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charlieswanismydad · 1 year

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about me !!!

links

drawn by the amazing @ghosttoastx !!! if you read this ily you’re never getting rid of me now

Hi!!! I’m Alice.

I do stuff. It’s pretty cool.

Enfp, hufflepuff, Capricorn Sun, Libra moon, Pisces rising, he/she, and more!! I’m also a non-partnering aromantic and gray asexual!

I stalk blogs I like, don’t be alarmed if I like a bunch of posts at once!! In fact, be happy!! I love you!!!!!

If you want to talk to me please do!!! I want more friends. Just keep in mind I am a 15 year old minor!

You have been warned!

DNI:

racists, homophobes, sexists, etc. general dni criteria ig

people who just hate for no reason!! (anti-furry, just hating on certain fandoms, etc. ticks me off!)

proshippers

frans/fontcest

exclusionists

radqueers

radfems

pro paras. go to therapy

nsfw (also sorta related to above, pro cnc/ageplay. go to therapy)

WIPS:

Wilting Flowers - My actual baby. My pride and joy. It’s imperfect but that’s okay.

The actual grim reaper falls in love with a mortal. I can’t do it justice, you’re just gonna have to trust me.

don’t break my heart - Shameless Sans fanfic. All of the self indulgence ever, but it brings me joy :) semi discontinued, might come back!

I love it man. It makes me so happy. Basically yn is an awkward dumbass and so is Sans and they fall in love and stuff :)

Fandoms:

My main fandoms are Twilight and Undertale (obv), but I’m in a bunch more!! :D

The Arc of a Scythe by Neil Shusterman

Harry Potter by Daniel Radcliffe (JK…)

Steven Universe by Rebecca Sugar

Doki Doki Literature Club by Dan Salvato

Omori by Omocat

Arcane by Riot Games

The Walten Files by Martin Walls

The Amazing Digital Circus by Glitch Studios

The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber (the book’s by Gaston Leroux but i haven’t read it lol)

Deltarune by Toby Fox (is that an anagram???)

Meet the Robinsons by Disney

And more that aren’t off the top of my head!! Just ask bros :)

I’m kinda obsessed with UTMV, soooo….

Fav AU - Insomnia (link to chapter 1)

Fav Sans - Dust by Ask-Dusttale and Geno by LoverofPiggies

Music:

Ranked by popularity, with my fave songs from each! Just like the fandoms, it's all over the place.

Taylor Swift - Haunted

Hozier - In The Woods Somewhere

Muse - Soldier's Poen

Mitski - Last Words of a Shooting Star

Will Wood - Suburbia Overture/Vampire Culture/Whatever the hell the name is idek anymore

Dazey and the Scouts - Maggot

The Oozes - I Still Adore You

Lemon Demon - Action Movie Hero Boy

Tally Hall/Miracle Musical - Misery Fell

Teddy Hyde - Terry’s Taxidermy

Destroy Boys - Crybaby

The Crane Wives - Little Soldiers

Steam Powered Giraffe - Malfunction

Writing Requests:

HEY SO HERES A FUN FACT: I WANT YOU TO ASK ME TO WRITE THINGS FOR YOU!! LIKE I LOVE THAT!!! I WILL WRITE YOU LITTLE ONESHOTS IF ITS A FANDOM IM IN!!! OR I CAN WRITE ABOUT MY CHARACTERS IF YOU’RE INTO THAT!!! JUST PLEASR PLEASE PLEASE ASK ME AAAAAAA

Things You Might Want to Be Aware Of:

i tend to isolate myself when i’m having a Big Sad™️ moment. please do not be mad if i act cold!!!

i’m a very empathic person and i get really upset around negativity. please do not send me or mention me in anything political or controversial.

i get in my head about disturbing/sexual things. once again, don’t show me this stuff. don’t ask me to write about it, either!!

i am uncomfortable around religious discussions. i get enough of them irl!!! please keep them away from me :')

i’ve got adhd and possible ocd so yeah and also my auditory processing sucksssss so if we ever interact on call or *gasp* irl then i’ll say “what?” every five seconds

books. @bunny-on-a-bookshelf for books.

i’m just a silly little girl who is also a boy. we have fun here

Tags:

(new so they haven’t been used much)

#mootie patooties - mutuals

#irl alice - real life shtuff

#reblogs - self explanatory

#alice writes sometimes - my writing!!!!

#skeleposting - undertale/utmv

#is that an anagram??? - deltarune

#sparkly - twilight

#im aspec BUT - simping, fangirling, i do a lot of it

#liveblogging homestuck - reading homestuck and making vague comments about it.

#ALL HAIL - welcome to nightvale stuff!!!

#rock n robinson - meet the robinsons

#musical automatons - steam powered giraffe!!!! the best band ever btwwwew

Moots:

I literally love you guys 😭😭

@donotreleasemeintothewild

@livforlive

@last-herondale

@hiro-doodlez

@sneakyfox55

@junessillywachingcorner

@popiollie

@toka-san

@wishtale-blogs

@italic-does-random-shit

@ghostboisonly

@just-let-me-call-myself-arson

@pizzatowne

@ghosttoastx

@thenocturnenarrator

@lelitachay

@paraska00

@tundra116

@blurboppz

@flesh-archivist

@matzahstein

@paranoid-radio

@martinibass

@drrobotnic

@sandwich2451

@blaster-fagot

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adultswim2021 · 3 years

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Ephemera Week (2002)

It’s still ephemera week, and we’re still talking about John K. I said most of my piece on him in the last post, so don’t expect there to go full bore on this one, except I forgot to say he’s animation’s Jerry Lewis. His current stuff is basically Hardly Working. I will not elaborate, because I’m being mean to you0.

MARCH SPECIALS!

In March, Adult Swim advertised a run of one-off specials. A couple of them were already covered because they fell under the parameters of “Adult Swim original production”. They were Welcome to Eltingville (March 3rd) and Saddle Rash (March 24th).

Day in the Life of Ranger Smith | March 10th 2002 - 11:00 PM (Originally aired on Cartoon Network in 1999)

This was one of two specials commissioned by Cartoon Network re-imagining Yogi Bear. The artist what took this assignment was John K, who I REEEAALLY skewered in last night’s post, didn’t I?

This is about Ranger Smith harassing animals and writing them up for violating park rules, basically. It’s short! I remember liking it at the time! Okay, maybe I’m going crazy here, but I distinctly remembered a part at the end where Ranger Smith is in bed and he solemnly confides in the viewer that the noises of wilderness give him nightmares and then it just ends. Did I imagine this? It does end with him in bed, but this doesn’t happen in the version on YouTube (which is from the Adult Swim airing). Huh.

Boo Boo Runs Wild | March 10th 2002 - 11:15PM (Originally aired on Cartoon Network in 1999)

Boo Boo Runs Wild was another one of these stand-alone Yogi Bear John K specials. This one was 30 minutes long. The Ranger Smith short was a brief 7 minutes; I’m guessing they aired a couple Capt. Lingers or something to fill time.

This one is about Boo Boo reverting to his feral nature and causing BIIIIG problems! This special would later go on to be kind of a weird trolling thing Adult Swim would do where they aired it every Sunday for a few months, even promoting regularly. This was like 2006, I think? They’d also air it as part of April Fools. Is that Adult Swim admitting this special sorta sucks? Does it sorta suck? Again, I liked these at the time and REFUSED to actively rewatch these for this write-up. Sorry.

The Jetsons: Father and Son Day/The Best Son | March 10th, 2002 11:45PM (Originally aired on CartoonNetwork.com in 2001) Our John K rock block ends with a pair of Jetsons shorts, Father and Son Day and The Best Son respectively. This is kinda the same deal as his Yogi Bear shorts, but these were exclusive for Cartoon Network’s website. I remember watching them on there. They are as bad as you’d expect late-period John K internet shorts to be, though the second short is a superior version of Spielberg’s A.I. (in that it’s shorter).

Night of the Living Doo | March 17th, 2002 - 11:00PM (originally aired on Cartoon Network, 2001)

Night of the Living Doo originally aired as wraparound segments during a Halloween Scooby Doo marathon on Cartoon Network. It’s kinda like an episode of the Scooby Doo Movies, which shoehorned in a guest star each episode. Suddenly my man Dick Van Dyke be running a carnival and shit. That’s the Scooby Doo Movies. At the end of the night they played all the wraparound segments in one uninterrupted sitting, so the viewer could appreciate it as an actual full-on Scooby Doo episode. Night of the Living Doo functioned both as an extension of that series as well as a parody. The guests were Gary Coleman, David Cross, and the very cool band Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. It was all very self-deprecating and had jokes about the absurdity of Scooby Doo tropes. Well trod territory by this point, sure. But this is better than most irreverent Scooby Doo things. It didn’t hurt that I was a HUGE David Cross fan when this aired. Is this where I tell the stupid-ass story about getting mad at a message board guy for not liking David Cross? Sure. Okay, yeah. When this aired on Adult Swim a guy on Kon’s (hi Kon) message board posted something about not finding David Cross funny, shrugging that he didn’t get the hype. He cited this and his appearances in the Men in Black movies, and nothing else as proof for his lackluster comedy skills. It’s kinda like deeming Eddie Murphy as a bad comedian after watching Dr. Doolittle.

The point of this special is that David Cross is a little wooden and stilted, like in the old Scooby Doo Movies episodes. This poster revealed that he never heard David Cross’s stand-up or seen Mr. Show, explaining “I don’t watch puppet shows” A response that still baffles me to this day. Why Mr. Show isn’t a-- WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT? I’m not even sure if there was EVER a puppet on Mr. Show*. David wasn’t even a guest on Crank Yankers at this point! SO WHAT THE FUCK? To this day whenever mutual pals from that board get together and watch a movie or show and a puppet appears we make a joke about this guy. Good story? No? Fuck you.

Other stuff about this show: When it originally aired on Cartoon Network it was a little bit longer than the Adult Swim version. There’s a missing scene. I think it’s David trying to play an improv game with a mummy or something. At one point I had it on tape, but I’m not sure I kept it. Sorry.

*sorry to be coy here, but I do know of at least one puppet on Mr. Show, episode 204 there is brief footage of Grass Valley Greg putting on a puppet show for his staff. This CAN’T be the source of the confusion, can it? It’s literally like, 5 seconds.

MAIL BAG

This’ll teach me to skip a day cuz this really piled up. Thanks, guys. I love all the attention. It is my favorite thing.

I never really saw oblongs as something for the hot topic set. They had Invader Zim and Squee for that kind of shit. Oblongs feel like it was always directly targeting me: the shut-in comedy nerd who would appreciate will ferrell and the sklars being in a thing. Since they ended up doing the exact same show with Janeane Garofalo and David Cross a few years later it seems like that was the goal.

Yeah, I guess that also makes sense. There were a few elements that were kinda gothy but this show was mostly just Angus Oblong ahem, clowning around (puckering mouth to stifle laughter like Chris Elliott in Cabin Boy)

What are your thoughts on the other adult animation blocks of the past couple decades? Spike's notriously failed attempt. Animation Domination. Apparently Syfy has had their own going?

Spike was irredeemably bad. People think this shit is easy. Animation Domination is sorta legit, but it’s anchored by mostly crap. That ADHD thing was kinda good and underrated. Is that still going on? I wish I were more diligent about watching/recording that. Some of them bumpers were good. Also, we mustn’t forget MTV’s oddities. They were kinda the first cable network to court Adult Animation as their thing. They deserve some kind of credit for that. I’m sure they’re doing fine.

I'm having a nice big thing of spaghetti for dinner with some chicken parm? Jealous?

I’ve never had those are they good

What does Ephemera mean? Why is this happenening? Why aren't you talking about 10 Home Movies episodes in a row like a good boy.

In dude time, my friend. In dude time

What would be your Adult Swim dream come true?

Having a complete archive of Adult Swim blocks on a harddrive like Don Giller has with his Letterman archive. Even the commercials and shit. I know of a guy who was a regular taper of the entire block from night 1 but I’m not sure he kept up with it when they went nightly. I should ask him if he still has his tapes, huh?

That or they bring back the BUILD YOUR OWN DVD thing but with blu-rays and you can make your own bumps, which was a different thing they had. THEY SHOULD COMBINE THEM. And you can master it in SD if you wanna put 10 hours of stuff on a disk.

All this is archival bullshit dork shit. Real answer: Clay Croker comes back from the dead and every block is hosted by Space Ghost. That’d be it, right?

If anyone has genuine/better answers please write in with them I wanna keep this conversation going. ‘kay?

McDonalds reintroduces limited edition Adult Swim Toys. You can get them all (plus an extra to keep wrapped for collectors purposes) but you have to spend 20 dollars at McDonalds to grab them all. This is the last day of the promotion. You have to personally eat everything you buy but you can take it home. You can only buy one of each food item. What are you getting? I know the longer the mailbag message is the quicker you are inclined to give some glib remark but indulge this one for once.

Oh wow. I’m literally going to take this seriously. I’d roll in as breakfast was ending. Get myself a McChicken Biscuit and a Bacon Egg & Cheese McGriddle, hashbrowns and a Coffee. Gobble that knob on down. Wipe my mouth with a napkin. It’s lunchtime, bitch. Big Mac, Large Fries, BIG ass soda. You feel me, dude? Lemme tally up. Okay, probably need more. 20 piece nugget. Take that home cuz I’m probably gonna have to save some for dinner. That’s probably 20 bucks right there, especially if you go to the McDonalds on Burnside where all the menu items are more expensive because of the amount of security they have to hire (did you know that different McDonalds have different prices even in the same city? I didn’t until very recently). If this somehow doesn’t satisfy my price point I get a Vanilla shake and eat it anally DURING my BIG D squirt sesh, so it’ll spend as little time in my body as possible. Wait, do I get something for this? I might do this tomorrow just cuz. It sounds like a funky thing to do

Do you think you'll open an Adult Swim mueseum at some point? You seem to be the only steward of its history.

Unless I’m hired to by a large corporation, probably not. Also I don’t think I actually have much in the way of merch other than DVDs. I stopped being a DVD completist at some point around Freaknick The Musical. Oh, I never EVER bought a Robot Chicken DVD, EVER. I literally had a nightmare once that one appeared in my collection.

Hey! Please keep us abreast any time you put more of your garbage on eBay. Maybe you can put your wedding dress on there, you big girl.

Fucking sexist/trasphobic behavior.

Check out my eBay auctions I got season 18 of NCIS up there and some other things :)

The Ripping Friends blow chunks. I don't care if a rapist or the opposite of a rapist (a virgin who volunteers, lol) made it. It sucks a high hard one like when Ozzy banged the Cheiftan's Wife in that Black Sabbath TV Funhouse cartoon. Tell me more.

Tell you more?

Name one rap song you tolerate lol. You can't say anything by weird al or marky mark.

I guess I like the song the pest sings from the motion picture The Pest

Are there any good podcasts on adult swim?

The official one hosted by Matt Harrigan is good, but I’ve only bounced around on it. I don’t know if there’s any formal recap ones. I simply don’t know!

HE'S GIVING HIGH HARD ONE TO CHEIFTAN'S WIFE? UH OH!

Buddy, you are BANNED for LIFE from my MAIL BAG! You drive me CRAZY!

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #night of the living doo #boo boo runs wild #yogi bear #jetsons #ephemera

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scaredyships · 3 years

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Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. I

y’know what, it probably makes more sense to crosspost the entire chapters rather than just post links. :v So here we go!

summary: You're used to your job as an infochant sponsored by the Bounty Hunters' Guild bringing you the occasional violent incident. But when a certain Mandalorian you've helped out before comes to you for help and accidentally brings his very dangerous problems along with him, it's all you can do to let yourself get dragged into it.

word count: 4.3k

author’s notes: If other people are allowed to write reader-inserts where the reader character has specific qualities about them then I’m allowed to as well. :v This is going to be a big multi-part reader-insert fic following the show, starting almost immediately after Mando escapes with the Child from the Guild. With how much I’m churning out per part, it’s going to be a long fic. Slow burn, mutual pining, the works - however, no smut. No allusions to it either. I’m ace and this is my own personal indulgent work where Mando is also asexual to some degree, as is Reader.

Reader is very mildly Force-sensitive, but doesn’t know it. The sensitivity manifests in them being able to sense the presence of people, impending danger, and being a little luckier than usual when it comes to anticipating oncoming attacks. They can also vaguely pick up on others that are Force-sensitive, but it comes off as a weird sense of familiarity. Grogu can tell what's going on, but there's no way for that to be communicated.

Part 1 (you are here) // ao3 link

---

It wasn’t every day that you’d get a Guild member coming through your doors. Granted, you’d get all sorts of customers as an informant, but Guild members tended to be the proud sort that would rather start their hunts from scratch and not bother trying to get help from anyone. Even if that help was in the form of extensive galactic maps and planetary inhabitants that held more detail than most databases - courtesy some archives from a long-established library somewhere on Coruscant - and would come in handy once they determined what direction they were going.

It was even less often that a Guild member would try to sneak in and take you by surprise, trying to keep the knowledge that they’d even been there hidden from anyone that may be watching. Or to try and intimidate information out of you for the fee of letting you live, if they were new to the bounty-hunting field and were preoccupied with maintaining the reputation of a mercenary. Those types annoyed you to no end.

Today seemed to be one of those days.

Without fail, you always got a strange niggling in the back of your mind when someone was around that shouldn’t be. You never could explain why it was that you could do that, but it came in handy and in turn took the visitors by surprise that you knew they were there. You liked to think that’s part of why you were able to maintain your reputation within the Guild as a preferred informant.

The strange sensation was there. But it was… different somehow. You stood from your desk and brought a hand to hover near your temple, focusing on it. No, this was stronger. Not just in the way that you felt when there was more than one person, either. It was stronger, and despite being so foreign, it had an almost familiar sense to it. You furrowed your brow, eyes darting aimlessly as you tried to process it.

You stepped out from behind your desk, the work you’d been doing double-checking and updating your own archives forgotten as you cautiously reached for a hold-out blaster you kept within hand’s reach. You could never be too careful with potential clientele.

There really weren’t many places in your “office building” to go from where you were. A hallway with a small set of stairs that led to your living space, and the front door. There was a back door to the living area and a few windows that would every so often have to have their grating replaced on, and if someone was feeling especially sneaky there was an air vent that dropped into the center of the hallway.

You turned your eyes towards the ceiling, where just above was the modest kitchen area. Whoever was setting off your stranger senses, was there, even though they weren’t making noise. You sighed quietly to yourself and padded your way towards the stairs and the doorframe that led to the area, blaster ready in your hand.

Rounding the corner slowly, face blank, you glanced up and watched for any shadows or other movement on the walls ahead of you. Still no sound - though you swear there was an almost sub-audial humming that wasn’t there before, the kind you’d expect from idle machinery. You hadn’t left anything on, you knew that much.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of some meathead bringing some convoluted contraption to interrogate you with. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Might as well get this over with.

“Hey, I know someone’s up there. Your sneaking isn’t going to work on me. State your business.”

You stepped up the stairs, blaster slightly raised, not trying to be silent anymore.

