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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

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Love is like a tornado...

For the dearest @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 💟💟💟

Hope you’ll like the story...

"Man, that sucks..."

"Yeah, the situation is desperate!"

The Weasley twins sigh as they watch two of their favorite teachers glancing at each other but not daring to say a single word.

On one side, there is Professor Remus Lupin, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Compassionate, kind, encouraging, and understanding, he is among the most popular teachers in the school.

On the other side, there is (Y/N) (L/N), the new Charms lecturer. She is not only beautiful but also passionate, supportive, charismatic, and gifted. Every Hogwarts students are keen to attend her courses: even the Slytherins are respectful towards her.

Besides, she is the youngest member of the professors' staff.

However, what makes Fred and George Weasley upset is that the two teachers seem fond of each other, but no one tries to make the first step.

"They could be the most popular couple in school!"

"You mean the most popular couple in the history of the school!"

"You got the point, Fred!"

Sitting next to them, Ron, Hermione, and Harry share their opinion.

"They are so cute together! But it would not be fair to force them!" breathes Hermione.

"Hermione is right. Likewise, Remus is not at ease with his lycanthropic condition: I'm sure he is scared to hurt her!" advises Harry.

"Sure. And, moreover, Lupin is so clumsy when it comes to ladies!" grins Ron.

"Watch your words, Little Ronnie! I'm sure you don't want your friends to know about the emptiness of your love life!" sneers George, making his twin laugh.

Grumbling some curses against his "stupid brothers," Ron eats a piece of cake while asking:

"Which subject do we have after lunch?"

"Let me see... Ah, we have a Charms lesson!"

As they hear it, a Cheshire grin appears on the Weasley twins' faces.

"Do you hear that, Georgie?"

"Oh yeah, Freddie, I heard it!"

Under the worried look of their younger brother and his friends, George and Fred prepare their new trick to "help" their beloved teachers...

Later in the afternoon, in Charms classroom.

In her classroom, (Y/N) tries to explain a new spell to her students.

"Remember, ladies and gentlemen: your gesture must be short but firm! Come on, try!"

Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin students try their best to achieve the exercise. Some manage to reach their objective while others struggle.Their professor watches them with a kind smile on her face. She really enjoys teaching at Hogwarts: the pupils are interested and willing to work.

Furthermore, in her class, there is no rivalry between the houses. She encourages solidarity and group works between the students, no matter which house they belong to.

That's why she appreciates seeing Hermione, one of her favorite students, working with Draco Malfoy without hostility. She even notices that the two seem to get along now, to Ron Weasley's dismay.

Speaking of the latter, he nearly turns one of his classmates into a chair!

"Watch out, Ron!"

"Sorry, Seamus!"

"Focus on your gesture, Mr. Weasley!" she reminds him kindly.

"Yes, sorry, Mrs. (L/N)!"

The class goes well until the bell rings.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen! For next time, I want you to practice all the charms on page 214 of your manual! See you on Friday!"

Once the students leave her classroom, she packs her belongings and heads to her office. On the way, she bumps into someone and lets her book falling.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I did not see you..."

"I should be the one apologizing, (Y/N)"

The young woman lifts her head, and she recognizes Remus. For a moment, they cannot help but look at each other with some fascination. Shyly, the werewolf hands to her some of her books.

"Thank you for helping me, Remus!"

"It's my pleasure. I'll be careful next time!"

"Don't be upset about it. It's okay!"

"I... I'm glad to hear that!" whispered the werewolf, slightly blushing.

Unbeknownst to them, the Weasley twins observe them, hidden in a corner.

"By Merlin, it fails! They are this close to kissing, I swear! Ugh, it's soooo frustrating!"

"I told you that the Tumbling spell would not work!"

"Quiet, Fred! Unless you have another idea..."

"Just let me think about it, Georgie... Hooray! I have a plan!"

"What is it?"

Fred picks up his spellbook and points to a segment.

"I think this would help us!"

Looking at the spell, George beams.

"Oh, that's what I call a brilliant idea! The best prank we ever did!"

"You can say it, bro! Now, let's prepare it! We have to do it tomorrow: I hear Ron revising his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for tomorrow! It's our only chance !"

The following day.

Sitting at her office, (Y/N) prepares the lesson for the Year 1 Ravenclaw students. She smiles while thinking about those little wizards and witches who look at her with admirative eyes. They are so cute!

To be honest, they are cuter when they interact with Remus. She loves to see him being gentle with the younglings and encouraging their efforts. She can say that her colleague would be a wonderful father...

Suddenly, a loud noise wakes her up from her daydream. She looks at her door that shatters because of a tornado.

"By Merlin, what is that?"

As she prepares to cast a spell, the tornado charges at her and imprisons the young witch in its fury.

Mangled by the tornado, (Y/N) cannot stop it, losing her wand in the process. And carried by the wind, she soon crosses the corridors, under the astonished eyes of the teachers and students.

Meanwhile, in Remus's classroom, the students listen to their teacher.

"As you know, Banshee's main power is her scream. It's so powerful that it can drive her victims mad! It can also lead to their death!"

"How loud it can be?" asked Draco.

"Well, according to Newt Scamander, you can hear her wails from a couple of miles away!"

At the same time, the students jumped on their seats as they hear a piercing shriek.

"BANSHEE! SHE IS HERE!" panicked Neville.

"I assure you, young Mister Longbottom, that it is not a supernatural scream. On the contrary, it is a human scream... It sounds like someone needs help!"

Indeed, someone needs help as they hear a familiar feminine voice.

"PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"OH MY GOD! It's Mrs. (L/N)!" exclaims Harry.

Fearing for the life of his beloved witch, Remus picks his wand and prepares to rescue (Y/N) when the tornado bursts into the classroom.

"STEP BACK! STAY FAR FROM IT!" directs Lupin.

All the students stumble behind their teacher. The werewolf braces himself before he tries to rescue his crush from the roaring wind.

Unfortunately, the tornado absorbs him as well, before getting outside the classroom.

"We have to help them! Hurry!" declares Parvati before running outside, followed by her classmates.

When they arrive in the main hall, they witness an extraordinary scene: trapped in the tornado, Remus and (Y/N) try to escape this windy pit but fail every time.

"How can we help them?" demands Ron.

"First of all, we must identify which spell was used to create this tornado!"

At the same time, Fred and George topple towards them while repeating:

"A DISASTER! IT'S A DISASTER!"

When he hears his brothers, Ron exclaims:

"What on Earth have you done again?"

"See, little brother, it's a long time story..."

"Cut it out, and tell the truth!" yells Dean.

The twins look at each other with despair before explaining:

"Well, we only wanted to try helping Professor Lupin and Mrs (L/N) confessing to each other..."

"And we thought that if he saves her, she would immediately confess her love! And he would do the same!"

"Oh, by Morgana, why do I have those two dorks as brothers?" whines Ron as he facepalms.

"Okay. But why the tornado?" asks Neville.

"Well, it seems cool!" answers Fred.

"That is not cool AT ALL, you dumbskull!"

"Only a Weasley can produce such a ridiculous idea!" says Goyle with irony.

"Shut up, Goyle, and be useful for once in your life!" shouts Seamus.

Whereas her classmates panic for their teachers, Hermione muses about the tornado.

"It is not a classic spell... If only I had my Charms book with me!"

Immediately, Draco hands his manual to her.

"You can read mine if you want!"

"Thanks, Draco! Let's see what it is!"

As the two wizards look in the book, Ron nudges Harry.

"Did you just see it?"

"What?"

"Malfoy was nice with Hermione!"

"And? It is not the first time!"

"That is not normal, Harry!"

"For Godric Gryffindor's sake, Ronald! We have other priorities now!"

Quickly, Hermione finds the solution.

"I got it! Oh lord, it's a Confessional Tornado!"

"A what?" asks George.

"According to the book, this spell creates that entangles two people and compels them to tell the truth. It lets them free only if they do so!" explains Malfoy.

"Well, that's a complicated situation!"

Coming closer to the tornado, Draco yells to the teachers.

"Professor Lupin, Mrs. (Y/N), you are in a Confessional Tornado! You must tell the truth, or you won't get out!"

"WHAT?"

"That's true! We checked it! Please, tell the truth!"

"The truth? About what?" asks Remus.

Sighing, the Slytherin shouts:

"Sir, tell her everything. Say how much she means to you... Just say what you are truly feeling about her!"

Slightly biting his lip, the young man carries on:

"You are a brave man, Mister Lupin. You can tell her the truth... so perhaps, it would help me to confess to the girl I love what I've dreamed of saying to her! How incredible, smart, lovely, and beautiful she is to me!"

"Who is he talking about?" asks Hermione.

"I don't know... but I pity for her!" sneers Ron.

Gathering his courage, Remus looks at (Y/N) and manages to say through the storm:

"Draco is right (Y/N). I should have told you the truth a long time ago..."

"What?"

"You are the most amazing witch I've ever met. Since the first day, I knew that... I fell in love with you."

Saying that (Y/N) is shocked is an understatement. All this time, she hoped to hear Remus saying those words...

"Why?" she mutters.

"There are so many reasons why I love you, but I would waste your time. The main thing I would say is... If it takes me all this time to confess, it's because I'm scared... of me! You're aware of my second nature, and I would not be able to forgive myself if I hurt you!"

She smiles.

"Do you think I would turn around and walk away because of that? Remus, your lycanthropy is a part of you. But does it makes you a monster? No. You try your best to protect those around you from this curse. Every day, I see you with our colleagues or students. I only see a kind, compassionate, encouraging, brave, protective, and wise man who never gives up on someone else. This is the man I fell in love with since our first meeting. This is the man I want to spend my life with... If you would give me this chance!"

Suddenly, he takes her small hand and holds it tenderly.

"You don't have to ask: you are already in my existence!"

Moved by this answer, (Y/N) brightly smiles before she cups his face between her hands and kisses him. Taken aback by this sudden gesture, the man kisses her back under the cheers of the students and teachers.

"See, Minerva, he found the courage!" says Dumbledore, chuckling.

"They must be so relieved!" smiles McGonagall.

Meanwhile, the Weasley twins let out a sigh of relief.

"At least, it was not as disastrous as I thought!"

"Yeah. Mission accomplished, bro... And I can say that it helps someone else!"

They both look at Drago and Hermione, who are holding hands and speaking softly.

"Man, I think we have created another power couple in Hogwarts!"

"Should we tell Ron about this?"

They look at each other with a mischievous smile.

"NAH! NOT NOW!" they laugh.

"Instead, let's enjoy our success!"

At the same moment, Remus and (Y/N) are enjoying the moment as they start a new step in their lives. A new life together. And to think that all begins when two prankish brothers start a tornado... After all, love is like a tornado: it arrives unexpectedly and sweeps you off your feet...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it! 💜💜💜💜💜💜

#requests #harry potter #remus lupin #fred and george weasley #david thewlis #dakota fanning #james and oliver phelps

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 4 years

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It takes a pack to raise a pup

“This is bad... What am I going to do?!” The gofer nervously paced around the infirmary, clutching the bitten arm in his hand before turning to face the Janitor “Please tell me that this is just a bad joke!” He pleaded “Please tell me that this is just a mistake...”

“Sorry ta break it to ya Bud.” The janitor lowered his cap down in sympathy. “But I ain’t jokin’ and I ain’t wrong about this: dat ova here is definitely a werewolf bite. I should know, I saw what my table an’ chair legs looked like after my first few full moons.”

As this was a very serious situation, he forced himself to hold back his laughter at the intrusive memory of his wife telling him that her solution to keeping him from turning the furnature into his chew toys was to swat his snout with a rolled up newspaper every time he ignored his bones and squeaky toys in favor of the table legs. This resulted in him letting out a noise that sounded like a cough.

“B-but what about my Ma and Grandpa?! They don’t even know that monster stuff goes down in the studio! How am I supposed to explain to them that every month, I’m going to turn into a blood-thirsty monster!?”

“If ya don’t wanna tell ‘em, they don’t have ta know.” Wally shrugged. “A lotta wolves don’t tell even their closest family members.”

“What if my Ma questions why all my clothes are getting ripped up?! What if Grandpa finds out when he sees me turn for the first- Oh no... WHAT IF I BITE THEM?! WHAT IF I EAT THEM AFTER I TURN?! WALLY, WHAT IF I END UP KILLING THEM?!”

Buddy felt sick to his stomach as he slumped down to the floor, Wally sat down next to him and patted his back.

“Hey Buddy, you’re gonna be fine. Trust me! There’s a ton of werewolves here at dis studio, none of us would mind showin’ ya the ropes or givin’ ya some good advice for dealin’ with this. Who knows, it might even be a little fun ta get a new pup in the pack.”

“Uuuugggggghhhhhhhhh...”

The Janitor’s words and smile didn’t reassure the nervous gofer, if anything, hearing that he and Wally weren’t the only wolves in the studio made Buddy wonder if the monster that bit him last week was one of his own coworkers. As he thought about it, The wiry music director who was in a constant state of irritation seemed like he was a good candidate to be the wolf who bit him...

He would be lying if he said he couldn’t imagine the man sinking those sharp teeth of his into a human being’s flesh.

“Buddy, c’mon, look at me. It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna lie to you, changing is always scary the first few times but you don’t have to do it alone. I can rally up the pack if ya need all of us or I can just keep this between you and me, but no matta what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Wally...” He sighed as he still dreaded what was to come. “How soon can you get them?”

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“Ta-daaaaa! Welcome to werewolves not-so-anonymous!”

Wally unfurled the crudely-made banner as Buddy walked into the break room, Susie clapped, Henry smiled and gave a friendly wave, and Lacie looked bored and unamused but gave a thumbs up and a half smile.

The gofer let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding in. Wally alone could’ve been an outlier among werewolves but not all of them. He knew most of these people; the voice actress was hands down one of the most infectiously cheerful people he’d ever met, The Head Artist was a patient and kind man who the gofer looked up to as both an artist and a father figure, and while he didn’t know the mechanic very well aside from the facts that she wasn’t the most friendly or social of people, she didn’t seem half bad.

These people weren’t monsters, he wasn’t a monster.

“Alright, I know a some of us here already know each other but others don’t so lets start ourselves off with some introductions. Who’s going first?”

“Okay. Hi, I’m Buddy, I’m the studio’s gofer and I got bitten pretty recently so I’m kinda scared about all of this...”

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

On the day of the full moon, Henry rented a van with the intent to take the werewolf pack to a cabin in the woods so that Buddy’s first transformation would be in a secluded area.

“So how’d your folks take it?” Lacie inquired to break the silence. “They didn’t look happy when we picked you up.”

“They took it better than I expected, I guess?” The gofer sighed “I mean, my ma seemed pretty scared, but she seemed more scared for me than scared of me.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen...” Henry nodded.

“Guys, I have a question”

“Go for it.”

“If Sammy’s not a werewolf, then why is he coming with us? Wont he get turned?”

The music director rolled his eyes and took a very long sip from his coffee, he also wasn’t looking forward to tonight but for a very different reason.

“Nah... Don’t worry.” Lacie laid back and stuck her boots up on the dashboard. “Hell’s Songbird is cursed with something else so he’s immune to lycanthropy.”

