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sweetchup · 3 years

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Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

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Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 7

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 3,000+

Masterlist

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A loud creak fills the night air as you make your way through the empty halls. You feel yourself freeze for a second, holding your breath as you listen for any signs of movement. For any signs that someone else would be in the halls as well. Thankfully no one was actually there and, once you deem it is safe to continue, you round the corner to the staircase.

Tonight marks your third day staying here. Well, technically five days but you don’t count the two you were unconscious. Even though you had asked, as well as begged, Marine to take you to see Triton on that first day he wouldn’t allow it.

“My Lady, You must stay in bed! You are still injured!”

“Please, My Lady! Master Triton is fine.”

“Lord Poseidon would behead me if he saw you up already!”

Which has led you to this. Sneaking out at the bleak of midnight to make your way to Triton’s Manor. Thankfully, yet also not, Poseidon doesn’t station knights in the Manors so you could easily make your way through the halls.

Sorry about this Marine…

You felt bad about tricking Marine like this—You could already imagine the heart attack the poor fish would get once it realized you had disappeared—But you couldn’t stay in that room for one more moment. All day, every day, for the past three days it was all about Poseidon’s and your’s picture perfect fairy tale love story.

Apparently, all of the servants, and you meant all, believed that you had stolen their dear lord’s heart and to protect you from the wicked Amphitrite he allowed you to take care of his son. So when Marissa—who was apparently Triton’s aunt on Amphrite’s side—tried to attack you, Poseidon was so worried about your safety that he made you stay in his kingdom instead. They said it was the love story of the millennium…

Honestly, they couldn’t have gotten more off from what really happened.

“Finally…” You gasp out as you see the exit in sight. Traveling across the vacant grand entrance, you stand in front of the cold stone door. It’s pure size and golden details makes you pause from grabbing onto its handle.

You can do this…

Taking a deep breath, you finally grasp the metal handle and give it a pull.

“It weighs so much…” You mumble to yourself as you put your whole body weight behind your next tug. No wonder Triton was so strong, these doors were no joke. If it weren’t for the fact you were underwater and it made things lighter, you, in no way, would be able to open this door.

If only that magical shield, or whatever it’s called, that was around the whole palace area wasn’t in place. That stupid thing that actually allowed gravity and no magic spells inside its area. You could have just swam out an open window instead of going through all this trouble.

But, what can you do... It’s not like you could actually boss Poseidon around. You were sure that you were on the last straw with that guy.

“Woah…” You gasp out as you peeked outside from the open door that was now wide enough to be able to slip outside.

Due to Atlantis—where Poseidon’s Castle was located—being on the ocean floor, the moon was able to shine down far enough. Leaving the place often dark with only lanterns or other god made items for light. Well, that’s based on what you saw from inside the manor.

Outside was a totally different story.

Angular fish, Jellyfish, Squids, Luminous Shrimps. All of them covered the night sea in a blurry of glowful colors in front of you. It looked like billions of stars in the night sky. Except for the fact they were actually closer to you.

“A Human…?” A squeaky voice calls out. Startled, you look around in confusion and it takes you a moment to realize that one of the Luminous Shrimp was calling out to you. As you raise your hand for it to latch onto your finger, making you let out a small giggle from its front antenna tickling at your skin, it gains the attention of the rest of the swarm of shrimp that were swimming nearby.

“A Human?”

“It really is.”

“Is she Lord Poseidon’s new bride?”

“What was her name again?”

“(Y/n)? Right?”

“(Y/n).” All the shrimp begin to chant as they swim over and tickle at your skin.

“H-hey!” You giggle out, twitching and wrinkling at the strange feeling. Your stomach beginning to hurt as the small giggles turn to full scale laughter. “That tickles..!”

The shrimp continue to tickle you for a couple of more moments—along with chanting words of praises for their ‘new lady’—before suddenly swimming off in a hurry.

“H-Hey where are you running off—“ Your voice pauses as your back suddenly hits something hard. “Wh—..”

As you spin your head around to take a look at what you had bumped into, you freeze on the spot. Oh what good luck you seem to have…

“P-Poseidon…”

At the call of his name, you see the said Sea God’s eyebrow twitch slightly under the light glow of the sea creatures. Ah. You forgot you weren’t supposed to address Gods so casually. Especially him.

“I-I mean, Good Evening Lord Poseidon…”

The cold look on the God’s face doesn’t change as he continues to stare daggers down at you but it at least seems less menacing now. Perhaps it was your internal survival instincts thanking you for avoiding death once again.

…

Ah, this is awkward.

“M-May I help you, Lord?” You ask Poseidon as he continues to stare at you. You were hoping for some sort of response or answer to make the atmosphere less awkward but all you got was a scoff in response. The only thing out of said exchange that didn’t make you angry was how he drifted his gaze away from you and onto the floating sea creatures instead. Just thankful to get his piercing gaze off of you.

What was this guy’s deal?

Not wanting to spend another moment with the rude fish god, you turn and walk away. As your feet tread the last couple of steps of the stone stairs and onto the path, you find yourself looking at the sea grass that stood just yonder of it.

This must have been the area that was originally meant to be used as that ginormous garden as, compared to the rest of the surrounding area, the sea grass stretched out for yards in front of you. Honestly, you guessed two whole soccer fields could squeeze inside the vast circular field in front of you.

Actually, as you stared at the sea grass that seemed to dance in the tide of the sea, you wondered if it was anything like normal grass.

“Ah!” You can’t help but let out as you place one bare foot onto the field. It was soft, extremely soft. You would even compare it to the feeling of silk with its smooth and chill-like feeling.

“Human…”

At the call you tilt your head upwards to come face to face with a giant jellyfish. When did that get there? Also, why did it come down in the first place? The rest of the jellyfish were drifting much higher up. About roof height even.

“Human…” The jellyfish calls again, this time stretching one of its tentacles out towards you. Its smooth purple like texture makes you entranced by it. Ah, was it asking you to shake its hand?

“H-Hello—“

Just as you stretch your hand out to clasp the jellyfish’s, a hand on your wrist stops you. Instantly, you freeze as you recognize the green glove that was attached. Oh god, what did you do this time?

“L-Lord Poseidon-n I wasn-n’t— Gah!”

Instantly your head flies upwards back to the jellyfish as you hear its screeching. Poseidon’s other hand was holding the jellyfish head in a death-like grip. Based on the veins popping out from his arm it was like he was trying to squeeze the jellyfish into mush.

“Lord Po—“ You are cut off as Poseidon’s chilling voice resounds out next to your ear.

“You weren’t trying to do what?” You feel yourself calming down slightly as you realize he wasn’t addressing you. Though it wasn’t by much as you were still pressed against the strong god as he berated the jellyfish in front of you, “Insolent creature. Know your place.”

“I-It was only trying to shake my hand!” You shout out as you turn your gaze up to the god. His chilling blue eyes almost making you want to back down if it wasn’t for the fact you knew you couldn’t. It wasn’t right of him to punish a poor creature that just wanted to greet you.

“Shake your hand?” Poseidon chillingly repeats, a small chuckle laced in at the end as if he finds the situation to be humorous. Slightly, the god tilts his head down. Just close enough to whisper in your ear, “Human. Open those pathetic eyes of yours and take a hard look at my hand.”

Although you were taken aback by Poseidon’s harsh words, you still turn your gaze to look at his hand. Oh. Although his hand was mostly covered by his glove, you could still see the searing red bumps and lashes that decorated across his fingertips.

“Not only that.” Poseidon whispers again, making you jump slightly, “This jellyfish is deadly poisonous for humans.”

“Lord Poseidon-n. I beg for your forgiveness. I only did this because Lady Am—“

“Shut up.” You wince and shut your eyes close as Poseidon encloses his grip on the jellyfish. Crushing its head in a grueling squish. Even though you saw Marissa decapitated less than a week ago, you still find yourself shaking out in fear. Unable to find it in you to open your eyes.

“Tch. Pathetic…”

At first you thought Poseidon was addressing the now deceased jellyfish but you soon find out he wasn’t. Letting out a small squeak, your eyes fly open instantly as Poseidon hauls you up into his arms. Though, you soon regret that decision as your gaze locks instantly onto the corpse of the jellyfish.

Shutting your eyes once again, you shakily lean against Poseidon as you attempt to dull the sickly feeling settling in your stomach. Not even bothering to question or ask where he could possibly be taking you.

It is only when you hear the loud squeak of a door being open that you open your eyes. Looking over Poseidon's shoulder as he ventures further into the building, you try to find out where you were. From what you could see, it definitely wasn’t your Manor as the halls were far too grand. With floor to ceiling grand windows, marble floors, and intricate works of art, it left you speechless.

It is only when your gaze locks with one of the many photos on the walls that you finally realize where you were.

“Are we in Triton’s Manor?”

Poseidon doesn’t give you a response but you pass by more photos and paintings of Triton, you knew your assumptions were correct.

But,…

Pressing a hand on Poseidon’s chest you lean backwards to stare at the god. His eyes continue to face forward, seeming to stare right through your torso that stood in front of him as he doesn’t even bother to gaze up at you, “Poseidon… Why are you helping me?”

Once again, Poseidon doesn’t respond, only giving you a small glance upwards as so to give a glare to show his distaste in how you did not address him properly. You swore this guy changed his mind so much it was giving you whiplash. He decides at one point to full on ignore you and the next to save you from impending danger.

“I thought you wanted me dead.”

This time Poseidon actually reacts as he pauses in his movement and his eyes turn to gaze up at you. Their cold glory makes you flinch at his emotionless gaze.

How did Triton come from this man…

“You wanted to kill me as you dragged me underwater with Triton, right?”

A long pause fills the air before Poseidon finally responds.

“I do.”

You feel the need to flinch under the harshness of his words but don’t. You knew you couldn’t. He wasn’t saying ‘I do’ because he wanted to kill you in the past. No. He would have said ‘I did’ if that was the case. Even as he saved you from the jellyfish. Even as he was currently holding you in his arms, Poseidon still wanted to kill you. He still had the desire to.

But…

Why are you still alive then?

“Stop thinking.” Poseidon coldly orders as his eyebrows twitch lightly in annoyance. As if he knew what you were thinking, he continued to answer. “You are alive because you need to be. When you aren’t worthy to me anymore, I’ll throw you away. It’s as simple as that.”

Poseidon continues to stare up at you, seeming to wait for any more peeps out of you before venturing on. He grunts a little as you fall back in his arms, your chin resting on his shoulder as you look around at the items that decorate the halls. The warmth leaking from your body through your nightwear makes him freeze slightly but he doesn’t say anything. Choosing for once not to voice his disgust outloud and instead looking at the items that decorate the halls as well.

Soft…

Poseidon’s fingers twitch slightly as he accidentally graces your warm skin that was hidden under the shirt of your nightwear.

Stupid…

His mind instantly ridiculed and pummeled down the disgusting thoughts that clogged his mind. Especially over the fact that he, of all gods, shouldn’t be intrigued over the softness and warmth of a human.

“Tch. We are here.” Poseidon grumbles out as he finally rounds the corner and opens the door to Triton’s room.

Yet, even though Poseidon thought it would all be over if he reaches Triton’s room and places you down, he comes face to face with another problem.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Poseidon snapped out. Even though you came all this way, and caused a lot of bothersome troubles in the process, you only leave his side for a second to check up on Triton before coming right back. Did you not care about his s—

Instantly, Poseidon stomps that thought out of his mind.

“Your wounds. You’ll need help patching them up.” You bluntly told the god. Even though you had flinched at his outburst seconds earlier, you still reach forward to grab his hand. Did you want him to kill you?

Poseidon retracts his hand and glares down at you.

“I do not need your help.”

“Bu—“

“Gods… have no need for armies. No need for betrayal. No need for support. Such are the gods. Ever since the beginning, we have been the perfect beings. I. Especially. Do. Not. Need. A. Human’s. Help.”

After Poseidon’s speech, there's a long pause. Out of the corner of his eye, Poseidon watches you walk away and believes you gave up. That is until he sees you drag a chair over near him, patting the seat in a gesture to get him to sit down that makes his nose wrinkle up in disgust.

“I—“

“It’s my fault.” You state, cutting Poseidon off as you stare back at him. Your sharp fiery gaze unwavering as they stare back into his cold emotionless ones. “You don’t need my help since you are perfect but… it’s my fault. So I owe you one. So give me your hand so we are even. If Gods have no need for support then they have no need for favors as well. Right—“

“Shut up.” Poseidon barks out coldly. Giving you a harsh glare before, surprisingly, sitting down in the chair. For a second, Poseidon feels his hand twitch as he sees the surprised look on your face, wanting to wipe that fowl look off your face but stops himself as you kneel down to examine his hand.

I’m getting too worked up from a stupid mortal, Poseidon thinks as he turns his gaze up to the ceiling as you pull off his glove. Seeming to begin to treat his wounds.

Stupid…

Poseidon feels himself grit his teeth as your hands softly graze up and down his. Examining it to see what must be done to treat the many wounds. He wonders if this was how you treat Triton’s woun— Stop. So carefully and—

“Stop.” Poseidon bellows as he pulls his hand away from your grasp. This was idiotic. What in the world was going on with him?

It’s just like the time when Triton was born.

Stop.

How warm he felt inside seeing—

STOP.

“Hey. I need to—“ As you grasp onto Poseidon’s hand once more, he instantly grabs the front of your shirt and throws you across the room. Thankfully you landed safely on Triton’s bed, only the wind knocked out of you but…

“M-Mom?”

My, I’ve never seen a look like that.

Poseidon feels his body freeze as his gaze comes in contact with Triton’s. The boy that was once peacefully sleeping now wide awake as he takes in the scene in front of him.

Hmmm… You sure secretly spoil a child you don’t care about.

“F-Father?” Poseidon feels his hand balls into fists as Triton calls that title towards him.

I know you won’t divorce me unless you want something to happen to your precious so—

The loud slamming of a door cuts Poseidon’s thoughts off and he finds himself out in the hallway.

Stupid…

All of this, everything, was stupid.

A perfect being. He was a perfect being. Gods have no need for armies. No need for betrayal. No need for support. Such are the gods. Ever since the beginning, we have been the perfect beings. We have no need for the herd... no need for scheming... and no need for support.

Such… are the gods.

Author Note: Oooo a lot happened this chapter. Especially a lot with Poseidon’s character. Feel free to discuss what you thought about this chapter and Poseidon’s inner monologue. I would love to hear about your opinion or answer any questions if you are confused on some parts.

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127 @fortuna-stella @icy-spicy

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #snv #record of ragnarok #bivalve

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writersrealmbts · 3 years

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Lonely Little Jack-o-Lantern

Description: Yoonkook x reader, Hybrid Au, Zombie Apocalypse Au. You operate your own little farm, living in an area that doesn’t have as many zombies as other areas, but one day a group of hybrids show up, and the changes are immediate, especially where Yoongi and Jungkook are concerned.

Warnings: Mild language, mild blood and gore (very mild)

Posted: 10/30/2020

Tags/Genre: Yoonkook x reader, hybrid au, zombie au

Sort of Fluff, Sort of Angst: 12,331 words

A/N: This is long as heck, so I hope you guys enjoy it, it’s not the normal zombie au type so bear with me, and I got caught up in details. All the details. But here is your story, @ditttiii, my baby bird. And It’s technically still the 29th, but I was formatting it anyway and thought, hey, only a few hours away for me! Happy almost halloween!

You walked carefully, furtively looking around.

Then you spotted it, lifting your machete….

And quickly sliced down and through it, cutting it off at the neck.

Severing it’s lifeline.

How else would you dispatch it?

You straightened up with a grin, putting your machete again. “Perfect! You’ll make a fine jack-o-lantern! And your buddy will make a fantastic pumpkin pie!”

The pumpkins didn’t respond, not that you expected them too.

You picked the smaller one up by the vine and cradled the other in your arm, humming happily as you headed back toward your home.

Sure, there was a zombie apocalypse going on. In fact, most people had retreated to the shelters and military safety zones.

But…you hadn’t actually seen another soul for a couple months, or a zombie since last spring.

Cold was surprisingly effective at getting rid of zombies. They had all migrated to warmer climates, except for the odd straggler that moved so poorly due to frostbite damage that you easily dispatched them.

You’d taken up residence in an abandoned farm-store, with an attached greenhouse that you utilized to maximize food production (plus several extra greenhouses a ways away which definitely helped, but you didn’t use all of them for obvious reasons). You went on your merry way, making enough food for yourself, plus extra just in case, and setting aside extra goods for anyone who happened to come your way. You’d give them shelter plus some dried foods to take with them as they journeyed onward, and they usually repaid you with a couple days of help around the farm or kitchen.

Heck, last summer, you’d hosted an impromptu wedding. The group had been traveling together, both families having been together to meet one another before the wedding, and the groom’s father was a priest. He basically ordained you before he left, even told you where to look for legal documentation at the courthouse for if you ever needed to conduct another wedding.

At this point, the ceremony was more of a comfort sort of thing. A long-held tradition to bring a sense of normalcy to the abnormality of the life everyone now lived.

You paused once you reached your home again, feeling as though something were off.

Slowly you lowered the one pumpkin to the ground, grabbing your machete again.

Then you spotted them. Five figures, moving slowly, just shapes at the moment.

You scooped up the pumpkin again and quickly went inside, putting up your defenses just in case after depositing your pick onto the floor. Then you went out around the back to secure your livestock, which mostly consisted of birds that you had adopted from the abandoned homes and farms around you, a few rabbits, three goats (that you honestly only sheltered for the night, they did their own thing and you let them), and a little piglet that a passing family had left with you a few months ago (the runt of the litter, very weak at the time but slowly growing under your care). You went down the street every morning to milk some of the cows that lived there. You didn’t know enough about them to fully care for them, so you weren’t entirely certain what to do for them, but there was a farmer that came up once or twice a summer to check on you and the cows, and the small herd of cows hadn’t suffered yet. And you had butter, cheeses (when you didn’t mess up the process), canned milk, condensed milk, sweetened condensed milk, and had even tried to make yogurt once or twice (it didn’t go well).

Your next foray would be trying to milk the goats, something you’ve been avoiding because you’d never liked the goat products your family had always pushed on you when you were younger, but desperate times and all.

But that depended on you protecting your home today.

They were moving pretty slowly for humans, but not quite as sluggishly as you would have expected of zombies.

You would have to wait until they were closer.

Whatever they were, they still hadn’t spotted you, even as they got within a 100 feet of you.

“Halt! Identify yourselves!” You called out, pointing the rifle at them.

They stopped, some of them raising their hands, most of them looking surprised.

“We’re just passing through, trying to find our way to the sanctuary!” One of them called.

All of them were men, which made alarms go off in your head.

“You know you’re going the wrong way, right?” You asked, really not buying that story.

Until they all drooped and started griping at each other in a foreign language.

“Hey!” You yelled. “Still waiting!”

“Right, sorry, sorry, um, we were at the Cherimo base, but it was being evacuated, and we were on a smaller plane and it crashed…and…we’re lost…” The one that had spoken before said.

You studied them for a while. You had heard over the radio that something was going on due to resource loss, but the signal had been fuzzy and you weren’t sure why they would….

Was that a tail?

Oh.

“Are you hybrids?” You asked, lowering the rifle carefully.

One of them nodded before the spokesperson, then nervously halted when he saw the others weren’t nodding.

You lowered your guard a little more. “Let me guess, autopilot failed?”

They all nodded this time.

It made sense. If there were limited resources, why wouldn’t they get rid of lifeforms they deemed less useful. Nevermind that so far hybrids had shown more immunity to whatever it was that made people zombies. If one of them were bitten or injured by a zombie, as long as they cleaned the wound thoroughly and quickly they wouldn’t turn.

“It…it seriously hurt one of our friends. The other stayed behind to take care of him, and we were supposed to find help. That was a couple days ago though….” The spokesperson said, voice trailing off or choking up.

You bit the inside of your lip, looking at your home from the corner of your eye, then sighing and putting the safety on. “Alright. I’ll get the truck ready, but if there are two people there, I can only take two extra people. The rest of you will have to stay here.”

“You’ll help us?” The spokesperson said, sounding completely surprised.

You nodded, heading toward the door to unlock it. “But there are going to be so many ground rules. First of all, I’m allowing you into my home, don’t make a mess of it. Drink as much water as you like, it’s clean, and I’ll cook something when I get back. But you can’t sleep here. It’s too dangerous for me. You can sleep in the greenhouse, or you could try the farmhouse down the street. I’ll make an exception for your injured friend and one other to keep him company. And I’m still going to be celebrating Halloween in a couple days, so deal with it.”

He was translating, but they already seemed to be agreeing.

You ushered them in while you got the keys to the truck. “Names?”

“Kim Namjoon,” The spokesperson said, “Fox is Jimin, Otter is Hoseok, red panda is Jungkook, and Taehyung is the bear.”

You paused to study him. “And what, exactly, are you?”

“White-nosed coati,” He answered, nervously.

You blinked at him, then shook your head and kept moving. Grabbing your first-aid kit (had you raided the emergency medical center a few miles from your home? yes, yes you had) and heading out to the truck, you didn’t bother looking to see who would join you.

It was Namjoon and the red panda, who thankfully looked strong. Jungkook?

They guided you back to where the plane had crashed, which wasn’t too hard after you got in the proximate area thanks to whoever it was that had stayed behind keeping a nice, smoky fire going.

But they hadn’t been joking.

Their friend was seriously injured.

The other looked up, obviously scared and desperate, relief visible when he smelled his friends, calling out to them in their language.

You hurried over, not caring about the snarl he emitted as you got close.

They had strapped him down carefully, so he couldn’t injure himself by moving, which was good, but….

“Yoongi, she’s here to help,” Namjoon said, more firmly.

You bit your lip. “Get him in the bed of the truck. We need to get him back to a clean environment, get him fully hydrated so that he can replenish any blood-loss, and then I’m going to have to clean and suture his wounds. Someone get the tailgate.”

The four of you quickly moved, but carefully got him into the truck and made sure he wouldn’t get jostled around too much. Then you drove carefully back to your home, parking as close to the door as possible.

You hopped out and hurried inside, rushing to the basement to grab some of the supplies you kept in the cold down there.

It was a slow process, especially since you kept double checking with the medical books and manuals that you were doing the right thing, but the other boys were patient. Namjoon reading it again aloud if you were uncertain, and reassuring Yoongi that you were being careful and doing your best.

So you had his wounds sanitized and stitched, had carefully given him some medicine to fight any infection that may have started despite the dedicated care Yoongi had provided, and all of you had decided that an I.V. was too dangerous to attempt without further research and verification.

And he was partially conscious by the time you finished, so you all just resolved to carefully give him lots of water (he was no longer strapped down, they knew his neck and back weren’t broken, they were just trying to keep him still), and he was carefully propped up in your guest bed by two in the afternoon.

You left Taehyung carefully giving him sips of water, closing the door softly to limit the stimulation.

“Thank you,” A voice said quietly, accent present.

You turned toward the voice and spotted Yoongi, head down. “No problem. He’s okay for now, I think. I’m not exactly a doctor or a nurse, but I’ve done everything I can.”

He nodded slowly, but you weren’t sure how much he actually understood. You thought he must have understood most of it, though.

You nodded as well, then took a deep breath…and turned away, heading for the kitchen. “Let’s get you all something to eat.”

They hesitantly followed you into the kitchen, peeking around furtively, and sticking to the spots that seemed to be out of the way.

You glanced at them, then grabbed a couple jars of chicken broth. “Well, are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

“Help,” Yoongi said immediately, stiffly walking a little further into the room.

You nodded, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there are potatoes, carrots, and onions. I need two onions…eight red-skin potatoes…and ten carrots. Could one of you go into the greenhouse, through that door, and get me three stalks of celery?”

Namjoon relayed the message and Jungkook nodded eagerly, heading that way.

“Garlic?” Yoongi asked, bringing out the other things.

You contemplated, then shrugged. “Sure, but only one or two cloves.”

He nodded again and headed back into the closet.

You glanced at the other three, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there, rice. Fill this.” You set a measuring bowl out.

Jimin (?) nodded and took the bowl, heading in to find the rice.

You got the jumbo-sized pot out and some of the butter and oil, but didn’t turn it on yet.

Jungkook came back with the celery and you smiled your thanks, getting a cutting board and a knife to carefully cut it up. Then you turned on the stove on a low setting to let the celery cook a little longer.

You had Hoseok (?) peeling the carrots, with instructions on how to chop them afterward.

Namjoon was washing the potatoes.

Jimin was carefully washing the rice.

Yoongi was chopping the onions.

You set Jungkook to mincing the garlic so you could pay attention to the cooking celery, and trying to remember what else you put in the soup. “Jimin, can you go pick some spinach? Fill this bowl, the tiny spinach, though.” You set a bowl down on the counter.

Jimin looked uncertainly to Namjoon, who translated, then he nodded, and headed out into the greenhouse.

Hopefully he knew what the spinach looked like.

Yoongi brought you the onion and you dumped it into the pot.

“Can you go get green onion? Just a small one,” You asked.

He blinked, then nodded, heading out.

You grabbed some eggs setting them nearby for when the onions were ready, and accepting the garlic from Jungkook, but keeping it to the side for the moment.

You handed the spoon to Jungkook. “Stir now and then.”

He nodded confidently.

You grabbed a pan and some of your cherry peppers and mini-sweet peppers. You cut them into chunky pieces, not too big, then coated them in some oil and put them in the oven under the broiler for five minutes, initially.

Jimin came back with the spinach with Yoongi, who had the green onion you had requested.

Jimin took all of it to the sink to wash it, asking something in Korean.

“He wants to know what you need done with the rice and the spinach,” Namjoon translated.

“Spinach can be coarsely chopped, just keep the rice set aside. The potatoes can be cut, somewhat large…um…” You looked around, then pulled the pepper chunks out of the oven. “Slightly bigger than this.”

Namjoon translated.

Hoseok nodded, grabbing the scrubbed potatoes and waving Namjoon away.

You continued watching to make sure they understood, then nodded and went back, checking to see how the onions were cooking, then adding the garlic.

Jungkook looked curious, but also frustrated, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t entirely certain how.

You cracked half of the eggs into a dish to whisk them up, opting for more eggs since it meant more protein and you had a ton of them anyway. Then—pushing the onions, garlic and celery to one corner—you poured then eggs into the pot and then plonked the lid on for a couple minutes to let the egg cook a bit.

Jungkook stared at the lid, then looked at you, still seeming to lack the words to inquire.

You shrugged, gathering the peppers, and then quickly chopping the green onion, the green part a little bigger than the white, and tossed both of those into the pot when the egg seemed to be the right amount of cooked. Stirring carefully, not wanting to break up the eggs too much, but also wanting to let any uncooked egg have a chance and free the onions, garlic and celery from their eggy prison.

Dear god you hoped this would taste okay.

You boldly poured in the chicken broth, making sure nothing was clinging to the bottom. Then you added the rice, spinach and potatoes and left it to come back up to simmering while you pulled the extra chicken you had cooked out of your cooler. You had planned on making chicken stew, maybe cooking up some dumplings, but…you could tell they were hungry and this would be faster than chicken stew and less nitpicky.

