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stucky-starnes · 3 years

Text

Gleam and Glow

Chapter 1

Pairing: Grey! Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3,374

Description: The reader has been held captive by their own mother their whole life, taught to believe the world is bad and that they need to be protected from it. That their gift needs to be protected from it. They possess 70 feet of hair with healing properties and some people will do anything for a chance at peace.

General Warnings: This story contains dark elements and various dark characters!! Do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!!!, kidnapping, violence, language, angst, whump, for the purposes of the story the reader has 70ft foot long hair that glows gold- this does not change regardless of hair color or texture, inspired by the movie Tangled.

Chapter Warnings: kidnapping, manhandling, betrayal, mention of trafficking (selling/buying of a human), John Walker, very naive reader, brief sexual implications,arguments, un-gendered pet names,choking, illusion to sexual harassment, language, please read at your own discretion.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK, REBLOGS ARE WELCOME AND APPRECIATED

A majority of your childhood was peaceful. You got to do all the normal kid things- of course you were never totally sure what a ‘normal’ kid thing was on account of the fact that you’d actually never met another kid but, it felt normal enough. Aside from the very abnormal ‘birth defect’ you were ‘gifted’ with. You stopped considering your magical abilities as a gift by the time you were seventeen, when your mother made it abundantly clear that you could never leave the tower, you could never go outside, and you could never cut your hair.

The only thing more annoying than the seventy foot long tresses was your mother. According to her, your father was a sloppy one night stand she found in a tavern. He was a love em’ and leave em’ type of guy; he gave your mother one great romantic night and then disappeared off the face of the earth. You’ve never met him. You’ve never met anybody. Your mother has always been your only companion. She was a beautiful woman, she said you take after her more than your dad. While she was gorgeous and protective, she was also passive aggressive, rash, and ostentatious. If it was possible for her to get out of being “the bad guy” she lunged, dragging you under at the first chance. When you were younger she would tell you stories about the outside, she made it seem like a gorgeous place. She described the kingdom and the many villages outside its walls. She started with all the good things until you showed interest in escaping, then, she gave you the truth. She began to spin tales of roads rich with crime, vigilante gangs, covert groups of thugs, and rebel Viking camps. From what you could piece together, the rebel Viking camps were the greatest concern.

The rebel Viking groups weren’t actually Vikings. Your mother had said they called them The Vikings because of their rugged and brutal lifestyle. The camp they occupy is more like a small village, the structures following Norse architectural style, chalk-full of criminals and runaways. Runaways. Your mother had always explained to you that when young girls ran away from their mothers they ended up in that village living a life of crime. The very thought of falling into the wrong hands has kept you from sneaking out or from begging to leave the tower. You found ways to be content, ways to keep busy.

The tower wasn’t as big as it looked from the outside, the only living space was at the very top of the tower. The top of the tower had about two floors worth of open space, minimal and organized in the lower level and very maximalist in the bedrooms and wall decor. Mother said the rest of the tower below was sturdy white brick and vine, aged by time and the weather. Most of the exterior bricks were cracked or crumbling, so all the support for the turret came from the tower’s solid core. The roof was a chipped and rusty blue color mostly concealed by untamed ivy growth, which also hid the entrance to the tower’s turret. To your home. The only way in and out of the tower was an intricate pulley system made from twisted vine and rope. Originally, mother had used your hair to get into the turret, until one day a strand snapped from the pressure, dying and losing its magic. In an effort to protect your gift, you helped your mother make the pulley.

Crafting things was just one of the many ways you spent your time in the tower. After you’d turned eighteen your mother didn’t stick around much, if at all, leaving at night to go to the palace or the tavern, sometimes coming back in the morning and sometimes being gone for a day or two. With so much time alone the only option was to learn how to entertain yourself. Reading books, cooking, painting, testing the information you soaked up from all of the books, sewing holes in clothes, polishing leather, polishing silver, dusting, drawing in the dust. It’s a really long list. If there’s more to add you add it, forever stretching the possibilities. As the sun started to go down however, it started to seep in just how repetitive and predictable your daily activities had become. While you knew leaving the tower would be a horrible and dangerous mistake, you couldn’t help but long to be outside. To feel the grass between your fingers or to stand out in the sun, somewhere other than where it leaks through the turrets window entrance. It could never happen. Knowing this was an impossibility kept an icy grip on your stomach, a lonely sort of feeling, naturally touch starved by fate. It’s been years since the last time you asked to leave. Much before you knew how dangerous it really was out there. Asking one more time couldn’t really hurt could it? You’d be twenty soon enough, just one touch wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Mother had left early in the morning, off to do some much needed grocery shopping; if she hadn’t decided to stop by the tavern she would be home very soon. Too soon to come up with a better plan. Quickly you started to prepare for her to come home, sweeping the dining area and pulling out the utensils needed to make a special stew recipe you remember she had enjoyed. If she was going to say yes she needed to be buttered up first. Once the cooking utensils were nicely organized on or beside the unlit stove, and the dust was done away with, it was time to make quick work of anything she could use against your argument. Rushing to one of your most treasured bookshelves you pulled a discarded velvet scrap from the back of one of your more worn astronomy books. The midnight blue fabric had been torn from one of your favorite dresses when you were sixteen, unwilling to part with the shredded material, it was quickly fashioned into a long braided bookmark. Since then you’ve opted for shorter than floor length gowns or comfortable riding pants and tunics. The supposedly “masculine” style annoyed mother to no end but then again she really couldn’t understand how suffocating the corsets could become, or how difficult it was to fasten them without getting hair caught beneath the strings.

Unbraiding the bookmark allowed it to become one long thick strand, setting it on the dining table, you went to gather your hair. For the most part, you tried to keep it close to yourself. Getting any part snagged or wrapped around something was more of a pain in the ass than taking the time to gather it together. Gathering so much hair was difficult, it took time and it was unbelievably heavy. Once you were finally able to get it all in one place you started the tedious task of braiding. In order to braid it up enough to keep it off the floor you split it into three sections, braiding those separately before braiding them up into a complex Dutch braid. It took nearly two hours to finish so you could finally tie up the end with the dismantled bookmark. The complexity allowed the braid to settle halfway down your calves, keeping it neat and off the ground. Now all that was left to do was light the lanterns around the room and wait. Waiting for mother to get home was nerve wracking, if possible you’d busy yourself with starting the stew but you were fresh out of the most important ingredients.

“Y/n let down the vine!” Mother yelled from the bottom of the tower and the tension finally broke.

“Coming!” You sighed out in relief rushing to the window and lowering out the vine life you had made.

Once you were sure she was safely in the lift’s sling, you utilized the pulley system to begin pulling her up. The tower was around forty feet tall, making the trip up lengthy and difficult. When she was close enough to the window entrance you hooked the vine slack onto the wall hook, keeping it stationary, before quickly coming to help her in with the groceries. Taking the canvas grocery bags from her arms and into the kitchen, you started pulling out the items to take inventory on what she’d bought at the market.

“How was the market? Did that man give you trouble on the celery prices again?”

“Ugh doesn’t he always? Absolutely exhausting, he wanted double, and then there was a fight at the tavern again which I always have to break up.” She pulled out a chair at the dining table, sitting into it and slinging her feet up into the neighboring chair.

You slowed for a moment, pulling the bundle of carrots from the bag slower as you processed that she may be intoxicated which meant there’d be zero chance of having the conversation you desperately desired.

“You went to the tavern?” You asked, feigning excitement.

“Of course sweetheart, I promised that I would but I wasn’t there for long I promise.” She got up to meet you in the kitchen, resting her hands on your shoulders.

“Now what are we having? I’m absolutely starved.” She smiled.

“I was going to make that stew from last winter that you liked so much. Now that fall is settling in.” you started to add broth and small peeled potatoes to the pot.

“That sounds delightful darling, I’m going to go rest my eyes, call me when it’s done?” Mother started to walk away. It was now or never.

“Actually!” You cleared your throat., “Actually I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“Alright but let’s make this quick, mama’s feet are aching.” She turned back around to sit in another chair.

“Well as you know I’m almost twenty, an adult really and I’m already very responsible around the tower-“

“Y/n where is this going?” She interrupted, rubbing her temples.

“I want to go outside.” You turned to look at her.

“We’ve talked about this! It’s far too dangerous! You know what would happen if anyone discovered your gift!”

