#I did love you better that she wilI ever try I promise you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allykakamatsu · 3 years

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Danganronpa V3 Smash Bros Tournament!

•Monokuma decides a good way to get everyone to kill each other is a Smash Bros Tournament, I mean, with all the salt someone’s bound to snap.

•No one kills each other, aside from Maki attempting to kill Kokichi, but it does become a weekly tradition despite the rage.

Kaede Akamatsu

• Get’s into a heated debate over who gets to main Rosalina with Kaito, but after a bit she caved and agreed to pick someone else.

•She end’s up picking Peach after Tsumugi makes a comment that they kinda look alike.

•Little did anyone know that Kaede is actually kinda a monster with Peach and frequently does really well in the tournaments.

•Favourite stage is New Donk city, and every time she gets to play on it she sings Jump up Superstar the entire match.

•Nobody is sure if they love or hate it.

•When not singing, she’ll make the stage music anything that has a dominant Piano.

•Favourite item is the Star Rod

Shuichi Saihara

• Acts like he’s never played before and decides to main Chrom due to him seeing easy enough to play and liking his personality.

•In actuality has played on and off for years and is a proud Dedede main but is too embarrassed to admit it.

•Also plays Pikachu but cause it’s Miu’s main he doesn’t usually use the electric mouse.

•Usually middle of the road in the tournaments.

•Prefers to fight on Battlefield but so long as the stage doesn’t move he can live with anything.

•Likes to keep items off.

Rantaro Amami:

•Good with all three Link forms, but has a bias for Toon Link.

•Can’t remember when he started playing, but given how he’s the only one who doesn’t panic by tripping they assume it’s Brawl.

•They also assume this because whenever someone picks Meta Knight he gets visibly distressed.

•Tournament wise he Can either do really well or really s**t depending on the day.

•Doesn’t have a favourite stage but tends to pick the Zelda stages cause he likes them the best.

•The only one who’s happy when a warp star shows up.

Ryoma Hoshi:

•At first played Incineroar cause its the only cat.

•After realising how bad his recovery was though, he kinda just tried anything to see what would work.

•Found a few semi-mains, namely Snake, Link and Villager

•Usually doesn‘t try to hard in tournaments so comes in last, or will even sit out, but when he wants to win, he will.

•Moral of the story, if he picks Villager, panic.

•No stage or item preference, but when it’s his turn to pick he tends to go with Shadow Moses island cause he likes the look.

Kirumi Tojo

•Mains everyone and is good with all of them.

•Like, can beat Mario with Little Mac good.

•Does have a slight preference towards Shiek though due to her admiring the ninja’s loyalty.

•Due to her skills, she tends to sit out with Ryoma to give everyone a chance.

•When she does play though, well, try not to loose too fast.

•Also usually the one who has to stop Maki killing Kokichi if he beats her.

•Always goes random when stage picking time comes, but also puts all the stages in battlefield mode in case it lands on something BS.

•For similar reasons tries to ignore items

Angie Yonaga

•Everyone expected her to pick Palutena, and while she does have her as a sub main, Angie usually plays Sephiroth. •Why? Angel (kinda), kick ass theme, and loves watching the others panic when they see him. Plus, Atua told her to pick someone unexpected.

•Also tried Pit and Dark Pit, and while she likes their personalities she isn’t big on their gameplay.

•To this day the only one who’s beat Kirumi in a match, and outside of that time she’s still good in tournaments.

•Atua told Angie to pick Big Blue one day, and ever since everyone dreads her turn on stage select.

Tenko Chabishira

• Always plays as a girl no matter what.

•Plays Min Min more often than not, but occasionally surprises everyone by whipping out villager.

•Why? “She’s Himiko cute!!”

•Pretty good at the game, but super competitive. Unless you’re Himiko, be prepared to get yelled at at least once if she looses.

•One day while everyone was playing random, she got Ken and kinda hated that she likes it so she occasionally plays him in private. •Shuichi caught her doing this while he was playing Dedede, and they both promised to never tell a soul.

•Punch Out stage or bust!

•Doesn’t have an opinion on items, but when she plays villager she hopes for the bunny hood cause she thinks it’s adorable.

Korekiyo Shinguji

•Lucario or bust (he likes the aura theme) though he’s also kinda a monster with Lucina

•Strangely though, whenever he uses Lucina he acts... different? (the class is convinced he’s possessed when this happens.)

•Outside of that though, tends to be one of the worse players.

•Second to none at recovery though.

•Hyrule castle has been his favourite stage since day one And that’s never gonna change.

•Always has items on, he likes the surprise factor (he and Shuichi are never allowed have a one on one fight)

Miu Iruma

•Has probably been playing the longest aside from Kirumi.

•Has played all the games, and cause Of this is decent with all of the OG 8, but will always pick Pikachu.

•Will only ever pick someone else if it’s a random match or someone makes her give Shuichi a turn, and in that case she picks Pichu as a backup.

•Despite her boasting, is usually in the lower end of the group.

•Doesn’t stop her from rubbing it in when she wins though.

•Tends to go for Wily’s castle for her stage, if for no other reason than she’s the only one who can handle the yellow devil.

•Super Hammer or bust!

Gonta Gokuhara

•Likes Donkey Kong the best, but also tries to learn how to play Joker from Kokichi cause he looks like a gentleman.

•Also likes all the Pokémon even if he isn’t the best with them.

•Honestly, aside from Olimar he likes everyone, and he only really dislikes Olimar cause he’s bullying the bugs!

•Everyone agrees to never touch the pikmin rep when he’s in the room.

•Tends to come in last with the only one he can beat kinda consistently is Ryoma without villager, but he still has a lot of fun.

•Tends to pick whatever stage everyone likes best, and has no clue how to use items.

Kokichi Ouma

•Always plays Joker because who else is a phantom thief going to pick.

•Actually he plays Villager in his spare time but Kaito is the only that knows and that was a mistake so shh.....

•Begrudgingly teaches Gonta how to play, if only from the horror on someone’s face when they get cocky only to loose to the guy who didn’t even know what a Smash Bros was a few weeks ago.

•Peak troll. Camps with gun, let’s people *cough* Kaito and Miu *cough* Hit fake smash balls, always picks the auto scrolling stages, he just loves making everyone groan.

•Only thing that makes him visibly salty is Miu on stage select cause f**k yellow devil.

Kaito Momota

•A proud Rosalina main. A badass space princess that protects the stars, what’s not to love?

•First time they all play, they all expect him to suck..... so you can imagine their surprise he‘a one of the best players in the class, especially at edge guard

•Despite that, is the most susceptible to stage hazards and bad items, especially fake smash balls. He has gotten better at recovering from them though.

•Never asks anyone to turn them off though, cause it’s worth it for the black hole and the assist trophies.

•Whenever Kiyo plays Lucina, he makes sure to sit at the other end of the couch.

•Always tries to give people pointers, though since he really only plays one character he’s not the best at it.

•Will ALWAYS pick either the Mario Galaxy stage or the Star Fox stages

Tsumugi Shirogane

•Tends to pick Kirby for A, the cute hats, and B, it gives her an excuse to rant about the lore. You know those Kirby fans who obnoxiously push how the series is super deep? That’s Tsumugi.

•Rants the whole match, leading to people preferring Kokichi obnoxiously joining in on Kaede’s singing to it. •Knowing they’re not safe when she’s not playing either, they all agree that unless it’s random’s to never pick a Kirby stage or character (another reason for Shuichi to hide being a Dedede main)

•She’ll occasionally rant about other series too, but Kirby is the biggest example.

•Despite this, she’s actually a pretty good player, even if she can be a bit to sadistic with down special sometimes.

Kiibo

•Refuses to touch ROB or MegaMan to avoid falling into the stereotype of the robot playing the robots.

•Instead picks Pyra and Mythra cause they’re great characters with a bit of computer theme that only Tsumugi knows about mercifully hasn’t ranted on yet.

•Plays very predictably, but just because you know a Lightning Buster- Prominence Revolt is coming doesn't mean blocking it is easier.

•As such is usually in the middle of the pack tournament wise. •Refuses to use side B as Pyra because one time he did and Kokichi did a stupid combo which took him from 30% to death so he’s not taking any chances again.

•Tends to put The stage on random, which he occasionally regrets if he rolls a side scroller.

Himiko Yumeno:

•Mains ALL the magic users. •Robin, Zelda, Hero, Sephiroth, so long as they have a big focus on magic she’s all in.

•Tends to use Hero the most, specifically Eight, because she likes the MP gauge.

•Despite seemingly never practicing and only doing okay with most moves, is the fastest thing in the freaking world at picking the right spell. If she gets magic burst or Kamikaze, prepare to die.

•Everyone assumes she’s probably played Dragon Quest cause of this, but she hasn’t confirmed and just chalks her skill up to magic.

•The only one who can make Tenko stop raging.

•Keeping with the theme, will usually pick the World Tree stage.

Maki Harukawa

•Messed around with everyone a bit but was only super good as Zero Suit Samus.

•Even then she’s mostly middle of the pack, but she doesn’t mind too much.

•Unless she looses to Kokichi, then it’s a struggle for Kaito and Kirumi to stop her from killing him.

•Tends to handle snacks cause Kirumi has to be in the room to keep order and she usually gets knocked out early. •The most frequent subject of Kaito’s tips, which range from helpful to ”Kaito I don’t have a f**king Luma”

•Tends to pick Shadow Moses island cause she likes the look, and though she won’t tell anyone she loves the music

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thepandapopo · 3 years

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A Step Through Time Ch 5: Promises

Synopsis:

The one where Felix is done with his younger self being a stubborn asshole and Sophie is determined to treat her fathers equally.

In which Felix confronts his younger self and have a much needed chat while Sophie, who really should never be left alone, makes a not-so-great choice. Pairing: Sylvix

Chapter Index

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

If you had asked Ingrid a month ago if Felix would ever willingly allow someone, anyone, to touch him in even the most casual of ways, she would have laughed first, then immediately sent for Manuela because no one in their right mind would ever think such a thing.

So understandably, to say Ingrid is extremely shocked as she watches the older versions of Felix and Sylvain interact with each other is the understatement of the century.

“They’re disgustingly adorable in their own way,” Dorothea snickers from her seat on the dining hall bench beside her. “I don’t know whether I want to coo or puke.”

Ingrid wholeheartedly agrees.

Clearly fatherhood and marriage, or maybe it was being married to Sylvain of all people, has changed Felix – has made him more… domestic. The Felix and Sylvain of her timeline are already joined at the hip, regardless of how much they deny it, but married Felix and Sylvain are in a league of their own.

Everywhere Felix goes, Sylvain is always there beside him with the shorter man’s battle scarred hand tucked neatly into the crook of his right elbow, his left hand gently securing Felix’s own while also proudly showing off the glittery silver ring adoring his ring finger (his engagement ring, Ingrid reminds herself, as Sylvain had made very clear when he decided that the dining hall was a perfect place to scandalize the entire army with a borderline inappropriate kiss). And if little Sophie is with them, it is like an invisible thread ties them together, ensuring that he is standing no further than a hairs breadth apart from his husband with his daughter in his arms, or placing a hand on Felix’s lower back while he carries their little spitfire.

“I know that couples inevitably begin to adopt some of their partner’s characteristics and habits, but this is almost too much.” Ingrid frowns, finally bringing her forkful of food to her mouth after being frozen in place as she blatantly stares at the happy family. “It’s like Felix isn’t even Felix anymore.”

Across from her, Annette hums her assent. “It’s a bit unsettling, but it’s still really nice to see how happy they are. If you ask me, the really creepy thing is Sylvain’s stare. Have you seen it, yet? It’s like an exact copy of Felix.” Bits of buttery crust go flying from her fork as she waves it around to emphasize her point leaving Mercedes to pull out a handkerchief and mop up the stray crumbs that have found their way onto their once pristine table.

It’s true. Although Ingrid has not been on the receiving end of Felix’s (or Sylvain’s now, for that matter) deadpan glare for a long time, she has seen it directed at others – especially when it comes to anything regarding Sophie who is, clearly, extremely doted upon by her two fathers, even while they try to cajole her into finishing the rest of her vegetables.

“Sweetheart, you know you have to finish your meal first before you get your dessert.” Sylvain’s tone is low and chiding, but the softness of his expression very nearly undermines the authority of his words.

“I don’t wanna,” comes the sad whimper complete with puppy eyes and a wobbling lower lip. “It tastes yucky.”

“Aww, cut her some slack, guys!” Whatever else Balthus is about to say from across the table next to theirs is immediately swallowed back down when not only Felix, but Sylvain as well, levels him with a look so equally unamused that even Ingrid can feel the shiver run down her spine.

“Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius-Gautier. You know you cannot leave your seat until you’ve finished your plate.” Felix says, more stern than his husband sitting on the other side of Sophie, but still bordering the line of fond exasperation. With a grimace himself, Felix spears a few of the sprouts on his own fork and shovels them into his mouth.

“Papa is also eating them too, see? You can be a good girl and finish your food too, right, Princess?” Sylvain smiles affectionately but his voice is strained. It’s been the better part of an hour now that he has tried bargaining with his daughter and even the most patient of fathers has a limit. His eyes meets Felix’s briefly as an unspoken message flits between them before Felix nods stiffly and chimes in again.

“If you promise to be good and finish your vegetables for the rest of this month, we will think about letting you go see the market that is passing through town.”

Clearly, it is an effective bait and Sophie’s eyes light up like it’s Yule and her birthday all rolled into one.

“Really?!”

This is news to Ingrid. The last time Annette and Mercedes had mentioned it in passing to future Felix and Sylvain, testing the waters to see if they would be amenable to allowing them to take Sophie, it had resulted in a resounding ‘no’ and one teary child.

“This is war, Annie.” Felix had said in a no nonsense tone after a sniffling Sophia had been carted off to check out the pastries fresh from the kitchen. “She has only known a time of peace. Sophie doesn’t understand how dangerous it can be going out somewhere even as simple as a market in times of unrest.”

“But it’s not like we’d let her go by herself!” Annette argued. “We would be with her the whole time!”

“It’s not your babysitting skills that we’re worried about, Annie.” Sylvain said. His lips quirked upwards in a small smile that did little to lessen the gravity of his expression. “Sophie has a tendency to be ah, a bit of a curious child.”

Felix snorted. “Like someone I know,” he muttered under his breath.

“And so,” Sylvain continued, completely ignoring the barb from his husband even though he knows that later on in the privacy of their own room, he’ll get into how the curiosity may have come from him, but the utter fearlessness and stubborn will to do her own thing one hundred percent came from Felix. “Sophie has a bad habit of wandering off. Goddess knows she’s done it loads of times whenever Felix or I take her down to our local market. The only difference is that everyone there knows who she is and at the end of the day, nothing bad ever happens to her and she comes home with a treat or two and a pat on the head.”

“Well then, we can just hold her hand!” Mercedes says like it is the simplest solution in the world.

“We’ve tried that. We’ve tried literally everything under the sun short of actually tying her to us physically with a rope.”

“But what about-“

“No means no, Annette. We will not argue with you about this. It’s not safe.”

“But Feeelix-!”

And that was the end of that conversation. At least, until now.

But then again, Felix willingly reopening a topic he had previously considered closed is probably one of the lesser odd things that have been happening recently.

“Nuh uh, little missy. All your vegetables means all of them.” Sylvain scrapes the larger bits and pieces of vegetables dotting Sophie’s plate to the center, much to her dismay. The scraps amount to a decent pile of greens and not for the first time, Ingrid realizes just how wily and intelligent Sophie really is.

Raising a daughter with the will of Felix and the looks and intelligence of Sylvain will surely be a trial in itself, but that’s not a problem for Ingrid to worry about. Right now, she just has to worry about making herself scarce when Sylvain and Felix approach Mercie and Annie before she gets dragged into it as well.

----

“Why can’t Daddy come with us?” Sophie asks. Her eyes are wide and sad and Felix will never get used to how it makes his heart wrench. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sylvain crouches so that he’s eye level with his teary daughter. “Daddy has to go to an important meeting with Uncle Dima, Uncle Claude, and Auntie By. But I’ll come find you and Papa if we finish early.” Sylvain smooths back the unruly crimson curls that are already starting to come out of the half updo that Felix had put in this morning. After years of doing his daughter’s hair, Felix has resigned himself to always fixing it halfway through the day lest it becomes a true bird’s nest at night after the wild adventures to be had.

“Promise?” Her lower lip is wobbling and Felix is starting to think that perhaps Sophie is a lot more aware of her influence on others than they think she is.

“I promise, sweetheart.” Sylvain smiles at his daughter before turning his eyes to Felix, a mischievous glint shining through. “Your Papa can vouch that I never break a promise.”

The wink Sylvain throws at him is met with an eyeroll and scoff, but Felix cannot stop the small quirk of his lips. Sylvain has always come through with his promises, both to him and to their daughter. It’s one of the things that Felix loves so dearly about Sylvain after all – there is nothing in the world that he values more than the trust of his family and friends.

“Sophie, go check to make sure you’ve packed your coin purse and a snack. I need to speak with your father for a bit. I’ll meet you at the gates with Auntie Annie and Mercie, okay?”

Sophie doesn’t need to be told twice. She is already vibrating off the walls, eager to get going and visit the market that she has been dying to see. “Yes, Papa. Daddy, I hope you come soon! I’ll buy you a present, so make sure you hurry, okay?”

Felix and Sylvain both watch as their daughter scurries away, red hair flying behind her as she weaves through the mid morning crowd to join Annette and Mercedes standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall. When she arrives with a hop and skip, Felix finally feels the knot that has been building in chest since that morning abate slightly.

“Hey.”

Felix jolts at the warm hand that cups his elbow. “It’s okay, Fe. She’ll be safe with you. We’re not going to lose her.”

“I know.” Felix huffs, taking a step forward so he can rest his forehead in the dip of Sylvain’s collar. “It’s just... I can’t help but worry.”

Sylvain chuckles, “I get it, Fe. She’s certainly got enough mischief in her to always keep us on our toes. I don’t think she’ll ever grow out of it, to be honest. Goddess knows I dread the day when I’m going to have to beat back suitors and stop her from sneaking out to gallivant with stable boys.”

“There will be no gallivanting with anyone. Period. I would prefer not to stab someone less than half my age.”

“Oh, but baby you look so hot when you’re all riled up and murderous.” The shiver that runs down Felix’s spine is undeniable and after a lifetime together, Sylvain would know the effect he has on his husband even if it weren’t for the hand sliding to wrap around his waist and the other reaching up to cup a smooth, pale cheek.

“Fuck you.” There’s no venom behind his words. Only the breathy whisper of comfort borne from unshakeable trust and love.

“Gladly, but alas I have a meeting to get to.” The red head lets out a full belly laugh and ignores the half-hearted smack from Felix (which still smarts, because Felix at half strength is still stupidly strong with his damn training regimen). “Are you going to talk to your younger self today?”

The atmosphere takes on a decidedly more sombre note, but it’s a necessary topic.