Nobody noticed that the man had flinched at Lacie’s statement.

“...Is he basically an unofficial member of the pack?”

Wally and Susie’s eyes lit up at the question and they smiled at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

Wally broke down laughing as Susie broke out her stage voice, even Buddy let out a soft chuckle at her dramatic movements.

“The grumpy banjo man is indeed the pack’s loyal brother, not by blood or spirit, but by true love-”

Said grumpy banjo man turned to face the back seat, the regular irritation in his voice gave way to a sarcastic, deadpan tone.

“If you people genuinely think I ‘love’ getting chewed, slobbered on, roughhoused with, pounced on, and ripped apart by a pack of near-mindless wild animals almost every single month, then you’ve probably been huffing too many ink fumes.”

“Yeah, yeah, so bein’ the ‘designated driver’ of da group isn’t always fun... But ya do it ‘cause you looooooooooove us!”

Henry sighed in a mix of annoyance and acceptance in a way that implied he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“I’m a married man.” Sammy continued to deadpan. “I thought you knew that by now.”

This response only egged Wally on.

“Psssst! He’s not denyin’ it!” The janitor stage-whispered “So it must be true!”

“Shut UP Franks.”

Sammy huffed and crossed his arms, but not denying Wally’s statement, which led to a loop of Wally’s teasing and Sammy’s fruitless attempts to shut the conversation down, which was only ended by reaching their destination.

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Buddy felt goosebumps as the van pulled up to the cabin and the sun slowly started to dip down.

“Here we are.”

“Finally! I swear, every single car ride I have with that. walking. headache. becomes the longest one I’ve ever endured.”

“Hey!”

The cabin itself probably looked like a much more warm and inviting place during midday, but as the shadows of the trees started to cast down on the humble little abode, it looked almost sinister. Although, that could’ve just been Buddy’s imagination working against him.

He hoped it was just his imagination working against him.

“Fuck, it’s gettin’ dark real fast.” The mechanic remarked as she looked at the sky. “Should we slap the meat on the grill now or just wait after we change and eat it raw?”

“We should wait.” The animator replied. “At this rate, if we try to cook it we’ll change before it’s halfway done.”

Buddy helped carry things into the cabin; a cooler, a couple of blankets, a duffle bag filled with dog toys and bones, they all seemed like reasonable items, but he couldn’t deny he felt something was missing.

“Hey Sammy, you’re looking out for us after we change, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So where are the ropes and chains? And isn’t there supposed to be bear traps and tranquilizers or something like them?”

The musician raised an eyebrow at the gofer.

“...Why would we need those?”

“...To tie us up and keep us from killing people?”

Sammy’s Jaw dropped at Buddy’s suggestion.

“Holy fucking shit... kid, you’re not turning into a monster, you’re just becoming a glorified puppy.”

“But you said it yourself, you get ripped up!”

“So?” Sammy scoffed. “That’s just what all dogs do.”

“He’s more of a cat person than a dog person.” Susie called out from the kitchen “Take everything he says about werewolves with a grain of salt.”

“Easy for you to say!” Sammy called back. “You’re not the one who had to cover over ninety-seven miles in different directions to round up a bunch of whimpering wolves because SOMEONE decided to set off a bunch of firecrackers just as the moon rose!”

“Hey!” Wally called out. “I said I was sorry!”

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It was time.

Like it or not, he was going to become a beast.

He knew the others’ own transformations were happening right now, he heard their bones snapping and cracking, the changing shadows cast on the floor as he dashed to his own room praying that he’d make it in time.

In the madness, he saw a glimpse of what Sammy’s curse was. He wished he didn’t see that, it would’ve so much easier to trust Sammy’s protection if he didn’t know that burden of the musician’s curse was like a werewolf’s curse except the ‘wolf’ part was scratched off and replaced with something else. The chill that ran down his spine when his eyes met the monster’s also didn’t help.

Buddy locked himself in his room, quickly taking off his clothes so they wouldn’t get ripped during the change and wrapping himself up in the provided blankets to keep himself from seeing his own transformation.

His heart pounded against his chest as he heard someone whimpering and scratching at the door on the other side.

“Focus, Buddy...” He tried to reassure himself. “Deep breaths, don’t get scared...”

He highly doubted he’d be lucid for his first full moon, but the idea of losing his mind and becoming a ravenous monster just didn’t sit well with him, So he tried his best to stay ‘awake’.

No matter how hard it was.

The curse started off his own changes with either his skin, his senses, or his mouth. He didn’t know for sure as it felt like all three were happening at once as he spat out a bloody mouthful of his own teeth into his hands and watched fur sprout up all over his arms, the taste and smell of blood in his mouth and on his now paw-like hands, as well as the smells and sounds of everything else in the cabin was overwhelmingly nauseating.

“D-don’t freak out... the others have been through this lots of times... this is completely normal... Stay calm Buddy...”

He tossed aside the teeth and threw himself deeper into the blanket pile in spite of his body’s increasing temperature and new fur coat. The gofer couldn’t tell if the whimpering he heard was coming from the other wolves scratching at the door or from him.

The next thing the curse went after was everything else; muscles, bones, etc.

It was painful, but at the very least it was fast, he didn’t even have the time to whine for mercy before the malevolent force of the werewolf curse stopped. Buddy let out a sigh of relief as he dug himself out of his blanket cocoon.

He looked at the mirror and saw a frightened looking young wolf, his eyes still looked human and his fur seemed to match the color of his hair. While he didn’t like looking at this and calling it his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. In spite of fear trying to drive him to the same level as a wild animal, he was still him.

Or so he thought as he was startled by the sound of his door unlocking itself and creaking open.

He let out a yipe and started to bare his teeth and growl at the weird beaked creature that poked its head into his territory. The said creature was not impressed in the slightest and simply came into the room.

Buddy growled louder and snapped his jaws at the creature, his ears laid back and his hackles bristling straight up. While the creature did move away from his bite, it was still not impressed. Out of desperation, he lunged at the black-feathered beast, desperately trying to scare it out but the monster looked like it had dealt with this before as it glided out of the way of his attack and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

The young wolf flailed, bit, clawed, and snapped at the creature. But he could swear that the beast’s only response to Buddy’s last-ditch efforts to keep himself alive were to roll its eyes and toss the wolf out of the room.

And into the line of sight of two other wolves. Both adults, one of them had pitch black fur, the other one had dark gray fur, but both of them had curious almost human-like eyes.

Thankfully, they smelled familiar to him. Even as a human, he could always recognize the smells of cleaning supplies, bacon soup, and ink. As he got a little bit more used to his new senses, while most of the smells and sounds were still new, and there was too much of it, he could at least identify what they were.

The black wolf came closer to him and sniffed his face before licking it. The other wolf pawed the first wolf’s face away from his own. Assuming that this was just some kind of greeting, Buddy sniffed the first wolf’s face and licked him back, the second wolf let out a noise that sounded like an amused snort.

THUNK

A loud noise from the kitchen that came with a new smell made him realize how hungry he was. Assumingly all thinking the same thing, the three wolves dashed into the kitchen to see the toppled-over cooler being raided by two other wolves. The bird like creature was biting and flapping its wings at them, clearly trying to keep them away from the coveted red meats the cooler held.

“STOP. EATING. PLASTIC!” The creature cried out to deaf ears of the pack. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELVES SICK! JUST WAIT FOR ME TO UNWRAP THEM FIRST!”

This tyranny would not stand with the wolves, united as a pack, the five starved beasts joined forces against the giant bird-monster that stayed between them and their food.

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Buddy woke up groaning with a headache, sore muscles, and an upset stomach the next morning.

Last night was a blur to the gofer, like a dream, the most of what happened during the full moon quickly faded from his mind as he woke up. If it wasn’t for the fact he could still see the bird-monster form of the music director looming over him in the cabin’s rafters, he would’ve chalked the whole thing up to just be a bad dream.

“Sammy?” He groaned. “What happened last night?”

“As soon as I opened the door, all of you ran to the fields instead of the woods.” The music director sounded like he was too tired to be irritated. “I tried to steer you back towards the woods because there was a barn over there, but as usual, none of you listened to me.” Okay, maybe he was still a little bit irritated.

“Oh no... Did I eat anything there?”

“No, but you did get your head stuck underneath a fence and whined until I let you out.”

Buddy blushed in embarrassment as he wrapped his blanket tighter around him.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, everybody does stupid things the first time they change.”

“So how come you didn’t change back?”

“My curse isn’t determined by the moon, it’s determined by... other things. I don’t like talking about it.”

Sammy wrapped himself up in his wings, ending the conversation.

“G’morning.” Wally set down a fizzing glass of water by Buddy, the Janitor looked more exhausted now than he did after a 12-hour deep clean of the studio. “Ya might wanna drink that, it’ll help with the headache.”

“Thanks Wally.”

He smiled as he sipped down the liquid, while the gofer knew that the changes weren’t going to be easy for him to adjust to, at least he had other people who were willing to help him through it.

#hauntober #moonlight #bendy and the ink machine #batim monster au #buddy lewek #wally franks #susie campbell #lacie benton #Henry Stein #sammy lawrence #fanfic #it's werewolf time lads #body horror #took all night to write this

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Pulling Leaves Off Trees, Chapter 1: Been Through the Wringer a Couple Times (Multi) - Sportkuras

Summary:

c’est bon: damnnn

c’est bon: wait. jan isnt your apartment near shea’s

human girl: @jansport spill

Jan could feel her stomach drop as she looked at the message.

“Oh, goddamn it.”

—

Or: The girls try to survive college, and everything else that comes with almost being an adult.

A/N: my first fic here on artificialqueens! i noticed that arent many college au’s and group chat fics of the s12 cast so i let myself be self-indulgent for once!! its unbeta’d so apologies lmao but you can talk to me here and you can find the ao3 link here! comment if you’d like!

***

Jan started her morning like almost every college student in their third year would: to be woken up by their alarm after a night of heavy drinking. She woke up with a start and groaned as Chromatica II started blaring from her phone, blindly reaching for it on her nightstand and peering at the time.

Damn. One in the afternoon, huh?

“Thank god I don’t have class today.” The blonde muttered as she checked her notifications: 7 from Twitter, 3 from Insta, and 1 from their group chat. She sat up from her bed and scrolled through the chat, trying to quell her pounding headache.

Bon Voy

Members: jaidaessencehall, heidininacloset, jansport, jackiecox, gigigoode, crystalmethyd, britafilter, dahliasin, nickydoll, aidenzhane, and widowvondu

lebron essence ball: okay so

lebron essence ball: me and shea are at the library rn and she’s complaining to me abt how she couldnt sleep right

lebron essence ball: and chile….it was bc someone was getting RAILED last night lmaooo

lebron essence ball: she said, and i quote, “the bitch had such a good time even I’M jealous”

c’est bon: damnnn

c’est bon:wait. jan isnt your apartment near shea’s

human girl: @jansport spill

human girl: also

human girl: feels weird that we didn’t start this day with a good morning announcement from jan

c’est bon: the vibes were off 😞

Jan could feel her stomach drop as she looked at the message, “Oh, goddamn it.” She’s now acutely aware of their apartment door opening and Rock’s footsteps padding from outside her room, most likely just coming home from her class. She suddenly remembered exactly what happened last night; most especially memories of what happened between her and her roommate . Memories of them being drunk as hell, coming back to their apartment from god knows how many bars, going to Jan’s room giggling like teenagers on a sleepover and well. You know.

Jan checked her phone again.

lebron essence ball: jannette….would you happen to know who was the lucky gal? 👀

backpack backpack: good morning to you too gigi 🙄

human girl: *Afternoon, actually

human girl: Now spill! I know you know almost everyone on that floor.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. How in the hell was she gonna say that her and Rock got drunk and hooked up as casually as possible? She could lie, but Jaida, Brita and Widow could smell bullshit coming from a mile away, and she’s a horrible liar. They’d know she was bluffing.

Might as well get it over it. She let out a sigh as she typed out a message, hoping that it was only Jaida, Nicky and Gigi who were online.

backpack backpack: haha yeah so um

backpack backpack: that was me & rock actually

Even though no one could see her, Jan hid her face behind her hands, bracing for the worst. Several dings! had come from her phone as soon as she sent the message. Of course it wasn’t only Jaida, Nicky and Gigi who were online.

cox destroyers: Oh my god.

Jan’s eyes widened when she saw Jackie reply, although she’s not quite sure why she was panicking about Jackie knowing about her hook up with Rock in the first place. All she knows is that she’s gonna have to face Jackie (and everyone else, for that matter,) later.

sin city: ohhh bitch—

c’est bon: you and ROCK???

dom top: !!!

dom top: idk who Rock is but get it sister

backpack backpack: Thank you! Thank you, Heidi. It’s like you’re the only one who’s not acting weird right now.

c’est bon: lmao heidi

c’est bon: she’s jans roommate

human girl: Janice Elizabeth Sport.

von du for two: not this shit again i swear to god

tap water: Jan.

tap water: You know that I love you

tap water: BUT WILL YOU PLEASE STOP SLEEPING WITH YOUR ROOMMATES

Jan rolled her eyes at the messages, wanting the ‘news’ to be over as soon as possible. “And they say I’m the dramatic one.” She huffed as she quickly typed on her phone again.

backpack backpack: okay can y’all chill 🙄

backpack backpack: we just got drunk and slept together, that’s all.

backpack backpack: tell shea im sorry though xxxx @jaidaessencehall

lebron essence ball: bitch you know it ain’t about having a drunk hookup with someone

lebron essence ball: its about the fact that you banged your roommate AGAIN

backpack backpack: oh COME ON

backpack backpack: this was just the second time!!

backpack backpack: and lemon’s with priyanka now!!!

von du for two: girl you & lemon were fucking almost every week i can’t with u

von du for two: going at it like rabbits while we were outside your apartment getting ready to watch glee :/

tap water: and, frankly, i don’t want to come up to your apartment to run lines with you if i have to hear y’all fooling around. my good, christian ears have heard enough.

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment.

backpack backpack: oh my god can you guys please shut up!!!!

backpack backpack: it’s not gonna happen again bc it was a one time thing

backpack backpack: i promise

human girl: [dwayne the rock johnson voice] are you sure about that?

backpack backpack: yes georgina goode i am 100% sure

Jan bit her lip as she looked up at the door to her room. Okay, she’s not 100% sure, but not because she regretted it or anything. As much as her brain was allowing her to remember, last night was good. Great, even. But between auditions, college, and working in the café, her love life (or lack thereof) is on pause for now. Besides, it’s not like anyone has been actively pursuing her, or vice versa.

But it wouldn’t hurt to ask Rock, right?

Sighing in defeat, Jan quickly got up from her bed with her phone still in her hand (as much as her hangover allowed her), left her room and knocked on her roommates door, hoping that she wasn’t busy. She heard a faint “come in!” from the other side and opened the door softly.

“Hey, roomie.” She joked.