You barely made it to the top step when a pair of hands grabbed you, one slamming over your mouth and the other wrenching your arm just enough to make you drop your weapon, and you were bodily lifted and pinned against the wall just to the side of where you’d been entering the room. You pushed back instinctively, trying to wrench your arm free and thinking about how effective it would be to try and bite the glove-clad hand over your mouth—

“Y/N.”

The modulated hiss of your name burst through the fight-or-flight haze that had taken over, and with a jolt you registered the Beskar helmet in front of you. All your movements stopped as you stared, dumbfounded. There was no forgetting that “face”, no matter how long it had been since you last saw it.

To be truthful, even though you’d only met him a few times before, this Mandalorian was by far the most bearable of the Guild that came to you for information. To-the-point with what he needed, no awkward attempts at small-talk, and despite how blunt he was, surprisingly polite. It made those few encounters memorable and had you wishing for more in the future over other clients. Of course fate would have it be like this.

In all honesty, the physical closeness of the whole thing was throwing you for a loop and your mind was choosing now of all times to remind you of how touch-deprived you were, and bringing back to the surface those old vaguely fond feelings for this man that occasionally crossed your path. But you were still lucid enough not to let that be at the forefront of your mind.

You quirked your eyebrow at him as he carefully released your arm, motioning for you to stay quiet. You were just barely able to nod your head enough to indicate you understood. He slowly removed his hand from your face, moving as if he went too fast you’d spook like a trapped animal and lash out.

Something was very off if Mando of all people was sneaking around your place and trying to keep you quiet. He was the last person to care about what the rest of the Guild thought about what they saw him doing, he just cared about getting jobs done and doing so as efficiently as possible. You’d heard enough about his reputation to know that much.

This predicament all but confirmed the talk you’d heard around town that Mando had gone and broken some big rules, something about going back on a bounty after turning it in, and now had a price of his own on his head.

You swept your hands out to the sides in your most “what the hell” motion you could muster. You didn’t miss the very slight sag in Mando’s posture, like he had quietly sighed.

And that’s when you noticed it.

You stared at the egg-shaped pod floating in the middle of the room. The source of the humming you’d heard earlier, no doubt. What was he carting around that was so valuable he had to take it with him instead of leaving it on his ship?

The quiet noise that came from it made you start. It almost sounded like… something alive was inside.

You gave Mando a sidelong stare. The Beskar warrior tilted his head in your direction, just enough to indicate he was looking back at you.

“Mando… what did you do.”

You watched with baited breath as he approached the pod, standing close by its side as he keyed in something on his wrist panel to open it. You knew he was honorable, but some morbid part of your mind expected something viscerally upsetting to greet you.

What was actually inside, took you more by surprise than anything you could have imagined.

Sitting up amongst a pile of blankets and peering at you with curious dark eyes and perked oversized ears, was a baby unlike any you’d ever seen. You were pretty well-versed on the galaxy’s species, but this one escaped you entirely. And somehow, you still felt some kind of familiarity towards it. This was what was causing that other strange sensation earlier.

You blinked owlishly at it. It blinked back.

“...he’s just a kid.”

It was a low murmur, one you barely caught, but it struck you with the force of a thunderclap. The last two minutes alone had completely upturned any previous conceptions you may have had about the bounty hunter and what kind of person he was.

You did not understand why he was trusting you with this. At all. Yet here you were, and there he was.

You didn’t realize you’d been slowly moving towards the pod until you were arm’s length from the child and it chirped at you, reaching up with a curious hand in your direction, his eyes bright and watching you expectantly. Your hand drifted upwards and you cautiously let the little one grasp your finger, transfixed.

A familiar voice brought you back to reality.

“I need options for lying low, somewhere off the grid. You’re currently my best option for getting them.”

You turned your head to look at the Mandalorian. It was a simple enough request, but the circumstances being what they were, he was clearly pressed for time and needed to be as discreet as possible with his actions.

Glancing back at the child and carefully removing your hand from its grasp, you didn’t miss the way he seemed somewhat disappointed to no longer be the center of your attention. Sparing a glance at Mando, you motioned for him to follow you back to the office room, stopping momentarily to retrieve your blaster from the ground. He’d been there enough to know that there were no windows to be spied upon through in the lower area. With a quick tap to his wrist panel, he trudged carefully after you, the child’s pod drifting along close behind.

“How extensive are you hoping for?”

“As much as you can manage, as quickly as you can manage.”

You casually toggled on the earpiece you were never without - com link, translation device, and a handy little neural connection that let you activate and sift through your databanks hands-free. It was expensive, but very worth the investment. As soon as you entered the room, numerous holoscreens came to life around you and began pulling up planets based on various criteria - remoteness, levels of inhabitants, general hostility levels, neutrality with the New Republic, to name a few. Your eyes flitted between screens, highlighting the more promising results and using a slight swiping motion of your hand to dismiss the less promising ones.

“I’ve got a handful you can look at, if they’re good I can download more of the information about the actual planetary ongoings for you onto a data stick.”

You glance towards the bounty hunter when you see him nod his head, but notice he’s not paying as much attention to the actual selections as you anticipated. He seemed... on edge. More so than he did when you found yourself trying to fight him after he snuck into your home. The child, meanwhile, paid no attention at all to the armored man and was mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of screens and their data streams, ears swiveling and gaze darting about, the colorful reflections dancing across the black of his eyes.

You weren’t one to fawn over kids, but you had to admit, this one could be pretty cute.

On your way to pull a blank data stick from the storage space in your desk, you froze. All the hairs on your body stood on end and something at the base of the skull felt like it was writhing, yelling at you to get out, get far away, now.

“What’s wrong.”

You rounded on the Mandalorian faster than you’d done anything in your life, data stick falling from your grip and clattering to the ground so you could instead pull out your blaster for the second time that day. This actually seemed to startle him as he backed up a step. The screens around you shut down, plunging the room into darkness now that the only light source were the small lights on some of the machinery and the dim lamp on the desk. The child whimpered, shrinking down into the safety of his pod.

“We need to leave. Right now. No time. Someone’s coming and it’s not gonna be good.”

That was all he needed to hear. With a quick look at the child, he closed the pod and unholstered his own blaster, stance wary but leaving nothing to the imagination about how often he must’ve found himself in similar situations before this and come out the victor. If you weren’t so on edge and consumed with the need to get out, you might have been able to admire the sight before you of the broad-shouldered, Beskar-clad warrior.

Another time.

Noises of someone trying to force entry echoed from the upstairs area before you even made it a step past the doorway to the office. The front door was closer, and while it seemed counterintuitive to go there versus the back door, something told you you’d have more luck that way.

You snatched your outerwear and pouched belts from their hanging hook in the hall, knowing you’d have to be lying low yourself for at least a few days before you could consider coming back home. You were an infochant, you knew of all the possible places in the immediate area that would be good for that.

There was hardly any time to react when the front door was forced open, and an unruly-looking individual aimed a blaster down the hall and began firing. How you managed to twist to the side and avoid getting hit, you’ll never know. You’ll also never know how you managed to shoot off your stun blaster at the same time Mando fired his, so the man was not just stunned into unconsciousness but hit squarely in the stomach by the blaster fire. He fell to the ground with no sound other than the thunk of his weight against the floor. You blinked in slight shock at it, turning briefly to look at the equally-taken-by-surprise bounty hunter.

Hey, you’ll take it.

He nodded briskly and brushed past you to go out the door first, and he was barely through the frame before he was effortlessly dodging and striking out at two more assailants. You almost felt sorry for them as he knocked them to the ground, the Beskar armor rendering their attempts to strike back useless, and used some well-placed blaster shots to ensure they wouldn’t get back up.

Again, there was no time for you to properly be in awe. The intruders in the upper area were making their way towards where you were, and you had to keep moving. As soon as he signaled it was safe you dashed outside, slinging your belt over your shoulder and making sure the pod with the child inside was unmarked. You didn’t doubt Mando’s ability, but you felt like now that you were in this mess, if anything did happen, it would be on you.

And you just saw what he was capable of doing to anyone on his bad side.

None of you stopped until you were several buildings away, but within view of your place. You watched from your hiding place as at least three people moved from the two different entrances, some kicking at the corpses of their accomplices and motioning to the ones going back inside, their words too distant to be made out. You could see some items haphazardly being tossed through the door, mostly your equipment. Your personal databanks were heavily encrypted and couldn’t be accessed without your genetic signature, so they’d find they were useless sooner or later. At least you had backups in storage, so it wasn’t a total loss.

They had possibly realized this, as they left the equipment, and after what looked like a brief regrouping, the vandals parted to scour the streets for any sign of where you had went,

“I think I may have to follow you on your way out of the city. I can hole up somewhere until things calm down-“

The explosion brought your thoughts to a grinding halt.

Fire, horrifically beautiful, burst through what was once your front door and upper windows as if they were made of foam and not the reinforced durasteel that all buildings in the area were required to have. Everything was simultaneously in slow motion but happening far too fast for you to truly register anything. It didn’t even feel like you were in your body anymore, it felt like you were looking through a pair of scopes from another planet. You could only stare dumbly at the smoke laced with embers as it billowed into the sky above.

“Hey, we need to move.”

A brief clap on your shoulder shocked you free of the spell. You glanced at the gloved hand, and up at its owner. There was no time to try and decipher any further meaning in Mando’s stance, if there was any sympathy expressed towards you in the hand that rested shortly on your shoulder. He motioned quickly with his head to follow him, and briskly moved to retreat from the area. With a small sigh, you hurried after him.

The three of you only stopped once you’d gone past the outskirts of the city, taking cover in an outcropping of rocks.

You didn’t need to tap into any chatter frequencies to know your name was now amongst those that you’d help bounty hunters track down.

Well… used to. That avenue was as burnt up as your home was now.

You scrubbed a hand over your face, eyes closed, now that you had a second to stop.

“If you need a ride, I can help.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked over your fingers at the man that just turned your life upside down. You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant about it, stance casual and visor pointed steadily in your direction, but you could feel a sense of guilt through the way he couldn’t stop shifting on his feet every so often and the way he couldn’t figure out where to settle his fingers on his belt. Must’ve been unusual for him to find himself in this kind of predicament.

“...sure. I don’t really have any other options right now.”

It was quiet on the Razor Crest. The Mandalorian sat at the helm, charting a route through hyperspace. The Child had been let out of his pod and was freely wandering the cramped cockpit, but you couldn’t be bothered to even idly watch what he may have been doing. All you could do was stare blankly at the space ahead of you.

It was gone. All of it.

Your archives you had meticulously compiled over the years. Your collection of plants from various systems that made living on the dusty rock you called home more bearable. Personal things you had held onto since your childhood, things that had been passed on to you from generations past. All that was left was what you’d managed to grab on your way out the door, thinking you’d have a chance to come back and resume life there in maybe a day or two.

And you were a fugitive now, too, for aiding Mando and fleeing rather than let yourself be captured and punished. You weren’t even able to get any of the information Mando had come to you for. You reached up and ran your fingers over your earpiece, the only thing left of your once-extensive setup. At least it was still useful.

Your brooding was interrupted by a small tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you met a pair of big, dark eyes peering up over your knees.

“Uh...hi?”

The Child cooed, tiny clawed hands gripping into the fabric, tilting his head like he expected something from you.

Kids were weird.

You hesitantly reached out, awkwardly patting his head and thinking to yourself how the combination of the grooves in his head and his thin, downy hair felt strange. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile. You glanced up at where Mando was sitting, to see that he had turned to watch you and the kid. You couldn’t see his eyes but his gaze still burned into you nonetheless.

You quickly turned back to the Child, letting him grab your hand and begin inspecting it thoroughly like it was an interesting toy.

This seemed like as good an opportunity as any to ask a question that had been bothering you.

“So, uh, Mando… why didn’t you try to hide the kid back at my place? You had no way to know I wouldn’t tell someone once you left.”

There really wasn’t any reason for him to trust you like that that you could come up with. The odd consult for planetary guides wasn’t nearly enough interaction for either of you to really say that you knew the other, beyond impressions. You sold information, you had no loyalty to one client over another, and knowing Mando had the kid with him at that very moment could have ended with you possibly… doing something rash, if you really wanted to. You wouldn’t. But he had no way of knowing that. Right?

There was a quiet modulated sigh from the bounty hunter. You changed looking in his direction again, and let out a small breath you’d been holding when you saw he wasn’t watching you anymore. Rather, he was watching the kid playing with your hand.

“...you’re trustworthy.”

And before you could try and get him to elaborate on what he meant, he turned back to the controls.

That wasn’t something you were expecting to hear.

You looked back at the Child, who had moved past your hand and was now pulling at the shiny silver latch tucked into your wrist piece that had your keycard attached to it. All that was left of your old residence. You pulled it out and let him take it, watching him pick at the etched grooves and writing with his claws.

You felt something akin to pain and grim amusement that something that used to be so important in your life, was now relegated to a baby toy. He could keep it, you didn’t need it anymore where you were headed.

...wait, where were you going?

“Mando, what system are we headed towards?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m getting as far as we can go first.”

Oh, good. You closed your eyes to suppress an eyeroll.

“Well, when we have some idea, let me know so I can figure out just what degree of screwed I am for starting over at everything.”

Silence from the pilot. It wasn’t his fault that he was followed, not his fault that the assailants had decided to ransack and then destroy your abode and livelihood. But you could still tell he carried the guilt as if it were. You hadn’t meant to sound like you blamed him, but your irritated tone of voice at the situation at hand could certainly be interpreted that way.

“Sorry, Mando, I just… don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

You sighed softly, absent-mindedly messing with your hands. The Child watched you, his ears drooping at your defeated tone.

“I could use an extra set of eyes around, with watching out for the kid.”

He was facing you again, this time turned in the pilot’s chair with an arm partly draped over the armrest. He was trying to look nonchalant again. The way he peered over his shoulder made you want to hide away, and you prayed he didn’t notice the flustered flush trying to creep its way onto your face.

The Child made a noise of agreement to Mando’s suggestion, looking enthusiastically from the armored man back to you, eyes bright and ears angled high in anticipation of you answering. Why this kid seemed to be so interested in you, you had no idea. You’d only just met him, why was he so excited? The only thing you could think of was that strange, familiar vibe he gave you, maybe it was a two-way thing?

Mando suggesting you stay around to help with the kid at all took you by surprise as well. You slowly turned your head to stare at him head-on. He didn’t exactly state he wanted a babysitter, but with your understanding of his profession you would probably be saddled with a lot of doing just that. You knew if anyone decided to try and come after you for information, if you were traveling with the Mandalorian you’d be safer than anywhere you might settle down. But at the same time, a nomadic lifestyle such as his relying on hunting down troublesome quarry was equally dangerous. But it wouldn’t just be you by your lonesome, and, hell, it could make for some interesting experiences.

“Are you being serious?”

All he had to do was incline his head. You looked back down at the kid, who seemed to be holding his breath waiting for an answer.

“...I don’t know the first thing about kids. But I’ll help out where I can, with him or anywhere else.”

The Child squealed, clutching the keycard he was still holding close. That earned a small chuckle from you.

You looked back up at the Mandalorian watching you both, not needing to see his face under his helmet to know he was also being affected by the small green child’s charm. He finally turned away, back to his controls, looking through the ship’s navigation to plot the next leg of whatever journey you were on.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #mando #din djarin #if you want to get technical reader is an oc but i'm keeping it hopefully vague enough to just be a reader insert #my specific interest to be tailored to include - gender neutral and ace reader/aspec mando/absolutely no smut #people are allowed to like what they like but some of the popular things i've seen are not my thing #still posting to my sideblog bc I'm shy

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marksollinger · 3 years

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(holds out my hands) 18, please ?

18. what is a line/scene you’re really proud of? give us the dvd commentary for that scene.

it's hard to choose one, especially since most the scenes i'm currently proud of have yet to be published 😅 i've also deleted a lot of my past fics (literally all of them from pre-2020) which i feel a little bad about. but i also didn't want to share them anymore due to Lots of insecurities about the quality of my writing and my tastes in general 😔 and some of them were permanently deleted 🥴 i constantly have to stop indulging the temptation to burn everything down and start over lol...

as promised, though, i will provide a scene... i will actually provide two, just because the stuff i currently have posted is quite old and needs updating because i take so fucking long to finish new chapters 🙃 i can also use this as an opportunity to leak some things, heehe...

(excerpts and commentary below the cut because it's long and i want to save as many of my followers’ dashboards as possible lmao)

questions for fic writers

Before she came to rationalize the things he’d done as violently untenable acts of misplaced protection, the best hope she once had to separate herself from her father’s blood-stained legacy was to outshine her schoolmates as much and as often as possible. Julia Montag would give her foster mother something else to talk about with the neighbors and the bridge-players and the parents of her peers; she’d get fantastic grades, run cross-country, read the most books, and do all of her chores without even needing to be asked. Yes, that Julia Montag. She’d go see the therapists and counselors and she’d show every adult in her life how marvelously well-adjusted she’d become. — For Future Reference (The Magnus Archives)

so, just as a little disclaimer, i changed julia and robert's family name from "montauk" to "montag" because it's german & plenty of british people share this name, it has strong ties to a pre-existing famous work of genre-fiction (fahrenheit 451), sounds virtually fucking identical to their original surname, and is not the literal name of an indigenous tribe. it may not be the name of an author, in line with the conventions jonny followed for melanie, tim, martin, sasha, etc... and it may be from speculative fiction rather than horror but. close enough.

i have been working on this oneshot for almost a year, now, only because i am extremely unmotivated and was honestly waiting for the end of tma to come for... whatever reason... i'm nervous about diverging from canon when i write for things with large fandoms, especially ones with fans as opinionated as tma's 💀 but i loved julia. i loved her so much. i wanted to give her something. anything. and i wanted to write a conversation that was kinda-sorta hinted at in-canon, in mag 111, inspired by lines that got tangled in my mind each time i relistened to it:

julia: it’s not a… trevor doesn’t like using the book. i don’t either. makes me feel off. dead should stay dead. archivist: s-so… i mean, why keep it around? trevor: ‘cause sometimes talking to the dead can stop you joining ‘em. come on, julia...

and i simply could not stop thinking about the history of them using the book? gerry's possible conversations with julia? there's a lot that was implied that i can't help but dive into. and so i decided i'd do that with this fic. i share a lot with julia and i'm still trying to find a proper balance between canon and self-projection that i can live with but i'm getting there. slowly, but. still getting there. that said, i promise i will actually be publishing this at some point soon...

alright. next one:

“Don’t think I’m not wise to your tricks,” one of them, a woman whose profile Caroline could narrowly see over the ridge of her broad shoulders, said with a playful tone in her voice that made the grin on her lips nearly impossible not to hear. “I won that wager. You’re paying the tab.” — The Seven States of Matter, Ch. 2, "Confluent Forces" (Archive 81)

so these are vic's first words in tssom 🥰 i have more or less created an oc and slapped the name 'vic' onto her, because that's how much i love the idea of her, and how i could make her a really fun character. i am... unfortunately Not going to be writing a whole ass character meta here because i seriously have 4 chapters that outline the backstory i have assigned to her? and i don't want to spoil anything too prematurely. but i love her so much and she is a joy to write so far.

in conclusion, i am noticing that i tend to enjoy & be the most proud of writing characterization moments? which makes sense, i think. these two in particular are canon characters i'd always wanted to know more about. because i love them. writing vic has given me the chance to project a bunch and manufacture an entire character from just a name and a handful of facts (both explicit and implied). i fucking love doing that kind of thing.