“I know, I know, but I’ve thought about it and no one would even know! I won’t tell anyone about it, and if they don’t know I have it then they don’t know how to use it, so it’s useless to them. If I just keep it braided I’ll be completely normal!” You came to sit across from her, hoping it’ll be convincing.

“No absolutely not, it’s much too risky! I have kept you safe for nearly twenty years! I am not stopping now! You’re far too young to understand but this is what’s best for you!” She got up and started to walk away again.

“But it’s not! I’ve never met anyone else! I’ve never had friends or met other people my own age! I’ve never even seen a real man!” You were absolutely desperate.

“Oh a man?! This is about men huh?! So you want to leave the safety of the home I built for you to go whore around for a man?!” She was absolutely furious, beyond cooling down.

“Mother no!” Your face was burning with embarrassment at the very suggestion of sexual activities.

“No truly I understand! You would rather leave this place and be used by men! Drained of your power in one of those Viking camps no doubt! I won’t hear another word, I’m going out for air and your attitude better be gone by the time I get back!” She walked over to the vine, untying it from the wall and setting it into a rustier pulley wheel that would let her down slowly, she was gone just as soon as she’d finished her sentence.

You had no choice but to sit in utter silence and shame. Swallowed by guilt that mother could ever consider you’d do that to her. As much as you wanted to leave and experience the real world, you desperately didn’t want to disappoint your mother or end up somewhere bad. Very quickly you dissolved into regret, backing over to try and undo what’s already been done, planning a way to forgiveness. Finishing the stew was the only way you knew how to start so you got to work, making this the best stew you could ever devise. Having never written the recipe down you had to go solely based on flavor and gut feeling. That was the best way to cook anyway. Once it had been spiced to taste you put the lid on the pot to let it simmer.

Almost immediately you found yourself overrun with anxiety, filled with a need to do something with your hands. To occupy your mind. There really wasn’t much to do in the tower to occupy you enough to erase this from the forefront of your mind. So you opted for the only thing that you could: cleaning. Your started polishing, dusting anything that you could and when there was nothing left you sat and you waited. The silence was absolutely deafening. You’d totally zoned out until you heard the rattling of the pot lid on the stove, snapping your head to it only to see the stew boiling over.

“Shit!” You rushed to turn it off, burning your hand in the process as you cleaned up the mess. Suddenly you were no longer hungry.

Opting to leave the stew on the stove for whenever mother would return you left the kitchen, going to your room as you cradled your hand gently. Tears stung your eyes, threatening to drip through your lashes and you curled up on your bed. Reaching for your braid with your uninsured hand, you gently took the end and rested it over your burned palm, reaching to wipe away some loose tears. Whether the tears were from the pain or from emotional discourse you couldn’t be sure. After drying your tears you closed your injured fingers around the large amount of hair, and began to hum a soft familiar melody. As the melody continued your hair began to glow a brilliant gold, almost glittery in color. Once the shimmer reached your palm, the heat faded and the wound healed. You were able to breathe. You looked to your palm, it was as soft and unharmed as it had been that morning. As it had always been. No scars or leftover pain. Just smooth healthy skin.

You couldn’t be bothered to really prepare for bed. The dress you wore was moveable, the corset easily undone as it tied in the front rather than in the back. Laying back you took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to let go of all the stress that you could. After a minute of peace you pushed yourself up and off the bed, walking over to the dark wood armoire, opening it to look in the mirror, you sighed looking at your dress. There was stew on the navy skirt and what looked like a sizable carrot. You’d have to change to sleep. Lifting the skirt up closer you plucked off the carrot and disposed of it in the nearby waste basket. Returning to the armoire you flipped your braid back over your shoulder and checked the white sleeves of the off the shoulder blouse, slid your hands over the black corset, grabbing the tied strings from the vertex of the sweetheart neckline you untied the knot. Just as you’d finished untying the security knot you heard a loud grinding bang from the lower level. Pausing to listen you grew concerned.

“Mother? Are you alright?” You called gently.

When you didn’t receive a response you dropped the corset strings and left your bedroom, looking over the bannister you were met with the worst sight you could possibly have imagined. A large piece of the stone floor was broken and pushed out of the ground, slid off to the side and two large men climbed out of the dark hole below. Half a million questions filled your head. How was there a space under the floor? How did these men find you? Did they know who you were? There wasn’t time to think, you had to act. Silently and quickly you snuck back into your bedroom, burning out the lamps and climbing into the armoire as best as you could. Tilting your chin up to silence your breathing you listened. Waiting. Thinking. The men were much bigger than you thought a man would be. From what you could make out they dressed in dark clothing. Leather. Worn and hardly taken care of if at all. They were similar heights. One a redhead and the other blonde, both with rugged facial hair. You only had a brief look and the adrenaline pumping through your veins was making it difficult to focus.

“I am never doing that shit again, forty feet of crumbling bricks and thirty feet of rope, you seriously didn’t think that through?!” You could hear them arguing.

“It didn’t look that tall alright? Can we just find the chick and get out of here? I lost my good boots in a poker game with trash panda and if I don’t win them back he’s gonna tear them apart.”

It was clear they were coming for you. The only thing you could do was hope mother came home or that they didn’t see you behind all the other clothing in the armoire. The stairs creeped. Once. Twice. There was only one creaky step. They were both coming up. You held your breath.

“Food on the stove and the lamp in here is still warm. She was here recently.” They made it into your bedroom.

“If I had to guess I’d say she’s still here.” The footsteps stopped. It was silent.

Suddenly, the hem of your skirt was yanked-it had been caught in the door-and then the armoire burst open. The blonde man grabbed your arm as you struggled, ripping you from the small dark space and out into the open. He spun you around, pressing your back to his chest, his left forearm braced across your neckline and gripped your right shoulder. His right hand held a sharp silver blade to your heart.

“Well, well, well, Princess did we catch you at a bad time? These corset strings are so very loose for company.” The blonde man taunted, using the tip of his blade to pull on the cords.

You gripped this forearm, pushing back closer to his chest in an effort to get away from his blade as you struggled.

“P-please just leave me alone, I won’t tell any-anyone.” You stuttered, trying to stay calm the way your mother had taught you.

“We have plans for you, this hair of yours… hear there’s some people willing to pay a pretty penny for just a touch.” The red headed man stroked your braid, you jerked your head away.

“Oh oh oh” the blonde man laughed. “She’s a feisty one, are you sure we have to deliver her so soon? Could be fun…”

“Oh c’mon man don’t be gross he wants her unharmed. Mostly. C’mon just cloth her so we can go. Boots remember??” The red head said, grabbing your wrists and tying them together roughly. He took the dagger from the blonde, continuing to hold it in its position as the blond reached into his pocket.

“No no no no no please please I’ll give you anything you want just leave me alone!” You begged, swerving your head away from the blondes clothed hand as it moved towards your mouth.

“Bitch stop fussing around!” He slid his left forearm up to your throat, both choking you and effectively stabilizing your head long enough to clamp the cloth over your mouth and nose.

It hardly took thirty seconds before your vision started to swim and your vision started to fade to black.

“We’re already late. He’s waiting.” One of the men said as he slipped a cloth bag over your head. Your hearing went out, senses dulled as you gave in the the dark.

#marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #reader insert #x reader #bucky x reader series #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #grey!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Gleam and Glow #bucky Barnes tangled au!#tangled au!#marvel au

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fa-headhoncho · 4 years

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Unlike The Rest: Part 4

George Weasley x Reader (eventually)

Prompt: You’re home for Christmas and you’re terrified of what Draco has told your parents about your life at Hogwarts.

Word Count: 1429

Reader: Female

Warning: Very much a filler chapter

Masterlist Series Masterlist

=====

You pick at your food, it’s only been a few days since you and Draco have returned home from break and it’s been very uncomfortable. You’re not sure of how much he has told your parents about your life at Hogwarts but you just know he has. How you act at home was very different from what you act at school. You hope he hasn’t mentioned any of that though. The lines are blurred now that Draco is attending Hogwarts, he sees both sides of you and you’re not sure how he’s going to react to it.

“Thank you.” You whisper to the house-elf that refilled your glass with water. Dobby gives you a small smile at your kindness. He seems to be the only house-elf that acknowledges it, the others just ignore it, not wanting to get in trouble.

“So,” Mother speaks up, “Draco has told us about your… activities at Hogwart.” You look up at her with a worried expression, then you glare at Draco. “Very interesting, it seems.”