Rock looked up from her drawing tablet and slipped off the headphones from her ears. “Glad to see you’re finally awake, and here I thought you were a morning person.” Rock’s room was a mess of color and paraphernalia; while Jan’s was strictly purple, pop culture, and musical theater, hers was an array of figurines and albums on the shelves, kpop & anime posters tacked on the wall behind her bed reaching up to the ceiling, and a somewhat decent gaming setup in the corner of her room. Crystal and Nicky would be proud.

Jan rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, last night was something,” She slightly cleared her throat at the mention of last night. “Also, about last night…”

Rock raised her brow, “Go on?”

“It was a one time thing, right?” Jan furrowed her brows in question, “I mean, last night was amazing , as much my brain is allowing me to remember. And you’re hot, so, I’m not complaining. Really dig the anime e-girl vibe, and I’m sure anyone would tap that ass! I mean, I did, but I’m just—”

“—Not looking for anything right now?” Rock cut her off, saving Jan from turning into a hungover, rambling mess.

She let out a sigh of relief, sitting on her roommates bed and putting her phone down, “Yeah, doll. Just been really busy right now, y’know? 3rd year isn’t a joke.”

The pink-haired girl let out a snort, “Oh, I know the feeling. And don’t worry, I wasn’t looking for anything either, and while last night was fun,” She looked at her pointedly, and Jan was calm enough to actually smirk at the incident between the two, “I’d much rather have you as my friend than as my fuck buddy, because you are loud , girl!”

Jan shrieked at that, “Oh my god, shut up!” She threw a pillow at Rock’s head while the girl let out a cackle, “My friends were on my ass about that too, some friends they are.”

“Wait, you told your friends about that? Aren’t you friends with Nicky?”

Jan huffed, “Mama, more like I was forced to tell them. Jaida’s friend, Shea—whose apartment is next to ours, by the way—was complaining to her about how she couldn’t sleep last night because of, um, my tendency to be vocal.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Rotted bitch!” Jan threw another pillow at Rock, this time missing because the girl was doubled over in laughter, “I can’t believe you! The disrespect, really. I shouldn’t be taking this from you, I still have a shift to do at 3.”

“But you took it from me real good last night, so,” this time Rock shielded her face as Jan threw pillow after pillow at her, trying to speak through her laughter, “Okay, okay! I give, I give! I’m sorry, mom!”

“Bitch! I can be a top if I want to!” Jan exclaimed in mock offense. As their laughter subsided, the blonde suddenly had an idea, “Oh! What if I invite you over for dinner?”

Rock smirked, “One: we’re roommates. It’s not really inviting me to dinner if we eat in the same room. And two: I thought you said you weren’t looking for anything?”

“I mean dinner with my friends, gorg. All 11 of us eat together at least once a week, this time we’re gonna crash at Heidi, Jaida and Brita’s. Maybe you wanna come and meet them? I know you and Nicky know each other somehow, so it wouldn’t be too awkward, right?”

“Introducing me to the family already? Ain’t that a bit too early for you, Ms. Sport?”

“More like introducing you to a bunch of kindergartners,” Jan muttered as she checked her phone for any new notifications, “But yeah, I want them to know you as my roommate and friend , not as my roommate who I slept with.”

Bon Voy

dom top: okay so jans sex life aside

dom top: y’all are still coming over tonight?

sin city: yes girl!! college sucks ass sm i need to eat my feelings

c’est bon: wouldn’t miss it for the world mon ami xoxo

cox destroyer: I’m gonna be a little late! I just have to return and borrow some stuff in the library.

human girl: can we please order pizza hut <3

lebron essence hall: no <3

von du for two: we are going to order dominoes like civilized people

human girl: ugh fine, all of you have 0 taste

human girl: crys said yes btw she just has class right now

tap water: aiden said she’s gonna come too, she just can’t message the chat bc she’s still in her shift

Jan grinned at Brita’s message, finally getting the chance to steer the conversation away from her.

backpack backpack: So if she can’t message the chat because of her shift, why’s she messaging you, miss brittany filter?? 👀

Jan can feel Brita’s eye roll from miles away.

tap water: She speaks!

tap water: And don’t act like this conversation isn’t over, Miss Janice Sport. You have a lot of explaining to do.

“So, are ya gonna introduce me as your forbidden, but passionate lover? Whose romance was short-lived, yet wild, fiery and unforgettable?”

Now it was Jan’s turn to let out a cackle as she left Rock’s room, “More like my chaotic mess of a roommate who farted herself awake!”

This time it was Rock’s turn to gasp in offense, “That was one time and you fucking know it! And my answer is yes, by the way!”

Jan sent a message to the chat before grabbing her towel and putting her phone away to take a shower.

backpack backpack: oh btw i’m inviting rock to hang out with us!!! I promise she’s super fun and that we’re just roommates and see y’all soon please dont kill me or make it awkward with rock xxxx

tap water: are you

tap water: kidding me.

von du for two: oh for the love of GOD

***

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edda-blattfe · 4 years

Text

TW Boys’ reaction to their crush putting themself under a sleeping curse pt.2

Continuing from where we last left off.

Octavinelle

Azul:

- His cane dropped to the floor the moment he read your letter. So, you were able to get your hands on potion without his help....probably from one of those damn Pomefiore students. Azul's jaw clenched. He told you not to turn to magic. He told you he'd hear you out. So why? Why follow through with this?!?! He nabbed his cane from the floor and stomped his way to your side. His grey eyes swirled with mixed emotions as he studied your still form. "You know very well that I don't do things for free," his normally cool voice had a sharp undertone, "But there's another thing I never allow to happen." Setting his cane aside, he leaned over you. "No one, not even you, can take something from me. Not even your life!" His face, merely inches from yours, "I won't hold this against you...but in return for this, I expect you never to leave my side again." The kiss was deep passionate, and left you a flustered mess once you awoke. "We have much to discuss, angel fish."

Jade:

- That's what you made that deal with Azul for? The note crackled as Jade’s grip tightened around it. A drought of eternal slumber? That day he and Floyd found you crying in the hall....was that because you were in pain? If he’d known...he would have...would have what? Not have tempted you to make a deal with Azul? Comforted you? The air around Jade seemed to drop a couple of degrees. “Hey,” Floyd peeked over his shoulder, “you ok? What’s it say?” Jade crumpled up the note before his brother could read it, “Nothing of consequence.” He tossed the paper in the wastebasket as he made his way to the door. “I have to take care of something. Can you keep an eye on the cafe?” “Uh, sure...” “Thanks.” It didn’t take long for him to find where the headmaster had stashed your unresponsive body, he only had to intimidate- I mean, ask, a few students for directions (Jade’s terrifying like this, ok). There you were, still as a corpse. The kiss was brief and cool, but sweet. You woke up to an incredibly stoic Jade, glaring down at you with crossed arms. “This will not happen again. Agreed?”

Floyd:

- “Go.” Jade’s voice broke the silence that had followed Azul’s news about your condition. He knew very well how his brother felt about you, and from the look on Floyd's face, he knew his brother felt the need to act. Floyd blinked at his twin. Then bolted out the office door, leaving Jade and the boss in his dust. Making an educated guess, he ran straight to the infirmary. Sure enough, there you were, laying stone still upon one of the white linen covered beds. The wave of emotion finally struck Floyd like freight train carrying loads of bricks. You just tried to kill yourself... Ok, no. Technically, you put yourself to sleep. But how is that any better?! You really felt that bad....why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he notice? Hot tears beaded at the corners of his eyes. Did-....did you really trust him so little? He stroaked your head, hand trembling. How did the stories go again....a kiss breaks the spell, right? Slowly, Floyd leaned over you. Salty tears spilled from his cheeks, landing on your still face. The kiss was chaste, bittersweet, and left a salty taste on your lips. It was the first time you've ever seen a Leech twin cry...a part of didn't even think it was possible....was this a dream? Floyd pulled you into a tight, but comfortable hug. "Please..don' ever do that again, doll." Your arms, still heavy from fatigue, returned the embrace. Not a dream, you decided.

Scarabia

Kalim:

- Had already rushed out of the dorm the moment Jamil read out the “under sleeping spell” part; he didn't even hear the part explaining why you put yourself under the spell... Kalim knows all of the fairy tales, and, honestly, he’s been waiting for a chance to kiss you. The students in the halls had to dive outa his way as Kalim barrelled down the halls, checking every room for you. He also forgot to ask for directions. Damnit Kalim. Jamil finally caught up to him on the carpet, screaming that you were in the infirmary....which he passed an hour ago. Kalim commandeered the carpet and rushed back to the infirmary. He wasted no time in planting a sweet kiss...right in front of a very confused nurse. Kalim tackles you in a hug that nearly sends you back into a coma when you finally sit up. He kept rambling on about how he was so happy you weren't dead,and how he knew his plan would work, and how much he loved you...wait, what? Your cloudy mind was still having trouble processing, when Kalim grew quite, face somber. "How did this happen?" His question hit home. You didn't why or when you started crying, the tears just seemed to pour on their own. Between the sobs and hiccups you told him everything. The pain, the loneliness, how you didn't want to bother anyone with problems you should've been able to handle on your own...and how eternal sleep seemed like a good alternative to-. You were shut up by another hug, but this time it was gentle. Kalim's hand stroked your back. "I- I didn't know....I'm so sorry... please, please don't think that way! You're magnificent. More brilliant than any treasure on this earth! You are loved....I love you so much."

(That awkward moment you write something that makes you cry in front of your family members...damnit Kalim *goes into burrito mode*)

Jamil:

- Kalim's chatter seemed a million miles away as Jamil processed the letter's contents. Something in his chest ached, as though someone just ripped an essential part of himself out. He was never the emotional type. Hell, there were days Jamil thought he couldn't feel anything at all. But, was this feeling...loss? "Kalim. I have to go." His tone didn't waver, it was just as straightforward as always. His young master tilted his head, "What is it? Can I come with you?" "No," Jamil was already halfway through the door, "I have to do this alone." He cast a chilling glare over his shoulder, "Don't do anything problematic while I'm gone." It wasn't difficult to find you, the infirmary was the only place on campus where a person in comatose could be out of the way but still under supervision. He watched you for a moment. The ache grew. He came closer. Every step fed the sensation. Cautiously, he took your hand in his own, admiring the softness of your tender palm. Jamil suddenly felt the need to hold you....this ache, it wasn't just loss. His free hand came to your cheek, thumb stroaking it gently. Could it be? There was only one way to find out. Jamil kissed you, softly, deeply, and with a gentleness most wouldn't expect from him. Your eyes drifted open, his face still so close. You'd swear the smile on his face could outshine any angel from heaven above. He pressed his forehead to yours, "Welcome back."

(Continued): A loud crash along with a symphony of yelps, screams, and the familiar laughter of a particularly troublesome Scarabia dorm leader erupted from the hallway outside the infirmary. You watched as Jamil's face scrunched up in annoyance. He growled, "Damnit Kalim..."

(Sorry this took so long to complete! Floyd was a little hard for me to figure out, hope his part came out to your liking! Next up is probably gonna be Pomefiore and Savanaclaw, then Ignihyde and Diasomnia. Unless, of course anyone wants one a little sooner. Also, does anyone want me to fo one for the teachers/staff?)

#octavinelle #scarabia #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #leech twins #kalim al asim #jamil viper

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how-manygalileos · 5 years

Text

and the songbird keeps singing - chapt1

a/n: hey gang, this is the first bit of actual writing i’ve done for juliette byrd, an oc i’ve had in the works for a little while. so yea, this is a little intro to her, idk if this will follow a traditional chapter based system, but we’ll see. enjoy!! :) xx

word count: 2265

the audition

February 2013

Juliette sat outside the small auditorium, her bass guitar in its case sat next to her. She looked around nervously and bounced her knee. She took a deep breath, the final stage of auditions. A couple of other performers were loitering around the same area. It felt like every single one of them was staring at her. Should she be warming up? Thinking about what she might say? Because she was the only girl in that room? Should she have prepared more? The person who called her about final call backs said the pieces she had already would be enough but she couldn’t help but worry.

“Juliette Byrd.” the audition director called out, catching her off guard and startling her slightly. She collected herself and picks up her guitar case, before hurrying into the room. She stood, exposed, on the floor of the black box theatre, a drum kit and guitar amps set up behind her. Brian May, Roger Taylor sat in the auditorium stalls along with who she assumed was a musical director of some sort and the woman who had called her into the room.

“So, Miss Byrd” Brian started.

“No please, call me Juliette - or Byrdie- I don’t mind”, she scolded herself slightly. She just interrupted Brian may. THE BRIAN MAY. She also wasn’t sure why she brought up ‘Byrdie’, it was just a stupid nickname her jazz band director had given her at secondary school. Brian smiled, putting her mind at rest slightly. “Juliette, tell us something about yourself” he continued. Juliette cleared her throat slightly.

“Hi, i’m Juliette, I’ve been playing bass for 15 years, I’ve got 8 years training in both classical and musical theatre singing, acting and dance, I’ve played in jazz bands, rock bands, theatre orchestras and--”

“Juliette” Roger cut her off, “we want to know about you, not why you think you’re qualified”. She felt her cheeks flush slightly.

“Uhh- umm…” Juliette fumbled with her thoughts, “My name is Juliette Devon Byrd. I was born on 18th October 1989 - uh - I’m from Brighton... I like music, nearly all genres, playing it, listening to it, writing it, most everything about it - um - I like cats, I had one called Chester growing up and he would sleep on my pillow most nights… I lived in London for a few years but moved back to Brighton a little over a year ago.”

“Why the move back to Brighton?” Brian asked

“Oh…” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer that, afraid it would result in too much pity, “November last year my mum got sick, she couldn’t work or look after my sister. So I came home to help her out.”

“You have a sister?” Roger asked

“Yeah, -well- half-sister. Her name’s Lauren and she turns 13 in April” by this point Juliette felt more comfortable, more settled into the situation.

“Oh! My youngest turns 13 in April too. How’s your sister finding school?” Roger said, Juliette was glad, and slightly impressed, that the conversation had quickly moved past her mother being ill and she felt she had made a personal connection.

“She’s doing really well, she’s a lot more clever than I am. She’s great at science, really likes biology specifically” Juliette beamed.

“You certainly sound very proud of her.” Brian acknowledged her warm smile and returned it.

“So, shall we try some playing?” the musical director chirped up, “Brian? Roger? And Juliette, if you want to get yourself set up” the two older musicians stood up and walked down to the area where Juliette was standing. Juliette opened her guitar case, pulling out her mint green Music Man StingRay and checked it was in tune. Roger sat at the drum kit behind her as Brian amped up the Red Special, Juliette followed suit, amping up her bass.

“You know Crazy Little Thing Called Love?” Brian said, catching her attention. He had set down the Red Special and picked up an acoustic.

“Of course,” Juliette replied, smirking slightly, before the jam session began. She played well, confident but still with a few mistakes that she put down to nerves. After Crazy Little Thing they played Another One Bites The Dust and then Dragon Attack. After that Juliette was asked to improvise a bass solo, which because of her jazz band experience she was quite good at. Juliette left the final call back feeling quite confident but didn’t want to get her hopes up and risk disappointment.

