affects my mood to write. If I have a good day, I have an easier time writing, if I have a bad day, it’s hard to write. Please understand I also have a low social battery, I am not a social creature, and if I talk too much, or talk to too many people, I get drained and that leads to bad depression. So please do not poke me too much for replies. Doing so will upset me very much, and I will withdraw. And that is not fair to everyone else.

⚠️And the most important rule on this blog– HAVE FUN!

—-

If you have read my rules, please either like this post, or reply to it with your side blog urls. I will be more understanding to people who have read these.

If someone doesn’t read my rules, and breaks them, I will simply say ‘read my rules.’

-Ti

#rules

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some-flyleaves · 6 years

Photo

So! This is Flynn Smith, aka an oc of mine who 1) isn’t directly based on an established canon character (nameless NPCs don’t count), 2) isn’t being “officially” used anymore, and 3) has a decent amount of story that, thanks to point #2, I’m just gonna casually write out to the best of my memory. Buckle up, kiddos, it’s time for DUMP! THAT! INFO!

pre-TFE

The earliest version of Flynn was “unnamed grunt C” and... I kinda forget what his original purpose was, actually. But he was supposed to be a stereotypical charmer, voted most likely to fanboy over Team Flare to the end of his days. At some point he picked up the placeholder name Casey, then Adrian/Adrien (never managed to get the a/e consistent), and the surname Smith. Surname was also supposed to be a placeholder but it was so perfectly generic it stuck.

I’d need to revisit <2016 versions of the storyline to know for certain what he did, but he was a one-scene wonder. More on that below.

If you have no idea what TFE is, the short version is that it’s a Pokemon XY-based “nuzlocke” comic that ran strongly 2016-2017, petered out, and has been sorta-kinda canceled. I don’t intend to pick it back up in its current state, but I would like to publicize as much as I had planned as possible. Someday. Eventually. Because why not.

Said plans weren’t 100% solid start to finish, hence the uncertain status of various developments.

The Firebird Effect

This constitutes of a majority of Flynn’s development, including his current name--and I’d be lying if I said he didn’t get a significant amount of character development courtesy oc chats with @phyllored. At first he was still a one-scene wonder, and then he took over roles that grunts A or B would’ve filled. As of the “final” version of the plot he had 2 scenes set in stone and a few ideas that may or may not have made it onscreen.

His first appearance might have been during a “filler” scene around Route 8/Cyllage City. As the main characters move out, focus swings over to him, as he ignores his girl of the week in favor of an “emergency” text from the head of Team Flare*. The text informs recruits that a recent incident at Glittering Cave was unplanned, and anyone with information is encouraged to divulge ASAP. Furthermore, in an effort to repair public impression of the Team, an awareness memorial--

*For what it’s worth, Team Flare got a major overhaul in TFE, and later got renamed entirely as the Fleur Foundation. It warrants an infodump of its own, probably, but for clarity’s sake I’ll use “Team Flare” exclusively here.

The girl interrupts to declare she’s done. Close curtain on the redhead begging for her back.

Flynn’s first major appearance (and originally his only scene), still as an unnamed Flare recruit, is on Route 10. Unlike the previous scene, he’s in full uniform now, and is one of several grunts standing among the ancient stones. Most are paying tribute to the monuments in some way, with a few trying to get the attention of passerby; Flynn is easily the most enthusiastic of the latter.

Serena enters the scene shortly after strife with her pokemon encourages her to double down on not battling, which has led to deeper investigation into Flare’s true motives. She approaches Flynn at random and barely has time to get her “research project” story out--he’s thrilled to have an audience. (See first image, middle right doodle.) He explains that Flare and only Flare remembers that these rocks aren’t just mysterious tourist attractions, among other factoids from the mission briefing, all the while getting much too close for comfort.

When Serena finally tries to excuse herself, Flynn recognizes her from reports on the Glittering Cave incident and buckles down on keeping her around. The encounter is intercepted by a figure in a trenchcoat, who grills Flynn and pulls Serena aside. He insists he was only informing a curious youth, ma’am, no issue! The scene changes with Flynn moving to the next hapless tourist.

Less a scene and more a canon occurrence that may or may not have been onscreen: at a Lumiose cafe (not named Lysandre but sponsored by him, as indicated by background details), Flynn discusses Team Flare’s recent mishaps with his roommate and (on Flynn’s end) close friend Ren. (This got drawn ages ago, albeit with meme dialogue.) He’s pissed that the Team he considers family has started going to shit, between the Glittering Cave incident leading to several arrests and other rumors of a secret group within the group. Furthermore, no one seems to actually care about this; the rumor mill churns and the oldies roll their eyes, but no one’s willing to do a damn thing about it. But fear not! He has a lead, and he’s gonna check it out first chance he gets.

Ren, who’s working behind the counter, is silent throughout. Flynn pays no mind to their lack of response.

Within the week, half of Lumiose City goes black, including the area with Ren's apartment. Flynn is gone, but he left a note saying he’s gonna check it out. Ren turns on the radio and is caught up to speed: At the Power Plant in Lumiose Badlands, uniformed members of Team Flare have taken workers hostage and are refusing authorities entry. They claim they’ll surrender without resistance as soon as the lights go on.

Serena is one of several forming a crowd around the Power Plant when she receives an anonymous note: “Meet me [nearby, setting pending] or your secret will be MINE alone no longer ;)”

Surprise, it’s Flynn, and though he’s grinning he is infuriated. He ignores questions and dumps his backstory: once upon a time he was an everyday office worker, and then his boss was murdered and he got framed because he got mad at her the day before, the bitch. But rather than waste away in prison, he found his saving light in Team Flare. No, they’re not a cult--the Team takes in those who society has rejected and transforms them into someone beautiful. And despite recent mishaps, they are certainly not criminals--not that Serena can judge.

Serena’s not the only one who can do research. Flynn knows she was not only present the night of the mine collapse, right below Vaniville, but caused its downfall.

Major plot hole alert: I never figured out exactly how Flynn learned this. The cafe scene might have provided some insight, but eventually this was sorta-remedied (among other unrelated issues) by merging Flynn and Ren’s characters. Again, another tangent for another time. Point is, he knows the Dark Secret, and Serena is not happy.

Neither is Flynn, of course. His smile drops as he says someone very close to him died in that little “incident,” and he would be very happy to see Serena dead. Throughout the scene he has her cornered both verbally and physically, and at this point her back’s against a wall/cliff/[other relevant setting detail]. (See top image, 2017 doodle.)