Felix nods. “Yeah. Annie convinced him to come with us to the market to check out the blacksmith.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come. It would be easier if I were the one to talk to him, but…”

“It’s fine,” Felix shakes his head. “The next battle at Fort Merceus is important and you were a big part of the strategizing. You need to be there to make sure they make the right decisions.”

“Even still. Talking to your younger self about feelings is going to be like pulling teeth. I should know. I’m your very own Felix-whisperer after all.” Sylvain closes his eyes and lets his forehead drop to rest against Felix’s; his soft breath tickling the midnight bangs framing his husband’s visage. “Our younger selves need all the help they can get. Sothis… I don’t remember us being such a disaster.”

“Neither do I, and yet here we are stuck trying to convince our younger counterparts that the other is very much interested.”

“For the record,” Sylvain smirks. The hand that was previously wrapped around Felix’s waist is now slowly drifting lower. “I’d like to say that I’m still very much interested.”

“Pinch my ass in public and you’ll lose your hand.”

“Aw, Fe. You’re no fun!”

It’s the twitch of Felix’s cheek that betrays his amusement. “Tch. Insatiable.”

----

Awkward.

That’s the only way that Felix can even begin to describe the odd, tense energy that weighs down their group as they walk leisurely down the long winding roads descending from Garreg Mach.

To be fair, most of the awkwardness is in part due to Felix’s refusal to speak to his younger self, instead choosing to contentedly watch Sophie hop and skip around the flowers dotting their path. Ever since Sylvain’s decision to completely disregard time travel etiquette, the younger Felix had made himself scarce, pointedly avoiding him and his husband as if afraid that he would catch feelings simply by being around them.

Ha. That fucker was already head over heels in love no matter how much he denied it.

“Sophie, when we get to the market, will you go with Annie and Mercie while I visit the blacksmith please?” Felix says it quiet enough that it sounds like it is a private conversation, but in the silence of the forest around them, it easily carries.

Sophie blinks, confused, but acquiesces. “Okay.”

Felix smiles and pats her head. He can practically feel the suspicion and irritation rolling off his younger self in waves, but he can’t really bring himself to care.

He needs to address this issue now because Felix knows better than anyone else just how obstinate he can be, and if he’s right, there’s a very good chance that this younger version of himself will take his feeling for Sylvain with him to the grave out of pure stubbornness.

So when they finally arrive to the market, Felix doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants to talk to his counterpart – alone. He kneels and gives Sophie a quick hug after he makes her promise again to not wander off by herself before standing off to the side in the direction of the blacksmith, his arms crossed and waiting patiently while he watches young Felix scowl at the sheer number of people around.

A brusque nod from young Felix and suddenly they are face to face, and there is no denying the discomfort starting to roil in his gut.

Maybe he should have waited for Sylvain to talk to him after all.

“Well? Spit it out.” Despite asking Felix to talk, his younger self pushes past him roughly and begins stalking towards their destination.

“Stop being so stubborn.” Young Felix whirls around at him with a look of incredulity.

“Being ‘stubborn’?” He glowers. “I’m not being stubborn. I’m not being anything except for a pawn of fate apparently because my whole damn future has already been decided for me!”

Ah. So that is the core of the problem. “Your future hasn’t been decided. That’s the whole point of me being here – so that we can make sure that things do happen as they originally went.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to accept the fact that my life becomes sickeningly domestic –“ he all but spits the word out like poison, “- and I’m trapped in a life that I never wanted?”

Felix narrows his eyes. “So you’re saying you don’t want this life? You don’t want peace for Fodlan? You don’t want to actually feel happy for the first time your goddamn life since Glenn died?”

“Who the fuck are you to say whether I’m happy or not? I’m happy when I have a blade in my hand, not when I’m being carted around like a… like a stupid trophy wife!”

“First of all,” Felix is proud of how level his voice comes out despite his urge to throttle the man in front of him, “I’m you, so of course I know what you want. I lived that life already.”

He pauses for a bit and then decides to go for a different angle – one that he knows has always worked with him when Sylvain tries to talk him down from stabbing some of the more pompous nobles during trade talks.

He takes a deep breath to ground himself. “But you’re still you. I can’t say I know exactly what you’re feeling, but I can imagine because at the core of everything, I know what I used to be like back then. And I also know that no matter what timeline I exist in, there will always be one thing that remains constant.”

It’s true. There is one truth that Felix knows will span the test of time and space no matter what version of himself he is dealing with.

“…Are you ever going to tell me what it is?” Young Felix mutters angrily, breaking their brief standstill.

Marriage really has made him soft, Felix thinks as he feels the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile. He can practically hear Sylvain in his head telling him about how he probably has his ‘dopey love face’ on right now and his eyes are all ‘melted amber’. What a sentimental fool.

“I think you know.”

“Ugh,” Young Felix scowls and turns away to glare at the bucket of swords in front of the blacksmith’s stall. It’s an admission if Felix has ever heard one, and he knows that his younger self does know.

Despite what the majority of Fodlan thinks, Felix is quite capable at reading people’s emotions. He knows when people feel uncomfortable or when they might need a kind word, but for the most part, he just doesn’t care enough to coddle them because he knows it will only do them more harm than good. Which is exactly why he decides to jump straight to the truth.

“It’s okay to love him, you know.”

Young Felix freezes. The stiff set of his shoulders hunch up almost protectively and he stubbornly stays facing away from him.

“I know…” Felix swallows the lump in his throat, “I know that it’s hard to even think about letting anyone in after Glenn – how hard it is to trust someone enough and believe that they won’t just leave you like everyone else inevitably does.”

Felix touches the obsidian ring on his left hand. He spins it absently and the smooth slide of the black band against his hand grounds him.

“Mother… Glenn… and then Father…” Felix has long made his peace with his father’s death, but there is still the faintest of stings in his heart when he thinks about it. “They all left us. But Sylvain has always been there. He was there when Mother died. He stayed with us for weeks after Glenn died. And he never pitied or babied us when Father died. He was just there.”

It’s a bit hazy, most memories from the war blur together honestly, but Felix does remember the days after the battle at Gronder with crystal clarity – those few painful days after his father’s sacrifice. No matter how many times he told Sylvain to leave, no matter how he yelled at him or tried to chase him away, Sylvain stood by him, steadfast and most importantly, without judgement.

He simply let Felix be.

And that was exactly what he needed.

“He’s the biggest idiot in Fodlan, but you and I both know that Sylvain does everything in his power to care for his friends and family.” Felix says it like it like he’s stating the obvious. “He’s also irresponsible and completely reckless, and Goddess knows that moron wouldn’t sustain half of his injuries if he just trained more, but he does remember our promise. And he’s doing his best to keep it while also making sure we stay alive.”

Felix steps forward so that he’s now standing side by side with his younger self. From his peripheral vision, he can see the furrowed brow and tightly pursed lips that he knows only happens when he begrudgingly agrees.

“I know you don’t believe in a fated future. Honestly, neither do I. But if there’s one thing I can tell you for certain, it is that loving Sylvain, and being loved in return, is the best thing that will ever happen to you.” Felix allows the warmth in his chest to bloom. While that feeling may have scared him once upon a time, he’s learned to become fond of it because he knows that the only reason he can feel this way is because he has come so far and conquered all his demons along the way.

“You’re disgustingly sentimental.”

“Maybe so, but I can still kick your ass.”

Young Felix snorts, “maybe then I’d actually have a good spar for once that isn’t against the professor.”

Felix laughs quietly, the heavy weight on his chest lifting just as the tension eases out of Young Felix’s stance. The truth is out there, and at least his younger self isn’t denying things anymore, but ultimately it will be up to Young Felix to decide the path he wants to take.

Felix Fraldarius is many things, but most importantly he is not a coward, which is why despite not having verbally settled the matter with his younger self, he knows with absolute certainty that Young Felix will never turn away from Sylvain, especially not when he’s been given permission to chase that happiness that he’s longed for.

----

Sophie decides very quickly that the market is her new favourite place. Forget the kitchens and all their yummy baked treats, the marketplace has all that and more.

Everywhere she looks, there is something new to see. Stalls upon stalls are lined with various treasures and fancy looking things that no amount of tears would help escape the wrath of her fathers if, by some stroke of bad luck, she is unfortunate enough to break them.

“Auntie Mercie! Look, Balloons!”

Sophie tugs on the healer’s hands eagerly, careful not to let go and wander off though there is a tiny whisper in her heart that tempts her so. The large inflated animals sway merrily in the breeze, and with the hustle and bustle of the environment around them, it almost looks as if they are dancing with excitement.

“Oh, aren’t they adorable? Would you like one, Sophie?” Mercedes claps her hands together, looking just as delighted as Sophie feels and soon, the trio of females is making their way through the surprisingly large crowd that has gathered for this lively gathering as a reprieve from the war.

“The fox,” Sophie pulls on Mercedes’ hand even more urgently the closer they get. “I want the fox, please, Auntie Mercie!”

“What about the cat, Sophie? That’s one is pretty cute.” Annette giggles. The red headed mage ducks and peers left and right at the variety of floating animals attached to the belt of the balloon vendor. There is already a gaggle of children forming around the man as he hands ribbons off to parents in exchange for gold, and although Sophie feels like she might burst if she has to wait any longer, she knows to wait her turn for the man to address her.

“Hello there, young miss. And what can I get for you today?” When the man finally turns his kind face towards her, Sophie cannot tear her eyes away from her goal. “Perhaps a bird? Or maybe a puppy?”

Sophie’s voice comes out breathy and excited. Reaching a hand up, she points eagerly, “the fox please. Can I have the fox?”

“Of course! Why don’t you reach out your hand for me and I’ll tie it to your wrist?”

Obediently, Sophie sticks out her left arm and watches, enraptured as the white ribbon loops delicately around her wrist, loose enough that she can slip her hand out if she really wanted to, but tight enough that the balloon will not fly away. Reaching into the small coin purse attached to her hip, Sophie carefully counts out the appropriate amount and hands them over.

“Thank you!” Sophie calls out after the vendor as Annette and Mercedes begin leading her away from the throng. It’s much too crowded now, but the little Fraldarius-Gautier cannot help but feel comforted by her floating guardian. Papa did always say that her Daddy was ‘sly as a fox’ after all, and it feels like her father is there with her when she sees it.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” Sophie mumbles shyly when they’ve walked far enough that the screams of delighted children are nothing more than a whisper in the distance.

“I’m sure Sylvain will love it!” Mercedes says sweetly. The healer looks at Sophie with a mixed expression, almost like she is trying to solve a puzzle that she can’t quite figure out, before Annette interrupts her with a gasp.

“Mercie, there’s the sweets vendor that we’ve been looking for!”

Sweets? Sweets are good. That sounds like something Sophie is definitely interested in.

“Come on,” Annette urges. She grabs Mercedes by the hand and by extension, also Sophie, who is clutching onto her other one, and she drags them with haste towards a brightly colored stall laden with pastries and sweet treats of all kinds.

The saccharine smell wafting from the baked goods makes Sophie’s mouth water, but her eyes dart from one flamboyantly decorated cupcake to another, helplessly unable to pick a favourite.

“Hey! I remember you two!” The friendly looking lady behind the counter smiles as they approach. “You ladies came by my stall the last time I was in town, didn’t you?”

Annette flushes and nods. “The sweets were so good, we just had to make a return visit and pick up some more!” Despite her embarrassment, she is already reaching out to grab a fluffy looking cream pastry that looks more like a cloud than anything else.

“I’m so glad you like them, miss. Business has slowed down recently because of the war. Not much extra money to go towards frivolous things like sweets anymore, you know?” Sophie frowns. War? What war? “Regular patrons like you are always appreciated.”

“Oh, and look at you, you sweet little thing,” Suddenly the attention is turned towards Sophie and any lingering confusion flies out the window. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Sophie!” With her fathers’ voices in the back of her head telling her to mind her manners, Sophie flashes her brightest smile and bobs gracefully into a quick curtsey. “It’s very nice to meet you. Your sweets look so yummy!”

“They’re the best in all of Fodlan, that’s for sure!” The kind looking lady proudly puffs her chest. “Have you ever tried some, little miss? Since it’s your first time, why don’t you go pick one and I’ll let you try it on the house.”

“Really?” Sophie’s eyes round with excitement. Daddy was right – being well mannered really does bring good things!

There are so many choices to choose from that it feels a little bit overwhelming, but eventually a beautiful deep red velvet cupcake topped with a mountain of chocolate frosting and a small candied cherry catches Sophie’s eye.

She likes cherries. She likes cupcakes. That’s two in one, isn’t it? It’s a perfect deal.

“Good choice, little miss. That’s our red velvet cupcake with black forest icing. It’s one of our more popular cakes; especially with the ladies.” The sweets lady holds out the cupcake to her and Sophie quickly lets go of Mercedes’ hand to receive it.

The monstrosity of a cupcake is so large that it takes Sophie both hands to hold it, taking great pains to not drop it nor smear any icing on her dress. She still remembers the scolding Papa had given her over the grass and mud stains in her dress a couple of weeks ago and is not eager to repeat that experience.

Above, her red fox sways gently to and fro, moving every time Sophie maneuvers her hands to nibble away at equal parts frosting and icing. She has long since tuned out from the conversation between the nice sweets lady and Mercedes and Annette, instead choosing to savor and enjoy her treat while it lasts.

Sophie is halfway done her cupcake when a raucous of children shrieking with delight steals her attention back in the direction of the balloon man. There, in the middle of a cluster of children stands a rather short and odd-looking man carting around a small trolley packed with stuffed animals, and at the very bottom, shoved against a dopey looking tiger and a rather ferocious lion is a black cat stuffy, complete with slitted golden eyes stitched painstakingly above some wiry whiskers and a kitten pout.

It’s the most wonderful stuffed kitty Sophie has ever seen. She has a present for Daddy, but what about Papa? Surely Papa would also like a gift – it’s only fair since Daddy gets one, right? Right. Her fathers had always taught her to treat everyone equally, and Sophie feels like that must include her family as well.

Annette and Mercedes are still engrossed in conversation with the Sweets Lady, but now their arms are full of bags laden with goodies they are no doubt brining back to the monastery. An itch like no other claws its way up Sophie’s chest and she really, really wants to ask for permission to go see the toy merchant, but she doesn’t want to interrupt what looks to be a very lively conversation.

One quick glance back makes the anxiousness double as the man begins to move towards an intersection across the courtyard from them. If he goes any further, he will turn the corner and Sophie will lose sight of him.

The gleeful squealing of laughter is getting farther and farther away now. She really should tell Mercedes and Annette where she is going, but she’s running out of time and Sophie will be absolutely heartbroken if her Papa is sad that he did not get a gift from her as well.

It will only be for a quick minute. She isn’t going very far. All she will do is go up to the merchant and buy the cat stuffy and return back to the sweets stall in no time at all.

Right?

In that split second, Sophie makes a decision.

She turns back towards the bustling market square and runs.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

I'm so sorry for the delay with this chapter! I wanted to post it during my xmas holidays but I got so caught up with other things (read: sleeping) that I didn't get any writing done at all. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Thank you again for being so patient with me and reading up until now. Things are about to get rocky so I hope you're all prepared.

The SylVix PDA thing was actually inspired by art from @emilyliuwho on twitter. You can see the post here.

If you would like to be added to a tag list, please PM me!!

Tag list: @pato-social

#sylvix #felix x sylvain #sylvain x felix #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius #SOFT FELIX #domesticity #alternate universe #sophia gabriella fraldarius gautier #a step through time #popo writes #fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem 3 houses #fanfiction #fire emblem fanfiction #ongoing fic

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reyloforcebalance · 4 years

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Confessions of a Rated-T Fanfic Writer

I have something I want to get off my chest as a relatively new member of the fanfiction community (specifically Star Wars and Reylo). At the end of this post, I have a list of my favorite reylo fics, so if you like, just skip to that.

When I started writing fanfiction after The Last Jedi, I wasn’t much of a reader. This article from the Atlantic introduced me to the world of fanfiction, and I gobbled up Forms and Interstellar Transmissions but quickly found reading others’ work made me self-conscious about my own. So, in the interest of preserving my confidence, I focused on writing.

During this period, I noticed most of the Reylo fandom was interested in rated E or M fics. Explicit fics were the most popular on Ao3 with a significant difference in the amount of attention and praise given to them verses rated T works, and the more I noticed this, the more resentful I grew. It bugged me to know that so many readers would never give my story a shot simply because of its rating.

Then one day on a whim, I clicked on a fic by Kylotrashforevor and got sucked in HARD. I found refuge in AUs because they weren’t set in the Star Wars universe and didn’t make me second guess my own plot choices. It’s like the sky opened up, the sun came out, and suddenly, I understood. I no longer felt resentful of readers who exclusively searched for rated E fics because WHY THE HELL WOULDN’T THEY!? Rated E fics have the whole package— great story, great characters, AND the sexy stuff.

Almost overnight, I became the very reader I hated. I snorted rated E fics like cocaine while barely giving fics with other ratings a glance. I was ashamed of my hypocrisy, but this did little to stop me.

Then, I started noticing a strange pattern. There were several times when I’d start a fic, get really into the plot, but when I got to the smut parts, they were just “so-so.” I glazed over the sex scenes but didn’t feel like I’d been robbed because I enjoyed the story so much the disappointing smut hardly mattered. That’s when it struck me…

Why am I only searching for E-rated fics when I’m clearly enjoying a lot more than that? If I can read an E-rated story and still love it despite so-so smut, why bother limiting myself?

So, I started opening my searches to all ratings and haven’t looked back since. I found rated G and T gems that I kicked myself for after reading because what if I’d never grown out of my stupid rated E exclusivity and missed them!?

So, if there’s a moral to the story, it’s this: You will greatly enhance your fanfiction reading experience if you put your biases aside and try a little of everything. I used to think most rated E fics were smutty trash heaps until I found Kylotrashforevor. I used to think AUs were weird, crossovers were nuts, and crack fics were just worthless. I was WRONG on all accounts. Trying new kinds of stories helped me better appreciate the breadth of talent and creativity in the reylo fandom, and I want to encourage others to do the same.

So, if you usually read only E or M fics, try giving T and G stories a shot. I think you’ll be surprised by how little you miss the smut. If you usually read T and under, let me assure you the explicit parts of many M and E fics are easily skipped. Don’t let a couple of sex scenes keep you from some of the best stories out there. Broaden your tastes, and I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Below are links to some of my favorite Reylo fics. In the spirit of this post, they represent a variety of genres and ratings. For simplicity’s sake, I’ve divided it into canon and AUs and noted if the work is incomplete.

Try a little of everything and enjoy!

CANONVERSE

Darkness Rises… And Light to Meet It series by @a-nerd-obsessed. A dark Rey role reversal fic where Rey and Ben grow up together in the Jedi Academy and struggle with their understandings of the Force. My ABSOLUTE favorite. Currently on part 3 of 4.

Higher Ground by @kathknight and Seraphprotocol. Post TLJ fic with hands down THE BEST actions scenes I’ve read in a reylo story.

The Machine by @vespaer77. Post TLJ fic that explores the role of the military industrial complex in the Star Wars universe. Incomplete.