After the final candidate finished their audition, Brian and Roger sat alone in the auditorium for a moment, the other two members of the casting board having left the room already. In the background two roadies were packing up the amps and drum kit.

“What do you think then? Have we got our bassist, Rog?” Brian broke the silence between them.

“I think we might, there’s certainly a couple I have in mind.” Roger answered, “Of course, I don’t think we’ll know for sure until we do a proper performance with the rest of the band.”

“I’ve heard from Deaky,” Brian said, “I sent him an email about it last week, just the final shortlist and their CVs and headshots, that sort of thing… I didn’t really expect to get a response.”

“Well, It was an email about finding someone to, in a way, replace him… I’ve not heard much out of him in years” Roger said crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair slightly, “What did Birdman have to say then? Anything useful?”

“He did have one particular favourite by the sounds of things,” Brian started, “a certain, Miss. Juliette Byrd. She played Scaramouche on the West End, you know.”

“Oh, that was her,” Roger commented, “I thought she seemed familiar.”

“Deaky said that she was his favourite Scaramouche, he’s been to see a few different casts and apparently her performance style stands miles above the rest.”

“Great bassist too, definitely one of the most talented ones we’ve seen today.” Roger paused to think, “At any of the callbacks this week, come to think of it. Quite young though.” This wasn’t incorrect, Juliette was only 23, there were more experienced people they had auditioned.

“But then so was Deaky.” Brian reasoned, Roger nodded in agreement.

Juliette sat at the kitchen table refreshing her email over and over and her mobile with a full battery, ready to pick up should it ring. She was supposed to find out today. An email if she didn’t get it, a phone call if she did. At least that’s how it usually went.

“So today’s the day!” her childhood best friend puts her hands on her shoulders. Juliette jumped slightly.

“Katie!” she called out upon realising who it was, “what are you doing here?”

“Your sister let me in, couldn’t miss seeing you on the big day.” Katie had been there every time Juliette was to find out about a part or job she’s auditioned for. She put a bottle of prosecco and a cake box down on the table.

“It’s a little premature for that, isn’t it?” Juliette said, refreshing her emails again. Katie raised an eyebrow at her. “J.” she stated, in a somewhat disapproving tone, “You’ll get it, I know you will. You’re the best bassist I know.”

“I’m the only bassist you know.”

“Shut up. That isn’t the point. Don’t be a smart arse.” Katie said, pointing at her, “You’ll get it, and if you don’t then you have some decent booze to drown your sorrows with and cupcakes so you can eat your feelings.” Juliette shrugged in response and went back to obsessively checking her emails.

“Hey, don’t they only send you an email if you don’t get it?” Katie asks, reaching to close the laptop.

“I don’t know that, every audition process is different.” Juliette replied, reopening her laptop, “Anyway, I’d thought you’d be over at James’, being in the honeymoon phase and all.” Katie blushed slightly.

“I feel this is far more important, today I get to find out if little Juliette I went to nursery with is joining one of the biggest rock bands in the world.” Katie beamed, “Also he has a load of year 2 maths homework to mark, him and Liv said they’d come over later.”

Katie, James, Liv and Juliette had been a tight knit group of friends in secondary school, and tried to see each other as often as they could. Katie worked in a small cake shop in the middle of town, she had dreams of one day opening her own cafe and patisserie. James wanted to be a primary school teacher, he was finishing his final year of training so he was stressed. The main solace he had to distract him from said stress was the blossoming relationship he had started with Katie that summer just gone. Liv was a librarian, she had always liked books so it seemed the natural thing for her to be doing after they finished school. Even though Juliette was back in Brighton, she’d seen less of her school friends than when she was living in London. She was really happy her old friends were there to support her on the day her career could potentially change forever. Juliette refreshed her email a few more times, Katie rolled her eyes and walked over to put the kettle on. Juliette’s phone buzzed on the tabletop. She scrambled to grab it.

New message from Cian O’Doherty: Today’s the day, you heard yet J-byrd? :P

Juliette sighed, what an inopportune moment to receive a text. She had promised Cian that he’d be the first to know, but he was rather impatient. Katie looks over her shoulder.

“Cian O’Doherty?” she asks, “Isn’t that the Irish lad who was the year below us? Played rugby with James?”

“Uhh- yeah,” Juliette said absentmindedly refreshing her laptop, “he’s actually the one who got me the audition.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s a session drummer, he’s got contacts in the industry and stuff.”

“Do you know yet?” Juliette’s sister, Lauren, bounded into the room excitedly.

“Not yet, Laur, no.” Juliette sighed, her sister gave her a sympathetic smile and went to sit at the kitchen table with the other two girls.

A half hour passed, Juliette obsessively refreshing her emails and checking her phone. She felt like she was going a little bit insane. She was about to give up, assuming she hadn’t got it. Suddenly, her phone rang. Juliette froze for a moment.

“What are you waiting for?” Katie practically screamed, “Pick it up!” Juliette reached for her phone and answered it.

“Hello?” She said somewhat nervously,

“Is this Juliette Byrd?” the voice said, she thought it was the woman from the audition, but she couldn’t be sure. There was then a knock at the door. Typical, she thought to herself.

“Yes, I am she.” she hated the way she phrased that, “Lauren, get the door?” she aggressively whispered before putting the phone back up to her face.

“I’m contacting you about last week’s audition for the bassist position...” the woman said, it was hard to gauge what she would say from her tone of voice. Lauren ran back into the room, Liv and James in tow.

“Did she get it? Do we know?” James asked,

“Shhhh!” his girlfriend scolded, “she’s still on the phone.”

“...Miss Byrd, I’m delighted to say that you have the job” Juliette’s heart skipped a beat, a wide smile crossed her face.

“What is it?” Liv asked

“Have you got it?” Katie asked louder, jumping up slightly. Juliette scowls at them and motions for them to shut up.

“...Congratulations, you’re the new member of Queen + Adam Lambert”

“That’s fantastic,” she said excitedly, “thank you so much, that’s incredible. Oh my goodness, I’m so happy to hear that.”

“So you go it?” Lauren almost screeched, Juliette shot a semi-playful glare at her sister who rolled her eyes in response.

“You should get an email in the next day or so with a basic setlist of songs you’ll need to have ready and the upcoming dates of any rehearsals,” the woman on the phone said, “you’ll also get your contract, if you could read through that and get a signed copy to us as soon as possible, that would be great.” Juliette was nearly bursting at this point, she felt like she could cry she was so happy.

“Of course, I’ll get that to you as soon as you can, thank you again so much.” She said grinning.

“It was my pleasure to tell you, Miss Byrd. Congratulations again.” The woman said before hanging up. Juliette put her phone down on the table, smiling widely and happy tears pooling in her eyes.

“I think I know,” Katie started, “but I need to hear you say it.”

“I got it.” Juliette exclaimed, “I’m Queen + Adam Lambert’s new bassist!” cheers and screams of joy filled the room.

“J, that’s incredible!” Katie cried, wrapping her arms around here old friend. James popped the prosecco and poured five glasses as Liv and Lauren joined the hug between Katie and Juliette.

“James,” Juliette called over her shoulder, “only a tiny bit for Lauren, she’s 12.”

“I know, J.” he said chuckling and passing out the glasses, “I’d like to propose a toast. To Juliette Devon Byrd, our new favourite rock star.” he said raising his glass.

“To Juliette Devon Byrd!” everyone chanted in response. Juliette hadn’t felt this happy in a long time, she didn’t think she would ever stop smiling. After the past year she’d had, it finally felt like things were looking up.

#juliette byrd #ofc #queen #queen imagine #roger taylor #brian may #juliette is the loml omg #bohemian rhapsody #john deacon #present day #queen + adam lambert #qal #atsks

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chronicbatfictioner · 5 years

Text

A Real Boy - Chapter 16

"This is unacceptable. You were supposed to stay in Gotham to get your degree! Not to... frolic with Bruce Wayne, of all people! That-- that... oaf!"

Tim cringed, not even bothered to try to hide it. Dad could be vicious and petty and would get vicious and petty against those he viewed as "of a different caste" than his. Never mind Bruce and the Wayne family in general ought to have been of a higher proverbial caste than his. Or that it was Wayne Enterprises' jet that had brought Tim there, instead of having to pay for commercial airlines.

Sometimes Tim wondered how is it his mom, who was a member of one of Gotham's founding families, could tolerate his Dad. And then he remembered what Jason told him, offhandedly, out of the blue at the San Francisco islet: "She needed to spawn a strong one. He has good genes and magickal bloodlines."

Evidently, his mom was using Jack Drake more than the other way around.

Either way, Tim found himself looking at Dana Winters, Dad's new wife, for help. Dad was starting the same spiel as he did a few weeks ago, demanding that Tim should transfer his credits to Central City university and move there.

"He has a lot of experience in running a major network of companies, Jack. As much of a 'brute' that he is, he has quite a stellar business brain." Dana remarked.

"He also has a really massive library in his Manor. I've been learning a lot in there." Tim added, skipping the 'by assimilation' part of the 'learning'. Jason was the one who has been using the Wayne Manor's library extensively to the point where Tim would automatically go to the library whenever he couldn't instantly find Jason. Said methods of 'assimilation' might or might not include Tim falling asleep to Jason reciting 16th century manuscript of something in its original Saxony language, or muttering to himself while trying to decipher a Meso-American hieroglyph. But Tim definitely wasn't going to mention it.

He was starting to regret complying with Dad's demand of coming over in the middle of the week. Not only he would merely be able to spend a single night, Dad would think that his lack of time to stay was impolite; even if he'd said that he has classes to attend the next day.

Jason, too, was restless. He fiddled endlessly with the notebook he has with him, with a ton of hieroglyphic god-knows-what that he'd been scribbling on. Still, his restlessness had served as a distraction for Dad, and expert in Meso-American hieroglyphs.

"Look, Mr Drake. I need your best approximation of what this means," Jason interrupted. "It's... if it is what I think it is, then we need to get outta here." Jason said.

Jack Drake sighed exasperatedly. "What, praytell, is more important than my son?" he groused, but looked at Jason's scribbles, anyway. "Look, it's just a part of the Mayan apocalypse prophecy; you know? The one that was said going to happen in 2012 and did not happen? It's nearly a decade after 2012... anyway, see this? This is probably part of the Mayan calendar, like, the postscript note or something." he replied gruffly.

Jason's blank glare was a little frightening. Okay, no, a lot frightening because Tim has never seen Jason quite so intent and yet quite so scary at the same time. When he finally blinked, he turned to Dana and commanded, "get your kid outside. Now."

Dana blinked. "What...?" she asked. But Jason was not taking arguments.

"Get out, now!! All of you!!" he barked the order, grabbing Tim by the scruff of his shirt and nearly bodily tossed Tim out of the kitchen door.

"What is this! I do not allow strangers to--" Jack's protests was cut short by the sudden shake of the ground. Jason barely managed to grab Dana and Maya, her three-year old daughter; and propelled the three of them through the bay window of the living room, just as the ground shook violently - up and down, side to side, throwing Tim to the ground a few feet away from Dad. The shaking was barely stopping when he heard a loud screeching sound. Tim looked up just in time to see the house's front wall cracked and started careening toward the ground.

--toward where Jason, Dana, and Maya were on the ground, waiting for the tremors to stop. Within the split second, Tim realized that he couldn't simply evaporate the wall - Dad would have been more suspicious of Jason if Tim had done that. Instead, he rearranged the brick wall, wooden windowsills, and the density of the glass of the bay window that Jason had kicked to go through, and pulled the molecules so that the three of them would be right within the sills as it fell. Sensing what Tim was planning, Jason drew his legs in to a crouch over Dana and the toddler.

The remaining glass broke softly and safely around Jason, and the wall slammed to the ground with a loud slam, followed by Dad's scream. His scream, however, was muted by the screams of the other people on the other houses along the street. He realized why just as the tremors actually stopped. Missouri did not come with earthquakes, unlike San Francisco. Even if Gotham was not prone to quakes, either, Tim has experienced quite a few 5-ers on the Richter scale in San Francisco, and was largely unfazed. Keystone, however, had no experience of quakes, and everyone panicked.

He could see the fires starting along the street, and was on his feet before he could even think of what he was supposed to do. "Jason!" he called, "find the gas mains!" he yelled as he concentrated on changing the cooking gases around him to oxygen. He could change them all, but if the origin of the gases were combustible, he could be spending all day here. His powers did not lend into changing the whole thing at once, but as he saw them starting to waft through the air. There would be a lot of people still having their stoves on, the time being morning and people were only starting to do breakfasts.

"Times like this one, I wish there are more people eating cereals..." Jason groused. "Gas main around the corner of the street. You going there?"

"Get me there now. There will be a little spark when I'm gone, just hope we're quick enough.." before Tim even finished, Jason already teleported him to the underground gas mains. "Great, it's next to the powers. Shut that thing down manually and I'll..." he commanded as he turned the gas main's valve for the street. It took several tries, and eventually Jason's help, for it to finally turn.

Tim slumped on the ground. "Oh, goddess... what the hell just happened."

"Mayan's apocalypse prediction came with latitudes and longitudes, and they're not originated in the South Americas." Jason replied, pushing the manhole cover to the side using a little magick, and Tim nearly applauded his foresight - there would be a lot of questions if the actual city services people come and found out that the gas mains and power were shut off. "That was at least an eight, was it? Well, it was right there in the prediction, and the latitudes-longitudes that pointed out to Springfield, which is only a few dozen miles away from here."

"Oh no..." Tim groaned. "There's... there's... got to be a major disaster situation there..."

"Yeah, but the first responders were already coming 'round here. We better get out manually, I think..." Jason suggested as his wings started to dissipate.

"Yeah, they... at least Dad probably won't be excited to see magickal person in his vicinity." Tim agreed.

"At least he's consistent, even if said magickal person - persons, plural - have just saved his wife and kid." Jason scowled lightly.

"There's more than just the quake, isn't it? Missouri hasn't gotten any major quakes since like, the 18-hundreds... and the New Madrid fault line hasn't moved since." Tim said as Jason helped him out of the manhole. There was a distant wailing of the first responders' sirens, and no one seemed to notice two boys crawling out of a manhole. "Plus, if it's... you said the epicenter is in Springfield?" Tim paused.

"Yes, and it's not the fault line. There's... something coming out of the lake that caused the tremors. That's what the Mayans 'apocalypse' prophecy was about. A warning that on this day, in certain place, a creature of destruction would come out." Jason explained.

"I gotta tell Bruce..." Tim breathed. "Or Clark. I mean, what can I do against a creature of destruction?"

"Right," Jason replied absently as Tim pulled out his cellphone and thanking his habits of not taking out cellphones while on the dining table. Said dining table in Dad's house is probably flattened by now, along with Dad's cellphone. After telling Bruce of Jason's warning, he turned to find Jason already starting to assist some of the other residents.

He checked on the jet, just in case, and to his relief, found that the airport was generally unharmed and the jet could still fly if needed. Besides, Carol Ferris, the pilot of the jet and the main pilot that Bruce would hire for his jets; told him that, "it takes more than a quake to stop me from flying, Mister Tim," subtly reminding Tim that she - like Hal Jordan - wears a magickal ring and could fly at will, with or without a jet.