You paused before starting to cut the chicken, quickly going to grab some seasoning and being very careful about measuring that up.

“What is this called?” Namjoon asked, gesturing to the pot.

“Would you believe chicken and rice soup?” You asked, going back to the chicken with a knife. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was kind of winging it. Hopefully it will taste okay.”

Yoongi gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “It’s not much. We don’t even know if it will be good.”

“Still,” Yoongi murmured, shrugging and looking away.

You quickly looked back down at the chicken. “You all are the first people I’ve seen in a couple months. Don’t get me wrong, I love living here. It’s probably safer than even the military zones. The zombies can’t withstand the winters and it makes them easy to dispatch.”

“Lonely,” Jungkook murmured.

You shrugged. “Even in a crowd, people have the ability to feel alone. I think actually being alone is better. Then at least I can’t resent others for not noticing me. It’s an apocalypse. At least I chose this life. No one forced it on me, not the apocalypse, not a plague. I chose this for myself. There’s a sort of satisfaction in that.”

Yoongi came beside you, cat-like eyes flickering over the chicken you were shredding. Then he met your curious gaze, holding it for a long moment.

“I suppose that makes me lucky,” You added. “To be able to decide my own life.”

He blinked slowly.

You shifted on your feet, unnerved.

“Uh, the pot….” Namjoon said, voice nervous.

You broke away from Yoongi’s gaze, and turned toward the pot.

It was boiling, so you turned down the heat for the moment and gave it a stir, then went back toward the chicken.

Yoongi had already taken over.

You stared for a moment, then went to wash your hands. “This place runs on solar power, and has a well. Normally, when I have people here they exchange work for a place to stay for a few days. Your friend is in no shape to be moving anywhere—”

“We’ll happily help you with anything you need,” Namjoon said quickly.

The others were nodding in agreement as he quickly translated, all looking scared and somewhat terrified.

You held your hands up to stop them before they continued down the panicky path they were treading. “I was just going to say, that you can stay as long as you need while your friend is recovering. I’m going to go check on your friends.”

They nodded.

Jungkook followed you out and into the bedroom again.

Taehyung and Jin were asleep.

You carefully closed the door, then studied Jungkook for a moment, noticing a tear in his shirt that looked pretty big. “Are you hurt?”

He glanced down, then looked sheepish and shrugged.

You pointed to a chair. “Shirt off.”

He carefully removed his shirt, obviously in pain from the gash on his ribs.

You could just hit him upside the head. All that lifting he did!

So you did. “Don’t do stupid things like lifting people when you’re injured.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you don’t know how much of it he understood, but his cheeks turned red and he looked away quickly.

You went and got water and a cloth, then knelt beside him to carefully clean the wound. You tried not to notice how well-muscled he was, or how he looked much less innocent like this. Sure, he still had an adorably bushy tail, but—

You flinched as a hand rested on your head, lightly stroking your hair, peeking up to see Jungkook mesmerized by your hair.

He grabbed your free hand, which you’d put out to balance yourself when he startled you, and brought it to his heart.

You could feel it racing, and you locked eyes with him.

He shyly looked away after a moment.

You swallowed hard, then finished cleaning his cut, wiping some antibiotic ointment on it carefully, and then bandaging the area. “There. No heavy lifting for a while. I see you overworking and we’re binding your whole ribcage.” You stood up and packed the first aid kit up again, then hurried back into the kitchen.

You stirred the pot, pulling some rice to test it. “Not yet. Tomorrow, I thought a few of us could venture to the local stores and get all of you some extra clothing and shoes and other supplies. Only those of you who aren’t injured, though. There are monsters hiding out in some of the stores still. That means no Jungkook, and no Jimin—I saw you limping.”

“Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, eyes widening.

You nodded, turning to glance at Jungkook as he followed you in, shirt back on. “He has a nasty cut on his ribs. He shouldn’t have been doing any of the lifting he did.”

All of them started ragging on Jungkook, who was sheepish.

Yoongi was over beside the red panda hybrid talking lowly, quickly, and somewhat sternly.

Jungkook nodded, slouching to rest his head on the cat’s shoulder.

You added the chicken to the pot to distract yourself. You’d never really met any hybrids, except a couple of your childhood friends’, but you figured the scenting you were witnessing was more of a private thing from the way the others sort of averted their gazes.

But you were also morbidly curious.

Yoongi came over a few minutes later. “Seokjin?”

“Sleeping still. It’s good for him to rest. How much English do you understand?” You asked, turning a little.

He sort of shrugged.

“Sorry I can’t speak your language,” You said a little more quietly.

He shrugged again. “You…nice. Keep going.”

You blinked at him for a moment, barely registering Jimin in the background making a lot of complaining-type noises. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but…thank you?”

He nodded, looking embarrassed, then mumbled something to Namjoon.

Namjoon looked reluctant.

You studied the room.

Namjoon finally turned to you. “Yoongi was wondering how much you understand about hybrid situations during this…pandemic.”

You carefully tasted the broth as you debated how to answer. “I know…that many hybrids have been used as…stress relief for certain clientele to boost morale. Illegally. Others trained as foot-soldiers in the war against zombies. Sent to a slaughter.”

“Yeah. We were transferred to Cherimo six months ago. We were more for shows than anything too….” He didn’t seem to know how to continue.

You stirred the pot nervously. “Shows?”

“Music,” He reassured you. “But…they were talking about us…taking on second jobs. Just before the crisis. Then we were determined to be expendable.”

You nodded. “I understand. Well, once you’ve recovered, we’ll see about getting you all set up on your own, where no one can determine what you can or can’t be. With any decency, you’ll never have to face such threats again.” You tasted the rice again and nodded firmly. “Well, threats from zombies always exist nowadays. Soup is done. Someone grab the bowls from that cupboard.”

Jungkook was hurrying to do as you asked, getting out the four bowls you had, and then looking worriedly in the cupboards.

You went over, opening the one he hadn’t looked in and pulling out assorted other bowls. “They’re all sort of scavenged. I’ve never really needed more than six bowls before today. Guess we should pick up more when we break into the store tomorrow. I think Seokjin should just have broth for now.”

Jimin nodded, taking the bowl of broth you’d ladled out and heading back toward the room.

You gestured for the other boys to get food for themselves, not exactly hungry yourself since you’d had a decent breakfast and instead opting to bring up your pumpkins. One to carve, one to eat. And then you’d also be able to roast any pumpkin seeds to munch on throughout the winter.

Jungkook, Yoongi, and Namjoon stayed in the kitchen while they ate, mostly watching you as you prepared to cut open the pumpkin you were going to carve.

“What…are you doing?” Jungkook asked carefully, quickly filling his mouth afterward.

“Making a jack-o-lantern. I’m going to gut this, then carve a face into it and pretend it’s a normal Halloween occurring in a couple of days.” You managed to get the knife through the thick rind, then carefully cut open the top of the pumpkin.

It took a while for Namjoon to translate since he’d been in the middle of inhaling his food, but after he did, Jungkook nodded, still looking curious.

Yoongi seemed indifferent, mostly muttering something that alerted Jungkook to the fact that his soup still existed, and giving Jungkook a big chunk of chicken.

“Where do you get things like flour and rice?”

You made a face. “Well, most of it I pilfered from stores. I was lucky to find this place early on, lived about a half-hour drive from here, and they had some things. There are stores equidistantly around here: One to the south, one to the north, and one to the east. West is more farmland and forest mix, as you probably surmised by the drive to your crash site. And there’s a farmer to the south that I do work exchange with. He grows wheat, corn, and sugar-beets, and helps me with some livestock. He in turn knows a guy to the east that’s been running some flour and sugar-beet processing, so he’s been providing me with some flour and sugar when he gets the chance.”

“And what do you do for him?”

You pointed to your basket of eggs. “His wife is allergic to feathers. I provide them with bird meat, and eggs. And I can grow things here throughout the winter, and I have a pretty efficient canning process going here. We just exchange goods and services. Nothing else. His son came with him once last winter. They were out of greens. Thankfully, I had enough for what they needed, and sent them home with plenty of greens and some extra goods to help them out. There are benefits to being a party of one, just as there are downfalls.”

“Being lonely,” Yoongi said quietly, not missing a beat and not looking your way.

You shrugged. “But I get a lot done. And I know that if I need company, it’s not terribly far to where his family is. The rule is to bring some goods though. Like, his wife came to visit me sometime in January—they have a horse and wagon that he rigged a heating system in—and she brought me a cherry pie. I spent Christmas with them, and took an apple and a pumpkin pie. That sort of thing. And if you guys settle near here, then we’ll probably do trades with you guys as well. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. What I’m saying…is that solitude isn’t quite so terrible when you know that there is someone around if you really need them.”

Jungkook had moved closer, watching you scrape out the pumpkin guts with clear curiosity.

You glanced at him again, then turned your attention to carefully cutting slices of pumpkin flesh from the inside of it, not wanting to waste any of it. You were determined to experiment more this year, try not to waste anything because it was…hard. Hard to make everything count, and with seven extra mouths eating you were going to need to make every bit count. You had multiple foods curing in the sun so that you could store them on the shelves in the basement, but still…even though you’d been doing this a while, it was always a curious thing trying to figure out if you had enough food for the winter. And it wasn’t as though you could do much about it with it being the end of October.

“How much warning did you get?” Namjoon asked, the first question he seemed to have himself.

You gave a half-laugh. “Well…we knew about the outbreaks in Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa…and my family was already taking it seriously. My parents decided to move out to live with my brother. I was still working, and printing off binders worth of information. No one ever thought to hit bookstores. My dad had started buying gas-tanks and filling two whenever he went to get gas. Left that for me since mom wanted to be by my brother and his family.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

You shrugged. “Half-brother? Not on the best terms. We would have killed each other. As it is, we talk on the sat-phones on Mother’s Day and Christmas. Everyone thought the world would shut down completely, but it didn’t. Anyway, I was banking on them surviving. As much as we don’t get along, my brother is a former marine and his neighbors are well spaced and consist of an older trapper and his wife, a marine buddy of his with his wife, and a cattle ranch. They’re doing great. And I got enough plants and seeds and information, not to mention people raced to get out of the area when they were told it was safest to get to a fort or the nearest Military zone. I hid in the basement for three days after that announcement, but nothing happened to me. I stayed at the house for a month after, packing the truck and trailer. I had my car still, with a full tank of gas, and I went around to see what things were like. There were still a few groups evacuating, but no one really paid attention to me. Met the owners of this place, asked if they were staying or going. They were older, and had been planning on selling the place before all of it went down. I gave them a wad of cash and a box of canned food, they gave me the keys. Everyone I did meet thought I was crazy. I was very careful about moving everything, and I kept everything locked up tight.”

“When did the zombies hit?”

“About this time that year. I remember because I thought it was ironic that the zombies would finally show up around Halloween. They were pretty bad that fall, and into December because it wasn’t as cold of a winter as normal. But January swooped in like a champ with below-freezing temperatures and lots of snow. I was lucky. Very lucky.” You finished picking the seeds out of the guts (at least, you were fairly certain you had removed all of them). “The cell towers were still work intermittently, so I can look up information quickly if I want. And the powerplants…they were still running until December. But hey, I’ve got three generators, and a crap-ton of car batteries for powering extra things, like the greenhouses.”

“Did you farm before this?”

You wrinkled your nose as you thought about it. “Honestly? Not to this extent. I’d thought about it, but the most we ever had was a vegetable garden and a couple of fruit trees. To say there was a learning curve would be an understatement. But I got through it.

“Scared,” Jungkook asked, gaze locked on you.

You shrugged. “Who isn’t? Would you like more soup?”

He looked at his bowl, then looked toward the pot.

“You guys can just help yourselves. I’ll probably eat later.” You picked the knife up again, seeing the end of the conversation in sight once more. Less distraction while holding a sharp object. Sure, what you were cutting out of your jack-o-lantern wasn’t going to be pretty, but you could roast the, up like fries and that would be really yummy. Or you could try to make a pumpkin spice something or other. You weren’t really sure what you would do with all of the pumpkin innards you were breaking out.

You just knew the shell was getting a face.

You paused, turning back to the egg basket. “I never let the animals out again.”

Someone followed you as you rushed out the back door to the small stable/barn/shed that you had shooed the animals into (that weren’t already secure in their own pens, mind), opening the doors to the fenced area for the pig and goats to run around, including your favorite pygmy goat that you honestly rescued just because it was cute. Whoever it was helped you shoo the ten chickens, two turkeys, three ducks, and one grumpy goose out into the bird run.

“Go on chicks. Guster! Get your tail-feathers through that door,” You scolded, picking up the grumpy goose and essentially tossing him through.

He landed just fine, honking angrily at you.

The ducks were happily settling near you, but you carefully shuffled them through the door.

The turkeys had gone through the moment you opened the door, the smarty-pants.

As for the peafowl in the pen on the other side of the property…well…as pretty as they were, you pretty much just fed them and cared for them because you felt bad for them. Sure, you had lot of pretty feathers for crafts in wintertime, but they were loud. And picky. And they ate so much, and needed warmer, dryer, well-kept pens.

But they were also very sweet and probably hand-raised because they always came right up to you.

Without a feed source to purchase for them, you hadn’t thought they would survive this long, but they were still plucking along. You let the male out during the hot days of summer to roam, but he always came back just in time for you to put clean water and whatever treat you’d scrounged up.

You’d let all of the birds out when you’d been tilling, letting them get the grubs and ants and other insects that were in your way.

The ducks would usually go down to the pond, but you’d just cleaned out their swimming pool, so you figured they would be fine as long as Guster didn’t decide they weren’t allowed to be there.

You would have to add more minnows to the pool.

There were so many things you hadn’t considered when you were setting up everything and rescuing the animals you did, that you just sort of figured out as you went. Like, hey! If you capture some minnows and raise them you can give them to your ducks and geese and they will adore you for centuries.

You had to raid the U-Haul and get a bigger transport vehicle, then raid a bunch of farm and pet supply stores. Then again that would use up a lot of gas as well.

“Uh…sheep?”

You turned around, looking at Jungkook, then at the goat that was trying to eat his shoe-laces. “Goat. Carl. Just push him.”

He did, and Carl plodded away.

Yoongi was also there, holding an egg and looking curious.

You glanced around, then grabbed an egg-carton. “Guess we should check for more eggs while we’re here.”

They nodded and helped you search, noses twitching and active as they explored the nooks and crannies.

Four eggs wasn’t bad considering you’d just collected eggs that morning. You’d put them in with the broody turkey. She’d hatched at least half of your chickens, and your third duck. She was your most valued asset.

The boys stood well-back while you carefully pushed her from her nest from behind, and placed the eggs before she could attack your hand, then closed the back hatch.

She was happily situated once more when you peeked in.

“Great. Okay. I need to make the trip across to the other pen, and then go down to see the cows this afternoon. But I need to show a couple of you what to do since we’ll probably be gone most of tomorrow,” You spoke, not really expecting a response.

Jungkook caught your wrist. “Me.”

“Alone?”

“You are alone.”

“But I’ve had practice. At least get Jimin and…who else is staying behind tomorrow? Besides Jin.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Jungkook and Jimin.”

You nodded. “Okay, then at least get Jimin to come see what to do as well. Don’t rush. We’re heading toward that building.”

He looked and nodded, then jogged away.

You huffed. “That boy.”

Yoongi made a soft sound, like he agreed but was also amused.

You turned to him. “Does it bother you when I just ramble on?”

He shook his head, a certain intensity in his gaze as he met your eyes that made it hard to continue meeting his gaze.

But impossible to look away.

His ears twitched, but they were angled toward you. His tail flicked as he stepped closer to you.

Warning lights went off in your head. Seven men. One girl. Alone.

You whipped around as fast as you could and started walking, grabbing the bucket of feed you’d prepared earlier. “Welp, let’s go. I’m sure they’ll catch up with us soon.”

And you swore you heard him hiss in surprise, and you just wanted to laugh at how ridiculous you were being and how ridiculous this situation was, but honestly who would have thought—

You squeaked in alarm dropping the bucket and running back toward the house to grab the rifle and the axe, then racing back toward your peacocks to save them from the zombie.

Yoongi gladly accepted the ax, hurrying after you, but also staying a good ways back so that you would have time to shoot the thing so he could chop it’s head off.

You’d become a very good shot in the past two years.

Yoongi looked like he might be sick after cutting its head off.

You didn’t blame him.

Wordlessly the two of you dragged it a place where you could bury it when you got the chance.

Jungkook and Jimin were there when you two returned, with Namjoon to translate.

Poor Namjoon.

When you were finally done instructing them on the peacocks, and the other animals on the property, you all headed down the street to the cows.

Jungkook fascinatedly touched the cows, while Jimin and Yoongi crouched beside you to learn.

And Yoongi was only gulping several times while he watched the milk tin you and Jimin filled, one cow after another.

The boys were also teasing him, and though he refused to give them much of a reaction, his cheeks were a little red and there was a twitch at the corners of his mouth that hinted at a smile and man that was adorable, especially with how his eyes closed slightly and his hair—

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Nope.

Nuhuh.

Stop it.

“So, what do you do with it now?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Take it home, separate the cream, pasteurize the milk. Then I’m either going to drink it or make something out of it.”

“Cool,” He replied, then translated, but you got the feeling that only Jimin really needed the translation as the two of them walked away, Jimin carrying the container effortlessly.

Jungkook and Yoongi walked with you, looking around at the farm while you got the cows some fresh hay, and inspecting the houses that the three of you walked past on your way back.

“Where did they go?” Jungkook asked carefully, looking at each abandoned house.

“I don’t know,” You answered quietly. You’d been to each house. When you finished your chores in the winter you amused yourself by inspecting the houses around you. Gathering furniture and supplies that you decided were needed.

“You live there,” Jungkook asked.

You shrugged. “Yeah. It made sense. Live where you work. I was just lucky that they had an extra room attached to the store area that I could turn into my room. I’ll probably just sleep in the kitchen, though. It’d pretty comfortable there once I set up the cot. Nice and warm.”

Jungkook paused by one of your smaller pumpkins that was sun-cured and awaiting transport to where it would be resting for winter or for later processing.

You paused as well, then picked it up. “Come on, panda boy. You can carve one too.”

Yoongi started purring but quickly coughed to cover it.

The other boys were distracted, talking with Taehyung quietly but animatedly, and the door to the room where Seokjin lay was propped open slightly. Seokjin was asleep and Taehyung was eating, cheeks bulging slightly from how much food he’d shoveled in.

Felt good to have your food appreciated, even if they were only eating it because they were half-starved.

Yoongi and Jungkook followed you into the kitchen (Yoongi moving the milk pails, that Jimin had left on the floor near the sink, onto the counter for you).

Jungkook went at his pumpkin carefully, but the one time he didn’t do something carefully he earned a low growl from Yoongi. He proceeded to stick his tongue out at the feline, and continuing carefully.

You pushed the bowl of seeded gut, unseeded guts, and seeds toward Yoongi with a grin.

He winced, but didn’t fight it. He did get a fork and spoon to help him sift through though.

Jungkook hummed as he worked, filling the slight-awkward-slightly-comfortable silence, sometimes murmuring a word or two in Korean.

And you believed that they’d been in the music industry, because there was no way they would pass up the chance for a rare hybrid that could also sing. And Red panda hybrids were rare.

There hadn’t been much of a hybrid-culture around you growing up, so you were aware of it, and had met a few hybrids that were therapy hybrids, but you’d never had significant exposure to them aside from your one road trip with you friends when you broke down in a hybrid town. The hybrid women that came to your rescue been extremely kind to you and your friend and had gotten you on the road again. But they’d told you to avoid hybrid males, “For everyone’s sake” and now…you still weren’t certain what it meant.

You wondered how they were doing during this apocalypse. They’d probably just stayed put and established more defenses. They were already mostly self-sustaining, with their own power supply and water system. Most people wouldn’t have even passed through there unless they were very, very lost.

“There’s a hybrid town…there was a hybrid town, to the east of here. There were completely self-sustaining. After your friend heals up, you might want to head that way,” You said in the silence after Jungkook finished his song. You were finished with your jack-o-lantern, just peeling the skin off of the bits you had carved out to add to the pile of salvaged pumpkin flesh.

Jungkook went rigid, and his tail fluffed out.

Yoongi also looked…tense.

“Or not. Do whatever you guys want,” You quickly added, a little alarmed at how alarmed they got. You’d just wanted to let them know that there was somewhere they might have a better chance. They’d said they wanted to go to the nearest safety zone, but that would also mean returning to servitude, discrimination, and possibly worse things.

Jungkook and Yoongi started having a rapid conversation over the workspace, Jungkook looking desperate and despairing, Yoongi looking uneasy and reluctant and adamant.

You weren’t sure what it was you had said, but they seemed to be quickly heading toward some sort of dispute and Jungkook suddenly turned adamant as well and Yoongi got a fed-up look.

“Namjoonie-hyung!” Jungkook finally called loudly, slamming the knife he had been using down on the counter and turning to head toward the main room.

Yoongi’s eyes widened and he hurried after the panda. “Yah, Jungkook-ah.”

You watched them go, then quickly grabbed the knives and put them in the sink in case they came back. Then you started sorting the seeds out of the guts of Jungkook’s pumpkin as the debate appeared to continue in the next room with lots of shushing.

You really wished you’d gotten more language textbooks and dictionaries. But honestly, there was no way you could have foreseen needing to know Korean.

———

Seokjin was already looking better the next morning, and more aware. Taehyung was carefully feeding him, and between the two of them they managed to tell you about the other pains—possibly broken bones—that Seokjin had. But all you could really do about them (aside from feel them and see if you could feel any displacement, which you didn’t) was splint them and tell him to not take any risks. Unfortunately, at least one of his legs appeared to be broken. You had a brace that he went into comfortable, but that was the best you could do for him.

At least they weren’t avoiding you like the others.

You weren’t sure what it was that you had said that set them off, but, after the…discussion yesterday afternoon, most of the boys sort of avoided you. Looked nervous.

But as it got later in the morning, you gathered and loaded some supplies into the truck. You’d already hooked up the trailer

Jungkook met you there, looking determined.

“No,” You said firmly. “I told you, no injured people on this trip. Too dangerous.”

His brow furrowed.

“No,” You repeated. You were not going to be fought on this. No way.

Finally he stalked away.

You wished you felt victorious.

Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung were set to go with you—though Taehyung appeared to be giving very detailed instructions to Jimin and Jungkook about Jin’s care—and soon packed into the vehicle.

It was very awkward. Yoongi sat in the back with Hoseok, but he wouldn’t look at you.

Namjoon and Taehyung were crammed in the front and Taehyung had apparently tired of practicing his English because he was talking with Namjoon.

Your hand went to the pocket with the list of things you wanted to look for, as if the list would reassure you that everything was okay.

You could feel someone’s gaze burning into you, and you knew who it was without looking.

You knew it was Yoongi.

You just wished you knew why.

You’d gone east, since that town was fractionally closer, easier to navigate, and hadn’t been raided as much.

“What’s the plan?” Namjoon asked as the houses started giving way to more business stuff.

You started to reply, then pulled into the hospital that was there (just a random specialist center, not a full one, but you thought it still might have some things you could use). “First we see if we can find Seokjin a wheelchair, crutches, or more braces—anything that might help. You have your weapons?”

They nodded.

You parked the vehicle, studying the building for a moment. “Okay. We stick together. Two people look, the other three guard. Got it?”

A smattering of agreements and a queasy nod from Hoseok let you know that they agreed.

“Hoseok and Yoongi, you want to look for the equipment?”

They nodded, though Yoongi was slightly more reluctant.

“Yoongi thinks I should help look for equipment and he should help guard.”

You gave Namjoon a quizzical look.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I’m a little clumsy. They call me the god of destruction. He doesn’t want me to destroy everyone.”

You nodded. “Okay. Also, guys, if you see medical things that will fit in our bags, go ahead and carefully grab it. Especially gloves.”

He nodded, translating for everyone, then listening to a few follow ups. “Okay, so, just to be sure we’re all on, uh, the same page—Hoseok and I search and gather large and small supplies. Taehyung and Yoongi guard, but also grab things as they see them, and you’re guarding and searching as well?”

“That is correct,” You answered, curious. Had that not been clear? “I mean, I can also push one of the carts we brought but…I don’t even know if this place will have zombies. It was mostly an rehab center for old people, and I mostly think we’ll find gloves and hopefully a wheelchair or walker.” You shrugged.

Famous last words?

There were definitely a few zombies.

And by a few, you mean a few dozen.

Also, Hoseok was completely terrified of both the zombies and his weapons. No wonder he looked queasy.

You found a room that was empty and the five of you managed to get inside without zombies , locking and then barricading the door so you all could catch your breath and double check for injuries.

Yoongi grabbed you, moving you around and frantically checking you over, then sighing wordlessly.

“I’m fine. Were any of you hurt?” You asked, trying to visually assess Yoongi since he blocked your view of the others.

“We’re good, Tae had a close call, but he wasn’t bitten.”

Hoseok moved into your line of sight and pulled on Yoongi’s shirt, which somehow effectively pulled him away from you.

Which was good.

You were starting to feel a little nervous.

“Wheelchair!” Taehyung suddenly shouted, all signs of fatigue gone as he rushed toward a whole stack of them.

You looked around at the supplies, then met Namjoon’s gaze. “I guess this would be the supply room.”

Namjoon just grinned.

All of you quickly dispersed to fill your bags with supplies, Namjoon grabbing the different braces and checking how big they were, Hoseok carefully grabbing boxes of gloves and carefully looking over bandaging and such, and Taehyung still playing with the wheelchair.

Yoongi was trying to decipher the labels on the medicine.

You started bagging rubbing alcohol, peroxide, other creams and liquids that you recognized.

Which led to you being beside Yoongi helping grab medicines.

Yoongi seemed to look you over again. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” You answered again, shrugging.

Yoongi nodded, then showed you a label.

You nodded, then went to check on the other boys.

But Yoongi stopped you, a strange desperation in his eyes. “Stay by me,” He said firmly, anxiously.

You stared into his eyes for a moment.

“When leave, stay by me. Please,” He begged, grip on you tight.

You weren’t certain what it was about the way he asked, but the moment he asked, you knew you would say yes. “Okay. When we leave.”

All of you jumped when something banged on the door, but it didn’t sound forceful, and a glance toward the door proved that it was just one of the zombies lightly hitting the door with a cane. Geriatric zombies, those were a thing now. Zombies who used canes and possibly walkers.

Now if only they weren’t interspersed with other zombies that didn’t need such aids, getting out of there would be a cake-walk.

But like most of your life since the pandemic, of course it wouldn’t be easy.

“He should be fine,” Namjoon reassured you, pouring more peroxide over the nasty bite and ignoring Yoongi’s growl of pain.

“Why would he do that?” You asked in a whisper, shaken to your core. The five of you were in a different parking lot now, treating his bite since the coast was clear.

The boys just exchanged glances, then shrugged or muttered something.

“Well…he can take a bite and survive as long as we sanitize fast enough, whereas if you were bitten…that’d be it for you,” Namjoon said carefully, watching as Hoseok meticulously cleaned the wound and then applied antibiotic cream. “It’s preferable.”