However! Flynn is a forgiving person. Even though she actually killed people, he’s associated with worse. That’s the beauty of Team Flare--they don’t care who you are, just who you can become. And you, Serena Johnson, would fit right in. Flynn bemoans the current state of the Team, then reveals he called Serena here not to attack but ally with her. Between the mine and other disasters she’s participated in, surely she knows something he doesn’t.

Serena, to put it nicely, fucking hates this proposal. She sics her team on Flynn, though they hesitate upon realizing Flynn has no pokemon of his own; he can’t put up a fight. Serena flees for the Power Plant, and the team follows; Flynn is left shaken, maybe incapacitated, but still alive.

Flynn probably should’ve had a scene or at least mention between that and the following sequence, but nothing was developed. Jumping forward a few days, Flynn is next seen back in the cafe, specifically above it--the cafe is the bottom floor of a nameless skyscraper. He and Ren are patrolling the building as night security guards--not their usual jobs by a long shot, but the Team is having issues and someone’s gotta do it.

As the doodle sequence above may indicate, this... does not end well. Flynn loses track of Ren at some point, and by the time he catches up, he finds the space doused in gasoline. When he opens the door, he’s greeted to a wave of flame as the building is set ablaze.

R.I.P. Flynn Smith 199x-2013.

current status

As mentioned above, Flynn and Ren’s characters were eventually combined, but they’re distinct enough to not get scrapped entirely--or at least Flynn is. Other characters have picked up many of Ren’s traits by now, but Flynn still has his niche as token straight white dudebro with a flair for the dramatic.

Which brings us to the present day, where Flynn is... dubiously involved in that one side story I keep posting about that still needs a got dang name. I say “dubiously” because a LOT of this story is under heavy construction, and while I’ve definitely been entertaining the idea of his involvement, it’s not super likely he’ll be central--if he stays in at all. But who knows, stuff’s changing.

For all intents and purposes:

He meets Nico (ponytail dude, see last doodle) and they’re, like, not gay at all, man. Flynn is screaming #NOHOMO the whole time.

Actually, Flynn is interested in Nico primarily for Nico’s girlfriend. Flynn does not get to see Nico’s girlfriend often and that makes Flynn sad, but at least Nico’s fun to hang around. (Nico’s girlfriend seems to hate Flynn’s guts, actually. She seems to hate everyone’s guts. Flynn is not dissuaded.)

The Flynn/Nico introduction may or may not take place 1) at a gay bar, 2) courtesy mutual friend Ava (ringlets gal), and 3) with Flynn not having lost a trace of his TFE-era “hello stranger, let me tell you about my life and problems!” chattiness. Nico could not give less of a shit but at least someone’s filling the silence.

miscellaneous factoids

Flynn’s hairstyle is modeled after the Team Flare logo, right down to the weird split sideburns. It also happens to realistically look like fucking Cr1TiKaL. This was a recent realization, again courtesy phyllored, and I’m still not over it.

Yes, it’s dyed that orange. This... may or may not stay; no Flare, no reason to pick that hue. It feels so Iconic(TM) but I should probably get used to his natural brown.

His original height was 6′00″ (to parallel Serena, who’s 5′00″) but nowadays it’s ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I never did develop that close friend of Flynn’s who died in the mine. Flynn and Ren’s relationship, however, has gotten significant development. Which is a bit of a shame because Ren is kinda more of a beta [merged guy] than their own character at this point, but no one aid I can’t recycle dynamics, too.

His voiceclaim is Ivan Alexander from the game Bully. There used to be a video of all Ivan voiceclips on YouTube but it seems to have been deleted and this makes me sad. Thankfully I have a copy of the audio saved; part of it can be heard in this old animation.

For all his shittalk, Flynn could never actually kill someone. If he could be summed up in one word it would be “fake.”

#there would be images below the readmore too but I'm too lazy to dig up the REALLY old stuff #anyway shout out to the people who find this loser attractive because it is 99.9999% your ''fault'' this happened. You Know Who You Are #for lack of a doodle tag #The Firebird Effect #rewritten roommates #coniferous vines

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whatiputonmyface · 6 years

Text

Beauty Bios, Part 1: Kiki, Rachel & Carly

Katherine a.k.a. Kiki

How old are you? 32

Where do you live? Indianapolis

SKIN

Type: sensitive, combo

Tone: neutral

Skin concerns: fine lines, redness, anti-aging, pigmentation, pores

HAIR

Length: Just past my shoulders; growing it back out to Blake Lively greatness

Processed? Yes - balayaged

Type: oily

Texture: wavy. I air dry my hair and get the beach waves everyone craves. Yes, this is a humblebrag but it’s the only thing I’ve got going for me.

Thickness: thin, but loads of it! Hair concerns: body, volume, tangles

FUN STUFF

Favorite beauty area: I love skincare and am always up to try the latest fad!

When did you "get into" makeup and skincare? LOL I just learned how to do my hair a couple years ago. Bought my first curling iron in 2012. I just started buying more and more makeup (especially once I discovered Colourpop) and am totally self-taught.

Most recent beauty purchase: Does dermaplaning count?

Worst beauty/skincare mistake: See aforementioned very sensitive skin. Then add to sensitive armpit skin some heavy duty Nair. I burnt off the top 3 layers of skin in my left armpit. I went to wash off the Nair and my armpit fucking bled. I couldn’t wear deodorant on that pit for a month.

(ed. note: holy SHIT, katherine)

Beauty inspiration/beauty icon: A healthy mix of Blake Lively (I think the ‘why’ for this is obvious??) and Kathleen Turner in “Body Heat”. She was so beautiful and cold-blooded in that movie, and I’ve always envied how she would wear white skirts and white blouses during a Florida heatwave and still be flawless. She was everything I am not.

damn, girl

***********************************************

Rachel

How old are you? 42 (I am the answer to the meaning of life!)

Where do you live? Denver, Colorado - high desert, hot sun, “It’s a dry heat!”

SKIN

Type: Combination with sun sensitivity (I get sun reactive rosacea)

Tone: Light neutral

Skin concerns: Redness, aging, craters for pores

HAIR

Length: Long! It’s midway down my back when straightened!

Processed? Yes - color for fun and also general enhancement

Type: Dry, fine, but a LOT of it.

Texture: Curly (primarily 3b with spots of 3a & 3c)

Thickness: Thick, but fine, LOTS of it.

Hair concerns: I have curls. They have a mind of their own.

FUN STUFF

Favorite beauty area: K-beauty and high end. I thrive on getting a good deal on stuff like LaMer.