Darkness, Take my Hand by @kathyswizards. Post TLJ fic where the Raddus rams into the Supremacy before Rey can respond to Kylo’s offer to rule the galaxy.

Sky-Marked Souls by AnonymousMink. Post TFA soulmates fic where Kylo and Rey get marks on their skin whenever the other feels physical pain.

Like Sands Though the Hourglass by @jeenonamit. Someone’s posting Reylo fanfiction to the First Order’s Intranet and Kylo IS NOT pleased.

Pillow Talk by @themoonmoths. Post TLJ fic where the bond brings Rey and Kylo together every night for bed-sharing and conversation. Incomplete.

Strike Me Down by Mericat_Blackwood. Post TFA fic where the spirit of deceased Han Solo is dead set on bringing his son back home. Incomplete.

When the Force Ships It Too by Neuvoreylogirl. Alternate TLJ plotline that pits Snoke and Luke against one another in a galactic Reylo soap opera. Snoke is the worst “cool dad” ever...

Stand in the Sun Then by @the-reylo-void. A Galaxy’s Edge-inspired fic where Kylo notices a certain three-bunned hairstyle has become very popular on Batuu.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

First Order IT, Can I Get Your User ID? by krossartist/ @theeamazingem. Mechanic Rey likes her job except for when the computer screws up and she has to call her least favorite IT guy for help.

Fireflies by quixoticlux. ABO meets Mansfield Park meets Clueless when high school Rey can’t stop crushing on her cousin Ben. Incomplete.

Nine Lives by on_my_toes. Doctor Ben becomes increasingly concerned when he notices the barista at his favorite coffee shop has a habit of putting herself in harm’s way.

Stay Out of Trouble by Deathtoallstars. Cop Ben keeps arresting the same wily college kid who always seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Incomplete.

Bleeding Edge by Succubusybody. Westworld meets Stepford Wives in a dark fic where Rey takes care of scientist Ben’s every need until she makes a shocking discovery.

Can’t Turn Off What Turns Me On by audreyii_fic. Omega Rey and Alpha Ben come together during her heat and an intense connection sparks.

Miles from Where You Are by Mooncactus. Rey and Kylo get into an online battle about Star Wars films.

Nevertheless, She Persisted by @dawninthemtn. Campaign staffer Rey is tasked with keeping an eye on her boss Leia Organa’s aloof son. Incomplete.

Self-Inserted by @kylotrashforever. College student Rey happens upon journal belonging to Ben Solo, an old crush from high school she assumed hates her. As it turns out, he doesn’t…

Epithumia by Pontmercy44. Engineering student Rey keeps falling asleep in Introduction to Classical Art and Literature. Professor Solo is less than pleased.

#longpost #reylo #reylo fic recs #openyourmindsandyoursearches #fanfiction #reylo fanfiction

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resbangmod · 3 years

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Resbang 2017 Throwbacks, Week 2, Part 4

Time to get hype for this year’s Resbang, and what better way to do so than to check out the ghosts of Resbangs Past!

Come say hi to this year’s participants and mods on Discord!

This year’s schedule can be found here: beep

[T] Close Your Eyes [Soul/Maka, Wes/Tsubaki, Jackie/Kim]

It was a simple childhood pact: marry each other at 30 if they’re both still single. But after Maka leaves Soul at the altar, the two grow distant until she receives flowers and an unsigned card that reads “I still love you" just as he returns to town. Suddenly working together again to plan one last wedding, neither can deny their feelings for one another – and it might be better that way. Wedding Planner AU

Warnings: language, mentions of anxiety

by author: @redphlox

with artist: Mak (@mrsashketchum)

Read it here: [ao3] [ffn]

View it here: [Mak: Tumblr 1, 2, 3]

[T] Bouquet Garni [Maka/Soul, Black Star/Death the Kid, Kilik/Harvar, Tsubaki/Liz]

Life rarely ever goes as planned. This is hard for Maka to understand as an up-and-coming law student with her future laid out in black and white, and even harder for Soul, who is still getting used to the idea that he has a future at all. But when their lives intersect through a strange turn of food-related events, they’ll have to decide whether to let their pasts define them, or find the courage to start again.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm (no cutting though if that’s a specific squick), mentions of depression/anxiety, implied past suicidal thoughts, emotional/psychological abuse, panic attacks, alcohol, inappropriate lighting fixtures, unintended n64 UST

by author: @skadventuretime

with artist: @guacamoletrash

and artist: Soulheart

Read it here: [tumblr]

View it here: [Guacamole: tumblr] [Soulheart: tumblr, dA]

Late entries

These are for those authors who did not meet their scheduled deadlines for various reasons, but still managed to complete their stories before the end of the event!

[T] To the Ends of the Earth and Back [Soul/Maka, Stein/Marie]

“Soul, what just happened?”

Her weapon looked up at her in fear. “Maka, I can’t resonate with you…”

After a simple mission goes horribly wrong, Maka has to face the fact that she may never have her partner again. In which Soul is injured and has amnesia, and everyone tries to piece his memories together.

Partnerships are meant to last a lifetime. What if this one won’t?

Warnings: violence, angst

by author: @tamashii-resonance

with artist: Kara_jayne, dead link

Read it here: [ffn] [ao3]

View it here: [tumblr, dead link]

[T] Simple Melody [Gen (Slightly implied Crona/Maka, Maka & Soul, Crona & Maka, Soul & Crona, Crona & Ragnarok, background Stein/Marie, background Free/Eruka)]

Over the Garden Wall AU;

Lead through the mist by the milk-light of moon, all that was lost is revealed

The forest of The Unknown is a strange, twisted place, where a blankets of branches blot out the sun and the moon grins a sick smile over an impenetrable barrier of leaves. Days are filled with the milling of trapped spirits while the nights are haunted by a ghostly melody and a ringing church. Disconnected from reality, teetering at the borders of Death, it exists in a perpetual autumn as the wanderers become the lost and the lost become the forgotten. The trees have eyes, and nights are long in The Unknown.

After hours of running, Soul and Maka have managed to find themselves hopelessly trapped in the woods. Without view of the sky or any sense of direction, their only hope for escape comes in the form of a skittish talking crow and an overly aggressive lantern spirit, who promise to bring them to Medusa, a woman with a way out. But the forest isn't empty A beast hunts in the night with it's strange songs and a demon has taken an interest in stalking Soul. The madness of the woods is getting to them and before anyone can leave the forest, they'll have to escape the hell inside their heads. The music only grows louder.

Warnings: Child Abuse, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Attempted Suicide, Graphic Depictions of Gore and Near-Death Experiences, Vague Sexual Joking, Foul Language

by author: @alliope

with artist: @bbbutterfingers

and artist: @daciafu

Read it here: [ao3]

View it here: [Bbutterfingers: tumblr] [Daciafu: tumblr]

[T] Stars Beyond The Horizon [Maka/Black Star]

Lost in space with a mission to rescue his friend, Black Star gets more than he bargains for when he learns that there’s not only more behind the kidnapping of the kingdom’s princess, but also more to the mysterious girl who’s lent her hand to help him. With the galaxies and everything they have to offer at their fingertips, Maka and Black Star set out on an adventure that slowly but surely brings them closer together. || Super Mario Galaxy AU.

Warnings: slight violence, cursing

by author: @psychadelicrose

with artist: happyisahabit (@happyfanart)

and artist: @soundofez

Read it here: [ao3]

View it here: [soundofez: tumblr] [happyisahabit: tumblr 1, 2]

[M] Leap Year [Stein/Marie, Various Platonic]

Spirit Albarn has a problem-he and his four-year-old daughter Maka need to find suitable roommates to keep the little apartment they call home after their previous ones moved out. And eventually they do, in the forms of Spirit’s ninja-wannabe coworker Sid Barrett, blonde kickboxer Marie Mjolnir, and micromanager corporate princess Azusa Yumi. Add in Sid’s paranormal-obsessed foster sister Mira Nygus, and they’re in business. Then Marie reveals she’s pregnant, and that the father is none other than Spirit’s ex-best friend from high school Stein, who’s been in a psychiatric prison for the past few years for rearranging Spirit’s insides. Despite their history however, Spirit can’t bring himself to turn them away.

And that’s where even more problems begin, between communication and personal space issues, hefty bills, wily children, family drama, angry ex-mob members, a massive business scandal, and a possibly haunted apartment, not necessarily in that order. But Spirit’s going to try his hardest to keep everything together-if not for him then for Maka, who’s having the time of her life with a group of people she’s come to adore.

Warnings: trauma, gore, mentions of murder, some violence

by author: @blinkfl0yd

with artist: @ahshesgone

and artist: @innocentcinnamonbun

Read it here: [ao3]

View it here: [ahshesgone: tumblr] [innocentcinnamonbun: tumblr]

Honorable Mentions

These are for those artists who successfully completed the challenge although their authors sadly, could not.

@alliope and @drywavelength, for Summer's On Its Deathbed:

[Alliope: tumblr] [Drywavelength: youtube and tumblr]

Missmadammemoirs, for America's Suitehearts:

[tumblr], dead link

Sigsegv (@strictly-non-specific), for No Rest For The Wicked:

[tumblr]

Soulheart, for The Downfall:

[tumblr]

#soul eater #resbang #resbang throwbacks #resbang 2020 #long post

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melynen · 4 years

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Sweet Surprises - 00Q

James Bond returns from a mission from Finland tired but cheerful and armed with a little something sweet — well, several somethings, really — to make up for the long absence from London and his boyfriend.

Q is still at Six when he opens the door and steps in, dragging his luggage after himself and bending down to receive Aziraphale’s enthusiastic greeting in the form of eager little chirps and lots of headbutting. Crowley, ever the more wily one, is sitting by the coat rack and staring at him with wide, unblinking bright yellow eyes. James picks Aziraphale up, abandoning the suitcase by the door for the time being, and takes his time with cuddling him and telling him how much he has missed him and his brother before putting him down again and getting ready to wait patiently until Crowley deigns to come get his share of the cuddles.

He saw Q briefly after his debrief with M when he was dropping off his kit at Q Branch (and simultaneously locking himself and Q behind closed doors in Q’s office for a delightful fifteen-minute long I’m-happy-that-you’re-back-again interlude), but other than that they’ve been apart, both busy with their own obligations. Q did promise to leave earlier tonight, though, so at least there’s that. In return, Bond promised to have dinner ready and waiting, and he has big plans for dessert as well as dessert.

Finally, Crowley decides that he’s waited long enough and makes his way over to Bond. He accepts the pets as his due and looks personally offended when Bond doesn’t immediately dig out the cat treats that he knows Bond has hidden in his suitcase. Bond chuckles and shakes his head.

“All in good time, darling, all in good time,” he tells Crowley and gets an annoyed-sounding mrrrouw for his troubles.

“Cheeky Crowley,” he says affectionately, and watches as Crowley shows him his behind in retaliation.

Laughing to himself, Bond begins hauling his suitcase towards the bedroom. Both cats follow him there, naturally, because if anything, Q’s darlings are persistently curious. They sniff at each and every item Bond removes from his suitcase, from dirty laundry to the book he’d been reading in the evenings and his souvenirs to Q. When Crowley spots the cat treats he gives Bond such a betrayed look that Bond cannot help but soften and open the bag, offering both kitties a piece to see if they like it.

When they both paw at him for more, followed by a chorus of pitiful meows, Bond gives them one more piece each and then reseals the treat bag. “That’s enough for now. You’ll get more in the evening when Q returns,” he tells them. “But perhaps you’d enjoy these while waiting?”

He unearths two cat toys of different shape and colour — one is a green turtle that Bond had picked because its colour reminded him of Q’s eyes, and the other is a purple bunny — and puts them down on the bed. They’re both filled with catnip, and there’s a rubber ball inside of them that makes them jump into random directions. The clerc at the local pet shop had shown that to him and assured him that they would offer the cats hours of fun. Bond is a bit more sceptical, but he’s willing to try. If nothing else, Q’ll be happy that he’s been thinking about the cats while being away from them.

Aziraphale is the first to snatch the purple bunny away, leaving Crowley to lightly poke at the turtle with a curious paw, just as Bond had expected. They seem to be rather taken with their new toys, and Bond watches fondly as both cats carry their prey away from him and disappear from the bedroom.

That gives him ample time to finish unpacking, deal with the laundry and arrange Q’s souvenirs neatly on top of the coffee table in the living room. He’s looking forward to seeing Q’s expression, as he’d only hinted about the surprise that would wait for his boyfriend once he’d find his way home for the evening, appealing to his curiosity to encourage him to hurry home that much sooner. Q’s a curious man, not unlike his cats, and Bond has learned to use it to his advantage.

As one part of the surprise is a recipe that he’d received from his Finnish contact, along with the sweets that go with it, Bond glances at his wristwatch and estimates that he still has at least three hours before he can reasonably expect Q to arrive. It’s more than enough to make dinner, bake the biscuits using the recipe, and take a shower afterwards.

The dinner would be relatively simple: his famous homemade lasagne he knows that Q loves, along with freshly made bread and a side salad. The biscuits would be easy to make yet delicious, his contact, a young woman in her mid-twenties called Lumi, had assured him. The latter he does know from experience, having tasted them one day while visiting Lumi; he’d asked her for the recipe before he’d left, hoping to be able to make them for Q in the future.

Lumi had been more than happy to help, and had presented him with the translated recipe the very next time they’d seen one another, written in her neat handwriting. She’d also asked to hear Q’s opinion afterwards, which Bond had easily promised. (He’d told her quite a bit about his boyfriend during downtime, and she’d even helped him look for some souvenirs for him. Privately, Bond thinks that she might even have fallen just a tiny bit in love with Q’s voice as she’d been given an earpiece of her own and had thus heard him speak several times. At least she’d gushed about his voice to Bond more times than he’d cared to count.)

Bond carries the recipe to the kitchen, and remembers to also bring along the bag of the Dumle sweets that it requires. He reads through the instructions carefully, smiling amusedly at her little personal notes sprinkled in between the text, and then gets to work. He does exactly as the recipe tells him to, and ends up with three baking trays full of lumps of batter that would, hopefully, turn into thin, crispy biscuits in the oven.

His first tray yields rather… interesting results, but luckily his second tray gives him biscuits that at least look like biscuits instead of this funny, stuck-together arch-like creation he’d managed as his first attempt. Bond snaps a photo of it with his mobile after putting his final tray into the oven, all the while wondering what he should do about it. Break it into smaller pieces by hand? Most likely, even though that would not give him the prettiest of results.

Once finished with the biscuits and with the bread dough rising under a kitchen towel he’d brought to Q from Greece, Bond sits down on the table. With the cats reappearing and curiously watching his every move, he sends the photo of the first failed attempt to Lumi, and receives a very amused reply from her within minutes. I did warn you, it says, followed by a laughing and crying emoji. At least your boyfriend should get a chuckle out of it, she then continues, sounding a tad more comforting. And the taste won’t be affected either way.

Then there’s a five minute gap, before she sends one last message: I hope you’re better at following directions while cooking than when you’re baking, tacking a winking emoji at the end of the sentence.

Bond shakes his head, amused, but he does end up sending her photos of both the bread and the lasagna once they’re finished and waiting to be eaten, just to prove to her that he definitely is.

Q arrives five whole minutes earlier than Bond had estimated, and he all but drops his bag and outer layers right there by the door in his haste to greet Bond with a long, passionate kiss. Bond, who has just finished setting the table, wraps his arms around Q’s waist and lets himself be walked against the closest wall by his eager boyfriend. He’s perhaps a touch amused at the sudden display of possessiveness from his generally more submissive lover, but he has nothing against being the less aggressive one for a change.

“Someone’s eager,” he purrs, grinning, when they finally pull away enough to take in some much needed air.

“I’m impatient,” Q corrects him, leaning closer to place a gentler kiss against the corner of his mouth. “And perhaps a little bit desperate. But can you blame me? You’ve been gone for five whole weeks, and I’ve barely seen you at all today.”

“I am fully aware of that,” Bond says. He brings one hand up to Q’s hair while his other hand that’s still around Q’s waist tightens just a bit, and enjoys having access to that lovely mess of curls again. He’d missed it, and everything else about Q, like he’d never missed anything ever before.

Q smiles softly at that. “I missed this,” he murmurs against Bond’s cheek.

“I know you did,” Bond says teasingly. “Though as much as I’m enjoying this now, the dinner is ready, and I’m sure that you’ve not eaten anything since breakfast.” At Q’s decidedly guilty look Bond snorts and gently pushes him away.

“Right. Come along then, darling, and let me feed you.”

Q comes willingly, allowing Bond to lead him straight to the dining room. There he proceeds to practically inhale two big portions of lasagne, a heap of salad, and several slices of bread, along with three glasses of the fine red wine Bond had bought for the occasion.

Pleased, Bond eats his share of the food and regales Q with a few selected tales from his mission, those of which he hasn’t already shared with Q on the phone. Q’s the best audience he could ever hope for, laughing at exactly the right places and saving his eye rolling only to where it’s definitely needed.

Afterwards, Bond clears the table while Q takes care of brewing them a pot of tea. (Q’s skills vastly exceed his in that department, and Bond has decided it’s best to leave the task to Q’s capable hands most of the time.)

Bond has hinted at a special dessert, and Q’s visibly brimming with curiosity, but he’s trying to keep it contained for the time being. At least until the tea is done, Bond hopes, and brings out their tea mugs.

Only, the mug he hands to Q is a new one, a Moomin one he’d brought to him from Finland, and he tells Q exactly that.

“Oh, thank you,” Q says, accepting the mug and turning it around in his hands to see it from all sides. “It’s lovely. Is it Sniff? And he has a cat, too.”

Bond nods. “You’re correct. I had a hard time choosing the right character for you, but the cat was certainly a deciding factor.”

Q smiles. “I did guess. And I do like it a lot. Thank you, James.” He leans closer again and presses a light kiss to Bond’s cheek, which makes Bond pull him closer with wrapping an arm around his waist. Careful of the mug Q’s still holding, Bond captures Q’s mouth in a deeper kiss, one that lasts until the tea pot whistles and forces Q to reluctantly pull away again.

While Q prepares their tea, Bond goes to get the plate of biscuits he’d assembled earlier (he’d stashed the broken ones away for later and used only the ones that he’d actually gotten right) and brings it with him to the living room. Q follows soon after, careful due to the hot teas and the fact that both Aziraphale and Crowley have reappeared and are trying their best to make him stumble and fall. Or perhaps they just want attention, as Q has been focusing most of his on Bond tonight, which tends to make the kitties jealous.

Bond waits until Q has placed the mugs down on the coasters on the coffee table and sat down next to him on the sofa, with the cats sleeping wrapped up with each other on the other sofa, before he wraps an arm around Q’s shoulders. “Are you ready for your dessert, darling?”

“You know I am,” Q replies, smiling, and turns to take a proper look at the plate of biscuits. Bond can tell that he’s curious about the rest of the souvenirs, too, but he’s too polite to outright ask. Well, right away, anyway.

“I baked the biscuits for you,” Bond explains, “using a recipe I got from Lumi. She made sure that I had the right sweets for it, and that I’d have extras for you to try on as well.”

