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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years

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Sorceress of Arcadia || Becoming Part 1

Summary: Y/n Lake is Jim Lake's older sister. She discovers that she is sorceress and her brother is the Trollhunter. She and the Trollhunters go on adventures together, they save trolls and humans. Along the way, a friend becomes more than just a friend and discovers their secrets.

Warnings: Bruises, mention of blood, pain

Word count: 3,514

Tags: @lunariasilver

Next >> Becoming Part 2

Beep! Beep! Beep!

UHH!

My stupid alarm clock woke me out of my perfect slumber. You rolled over to your side and glanced at your alarm clock. 6:30 AM. You groaned, today was Tuesday, which meant SCHOOL!

After another minute of groaning, you got up and walked over out of your bedroom and into the bathroom. You brushed your teeth and took a quick shower and got ready. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Looking good, y/n!”, you thought to yourself and got out of the bathroom and rushed downstairs to the living room. You saw that Jim was already up and making what looked like breakfast but you might wrong though.

“Good morning Jim! Your dear old sister is very hungry! Have you made anything for her?” you asked, walking through into the kitchen.

“Morning y/n! You’re only 18, three years older, not that old. But yes, I have! Here”, he handed you a plate with an omelette and a glass of juice.

“Thanks!”, as you walked out of the kitchen and sat at the dining table.

You quickly finished you’re breakfast and ran upstairs to grab your bag. You noticed that Jim was in your mom’s room, leaving breakfast there for her. You smiled. Jim took so much care for our mom. She was working double shifts lately, and she wasn’t getting enough rest and ‘me time’.

Jim closed mom’s room’s door, and headed downstairs with you.

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As the garage door opened, you saw that the garbage bin was laying on the floor with rubbish spilling out.

“Uh. Raccoons!”, Jim said, annoyed.

He picked up the rubbish, when Toby (Jim’s best friend) rides over to us from him house across from us.

“C’mon Jimbo, y/n, we’re late for school”, he said, buckling his helmet on.

“I know. I was busy with the lunches. One for mom, y/n, me and you”, he said walking with his bike to him and handing him a brown paper bag.

Toby peeked into the contents of the bag.

“I can’t, I’m on a diet”, handing the paper bag back to Jim.

“You’ve been on a diet for 14 years Tobes!”, Jim argued, pushing the Toby’s hand away.

They continued bickering, when I got my bike and ringed it’s bell, catching the boys attention.

“Well I’m heading to school. See ya later!”, you said, riding off

You took in the morning view of the beautiful mountains and canals. You would never want to leave Arcadia. As you rode your Vespa through town, you saw many people driving to work and walking to school. Some people were at the cafe or at a shop. You noticed a guy turn a sign from ‘close’ to ‘open’ for GDT Arcane Books. He was tall and skinny, wearing a black shirt and jacket with black jeans and black shoes. He had raven black hair with blue dyed tips.

Hmm, I’ve never seen him around town before. You knew practically everyone in town except for the students at Arcadia Oaks High, other then Jim and Toby. I rode until your school came into sight, Arcadia Oaks Academy. You didn’t go to the same school Jim because your mom, Barbara Lake, couldn’t afford both of us going to Arcadia Oaks High, so I went to the other school, since it was cheaper.

You parked your bike and hung your helmet on one of the handles. You walked through the entrance and were quickly greeted with your best friend, Rachael and Izzy.

“Y/n! Guess what happened!”, both of them squealed.

“What?! Tom Holland is coming to Arcadia?”, you asked, jokingly.

“Nope! I wish! But I got you-know-who’s Instagram!”, Izzy said, jumping up and down.

You looked over at Rachael, she nodded.

“Wow! Good job Izzy. Now you just need to become friends in the real world, not just the Instagram world”, you said walking over to your locker.

“Uhh....maybe”, Izzy said.

You grabbed your books and shoved them in your backpack, it was an urban backpack, so there weren’t any zips, just weird looking strips that magnetically connected. So you were having a hard time, zips were way more efficient.

You slammed your locker closed and headed to our first class of the day, HPE theory. You were walking to class while talking with Rachael and Izzy when, you saw Jim calling me. you stopped and picked up.

“What’s up, I have my first class in 5 minutes, so hurry”, you said quickly.

“Sorry y/n! I found something in the canals, that was calling my name, strange. But I’ll tell you after school. Bye!”, he said and hung up before you even had a chance at saying ‘bye’.

You put your phone in your pocket and were about continue to class, when you tripped over your feet and descended to the ground. You were ready for the impact but you never felt it.

Huh? You looked up, and saw the same guy from the bookstore. He had grabbed you by your arms. You quickly got up and faced the guy.

“Thank you! I can be very clumsy sometimes. Oh sorry, I’m y/n”, I said, stretching out my hand to shake.

“No problem! I’m Douxie. Nice to meet you y/n. Oh and...”, he said, then ruffled through his pockets and took out two cards.

He handed them to me, GDT Arcane Books and Mr. Benoit’s cafe business cards.

“I work there. It’ll be great to see you around there”, he said, not meeting your gaze.

“Sure! You look new, you just came here?”, you asked.

“Nah. I just don’t really show my face to the public other then at school”, he replied.

“Oh okay. Well, I’ll see you around, bye”, you said turning around to go to class.

“Bye”, he said heading the other way.

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The whole day was exhausting for you. After your last class, you left and went to your brother’s high school.

Jim rode over to me, as well as Toby.

“Hey Jim! How was your day?”, you asked, as you rode your bike along side him.

“It was good, I kinda got into a fight with Steve, cause he was bullying Eli, so yeah...”, he said, trying to sound like it was normal.

“Yeah! Did you see how I chanted ‘let him out! let him out!”, Toby exclaimed, proud of himself. “Good thing your mom’s a doctor”, he said, while mom drove up to us.

“Hey kids”, mom greeted us, rolling down the window.

Toby tried to stop in-front the car while he said,

“Looking sharp Dr. L”, as he stopped and came into mom’s view.

“Thanks Toby. You’re looking sharp yourself”, she complimented him.

“Oh really! It shows?”, Toby says, showing his ‘muscles’.

You chuckled.

While Jim and mom were talking, you waved mom bye and rode to your house. You put your bike in the garage and walked upstairs to your room. You dropped you bag on the floor, and took your laptop out and started doing your homework. Then you heard the front door open, must be Jim.

You ran downstairs, finding him sitting on the edge of the couch and looking at what looked like an amulet.

“I have a feeling that this is what you wanted to show me”, you said, sitting next to him.

“Yeah. Toby and I found it in the canals in the morning. It was calling my name. Strange right?”, he explained.

You nodded. You then looked at the amulet, it looked ancient. Jim suddenly, started talking to it. When the amulet didn’t say anything, he got frustrated and told it,

“Come one speak up or else you’re going up on eBay!”

He sounded stupid at this point, he was talking to an inanimate object for God’s sake! Then we heard something from the basement. We glanced at each other and headed to the basement.

“Uh! Must be raccoons!”, you said, getting a broom for Jim and getting yourself a metal stick.

We headed down the stairs and then saw....nothing. We went further in when you heard something behind you. You tapped Jim’s shoulder and turned around.

A blue creature that had 6 eyes and 4 arms came out of the shadow’s.

“Master Jim!”, it said.

Jim started screaming, when another creature was behind us. It was bigger, had green hair and grey skin, well stone.

“Hi!”, it said.

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. Then you looked at the creatures and backed away terrified. You couldn’t hear what they were saying since you were in your own thoughts.

How did they get in? What do they want? What are they? How do they know Jim?

Then you snapped back into reality. The creatures were introducing themselves. The multi-eyed guy was Blinky and the brute was AAARRRGGHH and they were ‘trolls’. Then Jim passed out. You looked at the trolls.

“Don’t go near my brother!”, you shouted at them and stuck your metal stick out at them.

“Do not worry sister of Master Jim, we will not harm him”, Blinky said, trying to calm you down.

But that didn’t work you felt very scared, but you had to look confident, the complete opposite. Then suddenly, aqua coloured sparks started to flare out of your hands and onto the stick you were holding. Then a ball of aqua looking sparks shot out and towards the trolls. It hit them, making them stumble back.

“Hmm. Master Jim’s sister is a sorceress. Who knew?!”, Blinky whispered to AAARRRGGHH.

“I-I’m a what?”, you asked, lowering the stick.

“A sorceress. In simpler words, you have magic”, Blinky explained, “We should make our exit. Lovely meeting you sister of Master Jim. We-”.

“My name is y/n. So call me that”, you said, introducing yourself.

“Oh okay. Lovely meeting you, y/n. Well, goodbye, we will be seeing you soon”, Blinky said and AAARRRGGHH waved. Then they were gone.

You looked down at Jim.

“What have you gotten yourself and me into Jim”, you said, as you picked him up and took him back to the living room.

You set him on the couch, and went upstairs to sleep.

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You had gotten up a bit more early and got dressed. It wasn’t the best outfit but how cares?

You grabbed your backpack and headed downstairs. You looked at the clock, it was 7. You then looked at the couch were Jim was sleeping, he was snoring very loudly. You quickly wrote down a note for Jim:

Morning sleepyhead, I’m out, since you were asleep, no one was going make breakfast, so I’m grabbing something for Mr. Benoit’s. See ya after school. 🤪

You rode you way over to the cafe and placed your bike near a window. You walked inside and was about to order, when Douxie walked up.

“Hey y/n. Were you going to order something?” Douxie asked.

“Hey Douxie, actually I was just going to get black coffee,” you replied.

He help up a coffee cup. You smiled and thanked him as the two of you settled at a table. You drank your coffee quietly, while Douxie ate his muffin.

“Wanna go to school together?” he asked.

“Sure” you replied.

You grabbed your bike while Douxie grabbed his. You both rided along side each other and talked. When the school came into view, Douxie asked,

“Wanna race?”

“Why not!”, you replied.

You both start peddling faster. When thought you were just about to win, Douxie peddled a bit faster. You pressed the brakes, but you didn’t stop. It did not end well. You skidded on the concrete, scraping your hands, making them bleed, and you ankle landed the wrong way when you fell to the floor. Douxie was just about to rush over and help you when a bunch of girls came up to him and started oooing and ahhing over him. He tried to go over to you but he couldn’t.

You looked at your hands, there were bleeding a lot. You tried to stand up but as soon as you did, you fell back onto the floor, screaming in pain. Your ankle was not okay. Douxie had heard your scream, making him loose his patience.

“Excuse me girls! I need to get to a very important person, so please,” he shouted, sprinting to you.

“Y/n! Your hands...”, he said, worriedly, looking at your hands.

He took your hands in his and inspected the scrapes. As he touched your wrist, you winced, he had touched a bruise. He saw you wince in pain, so he quickly apologised. He looked at your ankle, it was turning to a purple shade. Since you couldn’t walk, he would carry you. He placed one of his hands under your knees and the other behind your back and lifted you up.

“Douxie, this isn’t necessary. I can pull my own weight,” I protested.

He had pulled you close to his chest, so you wouldn’t accidentally fall.

You noticed that he was pretty tall, so you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and clinged onto him for dear life.

“You can’t pull your weight, clearly and this was the only way. Plus I don’t think you have a lot of weight to pull,” he said.

He was clearly referring to me being light.

He carried me across the school, getting everyone’s attention. We were about half way to the nurses office when Izzy and Rachael came rushed over to us.

“Y/n! What happened?” they both asked.

“My brakes were not working, so I skidded on concrete and my ankle landed the wrong way so I can’t walk. I told Douxie that I could pull my own weight but he didn’t listen and so he now carrying me to the nurses office,” you explained.

“Well look at the bright side! You’re getting carried by Douxie! Douxie!” Rachael said.

Douxie and you blushed.

“It’s nothing. I can do anything for y/n,” Douxie said calmly.

Izzy and Rachael eyebrows shot up at his statement. Douxie realised what he had said and tried to explain, when you tightened your grip on Douxie. Your ankle started hurting a lot. You winced in pain. Douxie looked at you and apologised to your friends and continued to the nurses office. You whimpered in pain, as it got worse.

“It’s okay y/n, I’ve got you. Nothing is going to happen,” Douxie whispered to you.

Douxie tried pushing the door of the nurses office open with his foot but it didn’t work. A person in the office, noticed you and Douxie and quickly opened the door, letting you in. Douxie laid you down on the bed in one of the room’s. The nurse ushered him out and the nurse examined your ankle.

After you were examined, the nurse told Douxie that she will be fine by the end of the day, and that he could pick her up after last period.

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You had been sitting on the bed all day, having an ice pack around your ankle and bandages on your hand. The whole day was very quiet and boring. Then, you heard the bell ring, school had ended! You didn’t have to wait long, your black and blue haired friend came as soon as the bell rung.

“Hey Douxie!” you said, as he came into the room.

“Hey y/n! How are you feeling? Can you walk?”, he asked, shooting you questions.

“She can’t walk fully yet, she can limp. You’ll have to support your friend home”, the nurse interrupted.

Your eyes become wide when the nurse said that he had to drop me off to my house. Douxie nodded and walked over to you.

“Let’s see how you can walk”, he said.

He offered me his hand for support and you took it. As you put weight on your ankle, it started to hurt.

“Ouch!”, you exclaimed, squeezing Douxie’s hands in pain.

“Yeah...you can’t walk. I am sorry for doing this again,” he said, then lifted you up again. You got out of the nurses office and out of school, were your bike was.

“Hmm. If you can’t ride your bike to school, then you’ll need a lift. Do you have a brother or someone that can pick you up?”, Douxie asked.

“I have a younger brother. He goes to Arcadia Oaks High. I can call him-”, you said when you were cut off by Douxie.

“I can call him. What’s his number?”, he asked.

You told him and then he called your brother.

“Hey, is this Jim? Okay, so I have got your sister, can you pick her up? She can’t ride her bike, I’ll come with you guys since her bag is with me. Bye,” he said over the phone.

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“Hey Jim!” Douxie waved at Jim and Toby, making him come over to you.

“Y/n! What happened? Are you alright?” Jim asked, worried.

“I’m fine Jim, I’ll tell you about it at home,” you said, reassuring him for now.

“Okay let’s go, before it get’s dark...” Toby said, looking at the sun setting.

Douxie looked confused, but he pushed the thought away. He helped you over to Jim, where he his hand stretched out for me to take. I took it and looked confused.

“Jimbo, where am I going to sit?” you asked, gesturing to his bike, where there was only one seat.

“You are going to sit on the seat, while I ride,” he explained.

You nodded. You sat on his seat and he started peddling through town, while Toby and Douxie were following behind.

“Douxie, thank you for helping my sister, it means a lot,” Jim said, as we rode through the town and onto the bridge.

“It’s nothing. I can do anything for her,” Douxie said, but then he realised what he had just said.

You blushed.

“Well I um mean that I can do anything um...” Douxie stammered.

“Anyways! Toby why were you at the dentist?”, Jim asked, trying to start a normal conversation.

“I’ll explain later. Anyways, let’s talk about you, Jim,” Toby said, changing topics.

“What about me?” Jim asked, panicking a little.

“You know, the LOYL,” Toby smirked.

“Yeah Jim, who is this girl? Wait, is it Claire Nūnez?” you teased.

“Uh...um..well...”Jim stammered.

“Oh! Jim you have a crush? Have you spoken to her yet?” Douxie teased.

“Well I did yesterday, during gym class,” Jim said.

“Please don’t tell me you said anything to her in Spanish,” you said.

When he didn’t give you an answer, you knew the answer, he did.

“What’s so bad in talking in Spanish?”, Douxie asked, curious.

“Jim starts talking in Spanish when he get’s nervous, which is usually when he talking to girls, more specifically, Claire,” you explained.

Then your house came.

“Well that is it for the day, see you guys tomorrow,” Toby said, riding to his home across from ours.

You got off your brother’s bike and limped over to the front door and opened it. You collapsed on the couch, tired. Douxie came in and dropped your bag onto the floor next to you.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow, love,” he said, walking out of the door.

Jim came in and dropped his things on the couch.

“I’ll make sandwiches, you rest,” Jim ordered.

You sighed, you limped over with him and then sat on top of the bench. You looked at you brother, he chopping and looking at the amulet.

“Why don’t you try looking into it?” you ask.

“Maybe I should,” he said, taking the amulet and walking outside.

You followed him outside and sat on the stairs. He looked at the amulet and spoke the incantation.

“For the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command,” he spoke, turning the amulet. Then the wind suddenly picked up, and you saw that the rocks started to levitate. Then, blue magic orbs appeared out of the amulet and into Jim heart, then he levitated and armour appeared. Then the pieces clicked together. At first it was very big, which you started laughing at, then it shrunk and fitted him perfectly. He looked like a knight, but without the sword.

“This is so freaking cool!” Jim exclaimed.

“Now you just need a sword to go with the armour,” I commented, when a few more orbs appeared out the amulet and drifted to his hand, which then created a sword.

You were amazed. This was magic!

“Wow!” you said.

Then Jim started to do some ‘cool’ moves with his sword, but when it got stuck into a a rock behind him. You bursted out laughing as you saw him attempt to take it out. He eventually did, but then he got it stuck again. He tried again, and it got out a lot faster. He chuckled when he got it out.

In having discovered all this, on the other side of town, Mr Strickler and Bular were planning to take it from him. But the amulet had found it’s champion, would it be that easy? l

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #tales of arcadia #trollhunters

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thr-333 · 4 years

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Mismatch- Part 9

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

“yeah sure thing pal”- my friend when I asked for something to put here

First< Previous > Next

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“Ok, we’ll be arriving at the museum soon,” Marinette tells Marion, who is focusing on his phone.

“Great, by the way how do you feel about a meet and greet before the concert?” Marion confirms the dates with their manager for said meet and greet.

“Hm, It’ll be tough to fit it in, maybe in our free week?” Marion nods knowing it was already set up in their free week, “I don't know Ri,”

“It’ll be fun,” Because a large event in Gotham is always fun and goes off without a hitch, “Besides it’d be kind of rude to do meet and greets in every other city we’re visiting but Gotham,”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Marinette smiles, looking out the window of the bus, “Oh no Kate's going to kill us for deciding last minute,”

“Don’t worry she already agreed,” Marion ignores her confusion, “It’s a week from now, so it’ll be in our free week,”

“What! You already set it up and didn’t ask me!” Marinette raises the volume of their whispered conversation.

“I did you agreed,” Marion reminds her, "Remember we were in the airport, you were staring at Adrien, and I asked quietly,"

“... and you don't see anything wrong with that?" Marinette deadpans, "Or even considered that maybe I couldn't hear you or wasn't listening.

“Huh, didn't consider that,” Marion looks away with a smile not needing to see Marinette's glare

“You are unbelievable,” She lectures raising her volume, "You know I'm not coherent when he's around!"

“When who’s around?” Adrien pops up behind them from his seat next to Nino.

“No one!” Marinette yells, drawing all eyes on the bus towards her blushing.

“Marinette you please keep your voice down, it's aggravating my tinnitus,” Lila says as sweetly as poison.

Marinette rolls her eyes and they both ignore Rose and Sabrina fussing over her.

“Alright class,” Madame Bustier addresses them after they exit the bus, “You’re parents are all quite concerned over yesterday's events, so we all must stick together today, this isn’t like Akuma attacks where you’re expected to go home, I have to know where you are,”

A chorus of ‘yes Madame Bustier’ is heard as they follow their teacher into the museum. They meet their tour guide for the day falling into a similar pattern of Lila’s posse talking throughout the tour. This tour guide seems to be more accustomed to school kids ignoring him, although he does seem pleased that the twins keep asking questions. The class had been given time to look around the Atlantean exhibit. The twins deciding to look over a mural that seemed to depict a past miraculous holder.

“Hey,” They both turn towards a young man with his phone up like he was recording, “You’re the Wayne twins right?”

“Excuse me?” Marion exchanges glances with Marinette, equally confused.

“Bruce Wayne's new kids right?” The guy pushes, taking a step forward.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette tries to explain, taking a step back.

“Alright I get it, want to keep it on the down low, don’t worry I won’t tell anyone,” He assures, Marion looks doubtfully at his phone he makes no effort to put away.

“You’re recording,” Marion states the obvious, which seems to irritate him.

“No I’m not, just tell me!” He demands, Marinette pushes Marion back slightly to try and get away.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about and you’re being very rude,” Marinette scolds, as the camera is pushed nearer her face.

“Why won’t you just admit it!”

“They owe you no explanation,” Kagami appears, grabbing the man's arm and forcefully pointing the camera away from the twins.

“And you don’t have permission to film or take pictures of them,” Chloe plucks the phone out of the startled man's grasp.

“I just-”

“You just nothing- now shoo,” Chloe chucks his phone onto a nearby bench, presumably with the footage deleted, and guides the twins to an empty hallway, “What was that about?”

“No idea, he approached us out of nowhere,” Marion tells the two seething girls.

“He was calling us the Wayne twins,” Marinette supplies more helpfully, “We should probably call Aunt Selina, she might know something,”

She usually did. Kagami and Chloe nod leaving them to the call, but Marion spots them waiting just outside the hallway.

“Hello?” Their Aunt says through speaker phone.

“Hey, Auntie something weird just happened,” Marion can think of no better way to describe it.

“What happened, you weren't attacked again were you?” Her tone is joking but with a hint of doubt, knowing that it was absolutely a possibility with them.

“No this guy came up to us filming, asking if we were the 'Wayne twins'?” Marinette sums up, wording it far more politely than the actual interaction.

“Wayne twins? Just a minute” She hangs up with a beep, leaving them in the empty hallway.

“... So that exhibit huh?” Marion tries to fill the silence, “You think we should investigate it?”

“I wonder if the Atlantean's part of out order of guardians or if they have their own,” Marinette keeps her voice hushed, she opens up her purse slightly "Do you know Tikki?"

“I’m not sure, we Kwami’s were rarely aware of the whereabouts of Kwamis from different miracle boxes," Tikki tells them from the purse.

“Maybe a branch off the order, I mean the miraculous can be powered up to go underwater so working together wouldn’t have been improbable,” Marinette theorises.

“Then any miraculous they held would have likely been in circulation when the temple was destroyed,” Kaalki adds.

"If thats the case then the order probably can't locate them," Marion frowns, glancing at Marinette's backpack that held their miracle box.

"And those that hold them might not know what they are," Marinette adds, after all Alix's family had passed a miraculous down for generations.

“We could-”

“We’re not going to Atlantis,” Marinette cuts Marion off.

“But-”

“No,”

“I thought it was cats that were meant to be scared of water,” He pouts, getting ignored by Marinette.

“To be fair the last time I was in Atlantis things didn’t go so well,” Plagg says, "Plus it was above ground,"

"Then I'll take Kaalki,"

"We aren't going to Atlantis," Marinette scolds, as the phone starts ringing.

“Here's the thing,” Aunt Selina says as soon as she's put on speaker phone, “Apparently some people took pictures of you the past few days with the Wayne family and figured you must be Waynes too,”

“That's ridiculous!” Marion has apparently been spending too much time with Chloe.

“.... yeah people come up with some crazy theories,” Selina sounds strained, “Look don’t worry about a thing, just enjoy your trip we’ll handle everything,”

“Ok,” They both agree hesitantly.

“Alright call me if you have any other problems, anything at all,” They agree, saying goodbye before the call is disconnected.

“Just a heads up, the whole class saw what happened,” Chloe warns them as soon as they reenter the exhibit, “We looked up the whole ‘Wayne twins’ thing-”

“A ridiculous rumour,” Kagami has apparently also been spending too much time around Chloe.

“Long story short, Lie-la’s trying to convince the whole class you two made it up for attention,” Chloe finishes glaring over at the group gathered around Lila. Minus Max and Alix the latter of which looking at the mural the twins had been earlier.

“And succeeding,” Adrien adds pityingly, as some of their classmates glare at the twins.

“By the way,” Chloe elbows Marion playfully, “You didn’t tell me you were child billionaires,”

“Of course we didn’t,” Marion grins slyly back at her, “Wouldn’t want to make you jealous of our diamond toilet, we know how insecure you get with only a gold toilet,”

“Honestly Chloe, how do you get by?” Marinette sighs over dramatically.

“Does this officially make us the rich kid club?” Adrien chimes in, as they walk out of sight of the rest of the class.

“I suppose it does,” Kagami agrees, with her usual stoic tone, but clearly in on the joke.

“We would make a great reality tv show,” Chloe declares.

“Well we have enough money to buy a camera crew apparently,”

“I like your thinking Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe teases, getting a mock curtsy in response.

They continue with the tour doing quite well at ignoring the slides from Lila against them. That doesn't mean they aren’t glad to go back to the Hotel away from her.

“I think we should just order room service,” Marinette cuts through the arguing.

“It’ll probably be safer,” Kagami hands the menu to Nino, who had been trying to convince them to get pizza.

“How unglamorous,” Chloe sneers, like she had with every other option presented, especially Nino's pizza. He had made it his personal mission to get Chloe to eat pizza. Marion was all for it, but not tonight they had to meet up with Batman later.

“We can paint our nails,” Kagami offers, tired of them arguing for the past half hour.

“Yeah if I still had my nail polish,” Chloe pouts.

“I brought some,” Kagami says, much to the other girls surprise.

“I have some back in my room,” Marion adds.

“And I have face masks!” Chloe exclaims running to her room to get them.

“I’ll invite Max and Markov,” Marion offers shooting them a text, “I’ll tell them to pick it up,”

“They don’t have a key,” Adrien leans over Nino’s shoulder to read the menu.

“Max built a sentient robot when we were, like 13, do you really think he needs a key?” Marion finishes typing, getting an instant confirmation.

“Touche,”

“Why don’t you shout us billionaires?” Chloe picks through her food. Sitting at the table with Kagami, both refusing to balance dinner on their knees.

“What? I thought we were the rich kids club, can’t you pay for your own meals?” Marion cringes at the feeling of chewing while wearing a face mask.

“Atlas the rest of us are lowly millionaires,” Chloe slumps back dramatically, fork in hand.

“I’m not a million are or billionaire,” Nino sounds annoyed but it's probably more at his painted nails that Marinette promised they would remove later.