When did you "get into" makeup and skincare? I’ve always been a bit of a makeup and beauty obsessive, contrary to everyone in my family. When I was growing up, I was trying to take suggestions from Glamour and Marie Claire and put them into practice without any real guidance, which led to some BAAAD makeup results.

Most recent beauty purchase: Drunk Elephant Beste No. 9 Jelly Cleanser

Worst beauty/skincare mistake: I was a goth in a small town. Literally everything about my early makeup/skincare/beauty routine was a mistake. I dyed my hair a darker cranberry red from a box, it always washed out in uneven sections. I didn’t have access to luxury beauty care products and no one knew how to cut my curly hair, so I had either product buildup goopy hair, OR a triangle puffball on my head.

***********************************************

Carly

How old are you? 28!

Where do you live? America’s Sweatin’ Wang (Florida)

SKIN

Type: My skin has gotten more sensitive with age, but nothing too bad. I would say combo, with my cheeks and chin being relatively normal and my t-zone being an oily disaster.

Tone: I am very pink but somehow also definitely neutral. Can also pull off cool tones, but warm with my complexion is a nightmare.

Skin concerns: My main skin concern is combatting oil and the crater-sized pores on my nose, and evening out my skin tone. I’m a little red at all times, but I’m a ginger so I’ve learned to accept it.

HAIR

Length: Long— right now it’s at my mid-back. Also, you can pry my side bangs from my cold, dead hands. Ha ha, no, YOUR entire self-esteem depends on how your hair looks!!!

Processed? As I mentioned, I am a natural redhead, so at least 4,683 people have approached me over the last 28 years to tell me: “you better not EVER dye your hair!!!”, sometimes accompanied by a slightly-joking threat. Most of them are strangers; one of them was definitely your grandmother. She was super sweet tho!

Feeling rebellious in college, I experimented with box dye on a few times on small chunks of my hair, but have not dyed it/processed it other than those few tragic mistakes learning experiences. Nana was right!

Type: Normal. It gets a bit oily sometimes but such is life, no? I wash it every other day or every 3 days if it’s been One Of Those Weeks. It’s too thin for me to go longer without it getting real flat and nasty.

Texture: If I let my hair dry naturally, which I do not, it’s... a little bit wavy? Mostly straight, and flat, and with weird frizzies everywhere because #florida.

Thickness: Thin, but I have a decent amount of it. Keeping it long also makes it look like there’s More Going On. Illusions, Michael! Hair concerns: With great length comes great effort towards getting enough volume. I also have been battling a super-itchy scalp lately and can’t figure out what’s causing it.

My main “concern”, if this counts, is that... I don’t really know how to do anything with it. Mostly what it does is just… hang out. Someone help me!!!

FUN STUFF

Favorite beauty area: My favorite thing about experimenting on my corporeal form and its various accoutrements is finding inexpensive products that work really well, whether they’re “dupes” for high-end stuff or just ~doing their own thing~. If a product is really good, I’m not afraid of a splurge, but I am a little afraid to buy an $80 face cream and find (as I feel is often the case) that my skin looked just as good using CeraVe. Ya girl’s on a budget!

When did you "get into" makeup and skincare? In college, my makeup and skincare routine was as follows: wash face with whatever extremely-stripping face soap was on sale; sunscreen during the day (thank god); mascara; a shimmery white eyeshadow smeared everywhere; reapply badly-matched powder every 30 mins. Now that I’m ALL the way done with school, forever, I’m happy that skincare and makeup are more popular, and I’m loving experimenting and trying to get out of my comfort zone.

Most recent beauty purchase: Makeup Revolution Vivid Baked Highlighter in Peach Lights. This is a repurchase for me, because apparently during the 12 hours that my suitcase was Lost In Transit on the way to New Orleans, it was being kicked around by every person who has ever played in the World Cup. Translation: A lot of my shit was broken! Anyway, this highlighter is fucking PRETTY. I highly recommend browsing this brand the next time you’re at Ulta, it’s affordable but everything I’ve tried is great quality. I also have their bronzer and liquid highlighter.

Worst beauty/skincare mistake: Like most of us, I plucked my brows to absolute fuck and back circa 2003. However, unlike most of us, my brows are literally white, so I basically could have shaved them off entirely with the same overall effect. (I’ve recently gotten them tinted—post forthcoming!)

My most hilarious beauty mistake was probably the several times that I dyed the lower part of my hair—not dip-dye style, but like, the bottom third starting at my scalp to ends— with like, random chestnut-to-eggplant-ranging box colors. I was really into it at the time (probably….. 2010?) but looking back it is SO tacky! Several times it was basically…. black. Not great, Bob! At best—misguided Scene Girl; at worst… well, see for yourself. I combed through my entire Facebook history to find this pic, which was EXTREMELY traumatic, so, you’re welcome!!

Beauty inspiration/beauty icon: I’ve never actually thought about this before! It certainly won’t be a model. I’m a redhead with a big nose and my body is shaped like a potato; genetically, I am probably closer to a sundried tomato than to Gigi Hadid. Such is life!

One thing I love about my mom’s attitude toward makeup is that, whether she’s wearing it or not, she always looks like herself. And: she is super beautiful! Too cool. Because of my own Mack Truck-full of self-esteem issues, I’ve had to be careful over the years not to get so wrapped up in makeup to the point that I don’t still (for the most part) feel comfortable with how my face looks ~nakey~. (This is no judgment on anyone else, of course; I want everyone to do exactly what makes them feel happy and sexy and glowy and whatnot.) IMO, skincare is a fun and productive way to feel better about Just Your Regular Face!

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haljathefangirlcat · 3 years

Text

still thinking about that “we Have To Talk about how quips are ruining fandom by destroying meta and turning all fic into shitposts” post @ms-demeanor wrote a great rebuttal to, and about the other posts she wrote about it and about the You’re Doing Fandom Wrong attitude in it, and about the notes on those posts. not gonna reblog or reply to any of those because my thoughts are admittedly kind of random and jumping from place to place and probably OT to the point of the discussion, but you know. still thinking.

so, uh. not trying to start wank or anything but enjoy the ranting that got way out of hand under the cut.

so, like... that one “we can’t just block everyone who quips and shitposts because some of these people also write actual meta but then they unfortunately go back to Not Engaging With Canon by writing quippy shitpost-y stuff” line, or however it was actually phrased? besides the blatant entitlement with the “you have to fandom ONLY in ways I like, I can’t just engage with the part of the content you create that I’m interested in and scroll past the rest” thing (which kinda reminds me of the whole “you can’t CNTW on some of your fics, I should be able to read ALL of your fics” thing, in a way) and the ”I refuse to curate my fandom experience and I’ll make it some stranger’s problem” thing (which... reminds me of a few other things, but tbf it has probably been around since the very first days of fandom), what if someone doesn’t even see meta and quips/shitposts as fundamentally different and mutually exclusive approaches to fandom? what if they see them as just two ways to be interested in a specific fandom and interact with it, and maybe even closely linked together, so going from one to another is actually very, very easy for them? hell, what if they (gasp!) even mix quips and meta together sometimes?