Then he turned to his Dad's neighbors, trying to help wherever he could. There were some people who were fast enough to get to the fire extinguishers in their respective cars - even ones who broke car windows to get the extinguishers. There were those who weren't fast enough and watched forlornly as the firemen tried their best to control fires in half-dozen houses. Tim couldn't control fires, but he could control the element around the fires. But to do that, he would have to be undisturbed. So he went into Dad's car and started concentrating to draw out oxygen from the houses with less-big fires, just so they could survive while the firemen worked on the bigger blazes.

It took just an hour for the firemen from three trucks to control the blazes; thankfully. Tim was absolutely spent, nonetheless, and was half asleep when Dad finally found him.

"Oh my god... can you please not be so lazy and help me out a little, here? I'm trying to pack up all the necessary things from the house so we can go to a hotel!" he scowled. Behind him, Jason gave him a knowing smile.

"I'll help you out, Mr Drake," he offered.

"Ugh, why can't you be a little more physical like Jason here, Tim? But alright, come!" he ordered. "Dana, stash Maya in the car! And then find us a hotel, will you? I don't think this place is livable until I can get it fixed."

Dana's daughter, Maya, crawled into the car and cooed at Tim. She might not be Jack's daughter, and was born just before her mother and Jack got married, but she thought of Tim as her own. "Timmy," she called.

"Hey, Maya. Come, just... I don't think we can fit your seat in here..." Tim commented.

"I don't think anyone would be fickle enough to account for kids' carseats in times like these, Tim." Dana replied, smiling as she slid in. "Good job on the fires," she added, winking.

Tim chuckled, remembering Barbara's comment on Dana being a healer. Dana would have known of Tim's abilities even before she wedded Jack. "I tried, at least there is no fatality..." he told her.

"Not here, I don't think. There are... some losses elsewhere." Dana said. "How's Wayne's jet?" she suddenly asked.

"Yeeeah, I don't think we'll get hotel rooms either, huh?" Tim smirked. "It's fly-able. The pilot is... a very confident fly girl." he added.

"Okay, I'll pretend to try and then you two help me convince your dad that we gotta get out of here, yeah?"

"I don't think he'll need much convincing..." Tim pointed to the numerous plumes of smoke in the distance. "Dad is afraid of fires. He's-- when mom was killed, they were in a literal ring of fire."

"Oh," Dana gasped. "I'm sorry, Tim..."

Tim shrugged. "Don't be, at least not at this point. That should make it easy for us to convince him to pack up just the important things and get outta here."

As Tim predicted, Dad turned very pale when he saw the rising smokes. "I--" he gulped. "is--" he continued, but couldn't bring himself to finish.

"We can go to Gotham, dad," Tim said quietly. "I've checked and the Wayne Jet that brought me here can fly out of here."

"Point me to the airport." Jack commanded, the fake bravado was mocked by the tremble in his voice. Tim simply inputted the direction to the private airport - a Wayne Enterprises corporate airstrip - and nodded slightly at Dana's thumb's up.

At the very least, his family would be safe from whatever creature Jason referred to. Even if the ironic safe place being Gotham.

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #Dana Winters #Jack Drake #No-capeAU #Magi!AU #Carol Ferris

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babybluebanshee · 6 years

Text

Joyeux Noel (TF2)

Spy and Scout run into each other in a church on Christmas Eve. They bond.

“I swear to God, Spy, if this gets out to anybody…”

From his reaction, one would think Spy had just caught Scout streaking naked through Teufort, instead of attending Midnight Mass. He certainly had the look of unadulterated embarrassment to match.

“I mean, what the hell are you even doing here?” Scout asked.

“Same as you, I would imagine,” Spy replied as casually as he could. “And watch your language. We’re in a church.”

Scout ducked his head down, and Spy saw his ears flush red. Dear lord, this was almost too much.

Spy bit back a chuckle as best he could. Not only would it have rendered his cloaking watch completely useless (and he imagined hearing disembodied laughter would send the rest of the congregation into a panic), but there was a large part of him that just didn’t feel right mocking Scout. Normally, that wouldn’t have been an issue to him. At work, he reveled in taking the cocky little whelp down a peg. For the past eight months, ever since this contract began, Scout had been a persistent thorn in Spy’s side, with his loud, obnoxious voice, his crass manners, and his inflated ego. This would have been the perfect opportunity to take a dig.

But Spy found he simply couldn’t.

Maybe it was just the sheer shock of finding Scout here, of all places, at the only Catholic church within twenty miles of the backwater New Mexico town, at the pew in the very back.

Maybe it was the fact he actually looked...presentable. Spy had to admit - the boy cleaned up well. When he’d seen Scout walk in, he’d barely recognized him. He had no idea where Scout kept this well-pressed suit hidden in the base, but it fit him perfectly, and the tie was done with an immaculate knot. His ashy blonde hair - normally unkempt from being stuffed under his hat all day - was combed. His face was even freshly shaved of the scant peach fuzz he usually allowed to grow.

And then there was the expression Scout had when he entered, one of genuine solemnity, dipping his finger in the font of water by the door and fluidly crossing himself. Like he’d done it a thousand times.

Whatever the reason, Spy thought that this was one night when he could give Scout a little leeway. It hadn’t stopped him from slipping into the pew next to Scout and nearly making him wet himself when he’d made his presence known, but that was neither here nor there.

They had thirty minutes to kill before the service started, after all.

“I didn’t even know you were Catholic,” Scout grumbled.

“Nor I you,” Spy replied. “Although judging by the fact you felt as though you had to come here in secret, I imagine you didn’t want anyone to know anyway.”

“You really think the guys would let me hear the end of this?”

“Honestly, I think you give them too much credit. Most of them probably don’t even know what Midnight Mass is. And even if they did, it’s none of their business.”

“Yeah, well, I’d still like it not to get around.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Spy fished around in his pocket, just to have something to do. He gently traced the wooden beads of the rosary there. He preferred to do it after the service was over, when things were quieter, but he liked knowing it was there. It was comforting.

“Also, I don’t think the guy using an invisibility watch should really giving me crap about hiding stuff.”

Spy tightened his grip on the rosary. The boy was smarter than he appeared.

“You don’t think people would find it strange if a masked man suddenly showed up in their church?”

“You can literally change into anyone, Spy. Or you could just, I dunno, take off your mask.”

“Ah, but then all the good Catholic ladies would have to confess sinful thoughts when they saw such a handsome rogue.”

Scout rolled his eyes. “Now who needs to be reminded they’re in a church.”

Spy couldn’t help chuckling then. He was pleased when Scout smirked a bit.

“Least you’re better than my brothers,” Scout continued. “You’re not actually hitting on the women here like you’re at a single’s mixer or something.”

“See? My cloak is useful for something. Otherwise this pew would be mobbed with women.”

Scout nudged him with his shoulder, but the smirk was still in place. “So how this hold up to the French version of Midnight Mass?”

“This is my first one in English, so no comparisons yet. Of course, I haven’t been to a proper one in many years.”

“How many are we talking?”

Spy thought for a moment, adding and subtracting years in his mind. Finally, he said, “Fifteen, I would say.”

He could feel Scout’s eyes on him, knew his expression was puzzled and shocked.

“That was around the time I began this career. You’d be amazed at how often I found myself too busy around the holidays to attend.”

“What about when you were a kid? Did your parents take you then?”

“My grandmother did,” Spy said before he could stop himself. He felt a cold sweat prick at the back of his neck. Why had he said that? Why was he letting Scout dig around in his past? Why wasn’t he shutting him down? Why had he even let the little idiot know he was here?

He cast a side-eyed look at Scout, eternally grateful for the cloaking watch hiding what must have been a look of sheer panic on his face. Scout had started flipping through the hymnal in the back of the pew in front of them, looking completely uninterested in the tidbit Spy had just dropped about his life. Spy let himself breathe again.

Thank heaven for Scout’s short attention span. The last thing he needed was to spill his guts to a child he barely knew.

--------

The service was as lovely as Spy remembered. True, there were a few too many “give money to fix up the church” moments for his liking, and it was certainly no Notre Dame, but it was still very nice.

As people started filing out, Scout remained in the pew, waiting for the crowd to thin out.

Spy also held back. He traced his fingers over the rosary in his pocket once more.

Scout turned to him and said quietly, “You need a ride back to base? I snagged the keys to Engie’s truck.”

Spy was about to say no. He’d called in a favor to get here, an old friend he’d helped out of a tight jam ten years ago, and he could call him again. But a blast of cold air pushed through the door just as he opened his mouth, reminding him that he’d be stuck waiting out in that cold for the ride. Engineer’s truck may have been a rattletrap nightmare, but at least it was warm.

“Can you wait for about twenty minutes?” Spy asked. “I need to take care of something before I leave.”

“Sure, man,” Scout replied. He stood and grabbed his coat. “See you in a few.” He scooted his way out of the pew, and followed the crowd out the door. Finally, the church was empty.

Spy pulled the rosary out of his pocket. It was at least seventy years old. It had been his grandmother’s, passed down to her by her own mother. Originally intended to be given to his mother, before pneumonia strangled the life from her lungs.

It had been given to him when he was six. It was the one thing he’d managed to hold on to from any member of his family. He had nothing else, not even a picture. There were days when he had to struggle to remember what his parents looked like.

It makes him sick that he can more vividly remember the horrible men that snatched him out of the chaotic streets than his own parents, his own grandmother. His stomach churned now, just thinking about it.

He tore his mind away from burning cities and men with foul breath and ill intent. He clutched the rosary in his fingers, willing away the feeling of their disgusting hands on him. He crossed himself, trying not to think of dark rooms and leering strangers, and instead focused on what he could remember.

Soft, dark hair.

Peppermint hand oil.

A simple string of pearls, worn with everything.

The tension eased from his shoulders.

He began to mutter the creed in French. He knew it in seven languages, but French always felt the most right.

--------

Scout had the heat going full blast when Spy reached the truck. Sliding into the passenger seat was like sticking his head in a hot oven. It felt miraculous after the biting December wind had assaulted his face, even through the fabric of his mask. He finally deactivated his cloak, and a gentle whisper of smoke made him solid again.

Who on earth would have known a place like New Mexico could be this cold?

Scout said nothing as he put the truck in gear and drove out of the parking lot. Theirs was the only car left, and one of the few still out on the street. It was almost midnight, after all.

They rode in silence for several minutes. Spy was glad of it. He didn’t really feel like talking. It had suddenly dawned on him how awkward it was going to be with Scout in the future, knowing this about each other. Would Scout assume they were friends now? Because they’d attended a church service together in secret? Thinking about the behavior Scout typically engaged in, knowing that tonight was a once-a-year sort of thing with the boy, he doubted that immensely. He wouldn’t be surprised if the boy used it as blackmail some time down the road.

“Sorry for prying earlier, Spy,” Scout said suddenly.

Spy was jolted from his thoughts, and looked over at the younger man. Scout’s focus was on the road in front of him, his face serious and determined.

“I didn’t mean to bring up stuff you didn’t want to talk about,” Scout continued.

“What do you mean?” Spy knew exactly what Scout meant.

“When I asked about your family. Even without seeing your face I knew I crossed a line.”

“Am I that obvious?” Spy tried desperately to sound casual, leaning his body against the door, pressing his head against the cold window.

“Well, when a guy abruptly stops talking and you can practically feel him tense up, that’s usually a pretty sure sign you said something you shouldn’t have.” Scout eased the truck to a stop at a red light. He took the opportunity to turn his head towards Spy.

The boy was far more insightful than Spy ever imagined. He wondered where Scout hid this side of himself the rest of the year.

Spy sighed a bit. “It was not your fault,” he replied. “You could not have known.”

“Still sorry,” Scout said. “I know people bringing up stuff you don’t wanna talk about is rough. That’s how I felt for years after my dad died.”

Spy said nothing. What could he say?

The light turned green.

Spy reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his cigarette case. He’d been wanting one ever since the service ended. He lit it and took a long drag. He cracked the window a bit to blow out the smoke.

Now that his nerves felt less jangled, he said, “How did your father die?”

“Korea,” Scout replied.

“I’m sorry.”

Scout shrugged. “I would have given anything for people to stop telling me that when I was younger.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven. It almost didn’t feel real, ya know?”

Spy took another drag and blew out the smoke. It did less to take off the edge this time. Why was he being told this? Why was he encouraging it?

Scout kept talking. “Everybody just thought that I must be sad because he died when I was so young, but really, I didn’t feel a whole helluva lot. My brothers all had these great memories with him. To them, he was a hero. By the time I was old enough to have any memories of him, he was already on the plane out. Only reason I really cried is ‘cause Ma was. I always hated seeing her cry...”

He trailed off. Spy chanced a glance at Scout’s face, and saw the strangest mix of emotions there. Sadness mingled with uncertainty and frustration. He ventured to guess it felt about as perplexing as it looked.

They drove another few minutes in silence. Spy knew they’d be reaching the base soon. Another drag, another puff of smoke vanishing into the chilly night.

It slowly dawned on him what Scout had been trying to do - opening himself up, rendering himself vulnerable for the sake of someone else. Letting Spy know that whatever he was hiding, someone else might understand too. It was actually rather...sweet.

Good heavens, Scout was full of surprises tonight.

Spy flicked the remainder of his cigarette out the window. He suddenly found he didn’t want it anymore.

“When I was a teenager, I was living in the streets like a dog.” Spy spoke without thinking about it. He knew if he allowed himself to think about it, he’d never get the words out. “When the winter came, I would try to find warm places to sleep. Churches were usually where I ended up.”

“Thought you had a grandmother.”

“I did. She raised me from the time I was three. After my parents died.”

“What happened to her?”

“We were separated when the Germans invaded, and I haven’t seen her since. I was eleven. I assume she died during the war.” Spy felt his fingers shaking. He wanted to reach back into his suit jacket for his cigarette case, but he didn’t trust himself not to drop it. Instead, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the rosary, gently tracing his thumb over the wooden cross.

Scout eased the truck to a stop. Spy hadn’t even realized they’d left the main road, past the backdrops Mann Co. provided to keep curious townspeople away, and had made it to the base. Scout had pulled the truck up next to Sniper’s camper van, where it was always parked. Engineer would be none the wiser come tomorrow.

Or rather, later today, he supposed. A glance at the clock on the dash showed it was past one.

Scout made no move to get out of the truck. Instead, he turned towards Spy, his face completely unreadable. Spy couldn’t force himself to look back.

He had no idea how this would affect things between them. He’d just spilled his entire life story to a boy he didn’t even particularly like all that much. A boy who’d also opened up about his own pain, just so Spy wouldn’t feel alone.

All because they’d both been sneaking into a church.

It was almost farcical. All that was missing was a sappy Christmas carol.

He didn’t understand any of this. He was so tired. Too tired to process any of this emotional fluff he’d exorcised from his life long ago. Disciplined himself to ignore now.

Why had he ever opened his stupid mouth in that church?

Scout turned away, finally, looking towards the darkened base. Spy wondered if he found this all as ridiculous as he did.