“Neither but I plan to be,” Max had managed to avoid his nails getting painted, but got a face mask to match Markov.

“Oh-ho confident words from the nerd, alright you get early admission, Nino you have to leave,” Marion teases, pointing Nino towards the door.

“What?! I’ll be making millions with my music in no time,” Nino crosses his arms, startling a second later at the nail polish now smeared on his shirt.

“Yeah right,” Chloe scoffs, watching as Marinette fumbles to remove the stain before it sets. Adrien trying, and failing, to help with his still wet nails.

“Thanks, Anyway dudes it was probably a bad idea to spread that rumour on purpose,” Nino says with genuine concern, after Marinette had gotten the stain out.

“What? Nino we didn’t do it on purpose,” Marinette cleans up the tissues and nail polish remover that had ended up ruining her own nails.

“I know,” Nino has a look that screams he definitely didn’t know, “but you probably could have been more careful instead of parading around,”

“We didn’t know we had to be careful,” Marion starts collecting everyone's empty plates.

“Is this what Lila’s been telling you?” Kagami demands, standing to help Marion who immediately sits her back down. Kagami has many skills, house work is not one of them.

“Calm down dude, she just doesn't know the whole story,” Nino picks his plate back up, being the only one still eating,“She’d probably ask but you dudes aren't exactly close,”

“Lila shouldn’t be talking about them behind their backs at all,” Chloe criticises, coming to sit down on the couch now.

“She isn’t-”

“She is,” Chloe challenges Nino, helped by a death glare.

"..."

“... Anyway Nino, do you have any dates planned with Alya while we’re here,” Adrien breaks the silence, not at all searching for ideas on where to take Marinette.

180 notes · View notes

ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

One + One is Two

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: Please listen to Sam Cooke’s (What A) Wonderful World while you read this, or at least during the last scene. It was the brain child of this story & will make your heart happy, I promise! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

Dissatisfied with his life as a book publisher in Seattle, Peter heads across the country to take a teaching job in High Rock, North Carolina. The town is beautiful and the new job is everything he could want - yet, true contentment comes when a saucy drama teacher sits down next to him at a staff meeting.

Much cuteness ensues.

Or, the one where Tony serenades Peter & we all go awe.

Read on AO3 here.

For the first time since his own high school days, Peter felt nervous.

Moving to the small little town of High Rock was one of the best decisions of his life – Peter knew that without having to exist in the masses of it for very long. While Seattle was gorgeous, and home to many, many book publishing agencies, it didn’t feel like home. And after almost ten years in the business, editing and selecting the next newest best seller just didn’t do it for him, anymore.

Instead, Peter found himself drawn to both a new career and a brand-new place.

When Peter first started college, he initially wanted to be a teacher; the education department at Columbia ranked amongst some of the best in the nation. After a bit of writing success, however, Peter changed his tune and started down the publishing career track, instead. He let himself get lost in the mess of creative writing and editing, his love for the art quickly taking on another shape. And for a time, it worked – honing in on different skills brought about a different love for the subject as a whole.

Things started to change when Peter took a step back and really looked at where he was. Though successful in his career, Peter spent most of his time making everyone else’s writing better, and no time on his own. The apartment he lived in since graduating college was gorgeous, yet it never screamed home the way he wanted it to. The social scene and foodie experience were great but lacking the sense of fulfillment that little pleasures like that should bring.

The perfect opportunity to change things up came in the form of a call from a friend he hadn’t seen since leaving Nag’s Head so many years ago. Ned, now the principal of a high school in High Rock, needed an English teacher – and was willing to look past the immediate lack of credentials. It didn’t take but a beat of silence for Peter to say yes – the decision made before he could think about it.

How natural it felt – that said something.

In the time between uprooting his life in Seattle to moving back to North Carolina, Peter took care of the certifications he needed and brushed up on teaching theory. His head was so stuck in the literary world that every step away, back towards his original passions, made his heart pound with excitement; a feeling so foreign, Peter almost didn’t recognize it.

Life in Seattle was great but being in High Rock was amazing – for the price of his apartment’s rent, Peter found a three-bedroom house with three times the space. The town resided around a lake, and to really drive that delicacy home, the weather was good enough to visit whenever the fancy struck. The everyday flow of life was different – a change of pace that Peter appreciated from the very second he walked into it.

Now, finally on the cusp of what could be considered to be his “dream job”, Peter felt nervous. Not the bad kind of nervous, where his stomach felt like it could drop out his ass at any minute. It was the kind, instead, that made his palms sweat with sweet apprehension – like the start of something totally new.

The reality of his fresh start didn’t truly set in until he pulled up to High Rock High School and parked in his employee parking spot a week before the start of school. The rest of the parking lot was relatively empty at the moment, but soon, all of the spaces would be occupied – taken up by young minds that Peter now had the opportunity to shape. It felt so real as he walked through the front doors and anxiously navigated himself to his perfectly decorated classroom. He pulled in a long breath and let the potential of what could be settle over him.

He took his time reacquainting himself with the room he put together a few weeks ago when the teachers were allowed access during summer break. After a lot of thought, Peter meticulously used his calligraphy skills to make hangable quotes from the books he couldn’t wait to cover throughout the year. His desk, though smaller than what he was used to, stood proudly in the corner he made for himself – the bookshelves he brought from Seattle set up along the walls were already stuffed to the gills with books and resources.

For the first time in what felt like ten years, Peter felt a sense of home that settled him – his chest finally loosening after such a long time.

That settled feeling followed him all the way into the cafeteria, where the first ever staff meeting of his career was set to take place. In the book world, meetings with clients and supervisors were always stuffy, filled with sucking up and holding back little truths that would change the interaction if known. Transparency wasn’t anywhere close to the name of the game.

Not knowing what to expect from these, Peter felt the apprehension start to creep back in.

Might be a good thing, Peter thought – nerves kept him on his toes and in this new start, he wanted to put his best foot forward. Never having taught before, Peter wasn’t sure what that actually looked, but the best intentions were there.

Taking a seat at the big circle of tables already decked out in coffee fixings and donuts, Peter let his eyes roam around. Despite being more than ten years removed from high school, the lunchroom looked exactly like he pictured the one he spent so much time in during his school days. The old smell of large pan pizza and disinfectant even seemed the same. The familiarity of it, despite the newness of the space, brought that feeling of comfort rushing back.

Suddenly, the smell of woody outdoors and musk and man filled his nostrils. Turning his head in the direction of the smell, Peter was surprised to see the seat next to him now occupied. The man (though Adonis would be more fitting) sat up straight with a warm and welcoming smile on his face.

It took Peter a second to register the fact that social protocol usually demanded something from him at this moment in time. His attempt to pull in a deep, calming breath was thwarted when the exhale brought in that delectable scent. Feeling his cheeks pinken, Peter ducked his head, the lack of eye contact just enough to get his shit back under control.

“Uh – hi! I’m Peter. Peter Parker,” Peter finally said in greeting, his hand moving into the space between them. If things weren’t awkward enough, Peter’s nerves were back through the roof – though this time, they brought a sort of warmth that could easily be intoxicating.

A warm hand slipped into his own, the man’s grip tight without being too overbearing; eerily right in the sense that their joint contact didn’t feel forced at all. “Hey there, Peter Parker. I’m Tony Stark – resident drama teacher.” He pulled his hand away from Peter’s to gesture at himself.

Not completely out of his mind with surprise any longer, Peter took the rest of Tony, resident drama teacher, in. His goatee, while not entirely thick, was styled within an inch of its life – the edges were sharp, and the corners came together in a severe angle at the start of his jaw. A waistcoat sat over a dark salmon colored shirt that was delightfully finished with a black striped bow tie. Peter wasn’t sure what shouted drama teacher about the ensemble, but he nodded anyway – he enjoyed the open invitation to take more of Tony in without the whole thing feeling a bit creepy.

“Dramatic,” Peter finally added, the free-range movement of his eyes probably too much without at least a little continuation of the conversation. “It’s English for me – I’ll have the junior and senior AP kids.”

Tony’s nose scrunched up adorably, his face suggestive in its emotional expression – dramatic, after all. He shifted a little closer, the space between their seats not much now that they sat shoulder to shoulder. If he really tried, Peter could feel the warmth of Tony’s arm drift just barely under the surface of his skin.

Briefly, he wondered what the warmth would be like if that skin was bare.

Then, Tony’s melodic voice pulled him from his inappropriate thoughts. He bumped their shoulders, a smile on his face. “If you’ve got the juniors, that means we’ll get to work together pretty closely. We do a stage rendition of Hamlet to take the Shakespeare out of good ole Willie’s work. It seems to help with the comprehension.”

Face lighting up, Peter felt his heart thump a little harder – his love of Shakespeare was what brought about the English passion to begin with. The fact that he already had reason to spend time with the enigma of a man next him barely even registered. “I love that. His plays are meant for the stage, after all.”

“They are – and totally accessible to modernization. If you’re on board, we can put together something fun and educational.” Tony’s lips were pulled into a smirk, Peter’s lack of verbal and emotional filter giving away so much more than he truly wanted.

Blushing, Peter brought his hands together, lacing his fingers for the tactile distraction of the movement. It took him a second to hold back the blurt, his brain working overtime to process the words Tony said and respond accordingly. Just because he was now in a high school, didn’t mean he needed to act like one of its inhabitants.

“As long as you don’t expect me to be in it, I think it’ll be great.”

Tony laughed at that, the already adorable nose scrunch making its way back onto his gorgeous face. He ducked his shoulder into Peter’s again, that same smirk on his face. “What you don’t like to make a fool of yourself?” Tony asked as he pushed back from the table to get up.

“Speaking of,” Tony trailed off, the man now completely out of his seat and making his way to the front of the cafeteria that was now quite occupied with his fellow teachers and administrators alike.

With wide eyes, Peter watched as Tony stood in the middle of three other middle-aged teachers, their shirts and bowties noticeably coordinated now that he was paying attention. As if waiting for Tony’s arrival, the room went silent. With a few well-timed snaps, a cluster of voices started in what could only be described as a jazzy barbershop quartet version of the school’s fight song.

Peter watched in awe, his eyes glued to Tony – the moves he brought to the table were fancy and smooth, completely in sync with the subpar performers around him. They didn’t matter, that was easy to see. Tony drew everyone’s attention, his big personality and undeniable talent noticed by just about everyone in the room. Despite these people probably having seen this little song and dance before, they still watched with rapt attention.

Unable to stop himself, Peter clapped when the cacophony of voices came to an end. He got up from his chair with little finesse, his body way ahead of the heavy thing that existed between his shoulders. The rest of the room looked at him oddly for a second, then added to the applause.

In terms of first impressions, Peter was totally winning.

Thankfully, the rest of the meeting went without a hitch. Peter got a couple of minutes to introduce himself and talk a little bit about his previous experience. He knew he brought an interesting perspective to the table, both as a teacher and someone interested in making the student’s lives as easy and enriched as possible. When it came time to sign up for volunteer chaperone opportunities, Peter cleverly put himself in a couple he thought might attract Tony’s attention, too.

Because, for some reason, Peter’s brain decided that Tony Stark needed to be in his life in some way. Though he forced himself to not name the way he wanted it to be, Peter understood all too well what a crush felt like. There was a lot of time between his last flame and the surge of that old familiar feeling rushing within him – and despite barely knowing him, Peter knew potential when he saw it.

Of course, his next chance to see Tony outside of the classroom setting didn’t come until several weeks into school. Decked out in his new High Rock gear, Peter tried not to look out of place at the gates of the football stadium where he signed himself up to take tickets for the first half of the game. Some of the students that recognized him waved and tried to make small talk – an art that Peter hadn’t fine-tuned in quite some time. Everyone else cast him a sidelong glance and went about their way.

An internal groan radiated through him – it felt silly to be so frustrated about these young kids not liking him, and yet… most of his thoughts revolved around bridging the gap he knew existed. Not for the first time, Peter figured the skill was one he would’ve learned in the education program he so carelessly threw away. Book dealers and authors were a stuffy sort – the extent of wanted conversation existed within the bounds of how good (or sometimes, how shitty) their latest piece was. And profits – always profits.

“If you just relax, they’ll be way more receptive.”

Turning to find the source of the words, Peter didn’t even try to stop the smile on his face from blooming when he realized who it was. A sudden gratefulness settled over him – in his many attempts to dress for the evening, Peter put on his newest (and nicest) jeans. They were both comfortable and fit him like a glove. The secret of his crush wasn’t much of a secret – why try to hide anything else (especially his nicest assets)?

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Stark – you ooze cool from your pores,” Peter remarked, his eyebrows waggling cheesily. “In all seriousness, I’m trying. The shift in mindset has been a challenge. Kids want realness and that sort of thing would’ve landed me on my ass not too long ago.”

The low sound of Tony’s laugh rang in Peter’s ears, the octave of it so rich in its depths that a shudder ran down his spine. He wondered, not for the first time, how the musicality translated to other more melodic things.

“None of that Mr. Stark shit from you, Peter Parker – it’s bad enough the kids call me that. I’m just a regular, single gent outside of the classroom.” As he spoke, Tony narrowed the space down between them, their shoulders once again within brushing distance. “Why don’t you try not trying? I’ve taken a peek in your classroom during a lecture or two – you know your shit and have passion for it. Let a little more of that seep into the everyday stuff and you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Is that what you do? Let all of the bubbliness pour out until they can do nothing but admire the hell out of you?”

Peter pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to stop the sound that threatened to fall from his lips when Tony laughed again – it shouldn’t be legal, being that goddamn adorable all the time.

“That’s exactly what I do. I enjoy every second of my job and let people see that. Being genuine goes a long way, Pete.”

Sucking in a breath, Peter felt those words hit him square in the gut. Were there truer words in existence?

“In an attempt to be genuine, would you possibly be interested in a drink later?” Feeling his eyes bulge at the words that effortlessly came out of his mouth, Peter tried to backtrack. “I mean – I – “

Tony cut off the splutter with a hand on Peter’s shoulder, his touch that same warmth he remembered. “I’d love to. I wasn’t sure you were going to finally pull the trigger – I planned to ask you out myself if you didn’t soon.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed, the heat of them burning so hot he had to be as red as a tomato. Between the flame and the stretch of his lips, Peter wasn’t sure he’d see the end of the night with all of his face intact – smiling his way to an early death.

After that, the rest of the game flew by in a whirlwind of easy conversation, student monitoring, and one too many hot dogs. At one point, Peter bought them both another just to see Tony open his mouth – the literal thirst he felt towards the drama teacher something Peter wasn’t sure existed before meeting Tony Stark. There was just something about his lips…

By the time the last two minutes of the fourth quarter were ticking down, Peter was more than ready to get the hell out of dodge. The thought of having his students witness his awkward mating dance made his skin crawl. He loved being back in the high school atmosphere – that time of adolescence was an exciting one. At the same time, the wagging gums of the gossip mongers were hard to get used to. There were things he knew about some of the kids that passed through his door that no other human should know, let alone the simple, unsuspecting English teacher.

When the game clock finally dwindled down, Tony bumped into his shoulder. Realizing that was Tony’s way of drawing his attention, Peter looked over at him. Tony stood casually against the fence, both hands in the deep pockets of his jacket.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before there’s a huge sea of teens heading right for us. If they spot us, it’ll be ages before we’re in the clear,” Tony remarked, his right hand slipping out of the pocket to grip onto Peter’s elbow, instead.

It didn’t take anything more than that to kick Peter into gear. He allowed himself to relax into the touch and walked with sure steps towards the exit. Now that his duties were done for the evening, Peter felt a different sort of contentment wash over him – the rest of the night was for himself, and if things went really well, a slice of Tony Stark, too.

“There’s a nice wine bar about twenty minutes outside of High Rock’s city limits that’s got a great chardonnay – want to follow me?” Tony asked as they approached the parking lot, his hands already tossing his keys around the ring over and over.

The man’s inability to stay put was easily one of the things that Peter felt immediately attracted to. There was a reason for it, and he couldn’t wait to find out.

“Yes, please. For such a small town, it’s surprisingly difficult to navigate.”

“They do that on purpose. Small towns, I mean. It discourages the infiltration of outsiders.” Tony shot him a look, the mirth in his eyes hard to decipher. If it weren’t for the telling smirk on his lips, Peter never would’ve gotten the joke.

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” Peter asked, affection lacing his voice. “And a transplant too, isn’t that right?”

“The nicest asshole you’ll ever know.” He looked up; surprise evident on his face. “Very clever, Peter Parker – doing your homework. I grew up on the upper east side in New York and went through Tisch’s theater program. Thought I’d be a star.”

Peter chuckled at that – the entirety of the school idolized Tony. It wasn’t the biggest stage to be the center of attention of, but stardom wasn’t something that Tony lacked. “You are. I’ve looked in your door while you were teaching, too, y’know. Every person in your class watches you with this look of awe in their eyes. That’s star power, my friend.”

“Do I smell a bias?” Tony joked back quickly, the words covering up the flash of unnamed emotion the man refused to let settle across his features. “If my campy spiel is enough to rope you in, I can’t be too upset.”

Not giving a shit about revealing too much of himself the same way Tony did, Peter let the beaming smile play along the seam of his lips. His cheeks were pinching with overuse, burning and a little tingly. It felt great – enjoying life and someone else in it so much.

“Bias or not, it’s the truth.”

Tony threw his hands up in concession, the earnest way Peter spoke obviously too much for him. His cheeks were a little red, and the tiniest bit of blush on cheeks was unmistakable. It was unfair really; how attractive someone could make just about any emotion seem. Shy and demure, or rambunctious and fiery – Tony owned them all. Peter had to work very hard to stop from admitting that outright. Instead, he ducked his head and let out an overwhelmed breath.

Getting to the winery felt a little like floating on air – Spotify hit all the right jams and before Peter knew it, they were parking in front of a rustic looking building. There was outdoor seating with people milling about, the soft orange of the light such a good marketing technique; one look and Peter immediately felt at home.

To order, they had to walk into the storefront that opened into a small bar area. The chalkboard leaned up against the wall held the menu with a vast expanse of wines that would be overwhelming if he wasn’t going to parrot Tony’s order. A few people milled about waiting for their drinks, and in the mellow atmosphere, soft music played to top it all off.

Peter took a moment to soak it in – an aura of atmosphere that was everything he didn’t know he wanted settled in, the beautiful man next to him really driving it home.

They waited for a few minutes to order, the two of them chatting back and forth about the game and their excitement for the weekend. Tony leaned into Peter while he talked, a whiff of delectable cologne wafted into Peter’s nostrils with every press of his body. The whole thing was intoxicating, the head-spin almost like he was already drunk – high on the rightness of all the things.

With a glass of wine each, Tony led them back out towards the scattered seating outside. They took a seat in a couple of chairs that sat at the edge of the little fireplace in the middle of the setup. Though the night wasn’t too cold, the warmth was welcome – the flicker of flames casting Tony’s skin in a golden hue not hurting, either.

“So, tell me a bit more about you, Pete – what brought you to High Rock?” Tony asked after a couple of long sips of wine, the silence and overall mood hovering between them so much more than enough.

Peter stuck his nose in his wine and took a deep breath, thinking for a moment about how to express himself. “A lot of things,” he said softly, his eyes roving across the flames of the fire in front of them before meeting Tony’s gaze. “I think I got caught up in the excitement of being young and veered off the path I truly wanted. I was happy enough for a long time that it didn’t really matter, either. And then one day, I blinked and dissatisfaction with just about everything in my life was there, plain as day in front of me. When Ned offered me this job out of the blue, it just felt right.”

Tony watched him while he spoke, his eyes trained first on lips around words, then on the expressions flitting across Peter’s face. It felt a little unnerving, being so seen by someone, but Tony simply smiled at him, a small smile on his face. “Wanderlust. I know what that’s like. All I wanted to do was be on Broadway – then all of the sudden, working sixteen hours a day just to be broke in the chorus wasn’t all that fun, anymore. I spread open a map of North Carolina, closed my eyes, and picked a place at random. I love High Rock – it was the best decision of my life.”

“I like it here, too. And I like teaching. I like being able to sift through the books I loved so much growing up, watching the kids learn how to love them, too. It’s… it’s really nice.”

The conversation went on like that for a while. Tony told him horror stories of his first couple years or teaching, and some of the better times in his stage experience. In return, Peter described some of the worst plotlines ever put in front of him, and the story behind the long scar that took up residence on the back of his right hand.

While he regaled Tony of his epic adventure with a printing press, the older man reached over, his fingertip running along the length of the sensitive skin. Peter came to an abrupt stop, his brain emptying of everything other than the sensory experience of warm skin and gentle exploration.

There was a second where Peter thought he might not ever catch his breath again – the adrenaline pumping through him from such a small thing shouldn’t have been so exciting. The idea that someone, anyone, could make him feel like that, so caught up and overwhelming, it should’ve been scary. Instead, it felt exhilarating. Like he didn’t have the patience to see what happened next, he just wanted.

“Since being genuine is the name of the game, I’m going to admit that I wouldn’t be opposed to getting out of here and continuing this at my place… or yours,” Peter admitted, his previous train of thought completely out the window. Whatever they were talking about before didn’t matter – not when the firelight made Tony’s eyes look like molten amber in the dark of the night.

Tony’s gentle laugh pulled a chuckle out of Peter, the air suddenly filled with a tranquil sort of tension that would only get better the longer they nursed it. Peter felt that in his very bones.

Without saying anything, Tony tucked his wine glass back and tipped the rest of the wine into his mouth, his lips shining with the excess when he pulled away. Peter felt his tongue dip out, the tip running along his bottom lip the same way he wanted to do to Tony. The wine was magnificent and had the capacity to only get better off of Tony’s kissable skin. It took every ounce of power within him to stop Peter from closing the distance.

Have some self-control, Peter Parker.

“I’ve got some wine that will piggy-back nicely off of what we just drank,” Tony said as he stood, his movement beautiful relaxed. The offer was nice, but they both knew another glass of wine wasn’t what the rest of the night would entail.

Getting up himself, Peter shot Tony a saucy grin, the soreness in his cheeks reminding him just how good their time spent together was and certainly seemed like it was going to be.

“Lead the way.”

Surprisingly, Peter’s impatience was easily overridden by Tony the second they were through his front door. Peter didn’t get any time to take in the place, his entire being instead focused on the warm chest and plump lips pressing against his own. Trim hips were in the palms of his hand, and nothing else mattered.

Peter didn’t really know Tony all that well, but what he did know was that Tony did everything with his entire being. Dancing, teaching, even having a simple conversation, Tony focused on the task; and kissing wasn’t any different. His long fingers took up residence in the length of hair at the back of Peter’s neck. His lips, both soft and slightly chapped, pressed confidently against Peter’s with gusto – he took and gave, his head turning to deepen the kiss when tongues slid together in a sensuous dance.

They took their time shifting from surface to surface during the journey from the front door to Tony’s bedroom. The impatience of a quick fumble dulled considerably when a few things registered – Tony’s touch was magical, their bodies fit together seamlessly, and when combined it all felt like something Peter never felt before (and didn’t want to ever not feel again). Something in the way things played out so easily between them said this wouldn’t be the only time like this, tangled up and caught.

By the time Peter pushed Tony back against the bed, boxer briefs were the only thing separating bare skin. Settling between spread legs that were lithe and clenching with muscle, Peter filled all of Tony’s empty spaces with his body – their chests pressed together and when Tony wrapped his legs around Peter’s hips, there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

Peter kissed a path down Tony’s jaw and neck, across the span of a surprisingly hairy chest, and further along the length of his toned stomach – the slightest swell of a belly right along the edge of the soft waistband a lovely contradiction. Tony painted a gorgeous picture and the smallest “imperfection” played in contrast so deliciously.

Hooking his fingers under the waistband of Tony’s underwear, Peter glanced up to catch the lust filled, hazel glance. Tony answered the look with a nod of his head, his mouth opening in a silent moan when Peter finally removed the last barrier. He made quick work of his own drawers in an attempt to finally knew what Tony truly felt like.

The first brush of Tony’s warm skin against his own brought Peter’s hips forward, a soft gasp falling from his lips when cock brushed against cock. The level of excitement spoke for itself when the slide was easy, both heads already leaky with pre-come. Peter ducked his head in Tony’s neck to avoid embarrassing himself – it felt too good and the edge felt so close already.

“What do you want?” Peter asked, his lips pressing against the moist skin of Tony’s neck as their hips rolled together. He used his free hand to hike the muscular thigh higher around his hip, the move making the angle even better than before. “You feel so good, Tony. Tell me what you want – I’ll give you anything.”

His words brought a groan from deep within Tony’s chest – Peter felt it before it sounded in the space between them. He felt Tony reach up to grip his bicep, the man’s fingers digging in tight.

“God, you’re better at this than I imagined. Your words feel like liquid fire against my skin. I want you, Pete – anything and everything.” Tony finished his words with a kiss against the side of Peter’s head, his lips just barely brushing the shell of Peter’s ear. “We have time for that, though. Tonight – I think you should fuck me.”

Peter pulled back then, his hips stalling for a second. Their eyes locked and for a second, his heart felt like it was stuttering through its cycle, systole and diastole suddenly out of sync – was there anything sexier? Drawing his lower lip to stop any rogue words from falling out before the time was right, Peter nodded, his cock throbbing at the very idea.

With a quick kiss on the lips and a fumble with the bedside table, Tony shifted onto his stomach, arranging himself in a glorious position. His legs were spread and every time he leaned forward on his forearms, Peter watched Tony’s hole fluttering, the muscle clenching and unclenching with every move.

Unable to decide whether he wanted to dive in face first or just get prep over and done with, Tony made the decision for him – the lube hit Peter square in the chest when Tony tossed it at him.

“Please, Pete.”

The words were directive enough. Peter flipped open the cap and poured a good amount into the palm of his hand. He let the slick warm up before letting a little drip down Tony’s ass cheeks, the lube sliding across his twitching hole enticingly. Using his thumb to spread it around, Peter forced himself to take a deep breath before pressing the tip of his point finger in. He was met with no resistance, so he slipped forward until the webbing of his finger stopped him.