I have a few posts about what I think Baran bo Odar and Jantje Friese might have been doing with mythological references and themes in Dark, and about what I got from the series finale. some are meme-like, phrased in a joking tone, probably even shitpost-y? another one is literally just a gifset plus me having intense Feels in the tags, and the last one is an edit of the kind I’ve seen people complain about as “those cringey unoriginal tumblr aesthetics that all look the same” in at least a couple of occasions. does that automatically mean I only wanted to “win” at fandom (with my hard-earned prize being... a handful of notes in a fandom that’s not even that big compared to others) and that I haven’t actually spent probably way too much time thinking about the significance of Martha’s Ariadne play as a commentary on character interactions/plot/narrative themes (and honestly still do from time to time), or that I don’t occasionally read the captions under other people’s gifsets and suddenly feel very much enlightened about why the Ariadne play mentions the myth of the Flood of all things? that I didn’t start reading posts and comments and reviews and theories about the series finale as soon as I finished watching it? that, just because I didn’t write 10K+ words of Perfectly Serious Seriousness about all that stuff, I simply refused to Engage With The Text?

... and if I said that I feel a little irrationally self-conscious at the idea of writing down all of my (often rambling, sometimes jumbled) thoughts about a series that to me actually does feel very deep and complex, so adding memes and humor to that or finding different means to put my ideas out there makes me feel more comfortable expressing myself while also taking off the (admittedly made-up) pressure of having to write a whole coherent essay where I have to find a clear and explicit way to explain where every single thought comes from and how it leads to the next like I’m gonna get graded on it? or that a lot of those thoughts stem from memories of spending five years of high school translating and analysing ancient Greek poetry and reading and watching and discussing every available interpretation and reinterpretation of it from Nietzsche to Vernant to Dürrenmatt to Christa Wolf to Pasolini to a lot of others and from certain things in Dark violently hurtling me back to those times without even asking for permission, so a part of my self-consciousness is actually “I probably don’t actually know/remember enough about this to base a whole in-depth analysis on it even though I do think there’s something there” and another part is “shit I’m too lazy to dig through all of my old textbooks and homework and additional readings to hunt for the thing I feel the desperate need to reference or figure out who might have said it, so no extended explanation here either”? I guess in the end it would all boil down to “there’s an amount of effort and physical and mental energy I’m willing to put into fandom but I also have limits to stop something that makes me feel happy from becoming a chore”, which. considering the whole “you have to put all your resources into constantly pouring out 100% serious meta and nothing else because that’s what I like, no deviations allowed” thing? yeah, I can see saying stuff like that would still make me a blight upon fandom. and/or Not Engaging.

which, I realize, it’s a thing I keep coming back to. but that’s because I really, really, really hate it? seriously, what even counts as Engaging With The Text correctly? not shitposts, and not quips either, apparently. Regardless of the fact that humor and crack have existed in fandom since forever and that it’s actually not uncommon AT ALL for them to be born out of looking at canon from different angles, pointing out whatever the fan in question finds surreal/strange/implausible/convoluted/awkward/just kinda funny about it.

also, not canon divergence/what if fics motivated not by a desire to “fix” something that made us feel bad when it happened in canon but by a desire to actually fix what we felt was objectively a poor writing choice from the author, because we shouldn’t Engage by analysing the text to criticize it or to think over how and why certain aspects of it don’t work for us or how we think the structure of the text itself could be modified or even improved, we should Engage by... writing meta and/or writing canon-compliant fics with perhaps a little allowance for slightly-to-the-left-of-canon-compliant missing moments fics, I guess?

from what I’ve gathered from reading other fandom discussion some time ago, AUs are also out, especially Modern/No Powers AUs, because those are always just an excuse to slap your fave’s name on your OC/disguise your original fiction as fanfic to get comments/ignore all that’s interesting about canon to write yet another dumb syrupy high school or coffee shop AU, even if I’m honestly not sure what kind of AUs people are even reading to never get to the “there’s no supernatural threat so let’s focus entirely on the fucked-up family dynamics and blatant mental issues in a world where you can’t just ignore them by marrying off your daughter or sending your son to be someone’s squire” AUs or the “this is pretty much what happens in canon but adding new dimensions and different outlooks on the themes by moving everything to a new context” AUs. seriously, I could rec you a pretty great “this guy would be a horrible father and treat his children horribly in any world, it’s not just the feudal society around him, it’s him as a person” AU and that’s literally just the first thing that came to my mind. but, hey, maybe Engaging is only engaging with the canon plot and setting and nothing else, what do I know.

... fuck, thinking about it, I’m not even sure if by “not shitpost and not quips” I should even mean humor/crack? because it’s not like the OP was clear about it in any way? maybe it’s just all that’s weird and tropey and not-canon-compliant? I can see the “everybody gathers in the main character’s stuff to smoke weed and weird shit happens” fic I got a chuckle out of some time ago being one of the dreaded tumblr-born shitpost fics that are supposedly ruining fandom by ensuring that fans stop thinking (?), but what about the “everything is the same but this one character is a catboy, not for any particular reason but just because” fic I’m currently following and loving? people have been joking and shitposting about catboys a lot on tumblr lately (I distinctly remember that the last catboy joke to pop up on my dash was the “I’m your catboy gf and I’m stuck in a wall” one...) and finding an always-a-catboy!AU initially got an amused smile out of me, so is the mere premise enough to make the fic just a joke/just taking a trope and running off with it/just part of a shallow trend? even when the author literally goes “oh shit just realized this is all a metaphor for neuodivergence and masking” in the story notes? unless writing a character who’s never explicitly stated to be neurodivergent in canon as a being literally or metaphorically neurodivergent in your fic is always shallow projecting or posturing issuefic... instead of, y’know, looking closely at the text and Engaging with it by interpreting it that way....