“That’s very nice of her.”

“Go on, then, try one,” Bond ushers him.

Q has a biscuit and then another one, and he ends up feeding Bond bites from the second one when he notices that Bond hasn’t yet eaten any. (Bond did have a few of the broken pieces earlier, and he’ll eventually confess all of that to Q, too. But later. Tomorrow, perhaps.) When he’s done and is playfully complaining about his sticky fingers, Bond solves it by licking them clean himself and making Q flush and poke him on the side with his free hand while he’s at it. Bond still considers it a fair trade-off.

Afterwards, once they’ve both finished their teas and Q has washed his hands because “That was hardly hygienic, James!” although Bond digresses, Bond finally gives Q his souvenirs.

There are several bags of different kinds of Finnish sweets (including a box of salmiakki, the salty licorice that most of the Finns seemed to love — although Lumi had assured him that it was an acquired taste she herself couldn't stand) as well as a high pile of Fazer chocolate bars in all the flavours they had available, all of which Bond had chosen with Q’s famous sweet tooth in mind. There’s also a selection of homemade berry preserves and powdered berries Bond has bought straight from the people who’d made them, three packages of flavoured Nordqvist loose leaf tea, and two bottles of alcohol: a bottle of cloudberry liqueur and another of Koskenkorva vodka, both of which are typical Finnish alcoholic beverages. At least according to Lumi, who should know these things.

The final souvenir is a pair of knit woolen socks that were actually made by Lumi herself. She’d made another pair for Bond, too; Q’s pair is green like the colour of his eyes and adorned with cats, while Bond’s is bright blue and decorated with miniature replicas of his trusted Walther. Bond had laughed when he’s seen them, but he appreciates them greatly, and he’s looking forward to seeing Q wear his.

“Well,” Q says, sounding amused at the amount of sweet things that Bond has brought back, “at least we don’t have to buy any jam for a while. Or chocolate. Please tell me that you left something for others too?”

Bond huffs. “So perhaps I got a little overboard.”

“A little!”

“Hush, you. The selection there is rather extensive, and I didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“And I appreciate it,” Q says. “I really do. But having you back home with us is more than enough.”

“I hope that you’ll like the socks at least,” Bond says. “Lumi knit them herself.”

“They’re adorable and I love them. Do remember to tell her that when you give her my thanks.”

“Of course. And I will expect to see you wear them, too. But not right now. There’s something else I’d rather see you wear.”

“Which is?” Q asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Really now? Well, I suppose it can be arranged,” Q says, his eyes sparkling. “If you’ll follow me…”

Bond smiles as he gets up and follows Q to the bedroom. He’ll send Lumi the promised text later. Much later, if everything goes according to plan.

#mely writes fanfiction #00Q #007 fest #teambondvillains #recipes #mi6caferecipes

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cardinaldaughter · 4 years

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Good Omens Changed My Life. Twice.

Bear with me. This is super long, and super personal. But I figured, on the 30th anniversary of the book, I’d share with you all just how important Good Omens is to me, even if I didn’t fully understand how much until recently.

A thirty-year-long tale under the cut.

(mentions of death, homophobia, religion and politics)

I was born 30 years ago in the American South. While not exactly actively political, my parents were conservative, as was basically everyone I knew. And so I grew up exposed to Fox News and Glenn Beck and the NRA and conservative view points. I remember telling my father I couldn’t wait to grow up so I could be in the NRA with him. I remember thinking how I was going to vote for a republican when I was old enough to vote. What little I understood about the world, I understood from a conservative perspective, and because I was a child, I trusted the adults around me and believed what they said was sincere and trusted that their beliefs and intentions were honest.

During my childhood, I spent a great deal of time with one of my aunts. She was like a second mother to me, and I think, in some ways, I was probably her “second chance” at motherhood, considering she didn’t have a great relationship with her son. I spent most of my Saturday’s with my aunt. We went on all kinds of adventures together, and I loved her probably more than anyone in the world, my parents included.

When I was 10, she lost her battle to cancer. It was the second major death I’d experienced as a child, but this one struck harder and hurt much deeper. If it weren’t for the fact that this post is about Good Omens (I’m getting there, I promise) I would spend the rest of my time trying to express to you how much I loved this woman, and how deeply her death impacted me. But that’s another story for another time.

My aunt, during her last few years of life, started going to a church. And when she died, those people showed up to the funeral. And by showed up, I mean physically and emotionally. They sang songs. They helped my mom with arrangements (she was in charge). They brought us food. They loved on me, even though I didn’t know them. They clearly loved my aunt, and that love carried over to her family. And my parents- who weren’t exactly Christians and didn’t attend church- were extremely moved. So my mom decided to go to that church the following Sunday to thank them for their kindness. We never left.

That church became home. I met people there who changed my life. These people became brothers, sisters, mentors, friends. They helped fill the gap my aunt’s death had left, and though I was struggling and unable to properly mourn (which I wouldn’t understand for another decade or more) I felt better. I felt loved. I felt accepted. As I grew up there, attending the academy run through the church and getting more involved in ministry, I began paying more and more attention to what the adults around me were saying. And like most conservatives, they lamented over the evils of abortion and homosexuality and liberal ideology. And because I loved these adults, trusted them, respected them, believed them, I adopted the same beliefs. I was a child; they were adults. They couldn’t be wrong, right? I attended a community college for two years, then transferred to a close by university that was far enough away that I needed to move to an apartment in another city, but close enough that I could still come home frequently. But it meant leaving the church. I promised my friends I’d be back every Sunday I could make it. I didn’t want to leave, because all my friends were at that church, and it was home. But I wanted to get my bachelor’s, so I packed my things and I moved with the determination that I would come running home as soon as I was able. Before I left, I was told by a couple people in the church: “Now when you get to college, don’t open your mind so much that your brain falls out!” I thought that was an incredibly stupid thing to say, because it was in itself ridiculous- having an open mind was not a bad thing- but also because I was secure in my beliefs. I wasn’t going to change. Once at university- despite being incredibly shy and introverted, I managed to make a few friends. One was a Jewish atheist, and another was a girl from India who practiced Hinduism. Both were so far out of my understanding of life that I was fascinated, but rather than trying to “save them” (something I’d NEVER been comfortable with, so I just used my shyness as an excuse not to “witness” to people) I listened. Their stories were fascinating. And I am so grateful they were willing to share their experiences with me, and for a time I was very close to them both.

Okay. Now for the part you’ve been waiting for.

During this time at college, I, through a roundabout way, discovered Good Omens. After some major difficulty in hunting down the book, I got my hands on a copy- where an angel and demon reject everything they’ve been told they should be in order to help save the world. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I identified with Crowley. I felt a kinship with him I wasn’t qualified to fully appreciate, but I absolutely loved him. This demon who deep down didn’t want to be evil; who’s only real crime had been asking questions- something about that resonated with me.

“Why would asking questions be considered a bad thing?” I wondered.

It was during this time that, thanks to friends who were so different than me, and professors who had a much broader sense of the world, and thanks to some inspiration from a wily serpent, I found myself doing something I’d never done before:

I started questioning everything I’d ever been told.

Because, if I was honest with myself, I genuinely didn’t understand why two men or two women couldn’t get married. I didn’t understand why a woman was forced to have a baby she didn’t want or couldn’t care for. I didn’t actually want to join the NRA because I didn’t actually like guns. They made me uncomfortable, and I thought there should be more regulations on them. I read about and agreed with the tenants of feminism. I began learning about the LGBT community and realized that once I stopped being told over and over again that these people were evil sinners bound for hell, I realized that they were just normal people like me trying to find their place in the world and love with dignity and freedom. What was evil about that? “Oh god,” I said my senior year of college, when I realized the devastating truth I had been reluctant to face. “I can’t be liberal! I can’t be a feminist! I’m a Christian!” - I said this to myself numerous times, because I had been taught that to be a Democrat or a feminist was fundamentally non-Christian. And I had a years-long identity crisis over this. I struggled with this inner turmoil that I felt- how can I be a liberal feminist AND a Christian? Surely I can’t...

But I was. This realization caused me to have a full-on identity crisis. I cried. I panicked. I prayed for God to correct my thinking if I was wrong. I only grew more convinced of my convictions.

Finally, I graduated and moved back home. I got married to the love of my life. I resumed going to church. I figured maybe if I just stop asking questions, things will go back to normal, and I won’t go to hell for my spiritual misstep. But everything felt different, somehow. My husband didn’t seem really political, so I never asked his opinions on things. I kept my thoughts to myself, having a completely hidden existential crisis while I sat in the church I’d grown up in with the people I’d once loved and trusted and believed implicitly, and realized I no longer trusted or believed them. Finally, a couple years into our marriage, I broke down and confessed to my husband (who I met at church, by the way) how I was feeling about...well, everything. In a truly relieving turn of events, he felt the same way I did. I was so relieved to finally speak out about my feelings, about how I wasn’t conservative but was so afraid of that fact. How I was a feminist. How I wanted to vote third party in the 2012 election (because I was too afraid to commit to the sin of voting democrat, which to some people in my church, it would have been.) Political discussions with my husband increased in volume, length, passion, and frustration. We started keeping up with politics more, especially as we realized we were adults now and these things mattered. We talked a lot about our opinions, and how those opinions didn’t exactly line up with the church. I was so conflicted I honestly felt like I was being ripped in half. Finally my husband said he wanted to leave the church. I was a part of a couple ministries within the church, one of which I was very attached to as it allowed me a lot of creative freedom and I had made some very close friendships through. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to leave, I really did, but I literally felt chained to my place. I wouldn’t have phrased it that way then, but I know that’s what it was now. So we kept our mouths shut and stayed at church like good little obedient Christians. He still wanted to leave, and ultimately began going less. Because of my commitments, I needed to be there every week, even though some days, getting up to go to church made me feel like I was suffocating. But surely God would change my heart if I was in the wrong. I begged him to. I tried to adopt old beliefs, but they felt dirty and wrong in a way that made me physically ill. So I began to quietly try to accept I was a Christian who was also a Democrat. The internal war within me raged on. I had so many questions, but I knew better than to ask them. And then 2016 happened. Donald Trump was elected president. And I watched that man espouse racist, harmful, evil things, and I watched as the people I grew up believing and trusting support him. Defend him. Proclaim he was chosen by God. And I felt sick. If that man is what Christians view as a godly man, I wanted no part in Christianity. And I said as much. In an angry post on Facebook the morning after he won the election, I said Trump was not godly. I repeated things he had said. I said you can’t call yourself a Christian and support this man. I got reprimanded by leaders in my church. “You represent the church. You have to be careful what you say,” I was told. “God will take care of us, don’t worry,” others tried to mitigate. I had a family member, someone I trusted and admired with my whole heart- someone I’d gone to for advice countless times- tell me my words were vile. My words. The words challenging a wicked man who made fun of disabled people, and who was sexist and racist and awful... who people falsely believed represented the so-called loving God we were called to follow. Devastated and confused, I took down the post, stayed silent, and continued going to church. But I felt so sick. And that sickness ate at me for the next three years. I wanted to leave, I really did, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. It wasn’t like I was being forced to stay, but I felt glued to my spot, paralyzed and helpless. I’d been in church for 20 years. This place had been so helpful, and hopeful.... but it wasn’t that place to me anymore.

How does one turn their back on their home?

During all that, I turned to fiction for comfort. My existential crisis of faith was making me miserable, so I buried myself in stories, art, video games, shows, movies, fanfiction, to help ease the ache. And then, after months of eager anticipation, May 2019 rolled around, and Good Omens was released on Amazon Prime. I still loved the book. Loved Crowley. I couldn’t wait to watch the show. As before, I adored Crowley, but the more the show went on, the more my heart and soul latched onto Aziraphale. Everything he said and did made me want to hug the poor dear, though it wasn’t until episode four that I realized exactly why I felt such strong kinship to the TV version of the angel. Aziraphale and I were both trapped. He was bound by the rules of Heaven and his angelic duties. I was bound by my connection to the church and the ministry I was now in charge of. “If I could just reach the right people...” Aziraphale said desperately to Crowley, who replied: “That won’t happen!” And then, stubbornly, desperately, Aziraphale reaches out the Metatron, and I watched as the hope in an angel’s eyes died as he was told heaven wasn’t going to change, they wanted their war, and he needed to get up there and do his part. That scene resonated so much with me, because in that moment I wasn’t watching a fictional show- I was reliving my own life. The moment I was told my words saying Trump was not a godly man didn’t represent the church. That look on Aziraphale’s face expressed the despair I felt when I realized the church was fundamentally wrong. I was stuck in an institution I didn’t exactly support, but felt bound to stick with even as I grappled with the fact that perhaps they weren’t quite as good as I’d once believed them to be. I’d been questioning for some time, like Crowley had, but like Aziraphale, I was afraid to really do anything about it. I kept hoping that I’d just... come across the right person and they could alleviate my concerns, but... that never happened. I kept believing, like Aziraphale, that Heaven (the church) were the good guys, and this was all just a massive misunderstanding and surely they’d see reason. I mean, they had too. Right?

What encouraged me the most though, was at end of the story, is that Aziraphale eventually does reject heaven for Crowley/earth/humans, and is still an angel. Is still seen as good. His choice is seen as the right one, and he isn’t punished for standing up to his “good” superiors and saying, “No I will not do what you want”. It meant so much to me, to see him walk away from heaven and end up much happier than he’d ever been. It made me hope that I could achieve that same happy ending. It took a few more months of coming to terms with my feelings on everything. But I finally felt that metaphorical bond to the church snap after one Sunday where our pastor mocked a liberal politician and said some other things that made me so upset I stood up and walked out of church. I got home to my husband- my Crowley, who’d been ready to officially leave for years but was too fast for me- and told him I was ready. He asked if I was sure. I said yes. I wanted to leave. The last Sunday of February was my last Sunday at that church. I don’t think I would have had the courage to do it if not for watching Aziraphale’s struggle, his uncertainty, and his ultimate triumph. Knowing how his story ended gave me the hope that once I walked out of that place for the last time, I’ll be able to heal, and I’ll be able to actually do the good I so long to do and be in this world.

I find it funny, looking back. Reading Good Omens gave me the courage to actually question what I’d always been taught. Ten years later, the show gave me the courage to act on those questions. To know that having them isn’t enough. I need to ask them. And then I need to take a stand when the answers aren’t satisfactory.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the show came out during an extremely important time in my life- when I was trying and failing to find the courage to leave. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that when I needed Aziraphale and Crowley the most, they were there, showing me the way and telling me that it will be alright. I don’t think it’s a coincidence, but I do think it’s a little bit ineffable.

Thank you, Neil and Terry, for creating such amazing characters. Thank you David, for being a brilliant Crowley, and thank you Michael, for being able to convey in a single look how hopeless I’d been feeling for years, essentially snapping me out of my emotional stasis, and giving me the courage to do what needed to be done.

Thank you to the GO fandom, whose stories and art and memes have provided me with a great deal of comfort as I adjust to my new reality.

I love you all. To the world.

#good omens #neil gaiman #good omens 30th anniversary #long post

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

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Who Killed Jason Shaw? Chapter 3: Toby (RoD, Colt x MC)

Summary: Ellie’s investigation heats up as Toby gives her new information and new questions.

Rating: R (discussions of death, violence, dead body)

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~1900 words

Ellie felt the sun’s rays hit her face; she rolled over and was about to slide back into her dreams when her brain jolted, remembering the events of the day before. Her eyes flew open.

Colt was still sleeping next to her, hair mussed, mouth slightly open, one hand curled protectively around her hip; she took a moment to watch him sleep, the one time he seemed perfectly at peace, looking younger than ever as his brow softened and jaw relaxed, before rolling out of bed and fishing her clothes off of the floor.

The only thing she could think was that she had to protect him. She had to protect them all.

When she wandered down into the shop, she had to smile; even though it was early, the telltale sound of metal banging against metal echoed across the concrete. She followed the noise to where Toby was under a muffler, his laptop perched next to him play what appeared to be an endless loop of GoT.

He jumped up when he saw her, barely missing banging his head on the bumper. “Ellie! Long time no see!”

Her grin was strained. She had seen Toby that weekend. Eyes still bleary from her cross-country travels, she had been running errands in Inglewood when he almost walked into her as she left a shop; at the time, he made her promise that she would stop by to see him. Neither of them had thought it would be under these circumstances. “Hey, Toby. Listen, I need to-”

“Wait, hold on!” He knelt to pause the video and then his arms circled her shoulders, tightly, wiry muscles holding her close.

“Hi, Toby. Hi,” she wheezed. “I love you but…I need…to breathe.”

“Oh, sorry, of course.” He stepped back but the beaming grin on his face didn’t dim. “I know I saw you the other day but I missed you!”

“I missed you too.” Her smile faded. “But I need to tell you something.”

“Oh, I need to tell you so much too! I finally finished Game of Thrones but I decided to watch from the beginning again because Ximena’s not caught up yet so when she finally gets to season-”

“Toby!”

He blinked at her behind thick glasses. “Sorry. Sorry. What did you have to tell me?”

“Jason Shaw’s dead.”

His mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Yeah, car accident. “

“Wait, what?” He slowly lowered himself to the ground.

“He got into a car accident late Sunday night.” She sighed, a heavy burst of wind through her lips. “My dad thinks it wasn’t accidental.”

Toby only stared up at her, head in his hands.

She crouched to the ground to look at him, straight on. “Toby, do you know anything?”

“About this?”

“My dad thinks it was someone in the crew.”

He shook his head, vehemently. “You’re asking if I killed him, aren’t you? No way. I was playing D&D with some friends on Sunday and we were on a massive raid to save the princess from a tower but we didn’t have all of the weapons we needed to we needed to go to the ice palace to get special armor and then-”

“This sounds like Zelda, but ok, I believe you.” She stood, frowning. “I didn’t think you would do it anyways, you know.”

He only blinked up at her. “Ellie, how do you know he’s dead?”

“What do you mean?” Her heart stopped. He was dead. Wasn’t he? He had to be dead, going that fast, and the massive fire. Right?

“I don’t know…he’s wily. What if it’s not true? What if the cops faked it?”

Ellie blinked at him, suppressing the retort on her tongue. Luckily, it was that moment that she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Colt heading out to the floor, grinning as he wrapped an arm around her waist to whisper in her ear.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“Nightmares?”

She sighed, nudging his chin with her forehead. “Never with you.”

“Hello?” Toby’s voice made her turn. “I’m still here, you know. And, I thought of something.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows.

“I think I can help in your investigation.”

“Ok…”

“I mean, I’m not sure, but I think that I can and if you think it would be helpful-”

“Out with it, Toby.” Colt stared at him, voice barely masking his annoyance.

“I can get his phone records.”

Ellie’s stomach dropped. “Seriously?”

“I think so. Give me a second.” He pulled over his laptop and started typing, feverishly. “You see, when I was trying to break into the school AV system, I accidentally got into the cell tower somehow and it was pretty simple from there to break into the-”

“Toby?” She stared. “Are you telling me you accidentally got access to all of the cell phone records for all of LA?”

He blinked up at her, fingers still flying over the keyboard. “Yes?”