#[gives this to you]#beloved i was tempted to use the nicholas tooth fairy chapter i'm working on but fjkldsf i will save you from having to read about nicholas #LMAO #dairywrites #dairy.txt #otari5050t

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mintymiknow · 4 years

Text

[5:30]

This drabble is part of the 50 Kisses Drabble Challenge! [ Requested: Number 15 + 21 + Chan ]

Number 15: A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick

Number 21: A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company

A/N: I’m not exactly and completely back, but I wrote this to de-stress from all the assignments that are overwhelming me right now :) It’s more of a very self-indulgent Chan piece because I am whipped for the man. It’s a bit sloppy and messy as I haven’t written in so long, but I enjoyed putting these into writing to relieve stress. Also, it might be suggestive for some, so I’m putting this out here to warn just in case! Enjoy!

This year had been a good one for your group, and it certainly has been for your fellow labelmates. The other artists under JYP Entertainment also had several accomplishments and achieved goals throughout the year, but there were still some unfinished tasks.

The other artists were busy with comebacks and promotions, but your group and Stray Kids met at the company building’s practice room to polish certain things. The idea came from one of the managers of the company, suggesting that Stray Kids and your group should have a collaboration stage for an upcoming award show. Everyone thought it was a good idea as the dynamics and chemistry between the groups was pretty good.

And there was the fact that you, your group’s leader, and Bang Chan, Stray Kids’ leader, were dating.

No one knew. The public didn’t know. Only your respective members, managers, and a handful of people at the company knew, but that was it. The relationship was a secret, as usual, and despite being in the same company, you and Chan rarely got to spend time with each other due to schedules.

Perhaps this collab stage would be a means for the two of you to bond even more.

Minho, Hyunjin and your group’s main dancer were busy discussing how a certain portion of the choreography should go. The other members were either exhausted and sprawled on the floor, or sitting on the leather couch to cool themselves while eating ice cream.

You were next to Chan on the leather couch, legs cutely tucked to your chest as you leaned on his shoulder. Chan was showing you various videos to get inspiration from, and the exchange of ideas was just a natural thing between the two of you. You’d joke around from time to time, laughing and playfully swatting each other from time to time.

“Chan,” you point at his phone, “let’s play with the Snow filters.”

Chan laughs,‌ “Did Minho influence you to start using his cute filters as well?”

“They are cute.” you say in a matter-of-fact tone.

With a light chuckle, Chan opens the app, handing the phone over to you so you can browse through the various filters and effects. You take a few random shots of yourself with various animal ears and little doodles on your face. Afterwards, you select a wacky and weird one and tell Chan to join you.

The finished product prompts the two of you to burst in laughter, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Please don’t ever show me that filter ever again!” Chan says in between giggles.

You mimic his actions, clutching your stomach from laughing too much, “Ok, but you have to admit it was really funny.”

Once you both have calmed down from the giggly fits, the main dancers call everyone’s attention and explain how the formations and choreo was going to work. Minutes turned into a few hours, and eventually, both your groups got the basic gist of everything.

Later on, you and Chan sat on the couch, monitoring the routine from where you sat. When you were both satisfied, you called for another break. Some members went out to buy drinks at Soul Cup while others opted to take a quick nap to energize. You, Chan, Changbin, Felix, and your group’s main rapper were seated on the floor, discussing random things like possible costumes, styling, and makeup for this stage.

“I’d pay with my whole bank account to see the stylists put shiny red lip gloss on Lix.” your rapper points out with a grin.

Felix laughs, shrugging cutely, “I don’t think that actually sounds bad. It sounds great, actually!”

Changbin smirks, turning to face you, “What do you want the stylists to do with Chan?”

“Please don’t say rip my shirt or something like that.” Chan laughs, shaking his head.

You laugh with him, humming for a few seconds as you rummage through your brain archives. You have thought of particular stylings you wanted to see on your boyfriend. “I’m not too sure. Chan pulls everything off, but I guess I want to see him wear stuff inspired by the whole vampire concept or the like.” you muse.

“Vamp Chan!” Felix jokes before proceeding to make an impersonation of Dracula.

Your rapper laughs, nodding enthusiastically, “That would really suit Chan, honestly. He has the looks and vibe for it.”

“Then we should tell Minho to add a part in the choreo where Chan bites y/n’s neck or something.” Changbin wiggles his eyebrows, the colors in his eyes displaying a cheeky nature.

You playfully swat his leg, “Hey, the performance isn’t supposed to be kinky!”

“Who says?” Chan plays along, copying the way Changbin wiggled his eyebrows.

“I actually think it would add a nice touch!” your rapper notes, her eyes serious, “Think about it. The song you and Chan made has a very dark and sexy vibe, and the choreo our dancers came up with is very sultry and pretty cinematic. It would make a beautiful touch!”

Felix nods, “It could be included in the ending. Like as the whole song and routine ends, Chan comes up from behind and proceeds to ‘bite’ y/n, and then the lights go out so it’s up to the audiences’ interpretation.”

“Mysterious, sexy, and intriguing.” Chan pouts his lips, nodding slowly, “It’s really artistic, and I don’t think it sounds bad. What do you think, y/n?”

You hum, the thought of doing such an action with your boyfriend buzzing your nerves with excitement. Surely, intimacy was something you and Chan weren’t foreign to as you both have done things in private, but to do something that “sensual” on a stage for millions to see, you were a bit embarrassed. Willing but embarrassed.

In the end, you gave in to the thought. The others were right; it would be a nice touch to the performance, and since you were most comfortable with Chan, there shouldn’t be any problems. You nodded and offered a small smile, “Yeah, sure. I think it’s going to be great.”

Once the practice resumes, you and Chan bring the dancers aside to share the idea with them. Amused, they immediately agree and change the routine just a little to accommodate the additional idea.

With the new addition sorted out, your groups run through the whole routine a few more times. During the final run-through, you deliver your final line as the members slowly and gracefully fall to the ground. You end your line by standing in the middle of the formation, bringing your arms out as if longing to reach for someone. Chan then creeps up behind, wrapping his arms around you seductively, head leaning in and burying his face by the crook of your neck.

You both remain in that position for a few seconds until Minho says it’s done. A bunch of yay’s and claps ring through the room, and for some reason, you feel your cheeks heating up with a pink tint. Chan keeps his arms around you, gently swaying your bodies. “How was it?” the leader asks.

Minho smirks, giving a thumbs up, “You guys were right. It added some spice to the whole thing. I like it.”

Hyunjin nods, his plump lips curling into a giddy smile, “I know it’s ‘cause you’re both dating, but you and y/n make a really great pair. The chemistry is off the charts!”

You giggle shyly, biting your lip at the dancer’s words. Chan smirks proudly, craning his head so he can lean in and place a chaste kiss onto your lips. A few of the members whistle and hoot, causing you to shyly smile against your boyfriend’s lips. You peck him once more before pulling away to smile at him, “You’re really going to do this in front of the kids?”

Chan looks at you innocently, “Do what?”

You playfully scoff, squirming away from his arms. You miss the feel of his skin on yours, so you end up just holding his hand. “The routine is perfect, but I think Chan and I should do some final check up on the song itself. See if it needs to be tweaked.”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Jisung nods.

“Do you and Changbin want to work with us, or will you take it easy?” you ask with a smile.

Changbin shakes his head, “It’s fine! You and Chan can do it. I have to go to the gym in a while anyway.”

Chan nods, squeezing your hand, “Alright, we’ll go now.”

With that, you and Chan exit the practice room and head for this studio. Once you’re both out of reach, Minho turns to everyone else, “Pretty sure they aren’t going to work on the song.”

“Please.” your rapper laughs with a naughty smirk, “The song is perfect already. They’re working on something else.”

“Please stop.” Jeongin and Seungmin pretend to gag, laughing afterwards.

Meanwhile, you and Chan go inside his studio, shutting the door. You sit on one of the black couches there, tilting your head, “What if we make the song sound more intense?‌ Like, the beat itself. The lyrics and flow are perfect already.”

“Hmmm,” Chan hums, spinning around on his chair, “I think it’s perfect as it is, honestly. You added the final touches yesterday, and I think that sealed it.”

“Really?” you muse, biting your lip, “You’re the better producer, so I’ll trust you on that.”

Chan shakes his head, smiling cutely, “You’re just as good, y/n. The girls are lucky to have you as their leader.”

“And Stray Kids is lucky to have you.” you chuckle, playfully giving him finger-hearts.

Chan playfully wiggles his eyebrows, giving you a funny face, “Do you want to hear me say something cheesy?”

“Don’t you always say stuff like that?” you joke, “But go ahead. I’d like to hear this.”

Chan tries his best to look seductive, but he ends up cracking up in laughter. With a goofier grin, he says, “I’m lucky to have you.”

You know he’s joking around and being his playful self, but you take the words to heart and feel like a melting pool of fluff. With a gentle smile, you stand up and walk over to him, situating yourself between his legs. Your hands go up to rest on his shoulders, eyes warmly staring at the male, “I’d say the same thing, but we’re just going to argue over who’s the luckier one.”

Chan laughs airily, hands gently perched on your waist, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With that, one of Chan’s hands travel up your back, resting at your nape to bring your faces closer to each other. He captures your lips with is own, kissing you much deeper than back at the practice room. His soft and plump lips feel glorious on your own, moving with a fluidity and fire that has your knees going week. You end up straddling your boyfriend, moving your arms to coil around his neck.

Chan’s hands return to your waist, gently squeezing the area as he elicits a sigh from you. His kisses grow hungrier by the second, tongues mingling in a sultry dance as neither of you pull back to breathe. Your fingers begin to gingerly rake through his messy blond hair, tugging at the curls each time his tongue brushes against yours.

One particular tug has him biting your lip, which in turn causes you to release another sigh. Chan realizes what he had just done, afraid that he may have gone too far and hurt your lip. He pulls away slightly, your lips still ghosting above each other’s as his tongue darts out to soothingly lick the bitten area.

But then his kisses traverse lower, ending up on the slope of your neck. His supple lips send shivers down your spine and buzz every inch of your nerves as he gingerly presses his kisses. The way you’re stroking his hair encourages him as he begins to lightly nibble and suckle on the exposed skin there. You can’t help but smile and giggle softly at how it tickles.

The male drags his lips up to your jaw, peppering it with more kisses until he returns to your lips. With one more chaste kiss to your red, swollen lips, you both pull away completely. You giggle, playing with the hairs on Chan’s nape, “You’re really taking your vampire role seriously, Bang Chan.”

“Am not.” he laughs, pecking your lips once more, “I just really love you.”

You giggle giddily, pressing your forehead against his, “And I just really love you too.”

#stray kids #chan #bang chan #chan scenario #chan imagine #bang chan scenario #bang chan imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #skz #skz scenario #skz imagine #skz chan #chan x reader #bang chan x reader

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 19

Chapters: 19/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18]

"It’s skew.”

“Come and straighten it, then.”

“I’m spotting, you’re hanging.”

Gerry growls at him. Jon looks rather pleased about it.

Martin, who doesn’t want Gerry to hit their infuriating lover with a hammer, goes over to where he’s hanging the massive painting and tilts it minutely to the left. “Better?”

“Perfect!” Jon pronounces, clapping his hands.

Through some sort of witchcraft, the artist has hung the painting in such a position that it emulates where a window would be in a traditional room. It opens up the space in such a way that it seems less like a store room, and far more like a creative space that someone would actually enjoy spending time in.

The lightning helps too, warm light filtering from the ceiling and corner lamps, and LCD strips illuminating the bookshelves from inside.

All in all, considering this was a utilitarian storage space just a few weeks ago, it seems like a downright miracle.

The three of them lean back against Jon's desk, free of clutter for the first and only time in its life. The bookshelves are empty, and except for his new painting, so are the walls.

The piano occupies one wall, and Gerry hopes to hear it being played often.

Jon reaches out and takes Gerry's hand, drawing them close together affectionately. "How long have you been planning for us to move in?"

"Well, I wasn't planning, per se. Only considering the possibility." Gerry smirks confidently. "I know we're all a little bizarre, but this is the course of most relationships, and we could only spend so much time sleeping over before paying for three flats became superfluous."

"Besides," Martin continues for him. "There's no harm in planning for something you hope will happen eventually. Especially when your new flatmates will be this wildly good looking."

He gestures to himself dramatically, doing a small turn in place. Gerry and Jon laugh with him happily, until he stumbles back into Gerry's side, where he gets wrapped up under an arm.

"So do you like your new space, Jon?" Gerry cuddles around him, twisting the three of them into an odd sort of snuggle pretzel.

"I absolutely adore it." Jon utters happily, sighing in contentment as they all lean there together.

***

At the end of June, Jon hands over his keys and the three of them officially live together.

There's still a lot of settling to be done, even though they've been moving in together for almost six weeks by that point. The boxes are unpacked, but they still need to make it a comfortable home for all of them, a certainty that comes only with time.

Martin and Jon both love their studies, a matching pair that look and feel completely opposite.

Martin opts for a small bedroom, keeping the bed from his old flat, his painting hung opposite. He finds an antique writing desk at a charity store, and installs it for writing poetry or working on his laptop in the evenings.

He adorns the walls with pictures and posters, and random pieces of poetry and music that he loves.

It's a cozy space that he adores, even though he opts to sleep in the master bedroom almost always. The option makes him feel like he has his own breathing room, even if he rarely needs it.

Jon's is more of a true study, with a large desk taking up the majority of the space. His walls are lined with shelves, and he promptly fills them with books and knickknacks. The odd collection includes first edition classics, next to mass market paperbacks and music books, with non-fiction nature and animal books scattered throughout. These are interwoven with seashells, tiny mechanical statues and several flowers preserved in resin, gifts from Martin throughout their relationship.

On the wall above the piano, he hangs framed photos of his parents, himself with Gerry as a teen, and all three of them together as adults. The photo he once took of Martin, Gerry and Tim hangs right in the centre, all his favorite humans in one frame. He hangs the sketch of him and Martin in the park from when they were all courting, as well as the others he has stolen from Gerry over time.

Gerry embraces the chaos and upheaval as if it's all he ever wanted, and really, it is. A home, with the people he loves, noisy and frenetic, loving and comfortable.

In the middle of July, he quits his job at the bar in the middle of a shift, with very little contemplation or preamble.

He smiles at his lovers radiantly when he comes through the door several hours early to find them watching a movie.

"What happened?" Martin queries, clear concern lining his expressive face.

"I quit." Gerry flops down between them, snuggling down immediately.

"But why?" Presses a sleepy Jon, trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.

Gerry shrugs. "I got the job because I was bored, essentially. I wanted to interact with interesting people and I didn't know anyone in London anymore. But tonight I realized how badly I wanted to be right here, with you two." He smiles at them, trying to explain without conveying too many of his sappy emotions. "l honestly couldn't think of one reason to be working at midnight on a Saturday, instead of at home, or out on a date, or literally anything else we could be doing together. So I quit."

"Oh Gerry." Jon whispers, both of them carefully tuned to his moods, regardless of his attempts at seeming unconcerned.

"I don't feel the need to fill my time and chase inspiration anymore. I just want to be with you. Both of you." He kisses first Martin's hand, then Jon's, grinning at them all the way.

"I love you. I'm happy you're home." Jon whispers to him, sleepy and content.

Martin hums an agreement, squeezing his hand and smiling down at him lovingly.

They watch their movie and then go to bed all together, and Gerry knows he's made the best choice of his life.

***

Gerry finds himself with an odd amount of time on his hands while his partners go to work during the day, like normal people.

He decides to take on several art commissions from clients he's actually interested in working for, which thrills Gertrude. He doesn't think it entirely makes up for his boyfriend hitting Peter Lukas in the middle of a showcase, but it's a start.

He also indulges himself and buys a new tattoo machine.

He's not really interested in taking clients again, but… well, he wants it and so he gets it. If it's only to use on himself or the occasional visitor, then that's fine by him.

"You have everything you need to give tattoos now, right?" Martin asks him one early morning.

Gerry is still mostly asleep, clutching a cup of tea and petting Saturn where he perches on his lap. He blinks at Martin, confused.

"I think so. I mean, I haven't used my machine yet, but there's really only one way to test it out." Gerry tilts his head curiously, sunlight glittering in his hair, dyed back to its original black. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you want to give me one?" Martin grins at him a bit shyly.

Gerry sits up straight, instantly wide awake. "Yes. So much."

Martin laughs warmly. "You have the same look on your face that Luna gets when we take out the catnip toys."

Uncaring about how eager he might look, Gerry shoos Saturn to go over and kneel by Martin. "I would be honored to have your tattoo virginity. Do you want me to draw something?"

"Yes," Martin tells him with a grin, "that's exactly what I want. A Gerry Delano original, right on my skin."

"What do you want it to be?" Gerry's teal eyes are bright and slightly manic, and Martin glories in the sensation of producing a new reaction in his lover.

"It's entirely up to you." He responds, pressing a firm kiss to Gerry's mouth. "I want to see what makes you think of me."

"Oh, I like it." He declares, jumping up and going off to find a sketchbook.

Martin sips his tea and smiles to himself, very pleased indeed.

***

"You're just going to let him give you whatever he wants to?" Jon blanches when Martin tells him.

"Relax Jon, it's Gerry, not some evil mastermind. He'll draw something I like. And if I don't, it's not hard, I just tell him no."

Jon, who rather considers that Gerry is an evil mastermind, does not look convinced. "But…"

"Hush, love." Martin tells him firmly.

Gerry, drawing under the window nearby, takes no notice of them. He has a focused frown on his face as he concentrates on the careful lines appearing on his page.

Martin considers it a rare pleasure to just watch him draw, and tries to guess what might be forming on the page before him.

He completely trusts that Gerry knows him exactly well enough to draw him the perfect tattoo. And then he can have his own piece of Gerry, inked right into his skin.

When he sits back down with Jon and Martin a little later, he has a smudge of charcoal above his eyebrow, and Martin gently rubs it away before Gerry has a chance to start talking. He blushes quite uncharacteristically, and Martin knows it means he's been swirling in the frantic rush of his own creativity.

"So I have a proposal for you." Gerry starts, body humming with excitement. "A tattoo in two parts, if you will."

"Yeah?" Martin encourages him, just as interested.

Gerry collects Martin's hand in both of his own, running a thumb over a spot on his wrist. It's the same place that Jon has his own tattoo, which immediately makes Martin pleased. "A small crescent moon, right here. The placement to match with Jon, the symbol for Luna."

Gerry pushes a scrap of paper forward, an elegant crescent moon filling space.