I feel all this ranting/venting might end up plunging into Why We Slash discussion territory now, so I better stop here.

anyway, in short, good to know I’ve been in fandom for years yet I’ve always been just a Fake Fan who Can’t Think and is constantly Doing It Wrong (by Not Being Transformative Enough, possibly). gonna do my best to stay exactly like that in the future <3

#... see THIS is why i don't write meta #fic is so much easier be it crack or not #ugh i feel i should probably delete this to avoid a giant headache but let's give it a try

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starspatter · 6 years

Text

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 6

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3,791 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Also on ff.net and AO3. In which Dick is surprisingly racist towards clones.

Two birds on a wire One says "come on" and the other says "I'm tired" The sky is overcast and I'm sorry One more or one less Nobody's worried

-Regina Spektor, "Two Birds"

Then.

Once their guest had left, Tim turned to Dick with a wounded air.

“How about giving me some warning next time before someone shows up, huh? A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Dick’s smile didn’t falter.

“What, did she catch you doing something embarrassing?”

Tim skewered him a look of disgust.

“Do you have to make everything sound dirty?”

“Sorry, sorry. …I’m surprised you’re still doing ‘that’ after all these years though.”

Tim shrugged with a heavy sigh. “Was just testing to see if I still could, I guess. I messed up on the landing anyway.”

“You probably just need to work on your form some more. It has been a while since I last saw you brush up on any techniques, they’re bound to get a bit rusty. If you want, I can still coach you…”

Tim’s lips tightened.

“Forget it. It’s not worth it.”

“Are you sure? That girl seemed pretty impressed by it. She’s the one you were talking about earlier, right?” Dick nodded in sage observation. “She’s cute; nice face, decent rack- ow!” He rubbed his arm as it was abruptly met with an annoyed punch. “Hey, it was a compliment.”

“…Didn’t sound like one.”

“Would you prefer I said she has a mighty fine ass?” He waggled his brows and grinned provocatively, despite wincing from the pain. Kid could still hit pretty hard when he wanted to. “Not as fine as mine though.”

“Shut up before I shove a dumbbell up there.”

Dick clutched his behind in mock dread at the threat.

“Seriously though, she’s obviously into you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The way I see it, from where I’m standing, she’s more into you.”

“Oh ho, do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“No,” Tim denied hotly, though his cheeks told a different story. “It’s just that you’re being super-gross about it. You know you’re acting like Bruce by coming onto every giddy schoolgirl and her mom who walks in through the door.”

Dick’s smirk jerked slightly.

“Wow, okay dude, we’re really going there.” It was his turn to be hurt by insensitivity. “You didn’t need to go that far. I’ll have you know this and that are completely different.”

“How so?”

“I approach these things from a sole marketing perspective. Purely professional. It’s called ‘show business’, bro.”

“Uh-huh. This coming from the guy who just lied about his scars to make himself look good. I suppose ‘that’s’ also part of your advertising strategy?”

“Hey, it’s not like it was a total lie. That really did happen, you know – minus the ‘falling debris’ part. …Besides, what else would you have me say?”

Tim shook his head, keeping his voice low. “…I don’t know.”

Dick seized on the telling silence. “You are attracted to her, aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“It’s okay, I can see why. It’s all right to admit these things, you know. You don’t have to hide it.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

The firm, yet flustered defiance only further confirmed Dick’s suspicion.

“Heh heh, little Timmy’s got a crush~”

He tousled Tim’s hair teasingly, to which the boy scowled.

“I do not.” He pushed the invading hand away in indignation. “Will you cut that out already? I’m not a kid anymore.”

Dick lowered his limb in disappointment.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Despite insistence otherwise, it delighted Dick that Tim was finally exhibiting some of the youthful desire – if not exuberance – he’d missed out on through his teenage years. “Trust me though, I have no interest in someone her age. She’s all yours.”

“Look, will you just drop it?” Tim snapped bluntly. “It’s none of your freakin’ business.”

Dick exhaled, clicking his tongue. If only Tim could be more honest with his feelings, true to himself – though he was painfully aware of how excruciatingly difficult that must be, what with everything the boy had been through. To be fair, he had his own troubles genuinely opening his heart to others, after all the times it had been broken and betrayed before. …He could only imagine how terrifying it must be for Tim, to allow someone else – a complete and total stranger – to get close by entering into his currently (semi-)stable and secure – if supremely secluded life, experience that kind of risky emotion again. Breach the many walls and defensive barriers he had set up around himself, upset the plainly precarious balance that was still a struggle to barely maintain. So as much as he wanted to continue coaxing and clowning – kidding around, he agreed to leave it alone for now, raising both palms in admitted defeat.

“Okay, I get it. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

The subject successfully dismissed, Tim attuned towards the boxes in the back.

“So did you want me to help with moving this stuff or what?”

“Yeah, I needed to clear out some old things to make space for new equipment. Trying to tidy up the place more, getting rid of useless junk and whatnot. …Although most of it’s probably going up to the storeroom in the attic anyway. Sorry to bother you for this; I’d do all the lifting myself, but with my back…”

“Don’t mention it, it’s the least I can do to repay you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Tim knelt by one of the cartons as Dick set to work sifting and sorting, organizing according to some arbitrary system that ostensibly only made sense to him.

“Christ, how much crap do you have here? Seriously, what even is half this junk? I knew you had all kinds of odd ends lying around, but I didn’t realize it amounted to this much. Do you ever throw anything away?”

Dick shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a hoarder by nature. Keeping keepsakes is my hobby. …Well, more like a habit, I guess. Why do you think we had a trophy room in the basement? It wasn’t originally Bruce’s idea, I can tell you that.”

Tim remained quiet as he poked through a large collection of CDs, containing a few recognizable but mostly random titles by various indie bands and artists he’d never heard of.

“Man, you’ve got weird taste in music.”

“Hey, don’t knock the classics. Those are precious goods, be careful with those.”

In spite of his scoffing, Tim picked up one of the discs that appealed to him, and was almost about to subconsciously slip the item under his oversized hoodie – an old, old habit of his own – before remembering he didn’t have to resort to sneaking or stealing when he could just ask.

“Can I borrow this?”

Dick didn’t even twist to look, implicitly trusting in his little brother’s judgment. “Yeah sure, go ahead.”

Tim breathed out in relief as he pocketed the prize with permission. That was a close call. Borderline kleptomaniac compulsions hadn’t surfaced like that in a long time, but then, it was only another minor checkbox on the extensive, exhaustive list of psychotic symptoms he was suffering from today.

There was another entry that caught his eye, different from the others. It had no hard case or album cover; just a plain, simple jacket labeled with marker:

For Babs.

Tim wondered if it was a mix tape – surely Dick wouldn’t have tried to record something himself? He couldn’t tell whether it was a gift Dick planned to give but never worked up the courage to – or something Barbara sent back after (one of numerous) breakup(s).