“It’s still dangerous,” You whispered, then scanned the surroundings again for any interlopers. “And we’ll give him some antivirals just in case. I still don’t understand why…why he acts the way he does around me. One minute he won’t look at me, and the next he’s getting bit by a zombie so that I won’t be bitten.”

Namjoon looked uncomfortable, like he was hiding something.

Hoseok’s gaze darted up at you, and Yoongi was definitely looking a little red.

Taehyung was checking out the store-fronts, only a couple of steps away from the group. He pointed at one of the stores. “Why…why?”

You followed his gaze, noticing the door that you had marked. “I did that. I barricaded it and marked it. The back door too. I cleared it out. It’s safe to go in there. We’ll get you guys clothing, shoes, coats, and other extra things. But they may have gotten in through the back, so we should secure that before we start grabbing things. And I get to approve of the coats, because there’s a certain type you’ll need to make it through a winter here. Hats. Scarves. Gloves. Blankets. Sheets. Pots and pans. Dishes. You should stay in the truck,” You said pointedly, looking at Yoongi.

He rebelliously looked back, stubbornness in his features. “No. You go, I go.”

You huffed, and folded your arms, but you weren’t about to fight him as well. “Fine, but you’re staying back.”

His eyes narrowed, but that was the only response he seemed to give you.

Once Hoseok had bandaged it, and used one of the compression sleeves you all had liberated from rehab center to hold the bandaging in place and give it more protection, all of you carefully removed your barrier and then cautiously entered the store.

But the barricade on the back door was still in-tact, so you all blocked up the front door for while you were shopping, and each of you took a grocery cart or two with you. You went to the kitchen stuff first and filled a cart, then the home goods stuff and filled a cart. Checked on the boys, but they were trying on clothes and shoes together and seeming to discuss the sizes of the others.

So you went and got yourself some more clothing, your gaze continually catching on the night clothes and intimates.

But that was ridiculous. You didn’t need that stuff. You had no one to impress or dress for.

Then again….

After you put those carefully packed suitcases near the front with the carts you’d filled, then started going through coats, grabbing a few for yourself, but mostly pulling options for the hybrids. The warmest brands. Sturdy ones.

You flinched and jumped at the sound of someone sighing just behind you, staring at Yoongi as he examined one of the coats you’d set aside.

Yoongi met your gaze, looked back to the coat, then stepped closer to you. In your space.

You held your breath as he held you in his stare.

He stepped closer, body right next to yours, and then he ducked and tucked his face against your neck.

You froze, feeling his nose brush against your neck, his furry ears tickling your cheek.

Then his lips pressed to your skin and he pulled away, hand resting on the other side of your face, cupping it so that you didn’t look away as he pulled back.

After a second, amusement sparkled in his eyes and he smirked slightly.

Then he was walking away.

And you were frozen. Absolutely frozen.

Because what the hell was that.

Once you had a coat for each of them, including the ones that were waiting at home, they all sort of went to explore since they could.

You grabbed hats and gloves, some beauty products that it carried (which weren’t numerous). Socks. Boots for when yours wore out.

Then you and the boys carefully packed everything into the trailer before heading over to a farm store that you’d raided and secured before.

Except this time you had extra muscle power to load those wood-burning stoves into your trailer. And extra lumber, chicken wire and other fencing supplies, tools, oils, kerosene, butane, propane, rope, nails, screws, sleeping bags, tents, flashlights and lamps, brooders, feeders and waterers for all of your animals, extra chicken coops and rabbit hutches and just so many different and various things you needed or would need. And lots of seeds. And heavy duty work-boots, overalls, and other labor gear for everyone (yourself included, because you would wear through those boots eventually and your father had drilled in you the importance of good footwear).

Not because you couldn’t come back. With the gas you’d managed to salvage, you probably had enough for another eight trips if you kept decent speeds and your car stayed maintained. And your neighbor had been talking about rigging vehicles with alternate fuel sources, so if he ever got that working….

But you had to assume that he wouldn’t, which meant getting as much as you could while you were in town.

Which is why you thought it couldn’t hurt to see if that little oriental market that had been near there had anything that kept that they might enjoy. But it was smaller, so you told them only one other person could go in with you and still be able to fight, and that you’d prefer it be Namjoon since the two of you could communicate more easily.

There was extreme reluctance, especially since you hadn’t specified where you were going and there were several stores in that plaza, but with the walkie talkies that you all had acquired they finally agreed.

And you got five sacks of rice that still seemed to be okay.

Then you guys hit the plaza with two big-box stores. Getting storage containers, mattresses (because none of you trusted the mattresses left behind in the houses, and the boys insisted if they get one [bless them, they planned on sharing one] that you get one as well and Yoongi wouldn’t let you say no so you made them get two mattresses for themselves), and then you all split up to search the many food isles for unexpired goods.

And of course you got paired with Yoongi.

Neither of you said anything as you started walking up and down the isles, you pushing the cart because he was insisting on being the guard. Not that you guys thought there might still be zombies lurking around (you highly doubted there would be any still hiding after the way Taehyung had run around yelling happily once the group had finished killing the four or five zombies that were in there), but it was better to be safe than sorry.

So there you were, chucking snacks that had been chock-full of preservatives into the cart, and wondering if the cereals would be stale or if they could still be good after two years.

Wondering if he was ever going to say anything.

Grabbing just about every canned good after checking expiration dates.

Taehyung said more when he brought you guys two carts, speaking mostly to Yoongi, who translated roughly. Something about the other boys and medicine.

And then Taehyung was gone with the other two carts he had been pushing, and dragging your full cart away.

The store next door had yarns and fabrics that you all just packed right up, regardless of pattern or texture, as well as all of the threads and pins and beads, packing everything in more boxes and such. Raiding the notebooks, pens, pencils, books (including text books, which included English textbooks that Yoongi grabbed several of, and a Korean-English dictionary and textbooks that you grabbed since you figured they’d be there for a while and hey, what’s another language to pass the time), clothing (again, what could you say, you didn’t know how to make socks or comfortable underwear), instant-photo cameras (Taehyung was especially excited about those with main mentions of Jimin in his ramblings), another pharmacy raid, shampoo and soap, and all of the hybrid stuff that they could ever want, extra furniture that was easier to move, more dishes and cookware, candles, canning supplies, solar panels, solar batteries (could never have enough of those), more foods that you knew would keep (because you were now feeding eight people and Taehyung liked to snack, he was doing it in the store the moment you said something was still good), and then if the boys secreted some things into what you all got you didn’t pay attention since they also didn’t pay attention as you checked out the period supplies because that didn’t stop with the pandemic and though you had alternatives (which you picked up more of, thank the heavens) sometimes it was just easier.

And Taehyung had a cart full of ramen that you weren’t about to fault him for.

Yoongi was the only one awake on the drive home.

“What was that earlier?” You asked. “At the coat store.”

He sighed and you heard pages turning. “True partner.”

You waited for more, but that seemed to be all he was going to say on that front. “What does that mean?”

He sighed again, this time more aggravated and with a slight hiss to it. More pages flipping and you could see his frown in the rear-view mirror.

Finally a frustrated growl and the thunk of a book closing. “Home. Jungkook.”

“We’re almost there,” You replied quietly, sighing. “Almost there.”

Jungkook rushed out when you all arrived, grinning with relief. “Hyungs!”

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi called back, hurrying to him and grabbing his wrists.

Jungkook immediately nuzzled Yoongi’s neck while Yoongi started muttering something, with glances toward you that soon had Jungkook staring as he gently fingered the fabric over the bandaging.

Taehyung raced inside.

Namjoon gestured to the load. “Unload today, or tomorrow?”

“Unload light stuff, leave the heavy stuff for later.”

He nodded, translating and calling Jungkook and Yoongi over.

You grabbed an old pumpkin cart and brought it over for them while Jimin brought over a couple of the grocery carts.

And Jungkook….

You had to scold him about eight-dozen times not to lift things that were too heavy, but every time he just grinned at you and cutely said “no speak English” and carried on (but it usually gave the other guys time to get over to him and at least help carry the heavier things.

Jimin was parked in the basement stacking canned and jarred goods on your food shelves and medicines and other non-food items on your other shelves, since it required less movement and he apparently aggravated his injury while all of you were gone. You were guessing one of the goats tried to get him, but Namjoon didn’t seem to know how to translate what was said, so you just left it at that.

Taehyung had rejoined everyone in unloading, and was working with you as a two man conveyor system for Jimin.

You swore Jungkook was trying to show off.

Yoongi took the suitcases that all of you had filled with clothing and coats and stacked them in your bedroom to go through later.

And before you knew it, the truck and trailer were almost completely empty.

Jungkook had ingredients out like he was about to cook, and he looked at you happily, as though inviting you to cook with him.

You nodded, gesturing for him to lead on.

He grinned and then brought you some vegetables. “Chop.”

You nodded, not even surprised as Yoongi also joined you and Jungkook and everyone else disappeared to ‘go check on Seokjin’. Because you could see Taehyung and Jimin playing outside and exploring one of the greenhouses, looking at the pumpkins, and Namjoon was just through the door, looking through a stack of books. Which meant Hoseok was probably the only one who actually went to check on Seokjin.

Yoongi and Jungkook somehow managed to give you enough instructions that you managed to help them, and when they couldn’t find an ingredient and couldn’t name it, you would play a guessing game with Yoongi. The hardest was probably soy sauce.

But the most surprising thing was probably how…touchy they were with you.

Or when Jungkook just came up behind you, wrapped one arm around your waist, shoved his face in your neck, and licked you.

Licked. You.

And you yelped, because all of that happened in about two seconds, and you could feel their surprisingly stunned stares as you booked it out of there.

You walked quickly across to one of the greenhouses, cursing frantically and pretending you were doing something completely routine by getting treats for your animals.

Namjoon found you, looking nervous. “Hey. Yoongi sent me to find you.”

“Fuck,” You hissed, picking up a pumpkin. “What the hell is going on, Namjoon? And I am not in the mood for and BS.”

He winced. “Um…what do you know…about…mates?”

“I suppose we aren’t talking about the British or Australian definitions, and more biological definition?” You led the way toward your rabbit barn and hutch.

He nodded, looking anywhere but you. “Definitely more biological.”

“Sorry you got caught in the crosshairs as translator,” You muttered, dropping the pumpkin so that it would break, and then putting pieces of it in the different hutches with some of the seeds for them to enjoy, but also giving them lots of fresh grasses and greens so that they wouldn’t overindulge. You’d give the rest of it to the goats and pig.

He shrugged, peeking at the rabbits. “Cute. So, for hybrids, potential mates are identified by smell a lot of the time. Jungkook and Yoongi are technically mates, but…they also identified you as a potential mate. So…they…want to stay near you.”

“So, hypothetically, if I had told them about a hybrid city that you all may have wanted to go to after leaving here and they reacted poorly to it, it would be because it was almost like an unconscious rejection of them?” You asked, darting glances toward him.

He snorted, and then started laughing. “Is that what happened? Geez, they’re so dramatic. Look, I already told them to take it easy around you because you are human and it might not be something you want for yourself. But…even if you aren’t…we would all like to stick around. Maybe not here exactly, but we could be close by and help you out when you need it. You’re the first person, hybrid or human, who has ever been kind to us. And we feel safe here. Would it be okay if we stuck around?”

You considered it for a moment, wondering what it was that made them feel so safe or comfortable. And if you were okay with what he’d said. Yoongi and Jungkook wanted you as their mate. As proposals went, you’d heard worse, but you also hadn’t known them long enough to commit to anything. “Tell them they have to play the long-game. And…I kept a couple of the nearby houses from having burst pipes the last two winters for when people pass through. If we get the one across the street set up with a power supply, you guys can live there. The house next door is for refugees on the move, and me. It’s easier to bathe there.”

He grinned at you. “We can stay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not. But that means we’ll have to be frugal. I’ll need you guys to help me get two more greenhouses planted.”

“Sure! We can do that!” He grinned happily, bouncing on his toes.

“Great. Now, go tell the boys to stop attacking me with affection out of the blue.”

He laughed and hurried off to tell the others.

What had you just agreed to?

———

You weren’t sure what it was about Halloween that always brought more zombies around than normal. Maybe it was the swift approach of winter. The hard frosts. Urging them to migrate.

Either way, you’d had your work cut out for you from the moment you woke up.

Thankfully, the boys hadn’t wandered off alone at all, and never unarmed after you woke everyone by shooting the rifle.

You did lose another chicken though, the one that refused to go into the coop once she’d escaped the previous evening.

“Is that coffee?” Yoongi asked, gaze locked on your mug.

“Sort of,” You answered, gesturing to the pot. “There’s coffee in it, if that’s what you’re asking.” You’d combined your coffee-tasting tea with some of the frozen coffee grounds you had. You hadn’t resorted to your instant coffee yet. You weren’t ready to admit defeat. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to coffee.

But that day was fast approaching.

You would have to bid your vice goodbye.

Another gunshot alerted you to an issue out front, but you waited for the holler for assistance.

“We’re good!”

You nodded and poured Yoongi a mug of the sort-of-coffee sort-of-tea.

He took a sip and sighed. “Good.”

“Glad you like it,” You replied.

He nodded, then sat back beside you, surveying the fields for more zombies.

Jungkook came and sat between the two of you on the ground, leaning against Yoongi’s legs.

They sat with you in comfortable silence, though Jungkook was also tracing the seam along your calf. Barely touching, seemingly an absentminded action, but slowly capturing your full attention.

Jungkook peeked up at you, then back down, tugging on the seam. “Okay?”

You smiled. “Sure.” It was amusing that he wanted permission to play with a seam.

Yoongi glanced around, then got up. “Can see house?” He asked, pointing toward the house next door.

You looked around seeing Jimin and Hoseok coming around to relieve you and Yoongi from your watch. “Sure, just tell them where we’re going.”

Jungkook nodded, hopping up and racing to meet them, glancing back multiple times as they continued walking over.

Jimin gave you a thumbs up, and they took your places.

You led the two curious hybrids over to the house, glad you’d kept up with cleaning it once a week. It was chilly in there, but not freezing. And honestly, during winter, you preferred staying in there because of the bathroom. You’d set up a shower in the store, and a sort of bath, but usually if you really wanted to feel clean and bathe in nice hot water, you came to the house and indulged because it had an energy efficient water heater that could run on the power supply you generated all through the year.

Either way, the cozy house was clean and well-furnished.

Jungkook looked around curiously, straying a little.

Yoongi stayed close to you.

“Not much to see. I put overstock food in the basement when I need to.”

Yoongi nodded, then got closer to you, seeming to ponder his words carefully. “Namjoon told you, scents and things.”

You felt a decently strong urge to start running. “Uh, yes. Did he tell you what I told him?”

He nodded, then rolled up his sleeve. He rubbed against certain parts of his wrist and arm, then held it out to you.

You blinked at him, confused beyond reason.

“Smell,” He said quietly.

You looked between him and his arm skeptically, then leaned forward and casually sniffed his wrist.

Then you sniffed again, because who the heck smelled like petrichor?!

Jungkook eagerly joined the two of you, offering you his wrist.

Jasmine.

Your weaknesses.

Yoongi gently pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You smell nice with us.”

You closed your eyes.

“Oranges?” Jungkook guessed, nuzzling up to your other side.

And oh, those sneaky fluff-butts.

And didn’t they know that there were zombies around.

But of course they could tell how you felt about all of this thanks to their superior sniffers.

Which was probably how you ended up kissing Jungkook while Yoongi kissed your neck.

All of you stopped at the sound of a particularly loud gunshot.

Shortly followed by two more shots that had all of you hurrying out to make sure everything was under control.

You carefully avoided them the rest of the afternoon, not entirely certain you trusted yourself around them and their stupid petrichor and jasmine which were your favorites. And they said you smelled like oranges and what did that even mean aside from Yoongi saying that you smelled good with them. Were oranges a desirable smell?

But whenever you passed by them, or were near, they found a way to lightly touch your arm, brush their hand against yours, rest their hand on the small of your back, tuck your hair away from your face and you totally didn’t end up kissing Yoongi when he went with you to feed the broody turkey.

And you both definitely wouldn’t have been overtaken by a zombie if Jungkook hadn’t conveniently come by and shot it.

Jungkook peppered you both with kisses, as though those would help calm you from the close call, and then pointed out that he had set out the jack-o-lanterns.

You stared at the glowing pumpkins and started laughing, because, of all the things to prioritize that day, with zombies all around…he made sure the jack-o-lanterns were put out.

So maybe when all of it was you were assigning watch duty for the night, you made sure those two would be with you, because you felt safe with them looking after you. Both of them had saved you.

“Lonely?” Yoongi whispered, staring up at the stars.

“No,” You whispered back, fingers running through Jungkook’s hair. But this time that was all you needed to say. It was enough.

“Good,” Jungkook sighed, giving a sort of rumble of approval and melting further against you as you gently scratched behind his ears, fluffy tail wrapping around him and eyes drifting shut.

There was a long trial ahead of you. Learning their language, fighting zombies, making sure there was enough food to eat, fighting zombies, caring for the livestock, fighting zombies, and exploring whatever this was with Yoongi and Jungkook. Maybe even convincing them to try and make it over to the hybrid town, just to try and initiate trade or something.

There were a lot of things to think about, and consider, questions to ask and have answered.

But in the glow of the three jack-o-lanterns, with soft smell of petrichor and jasmine surrounding you and the sounds of the others talking and laughing inside, you weren’t worried.

You weren’t lonely. “Not anymore.”

Zombie Apocalypse Masterpost

Tagging: @lost-xim, @bryophytas, @young-yellkie, @alex--awesome--22, @missmoxxiesworld, @knjhe, @i-dont-even-know-fck,

413 notes · View notes

aellynera · 3 years

Text

Enumerate (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

ENUMERATE

(hey hey. this is one of my submissions for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! congrats on your milestone, lovely! i wrote this in one sitting, which i rarely ever do, but the idea was immediate and persistent so this happened. i just made some final edits, and it was a lot of fun to do and i hope you all enjoy it!)

Word Count: ~1750

Summary: You have a question for Nathan. He wants reasons. You have a secret weapon.

Warnings: Some language. Innuendo. Smooches. Nathan Bateman. No actual plot, just a thing. Hopefully decently proofread. Superheroes.

with the prompt - “Don’t give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Nathan Bateman glares at you over his glasses. Or, he would if he bothered to actually turn his attention away from the monitors in front of him, which, of course, he does not.

On the other side of the room, you’re stretched out on the bed, on your stomach with your legs bent up and ankles crossed behind you, lazily flipping through a magazine.

For once it’s not a technical journal; you’d finally put your foot down a few months ago, told Nathan you’d had enough of the esoteric mumbo-jumbo he kept all over the house, and after a few pleas and a little please, he’d caved. He might make a case that, until now, these celebrity gossip rags were a worse idea, but he can’t bring himself to do it. As a thank you, you always make sure to hand him his favorite one when you’re done with it.

You briefly debate arguing that building an AI and pissing it off so much it thought it had no other recourse than to try to escape and then stab you in the chest is probably a worse idea, but you don’t want to actually fight with him. And you’re not mean.

“I don’t know, I think it would be fun,” you call back to him.

The clicking of the keyboard never stops. He gets so involved in his work sometimes - okay, all the time, if you’re being honest - that nothing else seems to matter. You knew it isn’t really true; the fact that you’re on the bed wearing nothing besides one of his old, soft henleys and a pair of wool socks proves that. The ability to occasionally engage him in actual conversation while his mind blazes through lines of code is rare.

“I’m pretty sure we have different definitions of that word.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure they more than occasionally overlap.”

He scans your voice for any hint of sarcasm, any tinge of facetiousness. When he can’t detect any and can’t determine your actual intent, his eyes narrow.

“Enumerate.”

Well, sort of actual conversation.

You toss the magazine aside and sit up on the bed.

“And for every step you take towards me, I want a good reason, not some bullshit half-answer,” he continues. Still typing away, still staring at his screens.

“How do you even know I was going to walk over there?” you mutter.

“I know your operating system, kitten,” he says, “so. Enumerate. And count those steps for me. I know you’re good at counting.” If he’d bother to look at you, you’d see the slight smirk on his face, but it doesn’t matter. You hear it in his voice. You know he’s mostly teasing you.

Then again, if Nathan bothered to turn around to look at you, he’d also see the giant, exaggerated steps you’re taking on the path to his desk. It isn’t very far from bed to desk. Nathan is nothing if not efficient, and one never knows when inspiration or insomnia will strike or you might need quick data access.

But you have a secret weapon and you are going to deploy it with as little delay as possible.

The secret weapon has never failed you before.

You roll your eyes. Smug asshole. “One. It gets us out of the house.”

“We have everything we need right here. Hardly a compelling reason. Try again.”

Another giant step. “Two. A little human interaction, other than verbally sparring with me and taking me on every imaginable surface of this house, would do you some good.”

The clicking might pause for a split second. You can’t be sure because it picks up and keeps going just as it had before, as Nathan replies, “False correlation. I hate most people, in large part because they can’t keep up with me. Not like the way you do.”

You smile, even though he can’t see you, and open your mouth to keep going, but he’s not quite done. “And, if I remember correctly, and I always remember correctly-” you swear you hear his eyebrow arch “-that other part does us both some good. You haven’t had any complaints thus far, and a few of those surfaces were actually rather un-imaginable. You gotta try harder, baby.”

Damn him.

Another step, another reason. “Three. It’s what normal people do.”

The clicking finally stops and Nathan spins around in his chair. He takes you in - one foot as far out in front of the other as possible without you falling over, arms held out awkwardly to keep your balance, wearing only his shirt and your fuzzy socks, hair still a mess from the evening’s previous activities - and gives you a pointed look. “That’s what normal people do?”

You giggle, then straighten your face. You take another step. Now you’re almost in his lap. “Four. You’d look really, really hot in some spandex and a cape.”

Nathan growls and pulls you into his lap. “I said no bullshit.”

There’s your opening. Secret weapon time.

You bite your lip and give him the widest, saddest looking eyes you possibly can. You think of lost puppies and kittens, the ending of Casablanca, that song in Coco that had you bawling. And you blink once, very slowly, just for dramatic effect. Not that you need to. Your trap is set.

Nathan groans and drops his head to your chest for a moment, and then looks back up at you, scowling under his glasses. “Don’t give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

You grin down at him. “You’re not.”

“God damn it.”

“Nathan, it will be fun,” you insist.

In response, he stands suddenly, scoops you up and tosses you back on the bed, his body caging you underneath him.

“You really want me to go to, of all the fucking things in the entire known universe, a comic con with you.” It’s not a question.

“Well, I mean, you did already buy me the tickets.”

“Beginning to regret that decision,” the resignation in his voice is strong, but you can also hear some amusement. And maybe something a little more.

You pout at him. “And my sister can’t go with me now because of some stupid emergency work thing.”

His brow furrows. “Like I don’t have actual work to do?”

“And it would be a shame to waste them…,” You blink at him a few more times.

“I’ll donate them to a children’s charity or some shit.”

You smack him lightly on the shoulder, then your arms wrap around his neck as you lean forward and whisper in his ear. “And I still say you’d look amazing in a super suit.”

“Bull. Shit,” he leans up and nips at your neck.

You smack him harder this time. “Hey, those are good reasons.”

“Will it make you happy?” he sighs.

“Yes.”

He pauses for a few minutes with his face buried in your neck, then pulls back to look at you. His stern expression cracks, ever so slightly, at the hopeful smile on your face. And those damn puppy dog eyes. “You do make a compelling argument.”

You squeal in delight, holding his face and kissing him firmly on the lips.

“But...people. A lot of people. In public,” Nathan grumbles, narrowing his eyes and giving you the fakest stern look he’s ever given you.

He knows you know he was never going to say no to you. He can’t. He may know your operating system, but his own systems fail when you run this particular subset.

And the secret weapon never fails.

You smirk back, your grin and the light in your eyes threatens to throw his brain completely offline.

“That’s where the costume comes in, Mr. Fantastic.”

Nathan scoffs. “If I have to wear a costume, it is not going to be Mr. fucking Fantastic.”

“So you’re saying you will dress up.”

“No, but...there’s better options than that.” A lie. He was serious about being seen by thousands of people in public, and at this point, he’s not above wearing a ridiculous costume just so no one actually sees him at a fucking comic con.

“Isn’t he, like, the smartest superhero though?”

He pretends to think about it for a minute, lazily tracing a finger along your jaw. “True, but. What else does he do? I mean I know I’m flexible but…”

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to not burst into a fit of laughter as you stare back into his deep eyes. “Okay, fine. What about Wonder Woman? I’d do almost anything to see you with some golden wings. And those boots? Damn, that would be hot.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a menace.”

“You haven’t had any valid complaints thus far.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, then sighs. “Almost anything, huh?” His hands have dropped down your torso, and his fingertips are gliding over your smooth skin under the hem of his shirt.

You can see the wheels start turning. Your lips purse and a smile forms. “Don’t change the subject,” you chide him. “What are your other better options, then?”

“Xavier. You could push me around for the day, it would serve you right for even asking me to do this.”

The laughter rises fully and bubbles over. “Even you’re not that lucky.”

“Or maybe Iron Man. I know I could make a working suit, and that would be pretty fucking cool,” he states, matter of fact. You’re honestly not sure if you should be amused or a little worried that he’s not kidding.

“Those are definitely better options than Mr. Fantastic,” he says softly.

You raise your head up to catch his lips, but stop just before you make contact. He makes a small noise of protest, but you just shake your head ever so slightly.

“Hmm, I’m not convinced,” you whisper, your breath fanning across his mouth. “I need some good reasons. No bullshit, Bateman.”

Nathan’s groans are silenced as you surge forth and capture his lips, kissing him fiercely and thoroughly. But his silence is only temporary, and the groans return when you pull away and hook a leg around his hip.

He stares down at you as you look back at him with the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen, and you smile innocently and bite your lip. He bites his own as you softly issue one more word into the air around you.

“Enumerate.”