Suddenly, Scout cast a glance back over to him, and gave his arm a gentle nudge. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get you inside. You look like crap.”

“I can blame most of that on you, you know.” He narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“Yeah, which is why I’m offering to take you inside. Ya know, where it’s warm, and you got a bed,” Scout said, smiling a bit as he opened the door and got out of the cab. A cold gust of air blew in after him.

“I don’t know what compelled me to tell you any of this,” Spy muttered, more to himself than Scout.

Scout cast his glance back over to Spy, and said simply, “Probably the same thing that got you back in a church after fifteen years.”

Spy clutched the rosary a little tighter in his hand.

Perhaps so.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #fanfiction

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crimes-wears-goggles · 7 years

Text

Sore Loser

Fandom: Undertale

Characters: Undyne character study with a bit of Asgore and Undyne father-daughter fluff and some Alphyne

Length: 4227 Words

Summary: Undyne ran away. She had never run away before, let alone from a child. In the aftermath of her defeat and just before a fateful cooking lesson, Undyne sorts through her thoughts. Also she plays piano.

I missed Undyne Appreciation Week but my life is an UNDYNE APPRECIATION LIFE so by God I am getting this up here. Here you go, character study going over what was going through Undyne’s head after she loses to Frisk on the pacifist route but before the cooking lesson. If you enjoy it, please be sure to let me know!

I have included a headcanon here about Undyne finding and meeting the Yellow human soul before meeting Frisk. I know I don't have game evidence to support or deny it, it's just my headcanon. If it doesn't match your particular headcanon... well, you were warned, maybe don't complain? It's very easy to ignore anyway.

Can you guess which songs Undyne is playing on the piano? It's preeeetty obvious, haha.

Link to A03 or you can read it below

She had never run away before.

Fortunately, Undyne had always been good at running. The instant the heat of Hotland faded, she was off like a shot. Her feet pounded against the cooling stone of Waterfall, the cacophony of her heavy armor and the whistle of her breath joining the percussion. Cliffs, stalactites and stone passed by in a wet blur. The darker rooms passed by before she even noticed them, her movements so quick she barely registered a flicker of blue light from mushrooms and crystals. She stumbled only once, twisting her ankle in the damp grass. Undyne cursed as she slowed, taking in the sight of lit pathways where there should have been shadow.

That thing had been here and they hadn't even had the decency to turn out the lights when they left. They’d just waltzed right on through her territory, through her home, and she’d been powerless to stop them. That was way worse than a twisted ankle.

So she kept running, because that was all she could do.

Undyne squeezed her eyes shut and ran once more. She’d always bragged she could run the entirety of Waterfall blindfolded and now was the time to prove it. It was just another workout, just a push to see if she could get a faster mile. All focus went to the motion of her arms and legs, the push and pull of her muscles. Gills flared as her breath burned in her lungs, set her chest aflame. Her ponytail flared behind her like a comet. She ran and ran and all too quickly she was bursting through her own front door. Her boots clanked as she stumbled into the main room, her own feet seemingly confused.

Breathe in. Breathe out. She paced back and forth for a moment. There was a routine to follow after her shift, and she needed to follow it. Soldiers followed the routine and she was still a soldier.

A few strands of sweat slicked hair clung to her face, obscured her good eye. Undyne ignored them, slammed a cupboard open with such force that her entire house shook. The glass in her hand clinked against her armor as she thrust it under the faucet. She downed three glasses of lukewarm tap water with sloppy enthusiasm, ignoring the way some of it dribbled down her front. Finally she let out a long breath and slammed the glass onto the countertop.

Undyne then turned her attention to her armor. She grit her teeth as she pushed shaking fingers to move, undid clasps and buckles with quick jerks. Off went the armor, cast to the floor in a pile of gleaming metal and sweat. Her arms and legs shivered as if they’d lost a security blanket. She watched her own limbs betray her, felt something catch in her throat.

Follow the routine, soldier.

She dropped into a series of stretches. Legs, abs, arms, shoulders, back. Extra attention went to her dominant arm, which screamed with each movement-- apparently she’d pulled something. An easy enough fix with food and a bit of rest, but in this case the insult was worse than the injury. It should have been the fight of her life, and all Undyne had to show for it was wounded pride and a pulled shoulder.

Sharp teeth ground together against the thought as she stomped into her tiny bathroom. She very nearly tore the shower nozzle off in her haste to turn it on, jerking the mechanism as far toward ‘hot’ as it would go. The act of shucking sweat soaked clothes was a mindless one. Without something physical to really focus on, her brain wouldn’t take the damn hint to shut up.

Undyne had fought two humans in total. The first had come shortly after she’d become Captain of the Royal Guard.That battle had cost the newly promoted Undyne her eye, though it was the trail of dust in their wake that really got to her. The memory of eyes shadowed beneath a ragged old cowboy hat and a gleaming pistol in an unwavering hand would stay with her forever. “For the others” was the mantra, and the most frustrating part was how easily Undyne had understood with the dust under her boots. There had been only one option. A human could not be allowed to make it all the way to the CORE ever again and from that day forward, Undyne had tried to make sure of it. She’d restructured the whole Royal Guard system, hired a whole team of new sentries and guards to train. She would be the hero she always wanted to be, the Justice that creature demanded with their last breath.

And of course that hadn’t mattered at all, because a human got through anyway. Her royal guard had been reduced to a pack of overexcited house pets. Her worst sentry behaved as expected. Papyrus had befriended the human. None of this was surprising, most monsters didn't have a truly violent bone in their body-- sometimes they didn't even have bones at all. It was still frustrating. Why did Papyrus even want to be a member of the Royal Guard with this kind of pedigree?

Undyne grimaced as she tugged red hair out of its ponytail, allowing it to cascade down her back and into her face. That kind of thinking had never gotten her anywhere and it wouldn't help now. All she had to do was press forward like always, keep following the routine, and that meant taking a damn shower. She stepped into the wall of steam and scalding water. Hotland was difficult because of the dryness of it, but boiling water? Sign Undyne the fuck up, even if it meant she’d have to drink a gallon of cold water to compensate later. The steaming spray pounded against her scales like an attack, beating against knots in her muscles and scouring off sweat and slime. She inhaled deeply, letting the steam and heat wash over her.

This was fine. She was fine. She was great, because Undyne was always great, could never be anything but great. She was Captain of the Royal Guard, hand chosen by King Asgore himself. She’d been mentored by Gerson, the Hammer of Justice. So maybe she wasn't the best at tactics and she'd placed her forces wrong, that wasn't a surprise! She’d always been better at taking something head on than leaving it to somebody else, to say nothing of things like her puzzle “skills”. Sure, she was gonna have to have some words with her troops, she was gonna have to tighten up the ship. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself, and that was fine, because no one was a better yourself than her! That was fine, every blow she received in battle was a lesson, pain was just something to build upon and that would be the case for the Royal Guard. After all, they’d need to be better for the war!

Right. The war. She let out a hiss through clenched teeth as she scrubbed at the dirt clinging to a bruise. If this whole situation was any indication, the Royal Guard was completely unprepared. Maybe her boys up in Hotland would have a better shot, but that was still only a few soldiers against all of humanity. She felt her stomach drop at the idea of sending the dogs out in any sort of actual battle-- before she’d been confident, but now she wasn’t so sure. If the barrier broke today, and it was still possible that it might, they would lose the coming war for certain. Especially if all of humanity was as good at freaking dodging as that kid was...

Blue fingers clenched into fists of her own hair, Undyne’s growl echoing against steam-clouded tile. She’d been expecting the fight of her life, something to match the epic battles she’d seen in Alphys’ history videos. Nothing had gone right. She’d trailed the child for hours through the marsh with nothing good to report beyond a few nicks with her spears and a now missing part of the docks. Her heroic speech before the final stand? She’d totally blanked on it. The expected back and forth exchange between hero and villain, trading barbs of wit with their blows? Her opponent had been silent! The memory of the seventh child dancing around her attacks was the worst part, small feet stepping exactly where her spear wasn't like they’d practiced for it. The dusty tutu was the cherry on top of the whole sick joke.

All of that training for nothing. All that strength behind her spear, and what did it matter if the blow never connected? Sure, the clash had been something, the way each attack would shudder its way up her arms when two spears connected, but it wasn’t a fair fight if her opponent never actually fought back! All that buildup and in the end, she’d blown it.

“DAMNIT!” She roared, slamming her fist into the shower wall. Tile crumbled under the blow, the dust collagiating into mud under the shower spray. Fingers flexed, her knuckles were bruised but it wasn't the worst collateral damage of her biweekly forced remodeling. At least she hadn't put a hole in the wall again. She’d fix it later.

The shower spray made quick work of the new mess clinging to her scales. In return, she didn’t tear the nozzle from the wall when she tugged it off. She toweled off quickly, her aggravation so great she only gave her favorite sushi towel (a gift from Alphys) a cursory moment of admiration. By the time she’d pulled on new jeans and a tank top, her blood was all but boiling.

“Stupid kid,” She cursed as she tugged her damp hair back into its customary ponytail, not even bothering to really comb it out.. Thinking of the fight had been a mistake, her adrenaline was back now and it didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. There was an equally angry training dummy outside for just such a purpose, but her muscles disagreed with that idea. Her entire body felt drained from the fight, all the adrenaline did was make her feel jittery and emphasize the shaking in her limbs.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit,” Undyne grumbled as she paced through the main room. An expired energy bar and more tap water did nothing to ease the jitters, just made her feel trapped. A walk, maybe? Undyne glanced at the clock-- nope, she only had a bit of time before Papyrus’ cooking lesson, and he was never late. Her piano sat invitingly in the corner, beckoning her. How dare it, didn’t it now now wasn’t the time for music? If anything, she should have been making phone calls, giving her so-called royal guard what for, telling them…

The piano invited her once more. Grumbling under her breath, Undyne stomped over. In rebellion to its polite beckoning she sat down rather hard, crossing muscled arms before herself. She didn’t feel like playing, and why would she? She’d lost. She’d built up so much and she’d failed, she hadn’t been able to land a hit on a child who couldn’t even be bothered to fight back. She’d...

Breath drained in a long, hard line from her chest as webbed fingers traced across battered wood. This was the third piano Undyne had owned since getting her own place, the other two had been lost in some unfortunate cooking accidents. Number three was technically an interesting amalgamate of the remains of pianos one and two, a gift from Alphys. Absurd to be on piano number three, but well, Undyne was just kind of hard on everything she owned. Her clothes lasted only a few months before wear and tear went from “sweet punk style” to “Undyne, please that is not socially appropriate”, and that wasn’t even touching her “remodeling” fund. The danger Undyne posed on her surroundings really suggested she shouldn’t be anywhere near something as potentially delicate as a piano. Undyne loved playing enough to find the constant loss worth it, though.

The space beside her on the bench seemed large but not empty, the space tinted by memories of King Asgore in that very spot. Absently, Undyne’s fingers hovered shakily over the keys, then lightly tapped four in quick succession. C, D, C, G. Undyne took in a deep breath as she continued to tap out the first song the King had taught her, a light and simple tune that spoke of memories. She would never forget the day he’d taught it to her-- this was back when she’d been quite young and was still prone to mischief. Gerson had escorted her scuffed knees and excuses to visit her new mentor and she’d been… indignant, to put it mildly. After all, how was she supposed to learn to fight if she didn’t get in as many scuffles as possible to practice her new skills, and besides, the other kids were jerks and deserved it!

She thought for sure she’d be in trouble, but the King had simply smiled and suggested they find a better way for a little soldier to channel her energy. His paw engulfed her small hand as he lead her down the hallway of his home to a room that seemed to be “under renovations”, and had quickly dusted off an old piano so she could sit at it. Undyne had grumbled and sniffed, because what did this have to do with fighting? “Dexterity and focus,” Asgore had replied simply. “Now watch me, little one.”

Undyne had been enraptured instantly by the sound, finned ears perking up as she listened. She watched her King’s face take on a sad, wistful smile as he played, watched large fingers deftly glide across keys in a way no one would have expected. Instantly, she’d been determined to do the same, clamouring to slam her tiny hands on the keys and letting out frustrated grumbles when they failed to draw out the same sweet tones.

“Now now, my child, just relax,” Asgore had hummed, reaching out to gently stop her pounding. “Music is not about brute force, It is about care and focus, which take time to learn.” He’d carefully guided her through the notes, gently running her through the names for each key and what they meant. Undyne was hooked-- she couldn’t remember all the names, sure, and she didn’t quite get what half of the terms meant. But feeling, the sound, the way it vibrated through her, the way the King’s face would change when he heard the song… that, she could get behind.

Undyne put the same energy into learning to play the piano that she did her physical training, and within a week or so she had mastered the simple tune. Asgore cried like a baby, which had been weird, but all attempts to get the King to say what was wrong just got a shake of his head. “It is nothing. You... remind me of someone with a similar disposition. I am happy to pass the memory on once again.” He’d reached out to pat her head and she’d swelled with pride. Undyne never understood the whole “crying” thing, but she was all about making Asgore proud.

Undyne practiced piano every day after that, though, to be honest, she never got particularly good at it. Even at her best, Undyne was simply not known for being careful. She made up for it in sheer passion and Asgore was too kind to really comment on it. He did give her some waterlogged sheet music, but that quickly became a dusty fixture of her room-- those straight lines and squiggly symbols meant nothing to Undyne, she learned best with the sound reverberating in her ears and up her arms. That could only get her so far, but piano was a hobby, unlike the fighting that was quickly becoming her life.

Asgore happily indulged her newfound passion. However, he only knew a few songs aside from the first he’d taught her, and of the few he taught he was rather rusty. “I am sorry,” he murmured as thick fingers stumbled over keys again. “To be honest, my wife was always the better musician.” His copper eyes would then be lost to memories and his bitter smile. These moments always left the young Undyne feeling stranded and alone on the piano bench, watching her King sink somewhere she could never follow.

Shortly into their training together, Undyne had noticed the differences in that smile. She’d watch the way it didn’t meet his eyes, notice the way he’d occasionally wince in pain at her childish laughter as if it physically hurt. His thick shoulders always seemed bent inward, tugged downward by the weight of the mountain above him. Sometimes they would relax a fraction, loosening as he watered his plants, as he spoke warmly with friends and subjects over a cup of tea, as he sat with her on the piano bench or in the dirt after a particularly rough training session. But the mountain was always on her king, an unavoidable, crushing fact.

The keys beneath her fingers became weighted and heavy as the tune changed to a song Undyne had heard Asgore play time and again. It was something regal, something that started slow and powerful that spoke of Mountain Kings. Then abruptly she was pounding on the keys, slamming out something fast and intense. Undyne remembered hearing the song echoing down the hallway in the King’s new home, something so impressive it had knocked the breath from her preteen lungs. An epic struggle in every note, the weight of every monster’s hopes and dreams, a sound that tossed back and forth as if in battle. Some internal struggle she could not even begin to understand, a slower, quieter bridge that spoke of the loss in her King’s smile.