…Maybe Joker was right. Being in love with someone seemed like way more hassle than it was worth. Hell, just watching those two go back and forth between affection and anger even back then was tiring. Aggravating.

At any rate, he left burning curiosity alone, not wanting to intrude too much on Dick’s privacy (years ago he would’ve taunted his brother with the juicy bit of exposing bait himself, but that was then, when he was less mature and still found amusement in such things), and moved on to another container. As soon as he saw the contents inside, he balked a bit, heartbeat spiking. Aching. It was a family photo album, full of fond memories from the Flying Graysons’ circus days. His hands trembled as he flipped tentatively through the pages, unable to tear away even though it made him uncomfortable for a number of reasons. Paranoid of polaroids. Anything involving camerawork tended to make him queasy, though he could typically tolerate homages to others at least. These were different from the blown-up, polished posters on the wall though; the images portrayed within were more intimate, unscripted. Candid, captured moments of a close-knit clan, happy as a clam – treasured remnants of childhood innocence and bliss combined with parental pampering.

“This must have been such a cool place to grow up.”

“…It was.”

Glancing back at the receptacle, buried at the bottom was another set of snapshots: a framed photograph of Dick and Barbara together (him smiling smugly straight at her in puppy-like adoration while she beamed brightly at the viewer instead), and a worn print of the former in graduation garb next to Bruce, who had his paw wrapped proudly on the other’s shoulder. Scrawled on the top left-hand corner in Bruce’s surprisingly haphazard handwriting was a short congratulatory message:

Good luck at college, Dick.

Tim recalled how Dick told him the story of Bruce missing his graduation from Gotham State University, shortly before the two split up as Batman and Robin. (…The old man never even bothered to come to his own high school ceremony – not that Tim was expecting him to – although Dick and Barbara both did attend at least, albeit sitting at opposite ends of the auditorium.)

“It was building for a long time. I realize that now. …It was never really right. I mean, this isn’t exactly a normal childhood.”

He hadn’t really comprehended the notion then, but Tim understood now what those words meant – unfortunately all too well.

Tim sensed a shadow behind him, and for a brief instant, he half-envisioned it being Bruce from the way it loomed – but of course when he revolved around it was only Dick instead.

“Yo, you all right? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tim looked down at the scrapbook in his lap, a wistful mist in his eyes. “I was just… thinking I don’t really have any pictures of my folks. At least none where we’re all together.” Or that isn’t a mugshot, he thought sullenly to himself. “I never saw my dad keep any mementos of Mom after she died. To be honest, I’m not sure I even still remember what she looks like.”

Dick plopped down on the ground next to him, resting a hand on the boy’s sagged shoulder.

“Listen, I hope you know: No matter what, you can always think of the two of us as family at least. I know I haven’t exactly been that much of a great guardian myself, that I could never replace what you lost either… But you are still a brother to me. Hell, I consider you the closest thing to a real relative I’ve had since then.”

Tim simply nodded, swallowing a lump in his gorge. Dick patted his back with a thump.

“Us guys, we gotta stick together, right? Through thick and thin.”

“Yeah.” Tim ducked his neck towards his collar, surreptitiously drying ducts on his sweatshirt. “…Thanks, you know, for letting me stay here so long. Roy and Conner too.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” A pause. “…How’s Conner doing by the way?”

Tim snorted, the caution in the other’s tone not escaping his notice. “What do you care? You never liked him anyway.”

“That’s not true. It’s just… The whole idea of cloning someone kinda wigs me out, okay? I dunno, imagining there being a duplicate copy of you running around is freaky enough, but one of Superman? It still doesn’t sit well with me to leave him loose like that, after all the underhanded crap Cadmus has pulled. Something about it just doesn’t seem right. Who’s to say he doesn’t have some secret kill switch that’ll make him go rogue like Supergirl’s doppelganger? Gotham may be full of crazies and creeps, but at least we never really had to deal with stuff of metahuman caliber aside from Ivy and Clayface, or Kirk when he took the serum.” Dick intentionally didn’t include Killer Croc on the atypical rogues roster; guy was too dumb a criminal to count. “We’re on the high end of the ‘weird’ scale, sure, but not even Batman’s equipped to take down a serious superpowered menace alone.”

Tim glared at him in disbelief.

“Is that you talking, or the old man?”

“…Maybe a bit of both,” Dick willingly conceded. “Look, I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“Yeah well, don’t be. I’ve got Mr. Kent on speed-dial, and Kon gave me his full consent to use the Kryptonite at my discretion as part of our ‘roommate agreement’. If anything happens, he told me himself he wants me to hit him with it as hard as I can.” …Even if it meant killing him – although Tim knew he could never go through with that. Not again. “Besides, it’s not him you’re actually worried about, is it?”

“Tim…”

“No, you know what this is?” Tim clenched his fist, drawing away from contact again. “You look at him with the same way you do me – like some ticking time bomb about to explode. I’m getting real sick and tired of it.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t. Look, for your information, Conner’s doing fine. Hell, he pretty much behaves just like you; he’s probably getting wasted and chasing after chicks at some mixer right now. …That’s what you call a ‘normal college life’, isn’t it?”

Dick cleared his throat, aversely acknowledging hypocrisy.

“…What about you? How is school going? Do you like it there?”

Tim shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

“You know you didn’t have to just stick locally around here. If you wanted to go someplace else I would’ve sponsored you. I mean, I chose to stay close to Gotham because of that… ‘part-time job’ stuff, but you’re smart, you could’ve gone anywhere better.”

“I told you, I’m fine with this.”

“What about taking that girl’s suggestion at least? Life doesn’t just have to be about books and studying for tests all the time either, you know. Look at it this way: You’ve got the time and opportunity now to be a part of after-class club activities that I never had. Why not take advantage of it, get out there and socialize. Enjoy the excitement of your youth and all that.”

Tim stared, trying unsuccessfully to read the other’s expression. He couldn’t deduce whether the dude was just being humorously sarcastic, or genuinely envious and attempting to live vicariously through him. Either way, he wasn’t falling for it.

“I said forget it.”

Dick kept pressing despite disengagement, earnest in his endeavor to tempt Tim to pursue what used to fill the boy with fervent passion, desperately hoping to rekindle some kind of joyful spark.

“Come on, I’m sure it’ll be fun. I bet I could even still teach you to do a quadruple somersault if you’re interested.”

“Why? I suck at it.”

“You just need more practice. …Besides, it’d be kind of a shame to let a legacy die out without passing it on to at least one person.”