That same rhythm went on as Peter entered a second, and then finally a third finger in, each new digit loosening Tony considerably with every push and pull, in and out. His skin was covered with sweat and every moan Tony made let Peter think he could cum without ever having touched himself. Things were intimate, each touch like making memory. If they went on like this forever, Peter could die happy.

“Okay, okay – I need you to fuck me. I could cum just from your fingers and I planned on pulling you over with me.” Tony panted out, the words a little muffled by Tony’s forearms, where the man was leaning heavily.

Understanding the sentiment, Peter slipped his fingers out carefully. He immediately wrapped them around his own cock, spreading the excess lube around. While he tried to piece himself together enough not to come upon first touch, Tony fumbled in the bedside drawer again, a condom hitting his knee a second later. His skin flushed and with shaky movements, Peter picked up the foil packet, ripped the edge with his teeth, and quickly got the damn thing down his length.

With a little more lube, Peter was finally pressed against Tony’s entrance, the muscle giving way without much of a push. He made himself slide into Tony’s tightness with one steady stroke – if he pulled back at all, the whole thing would be over. When he was finally seated fully, Peter came to an abrupt halt. Breaths were hard to come by, his entire being on fire. The few seconds Tony needed to adjust gave Peter a second to lean his forehead against Tony’s back and simply breath.

Tony clenched his hole around Peter in invitation, the pulse of the muscle there immediately dragging Peter’s hips forward. A loud groan echoed around the room, neither knowing (or caring) who the noise belonged to. It felt too good, and as Peter set up a steady rhythm, both men got lost amongst the haze.

Peter’s body took over, the neurons in his brain operating on fight or flight. Long fingers dug into Tony’s hips; his grip tight. There’d be bruises there later, Peter using the touch to pull Tony back against him. Thrust after thrust, the tip of his cock brushed more frequently against a sensitive prostate, and once Peter knew where that pleasure center was, he didn’t let up.

As the end drew near, Peter changed his approach. Plastering himself over Tony’s back, his hips slowed down a little, and with a better grip, Peter thrust in deeply, his arms around the trim chest pulling Tony back hard. Now, every thrust hit Tony’s prostate dead on – the sounds coming out of the man’s mouth magnifying the feeling for them both. The helpless groan of pleasure-pain was delicious – Tony clenched with each dead-on hit, the grip so fucking tight around him.

A soft groan of Peter’s name was the only warning he got before Tony was cumming; the flutter and tightness pulling Peter right along with him. Peter shouted his surprise and pulled Tony as tightly against him as he possibly could. The world felt like it was melting around him – that little death fucking earth shattering.

When he finally came to, Peter felt Tony’s hands petting over him, his touch providing a tactile support that helped to ground him and prolong the sensitive pleasure. He loosened his grip up a little but didn’t let go until the need to dispose of the condom became too necessary to postpone. A pathetic little groan slipped from his lips when he pulled out, Peter’s body already missing the connection.

They cleaned up before the stickiness of their skin made the next morning more crusty than necessary, then fell back into bed – the two of them avoiding the wet spot instead of changing the sheets like any normal people would. Peter felt his limbs start to give up on him, the soft mattress and warm man promising a sweet sort of sleep that couldn’t be resisted.

Settling in with Tony wrapped up behind him, Peter let himself fall asleep – the future bright in front of him.

----

Things developed between them so easily after that. Being with Tony felt like getting to hang out with his best friend every day, and without any hesitation from the man, they spent practically all their time together. The fact that it felt like nothing but the best things changed in his life said a lot – he introduced a whole ass person into his space and time without any problems. Most people took years to find the sort of comfort that existed between him and Tony.

Because of all the time they spent together, it didn’t take long for the secret to get out. When Mr. Parker started to spend all of his lunch hours in Mr. Stark’s office, the rumors started. By the time Peter finally just pulled Tony into a kiss before they split up in the morning to shut everyone up, the ideas the students came up with were hilarious. Many people speculated that they’d been married for years, their sense of ease together too perfect to be as new as it truly was.

When Peter got to High Rock, he wasn’t looking for love. The idea of a change included a new job and a new place to explore, not a person who he suddenly couldn’t live without. Though he didn’t set out for it, love found him all the same.

Around Valentine’s Day, Peter felt the itch to finally tell Tony what they both already knew. Despite spending almost every available second together, the words were never said, even though the feeling was so transcendent it was stupidly hard to miss. They had the sort of connection that didn’t need a name – and once the genie was out of the bottle, Peter wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop saying the words he felt so wholeheartedly.

On one hand, he wanted the whole thing to be special. A night where they wine and dined, talked into the early hours of the morning, and then, when they were sated and close to passing out from marathon love making, he’d press the words into Tony’s skin. It fell into the dramatic category that Peter knew Tony would absolutely appreciate. Yet, the feeling existed between them from the very get go – did putting a name to that feeling really matter all that much?

The answer came a couple of weeks later. They were in the heart of AP test preparation, so he had after hour study sessions on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. After taking Tony’s advice and relaxing a little, students actively paid more attention to his class and the seats were almost always full during his get-togethers.

They made great work on some of the imagery that encompassed the Scarlet Letter, and Peter left his classroom more than satisfied. The thought of simply walking down the hall to see his favorite person didn’t hurt his mood, either. Tony sometimes spent the couple of hours after school in his classroom waiting, and today was one of those days.

For the first time since the end of the holiday school musical, Peter heard music playing in Tony’s classroom. They were in the depths of play season, so Tony’s mind was usually elsewhere. Yet, the closer he got to the door, the louder the music became. The smooth sounds of one of his favorite Sam Cooke songs picked up the pace of his steps – the dopamine of good music and Tony spurring him on.

What he found when he walked in the door was so much better.

Down to his white shirt and black waistcoat, Tony was counting out steps as he sang along with the music. Instead of Sam Cooke’s voice, Tony sang the cheesy lyrics with amazing clarity. The last time they listened to this song, Peter was dumbfounded by the deepness of his voice – and now was no exception.

He must’ve been in the zone, because Tony didn’t acknowledge him at first. The music played and a well-practiced dance followed. Peter watched with rapt attention, the whole thing the best thing he’d ever seen. By the time Tony noticed him, Peter was closing the space between them, his voice echoing the last round of the chorus.

A look of surprise passed across Tony’s face, his years of experience not letting it show anywhere else. He smiled at Peter, dancing into his arms until they were chest to chest – finishing the song looking into each other’s eyes.

Delightful red flush covered Tony’s cheeks when the music stopped, his eyes still wide with surprise and delight. “You weren’t supposed to see this yet,” Tony admitted, a sheepish look on his face.

“I’m glad I did. I love watching you like this. In your element.” Peter gripped Tony’s face in his hands then, fingers digging into the long hair at his temples. Even if he wanted to, Tony couldn’t break the eye contact between them. “And gosh – I love you. So much, I almost can’t stand it.”

Tony’s eyes roamed over his face for a second, the honey-hazel glance obviously taking in the genuineness in his words. When he found his answer, he leaned forward, taking Peter’s lips in a passionate kiss. He didn’t linger, however – their eyes locking again just seconds later.

“I love you too, Pete. It’s so easy and being with you – it finally feels like I’m right where I should be.”

Grinning, Peter brushed their noses together, his lips ghosting over Tony’s lightly.

“We both are.”

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #starker fanfic #starker fanfiction #bobbie writes #one + one is two

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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years

Text

A Slippery Slope pt. 1

Summary: Logan, a graduate student studying the local ecosystem, discovers that the mystical creature populations are dwindling. He proposes a new theory, of a creature larger than life hiding out in the forest. Logan searches the forest for the beast, forgetting one important detail- in order to find a dangerous apex predator, the predator has to find you.

(Also quick credit- I’ve been brainstorming this world with the wonderful @delimeful who suggested the initial idea. :D )

Check out more of my work at @hiddendreamerwriting!

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Logan stared at his notes, running a hand through his hair distractedly as he looked over the numbers he had practically memorized. “It doesn’t make sense.” He murmured, blinking suddenly as a thought occurred to him. “Or perhaps… it makes perfect sense.”

“What are you on about, Sanders?” His mentor asked, glancing up from his own research work.

“Sir, I’ve been going over the numbers of harpy populations again.” Logan explained, looking up as he tried to work out the logistics of his new theory. “It doesn’t add up. Based on the observations of subjects in captivity, their lifespan is averaged to be fifty years. With the birth expectancy rate being what it is, and conditions being optimal the past few decades, the population should be twice its actual size, if not more.”

“So I take it the Chimeras have been busy.” His mentor shrugged, both of them sharing a brief grim look. Chimeras were awful beasts that dominated the surrounding forests, giant monsters with a lion’s head, goat’s body, and snake tail. They were known for breathing fire and decimating clearings, feasting on whatever creature was foolish enough to cross its path.

“That’s where the anomaly occurs.” Logan adjusted his glasses, pulling together his papers. “The evidence of Chimeras in the area has… decreased.”

“Migrated elsewhere?”

Logan shook his head at the suggestion. “No, evidence has not appeared in any of the surrounding areas. In fact, based on the reports from various rangers, there’s even evidence of deceased Chimeras, in the form of discarded partial remains.”

His mentor hummed, considering this new information. “So then, what, the Chimeras are growing territorial? Beating each other up?”

“The chances of such behavior being the case are infinitesimal.” Logan negated. “Chimeras are known to welcome pack tactics. Even with the decrease in harpy populations there are plenty of other sources of food in the area so as not to necessitate violence over resources, and certainly no reason to resort to cannibalism.”

“Cannibalism?” The mentor’s eyebrows raised.

“Why else would a whole corpse not be discarded?” Logan supported his statement. “These reports indicate only small portions of the Chimera’s structure being left behind. In several accounts the horns were discovered, as well as the snake tail looking as though it were severed.”

“Hmm.” His mentor slowly turned in his chair, facing Logan head on. “So you have a theory then?”

“I do.” Logan nodded, taking a moment to straighten up. He took a deep breath. “I believe there’s a larger apex predator hunting them.”

Unsurprisingly, his mentor looked at him in disbelief. “What? What do ya mean, you think there’s something bigger than a Chimera? How the hell would we miss something like that?”

“I have no idea.” Logan admitted. “Perhaps it is new to the area, or especially skilled at camouflage. It’s exceptionally possible that there have been previous fatal encounters chalked up to be caused by one of the other several dangers of the forest. But regardless, all the evidence points to-”

“To a disease.” His mentor cut him off. “The Chimera’s likely developed some virus that’s working through their system and driving ‘em all mad. It would explain their behavior and is more plausible than a giant man eating beast nobody’s seen.”

Logan pursed his lips, never a fan of being told he was wrong.

“Look, Logan, you’re a smart kid.” His mentor explained gently, hitting another one of Logan’s buttons by calling him a child. “I think this research of yours is really admirable, it’ll make a fine thesis. You’re really onto something here. But don’t go blowing it by hypothesizing outside the realm of reality.”

Logan did not deign him with a response, appearing a bit huffy as he began to pack up his papers. It almost appeared he was a pouting child, if not for his business attire indicating his seriousness.

“I don’t want to discourage you.” His mentor continued. “This is truly remarkable! If you could discover the disease that’s infecting the Chimera population, your research would be published for certain. I can help you gain the necessary resources, it may be difficult to gain access to live samples but until then I have some friends down in the lab-”

“Thank you.” Logan cut him off with a curt nod. “I… appreciate the assistance. But I want to re-investigate my own claims before I pursue this route.”

His mentor sighed knowingly. “I know, your first discovery is always difficult. Take your time, if you want to look into this ‘apex predator’ thing by all means don’t let me stop you, but remember that your thesis needs to be built on hard evidence- not just theories.”

“Yes, I understand.” Logan gave him a soft smile. He gathered up the last of his belongings, bidding his mentor farewell before heading out the door. As soon as he left the room, Logan’s smile faded. Evidence. How was he supposed to gain evidence of a creature thought to not exist?

Well, there was only one thing to it, Logan supposed- Logan would just have to find the apex predator himself.

Now Logan was no fool, he’d grown up in the town of Sireville and knew the dangers as well as any inhabitant. It was a risky business, traversing into the forest, but Logan also knew that numbers would attract unwanted attention. He knew these woods well enough to recognize signs of danger as well as any anomalies that would prove he was on the right track. Logan was also intelligent enough to wait until the following morning, not venturing out at a time when night could befall him. To be caught in the woods at night never ended well.

It would be perhaps wise to let someone know where he was going, but if something went wrong to the point where Logan couldn’t handle himself the only thing a rescued party would discover would be his remains. Logan shuddered briefly at the thought as he entered his kitchen, giving his mother a wave before gathering the necessary supplies for his trip.

“What’s got you all dressed up?” His mother asked, peering over the counter at his attire. Logan had changed from his usual business casual into something more fitting for the forest, equipping a sturdy set of boots over his hiking pants and throwing on his tactical long sleeved shirt.

“Field study.” Logan explained, purposefully being vague as he finished packing his backpack.

“Alright, be safe.” She frowned lightly at him. “Don’t wander too far, alright? And stay on the paths.”

“I’ll be alright.” Logan reassured her, purposefully avoiding making any promises as he stepped out the door. This certainly wasn’t the first time he went out to gather evidence, having done it on several occasions throughout his studies, but it would certainly be the furthest journey yet if his expedition proved successful. Logan had taken the necessary precautions, packing extra rations should the day grow long. He didn’t pack anything for camping through the night, intending on hiking back before nightfall. At the very least he wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall asleep in the middle of the woods with so many creatures patrolling.

Logan took a deep breath, stepping in amongst the trees that had grown so familiar. He made a quick pace, wanting to get as deep as possible before the light faded. The college student took note of his surroundings, waiting for any sign of the extraordinary that he had not viewed before. The further he traveled the less familiar the trees became, growing further apart- a sure sign that larger beings had pushed them aside and nature adapted to the creature’s whims. It was truly terrifying the things that some beasts could accomplish, the impact they could have on the world around them possibly without even noticing it.

What sort of beast was Logan tracking, anyhow? He began to ponder this, growing tense as the background chattering of birds became accompanied with the low shifting of some great beasts far off. Logan paused, observing his surroundings and trying to pinpoint the noise. Could that be his target? Surely not, it wouldn’t be so easy. And yet Logan hardly recognized this clearing, and the markings upon the trees were different from any left by a harpy taking flight. Instead the limbs seemed… weary, as if something of great weight had been draped across them.

Observing further, Logan grabbed his journal and began to take diligent notes of his surroundings, adding accompanying drawings when necessary for illustration purposes. Now keeping a keen eye out for details, Logan spotted a familiar slithering track upon the forest floor. A lesser field scientist might have dismissed it for that of a Chimera’s tail, but Logan noticed there were no accompanying footprints. Furthermore, the track was far too thick to belong to a Chimera snake.

No, whatever creature laid these tracks was larger than a Chimera. Logan was practically giddy with excitement, scribbling frantically into his notebook. He was right! Some disease, indeed. Curiosity overtaking him, Logan wasn’t thinking clearly as he blindly followed the tracks deeper into the forest. The trees began to twist and curl in unnatural patterns, bent out of shape to make shade or revealing clearings of sunlight in others. Logan leapt over a fallen decaying trunk, pondering what other evidence he might discover. Perhaps some of the Chimera pieces? A discarded scale or feather? Or perhaps…

Logan froze, hearing a soft whistling noise coming from further up the path. It had a familiar pattern to it, slowly Logan recognizing the sound as faint snoring. He crept closer, now incredibly mindful of where his feet were placed. Logan peeked through the underbrush, barely holding in his gasp at the sight that awaited him.

Or perhaps the creature itself.

Logan couldn’t comprehend what was before him. At first, all Logan could process was the gigantic, ever so slightly shifting wall of red scales before him, aligned in the familiar pattern of a reptile. Before he even made an initial hypothesis Logan’s head snapped up at the sound of another snore, a hand going to his mouth at the sight. It seemed that this giant reptilian beast had a homo sapien upper half, not unlike a harpy or the merfolk. A naga.

Logan had only heard tales of them, always assumed to be mere legends or perhaps having gone extinct ages ago. But looking at the sight before him the notion of going extinct seemed ridiculous. What could possibly wipe out such a gargantuan creature, clearly bred to dominate the ecosystem? Certainly nothing less than another meteor shower.

Entranced, Logan was ever cautious as he raised his pencil to his notepad, giving one practice skritch across the paper. He flinched at the noise, but the clearing remained undisturbed. Logan gave the tiniest sigh of relief, knowing that at any moment he could be in very imminent danger.

But what was the harm in staying one moment longer to observe? If the beast were to wake this moment, Logan would certainly be unable to outrun it should the naga pursue. He would be in harm’s way anywhere, so Logan took advantage of this opportunity and began to expertly sketch the creature. He had come this far after all. Best not to waste it.

Logan stuck his tongue out in concentration, not wanting to miss a detail even in his haste to finish and get out before the creature woke. His eyes glanced up every few moments, taking in the monster’s posture. It’s position was languid, relaxed back upon its own tail as if using it as a bean bag chair. It appeared to be quite pleased, likely taking pleasure from soaking in the sun that poured through. One arm lay across its forehead, the other straight back so its fingers just grazed the ground. Logan took careful note of these appendages, aware of the sharp claws on each one and how they twitched every so often in sleep.

His drawing was beginning to take form, having captured most details he could from this angle. Logan was debating the pros and cons of attempting to move to get another angle when the naga let out a large yawn, briefly displaying its fangs. Eagerly Logan flipped to a new page, jotting down a new sketch before the sight disappeared entirely. Why, by his estimations one of those fangs could easily dwarf his entire arm in length.

So enraptured in his work was he that Logan failed to notice the yawn was only the beginning of a chain of events. The creature’s claws left the ground, coming up to stretch above its head with a creaking of bones that got Logan’s attention. He froze, watching the intimidating beast stretch skyward as it lifted its torso and basked in the sun for a moment more.

Slowly it dawned on Logan what a precarious situation he was in; his research would all be for naught if he died before presenting his findings. Logan clutched his journal to his chest, heart pounding as he watched the naga sniff the air. It didn’t take a student fluent in animal behaviors to know exactly what scent the creature had picked up as it frowned, tongue stuck out to sniff the air again.

Under normal circumstances, Logan would hope estimate that, being so small in comparison, a naga would pay a human no mind. There were much larger creatures in the forest that would make more filling prey. However, half-humans always seemed to have a dangerous curiosity about their counterparts, and Logan had trespassed into this being’s territory.

Logan gulped, all color draining from his face as those piercing red eyes bore directly down onto him. Immediately Logan turned to run (a fruitless effort), but before he had even fully turned Logan felt himself yanked backwards and into the air, eliciting a cry from the startled human who frantically tried to keep a grip on both his glasses and his book as he found himself dangling painfully upside-down, only the grip of those claws on his left leg keeping him from falling to a quick demise.

Logan found himself feeling a bit dizzy as he was brought before the naga’s face. Those fangs were perhaps a bit less intriguing as they cruelly smiled at him, the naga’s eyes boring into his soul as he was turned this way and that like a curious bauble.

“Why hello there, my little morsel.” The naga’s statement rumbled with dangerous curiosity, sending a wave of warm breath over Logan that made the human shudder. If he were not so entranced with those perilous teeth (was that a venomous sac below the rearmost fangs?) Logan might have noticed the alarming glint in its eyes. “I don’t think one of you has ever wandered this far, not without my rancid brother getting a hand on them first at least.”

Oh good lord there’s two of them. Logan jolted at this newest realization. Two? No wonder the populations were dwindling so drastically.

“So what makes you so special?” The naga tilted its head, poking Logan with a single claw, eliciting a startled breath in from the human who was very surprised he hadn’t just been torn to shreds. For now the naga seemed amused enough to watch as Logan slowly began to rotate, clearly toying with him in its ‘playful’ demeanor. “Well? Go on then, does the meager human speak?”

“I-I-” Logan cringed, loathing the sound of his own voice as it had raised an octave. It didn’t help that all the blood was rushing to his head. He cleared his throat, holding on to the minuscule hope that such a beast could be reasoned with. “Yes, I can speak.”

With a flick of its wrist Logan once again found himself airborne, letting out a high pitched noise of protest before finding himself one skipped heartbeat later once again within the monster’s clutches, this time right side up.

“‘Squeak’ is more like it.” The naga chuckled, prodding Logan’s side. The human winced away from the touch, though it was difficult with how tightly the claws were curled around him. Logan could feel his journal digging into his side.

Still, Logan couldn’t help but frown, feeling that he was being mocked.

The naga hummed, seeming to debate with itself for a moment. “So what were you doing spying on me anyhow?” It asked, its expression betraying a hint of confusion. “I heard your heart racing a mile a minute in that bush.”

Logan cringed. “You… you did?”

“Why I would have expected to find a hummingbird, I could hardly have missed it!” The naga scoffed. “And yet for all your jitters you didn’t move a muscle. Did fear make you freeze? Are you simply stupid?”

“No.” Logan answered, perhaps a bit too petulantly for dealing with a gigantic predator. He coughed, checking his temper. “I mean, ah, I was perhaps too absorbed in my own jubilation, as I had been looking for you.”

“For me?” The creature seemed to almost purr, its smile returning as Logan felt the grip around him loosen ever so slightly. “Oh, how you flatter me. Then of course you must have appreciated what you found?”

“Well...yes?” Logan turned a bit red, unaccustomed to this line of socialization. T’was a true pity his life was resting on his perilous social skills. “That is to say, you’re certainly extraordinary, surpassing all my initial expectations.”

“Hmm.” Pleased with this response, the naga settled to lay stomach down on its own scales, holding Logan out before it. The claws shifted again, now forming a sort of basin so that Logan could sit freely. “How so?”

By all of Logan’s calculations, this was going well. The creature seemed entertained enough to spare his life, for now. Logan just needed to keep the conversation going until… well, Logan preferred to focus on the present even as those perilous jaws loomed so casually above him.

“I suppose, firstly, your very existence was an unexpected surprise.” Logan adjusted his glasses, the frames having become skewed in all the excitement. “Very rarely are my assumptions incorrect, so I knew there was some manner of apex predator roaming these woods, but as to your exact classification I admit that was a mystery. There is a common understanding that nagas are creatures of legend, or perhaps long extinct. Certainly…” Logan paused, realizing perhaps this wasn’t the most logical point to bring up. “Certainly if others have discovered you, none have returned to tell the tale.”

The naga gave a scoff. “That’d be my brother’s doing, no doubt. Did you know we used to be worshiped apparently? Back in the golden days we were like gods. That was before people like him started experimenting with other uses for humans. Wasteful, if you ask me, disposing of such large numbers so quickly-”

“I wholly agree.” Logan spoke up too soon.

The naga snorted, clearly amused by the human’s timing. “I, on the other hand, prefer to play with my food.”

“...ah.” Well, that was a less than ideal response. Logan cleared his throat, trying to hide his nerves as he curled a bit in on himself, readjusting the grip on his journal. “So, ah, you mentioned a brother twice now, as well as hinting at others. How many of you are there?”

The monster frowned slightly, and Logan immediately regretted his question. “...Well I hardly think it matters, we nagas keep to ourselves well enough. Lucky you for stumbling upon the best naga of them all.” This last statement was accompanied by a very cocky smile.

“Hmm.” Logan wasn’t certain he agreed, but naturally he had no subjects to compare. “I was merely curious as I conduct research on local wildlife and wanted to compare behavioral traits between your kind and the Coachwhip species, of which your scale pattern most resembles.”

The naga blinked, glancing down at its tail as if for the first time. “It does?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.” Logan turned to his journal, flipping back through the pages. He cursed, realizing his reptile notes were in a different book. “Alright, my apologies, I forgot my scale reference sketches back home, but see?” Logan pulled up the sketch of the naga himself instead, pointing at the tail pattern. “The pattern of your scales represents a braided whip-”

“Is that me?” The naga cut him off excitedly, Logan’s stomach lurching as he was raised higher.

Logan blinked, glancing between his drawing and its inspiration. “...yes?”

He watched the naga’s reaction very carefully, hoping the monster was pleased with what it observed. At first Logan worried that the beast would be enraged at the fact Logan had been spying for an extended period, or worse yet perhaps it would feel the need to destroy his notebook to remove any evidence of its existence. To his relief, the creature seemed to be almost pleased as it took in the intricacies of the drawing.

“You made this?” A careful pair of claws pinched at the journal. Logan tightened his grip, before realizing that in a strength contest either the naga would win or his book would be shredded. With this in mind he reluctantly released, watching the massive being lift the journal ever higher to view it above its head as if to shine light through counterfeit currency.

“Yes, I have always been known for my attention to detail, and illustrations have been proven to assist in comprehension of reports-”

“Can you do it again?” The naga cut him off, handing Logan back his notebook.

“I, yes, I suppose.” Logan furrowed his brow, confused. “Right now?”

“Well it hardly appears as if you’re doing much else at the moment.” The naga gave a loud, purposeful yawn, displaying its fangs. “Of course, I’m certain I can find other, tastier ways to spend our time together…”

“Understood.” Logan grimaced, the monster’s subtlety lacking. “Very well then, is there a- particular feature you want me to illustrate?”

“Don’t go cutting any of my gorgeous figure off!” The naga scoffed. “I best be seeing my beauty tip to tail, you hear me?”

“It would be impossible not to.” Logan tried to hide his growing irritation. “But to create such a piece, I’ll need to be placed on the ground so as to have an appropriate vantage point.”

His request was considered. “Very well.” The naga agreed, setting him once again down on the ground.

Logan stumbled, surprised to once again feel solid ground under his feet. It was astounding- just moments ago, Logan would have doubted his ability to experience this ever again.

“Tick tock, come now with your tiny talents.” The naga poked him with an impatient claw. Quickly regaining his composure, Logan pulled out his writing utensil and opened to a clean page.

“Is there a particular angle you’d prefer?” Logan asked.

“I am a priceless gem, I sparkle from all angles.” The creature purred, striking a pose where it was once again draped over its own tail as if lounging on a fainting couch.