Undyne bit her lip as she missed several notes in quick succession. She’d only heard Asgore’s song a few times and felt honored to know it at all. She’d never quite been able to play it in full without messing up a note or two. The notes seemed physical expression of a weight that was her King’s alone to carry, and in spite of her best efforts, her fingers could not keep up with it.

A few missed keys at the bridge turned the song into a garbled mess. “I just wanted to help,” She grumbled. It wasn’t right, her sitting here playing the stupid piano while that little brat marched closer and closer to her King. It was no secret that the deaths of the six fallen humans before weighed on Asgore significantly. If she had just won, she could have saved him some of that pain. After all this time he’d trusted her with so much and Undyne had gone and blown it. It wasn’t right.

“NGYAAAAAH!” Fingers slammed into the keys so hard the piano shook from the blow. Undyne's hands moved to their own beat now, s pounding roar that almost spoke more to a trumpet than piano keys. It was the tune that suited her best, a battle theme that spoke of a rolling ship on the waves of an imagined sea. The song was her, the Spear of Justice, loyal soldier marching on with her power and might, sheer unbridled passion that shook the instrument under her hands. She howled as she played, raw anger leaving her in a mess of vowels and snarls.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair! She wasn’t supposed to lose and it wasn’t even a real loss! She hadn’t been beaten into the dirt, her aches and bruises were self inflicted from over-extension! She hadn’t faced a villain, it had been some wimp who couldn’t be bothered to fight back and that was the worst insult. All her training and she wasn’t even worth fighting? What the hell!!? All that she’d learned about humans being the enemy, all the wishes she overheard from echo flowers and yet...

Her fingers moved on their own to a high,clear set of notes. Her song was no longer triumphant, it was something more desperate. It rose and fell with her voice, notes thundering down in a stormy downpour. They’d be trapped underground for who knew how long if the kid made it past Asgore, and if they didn’t make it past Asgore he’d know she failed. Of course, Asgore would never think less of her, Undyne doubted he had it in him to really think less of anybody. She wasn’t so sure he’d even give the “I’m not mad, just disappointed” face. Her orders, in retrospect, had just been to capture the human and escort them to the castle. Given the choice, her King would rather take the burden himself than make someone else get their hands dirty.

The song slowed to a quiet, soft melody as Undyne chewed at her lip. The song was surprisingly quiet and light, something no one would have expected, the dirge of a people longing for the sun. Her eye burned, something heavy and awful weighed in her throat and wasn’t that just stupid? Here she was, the true heroine, fighting back tears over losing. But there was more to it-- she’d lost their chance to see the sun, but even now she wasn’t so sure it had been the right call. Sure, the child was a human, but they had yet to hurt a single monster. Hell, they’d refused to fight her, which in spite of running like a weenie, took some guts. And then of course there was the fact that she’d seen the human save that little brat from falling off the bridge with her own eye...

She’d always been taught that humans were the enemy of hopes and dreams. Today her opponent had not felt like an enemy. Her opponent had been an innocent, and was Undyne really a hero if she killed someone like that? Asgore may have been collecting human souls, but surely he wouldn’t take the soul of a good person. The protection of the innocent was why Undyne had been trained at all-- along with the chance to teach her some wicked sweet moves, of course. If she’d actually run the child through her spear today, if she’d watched the light fade away from someone who wouldn’t do the same if the roles were the roles reversed…

Undyne’s stomach twisted as her fingers finally stopped. She reached up to scrub the tears from her eye. What was she even doing? She would have had to do it, there was no choice, they had to get out there. The whole underground had been counting on her and now everyone would know she was a sham. So many people had believed in her, had looked up to her. Her own royal guard, those kids, Alphys… she’d even told Alphys to save the tape of her inevitable victory so they could watch it together! Had her best friend seen her lose?

Would Alphys have really wanted to see her win against somebody who wouldn’t fight back?

“...Nah,” Undyne murmured, a small smile coming to her face as she reached out to tap the keys again. Alphys deserved to see a fight for the history books, not that sorry story. If anything, Alphys would probably like the kid’s “hug it out” philosophy, it sounded like something from Mew Mew Kissy Cutie. She’d think it was great, inspiring even. Add this to the fact that Papyrus had already befriended the brat and Asgore’s many lessons on the concept of protecting the weak and innocent…

Laughter bubbled from her throat. Why was it everyone who mattered to her was a total chump? This was why Undyne had to be the strong one! Sometimes being strong meant losing with grace. So maybe she’d work on that.

A sigh escaped her lips as Undyne began to play again, a few light notes, a bouncy, odd rhythm. She’d heard Alphys humming it to herself while she worked, and when she’d pointed it out, Alphys had stuttered that it was just some dumb tune she’d heard somewhere. “Totally stupid, a-and it sounds really dumb when I sing it!” Undyne had been enraptured. She’d taken to putting the melody together herself, let it take on a passionate, determined march that eventually climbed to the point where Undyne was pounding on the keys once again. Her dear friend had teared up when she heard it, pulled off steaming glasses and wiped at her face.

“W-what’s this?” She stuttered.

“Well, it’s you, Al!” Undyne grinned as she pounded at the keys. “It’s your song.”

“O-oh...oh…” Alphys hugged herself, swiped at the tears on her face. “You make me sound so beautiful… t-there must be some mistake.”

No, definitely not, and Undyne grinned to herself as she slammed on the keys. She was Undyne, she didn’t make mistakes. If she said Alphys’ song was pretty, then it was. If she said the kid who had lead her all the way to Hotland, then given her water, if that kid was innocent… well, so be it. She called it how she saw it.

But it didn’t mean she had to like it.

#Undyne #Undertale #Undyne Appreciation Week #Undertale Fanfiction #My writing #Asgore #Alphys

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feynites · 7 years

Text

Spider-mind

So the Sense8 crossover thread might have inspired a fic… (tweaked a little bit of how lyrium worked for Reasons). TW for canon-typical non-con elements and substance abuse.

Hope you enjoy! *pushes fic forward shyly before running away like a very mature and reasonable adult*

Also on AO3

Cullen is eight years old and he already knows he wants to be a Templar. His aunt is telling his parents of a group of sensates put down by Templars from the Circle two towns over just the other week. The word sends a chill equal parts fear and excitement up his spine.

Sensates. Spider-minds. Mages so powerful and far from the Maker’s path that they can corrupt the minds of normal people, even across long distances.

Apparently, one had gotten to some poor noblewoman or another - Cullen doesn’t recognize her name - and she’d gone mad, started talking to herself. She had been so far gone that she wouldn’t even give up the others, no matter how many times she was asked.

“Is this really an appropriate topic for dinner?” his mother asks, glancing in his direction. “There are children present.”

Cullen is deeply offended by this. He’s almost ten. Well, almost nine, which is almost ten.

“He’s got to hear of these things sooner or later.” Cullen heartily agrees. “Maker knows these people don’t have similar compunctions about children. They’ll latch on to anyone.”

Cullen thinks of someone doing something so terrible to his mother or his sister or his new puppy and he knows that he wants to be the one who protects them, who protects everyone.

“Such a shame they had to put her down, but once something is tainted by magic the stain can never truly be washed clean.”

Cullen is sixteen and a half and there’s at least one person he’s sure hasn’t been tainted by magic. She’s pretty and smart and smiles at him even though he apparently forgets how to speak every time he’s within four feet of her. He knows nothing can come of it, but he wants to do little things for her - bring her flowers and books and other bits from the outside world. He questions the Circles for the first time, wondering why someone like her should be locked away from everyone else.

He’s eighteen and he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so betrayed. She’d made him question, tempted him to stray from the light of Andraste and the whole time she’d been a fucking spider-mind. She’d conspired to help a malefecar escape, all because they were part of the same sick, tangled web. He feels sick.

He’s nineteen and his friends are dead and his aunt was right. He feels sick, but he doesn’t think it’s from the rocking of the ship bringing him to Kirkwall.

He’s twenty-four and there is something wrong with this city. Most places will only have to deal with sensates once every decade or so, but he and Meredith have had to track down three separate webs in the past few months.

The last member of the latest web is Smited at his feet, sobbing, alternating between begging with him and cursing him. She glares up at him, eyes wild and braids askew and he’s reminded of shy smiles and teasing laughter.

He runs her through in one swift motion.

He’s twenty-seven and Meredith is starting to worry him a bit. She’s gotten it into her head that the bloody Champion is a spider-mind.

“How else would you explain that fight? No one is that well versed in that many different fighting styles with that many different weapons.”

But that can’t be true, can it? The Champion had saved them. Sensates use their powers to corrupt and control and…

He pushes the thought aside and resumes his duties and doesn’t bother to think about what methods Meredith might be investigating to “deal with the problem.”

Cullen is twenty-eight and he wakes up in a room that isn’t his. It’s small and sparse and when he goes to open the door it seems to be locked from the outside.

That doesn’t stop him from trying a few more times, throwing his wait against the door.

A small window on the door slides open with a snap and a grumpy-looking Templar peers in. “You gotta piss or something? Use the chamber pot like everyone else.”

The window snaps shut before he can respond or ask what in the Void is going on.

“You’re new,” a female voice says to his right.

He whirls in her direction. She’s smirking at him, arms crossed over her chest - which is rather fortunate because she’s only wearing a night shift.

“I know this is a bit disconcerting, but, in the future, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cause quite so much of a fuss. Last thing we need is too many Templars looking our way. Or, well, my way.”

What?

“What?”

She peers at him and cocks her head.

“Am I your first?” She snorts at her own double entendres before continuing. “I mean, the rest of us have been visiting and sharing for a few months at least. You must be a late bloomer.”

Suspicion and horror are growing at the back of Cullen’s mind. “What do you mean?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

“You’re sensate now, part of our cluster.”

No.

She must see the revulsion and denial on his face because she rushes to continue, words coming out a mile a minute, “It’s really nothing at all like the Chantry says, honest! We can’t control your mind and no one has any big bad dastardly plans - well, unless you count Adaar’s plans to nick some vitaar from-”

“This can’t be happening.”

It can’t.

She tries to put a hand on his arm, but he backs away from her.

“It’s going to be alright,” she says as if trying to soothe a rampaging druffalo, which is frankly infuriating.

“No it bloody well isn’t!” he hisses. “Maker’s breath, I’m a Templar.”

Her face, if possible, gets paler.

“Shit!”

“How do I get out of here?” he asks, brusquely.

“Look - you can’t tell anyone! Please, don’t tell anyone!” She’s cornering him and can’t breathe and how did the Maker let this happen to him?

“I have a duty to let my Knight-Commander know I’ve been compromised!” he shouts, willing himself to believe it as much as her.

“You’re going to go tattle to mummy?” She says and there’s something brittle in her voice. “They won’t spare you, you know. You’re ruined for them. A mad dog that has to be put down.”

He knows she’s right. He doesn’t have to ask again how to leave because all of a sudden he’s gone, back in his bed by himself.

He doesn’t turn himself in. Not yet. He needs to learn more about the others so he can go to Meredith with a full report, a list of names and locations. If he went to her now…well, she has been overtaxed as of late and might eliminate him in her enthusiasm before thinking to deal with the larger problem. It’s sound reasoning and most of the time he actually believes it.

So when he finds himself pulled into places he’s never been, speaking with people he’s never met, he tries to absorb as much information as possible.

He learns names and places and fighting styles, but he learns other things, too.

He learns you have to apply balm to qunari horns on a regular basis or they chafe and itch. He learns that some Dalish clans, like clan Lavellan, openly celebrate their sensates, believing them a gift from their Creators, who they also call the Original Cluster. He learns that surface dwarves are seen as sick and dangerous by their Orzamar kinsmen not only for their loss of Stone-sense, but because they can be pulled into clusters outside of the Great Castes (“Fucking isolationist shits!” Cadash curses cheerfully before making Cullen try some truly revolting whiskey.) He learns how to sew a perfectly even stitch from an elven slave named Gaius, who smiles up at Cullen and calls him and the other cluster members “my wonderful, bright escape from this hell-hole” and Cullen doesn’t know if he feels better or worse that there is probably no way for the Chantry to reach him in Tevinter. He learns and learns and learns, but he keeps telling himself it’s not enough, not yet.

He’s stuck with her more often than not.

She��s the most wary of him, at first - unsurprising, considering she is both a Circle mage and the person to whom he’d blurted his plan to expose them all (in a moment of tactical genius). However, as weeks go by and he doesn’t say anything, she seems to relax around him.

This is a good thing and a bad thing.

Good because she is no longer openly hostile to him, bad because she then thinks it’s acceptable to tease him.

She giggles as she makes him attempt simple spells, taking over eventually because “I’m not going to actually fail my classes on a laugh!”

She sits in the corner making funny faces and cracking jokes while he’s lecturing some of the newer Templars. He’s equal parts annoyed and amused until she smiles at him just so and he’s reminded of a much prettier face that didn’t have a hooked and crooked nose that used to smile at him before-

He doesn’t acknowledge her or any of the others for the rest of the day.

He starts to notice patterns about their visits and realizes that they are much briefer and less frequent right after he’s taken his lyrium. He tells Cadash as much, who seems to think he’s on to something. He goes on for a while about the differences between surface clusters and dwarven clusters and proximity to lyrium. Cullen doesn’t understand all of it - partially because the history and science of it all is a bit beyond him and partially because Cadash’s particular version of common appears to be about 80% swearing and mixed metaphors - but he does latch on to the take-home message that lyrium might be used to suppress this kind of magic too.

He sits on a muddy beach in Tevinter, teaching Gaius how to read Common by drawing letters with a stick and can’t bring himself to do anything with this information yet.

An elven boy has been accused of being a sensate. He denies it heartily, with none of the subservience Cullen had come to expect from most Kirkwall mages.

“Might have been Dalish,” Lavellan reasons, looking more than a little proud at the way he keeps his chin held high.

There’s a lot of back and forth until the boy bursts out, “He’s only saying I’m sensate because I refused to blow his stupid tiny prick!”

Trevelyan sucks in a breath through her teeth and clenches her jaw and glares at the Templar.

“Piece of prickly poisoned nug shite,” Cadash murmurs from the corner.

Cullen does his best not to look at either of them.

Meredith sentences the boy to Tranquility on suspicion of sensate practices and slander against a Templar.

“Knight Commander, are you sure-”

“Do I not look sure?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“But- what if the boy is telling the truth and Ser Tormon has been abusing his power-”

“I will keep an eye on him for the next few months in case of any abuses. Will that do, Knight Captain?”

No! The cluster responds as one.

“But-”

“What is danger of one Templar grown slightly lax in his duties versus the danger of a mage who can control the minds of dozens of normal innocent citizens of Kirkwall?”

“Lax in his duties?!” a voice behind him cries. He doesn’t so much as flinch at it.

“Of course, but perhaps we could delay-”

“You’re not saying we shouldn’t take the danger seriously, are you?” Meredith says, narrowing her eyes at him.

For a moment he wonders if she can see the figures crowded around him and he can barely breathe.

“Of course not, Knight Commander.”

“Good. I’d hate to hear my right hand had sympathies that were…misplaced.”

“No. Not at all.”

“The Rite will be carried out at dawn.”

A command and dismissal all at once.