Tim wavered at the sincere, if somewhat scheming statement.

“I don’t know…”

“Trust me, it’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

“Maybe for you.” He bitterly bit his tongue under his breath. “I’d like to see you try to concentrate on keeping your balance with the Joker as a peanut gallery.”

“What was that?”

“…Nothing.”

Dick held his gaze for a second.

“Tim, I didn’t want to bring this up, but… Conner called me the other day. He told me, about the lab incident. He says you haven’t been sleeping or eating much either.”

Tim grit his jaw, feeling like a dagger had just been thrust in his gut. He couldn’t believe his best (perhaps only) bud in the world would betray him like that.

“Damnit, Kon.”

“Don’t blame him, he’s just worried about you too. I told you: You don’t need to keep hiding things from us. We’re here to help if you need anything. Babs too. If something’s troubling you, you can talk to us.”

“It’s fine, I’m handling it.”

Dick wouldn’t desist, determined to get the truth out of him.

“Tim, I heard you yelling earlier. …He’s back again, isn’t he?”

The boy sighed in surrender, eyes slanting stage right. “…To your left, making faces.”

His partner fixed him with stern concern.

“Are you off your meds again?”

“They don’t work. Not as well as they used to.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just stop taking them.”

“For what? So I can only experience the side effects?”

“So talk to Leslie. Ask her to adjust the dosage.”

Tim made a hollow noise. “I’m already on the highest strength that’s considered ‘safe’ for human consumption.”

Dick pulled out his phone anyway and began dialing her number.

“I’m contacting her. There must be at least something else we can try.”

“Not Dr. Thompkins,” Tim whined, as if a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Look, either you call to make an appointment, or I will.”

Tim seethed, grinding his teeth. “All right, fine. Jeeze. God, you and Barbara still both treat me like a fucking child.”

“Yeah well, maybe if you stop acting like one.”

“Whatever. Just hand me the phone. I’ll talk to her.”

Dick extended the cell towards Tim, who took it with all the enthusiasm of accepting a dirty sock.

“It’s ringing.”

He listened closely in on the conversation to confirm a meeting time was set up, before Tim returned the receiver.

“Here. She wants to talk to you.”

Dick lifted the mobile to his ear.

“Hey, doc.”

“Hello, Richard. It’s good to hear from you boys. How’s the back treating you?”

“Fine.” He didn’t want to dwell too much on his own health status, so he moved on to the matter at hand. “Is there anything we can do to help Tim?”

“In such a rare and unusual case as this, it’s hard to say. It’d be beneficial to start by identifying the root of his relapse. Once we pinpoint that, it’ll be easier to formulate a treatment plan. It’s possible it could just be due to the stress of moving to a new environment. It’s good that you’ve been able to help support him through high school, but now that he’s becoming independent it may be triggering a stronger separation anxiety response in him. Even if consciously he rejects it, the Joker ingrained himself as a parental figure in Tim’s mind. Essentially, he equates that kind of attention with the nurturing love and protection he never properly received growing up. It’s common for child victims of abuse to form a disorganized attachment to the caregiver, especially when the caregiver behaves in an inconsistent manner. The conflict of the caregiver being both a source of comfort and distress can cause the child to display contradictory patterns when faced with a stressful situation; instinct tells him to simultaneously avoid and approach the one who is mistreating him. In the absence of a familiar atmosphere he’s accustomed to, he’s likely seeking alternate methods of coping as a survival mechanism. Has he been under any kind of particular pressure lately?”

Dick relayed the events leading up to the fainting spell, with little input from Tim beyond affirmative nods.

“I see. It’s certainly a sign of progress that he’s trying to face his fears, but a heads-on approach might not be the best tactic.”

“I tried to tell him that. He won’t listen.”

“I’ll have a chat with him about it when I see him, hopefully we can find a way for him to succeed in his studies without compromising his sense of safety. One more question, this is important: Has he tried to harm himself?”

“I… don’t think so. I’ll check, and let you know.”

“Please do.”

As Dick temporarily terminated the exchange, he rotated to see Tim had stood up and was headed towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out for a smoke – walk – whatever. Just text me when you need me.”

“Hold it.” The harsh bark arrested the boy before he was halfway to the exit. “Wrists.”

Tim swiveled with a sour countenance.

“Seriously? Do we really have to do this?”

“Show me.”

He hissed, but obediently rolled up his sleeves, revealing bare but apparently unmarked skin.

“Satisfied?”

Dick advanced and examined him all over anyway, before nodding.

“All right. Now empty your pockets.”

Tim tsked, feeling as violated as when the staff at the detention center frisked him on admittance for any concealed contraband. He dug through his possessions, retrieving objects one by one: phone, wallet, CD player, lighter, cigarettes, and finally – under Dick’s demanding eye – the hidden pocketblade.

“Give me the knife.”

He hesitated.

“Don’t make me wrestle it from you.”

Relinquishing, he slapped the weapon into Dick’s grip without a word.

“Thank you. You can go, but try to keep near.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

Dick deliberately chose to ignore the sardonic retort, used to receiving attitude by now. (For a fleeting moment, he mused if he ever gave Bruce this much frustration, although no doubt Alfred would certainly attest to it.)

After Tim left, Dick hit redial to reassuringly inform Leslie on the observed lack of self-inflicted damage to the patient’s physical condition at least – and preemptive confiscation of means just to be safe – before bidding goodbye with a final beep. He sighed as he rubbed his neck, hoping his “tough love” hadn’t come off as too deterring. He really wasn’t good with this whole “parenting” thing, considering the primary role model he had for nearly half of his life after early adolescence.

As he picked up the memoir from the floor, he caressed his fingers feather-light over the cover, brushing off collected dust and disenchantment before delicately placing it on a shelf for easy viewing access. The rest he unceremoniously dumped in the “to toss” pile, purposefully cramming as much trash as he could on top. …After a few minutes though he fished them out again, rescuing from the base of the rubbish heap with ambivalent reluctance, restoring to the original package and sealing tightly with tape. They could remain upstairs for now at least – like his ruined Nightwing costume – evidence of old wounds and shattered bonds shuttered behind closed panel; tucked away in the dark recesses of his conscience, lurking and lingering deep in the shadows off-screen.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Two birds of a feather Say that they're always gonna stay together But one's never going to let go of that wire He says that he will But he's just a liar

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Dick Grayson #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #Ironically Dick later gets a clone himself in the 'Hush Beyond' comic story arc #which is a mess in all sorts of ways but I'm considering canon for the sake of keeping 'continuity'#on the subject of the tie in comics though one thing I love about Gotham Adventures is how they highlight Dick's fondness for music #wherein his musical knowledge actually comes in handy to help solve a couple cases #if you haven't read the series I highly recommend doing so for a lot more extra character development and wonderful BatFam interactions <3 #also FYI all the photographs appeared in the show at some point #cookie to whoever guesses which ep each is from ;O #P.S. Happy Father's Day

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chimerabal · 6 years

Text

Session 4 - So many geists.