~end~

Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @deeandbobbymcgee @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @nathan-bateman @poedjarin @rosemarysbaby13 @sergeantkane @spider-starry @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @veuliee2 @yourbucky084 @waatermelon-sugaar

Nathan taglist: @millllenniawrites

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#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman #ex machina fic #nathan bateman fanficiton #my writing #Amandas800 #wasicskogirl #writing challenge #writing prompts

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amazingphilza · 3 years

Text

DSMP!OC HEADCANNONS

i dunno if ppl on here make dsmp!ocs for themselves outside art but here’s my long list of headcannons?? idk what to call this, but assume all names have c! before it ofc :]

,, this is kinda messy & probably has a lot of plot holes but i just needed a space to write out all my thoughts LOL

also cw / ment of manipulation & ib: dsmp wiki <3

character origin :

previous life was the l’mantree :D

allegedly planted by schlatt, we will never know who’s my canonical parent(s)

reborn as a dryad after niki burns the l’mantree

i think being a dryad would fit especially since they’re typically nymphs of oak trees :]

appearance :

my character’s mc skin has long light brown hair & is seen wearing a flower crown with petals that are around the color of a pale violet and navy blue

clothing would consist of black shoes & a long light grey sweater that falls down to the legs and covers most of the hands which adorned with 2 black stripes on the upper arms

lore / history :

since my past life was the l’mantree, i would’ve known the ins and outs of the history when l’manburg was still standing, up until niki burned the tree

after witnessing everything, i’d hold a grudge on niki (+ allies?) and loyal to wilbur since he’s the whole person that made a meaning of the land of l’manburg

however i’d still be on edge w any side because i could sympathize with everyone to some extent after seeing some sort of distress from everyone at some point

i think seeing both sides of the spectrum when l’manburg/manburg still stood could change my perspective of some other characters

but at the same time, not everything was completely centered in l’manburg so i wouldn’t know the whole story of everyone’s character

i’m currently writing this just after tommy has left the prison & mostly everyone is treating him differently, so i’d try to befriend him by not showing that i dont care about his past & trauma but also not being fully faithful about our friendship ahaha,,,

he seems like the type that needs someone to see through his past history but tommy would definitely disapprove of my character visiting dream at the prison (i would do it anyway :))

vowing my current life to wilbur, i would help dream escape to revive wilbur & follow along with their plans of chaos

i don’t fully support dream but he is the only way to wilbur, making me comply with dream’s decisions

“growing up” in my past life and witnessing endless conflict, it is the only thing i know and understand; chaos

but i think during the process of helping dream & wilbur i’d keep my connection with them secret, being the person to obtain all the inside information they need

i could see myself as a type of equilibrium like ranboo but in a bad way, i don’t know how to explain it

but i would try befriending ranboo since he seems like he is involved in many things and would know a lot, despite his short term memory

unfortunately i’m not sure how much his character actually knows since i haven’t been able to watch his pov that much but i’m sure there’s a lot in his memory book...

to blend in as a normal person within the rest of the characters, i’d surround myself with connor a lot

not only because he needs more lore, connor is one of the “normal” citizens of the smp so i believe being with him doesn’t bring as much attention to myself, unlike people that’s related to the egg and their noticeable features after associating themselves with the egg

he is currently only on bad terms with techno which is rly good when comparing that to other characters and their relationships with other people

connor could probably sense my real intentions eventually & tell everyone else that i’m not who i say i am but if that’s my flaw & my downfall is caused by connor, so be it! sorry dream & wilbur

i feel like for being a young dryad, i’d still fool around with dream/wilbur & help give tommy an small “advantage” to defeating the two ?

like yes i’m supposed to be on your side but where’s the fun if tommy can’t do anything to begin with?

i honestly don’t know if wilbur was revived he’d actually be his vassal but let’s assume that happens, but either way i’m with wilbur on his decisions

but ya dream seems like the type to punish me for helping tommy and send me to the afterlife to learn & become smarter like wilbur had done or smth

in the end, i just want to give tommy bits and pieces that tease him from ending all the wars and problems he has been faced with

like here’s some info about dream and wilbur but it won’t be no where close to enough

but who knows, ghostbur said ‘villains are just heroes that aren’t convinced yet’ & maybe tommy could eventually grow on me & change my ways,,

maybe me fooling around & teasing tommy with answers he’s been searching for is a way to mask that i want to be a good person

ok but imagine after knowing so much about dream/wilbur, the revive book, & the afterlife & then i switch sides,,,

surely if tommy can’t put and end to them, dream would make sure i’m gone for good instead

but also if me & connor are in good terms & he’s canonically a necromancer & can bring ppl back to life,,,,

personality :

to all besides dream & wilbur, i’d try to act passive and friendly on the outside to get on everyone’s good side

however under the mask i am more mischievous & strive to cause more problems for everyone on the server from the inside out

in a way, i’ve taken up some of dream’s manipulative personality but still very understanding

i’d like to think of my character as a good listener,, trying to do less talking than others so i do not open up about my true self and intentions

i’ve seen rumors about schlatt & mexican dream also being revived along with wilbur & i feel like i’d have some soft spot for schlatt & pick up a few things from his own character, not sure what though

schlatt planted l’mantree theory, dad!schlatt au part 2 !! /j

because of my character’s closed off and quiet personality, i feel like i’d be pretty analytical

i would know how to slip between the cracks with some characters & notice the smallest things to make them question themselves

maybe my character is good at holding their composure, and not that susceptible to being “emotional” in a way so it’s easier to face people

like i understand when a situation is sad, etc but i can’t show emotion towards how i feel about it (i don’t know if that makes sense but ya!)

i wanna try to elaborate more,, like imagine my character before tommy visits the prison, i would be unfazed from when i found out he died to the point he’s released and we find out he’s been revived

everything is a constant blur hehe

i just can’t fully process everything i guess? i dunno if that’s helpful but yeah!

in the end though, my moral compass has been very tainted; despite wanting to show my loyalty, it can be slightly easy to sway me, making me internally feel guilty to other people

but me trying to get on everyone’s good side to impress wilbur/dream to seem useful to them would ruin me before i would even realize that i’m another “pawn”

we know damn well dream is faking it till he “makes it” but yk,,

but i’d be stuck in this kind of dilemma of not knowing what thoughts are my own or just something trickled down from wilbur or dream

there’s like maybe something that clicks in my head like “maybe i wanna think for myself for once” or smth

like who am i really?

powers , bonuses , etc :

since dryads can technically manipulate plants in some ways, theoretically i could control the blood vines to some extent ???

i’m pretty sure dryads can communicate with plants so i could understand what the blood vines are saying as well

maybe i could get a good sense of what the egg is all about and stuff

assuming that i understood anything that was happening with the egg in the first place but anyway—

i guess similar to ranboo like how he can’t really be around water without some type of amour or something, it would make sense for me to primarily reside in a type a forest or be near one ?? who knows

seems a bit morbid in a way because of the whole history but if i can somehow easily get rid of the blood vines without it affecting me (if there is still some there) i think it would be kinda pretty to build a tree base in the middle of the l’manburg crator (iskall tease)

like it can show a sign of some rebirth, not the same government repeated once again but a new era in general

you know how you see like destruction years after it the disaster or smth happened and it gets all overgrown with plants and stuff? ya that’s what i’m going for in my head (mumbo jumbo s7 tease)

i know it’s covered in glass already but i dunno, some broken glass and a giant tree emerging from the whole thing and all the rubble seems cool

i’m not a good builder but i have the vision LMAO

omg puffy is like a sheep human hybrid im pretty sure & like there’s a specific type of dryad that are a protector of sheep & other animals?? i’m not exactly sure but that seems like an interesting element to incorporate somehow

also glatt randomly planting a oak sapling in quackity’s lore stream yes pls feed my nonexistent dsmp character lore /j

i honestly dunno how to incorporate the fact dryads can turn shapeshift into trees when trying to escape something but i read something that if a dryad stays in a tree form for too long they’ll forget who they are and stay stuck as a tree?? which like woah that’s cool & some material but at the same time what—

since everyone’s backstory is kinda a mess, mr beast parent tease bc he planted a bunch of trees /hj

i have realized wilbur saying like “the whole reason i built this nation is gone” & blowing up everything or whatever is kinda a plot hole in like ‘why would i follow wilbur if/when he’s revived when he said this?’ but i’d like to think he was the one that made some meaning of the area lmanburg was on, which includes the lmantree

like he was the one that started everything and created that sentiment of that land, and however he views it now is how i would see it now

he gave meaning to my past life and now in my current life, i feel this obligation to repay him for it

not really lore bc i think it was cc!tommy talking to cc!ranboo about his height & age when he first joined but yk it would funny to make my dsmp character than his just to slightly spite him anyway

canonically 6’4 dryad yes . /hj

also i have no idea anything about hannah and her lore but we do be flower buddies :D

also omg like this isn’t at all important but the way ranboo can pick up grass blocks will just have me at awe, i dunno seems in theme with the forest/plant stuff

and i remember reading like there was something about dryads and apples but i can’t remember but i’d give tommy a bunch of apples /hj

apples am i right chat,,,,,

i’ll just have infinite apples in my inventory, like kill me in game, not like losing lives kinda deal but just in general and boom stacks of apples

“bee i get you’re half tree but do you just poop apples out like they’re nothing??” “girls don’t poop” /j

ok but like no matter how many streams i watch i cant grasp where everything is but omg but no if i was new to the server & stuff, canonically & not, i would feel my character to be the curious kind to explore everywhere

like besides a mini tour from some other person in the server, since my character only knows things in the bounds of lmanburg, i’d go off exploring different places like pogtopia, the sewers, showchester, etc

i feel like my character would be really into history, like they would have questions about what happened to lmanburg after the last war? what was life like before wilbur? what was the whole history about the antarctic empire? i dunno but reading a bunch of books from a library seems really interesting

oh but in theory, me and tubbo are loosely related if you wanna count schlatt as my “dad” because he supposedly planted the lmantree ???

i mean could make sense but it seems like a stretch

also if my character ever got close to schlatt, i’m not sure if this is canon, but i swear one time he mentioned how the whole dsmp sever is just a game/server in a game & he’s the only one that knows that ??? but like imagine if i found that out canonically,,,,,

big existential crisis pls

and i’m not 100% sure how dryad shifting works with like going from female to tree form and stuff but if i’m able to morph into different girls on the server & act as them,,,, the about of problems that can cause in the lore omg

lemme frame niki real quick and get inside information /j

oh ya and like hey bee do you support the government then? yes but no. whatever my “fav” person is canonically (assuming this is based in the beginning of this whole hc) whatever wilbur thinks, i think. head empty. but subject to change as the dsmp storyline progresses and stuff :]

ngl i wanna throw in some like random lore that doesn’t make sense to throw people off but i can’t think of anything

not actually really lore related but my choice of stream music like how ranboo has his undertale stuff that makes everyone cry, i will have in love with a ghost

yup i like in love with a ghost sm & i’m pretty sure their music is like not dmca too which yay but yk theoretically never gonna stream on the dsmp but still a fun aspect to think of bc i love listening to music & it’s very impactful to a story & associating something to it makes it more meaningful :D

like i could imagine the chill pop lofi piano stuff fits witha few lore streams of like exploring the whole smp before my character would really go out with being this lost villain in a way?

tubbo’s gangnam style who?

like i feel like i made my character bad/evil so they could have potential to get better in the future

on one hand, i’ll end up w dream and/or wilbur for the rest of my life, which is okay but i could also switch to be with tommy or even disregard all of them and be with techno/phil or quackity & potentially schlatt even who knows

also i cant wait for more connor lore tho, like as much as i tried to make my character give him more content i wanna see how everything goes with him having connections to schlatt & stuff

anyway i would’ve made concept art for my character but i honestly don’t rly like my art currently but who knows LMAO

and lastly if u read all of this ily /p

i might update this later when there’s more lore but ya

#bee for dream smp 2021 /j #dsmp headcanon #dream smp oc #dreamsmp headcanon #dsmp hc #mcyt x oc #dsmp x oc

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 11

Wordcount: 5,150 Rating: M for strong language, ideologically sensitive and mature themes, gore “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did.” Chapter synopsis: Allen and Arthur race to find you both, but it proves to be harder without knowing your whereabouts. Meanwhile, you've successfully helped Alfred find the chip. Before leaving, you have a long-awaited conversation with your father to realize he's more insane than you thought. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): Cyberninja, Trouble finds trouble, Tower Lockdown, Me!Me!Me!, Pt. 2, Him & I (with Halsey), Atlantis. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

Cyberninja

Before Arthur could even buckle himself in, Allen rammed his foot into the gas pedal. He was thrown back in a violent manner, and hit his head against the headrest. But the mechanic never complained. He looked stressed enough as is, continually scanning the road while murmuring to himself as if he’d really gone mad. “Hell, that motherfucker could be anywhere in the whole fucking city right now.” He hissed, pulling out of the driveway and into the main road.

“We can’t call him. Track him. Nothing. Same goes for (F/N). They’re off the map.” Turning to his companion numerous times in distress, he sped through the streets, though he had no particular destination in mind.

The indicator clicked. Allen cursed at the car in front of them, but never made a move to overtake. As Arthur became overwhelmed by these stimulants, he opened his mouth, defeated. “If you’re in such a hurry, why--why bother following traffic rules? You never have before, so why now?” He asked with a shake of the head, earning a loud scoff from the other.

The car windows glowed with a flurry of pinks and purples as they moved closer to the commercial district. They were near their first stop.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t give a damn if I didn’t have to.” The whites of his eyes reflected a mosaic of color as he never looked away from the road. “But that was when I was working for my boss. I had protection. I could do a hit and run if I wanted, and without the running part.” The redhead breathed. Then, he stuck his head out of the window with a huff. Immediately, he was choked by the city smog, and deafened by the blaring of car horns.

“Friggen’ prick...” He flipped off the driver in front of him. Sitting back into his seat, he flashed Arthur a grin, though the man couldn’t return the energy.

“Did you get fired? Or did you quit?” This wasn’t the best time to ask about the past, but he had been dying to know why he wound up half-dead on his doorstep. So what better a time to do it than now?

“I quit.” Allen answered point-blank. “Old man didn’t take it well. Decided to kill me. Didn’t.” Slowing the vehicle, they arrived at a parking-lot surrounded by backdoors of multiple piss-poor establishments. One of which was illuminated by a flickering red neon sign that read ‘no-tell motel’.

“He thinks I’m dead, so the rest of the city has to think that too.”

Arthur gawked at him. “That makes you no better than a fugitive! And it’s not just anybody after you--Allen, he’ll kill you when he finds out you’re still alive!”

“And that’s why he won’t find out.” Tapping the side of his neck for a flap to open, the said man slotted a small disk inside. “Disables cybernetic upgrades in a twenty foot radius. Means I can’t use mine, but it stops other people from figuring out who I am.” He dug through one of the compartments for a muffler, which he wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

What he did next was alarming, however. Sticking his hand further in, he pulled out a gun and cocked it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing--!?” Arthur exclaimed, fumbling with a face mask Allen tossed his way. He didn’t see a silencer anywhere either. “If I can call the police without any upgrades, so can everyone else!”

His statement couldn’t ring any truer, and yet, it never slowed down the other’s movements as he climbed out of the car. Unsatisfied by his silence, he wound up getting out to follow him. “Oi, say something! At least let me know you’re not gonna shoot up a restaurant!” Whispering that part out, he had to speed up a few steps to catch up with the man, now marching to the backdoor of a motel.

“Put the mask on.” Allen murmured without sparing him a single glance. But he paused briefly to process what he said. “... A motel, you mean. But I’m hoping we won’t have to resort to that.”

Arthur’s eyes went round. “You were considering--”

He could share the desperation to save Alfred’s life, but he had a hard time following how. Shooting up a motel? What was he thinking?

“Yes.” Attaching his hand to the door, it creaked open. Before Allen took another step, he faced him with a serious glower. “Now when we get inside, I want you to walk up to the receptionist. He’s programmed to greet you. Ask him for a room, and while you do, I’ll approach him from behind and deactivate him. Kapeesh?”

But then again, he was in the dark here. Arthur hadn’t the slightest clue on what Alfred’s circumstances were, as mysterious as the man was, so he had no idea how he was on the verge of dying.

So naturally, he wouldn’t know how to save him either.

But he trusted Allen to know what to do.

“... Alright. You better not make me regret this, you tyke.”

“You can call me anything you want, just not that. I’m not a kid anymore.” Those words would become apparent as they walked inside, where their plan went by without a hitch. They heard the automated voice of superficial kindness, which stopped abruptly to the sound of an android powering off. Its body fell to the ground to reveal Allen standing behind. Without wasting a second, he leaned over and typed furiously on the keyboard of the computer.

Trouble finds trouble

“Lemme see if this has a log of everybody who came by...” A few moments later, he started nodding at what he saw. “Bingo...” On their private encrypted server, stored the history of all the guests who booked a night. “Well, what do you know... Alfred checked out two days ago. But he’s on the move.” Pulling away to stand up straight, he jogged over to the exit.

“Even if someone tried to look for him in one a’ these places, he’d have to get behind the reception and do exactly what I did.” This someone referred to Matsumoto, but death already followed Alfred wherever he went. Not that Alfred knew that. “The perks of a no-tell motel. Even if they reek of piss, so long as there’s crime, they’ll never go out of business.” He beckoned Arthur to follow him with a tilt of the head.

“One down, twenty-seven more to go. And that’s only in the direction he’s going... And under the assumption he’s only staying at these motels. So, uh, let’s hope he didn’t try to be too unpredictable.”

The Brit huffed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“I think he’d be predictable to do that if you asked me.” He murmured. “But you call the shots. I’ll just be... Moral support.”

Allen already disappeared out the door, but his head poked into the doorframe at that. “Nah. You have the most important job outta’ the both of us.”

That was right. He didn’t tell him yet. He really should’ve a while ago, but he got caught up in the chase.

“Whether you remove a chip from his head or not will determine if he lives or not.”

Arthur paled.

“He’s the guy my boss wanted me to kill. Remember the dude I told you about? The one who tried to steal a prototype chip three years ago?” Now that he mentioned it, he recalled the conversation a few weeks ago. But wait a minute.

The mechanic felt his face scrunch up as he was hit with a major epiphany. That was Alfred? The terrorist Allen had been updating him about? He was the man who tore up three floors of the headquarters of Matsumoto Optics, and simultaneously, the same customer he had been serving for the last few years.

Before he could even process his shock, he was presented with even more appalling information.

“He stole it this time. That’s what he and (F/N) disappeared to do. But now that it’s in his head, it’ll overwrite his consciousness until he’s a fucking vegetable.”

Arthur was horrified. “Then why would he even--”

“Because he doesn’t know.” Allen cut in with a grim expression. “He thought the chip was supposed to give him immortality, so he wanted to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Like my boss. But no. It’s the opposite. It was all a ploy to kill him.” At this point, the blonde was at loss for words. As a doctor and mechanic, he was quite frankly terrified of how devilishly clever Matsumoto was. But he couldn’t expect any less from him, could he?

They made it back to the car, and he could only stare aimlessly out the windshield, paralyzed.

“That’s why we need you.” He heard him say. Turning to the man, albeit slowly, he felt a hand slap down on his shoulder. Allen gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re the smartest guy I know, second to my boss. You were always great at fixing stuff. Cars, enhancements, people--so what’s a mixture of all three?”

Arthur dug a hand through his hair stressfully. “... You’re kidding.” And yet, he already knew he was on board. “... Are you calling him a car?”

The other flattened his lips. “... He technically could be.”

“Just to be clear, I fucking hate you.”

Allen laughed. “Sure.”

“But otherwise, we’re wasting time.” He couldn’t believe the words falling from his lips. This was really happening, wasn’t it? After taking him in as an apprentice for his auto shop, the roles were finally reversed. He no longer took charge as the teacher. Or rather, he became the student caught up in the most difficult assignment yet. Having a taste of Allen’s work.

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

***

Tower Lockdown

You had all the reasons in the world to be anxious coming home.

On top of worrying over Alfred, who had hundreds of trained assassins coming at him all at once, during every minute of the heist, you had to face an aspect of reality you avoided until now. You were in the building, and he had already stolen the chip. It was slotted comfortably in his head, ready to leave the premises.

How come your father never appeared? Was he really just going to let you go just like that?

But the real question was this--should you stay or leave?

Yes, you hardly approved of anything he’d done. Done to the world like Alfred always mentioned, and to Alfred himself. But you weren’t prepared to abandon him yet. He was still your father, and the only family you had. If you had to make a decision, you needed some closure. If not, a discussion.

And you expected him to give it to you as the least he could do.

As Alfred stood among a pile of dead bodies bathing in red, his mantis blades trembled against a katana blade. Even with his hands full, he made the time to check on you. “(F/N)! Stay away from walls! Just hang on for a second longer!” He shouted, turning to you briefly before diverting his attention back to his opponent. “We’re nearly home free!”

Pulling away to give him a swift jab in the chest, blood sprayed onto his face, but he wasn’t fazed.

What did, however, was the sight of you being thrown over the shoulder of one of the bodyguards. Color drained from his face and he burst into a sprint.

“(F/N)! No!” Watching you disappear into an elevator, he slammed right into the closing metal doors. “Fuck!” He slammed his fist against them to hear a loud bang. Before he could linger too long, he hastily made his way to a door adjacent. The emergency stairs would take a hell lot longer, but as if he’d wait for the elevator to come back down.

Even if he needed to climb up a hundred flights to get to you, he would--all the way to the penthouse where Matsumoto was.

When those men approached you, there was no struggle on your end. You knew where they were going to take you. And you wanted them to. It could even be said you were relieved, because that meant your father was thinking of you. After a minute or so, the soft whirring fell silent, followed by a soft ‘ding’.

They moved outside the elevator, and after a few steps, they set you down on your feet. Right in the middle of your father’s office. At the very end behind a desk sat the man himself, and he was eyeing you with an unreadable expression. Upon returning his stare, came an onslaught of emotions. But the most prominent was incapacitating anxiety.

Even as his daughter, you could never see through him. He was impossible to read. So you had no idea what to expect.

“Dad... We need to talk.” You began, walking up to him warily. This was what you wished for at the start, cried for, even. To return home. And yet, the nervous pounding in your chest seemed to worsen with every step you took. It was jarring to confront how much had changed since then. So while you barely managed any words, you were already overwhelmed, struggling to choke back tears.

“For once, I need to know what you’re thinking.”

He inhaled deeply before responding. “I was under the same impression that we’d have this conversation.” Standing up from his chair, he furrowed his brows at the sight of you clenching the fabric of your pants. “Don’t look so nervous, child. You haven’t done anything to anger or disappoint me.” Reaching out to your head, he settled a hand on it.

“... Really?” You whispered out. Hearing his assurances calmed you down a touch. But when you saw the forlorn gaze he cast down at you, your heart was crushed. “... Dad?”

Me!Me!Me!, Pt.2

Any existing contempt for him melted away just like that, but you weren’t upset at yourself for it. Your father hardly expressed any emotion besides calm indifference. And when he did, it always felt like the world was ending.

“I’m the one who deserves your anger.” He clarified, lowering his hands to your shoulders. “I’ve left you by yourself for far too long, (F/N). I hope you don’t hold it against me that you had to come home yourself.” You hung your head, unable to meet his saddened gray eyes. If you were to hold a grudge at him for it, you’d start by avoiding his gaze. “And I understand why you would’ve wanted to help him. He has a way with words, and a naïve sense of justice. But it’s a warped perception of reality.”

You’d hate to admit it, but no matter how cruel he seemed to be, there was a method to his madness.

And you were perhaps the only person in the world to know it.

That was why you were so torn. Torn between hating him and understanding him. After all, you couldn’t have both. “You can’t blame him after what you did to him.” Glancing up at that, you felt bile rise in your throat. Then, your vision blurred. “I don’t know what you’re aiming for--for this company, and this world. But you can’t expect him to accept this world you created when you stole him from his. He had a life!”

Staring at him through hot tears, he breathed out a soft sigh before rubbing them away with a swipe of the thumb. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. And I won’t expect you to forgive me even after telling you the reasons for my actions.”

He pulled away from you to begin walking back to his desk, but not to sit down. Instead, he stood by the window to watch the blinking lights of skyscrapers and small moving dots of cars on the streets. “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did. So of course, he would reject the idea of immortality. The destruction of the most human quality there is.”

He paused briefly to scan the landscape.

“Mortality. One’s inevitable end gives everything they do meaning.”

Wrinkles creased between your brows. It was confusing to hear him speak so highly of death, frustrating, even. Wasn’t he the one investing billions into correcting it like a flaw? “If that’s what you really think, then why? Why would you make something that would take that all away?”

He held his hands behind his back. “To serve the greater good. A sacrifice, if you will.” The man turned to you, this time with a serious glower. “Alfred thinks I would commercialize it. Sell it to the public. But he’s wrong. Immortality will only be available to the leaders of the world.”

By leaders, you could only assume he meant people like him. Not politicians, but business men and women. Company owners. The most powerful forces of the present. “The inability to die is a curse. You never move on because you’re still breathing. But that may be just what the world needs. Stagnation. An absence of change.”

It was daunting to know this man was your father. You couldn’t say you were born with half as many of these attributes he had. Intelligence was easily passed down, but there was something else written in his genes you could never dream of having. “With every passing year, decade, and century, humanity frays like a rope. Society continues to deteriorate... All until self-destruction becomes a matter of time.” Facing the window again, he scanned the impressive architecture he was proud to call his own. And it looked as pristine as it did yesterday.

“The only way to stop this was to take control of it myself. And that’s how I came to found this company. I’ve found a way to govern the people. To invest in science as the world’s last and only hope. But it’s a job that will last eons, so I was prepared to do it until the end of time.”

He was right in saying that society was inevitably doomed with the direction it was heading. That technology was the only solution, along with a world government. Matsumoto Optics. A cosmocracy with jurisdiction over the whole planet. There would be no wars. No conflict. And with only one state to call the shots, things could be done so much faster on a global scale.

It was a radical concept to grasp, but you couldn’t say there was no logic to it. “Alfred was meant to do it with me. To reincarnate again and again as my closest aide on my quest to preserve the world. But he ended up being the opposite. My foil.” Matsumoto shook his head. “Alfred is a nostalgic soul. He’s too attached to the past. But the way of the old can never last with how fast it makes the world burn. Even if he realized that, he would want to exact revenge on me after what I’ve done to him.”

“So before he destroys everything I’ve created, I have to destroy him first.”

Him & I (with Halsey)

You tensed up all over, but before you could ask him what he meant by destroy, the doors burst open. The very subject of the conversation had appeared, and just in time for the conclusion of it. His arrival caught you completely off guard, successfully derailing your train of thought, but your father merely acknowledged his arrival. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

“Speak for yourself, you fucking demon.” He spat, marching over to your side to pull you into his chest. Immediately putting his hands all over your face, he was riddled with concern as he inspected you. “You okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you in time. What are you still doing here? C’mon, let’s go.” While he reached down to your hand to lead you away, you stayed put.

As relieved as you were to see him here, you couldn’t follow him out yet. You gave his hand a squeeze, then a soft smile of reassurance. Then, you turned to your father.

This time, you held him in a firm stare.

“Even if everyone thinks you’re crazy, I always knew you’d have some kind of justification for everything.” You started. Little did you know, you would take back this statement in the very near future. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to Alfred. He never ended up doing anything you wanted him to, so giving him all those adjustments was pointless for you. But not for him. If you wanted to get rid of him, it wouldn't be easy.”

Matsumoto closed his eyes as if to agree. That was what you interpreted it as, at least. But unbeknownst to you, he was doing anything but. “I wouldn’t know what’s best for this world.”

“But what I do know is that I won’t let you hurt him.”

You spoke those words with a conviction so strong, Alfred’s eyes widened when he heard it. It wasn’t news you cared deeply for him, but to hear you say it to your father like that, and Matsumoto, no less, it made his mechanical heart pound more than he could fathom. You were actively disobeying him, a man you previously revolved your life around, for his sake. To say he was infatuated would be an understatement.

You felt his grip on you tighten.

“Say what you will, and I’ll respect your conviction. But I will come for him.” The bearded man murmured in a foreboding tone. A sinister light glinted in his dark gray irises. “And in the most unexpected way he could ever imagine. You will never want to see me again when that happens.”