“I don’t understand how that’s possible…”

“You don’t need to.” He turned the screen to them with a flourish. “Because here they are.”

Her eyes widened and she dropped to the ground, Colt following, to stare at the screen.

Toby continued without missing a beat. “This is it. All calls he made, all calls he received. And it’s a lot. Local, out-of-state, all here.” He hummed as he examined list, scrolling up and down. “Huh. Weird. This little P next to the number means a pay phone. For something that is basically obsolete, he sure got a lot of calls from them, like here, Sunday afternoon, from the Pavilion. Lots of calls out of state; this local one happens a ton, you should look up what that is.”

Colt scoffed. “Probably his lawyer.”

Ellie watched the dizzying array of numbers piling up on the screen. “Can you print these for me?”

“Sure, no problem.” He hit a few keys and stood up to head into the office.

“Wait!” Colt shouted after Toby’s retreating back. “Can I get a copy, too?”

“Sure, bossman.”

Toby disappeared through the doorway as Ellie looked blankly at Colt. “You playing detective, Kaneko?”

“Don’t you want to know who killed him?”

She bit her lip. “Not really, to be honest. I just don’t want any of my friends in jail. I don’t care who did it, as long as we don’t go down.”

“I care. I want to buy them a drink.”

“Colt…”

“Seriously. I want to buy them a drink. Hell, a whole bottle, whatever they want."

"Colt!"

"Ok, ok. Fine. You’re the detective here. I can be your sidekick.” Colt shot her a wink. “But you’d look better in spandex.”

She just rolled her eyes as Toby returned, bouncing triumphantly, handing the pages over with a flourish and settling on the ground again. “You know, with a little work, I could probably get bank account details too.” Toby’s eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at the screen.

“What?”

“That’d be amazing!” Colt’s eyes were wide as he turned to her. “Ellie, if we had those…”

Ellie had to hold up her hands. “Are you sure, Toby? I don’t want you to get in trouble…”

“I think I can do it. Give me a day.”

She sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was to drag the crew into this. “Ok. Fine. Thank you.” She looked at her phone. “Crap. I need to get back for breakfast with my dad. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do.” Toby didn’t even look up from the laptop. She smiled and gave him a wave as she turned to her car, Colt following. He grabbed her hand as they walked.

“Hey, you ok, Ellie?“

"Yea. I’m just worried. And I want you as far away from this as I can get you.” He quirked an eyebrow but the sinking in her stomach was appeased when he pulled her in for a gentle kiss, waving her on her way as she started the engine of her dad’s old cruiser.

But, the entire drive, she worried on a thumbnail, sneaking glances at the phone records inside her bag; all she wanted to do was protect the crew. What if this was just involving them further?

Thankfully, she made it home in time to have breakfast with her dad; however, she couldn’t focus on cooking or eating or the conversation. The entire time, Toby’s words echoed in her head. She knew he was dead. Jason Shaw was dead.

Wasn’t he?

Once her dad padded up the stairs for a nap, she headed for door, trying and failing to slow her feet, to stop the shaking in her hands. They shook the entire way there, all the way to the parking lot, where she turned the key and stared at the imposing doors of Reagan UCLA Medical Center.

With a deep breath, she strode through the lobby, finding the stairs and heading down as far as she could go. She had done far worse things in her life. She could do this.

She walked through the halls with her head held high but didn’t see anyone, her feet echoing on empty tile. She followed signs for the morgue, stopping in front of a sterile door. After peeking in, making sure it was empty and she had some privacy, she pulled open the heavy door and slid inside.

It was cold, colder than she expected, and she shivered as she looked around, eyes falling on the metal coolers in the back of the room. She had to take a deep breath, lungs rebelling at the chemicals and solvents in the air, and headed over to check for names. And there, right there, in the middle row, second column on the right, in thick black marker: Shaw, Jason.

Another deep inhale of caustic air and she pulled open the cooler, latch clanking as she pushed the door to the side. She half-expected him to leap up from under the sheets, to attack her, claim his revenge but it was silent, still. She let out a slow breath and pulled the shelf, sliding it out so the sheet and the mass underneath lay in front of her.

“I can do this. I can-” Her whisper gave her strength and, before she could reconsider, she pulled the sheet off and gasped. “Oh my God.”

He was burned, burns everywhere, scorch marks on his chest, the right side of his face, cuts and scrapes and marks covering him, but it was him. Gruesome, ruined, destroyed, but him. And he was dead, undoubtedly, skin blue and cold where it wasn’t burned black and red and inhuman.

She was shaking, staring at the man who haunted her nightmares, who tried to ruin her life, her body trembling so hard that it was vibrating the sheet still gripped between her convulsing fingers. Was it the cold? Fear?

She bit her lip, looking around the room. Or was it anger? She strode over to a steel tray and grabbed a scalpel, clutching it in a tight fist before she returned to his side. And, before she even knew what she was doing, before her common sense could kick in, she moved, hand slamming down, embedding the knife directly into his chest, killing him again.

His heart had long stopped beating. There was no blood welling up from the cut, just a small gash; it was just another injury on this lifeless body.

“You fucking asshole.” The words came to the surface along with the tears and she had to shake her head. A year ago she didn’t swear; now, she was dropping curses after desecrating corpses. “You fucking asshole.”

She hurriedly dropped the scalpel in the sharps container before replacing the sheet and shoving his worthless body into the cooler again. She hazarded a look back, one last glance at the rows of coolers, before striding out of the room.

Oh well. She had committed worse crimes anyway.

#amy writes

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 41

Time for Maverick to meet Conor! I’ll be honest, the initial meeting was not what you think it will be. Honestly, it wasn’t what I expected, but I can’t always control them...

Maverick decided to hang around for a while and keep me company. To be honest, I was more than a little grateful for it – after the unexpected heart-to-heart, I was feeling a little too raw to be alone. The conversation quickly turned to much lighter topics, such as my plants and the history of black cats in my family. He told me about how he became a pilot, and about his life Before in return. I was sitting in the general living area of my quarters, telling Maverick about how I fell in love with cooking, when Conor arrived after his shift.

Still sweating and stinking – nothing new, he usually came directly to my quarters and showered there – he scooped me into a fragrant hug before holding me at arm’s length. “How did it go? Did you meet with Grandma Kim?” His head snapped up to look behind me right as I heard Maverick stand from where he had been on the couch.

“Sophia, are you okay?” Maverick asked cautiously.

“Who the feck are you?” Conor asked with a glare.

“This is Maverick, the pilot who was on Level One. He is the only person who can fly this ship on manual, and is teaching Tyche to fly anything she wants to get her hands on,” I responded, stepping back to stand equally between them. “Maverick Okima, this is Conor MacMaoilir, construction worker, botanist, and my personal protector whether I like it or not. He’s one of my closest friends, loves to eat, and is a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for.” I walked past Maverick and sat on the couch, waiting patiently. After a moment of both still standing and glaring at each other with suspicion, I crossed my arms. “Sit down if you’re staying. You are both entirely too tall for me to keep looking up at, so either sit down or leave.”

To his credit, Maverick shrugged and sat on the other end of my couch. After a moment, Conor relented and followed suit.

He also made a point to sit squarely between me and the other man in the room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I nearly shouted. “Stop the damned pissing contest! Conor would die rather than let me get hurt, and Maverick was one of the people who interrupted the attack on Level One. Seriously, if you two would just chill the fuck out, you would get along great. I promise. Conor, tell Maverick about Antoine’s project.”

Unable to resist a chance to nerd-out at his leisure, Conor started to explain. At first, he was hesitant, but finally his enthusiasm got the better of him. As I had expected, Maverick was immediately enthralled with the idea. After a technical interlude that I could just barely follow, Maverick’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Sophia! You should have this installed in your implant when it’s ready!”

Conor jerked with realization before snapping his head around to look at me. “He’s right. You and Tyche, both, probably. No more startling noises or unexpected close contact setting of your anxiety and trauma.”

I smiled at the success of the ice-breaker before gently shaking my head. “I may get it eventually, but I want Derek and Sam to be the first. But the idea did cross my mind, trust me.”

“Oh! That reminds me. How did your meeting with Grandma Kim go?” Conor turned to fully face me, only to swing his head back around when Maverick clutched his ribs and laughed.

“Dude, you should have seen her!” he gasped. “When I got here, Sophia was apparently taking a nap. This ‘nice elderly lady’ let me in, one hand reaching for her hip, showed me to Sophia’s room to wake her up. I open the door, and this big damned dog is on the bed and growling at me like a freaking demon or something. I thought I was gonna die! Then, she wakes up, tells the dog to chill out, and wants me to sit on the bed, with the thing that was about to kill me. When she told me Grandma Kim has combat training, I realized the ‘nice elderly lady’ wasn’t reaching for her hip because it hurt… she probably had a freaking knife!”

Conor turned back to me, wide-eyed. “So it went well, I take it? You actually took a nap?”

I nodded, a small smile on my face. “Yeah. I was exhausted after speaking with her, and she told me I should get some rest. When I explained the issue with sleeping, she offered to stay while Lyric took a nap with me. It worked better than I expected, honestly.”

“And the knife?”

“I had no clue, but it definitely adds points on how seriously she takes her job and what she knows about me. She didn’t know Maverick from a hole in the ground, so waiting to see how I reacted to him was smart, and playing it off as a hip injury was clever.”

“You aren’t going to say anything about the dog that nearly tore my throat out?” Maverick sounded a little put out.

“Lyric was part of the reason Sophie even met with her,” Conor admitted. “Professional nurturer with a trained guard and support dog? Big bonus.” Conor reached out and squeezed my forearm gently before putting his hand on my knee. “She takes care of everyone, so we’ll turn her quarters into Fort Knox if that’s what it takes to make her feel safer.”

Maverick collapsed slightly as tension I hadn’t even noticed left his shoulders. “That’s good. It’s the whole reason I wanted to stay until someone else got here. I’m glad you appreciate her. She’s nice.”

“She’s also sitting right here,” I grumbled, ears turning red. “Is that what the pissing contest was over? Making sure I’m safe from each other?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison before glancing at each other and smirking.

Groaning, I covered my face to hide the flush. “Oh gods, now there’s two of you! I’m going to have to agree to Grandma Kim being here just to get any privacy!”

They laughed, but I didn’t miss the nodding between them in agreement.

“Okay, okay, new topic,” I waved my hands at them. “Conor, how is the general attitude of the ship? Everyone seems on edge whenever I’m in the corridor, but that could just be because it’s me.”

He shook his head. “Nope, not just you. Don’t get me wrong, things have calmed down some since the trial, but folks are still on edge. The whole ship is quiet and tense.”

“Maybe they just need food,” Maverick’s face twisted into something like confusion. “I know I’m probably the last person to mention that, but trying different foods with the guys has cheered me up a lot. I’m just saying.”

Conor cocked an eyebrow at me, so I explained the other man’s history with eating and Team New Foods to him. He nodded. “That actually isn’t a bad idea. The food festival for Insert Winter Holiday was a huge success, and that was done on short notice. Depending on when Bash decides to open his pub, you could try to schedule it for the same time as that?”

“Wait. Sebastian Reed decided to open a pub after all?” I asked, astonished. He had been rather reluctant when I originally spoke to him about it.

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” he rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah, I ran into him in one of the cafeterias and we got to talking. I told him how much good it would do for morale, hashed out a few things to prevent any alcohol abuse, that sort of thing. He agreed that, in the long run, it would do more good than harm to have something like that, and at least if it was him, he could keep a close eye on anyone who was trying to drink away their problems instead of talking to someone.”

“Right,” I agreed. “And who better to tend bar and keep an eye on people like that than a professional nurturer?”

Maverick got off the couch and came around to crouch next to us so he could join the conversation. “A professional nurturer? Is that like Grandma Kim?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We have quite a few on the ship, actually. Antoine was one, now he co-ordinates them, apparently. Which, again, no-one told me…” I scowled at Conor.

He threw his hands up in defense. “First I’m hearing about it, love. So don’t give me that look. Take it up with Tyche.”

I shook my head with a sigh. “Honestly, it’s not like anyone was required to tell me. I just… I don’t like hearing about things like that from a stranger, that’s all. I used to get to hear all this during family dinners, and now…”

Conor patted my shoulder. “I know the feeling. We all go so used to ‘oh I’ve got something to tell everyone Wednesday’, that we don’t think to tell each other any other time, right?”

“You said you hoped you would be able to do your family dinners again,” Maverick pointed out. “Maybe having Grandma Kim here will help?”

“I still can’t cook yet,” I explained. “Until I’m not on a medication schedule anymore, I have to eat food from the console so Noah can make sure I’m getting everything.”

“You do remember Tyche can cook, too?” Conor looked at me pointedly. “And we can start small. You, your sister, me, Antoine at first. Then add one or two extra seats when you feel better. We can run it by Antoine to see if it would add to or slow down your recovery, from a mental perspective.”

I threw my head back on the couch. “Ugh! That’s the worst part about having a therapist in the family, now. I can’t get away with anything.”

Conor and Maverick just laughed at my antics.

With a chuckle, Maverick pointed at me. “You could just mom all over him until he caves.”

That set Conor howling. “That’s perfect! ‘Mom’ all over him! I’ve never heard it put like that, but it’s perfect!”

“Whoa, slow down, guys,” I held up my hands with a smile. “There’s a problem with your idea. Have either of you ever seen that work on Antoine?”

They both sobered up and glanced at each other. Conor looked like he was getting a brain cramp trying to think about it. “Okay, that wouldn’t work. He’s pretty dote-proof,” the Irishman admitted. “Unless it’s Tyche, but I don’t see you convincing her, either. Those two are immune to your wily cooking ways.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you and Antoine disagree….” Maverick rubbed his face thoughtfully. “You usually work together like a team.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Tyche and I work well together out of practice and lots of trial and error. We didn’t even really speak to each other until she was almost twenty, to be honest. Antoine and I work well together because we are willing to admit when the other is right and we’re wrong. Despite how incredibly professional our relationship seems, we both love my sister, and we have a lot of respect for each other.” I groaned again. “Which means I can’t argue when he says something will or won’t help my recovery, because I know he’s right.”

“Small dinners at first,” Conor repeated. “We already know the four of us, together, won’t set off anything.”

Maverick nodded. “I hope that works, because I really want to come at least once.”

“I’ll put you on the list,” I promised.

Our conversation was interrupted by an alert to my data band. It was from Simon: “I know it’s your day off, but I need you to come to the Council Chamber tomorrow. They have approved your new assistant.”

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#the miys #aliens #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #apocalypse #science fiction #original writing

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stedes-black-bonnet · 5 years

Text

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 32

POV: John Deacon x reader

Notes: Aiming for once a week updates. Might pick up speed, but won’t decrease. We have a masterlist and a tag list, FYI.

Warnings: swearing?

Abstract: And someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear...

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

Roger Taylor sat across from Jim Hutton.

Freddie Mercury sat across from Brian May.

You sat across from John Deacon.

Miami Beach headed the awkward dinner party from Hell. At least that’s how he thought of it. He had better things to do than babysit a table of grown men and one unassuming woman. It was as if he had fallen into the Twilight Zone, and he didn’t like it one bit. He had nothing against you, but he had everything against this group of men. You seemed pleasant, and, sure, you had punched Roger in the face, but who among them hadn’t wished to do just that under certain circumstances? Under numerous circumstances? Miami was certain every single one of them had at least day dreamed about it. These men, though, they worked, day in and out, he was certain, to ruin his life. If they weren’t destroying hotel rooms in exotic countries they were spoiling perfectly decent dinner parties, charging in guns ablaze to tarnish business dinners. They couldn’t do a single thing like normal people. Everything was exaggerated. Everything was vibrant. Everything was terrible. He missed, longed for the days before he had become their manager. It had been simpler times. Nicer times. This had been, by the large, the worst blow out Miami had witnessed among the band since the “I’m in Love with My Car” debacle. This was the most expensive dinner he had ever paid for and the food hadn’t even arrived yet. He was starving. Irritated. Pessimistic. The only saving grace here was he could at least bill them for his time. And boy, was he ever going to hike up the rate.

Roger was moving food across his plate, not really focusing on what he was doing. How was he supposed to eat food with no color? Nothing about it looked appetizing. It smelled good, he supposed. It looked like wet shapes. Lumps. Bumps. He thought he was going to vomit again. He lifted a waste bin by his chair, put it in front of his face, waited, and nothing came up. He placed the bin back down, and looked at his dinner. Jim had made them a couple of steaks and potatoes garnished with shallots and asparagus. Everything was seasoned to perfection and cooked like a professional had slaved over it. And despite that Roger couldn’t even enjoy it, his self torture ran too deep, seeped from every pore, and crashed around his mind like his favorite set of cymbals. He was quite certain he didn’t deserve this meal, lovingly prepared for him by the only person who had cared to chase after him, any more than he deserved Lydia.

He was a mess. A lumpy mess.

“Roger,” Jim said between bites, “Stop acting like a child.”

“I’m not.” He whined.

Jim stared at Roger, who was still pushing food around his plate in some hollow attempt to make it look eaten. “You are.”

Roger rolled his eyes, shoving up the sleeves of his purple bathrobe. The rest of his clothes, covered in pasta sauces, noodles, wine, tears, and his own vomit, had been thrown in the washer by Jim. He wouldn’t serve Roger dinner when he was, as Jim had put it, “smelling like an Italian wake.” Roger had washed his hair, scrubbed his body and cried in the shower for the second time in one day. He was falling apart. Had been. He actually felt somewhat better now. He wasn’t hysterical anymore, at least. That had to count for something?

He felt the bathrobe. Fluffy and safe, like a puppy’s hug. It was still grey to him. He frowned.

“Okay, so the whole point of this is for us to share a meal and for you to fess up. I’m holding you to doing at least one of those.” Jim dipped a piece of steak in an au jus, and accented his speech by pointing his fork at Roger.

Roger took a defiant bite, and stayed pointedly silent. Jim banged a fist on the table.

“Roger Taylor, you’re going to talk to me or I’ll throw you back to the wolves without so much as a whoopsie daisy.”

Miami should have felt like a wolf in his suit; however, having it splattered with pasta sauces and flecks of meat made it difficult for even him to take himself seriously, let alone the band. He was more a sheep acting the part of the wolf. Or a hamster. This wasn’t the power dynamic he was expecting. Roger going ballistic, Y/N swooping in for the punchline. None of it had set this meeting on to the right spinning edge. This top was all akimbo.

“What exactly do you mean you want her to play on the record?” Miami asked nicely.

“We are going to need other musicians, or one exceptionally skilled musician to play a few horn sections; as far as I last knew, no one in the band can rock a trumpet.” Deacy said, taking a sip of his drink. His grey-green eyes shimmering with some hidden card up his sleeve.

“Roger is kind of a blowhard, though.” Brian said, trying to smile through the thick chaos and confusion. Everything about this meeting was just so precisely arranged: some huge fight and now everything and everyone had to find their footing and it wasn’t equal and it wasn’t fair. If Brian didn’t know better, he would have thought it had all been staged; he wouldn’t ever put something like that past Deacy. He was wily, that one.