We opened the session with a battle we set up the previous one: The party was traveling through a desecrated town seeking out any cult activity, and found two Really Angry Ghosts. Revenants? The party cleric, Mikela, tried to reason with them, failed, and was attacked- initiating group combat. My character, Uriel, took a quick 10 damage and fell prone dodging what would have been a lethal 16 more, she pretty much just cried the whole battle- got one or two mediocre hits in. The scaab, Ugly, was called from an alley over; a turn in or so he made a Grand Entrance to the battle- koolaid man style through an empty building.

Mikela and our necro-alchemist Sibyl dealt an impressive amount of damage through radiant attacks and giest-powered-spells. Sibyl dealt the final blow with a spell that I imagined looking like a more fire-y version of the ghostbusters plasma streams ripping the hostile giests in two. Extremely cool.

Post battle Mikela tried reasoning with some non-hostile looking giests that were floating around watching the battle. Impressively- thankfully- three of them came around and spoke with the party. They expressed a desire to pass into the aether, which Mikela gladly offered to help them do. She set up and began a 10 minute ritual to help first of the three ghosts move on- one that required concentration. Sibyl, needing ghosts to power her inventions and all, also decided to speak with the geists in an effort to persuade them help us save the town in the form of boo-juice. The friendliest/most helpful geist declined politely, the third ghost eagerly agreed to avenge his town and stop the probably-cult we are building up to fight against.

This could have gone nicely, but, our cleric really, Really, objects to the concept of necro-alchemy and using ghosts as spirits as fuel. While Sibyl was speaking with the giests- getting consent and all to turn them into a power source- Mikela was unable to stop her ritual and confront Sibyl... and was getting progressively more and more angry. Just as the cleric had finished her ritual, the necro-alchemist was starting one to capture the ghost. Mikela charged Sibyl and grabbed her super-cool-ghost-storing-but-still-decorative-broach and triggered a mini-combat between the two of them.

Mikela had the broach, Sibyl acid-bombed the both of them, the broach was dropped and kicked towards my characters, Ugly flung the broach back to Sibyl. As Sibyl paused to inspect the item for damage, Mikela quick started trying to set up a ritual and force the avenging giest to move on. This Really pissed off avenging giest, and it threatened to turn hostile- shooting out some fireballs at Mikela. Sibyl also got back into the frey to tell Mikela off and smack her around a bit (which is... all they did to each other this time. a small slap fight). Damage was dealt, yelling and tears happened, and my character- for the most part- was enjoying the show up until about now like

However, with the two other party members were both crying, and the ghost was spitting fire everywhere, the whole ordeal had stopped being entertaining and Uriel was about ready to step in..... didn’t end up needing to though. Mikela finally, after a few solid throws, broke concentration on the ritual and dissolved into a blubbering teary mess. With Mikela having backed down, Sibyl was able to neutralize the angry spirit and absorb it as power. Both characters were Spent.

Note: this was a great conflict and I’m counting on the character’s handlers to have all the details and arguments that went down because... I’m short on detail b/c I was building dice towers and this is actually a very interesting fight... and because this is the second time now the two have butt heads over Ghost Stuff :3c we have a Theme growing here folks.

Post fight Sibyl was staring into space (IS...pretty sure she ended the session Still In This State...) and Mikela was sobbing grossly on the ground. Uriel, despite this shit not being her forte at All, had to do something- suddenly becoming Party Leader. She approached Mikela and delivered silent paps, getting her pulled into a sobby bear hug. Mikela cry-ranted about hating the position she is in, having to fight and not being able to help anyone (ghost or not). She didn’t sign up for this shit. After some more (freaked and awkward) back pats Uriel summoned her monster over to take her place in the bear hug (unsure if this worked, I like to think Mikela koala clinged to Ugly just as quickly lmao).

Even after all this, that one friendly ghost stuck around with us. It tipped us off that “They are coming this way”. Uriel, staying true to last session’s decision of ‘not wanting to fuck with Them or That or whatever the fuck (cultists- its cultists)’ starts leading the emotionally broken/physically exhausted party back to town. Note: She’s the only one who realized we left some civilians we were traveling with along the cultists’ path.... but they’ll be Fine, they have an axe, we gave them an axe, they’ll be FINE. Sibyl doesn’t follow the group right away, so Uriel loops back around and offers consoling paps to her as well. When asked if she was okay, she says nothing but starts following the party.... which was good enough.

Once in town Uriel starts knocking on doors and announcing that “The demon slaying heroes from yesterday need help, we helped you, please help us.” Mikela joins in, affirming loudly that, yes, we slay demons, and that we are with the church and would love some hospitality please. We get a dude to speak to us through a cracked door, Uriel manages to convince him to a point, but starts to flounder (largely due to my own not-great improv skills) and is backed up by Mikela. Sibyl I think is just... standing in the background, wall eyed, with the scaab and ghost... freakin’ this dude out.

He agrees to let us in if we ditch the undead we have in our party. Mikela doesn’t want to give up the ghost (lol) and tries to persuade the dude to let our giest friend come in- against Uriel’s sound advice, “enough with these fucking ghosts” (thats a joke I didn’t say that). She has the ghost tell what it knows about cult recruitment; the cult is gaining more members by terrorizing the town with devils and shit and making them question Avacyn’s powers and protection. They then prey on civilians who’s faith has wavered and introduce them to the cult.

During her persuasion the LOUD EVIL VOICE from the night before starts speaking from an adjacent row of houses- out of sight but still getting Uncomfortably Close. It pretty much word for word confirms what ghost friend said, but in an insufferable boisterous evil way. Both Uriel and Mikela are about to change course and follow the cult- pretty much resigned that there’s no Way they’re getting shelter now- but the man allows everyone, ghost and all, into his home (We snuck Ugly in as well.... and by snuck we mean it forced itself through the door before the kindly dude could shut it completely). And that’s where we ended, in a random strangers’ home with cultists doing some recruitment outside.

Note to myself: if I don’t get answers out of Sibyl during our stay here I’m gonna d i e.

And like last post- im tired and not proofreading this. good luck.

#long post #OC: Uriel #Fantasy RP Campaign

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