“Ok.” You say, looking back down at your food. You try to compose yourself, everything you’ve done quickly cycling through your head. Grades aren’t bad, no detentions, Quidditch team has been doing alright, you’ve been doing great this year. The only thing that seems to stand out is you telling off Draco in November and you spending some time down at Hagrid’s.

“Yes, very interesting.” Father continues, your heart drops. He told him. “Seems you spend a lot of time with this Diggory boy... He seems like quite a character.”

Your body immediately relaxes, if he was going to mention anything, you’re glad it’s your best friend.

“Yes, he’s very nice.” You say, a small smile on your face. It’s been known that you’re grateful for this boy.

Silence fills the table again. Your mother looks at your father, giving him a look and he looks back at you.

“His father works for the ministry, yes?” He continues, “Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“Yes, he does.” You nod. “I’ve never met him though.”

“Purebloods, as well?”

It takes everything in you to hold back an eye roll. It shouldn’t matter. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Not the most affluent household, though, are they?” He adds, a brow raised slightly. “They live by the Weasley's so you know they’re not that well off.”

“I’m not too sure.” You answer, “I don’t really ask those questions, we mostly talk about school and Quidditch. Cedric has top marks in my grade and he’s a seeker on the team.” You try to divert his attention to something more positive. “An alright one, at that, as well.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re associating yourself with the right people then.” Father praises, you look at him with wide eyes. Is he actually complimenting you? “Not those trouble-making traitors, the twins, what are their names, again?”

“I don’t know…” You lie, your heart pangs a bit. With George being in Divination with you, you’ve gotten a little bit closer to the pair. They greet you in the hallways and George always partners up with you in Potions or DADA when you have to be with another house. You’ve learned they’re not as bad as your parents say. Their whole family seems to be a sweet bunch, honestly.

As silence, once again, consumes the four of you, Dobby continues to refill everyone’s cups. Switching to a bottle of wine for your parents halfway through. He stands on a stool, reaching over to pour your father a glass of wine. The stool then wobbles, sending the small elf off balance and making him knock over the red liquid as he falls off.

You and Draco just stare, wide-eyed at the whole thing. You share a look, knowing what's about to happen.

“You stupid, house-elf!” Your father abruptly stands up, sending his chair flying to the floor. The wine has gotten onto the white table cloth and his white dress shirt. Usually, he wears all black but Mother had encouraged him to change it up a little bit recently.

“Worthless little,” He sends a kick to the creature, Draco’s head snaps down while you jump up.

“Leave him alone!” You demand, all of his attention turns to you now. You almost crumble at his intense sneer but you stand tall, “You shouldn’t treat him like that.” You dare to say, an act of newfound courage taking over you. “Imagine if the minster did that to you every time you made a mistake.”

He’s furious and all of you can tell. You’ve seen your father this mad but it’s never been direct to you. He’s always been passive-aggressive with his comments and you’ve learned to ignore it but something about his glare sends shivers down your spine.

“Lucius…” Your mother tries to step in but he doesn’t give her a second glance.

“Room. Now.” He demands, you turn around and head straight to it. You poked the bull and you don’t want to anger it even more. “I’ll treat you like I treat him if you dare to disrespect me like that again, you little brat.” He calls after you causing you footsteps to pick up.

=====

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Regret is the farthest thing from what you’re feeling right now. The house-elves have always been treated poorly in your house and it always bothered you but seeing Dobby get kicked like that for something he couldn’t even control just set you off.

Letting out a loud groan, turning on your side. You’re so frustrated. You understand the history of house-elves and how they’re used to being beat and picked on but it still makes you angry. Especially when it’s directed at Dobby, the kindness little elf you’ve met. He’s been your friend since childhood. When your parents would bring over other families to interact with, you always locked yourself in your room and played games with Dobby.

When you were sad, Dobby would appear with a small flower from your mother’s garden to cheer you up. He always would comfort you when your parents were off who knows where. He even has taken blame for things that you’ve done like breaking a vase or a glass. He’s been there for years and it upsets you to see him treated so badly. His kindness deserves so much more than this hellhole.

You decide to direct your attention to the moonlight that cascades through your window. Some of your plants that line the windowsill glisten in the light. Belladonna, your cat, is sitting just below them on the cushioned bench. You can hear her purrs as she slowly dozes off.

A knock on your door echoes throughout the obnoxiously large room, waking the feline up. She lets out a hiss which you chuckle at. She’s always been a lazy cat so when her naps are interrupted, she’s mad.

“(Y/N)...” Draco’s small voice calls. You stare at Bella, silently telling her to attack but she just turns around and tries to go back to sleep.

You sit up against your headboard as he takes a few steps into your room. “What do you want, Draco?”

He awkwardly stands there, his free hand pulling at the hem of his nightshirt. Shy Draco is something you haven’t seen since he was five. The sight makes your heart melt a bit.

“I just wanted to see…” He carefully picks his words, not wanting to tell you why he’s here. “Could you help me a bit with Potions?” He quickly changes the subject, lifting his other hand which holds his large book. “Snape has us writing an essay over break and I can’t seem to get a grasp on it.”

A small smile appears on your face. Before Hogwarts, you and Draco were homeschooled. Your mother taught you the basics of magic as well as the more essential things in life like reading and maths. It brings you back to the endless nights where you would help Draco with a writing prompt he was too embarrassed to ask his mother help for.

“Of course, Draco.” With that permission, he plops onto your bed. He settles in, crossing his legs while his other things laid out in front of you two. Once he’s satisfied with the placement of everything, he looks at you.

“Oi, wipe that smirk off your face.” He spits, there’s the Draco you know. “I’m only asking because I know my useless partner won’t do rubbish over break.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the moment, ferret face.”

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #harry potter imagines #george weasley x malfoy!reader #george weasley x you #harry potter #weasley twins #fandomsarchive #george weasley x (y/n)#malfoy!reader #weasley #weasley twins x reader #unlike the rest

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hillariat · 3 years

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Bubbline fic finished!

Posted the final chapter of my Bubbline fic, check it out!

Also huge thanks to @hehe-food for beta-ing both the 3 and the final chapter

Unexpected

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 5,770

Tags: Fluff, emotionally confused PB.

Summary: Marceline confesses to her long time friend Bonnie. It takes an unexpected turn and, just as things were back to normal, takes another one.

AKA It's Bonnie's gay awakening.

Read it on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/30298620/chapters/74678148 OR down below

The hurried pat-pat of Bonnie’s footsteps echoed through the hallways. Her legs, exhausted from a student council meeting that dragged on for far too long, begged her to slow down by at least 30%. She ignored them. She really didn’t want to keep Marceline waiting any longer than she had to after all.

When Bonnie reached the music room, she heard a familiar tune being played. Smiling to herself, she pushed the door open and saw Marceline perched upon a table and chair in a seat-footstool combo, strumming on her bass guitar. The raven-haired girl turned to Bonnie and smirked.

"’Sup Brainlord, how’s the prep meet?"

“Terrible, Becky wouldn’t shut up about adding more “tasteful” food to the school breakfast program even though that’s clearly out of our budget. It literally took us over half an hour just to move on to another topic.” Bonnie sighed and continued. “If she wasn’t so high up the pecking order, I’d have kicked her out. Personally.”

Marceline nudged her shoulder.

“I could do it for you”

“And be expelled? No thanks. As much as I hate Becky, I don’t think you leaving is worth it.”

Her heart lurched, practically begging to be freed from her chest. She opted to shrug it off, instead turning away from Bonnie to start packing her bass.

“Maybe I could do a prank instead. Y’know something that says, ‘fuck off from student council or else.’”

Bonnie raised her brows.

“Oh, and what would this prank be?”

By the time the girls left the school building, several rotten sandwiches and a passive aggressively typed note were left in Becky’s locker.

__________________________________________________________

"Thanks again for waiting up for me."

Bonnie entered the front passenger seat of Marceline’s car, inhaling the familiar scent of leather, strawberry and wood that probably came from an acoustic instrument lying around somewhere.

“Dude not this again. I told you, you don’t have to thank me every time I wait up for you. It’s like, our thing to hang out on Tuesdays anyways.”

Bonnie buckled in her own seatbelt whilst Marceline started the engine.

“Still, I appreciate the gesture. Not everyone would wait 2 hours just to have afternoon tea with their friend.”