“If.” Your voice was a little strained. As much as you wanted to hate him and move on, you couldn’t. Every single fiber of your being was urging you to find a reason, any reason, to not despise the man who raised you. “If, dad. Because if you did, I really will never forgive you. I’ll hate you forever.”

A grim expression contorted at his face. In his many decades on the planet, he’d never felt more dread. But one had to wonder if that was the right word. The regret had already arrived, because he’d already done something unforgivable. It was only a matter of time before you’d find out. “I’ve already done something to earn your unconditional hatred, child.”

That was right. He’d killed Allen, your best friend and only other semblance of family in your life. And perhaps, the person you held the closest to your heart. “Soon, you will learn what it is. So I’ll let you leave today because you will never want to come back. I’d imagine that to be more… Convenient for you.”

It was only your ignorance that blessed him this last moment. The last moment where you’d see him as your father with eyes unclouded by hatred. But it was short-lived.

It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together, and in your short silence, you came to remember someone that had been gone for a while. Allen.

Atlantis

You woke up in a cold sweat. For just one measly second as you oriented yourself, you weren’t tortured by a fury. Betrayal. Disgust. But it all came rushing back to you like the memories of that Godforsaken day you met with your father.

Sitting up with a deep frown, you felt heat build up around your face. It would be etched in your mind forever. The memory of Allen laying in the dump. Tossed out like a broken toy. Then, the stench of blood and rust as he was left for dead.

You always knew your father was mad, but he kept on surprising you with how mad he was. Turning to the figure beside you, tears only overwhelmed your waterline to see his chest rise and fall steadily.

He was still here. Alive and well. You could only hope the same for Allen.

It had been ten days since the heist. There hadn’t been a single sign of Matsumoto or his men, meaning Alfred really did do his research on the best places to hide. Climbing onto his form, you wound up laying on his chest. Then, you peered down at his sleeping face.

As you got comfortable, you felt a smile creep onto your lips. If the you from a few months ago saw what you were doing, she’d be flabbergasted. Since when did you like him this much?

Your cheeks grew a little rosy as you became self-aware of the position you were in. Full-on embarrassment hit you when he began to stir, but before you could get off of him, his eyes fluttered open. Uh oh. Now this warranted an explanation.

For a second, he was confused, but when he saw that it was just you, he grinned lazily. “Morning, babe. Care to tell me why you’re not sleeping on your side of the bed?”

He’d totally cornered you. And did he just call you babe? “Um... I, well... I woke up on you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I was just about to get off.” Sliding yourself off of him at that, you tried your damndest to simmer down. But he never gave you the chance. Rolling over to face you, he pulled you in around your waist much to your surprise. “Hey!”

You never got around to pointing out that pet name, either.

He caught you in a serious stare. “Don’t be so shy. We’re close, aren’t we?” Alfred was never one to beat around the bush. You knew that better than anyone, but that didn’t mean you were used to it. Lowering your head at that, you fixated on his chest.

“... I guess so. That doesn’t mean I can sleep on you like that, though. And plus, it must’ve been uncomfortable.”

“Nah. You’re light as hell.” He hummed. Sitting up with you on his lap, his statement became more apparent in how effortless he made it seem. “You’re like a few grapes, really. So don’t worry about it.”

Why he chose to focus on that part of your argument was beyond you. Did he really not see anything wrong with what you were doing? Or maybe he did, and didn’t want to mention it. He’d been hugging you a lot lately the past week, but that wasn’t as deserving of your attention as spooning you while he slept.

Wasn’t he pushing the envelope? It would make sense he was just trying to comfort you after your run-in with your father, and your discovery that he was the one who attempted to off your best friend. But wasn’t this a bit much?

He wrapped his arms around your neck. There was nothing between you both, and yet, he was holding you like there was. Like you were his.

"...” It was in his smile. It was different to how he always looked at you, as if there was finally something behind those electric blue irises. Something alive. Something hot. As you played around with the idea, you lit up like a Christmas tree and pushed his mouth away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Almost as if he read your mind, he relented. But only reluctantly. Picking you up from under your arms, he set you onto the mattress so he could get out of bed. Looking back at you over his shoulder, he gave your cheek an affectionate pinch. “Whatever you say. I’ll be back after a piss.”

When he left the room, you were left to your own devices. As you brought your knees to your chest, you came to realize how tight it was. He’d only left for a few seconds, and you were already waiting for him to return. It was ridiculous to think about, but it was almost as if you missed him. Already.

Did spending all this time with him give you some kind of separation anxiety?

Or was it something more?

You couldn’t tell.

The fact that he mentioned ‘I’ll be back’ suggested he was aware of your attachment to him. You buried your face into your knees.

Turns out, you weren’t the only one having a hard time processing your feelings.

When he disappeared into the bathroom, he pressed his back against the wall. Reaching up to his chest, he scrunched up a part of his shirt as the pounding in his heart subsided--his metaphorical one. Alfred didn’t think it was weird to find you on top of him like that, let alone dislike it. In fact, he loved it. It gave him a shred of hope that maybe, you did like him the way he liked you.

But that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be with you.

This was the fifth motel he’d been to after the heist. There was no saying he’d be dead by the end of the day. Not when your father was after his head. So he wasn’t about to start anything. That would be too selfish, even for him--though one had to wonder if ‘selfish’ could even describe him anymore. He was anything but. At least, for you he wasn’t.

Alfred would only be proven right when he took a step towards the toilet. His vision started to glitch. Then, he lost his balance, falling over the sink and slamming his head against the mirror. “Fuck--!” Stumbling back onto his feet, he was engulfed in black for a few seconds. What the hell was going on?

His bout of disorientation lasted for far too long to be normal.

Before he would start accepting the prospect of going blind, his vision returned. He thought he would celebrate that moment, but he forgot what he was even fussing about. What happened? Lowering his gaze to his hands, he stared at them for a while before looking back up. What was he doing here? Where was he?

That was right. He was in a motel. With you. Running away from uncertain death. It took a minute or so to recall all of these things, and that was what alarmed him. It seemed like his body wasn’t accepting the chip very well.

Temporary memory loss and blindness was just apart of the transition, right?

Little did he know, it was anything but.

Outside that very district sat two men in a car. Bags hung under their dull eyes as they scanned the streets as vigilantly as their sleep deprivation let them. It had been two days since they slept, but they wouldn’t rest until they found him. There were only four days until the damage was done.

If they didn’t get to the man before then, he would be as good as dead.

21 notes · View notes

blackdragon-selfships · 2 years

Text

I posted 499 times in 2021

232 posts created (46%)

267 posts reblogged (54%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.2 posts.

I added 867 tags in 2021

#me/g reblogs - 243 posts

#me/g answers - 109 posts

#about my danger star ✨ - 78 posts

#lol - 73 posts

#ask game - 67 posts

#about megavos - 66 posts

#✨ queued 🐾 - 62 posts

#xd - 61 posts

#from: her danger star ✨ - 57 posts

#megavos - 51 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#(i...had to reblog with the actual filled out responses because i didn't know how else to fix it. the original has been deleted.)

My Top Posts in 2021

See the full post

14 notes • Posted 2021-02-03 06:46:03 GMT

1C with coda and hawk's👀

if this is ok with you

Here you go! I hope you like it. :)

Give me a pose and your selfship, get a drawing like this (limited slots)

15 notes • Posted 2021-08-01 05:00:48 GMT

The “I’m running from a mutual friend for some reason and happened to run into you” how we met AU

I could come up with an actual story behind this though. lol And it is a “how we met” one.

Ft. @francis-norman-furter

17 notes • Posted 2021-07-24 05:10:21 GMT

Written in the Stars

No Matter What, When, or Where We Are

No matter how we are born, and what we become...

...Our love is written in the stars

This was supposed to be for Valentine’s Day...but it didn’t work out that way. lol At first I was going to make a simple “dressed up nice and dancing” pose picture, but changed my mind. Deciding instead to do something more symbolic, which both shows the many AU ideas I’ve had with this relationship, and why I love AUs so much.

Under the read more is that explanation and some information on each AU:

I notice I make a LOT of AUs, and the reason is first that I just really enjoy exploring other story angles. From things where one or both are a different creature, where they are in different social classes, where occupation or how they met differs by the slightest decision change leading to it.

Yet they always find each other, and always find a connection. I guess that sort of goes into Soulmate theory too. lol

AUs listed left to right, top to bottom:

MLP:FiM: Made by my friend, @allykatsart, at first as a fun design AU since she got tired of drawing humans or dragons. We got to talking and included some lore on Aaravos in this universe; He is a Star Pony, which is an almost god-like race like in TDP, which are alicorns. He adopted Celestia and Luna after finding them alone in the middle of nowhere (or I think we jokingly said he woke up one morning and they were there. lol) and raised them (if Journal of Two Sisters contradicts the show’s canon, supposedly, so can I)

There was more to his backstory, but I won’t get into it. Meg (or whatever I call her here) was just a normal pegasus pony with an animal-based special talent. She met Aaravos while he was disguised as a different type of pony and they became friends, but were starting to like each other as more than that. Then he came clean about who he was and eventually they talk it out and work through it. (For the original images of their pony counterparts, check out my friend’s blog. She’s very talented!)

The Fallen Star: More of a teaser than anything, since this is still a project I want to share eventually. Of all the AUs on here, it’s the one I’ve worked on the longest and somehow is the most ambitious. It’ll be long, incorporate all the important TDP characters somehow, and have Aaravos as the main character (because I like writing about him way too much. lol) I can’t say much more, but Megavos is end-game there...and this project is special to me.

Chess Match: Not an AU really, just symbolism to an RP that is Post-The Fallen Star. Once again my friend, @allykatsart helped me a ton in developing The Fallen Star, and our (technically not canon I think) RP that takes place once it’s over is SO GOOD. Even if it isn’t canon, I hope we can finish it someday and maybe share it once the comic is done.

As for the designs here, they were by Ally, and basically the section of the RP this is related to can be compared to a chess match. No spoilers, but Aaravos represents the White Queen (because he’s one of the good guys here) and Meg is the King of the same color. Why it isn’t the other way around is also symbolic. Aaravos is the most powerful piece on the “board” in TFS, and the leader of the group once it forms. Meg is not, but that doesn’t make her any less important. She’s the heart of the team, and Aaravos especially. Without her...things would have been very different. Plot-wise, and Aaravos’ role-wise.

Blood-Bound Oaths: This is a slow-developing story thanks to the “Send me two AUs mashed together, I’ll give a headcanon on it” Ask game message I got. The Ask mashed together the “arranged marriage” AU with I think it was “royalty” AU and came up with the idea of Aaravos being the Vampire King who marries princess or queen Meg of the humans to unite their kingdoms for some reason.

I really liked the idea, but I couldn’t think of a way to do it...then changed it to Meg being the princess, whose father struck this deal with Aaravos. So she is sent to his kingdom as his bride and it’s basically a story about her learning to value herself and her opinions more, as he respectfully keeps his distance before slowly forming first a friendship with her before they truly fall in love.

Meg learning that the way women were treated in her kingdom was disrespectful and demeaning, and finding her voice through the very opposite treatment from the Vampire King and her appointed were-cat attendant (Ally. lol)

Written in the Stars (TDP-verse): I included this one both because it was where I started before getting comfortable enough to step away from the world of TDP and explore a more mundane, modern life with him. It isn’t as action-packed and adventurous as the lands of Xadia, but not entirely calm all the time either.

In the world of TDP, though, it was just the events of the show but an s/i thrown in because I can. I have a couple of TDP-verse stories I have planned (maybe) but there isn’t only one angle for it.

Snake Charmer: Very much an adult audience only AU...because the oneshot (that may become a multi-chapter story) connected plays with a few kinks of mine not mentioned on this blog.

To sum it up, the AU is of Meg as a student on a school trip to a tropical island where there are stories from the locals about a monster that lives in the jungle. If you get lost while in there, the monster takes you and you are never heard from again.

That monster is Aaravos as a naga/lamia creature called a Star Serpent. He normally eats trespassers, but Meg just happens to be found at a specific time in his life where he needs her for...other reasons. If the story was continued, it was going to be a darker beauty and the beast sort of story. Maybe with a curse being lifted at the end. Who knows.

Hades and Persephone AU: I probably won’t actually make this one either, but it is kind of symbolic as well. Especially after watching this video, where it goes into the original telling of the myth and some background information. Like how Hades has been reduced to being seen as the bad guy or more horrible than several other gods in mythology (like Zeus and Apollo)

Because of that, I thought Aaravos fit the role of Hades quite well. He’s strongly disliked, but not actually bad. TDP doesn’t go into sex and couples at all (well, couples: yes. Sex: no) but digging through Scorpio information (which he is) they require a connection to even have sex with someone. Or rather, they prefer it that way. So Aaravos seems very unlikely to go out of his way to hook up randomly.

Meg as Persephone is because she is portrayed as more innocent and kind...but in reality not a lot is known about her. Persephone is that way too, where she is actually feared even more than Hades is. I wouldn’t say Meg is that way...but you never know. I’m told I can be pretty scary when I get angry. And I mean reaching my limit-angry.

(Poses from the first QnA/Concept art episode of a Lore Olympus on Webtoons. The flowers on Meg’s headpiece are a specific flower.)

Siren AU: The mer-person AU, basically. This time my friend, @the-purpleflower helped me with this one. At least the ending, anyway.

In this AU, Meg is an intern at a marine research lab. Her boss is Viren, the head scientist there, who is off-putting but not unbearable to work for. He was kind of rude at first, especially if you aren’t keeping up with his thought process, but still a good boss...except something was off about him.

There’s also a locked door off-limits to everyone but Viren. There have been many rumors circulating what could possibly be behind it (some more ludicrous than the last) but the truth turns out to be even more shocking. There is a mer-creature of some kind down there, and Viren has been studying him for months.

As the story goes on, Meg and Aaravos grow closer over time and of course fall in love eventually. Not sure when or if I’ll get around to this one. Let alone finishing it.

See the full post

18 notes • Posted 2021-02-25 16:30:56 GMT

I’m curious…

Are there any people on here that selfship (or are ficto) that are past their 20’s? In their 30’s or older?

I’m wondering because my mom (who is patiently accepting and supportive of my ‘hobby’) seems to think you “grow out of it” once you’re past your 20’s (which I am in).

So Like and/or Reblog if you are a selfshipper in their 30’s or older? Or if you know anyone that is (you don’t have to give names)

112 notes • Posted 2021-07-19 19:01:07 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Glad to know my Valentine’s Day picture from this year is my second most popular post it looks like #The top one doesn’t surprise me #it was a public survey-like thing #So got a lot of notes #But I am proud of that picture above it…#I worked so long and hard on it #long post

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

enemy of my enemy is my lover

summary: you planned on just going to a meeting with an adversary, hoping to gain more territory in the process. you left with something much, much better.

pairing: mobster!bucky barnes x mobster!reader

words: 3,226

trigger warnings: smut (oral - f recieving and vaginal sex), mob dynamics

notes/other: this was inspired by ask received by @bucky-plums-barnes a long, long time ago about a mobster!bucky headcanon that describes the plot to this fic. while i could not find the exact ask (trust me, i tried), i credit the anonymous genius & gen heavily for inspiring this. thank you both!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Each step you make is loud, sharp; the sound of heels clicking against the cold, cracked cement of New York City. It’s something, one of the things, that makes you powerful – sends this thick feeling of invulnerability through your veins, as if you’re some deity returning to her alter.

That feeling – one of untouchable power – has always been…sort of…hard for you to conjure. It’s not like you’re not not powerful in this world absent your fantasies. You run the second most powerful mob in the country! You’ve got a large pull in international trade! You’ve got major influence in congress and almost every state senate! You’ve got money, a smoking hot and super amazing boyfriend, and loyal coworkers. What else do you need?

Regardless of all that, roaming the streets at night never fails to send a special kind of shiver crawling across your skin. It’s a particular type of fear, one that makes you pull your steel grey coat closer to you as you roam the street, makes your hand cling tighter to the .45 in your deep, righthand pocket.

As you reach the alley where the deal you’re brokering is supposed to take place, your phone buzzes a few times in a row. You have an urge to check it, to make sure the man you love is okay, but letting your guard down now wouldn’t be wise. You’ve got to keep a keen mental sharpness about you to make sure no one kidnaps you (or worse) or fucks you over at your own deal, but still, the only person who would be texting you at this godforsaken hour is the man you left at home, and in this business you can never be too careful about the ones you care deeply about…

Your thoughts are interrupted (quite rudely, you might add), by the sound of a thick winter coat shuffling – as if someone were to be rolling their sleeves up. The noise of the fabric gets louder as the person – a man, you soon realize – steps closer. A man with sharp cheekbones and a dark beard and beautiful, pillowy lips.

His gaze, even under the dark baseball cap that lacks insignia, seems hauntingly familiar. You can’t place it, and it seems rude to ask if you’ve met before, given the circumstances. Still…something seems…recognizable about this mystery man.

You don’t realize it, though, until the man opens his mouth and asks about the new baby seal in the San Francisco zoo. It’s the right code, that’s not what throws you. Rather, it’s the gravely voice of the man you’ve been dating for years that stops you in your tracks.

“Bucky!?” you call out, completely confused and abandoning the correct coded response. “Why are you out here?”

Bucky, now meeting your eyes, seems just as bewildered as you are. “I, uh…I’m….what, what are you doing here?”

You have no idea how to respond, mind too baffled to form words. “Wh…what…”

You step closer, carefully – as if he was some rabid cat you found behind your apartment building. His beautiful baby blues are wide, eyes narrowed – you gasp when you get close enough to smell the cologne, his cologne, the exact scent you bought him for Christmas the year previous. “Are…are you…you’re…are you the White Wolf?”

Bucky visibly steps back at the mention of the street name – the street name of the guy who runs the mob that (similar to yours) is based in New York and works in black market goods. He tries to hide his shock, just in case what he thinks is happening definitely isn’t happening. In all honesty, Bucky can’t tell which one would be worse. “And, you’re uh. You’re…um…are you….are you She-Devil?”

If you were disoriented before, you have no word to describe how much your brain is short-circuiting at the thought that this man – the man you love, has secretly been running not only a mob, but a rival mob, this entire time.

“Do…wait,” you shake your head to try and collect your exceptionally scattered thoughts. “Are you the guy who wanted to negotiate territory with me?”

Bucky hesitates for a second, body tense and reluctant to say anything. You’re both still, not daring move a muscle and the both of you stare each other down. It feels like an eternity before he does anything, your surprise only growing as a massive, shit-eating grin spreads across his gorgeous, scruffy face.

It’s a look you know well, one you’ve come to both love and despise. It’s the same look he gave you when he told you he wanted to build (not pay someone else to build, build himself) a deck in a house you moved out of two months later, when he almost got a face tattoo, when he sold your house (you know, the one he wanted to build a deck for) to buy one three streets away. That’s the look he get when some grand idea that will probably turn out to be a disaster – the look that says “this may be a disaster, but the only way to see if it is will be to try it.”

In an instant, Bucky closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. As he arms wrap around you, you can feel him rub at the small of your back, just as he always does when he’s trying to keep you calm. “Yeah, babygirl. That’s me. I’m the White Wolf.”

You press your face in the warm embrace of his coat, muffling your speech. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky shrugs as he answers. “Didn’t want you to feel unsafe, I guess. Didn’t want you to worry about me.” He presses a kid to the top of your head. “Better question, why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, your small voice becoming even tinier. “I dunno…same reasons as you, I guess. Felt like I’d be dragging you into something you wouldn’t want to deal with.”

Bucky barks a laugh into the night, the sound reverberating off the tall buildings. “Seems reasonable.”

You pull away but refuse to make eye contact as tears well in your eyes and cloud your vision. For a mob leader, you’re very emotional. “Baby, are you sure? Like, are you sure this is okay? I mean, we kept this major part of our lives from each for literal years…like, does that say something about us as a couple? And we’re, like, rivals, we’re supposed to be competing against each other for money and goods and ports and clients and-“

Bucky cuts into your anxious ramblings by pulling you back into a tight bug. “Hey, hey! Baby, listen. This is a good thing! A great one, if you want it to be!”

You wipe at your nose with your hand. “Are you…what do you, are you sure? What do you mean?”

Bucky nods, eyes ablaze with excitement for the future. “Of course, baby, listen. Separate, our mobs are both powerful, right? We can agree on that. But together? With the territory, the influence, us...together, we could rule the fucking world.”

Technically, he isn’t wrong; with your strategy and Bucky’s brutal execution, your combined business could easily become the apex predator of the mob scene within the Western hemisphere. What Bucky had, you lacked, and vice versa. You’d studied his…business…for years (before you knew it was Bucky who ran the Pack, of course) as you climbed the ranks of your own mob. You know they have hands in several international black markets, have relationships with lots of lots of rich people who do lots and lots of bad things and pay lots and lots of money for those bad things.

Oh God, you’d never think being power-hungry and love drunk could feel so good. Your mind fogs over with all the things you could do if you had Bucky and his gang by your side, you could do anything. Simply by territory you’d be outgunning Hydra, let alone the combined wealth and human capital. You’ve never felt this exhilarated before in your life, the freezing night air electrifying your rib cage and-

Bucky and you grin madly. Wordlessly, you clasp hands and walk back to your shared apartment halfway across town. Both of you are silent until you’re safely inside your secured home. As you pull your hair up into a messy ponytail, Bucky began grabbing bowls for dinner.

“You know-” he said as he ladled soup out of the deep red Crock Pot. “Now that we aren’t desperately trying to hide our occupations from each other, we can move into a bigger house?’ Bucky says it like a question, but you know better.

Normally you’d tell him “no, of course we can’t do that, we can’t afford it.” But now that you both know that you’re each hiding hundreds of millions of dollars in offshore accounts, slush funds, and dummy corporations throughout the world…

“Sure,” you shrug. “Why not.”

Bucky grins like a child on Christmas. “If we’re gonna rule, we need the proper palace.”

You forego giving into Bucky’s terrible, awful joke to hang up your studded coat, to take off your business casual navy-blue pants and black button-up in, and change into a pair of workout shorts and some tie-dye hoodie you thrifted about ten years ago. Bucky calls them your “thinking clothes,” attire you wear specifically to center yourself, to clear your mind of everything except the task at hand.

During dinner, you and Bucky begin to plan how you can consolidate assets, personnel, jobs, and everything that comes with heading mobs. It’s a long talk, one that lasts long into the night and ends with hastily-drawn diagrams and maps strewn around your living room.

It takes hours and way too many pots of coffee, but eventually the plan for the merger is laid out in front of you – all the graphs and math and official language handwritten in your neat cursive (along with a few notes scrawled by Bucky) on over twenty sheets of pristine printer paper.

Bucky sighs happily when he sees it all finished. He’s standing, desperate for a bird’s eye view of the entire thing.

You, on the other hand, are much too tired to stand. You settle for, “How does it look, babe?” as you draw two lines for each of your signatures below both of your full names.

When you look up, you see Bucky – eyes twinkling with joy. “It looks…,” he sighs, happily. “Amazing. I love you so much.”

You giggle, drawing lines for a few witnesses (you’ll make a few of your associates sign tomorrow). “I love you, too, babe. Now, you still got that champagne from our visit to France?”

Somewhere between the front room and the wine fridge, Bucky had you pinned against the wall and was cupping your clothed pussy.

“While I think you look great,” Bucky murmurs against the hot skin of your neck. “You’re wearing just a little too much for me.”

In an instant he tears the skimpy shorts from your body, the sound of ripping fabric making you moan;

“Fuck,” you gasp as one digit, then another enters you. “Holy shit that feels good.”

Bucky pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, smiling as he watches your jaw slacken from the pleasure. “Yeah? You like that?”

If you could speak you would, but each word just comes out as a breathy moans. Your first orgasm hits you like a wave, Bucky pulling it from you with crooked fingers and his lips on yours.

When you come down Bucky carries you to the bed, undressing himself as you do the same.

He pulls you to the end of the bed by your ankles, pushing your legs up to your chest. He enters you easily – bottoming out within a few thrusts.

You and Bucky moan into each other’s mouths as he fucks into you.

“Oh God,” he groans, moving to kiss at your neck. “Holy shit!”

He rubs at your clit with the thumb of one hand as he bites bruises in your collarbones, desperate to hear the symphony of sweet sighs and deep moans as you near another peak.

“Come on baby,” Bucky murmurs into your lips. “Come on, cum around my cock for me.”

It doesn’t take much after that – a few more circles around your clit in time with his thrusts and soon you’re scream and nearly tears the sheets from how tight you’re gripping them and your whole body convulses from pleasure.

Bucky finishes himself onto your stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as he does so.

He takes a minute to collect himself, still panting as he grabs a tissue to clean you off.

After water and a snack (two granola bars you had stuffed into your bedside drawer an unknowable amount of months ago), you curl into Bucky’s chest, tracing the litany of tattoos there. “Weren’t we supposed to drink to celebrate?”

Bucky lets out a full belly laugh. “Probably. But the alcohol is all the way downstairs. Plus, I know something else I can drink to celebrate?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Only you? Why don’t I get to get drunk?”

Bucky just smirks, moving you off of him. You’re about to protest but begin to understand once he pushes the covers off the both you to make room for himself between your legs.

“Trust me,” he tells you, leaving kisses on your skin between every few words. “You’ll love this a lot more than any old champagne.”

And, of course, he was right.

The next day, you meet with your closest adversaries. While you two wait in the conference room in the building Bucky took over after it was condemned a couple years back, you can feel your heart ram into your ribcage. It’s less from anxiety and more from anticipation, knowing you might face major backlash from the people you trust the most.

The first to arrive is the woman you trust the most in this world: Natasha. She doesn’t move towards the table, simply stands just inside the doorway while staring you down. She doesn’t recognize Bucky, but doesn’t enjoy being below the eyeline of a man she’s never seen before.

“Natasha,” you say, desperate to remain calm. “This is Bucky. We’ve been together for five years. And he’s the leader of the Pack.”

In a fashion much atypical for Natasha Romanoff, her eyes widen slightly. “Oh…” she says after a long while. “Okay then.”

She promptly sits down with no further questions.

As with many business, heads and second-in-commands of mobs rarely come face to face. They have goons, messengers that do their footwork. Descriptions of the faces belonging those in charge pass around akin to rumors, only whispered quieter.

Which is why, when Steve comes in, he has no idea what to think until Bucky introduces you and Natasha.

By the time Bucky’s finished talking, Steve’s beat red. “Buck, what the fuck is this.”

“Just,” Bucky sighs, worried about his phrasing and angering his best friend on the face of the planet (whether that be Steve, for reasons that feel obvious, or you, for reasons that feel even more obvious). “Sit down. We’ll explain-“

“’We’ll!’” Steve nearly screams.

Bucky is the only one who flinches at the sudden loud noise. You finish his sentence for him. “Yes. Bucky and I will explain.”

Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like taking orders from a rival. Still, he sits at the large, oval conference table opposite Natasha.

The last two people to come in are the head of you and Bucky’s legal departments. Wanda gives you a single nod before sitting next to Natasha, a man Bucky addresses as “Tony” sits next to Steve.

You exhale deeply once the metaphorical dust settles, encouraging Bucky to begin the spiel he had prepared last night been orgasms four and five.