"For the other…" Gerry turns over the larger page, handing it to Martin.

There's an immeasurable beat of silence as Martin contemplates the design before him. A set of waxing and waning moons, connected by a series of dots, lines and more dots making a background of geometric shapes.

He… feels it. He understands now, what Jon had meant, when he described seeing the inspiration for his own tattoo for the first time. It's a representation of some inner part of himself, normally hidden from the world, but carefully unearthed for his lovers, over the course of many months and endless intimacy.

"Martin?" Gerry entreats, leaning minutely closer to him.

"I love it." He whispers, pulling the goth over to kiss him fiercely. They tangle together pleasantly, for several moments, everything else falling away as they get absorbed in each other.

"Not that anyone asked me, but I like it as well." Jon informs them pertly.

"Your opinion is as important to us as ever, baby." Gerry replies, grinning proudly. He turns back to Martin. "Where do you want it?"

Martin considers for a moment, before getting up and pulling off his shirt and jumper, leaving himself bare from the waist up. He still feels a small pang of shyness to be naked in any way, but confidence born of time and perspective drown most of it away now.

He and Gerry stand facing each other. Martin lifts the other man's hand, placing it on his sternum, over his softly pounding heart.

"Right here?" Gerry asks, voice soft.

"Right here." Martin affirms.

***

In the end, Gerry takes them over to Melanie's tattoo shop to work on Martin. He lists a number of reasons, but really, he finds a certain amount of comfort working under the stark lights and amid the buzzing of other machines.

They do the small tattoo first, and Martin sits for it exceptionally well.

Before Gerry starts the sternum piece, an endeavor of several hours, Georgie arrives and drags Jon off to drink coffee and catch up in a nearby coffee shop. Melanie goes into the next room to take another client, and Gerry and Martin are left alone together.

"Ready, love?" Gerry asks as he finishes placing the stencil, bisecting his chest.

"I'm nervous," Martin confesses softly.

Gerry doesn't move his gloved hands, not wanting to contaminate them, but he does press their foreheads together gently, taking a moment to sooth Martin with his companionship.

"Do you want to take a break? You can just sit with the stencil for a while." Gerry leans forward and places a swift kiss on Martin's nose, before retreating from his personal space.

"No, I'm ready." He smiles, biting his lip a little. "I just- I feel like this is a big moment, you know?"

"It is. You're embracing who you really are." Gerry runs a finger along one of Martin's chest scars, considering. "You're choosing to love yourself instead of just tolerating him."

"How can you always tell?" Martin whispers the words, voice heavy with emotion. "How can you put things into words like that, so simply."

"I know you. You think I don't see when you avoid looking in the mirror. You hope I don't notice that you used to hate being naked, even with Jon and I." Gerry pauses, tripping Martin's head up with the tip of a finger, minimizing contact still. "But I see you, Martin. I love you just the way you are. And I want you to love yourself just the same. I'll tell you everyday, show you constantly, if I need to."

Martin is crying for real now, tears streaming down his face. Gerry abandons his sterility, pulling Martin into his arms. He rocks his lover gently, and they are just together for a moment, no need to rush, no distractions. Just them, and the comfort they find in each other.

"I love you too." Martin tells him simply, when they pull apart.

"Good," Gerry grins, kissing him thoroughly, the taste of salty tears on his lips. He stands, pulling off his ruined gloves and going to wash his hands again.

Martin takes a sip of the tea Jon made him before he left, smiling because Jon always makes it with a little more sugar than he allows himself. "I'm ready."

When Jon returns, they're just finished up, the last few moments of buzzing filling the air. He watches them together, artist and canvas, and loves them fiercely.

"How was coffee with Georgie?" Martin queries, taking his offered hand.

Jon relays the details as Gerry finishes, and then cleans up.

Jon and Gerry stand on either side of Martin in the mirror as he looks at it for the first time. Martin nods wildly, when Jon asks if he likes it, and they hug him from either side as he sheds a few more tears.

Jon had once thought that tattoos seemed very boring in comparison to Gerry's normal work, but seeing the design come alive on Martin's skin, full of feeling and depth, he can't help but think of it as the best thing his lover has ever done. Gerry can't help but agree.

"Let's go to the park!" Martin exclaims as they leave, after saying their goodbyes to Georgie and Melanie.

"The park?" Jon asks, laughing. "It's so windy."

"I don't care, I want to feed the ducks and eat ice cream with my boyfriends." He insists, giddy with happiness and adrenaline.

"Okay, but you're picking the flavours this time." Gerry says, taking one of Martin's hands. Jon takes the other.

"Deal."

***

Jon and Gerry find themselves watching Martin once again feed ducks as they sit beneath a tree, more than a year after the very first time.

"Why don't we come to the park more often?" Jon asks from where he reclines between Gerry's long legs.

His arms snake around his waist, and Jon feels very content and comfortable, despite the cutting wind.

"Because," Gerry kisses under an ear softly, "we live in England and it rains more than 100 days a year."

"He looks so happy here." They watch as Martin stoops to offer a piece of bread to a curious toddler. The child is inordinately pleased, and her mother watches on gratefully from nearby as they feed the rowdy birds together.

"Are you happy?" Gerry asks him, unexpectedly serious. "With your life, with me?"

"Gerry! Of course I'm happy with you." Jon sits up, turning in the tangle of Gerry's limbs to face him.

"I'm only checking on you." He runs a gentle finger down Jon's face, then cups his cheek affectionately. "I know how much stress work puts you under and I hate that for you."

Jon looks away from his intent gaze, fiddling with his fingers nervously. "Well, yeah. My job sucks. The worst part is, I love being a librarian! Being surrounded by books, helping people choose something to read or guiding them with their research. But that's so little of my job now, and Elias just finds new and interesting ways to put pressure on me. But I'm not qualified and I know I probably won't get another job in a library, especially not without a glowing recommendation from Elias-"

"And we both know that's never going to happen." Gerry finishes for him.

Jon nods and they just sit together a moment. Gerry lifts one of his hands and kisses each of his fingers and then his palm, until Jon blushes and smiles at him.

"I know you think it's annoying, so you keep your feelings about work inside, a lot of the time. I don't want you to do that anymore, okay? If you have a terrible job, then we all carry that."

"But-"

"Nope, no buts. We are all partners. That means more then dinner dates and living together and sex."

"And punching rich fuckers who hurt our Martin."

Gerry laughs, still reveling in Jon's unexpected protectiveness- and the violent manifestation of it. "Yes, that too. There will be other jobs, for all of us, probably. But our relationship, the three of us. We're forever."

"Like those tattoos that you gave Martin today?" Jon asks, pert glint in his eye.

"Yes, much like that." He smirks brazenly back. "And the one I gave you, and the ones I've given myself, over the years."

Gerry continues, squeezing Jon's hand, "I know that the idea of not being able to provide for yourself scares you, but we're in this together now. You don't have to cling to a job that you hate in case you're left without one at all."

"I-" Jon looks away, uncomfortable to be so well understood. Gerry stits with him, energy easy between them, just holding his hand, loving and supportive.

"I have been considering, that is, maybe becoming a school teacher." The confession is halting, and he offers it with a small shy smile.

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Gerry responds, gentle encouragement colouring his voice.

"I would probably have to go back to school for a year. Get a post-grad in Education. I wouldn't be working for most of that time, and my savings will only go so far, even without having to pay rent." Jon whispers, as if the words will be any less offensive to him if they are quiet.

"You know I can float you, especially for just a year. And Martin too."

"It just doesn't seem fair to burden you with that."

"It's not a burden, it's a part of life. You think you're so old, that you should be settled, but you're barely 30, Jon. You still have time to make new life choices occasionally, and the point of being in a relationship is that you let us support you every now and then." Gerry is earnest and focused, and Jon can't help but believe him, long fingers cupping his face and teal eyes holding his gaze.

Martin arrives then, plonking down next to Jon and giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"What are we talking about then? Such serious faces."

Gerry nudges Jon, who haltingly offers Martin the same idea he told Gerry.

“Oh, I think that’s a great idea.” He says, eyes alight. “Like, high schoolers, right?”

“Yes, of course. Anyone under 10 is an alien and I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

They laugh at him, their contentment surrounding him warmly.

"You don't have to quit right away." Martin offers. "There are plenty of part time degree programs, and you have to apply first. It all takes time."

"You seem pretty clued up about it." Jon observes, narrowing his eyes at Martin suspiciously.

"Well, if you must know. I've been thinking about getting a business degree."

"Oh my God! Martin, how is this the first we're hearing about this?" Gerry demands, sitting up straight.

"I didn't want it to be a thing until I was sure, and the move was over." He confesses, "It's gonna take a lot of my free time and I wanted to discuss that with you both carefully."

"I'm gonna be living with two thirty year old students." Gerry mutters, shocked. He leans back against the tree again, running his fingers through his long hair.

"I haven't agreed yet-" Jon starts.

Martin speaks up at the same time. "You could get a degree too. We could all be students together."

"No, but thanks anyway." Gerry shudders, grimacing. He perks right back up. "I'll be your sexy study partner though."

"Gerard!" Jon cries, scandalised.

Gerry shakes his head. "As if I've never felt you up while you were trying to study for a test."

"Exactly!" Even Jon struggles to keep up his prim expression at that, and they tumble into pleasant laughter together.

"So," Martin hazards, "are we gonna do this?"

"Well, if you're going to. I suppose we should both get it done at the same time." Jon responds, still hesitant but clearly warming to the idea. "You're really okay with this, Gerry?"

Gerry beams at them both, a soft, special look in his eyes. "I'm more than okay with anything you want to do with your lives. In case you haven't noticed, I'm really very fond of you both."

Jon leans forward in the circle of Gerry's legs, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss, before turning back to lay against his chest.

Martin shifts around to lean into his side, and Gerry tucks one arm around him, the other around Jon. Jon reaches out to take one of Martin's hands, and the three of them sit wrapped up together.

As ever, their own mutual magnetism draws them forever closer and closer, binding them to one another in an inexplicable tangle of love and affection.

"Do you think it will always be like this, between us?" Martin whispers gently, as the sun begins to set and the landscape sets ablaze before them.

"Probably not," Jon responds, voice warm and content. "Life will keep shifting like a tide, and we'll move with it, but the great thing about us is- we're moored together. Nothing can keep us apart, because what we have is stronger than whatever shifts and eddies might try to take us away."

"The gravity between us is fiercer than any storm, any disaster that might try to shake us." Gerry picks up Jon's train of thought, pulling them both minutely closer.

"Good," Martin says simply, fiercely in love and the happiest he's ever felt.

They watch the sun as it drops below the horizon, sometimes quiet and occasionally sharing some errant thought or another.

They eat ice cream on the way home, holding hands and laughing.

It's warm, and soft and peaceful.

And they're all, finally, home.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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munstarr · 4 years

Text

The Guardian: part 3

Hello everyone! Welcome to part 3 of this slow burn! I am having fun writing this, hope you enjoy!

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That night Mirin had given her a tour of a lifetime, this opulent circular building was actually his home. He had taken her to each room and she was happy to find that her key card had been given access to each space. Some rooms held documents and information panels, others held more interesting things like collecticbles from his travels and art work, overall each room was a new experience to behold. On the last part of their tour he dropped her off at her room, mentioning his was down the hall in case she would need anything. As Mirin walked away she couldn’t help but glace back at his towering frame, he was well over seven feet tall she noted as she had stolen glances at him all throughout the tour. He had been a bit different than the other Nuks she’d previously met, his skin had more scales than leather she noted, it even had a lovely faint iridescent purple hue in some lights. Mirins teeth also seemed even sharper,his mouth should have been frightening since it was filled with razor sharp teeth. But biting her lip she remembered the way he’d sharply smirk or gently rumble every time she said something he found a bit amusing, she was starting to feel calm already thanks to his jauntiness. Scanning into her room, there was an instant relief that there were no boxes on site. The nuks seemed to have placed her art and other things on the walls, that made her happy. Walking further into her space she noticed some things were placed upside down but she appreciated the sentiment . Yawning Azura decided she was ready for bed,the day's excitement had hit her all at once and she was worn out. Stripping off her second skin pants and putting on her silky pink bonnet she leaped into her huge new bed. Ready to drift off to sleep her last thought was about needing to ask for a stepping stool on her next Earth request form, slowly her eyes reluctantly fluttered closed.

The next morning Azura laid asleep drooling onto her soft cozy pillows as her room spun around slowly transitioning to show the bright purple sky through the large window, her room spoke in a soft angelic voice “Lady Emem, it’s time to rise and prepare for your first day” , grumbling Azura sat up and slinked off her bonnet and eye mask with a stretchy yawn. Rubbing her eyes she straightened up,looking around and then out of her floor to ceiling window in confusion “Oh! That’s right, I live on a different planet now” she laughed dumbfoundedly, how could she forget! Only she could forget she moved to another planet, that’s jetlag for ya she thought. Jumping out of bed she inspected the two doors in her room, finding one to be a washroom and the other her closet. Swaying into her bathroom she prepared for the day, after touching every button possible she was able to start the water and indulge in a quick sudsy shower, letting the water be the breath of life for her tight curls. Dripping all the way into her closet she was happy to find her uniforms there waiting for her, the closet also featured a massive amount of empty space. Azura felt hopeful she wouldn’t always have to wear black, afterall she thought bright colors looked lovely on her silky chocolate skin. Dressing quickly she applied a more neutral creamy lipstick to her soft lips, gathering her hair into a beautiful high puff, she decided to leave out bang ringlets to frame her soft face. Inspecting herself in the mirror she was very happy she could do this in a short amount of time, she wanted to be downstairs earlier than The Guardian to be prepared for the day. Gathering her identification cards she headed out to the study where he instructed her to meet him, with a slight bounce in her step she was very pleased with her morning start thus far. Scanning into the study the door sang “Welcome Guardian Keeper Azura'' she would never get used to that she thought as she stepped into the study.Only to find that Mirin was already there, sitting at his desk “oh, your guardianess, I wasn't expecting to see you so early” she said looking at her time keeper, she had been here an hour early after all. “I was going to prepare for you,” she said admittedly, trying to hide her disappointment. “How fitting, I rose early to prepare for you” he said in his booming voice. Standing he smoothed out his frame hugging dark outfit and walked over to a door and rolled out a huge onyx colored tower filled with food. “ I read that you might enjoy a meal before working. I ordered you the first daily meal out of many” he said matter of factly adjusting things on the tower. She had to admit that for someone with no visible eyes he was very attractive, even early in the morning,his sharp smile made her fan girl in secret. After spending yesterday stealing glances at him she had to admit she had a hidden urge to run her fingers over his leather scalded skin. She was curious to know if the texture was as strong and smooth as it looked, that thought made her squeeze her thighs together slightly. Walking over to meet him she saw the food tower contained things like sausage, egg, liver, beans, waffles and so much more food than she could ever possibly eat. She was a bit confused but was excited to eat non the less. “I ordered what they call ‘a full english breakfast’ he said in air quotes looking down at her. Restraining a giggle she smiled, ‘’that's so thoughtful sir, but I- I.. am actually not from england '' she said reluctantly, that would explain the liver and blood pudding she thought. He seemed to be confused, tilting his head slightly. Packing her plate with waffles and sausage she explained as they went on to discuss the day's plans. The Guardian had sat opposite her after activating the fireplace, while she ate he explained a bit more about his job and exactly what she would be helping him do while she was with him. Apparently there were few guardians appointed, and Mirin was the guardian of knowledge, he kept all original record copies, and was an archivist for the sector of the planet in which they lived. Azura felt amazing she could help with such a thing, she had worked in an office and a library previously so she was happy she could help him. He mentioned to her how sometimes they would be in the archives and other times they would deliver information and attend planetary meetings. After chatting more over breakfast the room had fallen comfortably silent, with only the sounds of crackling fire filling the warm room. She was lost in thought, happy the man she was working with turned out to be more than agreeable, that eased her nerves a lot and helped her feel even better about her decision to move . “So” he said breaking the silence ‘’ would you like to visit the archive today?” he said with a sharp smirk that made her stomach flutter. “Yes sir, I’m ready to help any way I can” she said confidently with a sharp nod.

Over the next few weeks Azura and Mirin got to know each other even more, working in the archive was a quiet job when they were being serious. When there were no visitors he would give her tours of the endless scrolls and show her holograms of places on the planet and far off places, she was excited to learn that they could visit many of them sometime soon. During their shifts he would try to explain all the Nuk humor and show her maps, she was always so enchanted by how passionately he talked about his job. She loved when he’d softly rumble after she asked a question about something he was interested in, and he’d do it even deeper when she was speaking about topics she enjoyed. He seemed most happy when she would get excited about potential places for them to explore together. After hearing his stories it seemed he usually traveled alone and was happy at the implication they’d go places together now, at least that's what she gathered from his husky purrs.

This current shift had been a quiet one, them both working hard on different projects, only stopping to really interact when she had a question or he needed her assistance moving files around the building. They were currently working on compiling the right documents for an upcoming meeting for the Guardians of his sector. She could tell by his silence throughout the day he wasn't looking forward to it, she could also tell by the way he talked about the upcoming event. She couldn't be sure why but decided it would be better to ask later when they weren't so busy. Closing down the archive Azura noted how tired Mirin looked, she could see it in his body language that he was ready to head home. She noted how he got like this on days usually on days when it was very busy and they didn't have time to talk much. It made her sad to see him so quiet especially since he was usually such a bright light to be around. “You know, I could try and teach you another Earth board game when we get home” she said suggestively knowing this would perk him up. When he did not respond while working the keypad she gingerly took his clawed hand into hers, rubbing the back with her other in calm circles. This made him freeze and straighten up completely , picking up her tiny hands in his, he faced down to them looking at them for what felt like minutes. This confused her and she let out a soft gasp in surprise when he let out his long deep purple tongue and licked up the back of her palms slowly and almost sensually. Azura was shocked silent and held her breath for what felt like ages. “Oh, I see, this gesture is a term of human affection and care” he said with a tired shy smile, he placed her hands down and patted her afro “You are very sweet women, I would enjoy that very much,let's proceed home” he said with a newly found tired smile. Confused, she suddenly remembered that Nuks could get information from taste and she was able to breathe again, even though she had to admit the feeling of his cool tongue on her hand had sparked something she was hoping it wouldn't, she could feel the electricity and it flooded straight down to her core. “Shall we go?” he said, tilting his head questioningly offering her his large hand, she nodded taking it. She couldn’t help but feel bad for indulging in this moment as he guided her to the transporter. She was only trying to help cheer him up after all, at least that's what she told herself.