Marceline felt a blush threaten to reveal itself on her cheeks. She really needed to get those butterflies in her ribs under control. She raised her hand, the other hand focused on driving out of the parking lot. “No. Stop with the sap. You’re turning me into a marshmallow.”

“You’re already a marshmallow, Marshmaline”

She gave a playful whack, accompanied by a glare. “Shut up! I am not a marshmallow, I’m too punk rock!”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, unfazed by the other’s glare. They had long lost their terrorizing effect on her. “Sure you are. Oh! That reminds me”

She dug through her bag, fishing out a pack of guitar strings and handing it to Marceline. “Gauge 9 right?”

“Wha- Bon. You didn’t have to.”

Bonnie waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. I distinctly remember a certain someone complaining about forgetting to buy them for 4th week in a row yesterday.” She turned away from Marceline, opting to look at the passing traffic. “and… well, I just happen to pass by the music store when I was at the mall with Lady yesterday.”

Marceline gave her a heartwarming smile.

“Aww, thanks mom”

Bonnie huffed.

“What would you do without me?”

Marceline snorted, smile still evident on her face.

“Forgetting them for another week probably.”

Bonnie chuckled.

“Damn right”

__________________________________________________________

The girls reached their destination, a quaint little café tucked in a quiet neighborhood near their school. Marceline introduced it to Bonnie a while ago, insisting that the red velvet cakes were “to die for”. Bonnie wouldn’t put it the same way, but she did admit that the food was “more than acceptable”. The place quickly became their favorite hangout spot, next to the diner ran by their friend’s ( Finn’s) parents. Though that diner was more of a clique hangout spot. This was more of a 'just them' spot.

They ordered their drinks, an apple pie to share and of course, a slice of red velvet cake for Marceline. They sat at their table, indulging in said items whilst making idle conversation, ranging from the food to Marceline’s music to school gossip.

Bonnie noticed how her shoulders were a little tense, how she would pick and flick her own fingers and how her eyes wandered in a way that said her thoughts weren’t entirely focused on the present. Marceline was clearly bothered by something.

The Bonnie of 5 years ago would’ve pried her incessantly, but now she knew better. Marceline was the kind of person that needed space to figure things out. She would tell Bonnie what was eating at her when she was good and ready. Any prying on Bonnie’s end would lead to scathing remarks and, if allowed to escalate, a fight. Hence, despite the well-meaning itch that urged her to figure out what was bothering her best friend, Bonnie didn’t ask. Respecting Marceline’s boundaries was more important.

When Marceline’s giggling fit died down after a joke about a certain lemon-faced principal , she took a deep breath. She warily made eye contact with Bonnie.

“I need to tell you something. Its -It’s important”

“Okay”. Bonnie nodded and kept her eyes at Marceline expectantly, conveying that Marceline had her full undivided attention. A long, pregnant pause ensued. Bonnie was tempted to break the silence, but Marceline got there first.

“I’m gay.”

Okay. That wasn’t what Bonnie expected. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, no not at all. Bonnie was just very unfamiliar with coming-out-of-the-closet etiquette. After all, most of her friends were straight.

She was clearly out of her element here. How should she respond to this? Did Marceline want a boisterous congratulation? Or a simple acceptance? In the end, Bonnie did what she always did when she was uncertain about things.

“Okay, what am I supposed to do with that information?”

Marceline raised her brows in surprise. She was expecting more of a reaction to that. Bonnie had just…. rolled with it. Maybe her fears were indeed unfounded. Maybe. It was still too early to tell.

Marceline took a deep breath, gathering what little courage it could provide and continued.

“I’m gay for you. As in, I like you. Like, like-like you.”

For a moment, Bonnie was tempted to make fun of Marceline’s unironic use of “like-like” but knew better than to do that. Instead, she was contemplating her response to it. She knew exactly what she should say, she knew her answer to that obvious unsaid question, but the vulnerable expression on Marceline’s face made her hesitate. Marceline looked so fragile, as if a gentle breeze could shatter her. The only other time Bonnie saw the other like this was when Marceline’s mother had passed.

Bonnie furrowed her brows, bit her bottom lip, and took a deep breath. It was definitely going to hurt, but she was good at making tough decisions for the people she cared about.

“I … don’t feel the same way. I’ve only ever seen you as a friend. I’m sorry Marceline.”

She could see Marceline shattering right in front of her. The girl’s shoulders slumped, a frown formed on her face and, most troubling of all; the light in the girl’s eyes dimmed. For a moment Bonnie wanted to take her words back, to make Marceline beam instead with an acceptance. But she knew from experience that giving false hope was worse than a flat-out rejection, so she kept her mouth shut.

In a flash, Marceline’s demeanor switched. She had a smile plastered on her face and her posture likewise improved. Perhaps it was a prepared response, as if she already knew this was the probable outcome. Though her newfound demeanor couldn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s cool. It’s cool.”

She paused as if unsure as to whether she should utter the next line. She opened her mouth, her voice wavered before she could even muster the first word.

“We can still be friends, right?” Accompanied with, again, a vulnerable expression. But this time it came from a girl who was already kicked down.

“Of course.” and Marceline wasn’t the only one who wanted to believe that.

They fell into silence, neither girl looking at each other anymore. There were no more words to be said on the matter. Bonnie glanced at the clock in the café. Time ticked by slowly, as if a second was enough time to write an entire thesis.

She searched for a change of topic, not wanting the silence to stretch into awkward territory. Her eyes wandered the surroundings and found it on their table. She gestured to the item.

“Are you going to finish that cake?” Bonnie’s fork was already threateningly hovering above the slice of cake.

Marceline smirked and hoped she didn’t misread Bonnie’s seemingly playful tone.

“I swear, one day you’re gonna get diabetes Bon. You’re such a sugar slut.”

Bonnie completely ignored her friend’s warning and grabbed the last bit of cake, eating it with a slight smile on her face.

“And you – She pointed to Marceline with her empty fork- are distasteful.”

Marceline laughed at that, the tension now fully leaving her. Bonnie could say the same, though she was just smiling at her friend.

Things were going to be okay.

Chapter 2: Confusion

The coffee cup made a clack as it landed on the table.

“Figured you’d want this.” Marceline flashed a toothy grin, though this one was softer than the usual mischievous one. Still, it was one Bonnie was well acquainted with.

Her stomach squirmed. She blinked. Odd. She didn’t remember having shellfish the night before.

“Uhhm, thanks.” She didn’t know why she fumbled. Marceline always got her coffee for their afternoon study sessions. She took a sip. Caramel Macchiato with an extra shot and drizzle, just the way she liked it, though for some reason, today it tasted a little sweeter.

Marceline plotted herself next to Bonnie and started rummaging through her bag. “So, what’s on the agenda today Bonbon?”

Bonnie scribbled in her notebook, having already started on her work. “Maths. We have 2 assignments due soon so I figured we should start.”

Marceline nodded and got her stuff out. For a good half hour, the only sounds that came from their table were the scrawls of pens, the clicking of calculators, turning of pages and occasionally, some curse words muttered under Marceline’s breath. Eventually though, the relative silence was broken.

“Hey, what’d you get for 3c?”

“69.3”

Bonnie saw a toothy grin appear on Marceline’s face. She frowned and shot a glare in return. That girl better not do wh –

“Thirst much, Bonnibel?”

She groaned. “Really Marceline? Get your head out of the gutter.”

Marceline shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one writing innuendos as answers.”

“Not my fault the teacher likes putting innuendos as answers”.

Marceline chuckled, then she glanced over to Bonnie’s notebook. “Anyways, how’d you get that number?” She leaned over to get a closer look at Bonnie’s homework, now just close enough for Bonnie to smell what shampoo the other used. It was strawberry. Bonnie took note of Marceline’s face, how her brows scrunched in concentration, how her green eyes always held a beautiful shade of green, how her raven hair cascaded down her face, framing her sharp jawline and how her lips pouted at a formula she obviously didn’t understand. Bonnie wondered if those lips felt soft. Wait, what?

“Earth to Bonnie? You there? Hello?” Marceline waved her hand in front of her face.

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said what’s the deal with this guy? -She gestured to some convoluted looking math term- How did it get to this?”

“Oh, well..” Bonnie went on to explain how she derived the expression, going through it step by step as she usually did, pushing away any strange thoughts of the girl next to her. They were just a fluke after all. Nothing more than spontaneous curiosity.