Everyone laughed an uncomfortable laugh.

“Deacy,” You said, softly, “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to first, or even what I could play myself.”

“Fair point.” Deacy said. “Y/N, do you want to play on our next record.”

You looked at the men assembled around you.

Freddie gave you a wink and an encouraging nod. That nod said, you’d be a fool to say no.

Brian glared at Freddie, shrugging. He loudly leaned back and rolled his eyes, scoffing. It was as if his opinion didn’t matter at all.

Miami raised his hands as if to say, I have nothing to do with this decision.

“Well, yeah, I do.” You said. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Great. What instruments can you play, just as a formality?” Deacy continued sipping, ignoring Brian.

“Saxophone, piano, trumpet, viola, French horn, and some very limited flute--and I mean very limited it.” You said attempting to not blush.

“That’s quite the list, darling!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Music is my life.” You said simply.

“That’s all very sweet,” Brian said, “And don’t think I don’t like you, Y/N, in saying this, but you can’t just promise someone the chance to play on the record without consulting us all and without having them audition.”

“I’m sure she plays beautifully.” Freddie smiled at Brian.

“I have a say in this band just as much as the rest of you.” Brian said shortly.

“Of course you do.” Deacy said. “You started it, after all, right?”

“Yes.”

“Which means, what? you and Rog get seven votes a piece compared to Freddie and I getting one a each?”

“Okay, this isn’t productive.” Miami cut in. “You all get one vote each; you all know that. Stop this petty shit. Y/N, you’ll audition for us in two days? I’ll send a car for you.”

“Two days?” You asked.

“Yes--what do you have class or something?” “Technically, yes; I do.”

“We will do it in the evening then.” Miami said, closing the subject once and for all. “Now, I believe we have other more pressing matters to discuss concerning this record beyond the machinations of an aspiring musician.” “Yeah,” Brian said, “Mostly how we are evenly divided about the record. And no one is willing to compromise.”

“No one should have to compromise!” Deacy said. “You’re missing my point, yet again, entirely and intentionally.”

“I’m missing nothing.” Brian said.

“Oh because you never miss anything.” Deacy retorted.

“We could fight about something else, maybe? For a break? How about what to order for dessert or the length of my mustache?”

The men silently looked at Freddie. You held back a laugh.

“That fits you all to a Tee, gentlemen.” Miami said. “What? Don’t look surprised. You all never agree on anything. We don’t need to alert the media here. In fact, we’d need to alert them if you ever agreed on anything without some kind of a fight. Now that would be a first page story. Queen Agrees! Lord, we’d sell hundreds of papers.”

“It isn’t much of a story.” Roger said.

“Well, good thing I’m easily entertained.” Jim sighed. “Paint me a picture.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Yeah. Feels particularly cruel at this moment.”

“Well, you’d know about particularly cruel, wouldn’t you?”

“I spent the night with Lydia. At the party. I had met her the night before. At some nothing club playing nothing music. But she looked like everything. She was everything. The moment I saw her the entire place changed, and the way my heart beat shifted, and it hasn’t been the same sense. She was everything. From the second she started walking towards me to the moment she licked my hand.”

“She licked your hand?” Jim had a spoon of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth.

“She did. And I felt it shiver and zap through my entire body.”

Jim raised an eyebrow at Roger.

“You heard me. My entire body.” He continued. “I invited her to the party, wasn’t sure if she’d even come. But she did. And I’ve never seen anyone look the way she did. All curves and red satin. My personal Satan. Like she had been made for me and I for her. I sound like an idiot. I hate myself. What’s wrong with me?”

Jim laughed. “No. You sound like a person in love. You don’t sound like an idiot at all. You’re in love. You said it to me yourself; don’t shake your blond head at me, you wanker.”

“Sure.” Roger grimaced. “I couldn’t keep my eyes from her. Or my hands. God maybe they had been made to touch her body. I always thought they had been made to drum. I don’t know anymore. Funny isn’t it? That something on my body could have been made for her? Feeling her was like feeling myself; I knew her already, entirely, completely. Every crest and crown.”

“Don’t forget to eat.” Jim reminded him.

“You know how it is; I get going and can’t stop.” He wiped a tear from his eyes and resumed eating, slowly. “The thing is, I just don’t, I mean…”

“You don’t date monogamously?” Jim offered. “You’re a notorious cad? A bounder? A rascal! A cur? A blackguard.”

“Right, mate.” Roger responded. “Please stop. You’ve made your point.”

“I could go on. Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Rapscallion.”

“Stop.”

“Bastard.”

“Thank you. Going on.” Roger said, trying to redirect the train. “Nothing against it. Or those who do it. I know my limitations; I don’t trust myself to not stray. But with her. I thought for the first time that I could dedicate myself to her and be happy--content and joyous, and pleasured and pleased, and entertained and fascinated forever. Full stop. In a second, maybe two, I knew. I just knew. And everything felt right, secure, and safe.”

“And then you fucked it up?”

“Yes. Well, no. Not yet. You’re jumping ahead.”

“I’m jumping ahead?” Freddie simpered.

“Yes!” Brian said.

“I’m jumping ahead?!”

“Yeah!” Brain said heavily. “Roger isn’t even here.”

“You’re the one who said you could speak for him.” Deacy said.

“You want to make some rhythmic disco record and have our approval?” Brain asked. “You’re out of your head.”

“Yes. In short.” Deacy said. Freddie nodded beside him. “Oh, and I resent your tone whenever you say disco, for the record.”

“How about club music?” Freddie offered, trying to make peace.

“Whatever. Same difference just a horse of a different color.”

Deacy groaned. “Listen we’ve made several records and never all agreed on everything going on in it. Why start now?”

The men laughed.

“Look at it like this, darling.” Freddie offered. “This record is happening. You’ll have tracks. You can do your thing. We intend to do ours. Deacy and I have a united vision. And you can either work with us or against us. We’d rather have it go down easily and work like oil.”

“But we will take whatever we can get.” Deacy said. It sounded like a threat. A final line in the sand. “We’ve started some really compelling tunes, Bri.”

“It isn’t disco trash,” Freddie smiled, “as Roger likes to call it.”

Brain sighed loudly. “I don’t like this. I notice and appreciate Deacy having to compromise before. And I notice his talent has excelled in recent years. So, I’ll just allow it.”

“Allow it?” Deacy said, voice raising.

“Wrong choice of words. Would you prefer roll over and take it?” Brain held is hands up in peace. A light smile played across his face.

“All we are asking is the chance to try something we haven’t yet.” Deacy said, a pleading conciliatory note in his voice. “It’s what Queen has always been about. We explore. We originate.”

“We’re pioneers.” Freddie said. “But with better style.”

“Her style was impeccable. Her movements. Her grace. When we made love in my car—oh your car, now, mate.” Roger smirked at Jim.

“Wait—did you just say ‘made love’?” Jim shrieked incredulously. “Did Roger fucking Taylor just use the expression to make love?”

The men laughed.

“I might have.” Roger admitted.

“Make. Love.” Jim said. “Wow. Well, now I’ve bloody well right heard everything.”

“Okay, okay! come off it!” Roger laughed. This time wiping away tears of joy instead of sorrow. “I took her home and, and…” he paused, thinking. Remembering. “I took her home and everything changed again. It had been a handful of hours and she changed my life again. She changed everything. I was in too deep.”

It was that night again, last night, and Roger closed the door to Lydia’s bedroom. He pushed up against the door with his back, leaning backwards, slowly, seductively. He looked cool, effortless, slick. He stared at her through his sepia-colored glasses, and waited for her to make her move. And boy, did she ever.

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

Tag List: @phantom-fangirl-stuff @triggeredpossum @obsessedwithrogertaylor @groupiie-love@partydulce@richiethotzierz@sophierobisonartfoundationblr@psychostarkid@teathymewithben@smittyjaws@just-ladyme@botinstqueen @mydogisthebest@little-welsh-wonder@maxjesty@deakysdiscos@yourealegendroger@marvellouspengwing@molethemollie@deakysgirl@arrowswithwifi@tardisgrump @mikey-sway

#john deacon x reader #john deacon #brian may #roger taylor #freddie mercury #jim hutton #joe mazzello #ben hardy #gwilym lee #rami malek #bohemian rhapsody #queen x reader

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rimeshard · 5 years

Text

spotify explanations.

each one of the songs added to the spotify list on my homepage is in reference to an event, character or interaction that Riley has been through or dealt with, whether positive or negative. as a writing exercise, i decided to work out what each of these songs means in context for her character and her development.

Emiley’s Smile - Commix

This is a general purpose ‘ethereal’ floating song for Riley. I think it fits a young Quel'dorei very well, especially one who transitions from up periods (the higher synths) to darker periods (the low bass intonation).

Chrome - VNV Nation

Hurt, the measure of blind ambition The testament to your singular disease Against all wisdom you heed no warning Your desires giving you away

A perfect song for a post-resurrection Riley who was hell-bent on destroying those who had wronged and murdered her, along with her distaste for the Forsaken who still follow a murderous Warchief, and the Alliance who still follow the whims of a boy-king.

Better Love - Nookie

Another general purpose ‘vibing’ song, used to maintain a chilled, distanced, lounge demeanor that Riley tries to keep with her customers. Yes, breather. Keep calm. Consider the purchase of the haunted Jinyu pearl necklace. This one will not harm you. We are indifferent to your purchase. Other buyers will come otherwise.

In Space - Röyksopp

Here’s where we start getting into real character development. “In Space” is in reference to the many memories that float through Riley’s mind at any given moment either pre- or post-resurrection. She had a very timid personality when I first began playing her, as an arcanist’s assistant and protégé. Over the years Riley developed into a stand-alone character, able to hold her own despite battling deep-seeded fears and longing for her mentor. “In Space” in general is a 'harmless’ song, mainly evoking happy memories or drawing on pleasant dreams to function.

Dawn Chorus - Boards of Canada

Most, if not a majority, of Riley’s development centered around her mentor, Taldarick Reynolds. Taldarick was a survivor of the Azure wars; he had sided with the Azure Dragonflight and Malygos against the Blues and the Dalaran magi. In doing so, he killed his own brother, who was sent to retrieve/recover him. Taldarick then spent a session in the Violet Hold on his capture, and was released. He spent every waking moment following this developing a bastardization of chronomancy and necromancy in an attempt to resurrect his brother, beholden and bereft by the guilt of his murder. “Dawn Chorus” is the discordant musical equivalent of being inside that Machine; a vividly disgusting and perturbing sensory deprivation and immersion tank, all at once, during stages of being incomplete. At one point in exquisite detail did Taldarick’s RPer describe a 'tree made entirely of meat’.

Tears from the Compound Eye - Boards of Canada

Riley spent many nights comforting and working with Taldarick during his exploratory phases to work on his Machine. In doing so, and during his lessons, they bonded; however, their shared, mutual and different traumas would not let them reciprocate their feelings for each other. “Compound Eye” sounds, to me, like a forlorn hand reaching across a chasm - with a small uplift near the center for what may be a hopeful release or even a return of emotion; only to have it lapse back onward and into silence, knowing it won’t come to pass.

Infotain Me - Ochre

A song explicitly describing the back and forth between Riley and her adopted daughter, Nicolette. The two have a springy, childish wordplay between each other, but despite the edifying violins, it also carries an undercurrent of misery; Riley knowing that Nico is diving into Necromancy despite her displeasure, and Nico knowing that Riley has been raised into undeath.

Space Cowboy - Saib

A jaunty song that encapsulates the spirited relationship between Wey-chung Brokenarrow and Riley; both before and after her resurrection. Wey met Riley roughly around the same time that she set up her meeting with Taldarick, and was initially suspicious of the Quel'dorei; however, shared bonds through adventures together and camaraderie through allies has cemented a powerful relationship, wherein Riley chastises Wey for his penchant for flirtatious behavior, while Wey keeps Riley beveled with her obsession over Taldarick (before her death) and her willingness to find a purpose in life while unliving (in death).

Weird Science - Oingo Boingo

from my heart and from my hand why don’t people understand my intentions

Easily the most recognizable song on this list, “Weird Science” is less for Riley and more for Taldarick outright, it having been his RPer’s song of choice for his character. The lyrics fit him perfectly; people do not understand the arcanist’s often odd behavior, his demeanor or even his appearance.

Kyoto - aso. [ original sample is from “Love at 20” (二十歳の恋) by Lamp ]

anata ga sukidesu

Absolutely hands-down used as the 'romance’ song for Riley and Taldarick. This song was playing initially when Taldarick requested that Riley pick up adoption papers for Nicolette, when he asked her to move in with him, and when he finally confessed that he 'cared for her’. This mellow, inviting, warm and cozy song is on a loop just enough to serve as a backing track for their playful banter and their romantic inclinations - like how Taldarick admitted to Riley that he had slept for an entire night for the first time since his release from the Hold when sharing a bed with the Quel'dorei, and that possibly - a life of self-flagellating vengeance wasn’t quite as desirable when compared to one with Riley and their new daughter.

LOYALTY. FEAT. RIHANNA. - Kendrick Lamar, Rihanna

It’s a secret society

All we ask is trust (all we ask is trust)

All we got is us

Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty

I warned you that Taldarick played a huge role in Riley’s development. “LOYALTY.” is massive for these two for both views the featured artists present. Kendrick’s lyrics encompass finding someone, finally, that he can have faith in; both he and Rihanna question who is really worth that amount of loyalty, and what loyalty means - are they going to be there for you when things hit rock bottom? The chorus alludes to both artists indicating something’s wrong, and that either one of the pair aren’t as loyal as they claim to be. Would Taldarick and Riley ever really hit that 'rock bottom’?

Jealous (I Ain’t With It) - Chromeo

I get strung up from [his] loving

I wish [he] cared to see

But [he] only cares when [he’s] so inclined

And I fret so much about [his] loving

I wish [he’d] let me be

But [his] destiny got us so intertwined

Not necessarily rock bottom, no. But Taldarick’s flightiness, tendency to flirt with other women and his general tendency to drop Riley at the drop of a hat due to survivor’s guilt and refusal to admit his reciprocation early on spurred Riley on to drinking copious amounts of Kungaloosh, much to Wey’s dismay.

Gentle Breeze - Saib

In between this, I allowed Riley to relax somewhat after picking her up from a brief hiatus. She was allowed to spend time ruminating on her place in the world and a life without Taldarick; her daughter was safely enrolled in a Dalaran academy to further her own half-elf lineage for magic, and Riley herself was assigned from a Dalaran guard status to front-lines Legionfall guard, putting out fel fires on the beaches with her talents for summoning large amounts of blueberry-flavored slushes. This is also where she was tasked with taking care of the first incarnation of Alectryo, the Divination Chicken, so this song can count for his initial appearance, as well.

Die for You - The Weeknd

I’m scared that I’ll miss you

Happens every time

I don’t want this feelin’

I can’t afford love

I try to find reason to pull us apart

It ain’t workin’ 'cause you’re perfect

And I know that you’re worth it

Now we’re getting into one of the most miserable states of Riley’s development. Our OOC schedules had begun to wind up and Taldarick’s RPer could no longer commit time to Warcraft in between his own growing schedule, and often Taldarick would be ICly sent to foreign Legion planets on Kirin Tor order for investigation. Often he wouldn’t come back for days, weeks, or even months. And often Riley would be found at the same Stormwind park planter in which they would usually be found, faithfully awaiting his return. Her friends and Highguard members would have nothing but concern for her and the wily arcanist, but often found her inconsolable until he returned.

It was during one of these mission returns that Taldarick came back - not quite himself. His blinded eyes had been replaced with strange demonic implants of his own 'harvest’ (previously Taldarick had become physically blinded, and relied on Riley to be his 'seeing eye elf’ when divination did not suffice) and he refused to answer questions about where he was, what he was up to and whether or not he was coming home like he’d promised. He erratically vanished from Stormwind and was never heard from again, despite Riley’s attempts to track him down through the Kirin Tor’s files and his operatives in the Hall of the Guardian.

“Die For You” is from Taldarick’s point of view; expressing his miserable state in struggling to let Riley go, but knowing it was what was best for both of them.

Only - Nine Inch Nails

Yes I am alone

But then again I always was

As far back as I can tell

I think maybe it’s because

Because you were never really real

To begin with

After Taldarick’s final departure, Riley spent several erratic months still deluding herself into awaiting his return. She was in denial that there was a possibility that he wasn’t coming back - or didn’t want to come back, and would violently snap at anyone who suggested such. Riley began to question herself, and her adoption of her daughter - her position in the Highguard - her own abilities in the arcane.

Since I Left You - The Avalanches

Riley was, eventually, finally allowed to move on from Taldarick, having mostly given up on ever seeing him again - and in freeing herself, this song encompasses the first breath of an unrestricted, free-from-obsession headspace. While still a jumble of plunderphonics noise, “Since I Left You” carries a tone of hope and moving forward for the first time on her own.

The Orb of Dreamers - The Daniel Pemberton TV Orchestra

Dreams. Fantasies. Ideas.

Where do they go when life brings you tumbling back to the now?

While this song is infinitely popular as an opening for Little Big Planet, it also serves as a dreamy, very infatuated melody. Think back to the butterflies you may get in your stomach when envisioning that special someone, or the typical 'pink anime haze cloud’ that shrouds an object of affection when looking at them for the first time, and that’s the general feeling of this song for Riley, for both Taldarick and a former RP partner; more on them below.

With.You -Jinsang

A song that finally applies to a love interest outside of Taldarick. Mellow and alternatively inviting, “With.You” is very fitting for a former RP partner of mine; the initial patient hammer thwacks in the background are reminiscent of his character’s penchant for blacksmithing.

This character’s relationship with Riley was healthy at first, but ended up being demoralizing both IC and OOC; they had met when she was alive, and he assisted her in joining the Blade in her undeath - she became subservient to him, much in the way that Riley was with Taldarick - but unlike 'fun’ apprentice/teacher RP with Taldarick, who was a more comedic and flexible writer, this partner was very stoic and solid, which turned Riley into a stoic and solid character.

Serenade - Esbe

Much like With.You, Serenade is in reference to this previous RP partner’s relationship with Riley, specifically after her death. It gives off a very melancholic performance of echoed samples and the same deadened electronic drum beat, guiding you through the steps in a mechanical fashion. The backing track constantly feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, much like the fading memories Riley lost upon her death.

Low Grav Freefall - Ochre

Another Ochre song to use with Nicolette, but it fits her and Riley’s dynamic so well that I can’t help but to use it. This song alludes in terms of Nico’s first face to face meeting with her mother after Riley’s death, hiatus in Acherus, and return to Stormwind, and Nico’s unwillingness to deal with the loss of yet another set of parents - despite Riley being 'there’, she isn’t, really. The grief and steeled resolve of keeping a mask of indifference really shines through at the 1:05 mark, masking the initial saddened synth that remains present throughout the song. It keeps the same somber tune in its nearly seven minute runtime - however, at about six minutes in, the angry, resentful synths fade away, and Nico begins to accept that this is still her mother - that she still loves Riley, even though this is what she has become. It ends on an oddly discordant, buoyant note.