“Alright. We have,” he sighs. “We have decided to combine our two…” Bucky struggles to find the right word. He worries for bugs and secret agents and misunderstandings, brain always struggling to remember that this is sacred, secret business. Any crack in any of the numerous protective facades could mean its downfall, along with the loss of billions of dollars and his life.

“Entrepreneurial endeavors,” you finish for him.

You hear Natasha snort, amused by the avoidance of saying gang and mob and illegal distributor of goods. The rest of your cohort are silent, unsure of what to say next.

Each beat of verbal inaction leaves you more fearful than the last, your heart getting louder and louder in your ears.

For what feels like forever, no one says anything.

Though, with the pounding of blood in your ears, they could be screaming obscenities at you and you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

The only thing that seems able to quiet the noise is Bucky’s fingers intertwining with yours.

Only then do you hear Wanda speak, her accent tinging each word. It’s comforting, to hear something so familiar.

“I assume you both have drawn up something that,” she eyes the man across from her with a look dusted with disdain. “Tony and I can look at.”

Bucky slides the thick document, held together in a beat-up binder you found under a bookshelf, across the table. Wanda is the one who stops it and looks into it first.

She says nothing, holding her tongue as she allows Tony to eye the document. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and pushes them to the corner of his nose as thumbs through it, looking bored and tired.

“Yeah, this shit looks good,” Tony says quickly, shoving the dark glasses back over his eyes. “Can we leave now?”

The resounding silence continues until you break it yourself, attempting to detail for Steve and Natasha what it all means. They listen diligently and sign where needed, Natasha being decided on as the most likely to type it up into an official document and send it to the necessary parties.

Once it’s all over, you and Bucky ride down in the big, glass elevator together – excitement electric in the air.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asks. It doesn’t seem to be out of concern, even if tears of happiness are pricking at your eyes.

“God,” you tell him, voice breathy and ecstatic. “I don’t even know how to describe it. I just, I don’t know. I’ve been so terrified I’d have to hide this forever – or that you’d find out, or that someone would figure out who you were. And now…I just,” you wipe at your eyes, and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know you’re protected. And I don’t have to hide this from you. And I’m so fucking happy about it.”

Bucky kisses the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. “Oh, baby. Darling I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

The two of you stand in silence, holding each other until you have to exit. Neither of you say anything until you’re both in the car, safely on your way back to your shared home.

“We’re in this together right?” you ask, looking at Bucky as he keeps his dark eyes on the road.

Regardless he smiles, moving his right hand from the wheel to rest on your knee. “Always, baby. Always.”

#mobster!bucky barnes #mobster bucky barnes au #winter solider #bucky barnes x reader #mobster bucky barnes x reader #lukis writes things #fun fact this drafts is almost 2 years old #and i kinda hate it but listen its done and its on the internet now

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dollfaceeeeee · 4 years

Text

somewhere in the pacific north west..

It’s cold, colder than I anticipate, and the rain settles against the outside of the small, compact house like a heavy breath; drilling into the windows and dragging me out of a heavy sleep.

For the first time in a long time, I’ve slept through the night, finding peace in the silence of Paul’s home, nestled gently against the coastal line of La Push beach, one of my favorite places in the world.

I know I’m late, beyond late, and I know my mom may or may not have called a search team out for me, because I notice the hazy sunlight that threatens to spill out from the clouds.

And, once I take a look at my phone, I know I’m right.

Paul’s arm is thrown tightly across my waist, his fingers slightly brushing against the waist band of my jeans, and his breath slides smoothly across the top of my head; even with sleep, something he doesn’t get as often as he should.

It feels like centuries ago that he and I became something more than friends, finding a solace in each other that I’ve never found in the gloomy town of Forks, and he’s never found in the exciting reservation of La Push.

I know that’s not true, because the women here are way prettier than I’ll ever be, in my opinion.

Attempting to slide out from Paul’s grip, I soon realize, is impossible, because once I do, his eyes snap open and he tumbles headfirst onto the floor at my feet.

“Damn it,” he hisses, rubbing his shoulder as he drags himself, groggily, to his feet; my lips straining to hold back the laughter that threatens to spill out.

He tries not to smile, but his attempts fall short as I watch that familiar warm grin curl across his face.

“I’m sorry, that was just too good.”

Fumbling with my school supplies, I shove them all back into my backpack and zip it up before tossing it across my back, stumbling slightly under the weight.

His smile drops slightly before it ghosts away, his eyes training on my movements in the semi darkness of the gloomy morning day.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” I answer him, shrugging, “I’ve never been out all night without letting my mom know where I am, and she’s probably freaking out. I think I should...get back.”

Friday’s, normally, are spent on the reservation with Paul and the guys, doing schoolwork and helping Jake work on his fresh new project - this just so happens to be a 1963 Jaguar E Type.

It’s what I look forward to, every week.

“Let me go with you,” he instructs, pulling on a grey Tshirt and sneakers before pulling open his bedroom door for me.

Paul is a werewolf, like Jacob, Sam, Quil, Embry, Seth, Leah, and Jared; sometimes this fact doesn’t quite settle in to my skull correctly, and I have to repeat it to myself again.

Paul is a wolf.

Unlike Jacob, his protective wolfy instincts kick in around me, considering I’m his imprint, which means he’s technically going to be attached to me for life, whether it’s romantically or not.

Luckily for me, I think I’d do just about anything for Paul Lahote if he asked me to.

Well, besides avoiding the Cullens, but that’s impossible to do, given that we go to the same school, and Emmett is my lab partner.

More on that later.

Paul leans into the door to let me by, his tall figure towering over me like a weed, and I watch as he pulls the door shut behind him before leading me outside.

The rain is a constant companion in Washington, bringing a heavy ambush of constant precipitation and wind chill that makes it always hang at a steady 50 degrees Fahrenheit.

I know this town like the back of my hand; I’ve lived here all my life, went to school here, ate here, had my teeth cleaned here.

My mother even dates one of the natives from La Push, which still bothers me sometimes, only for the meager fact that my father died barely a year ago.

I’m interconnected to this land in ways I’ve never thought I could be to something that isn’t human.

Paul orders me to wait at the door while he rushes to get my SUV, a lingering black mass at the edge of his property, and I notice his father’s vehicle is gone; probably out to work for the day, an early riser, much like his son.

It doesn’t take Paul long to bring my SUV up close to the door, and I slide into the passenger seat comfortably, grateful for the heavy blast of heat that sways from the vents.

Tossing my bag into the backseat, I sigh loudly before getting comfortable in my seat, watching as Paul pushes the car from the property with accuracy and precision.

“You didn’t have to do this. I know Sam will be coming to look for you shortly to track down that vampire.”

Paul rolls his eyes, his hair slightly damp from the rain, and it looks great on him; his chocolate brown eyes set on the road, screening through the heavy drizzle of rain.

“Bella Swan is not, and has never been, my priority. You are. Sam can wait.”

Having a fresh new vampire face in town makes me uneasy, and rightfully so, because I know this new addition is not here for a pleasant trip.

She, also, doesn’t drink animal blood, much like the well known Cullens do.

I know Jacob wants to protect Bella, but it’s for a hopeless cause; he’s in love with her, and killing the vampire targeting her won’t get him what he wants.

He will never get what he wants.

“Yes, but isn’t it your sworn duty to protect humans? Isn’t that in your handy, dandy werewolf manual, somewhere?”

Paul’s jaw locks, his eyes stealing a glance in my direction, sparkling with irritation and mischief and I can’t help but laugh.

“Handy, dandy werewolf manual? Christ, do I wish there was one of those. Having to unwillingly share my fantasies of you with my pack is fucking awful.”

This time, he’s the one to laugh as I shoot him a glare, the interior of the car barely illuminated with light.

Fuck you, Paul Lahote.

“Seriously? Are you serious?”

“No,” he states sharply, gripping the steering wheel tighter, “of course not, baby. Those fantasies are only for you to know. Do you honestly think I’d be able to let any of them live if I was?”

Smiling, I shake my head as I picture Quil, unwillingly, having to see an image of me naked, and how disgusted he would be.

Well, gotta love Quil Ateara.

“You’re probably right. With your insane anger issues, there would be no way any of them would live under those circumstances. They’d be dead.”

“Exactly.”

Leaning over, I watch as he twists the vents off on his side of the car, grimacing slightly under the weight of the heat coming in, and I instantly feel bad as I reach for the heater dial.

“Just turn it off, baby, I’m-“

My words are cut off as the vehicle sharply swerves dangerously at an angle, cutting across the asphalt like glass; Paul hitting the brakes heavily, his hands controlling the steering gracefully before everything pulls to a direct stop.

Paul inhales sharply, his eyes dusting around the trees along the sides of the road, darker than usual and cold as ice.

He pulls the car to the side of the road before cutting the engine, his hands hovering over the steering wheel, clenching it so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“Paul, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“There’s a vampire, somewhere,” he says softly, locking and unlocking his jaw before looking at me, “it doesn’t smell familiar, like those Cullens, either. This is different. Something..new.”

Inhaling sharply, I move to look out the windshield at the trees that lay before us, cold and wet and dark, before I hear Paul lean back and grab my bag.

“I’m going to have to change. I’m not sure I can get you back to Forks if they’re following us. Do you trust me?”

I’ve never seen a vampire up close, a real one, outside of the Cullens, and it makes me strangely uneasy and discouraged, as I try to focus on what he’s saying.

“What about my car?”

“Do you trust me,” he repeats, eyeing me sharply in the dark, and I can hear the rain slamming into the sides of the car before I nod.

Of course I do, of course I trust him.

“You know I do.”

“Then listen carefully, because once I change, I can’t talk. Get out of the car, put your bag on your back. And hop on my back. I’ll run you to Sam’s where I know you’ll be safe.”

“But, my mom, what about my mom?”

Paul runs a hand down the length of his face, glancing to and from the forest that lay beyond, looking more and more menacing.

“Once I’m in wolf form, I’ll contact Jared and Quil and make sure they get to your mother first, I promise. She will be fine. I can only care about you right now. Do you know what to do?”

I can only get myself to nod, my heart hammering in my chest, before I shrug on my backpack in the small space of the front seat.

Leaning toward me, Paul grabs my face and presses his lips against mine, and for a split second, it makes me feel safe, like nothing can hurt me; like I’m as weightless as a cloud, forming and shifting above the earth.

“I love you.”

Giving me a slight shove, I slide out of the car and into the rain, yanking the door shut behind me.

I know he isn’t in the car anymore, much like I know that we aren’t alone out here, and it makes me feel like a lamp in a department store window, flashing to passing customers.

Focus.

I jump once I notice Paul’s wolf form sidle up next to me, his shoulders knocking against mine before he snarls into the dark.

There’s my cue, I suppose.

Inhaling sharply, I heave myself up onto his massive wolf form, much larger than a normal horse, and I’m impressed when I find myself sitting comfortably on his back, his fur brushing against my open skin.

And, just as fast as he became the wolf, he was gone.

Now, I’ve ridden many roller coasters in my life time; I’ve hit the loop de loops, the tall drops, the upside downs, but nothing has ever prepared me for this.

Even in the darkness, it’s exhilarating; the rain whips against my face like a battering ram, jarring me out of focus, but I learn to adapt as Paul leaps under and over shrouds of greenery in the early morning light.

I don’t see anything else, besides me and Paul, but I’m sure my human eyes can fool me, because every so often, I’ll notice Paul look over toward the right, into the patch of darkness that seems to stretch on and on into the early morning.

My fingers curl around the fur on Paul’s back, and I find myself leaning into it as he moves through the forest, racing as the animal he was born with, the animal that’s always been a part of him.

Inhaling, I can smell the damp earth, coated with moss and ferns, and the fresh ocean water not too far away that seems to coat everything in a vice grip, and it seems to clear away my senses for a moment, just a moment, as I steal a quick glance behind me.

In the darkness, a patch of red seems to bloom from a patch of trees, and a smile dances across a phantom face.

#paul lahote #twilight #twilight imagine #forks washington

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lieutenantcharleslorem · 4 years

Link

It is finished! This is a commission for @datalaur! It was fun to go outside my comfort zone, since I do not actively ship Data/Geordi, but I hope I did it justice.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge Summary: The Enterprise is transporting some dignitaries, and one of them has the hots for Data. This inspires Geordi to say something he probably should've said a long time ago.

The Junior Minister was a plump woman. Certainly wide in appearance especially when standing next to Counselor Troi, but not unattractively so. Her short navy hair emphasized strength while drawing attention to her soft features and light eyes. And those eyes were so thoroughly and obviously fixed on Data, Geordi thought he could have seen it without his visor.

Having feelings for a dear friend was a strange thing, because part of Geordi wanted to tell Data to go for it; he deserved an alien fling once in a while just as much as anyone else on the crew. But of course, part of him wanted to tell the Junior Minister to take a hike.

“They’ll, uh… They’ll catch you staring, Sir. At least, someone always does me…” said Barclay, sitting down next to Geordi at the bar. He practically winced as he sat, not really knowing if he was welcome.

“No one ever accuses a blind man of staring, Reg.”

“But you are. St-staring, I mean… Aren’t you?”

“I’m having a drink, and looking in the general direction of our guests.”

“Yeah, he’s been staring at them for 20 minutes,” interjected Guinan. “But how you doing, Reg? You want some fruit punch?”

“I-Well, er, yes please.”

Geordi smiled, thinking for a moment that Guinan could make just about anyone feel at home, but his eyes never left Data and the Junior Minister.

While the Junior Minister sat with the officers in the middle of the room, fully immersing herself, the High Minister, a tall man whose dark blue hair was greying on the sides, stood at the end of Ten Forward having a muted conversation with the Captain and Commander Riker. * Ten Forward was fuller than Geordi had ever seen it. The Ministers had 6 other dignitaries with them, 2 lawyers, and 17 trackers which as far as the crew could tell meant some sort of assistant, and all 27 people were mingling jovially with Starfleet officers. Their people had been in the process of joining the Federation for 7 years and according to some gossip from one of the trackers, it was still a few years off.

“Though we’re a warp capable species with a one world government, it’s obvious the Federation disapproves of our bartering system,” one of the trackers had mentioned to Ensign Velor that morning. The ensign was meant to be leading each of them to their quarters; Geordi just happened to overhear the chatting.

The Enterprise was transporting them to some sort of negotiation and cultural exchange. No one really knew the details.

“Care to join us?” asked the Junior Minister, looking straight at Geordi. Her voice carried over the crowd with ease, without her yelling or disrupting the other sounds of the bar. It was a little unsettling, in fact.

“I told you,” Barclay whispered.

“Mmm, forgive me if I’m resistant to trust your assessment of social situations,” said Geordi lowly, while shooting the Junior Minister an apologetic smile. Barclay sank a little further inside himself. Geordi took a swig of his drink, left it on the bar, and stood to approach the group.

Halfway there, he said, “Come on, Reg.”

Barclay stood suddenly, smoothing his uniform. He started to follow but Guinan whispered, “Reggie, take your drink with you,” and pushed his glass toward him. He raised an eyebrow and she added, “Something to do with your hands.” He nodded and took his drink with him.

“Geordi La Forge is the Chief Engineer, of the Enterprise,” Data introduced him, adding, “He’s also my best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. La Forge.”

“Right, I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to leer. I was just, thinking about something. It’s an honor, Junior Minister.”

“Oh please, like I told your friend, call me Tuviece. And who is this?” asked the Junior Minister looking squarely at Reg. He tried and failed to look her in the eye.

“Is there something wrong with my face?” she asked. Counselor Troi opened her mouth to cut in, but Data beat her too it.

“Lieutenant Barclay interacts somewhat differently than other humans. He means no disrespect, just as I would not were I to do something considered socially unacceptable by your people.”

Tuviece smiled, eying Data. “You care very much your crewmates, hm?”

“I… They are my family,” said Data, not wishing to bog Tuviece down with a more technical explanation of how an android forms attachments.

Geordi and the Junior Minister melted. Deanna would have too, normally the first to call Data cute, but she had to take a subtle step back from the group instead, overwhelmed by Tuviece and Geordi’s internalized reactions. She blinked and fanned herself with her hand. She made eye contact momentarily with Barclay, and his eyes widened as he tried to figure out what the look on her face meant.

“That must be magical to be so close with your coworkers.”

“Magical?” asked Data, “I do not understand.”

“She just means good, Data,” said Geordi, “Very good.”

“Yes, it is a common expression in my language. When something feels so special it is as if it was caused by an impossible magical force.”

“O-ours too. Our language I mean,” said Barclay.

“Ah, so you can speak!” replied Tuviece.

“Do you have many relationships you would consider magical?” asked Data.

“Mm, no I suppose not… But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like one.”

The Junior Minister was a very passionate woman, and with her feelings, Geordi’s responses, and Barclay’s embarrassment, Deanna could only handle being in the conversation so long.

“I hate to run, but I think I’ll go check on the captain if you don’t mind,” said Troi.

“Oh, of course, dear,” she grabbed Deanna’s hand suddenly. “If I don’t see you again this evening, have a pleasant night. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Of course, a pleasure,” the counselor replied, moving away.

“Now, boys!” continued the Junior Minister, “Tell me what made each of you decide you wanted to serve on a starship?”

The night wound down gradually. The High Minister had already gone to bed, as had Reg, both admitting they needed some time alone. No one knew when the captain had disappeared, only that he was probably the first. The Junior Minister was afraid she wouldn’t be able to remember where her quarters were, so Data had offered to guide her.

“Such a gentleman,” she had called him.

Riker, Troi, La Forge, and Worf meandered slowly down the hall, heading for their own beds.

“Geordi, I’m sensing some discomfort,” said Troi.

“Hm? Oh, you know… big parties.”

“Oh, come on, you’re the life of the party,” said Riker with a smirk.

“I understand the feeling,” said Worf. “I too find parties exhausting.”

“Don’t Klingons have rather wild parties?” asked Riker.

“Our celebrations can be a bit much for humans, but the requirements of the socializing are different. Less pretense.”

“Sure,” said Troi, trying not to sound sarcastic.

“Though I will admit, even Klingon social events are sometimes tiring and disconcerting for me.”

“Well, everyone needs their space,” said Troi, “but that wasn’t the type of discomfort Geordi was feeling, was it Geordi?”

They stopped as they reached Geordi’s quarters. They formed a casual circle, Geordi’s back to his door. “… I didn’t ask for a group therapy session,” he said.

“If you need to share your feelings, Commander, we will listen without judgment,” said Worf.

The three of them turned their heads to look at Worf.

“What?” he asked. “Why do you stare?”

No one answered, and Worf huffed.

Troi cleared her throat, “I’m only worried that you’re sabotaging yourself again, Geordi.”

“Again?” La Forge replied incredulously. When he looked at the others, he realized they agreed with that assessment, and was suddenly quite self-conscious. “What is it exactly you think I’m doing on purpose?”

“Not on purpose,” said Riker, “But subconscious. Because of… well, hmm…”

“Out of fear,” finished Troi. “But there’s nothing to be afraid of—”

“Deanna—” interrupted Geordi, but Troi didn’t stop.

“I don’t think honesty will hurt you in this situation.”

“Yes,” Worf cut in, “do not dishonor yourself with lies.”

Geordi raised an eyebrow at Worf, wondering why he cared about this.

“It’s not fear… It’s… I just don’t know if it’s fair to put that kind of pressure on him.”

“I don’t know, I think our android friend is pretty good at taking things in stride,” said Riker with a smirk.

“I just don’t know if he is in a position to be made to make those kinds of decisions.”

“Well what if something happened with the Junior Minister?” asked Troi.

“That’s different… She’ll be gone soon enough. There’s no long-term decision to be made.”

“Listen, I know Data is a little awkward when it comes to dating but—”

“Is that what we’re talking about?” asked Worf. “Commander La Forge having a romantic interest in Data?”

“Oh Worf…” said Deanna. Riker started laughing. La Forge delicately lifted his visor from his face so that he could rub the bridge of his nose.

Replacing it, he said, “It’s like a teenager. They think they know what they want. And when it comes down to it, you can’t stop them from having their own experiences, but… but you can’t expect…”

Geordi drifted off and there was a pause as they all let his point sink in.

“La Forge, if I may?” asked Worf.

“What is it, Worf?” asked Geordi, trying not to sound exasperated.

“Now that I understand the premise of this conversation, am I to infer that you are insinuating Commander Data should be deemed incapable of giving consent?”

“I… well not in so many words—”

“Because from what I know of Data, though he wishes to be a part of humanity, he also values his autonomy, and I believe he would be offended by a denial of his right to make his own choices.”

Worf’s surprisingly aware statement rattled around in Geordi’s head the rest of the evening. He was right. It was up to Data to make his own choices. That didn’t mean Geordi would automatically get whatever he wanted, but not everything was about him.

Data helped him with some maintenance in engineering for most of the next day. Reg was in and out providing assistance. The Junior Minister came around to observe. Normally La Forge didn’t appreciate outsiders sticking their nose in his warp core, but the maintenance wasn’t urgent, and Tuviece asked questions with a friendly curiosity that showed she didn’t mean to get in the way. Plus since Data didn’t mentally tire, or struggle with how to answer a technical question, he was happy to entertain all of her inquiries. Sometimes Reg would translate to layman’s terms when he got the courage.

Around midday Tuviece asked if they ever took breaks.

“Ha! Sometimes. But oh so rarely,” Geordi had joked from his place on the floor.

“ I was so hoping to have a spot of lunch with you…” She said it like she meant all three of them, but she looked at Data out of the corner of her eye. Geordi figured he shouldn’t third-wheel, so he made up some excuse about not leaving this panel open.

Data immediately began explaining that he neither requires breaks or food, and Geordi could almost hear the disappointment on her breath.

“Well then… What about you, Reginald? Care to join me?”

“Me?” he asked.

“Of course. I promise you don’t have to look me in the eye if you don’t want to.”

Reg let out a half laugh, and led her back to Ten Forward.

“Data, you eat sometimes,” La Forge said once they were gone.

“Yes, but I do not need to.”

“…Buddy, are you blowing off Tuviece on purpose?”

“Blowing her off? You mean to avoid? No. Should I have gone to lunch with her?”

“Only if you wanted to.”

“I… I have no specific desire. No desire to stay or to go.”

“Oh.”

Geordi knew he should talk to him, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on work afterward.

Reg and Tuviece returned after about an hour. It wasn’t their fault, but by the end of the day Geordi was sick of them both. Or maybe it was of Data being oblivious.

When Tuviece asked if someone might walk her back to her quarters, Data volunteered Reg for the job. Geordi raised his brows and mouthed why at him but Data only looked confused in return.

After Reg and Tuviece had disappeared, Data and Geordi chatted idly as they made their way toward Data’s quarters.

“Data, what’s the matter? You don’t like the Junior Minister?”

“I like her very much. She is fascinating.”

“Then why’d you send Reg to walk her back to her quarters?”

“His quarters are closer to hers.”

“Sure, I guess that’s logical.”

“Have I turned down another invitation, Geordi?”

“Well… Yeah, actually.”

“But why would she prefer me to walk with her?”

“Data…” whispered Geordi as they came up to the door to Data’s quarters. He turned and leaned against the bulkhead, crossing his arms and pulling up a leg to press his foot into the metal behind him.

Data came close, anticipating Geordi continuing to speak quietly.

“She likes you, Data.”

“And I like her too, but—”

“No, she’s interested in you. Romantically.”

“Oh.”

“And if you don’t want to engage with her in that way, that’s obviously up to you. But I just thought you should know so that you have the choice.”

“Oh,” Data repeated.

“I mean, because I have feelings for you too,” Geordi blurted out before he could lose his nerve. “And you don’t have to acknowledge that either. But I just wanted you to know all your options, because if you don’t know—”

“Do you believe I have offended the Junior Minister?”

“Oh… I… maybe a little, but not detrimentally so.”

“So you do not think that I should interact with her on a romantic level in order to maintain diplomacy?”

“Oh, no, Data she’s not going to be angry if you don’t like her. Only go for it if you want to. It’s about what you want.”

“I see no reason to. I’ve already attempted to have a relationship once and it failed.”

“You—Data, that was like three days.”

“It was nine.”

“Okay, but Data, that’s not how it works. Relationships aren’t pass or fail, and you’re supposed to keep trying until you find the right fit for you. I mean, that is, unless you don’t want to.”

“Would explaining this to me require lying about having these types of feelings for me?”

“Lying? I wasn’t lying.”

“Then why would you choose now to tell me?”

“When do you think the best time would have been?”

“Whenever it first became true, which I’m assuming wasn’t during this conversation.”

“Well… that’s easier said than done, Data.”

“Why, if you have these feelings, would you push me toward someone else?”

“I’m not pushing you. I just wanted you to know the opportunities. I just want you to be—” he almost said happy but stopped himself. “Satisfied,” he finished, “I want you to have what you want.”

“I like challenges, but most humans I have observed seem to enjoy relationships more when they are less challenging. A familiarity seems to help in anticipating and preventing challenges. I would also personally prefer a relationship that lasted a significant amount of time, as I haven’t experienced that yet. And since I don’t have a sex drive, there’s nothing pulling me toward the momentary interlude I would have with Junior Minister Tuviece.”

“I see.”

Geordi was so resistant to getting his hopes up that he almost looked sad, and Data put a hand on his shoulder with a look of concern.

“So, you are the obvious choice,” said Data.

“Excuse me?”

“You are the obvious choice for me to be in a relationship with.”

“But you can choose no one. You don’t have to be in a relationship.”

“I’m… unsure why you keep repeating the same point. But you have presented me with an opportunity and I am taking it. Unless you are taking back what you have said.”

“No! No, I’m not taking it back.”

“Excellent,” Data said moving forward and kissing Geordi with little grace.

“Data, Data,” mumbled Geordi, “You’re pressing on my visor.”

“I apologize.”

“Maybe we should go inside.”

“Your quarters are more comfortable,” said Data.

“You’re incapable of physical discomfort.”

“I would like you to be comfortable.”

“If you insist,” Geordi said pushing off the bulkhead and starting off for his own quarters.

“Geordi?” Data asked.

“Yes, Data?”

“There are several things that, due to my lack of time in relationships, I have yet to experience… that I would like to.”

“Let’s… let’s wait until we get into my quarters, and then… you can tell me all about them.”

As this particular mission came to an end the captain, his chief engineer, his first officer, his second officer, and… Reg, walked with their multitude of guests to transporter room 1.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, High Minister Bieve,” said the Captain Picard.

“The feeling is mutual, Captain,” he replied as he joined several others on the transporter pad. One of the trackers blew Riker a kiss, and then the group was gone.

The Junior Minister was the last to leave, and as she turned back toward them on the transporter pad, she told them how much she’d enjoyed spending time with all of them.

Just before she disappeared, she said, “I’ll write to you, Reginald,” and winked.

Reg blushed.

“Barclay!” said Geordi once she was gone, “Did you—?”

“It’s none of your business,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Reg!” Geordi shouted, clapping him on the back.

Speaking for the first time, Riker said, “I guess everybody got laid this weekend.”

The Captain pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, but admittedly, he did it with a smile.