Logan huffed, fighting the urge to rant about how light reflection actually works. He glanced around, taking a few steps back and debating only for a moment if he should turn tail and leave.

“I hope you’re not thinking of running off on me.” The naga seemed to read his thoughts, raising a taunting eyebrow.

Logan jumped, focusing back to the task at hand. “I’m not.” He lied, finally putting his pencil to the pad. “Just finding the best setup location.”

The naga hummed, clearly not believing a word, but seemed satisfied to watch Logan work. A bit too satisfied, as it leaned up and attempted to watch over Logan’s shoulder.

“Stop looming, you’ll cast shadows.” Logan huffed. “And if you keep moving about I’ll never finish, sit still.”

“You’ll never finish regardless.” The naga pouted, but flopped back amongst its coils. “You’re taking forever.”

“It has hardly been a minute.” Logan debated in his head how slowly he could draw without generating suspicion. He wanted to drag this event out as long as possible, having full knowledge that if the naga was satisfied with Logan’s work he might deem Logan’s task- and thus his life- as finished. Logan shuddered at the thought.

Clearly bored, the naga’s attention was once again focused solely on Logan, preventing any escape attempts. It was quite distracting, having those piercing eyes staring down at him so intently. It was especially infuriating that Logan couldn’t guess as to what it was thinking.

Why make him draw the creature again? Surely one drawing would be enough? Perhaps it merely wanted an illustration where it could be alert and poised. But what would come next? Would the naga request more illustrations, or would the monster be satisfied? What would occur if Logan’s pencil broke? Or perhaps the creature grew hungry before Logan was even finished? Would it bother to wait around long enough for Logan to complete his depiction, or would Logan be sent down its ravenous throat at the first sign of an appetite?

“What’s your name?”

Logan blinked, stumbling out of his thought process. “...pardon?” The question felt far too mundane considering the circumstances.

“Humans have names, don’t they?” The naga tilted its head. “What’s yours?”

Logan was still perplexed that it had thought to ask. “Logan. Logan Sanders.”

The naga nodded, giving him a smile that might have been intended to be encouraging.

“...and what is your name?” Logan asked finally, realizing that’s what it wanted.

“You may call me Roman.” The naga- er, Roman- introduced himself, accompanying the statement with a little wave of his hand and a half bow.

Under normal circumstances, Logan might be expected to say it was a pleasure to meet Roman. “Stop moving.” Logan reminded him instead.

“Well aren’t you a barrel of fun, Logan.” Roman paused, rolling the name around on his tongue as he tried it out. “Logan. Looooogan. Logan! You know, once you get used to it it’s not all that terrible.”

Logan paused, once again feeling utterly perplexed as he peered up at Roman. “My name differs from yours in only three letters.”

“And what difference those three letters make.” Roman breathed an imaginary sigh of relief. He teasingly grinned at Logan. “Oh come now, I jest, live a little, Lo!”

“My name is Logan, not Lo.” Logan corrected immediately, loathing when individuals shortened his name. Roman snorted. “What’s so amusing?”

“I just realized my choice of phrasing.” Roman’s grin turned sly. “‘Live a little,’ and you are also yourself little- should be quite easy then, eh?”

Logan refused to acknowledge the jab for several moments, eventually caving with the urge to defend himself. “I am above average height for a human being, actually.” Logan felt the need to inform him.

“Well good for you.” Roman teased, and all of a sudden one of his knuckles was ruffling Logan’s hair. It startled the human enough to make him take a step back, pausing his work to readjust his appearance. The naga seemed to be finished toying with him, for now, and allowed Logan to fall back into the quiet lapse of his work. Unfortunately, with the naga’s round of questioning, Logan found his thoughts drifting elsewhere until he felt compelled to ask a few questions of his own.

“Why did you inquire about my name?” Logan asked, knowing he was venturing down a dangerous topic bringing up his own future. “It seems a bit sadistic to ask if you intend to… if you have ill intentions for myself.”

It was a bold risk, but Logan was curious if perhaps this was similar to the phenomenon of humans becoming attached to animals after naming them. If Logan could market himself in just the right way, perhaps the naga would be more taken with the novelty of his artistic talents and find he was a valuable enough individual to not end his days within Roman’s stomach.

“Hmm, I like to know.” The naga’s noncommittal shrug squashed the hopes right out of Logan. “Speaking of, are you done yet?”

Logan’s blood ran cold. “Ah, no, not quite yet.”

“Hurry up, I’m growing famished.” Roman groaned, not encouraging Logan to hurry up in the slightest. “You take much longer and I’ll just have to settle for you.”

“Settle?” Logan refused to let himself perk up too much at the peculiar word choice. “So you’re...not going to….?”

Roman laughed as if Logan was a fool. “Oh please, you’d hardly be filling. I feast on Chimeras, you’re nothing.”

Logan had never felt more elated to be told he was nothing.

“A snack, perhaps.” Roman gave him a pointed look. “A tasty one at that, if you don’t get a move on. So chip-chop, Mini Muse.”

“A muse is a source of inspiration, not the craftsman.” Logan corrected, hurrying up all the same. His heart had begun to pound with a mixture of excitement and nerves. “There, it’s finished.”

“Oh do let me see.” With a great amount of slithering the massive tail began to unravel, curling around Logan as it stretched out. Before Logan could be constricted amongst the coils Roman reached down and once again scooped up the human. Logan lost his balance briefly, settling into a safe sitting position before presenting the journal to be viewed. “Why, it’s gorgeous!”

“I’m certainly grateful it’s to your liking.” Logan conceded. He never looked at his drawings with an artistic eye, focused solely on being anatomically correct for his diagrams.

“Oh indeed, it’s amazing you can make out all my tiny features.” Roman squinted down at the paper. “A shame your works are so small, I wish to appreciate them more. You’re so fortunate to be graced with the real thing.”

“Indeed.” Logan deadpanned. He glanced at the sky, noticing the sun beginning to sink lower in the horizon. “It appears to be getting late, and I’ve likely wasted enough of your precious time. I’m certain you have several tasks which you must complete, so if you’ll just set me down-”

“Set you down?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Why Logan, I think you and I have different ideas of how this evening will go.”

This was all the warning Logan got before Roman lunged, and a sharp pain shooting up Logan’s side. Logan hissed, completely in shock as his tense form attempted to process what just happened. His mouth gaped open, stuttering as he tried to react to the situation even as his mind clogged up.

“Shh.” Roman’s rumbling voice was right in his ear, the sound all encompassing as Logan’s vision blurred. The last thing he was aware of was Roman murmuring for him to “-just give in.”

#g/t #sanders sides #roman #logan #human!logan #naga!roman #naga #giant naga #giant/tiny #me? writing fanfic again?#...maybe

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ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr · 3 years

Text

WandaVision episode 7 spoilers

My notes of the episode I would now like to state (before I start the episode) I don’t think the Metispho theory is going to happen anymore I believe it’ll be something or someone else.

Title: Breaking the fourth wall

It would be Wanda breaking back into her legitimate/original reality instead of ours since she created her own within that.

Ahh it’s starting

Vision isn’t next to Wanda when she woke up

The kids game controllers keep switching years.

Billy said his head hurts I’m assuming all the voices from everyone else are crowding his.

The show is definitely set closer to our time maybe the early 2000s or 2010.

The milk box is changing years as well and she said she’s not sure what it’s about. But this is first time we’ve seen her eat since episode one,

The hex is now huge. Hayward is planning on launching something knowing him it’s a weapon.

Vision has woken up next to the city’s and recalls that he was pulling apart. He’s also confused on why Darcy doesn’t

Darcy is doing her individual interview and she is an escape artist maybe this means she’s gonna get out.

“Don’t believe anything that man said he is not your uncle,” Wanda after the twins asked what uncle P meant about rekilling Vision. She said she had no answers.

“I’m starting to believe that everything is meaningless,” She’s clearly breaking down way pass her breaking point which is why she was comfortable saying something like that in front of the twins.

Agnes knows she’s going crazy hint the cutting her own bangs comment.

The twins don’t want to go with Agnes because they think they need to take care of Wanda,

Things are glitching back to older decades and she had to manually switch it back then the infamous “I’m fine,” Laughing.

Monica and Jimmy found out that Hayward was trying to bring Vision back as a weapon which is why he was so upset when Wanda was able to bring him back

Finally

So now they’re saying that they need to warn Wanda.

They found the rest of the SWORD agents wait nvm those are their contacts

They said they’re loyal to Monica just like they were to her mom interesting.

They got the tank she need to safely re enter the hex.

Darcy has been freed from the spell. Darcy punched the circus

She admitted she doesn’t know who the imposter Pietro is or if her kids are safe.

Wanda’s losing control over her powers the house keeps changing.

“I don’t understand what’s happening why it’s all falling apart and why I can’t fix it,”

Interview guy: “Do you think maybe this is what you deserve?”

“What?” Wanda “Youre not supposed to talk?” Shes loosing control over the citizens as well I suppose.

She’s depressed so the commercial about antidepressants is a given but the line “ A unique antidepressant that is made to anchor you back to your reality,” Is what has me confused on which reality they’re referring to. Nvm “Or the reality of your choice,”

One of the side is more depression which I think she was depressed outside the HEX before she made it and when she made it it just brought her to the depression she’s in now.

“Nexus because the world doesn’t revolve around you or does it?”

Agnes still has the bunny from the second episode

Billy said I like it here because you’re quiet Agnes on the inside. I haven’t moved on yet but I think he’s saying he can’t feel the pain inside her like Wanda’s grief is in her control and my default in the rest of Westviews citizens but he can’t feel the pain in Agnes maybe because the control isn’t there?

Tommy “ do you think our moms okay?”

Agnes looks around confused before saying “ oh for sure you don’t have to worry about your mom she’s a super mom,” Then it cuts to her interview saying “Ralph says I sugarcoat things,”

Still mentioning Ralph but even in their house we haven’t seen them.

Monica has a SWORD suit on made to contain her but now that’s shes her pure energy what’s gonna happen?

She said this is there last shot. What does she know that makes this the last shot because from what we know she can go back in whenever with the equipment she was given.

The exterior of the hex is becoming equal to the vehicle so it was half of it was rewritten before shot back out.

Monica knows she can make it through and as she goes through you can see different stages of her life and here the dialogue of her in Captain Marvel before her mom goes to space with Carol.

“Maybe I could fly up and meet you halfway,” Younger Monica.

She’s now screaming no I think she’s being rejected back out maybe because this time she isn’t being sucked in.

All of her phases and ages were pushed into her bodies and her eyes glew blue.

She can see all the energy in colors coming off the powerlines the whole world was in like pastel colors pink purple and blue. Before she blinked her eyes and it went back to normal. She’s getting her power exciting. She took her sword suit off because she doesn’t need it.

“So Wanda killed me?” Vision

“Yes, but it’s not that simple you asked her to do it,” Darcy.

“Why would I have done that?”

“To save the universe well half of it,”

“Did it work?”

“It did. Until the bad guy rewind time and killed you himself.”

She’s catching him up on his life before Hayward took him apart possibly wiping him. I can’t tell if Wanda or Hayward wiped him. Since he was so scared about not remembering anything before Westview before he gets his summary now.

“I came back and died again?”

“And Wanda had to watch,” After Darcy said that you could see the pity in Vision’s eyes.

Vision’s interview: “I believe Wanda is creating these impediments to stop me returning home,”

Yeah she’s created another one the construction workers stopping them from getting home.

Vision said he was a body made by Ultron and an AI named Jarvis but what is he now?

Darcy said she thought Wanda just like flipped a switch and brought her back but she doesn’t understand why he dies if he leaves.

“What I do know is I’ve seen watching WandaVision for the past week and the love you two have is real,”

Vision seems conflicted at that.

Monica made it in and when she came into the house Wanda was taking the Nexus antidepressants and she is confused on how she got in.

She begins to blame the drones and missles on Sword which that was then but then she blames Pietro on them and Monica claims Pietro wasn’t Swords doing.

Everyone including Dottie is watching Wanda use her powers to hold Monica in the air. They all seems stunned but not really surprised

“All you do is lie!”

When Monica hit the grown energy surrounded/protected her and her eyes were blue again. Wanda was definitely shocked by whatever powers she developed.

“The only lies I’ve told are the ones you put in my mouth,” Monica walking towards Wanda.

“Careful what you say to me,” Wanda as she conjures up her powers as a way to threaten Monica.

“Do it then,” Monica said knowing she probably wouldn’t do it. I think she knows Wanda wants help she just doesn’t want to leave her kids and Vision behind. “Take me out,”

“Don’t let him make you the Villain,” Monica talking about Hayward who’s going to tear Westview down to get Vision back.

“Maybe I already am,”

Agnes sees this go down and goes outside. Monica talks about how she isn’t scared of Wanda she already lost her mom and that was the worst thing that can happen. She said she can’t bring her back then she says. “I can’t control this pain anymore,”

Which is Wanda’s situation entirely her pain got so out of control her powers made up for it. Monica and Wanda share an understanding.

She broke through to Wanda I could see it in her eyes but then Agnes came over and said “Young lady, I think you overstayed your welcome,”

Agnes doesn’t want Westview to end she can’t let it end. I’m assuming she said something to do with the creation. Agnes is manipulating Wanda to thinking what Agnes wants is what she wants but it’s not. Wanda was going to shutdown Westview until Agnes came and led her away.

As soon as Wanda was back inside the rest of the citizens went about their day.

There is kids where did they come from? I’m still confused on that.

Now Vision is starting to understand what Wanda went through he’s realized how much stuff she endured he endured it too but he said it felt like it happened to another person. I feel like he’ll be less harsh now. Or stop trying to shut it down as hard I’m not sure yet.

He ended the interview saying “I need to get to my wife,”

Agnes brought Wanda to her home.

Wait how is Yo Gabba Gabba on the TV when thats a nickeloaden show. That wasn’t really related I was just confused.

The music has gotten scary as Wanda looks around.

“Where are the twins?”

“Oh they’re probably just playing in the basement,” Agnes said seemingly wayyy to calm for the twins to be possibly missing she knows something.

There are vines all in Agnes’s basement and there’s wind blowing it’s like a maze. There’s a book it looks like a spell book. Yep it was.

She came down to find Wanda stroking Sir Sratchy

“Wanda, Wanda. You didn’t think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?” She just admitted to being Agatha Harkness.

She is the villain I’m sure of it. Her and Hayward are both the villains. I’m just not sure why she needs Westview to stay up and running.

Wanda has red or scarlet waves that show her powers and Agatha or Agnes has purple waves.

Her eyes are purple and she’s going into her head.

Agatha is getting her own show theme sequence called “Agatha all along,” It’s going through the decades it’s switched to. Her waves are purple and she has the power to manipulate peoples mind I’m assuming. That’s how she messed with Herb after fixing the talent show.

OHHH MY GOD

people thought the twins brought back Pietro or Peter after seeing their mom upset but it was Agatha.

Agatha was the interviewer who asked “Do you think maybe this is what you deserve?”

She’s not only playing physical tricks and changing the actual physical surroundings in Westview she’s doing mind tricks.

“Who’s been pulling every evil string?” The chorus.

“She’s insidious,”

“So perfidious that you haven’t even noticed and the pity is,”

“It’s too late to fix anything now everything has gone wrong,”

“Thanks to Agatha Naughty Agatha,”

She admitted to killing Sparky which I think I commented on a few eps back.

But the “it’s too late to fix anything”might be why the times period keep changing along with the house because she’s already lost control of her powers she can’t get control back now. “now that everything has gone wrong,”

A lot of suspicions people had including myself have been comfirmed Agatha is the villain. But that’s only from the inside we still have Hayward to worry about.

WAIT THERE END CREDITS THIS TIME.

It’s Monica trying to break into Agatha’s basement as soon as she opened the door from the outside. Her eyes might’ve changed a bit but there was purple waves from Agnes in the vines. I can’t tell if Monica eyes are blue from her energy or purple from Agatha’s influence.

But a man caught her and said “Snoopers gonna snoop,” At first guess I randomly said Tommy all grown up but that’s unlikely now I’m thinking it was Ralph. We wouldn’t know because we haven’t seen him all season though. Wait that we Peter/Pietro that’s how he got back there so fast.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision theories #wanda maximoff #vision #agatha harkness #darcy lewis #jimmy woo #monica rambeau #tommy maximoff #billy maximoff #billy and tommy

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

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Steve Rogers x Reader: The Nutcracker(AU) Part 3

(Warning, these are long)

An hour or so later; you, Steve, and Natasha were on the road. You wore a warm winter outfit and a thick coat over it with a hat and mittens. And what do you know? Trudging through the snow with actual winter boots made it a much better experience. Natasha was dressed similarly, and Steve, well, he didn’t exactly need any winter gear in his nutcracker state. Must be nice not having to worry about getting cold.

It was hours of trekking through the snow. You passed the time with word games and asking questions about the kingdom. Natasha and Steve enjoyed it. They asked you questions in return about your life back home. It was a learning experience for everyone.

As the three of you approached the frozen lake, it seemed so vast. One thing you hadn’t noticed before was the little cabin perched right at the shore. Smoke rose from the chimney, and you were reminded of the quaint town you had left behind.

“Oh great,” Steve muttered, stopping at the top of a hill. “I forgot.”

You glanced at him. “What?”

Natasha smirked at you. “An old friend of ours lives in that cabin.”

“He and I didn’t always agree on things,” Steve elaborated. “He refused to stay at the Royal Garden Inn with everyone else after the Mouse King raided the castle. Likes his space.”

“Castle?”

“Yeah, you could say I used to work there. Like Romanoff.”

“Ohh, I see,” you adjusted your coat. “So, what does this mean? Are we still able to cross the lake?”

“Not without Tony’s help.”

“Tony?” your brows rose incredulously. “As in Tony Stark?”

“Yes, the famous inventor,” Steve confirmed. “At least, he’s famous here. How did you know?”

“Oh,” you shrugged. “It’s a long story. But for now, let’s just pretend I overheard something about him at the inn.”

“Alright then.” Steve shook his head. “Either way, I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to run into him again. Not looking like this. Tony’s going to have a field day.”

Knowing what Tony was like in the Avengers movies, your Captain America nutcracker was certainly right. However, if he said that the three of you couldn’t cross the lake without him, he would have to deal with it. In reality, you were excited to meet the character in this world!

- - - -

You, Natasha, and Steve stood at the doorway to the log cabin. Steve and Nat exchanged looks as if daring the other to knock. You shrugged and knocked a few times without hesitation. Steve sucked in a breath, and Natasha looked like she was trying to hold back a smirk.

The door opened, and there he was. Tony stood there, brown eyes staring down the three of you. His gaze rested on Steve before he burst into laughter, hands on his stomach as he roared.

“Really, Tony…” Steve grumbled. “It’s been a while since we saw each other, and this is how you want to go about this?”

“Hey,” the inventor chuckled. “You show up on my door looking like that and expect me to act like nothing’s up? It’s fair game, Cap, and you know it.”

“Alright, alright. Have at it.”

“So, what’s your plan? Chop your arm off if you need firewood?”

“Theeere it is,” Steve sighed.

You shook your head, though you were unable to hide a smile, as you interjected. “Come on, guys, let’s try and grow up.”

Tony’s laughter died down, and his expression became more skeptical as he looked to you. “And who are you? I don’t think we’ve met. Friend of the Royal Highness, I presume?”

“What?” You tipped your head to one side. “No, I’ve never met this prince that everyone keeps talking about.”

“Um, yes you have.”

“Tony, don’t,” Steve warned.

“I never took you for the type to not flaunt your royal status. You had no trouble doing that at the palace.”

“Look, I never wanted to ‘flaunt’ my royalty. There were some people who seemed to forget that I was the one in charge of running the kingdom, and they wanted to do things their way. I had to remind them from time to time.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” you questioned. “Steve? Are you the prince?”

Steve looked at you and nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at first. I intended to.”

“It’s fine, I mean, it doesn’t really make a difference,” you explained. “But what does bother me is we’re having this discussion out in the cold.”

Tony shrugged and stepped aside so the three of you could file in. His cabin was basically a steampunk workshop with odd devices scattered about and hanging on the walls. There was even a steampunk Ironman suit in the corner.

“Thanks, Tony,” Natasha said. “Now, we didn’t come here so you could make fun of Prince Steve. We’re actually trying to cross the frozen lake to-”

“To find the Sugarplum princess.” Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re not the first. There’s no proof that she even exists other than some ruins where a castle used to be.”

“Well, that’s something,” Steve grasped onto that hope. “___________ and I need to get there and turn back into our original forms.”

Tony looked at you. “What happened to you? You look fine to me.”

“The Mouse King shrunk me in my world.”

“Oh, gotcha.” He stroked his beard as he contemplated this. “I’ve got just the thing to help you lot across the lake. It’s in the workshop out back. Believe or not, I made the finishing touches last night.”

“Wow perfect,” Nat said. “You know, we could use that brain of yours.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you could,” Tony plopped down in a couch and put his feet up on the coffee table in front of it. “But I’m sure Prince Stevie wouldn’t want me coming along.”

“Actually,” Steve spoke up. “Nat’s right. We could really use you on the team, Tony.”

Tony’s brows rose in surprise. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise? Cap needs my help.”

“Wait, why do you call him Cap if he’s the prince?” You asked. “Not to change the subject or anything.”

Tony chuckled. “It’s short for Captain of the Guard. That’s what he used to be before he was granted Prince status by the kingdom.”

“Ohh, I see.”

“Anyway,” Tony continued. “You sure you want someone with different ideas than you along on the trip?”

“Tony, it never bothered me that you have different ideas. Yes, we are very different. Polar opposites. But you’re a smart man, and we need you. The sooner we find the Sugarplum Princess, the sooner me and ___________ can get changed back and maybe even get help taking down the Mouse King. Then we can all take our rightful place in the palace again. You get your old workshop back. Nat and the rest of the guard resume their post.”

“And you get your nice throne back wrapped up with a pretty bow,” Tony stated, a hint of irritation in his tone.

“I’m going to do things a little differently,” Steve said. “There’s no way I’m letting someone like the Mouse King get through again.”

“Well, what can I say, Cap?” he shrugged. “I guess I’m in.”

“But Tony, you have to- Wait, you’re in?” Steve asked.

“Yep. Let’s do this thang.”

- - - -

“Wow, Tony, you’ve really outdone yourself,” Natasha complimented, giving the horseless sleigh a pat with a gloved hand. “You sure this thing will get us there in one piece?”

“Oh yeah. This baby is pretty fast. In theory, that is.”

“You haven’t tested it yet?” Steve asked. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.”

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Christmas? Get in, and let’s get rolling,” Tony ushered you inside. Steve volunteered as tribute and jumped in first, reaching out a hand to help you.

“I hope this thing doesn’t blow up in my face,” you grumbled, climbing in. It was a casual display of chivalry, but you got bashful as Steve helped you into the spot next to him.

“If it does, it’ll have to go through me first,” he assured you.

“You’ll just feed the fire,” Tony pointed out with a shrug.

“Don’t say that!” Nat gave him a slap with her hat.

Tony raised his hands defensively. “What? He’s literally made of wood!”

You rolled your eyes and hugged your knees to your chest as the inventor started up the engine. It sounded like a few gunshots going off before the sleigh shook violently for a moment, and then the whole thing shut off. After a few more starts, the sleigh finally roared to life.

“Woohoo!” you exclaimed. Then, your mood quickly changed when you happened to glance over your shoulder and see the Mouse King and several of his minions racing across Tony’s backyard towards where you all were at the edge of the lake. “Um, guys?”

Tony’s eyes followed where you were pointing. “Looks like we got this thing started just in time. Mouse Guy and his boys are on their way.” He shifted gears, and the sleigh took off flying onto the frozen lake, spraying snow and ice everywhere. “Thaaat’s right, chitauri. Eat my dust.” Tony shifted another gear, and the sleigh picked up speed. Just like that, the chitauri looked like ants in the distance, growing smaller and smaller behind you. With the danger evaded, you took a moment to enjoy the feel of the wind in your hair. It was ice-cold, but was still a lot of fun.

“This is awesome!” you exclaimed.

“Oh, you want to see awesome?” Tony smirked.

“No, Tony,” Steve scolded. “Do not start doing donuts on the frozen lake. We have a destination to get to!”

Surprise, surprise. Tony did a few donuts anyway. You noticed Steve’s irritation melt away when he looked over at your grinning face.

Next thing you knew, the sleigh engine began to sputter mid-donut. Your smile quickly vanished. The group hadn’t made it across the lake yet. If the engine gave out now, it could be problematic. It revved once or twice, and then it finally just died.

Tony looked at Steve. Steve looked at Tony.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Stark,” Steve complained, face-palming.

“Hey, I barely had a chance to test it before. We were bound to run into issues anyway.”

“But you didn’t have to push it like that…”

As the two of them began arguing, you and Natasha exchanged looks and shook your heads. “Looks like we’re camping out on the lake,” she said. “With all due respect, Prince Steve, I think you two should stop fighting and start getting ready for when the temperature drops. You do have an emergency kit in this thing, right Stark?”

“Of course I do,” Tony replied. “There are a few compartments under the seats with firewood, blankets, and some snacks. It should be more than enough for a few nights. Worst case scenario, if we run out of firewood, we can throw one of Cap’s arms in there.”

Unamused by his comment, you reached under the seat and found the blankets. Then, Steve and Tony started hauling out firewood and piling it up.

“We’re fortunate to have left the Mouse King in the dust,” Tony commented. “You don’t think they’ll come after us out here, do you?”

“No,” Nat stated. “He’s too much of a coward. And even if he did, it would take them a while before they could reach us. We went pretty fast.”

“That’s good to know,” you said, watching as she pulled out flint and steel and lit the fire. “Also...why are we building a fire on the ice? Won’t it melt?”

The scientist of the group spoke up immediately. “Interestingly, no. Fire burns upward, so it won’t melt the ice. Plus the ash creates a sort of bedding around the fire to keep it from hitting the ice too.”