__________________________________________________________

It happened again a couple of days later. Marceline was casually humming along to a punk rock song in her car with Bonnie seated next to her, quietly scrolling through her phone. The song was crass, mocking, harsh even, filled with edginess that stereotyped the genre. But somehow when the same song came from Marceline’s vocal cords, hummed in a low tone, it sounded so much more…beautiful. Smooth. Gentle. It felt like a cloud was encompassing her, warm and welcoming.

Bonnie felt her insides turn to jello. Strange how she never noticed Marceline's voice having this effect.

She frowned. Something was up. Lightning never struck twice in the same place after all.

“You got your thinking face on Bonnie. What’s up?”

“Oh. Nothing, I was just zoning out”

Marceline smirked, “Lemme guess, thinking of another experiment? Or wait, OH. Trying to answer one of the greatest mysteries of life.”

Bonnie glanced at her lap. Her hands were fiddling with loose jean threads. “You could say that.”

__________________________________________________________

The rest of the week, and the next, followed the same pattern. Bonnie and Marceline would hang out and Marceline would do something utterly mundane and Bonnie would find herself getting the squirmies. Her insides would twist and turn in all sorts of funny ways and she would find her cheeks embarrassingly warm.

She found herself lying down on her own bed, gazing at the ceiling with a half bolster clutched in her arms and contemplating the confusing experiences of the previous weeks. This was the 5th night in a row she had done this.

She has had both male and female suitors confessing to her before, though none of them were as close to her as Marceline was. However, she never gave them more than a second’s worth of thought as she preferred to utilize her brain’s resources on more important things. Chiefly; her schoolwork, independent science projects and her student council duties.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Could she…like Marceline?

She frowned; brows scrunched and lips upturned in confusion.

She had never experienced a crush on a girl before. What she had told Marceline was nothing but honest, she genuinely had never seen the other girl in a light that wasn’t platonic. Marceline was indeed only a dear friend to her. Nothing had changed between them, so why did her insides turn to mush when Marceline did something as mundane as laugh at her own joke or open a door for her. It didn’t make any sense.

Bonnie’s clock read 02:14am and she figured she should get some sleep before school. With heavy lidded eyes, Bonnie concluded that she should do what she always did when she was uncertain about things.

__________________________________________________________

Bonnie found her in the music room, as usual. She was alone. Good. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and gripped her bag strap tightly. She didn’t know why she was the one who felt terrified, after all she was the one planning on basically cornering Marceline with a potentially awkward situation. She took a deep breath and entered the room.

Marceline turned to her, ceasing the strum of her bass. She flashed a warm smile. “Hey Bon, what’s up?”

“Marceline, do you want to go on a date?” At the sight of Marceline’s confused face, she added “With me. Romantically.”

Marceline raised her brows, even more confused than before. “Dude, I thought you weren’t into me that way? You said so like 2 weeks ago.”

She was right. Bonnie only hoped that her persuasion skills were good enough. “While it is true that I've never seen you in that way before, I don’t think it’d be a bad idea to try?” She paused, not really sure how to phrase it less awkwardly. “So, let’s go on a romantic date and see how that goes.”

Marceline looked downright offended by that offer. Was there some homosexual etiquette Bonnie was missing out on?

“I don’t need a pity date.”

Oh. OH. Oh god was that it how it sounded like? Bonnie knew she had to rectify the situation and soon.

“No no. It’s not that. It’s…“ Bonnie broke eye contact with Marceline, instead favoring the ground. She wasn’t sure why she felt so flustered, maybe it was because admitting the truth was embarrassing. “I’ve been thinking about us. How I feel about you, ever since that day you confessed.” Bonnie started fiddling with her hands.

Marceline tensed. She didn’t know where this was going, but she was paranoid and listened to every echoing thought in her head that said this was going to end up bad. Crap. She thought she was out of the woods after that day in the café.

”and I know I said that I hadn’t felt anything but platonic towards you before, and that’s true. But now I’m not so sure.”

Marceline furrowed her brows. What did she just say, was she implying that – “I…I might like you romantically. Or not. I don’t know. I was hoping that going on a date would help me figure things out. Its more for me really.”

Marceline blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Bonnie had…mixed feelings for her? No, rather Bonnie wasn’t sure how she felt. Marceline released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding until now. It wasn’t an ideal outcome, but it was certainly not the worst that could have come from her confession to the redhead.

Taking Marceline’s prolonged silence as a no, Bonnie continued. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to even suggest that considering everything you’ve been through. Just forge-“

Marceline raised her hand to stop her babbling. “I get it. Figuring out your sexuality is hard and you’re not exactly swimming in gay friends. I'm down for it. But you have to promise me this.” She looked straight into Bonnie’s eyes, holding down probably the most serious stare she could muster. “The moment you figure out your feelings for me, you have to tell me. Even if it hurts me. Its just-I just need to know as soon as possible.” Her voice wavered. “Please.”

Bonnie nodded, understanding the gravity of this.

Marceline let out a huge breath, visibly relaxing. She smiled.

“Alright. You free Friday night?”

Bonnie smiled back at her. “Yeah, pick me up at 7?”

Chapter 3: Consolidation

Bonnie didn’t think she would be one of those girls. The ones that would empty their entire closet and prance around their clothing littered room wondering why nothing there was good enough for their date. But here she was doing exactly just that.

It was just Marceline after all. They’ve hung out a billion times before.

Except it wasn’t just Marceline was it?

Bonnie groaned; this was infuriating. She dug through another pile of clothes on her bed, burying herself in thoughts of what to wear instead of trying to unpack the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

In the end, she settled for a white sundress. Well, “settle” was a stretch considering she was going to change again if she hadn’t been interrupted by a ring from the front door. She rushed out of her bedroom, hurriedly making her way down wooden stairs with a tap-tap from her feet.

“Is that Marceline?” Her mother called out from a distant room. Knowing her it was probably the living room. Bonnie did get her love of sappy cable TV rom-coms from her after all.

“Yeah, I got it! I’ll be back by midnight.” Bonnie replied. “Alright, text me if your plans change.” After a brief moment of silence, she added, “Oh, and keep yourselves out of trouble okay! I do not want to hear a peep about either of you from the cops again!”

Bonnie giggled, reminiscing that exact event from 6 months ago.

“Oh. Wow.” Bonnie’s gaze was fixated on the sunset, a bleary mix of reds, oranges and yellows fading into dark blues that casted a looming shadow, outlining the town center. Bonnie and Marceline were on top of a ruined four story building without a roof which was nestled on top of a steep hill, giving them a brilliant vantage point that overlooked the entire t-

“Right.” Marceline flashed a cocky smirk. “Told you this place had the best view.” And she wasn’t wrong.

Bonnie scoffed. “Well sorry I thought otherwise when you dragged me through a forest, a chain link fence and an abandoned construction site.”

Marceline snorted. “What did you think I was gonna do?”

“Kill me and the hide the body?”

“Pfft, if I did that, whose homework would I copy of off?”

“Uh,” She tapped her chin, actually giving the question some thought. “Finn’s?”

Marceline looked at her with bewilderment, one eyebrow quirked above the other. “Dude, you know the whole point of copying off someone else is to pass, not fail.” Bonnie huffed, “Okay, fair point. But – "

“Hey, what are you two doing here?! Get down now!”

They snapped their heads to the source of the yelling. Down on the ground floor stood a middle-aged security guard, practically steaming with red-hot fury. Both girls looked at each other, conveying some unsaid message to each other, seemingly in agreement.

Then they ran.

After hopping through several cinder blocks and steel beams sprinkled with a few swears and complaints about thinking the place was abandoned, they got to a chain-linked fence. Knowing that they were pressed for time with the security guard hot on their tail, they opted to try to squeeze through a tiny gap on the bottom of the fence instead of climbing over it as they did before.

Bonnie crawled through just fine, merely getting some scuffs and dirt marks on her pullover. Marceline on the other hand got stuck, her “fashionable” ripped tank top getting caught on stray fence wiring. Both girls rushed to untangle Marceline, but with the stomp-stomp of booted footsteps coming ever closer to them, Marceline pulled Bonnie’s hands away from herself.

“Bon. I’m fine, just.. go ahead without me”

“But- “ Marceline pushed her away, stopping any argument Bonnie would give out.

“Go! I’ll text you when I’m home.” Bonnie stared at her for a moment in concern. Her eyes darted back and forth between her friend and the direction of the encroaching footsteps. Then she blurted,

“Shut the fuck up” and scrambled to get her friend out.