#munstarr #Munstarrlist #exophilia #my writing #my oc #slow burn #monster boyfriend #woc #poc #oc #Original Work #poc fic #soft black girls

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 3 years

Text

↬ i just wanted to play this game.

date: september 2020 / october 2020.

location: unspecified / ash’s home studio.

word count: 1,623 words.

summary: n/a.

triggers: mention of hospitalization.

notes: creative claims verification for kami and chan’s “jenga”.

september 2020.

the messages that light up ash’s phone lead to a weird mix of feeling flattered and bitterly stubborn swirling together in his chest. normally, only the flattery would be there when messaged with such a request, but the place he’s been in for the past few weeks has been far from his normal, and even the most positive of opportunities that fall into his lap feel like a double-edged sword sharpened to the most dangerous blade.

at no point in his life did ash think he’d prove himself a worthy enough songwriter to have others in the industry sending him unfinished song drafts and trusting that he’d be able to craft a full song out of them that would fit to their standards. but, without fail, even the realization that he might be becoming that kind of person has a negative edge to it now. another task being set on his plate sends his anxiety momentarily skyrocketing inside of his chest. yes, he can tell kami he’s really busy and he isn’t sure he’ll be able to get anything done, but he likes working with her and what if she takes offense to him being too busy for her and he never hears from her again? it’s an unsettling mix of emotions that exists inside him before he’s even taken a look at the file of lyrics she’s sent him.

once he does read the lyrics over, he knows he doesn’t have a choice. songs are alive in that way, ash will swear, where they can lure him in in one brief moment and cause him to leave behind anything else he should be doing instead of spending all of his time on them. that’s why he believes falling in love with music is the closest thing one can ever get to falling in love with another person. music has a life of its own, and when in a situation such as this, there’s the fear that he’s trying to force it down a life path other than the one it’d been intended for.

yet, simply reading the words in his head, he feels a melody to them and the words settle into the notches between his ribs like there’s no other alternative. it’s something he needs to flesh out, if only for the therapeutic results of flushing out the thoughts only a verse and a chorus of lyrics have sprouted in his head like malicious weeds, feeding on all of the nutrients that are supposed to be going to giving life to anything else with a deadline and his entire career riding on it. his mind doesn’t seem to want anything to do with those now, though, instead turning his thoughts to their own dark reflection. it’s hard to miss the way kami seems to have ripped out his brain and milked his current anxieties onto paper before sending it to him in some sadistic form of forced self-realization.

that hadn’t been her intention. he knows that because reality hasn’t entirely slipped from his grasp yet, but it’s eerie how he feels as if he’s stumbled upon that one perfect song that describes what’s going on in the back of his mind, except this time, the song is far from finished and it’s fallen into his lap for him to put into the world for others to possibly have that experience.

the base theme of the song is clear, even with incomplete lyrics. relying on a lovegame to keep the narrator standing tall. isn’t that his favorite vice? he feels the pieces he’s stacked up below him disappearing as he wavers at the top, only a few moments away from it all being brought down at any time.

in her lyrics, kami has mentioned the tower of pisa, and ash’s brain immediately pulls the game of jenga to the forefront. he can’t know how explicit that intention had been, or if it’d been imagery in the back of her mind, but ash makes a choice to latch onto it only a few moments after he makes the choice to set everything he’s working on her his own album aside to pour out his soul like the page of lyrics he’d opened is pleading with him to.

the chorus melody is his first real breakthrough past the cold pit in his stomach. it comes as naturally as reading the lyrics, as if she’d sent him an audio file instead of a lyric sheet. it’s no crazy show of vocals, and he knows already that this song isn’t going to be soaring high notes and agile adlibs in the background. kami being more of a rapper aside, this is fear, not drama and fear comes in the form of lilting vulnerability climbing higher and higher in an ascending line up to a heady peak, not every worry belted to the world in the fifth octave.

as the melody comes to him, it becomes easy to find the hidden music meant to be lying underneath it. the melody alone has led him deep into something jazzy and soulful, and it’s well within his own personal comfort zone, so the underlying piano comes easily to him. piano is only the natural choice for the standout instrumentation. something about the twinkling keys warbling back and forth suggests a tower ready to topple at any moment.

he keeps kami’s voice in mind nearly the entire time, only letting his choices eschew context once or twice when inspiration strikes without time to determine the suitability for her voice and image, but most of those choices are removed before the draft meets its final form anyway. the only self-indulgent section he fully commits to is the piano spotlight he places near the conclusion of the song — the most earnestly jazzy part of the song as an homage to the more true-to-form jazz track that convention and circumstance prevents him from writing. odds are, a professional pianist will be hired to record the piano line in the studio if this song ever makes it that far in this form, but ash has fun with it anyway. it’s not often he really gets to lean into playing so stylistically in his piano playing for demos, and he would be happy to spend an absurd amount of time on it, but the deadlines he’s on for his own work never leave their spot swinging their sharp blades over his head and drawing ever closer for long and at some point they invade his mind so much that he has to set the song aside, further along than when he’d gotten it but still woefully unfinished.

october 2020.

time to finish the song comes when he least expects it. hospitalization as a result of the nosedive his health has taken rids him of all other schedules for a period of weeks and he has little to do other than work on music to avoid going crazy thinking about how his career is slipping out from between his fingers.

upon his return to his apartment, he holes up in his studio and retraces his steps back to the file he’d saved the month prior with the title being the line that kami had sent him that now comprises the main hook of the song.

he doesn’t know if kami even needs him to flesh out the song still and, as she’d so kindly put it, “make magic out of it”, but he’s a little afraid to ask empty-handed after the mood he’d been in last time they’d actually seen each other, so he decides to finish the work he started, even if it turns out he’s doing it in vain.

he’s glad to find he only has to make minor adjustments to the lyrics he’d written. they’d been too close to the bone at the time he’d written them, and he doesn’t want to dwell too much on the toxic, festering emotions he’d had at the time, so he glosses over the rawness with a more objective eye, but largely leaves the narrative he’d crafted around what the’d been given untouched. he’d been told over and over again that his strong point is telling a story that feels personal, and even if this isn’t his song, “sorry” had taught him that there’s a unique art to shedding one’s soul to be re-told by another. it’s the different between an autobiography and a folktale passed down; there’s a defining art to both that can be appreciated.

ash finally sends a demo back to her as october days grow colder, and he puts nearly as much effort into figuring out what words should accompany it as he had crafting the song himself. nearly.

in the end, his message comes in the form of a file sent to her and an accompanying message of: hey, don’t know if you still want this, but here’s what i came up with. let me know what you think. i’d love to get you in to lay down vocals for a real demo when i’m out of hiatus jail.

he cuts it off there to keep it concise, forgoing any mention of the other ideas he has in mind for layering and vocal production. he’ll be happy to get back to work in the studio with someone other than himself if given the chance, but a few successful creative collaborations with kami doesn’t mean that he’s tuned into what she wants this time.

all he can do now is wait to hear back, but he can’t deny that he waits on the edge of his seat until he does, just a little more hopeful than usual that this won’t be something that gets relegated to his archived files forever.

#fmdverification #&& queued

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sumeshi-t · 4 years

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when to shutcho bitchass up.

so i had this long ass reply as i was about to reblog a haikyuu writer’s response to a hate ask but i had to eat lunch, and my wifi’s acting up so it all got deleted. but anyway, after lurking in the shadows for god knows how long, i decided to speak up about this on-going issue of hate being poorly masked as “constructive criticism”.

it doesn’t just happen on haikyuu blogs, like, every fandom has it. and it saddens me because i’ve seen the greatest blogs out here just vanish into thin air (or has gone on hiatus and never returned/archived the blog/deactivated) for getting hate that they absolutely do not deserve. nobody does. nobody needs that hate; not now not ever. most often than not, there are people who hide behind the anon feature in asks. but i guess some people lately have now learned how to own up to their own mistakes; and yes, everyone’s opinion is valid, is welcome to be entertained; however the way you word these things out also matters. it’s just like when someone writes something, you know? why do you get to complain, “your writing suckxz” when you can’t even write down why you think so? lol gtfo. people can interpret your words in however way they want, and that’s the one thing you cannot control. so at least, when you attempt to apologize for something you “didn’t mean to” or “was just a joke”, at least make it sound like you mean it. if you want your opinion to be taken seriously, learn how to say it with manners.

anyway, this post will be terribly long, probably longer than the shit i’ve ever written anywhere lmao. some of the things i’ll say here might come off as redundant but because the same thing happens over and over again, what else would you expect?

Exhibit A: “constructive criticism” does not mean, or shall never be equated to “hate”

if you go around tumblr, there are tons of posts which educate people how to properly write a critique, how to decently and reasonably critic someone’s work, whether it be in the form of writing, or digital art, etc. even if you type “constructive criticism” on that google search bar, tons of websites are going to tell you how to do it, so it really is unacceptable to use “it’s constructive criticism” as an excuse when all you’ve said is “your writing sucks”. literally, how can “constructive criticism” go from “you’re not even a good writer, why the hype?” to “you’re too positive, too fake, if you’re sad, show that you’re sad.” that ain’t it chief. constructive criticism is given to the works of a content creator, not directed at the content creator itself.

ever heard of the sandwich method? yeah, yummy and easy, right? basically it means, you start it off with the positive things about the content creator, then the negative ones in the middle, then reinforce them at the end. okay, i’ll repeat that here, let me break it down if that isn’t enough for cute little noggins to understand:

tell the content creator what made you hooked on their works in the first place. what made you indulge in all that deliciously free content, that has brought you to tears, to laughs, to orgasm. you don’t necessarily have to praise them, but acknowledge that you’re aware of what they’re doing and how it is, or how their progress is so far.

now here comes the critique part. this where the “however” and the “but” words come in, to transition from (for example) “your way with words is breathtaking” to “sometimes i feel they’re too much to digest all at once”. get it? pinpoint to the content creator just exactly what aspects in their current state do you wish they could improve on, or areas do you think they are lacking or weak, so to speak. be concise, be comprehensive, be nice.

lastly, my favorite part, is you give them tips or advice or just a fucking hint how you think they can achieve the things you said from #2. even if you know or assume that they’d understand your point, or “it’s their job to find it out by themselves”... well, a little input or jumpstart wouldn’t hurt, would it? so from the example, “your way with words is breathtaking” to “(however) sometimes i feel they’re too much to digest all at once” you end it with a, “i think or why don’t you try doing so, and this, and that,”

lemme go back to the “it’s their job to find it out by themselves” aha, news flash honey: this isn’t their job. it’s their way of enjoyment, their leisure, their free time that they use up just to bring out free content for lots of people like you to indulge in. most people come here, or on ao3, or basically anywhere where you can post your work, just for fun. you cannot be demanding, that’s why they have their rules and all, but i digress. content creators feed on feedback, and feedback alone. i hope you have an idea how something as simple as “asdflkjshdls” in the tags can bring a phat smile to a content creator’s face, what more, if it’s something coherent. just fucking keyboard smash is a boost to their confidence (trust me, it’s very fun knowing that how “asdfgjkl” i was when writing something, is the same as the “asdfgjkl” the readers had when reading)

this sandwich method thing doesn’t only apply to this certain situation. in fact, this is an effective means of communicating your point across to people in school, at work, and even in the comforts of your home. right?

didn’t you feel bad when your teacher returned your paper to you and just said, “i gave you that grade just because” and nothing more? or when that classmate of yours said, “no, i don’t like this idea. think up of something else” for a project? didn’t you ever question them, “why, and on what basis?”

how about, when your boss returned your report, only saying, “revise this” but what is “this”? sure, there are bosses who do this to try to teach their employees to find things out and find solutions on their own, but you cannot deny that some are just being disgustingly rude about it.

how about at home you say? well... remember that time when your parents compared you to their friends’ children, or even compared you among your own siblings? or that time you were lashed out on? actually, you know, what, i’m sorry for bringing this up, as light as this was worded out, some people might get triggered simply from those two phrases i put out. however, i will address this issue next.

Exhibit B: you don’t know the people you are talking to, therefore you do not know what they are going through

you can’t say, “oh, you’re all just so sensitive” or “it’s just an opinion” when clearly, this (tw: depression, suicide, family issues, gender and sexuality, body positivity, etc) topics is/are sensitive to most content creators, to most people. some brush it off fine, and take a while to reach their boiling point, but not everyone’s like that. you can’t tell people how they should react to your random spewing of hate. each person has their own level of tolerance, so don’t go off and assume that everybody online is the same and grew from the same fucking tree.

some or most people use writing/drawing/etc. as a means to cope with what shit life has thrown at them; and then you, being so stupidly ignorant, just waltz in and drop that bomb on what possibly, could be the only ray of sunlight they have in their life, especially now in this bleak year.

receiving anon-hate or hate-asks should not be the norm. it is not and never will be okay. i thought you were here to critic their work, why even joke about something that could have been personal to someone? why even joke about these kinds of things in the first place? why even bring up something that might have been a personal issue when all you had to do was critic their work?

my god, stop acting like a boomer already. tbh the audacity of some people here, idk. if you’re not going through anything at all, then may god/brahma/allah/whichever supreme being you believe in or whatever good karma it is, bless you.

it’s not that one should sympathize, or, it isn’t also expected of people to full on empathize, but a little respect goes a long way. why don’t we try to put ourselves in the shoes of the person we’re about to send that hate-ask to. if not us, how about that close friend who’s easy to bring to tears, or mom, or cousin? wouldn’t it be aggravating? wouldn’t it be painful?

well... who am i to assume, i don’t even know you. get it?

just please, acknowledge that everyone here is human. they have emotions, they have their own thoughts, they have their own lives outside of the screen. how they choose to portray themselves here has nothing to do with you. how they choose to react to that hate ask doesn’t have to do with anything you should concern yourself with.

LET PEOPLE ENJOY THINGS. LET PEOPLE LIVE THEIR LIFE THEIR OWN WAY, both virtual and in reality.

i know this post won’t get too far, but i have had enough of seeing the nicest people, who just wanted to express their creativity and share the happiness and the fun, be put down just because of unnecessary hate. i hope those people who send those in never get to experience that, or if they have, i hope they understand that doing so to others isn’t going to change anything about themselves.

#no to anon hate #stop hating #everybody is human #APPRECIATE CONTENT CREATORS #ITS FREE REAL ESTATE #spread love not hate #spread legs not hate #leesten

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crayolacrayonhalloweenpacks · 5 years

Text

I Think We Have Chemistry

Summary: In which Logan is an indirect matchmaker and Roman uses some truly awful puns to flirt with his lab partner.

Words: 2904

Notes: This was Logince before it was Prinxiety, but eventually I realized how much I love writing platonic bantering Logince, so here we are. This is purely self-indulgent. I know only the basics of chem, so please don't murder me, although if you want to make any corrections that's cool by me.If you want some cool music to jam to after reading this try Dissolve by Absofacto. Thanks for reading!

Read on: Archive of Our Own

Roman loved lab days. If he were someone else, he would probably continue by saying that it was the last class of his day before he was allowed to return home and relax, finally freed from academic burdens. But he was him. So even though he loved science in general, the special thing about lab was it allowed him to actually do something. He enjoyed reading and studying as much as the next guy, but after a while, that could only do so much. Even though it only happened once a week, being able to physically perform an experiment, to work out conclusions for himself and see first-hand how the world worked...well, nothing could compare.

He also looked forward to lab because of his partner. Virgil was a “measure-ten-times-cut-once” kind of guy, and usually that kind of excessive paranoia would irritate Roman, but in this case, he found it almost endearing. Without his researching and proofreading skills, their lab reports wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of accuracy and thoroughness that they were. Something that could be annoying, however, was his lack of reaction to Roman’s attempts at flirting. Case in point: their current conversation.

“...and after that, I learned to always bring a change of clothes for combustion labs,” he finished with a triumphant grin. In the eighth grade, he’d damaged one of his favorite shirts, which read “NEVER TRUST AN ATOM: THEY MAKE UP EVERYTHING”, due to his lack of expertise in using lab equipment. It had been embarrassing at the time, but now it was one of his favorite stories to tell: he, a foolhardy yet earnest student, the victim of an overzealous, malignant Bunsen burner. It usually drew out a hearty guffaw from any crowd, but earned only an alarmed grimace from his lab partner. Jeez. This guy was impossible to impress! He slouched back in his chair, trying to maintain a facade of casualness. “Anyway,” he continued, “what were you saying?”

He felt his brother give him a pointed look from across the room. Roman could hear him already. Don’t waste class time, Roman! Pursue non-academic interests outside of school, Roman! He ignored him. Logan had always been a killjoy. He’d make up lost points on the final.

Virgil peered at the clock and cursed under his breath. “Well, I guess Google exists for a reason,” he quipped, dumping the remains of their half-completed lab down the sink.

Roman laughed, perhaps a little more boisterously than was necessary, and started scrubbing the beaker Virgil handed him. “Yeah, totally.”

The bell rang over the intercom just as they finished cleaning up. “I guess I’ll text you later to work on the report.”

“Sure thing!”

Virgil gave him a quick salute and walked out of the classroom, bookbag draped carefree over one shoulder, gait elegantly loose. His hair was growing out. Chestnut roots emerged in stark contrast to the dye, and one aubergine lock curled like a question mark at the nape of his neck. He watched him disappear into the hallway, eventually becoming indistinguishable from the rest of the sea of students.

He hated thinking that--that Virgil was indistinguishable. Virgil was very distinct. Despite not fitting the classic cool guy mold, he was undeniably cool. Maybe not popular, or athletic, or social, or--okay, he was getting off-track now. Virgil was quiet, but never standoffish. He was true to his word and always held up his end of the work, never slacking off or making excuses. He was precise and grounded and paid attention to the little details. Paired with Roman’s knowledgeability, they were a laboratory dream team. Possibly a dream team outside of lab work as well.

“That’s my chair.” A sharp voice crashed into Roman’s daydreams.

He jerked up, face flaming. Right--the AP chemistry class. “Hello! So it is! Well, I will get out of your way, then!” He scrambled for his books and shoved them into his bookbag. He winced when, in his haste, his lab worksheet crumpled under his textbook, but slung it on his back anyway and pulled out the chair with a flourish. “Sorry about that. Have a pleasant day!” he called to his teacher. Some of the students laughed good-naturedly as he strode out, including the teacher, who turned back to his lesson with a grin on his face. As annoyed as they had been, they still liked him, or at least thought he was decent. Was he not charming, funny, all the things a potential romantic interest ought to be? What was he not getting?

“I know you like him, but this is not helping your chemistry grade,” Logan said as soon as Roman got home.

“Were you just standing at the door this whole time?”

“I arrived only a few minutes ago.”

“We take the same route!”

“I walk faster.”

“At least give me an opportunity to sit,” he grouched, but launched into a vent as soon as he dropped his bookbag on the floor, ending the soliloquy with “I’ve tried everything--everything!--and he’s still so…” He sighed, pushing hair away from his face.

“Unresponsive?”

"Yes, exactly! He just nods and goes right back to the class!”

“Perhaps that’s because it’s a class.”

“I know, I know, participation, pay attention, bla bla bla. Jeez, Mom.”

“I’m your brother.”

“Don’t be so literal. My point is, you’d think he’d at least laugh just a little bit. Is that not so much to ask? I told him about the Bunsen burner incident, and he just looked at me like--”

“I’m sorry, the what incident?”

Roman snapped and pointed at Logan. “Exactly like that! Just like I was an--an idiot!” He groaned, draping one arm over his forehead and fanning himself with the other. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Hm.” Logan furrowed his brow thoughtfully, trailing off into silence.