#star trek #tng #the next generation #data/geordi #daforge

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veinereastath · 3 years

Note

hi there again (I'm the anon from the Eredin age ask, btw, thank you for the answer!! I like your theory). i wanted to ask one more thing - how did you play around with pairing aen elle with a human? not that I have something against it, hell naw, but I'm wondering whether making Rhan a human was somehow important for your plot, or did you just decide it for no bigger reason?

I like your questions, Nonny! I really do~

~ Also, sorry in advance - this is a long answer. I wanted to make it short, but.. I guess I usually go to far with asks, probably because I’m just too excited, duh.

Okay, first things first - pairing Aen Elle with a human is sick. :”) To some extent, I presume. I would never go for it if not for the canon Lara Dorren x Cregennan of Lod story, because that gives some mild suggestion that, technically, such a relationship is possible. Even more interesting, the romance between them was more bothering for humans than elves, so it’s also a little point for my evil little abomination that I created.

About how it started - I created Rhan (or, actually, loose concept of her) in late 2015 / early 2016 [I started my journey with this universe in September 2015 where I played Witcher 3, and after finishing it I swallowed the whole saga by Sapkowski in less than two weeks]. Fun fact - she was an elf at this point, Aen Elle, actually, with a totally different backstory than what we have now. But me, being me, always digging human x elf / demon / whatever the hell you can come out with relationships - it wouldn’t work, it was too boring for me, so I scrapped that early concept and started nibbling, slowly and lazily, at something new. I think that the first ideas that are actually what Rhan is today started appearing in my head during summer vacations in 2016 (gosh, why am I giving so many pointless details, sorry anon).

Let’s get back on the grid - the main problem I have with Eredin is that he’s one of that characters that doesn’t have much screenbooktime. The whole Tir na Lia plot takes about 40 pages I think, and Eredin has maybe 15 pages in total. It’s not much when we have 5 books + about a dozen or so smaller stories [and Season of Storms, but it came out much, much later]. But what I could pick up was that:

Aen Elle are a fucked up race, and that’s a fact, but, honestly - 90% of the Witcher universe is either genocidal, racist, or both, or worse,

Eredin is genocidal and racist, and, even more... complicating, the whole "Ciri in Tir na Lia” plot puts Eredin, Avallac’h and Auberon in position of rapists, because putting a woman in someone else’s bed without her permission is rape,

he’s that lovely, dark and highly intelligent manipulative type. :”)

It’s quite a feat, because everyday I get around 3-4 new little ideas for their story, but only 1 at best makes it to the “next step”, because there are many things I have to consider - first is, 98% of soft and fluffly things just won’t work with Eredin. They just won’t, but somehow I’m fine with that, I was never a fluffly-tropes kind of person. Second is, Rhan x Eredin relationship is difficult on every level: the race difference is obvious, but there is also age, for example, and all the time I have this little devil in the back of my head reminding me of the “the old, kinda supernatural being falls in love with a young woman” trope: *cough* Twilight *cough*. The worst thing that could happen is making Eredin OOC somehow. But that’s always the biggest fear when shipping OC x canon, I presume.

So, in order to make myself feel better, in nearly every piece of story with them I write I put that huge doubt, mostly on Rhan’s side, how the hell this could work and her little panic when after some time she realizes where her feelings are going, because while Aen Elle x human might have indeed a chance of happening again, even after Lara Dorren x Cregennan, it’s still wrong on nearly every level. When that Aen Elle is Eredin, it’s even worse.

The very definition of “falling in love” itself also kinda feels weird when Eredin is taken into consideration, imo, so that’s another thing I have to live with every day (but hey, I love suffering, so it’s all good, right).

Moving on - I decided that if this is supposed to work, Rhan should probably be as most non-human human as I can, while still somehow keeping that “humanity” in her, because... If I wanted to de-human her entirely, why not just make her an elf and be done with it? That’s why I decided that while yes, she was born on Skellige and is 100% human, I will put her in Brokilon, make her live and learn from the dryads, and then put her right in the middle of Scoia’tael to give her the deep understanding of elven culture and way of life. The final effect is that while Rhan is human in terms of how she looks like (no diamond-cutting cheekbones in her, baby~) and tends to show a more fiery side of her temperament here and there, she behaves like an elf in about 85% of the case - to make it more “real” I added small headcanon things that could potentially fit elves, at least Aen Seidhe, the way the greet each other, thank eatch other for help, share their emotions etc., so after just a few days Eredin realizes “well, she’s human, but she does not behave like one, and does not move or fight like one”. It’s barely a deal for him at this point, but it’s the first, microscopic step towards moving their relationship onto some normal ground.

Another thing - this relationship could not happen fast. While Rhan is a sorceress and, indeed, has an increased lifespan thanks to magic, she is still a human and the biggest human thing in her is that she perceives time like humans do - every minute, hour, week is important to her, while Aen Elle can wait decades and not be too much bothered by it. So something long and lazy from Rhan’s perspective would be a blink of an eye for Eredin, especially since I stick to that headcanon that he must be at least 300 years old - at this age elves are pretty much done with everything, they’ve seen nearly everything, and they just don’t care that much about time, and they get quite bored with each other (sex-wise, as Avallac'h said to Geralt in Tower of The Swallow).

Though, on the side note, the books heavily suggest that Eredin is, indeed, impatient; something that kinda costed the Aen Elle losing the Elder Blood and Auberon at the same time, because he would probably live if not for Eredin’s hasty attempt to speed things up.

Huh, what else could I say... Ah, right, time. I wanted to mention that I made their relationship take a long time to just go from “you’re just a trophy” to “you’re tolerable” to “alright, I consider you to be a living being and slightly appreciate what you’re doing to Aen Seidhe elves in your world” to “I respect you” to “I would not die for you, but I would kill for you”. I’m still not entirely sure how much time I want it to take, but one decade is an absolute bare fricking minimum. Recently I’m kind of going more into putting it into a span of 20-25 years, actually. And it’s still not that much for Aen Elle elf.

What else... Ah, to figure out how the hell would Eredin even consider taking her alive, instead of killing her on the spot after she got trapped in Tir na Lia for the second time (in case you don’t know - I gave Rhan a highly unstable magic; she can’t create portals, because they always throw her to the place that is full of powerful magic, and doesn’t care for worlds barriers - and Tir na Lia is literally full of it), I went with the very long and tiring chase sequence; Rhan was able to run away for 5 days before she got captured, with barely any sleep available at that time, to kinda give this whole thing a vibe of an exciting (for Eredin, that is) chase, that is something new and interesting after the routine that is unicorn hunting / raiding human villages. The Raven Haired Bastard managed to be slightly, just sliiightly impressed by how long she was able to play this game, slipping from his riders by mere inches. Slightly. But that’s already some kind of a start to make it at least somehow believable. At least for my mind and my imagination.

And yes, I know he chased Ciri as well, but in her case it was a matter of life and death, because Eredin needed her blood, it was a matter of survival of the whole race, not chase for fun. In case of Rhan, it's more of a free-time challenge, a hunt for a difficult, but not that important prey. Aaand I don't like Cirilla, but that's another thing, yikes

... God, it was not supposed to be this long, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t make it shorter. And there are still probably things that I would like to mention, but just can’t think about them right now.

Moral of the story is - I dig complicated, dark and difficult relationships. I always go for them. Well, in 99% of the case.

#long post alert #sorry in advance #but THANK you for this ask #I live for answering questions about my OCs #Rhan an Undvik #Rhan x Eredin #Anonymous

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youngjustusorbust · 4 years

Text

Day 3 Angst

finally have the energy to cross post this, anywho here’s day three of yjfanweek

warnings: HORROR! BODY HORROR AND ALL THAT STUFF!!!

ao3

First there’s nothingness. Then, there’s sound, and sensation. When Greta slowly blinks open her eyes, she can hear a song on the radio. It sounds familiar, but she can’t remember from where. She mouths the words, more because she can’t help herself than any other reason.

She’s in a tub, stretching her long, (finally) human legs out. Enjoying a bubble bath. Something she hasn’t enjoyed in… she frowns, in a while. But she can’t remember why. Treat yourself, Cassie’s been saying that a lot lately, something from one of the shows that Cissie’s been staring in. Greta relaxes into the warm water. She breathes in the vanilla scented bubbles.

Treat yourself. Yeah, that’s what she’s doing, treating herself.

So she’s surprised when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” she calls. The door opens before she finishes getting the words out.

The radio on the windowsill beside the tub, drums out the song: ‘better watch out~ better watch out~ better watch out~’ Greta knows those words are wrong somehow, but she can’t remember what they should be. She’s reasonably sure they aren’t the words she was singing a minute ago.

Billy stands in the doorway.

“EW!” She cries, splashing as he comes closer, “Billy! Get out!”

“See you in the abyss, sis,” he rasps.

Greta knows what he’s going to do too late, as if she’s lived this moment before hundreds of times.

Maybe, she thinks as he swipes the radio off of the sill, song sputtering into nothingness, she has. She’s half out of the tub when it hits the water.

It feels like a tickle, and she knows acutely, that she’s going to die.

Then it feels like a lightning strike, and Greta doesn’t even get out a scream.

Greta gasps, heaving herself up and over onto the grass. Bile and metal sting her mouth and she blinks away the tears. Here, she’s safe. Billy’s gone, she knows. He’s dead, and she’s not anymore, and everything is going to be okay.

Everything is going to be okay.

She coughs out some spittle as the nausea settles in her belly. The world stops spinning—the light blue sky stays above, and the soft green grass below her. She catches her breath, swallowing sobs, and he lets her. She can feel his eyes watching her.

“Alright?” Slobo asks.

Greta closes her eyes, curls her hands into fists and nods.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine.” Slowly she turns back over, onto her back. She settles back next to him, and glances over.

Here Slobo looks calm like he almost never did in life. He closes his eyes. His thin arms support his head. His legs cross over one another. A warm breeze blows by, and his long black bangs flutter. They’ve grown longer since he died, which Greta wouldn’t think possible but-

“But,” Slobo finishes for her, “this is your world, after all.”

My world. Greta glances back up at the perfect blue sky. At the perfect paper-white clouds that float lazily by. The grass soft but just prickly enough.

Her world. The one born of her mind after she was sick of freezing herself to death in the place between life and death. She made this place. If she tries hard enough, she can see the real world around them—the desolate meteor that they sit on, the black and cold sky around them. If she listens hard enough she could hear screams.

Greta doesn’t try too hard, not when she’s here.

“Bad dream?” Slobo asks.

Greta shrugs. “The usual.”

Slobo’s quiet for a minute, and Greta knows he wants to speak but doesn’t want to offend her. It’s weird, before he died, he didn’t care about what anyone thought, but here… here…

“Do you ever wish you brought him back?” Slobo asks slowly.

Greta blinks at him. She can tell there’s more to the more that he doesn’t say. Can’t say. Won’t say.

She knows who the ‘him’ is too.

“No,” Greta says. “Not… not Billy, at least.”

Slobo looks over at her. “Then who?”

“I tried, you know,” Greta almost whispers. She’s always been able to tell Slobo about her sins. He never judged. “To bring back my father and mother, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t-wasn’t quick enough. Angry enough.”

“But with me…?”

Greta closes her eyes, sucking in a breath. She doesn’t technically breathe here, neither of them do but Slobo also doesn’t breathe because he’s dead.

“Greta?” he says pointedly when she doesn’t answer. When she refuses to answer.

She doesn’t want to remember. She comes here to be, not so she has to remember.

“Can you stop,” the words come out as a hissing order. Were they blades they’d have cut Slobo clean through. But Slobo’s brow has solidified, and he isn’t backing down. Not today. Not tonight. Not this time.

“No.”

“Why?” Greta hisses at him. Her illusion of a perfect world shivers around them, more empathic then she’d thought.

Slobo doesn’t back down. He’s not afraid. There’s very little she can do to him, or at least nothing really that he doesn’t want.

Greta swallows and tries not to think about where Slobo would rather-where he’d been. What she’d done to get him back.

“Misty…” he says in a soft voice so unlike his own. The nickname makes her flinch, and she knows that he used it on purpose. Maybe to anger her, to make her want to let him go. But she-she can’t. She can’t let go. Not of him too. The only person who helped her, who understood who she was at the end. Tim would never understand, no matter how he talked her down, he’d never really understand. He could play with the idea, he could sympathize, but he’d never know. Slobo did. “Let me go.”

“No.” The word is cracked. Greta clears her throat and the perfect world shudders around her once more before she summons her will. Before she puts her foot down and it glitches back into permanence. “No! You’re staying with me! Don’t you want to be with me?”

“I’m not supposed to be here, Kiddo.”

Greta shakes her head. She’s the Warden, she can decide where people go. And she needs him. She needs Slobo.

The Warden power, this ability to let the dead pass through her, it’s all she’s kept from her alive-again-ness. The mist state, the shape-shifting is all gone. But this, seeing the bed, letting them pass through—that’s all she has left.

And she can’t let him go.

“No.”

Slobo grimaces. He’s losing his patience, like he does every time they do this. Greta digs her feet into the grass beneath her.

“Let me fragging go, Greta!”

“No!”

“Greta-!”

“No!” She shouts, and covers her ears. Her world shakes. Falling apart around her, literally. The ground shivers and the sky blinks in and out and she feels something tear at her chest. Like her heart’s been ripped out. “NO! NO! NO! NO!”

Her heart is shoved back into her chest, and with a breath like ice her eyes fly open, and Greta finally, truly wakes.

The room at Elias’ is quiet. She can hear Cassie snore on the other side of the room. It must be really late (or early) if Cassie’s asleep—she went on night patrol. Greta sucks in heavy breaths. Her heart pounds in her ears, almost blocking out Cassie’s snore with their rush. She blinks water from her eyes and places her index and middle finger on her left wrist, trying to count her speeding pulse.

I’m okay. I’m alive. I’m okay. I’m alive.

Slobo’s alive. He’s safe.

In me.

A sharp buzz fills her ears in the silence of the night and Greta ignores it, focusing of the soft skin beneath her fingers. She counts the passing beats for every minute, watching the clock. Cassie has this horrible digital clock with blazing red numbers. It has one alarm which is the world’s most annoying EHNH EHNH EHNH EHNH in the world. It looks down on Greta maliciously from the shelf above her bed.

Four fourty-six AM.

It’ll be going off in two hours and fourteen minutes.

Then Greta will have a day of classes. A day of pretended to be normal. Pretending that nothing weird has ever happened to her. Another day of lying to her friends by omission. Another day of not telling them that she held Slobo under her heart.

Greta stands when her pulse slows to normal and walks to the shared bathroom.

At night the dorms in Elias’ School for Girls are silent. The school itself seems like the type of place where ghosts would roam for fun.

Tonight a ghost does roam. At least, someone who isn’t supposed to be alive, or maybe was supposed to live and didn’t.

Greta doesn’t bother putting on slippers. The floor of the hallway is a horribly ugly grey (or perhaps, purple at one time in the seventies) carpet, but the scratchy material grounds her as she walks to the bathroom. She can’t turn on any lights, so she uses her hands to guide her there, even though there isn’t anything in the hallway. The walls are a textured cream color she knows, but each door is wood. Her nails drag across the pine as she passes them.

Greta makes it to the communal bathroom and flicks on the light.

It turns on with the buzz of old florescents. Greta blinks against the painful brightness. She lets herself adjust.

She heads towards the sinks. Greta studies herself in the mirror. Her thin cheeks—she’s lost a lot of baby fat since coming back—look sunken in the horrible light. She’s grown taller, but only a little bit. Her blonde hair is held up in two small buns on the top of her head.

She squints at herself, at her chest more importantly. She can feel him in there. Pounding against her rib-cage. Begging her to let him go.

Greta presses her hand there, but it never connects.

Greta blinks and looks down. It’s like she’s seeing herself from outside herself for a moment. Like she’s touching someone else, or this is a movie. Because when she looks down, she doesn’t feel anything, even though her hands rests just on her chest.

Greta takes a deep breath to stop herself from panicking, but when she does, her hand goes right through her breasts, all the way up to the wrist.

Then, Greta begins to hyperventilate.

She turns away from the mirror and tries to run back to her own room, but with her first step her right foot sinks through the floor all the way up to her knee. There’s thump! and pain shoots up her leg, as if she’d just jumped off of a swing and landed wrong on her foot. Or knee.

Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.

Greta screams. “CASSIE!”

Greta tries to take another step—to crawl—against the cold, disgusting bathroom floor. White tiles with black grout growing between them, but her other leg loses substance too and she sinks down to her hips.

“CASSIE! CASSIE!” she shrieks.

But Cassie is so far away. She’s not going to wake up.

She’s not going to wake up.

Greta feels Slobo beneath her chest, laughing as she sinks down to her waist. Her legs kick and dangle. She’s not sure if they’re through the floor, or not because she can’t feel anything.

Greta just screams now. For anyone. For Superman. For Robin. For Cissie or Traya. Anyone. She needs help!

“HELP! HELP! PLEASE! PLEASE! I’M SINKING! I NEED HELP!” she screams. She shouts for Boston Brand or the Spectre but no one comes.

She sinks another inch. Her hand is starting to become transparent, Greta can see her bones through it.

Tears spring to her eyes. She tries to use her other hand to drag herself forward, nails digging into the black mold between the tiles of the bathroom floor. She continues screaming.

Greta sinks another inch.

You deserve this, she thinks. She died alone the first time, why shouldn’t she now? Beneath her ribs, Slobo pounds in his cage.

“HELP!”

She tries to drag herself onto her side. She flounders back and forth. She’s so scared that she doesn’t even notice until Ellen shouts: “Oh god! Greta! Are you okay?”

Greta looks up at Ellen. Ellen, nice Ellen. The girl who gave Traya her Liberty Bell hat.

“Help! Please!” Greta begs through hiccuping sob.

“Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, okay. I’m gonna-I’m gonna pull you out. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ellen says, more for herself than Greta. She reaches out and grabs Greta’s hand.

Greta almost cries from the contact. The feel of Ellen’s soft hands against her. On her palm is a small, smudged, ink heart. She still smells like her Dior perfume. “Thank you! Thank you!”

Ellen tries to pull, bracing her feet against the floor. She heaves, grunting loudly, then she flies backward.

Greta’s other hand has become incorporeal.

Greta screams.

Ellen throws herself on the floor, trying to grasp but every time her hands touch some part of Greta they go right through.

Greta sinks another inch.

“Stop! STOP!” she shouts because Ellen’s only making it worse. “Get Cassie!”

“Cassie. Right. Okay. Cassie.” Ellen books it out of the bathroom. By now other girls have started to wake up. They moan and grumble, trying to figure out what the commotion is all about, and Ellen almost runs over two or three on her way out.

“Greta?” One girl she has math with asks.

“What’s going on?”

“Who’s screaming?”

“CASSIE!” Greta shouts. “GET CASSIE!” Because how can she explain to them what’s going on, how can she explain-she feels herself drop, and she throws out her elbows and catches herself on them. Pain shatters up her arms and she cries out, not from fear this time.

“Help her!” Someone shouts, and someone dives for her, trying to pull her out like Ellen had and Greta reaches up for them, with just enough time to watch the girl’s hand slide right through hers, and then Greta falls and screams.

Solidify. She begs herself as she sees the girls in the floor above fall away. The floor which isn’t more than six inches thick flies by. It’s full of cobwebs and a bug climbs into Greta’s mouth while she screams. She chokes and spits it out.

Solidify, solidify, solidify! She begs herself, trying to clench her body like she did when she was mist. When she was not-dead. Before all of this.

She falls to the ground with a thump! The crash sends pain up her left leg (which she lands on). Greta screams. She can hear the heavy thudding of tens of feet above her as they run down to the floor she’s on now.

But she’s solid.

She’s solid.

Her chest feels like it’s going to be torn open, ribs bent out and backwards.

Greta vomits onto the floor. She coughs, trying to bring something in. Trying to get in some air. Something to prove that she’s alive. That she’s human.

But she feels herself fluctuate. Glitch. Like a light that has trouble turning on.

Solidify! Solidify!

“Greta?!” The voice is familiar. Cassie. Someone woke up Cassie. “Greta?! What’s going on? Are you okay?! GRETA!”

Greta had thought that this was over. She’d thought-

Come on, Kid, you aren’t that stupid, are you? A voice so close to Slobo’s whispers in her ears as Cassie brings her into her arms. Cassie’s warm hands touch and touch and touch. Greta sinks into the sensation. She never wants Cassie to let go. Not as Cassie’s callused fingers rub roughly over her cheeks, and lips, and forehead.

Who ever heard of getting just the good part of their powers back?

But I’m alive. Mr. Side made me alive.

Did he?

Greta’s heart thuds in her chest.

“Greta? Can you hear me?” Cassie’s voice breaks through her fog. Greta blinks at her.

“What?”

“Greta? Are you okay?”

Greta stares at her hands. At her legs. It’s all solid now. If she hadn’t just fallen through a floor she’d think that she had imagined it all.

“I’m-I’m fine now. I-I think.”

Cassie lowers her voice so that only Greta can hear. “We should tell the League. That can’t be a normal side effect. Maybe he did something to you. No one really understands Omega Beams as it is, maybe he…” but Greta isn’t listening anymore.

Did he?

“Greta?” she’s brought back to now when Cassie snaps her fingers rudely in front of Greta’s face. Greta blinks at her. Something wet is on her face, something warm. Greta can’t breathe through her nose.

Greta gasps and grabs at her nose, trying to stifle the bleeding. She didn’t used to get spontaneous nose bleeds either. Was this a byproduct of turning incorporeal? Or was it something else?

Cassie rips off some of her shirt and hands it to Greta to staunch the bleeding.

“Greta?” Cassie asks, worriedly.

“I… I think I’m fine now,” Greta mumbles through the rag. Her throat feels burnt on the inside from screaming. Scratched and raw.

“Are-are you sure?”

“Y-yeah.”

But Cassie doesn’t seem to believe her. Greta doesn’t blame her, if she were Cassie she wouldn’t believe herself either.

“You think you can come back to bed? Or should I call an emergency meeting now?”

“I think… I think I can go back to bed,” Greta says.

Not like you knew when the first attack of phantom-ness came, Slobo’s voice whispers in her ear. She swats at it absently. Cassie watches her warily.

Greta flushes. “Fly,” she murmurs.

Cassie must buy it because she puts on arm securely on Greta’s shoulder and leads her back upstairs to the dorms.

No one really understands Omega Beams, Cassie had said.

Did he? Slobo had asked.

Maybe Greta is getting what was coming to her, for hurting so many people when she went evil.

Cassie ushers Greta back upstairs, where on order of the staff, most of the girls have gone back to bed for the next hour or so that they’ll be able to.

Greta is in bed, staring at Cassie’s insidious clock. Cassie’s back asleep, snoring already—patrol must have wiped her out. Now that the nosebleed is gone, it’s as if nothing ever happened. As if she never sunk through the floor. As if she didn’t lose control of her body.

Greta closes her eyes, and tries to sleep.

Let me go, Greta, Slobo says, but without any of his usual fire.

I can’t. She can’t lose anyone else.

She can’t.

Greta tries to pull herself back to her perfect world. When she closes her eyes and lets herself sink into herself, into her body, into her mind, into the world between, she sees the cold and the nothing, and nothing else.

Except Slobo, who floats in front of her.

“Please don’t go,” she asks him. After what just happened, she can’t lose him. She can’t let go. She just can’t.

Slobo stares at her for a moment. He doesn’t say what they’re both thinking. Maybe your powers are coming back because you’re keeping me anchored here. Because you can’t give me up.

Instead, he just says, “behind you.”

Greta frowns, and turns.

Billy.

He looks exactly like he did in Bedlam’s world. Teenaged, long hair, square jaw.

It’s just a dream, she tells herself, you can wake up. It’s just a dream.

Billy smiles at her, something so unlike him it throws her for a loop. “Hey there, little sis,” he says. He grins, and something colder than the frost of the nothing runs through her, “want to see a magic trick?”

He raises his hands and-

poof!

Greta’s gone.

#yjfanweek2020 #diana writes young justice #diana writes yj #greta hayes #cassie sandsmark #slobo #billy hayes #angst #youngjusticefanweek #youngjusticeweek2020

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detectivedreameater · 4 years

Text

I’d Like To Mime A Comlpaint|| Cece and Marley

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Marley channels her inner!Karen and Cece gets a front row seat. Grab your popcorn.

The main reason Marley found herself back at the carnival was to make sure the mime that she and Anita had run into hadn’t filed a complaint or taken any action. What had happened wasn’t Anita’s fault, and if she needed to do a little intimidation to make sure nothing came of it, she certainly wasn’t above that. She did blackmail people to get information, after all. It was the only way she knew how to make sure supernaturals didn’t run around willy-nilly getting away with things that no one should be able to. It wasn’t so much justice as her just...showing the world that just because they weren’t human didn’t mean they were above the law. Humans were pretty nasty, too-- but mimes were in a whole different category. What she didn’t expect was for her anger to rear its ugly head when she got there, and all she could think about were the walls inside that had closed in on her and the mime that had stalked them through the halls and the pain in her chest as she gasped for breaths. “They should be fired,” she found herself yelling at the only manager that had decided to show up. “I want them fired. They touched a guest and endangered her. I should have them arrested.”

Cece was checking out the carnival again. This place was fucking weird. She was having a blast. She had been vaguely threatened by a few of the game runners, unconvinced she wasn’t leaving the place cursed in some way. Clearly she would be burning some sage tonight. She had a bag of popcorn, making her way towards the ferris wheel when she passed by the fun house. She had no interest in checking the place out personally, but the commotion was enough to draw her attention. She was a sucker for drama after all. She was happy to perch against a tree, munching on her snack and watching the scene unfold until she realized that it was a familiar voice that was yelling. Even worse, the face was familiar too. Marley. The two had chatted around the office, had some friendly banter online. Had some shots at that wild fucking bar mime. She had always seemed laid back, level headed. Not much the type to yell at a person working at a carnival. Apparently, Cece’s impressions had been wrong. She made her way closer to the fun house, poking her head closer to the exchange and stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth, “Always on the clock, huh Detective? Do you ever get tired of threatening to arrest people?”

The manager, true to form, would not speak. He just kept shrugging and miming things at Marley and she could feel her blood boiling. She was about to whip out her badge and force him to talk when she remembered what had happened with Jane when that poor mime girl had talked. Did all mimes explode if they spoke? She...didn’t want to find out. So, instead, she dug through her pocket for a pad for him to write on, but was stopped by a voice to her right. Marley turned her head to look, finding her gaze falling upon Cece. “Bishop?” she said, momentarily surprised. She glanced down to the popcorn in her hands, then back up, frowning in dismay. “What’re you doing-- you know, what? Never mind. And no, I don’t,” she grumbled, turning back only to find the manager scurrying off. She threw up her hands. “Oh, great! Perfect. Thanks for that. Did you know this place employs mimes, too? And that they stalk you through the fun house and think it’s okay to touch you? Because that’s illegal, I’m pretty sure.”