They both got caught.

After a phone call, a drive and long drawn-out conversation between Bonnie's mom and the police, both girls found themselves on the receiving end of a stern mother's gaze whilst seated on Bonnie's couch.

"Explain."

Before Bonnie could get a word out, Marceline started. "It was my idea Mrs. Butler, I dragged Bonnie to the construction site up at the hill near the end of town. I wanted to show her the sunset from up there.”

"The abandoned one?"

Marceline gave a sheepish smile "Well it turns out it wasn’t so abandoned after all".

Mrs. Butler wasn’t so amused. “Uh-huh.” She glanced at Bonnie, who was squirming in her seat from nervousness. "Bonnie, I know it wasn’t your plan but you still tagged along. You’re grounded for a week. That also means no access to the garage lab."

Bonnie groaned but didn’t feel the need to protest that decision. It was fairly light considering they did get the police involved.

Her mom turned to Marceline. "And Marceline. It’s late so you can stay over, but in the morning, I am going to have a talk with your father, got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

“Good, now I’m going to head to bed, it's late. Bonnie, be a dear and help set up the couch for Marceline” With that, Mrs. Butler went to her bedroom. Bonnie and Marceline started setting up the couch in silence, bringing out blankets and extra pillows from a nearby closet. Marceline wondered if this would be a good time to say what was on her mind, but was interrupted by Bonnie asking her to grab the duvet. When she dragged the duvet to the couch, Bonnie noticed her stumble a little. And then again. She was limping.

“Marceline, your leg!”

“Huh?” Marceline glanced down, seeing a small trail of blood running from her knees. Her very battered and cut knees. “Oh shit”

Bonnie immediately pushed Marceline to sit down on the couch, then ran off into the kitchen muttering something about alcohol. She then came back with a small first aid kit and began treating Marceline’s wounds. Marceline figured this was as good of a time as any.

“Sorry I got you in trouble. I didn’t know there was security there, I checked out the whole place and didn’t even see any keep out signs.” She fiddled nervously with the duvet below her.

Bonnie flashed a warm smile. “It’s fine, just…” She glanced down at Marceline’s knee and frowned, then looked up and made eye contact with her. “Be more careful next time?”

Marceline gave a reassuring smile.

“I will.”

Ding-ding-ding-ding! God, Marceline was one hell of an impatient girl. Bonnie rushed to open the door, silently cursing herself for zoning out for so long.

Marceline was clad in a red-black plaid flannel paired with a dark grey top and ripped black jeans. 'Classic Marceline,' thought Bonnie. Though in the raven-haired girl’s words it would’ve been classic gay, whatever that meant.

Marceline started, “Hey.” She flashed a gentle, earnest smile. She can do this. She’s good at playing cool. She’s the coolest person in school. Totally cool. Absolutely not having a heart attack right now.

“Hey.”

“You look great tonight.”

Bonnie smiled, soft and sweet. “Thanks, you look nice too.” She gestured to the other.

Marceline snorted. “Pfft, this is my normal outfit, what are you talking about?”

She smirked. Oh, it was all too easy to tease Marceline. “Maybe I think you look nice normally.”

Marceline spluttered into some incoherent murmurs. Her cheeks flushed crimson red and she scrambled to look at anywhere except Bonnie. Bonnie found it amusing.

She noticed that the raven-haired girl had her hands tucked behind her back, as if hiding an object from her view. Before she could ask though, Marceline beat her to it, having recovered from her gay panic.

“I, uhh, got you flowers.” She presented a bouquet of soft pink and white roses.

"Flowers?"

Marceline averted her gaze, instead staring at the small scuff marks on her shoes."Yeah. Figured I'd, uhmm....give you the full date experience." But the flustered cheeks and wavering voice said there was more to it than that.

Bonnie felt a heavy pang strike through her chest. She didn’t say anything about it though, figuring that it was a little too late to back out now. "Thanks."

She took the flowers into the kitchen and quickly deposited them into an empty vase. Then she rushed back out and hopped into Marceline’s car and they drove off. She turned to Marceline. “So, where are we going?”

Marceline smirked. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“At least tell me if it's legal. I promised my mom I wouldn’t get in trouble with the cops tonight.” She crossed her arms and pouted. Marceline thought it was adorable and wondered if she should comment. She didn’t.

Instead, she let out a cackle. “Nah it's totally legal. Don’t worry about it.”

They continued the drive in relatively peaceful silence, with only the radio to fill in the space. Bonnie’s gaze fell to her lap, where she fiddled with the hem of her dress. This was it. She was going on a date. With her best friend. Marceline was her date. Huh. Sounds weird.

Chapter 4: Conclusion

Bonnie glanced at the building, eyes widening at the familiar sight of the local science museum. "I thought you didn’t like science?"

Marceline shrugged, "I don’t. But I'm down for learning about the things you like.” She flashed a gentle smile and Bonnie's insides went into a tumbling frenzy of butterflies and thrumming heartbeats. “Now c’mon, this place closes at 9!"

Before her insides could murder her further, she found herself being dragged to the building, hands intertwined and all. Bonnie couldn’t bring herself to complain.

They grabbed their tickets from the ticketing booth and then trailed through the museum, weaving through various exhibits from electrochemistry to evolution to tectonic plates. They stopped by an anatomy exhibit; Bonnie having decided that the musculoskeletal system was an absolute must-see.

“Oooooh, the knee joint!”

Marceline quirked her brows, “What makes this one so special?”

"Well, it is the largest joint in our body, and y’know, THE joint that enables us to walk.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it like, weak? I always hear about people having busted knees or something.”

“That is true. That’s mostly because it does endure a lot of force when we’re using it, about one and a half times our body weight when walking and eight times when squatting.” Bonnie paused for a moment. ”Oh! And it’s also susceptible to numerous pathological conditions like arthritis”

Marceline hummed absentmindedly, then said, “Heh, y’know, you’re just like osteoarthritis” -she turned to her and flashed a toothy grin-” ’Cause you make my knees weak.”

Bonnie stared at her as if she grew another head. A pause ensued, just as awkward and confused as Bonnie’s expression. It went on for a bit, what with Marceline having no clue how to handle it and Bonnie trying to piece together what in the world just happened. She eventually broke the silence with a snort and a smile.

"Well," She moved closer to the other, interlinking their arms together. "You’re like a cation because you’re positively attractive.”

Marceline doubled down, practically filling the museum with cackles. Her cheeks were tinted red, though whether that was from being flustered or from the strain of laughter Bonnie couldn’t tell.

“Omg Bonnie that’s…” She took a breath in an attempt to get her chuckles to die down. ”That’s so you.” Another fit of laughter hit her.

Bonnie floundered, muttering a brief string of indecipherable words and turning away from Marceline in a vain attempt to hide her beet-red face.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. I didn’t say it was bad. It's….” Marceline rubbed her neck, eyes purposely averting Bonnie’s gaze. “It’s actually really cute.” She flashed a tentative smile. Her cheeks mirrored Bonnie’s.

Bonnie pouted, “Geez, you really can’t take a compliment, can you?”

“Welp, sorry, my parents are as emotionally constipated as I am.”

Bonnie chuckled, then tugged the other along to another exhibit.

They wandered through the exhibits one by one, with Bonnie rambling on about the four ventricles of the heart and some Newtonian mechanics and Marceline occasionally quipping in with a flirt or a joke (usually a pun).

“You wanna go watch a movie? I heard they’re premiering the remake of the Thing at the old theatre downtown” Marceline asked. They had finished a full round at the Museum, just in the nick of time as an announcement declared that the museum was closing. Now they were making their way to the carpark.

Bonnie was a little surprised that Marceline would have heard of the Thing. She didn’t seem like someone who would keep up with Sci-fi remakes, then again, the Thing was also a horror, that could explain it.

Bonnie shrugged. “Sure, sounds good.” She glanced down at their still intertwined hands. It was all still surreal to her. She really was on a date. With Marceline.

“Bon? You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just…uhh, zoning out. Yep. Heh.” She really, really wished she was better at lying. Marceline raised her brows but didn’t comment any further, to Bonnie’s relief.