“Oh wow, that’s pretty cool. And comforting.” You sighed, spreading out a blanket to sit on beside the fire. “If it weren’t so freaking cold out, I’d really enjoy this more.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony agreed.

Steve sat down beside you and put an extra blanket over your shoulders. Nat glanced at him, and then smirked at you knowingly. Tony didn’t miss the moment.

“You’re being as gentlemanly as ever, Cap. What’s up?”

Steve stared at him. “What?”

“Nothing, I just noticed you’re being extra attentive.”

You wanted to crawl back into the sleigh for the night and disappear. Steve just met Tony’s gaze sternly, and thankfully, nothing more was said on the subject. You also saw Nat elbow Tony out of the corner of your eye.

As the night drew on, the temperature did indeed drop. A lot. You thought it was cold before, yikes, you had no idea what was coming. Fortunately, the fire helped a lot. Tony passed out, and Nat drifted in and out of sleep a few times. You could tell she was a light sleeper, probably from being a soldier-spy. Soon enough it was just you and Steve awake. How conveniently romantic. It wasn’t though. Actually, it was a little awkward at first. Neither of you said anything for a few. Finally, he looked over at you.

“You warm enough?”

You tore your eyes from the warm glow of the fire and met his blue ones. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“I know it may not be much help, but come here.” He opened his arms a bit so you could sit right up against him, and you obliged. You expected it to be like sitting against a wall or a wooden dresser, but strangely, it was comforting. It was safe, and perhaps you imagined it, but it was a little warmer.

“Thank you, that’s actually much better,” you told him.

“I’m glad.” He ran his hand up and down your back, as if hoping the friction would bring you more warmth. “I’m sorry we were delayed another day.”

“It’s fine. Things happen,” you chuckled, shooting a glance at sleeping Tony. “Either way, I’m just glad we’re all safe and sound. Cold, but safe.”

“Me too,” he agreed. “Soon we’ll find the Sugarplum princess, and you and I can go back to normal.”

“So she seems cool,” you concluded. “What else do you know about her?”

“They say she’s very beautiful, kind, and compassionate,” he continued, eyes softening. You recognized a pang of jealousy in your chest and a weird twisted feeling in your stomach. Would Steve fall for her? His hero? The one who would change him back and restore the kingdom?

“That’s cool,” you said, not wanting to dig any deeper on that matter. “I do have another question for you. Why did you not want to tell me you were the prince?”

“Oh, that,” Steve scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t want you look down on me for letting my kingdom get overrun by the Mouse King. That, and also because I didn’t want you to see me any different if I was a prince.”

“Me? Look down on you? Never. And to be honest, you’re a superhero in my world, so any star-struck behavior on my part has already passed. Finding out you are the prince here didn’t really change how I feel about you.”

He smiled. “That’s good to know. You’re amazing, you know that?”

You looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and warmth in your eyes. “Thank you. I wouldn’t say ‘amazing’ exactly, but I appreciate it.”

“Well, you are.”

The two of you continued your conversations, talking about random things. It was a different experience getting to know Steve versus seeing him on the big screen. Since he was a prince of a kingdom here, there were some obvious differences. But he still had the same calm demeanor, selflessness, and kindness.

You awoke to Natasha gently nudging you. You weren’t sure at what point you had drifted off to sleep last night. You awoke a few times, missing your home and wondering if they were worried about you. After tossing and turning a bit, you must have fallen asleep.

“Good morning, sleepy-head.”

“Good morning,” you yawned. Tony and Steve were already getting the sleigh loaded. “We’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, Steve insisted we let you sleep a bit. He said you had a rough night. You okay?”

You nodded. “I guess I was a little homesick is all. I’m good, though. Thanks.”

“Glad to hear you’re better,” she helped you pack up the blankets. Boy, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been last night, but it still wasn’t the most pleasant. “Stark managed to get the sleigh working again. It was quite the ordeal. I’m surprised you slept through it.”

“Wowzers, well I’m glad we don’t have to walk the rest of the way.”

“I’d have to kill Tony if that were the case.” Nat lifted a brow, and you had a feeling she might be only half-kidding. You hopped into the sleigh in the same spot next to Steve, and Nat and Tony got in shortly after. Tony started it up, and you were off!

It was a while before the island came into view. Upon arrival, Tony was sure to park the sleigh out of sight just in case the Mouse King showed up. It was very doubtful, but you never know. Taking a look around, you realized Fury had been right. The only thing left of the Sugarplum Princess’ castle was ruins. It was snowy and beautiful like the rest of the land here, but nothing seemed particularly interesting about it.

At least, not at first.

PART 4 (FINAL PART)

#avengers #steve rogers #avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #avengers imagine #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader

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imagining-supernatural · 4 years

Text

The Fifth Check-In

Part 23 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You have a panic attack on the day you get another round of test results back

Word Count: 1,744

Warnings: The Magicians season 5 spoilers right off the bat. Skip the first few paragraphs if you don’t wanna be spoiled!!

“Look, all I’m saying is that Quentin should have lived and that was a shitty ending.” After stating your opinion, you sat back in the chair and waited for Brenda to respond.

She finished writing something in a chart and nodded over at you. “But the whole season was kind of culminating to that ending, wasn’t it? Quentin had Eliot right there the whole time, but it wasn’t Eliot. They were so close, but couldn’t be together. Then, when the Monster is finally gone, they still can’t be together.”

“Okay, but sacrificing himself like that? God, Q’s been suicidal his whole life and having him basically commit suicide, but wrapping it up with a nice bow of martyrdom is probably the worst way they could have handled it. This is fucking fantasy. You think the writers could have found a better way to keep the angst and tension of keeping Eliot and Quentin apart rather than, you know, killing the character so many people who struggle with depression can identify with like that. Make one of them stuck in another world. Have one be sent back in time or something.”

Brenda regarded you with narrow eyes, taking in your words.

Conversations like this were the reason she was your favorite nurse in the hospital. Both of you shared interest in so many TV shows that it was an instant connection and she would constantly come fill out charts in your room for the company.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Mm, well, I have all the time in the world lately to mindlessly scroll through posts online. I never thought I’d miss being able to go out to, like, bars and shit.”

“Well, once you recover from your surgery in January, you’ll be able to do that again.”

You nodded and absently picked at the hem of your shirt. Mid-January was one month away. Yesterday and this morning you’d been run through the gambit of tests and you’d be meeting with Dr. Chowdhury later today for the results. In the three weeks since Thanksgiving, you’d gotten so weak you could barely walk up a flight of stairs without having to pause in the middle to catch your breath. You hoped to God that meant the treatment was working.

If this treatment wasn’t working, there likely wouldn’t be any reason for you to stay in the clinical trial.

Would there be any reason to stay in New York if that happened? When you’d made the deal with Sebastian to stay married and get treatment, you’d agreed that once the treatment was over, you’d get a divorce. But things had changed, hadn’t they?

Brenda got a page and left the room in a hurry, giving your thoughts more space to multiply.

Had things changed enough?

And if you were kicked out of the clinical trial, was it fair to Sebastian for you to stay? You’d known each other almost exactly three months. That wasn’t enough time to expect someone to endure watching your cancer kill you in the last few weeks of your life.

Of course, you hadn’t even known him a full twenty-four hours before he was offering to fly you to New York, offering his home to you, and offering his medical insurance.

The cry of a child down the hallway drew you from your thoughts enough for you to recognize the beginning of a dark spiral. Without thinking too much of it, you pulled your phone out to call Sebastian. On the first ring, you realized he was probably shooting a scene and wouldn’t be able to answer. On the second ring, you decided to just leave a short voicemail. Nothing too worrying.

And on the third ring, he answered. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hi. I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”

“You called at a good time. Just finished shooting for the day.”

His voice alone was enough to help lessen the tension that had gathered in your shoulders and you found yourself relaxing further back into the recliner. “Wow, short day. What’re you going to do with all of this free time?”

“Thought I’d grab some food and relax until you called. Did you already meet with Dr. Chowdhury?”

“Not yet.” You shook your head, even though he wouldn’t be able to see you. “I’ve still got another hour and a half ‘til the appointment.”

“You nervous?”

You let out a snort of laughter. “A bit, yeah. And by a bit, I mean I’m overthinking everything way too much right now.”

“Talk to me, baby. What’s on your mind?”

“Besides the ever-present worry that the tests come back bad? I don’t know…”

“Y/N…” he prompted.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. As if that would make your thoughts easier to bear. “If this treatment isn’t working, what happens then? I-I-I… God, I know I sound like a broken record, but if the results aren’t good, I’m out of options and I can’t help but worry. I mean, what? I go back to Utah and try to make myself accept that I’m going to die? It took me a while to wrap my head around that earlier this year. I don’t know if I can do it as… as peacefully as before. Peacefully isn’t the right word, but I can’t think of it right now. I just… Seb I need the results to be good today. I need good news. I fuckin’ need it.”

“Hey, sweetheart, there’s no—”

“At the very least I need to stick around long enough to see the new season of The Magicians. I’ve put in far too much time looking up fan theories online to die before it airs.” You were rambling. You knew it. But you couldn’t stop. In fact, you just kept talking faster and faster, tripping over your words. “And have I ever told you about when I watched the finale of the last season? I was crying so much that when I left my room to get ice cream, Jasmin told me she could hear me crying all the way from her room. Like, fuck, that can’t be the last scene I see of The Magicians. That would be far too cruel of a joke for the Universe to play on me.”

“Y/N, breathe.” You did as he said. He waited for you to take a few more breaths before speaking again. “Baby, where’s all this coming from? You were fine this weekend before I left, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. But now it’s here and this is the last round of these tests like this. The next time I have tests run, it’ll be to see if I’m ready for surgery. Not to see if the treatment is working. These are the last progress tests. And, historically, I haven’t had much luck with those. The first round of tests with Helen showed that my cancer was more aggressive than my doctor back in Salt Lake thought. Then there were the tests before you left for that week of interviews when we found out it was even more aggressive than we thought because it hadn’t shrunk any. Then—”

“Hey, baby, baby.” Sebastian cut off your recap of bad luck. “I know. I know there’s only really been one round of tests that didn’t give you bad results. Trust me, I know how scary this is. I’m fuckin’ terrified too.”

In a soft, meek voice you asked, “You are?”

“I am. I don’t want to lose you, and there’s nothing I can do at all to change the outcome of any of this. God, I wish I was with you right now.”

I don’t want to lose you.

That was the first time he’d said anything about seeing a future with you, besides a few offhanded comments about next year. Sure, it was a loose interpretation, and it was something people said at times like these, but it still made your heart calm down a bit.

“I wish you were here too,” you admitted quietly. Something about hearing him admit that he was scared calmed your nerves. “Can… can I call you and put you on speaker when I meet with Dr. Chowdhury? I know it won’t be the same as you holding my hand but…”

“Yes, please. I was about to ask that, actually.”

Relief flowed through your body. “Thank you, honey. I didn’t want to go through alone. I’m glad you had a short day today.”

“Mmhmm.” He agreed.

“Anyway, I should probably let you go for now. Go grab some food and head back to your room.”

“You sure? I can stay on with you. I can multitask.”

A smile forced itself onto your face at his offer. “I know. And I appreciate the offer, but I’m coming down from that little panic attack and I think I’m going to fall asleep. So you get your food and I’m going to take a nap while this machine keeps pumping toxic chemicals into my body. I’ll talk to you in an hour and a half.”

Your leg was bouncing faster than your heart was beating. Or was it the other way around?

Either way, you were nervous as hell.

“So, to be on track the tumor has to have shrunk at least twenty percent, right?” You asked Dr. Chowdhury as he looked through your file. “That’s what you said when we changed the treatment. Twenty percent by now, and another fifteen percent before surgery?”

He nodded. “That is correct. Dr. Abara agreed that if your tumor shrinks at least thirty-five percent since your previous scans, your chances at having a successful surgery are much higher than if it does not shrink that much. Considering how you have reacted to the treatment thus far, twenty percent is a fair amount.”

You blew out a long breath and heard Sebastian shifting on the other end of the phone.

“So?” you asked Dr. Chowdhury, gripping your phone so tightly you were scared it might break. “Where am I at?”

“Your scans show that the tumor is twenty-five percent smaller than it was at Thanksgiving.”

He was smiling at you and Sebastian was saying something, but your brain couldn’t process the news that quickly.

Twenty-five percent? More than anticipated? Good news?

“That’s… that’s good news, right?”

A short bark of relieved laughter came through the phone speaker from Sebastian as Dr. Chowdhury nodded. “Very good news.”

“Holy shit.”

You could hardly believe it.

Good News!!! And I would apologize for ranting about The Magicians, but I had EMOTIONS that needed a VOICE and this was the time and place, apparently. Anyway, I was rereading this and saw the line about being able to go to bars and shit in January and just laughed a bit. Ah, the world before COVID. I miss those times. So, do you guys think the treatment is going to continue to work? You think the surgery will happen? And if it does... what happens after Are they gonna stay married?

CHAPTER 24: THE AIRPORT

#sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader fluff #sebastian stan x reader fluff #sebastian x you #sebastian stan x you #marvel fanfic

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iaintyourbro · 4 years

Note

What’s your take on Cloud’s depression during AC? People on twitter are suddenly talking about this, again. This matter was brought up by those antis saying that we Clotis should accept the fact that Tifa wasn’t the one who “healed” Cloud and that she was also being mean and not considerate whatsoever. The funny thing is that, they also accused us of denying his depression and not understanding it. TF. Let’s be real, Tifa played a major part, in fact she gave him morale thx to her “scolding” lol

Hey anon..

Yeah, Twitter has me depressed today. I think it started last night. I was enjoying it for a bit, but the last week or two have been so bad over there with bullshit that I’m about to just take a break from the entire fandom.

My Take on AC Cloud:

I watched AC when it first came out, and I barely remember it. I remember I didn’t like what they did. Why was Cloud so depressed and brooding? Oh Aerith is in this? Interesting. I felt like it was disjointed and removed a lot of the great progress Cloud made in OG. They kept this depressed, brooding guy in KH as well... It just didn’t seem right to me. I was young, too.

At this point we also didn’t have On the Way to a Smile, Crisis Core, or anything else, really.. None of the Ultimanias were in English at this point. I also was not interested enough in going online. It was a weird time when I was playing other things and was meh on FF7 for a while. I was always a FF8 fangirl, so was jealous of FF7 at times hahaha. It got so much more attention and love.

It took me a long time to watch it again. I remember my husband watching it before Remake came out and I felt mad or sad. It was like an emotion from memory, and I didn’t know why. I can’t describe it. I saw it on the TV and was like why is this on here...

After playing Remake, I bit the bullet and ordered AC Complete, which had things tweaked and added. I also am now in my 30′s and have a lot more life experience.

Antis like to say Cloud is depressed solely because Aerith is dead and he wants to be with her. This may be one of the reasons I didn’t like AC, because when I did happen to come across some FF7 thing online, I’d see this shit and be like whatever, that makes no sense.

I enjoyed ACC. My heart was actually pounding and I was nervous/intrigued by what was going on even though I knew the story. I haven’t read all of CoT yet, but I’ve seen the excerpts online, so I know the general gist of things.

Based strictly on ACC:

Cloud is really upset that Denzel is sick. He’s obsessively looking up medical stuff to figure out how to cure it - this is shown with everything all over his desk. He’s closed in on himself to do this. I did the same shit when my dad had cancer. I did it for three fucking years while he was alive - from the time he got diagnosed to the day he was dying. Every damn day I looked up articles, research, and theories. It’s not healthy. It’s depressing and I closed myself off from the world half the time and didn’t realize it. Thank God my husband is a patient saint.

Cloud does care a lot about Tifa. His reaction alone at seeing her knocked out in the church is heart wrenching. When they’re brought back to Seventh Heaven, Cloud pops right up when he sees Tifa there. He then stays with her until she wakes up. This is a pretty good amount of time. The sun is up when he’s looking over her, and when she wakes up, it’s dark outside. He could have slipped out again without her noticing if he really wanted to. I’m sure he may have contemplated it.

She calls his ass out on how he’s acting. She knows he’s sick at this point. This was huge for Tifa who’s not confrontational. He clearly doesn’t want to completely disconnect, or he would have gotten rid of his cell phone voluntarily. He doesn’t. They actually show him checking his messages.

Ultimately Cloud leaves because he ends up with Geostigma. That’s the last straw. He can’t face the fact that he’s going to die and what it’ll do to his family, so he leaves. Listen, I think the only reason my dad didn’t try to leave when he was diagnosed was because he had nowhere to go and by time he started verbalizing wanting to leave, he was physically unable to. Yes, I remember him being angry because he was hospitalized again and he told my mom he was going to get an apartment by himself so she didn’t know when he was getting bad. It’s very hurtful to even think it, and even worse when you know they don’t actually mean it... They do it because they don’t want to see their family hurt.

The setup he has at the church as his “living” area is super depressing. It looks like something a homeless person sets up. He legit was going to wait to die. He had a lot of knowledge about this, so he figured there was nothing he could do.

Marlene calls Cloud out on his bullshit too. Cloud admits to her he doesn’t think he can take care of anybody. Marlene Barrret quotes him and it’s cute. I think Cloud appreciated it and I think it made him think.

In ACC, Cloud has a short conversation with Aerith. Aerith seems almost annoyed with him like “wtf is your deal, dude” kind of attitude. Zack shows up when he’s bloody and half dead fighting Sephiroth to encourage him. There are scenes with him talking at Zack’s grave and saying he couldn’t keep his promise to him. He flat out tells Aerith he wants to be forgiven. He doesn’t say I miss you, I want to be with you, none of that happens. In fact, it’s mainly her telling him HE needs to start doing some forgiving - ultimately to himself.

When Cloud is in limbo - between living and dying - Cloud says “Mom.” Very romantic, I know. Then Zack and Aerith have a conversation very similar to a couple that’s going to adopt a child and they tell Cloud he’s too big for them. This is the “I see the light” and the person on the other side is like “nah bro go back, not your time yet.”

He wakes up, Tifa and crew is there, he smiles at Tifa... and it’s a happy ending. He sees both Zack AND Aerith at the end, and they walk off in to the light together all cute and shit.

Adding in Things from the Novels/Interviews/Thoughts:

The devs have said Cloud was happy with his family and that scared him. The happier he got, the more scared he got. We know he cherishes everything. He especially cherishes the family he has.

Cloud’s depression spiral started from the high anxiety of having a happy life and Elmyra asking him to deliver flowers to Aerith’s grave. Now, I have my feelings about this, but when I look at it logically, I don’t think Elmyra ultimately does this out of spite. I actually don’t think Elmyra thinks Cloud and Aerith were a thing - so it wasn’t that either. I think she knew Cloud was friends with her and maybe he’d want to deliver some flowers - to give him some business.

This flower delivery reminds Cloud of what he thinks is his failure to protect somebody else. At this point he has his memories of what happened to Nibelheim, his mother, Tifa, and Zack. The Sector 7 plate drop and Aerith are the most recent “failures”. So this brings up Aerith.

Then Denzel comes along and he’s an orphan because his parents were... yeah... killed during the Sector 7 plate collapse. Double ouch. But Cloud and Tifa are going to take care of him.

Tifa herself has a lot of guilt because of the same reasons, she just deals with it very differently. Tifa tells Cloud to bring Denzel right home. She can make amends by adopting him in to her family and caring for him. Cloud thinks Aerith brought Denzel to him (Tifa corrects him). This is a Cloud thing, it’s not romantic. Cloud doesn’t know the guilt Tifa feels. He legit thinks all of this is his fault. Tifa’s guilt stems from the fact that Shinra drops the plate because Avalanche was in Sector 7 - she was in Avalanche. She feels guilty about Aerith because she thinks its her fault Aerith followed them to Don Corneo’s mansion. The thing is, Aerith doesn’t blame EITHER of them - I just wish they’d cover a Tifa/Aerith conversation about this as well...

Cloud and Tifa do have fights in the novels from what I understand, but it’s because he’s acting weird. He feels bad hiding the fact that he’s been going to the church a lot, and I think that does turn in to a whole LTD debate. So you can take this as Tifa is jealous that he’s going to the church all the time or she’s upset that he is hiding from her.

In the novels, Tifa has a breakdown when they go see the church after they defeat Sephiroth. This is where you get to see how badly Aerith’s death impacted her. So my thought is... Cloud thinks bringing her to the church hurts her because of her feelings, not because she’s jealous. I think Cloud is oblivious to the jealousy thing, honestly. Don’t think it’s a thought in his mind.

I honestly don’t know the real reason why he goes to the church to hide. I think this is another point of fight with both sides. My personal take is there was nowhere else he could go and be alone. Most of the stuff had been destroyed. It was still close by, so he could still do his work and keep an eye on things/be nearby.

There is a quote that is taken to be literal, but I think it’s just a way to say it wouldn’t have mattered who Cloud was “with.” Yes, Tifa and Cloud have issues, and I believe the quote goes “Perhaps it would have gone better with Aerith, but I think her responsibility is too great. Maybe the children will help them with their issues.” This isn’t exact, but it’s the jist of what they said. The children do help them - that’s the point of the scenes with Marlene, to slap him silly with reality.

“Oh but he sees Aerith when the building is falling.” Yes, you know why? Because he thinks that’s going to happen to Tifa. This is a “NO I’M NOT LETTING THIS HAPPEN.” moment. On top of it, I don’t think anybody would be right again if they saw this happen. If my neighbor was impaled by a large sword in their back, I’d be messed up from it. I don’t really know my neighbors. He’s not replaying this death scene in his head cuz he misses Aerith, he’s playing it in his head because it’s traumatic and he doesn't want to see this happen to Tifa. Especially Tifa.

It’s been put in Ultimanias time and time again that Cloud’s feelings are for Tifa. I went through my Ultimania - which only covers OG - and it doesn’t say anything about Cloud’s side of the CA argument. It does say how he feels about Tifa in the Lifestream, though.

The “He wants to die for her, see, that’s why he’s going to the church and waiting.” No, he doesn’t want to die or else he wouldn’t be so depressed. Just thinking this is fucked up on so many levels. If he really wanted to die and be with her, he’d be happy he got an incurable illness, I’d think... Cloud leaves Tifa and them because he doesn’t want to hurt him with him dying and not being able to stop it.

The other thing that would be... weird... Zack is in the Lifestream with Aerith. They walk off together for a reason. I don’t think she’s going to just drop Zack for Cloud since the whole reason she was initially interested in Cloud was because of the similarities to Zack. He had the same sword, the same clothes, and in OG had some of the same mannerisms. I noticed the dropped the squatting in Remake - the random squatting.

The ending of ACC implies that now that Geostigma is cured and Sephiroth is (hopefully) gone for good, Cloud can be happy. I’m not saying that his smile fixes everything. I’m sure that him and Tifa had to work on things, but you can see in DoC that things seem to be much better - he’s more upbeat and happy. He’s more dorky, like he should be.

Sorry this is long. I have a lot of feelings about all this stuff today. I’ve been seeing the fights over on Twitter about it and.. yeah. Cloud is depressed because of the fact he’s dying, his kid is dying, and he can’t seem to do anything right in his mind.

Thanks for the ask.

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remedialpotions · 4 years

Text

we make the rules

ffn ao3

She can’t stop kissing him.

Right here, tucked into the sun-drenched, humid confines of his childhood bedroom, with her head on his pillow and her fingers twisted into the front of his paper-thin shirt, she thinks she actually might die if she has to stop. That she might defy science and logic and reason and simply cease to exist should their lips part for even the briefest second.

It’s dramatic, to be sure, but all of this feels dramatic. It feels like the sort of thing that only gets sung about in the sort of overwrought ballads that, less than a month ago, she would have rolled her eyes at. She never expected herself to be the sort who would feel her heart thumping in her chest when he kisses her, or her stomach flipping over simply when he smiles, but she can’t help it. This is the very thing she’s wanted for years, and now - miraculously, because the odds are that they should all be dead right now - she’s got it. And it’s even better than she expected.

They’ve gotten very good at it, very quickly. Fallen into the relationship like jumping out of an airplane with no parachute, just leaping headfirst into an unending thrill. There’s been no awkwardness, no fumbling, no confusion, and none of the miscommunication that used to plague them. Just, at long last, the two of them.

Ron’s hand slips up the outer edge of her thigh, drifting up, skipping over the hem of her shorts to curve over the slope of her hip. His mouth, blessedly, never leaves hers as his fingers edge their way under her shirt, just enough to graze the heated skin of her stomach. Even the slightest touch from him is like tossing a lit match onto kindling: he ignites something in her that she didn’t yet know existed. Shifting her hand up his chest, then his neck, she lets her fingers cradle the side of his face.

Her mind, as it so often does in these moments - these moments, amazingly, that have transformed from fantasies to dazzling reality - begins to wander. It pulls up scenarios that, until recently, only existed as hazy vignettes in the deepest corners of her imagination, and begins to paint them in color. Vivid, tantalizing color. The sort of sharp focus that makes her want to turn them into reality sooner rather than later. Perhaps even here, now, today, as Ron’s mouth leaves hers to travel down the side of her neck. At the slightest nudge of his hand on her waist, she tips onto her back and lets his weight engulf her.

It could happen today. Or later tonight, perhaps, when there’s more time and more privacy and the sun isn’t beating down on them through the dusty window panes. Tomorrow, even, or next week. Perhaps a month from now, or two months…

But when? And how? Suddenly she can see the end result, see it so clearly that it makes her stomach quiver, and yet she cannot see a clear path to getting there. The newness, for all the thrills it provides, is tinged now with the doubt and anxiety that always accompanies the unknown.

Normally, when faced with a situation like this, she educates herself. Devours literature until her brain is bursting with cold, hard, indisputable facts, but she’s not sure there’s a section in the library dedicated to this. (Well, she supposes that there is, technically, but it leans more on the side of tawdry paperback novels rather than anything particularly informative.) This isn’t like Transfiguration, where she can study the theory until she knows it off by heart. It’s not like Potions, where she can follow each step to the letter and end up with a favourable result. There is nothing that tells her what to do when she’s tumbling madly, irretrievably, head-over-heels in love with her best friend of seven years and needs to know the right way to properly act on it.