“Don’t just sit there, it’s making me nervous,” he said half-jokingly.

“Well, have you considered that he doesn’t understand?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m saying it’s very much possible that he hasn’t noticed your advances. You may need to stop beating around the bush and be more direct.”

“This is as direct as it gets!”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been making normal conversation. Like how you talk to me--”

“Ew--”

“--so are you certain?”

“Quite--” he started, affronted, then stopped. “Wait.” The inkling of an idea that had just occurred to him started to solidify. Of course! He prided himself on his charisma. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? A little miffed that his ironically aromantic brother had just suggested such an obvious solution, he proclaimed, “Logan, you’re a genius!” and grabbed his bookbag.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a little research, so to speak. Nothing too excessive, but!” He paused for dramatic effect. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

Logan still looked surprised, but quickly settled into satisfaction. “Fantastic. I’m glad to see your spirits are raised.”

“Talk later, Pocket Bro-tector!” His mind already racing with daydreams, Roman sprinted back to his room, plopped in front of his desk, and flipped his laptop open. He could feel the electricity coursing through it when his fingers hovered over the keyboard, or maybe that was just the adrenaline. Either way, it was thrilling. He typed in a quick search and opened a new Word document to record. This was perfect. What could be more direct than a pickup line?

Roman waltzed into lab the next week and snapped up two worksheets from his teacher’s desk. He’d debated putting the plan into action through text over the weekend, but eventually decided it would be more effective in person. So here he was, in person, with a fountain of chemistry puns ready to fall from his mouth at the drop of a hat. There was no way Virgil wouldn’t notice now. Roman seated himself, fingers drumming in anticipation. He was golden.

Virgil walked in a few minutes later, placing last week’s lab report on their teacher’s desk. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Oh, you know. Same soup reheated.” On the other side of the lab, Logan was giving him a questioning look. He grinned back before passing Virgil a worksheet. Their fingers brushed, barely. He swooned.

Virgil’s eyes flew back and forth at lightning speed, scanning the paper. “I’ll grab the equipment if you can get the reactants.”

“Ooh, what are they this time?”

“Copper...some other stuff.”

"Ah! Speaking of copper, are you made of it and tellurium? Because you’re C-U-T-E.”

Across the room, Logan facepalmed.

“O...kay?” he said unsurely. “I’ll just. Get that stuff now.”

Roman turned his back, partially to get the samples, partially to recover. He chewed his lip. Okay. Focus, Roman! You got this! He patted his pocket to reassure himself. He’d printed the compilation of pick-up lines at the library earlier, and it was there if he needed it. Which he wouldn’t, obviously! His natural charm would prevail.

And also, he had the entire thing memorized. He supposed there was that as well.

Roman returned with five Ziploc bags of metal samples. The scale squealed on the tabletop when Virgil slid it over. “Is this everything?” Virgil picked up the manual again.

“Indeed! Let us begin.”

Virgil read over the first page again and frowned. “Hey, you know the periodic table pretty well, right? Which one is eleven?”

See? It’s all working out! “You, because you’re sodium--”

“U?” he frowned. “Isn’t uranium, like, ninety or something?”

“Yes--well, yes, but you see--I, uh--” he stuttered before going abruptly silent.

“What?”

Roman ducked his head, hoping his hair would hide his burning cheeks. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Uh, sure.” He scratched the back of his neck before holding out a hand. “Hand me the copper?”

The bell sounded over the intercom, signifying the end of the period. They had managed to get through the procedure on time, mainly because Roman was too preoccupied with worrying to continue with the pick-up lines. If he wasn’t being as straightforward as possible before, he was now. How was it possible for someone to be so oblivious?

“Same time next week,” Virgil deadpanned, getting up to leave.

Come on, Roman, he scolded himself. The period was ending. This might be the only chance he could get. “Wait!”

“Yeah?” He looked at him expectantly.

Roman cursed the stars. His mind had gone completely blank--so much for memorization--and it wasn’t like he could just pull out the reference sheet right now. “Um.” Very eloquent. Come on, something! “If there was no gravity on Earth, I’d still fall for you,” he blurted.

Virgil stared at him blankly, and without another word, left.

What was that? How had things gotten so bad that he’d resorted to physics? He hadn't even researched that! He was paralyzed. He wanted to dissolve like salt in water, until he was part of the air. He wanted to evaporate and catapult himself out of the troposphere. He snatched up his bookbag and stalked outside to head home.

Logan appeared at his shoulder not long after. “What was that?” he hissed.

He scoffed. “I did what you said. Hypocrite much?”

“When did I say to do--” He performed a series of elaborate, meaningless gestures. “--that?”

“You said to be more direct!”

“I didn’t mean like that!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant a heart-to-heart talk or something!”

“So for me to just--profess my love or something? Are you crazy?”

“Oh, so I’m the crazy one? Copper and tellurium aren’t even particularly reactive!”

“It was a creative liberty!”

“There are no creative liberties in science!”

“There are in the science of seduction!”

Logan huffed. “I’m not even going to validate that with a response.”

“Fine! I didn’t need you to rub it in anyway!”

They were so busy arguing they hadn’t even realized they were already home. Logan’s face softened. “I apologize, Roman. I shouldn’t have behaved so harshly. That was...inconsiderate of me.”

“Jeez, don’t say that. Now I have to apologize, too.”

"Did it really go so badly?”

"At least give me a chance to sit down,” he said, but didn’t even wait this time. “I think he hates me. He didn’t even say anything! Just--left.”

“I doubt that. The worse case is you made things very uncomfortable.”

“Thanks.”

“But even if that’s what happened, you should be able to patch things up and act in a professional manner. If things really aren’t working, you could always request to switch partners, but the school year will be ending soon anyway--” He cut himself off. “I’m not helping, are I.”

“Not in the slightest.”

Logan shuffled his feet. “As a gesture of goodwill and comfort,” he started. “Would you enjoy a hug?”

“Whoa, what? Human contact? From Logan Browne?”

“Well, scientifically speaking, it does release dopamine--”

“C’mere,” he said, throwing his arms around his brother’s shoulders before realizing he had no idea how to hug him. The material of his button-down shirt scratched his neck unpleasantly. He patted Logan on the back stiffly before peeling away.

Logan wrinkled his nose. “That was rather awkward.”

“Only if you make it.”

“Do you feel better?”

Roman paused. “You know what? I think I do.”

“Satisfactory.”

“I’m just glad I won’t have to see him for another week.”

"You can’t avoid him forever,” Logan warned.

“I know,” he muttered.

“Well, when you do have to confront him...I’m more than happy to act as moral support.”

Roman laughed. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Isaac Nerd-ton.”

He squinted. “How am I more of a nerd than you?”

“The glasses.”

“You have glasses, too--”

“Not anymore!” he declared, pointing to the corner of one eye. “Contacts now. And my eyes have always been better than yours.”

“We have the same prescription!”

“We do not!” he countered, before both of them collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“And that’s a wrap, folks! Great job!” Roman’s teacher clapped his hands. “You’re dismissed.”

Thank the stars. Roman had been filled with dread the entirety of lab and the preceding twenty or so hours. It had both relieved and heightened his anxiety when Virgil barely spoke or made eye contact, flushing red and looking away whenever Roman caught his eye. On one hand, he didn’t have to talk about the previous week’s antics, but on the other, the air felt too tense to so much as look at him. Glad that the period was over, he grabbed his bookbag and started towards the door.

He glanced over his shoulder to see where Logan was--he wanted intensely to beat him home for once--only to see Virgil talking to a taller boy who had a wide grin on his face. Roman recognized him as a Patton something-or-other who’d been in his class in eighth grade. They didn’t talk much, but he seemed nice enough. He hadn’t known he and Virgil were friends.

The two of them looked directly at him, Virgil swallowing nervously. Roman wheeled back around, more intent on leaving this time, as Patton laughed brightly. Apparently, he wasn’t so kind. Humiliation boiled in his gut. FIne. Let them laugh at him. He didn’t care. Or, at least, he could pretend he didn’t.

Logan sidled over to him. “He’s coming this way,” he muttered.

“What?”

“He’s walking over,” he repeated.

“I heard you the first time,” he said between gritted teeth, “but what?”

“I don’t know, I just-- Oh, hello. Virgil, is it?” he said coolly.

Roman’s head snapped up. He immediately wished he’d kept looking down.

Virgil stiffened. “Hey.” Behind him, Roman could see Patton giving a thumbs-up so enthusiastic he feared for his hand bones. What was going on?

“How may I help you?” Logan said.

“I, uh. Wanted to talk to Roman, actually.”

“Go ahead.”

“Uh.”

“Whatever you can say in front of Roman, you can say in front of me.”

Virgil scratched the back of his neck, sighed, and faced Roman. “Look, we have lab together, right?”

“Well, yes. We’re here right now.”

“So…” He groaned, burying his face in one hand and muttering something incomprehensible.

Roman frowned. “Pardon?”

“So,” he said, voice still slightly muffled, “I think we…” He sighed. “We have chemistry.”

Roman blinked. His stomach swooped. Was this a joke?

Virgil groaned again. “Sorry, that was just--absolutely terrible. I’m going to--” He pointed at the door.

“No, wait!” Roman grabbed his elbow before he could turn away. “That was.” He searched his brain for a word. “Uh. Thank you,” he finished lamely.

“Oh,” Virgil said. He stood up a little straighter. As if anything about that was remotely straight, Roman thought to himself with a snort. “Uh. I guess I’ll, uh.” He did a quick finger-guns motion.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” He saluted him and started walking past them.

“Cool,” Roman echoed.

Virgil turned back and gave a hesitant smile. If it weren’t for Logan standing behind to catch him, he would have face-planted on the floor.

Logan waved a hand in front of his face. “Well?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you all set?”

Roman felt dizzy and a little lightheaded, like someone had filled him with helium and released him into an infinite expanse of blue, blue sky. A slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah. I think so.”

Virgil did text him, a few hours later.

Virgil (Science) After next lab? Maybe the park or smth

Me See you then

Roman loved lab days.

#sanders sides #prinxiety #platonic logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #aromantic logan #sanders sides au #ts creativity #ts logic #ts anxiety #tsfic #fanfiction #my post #my fic

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shy-magpie · 4 years

Text

RQG 142

I used up all my delayed gratification avoid spoilers and not listening to a season a day; so in an act of optimism over evidence I am going to listen before bed instead of waiting for my lunch break at work. Come on dead!Shoin! It would be the perfect punchline to Zolf refusing to play, if Yoshida was killed by his own trap. I think I was wrong about Zolf's spell sobering up Skraak but we've got to be nearing the 24 hour mark in the next couple episodes. They have to sleep sometime. Eep! Streaming promo! Rusty Towers has to be doing well if they can branch out, good for them! What can I say I like rituals? Thank yous followed by the theme and intros make my brain light up. Alex went 3rd person over the stress of the series being up to 142? Time to poke the corpse. Exploding 20s sound fun but a pain to plan for. Body is in a state of disrepair. Panel open in the room indicates the bolt came from a trap Body is gross Adventurer not Shoin? We can't search the corpse? Not even for Alex's traditional wallet of backstory? Can't picture the layout (ETA Babs you are amazing, and your map is my RQG post for tomorrow.) Explanation for this area having power, I just like hearing Cel talk. Locker by each door. No Alex, we don't trust them to be normal lockers. Fire ax, weird wrench, box. Box contains: Solvent, glue, a dead potion, means of applying glue/solvent Cel sounds like they are consoling themself for this not being a puzzle Zolf is not a public speaker, but I think I got the gist of it. Take the tool kits: we will need them whether this is a puzzle or not. Another dead trap. Thanks for the careful wording, Alex *Foul water pool surrounded by a walk way *2 dead kobolds :( *Killed by acid in the face from a creature I am tempted to mark the turnings but given the weird layout I don't think I could track it right even if I could juggle my MP3 player, this post, a pen and paper. Once again just going to trust them to spell out what's important. Yeah they would check for traps at every door. Ooh active trap. Its a well balanced team, nice to hear them give eachother credit for their respective strengths so readily. Dark hall way of options They are honest, and admit they are probably not checking for traps as they walk. Oh good Zolf doesn't actually have a Thing about Dancing Lights. It really was just a "could we not make it easier for people to shoot us?" coupled with a possibly IC trouble relating to how much moving around in the dark stinks without Dark Vision. Ha they immediately spot a tripwire they would have missed if they just had Zolf & Azu lead them in the dark. Chalk marking, ensuing discussion of what it means. Is that Zolf or Ben who is losing it over the puzzles? Cel, do you need a variation on the "a live dog is better than a dead lion" speech I nearly wrote when Hamid went after that ooze? Because dead scientists can't write up their findings. Love ya both, if you have to die, please not to something you could have just walked away from. Of course Zolf is going to indulge them; he took to Cel fast as Sasha and Cel is less squishy than L1 Sasha. Oh darn I have to be fair, learning what the symbols mean could be life saving later on. The glaive really is a 10ft pole, I was joking when I asked that. I hate the word "seemingly". Alex, don't break Ben. Hmm, this is actually pulpy fun. Getting us back to base levels after really intense beginning of the season or being readied for more emotional content? Most of the beats I'm expecting can't hit until they get off the island; could be the answers to the what's going on around here are intense. Final bets on it being Mr. Ceiling mark 1? Weird room with weirder floor. Clearly another puzzle. Once again how rich is this guy? That's a lot of money to go "I'm smarter than you are". Genre savvy is rewarded Dead wizard "I'm giving you this for free" is Alex implying that other info given without rolls has a price normally? Other room is completely flooded? Zolf suggests we mark the door. Kinky Azu. Hamid switches mark to clearly writing the issue. This team backs a play, so its now a Rosetta Stone of warnings Partially flooded room but no real danger? Ah Zolf catches that we could lose our path back if we keep doing letting water out. Flooded & trashed lab Speakers burst to life Break time Its Yoshida, arguing with himself. Cel is a delight. Azu is "going to shake" Yoshida Swimming sounds like a bad idea. Oh, caught that tone from Zolf, does he think Poseidon would mess with them? Worrying since Alex keeps tossing water related potions at them. Zolf and Hamid are making decisions as equals. Hamid no longer sounds nervous and Zolf still isn't pulling rank crap. Even Skraak is worried about Zolf. Oh right, better is a relative term. Still pretty depressed (mechanicaly grief stricken). Ok not to get to into it, but Zolf's mental health arc is really good. Like no show is perfect but Zolf going from the Paris breakdown to clearly putting the work in on changing how he talks about himself and relates to the team, but it not being a cure all? All while still being a fully contributing member of the team? Pretty damn good to see. Back to first room. Cel does not understand where Zolf is coming from. Cel, Azu, and Zolf have a brief conversation about Zolf's mood. Have I mentioned how great Azu is lately? Player vs Character thing? Because even without Alex lamp-shading it, Lydia doesn't strike me as the "you must be chipper" type. Zolf and Cel interaction. Zolf wants to put a pin in this and have a proper conversation later. Not sure how I feel about promising to "keep a lid on it". On the other hand its hard to balance expressing the emotion vs ramping yourself up vs the needs of the rest of the team. So much for me not getting into it. Flip-side: hey, turns out I can acknowledge an actual flaw in Cel while still thinking they are awesome overall. Crates of potions, including the stuff from the syringe spears. wanna grab a sample this time? Because I'm thinking the stuff in the spears is the stuff that makes the Kobolds so docile and may be a prototype for the alchemical side of the blue veins. That sounds cathartic for Zolf. (looting the place then letting Zolf smash the rest) Azu smashes too. Good for both of them. Ah point Cel, stuff could have airborne effects. Point Zolf, 2 way street, Cel should let people know that kind of thing. Speakers, what is up with Shoin? Assuming this isn't a pre-programmed contingency (which I wouldn't have thought possible until watching Alex), why is he using the script from the puzzle party while half of the traps are broken? Getting meta again Well maintained nasty trap with really obscure poison 2nd trap?! Isn't going to kill anyone, thank Alex. What in the Magnus Archives? Dancing mannequin room with weird heavy gas? Going to crawl on the conveyor belt. Its trapped too. Acid damage to Azu. Into initiative.

Skraak got a nat 20

Azu was hit with a syringe arrow of acid.

Azu backs out past Hamid & Skraak

A second trip wire drops a grate! Hamid and Skraak are trapped on the conveyor; everyone else is back in the room.

Zolf sees Cel dithering and directs them to deal with the grate. No effect

Azu takes 7 damage

Hamid uses acid splash on the grate.

Oh cool, there is an actual rule for how long it takes to get armor on and off. It makes sense too, the better the armor is the longer it takes. From what I picked up, better armor would have more straps for better fit and have more thick overlapping bits rather than gaps

All Zolf can do is a heal check and help Azu get her armor off.

Cel offers the antidote potion, but we don't know what it does.

Hamid reassures Skraak, continues to splash grate

Cel can't really do anything

More damage to Azu

Sweet out of initiative

Zolf cleans Azu off, Azu takes a couple healing potions and that’s dealt with. The acid splashes didn't do anything to the grate. Lift the grate attempt one. Ah "come on Skraak, we're going to help" so wholesome Zolf wacks it with his glaive, it has some effect but not a viable plan Speakers again, Cel points out they might need to meet Hamid on the other side. ...long story short lever attempt has no chance of working. Zolf: Hamid, mate, you're on your own Hamid: I've got Skraak. (winks at Skraak, Skraak blinks at him) Is it having little brothers? He is good with Skraak! Zolf: chin up, don't die on the conveyor belt. Hamid: yup gonna try Zolf: cool anything we can give you? Hamid: I'm pretty well equipped I think. Zolf: all right well we'll see you on the other side. Azu: Yeah, we'll meet you there alright. We'll see you soon Hamid: yeah Azu: alright Hamid: stay safe Azu & Zolf: you too And the end of the episode out takes are always fun

#Rusty Quill Gaming #long post #RQG spoilers #live blog thingy #RQG season 4 #RQG 142

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useless-slytherclaw · 4 years

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Chapter 22: The Lestrange Estate

He really hadn’t thought through the fact that he would have Bellatrix’s body. He pulled the hood of the robes up high to shadow his face. He had to take several steps before he was steady; his center of balance was in completely the wrong place. Once he felt ready, he straightened up his spine, but on his best imperious glare, and stalked down the road towards the manor. As he swept up to the gates a large black dog bounded up to him. He felt a hand press itself to the small of his back.

“Please be you,” Iset whispered.

“Of course,” Regulus murmured. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. I already tried the gates. It’s like Narcissa said, they’re magically locked.”

The gates outside the Lestrange Manor were heavy iron, much less decorative than the ones outside the Malfoy Manor. Regulus put his hand, Bella’s hand, against the gate and pushed. They swung open. The three of them breathed a collective sigh of relief. First step, complete. Regulus swept up the main path with Sirius, as a dog, bounding beside him and Iset’s hand on his back. As they approached the front door, they noticed that the light in one of the windows was on. Regulus clenched his fist. He had hoped no one would be here, that like the cave, they would have relied on spells.