“Are you seriously going to let this happen?”

“How can you just sit there and do nothing!”

“Do you actually eat the pig shit she’s serving or do you just swallow it like a good boy?”

“I have some contacts - we could get the boy out of the tower tonight-”

As he walks back to his chambers, they surround him and bombard him with questions he can’t answer, demands he can’t fulfill.

He takes more than his usual does of lyrium all at once and the voices fade to nothing along with his fear and guilt.

It’s about two months on this increased dose before it stops working.

A man is holding him down by his wrists with one hand while fumbling with his (her? their?) robes with the other. “Keep quiet about this and I’ll keep quiet about you talking to yourself in the library.”

He smells of ale and sweat and lyrium and he is (she is, they are) panicking.

“Magic is meant to serve man, after all,” he says with a chuckle, groping at him (her, them).

Cullen head-butts him, breaking his nose with a satisfying crunch.

“Fucking spider-mind, demon-bait bitch!” the Templar says, lunging at him.

He’s drunk and he’s expecting a mage who hasn’t left the tower in years and barely knows how to fight with magic, not a seasoned Templar who has taught the very moves he’s trying to use.

He breaks the mans fingers and dislocates his arm and is about to kick the ever living shit out of him-

“What the fuck have you done?!” Deirdre Trevelyan asks.

“He was going to rape you!” he hisses, can’t believe she is lecturing him for this after they all teamed up against him over that elf boy.

“Do you honestly think it would be my first time? That’s what Templars do!” She shouts at him.

No, no - she’s wrong. He knows there are those that abuse their power, he knows, but they are in the minority, surely?

He opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Deirdre fills the silence for him, “He’s going to report me! I’m going to be made Tranquil! I can’t- I can’t-”

Her breaths are coming in sharp bursts and tears are streaming down her face.

Cullen doesn’t know how to fix this.

When he’s back in Kirkwall he fumbles with the lyrium, fingers shaking, and takes twice his allotted dose and stops trying to figure out how.

His days pass in a blur and he fudges the books and moves numbers around to ensure that he can continue his new dosage. It’s for the best, he tells himself. I’m only safe if I can keep them out.

Most days he doesn’t really believe it.

Most days he doesn’t really care.

He keeps his head down and follows orders and does his duty.

He hunts down blood mages and abominations (and sensates! a voice in his head that sounds too much like Lavellan supplies) and keeps the city safe.

He does his duty.

He catches a Templar cornering a girl just passed her Harrowing and reports it to Meredith.

The mage is put in solitary confinement for three days and placed on probation for compromising the virtue of a Templar. She gives the Templar a talking to.

Cullen stares in the mirror and forgoes his dosage and wills someone else’s face to appear beside him. Is she alright? Had he gotten her killed? What had happened to that Templar?

No one comes.

He vomits and he doesn’t know if it’s disgust with himself or the other Templars or withdrawal from the lyrium (probably all three).

The next day he corners the Templar, gives him the shittiest work detail he can think of for the foreseeable future and informs him that if he ever hears that he’s so much as looked at a mage the wrong way again he’ll make sure he accidentally gets gelded the next time he is in the training yard.

He thinks it will make him feel better.

It doesn’t.

He takes the last two days worth of lyrium all together in one go.

The Chantry explodes and Meredith calls for the death of all the mages and even in the lyrium haze he has drugged himself into he can’t. The last fifty thousand fucking steps he’s taken have all been steps too far, he knows, but this is the step he finally refuses to take.

He can’t bring himself to go with the other Templars as they all scramble to find their place in this new world. He’s still terrified of mages and what they can do, but his uniform makes him feel filthy and soiled and his title feels like a curse.

He tries and fails to stop taking lyrium a few times before he simply gathers up his remaining supply and throws it down a latrine (To his credit, he only considers going to retrieve it once or twice).

He locks himself in a tavern room and pays for food and drink to be brought up, though he rarely has any. He vomits and shivers and has headaches so bad he can barely see. He thinks he’s starting to go mad.

He thinks he feels Lavellan stroking his brow and hears her asking the innkeeper for herbs. She tells him it will help. One of the others (he can’t tell - everything is so loud and hot and cold) says he doesn’t deserve help. He heartily agrees.

He goes in and out and sometimes they’re there and sometimes they’re not. He tries to search and find Trevelyan (Deirdre), but he can’t and, Maker, he’s so tired.

Cullen is almost thirty and Seeker Cassandra has asked for his help, which makes it easier to ask for hers. She agrees to watch over him as they travel to the conclave, as more of that blue shit slowly leaves his body.

She’s fierce and stubborn and righteous and seems to genuinely want to do the right thing. A part of him feels eight years old again and thinks that, maybe, he has been given a second chance.

“It’s okay, I like her, too,” Gaius says to his left. He’s got a black eye today, curtesy of his master, no doubt, but is smiling regardless.

“Hang in there, pretty-boy!” Adaar says, slapping him on the back. “We’ll see you at the temple in a few days.”

They both vanish.

Wait. What?

#submission #thank you for submitting!!!#this was really good #oh man #deidre tho #and going to the conclave D:#could be fascinating but could also be DISASTER #i really liked the combination of the firm wall of self-protective denial cullen put up around himself #with the cultural bias drilled into him #and also that hint of self-serving-ness that sometimes gets glossed over in his character #how he tends to try and rework things into a narrative that makes sense for his current worldview #rather than face ugly truths a lot of the time #and his lyrium dosages oh man #i might do my own take on this concept yet but i really enjoyed this one so far! <3333 #sense8 au #sensate cullen au

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btshoeblog-blog · 6 years

Text

Sleep Talker Seokjin

Word count: 2,000

Genre: Light fluff, light smut ;)

Summary: Your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin, has been away for 2 weeks due to a world tour in Japan. When he finally returns and some interesting information is revealed, you can’t help but tease him.

A/N: Hi y’all, this is my FIRST published fanfic!! I hope you support me because this was so much fun to write and I have LOTSSS of ideas :) Please help spread my account around so I can share my dirty minded fantasys of BTS with all of you! Also feel free to request a prompt or just talk with me XOXO much love <3

You sat lazily in the airport chair and checked your watch for the fifth time in the last two minutes. “Where are they?” you thought to yourself, “He said they were arriving at 5:30 but it’s already 5:53”. You tried not to worry, after all it had only been about a 30 minute delay. This was definitely not the first time he had gone away on tour, but you had always thought of the worse case scenarios whenever they arrived later than expected. Was he okay? Did his phone die and he wasn't able to text you about his delay? Did the managers surprise them with a few extra nights in the Japan for relaxation? You decided to just wait it out. You opened your eyes after taking a deep shaky breath, and finally saw him. You knew it was him; you could spot him from a mile away. His dark chocolate hair styled messy-chic so you could see his forehead that you loved so much. His sky blue button up shirt tucked into the waist of his black pants which made his already long legs look even longer. His black rimmed circular glasses that complimented his oval face shape perfectly. Lastly, his black gucci shoes you had gotten him as a gift to congratulate the major success of his two week tour in Japan. He looked around the airport to see you and once his eyes locked with yours, he sped up his pace and embraced you in a hug, sweeping you off your feet. You could smell the fresh scent of clean laundry on his skin, the best scent, as you squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to savor this moment for forever; Your legs wrapped around his torso as you buried your head in his neck. You loved and appreciated him, but you were always reminded of just how much, once he had come back after being away for a long period of time. “Ah! Get a room you two, we’re in a public place!” Taehyung teased as he interrupted your moment, reminding you that the paparazzi could show up any minute. The fans knew of your relationship, but you have avoided showing too much skinship because of some of the ARMY’s reactions. Seokjin set you down and playfully smacked Taehyung’s arm, his face turning redder by the second, while the other members laughed. He quickly turned back to you and took a deep breathe to calm himself before saying, “Here, Y/N… I brought this back from Japan for you. I know you said you didn’t want anything but… I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was there and once I saw this, I knew I just had to get it for you.” he rambled on as he pulled a small black box out of his pocket, like he was planning on giving it to you as soon as he saw you. You took the gift and raised your eyebrow, wondering what it was. You quickly opened it and gasped as you held your hand over your mouth, speechless . “Seokjin! I love it so much.. You really didn’t have to do this..” You said as you stared at the necklace in awe. It must have costed a fortune and you definitely felt as if you did not deserve it. It was a simple, but gorgeously crafted, thin silver chain with a small pendant of a princess crown with a pink diamond on the top. “I know I didn’t have to but Y/N… You deserve it.” He said, almost as if he could read the doubts in your mind. “I know It’s hard because I’m gone for long periods of time, but I just love you so much.. You’re my princess, Y/N. Please never forget that.” And with that, he kissed you on the lips ever so tenderly, something you had missed so much while he was gone. You held your hair up as he put it around your neck, giving you a back hug and kiss on top of your head before you all headed out of the airport. You and Seokjin decided to sit in the back row of the car, since there was not way all 8 of you could fit in the second row. Once you were all in the car on the way back to the dorms, you finally greeted all the members and they told you all about their tour; how they sold out all their concerts, how taehyung got lost 5 times on the trip, and how Jin wouldn’t stop complaining about how much he missed you. “Damn, sometimes it got weird, Y/N,” Yoongi began to say, and then lowered his voice but whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “You know how I shared a room with him? He kept on saying your name in his sleep. And when I say he was ‘saying’ your name... I mean… well, you know.” He added with a suggested wink. Everyone in the car cheered and teased Jin, asking what he dreamt about on the tour, while he averted his gaze quickly to the window, and looked as if he wanted to jump out of the car; his ears turning a shade of red you didn't even know existed, a tell-tale sign he was flustered and embarrassed. “Oh, you know what? I heard those sounds coming from the bathroom sometimes when hyung came over to my room to shower” Jungkook added with a sly smile “Jin Hyung, what were you doing, hmm? Were you sleeping in the shower as well?” He said as he nudged Jimin, mimicking the way Seokjin moaning your name while Tae turned around to look at you and wiggled his eyebrows. Seokjin, trying to tune the members out, pressed his head to the window in mortification. You placed your hand on top of his, small in comparison to his big palm and long fingers, and gently turned his face to yours. He looked into your eyes for a brief moment but then cast his gaze down in embarrassment unable to contain his smile that was plastered on his face. You saw how flustered he was, but you weren’t about to just let go of this new information that Yoongi had brought up and decided it was time to have a little fun. You started off innocently telling him about all the mundane things you did while he was away such as cleaning your apartment and going to the mall and then proceeded to tell him about how much you missed him, and you could see a shy smile forming on his lips. Then a wicked smirk appeared on your face as you finally told him not so innocently about everything that you wanted to do with and to him. You inched closer to his face, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of his bright red cheeks and whispered in his ears, “You know seokjin… Now that I’m here, you don’t have to say my name alone in your sleep anymore” you began “Now that i'm here, you can say my name while i'm under you all night long, while i'm moaning YOUR name as well. But with your dick size… I might be screaming instead of moaning” You finished as you lightly kissed the lobe of his ear; one of his secret erogenous zones. “God, Y/n,” he began to whisper into the crook of your neck, his smile disappearing, and his voice becoming breathy. You could see his face turn three shades darker and feel his face heat up even more, as well as a certain… other place. You placed your palm on his member and gave is a small, soft squeeze before you resumed holding his hand. “Stop teasing me… I don’t want to get all, well, you know… Not in front of the boys” With that, you untwined your fingers, causing him to frown momentarily before you suddenly moved to sit on top of his lap, and you could hear his breath hitch in his throat. “Y/N…” he stuttered “W-what are you doing?” He asked, his member growing more visible and physically present. “Nothing oppa…” You said feigning innocence, remembering how turned on he gets when you called him that, “I’m just.. Making myself more comfortable. Are you comfortable too… Oppa?” you asked as you dragged out the last word with a devilish grin, your legs on either side of him; straddling him and reminding him of an activity you guys had done not too long before he left for his tour. You saw him finally look into your eyes, taking a deep gulp, and looking shocked while not fully comprehending what was happening. “Y-yes, i’m comfortable” He stuttered as he once again broke eye contact with you, closed his eyes and threw his head back against the seat trying to contain himself. However, that didn’t last long, as the driver went over a speed bump causing you to jolt upwards and then slam back down into his lap, earning a low groan from Jin as he gripped your waist with one hand to prevent you from falling off of him. “God damn it, Y/N… You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now..” He whispered with lust in his hushed voice and an intense look of desire in his darkened eyes. You leaned forwards and ever so slightly circled your hips against his growing boner and whispered “Oh… I think I do” seductively and lightly bit his earlobe, as he took a sharp intake of air and gripped his hand tighter around your waist. “Fuck Y/N…” He moaned slightly and rested his head back against the seat, one hand on your waist, and the other rested behind his head as he stared at you and bit his lip with hunger and need as you continued to tease him with your body, over exaggerating the jolt of the speed bumps and turns of the car as you bounced on his clothed member as many times as you could without making it too suspicious that you were basically dry humping him in front of the other members. You grabbed his hand that was resting behind his head and moved it to rest on your chest, letting him feel how fast he was making your heart beat. Slowly, you guided his hand lower and lower until it rested over your left breast and squeezed his hand which caused him to squeeze your breast in return. You looked at his through hooded eyes and released a small groan, which caused Jin’s gaze to penetrate even deeper into you. With wide eyes and opened jaw, Seokjin wondered how you could be so teasing, especially with the other members in the car. Taking advantage of his stunned nature, you took two of his fingers and used your tongue to swirl around the tips until you took both of them into your mouth and sucked on them, never once breaking eye contact, and letting out a moan before leaning into his ear once again while whispering, “Just a preview of one of the things that I want to do to Oppa’s huge cock tonight…” You and your boyfriend must have gotten so lost in each others lust-filled eyes, because soon enough, the car stopped in front of the dorm and you saw Bang Pd-nim walking out to greet the boys. You quickly got off of Seokjin’s lap and glanced at the other members, looking to see if they noticed what you two were up to. You slowly looked around the car and were greeted with a bunch of smirks and winks from the older members, and met with horrified looks from the maknae line, clearly expressing they all knew of your activities, which made you realise that perhaps you weren't as subtle as you thought you were. You buried your head in your hands in embarrassment and started to giggle when Seokjin grabbed your face and making you stare into his dark and dilated eyes. He turned to you and whispered in a more deep and husky tone than usual, “Y/N... If you’re embarrassed now… just wait until we get into the dorms. I was going to go easy on you, make love to you, since I haven’t seen you in weeks. But you just couldn’t wait, could you? You just had to tease me, didn’t you? Now, I’m gonna fuck you all night long until we break the fucking bed and I make you scream so loud that people in fucking Busan could hear you. If think I’m done with you, you are clearly mistaken. You're going to be sore for an entire week… In more places than one” He growled in your ear with a smirk as you turned to look at him with wide eyes, not seeing this side of Seokjin in a long time. You took a deep breath and plastered a smile on your face as you exited the car, but inside you were secretly nervous to see what would happen inside the closed walls of the dorm...

#bts #bts jin #bts seokjin #btssmut #bts smut #btsfanfic #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts fluff

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