Ron pulls his lips from her neck, and his eyes align with hers. His cheeks are flushed, both from the late spring heat and their enthusiastic activities, and his lips are tilted in just the slightest hint of a smile. Hermione lifts her face up toward his, expecting more - craving it, even - but he doesn’t kiss her yet, instead tilting his head inquisitively.

“What?” he breathes, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“What do you mean, what?”

Hermione takes it upon herself to kiss him, but he breaks it off after only a few mind-numbing seconds.

“You’re thinking about something.”

She raises her brows defiantly. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No.” His lips brush over hers, far too lightly to be satisfying. “So what're you thinking about?”

You. Us. “Nothing,” she says. “Nothing, just come back here.”

He obliges her, and several happy minutes pass in which her mind grows fuzzy from the increasing intensity of his lips on hers and the pressure of his long, lean torso against her own. But then his hand slides under her shirt again, warm against her skin, and that same little thought works its way from the back of her mind to the front, where she can’t ignore it.

“Ron,” she says, still kissing him, “Ron, what…”

Her words die on her lips as she realizes she has no idea how to phrase what’s on her mind.

Ron rolls off of her and props himself up on one elbow. “Ahh, here it is,” he grins, holding his other arm over his chest to shield himself from her playful, indignant swats.

“Well, fine,” says Hermione loftily, shifting onto her side so they’re lying facing each other. “I guess you don’t actually want me to tell you-“

“No, no.” Ron’s hand finds hers in the small gap between them. For a second, he watches as their fingers twist together in the air. “Come on, I want to know.”

“It’s really nothing.”

A disbelieving scowl crosses his face. “At this point, I can practically hear the gears turning in your head. I know when something’s up.”

Their fingers finally intertwine properly together. Hermione can sense his eyes on her even as her own are cast to the bright orange bedspread, but his gaze is warm and affectionate. She feels safe in it.

But she’s still not sure where to begin.

“It’s just…”

She looks up just in time to see his tongue graze his lower lip, and briefly she considers just dropping the whole thing and snogging him senseless.

But he… he loves her. It’s one of those cold, hard, indisputable facts that she’s so fond of. And because he loves her, she knows he wants to know if something’s troubling her, and this won’t go away. It’ll only continue to gnaw at her until it drives her mad.

So she finds her voice again. “How does this work?”

Ron’s expression morphs from one of concern to confusion. “How… how does what work?” He bites back a grin. “D’you mean snogging? ‘Cause I’d be happy to demonstrate some more-“

Hermione swats his chest again. “Can you be serious for once in your life?”

“Oh, believe me, I’m serious-“ But the grin slides off his face when he notices that she’s not joking back. “What’s going on?”

She fixes her eyes on the bedspread again.

“I’m just not sure how this is supposed to go,” she begins, hesitant, the words foreign and uncomfortable as they cross her lips. She’s felt uncertainty in her life, if maybe not this particular sort, but she isn’t used to voicing it. “You know… us. Physically, that is.”

“Physically,” he repeats, voice tentative as though he suspects they’re wading into uncharted territory. “Okay. Like-”

“Sex.”

All at once it seems to hit him: he blinks, then his eyes go wide in shock. “You want to have sex?”

“Well-” She puzzles right back at him. “Don’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, “great - brilliant-” He drops her hand and sits up, almost frantic as he looks around his cluttered bedroom. “Let me just-”

“I don’t mean now,” she replies with more than a hint of exasperation. “But eventually, right? You’d like to?”

“Obviously,” he replies, though he does look a bit relieved. “And you… you do too?”

It feels a bit strange to confess this to him, as if they haven’t spent the entire month of May joined at the lips. It’s a side of herself that she’s only just begun to show to him, one that’s new and intoxicating and yet renders her more vulnerable than she’s ever been in her life. Then again, she supposes that just proves how much she needs to have this conversation.

“Yes,” she says quietly as she sits up so they can be face-to-face again. “Of course I do.”

“All right.” His hands find hers again, warm and reassuring, as he cracks a smile. “Then you just let me know when you want to-“

“That’s my point, though,” she goes on. “How do we even get there? How long are we supposed to be together before we actually - well - and are there other things we’re supposed to do first, to get ready, or practice? And when is all of that supposed to happen? And do we plan it out, pick a day and time so that we can be prepared and make sure we have privacy, because what if-”

“Hermione,” he interrupts, her name laced with an affectionate laugh, “slow down.”

But now that her mind is racing, it’s completely out of her control.

“Should we slow down?” she asks. “How long do you suppose couples are usually together before they start having sex? It must vary, right, based on experience levels, but-” Her teeth anxiously pinch her lower lip. “Maybe we could ask Harry and Ginny-”

“Let’s not,” interrupts Ron with a cringe. “I don’t want to know, not with them.”

“Fine, but you see my point, right? I just don’t know what we’re meant to be doing.”

She’s half-expecting to be told that she’s barking mad, but instead, he lifts their joined hands to his mouth and kisses her lightly across her knuckles. His fair eyelashes brush across his cheeks as his lips touch her skin, and when his eyes open again, she catches sight of just a few flecks of silver embedded in bright blue.

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “I really don’t.”

“But - but you’ve had a proper girlfriend before-”

The tips of his ears go instantly scarlet as their linked hands drop to the mattress again. “And you know that we never - we never even got close-”

“Well, yes, I know that, but-”

“And you’ve had a boyfriend,” he points out, even as it clearly causes him great discomfort to do so.

“I wouldn’t call him that,” she replies quickly. “Really more of a penpal than anything.”

“Right. But still, all these questions you’re asking - I don’t know.” He sounds much more at ease with this than she feels. “I don’t know if we’re going too fast or too slow, or what we’re meant to do or when, or... I really don’t know.”

“So we’ve got to figure it out, then,” she declares. “Maybe we could work out a timetable for when we think we’ll feel comfortable-”

He laughs, then, and much to her surprise - he is full of surprises lately, and usually she can’t get enough - he tips forward and kisses her soundly on the lips.

“You and your timetables,” he says with a fond shake of his head. “If I’m honest, I think we should actually just do whatever we want.”

This suggestion hangs in the humid air between them as the words slowly settle into Hermione’s brain. It’s such a simple concept, yet she can’t wrap her head around it. Things like structure and order and direction make her feel safe, but this feels like heading into a great unknown where anything can happen.

“Think about it,” he adds as she continues to contemplate. “I mean, when’s the last time we got to just decide for ourselves what we wanted?” Before she can even consider answering, he goes on. “We’ve always had something getting in our way, or something deciding for us what we should do or what was important, and now… now all that’s over. We really can do whatever we want, and I reckon we should.”

“I suppose,” she says thoughtfully. “You’re right, we do have much more freedom than we used to.”

“Yeah, exactly,” says Ron with a reassuring squeeze to her hands. “I just think if we want to do something, then - then we should, y’know? If we don’t, then we don’t. Let’s not overthink it.”

“Overthinking is what I do,” she says, heat rising in her cheeks. “I plan out everything. I like knowing what’s going to happen, and what to expect, but this… it’s completely different from what I expected.”

“It is for me too,” says Ron with a sheepish smile. “But it’s in a good way… isn’t it?”

“Very good,” says Hermione. “And I think…”

She trails off, summoning whatever courage she possesses. Because it’s one type of vulnerability to discuss sex with him, and to bring up her (admittedly silly) plan to create a timetable for the development of their sexual relationship, but to lay bare her deepest fears is another thing entirely. It’s that same feeling of leaping off a cliff without knowing what awaits her at the bottom… if she’ll end up hurt, or exhilarated.

Ron pokes her on the knee. “What?”

Hermione draws in a breath. She wants to tell herself that she’s got nothing to worry about - that it’s just Ron she’s talking to - but there’s never been such a thing as ‘just Ron’ for her. He is the one who matters most.

But then… it’s Ron. And the way he’s looking at her right now, with such patience and care, makes it easy to push through the fear.

“I like doing things the way they’re meant to be done,” she tells him, and he gives a concessionary nod. “I like to know exactly what I need to do in order to make sure that everything goes perfectly.”

“I know you do, but nothing’s perfect-“

“But I need this to be perfect!” she exclaims, losing control over the words pouring out of her. “I have to go about this exactly the right way, because...“

“Because what?”

She meets Ron’s steady gaze with her own. “Because otherwise I might ruin it. I might ruin us.”

Now that it’s out there, she can’t take it back, but Ron is clearly more than ready to face it.

“I really don’t think so,” he says bracingly with a shake of his head.

“I’ve told you, I don’t know what I’m doing,” she laments. “I try to be as prepared as possible for everything I do and I wasn’t at all prepared for this, and I - I can’t stand the thought that we might do something wrong and mess this up somehow-“

“I know, I know, but it’s fine.” He inches closer to her on the bed. “It’s going to be fine, because everything you’re worried about - it’s not up to anyone else but us.”

God, she really does love him. It hits her at the tiniest moments, like when he’s washing dishes by hand at the sink and he uses the back of his wrist to push his fringe out of his eyes, or when he laughs just a little bit at his own jokes. And she loves him now, as he’s soothing her frazzled nerves the way he’s done since they were children, countering her need for control with another, much better option: trusting him.

“I don’t like making mistakes,” she says, even as the tightness around her heart begins to ease, “especially when things are important, and this is so important to me.“

“It is to me too, but… we get to decide what’s a mistake and what’s not. This isn’t like school, we’re not answering to anyone but each other and-“ He flushes crimson again. “I reckon we’re doing good so far, right?”

“We are.”

“Plus, at this point,” he says with considerable lightness in his voice, “it’d take a lot for you to get rid of me.”

She feels her face relax into a smile. Her mind is still processing, still letting go. It’s no easy feat for her to relinquish the security of processes and procedures, but this isn’t about achieving the perfect outcome. It isn’t another accomplishment to add to her list of successes. It’s more of an exploration, a discovery, and she hopes they’ll never truly be done.

His hands release hers and move to her hips, and as she rises onto her knees, his arms encircle her waist. Hugging him tightly around the neck, she breathes in the sweet, familiar scent of his shampoo and closes her eyes.

This is where she’s supposed to be. Right here, right now. The rest can come later, whenever they decide they want it.

His lips brush against her neck, once then twice, and then there’s a warm puff of air as he chuckles.

“You wanted to make a shagging timetable,” he says, voice trembling from the effort of not all-out cracking up. “A timetable. For shagging.”

She pulls back, affronted, to glare at him. “Oh, Ron-“

“No, no,” he laughs, “what would it have looked like, exactly? ‘Week one: hand stuff. Week two: oral-“ His face lights up. “Would we have had appointments?!”

“Stop it!”

She pushes his shoulder, and he falls back onto the bed, still grinning up at her in a way that makes her heart skip a beat. He uses her hand to tug her down on top of him, and they fall into kisses again.

#romione #rhr #ron weasley #hermione granger #my writing #title borrowed from taylor swift #I’m basic and proud of it

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jackdawyt · 4 years

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One of the most alarming statements made by anonymous BioWare employees currently working on the next Dragon Age has been the remark that the next game is “planned with a live service component, built for long-term gameplay and revenue.”

Like me, I suspect you have questions regarding what exactly a live-service Dragon Age 4 may entail. While we don’t have all the answers currently, thanks to Jason Schreier’s article on “The Past and Present of Dragon Age”, we certainly have an idea on what the next Dragon Age may look like.

Regardless, I feel like it’s even more necessary to have this conversation on BioWare’s live service future having watched the debacle of Anthem’s post-launch content, and what BioWare hopefully learned from Anthem’s experience going forward with Dragon Age 4.

You see, Anthem’s live service model was originally going to follow story-based content after the base game launched. The content would forward the main narrative in many different directions with new areas, bosses, dungeons, characters, stories, and of course, cosmetics.

In pre-production, Anthem's story had been produced with live service in mind, so the developers could easily write, change and create many different plot points and narratives in future content to come.

“They had a really strong belief in the live service,” said one developer. “Issues that were coming up, they’d say, ‘We’re a live service. We’ll be supporting this for years to come. We’ll fix that later on.’” (How BioWare's Anthem Went Wrong, Kotaku).

The game was originally planned to follow a deep content road map, that would have players still engaged with Anthem ten years after launch.

"Anthem is a social game where you and your friends go on quests and journeys. It’s a game that we’ve been working on for almost four years now, and once we launch it next year I think it’ll be the start of a ten-year journey for us." (Patrick Soderlund)

However, Anthem’s original ‘idealistic’ live-service model didn’t come to fruition due to only 18 months of development time. The content road map we did eventually get for Anthem, didn’t prove to be successful.

[Anthem] was in development for nearly seven years but didn’t enter production until the final 18 months, thanks to big narrative reboots, major design overhauls, and a leadership team said to be unable to provide a consistent vision and unwilling to listen to feedback. (How BioWare's Anthem Went Wrong, Kotaku).

The post-launch content was staged in acts. The first act was called “Echoes of Reality” and would last around three months, providing constant new missions, strongholds and world dynamics. The act would end on a huge update called “The Cataclysm”.

Unfortunately, this road map was too idealistic, and was cancelled after heavy delays of “The Cataclysm” event.

With BioWare’s first live service model not going according to plan, hopefully, the unsuccessful launch of Anthem’s live service-model speaks volume for future BioWare’s titles, and the developers have learned from that experience.

It's worth stating that Anthem isn’t dead and BioWare haven’t abandoned ship. They’ve remained adamant on working out how the game can stay afloat, as a small production team at BioWare Austin work on the preliminary design of Anthem 2.0.

BioWare and parent company EA have been planning an overhaul of the online shooter, according to three people familiar with those plans. Some call it “Anthem 2.0” or “Anthem Next.” (Sources: BioWare Plans A Complete Overhaul For Anthem, Kotaku).

In spite of that, I know for a fact, every Dragon Age fan can look at Anthem’s style of a live-service model and say that this model wouldn't cross-over into a Dragon Age game.

Anthem is a multiplayer game with a heavy emphasis on gameplay as opposed to story. While the game does have a main narrative with all the BioWare trimmings of lore and a codex, the general reason you play Anthem is to kill, loot and customise your javelin suit.

This gameplay loop can be easily continued with a live service model adding new content like levels, enemies, worlds, cosmetics, etc.

Whereas for Dragon Age, the player’s experience is deeper than the gameplay - there are many reasons we play Dragon Age - for instance my experiences have been driven by the story as I, solely, make impacting choices and consequences throughout the world.

Anthem’s live service model reflects a very different perspective, so, what could a Dragon Age live service-model entail?

Well, according to Jason Schreier: “we not sure about the details, and in fact they’re likely still being decided, as the game is still very early in development and could evolve based on the negative reception to Anthem. If it does turn out to be an online game, which seems likely, it would be shocking if you couldn’t play the bulk of it by yourself."

"One person close to the game told [Jason] that Morrison’s critical path, or main story, would be designed for single-player and that goal of the multiplayer elements would be to keep people engaged so that they would actually stick with post-launch content."

"Some ideas [Jason] heard floated for Morrison’s multiplayer include companions that can be controlled by multiple players via drop-in/drop-out co-op, similar to old-school BioWare RPGs like Baldur’s Gate, and quests that could change based not just on one player’s decisions, but on the choices of players across the globe."

“They have a lot of unanswered questions. Plus, I know it’s going to change like five times in the next two years.”

The trouble with Dragon Age 4 being live service is that the game is predominantly single-player, and while there is a multiplayer mode in Inquisition, no one plays Dragon Age for multiplayer. As I said before, there are many personal reasons each of us play the series from escapism to fantasy fulfilment and everything in-between.

Diversification of a live service model or multiplayer in the fourth entry of a single-player RPG just sounds like a recipe for disaster in my opinion.

While in theory, the idea of a drop-in/drop-out coop system in Dragon Age 4 sounds somewhat okay, everything else that multiplayer implicates is not okay.

If this sort of coop system is embedded into the game, then Dragon Age 4 could be an always online game running on servers. If Anthem serves as an example, that means no offline play, long loading screens, and an almost unplayable launch day.

How can Dragon Age 4 follow a live service model, and at the same time appeal to the majority of the single-player fans? That’s not a rhetorical question because I have three approach's BioWare could likely follow:

The Andromeda Approach

In Mass Effect: Andromeda, Ryder has a small unit called Strike Teams, they act like Inquisition’s war table mechanic where you can send out groups into the world for rewards. However, in Andromeda as a secondary option, the player can actually take over these missions themselves in the multiplayer mode to assume full security over the mission’s succession.

Dragon Age 4 could have a new war table that enacts live service content. Perhaps you’re given an incentivise to take on side-missions in multiplayer with other people, however, like Andromeda’s method, if you’d rather not, you can just send NPC’s to do the task with a longer time limit.

The multiplayer mode while connected to the single-player would be a dispatched component. This sounds like the most okay approach for the majority of fans.

The Anthem Approach

Anthem’s approach follows a single-player hub-based world where many key choices and story scenes can play out. Then once you enter the world, or choose a quest, the player is automatically put into a lobby. While you can play the missions and explore the world solo, you can’t play offline, it’s always online play on servers.

Hypothetically, if Dragon Age 4 followed this exact approach, the player would have a single-player based hub, like a castle, fort or camp where we could engage with our allies and further the plot. However, when continuing the main missions, or exploring the world, we’d then have to go through a lobby to continue the adventure solo or with friends on always online servers, with no offline play.

This wouldn’t be a good experience in my opinion.

The “Ideal” Approach

My ideal approach to live service is, of course, way too optimistic, but I’m throwing it out there anyways because Ubisoft did it, so that means anyone can do it. I’d love Dragon Age 4’s live service model to follow many post-launch story-based DLC’s adding to the narrative post-launch.

Perhaps smaller content added monthly like new enemies, quests, areas, etc.

And larger, story-based content perhaps 3-4 months after launch, and onwards.

This is exactly what live service should be, the game is kept alive with more quests and story DLC’s giving the game breathe. If done successfully, this could be a live service RPG done right, with more content coming for months.

Final Thoughts

I may sound cavalier about the whole live service Dragon Age 4 ordeal, but I trust in the developers and their knowledge of their games and more importantly, their fans.

This is something I haven’t stopped talking about, but it’s worth reiterating that the BioWare developers are looking with an eye to what the fans love about Dragon Age. The main team working on Dragon Age 4 created the Trespasser DLC, that’s John Epler’s narrative direction, with Patrick Weekes as the Lead Writer.

Yes, I do get worried when I hear the terms “live service Dragon Age 4”, and “Anthem with Dragons”, but ultimately that’s just unplaced fear. In reality, the BioWare developers know their fanbase more than anyone, and will most certainly cater to our needs for the next Dragon Age game.

I know this topic is rather baren at the moment, we don’t have a clearer picture of what Dragon Age 4 will look like. We’ve just got to trust the epic developers who’ve been at the studio since Dragon Age: Origins and are working on the next instalment to the best of their ability.

I’m sure we’ll touch on this topic in the future, but for now, let’s just focus on supporting the people creating the next Dragon Age, rather than fear what may or may not transpire in the next game. When we know more about live service, I’ll be sure to have another chat about it with you all then.

Let me know your thoughts on how BioWare can handle Dragon Age 4’s live service model.

#dragon age #live service #ea #dragon age 4 #dragon age live service #joplin #morrison #past and present dragon age #live service dragon age #dragon age 4 live game #Dragon age multiplayer #solas #thedas #tevinter #anthem #anthem 2.0 #andromeda #bioware live service #bioware multiplayer

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jacscorner · 3 years

Text

What Is The Spiral Nemesis?

I wanted to talk about this, but I don’t got any friends who are really Gurren Lagann nuts like me.

The Spiral Nemesis.

In the grand scheme of Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, it’s not important. It’s a McGuffin to push the plot. It pushes the Anti-Spiral to oppress Spiral Races, whether they know it or not. It’s why Lordgenome forces humanity underground and creates the Beastmen, a race that cannot generate Spiral Energy due to the inability to reproduce, and thus, inability to evolve.

According to the Anti-Spiral, if enough Spiral Energy was to be generated, all Spiral lifeforms in the universe would eventually start evolving into full-sized galaxies. The sudden imbalance of mass in the universe would lead to these mega-galaxies devouring each other, forming a black hole that would consume all of existence.

Once discovered, the original race who discovered this apocalyptic event locked away their bodies into a state of suspended animation, ceasing their own evolution. Their collective consciousness created The Anti-Spiral, who began its mission to purge Spiral Energy from the rest of the universe. Their desire so desperate that their last breath was to plead to Simon not to allow this doomsday to pass.

And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder about the nature of Spiral Nemesis. It seems simple enough; its someone else putting a wall in Simon and co.’s way and their drill will pierce through that wall and they won’t let anyone hold them back from living. But the older I got, the more I thought about the concept and how it fits into the show’s overall themes.

I’m not the first, or last, to really think about this from the anime from 2008. I saw multiple theories from several forums. There’s quite a few theories that go back and forth. With theory that I use to take to was that it was merely a theory.

Spiral Nemesis Isn’t Real.

I use to think that Spiral Nemesis was nothing more than a theory. A theory that was projected as fact by a race of random aliens trying to impose their will on the universe. After all, if it WAS real, how would they know? How could they prove it? It reminded me of someone else; the chief of Giha Village.

Someone who imposed his will on those he governed. “There is no sky, there is nothing above the ceiling! The surface does not exist!”

Or words to that affect.

It would make sense, in a way, for the story to go full circle to talk about its themes of progression and moving forward. To not let the people of the past oppose the people of the future. It made sense to me, but it didn’t feel...whole. It didn’t feel complete. Maybe this is me putting too much stock in an anime that has a sniper in booty shorts fighting giant robots, but I guess I couldn’t stop but wonder if that really was all to Spiral Nemesis when a new theory came to my head.

The Spiral Nemesis is a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy!

The Power of The Spiral is the power to keep moving forward. To evolve from the person you were a moment ago. Little by little with each turn. Because that’s how a drill works. A drill that pierces the heavens. A drill that knocks down walls in front of it and never gives up.

A perpetual drill that doesn’t stop and pumps out more energy until the barrier in front of it is broken down.

The Anti-Spiral are a barrier in Simon’s way. A wall that forces him and the rest of Team Dai-Gurren to dig deep and generate greater amounts of Spiral Energy until they’re able to defeat them. Energy they wouldn’t have generated if not for several generations, as oppose to all at once over the course of about two days.

The Anti-Spiral, by their very nature, were doomed to fail. Eventually, whether Simon or someone else, would’ve failed. Some race, somebody, would’ve rose up to oppose them. Survivors of a doomed world or some other race they spared and oppressed. They were doomed to run into a Spiral Warrior powerful enough to tear them down, forcing them to generate more and more Spiral Energy until they couldn’t stand up to ‘em. Whether Spiral Nemesis is real or not is almost irrelevant.

But this thought left me more unsatisfied, because, well, obviously the universe didn’t implode on itself in the end. If anything, it felt like Spiral Nemesis was just a means to an end; to be the motivation for the Anti-Spiral. In that case, why bother naming this universe-sized apocalypse. Just say ‘the universe will go boom with enough Spiral Energy’. Was I overthinking this?

Yes.

But that didn’t stop me, dammit!

And then, like a epiphany, and after the nth re-watch, answer I was satisfied came to me.

Spiral Nemeis Is Real...And It’s Inevitable?!

Everything that lives has to die.

It’s a sad fact of reality, a universal truth and Gurren Lagann makes sure we know that. Kamina dies, Nia dies, Kittan dies. We can mourn, we can be in pain, we can be angry, but we can’t let these deaths chain us down or hold us back. We all need to eventually dust ourselves off and keep going.

Everything dies.

That includes the universe.

And thus, the culmination of all these theories: The Anti-Spiral was only half-right and their attempts to stop the Spiral Nemesis only sped it up. The universe is doomed to die. Because everything dies. Whether Spiral Races overuses Spiral Energy or not, the use of Spiral Energy at all would lead to the universe’s end.

Spiral Nemesis could not be stopped. They couldn’t stop it and Simon can’t hold it off either. It’s doomed to happen.

But it’s not a bad thing. Cause while death is inevitable, life is as well. I have no proof of this, but much like the theory of the Big Bang, I firmly think that when Spiral Nemesis happens, it’ll end in a new, bigger universe that can contain more Spiral Energy, which will die and repeat. Maybe the Anti-Spiral new of the previous universe’s own nemesis and saw it as its destruction and not just it reaching the end of its lifespan.

It’s a life cycle-the Life Cycle of the Universe. The Anti-Spirals, somehow discovering this, tried to stop this cycle. They tried to cheat death-to cheat nature.

They feared death and tried to control it.

But as we’ve seen from Kamina, Kittan, and Nia, death is inevitable. You can run in screaming or go out quietly, but it’ll happen. And life will go on.

Or, maybe this is just a dumb show about giant robots and I’m thinking too much over it. But I guess that’s what happens when you love a show enough. You start thinking more about it and can’t help but make more out of it than you really need to.

But, like, there you go, I guess.

#Gurren Lagann #Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann #JAC Chat #Anime Theories

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foxtophat · 4 years

Link

another long one, coming in at 9k words because i am goddamn trash

HEY GUYS SORRY ABOUT THAT UGH today just didn’t go the way i wanted it to. you ever feel like that? well anyway here is the 11th chapter!!! fun fact: hurk and sharky show up! second fun fact: i am 90% sure that it is not moonshine they’re peddling. 3rd fun fact: i don’t know if they know what an apple looks like any more

i don’t have much to say about this chapter, although i will say it involves casual drinking if you’re not into that. i think i’m gonna go have a newcastle myself once i’m done writing this up... which i guess means now!

as usual my dudes, i want to thank you all for being so tolerant of my bullshit and so open to my dumbassery! it’s so nice to feel MOTIVATED to post for once, which might not come through when i get delayed like i have the last 2 chapters, but it’s true! i have so much trouble working on things without feedback, so you guys really have been awesome.

if you wanna contact me, my askbox is always open! as always, i appreciate any and all comments, kudos, likes, reblogs, casual links, private discord messages, idk whatever i don’t even use discord

below the cut is the full chapter for those of you who don’t wanna go off-site! thank you again for reading guys, and i will talk incessantly about this fic soon!!!