It was too late to back out of this now.

The double set of front doors swung open in front of him. At first, he thought that someone had enchanted the door to open when the Lestranges came home, which was a vanity even the Malfoy’s hadn’t yet indulged in, but then he saw the small form of a house-elf at the doors.

“Mistress,” the elf squeaked and bowed low enough to press her face flat to the floor. “I wasn’t expecting you. I’m sorry. I’ll get the lights.”

“Quiet,” Regulus snapped. He didn’t want to be mean to the elf, but he had to pretend to be Bella. “I have business to attend to. Just get out of my way and stay there.”

“Yes Mistress,” the elf squeaked and ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the hallway to the right. Regulus walked through the entry hall, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and turned down the hall to the left, towards the light that had been on. The light spilled from under one of the doorways, making the correct door easy to find.

Regulus shoved it open and stepped in. A rather unattractive young man with black hair and large front teeth was sitting at a table there. He leaped to his feet, wand out. He automatically lowered his wand when he saw Bellatrix.

“Mrs. Lestrange,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Regulus raised his wand and the man flinched back. “Imperio!”

The man’s expression softened. Regulus felt his stomach turn uneasily. He really didn’t like to use this spell.

“Why are you here?”

“To guard the door!”

“What door?” The man lifted the rug in the center of the room to reveal a trap door.

“What's inside?” Regulus asked next.

“Something important. I don’t know!”

“What are the defenses in there?”

“I just told you. I don't know!”

Regulus sighed. He should have known better. As few people as possible would have been given the information.

“You are to stay in the room and not speak to anyone,” Regulus said. The man nodded. “Sit.”

The man sat on the chair that he had vacated when they came in.

“Incarcerous.” Sirius’ voice came from beside him. Heavy ropes appeared and bound the man to the chair. Iset appeared beside him a moment later, carefully folding up the invisibility cloak and handing it to Sirius, who put it in his robes.

“I don’t think there’s much point in disguise from here on out,” Sirius said and Regulus nodded. Sirius knelt and pulled the handle of the trap door, which opened. Inside the trap door was nothing but darkness.

“Lumos!” Iset knelt beside the opening and held her wand in front of it. “There’s some sort of mist? Do you think it’s cursed?”

Regulus swallowed hard. He pulled out his own wand and moved it over the opening, muttering. He had several spells for detecting and identifying curses and other dark magic. When he’d learned the dark arts, he’d learned how to identify a curse and break it in a way that allowed him to recast it.

“It’s not a curse,” he said at last. “I’m fairly confident.”

“Fairly confident,” Sirius muttered.

“Can you do better?” Regulus demanded. Sirius just frowned at him.

“Guess there’s nothing left to do but jump,” Sirius said. “I’ll go first.” He didn’t actually jump. He went to the side and slid in so that he was hanging by his hands from the trap door’s opening.

“Well,” Iset said when nothing happened to Sirius. “It’s not cursed.”

Sirius let go. A moment later there was a thud as he landed. “It’s not far down, you can just jump.”

Regulus motioned for Iset to go first. She made a face as she looked at the opening in the floor. Still, she slid to the edge and dropped in. Regulus followed.

He landed on stone and looked around. The only light came from the tip of Iset’s wand. The light bounced off of the mist around them, he couldn’t see anything except for Sirius and Iset.

“Oh,” Iset said, looking at him. “That's what it does.”

“What?” Regulus asked. Iset just gestured at him so he looked down and found that he looked like himself again. “Well, I guess it did what we wanted it to.”

“Now,” Sirius said. “Which way do we go?”

“We need to see better,” Iset said. Regulus agreed.

Sirius turned so that his back was to them and held out his wand. “Ventus!” he said before Regulus could ask what he was doing. A powerful cone of wind sprang from his wand. Sirius moved in a circle around Regulus and Iset, the wind shredded the mist. In the wand light, they could see that they were in a small stone room. There was only one door. They approached it carefully, wands raised. Sirius reached out to open the door, but Iset caught his hand.

“Wait!” She wasn’t looking at the door, but at the lintel. Strange marks were carved into it.

“You think that’s a spell?” Sirius asked tilting his neck back to look at them.

“I don’t know, I can’t see them very well.” She took several steps back, presumably to see the lintel better, but shook her head. “I can’t tell.”

Regulus looked at the marks. They seemed familiar somehow; maybe he’d seen them in ancient runes. They weren’t futhark though. Looking at Sirius, he guessed his brother didn’t know either.

“I think it’s writing,” Regulus said. “But, I don’t recognize it. Iset might.”

“Maybe,” Iset said, “but I’m too short to read it.”

Regulus tapped his wand against his leg, thinking.

“We need to hurry up,” Sirius said, also tapping his wand.

“Get on my back,” Regulus said, kneeling down on one knee.

“What?” Iset asked.

“If you get on my back, you should be high enough up to see the writing.” Iset glancing between the lintel and Regulus, nodded. It was awkward, and Iset had to hike her skirt up, but they managed. Keeping one hand on Regulus’ shoulder for balance, Iset held her wand to the marks.

“It’s a curse,” she pronounced almost immediately. “It’s done in hieratic script. Withering for those who enter with impure intentions.”

“Can you break it?” Sirius asked.

Iset bit her lip. “I’m not an expert in curse-breaking by any means.”

“Could you just destroy the carvings?” Sirius asked next.

“Regulus,” Iset said, “you know more about curse breaking than I do.”

“Yes, but I’ve never done something with Egyptian curses. With normal curse breaking, you need to take the pieces of the spell and neutralize them separately and in order. Could you do that with what's written up there?” His voice was a bit strained from carrying Iset’s weight.

“What if I tell you the parts of the spell, and you reverse them,” Iset says.

“Fair enough.”

“I’m getting down,” Iset announced. She held tight to his shoulders, and he let go of her legs so she could drop to the ground. Iset pulled a small bag that was hanging around her neck out from inside her dress. Getting a piece of chalk, she quickly copied what she had seen above. Then she grouped the words together. Slowly, she explained each part to Regulus who had his wand at the ready. They went over it twice before Regulus prepared to break the spell.

“Come on,” Sirius said, tapping his wand almost violently against his leg. “We don’t have forever.”

“I would not like to turn into a desiccated pile, thanks,” Iset said sharply.

“Hush,” Regulus said. “Both of you.” After a deep breath, he began to move his wand and murmur counterspells. His heartbeat was racing again and he was desperately hoping that this worked. The fact that all three of them could die if he did this wrong was not lost on him. The doorway began to glow a sickly green color. Then, as he said the last word, the light flashed and there was a sharp crack overhead. Blinking to clear his eyes, Regulus looked up and saw a long crack ran through the rock where the writing was.

“I guess that worked,” Sirius said, then pushed forward. Iset let out a small squeak, either of surprise or fear, Regulus wasn’t sure. But Sirius passed through the door unharmed. However, he stopped hard on the other side.

“What is it?” Regulus couldn’t see anything past his brother’s shoulder. Iset ducked and looked under his arm.

“Dementors,” Sirius said, voice rough. Regulus felt a cold pool in the pit of his stomach.

“Patronus time,” Regulus said, feeling more confident than he was. He could cast a Patronus, but he’d never been very good at it.

Nudging his brother in the back, Regulus said. “Sirius, you’re going to have to move out of the way.”

Sirius stepped to the side, and Regulus almost wished he hadn’t. The dementors had been on The Dark Lord’s side last time, so he had spent time around them. But they had always been under someone else's control. Iset stepped up beside him, her hand was trembling slightly as she raised her wand. It made him feel better to know that he wasn’t the only one freaking out.

There were four dementors. They had turned to face the three intruders but had yet to approach. Their cold touch had already spread frost along the walls and ceiling of the room. They were in front of a heavy wooden door. The room was filled with the horrible rattling sound of their breathing.

“Expecto Patronum!” The sound came from his left, from Sirius. A silver dog rushed out of his wand. The dementors turned their heads towards Sirius in unison. The closest one reached out a single skeletal, rotting hand.

Regulus squeezed his eyes closed, he pictured Iset running towards him across the quidditch pitch. Her cheeks were pink from the wind and she looked so happy, proud of him. “Expecto Patronum!” A wall of silver rushed from his wand, strong, but not corporeal. Better, he had to do better. Sitting with Iset in the back of the library, legs pressed together. She was laughing silently, with her hand over her mouth. He felt like he was glowing with the way she looked at him: like he was funny, like he was important, like he was worth something. “Expecto Patronum!”

The silver wall in front of him formed into a fox.

“Expecto Patronum,” Iset’s voice came from beside him. Silver smoke shot out of her wand. Regulus had to keep his wand up, to keep the Patronus in front of him, but he leaned his shoulder against hers. She took a slow, shaky breath and closed her eyes. “Expecto Patronum!”

A silver fox shot out of her wand. Regulus blinked in surprise. It rushed up beside his own Patronus. It was slightly smaller than his fox. Iset’s left hand reached out and gripped his shoulder.

“Let’s go!” Sirius said, pushing forward, dog Patronus bounding ahead of him and leaping at the dementors, which scattered. Regulus and Iset crowded in behind him. Regulus’ heart was pounding in his ears and he could see that both of his companions were pale. Sirius had sweat on his forehead and his hand was shaking hard. Regulus wondered if he was thinking of Azkaban. But the thought made his Patronus flicker, and he had to turn his thoughts back to it, to Iset, to the pair of silver foxes nipping at the dementors. Sirius managed to pull the door open and they tumbled through it, Regulus slammed it behind them. They were in the dark again.

“Lumos!” Regulus lit the tip of his wand. His hand was still shaking a bit. Ahead of them, a golden cage floated. He heard the other two gasp. Hufflepuff’s cup was on a cushion in the cage.

Sirius was about to take a step forward and Regulus flung out his arm, stopping his brother from moving.

“Don’t be so hasty. This seems too easy.”

“Too easy!” Sirius hissed. “There was an ancient Egyptian curse and dementors.”

“Last time,” Regulus hissed right back. “There was a blood sacrifice, a lake full of inferi, and a potion that causes excruciating pain while making you relive the worst moments of your life. You can’t just rush headfirst into everything, Sirius.”

“What should we do?” Iset asked. She was looking around the room, probably for more writing.

“Let me try and see what sort of spells are in here. Do you see any more writing? Any potions?”

Iset shook her head, so Regulus raised his wand and started to try and discern the magic present in the room, Latin words rolling off of his tongue with the ease of much practice. The air around the cage began to shimmer and the light coalesced into a web of gossamer red strands.

Regulus paused to study the sight in front of him. He was unfamiliar with this particular spell, but he knew enough about curses to put together what it did. “It’s designed to boil the blood of anyone who touches it.”

“Cheerful,” Sirius said. “Can you break it?”

Regulus sighed. Of course, Sirius would expect him to deal with it. “Yes, but it might take some time.”

“Reg,” Iset said. “Remember how I said we should bring Sirius because he’s an animagus. Is this spell designed to boil the blood of a person or of a living creature?”

“Hmm,” Regulus took a second look at the spell in front of him. He didn’t know a spell to get that sort of information out of a curse. However... “Avis!” Birds shot out of his wand tip. And flew straight through the red web. They wheeled around the room a few times, unhindered.

Sirius was looking at them with a critical eye. “They look fine,” he didn’t sound entirely convinced. Regulus didn’t blame him.

“That’s the best I can do,” Regulus said. “I can probably dismantle the curse, but it’ll take me a while. It’s not as neatly written out as the one on the door outside.”

“Fuck it,” Sirius said. “If it kills me, make sure you destroy the Horcrux.”

“You’ll be fine,” Iset said, crossing her arms. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Sirius gave her a sharp look but transformed into a dog. The black shaggy dog shook itself once and took a cautious step forward.

“He’s always dramatic.”

The dog growled. A faint smile flickered across Regulus’ face despite the situation. The dog had its hackles up. Animals were supposed to be sensitive to dark magic; Regulus would have to ask Sirius about it later. If he didn’t die.

Just then the dog lunged, jumping through the curse in one bound. Getting up on his hind legs, he grabbed the birdcage and pulled it back with him. Setting the cage on the ground in front of Regulus, the dog sat. Regulus knelt and opened the cage, pulling the cup out. Then he passed the cup to Iset. He held his wand up to the cup and cast Geminio so that he was holding an exact replica of the cup. He put it in the cage and stepped back. The dog gripped the cage in its maw and carried it back to the center of the room. Regulus levitated the cage back into the air. He looked at Iset; she’d already hidden the cup away. A moment later, Sirius was standing beside them, human again. Keep reading on AO3

#good slytherins #regulus black #fanfic #hp fanfic #sirius black #regulus lives #regulus deserved better #multichapter #chapter 22 #horcruxes #fan fiction #harry potter

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mlmdarkfiction · 4 years

Link

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Ship: Hubert Von Vestra/OC

Fic Description: Hubert cares about Luis. Cares about his feelings, his consent, and his pleasure. The last thing he would want is to hurt the other man. Especially when it comes to something like this, something that would result in him giving both his control and trust to Hubert.

Author Comment: I started writing this fic in February and just got around to finishing it. I'm trying to remind myself it's okay to sometimes be self indulgent and just write things involving oc/canon or just writing things for myself. If anyone does like Luis though I plan to write a rather large multichapter fic sometime relatively soonish involving lots of Fire emblem ocs...so there's that! In the mean time enjoy some soft Hubert.

Possible Content Warnings: NSFW, Hypnosis, Hypnosis Kink, Magic Used In Sex, There’s no actual sex but erect dicks are present and mentioned

Read Below:

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?”

Hubert’s voice is soft as he looks up from his position on the bed to his husband. Only like this, with him sitting, is he actually shorter than the other man. The moment his eyes meet Luis’ red though, he knows that the other wants to go through with this.

Despite what everyone else, even some of their so-called ‘friends’ believe, Hubert cares about Luis. Cares about his feelings, his consent, and his pleasure. The last thing he would want is to hurt the other man. Especially when it comes to something like this, something that would result in him giving both his control and trust to Hubert.

He trusts himself, of course, but...he wants to make sure Luis trusts him too.

“I am.”

Luis smiles down at Hubert. He likes it like this, when Hubert is seated on their bed, and he is still standing. It makes him feel bigger for once, it’s a nice change of pace to feel like the powerful one.

He cups Hubert’s cheeks. His own hands are cold, but it doesn’t stop Hubert from leaning into the touch.

Luis’ answer, it’s what Hubert had known the other would say, but still...there is a validation in the fact that Luis trusts him that feels wonderful, the soft affection feels wonderful.

Luis is smaller than Hubert.

He always has been, and although he’s grown quite a bit since their time in the Officers Academy, it’s doubtful he’ll ever be as tall as Hubert himself.

The other man's upbringing, even though he was, technically, a noble himself, left him scarred both emotionally and physically. And because of it, his growth had been stunted, leaving Luis much smaller than their peers.

That’s why Hubert is gentle as he pulls the other man into his lap.

He can’t suppress the smile slowly creeping onto his face when he feels just how hard Luis is already. Hubert has barely touched him, and in fact hasn’t touched his dick at all, and yet the other is already fully erect.

It was usually like this though.

The mage wonders if Luis’ erection is the cause of actual excitement for what’s to come, or if he, like always, is just so eager to please Hubert that his body automatically follows suit.

“We need a word,”

“A word?” Luis interrupts before Hubert can finish explaining.

He shifts Luis silently, the man's thighs now on both sides of his lap, straddling him. His hand brings one of Luis’ into his own where he pulls it to his lips kissing Luis’ tan, scarred knuckles.

“Yes, a word,” He says after the act of adoration, watching the way Luis giggles softly at it. It’s his way of reacting to soft intimacy, something Hubert will never understand and yet always appreciate all the same.

Even after explaining to Hubert that he doesn’t just want, but needs the man’s adoration and praise, Luis still seems...surprised and elitated every time Hubert actually gives him it.

As if to this day, after four years of being married, Luis is still surprised to find that Hubert loves him.

“We need a trigger word,” He continues, explaining, “Something we won’t say by accident, that way you’ll be safe getting in and out of the space.”

Hubert is taking this as seriously as he does everything, even with Luis flush in the face and seated on his lap.

“Right...a word…” The sentence is more of a soft hum than anything else, only audible because of the closeness of their bodies.

“What about sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” Hubert repeats, trying the word for himself. It does fit.

It’s not a term either man uses for one another. Their terms of endearment, although drastically different, generally don’t involve the phrase.

Hubert is, in a way, a far more formal lover. His nicknames tend to be traditional; Love, Dear, or simply Husband.

Luis’ are like the man himself, far more on the emotional side, nicknames like ; Darling, My Love, Dearest, and a wide array of cheesy variations of Hubert’s name.

“Sweetheart could work.” Hubert decides looking down at the smaller man still upon his lap. “I just thought it was cute, you know?” Luis isn’t looking at Hubert now, his eyes cast down bashfully as he takes one of the mages hands into his own, linking their fingers together.

It’s so cute Hubert is momentarily stunned unable to react. He is hit with just how much he loves the other man.

There is a slight pause before his gloved freehand grabs Luis’ chin, tilting it up so that he’s facing him. The silence makes Luis’ nervous, so Hubert makes it quick, only a moment of staring into the red orbs he loves so much before their lips meet.

Luis’ lips are soft. They’ve always been soft, despite the numerous scars and calluses that cover the man's body everywhere else. And even as soft as they are, Luis has never had any issue with kissing Hubert’s own chapped lips.

It seems, in fact, that Luis quite enjoys kissing Hubert,if the soft moan he gives is any indication. Though...the moan may entirely be the cause of Hubert moving his thigh to rub against the straining bulge in Luis pants. When they part Hubert is smirking.

“Let’s begin then, focus on me.”

And ever the obedient husband, Luis does so.

The magic itself is stupidly simple. Hubert had been able to master it in less than a day. Hubert keeps Luis’ eyes on his, even as the soft glow of the dark magic begins to illuminate them both, and then…

“Sweetheart.”

If Hubert hadn’t practiced beforehand, if he hadn’t first tried the spell on someone else, he would have been worried about the way the light seems to leave Luis’ eyes.

A tentative hand finds its way to his husband's thigh, where it then begins to rub gentle circles, trailing close to, but never actually touching his clothed erection. “How are you feeling?”

Luis will answer honestly, Hubert’s research on the spell has found.

“Weird.” His voice is utterly emotionless, and soft.

“Good weird?” The hand remains gentle, not wanting to spook the man under hypnosis.

“Yeah…”

“Good.”

He is prepared to stop as soon as Luis gives the word, as soon as anything seems off or uncomfortable. This is far less about his own pleasure, and more for that of Luis. After all it had been him to ask, having found out about the spell, while researching for one of his books.

“Then...Strip for me.”

“Ah?” It’s a soft curious noise that leaves the soft parted lips, and although his movement is sluggish and off, Hubert helps Luis off of his lap and to his feet.

What occurs is far from the sexy strip tease Hubert had been expecting. In his hypnotized state, Luis is too sluggish to actually unbutton his shirt, and so it takes a moment before Hubert realizes he needs to intervene.