__________________________________________________________

They wound up seated in a small theatre, with Marceline sipping on her soda and Bonnie occasionally munching on popcorn. Bonnie glanced at Marceline, wondering if she should be doing something at this moment. Their arms were still interlinked, still a fairly platonic gesture. She wondered if she should push it, cross the platonic boundary a little bit more. After all Marceline clearly had with her incessant flirting. She supposed she should reciprocate by initiating something too.

And so, cautiously, Bonnie leaned in, slowly placing her head on the crook of Marceline's shoulder. Marceline tensed for a moment, and for that moment Bonnie wondered if she should retreat. But then Marceline relaxed and leaned in.

Cuddling wasn't something the girls ever did together in their friendship. Physical affection, whilst there with casual hand-holding, a hug here and there and such, was always kept at a respectable distance. This was new and if the butterflies in Bonnie’s stomach were anything to go by, it was a good kind of new.

Maybe dating wasn’t so weird after all.

__________________________________________________________

Marceline brought Bonnie to her doorstep in silence. Not the comfortable kind that they often shared. No, this was tense, heavy, as though there was a huge anvil weighing them down. Both of them clearly knew why, it was the end of their date after all. Neither of them really wanted to start, but, feeling obligated because this was her idea, Bonnie did.

"As cliche as it sounds, I really had a good time tonight." After a short pause, she added, "I'd like to do it again sometime."

Marceline’s brows shot up into her hairline. "Wait does this mean -"

“Ehp!” She croaked. Despite knowing what Marceline's reaction would be, Bonnie still found a lump rising in her throat. She took a breath and tried again.

“Yeah.” Bonnie smiled tentatively.

Marceline’s face went through various stages of metamorphosis, from confusion to disbelief to being completely flustered red. It finally settled on a dumbfounded smile with rose-tinted cheeks.

“That’s, wow.”

Bonnie giggled and crossed her arms. She just couldn’t resist the opportunity presented. “Really? You got your crush to like you back and all you can say is ‘wow’. Real smooth Marceline.”

“Sh-shut up!”

Bonnie could practically hear the pout from her. She snickered and Marceline desperately scrambled for a change in topic. She found one and smirked.

"Does this mean I can kiss you? Coz you were so obvious with the staring just now"

Bonnie scoffed. “We both know I wasn’t staring, nice try though. As for the other thing,” She averted her gaze and gave a non-committal shrug. “Maybe on the second date, or the third”

Marceline grinned. “Ooooh, there’s gonna be a third date now?”

“Only if you behave.” She deadpanned.

Marceline cackled, her voice echoing throughout the silent neighborhood. Soon enough, Bonnie couldn’t help but join and now in between the quiet of suburbia were the giggles of two girls.

They kissed on the second date.

#bubbline #bubbline fanfiction #bubbline fanfic #adventure time #adventure time fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #princess bubblegum #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #atimers #at #at fanfic #at fanfiction

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gods-no-longer-tread-here · 3 years

Text

This is a somft thing I wrote because my platonic scoundrel @roseforthethorns was feeling sad. Ily bby

(3k+ words, Family Gossip, Geralt being good with kids, something akin to a binding..... just fluffypuffy stuff)

“You are an absolute darling, Geralt!”

“Hmph,” he grunted, and tucked the honeysuckles into the circlet before placing it carefully on Jaskier’s head. “You need to be pretty for the party,” the Witcher said firmly.

Jaskier beamed at him, eyes shining with affection. “That I do, my dear,” he said, adjusting the flower circlet to be at a jauntier angle. “Oh, do you like the ring, by the way?”

Geralt nodded, raising his hand. It was a lovely ring, but rather cheap. Bronze band, yellow agate cabochon, and tiny pearls. It was well-used, though. Jaskier grabbed his hand, squeezed gently, then skipped to the door. “Come on, then!”

Geralt was expecting the stares. He was not expecting so many nobles to glide up to him, give a nervous greeting, and then inquire about his relationship with Count Julian. Geralt was too baffled to answer with anything other than, “He’s my bard.”

One sharp-eyed old lady with an ivory cane showed up at Geralt’s elbow, and poked his middle with her cane. “Hmm. Too skinny,” she declared, while Geralt fought the urge to splutter. “How do you expect to take care of little Julie when you can’t keep yourself fed?”

“We’ve been getting along just fine for fifteen years,” Geralt retorted.

The old lady sniffed in disapproval. “Of course you would say that, you’re a man. Both of you need plumping up.” She smacked his middle with her cane and added, “Be careful with that ring, boy. It’s precious.”

Geralt grunted, hands automatically coming together so he could touch the ring again. The old lady nodded and walked away.

Jaskier had said this would just be a short jaunt to say hello to his cousin and leave--but said cousin was a queen, and asked him to stay for the whole evening. Of course, Jaskier agreed. And now Geralt was leaning on a wall sipping honey wine and feeling superfluous. There was nothing to do here. He should be hunting, gathering coin for their journey, not letting nobles stare at him.

A man in a military uniform approached him, and Geralt tensed, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t think he was going to be taken away; the soldier was alone, and Geralt came with Jaskier.

The soldier stopped, bowed, and said, “Greetings, Witcher. I’m Captain Yetzii, of the Palace Guard.”

“Geralt,” Geralt said.

The captain nodded, his heavy mustache and eyebrows hiding most of his expression, but the wariness and aggression in his scent and posture waning. “I suspected as much,” he said. “Not many people hover in corners watching Count de Lettenhove with such a worried expression.” The captain’s mustache twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled, and Geralt was hit by the realization that, though this man was human and had red-brown hair and was as lean as a youth, he bore a striking resemblance to Vesemir. Even his scent had a familiar tang.

Geralt frowned and answered the captain, “He gets into trouble more frequently than we Witchers. If I don’t watch him he’ll do something stupid and end up wearing a casket of wine as trousers.”

“He’s already done that,” the captain said. “On his twentieth birthday, he and some of the troops got so drunk that they started a contest of what they could wear that was within uniform regulations. I don’t know how, but they all ended up agreeing that a wine casket and some sheafs of straw was within the rules.”

Something stirred in Geralt’s memory, and then jumped to the forefront: a few years ago, when he and Jaskier met again in spring, and got so drunk that--Geralt’s mouth twitched, but his voice was dry as he told the captain, “I know exactly how. I once witnessed him convince a king that he had created a dashing outfit out of moonlight and fresh air, then encouraged the king to wear it while giving a speech to the commoners. The fool actually believed him and stepped onto the platform before the crowd naked.”

The captain snorted, his posture relaxing further. “We heard of that, but no one knew it was M’lord Julian. Have you ever caught him dueling? He’s never been good at it, but by the gods, he tries. Especially when he was younger; whenever he visited, the Guard had to follow him when he went on a quest to seduce every barmaid in the city, because it was inevitable that he would end up trying to duel some poor citizen.”

Geralt’s mouth twitched again, visibly this time. “I can believe it.”

Somehow, swapping stories about Jaskier’s ineptitude with fighting rolled right into passive fighter roles; Geralt admitted that he’d rather be bitten by a manticore than pose as a bodyguard, and Captain Yetzii commiserated, saying that he had much preferred being in his village’s guard and patrolling the county to being a stationary captain. This led into how to prepare for long journeys far from humanity, and then a mild argument about horses. Geralt was offended by Yetzii’s insistence that horses should be bred for their lines, instead of for their traits; Yetzii was skeptical of the fact that the size of a horse’s heart was the defining factor of its speed, arguing that lungs and bone-structure were more important.

A noble boy, perhaps sixteen, drifted over and began asking questions that seemed to boil down to, “My tutor said that’s wrong.” Both Geralt and Yetzii immediately dropped the argument to speak to the boy seriously about how to choose, care for, and ride a good horse. A young lady of about thirteen took up a position close to the three of them, straining her ears to hear them while pretending not to.

It wasn’t long before Geralt and Yetzii had accumulated most of the attendants below the age of twenty, and were answering their questions about fighting, hunting, and survival. Yetzii was polite and deferential; Geralt spoke bluntly. So many curious faces, so many wide eyes--it felt like he was talking to his Witcher brothers.

Somehow, that didn’t hurt.

“I wish I could hunt trolls,” sighed a boy with lanky limbs.

Geralt frowned and said, “You’ve got the bones for it. Heavy laundry every other day, laps, and wrestling will get you started.”

The group went silent, gaping at him. Geralt stared back, then looked up to find Jaskier. He really had forgotten these children were nobles. He needed to get out of there.

“Do you think I could hunt trolls?” a young woman asked, her eyes bright with hope.