Marley was clearly pissed, which admittedly was only adding to Cece’s joy. Okay, that sounded mean. But honestly, how else should Cece take Marley screaming at a mime that had nothing to return to her besides vague hand gestures. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be any help. “Figured.” Cece shrugged, unsurprised that Marley seemed to enjoy the idea of arresting people. She also wasn’t shocked to see the miming manager retreating into the fun house to escape for the detective’s rage. “I’m just an innocent bystander! Don’t blame me because you can’t keep your witness under control.” She smiled innocently at her, accepting that this was her new trajectory for the night and bouncing closer to Marley, “I didn’t know that. But I know that the whole touching thing is frowned upon by most people. Even if they’re just miming it.” What exactly was Marley referring to? It wasn’t really Cece’s business, she supposed. “Are you chasing after the manager? Arresting the whole carnival? Can I be your partner in crime? I’ll share popcorn!” She offered, holding the bag out to her.

Bishop always had this...excitement about her. Even in the office or when they’d talked outside of work, there was always something about her that made it hard to stay mad. Marley furrowed her brow, glancing back over her shoulder at where the manager had gone, and folded her arms tightly over her chest. “No,” she muttered, “I’ll come back later with a warrant or something. So he can’t run.” She wasn’t even technically on duty right now, but Cece-- and especially the manager she’d scared off-- didn’t need to know that. Turning to face Cece fully, Marley raised a brow. “You’re not even a cop,” she muttered, looking a little disappointed. She wanted something to take her frustration out on, but she couldn’t find anything within grasp except Cece and she definitely didn’t deserve her anger. She held out her hand for some popcorn. “What’re you doing here, anyway? All by yourself? I thought people only came to carnivals on cheesy dates or with friends to blow off steam.”

For better or worse, the tension seemed to have died down. Cece assumed it was the former, considering she wasn’t convinced Marley was even here on official business. Not that Cece tended to get wrapped up in trivial things like policies or the rules, but she didn’t really need for any scene to break out regarding Marley either. The two may not be super close, but Marley was one of the few at the station with a solid sense of humor. Cece enjoyed having her around the space and she definitely had no interest in that being in jeopardy. “Technically, no. But I’d still make a great partner in crime. I have the CSI sass down. I could make a citizen’s arrest. I’m a triple threat.” Cece poured a handful from her bag of popcorn into Marley’s palm. The teamwork had already started. “I think we’d make a great buddy cop movie. Where I’m not actually a cop but you convince me to apply for the force at the end. Really sets us up for a sequel.” Marley questioned what Cece was doing here by herself, which was a fair question. What had brought Cece back here? “There’s a third reason: boredom. I can’t sit at my house every night. This seemed like as good a place as any. But I could ask you the same question. Did you just show up to interrogate the mimes?”

The twinge in Marley’s side told her that coming here had already been a bad idea, but Cece asking her why made it all the more clear. Munching the popcorn, a snack that Marley didn’t mind too much as long as it wasn’t salty, she thought it over for a moment. Her personal life wasn’t anyone’s business, especially not a coworkers, but it wasn’t that that stopped her from just telling her about what happened with Anita-- it was the idea that Marley had come here to defend someone. And that she’d needed to at all. “I did, in fact,” she finally answered, looking over at Cece from behind her darkened glasses. “And Zootopia,” she said, “you’re describing Zootopia the movie.” She started walking away after checking over her shoulder one more time to be sure the manager wasn’t coming back. It didn’t matter-- he knew she’d be back. She wasn’t done with him. All he needed was a little dose of fear. She popped some more popcorn in her mouth. “As far as buddy cops go, I’m good, thanks. Though I’ll keep you in mind if I”m ever looking to fill the position.”

There was probably more to the story than Cece knew, but at least Marley had been forthcoming about showing up just to instigate an altercation with some mimes. If this wasn’t official police business, what was Marley doing here getting so worked up over someone being touched by a mime? Reconsidering, Cece realized how gross that sounded and made a mental note to try to never picture mimes touching others ever again. This wasn’t some weird, black and white silent romance set in France back in the 40’s. “First of all, Zootopia is an incredible movie and we should consider ourselves lucky enough to try to fill those shoes.” Cece defended, clapping her hands when Marley turned her down, “Look at that! You’re already doing such a good job! The cop that doesn’t do partners? Fights the partnership in the first half of the movie? We’re really getting somewhere!” By this point, Cece was trying to get under Marley’s skin. There was something about the woman that had always intrigued Cece. A familiarity that the two shared but had not spoken of. Who knew why the people in this town were so hell bent on avoiding friendships. “I have a list of references if you need them. Regan will tell you that I’m annoying but persistent! I also have a personal vendetta against mimes, so I really think we could tag team those assholes here.”

Regan was right, then. Cece was persistent. And it wasn’t that Marley disliked her, but her skin was still crawling and she still hadn’t slept more than an hour or two a night. While she required less sleep than normal humans, she still needed some, and now she wasn’t getting any. She tensed when Cece clapped, moving quickly down the path, trying to make a beeline for the exit. “I never said it wasn’t,” she mumbled off-hand, before stopping to turn to look back at Cece. “Why are you following me? Shows over, you can go back to watching other people do weird things at the carnival.” She wasn’t sure what else Bishop wanted from her, and she wasn’t sure she was in the mood to try and figure it out. It was apparent Cece was purposefully bothering her, the two got on just fine at work, but she didn’t know why yet and she didn’t have the energy to find out. “You know what? Bring the references in to work tomorrow, I’ll look over them and then happily decline your offer again. Besides, if I were going to choose someone for my buddy cop movie, it’d be Jane. Sorry.”

Marley was leaving, clearly trying to rush away from Cece. Was it because Marley didn’t like Cece? Perhaps it was because she wasn’t on duty and didn’t like talking to coworkers off duty. Technically speaking, they weren’t actually coworkers, an excuse that Regan pulled out of her ass anytime Cece mentioned her dating Kaden. Or maybe, Marley wasn’t a fan of someone catching her having a meltdown against a mime? All valid options, yet none of them were enough to make Cece back off. “I’m not following you, I just happen to be leaving the carnival too. At the same time.” Cece skipped along next to Marley. If nothing else, at least this basically confirmed that Marley was also a big fan of Zootopia. Cece would have to remember that. That’d make a perfect themed birthday party at the station. “Besides, what’s more entertaining than watching someone yell at a mime? Did you expect the guy to respond? I’m not saying mimes are right in the head, but you at least have to respect the self discipline.” Marley offered to turn down her offer again, which was valid. “You know, if anyone’s going to beat me for the role, at least it’s Jane.” Cece shrugged the disappointment off before a lightbulb went off in her brain, “Wait a minute!” She called again hopping forward so that she was in front of Marley, looking back at her, “Let’s rebrand here. I’m thinking Charlie’s Angels. The three of us? The serious detective, reckless but brave police officer and the brilliant scientist? Think of the drama!”

Marley stumbled a little as Cece hopped her way in front of her, surprised by her persistent energy. Rolling her eyes, she stopped, folding her arms over her chest as she looked at her. “Considering last time I interacted with a mime she exploded, I suppose I should’ve expected it,” she muttered in mute agreement, before picking up her pace again, letting Cece take the lead. “No one hears a peep about this, Bishop. Got it?” She could easily stare Cece down into submission, but somehow doing that seemed like the wrong play here. Not that Marley needed or cared if Cece liked her, but getting on her bad side seemed like too much effort to deal with. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “If I agree to that, will you stop asking?” she said. “I could really use a drink. Or five. And frankly going alone sounds too pitiful. I’ll buy the first round if you promise to stop asking.”

Cece paused, “Excuse me, a mime exploded?” Cece considered whether she even wanted the context or not. Eventually she decided it wasn’t worth risking ruining the perfect vision she had in her head of the event, “I really hope that was as cool as it sounds. And not as murdery.” By this point, Cece wasn’t even convinced that the mimes here were normal people. “My lips are sealed detective, just like that mime’s” Cece grinned at Marley, but made the notion of zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key. Whether Marley believed it or not, it certainly wasn’t Cece’s prerogative to spread any rumors around the station. Unless the rumor involved Regan being a leprechaun. “You know how to strike a deal, Stryder! I’m in. For a drink, I won’t talk at all if you’d prefer.” Cece lasted about twelve seconds before recanting her previous statement, “Okay that was a lie. But nothing else about pulling a Karen back at the funhouse.”

Marley couldn’t help but roll her eyes again. It seemed to be an often occurrence with Cece, apparently. Not that she minded. Cece had a way about her to break tension. Marley could already feel herself relaxing, though part of it was the fact that they were leaving the carnival behind, ducking out the exit. “It was not cool at all. And I lost my favorite jacket to it,” she sighed, “Rest in peace, red leather jacket with those cute buttons.” Paused for a moment of silence before moving on. “See, now, I would pay to see you try and not talk at all. I don’t think it’s possible for you, honestly.” They made their way down the street to the nearest bar, a little hole in the wall. Marley went to pull open the door, but paused. “But uh-- thanks,” she muttered quickly, “for not saying anything about it.” Then pulled it open and went in. The less she talked about it, the better.

Now Cece was even more intrigued. That was a question for another day, apparently. “Damn. I’ll drink one in memory of your leather jacket.” This was the closest thing Cece needed as proof that mimes in this town weren’t human, right? Unless an actual human mime exploded in front of Marley, in which case she was being far too casual about it. “Ha ha. I’d bet on that if I thought I could win. But unfortunately, I think we both know I’m not capable of that. I talk in my sleep.” She didn’t actually know this, since she was asleep, but it felt like the right thing to add in. Marley clearly didn’t want this going around the station. Cece couldn’t say she knew exactly why, but it wasn’t exactly her business either. She only had interest in involving herself in people’s private life if it was in good nature. “Silence is golden, detective. What else are friends for?”

#chatzy #chatzy: cece #wickedswriting #cece #i'd like to mime a complaint #short but sweet and SO FUN #we stan cece in this chat

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perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Pet Perspective (16/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: MAJOR INJURY, just a flat out warning that from here it gonna be sad :/

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

————————————————————————————–

It was a bit more than an hour by the time Virgil and Patton made it home. Patton had wanted to stop by party city to get some decorations on top of everything else. Before Patton grabbed the bags of stuff from the back, he turned to Virgil. “Virgil, can you take Roman and Logan to their room while I set everything up?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Virgil nodded and went in first to see Logan and Roman still on the table where they had left them. “Hey guys, we’re back. And Pat wants me to take you to your room so the surprise isn’t ruined.” Virgil explained as he set his hand down.

“The surprise?” Logan tilted his head like a curious puppy. “How is it a surprise if we are aware that it is a makeshift birthday party intended for us?”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s more of the surprise of what it’s all going to look like. Now come on so Pat can get started.”

“I thought we were just eating cake?” Roman stage-whispered, the two borrowers sharing a confused shrug as they climbed on.

Virgil chuckled as he started carrying them up. “Yeah, well, Patton likes to go all out on these things. Trust me though, I think you’ll like it.”

“If it’s about me, it can’t be bad.” Roman decided, looking very elegant as he preened.

“I disagree.” Logan informed him.

“Well, it’s kind of for both of you, so it should be good.” Virgil said, setting them down in their room on the desk and then sending a quick text to Patton that he could start setting up. “We got cake, presents and a few other goodies Patton couldn’t help but get.”

“What are ‘goodies’?” Logan asked. “And how is this encounter usually run? What have your own birthday parties entailed?”

“Oh, uh, well, cake and presents of course. Some decorations proclaiming your new age. And then friends and family are around and just, everything is about you.” Virgil did his best to explain.

“And you like that?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for the gloating type.”

Virgil blinked. “That’s not-it’s just a thing everyone does. Honestly, I never liked being the center of attention but it makes a birthday special when it’s all about you.”

“I think everything should be about me.” Roman informed him.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Of course you would say that.” He chuckled.

“You can come down now!” Virgil heard Patton call up and Virgil smiled.

“And looks like that is our cue.” He held his hand out for them.

“Wait, already?” Roman seemed suspicious, climbing on with Logan close behind.

Virgil shrugged. “Patton is fast when it comes to things like this.” He brought them down to the living room, only for the lights to be off.

But a second later, they were turned on and Patton jumped seemingly out of nowhere. “Surprise!” He shouted as the light brought out the streamers and balloons scattered around the room. And also the big happy birthday sign on the wall behind them.

Logan jumped, clearly startled as he gazed across the vast colorful array.

“Oh, we’re so surprised!” Roman joked, giving Patton a grin as he put up an act.

Patton chuckled. “Sorry, I had to. How do you guys like it!” Patton asked, motioning to the decorations.

“It’s wonderful.” Roman assured him, but his eyes seemed to be scanning for something else. “Where’s the cake?”

“Oh, you mean...this cake.” Patton said, stepping out of the way to reveal the cake on the table. It appeared to be half chocolate and vanilla. Neither knew what their preferred flavors were so they got both.

Roman gave an excited squeal, clapping his hands together like a seal.

Virgil laughed and set both borrowers down on the table. “We also got you two some presents but I think that can wait until after we have some cake.”

“Wait, what?” Roman turned to Virgil with world record speed, seeming actually surprised. Before it had only been an act, but now he was very intrigued.

“Yeah, didn’t we say that before?” Virgil asked, looking to Patton. Patton nodded as he started to put the candles on the cake.

“I didn’t think you would serious.” Roman admitted. It should have been obvious with all the spoiling beforehand… actually, now Roman was a bit nervous to see the gifts.

“What are you doing to the cake?” A confused Logan asked.

“Hmm? Oh! I’m putting candles on it so you two can blow it out! It’s a birthday tradition.” Patton explained. Meanwhile, Virgil just looked down at Roman sadly.

“Why would you think we weren’t serious?” Virgil asked and Patton paused to look at Roman.

“Why do you blow out fire?” Logan spoke softly, almost to himself as he watched Patton work with a furrowed brow.

“I mean… it’s all kind of silly, isn’t it?” Roman shrugged in response to Virgil’s question. “Doing a birthday now. I thought you were joking about the details.”

“I guess it is a little silly.” Patton spoke up. “But I also think the two of you deserve it. Think of it as a make-up birthday party for all the past ones you’ve missed.” Patton said, grabbing the lighter and lighting up each candle.

“But you were not present for those dates.” Logan frowned, watching the flames uneasily. They were the size of his head.

“No, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to celebrate them still. Even if we are a little late.” Patton laughed.

“We wanted to do this for you, as...friends.” Virgil added on.

“....right.” Roman agreed hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if that was an actual human thing.

“Now come on! Time to blow the candles out!” Patton offered his hand to Logan and Virgil offered his to Roman.

“I don’t think we will be able to manage such a task.” Logan observed, both borrowers respectively climbing on.

Patton hummed. “Maybe not...but that’s what we’re here for! We can all blow together on the count of three. How does that sound?”

“Who is counting?” Logan asked.

“I can.” Virgil volunteered. “1...2...3!” Virgil and Patton began to blow.

The borrowers joined in, and despite seeing no difference in their additions it was fun to watch the flames flicker and die, leaving only a smoky haze.

“Yay!” Patton cheered before setting Logan down and taking the candles out. “Now we can start serving cake! Virgil? Want to do the honors?”

Virgil nodded. “Sure.” He put Roman down and grabbed the knife, starting to cut slices and putting them on small paper plates. “Alright, one for you.” He gave one to Roman. “And one for you.” He set the other in front of Logan.

Roman was happy to receive his chocolate slice, digging in eagerly and managing to make a mess of himself.

Logan was more refined, carefully taking a bite. His expression lit up. “What is this flavor?”

“You have vanilla.” Patton said with a smile. “You like it?” Judging by his expression, it looked like he did.

“Indeed.” Logan agreed, eating more with vigor. “I enjoy this new taste sensation.”

Virgil chuckled as he handed a slice to Patton before taking one for himself. Logan sure had an interesting way of speaking. Especially for a teenager.

“After we finish with cake, we’ll bring your presents out, okay?” Patton said, taking a bite of his own vanilla slice.

“Are we expected to consume this entire quantity?” Logan looked alarmed at the amount of food present.

Patton chuckled. “No, not all at once, at least. We’ll put it in the fridge to have later.” Patton explained, before taking the rest of the cake and doing just that.

“That should last us till the end of the week, at least.” Virgil said, especially since Roman and Logan didn’t eat a lot in the first place.

“Are you supposed to eat cake every day?” Roman might be on board for that.

“Not...technically.” Patton said, biting his lip. “But for leftovers, it’s okay.”

“You really don’t want to eat cake everyday though.” Virgil added. “Even if the idea does sound nice.”

“Why?” Logan pressed, always keen on knowing answers.

“Well, it’s bad for you.” Patton explained some more with a smile. “Too much sugar can cause a number of health problems. Only if you eat it all the time though. Every now and again is okay.”

“That seems...troubling.” Logan decided, warily pushing the rest of his treat to the side.

“But again! It’s only if you eat a ton of it. You eating that cake and the rest in the fridge, wouldn’t do anything.” Patton promised.

“You might gain a pound but that’s normal.” Virgil added on, waving off Logan’s worry.

“A pound?” Logan looked quite alarmed by this information. “I only weigh 11 ounces!”

“It’s an expression, Specs.” Roman explained. “It’s a pound for Virgil; just scale it down for yourself.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out more.” Virgil chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I meant a pound in comparison.”

“Oh.” Logan pondered this for a moment. “Still troubling.”

“Don’t think too much about it.” Patton laughed. “Besides, you deserve to treat yourself. This party is about you guys after all.”

“I believe I have treated myself enough.” Logan decided.

“Yes, I heard something about presents?” Roman reminded them.

Virgil chuckled. “Alright, alright, looks like it’s present time now.” He offered his hand to the two. “Let’s move this into the living room. Patton, you got the presents?”

“Yep!” Patton exclaimed, going into the hall to grab them.

“If this celebration is all being enacted now, doesn’t that make our actual dates void later?” Logan questioned, climbing on. “Surely this is an annual event only.”

“Usually but this is a special case. This is for your past birthdays. Your future ones will still be celebrated.” If they were still with them, anyway. Virgil carried them into the living room, letting them off on the coffee table.

“...strange.” Logan decided.

“Oh hush, it’s two parties.” Roman scoffed.

“Exactly.” Virgil agreed. In that moment, Patton came out, holding four medium sized bags and setting them next to the borrowers on the table.

“Here we are! Two present for each of you.” Patton grinned, sitting on the couch next to Virgil.

“Two?” Roman looked baffled as they gazed up at the bags towering over their heads.

“Yep, one from each of us for the both of you.” Virgil said, smiling. “Need help opening them?” He figured they did.

“Of course we do, the containers are over twice our height.” Logan huffed.

“Alright, well who wants to go first?” Patton asked.

The borrowers shared a glance, both a bit hesitant. “...I can go first.” Roman offered, stepping forwards.

Virgil nodded and reached for one of the gifts. “Let’s start with Patton’s gift to you.” He said, wanting to save his own for last. He took out the tissue paper and then the actual gift out of the back. Setting it down near Roman, they could see it was a few bundles of small borrower sized paper, with several pieces of lead, both from regular pencils and colored ones.

“Oh, thank you!” Roman looked over the various supplies, inspecting it. This was not at all what he was expecting, and for that he felt...relieved? It was kind of Patton to choose something more personal, that Roman could use himself and not constantly be reminded it was made for pets.

“No problem kiddo! I’ll admit, Virgil helped me pick it out.” Patton said. “But now you can write and draw or whatever you want!”

“Yes, yes I think that could be quite fun.” Roman said, shooting Patton a smile. He had actually missed coloring. “Thank you, dearest Patton! This was quite thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome!” Patton exclaimed.

“Alright, time for my present now.” Virgil said, grabbing the next bag. “I hope you like it, I kind of took a shot in the dark here but it seemed like something you would like so…” Virgil took it out of the bag and set it on the table. Showing off the shiny new race car.

“...what?” Roman’s brow furrowed in confusion, walking slowly around the vehicle.

“It’s a race car. One that actually works.” Virgil explained.

“Can it drive anywhere?” Roman asked, leaning over the side to see the steering wheel. “Can… can I drive it, or…?”

“Yep, no human sized controller. It’s all you.” Virgil smirked. “Wanna test it out?”

Roman ran his hand along the side, a slow grin breaking on his features as he pictured how fast he could go with something like this. “I would love to.”

“Oh no.” Logan commented quietly, wondering if this was a poor decision.

“Whoa, kiddos, slow down. Logan still has to open up his presents.” Patton said with a chuckle and Virgil blinked.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Roman. After though.”

“Right, right, of course.” Roman agreed, but his eyes stayed on the car.

“I am ready.” Logan stepped forwards this time, knowing that Roman seemed incapable of waiting.

Patton grinned and was the one to grab Logan’s presents. “Alright, let’s start with Virgil’s.” He took out the gift, revealing it to be a borrower sized notebook and some lead, similar to Roman’s gift, but this one also came with two mini books. One about history and the other about biology.

“Excellent.” Logan’s face lit up, the borrower having been jealous of Roman’s first gift. He began to leaf through the novels, eyes widening as he realized they were already filled. “This… this is wonderful. Thank you, Virgil.”

“Heh, yeah, no problem.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck.

“Time for my gift!” Patton exclaimed, practically bouncing up and down. He took it out and set it down revealing a miniature star map.

With hesitance Logan set down the books, coming over to inspect Patton’s gift. “What… what is it?” Logan asked, hoping he wouldn’t offend the giver as he attempted to understand the object’s purpose.

“It’s a star map.” Patton started to explain. “It tells you all about the stars and constellations and where they are in the night sky.”

“What do you mean?” Logan was confused. “Do they not stay in the sky?”

“Oh no, they do. This just tells you where they are. So you can find them easier when you’re stargazing.” Patton explained.

“...strange.” Logan decided, giving the map one last glance. He still did not fully understand its purpose, but he was intrigued to find out. “Thank you, Patton. I look forward to using it often.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, all the nerd’s presents are open now.” Roman waved him off, eager to get back to focusing on him.

Virgil chuckled. “No patience what’s so ever.” He said as he shook his head. But he brought the car down to the floor before offering a hand to Roman.

“So how does it work?” Roman began to fire off questions. “What are the controls? How do I power it? Does it need to charge? How about fuel?”

“Whoa, come down. Let me check.” He set Roman down before grabbing the instructions. “Okay...so it looks like it takes batteries, which is nice. And...it doesn’t have a key but there’s a button next to the wheel that you push to turn it off and on. Other than that, it looks like it operates like a regular car. There’s a break and gas pedal and the steering wheel, of course.” Virgil read off.

“You say that like I know how a regular car works.” Roman joked.

“Oh, right. I guess you wouldn’t um…” Virgil looked to Patton for help and Patton laughed.

“Driving can be a little tough, but the basics are pushing on the gas pedal makes the car go and the brake pedal makes you stop but you have to make sure not to apply too much pressure on either one.” Patton explained.

“What will happen when he inevitably applies too much pressure?” Logan asked.

“Hey!” Roman sent him an offended glare.

Patton chuckled. “Well, applying too much pressure on the gas pedal will make you go fast. But going too fast is dangerous because you’ll be more likely to crash. Applying too much pressure on the brake causes your car to jerk and can damage it too.” Patton explained.

“...so I can hit full gas if I’m careful?” Roman clarified.

“That is not what you should have processed from that evaluation.” Logan seethed.

Virgil smirked. “That’s exactly what it means.”

Patton frowned. “Maybe you two should take this outside then, less things to crash into.” He chuckled nervously.

Virgil blinked. “Oh, yeah, that might be smart. What do you say Roman?”

“I’m fine with an adventure.” Roman grinned. In fact, if this vehicle were truly fast enough… well, Roman tried not to let his mind wander. He had promised to stay. He could always run later.

Virgil nodded and picked up the car, before offering his free hand to Roman. “Alright, then I guess we’re headed outside. You two coming with us, or…?”

“Only if Logan wants to.” Patton said, turning to the borrower.

“I certainly do not want to be kept uninformed.” Logan hastily stepped forwards.

“I guess that’s a yes then.” Patton smiled and offered his hand to Logan as Virgil was already heading out the door with Roman. It was getting late but there was still enough light left for a little test drive. He set the car down and Roman next to it.

“Alright, you ready?” Virgil asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Roman assured him, climbing in.

Virgil grinned. “Alright, then go ahead and turn it on.” Virgil instructed as Patton took a seat on the porch to watch with Logan in hand.

Roman pressed the buttons, a little hum starting up as the headlights blinked on. Roman grinned, putting his feet on the pedals and giving the one on his right a small push. Instantly the car jolted forwards, causing Roman to pause before more gradually applying pressure.

“There you go, you got it.” Virgil encouraged. “How about you try going to the end of the driveway and then coming back?”

Roman did go to the end of the driveway, but feeling mischievous, instead of going back he jerked the car to the left and began speeding down the sidewalk.

Virgil blinked and stood up quickly. “Wha-! Roman! What are you doing!” Patton’s eyes were wide from where he was watching and he too, stood up.

“And so it begins.” Logan winced.

“WOOOO!” Roman was screaming at the top of his lungs with glee, the wind rushing past his face so fast it was almost hard to make his vocal cords work. How fast could this car go, he wondered? Roman pressed further down, grinning from ear to ear as the car continued to pick up speed.

“Roman! Wait! You shouldn’t go to fast!” Virgil yelled, rushing over to the start of the sidewalk. “Roman, seriously, slow down!”

Passerby's shrieked, a few people dodging out of the way of the little motorized vehicle terrorizing the sidewalk. With adept reflexes Roman dodged through their legs, ducking to make sure nothing was dropped on his head.

Virgil ran down the sidewalk. Man, the car could go fast. “Roman!” He yelled again.

“Oh, this isn’t good.” Patton mumbled as he stayed on the porch, watching in worry.

What if he just kept going? Roman wondered. What if he kept driving, forever and ever, the wind in his hair and nothing to stop him?

Virgil grit his teeth as he continued to run and try to catch up to the car. Why had he gotten Roman it? He should have known this would happen. “Roman! Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

Roman rolled his eyes, but as he nearly lost control swerving around an abandoned cup he decided to take it a bit slower. Roman pressed down on the other pedal this time, the break Patton had said.

Roman tensed, realizing that the pedal did… nothing.

Virgil’s eyes widened as Roman started to swerve and he felt helpless to do anything other then yell Roman’s name. “Roman!” He tried to run faster, just hoping he could catch up.

“So ah, funny story!” Roman yelled over his shoulder, not even certain if Virgil could hear him. He didn’t dare look back but the human’s voice was growing distant. “CAN’T STOP!”

Virgil nearly fell over. “Wh-What!” Oh no, oh no this wasn’t good. “Um, uh, try turning the car off! Push the button!” He didn’t know if it would do anything but it was worth a try.

Roman tried to reach over to press the button, but before he could reach the car was skittering towards some fallen acorns. Frantically Roman tried to maneuver it, but the wheels hit a single nut and Roman went spiraling out of control. Gritting his teeth, Roman felt the vehicle hit a large cracked portion of the sidewalk, and he went flying out of his seat. The borrower landed with a sickening crack, tumbling further down the edge between the grass and the cement before rolling to a stop.

“ROMAN!” Virgil shouted, ignoring the car as he ran past the wreck and dropped to his knees where Roman had landed. His hands hovered, not wanting to touch Roman and hurt him worse. “R-Roman?”

Roman didn’t respond.

#pet perspective #perspective series #borrower!logan #borrower!roman #human!virgil #human!patton #part 16

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