He does so, gloved hands reaching to the silk material, buttons removed one by one to reveal Luis’ scared chest.

As one hand removes the shirt entirely the other allows a finger to trail gently down one of the scars, resting just above Luis’ hip bone.

Normally Luis is far too high strung and nervous to allow Hubert to stare at him like this. To really examine him, and his body.

The first time Hubert had seen him nude, Luis had cried. Tears caused by anxiety and fear.

He worried that the other would find him, the damaged state of his body disgusting.

It’s better now, somewhat, but even after countless reassurances Luis is far from completely soothed, still far from allowing Hubert to gawk at his naked form.

And seeing him now, truly for the first time and without restraint, Hubert realizes just how beautiful his husband is. He is beautiful not in spite of his scars, but because of them.

Scars caused by abuse, by his own crests destructive power, they meant that Luis was a fighter.

The muscles in the man's chest and stomach clench and flex under the gentle trailing of finger tips, and Hubert doesn’t miss the full body shudder that comes from Luis.

It could be considered teasing, something Luis hates within the bedroom.

He’s always needy, always wanting, always begging Hubert to just give him everything he has, but not now.

Now he’s flushed and silent and shirtless, staring at Hubert through half lidded eyes.

“You’re lovely.” Hubert reassures, although really there’s no need. He’s hoping that perhaps, the conscious layer of Luis left underneath the hypnosis may be able to hear it, may take to heart his words, and finally truly believe the depth of Hubert’s adoration.

He can only hope.

“I love you.”

It’s so much easier to express himself like this, when there’s no chance of embarrassing himself.

“So much.”

His hands are already getting rid of Luis pants and under clothes, and despite the very excited cock in his immediate vicinity Hubert’s attention instead goes to the other man's thighs.

The flesh of his thighs is just as scared as the rest of Luis’ body, but it does little to stop Hubert from covering the skin in kisses of adoration.

Hubert’s own actions cause him to blush, something he would be unable to do perhaps, if he knew Luis was fully aware, but here and now it’s okay to let himself go, to worship his husband in every way which he deserves.

Pale lips repeatedly pressing to the darken thighs.

He only stops himself when he hears the fervent moan from the man above him. The other’s cock is leaking precum like a faucet, and from how tight Hubert’s own pants feel it’s clearly time for him to move on.

Hubert doesn’t waste time changing. There’s simply no point. He unzips his pants, and pulls his own cock free from it’s confines. It’s lithe, skinny but a total 7 inches in length, and very veiny, totally different from Luis’ own cock. Unlike his husband, Luis is smaller and smooth, barely 5 ½ inches, but incredibly thick, so much so Hubert almost needs to use both hands to stroke him.

“On my lap.”

The order obeyed, Luis carefully finding himself on Hubert’s lap, legs spread on either side, both cocks inches away from touching.

Hubert considers, for a moment, bucking his hips upward to nudge his cock. He’s curious as to how Luis would respond to it, but he holds back the urge.

He’s far more interested in seeing Luis’ reactions to their main act. And the other man had already gone through the trouble of preparing himself beforehand.

Gloved hands go, groping at the other's soft bubble butt. There’s a slight slickness, the lube Luis had used before, it dampens Hubert’s gloves, but he doesn’t mind as he finally begins to remove them.

Stained black fingers dance across the soft skin. He takes a deep breath before…

Hubert doesn’t order Luis to kiss him.

He doesn’t need to. The moment their lips connect Luis is kissing back.

It seems the spell has broken.

Perhaps Luis was simply too strong, or Hubert lost his concentration, or a mix of both factors.

Spell broken or no, the other man is eager.

He moans against Hubert’s lips, hips rocking gently forward, his cock lightly pressing against Hubert’s own.

It’s a familiar sensation.

A familiar neediness and urgency.

When they part Hubert’s not at all surprised to see that bashful yet loving smile looking up at him.

Luis arms wrap themselves around Hubert, he leans in head resting on the others shoulder.

“Love me?”

Both a request and a command from the smaller man.

Always “love me” always “can we make love” always romantic always soft.

Everything Luis needs, and everything Hubert would never willingly admit to needing in return.

“Of course.”

Soft. Dutiful.

Hubert refuses to disappoint.

#Hubert Von Vestra #Hubert Von Vestra/OC #Hubert #OCxCanon #OC/Canon #OC: Luis Vorona #Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Fire Emblem: Three Houses #Fire Emblem: 3 Houses #Fire Emblem 3 Houses

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darquedeath4444 · 5 years

Text

The Pain We Share

Chapter EIGHT

The days slowly passed and soon, it had been two weeks since their invasion of Orochimaru's Northern Base. Sasori found himself regularly visiting Sakura. He would bring her her meals and he would read or write reports while she ate. Once she finished, she would turn to watch him as he flipped through pages or dipped his brush into ink over and over. It became a rather mundane but fixed routine.

Sasori had been carrying Sakura's dinner towards her room when he bumped into Itachi. He easily regained his balance and noted that not a single drop of soup had spilled.

Itachi dipped his head in silent apology. "For Sakura?"

Sasori nodded and shifted his hold on the tray.

The Uchiha blinked and went still, something he often did when he was considering possibilities and outcomes and chances and luck and everything in between prior to taking action before he lifted the paper bag Sasori hadn't realized he had been carrying. He dug through it, then pulled out a smaller bag. "Anmitsu," he said, holding it out. "I doubt she would have had the pleasure of indulging in sweets."

Sasori took it with a small nod. "Thank you," he said, surprised. The raven had an unexpectedly sweet tooth, and he usually kept a rather tight hold on his snacks.

Itachi nodded. "Perhaps you could ask her if there is anything she would like to eat," he said. "Our meals lack variation, and I doubt it will be much trouble to get her something she would like.

Sasori considered this. Sakura hadn't complained about anything since she had woken up, but perhaps that was due to her upbringing. He supposed it would not be too much extra effort and he nodded. "Okay."

Konan came knocking on his door just as he had been about to take a bath. The woman was a rare guest, but Sasori invited her in without question. Konan hesitated before she entered and took a seat on his bed when he offered it to her. She politely declined tea.

Sasori shrugged and sat back down on his work chair. He noticed the bag she was carrying. "Is there anything you need?" He asked curiously. Now that he had sat down, it was very very difficult to not turn back to his messy desk and continue to work on one of his many unfinished side projects.

Konan fiddled with her fingers, then sighed. She turned to the bag and held it up. "I found some old clothes," she said. "They might be a little big, but they should fit her. We can buy her new clothes when you are put on shopping duty, but I think it might be a little dull and unsettling to be stuck in hospital garb until then."

Sasori blinked, gears in his mind turning. "Is this about Sakura?" He finally asked.

Konan blinked like the answer should have been obvious. "Of course," she said, then stood up. "I'll be going now," she said. "I asked Nagato, and he said we can allow her to use the baths as long as she's watched. I have a break tomorrow from noon, so I can help her then. Relay that to her, will you?"

The woman was gone before Sasori could reply. He stared at the door as it was softly closed. "...Sure...?"

The Akatsuki had a large archive. This was due to the large variety of interest and specialty of the members, the value their organization saw in knowledge and information, their income, and the backing of several other influential groups and organizations.

Sasori flipped over a book on rare plants, remembering how Itachi had acquired it for him when he had voiced his interest; it appeared his clan had a copy in their own library.

While against Itachi joining, once he was actually a member they were more than eager to show their support. Sasori knew it was mainly for public view, to appear united as a proud clan, but he would take it as long as they did not attempt to interfere. If they thought they could control the Akatsuki through their former heir, they were dead wrong. Itachi would not stand for that.

He frowned, then put down the book; he had read it a dozen times over. He reached for a book a little higher up and paused when it was just out of his reach.

Sasori's chakra control was perfect, but he did not want to risk damaging the cover by using it to get the book.

He heard someone chuckle and scowled, refusing to look back. A blue hand appeared above him and he hissed in annoyance when Kisame easily pulled the book from the shelf. His hand automatically came up to block when the man attempted to lightly smack him with it. "I had that," he said.

Kisame chuckled. "Sure," he said agreeably, and that made Sasori want to smack him even more. He did not and, instead, he rolled his eyes, fully intended on turning and leaving.

"Ah, wait!" Kisame called. Sasori paused. The older man crossed his arms and jerked his head towards the book he was holding. "Is that for your girl?"

Sasori frowned and turned around. "For Sakura?" He asked.

Kisame seemed to consider something. "She must be bored out of her mind," he said. "Maybe you could bring her something to do. A book can't be that dangerous, right?"

Sasori glanced down at the one he was holding. Perhaps his friend was not aware of the many ways one could kill using the bookmark string, but he kept that to himself. "You tried to hit me with it," he pointed out drily.

Kisame laughed. "Doubt something like that would kill you," he said. "Think about it, okay?"

Sasori sighed, wondering why everyone deemed it fit to give their two cents about Sakura. "Okay."

Sasori enjoyed a wide range of pastimes, but his most favorite was probably working on his wooden puppets. It was something he had been doing since he was a kid, and it was also something he was really good at. He did not like selling his works, but he knew that even then people knew of them. Since he had joined the Akatsuki, he had tampered with one or two of his creations to conceal weapons. It was still largely an untested idea, but it was something he had already tested on the field against insignificant opponents and knew could be rather effective once properly polished.

Once the whole thing with Orochimaru was over, he told himself.

He had been messing around with a joint that had been bothering him for a while when there was a knock. Deidara threw open the door without even waiting for a reply and let himself in like he owned the place. Sasori scowled and turned around to face the intruding blond. "What?"

Deidara grinned and plopped himself down on Sasori's bed. "How are you, Danna?" He asked. "How's Sakura-chan, un?"

Sasori pointedly turned back to his desk. He could feel Deidara rolling his eyes before his partner skipped over to his side and leaned obnoxiously over his shoulder. "Danna~"

Sasori sighed. "What?" He asked. "I am busy, and I'll appreciate it if you could leave me alone while I work."

This time, he got to see the blond roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever un," he sang. "Anyways, Danna, the reason I came here today is not to simply allow you the pleasure of my company." He dug into his pocket and pulled out something that easily fit into the palm of his hand. "Look!"

Sasori gave in to his curiosity and leaned in. He realized that the small object was made of clay, and shaped to be a cherry blossom.

"You've got some of that fancy paint here, right?" Deidara asked, looking around. "The paint I keep is meant to be used on works that go bang, so they won't last very long. I thought you could paint it or something. Don't worry, there are no explosives hidden inside." He held out the flower. Sasori took it and carefully turned it around, noting that it was actually a hair clip.

He frowned. "For Sakura?"

Deidara nodded. "Yeah, unless you want it, un." He snickered. "I can make you matching ones if you want."

Sasori rolled his eyes and turned back towards his desk again. Deidara gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading towards the door. "Make sure you give it to her, un!" He called.

Sasori did not grace him with a response and the door closed moments later, signaling his departure. Once the blond's footsteps had faded away, Sasori looked down at the hairclip sitting in his hand. It actually did look really nice.

He sighed, then opened one of his drawers and inspected the first brush he came across. He had just the shade of pink that would suit Sakura.

A reason Sasori often spent his free time in Sakura's room was not something he liked to admit to out loud but sounded just fine in his head.

He enjoyed Sakura's silent companionship.

Deidara was annoying, Kisame treated him like a kid, and Itachi had the 'I know everything you don't air around him all the time. Others, he did not spend nearly as much time with. Sakura was simply there and he found that, sometimes, that was what he was looking for.

He wondered what she enjoyed, and that led to him seeking out Nagato later that day.

The man paused in his own report writing. "I'm sorry?"

"Isn't there something we can allow Sakura to do?" He repeated. "She sits, she eats, she sleeps. It must be boring."

Nagato frowned thoughtfully and put down his brush. "She is a prisoner here," he reminded him gently. "We cannot risk letting her run around without absolute certainty that she is not a threat."

Sasori did not refute the reasonable response and instead nodded. "I know," he said. "But perhaps I could bring her around the base?" As the words left his mouth he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. He grew poisonous plants to use on his weapons and that area was highly secure, mainly to stop his immature friends from taking out their frustration with him, after facing defeat of some kind by his hand, on his innocent plants. He doubted Sakura would cause much harm if he asked. He said so.

Nagato blinked. "Why, Sasori, that is a wonderful idea," he said, and Sasori though he heard the sarcasm dripping from the man's tone. "Whatever made you think you need my permission to do such a thing?"

Sasori found it was his turn to blink. He frowned In confusion. "Do I not?" He asked. "As you said, she is a prisoner here."

Nagato sighed. "Right," he said. "But truly, that sounds like a good idea, and will hopefully put her at ease. A change of environment may be good for her."

Sasori nodded. "Thank you," he said.

Nagato stopped him before he could leave. "What brought this up suddenly?" He asked.

Sasori paused for a moment. He could clearly remember how many of his friends had approached him about Sakura. Even Kakuzu had asked about her. Perhaps it was the constant reminders of her existence?

However, he simply shrugged. "Who knows?”

Chapter NINE>

<Chapter SEVEN

Chapter List

#the pain we share #Naruto Fanfiction #SasoSaku #Sakura #Sasori #Sasori x Sakura #fanfiction #writing #fanfic

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godaime-obito · 5 years

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the third chapter of Asking for Trouble is now available on ao3 and under the cut! the previous chapters are also under my writing tag.

Madara is having the absolute time of his life. He and Tobirama have been indulging in a copious amount of PDA which has done several great things. Firstly; everyone is so freaked out the avoid him more than normal, leaving him in peace. Secondly; Hashirama keeps wildly fluctuating between euphoric and furious at a hilarious rate. Thirdly; Izuna is so confused that it’s almost as funny as Hashirama. Fourthly; Tobirama is a fantastic kisser and he gets to make out with him a lot. It’s been nearly a week and his only complaint is that it can’t last forever and he still has no excuse for why he and Tobirama should have sex other than ‘I want to have sex with you.’

This may be surprising to some, as Madara seemed just as annoyed by Tobirama as Tobirama was by him. However, Madara is, in spite of everything, 300% more in touch with his feelings than him. He figured out he genuinely liked Tobirama two days in to their farce. There’s actually a lot to like: his fierce personality, his intelligence, the way his hair shimmers in the right light, the way he looks when he goes swimming, his little smile when he thinks of his students, the way he yells at village elders…

What was Madara supposed to be doing again? He got distracted for a moment. Oh, yeah: he’s having the time of his life and he’s going to Hashirama’s tonight. More specifically, Mito invited Tobirama and him over for dinner, while Hashirama made hilarious teary expressions in the background. The only downside is that Touka will be there and Madara is certain she’s suspicious of the relationship. They’ll have to be careful.

Madara stops by Tobirama’s house to pick him up for the dinner at six. He knocks firmly and then steps back. Just as he expected the door swings open into the space he was just occupying at a rapid pace. One of the little things he’s noticed that last week is that Tobirama’s very aggressive about opening his door, perhaps in an attempt to discourage unwanted visitors.

“Are you ready?” Madara asks, offering his hand.

“Of course,” he replies, accepting the hand and twinning their fingers. He hums contently when Madara leans in to kiss his cheek. It may partially be that Tobirama’s gotten used to acting, but Madara’s certain it is also at least partially because he’s come to like him. Their walk is accompanied by the usual bewildered stares. He hopes those never go away with time.

Mito ushers them in with a knowing smile and directs them to the kotatsu. Touka and Hashirama are both already sitting. The two of them sit and Madara makes an effort to meet Touka’s narrowed eyes before kissing Tobirama right on the mouth. Extra tongue. She makes an exaggerated retching noise and looks at the wall while Hashirama lets off a small whimper.

The food is passed around as Mito seats herself next to her husband. “It’s lovely to see you two getting along. We always knew you had similar priorities underneath it all,” she says demurely. There’s something sharp and teasing in her eyes. Hashirama whimpers again.

“I spent so much time insisting that couldn’t possibly be that it’s still a bit embarrassing to admit you were both right,” Tobirama offers in reply.

“I can barely remember not liking him,” Madara adds. He looks at Hashirama with false nonchalance. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Hashirama looks up at him mournfully from where he’s slouchy dramatically into his food. “Have you ever thought ‘I sure would love ice cream’ so you get a gallon and you eat the whole thing at once and then afterwards you think ‘God, I ate way too much ice cream I never want ice cream again’?” he asks, volume increasing with every word.

“No?” Madara replies.

“Oh,” Hashirama says, “well, I’ve been having that feeling of having had too much of something I thought I liked, except I haven’t eaten any ice cream.” Tobirama snorts and gives a chuckle under his breath.

“I’m sorry?” he offers.

“I wonder what could be causing that feeling,” Tobirama adds.

“I’m sure he’ll feel better soon,” Mito says, “How have you been Touka?”

“Great!” she says, smile far too sharp, “I’ve been sharping my naginata. Just in case I need for something: a mission, diplomatic intimidation, family issues, a relative mysteriously ends a seemingly perfect relationship. You know, normal problems.” Madara gulps.

“That’s lovely Touka,” she replies, “but I’m sure you won’t need it for anything like that last one.” She appears to communicate something to Touka with her eyes. Madara has a feeling he’s not refined enough, or something similar, to understand what she’s conveying. Either way, it goes over his head, although it does seem to calm Touka down.

“How have you been Mito?” Tobirama inquires, rather eager to change the topic.

“Fantastic. There’s been a bit great entertainment this week,” she answers, “it’s a shame Hashirama doesn’t seem to be enjoying it too.”

“Well, Anija does have a deplorable sense of humor,” he says with a smirk.

“Unfortunately,” she says with a hum of agreement.

The rest of the dinner passes in a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere. All that awkward talk at the start must have cleared the air. Madara keeps a hand on Tobirama’s thigh the entire time, both because he refuses to be intimated by Touka and because he wants to. He likes Tobirama’s thighs. They’re big and muscular and would most likely be fantastic wrapped around Madara’s waist. Some day.

They exchange slightly tense goodbyes once the dishes are washed and part ways at the front door. Touka’s house is thankfully the opposite direction of Tobirama’s. The streets are largely abandoned as they walk. They still hold hands.

“Ice cream,” Madara deadpans, when they come to a stop at Tobirama’s door.

“I wish I could say that wasn’t a true story,” he says with a sigh, “but he really did eat a gallon of ice cream in one sitting before.”

“I can’t believe that’s my best friend.”

“I’m related to him,” Tobirama says with bafflement. It goes silent.

“Mito and Touka are scary,” Madara adds after a moment.

“Yeah. I admire them both, but wish they would give me a break now and then,” he replies. Madara just nods understandingly. The street is completely empty, no one in sight. He rests a hand on Tobirama’s hip and leans in to kiss him. It’s perhaps a bit involved for a goodnight kiss.

“Goodnight darling,” he says, “see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight Madara,” Tobirama replies. He slips in his front door, quietly shutting it behind him, as Madara walks toward the Uchiha compound.

#madatobi #tobirama #madara #naruto #hashirama #mito #touka #fanfic #asking for trouble #my writing

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