Dayvan Cowboy - Boards of Canada

Last Boards of Canada song, I promise. Maybe.

This song is an odd choice for this one, but, I like to attribute it to Riley’s death and then her subsequent raising into a banshee by the necromancer she was attempting to impersonate. It’s a rough, slipshod, discordant and scratchy mess at first - I liken it to being completely underwater and having your ears be filled up with water to where you can’t hear anything but the rush of your own heartbeat; the shakes of a tambourine are a good count for this. Riley was stabbed multiple times and allowed to bleed out, feeling at ease and at rest due to her mission being completed - she was able to save five people’s lives at the cost of her own. In this way she felt like it was worth it; that she wasn’t just a coward hiding behind Taldarick, or the other elves; that she had made something of herself, and proven herself a hero. It was okay to let go.

And then 2:07 kicks in, and without warning she’s pulled back into her body. This horrible, frightening, ice-cold sensation of her soul being lashed from the Shadowlands and forced, wailing and screaming, back into her own corpse. Eventually (2:40) she learns to get it under control - but there’s still this aura of miserable existence, with the resentful strums of the guitar. The song, much like most Boards of Canada songs, trails out on an unknown note, giving credence to Riley not knowing what to do with herself yet.

Everyone Looks Like Everyone - The Pack a.d.

If you think this is your story

Just cause you got in the way

Doesn’t mean it’s your story

You just got in the way

A simple brawling song. That’s all. They aren’t all deep, but they are all bangers. Enjoy a lovely Letterkenny reference. That’s a Texas-sized 10-4.

Fashionable People - Joel Plaskett Emergency

The dancers need a dancefloor,

The swingers gotta swing,

Fashionable people doing questionable things

A song I like to attribute to Wey-chung and Riley just hanging out; despite the content of the lyrics implying the singer would like to hook up with the object of his affection, due to the context of the song used in the show Letterkenny, the melody of “Fashionable People”, to me, is that of two familiar people having a good time together at somewhere they don’t normally belong - and that’s those two’s friendship to a T.

Stage 12: Mystic Mansion - SEGA SOUND TEAM

As a recovering Sonic the Hedgehog fan and deviantART user, I can’t not have a reference to a Sonic song in a fan track list. It’s against the law. I don’t make the rules, sorry. Enjoy your expected, obligatory and obvious 'Riley is a spooky vendor, working for the Ebon Blade, sourcing curios and bartering haunted goods with the breathers’ track.

Sorry for Not Answering the Phone I'm Too Busy Trying to Fly Away - In Love With a Ghost

The rocking back and forth sounds of a soothing piano and synth combined with repetitive clicking of odd instruments, to me, sounds like the moving of a caravan of supplies, and the soothing chorus of those who have come before her. "Sorry for Not Answering" applies to Riley's scant time spent thus far with Remington Thornbolt and the Fence Macabre, a group of Forsaken who have all suffered what she has, and welcome her with open arms to vendor, travel and adventure alongside them.

This Machine: Theme of Team Dark - Julien-K

A shadow of myself, just who am I?

Scan horizons

A tragic mystery

…. as a recovering Sonic the Hedgehog fan, I can’t not have two references to Sonic songs in a fan track list. “This Machine” is a giant meme, has been for decades, and is angst personified without dipping too much into the “Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)” video game soundtrack. We don’t go down that road.

Un musicien parmi tant d’autres - Harmonium

À la porte d'un café [ At the door of a café ]

Les noms ne font que changer [ The names only change ]

Il a enfin compris pourquoi [ He finally understood why ]

Le sien ne sera plus là [ His will not be there anymore ]

Comme un enfant, on ne vit qu'une fois [ Like a child, we only live once ]

Change is inevitable. Monuments erode. People are eventually replaced, and forgotten. The young live to be old, and the old wither away. You should sell Riley their stuff when they die.

#rumination

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hellostarlight20 · 6 years

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Beyond the Sea 6/8

Catch up here (chapter 2 and 3 and 4 and 5) or here

Nine x Rose Island AU angst, fluff, romance, rated Teen+ All my thanks to Mrs. Bertucci for her beta and extensive knowledge of scuba diving. And to @kelkat9 for her fun, completely mad ideas you’ll see later in this fic. Also involves environmental commentary, the problem of plastics in our oceans, endangered fish, and drug running.

That night, the Doctor stole through the wood around the beach and unerringly made his way toward Rose’s bungalow. The faint moonlight peaking through the trees offered just enough light to see by.

He hadn’t a plan, not really. The Doctor knew she roomed with Bill, and knew which place hers was, but other than that hadn’t any idea how to sneak into her room. And sneak in he planned. He missed her. God, he missed her.

Shaking it off, determined, he stepped from the cover of the trees and decided on the bold stroll approach. When in doubt, just do it. Two steps from the tree line, her door opened. He froze.

Rose looked around the deserted street, not even a car drove past, and ran down the steps. The Doctor grinned and waited. He knew the exact moment she spotted him, her gait quickened, and her smile widened.

She ran the last few steps, and he braced, arms wide.

“Missed you.” Rose threw her arms around him and hugged tight.

The Doctor pulled her up even as he leaned down to kiss her. The weight of her body, the feel of her warmth, eased the band around his chest, constricting his lungs and squeezing his heart. Just being with her made him better.

“Missed you, too, sweetheart.” The Doctor lowered her to the ground, mouth pressed to hers. “When this is done, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Rose’s hold tightened on him. “I should say something about that, about macho bullshit.” She pressed her lips hard to his. “But I may never let you out of our bed again.”

He chuckled and pulled her deeper into the shadows. No sense blowing their cover now. Dried branches cracked underfoot, and the Doctor moved until his back hit a tree.

“Wait a minute.” Rose pulled back, nearly out of his arms entirely. “I’m mad at you!” She poked him in the chest and he sighed.

“It’s not my fault,” he groused. “Damn wily octopus, I’ve no idea how she got the necklace over my head.”

Rose huffed and even in the tree cover, he saw her disbelieving glare. “I’m sure.”

“Honestly, it’s all a blur. One minute I’m swatting 7 plastic straw filled tentacles from attacking me while I’m trying to surgically remove the straw imbedded in one tentacle, the next she’s got the necklace and your rings.”

“Retaliation,” Rose announced. “She’s pissed you were messing with her.”

“I was helping!” the Doctor protested.

Rose giggled and snuggled against him. “I’m sure she’s grateful.” She pressed her lips to his chest. Through the thin cotton of his shirt, he felt her warmth. “What happens now? By now, the entire island knows you wore a necklace with an engagement and wedding ring. Saxon’s going to investigate.”

“He won’t find you. I already phoned Jack.” His arms tightened around her and he scanned the area. Saxon and Lucy had retired to their private bungalow, they never emerged until morning, but the Doctor kept an eye for wandering flunkies.

Saxon didn’t work alone.

“Anyone approach you?” The Doctor leaned back just enough to see her. He never tired of watching her.

“No.” Rose pouted. “I’m beginning to wonder if my past is a little too obvious. Saxon commented on it once, when I arrived, but nothing since then.”

“Maybe we should’ve changed some of it. Maybe he thought parts were made up.”

Rose snorted. “I wish. Unfortunately, it’s all true.”

The Doctor hated how she spoke about her past, the scars it still left. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and forced himself not to lift her into his arms and take her back to his bed. Hold her, make love to her, be with her, just breathe her in.

“We’ll get him,” he promised. “You only have another couple weeks here, he’ll make a move by then.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor admitted. “I don’t know.”

He held her half the night, until the moon arced through the sky and Rose dozed in his arms. Kissing her gently, the Doctor walked her back to the tree line.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart.” He kissed her again. How had he ever let her out of his sight? “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Rose tightened her fingers around his and slowly walked away, fingers slipping with each step.

The Doctor waited until she ran up the steps to her bungalow and closed the door behind her. Then he turned for his own rooms and his own restless night’s sleep.

****

Despite threats, cajoling, glaring, and outright grabbing, the Doctor could not outwit an octopus.

“Catch me helping you again,” he grumbled at it.

Damn cheeky thing merely swam around its small enclosure. Sure enough, in the barely risen sunlight, the Doctor swore it grinned up at him.

The breeze off the Caribbean did little to cool his temper or the very real fear Rose might make good on her threat and kill him. Though she considered herself a lover not a fighter, the Doctor had seen her stand toe-to-toe against rude art patrons, ignorant men on the streets, and Jack Harkness.

“If you don’t give that back to me, she’s going to skin me alive.”

Idris—and no, he had no idea why he decided to name an octopus or where the name had come from—continued swimming around her tank, contorting herself into a corner, through a rock, and all the while holding Rose’s engagement and wedding rings secure in one tentacle.

No matter how or where she swam, Idris never let the rings scrape the bottom, or the rocks, or clank the glass enclosure. The Doctor swore, but only to himself and never to another soul upon pain of execution, that the octopus took gentle care with them.

“How the hell did you get them anyway?” The Doctor stood back and ran a hand over his face. His beard had grown out, salty and brittle from his early morning swim.

He hadn’t been able to sleep after leaving Rose and had tossed and turned most of the night. Giving up on sleep, the Doctor had climbed from bed and gone for a swim, then decided to check on their newest camp addition.

Gaze drifting to Saxon’s camp, he searched for Rose. Always searched for her. But it was entirely too early for anyone to be up and about.

Except for Bill, apparently.

She walked across the sand, keeping to the tree line and the shadows that afforded. The Doctor stilled, curious and cautious. Rose liked Bill, said the woman helped her with the specifics on the paperwork the Doctor hadn’t been able to teach her in time.

The fact she crossed the beach now settled like a rock in his stomach. Could be she wanted a walk. Could be, she liked predawn and the quiet. Could be, she wanted to meet someone on the sly, though neither he nor Saxon had a rule about fraternization.

Could be a hundred things.

The Doctor knew it was not. He new Bill walked this beach, long before most anyone else rose, to find him.

“Doctor.” Bill bit her lips, gaze bouncing from him to the water, to the shadowy trees, to Idris, back to him. “I don’t know who to tell, but I think I’m in trouble.”

The Doctor frowned. “If you’re pregnant, it doesn’t matter for the fieldwork.”

Had he misjudged the situation? Unsettled, he waited. He didn’t know what else to do.

“What?” Bill blinked and snorted. “No, I’m not pregnant. Why is that every man’s first thought? Geez. I’m a lesbian.”

“All right.” He nodded. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. What sort of trouble?”

“It’s—” she chewed her lip again and looked over her shoulder. “Billy and Ace say you’re standup, are you—I mean you aren’t working with—how do I know I can trust you?”

“Ah.” He dropped his arms and plunged his hand into Idris’s tank. No sooner had he moved—or thought about moving—than the octopus curled in a tight ball around Rose’s rings. “Well I’m rubbish at keeping my wife’s wedding rings safe.” He sighed, shoulders slumped. “She’s going to skin me alive.”

He didn’t know if he spoke to Bill or Idris.

“Wife?” Bill perked up. “Didn’t know you were married. Congratulations!” Then she frowned and looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you here and she’s not then? And why do I hear rumors of you and Miss Jabe? Why were you wearing your wife’s rings around your neck? Oh, no, did something happen to her?”

The Doctor opened his mouth but all he had was his own voice berating him for such a slip-up. Damn.

“Don’t know how I can prove trustworthiness.” He cast one final glare at Idris then focused on Bill. “Don’t know how anyone can. Just is or isn’t, yeah? I can promise all sorts of things, and even though I don’t make promises I won’t try to keep, you don’t know that about me.”

Bill watched him, head tilted slightly, her bright hairbow struggling against the wind. The Doctor held her gaze, calm and steady. He really wanted to hear Bill say she had the dirt on Saxon. Really wanted to hear that.

Finally she nodded. Straightened as if in front of a school master. Or a court of law. “Professor Saxon enlisted me in what I feel is a highly illegal activity.” She paused and took a deep breath. “He wants me to collect endangered hawksbill sea turtles for selling.”

#Nine x Rose #ficandchips #romance #au #mystery

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journalseekersofficial · 6 years

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The Seeker Files: The History of Clowns and Toons

Welcome back to The Seeker Files, my fellow humans and anomalies! Apologies for the weeklong silence, after the massive undertaking that was Resident Biohazard I had to step away from Journal Seekers for a bit but I didn’t want to leave you in the dark for too long. So right now we’ll get into one of the more odd things in the Journal Seekers universe: The Struggle of Clowns and Toons.

-Arson

Now the History of the Journal Seekers universe is quite different to that of the real world. A few examples being: Planet Earth is twice the size of our Earth, The Crusades never happened (technically, but that’s for another time.), and technological advancement happened far earlier in history than it did in our world. 100 years faster, in fact! By the 1800’s the Journal Seekers world was in the same technological era as us in the 1900’s! Which is funny because that is where this little ditty begins.

Our story begins back in 1800’s, with a woman by the name of Annabelle Affini and man by the name of Alan House. The two lived completely different lives yet unbeknownst to them their lives would intertwine. Annabelle lived most of her life in New York when her mother and father had immigrated back a few years ago, and despite the fact that living here was much better than where they came from, income was sparse and the family needed to do everything they can to continue to have a roof over their heads. Annabelle, understanding the predicament their family was in, tried their best to support their family as well.

Keep in mind this is the 1800’s and while the JS universe is different, some historical moments do mirror that of our own world. So Annabelle could just get a job, however she had a horrible streak of bad luck. Wherever she went she would fumble, fall, and tumble into danger and just barely make it out with her life. People who knew her didn’t know if she was the unluckiest girl on earth, or a blessed child for making it out of scraps alive. Her mother and father always coddled her because of this, making sure she was always safe and never ever put herself into danger. Annabelle on the other hand was persistent, and one day went to go help painting buildings to try and scrounge up some money. This moment would forever change Annabelle’s life, with what was supposed to be a simple errand becoming a cataclysm, and then into a performance. Clown Historians call this moment in time “The Raise of the Curtain” as any Clown performance beforehand was merely leading up to the main event.

Citizens looked on in horror as a small child was thrust into such danger, but as time passed that unease and fear turned into laughter and smiles. As Annabelle trudged forward, leaping from building to building, spilling paint everywhere and objects precariously falling from ropes, she felt something. For her entire life she knew that her streak of misfortune meant something and today she would find out what it was. Everytime something like this happened she’d always run instead of facing it head on, and while for most people it would have been suicide, for Annabelle it was something different. She stood still on the roof of a building, as a Piano had been launched into the air not moments before. For a moment the onlookers paused, their joviality returning to it’s origin of shock. As the Piano fell upon Annabelle’s head the crowd gasped, some even screamed. However, not even a few seconds later, Annabelle popped her head out of the front door of the building, spat out a tooth and shouted “I’m okay!”. The crowd went wild. It was then that Annabelle found her purpose as a clown. Now at this point in times, Clowns had already existed. However they were nothing more than roles they played in the real world. People who dressed up in colorful clothes and makeup to put on a show for the masses. However Annabelle began something more. As she grew up to become a Clown Legend she created what is now known as The Clown Ethos. The Clown Ethos’ original writer has been lost to time. Some theorize it was written by Annabelle herself, a student of hers, or simply someone who was dedicated to chronicling Annabelle’s passion and heart. The crux of the Clown Ethos is one simple saying: “Let them laugh with you, and you’ll know a joy greater than laughter.” After The Clown Ethos was created the way people saw Clowns was changed forever. Instead of just being performers, actors, comedians and stagefolk they were seen as beacons of some sort of holy joy. With some people even coining the term ‘Paladins of Comedy’. The more people believed in this strange Magic that clowns had, the stronger it became*.

*In the Journal Seekers Universe, belief can actually give power and bring things to life. This is what gives Gods their power. If you’ve ever played the game Okami, it works sorta like that.

But, in the shadows something was being created to rival Annabelle. Enter Alan House, the creator of House Animation. House Animation was a powerhouse Animation Studio at the time, mirroring that of Fleischer Animation in our world. Alan was born in New York same as Annabelle, but despite not sharing the same bad luck as Annabelle, Alan’s life wasn’t pleasant. He was born in the slums, with an absentee father and a mother who did everything she could so that Alan could lead a normal life. Alan’s mother gave everything for him, even working as a prostitute in order to make ends meet. As the years went by Alan grew to pity his own mother, knowing that she was giving her life to make sure that Alan could avoid the strife she had to live. The world was so cruel to Alan and his family he coped the only way he knew how: imagination.

Alan created thousands of characters in his own head, using them as a coping mechanism so that he could forget about the troubles of reality and make a world that was just for him. One where him and his mother could truly be happy. As Alan grew from a boy into a man he finally took his shot in becoming an animator, working for a small startup company trying to get off the ground. Sadly, once his first animation came to life on the big screen was also the day his mother had died. After that day, Alan eat, slept and breathed his own work in order to avoid the crushing reality of what his life had become. From that day forward House Animations became a juggernaut of animated film, with Alan leading the charge. Every day he spent time coming up with new ideas, new characters and putting his blood, sweat and tears into his work. His most famous character being Blythe the Dog, a small little animated Bulldog with a bowler cap and tie known for their wily attitude and bullheaded mentality. Children and Adults alike fell in love with Alan’s work but there was a problem. It wasn’t real.

With the art of Clowning becoming what it was around the same time, Alan knew he’d always be a step behind the curb. Back than Clowns didn’t have any sort of strange abilities or uncanny powers, they were just regular people. But now because of Annabelle and The Clown Ethos, Clowns could do anything that a Cartoon could do but in real life. Alan furiously tried so hard to bring his creations to life with theme parks, actors, toys and even animatronics (one of said animatronics being of one of Blythe’s secondary characters, Chaze the Cat. Although, that’s a story for another time…) yet nothing worked. As the years passed Alan’s passion became an obsession, the joy that he gave people becoming adrenaline, and he became addicted. As he grew more desperate, until one fateful night.

As Alan sat in his room, furiously scrawling on scraps of paper, he heard a voice. A deep, smooth and surly voice. A voice promising that he could make his dream become a reality. The voice Alan heard went by so many names, yet it simply asked to be referred to as Mr. Zebub. Zebub had promised Alan that if he gave up his blood, sweat and tears, he could bring Blythe to life, just as he wanted. Alan, not even second guessing the situation at all, agreed. Nobody knows of what happened to Alan afterwards. Some say he went through his own personal hell and came back a husk of a man, other believe he literally gave up his soul to put into that of Blythes. The answer remains a mystery, but one thing does not: After that night, Blythe came to life.

Blythe looked just as he did from his cartoons. A monochrome, four-foot tall dog with a bowler cap and tie who only spoke in growls and barks. With that, Alan had completed his life long goal and was prepared to show his work off to the masses. Needless to say, it was everything Alan could have ever dreamed of. Yet people who worked close with him said that despite that, he looked dead inside. During the first showing of “Blythe’s Alive!”, Alan simply sat in the crowd motionless, and silent. Rumor has it that once the first show had come to an end, and just as the crowd began to cheer, Alan simply got up from his seat and left.