The next three days are marked by a surprising peace. Nick had suspected that once the cat got out about John, they would be fielding a flurry of calls, or maybe even some in-person confrontations, but so far they've been left completely alone. Maybe telling people on their way out of the county has something to do with that. Maybe they'll need to wait for Hurk and Sharky to come back and spread the news if Jerome's decided not to do it himself. Nick's not sure if that's even what he wants , but it feels like the inevitable next step. Eventually, if the community is going to come together, the cat's gonna have to get out of the bag.

John is just as nervous than before, although it only shows whenever they hear distant engines or a far-off gunshot. The night after the caravan, he and Jerome spend a full thirty minutes on the radio, but it only makes him more pensive and reserved. Nick wouldn't mind so much if Carmina weren't also acting bummed out — sure, she's just upset that she lost a friend before she could make one, but it still sucks to see his daughter acting as morose as John.

At least Kim's optimism hasn't been phased. She's been determined to look at the situation from every positive angle available, and none of Nick's uncertainty has put a hamper on it. She rallies them all for a second day-trip down to the river, hell-bent on cheering each and every one of them. It's a day of sunlight and clear water, and the fish are jumping like mad. It must be spawning season, or something, because the suckers are easy pickings.

The nice weather and the easy fishing both do wonders for Carmina's mood, which is becoming more and more fickle every day. Nick dozes in and out with a rod in hand, and although John spends most of the time staring at the water, he touches base with reality once in a while. Mostly just when Kim includes him in conversation, but it's still enough.

It's... nice. Nick doesn't know the last time he felt so relaxed. He doesn't think that memory exists anymore, lost to time like so many other positive thoughts, but he's enjoying the reminder to relax his shoulders and turn off his anxious brain for a few minutes. With the sunshine just as warm as ever and the water a bright, nearly unnatural blue, Nick figures all they need is an umbrella and some beach towels to drive the point home. Hell, at this point, they might as well claim this as their private waterfront.

Grace shows up after breakfast the next day, ready to take Carmina for some target practice at her range. She isn't strictly speaking to Nick yet, but she keeps it cordial, even friendly with Kim. Maybe Jerome talked with her, or maybe she came to accept the situation on her own, who knows. Either way, Grace ignores the sight of John out on the back porch and treats Carmina to a genuine smile when she comes downstairs, rifle in hand. Finally, three-quarters of the year later, the situation with Grace has finally returned to normal, taking one more weight off of Nick's shoulders.

She promises to have Carmina back before sundown. She also promises to leave her radio on, just in case. Nick knows what she means by just in case , but he can't say no to the added security.

Nick retreats out back, letting Kim have some time with Grace without the awkward tension of his presence. John pointedly refuses to look at him, sorting through a box of components as though he hasn't already picked it apart.

It isn't until after Grace and Carmina leave that Nick remembers he has an out — well, now it's just a regular chore. He's got to deal with the so-called freezer in the hangar, which is full of fish and sucking up all the fuel for the generator. Either he has to make it viable to use long term, or they're going to be shit out of luck for food preservation beyond salting and pickling.

From the look on his face, John wishes Nick would ask for his help, but Kim has already called on him to help harvest the last of the spring planter, so he's shit out of luck there. Nick doesn't have any damn sympathy for John — gardening is boring, and Nick will do anything to avoid it, especially something as easy as throwing John under a bus.

So, the good news is that the freezer still turns on. Nick hadn't expected much after finding it under part of the collapsed roof, but it hasn't shorted out once since they hooked it up to the generator about a week ago.

The bad news is that it's not a good use of power at all. The rubber seal is nearly worn off, so it keeps losing coolness, and there's definitely a coil burnt out or something in there because it barely manages to keep its temperature lower than the air around it. Sure, maybe it'll come in handy around winter , but that's not going to help them with summer around the corner.

As it is, Nick's only sure that the fish from yesterday are still good. There's a covered pot of stew underneath that they put in after the caravan left, which is probably fine, too... but Nick wouldn't put money on the rabbit they put in at the start. After all, it hadn't been all that fresh to begin with, and it's been wrapped in cloth for a little too long.

Well, maybe once they get some chickens and find a post-apocalyptic appliance repair center, it'll be worth being the energy sink that it is. For now, Nick has to figure out what to do with these goddamn fish and the leftover stew from the other night. It's their own damn fault, thinking they'd still have company after revealing John, but that doesn't change the amount of food they have on hand.

At least when Grace comes back, they'll have something to repay her with, although Nick isn't sure she's willing to eat any of their food yet. She'd been okay about seeing John in the backyard, relatively speaking, but there's no way she actually believes any of the progress being made. And as much as Nick would like to tell her that her distrust is unwarranted, he can't exactly tell her how to feel. It's just gonna have to take time, and she's going to need a different kind of proof than Nick.

They aren't expecting any visitors, so the sound of engines on approach shakes Nick out of his thoughts and puts him on immediate high alert. He can't make out the number of vehicles, but it sounds like a goddamn posse, which can't be good. When he goes out into the yard to check on Kim, he finds her missing; John is the only one standing there, waiting nervously by the planters and looking for any sign to bolt.

"Stay here," Nick tells him as he approaches, heading straight for the front.

"Yes, I know ," John snaps, but Nick isn't going to stop to argue with him. He slows his anxious jog as he comes around the side of the house, catching sight of Hurk's motorcycle through the trees coming down the drive. Kim is standing in the front yard, arms loosely folded over her chest; she looks cautiously excited for the company, although neither of them are sure if this is strictly a social call. Nick sure hopes it is — he's not sure they could hold their own against a group with an RPG and a whole lot of crazy.

Hurk kills his engine once he sees they've got an audience, leaving his bike with the others in the drive. The big, blissed-out guy and the smaller, wild-card one stay on their bikes, while Sharky talks to somebody sitting on his ATV briefly before following his cousin's tracks.

Kim greets them with a warm smile as they come up. "Hey, you guys. We weren't expecting you to stop by again."

"We radioed ahead," Sharky grouses. "But nobody answered."

"Sorry, I wasn't near the receiver. We've been out back all day."

Hurk pulls off his sunglasses with a dramatic flair. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that," he says, with a tone that implies Sharky had a different theory, one Nick imagines involves John staging some sort of coup. "Well, whatever, we're here now!" Looking around coolly for a second, Hurk realizes he still needs to explain himself and bashfully elaborates, " Somebody oughtta know we got back alright, so we can get hired out again and whatnot..."

"Everything cool?" Sharky asks. He makes no effort to hide how he's looking for a fire that he can blame on John. Well, at least he's trying to find a good reason to beat John up this time.

"I should be asking you that," Kim counters, wearing a smile that's enough to disarm Sharky's gruff posturing. "How far did you get?"

"We hit Great Falls before we figured any further was a one-way trip. They're probably past Missoula if they kept up the clip."

"And how'd everything look?" Nick asks. "I mean, relatively speaking."

Sharky shrugs. "A whole lot of the same," he replies. Hurk rolls his eyes in his cousin's direction, fixing him with an annoyed stare that eventually wears Sharky out. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he opens up semi-reluctantly. "It wasn't the, uh... wild wasteland I was expecting. Lots of empty land and road stops. Some friendly, some... uh, not so much. But that group can handle it."

Nick is happy to agree, and not just to placate Sharky. "Yeah," he says. "Hope County breeds tough people."

"Did you guys pick up somebody along the way?" Kim asks, having just done a headcount of the remaining posse. Nick remembers the two on their bikes; the new guy, he remembers from the third car, quiet and quick to leave but otherwise unmemorable.

"Oh, that's Mud," Sharky says, pointing at the three who probably can't hear much over the rumbling engines. "He was with the caravan, but he changed his mind." Sharky's chest puffs up as he confidently tells them, "He's ridin' with us now."

"That's great!" Kim exclaims. She's genuinely excited by the news and the chance to socialize, and the effect of her positivity is hard to fight. Sharky can't help but smile back, even if he's trying to act tough, rubbing his hands together as he casts another approving glance back at his gang.

"Are you going to do anything to celebrate?" she asks.

"Not much to celebrate, he's kind of a nerd."

"Come on," Kim laughs. "You left home and came back with more people than you started with. I think most people these days would count that as a win." She rubs her hands together, looking briefly at Nick and suggesting, "We could have a fish fry?"

"Hey, that's an idea," Nick replies. "We caught some bass yesterday and they're just gonna get composted if we don't do something with them."

"I dunno about that," Sharky says, cutting off Hurk just before he can excitedly agree.

Kim presses her hands together. "Come on, stay," she pleads with a smile. "At least let us feed you. When's the last time you had something more than jerky and booze?"

"Well..." Sharky trails off uncertainly.

"Kim's right," Nick cajoles. "We got plenty to spare."

"Grace is going to be back with Carmina in a few hours," Kim adds. "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you guys."

Sharky rubs his beard, looking back at their waiting posse. "Grace, huh?" he repeats. He trades a few unsubtle glances with Hurk before finally turning back to Kim and Nick. "Yeah, that should be okay. Except — ah, shit. We promised Wallace and Tiny we'd start doing things democratically now that we won't keep tying over everything. Hold on, gotta go confer with the boys."

They only spend a minute talking it over before the two motorcycles kill their engines, which is all the confirmation Nick needs to know they're hosting company. "I'll go tell John," he tells Kim under his breath. "Somebody should give him a heads up before Sharky punches him again."

Kim sends him off with a pat on his shoulder as he heads for the backyard. John is still waiting by the planters, although he's staring longingly for the safety of the hangar. Nick can't blame him — he's still sporting a dark and noticeable bruise from the last time Sharky socked him. Hopefully, seeing his lingering handiwork will satisfy Sharky, otherwise, John might wind up with a matching set.

"Sharky and Hurk are back," Nick says. John doesn't exactly relax, but knowing he doesn't have to prepare for another ugly reintroduction keeps him from bolting. "They're, uh, gonna stick around until Grace gets back."

"Then I probably shouldn't be around," John replies.

"What, you wanna go hide all night?" Nick rolls his eyes. "No, don't be a baby. Worst that'll happen is you'll get knocked down again." John doesn't look convinced, so Nick tries another route. "Come on, we went through all that just so you wouldn't have to hide out every time we have company. And people are gonna have to get used to you eventually — at least Sharky and Hurk already know you're alive." Finally, when none of that seems to work, he sighs and promises, "I'll make sure nobody decks you for no good reason, c'mon."

John finally relents, sighing and gesturing vaguely. "Fine," he says, "Whatever you say."

And, even though Kim isn't around to force him to it, John sits back down at the planter and resumes pulling carrots. It's probably entirely out of spite, but at least it keeps him busy while the posse of would-be raiders filters into the backyard. Nick stands awkwardly at first as Wallace and Tiny stare aggressively at John's back, but when Kim rounds out the group and nobody takes a shot at either of them, he forces himself to ease up on the suspicion. From here on out, Nick is going to try his damnedest to act like everything is absolutely normal. Well, as normal as it can be.

Kim has Sharky talking from the outset, which makes it easy for him to avoid acknowledging John at all. It helps that she's genuinely interested in what he's been up to since they last saw each other — other than open-channel conversations on the radio, the Ryes haven't seen them since the world ended. With only one car and not a lot of fuel, they haven't had a chance to go exploring the east side of the county since climbing topside.

As it turns out, Sharky and Hurk have shacked right back up at the old trailer park. They'd met up with Wallace and Tiny sometime after coming topside, and right now the four of them are in the middle of making the park more hospitable. Sharky keeps mentioning a reception area, and Hurk says something about expanding the lot, so Nick suspects they're looking to cash in on the heretofore abandoned hospitality industry.

For now, though, it's just home to four wildcards and one multi-use distillery made from old airplane parts. "It's pretty much fucked," Sharky says, although truthfully, Nick thinks it sounds kind of badass. "But with enough elbow grease, we'll probably be able to make it livable." He looks around, craning his neck to eyeball the mostly-intact hangar and their secure house, and offers a genuine compliment. "You guys got lucky. No hate, just glad you had somewhere to hole up in. It would suck to really have to rough it with a kid around."

"Tell me about it," Kim agrees emphatically. "Although, it took a lot of work to make it this nice, and there's still a lot more to do."

Sharky and Hurk settling in around the fire-pit is all the invitation their crew needs to make themselves more at home. It's no surprise that they pretend like John isn't there — nor is it a surprise that John returns the favor. It's a little tense and a lot awkward for Nick, but for now it's at least a peaceful holding pattern.

"It sorta sucked, seeing everything as trashed as it is here," Tiny says somewhat morosely. "I mean, at least we ain't alone, but..."

"Hope Valley got the best of it in general," Wallace says. "Right in the sweet-spot. Ideal Collapse."

"He means most everything else got blasted," Tiny clarifies, a sort of post-Bliss interpreter. "You can tell when you leave the county. Eases up after a couple of miles, but there's, like, a big old ring around us."

"No doubt, no doubt," Wallace agrees. "Protecting the good stuff."

"It's pretty fuckin' weird," Hurk says. "But I don't know nothin' about nu-clear thermodynamics and whatnot. Could be normal as the albino deer and shit."

"Uh, you think that the caravan's gonna be okay out there, if everything's just as wrecked?" Nick asks.

"Oh, sure," Hurk drawls. "There were all sortsa people makin' due out there, one way or another. They'll be fine ."

Sharky sighs, opens his mouth, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and changes course. "They made it pretty clear they would be happier without help," he says. "Hope that works out for them. Me? I'm ride-or-die Hope County. At least 'til Hurk here goes international again. Then, uh, I guess I'm gonna be ride-or-die Miami."

"Hell yeah!" Hurk shouts. "Gonna get the business back in business, y'know what I mean? First stop: check in on mama and Xander. Second stop: top of the world, baby!"

The posse rallies around Hurk's promise with excited whoops. Nick doesn't know what Hurk's job was before the apocalypse, but considering the contraband he used to get his hands on, it's probably something that will only flourish here in the apocalypse.

"'Course, she's probably dead," Hurk adds somewhat morosely at the end, sort of ruining the whole vibe.

Sharky slaps his shoulder a few times out of sympathy. "Don't know 'til we go lookin'," he says, which manages to prop Hurk's mood back up for the time-being. "Anyway, we got a whole slew of islands and mountains and shit to explore once we get established. Spending the rest of my life riding around Montana sounds like a waste of a good apocalypse, if you ask me."

The new guy, Mud, looks more confused than Nick about these future plans. "So, what'd they offer you for joining up?" Nick asks him. "Ten-percent of Boshaw-Drubman LLC?"

Startled, Mud shakes his head frantically. "No way. Uh-uh." Bashfully, he says, "I just, uh... got cold feet. But I don't got much out here, not since the, uh..." He glances past Nick, definitely eyeballing John, then swallows and edges around the truth. "Well, um, Sharky let me ride back, on account of the — well, uh, I didn't wanna get left behind either direction. And since I don't got anything, I offered to join up." He frowns, "Except I don't have a bike, or gas for a bike, or a gun, or bullets for a gun..."

"I told you," Sharky scolds like a mother hen, "We'll figure that shit out later."

"It's smart to stay together," Kim says when Mud fails to pick back up again. "It's what we should all be doing. Does that mean you're staying with them at the trailer park?"

Mud nods, while Tiny goodnaturedly jokes, "Not that there's much left to stay at..."

Sharky is quick to defend their home, even if he doesn't sound super convinced by his own argument. "Hey, we just haven't had time to, y'know, clean and all! We've been busy, man, you know that! Gathering ammo, building the still, brewing ..."

"Would be nice to have a roof over our heads, that's all," Tiny laughs.

"Where do you want me to go, the roof store ?"

The argument is mostly playful, but Nick knows it's only a matter of time before that playful resentment becomes real. Hurk already looks bored by the ribbing, which tells Nick a lot about how long this joke has been running. Even John is paying attention, although Nick only catches an uncomfortable backward glance.

It's a contentious problem for the gang, for sure. But Nick doesn't have to reach far to come up with an easy solution, one that he figures will benefit everybody involved. After all, even considering their own needs, they've got more than enough spare scrap to spare, and Hurk and Sharky's goodwill comes with guns and alcohol, so...

"You know," he says, "John and I found a lot of scrap cleaning this place up. Maybe you can use what we can't."

Sharky opens his mouth to say something, probably pretty rude, but he catches himself before he gets that far. "Wouldn't want to put you out like that," he mutters.

"Hey, we're all in it together, right?" Gesturing towards John, who looks like he'd rather fade back into the dirt around him, Nick offers a sort-of compromise. "We've been trying to figure out what to do with the surplus. This seems like a better use than anything we came up with."

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Sharky admits reluctantly.

Kim recognizes the need for some decisive action, and so she claps her hands together and takes the reins from her grateful husband. "Nick, you and John should take Hurk to look at what we've got. Then, all three of you can bring some wood back so we can get the fire started."

Sharky opens his mouth to object, but Hurk speaks up before he can. "Sounds good!" he exclaims, throwing himself to his feet with ease. Nick can't help but envy him — the guy's got twenty years on him, but Nick doesn't hear his knees popping randomly when he stands up.

"Y'all don't go startin' trouble," he warns his gang, waving Nick on. "Let's do it!"

John turns and heads immediately for the hangar door, disappearing inside without a backwards glance. Hurk lingers once they reach the door, casting a wide look around the empty wash of dirt leading out to the old landing strip before following John inside. He doesn't seem concerned in the slightest that John might be waiting to ambush him.

"Sorry about Sharky, by the way," Hurk says once the three of them are standing in the shade of the tarp overhead. "He's been real stressed is all, tryin' to act all fuckin' responsible and shit. John here making it after the deputy beefed it just hit hard, I guess."

Well, if that's the way Hurk's been referring to it, then no wonder Sharky's sensitive about it. "It's, uh. It's fine. We figured there'd be some... y'know. Reasonable resentment."

John does that thing where he pretends he can't hear he's being talked about, going straight to the log pile stacked against the back wall. Hurk doesn't seem to notice the silent treatment, turning to the organized junk spread out over the cracked concrete. From broken two-by-fours, bent fence-poles, chainlink scraps, and stacks of not-quite-moldy plywood, there's gotta be something here that can help fix up the trailer park. Nick makes sure to highlight the best scrap for Hurk's consideration, although he avoids mentioning their surplus of nails and stripped screws for now. No use showing his whole hand, right?

"Damn," Hurk says at last, looking around in mild astonishment. "Can we hire y'all to do this to our scrap?"

Nick laughs. "Yeah, like I wanna do all this again ."

"What about you?" Hurk asks John's back, ignoring the way he tenses at being directly addressed. "How do we rent you out?"

"You don't," John says, his tone briefly icing over as he turns, regarding them coolly over his armful of logs. He's more petulant than angry when he explains, "I don't owe you my life, so I don't owe you my labor."

"Fine, I'll just save you from a burning building or some shit," Hurk replies, as if he couldn't care less that it's John Seed he's bantering with. "I guess we gotta talk trading, now," he sighs reluctantly. "Man, I fuckin' hate this barter-system bullshit. You know, actually, I got a box full of bottle caps if you wanna..."

Nick waves away the extremely bad offer to invest in an unbacked currency. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says. Hurk frowns heavily at that, so Nick suggests a compromise. "Look, if you and Sharky wind up with your own microbrew, you owe me a case — and yes, I will take payment in installments. That sound fair?"

"If ?" Hurk replies. He lets out a big laugh. "Buddy, I got news for you."

Hurk, John and Nick each take an armful of wood back to the fire pit, where Kim seems to have everything under control. Sharky is less openly hostile when John reappears, anyway, which is a good sign. Mud and Tiny have apparently been given fire-starting duty, jumping to the task as soon as they drop off the wood. Sharky, a true pyromaniac, manages them from his seat by shouting directions at them as they stack the wood in the pit.

Before they can sit back down, Kim turns Nick and John back around for the fish. It's a one-person job, but John doesn't complain about being sent away.

"You okay?" Nick asks John when they reach the freezer.

"Yes," John replies automatically. Nick stares at him for a solid five seconds before he cracks with a frustrated sigh. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"Sure," Nick agrees. He picks up the old bin they've been using to cart fish back from the river. "You can stick around here for a bit if you want. Take a breather."

John scoffs at the idea of taking a break, as per usual. "I thought the point was not to hide," he replies tersely. He reaches out to yank the cracked plastic container from Nick, a frustrated and instinctive reaction that he curbs at the last moment, fingers curling briefly into a fist as he forces himself not to just take things from Nick.

Taking pity on the dumb bastard, Nick pushes the bin into John's arms, flipping open the freezer door and staring down at the slimy, not-yet-smelly fish. "Well, if you need a break, just say you're gonna get more firewood." Nick shrugs. "Someone's gotta check on you eventually, but Kim knows the drill."

John doesn't respond as Nick loads up the bin, but Nick hopes he takes the out to heart. There's not a social obligation out there that Nick hasn't gotten out of by dedicating himself to some dumbass chore nobody else wants to do.

They return to find a roaring fire that is... hopefully under control. The mismatched seating has been pulled back to accommodate the fire's larger-than-average size, accompanied by a couple of chairs from inside to make up the difference. Sharky and Mud have disappeared, although they return just after Nick, each carrying a variety of bottles and jars of different sizes.

"Shit, I didn't think you brought the entire brewery with you!" Nick exclaims, not in the least bit upset by the development.

"Not until you clean all those up," Kim says before Nick can get ahead of himself. "You don't want to be handling a knife right after a shot of... whatever that is."

Nick groans, but she's right. As much as Nick would like to get drunk off his ass on torpedo juice, he has to get his priorities straight. Still — there's a lot more fish than Nick's willing to handle by himself, so he enlists a willing Wallace and Tiny to help out. He picks them mostly because they're openly carrying hunting knives, and because John is just plain bad at deboning fish. John stares at him resentfully, but since he hates handling food as much as he hates gardening, Nick's sure he'll get over it before dinner.

Nick doesn't have much control over the food once it's been cleaned, as Sharky and Hurk have some kind of bet going about who's the better cook and they don't need anybody else throwing their hat in. As far as Nick's concerned, their cooking tastes delicious but indistinguishable. Of course, Nick's waiting for his own dinner, so other than a few bites to try and judge the difference, he doesn't get to eat much of it.

Tiny and Wallace split and down an entire mason jar of mysterious dark liquor while they wait to eat. Nick wants to join them, but Kim's waiting until Carmina is home to start drinking and really, Nick should be doing the same. From the way John's watching distrustfully from the side, he's not likely to get into any moonshine himself.

Nick manages to hold out until after he's finished eating, but then Hurk offers him some moonshine directly and he can't say no. It would be in bad taste, right?

Oof. Turns out the moonshine is in bad taste, but that's what he should expect from something that's easily 120 proof. Nick takes one swig and immediately regrets it as it turns his chapped lips to fire and carries the heat all the way down the back of his throat. There's no taste or anything, just an intense, full-mouth burn and this lizard-brain instinct that everything is going to go horribly wrong if he drinks more of whatever that is.

"Jesus Christ !" he gasps. It's only Hurk's quick reflexes that keep the jar from crashing to the dirt, but Nick doubles down before Hurk can pry it out of his hands. Even as he struggles to form a sentence more complex than, " Poison ," he's got to go back for a second sip. As if somehow a second one would make things better — but of course it doesn't. At least, not to begin with; first, it's gotta turn his shredded lips inside out and throw his tear-ducts into overdrive better than an overripe onion.

"Well don't drink more of it," Kim huffs, way too late.

"Now be honest," Hurk asks, "Can you taste any apple?"

Nick pushes the jar back into Hurk's attentive hands, choking disbelievingly on the word, "Apple ," although now that he thinks about it... No, nope, no after-taste whatsoever. It does , however, warm him from the inside out, leaving him feeling a decent buzz for two conservative swigs.

"Whatever it is," Nick sighs at last, after a big swig of water, "It's great."

"You know," Kim says, "The sooner we put the stew on the fire, the sooner you can eat. Maybe then you could handle more than a couple of baby sips."

Nick clicks his tongue, taking some childish offense at his wife teasing him about his tolerance. At the same time, she's right — and Nick is getting hungry. There's still enough uncooked fish left for when Grace and Carmina get home, but if he wants them to have as much as everyone else, he'll have to settle for the three-day-old stew. At least Kim and John are stuck in the same boat as him.

Before he can get started on that, though, Grace surprises him by returning early with Carmina. Admittedly, it's still pretty late in the afternoon, but he hadn't expected her back so soon. She isn't surprised to find company, which is also a surprise, although she eyes the whole group somewhat distrustfully as she and Carmina round the side of the house. When she sees Hurk and Sharky drinking from their unsanitized brewing bottles, she finally relaxes, letting go of Carmina's shoulder so that she can join the not-necessarily child-safe group.

"Grace!" Sharky exclaims, leaping from his seat and almost grabbing her for a hug before remembering personal boundaries are a thing. "Holy shit, the world literally ended last I saw you!"

Grace returns Sharky's enthusiasm with her more subdued version of it, smiling fondly and following through the rest of the hug for him, the same way she'd grabbed onto Nick and Kim when they'd first come back topside. "Sharky, it's good to see you," she says, her voice deep with emotion.

"I radioed her while you were getting firewood," Kim mentions to Nick as Hurk takes his chance to get a hug from the usually reclusive sniper. "I thought she would appreciate a head's up. And, you know, it cheered Sharky up."

"Hey, good thinking."

Carmina approaches gleefully, carrying the rifle over her shoulder triumphantly. For a nine-year-old, she's pretty natural with the thing, which is a mixed blessing as far as Nick's concerned.

"Aunt Grace made moving targets!" she exclaims, excitement overriding her confusion momentarily until she looks at the group. "I didn't know we were having people over today..."

"It was a happy surprise," Kim tells her. "These are the guys who were helping that caravan heading west, remember?"

"Yeah," Carmina says. She looks immediately to John, who is way too busy staring tensely at Grace and Sharky's reunion to notice her.