After that night, Alan was never seen from again. Despite the fact that he was clearly still alive, and people still heard the sound of a pencil on paper and heavy breathing from his office, nobody had ever seen Alan’s face ever again. And the fate that was in store for Blythe was one nobody could have predicted. The humor of most House Animation cartoons tended to be very dark and grim, with almost every joke resulting in someone getting hurt, brutalized, and in some cases even killed. Blythe even had a trademark wheezy laugh that he’d do every time he saw someone get hurt. However, Blythe’s sense of humor didn’t translate well into the real world. As time passed the “Blythe’s Alive” show became more and more grim, with actors working with Blythe coming home with bruises, black eyes, and if they were lucky only one broken arm. As time passed less and less people began to show up to the show, and Blythe’s grew angry. One night, on a rehearsal before the last Blythe’s Alive show an event occured known as “The Black Comedy.”

That night, Blythe had created a new act for the troupe. One written by Blythe himself that he knew was going to rake in interest. In his own words “Someone is going to show up, even if it kills us.” Well he didn’t say it he kinda, growled it. In fact it’s a wonder how anyone understood him. Some theorize that once Blythe came to life he had a set of ethereal subtitles or something. Back on point, “Someone is going to show up, even if it kills us.”

And kill them it did. What was supposed to be a show rehearsal became a massacre, with every actor being brutalized by what Blythe thought were jokes. People were crushed under ten-ton weights, decapitated with mallets, torn limb from limb and had their limbs juggled, it was a living nightmare. What’s worse, is that with every actor killed, Blythe had devoured them whole and consumed their souls, becoming an overgrown, 10ft tall beast. Once the curtains raised for the final showing of Blythe’s Alive, the crowd met gazes with a horrific beast soaked in the blood of the innocent. As the crowd ran away, Blythe gave chase, trying to keep his audience captive and watch him for all eternity.

As he broke out of the theater, he wreaked havoc upon the city until he finally met gaze with the thing he hated the most. Annabelle. Ever since Blythe came to life he had an undying hatred for Annabelle, knowing that he was made to compete with her. As he went to rip into Annabelle’s flesh, she jumped into the air, tap danced on his head and started running. This began the final event in both Annabelle and Blythe’s lives. The event known as “The Eternal Showstopper.” To this day, The Eternal Showstopper continues, an game of cat and mouse that will last until the end of time. As Annabelle and Blythe ran through the streets of New York, Blythe tried one last time to get rid of her and dragged her into hell by the legs. Now the two remain in the Hellian Badlands, Annabelle acting as a sacrifice to keep the beast at bay.

As The Eternal Showstopper continued, Blythe began to throw himself into danger. Despite how much he tried to kill Annabelle, he always fell just short, always hurting himself in the process, whereas Annabelle never even lifted a finger to ever hurt Blythe. With each contraption that had backfired on Blythe, another geyser of black, inky blood spewed from his body. This black blood would soon create a river in the Hellian Badlands known as “The Ink Splot” from where the next era of Toons were born.

And that, my friends is the beginning of Clowns and Toons. Next time we’ll talk about Clowns and Toons and get into how they work, the powers they have, the different variants, and so on! Be vigilant, my fellow seekers and be wary! Laughter may be the best medicine, but you can overdose on anything.

-Arson

#The Seeker Files #Journal Seekers

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resbangmod · 5 years

Text

Resbang 2017 Throwbacks, Week 7

Time to get hype for this year’s Resbang, and what better way to do so than to check out the ghosts of Resbangs Past!

Come say hi to this year’s participants and mods on Discord!

This year’s schedule can be found here: beep

Check out these entries from resbang 2017!

[T] Close Your Eyes [Soul/Maka, Wes/Tsubaki, Jackie/Kim]

Warnings: language, mentions of anxiety

by author: @redphlox

with artist: Mak (@mrsashketchum)

Read it here: [ao3] [ffn]

View it here: [Mak: Tumblr 1, 2, 3]

[T] Bouquet Garni [Maka/Soul, Black Star/Death the Kid, Kilik/Harvar, Tsubaki/Liz]

by author: @skadventuretime

with artist: @guacamoletrash

and artist: Soulheart

Read it here: [tumblr]

View it here: [Guacamole: tumblr] [Soulheart: tumblr, dA]

Late entries

These are for those authors who did not meet their scheduled deadlines for various reasons, but still managed to complete their stories before the end of the event!

[T] To the Ends of the Earth and Back [Soul/Maka, Stein/Marie]

“Soul, what just happened?”

Her weapon looked up at her in fear. “Maka, I can’t resonate with you…”

Partnerships are meant to last a lifetime. What if this one won’t?

Warnings: violence, angst

by author: @tamashii-resonance

with artist: Kara_jayne, dead link

Read it here: [ffn] [ao3]

View it here: [tumblr, dead link]

[T] Simple Melody [Gen (Slightly implied Crona/Maka, Maka & Soul, Crona & Maka, Soul & Crona, Crona & Ragnarok, background Stein/Marie, background Free/Eruka)]

Over the Garden Wall AU;

Lead through the mist by the milk-light of moon, all that was lost is revealed

Warnings: Child Abuse, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Attempted Suicide, Graphic Depictions of Gore and Near-Death Experiences, Vague Sexual Joking, Foul Language

by author: @alliope

with artist: @bbbutterfingers

and artist: @daciafu

Read it here: [ao3]

View it here: [Bbutterfingers: tumblr] [Daciafu: tumblr]

[T] Stars Beyond The Horizon [Maka/Black Star]

Warnings: slight violence, cursing

by author: @psychadelicrose

with artist: happyisahabit (@happyfanart)

and artist: @soundofez

Read it here: [ao3]

View it here: [soundofez: tumblr] [happyisahabit: tumblr 1, 2]

[M] Leap Year [Stein/Marie, Various Platonic]

Warnings: trauma, gore, mentions of murder, some violence

by author: @blinkfl0yd

with artist: @ahshesgone

and artist: @innocentcinnamonbun

Read it here: [ao3]

View it here: [ahshesgone: tumblr] [innocentcinnamonbun: tumblr]

Honorable Mentions

These are for those artists who successfully completed the challenge although their authors sadly, could not.

@alliope and @drywavelength, for Summer's On Its Deathbed:

[Alliope: tumblr] [Drywavelength: youtube and tumblr]

Missmadammemoirs, for America's Suitehearts:

[tumblr], dead link

Sigsegv (@strictly-non-specific), for No Rest For The Wicked:

[tumblr]

Soulheart, for The Downfall:

[tumblr]

#long post #soul eater #resbang #resbang throwbacks #resbang 2017

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unpretty · 7 years

Text

i lack self-control and there’s other shit i should be doing so it’s time for the first installment of

Let’s Read: Kraven the Hunter

Kraven the Hunter's first appearance is The Amazing Spider-Man #15 from August 1964, written by Stan The Man himself, which is how you know it's gonna be batshit. Every comic writer has strengths and weaknesses, and in many cases you kind of have to overlook those weaknesses to really enjoy the strengths.

Stan's strength is also his weakness, which is that none of his plots ever make any goddamn sense and all his characters come off as weird assholes, and whenever you finish a comic you are left with a vague sense that literally everything that happened in that issue could have been avoided if they'd just stopped being weird assholes for five seconds.

Some writers attempt to remedy this later. Those writers are wrong.

Stan Lee still writes the newspaper comic strip version of Spider-Man, as far as I know, and for years I thought those strips were just nutso because Stan Lee was old and out of fucks to give. Then I read some old-ass comics and realized that Stan Lee is just Like That, and always has been.

He also writes credits like these.

If there is a space where a man can reasonably fit more words, Stan Lee will find more words to put there.

Early Spider-Man comics feature a lot of weird old-timey bank-robbing gangsters? Like, straight-up Dillinger Gang motherfuckers. So anyway the issue starts with some old-timey gangsters, bla bla bla, the Chameleon bla, curse you Spider-Man, etc. We don't care about that part. What we care about is that the Chameleon (who is also, to be clear, kind of an old-timey gangster) decides he's gonna call in Kraven the Hunter to solve his Spider-Man problem.

Here are the first things we learn about Kraven, in order:

He's been in Africa, where he defeats terrorbeasts single-handed and with his bare hands.

He's a fucking hunk.

"You know what the ladies love? Rectangles. I’m gonna build a man entirely out of rectangles. For the ladies." - Ditko, presumably.

I know that what the creators were thinking was, 'let's give him an outfit like a circus strongman or something, to emphasize that he's tough', but what this implies is that Kraven the Hunter thinks this outfit is a good idea. He deliberately chose to dress like he got his wardrobe at the circus. Maybe he did! We don't know. Anyway never trust anyone who tries to take away Kraven's ballet flats and leggings because they are just as Iconic™ as his lion vest and I will not hear otherwise.

Okay but anyway the second thing that happens, after we learn all about what a fine cut of beefcake Kraven is, is that all of the animals Kraven has brought with him to New York have escaped.

This is not the only time this happens, presumably because Kraven has no interest in catching animals that aren't wily enough to try to escape en masse.

Since Peter Parker is on location to snap some sweet pics of Kraven's pecs, he makes an attempt to save the day, only to get beaten to the punch by Kraven before he can get his fucking pants on.

Just casually flinging some fucking cobras into a bucket, nbd. Hey, you know that weird fucking belt Kraven always wears?

Belt tusks. He wears fucking tusks full of drugs on his belt, in a constant outward stabbing position. Anyone who tries to remove Kraven's belt without Kraven's consent is getting knocked the fuck out. I mean he also has some Vulcan nerve punch shit going on, but more importantly, belt tusks.

Peter... please. You are a child. You are in high school. Control yourself.

I'd like to note that this was in no way part of any kind of 'fucking with Spider-Man' plan. There is no indication that Kraven even thought Spider-Man would be watching. This is just How He Do. However, Spider-Man was watching, and then had to leave to change into different pants again, meaning he failed to do either his hero job or his day job.

Peter. You should have had your camera out to take pictures of Spider-Man anyway.

Peter.

Did it seriously not occur to you to snap a single fucking picture while you were watching Kraven do sweet ape tricks.

Anyway here is where things really start to go sideways.

Now, personally, if I saw a dude save a bunch of people from rampaging gorillas, then refer to me as 'more beast than human' and 'the most dangerous game', I might consider taking him aside and letting him know that I am actually an orphaned teenager whose only family is an old woman with heart problems and also I get picked on in school. I mean, not to give too much credit to a guy who says 'man is the most dangerous game' without irony, but I'm pretty sure his stated goal of Kicking Ass is not furthered by beating up nerdy children. You don't even have to tell him your secret identity! Just show him your chin and explain how long you've been trying to grow a beard! This whole fight could be avoided and Kraven would go back to the Chameleon to laugh at him about how he got his ass kicked by a baby.

But this is Peter Parker, so instead of that he just regrets getting out of bed and considers building a nest in his bedroom and never leaving.

Incidentally, the b-plot of this comic is that everyone thinks Flash’s girlfriend Liz wants to bang Peter. His crush Betty is mad, Flash is mad, Peter does a lot of moping about how life is uniquely difficult for him and only him. His boss is mad at him, just because he didn't do his one and only job! A hot girl he likes is jealous of the other hot girl who likes him! It's hard and no one understands. I don't know if Stan Lee intended for this to be aspirational, or relatable content, but I'm kind of into it.

Either way, 'teenage boy would rather mope and then fight a grown man to the death than admit he's not worth fighting' is a pretty realistic beginning to a blood feud.

IT'S THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF A BULL ELEPHANT and also Kraven mentioning his total willingness to just drink weird shit in the jungle if he thinks it will help him punch better. Based on existing Marvel canon, I think it's totally possible that he drank something made from some kind of weird super soldier plant that exists in their universe. But also, if he had not specified Africa, I would probably assume it was coca. He seems like a guy who'd do a lot of coke and punch an elephant.

Also I'm pretty sure the Chameleon just gave him a bunch of articles from the Daily Bugle as research. SPIDER-MAN TERRORIZES CITY, SOMEONE PLEASE SAVE US FROM THIS MENACE, read headlines. "Yeah okay," says Kraven. FAMOUS HUNTER GOES NUTS AND TRIES TO KILL SPIDER-MAN FOR SOME REASON read headlines later this week. "What the fuck," Kraven will say.

Oh my god the best fucking part of this fight is that Kraven does one of his nerve punches and disables Spider-Man's arm, causing him to have to flail his limp arm around like a dipshit.

GOD I know this isn't what's happening here but I just really want Kraven to be trying to have a serious fucking fight with what he assumes is a grown man with the unholy powers of a spider, only to have a teenager furiously windmill his limp arms at him. Where is the Spider-Man comic we deserve about this.

Now, plenty of comic book villains are hypocrites, but rarely do you meet one as good at self-justification as Kraven. Bare hands! Mano-a-mano! Except, Spider-Man has spider powers, and that's cheating. Not like Kraven, with his drug powers. He got those fairly. But Spider-Man is cheating by having super strength, and the only way to level the playing field... is more drugs.

I love how consistently they use the word 'potion'.

"Look, this is totally fair. I, too, am on drugs." - Kraven, probably.

Incidentally, Kraven has from day one had this problem of being really weirdly sexually menacing. Bisexually menacing, even. Like, later comics writers absolutely used Kraven as a vehicle for their weird fetishes, but this has been a problem with Kraven from the start.

Kraven please listen to yourself.

GUYS THIS IS ALSO THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF KRAVEN'S NOT-BONG

YEAH THAT'S DEFINITELY A CARAFE, FOR THE TEA HE'S DRINKING. ABSOLUTELY IN NO WAY GIVING OFF MAJOR HIGH-VIBES. SITTING ON A DESK. Why is he sitting on a desk? Why is his leg like that? Why is he holding his cup like that? Is that bong on another, different table? Who arranged the furniture in this evil lair and why didn’t they put in more chairs?

Meanwhile Aunt May is trying to hook Peter up with her neighbor Mrs. Watson's niece. THIS IS THE FIRST MENTION OF THE ELUSIVE MISS WATSON. Right after Kraven's not-bong. Mary Jane is not named in this comic, she’s just the niece. Peter's lady problems with pretty girls being thrown at him continue apace, and he is as annoyed about it as ever. You know what else is annoying?

KRAVEN IN JJ'S OFFICE PROMISING TO KICK SPIDEY'S ASS

From Kraven's perspective this has to be just, the weirdest shit. OUR CITY IS BEING MENACED BY A MONSTER MAN, read headlines, while JJ's like "okay but don't break the law while freeing us from this reign of terror".

Kraven's clever plan is to let Chameleon pretend to be him, so that he can suckerpunch Spider-Man while Spider-Man tries to suckerpunch him. It's flawless.

"God, I'm awesome." - Kraven, literally just now in that panel.

Thanks, Stan. Every single word in these panels is very necessary. Thank you.

EVERY TIME I SEE THIS FUCKING PANEL I LAUGH MYSELF TO TEARS. KRAVEN LITERALLY MADE CHAMELEON PLAY THE FUCKING BONGOS TO DISORIENT THE ENEMY. THE ENEMY IS SPIDER-MAN SO IT FUCKING WORKED. PETER HAS NEVER BEEN SO DISORIENTED AS HE IS NOW, HEARING THESE SICK BEATS. WHY IS HE RUNNING LIKE A CONFUSED DOG THAT GOT OUT OF THE YARD. EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FUCKING PANEL IS GOLD AND I WANT IT FRAMED.

I have turned off my caps-lock for readability but please know that there is a caps-lock on in my heart. My heart, which also knows that this is fetish gear. Kraven just put Spider-Man in magnetic manacles with bells in them.

I'm like 99% sure that at some point Kraven figures out that Spider-Man is Peter Parker, and when he does, I wonder if he ever does the math and figures out he put a high schooler in weird bell manacles.

GOD.

Anyway Spider-Man eventually figures out that HE CAN WEB UP THE BELLS. IT TAKES HIM LIKE THREE PAGES. HE'S JUST JINGLE JANGLING ALL OVER THE FUCKING PARK FOR, IDK, TWENTY MINUTES PROBABLY BEFORE HE REMEMBERS HE'S GOT WEBS. FUCK. That's when Kraven retreats because discretion is the better part of valor and you gotta know when to fold 'em.

What the fuck are spider beams.

God. What the fuck, Peter. Kraven's springs forth from the shadows with an action-packed punch and Spidey's just like HEY. CUT THAT OUT. EXCUSE YOU.

Why are you reinforcing the idea that you are an inhuman monster you fool.

He could have said... literally anything else. Anything. I mean, he's Spider-Man, so insulting his villains is kind of his whole deal, but like?? YOU ALREADY WON. YOU WATCHED THIS MAN SAVE A WHOLE BUNCH OF PEOPLE, INCLUDING YOUR BOSS AND LOVE INTERESTS. HIS ONLY CRIME IS TRYING TO KICK YOUR ASS, A CRIME OF WHICH THE ENTIRE POLICE DEPARTMENT AND FOOTBALL TEAM ARE ALSO GUILTY.

... also conspiring with the Chameleon. But like? Chameleon is implied to be a terrifying crime boss. You didn't even ask why he was conspiring with the Chameleon. You just assumed.

There's kind of this thing, which starts basically in this panel but which continues onward forever, where Kraven and Spider-Man seem to bring out the worst in each other? And part of it is that Kraven thinks Spider-Man is the Most Dangerous Game for some reason (possibly arachnophobia), but I'm pretty sure it's also that instead of just besting him in honorable combat like men, Peter insists on completely humiliating and mocking Kraven every single goddamn time. Starting with this one. Kraven kind of has a huge ego?? Being tough is his whole deal??? Peter said the exact wrong thing if he didn't want Kraven to come back for vengeance??????

But also Peter Parker is a teenage boy and Kraven is a grown-ass man who wants to hunt him for sport, and that's pretty goddamn terrifying. Covering fear with mockery is pretty par for the course. It just happens to be the worst possible thing to do to a man with a massive ego built around kicking ass who assumes you are a grown man who isn't human. Is all. It's a comedy of fucking errors, is what it is.

Anyway JJ rewards Peter for his pictures of the eventual arrest with a chocolate bar (WHICH HE KEEPS IN A FUCKING SAFE), and Betty apologizes for being so mean about assuming that Peter would want to go out with another girl, and proceeds to ask him out. Which he turns down, because he has a secret date with Mary Jane. But Betty foolishly assumes he has a secret date with Liz! Which is totally different from his actual secret date, which he is only going on to please his Aunt May. Life is hard.

Meanwhile KRAVEN IS BEING DEPORTED

to... South America? Apparently they just asked where they wanted to go, and then sent them there. Instead of actually sending them back to Russia. Which is a neat thing I guess the cops do sometimes instead of arresting people.

Hey, here's a question: WHY IS PETER RELAXING BY GOING TO THE FUCKING DOCKS IN COSTUME

So anyway, that's Kraven's first appearance. He shows up in New York to deliver some animals, saves everyone at the docks from gorillas armed with cobras, tries to rid the city of the webbed menace, and ultimately gets deported. It's a weird week for Kraven.

(Next Time, or, The Mess So Far)

#original #kraven readalong #kraven the hunter

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