"Don't worry," Nick says. "Everything's fine."

"Uh-huh," Carmina says, unconvinced. Thankfully, she doesn't seem too worried about another fight breaking out. That probably has something to do with her attention being focused in an entirely different direction. "Do we have pulleys? I wanna make a shooting range here! It's really easy!"

Nick's gut reaction is to say no, but Kim interrupts him. "Maybe while your dad is getting the stew, he can check," she offers, looking from Carmina to Nick significantly. "Then we can have some dinner and talk about it."

Although it looked like John hadn't been paying any attention before, he stands as soon as Kim mentions going to the hangar. "I remember seeing one," he says.

"You can help me look, then," Nick offers. "Maybe get some more firewood?"

"Yeah," John says absently. Nick barely steps into his line of sight, but that's all he needs, turning and making his way to the hanger down the same invisible path he was glued to before. Nick sighs, rolls his eyes at Kim entirely for show, and follows. Maybe once they get some food in him, John will stop being such a cagey bastard about the whole thing, and they'll be able to actually put things to rest with Grace and Sharky at last.

When the world ended, Nick had figured that meant the end of life as he knew it. In some ways, he'd been right — things will never be as easy, as safe, as peaceful as they used to be — but when his expectations had been wrong, they'd been completely off-base. He'd expected a nuclear wasteland, only to find a lush and thriving field. He'd expected roving gangs of murderers, and instead, he's only encountered desperate, decent people who would rather not waste the bullets. Hell, he'd expected to spend every day struggling to survive, and here he is, sitting in the backyard with a full belly and a shot of liquor to wind down. Sure, the gathering is a primitive knock-off of a barbeque, but Nick knows now that all they need is time and practice. Maybe someday, they'll even have a grill — burgers, corn on the cob, the whole works.

But hey. That's for the future, and right now, Nick isn't going to complain about some bad liquor, mediocre food and Hurk's stripped-down Slayer's cassette blaring from his beat-up stereo.

Carmina finally gets a chance to show off her skills to people other than her family, and so Hurk's boys take turns calling out targets for her to cap in an attempt to take her down a peg. Nick isn't sober enough to trust his daughter with a gun, but Kim hasn't gone back for another taste of "apple" moonshine yet, and Grace is sober as a rock, so they're more than capable of handling things. Mostly, they nix any particularly dangerous targets, keeping Carmina's shots focused out in the yard. Well, for the most part — neither of them can resist watching Carmina shoot the wind-vane still clinging to the roof, even if it means going right over everyone's heads.

It's all in good fun, of course. And, to their credit, not one of the guys even jokingly suggests taking aim at John as he sits apart from the group. It's a good thing, too — John looks uncomfortable at how good a shot Carmina is. Maybe Nick would be uncomfortable with it too, if he hadn't drunk a bottle-neck's worth of moonshine beforehand.

Nick doesn't have to drink a lot to feel downright tipsy, which is great. Back in the day, he used to like getting buzzed every so often, but he'd given up ever feeling safe enough to get inebriated as another lost memory from yesteryear. This... this is nice. And once the guns get put away, it'll be even nicer.

"I think you might be a better shot than Tipsy over here," Wallace tells Carmina, gesturing towards Tiny, who is indeed too tipsy to be a decent shot at all.

"Only one way to find out!" Tiny shouts, failing to move after his declaration.

"Maybe another time," Kim replies uncertainly. "When alcohol isn't involved?"

"Hey, Carmina," Hurk coos, pulling his battered gun into his lap, "This is a Kalashnikov, you ever shoot off one of these?"

"Ooh, no!"

Grace is much less diplomatic than Kim, cutting him off before he can feed Carmina's excitement any more. "Hurk!"

"What? Oh, uh... she's probably too young for an automatic, huh? What is she, nine? I got a Magnum in my saddlebag..."

It's not long after that they run out of targets, forcing an end to Carmina's demonstration of skill. Kim thankfully takes the gun so that nobody gets hurt, and Carmina spends the next twenty minutes peppering the crew with questions about their guns, their tattoos, their trip out with the caravan, and whether or not they have a moving target range like Grace does. Nick relaxes when he realizes that none of the guys are keen on giving a little girl another weapon, more interested in spinning drunken tall-tales that, truthfully, might be a little too PG for Carmina. At least Grace is listening in to fact-check any of their more problematic bullshit.

John isn't any less tense now that Carmina is disarmed, but Nick's not surprised. Sitting on the opposite side of the fire from everybody else, he might as well be hiding in plain sight. That goes against the entire point, but it's also his modus operandi these days. Normally, Nick would just ignore it, maybe even avoid John on purpose to show him how bad it feels, but tonight calls for a more direct approach.

"Need to get some firewood?" Nick asks him, coming to stand in his line of sight.

John squints up at him around the firelight. "No," he mutters, lying through his teeth before changing the subject. "Carmina has good aim."

"That's all Kim's genes. I'm more of a spray-and-pray kinda guy."

John doesn't quite hide his sarcasm, replying, "You don't say."

Nobody's offered John any liquor yet, he's pretty sure, so Nick holds the bottle out in an easily declined gesture. "Wanna try?" he asks, just in case he's being more subtle than he thinks. "Supposed to take like apples."

John gives the bottle an unimpressed once-over. "I don't think so," he decides, not sounding entirely sure about it. He adds defensively, "My tolerance is shot."

"If you say so," Nick replies, pulling the bottle back. "It's not like I'm gonna peer pressure you. This isn't high school. But, uh, try to relax. If anyone was gonna take a shot at you, they would've done it by now."

"Easy for you to say," John sighs.

It is easy for Nick to say, but he hopes John actually listens to him for once. He's not expecting miracles or anything, but if John's going to stick around, he's going to have to learn how to relax. Well — at least that's one learning curve that everybody is struggling with. Baby steps, right?

Nick leaves John alone for now; maybe he'll warm up into the idea of mending some metaphorical fences before everyone leaves, which would be ideal. For now, Nick goes back to the rest of the group, taking a few more sips as he listens to Carmina start to spin her own tall tales. Now that she's recognized the pattern in all of the stories the adults have been telling — larger-than-life enemies, intimidating names, lots of Foley work — she's attempting to match their vivid stories with a highly interpretive retelling about the turkey she saved her mom from a few months ago. The way she tells it, Nick would've expected the turkey she'd brought back to be at least the size of a car, but if Kim is playing into her part as a damsel in distress, Nick isn't going to ruin things by being the cynic realist.

They trade a few more stories. As they do, Kim takes a few extremely sour drinks of whatever the dark stuff is. She's been on hosting duty all day already, and Nick hasn't done much to help, getting tipsy right away with the rest of the guys like he had. But, with things starting to get late for a family of three, Nick decides it's his time to step up to the task of parenting.

Carmina hasn't had enough life experience to have many stories to share with the encouraging group of drunken manchildren, so once the attention turns to Tiny's story of his first swim after the world ended, Nick uses the out as a chance to usher her away.

"I think we oughta get you ready for bed," he tells Carmina, who boos under her breath but doesn't put up a fight, mostly because the story involves lots of nudity that she isn't at all interested in hearing about. Nick can't blame her — he doesn't wanna hear about Tiny almost getting his nuts bit off by a demon fish, either.

"Okay, but I want a good bed-time story," she demands, reasonably enough. Nick doesn't have anything as funny as Hurk's story, or anything as action-packed as Sharky's retelling of the first roadblock they encountered out on the road, but he has to at least try.

The good thing about Carmina not knowing anything about life before is that Nick can stretch some truths without repercussion. So when he tucks Carmina in, he decides to tell her the story of when she was born — this time, though, he doesn't leave out the roadblocks, or the deputy's shitty driving, or the narrowly-missed explosions. Couched in a long line of tall tales and exaggerated stories, Carmina doesn't believe most of the true stuff and only playfully believes in the bullshit.

Between Nick's bedtime-story voice and him gently stroking her hair, it's a wonder Carmina stays awake for as long as she does. Eventually, though, well before he finishes the story, she closes her eyes and finally stops resisting the chance for a good night's sleep. Nick stays put, lying next to her for a few minutes as he listens to the faint sound of conversation outside. He tries to make out the voices, to decipher who might be talking to who, but he only hears a dull hum.

He'll get up in a few minutes, go down and have a real drink with his wife for the first time in nine years, but the alcohol he's already had entices him to lie still just a little longer.

He doesn't know how long he dozes for, but when Nick is next aware of his surroundings, the light has changed in the room from the rising moon and the conversation outside has shifted in tone and pitch, the way any party might as it enters the late-night phase. Sitting up, Nick immediately knows he needs two things — more water, and one or two more swigs of that awful moonshine, just to keep the hangover from starting before he actually goes to bed.

The back porch is still wide open. The fire has died down, although it's still enough light to see by as Nick reappears. Kim sees him immediately, lifting a half-empty jar of dark liquid in his direction and waving him down with her free hand.

"This one is much better," she tells him as he approaches, holding out the jar. Well, Nick isn't about to reject his wife's kind offer, although he immediately regrets it when he takes a swig.

" Ugh ," he chokes around the harsh burn, feeling it drain all the way back into his throat. "That tastes like paint thinner!"

"Trade secret!" Hurk exclaims, adding immediately after, "Not that there's any paint or thinner in there, or anythin'. Nope. It's 100% organic malt liquor!"

Nick has no idea how Hurk would manage to find barley, but sure, he'll buy it. Another sip doesn't do any better, and to his surprise, he realizes that he actually prefers the moonshine.

As he hands the jar back, Nick does a quick head-count, coming up two short. "Uh, where's John?" he asks.

"Oh," Kim says. She points towards the hangar. "We needed firewood," she says. "Except, eventually, we really needed firewood. I sent Sharky to get some." It seems like only when she says it does she realize what a bad idea it is. "Well, we were in the middle of something, and I was distracted," she explains reluctantly.

"I wasn't," Grace utters next to her.

Kim rolls her eyes. "You should go check on them. I mean, it's fine. But maybe you should, anyway."

Nick looks over at the hangar. There aren't any lights to speak of out here, but Nick can see the glow of the lantern through the open doorway, shadows moving around behind the worn-out wall. "Yeah," he agrees, turning and heading across the wash. He only thinks of grabbing a drink for the journey after he starts walking, but he's already halfway there and he doesn't have time to turn around and come back.

Sharky appears in the doorway, forcing Nick to pull up short to avoid running into him. He looks — fine? There's too much beard and too little light to see his expression clearly, but Sharky doesn't seem phased in the least to find Nick in his way. He passes by Nick with a few logs under one arm, patting Nick heavily on his shoulder with his free hand.

"It's cool, bro," he says, "We're all good."

"Uh... okay," Nick replies, deeply unsure as Sharky casually heads back for the fire. Briefly worrying that he might find John knocked out on the ground, Nick tries not to stress out as he heads inside.

John is sitting on a discarded chopping block by the woodpile, the lantern settled by his feet. Nick doesn't see any blood or a new black eye; just John, rolling a nearly-empty glass bottle between his palms as he drifts in thought.

Nick almost feels bad interrupting, but John catches sight of him before he can retreat undetected. He looks surprised — genuinely, openly surprised to see Nick standing there, sincerely confused when he says, "I thought you went to bed."

"And miss out on all the action?" Nick chuckles. He gestures at the bottle. "So much for your tolerance being shot, huh?" he teases.

"Oh, hmm?" John looks down at the bottle like he'd forgotten about it. "Only enough to get them off my back." He sighs, following it up with a swig that he barely winces through. "After all, saying no ain't my thing ." Nick isn't sure if that drawl is for sarcastic quotation purposes, or if John's had enough moonshine to play at being white trash. "Then again, I only quit drinking because of Joseph. No point resisting now."

"I guess," Nick agrees reluctantly. "Is that, uh, what you and Sharky were talking about?"

John rolls his eyes. "No," he says. He holds out the bottle, waiting until Nick takes it to elaborate. "Kim suggested they sleep out here tonight. He was making sure there's room."

"Oh." Nick takes a drink; maybe it's just the malt liquor talking, but now Nick can sort of taste the apple around the burn. He takes one more swig, just to make sure, then hands the bottle back. "Well, as long as he wasn't hassling you."

"No more than I deserve," John says. Nick must make some kind of face, because he sighs and placating adds, "It's fine, Nick. I'm more than capable of handling a few sarcastic comments from some hillbilly outlaw." He looks down, tipping the bottle a bit to swirl the moonshine inside.

"He... means well," he says eventually. "Everyone means well."

"You don't have to sound so bummed out about it."

John chuckles. It's the first time Nick's heard his laugh and not mistaken it for a cough or wheeze. "I don't mean to be," he says. He takes a drink and looks up at Nick with a... weird look on his face. Open. Genuine? Nick's not sure. But despite the topic, John's expression radiates a deep, contemplative peace. "It's more generosity than I can bear from people I genuinely thought of as the enemy."

He is definitely drunk. "Oh, boy," Nick sighs, reaching out for the bottle before John drops it or finishes it off himself. "To be fair, uh, it's easier to be nice to you since we won, and all."

"Oh, I do not doubt it." John relinquishes the drink, seemingly aware enough to admit, "I've had more than enough."

"I think everybody's had enough," Nick says, proving his own point by immediately regretting his next swig. "God damn . Okay, well — we should probably get some wood. I gotta feeling those guys are gonna be up for a while, and we wanna keep them happy."

John nods, but he doesn't rise from his spot. "Wait," he says when Nick goes to pass him, so Nick obligingly stops, raising an eyebrow at John's half-lifted hand.

"You have to understand," he says. "I'm not — I don't know how I'm supposed to express my gratitude towards you. With Joseph, with — well, everyone , I've always known how to express my loyalty. I knew what they expected from me, what would make them happy, what... wouldn't. But with you, with Kim... I don't know anything. I feel like a child. I don't know how that makes me feel, other than like an idiot."

He heaves a frustrated, heavy sigh, ducking his head towards his nervously entwined hands. "Just — thank you," he finishes miserably.

"Wow," Nick utters in response. He doesn't know what else to say, really, except the obvious, but he genuinely means it when he replies, "Well, you're welcome. Man, and here I always figured you were playing me for a sap."

John laughs, shaking his head. "Manipulation has never been my strong suit," he admits. "I'm too heavy-handed for that crap. Intimidation and brute force, on the other hand..." He lets out a relieved sigh. "Thank God I was too sick to revel in my self-destruction."

"Yeah, I'm glad I didn't have to shoot you," Nick chuckles. "Sorta would've gone against everything I'm trying to build, you know?"

"I do now," John says. "I only wish I'd realized it before the end of the world."

"Hey, the world hasn't really ended," Nick points out. "There's still a whole left to do." He gestures towards the woodpile. "We can start by making sure Kim doesn't leave me for the raiders giving her free alcohol."

John stands, shaking his head as if he could clear the smile from his face. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, not until they figure out how to brew a decent beer. Kim was going without for the baby. She probably would've murdered me if it meant she could've had a case of Newcastle in the bunker for a few months there."

Then again, she had also been freaking out about the nuclear apocalypse occurring above-ground, so Nick really should cut her more slack.

"You definitely have nothing to worry about," John reiterates. "But fine. No more back-talk."

"Yeah, fat chance of that. C'mon, give me a hand."

Nick leaves the bottle on the chopping block and utilizes John's uncanny strength, loading him up with an armful of wood before taking a few logs for himself, to give the appearance of helping. John doesn't complain, which isn't unusual by itself, but tonight it feels like genuine complacency, not just something he's doing to survive. And when they return to the fire, dropping off the wood for Mud and Tiny to utilize, John doesn't retreat to the safety of the other side of the fire. He instead lingers by Nick, going so far as to play along whenever Kim asks him questions, just to make him feel included. He, unlike Nick, is smart enough to refuse any more of the malt liquor Kim's taken a liking to, but he holds the jar for show from time to time, just to keep Hurk happy. In a weird way, Nick feels like he can actually see John taking those wobbly steps Kim is always hoping to see, and even weirder than that, the anxiety that maybe he's making a mistake fails to manifest, leaving Nick with a warm, fuzzy feeling that could very well be pride.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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alarawriting · 5 years

Text

Inktober #5: Build

The Diwar are famed throughout the galaxy (well, to be pedantic, the general area of the Local Arm) as engineers and inventors. They are well known for the quality of their work, their scientific advancements, and the skill with which they implement theory into practical reality. (Also, their great love of beer, which has led to an unlikely friendship between the Diwar and the newest species to develop spaceflight in the Local Arm, Humans.) Their interest in engineering and creation is so great that, where Humans, Kai, Luffen and other species celebrate competitions of physical skill, the Diwar’s great planetary competition is The Great Build, an engineering competition.

Remember that the person at the bottom of the medical school graduating class is called “doctor”, and you will have some idea what the Proud-Crested Hyperpurples are like. Every competition has a large number of teams involved, and someone’s got to be on the bottom.

The Hyperpurples are the team of Fillit Province, a northern, rather chilly and rocky demesne on the homeworld which is primarily known for fishing. Yes, this is not a bad Human speculative fiction where all the people of a planet have the same professions and behave the same way. Not all Humans work in the fiction industry, not all Kai are warriors, and not all Diwar are great engineers. The people of Fillit Province are proud of their Build team, though; despite the fact that the Hyperpurples have literally come in last in the last four competitions, Fillito are loyal. After all, for a tiny fishing province without even a great university to be able to field a team at all, let alone one that even made it into The Great Build, is an amazing accomplishment. The accomplishment is not that the fisher-Diwar are great engineers in comparison to the rest of their people, but that they are engineers at all.

The problem is that the competition keeps itself from getting stale by kicking out any team that is in the bottom 10th percentile for five competitions in a row. If the Hyperpurples don’t perform better than at least ten percent of the other teams this year, they’re dead in the water. Loyal followers in their hometowns will be deeply disappointed. (Diwar are known for their passion as much as for their love of engineering. Disappointing a Diwar usually results in unpleasant consequences, such as finding that your personal conveyance has been disassembled and its parts strewn about your property.) Family members will declaim at length about the tragedy… and how members of the team who scraped and saved to leave Fillito Province to get a good education at a decent engineering school should have stayed home and caught fish for a living. Funds that were flowing into the Hyperpurples’ bank accounts from the sales of merchandise to their loyal fans will dry up.

“We could try to do something safe. Something respectable,” Irta said, nervously pulling at the feathers along the shoulder of his large-arm. There weren’t many left. Irta, like all of them, had been under a lot of stress lately. “Maybe a conveyance for a non-standard environment? Something that would work in, I don’t know, 20 g?”

“Boring!” Bakoon declared, with a wide wave of his own large-arm and a fluff of his crest. “We need to capture the imaginations of the public! To come in 11th percentile or higher, we can’t do something mean and pedestrian; beyond a contest of engineering skill, this is a contest of ideas!”

“Besides, it’s not as if we can win on our engineering skill,” Rikwaal said sardonically, her small-arms busily occupied with inputting because Rikwaal liked to look as if she was so important to the team, her work never stopped. She was actually a project manager, so the truth was, without a project to engage in, she didn’t have anything to do either.

“Speak for yourself,” the team’s other female, Enshru, snapped. “You can’t win on engineering skill because you are not an engineer.”

“Judging from our performance the last four years, neither are the rest of you,” Rikwaal said.

“Guys, could we stop arguing? This isn’t getting us any closer to the prize,” Le’ir said. He was young, and very earnest, but well-respected for his comportment, his friendliness, his alcohol tolerance, and his ability to go for three days without sleep at crunch time and still have his work come out as competition-quality. “We need a really new idea. Something to shake things up.”

“I agree!” Bakoon said. “Regardless of our skill at engineering, one of our metrics is viewership. Get enough Diwar to follow us and it won’t matter if we fail spectacularly and blow something up. We’d at least come in higher than 11th percentile, if everyone following the competition followed us as a focus-team.”

Enshru snorted. “It sounds like you think this competition is one of those Human things where the Humans with big muscles pretend to wrestle each other! This isn’t about show business, it’s about making something that makes people take notice of us!”

“Which we have never accomplished before,” Rikwaal said, “and therefore, it really seems implausible that we’d manage it this time.”

“I like the idea of making a conveyance,” Irta complained. “We could make it a really sleek one. Give it some real power and maneuverability.”

“We’re not manufacturers of conveyances, dear boy,” Bakoon said in the most patronizing tone imaginable. “We’re manufacturers of spectacle. We’re here to impress! To have audacious ideas that no Diwar has had before – or has succeeded at, or has done as well at – and then to implement them in a tremendous way!” Every time he spoke with emphasis, Bakoon’s crest fluffed. His large-arms gesticulated wildly as he strutted. “We need something fantastic, something spectacular!”

“So that, even if we fail miserably, everyone tunes in to watch us blow ourselves up?” Enshru said.

“Well, by preference I would rather not explode, but yes, that’s the idea.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Le’ir said. “This may sound like a stupid idea…”

“Oh, go ahead,” Enshru said. “It can’t be worse than Irta’s conveyances.”

“Hey!”

“I think we should bring in a Human.”

Bakoon, who’d been dipping his beak-like snout into his wine glass, spat out everything that was in his mouth. “What?”

“You’re right,” Irta said. “That does sound like a stupid idea.”

“Hate to agree with Irta,” Enshru said, “but when he’s right…”

“Please share with me the name of your supplier,” Bakoon said. “It’s evident that your drugs are of the highest quality.”

Rikwaal cocked her head to the side. “Well, now. You wanted spectacle, and let’s be honest; it’s not as if adding a Human could make this team any worse.”

“Hear me out,” Le’ir said. “All sarcasm aside, we know our skills aren’t up to 11th percentile; we’ve come in last for four years.”

“We did better five years ago,” Enshru said.

“That was five years ago. Either the competitors are getting tougher or we’re getting weaker. Not the point. Now, the metrics are based on three factors, right? The creativity of the idea, the skill of the implementation, and the degree to which the audience is following us specifically.”

“Thank you for explaining things we all already know.” Enshru lifted her head and tilted it sideways, her sharp eyes focusing on Le’ir. “I am sure none of us had any idea how this competition we’ve been performing in for nearly a decade now works.”

Le’ir huffed. “Let me talk, Enshru.” He glared back at her. She reached her left small-arm over to her left large-arm and began grooming the feathers there, backing down while pretending not to have lost face. “So. Skill of implementation’s worth the most, obviously, and that’s where we have our greatest weakness. But if we could do really well on the other two, we’d have a chance. And Humans are well known to take shortcuts, and use, mm, creative means of getting around limitations.”

“You mean human-rigging their stuff?” Irta smirked.

“That’s racist, Irta,” Rikwaal said coolly, making it clear that she didn’t care but as the project manager she had to pretend to.

“Oh, come on, they’re so known for it we named it for them.”

“Yes, that would be the racist part.”

“So they’d be a focus of interest just for that. What crazy idea will the Human come up with? What stupid and yet feasible methods will they implement? Will they go the long way around in a really entertaining way? Will they use nonsensical materials and overengineer it so they work? Or is it going to blow up in their, and our, faces?”

“Hmm,” Bakoon said. “I’m beginning to see where you’re going with this.”

“Plus, a Human has never been on one of our teams before. I think we’ve only ever had two aliens, ever, and neither of them were Human. So they’ll be interesting for that reason.”

“Do you think we can possibly get enough points just from views that it’ll compensate for poor skill and lack of creative ideas?” Rikwaal asked – not sarcastically, but as if she genuinely thought he was considering that idea, and wondering if she should too.

“No, because lack of creative ideas won’t be a problem. We’ll have a Human. Creative ideas are what they’re known for.”

“Creative, completely impractical ideas,” Enshru said.

“But gloriously impractical!” Bakoon said. “Yes, I see what you’re thinking, Le’ir. A Human’s creativity, plus the engineering skills of a team of Diwar… even if our implementation fails spectacularly, we’ll gain enough from creativity and from the curiosity value of a Human competing that we’ll stand a chance! And if we should not fail at implementation, because the Human gives us ridiculous ideas that work nonetheless and then we work them out with Diwar rigor, we may enter the 20th or 30th percentile. Comfortably.”

“I don’t like it! It’s making a mockery of the whole competition!” Irta complained.

“Well, let’s vote on it,” Le’ir said reasonably.

Le’ir, Bakoon and Rikwaal all voted yes. Irta and Enshru voted no.

“That settles that, then,” Rikwaal said.

“Wait!” Irta said. “We never asked Mip! For something like this? Working with a human? Having to make sure they have the right food and the right bathroom facilities available? We have to give Mip a vote!”

Mip was an engineer of a completely different type – he was the facilities guy, managing the computational arrays, the food service, the cleanliness of the workspace. Irta had a good point – Mip would be one of the ones most impacted by the presence of an alien.

However, when they brought him upstairs to vote and explained the situation to him, he said, “You dragged me away from my work for this? Unbelievable.”

“But you get a vote,” Irta said. “You’d be the one to have to do all the extra work if we bring on a human!”

“I’d be doing extra work if you expanded the team to add another Diwar, too,” Mip said, “and don’t pretend you care about my workload, Mr. I’m-going-to-shed-my-feathers-all-over-the-arrays. Do whatever you guys want, I don’t care if you want a Human or a giant frog.” (Technically he did not say frog; the creature he was referring to was an aquatic reptile rather than an amphibian, and usually the size of a Human head, but in most other respects it strongly resembled a frog.) “Just let me get back to my work.”

As he stomped off, making sure they could hear every clatter of his talons on the deck plating, Bakoon said, “So, Le’ir, my boy. Let’s talk. How were you planning to recruit your Human?”

“I hadn’t really thought that far,” Le’ir said. “I wasn’t sure you guys would agree.”

“And personally, I don’t,” Enshru said.

“Yes, yes, we know, Enshru. You’ve made your opinion abundantly clear,” Bakoon said. “Well. My family has trade dealings with Humans; I’ve dealt with them often. Let me be the one to find a Human for the team.”

“This is a bad idea,” Irta said, “and it’ll probably end badly.”

Rikwaal smirked. “But it’ll be such fun to watch before it does.”

#inktober 2019 #alara original writing #kai diwar universe #humans are weird

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