“You’re tall enough for it,” Geralt replied cautiously. “You’re almost done growing, but I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to.”

The young woman beamed at him, and Geralt felt very uncomfortable.

“Mr. Pankratz, sir,” piped up a pudgy child with a cloud of golden curls for hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever be tall. Could I still fight monsters?”

Geralt nodded. “Yes. Other warriors in training may tell you not to, but they don’t know your limits,” he said. It was so peculiar. He felt like… like he was saying Vesemir’s words in his own voice. He looked at all of the children, and added, “Any of you can be warriors. And warriors don’t always hunt monsters in dark places.” Something Vesemir had told him when he was small popped into his head, and he said it aloud, not quite seeing the children: “Sometimes Witchers kill. Sometimes Witchers talk. It doesn’t matter if you do one or the other more: you’re still a Witcher.”

“What does that mean?” asked the lanky boy.

“It means…” Geralt frowned, trying to put his words into order. “It means, no matter what your fighting looks like--whether you kill monsters or negotiate with kings--you’re still a warrior. We fight with what we have. A sword, a pen, medicine, knowledge; none of these are more important than the others. It’s what you use them for that matters.”

There was a moment of silence in the little group. All eyes were fixed on him, including Yetzii. He tried to think of how to escape, but before he could, Jaskier appeared, beaming and bubbling. Geralt had never felt such relief as he turned to Jaskier, who told those assembled, “Hello, everyone! Very sorry to interrupt, but the queen wishes to meet Geralt. We’ll be staying a few days, you’ll have plenty of time to talk to him.” Jaskier winked at Geralt with an evil smile; Geralt rolled his eyes, but followed his bard willingly.

“Their parents are annoyed,” Jaskier murmured teasingly as they approached the royal dais. “You’re far too interesting for them.”

Geralt snorted. “If they actually taught their little ones useful skills instead of drilling them on how to blow their noses, they wouldn’t be interested,” he muttered, and smiled just a little when Jaskier laughed. He liked Jaskier’s laugh. When did it go from painful to pleasant?

The queen, Jaskier’s cousin, was just as beautiful as him, but not nearly as theatrical. Her eyes were blue, but more washed-out. One of her ladies-in-waiting had lined her eyes with coal, but it was not nearly as neat and delicate as Jaskier’s. Her hair was a sandy blond, well-maintained and shining like gold, but Jaskier’s hair was shinier.

He bowed without giving anything away on his face.

“Queen Chrysanthemum, may I introduce Witcher Geralt,” Jaskier intoned gravely. Geralt shot him an annoyed look. Jaskier never made it easy to greet royalty. “He’s my friend.”

Geralt bowed again and muttered, “An honor to meet you, your Majesty.”

Queen Chrysanthemum smiled prettily. “The honor is mine, Witcher Geralt,” she replied. Then her eyes twinkled and her smile turned crafty. “We were all wondering what kind of man Julian would settle on,” she teased.

Geralt tensed, but it was embarrassment, not anger. He was used to this.

Apparently, Jaskier was not.

He turned red as a tomato, and spluttered a bit before objecting weakly, “I haven’t settled on anyone! When I do, you’ll know, because she will be the most beautiful woman the world has ever seen!” He avoided Geralt’s eyes firmly, even though all the Witcher did was raise an eyebrow and repress a teasing insult. How odd.

The queen snickered. “Yes, yes, I understand, Julian.” She turned to the matronly noblewoman sitting beside her and flicked her fingers subtly; the woman rose, curtseyed, and walked away, joining a circle of other noblewomen. Geralt’s stomach dropped as Queen Chrysanthemum smiled at him again and said, “Sit with me a moment, Witcher.”

Geralt did so, stiffly. For some reason, Jaskier seemed reluctant to leave, but also reluctant to sit. He shifted his weight, fiddled with his cuffs, bit his lip, and then nodded sharply, before turning and marching to one of the refreshment tables. Geralt shook his head. Jaskier was always very odd around his family.

“You don’t seem surprised by him,” the queen remarked, beckoning with her fan for a servant to bring them drinks.

“I’ve known him nearly fifteen years,” Geralt replied. “If he wanted to surprise me, he’d stop singing.”

That startled a laugh out of her, as she accepted a glass of wine from the servant. Geralt followed suit, but did not drink from it. He’d already had too much ale; his tongue was loose and his mind was too relaxed.

“Tell me, how did you meet?” she inquired. “I know Julian, his penchant for dramatics is devastating. Did you really defeat Filivandrel?”

“With words, yes,” Geralt answered, feeling that pinch of irritation again. That fucking song. He hated it. “There was no dramatic battle. Still, humans have no need to fear him anymore.”

Queen Chrysanthemum nodded sagely. “I thought as much. Julian has never once had the courage to face a fight willingly.” She must have seen Geralt’s confusion, because she smiled and explained, “He hated hunting rabbits, for the gods’ sakes. Anything scarier than a bee, he ran away from. We used to laugh about it.”

Geralt remembered the times when Jaskier had thrown himself into a fight to help him, had acted as bait or a distraction even in near-certain death situations, had stared down a griffin and run it through with Geralt’s own sword. Jaskier had never run away. Jaskier wasn’t courageous, but he was braver than any other human--if foolishness counted as bravery. Geralt ran his thumb over the hem of his “fashionable” surcoat; the money used to purchase the fabric, tailoring, and embroidery had come from Jaskier talking down an enraged nagani, negotiating with good will and good humour until she laughed and agreed to his terms.

Why would anyone think Jaskier had no courage?

“He’s changed,” Geralt murmured, instead of snapping at her for being so condescending.

“Pankratzes never change,” Chrysanthemum replied dismissively. “I’m a Pankratz too, and I haven’t changed one bit since I married. His parents and siblings conform to tradition so easily you’d think they were actors. You can ask a Pankratz any question and know exactly what he’ll answer with.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said.

“At least he gave you the ring,” Chrysanthemum said, nodding at Geralt’s hand. “So many women he could have married, even at his age, but never one could wear that.”

Geralt frowned again. ‘His age’? Jaskier was barely thirty-six. That wasn’t an old age. “It’s a nice ring,” he allowed, because he could not imagine arguing that Jaskier was available for marriage.

Chrysanthemum smirked and answered, “Yes, it is. It’s been in the family since the Conjunction.”

Geralt almost told her that was impossible, a ring that old would be completely destroyed, surely. He looked at it, perfectly fitted to his sausage-sized fingers, and wondered why Jaskier would give him a family ring. “Hmm,” he said again, making a mental note to ask Jaskier about it. Then he decided to change the subject. “Which side of the family are you related to Jaskier on?”

A sly smile preceded her answer. “His mother was my first cousin,” she explained. “She was amazingly beautiful, and men from every social class asked her to marry them. She chose our third cousin twice removed, instead. Probably because she’s always loved the sea more than people.”

Geralt hummed encouragingly. The queen took the hint, and continued. “She was an odd one before she had Julian. Always singing at feasts and dancing at fetes. When I was small, I thought she was the most magical person in the world. Her mere presence could make one smile. Mother told me it was strange--that her own father was one of the Seelie court.”

“Should you be saying this in public?” Geralt cut in, glancing around sharply. There were five people close enough that he knew they could hear the queen, and eight more who probably could if they tried. Jaskier was near the back of the hall, laughing with some servants.

Chrysanthemum scoffed. “Everyone knows the stories. That’s probably why he’s so strange, too. Do you know, he refuses to claim the title of Count unless he’s visiting me?”

“Can’t imagine why,” Geralt muttered, and drank his wine.

Soon, the king announced that his dear wife was tired, and they should all go to their beds. Geralt stood, bowed to the royal couple, and made his way to Jaskier.

“You spoke to her for a while,” Jaskier said as soon as they were in earshot of each other. “What were you talking about?”

Geralt shrugged. “Gossip,” he grunted. When he heard Jaskier’s heart speed up, Geralt shook his head. “I didn’t find it important.”

Jaskier beamed at him. “Oh, well, if that’s the case,” he said, and changed the subject. “Chryssie told me that we can have the Celadon Suite. You’ll love it, Geralt, there is not a single corner that isn’t brightly lit and everything is so soft--”

Geralt listened to Jaskier’s chatter, focused more on his voice than his words, as they walked surely down a hall to the guest suites. A Seelie grandfather… no, not for Jaskier. The Seelie court were kind, mischievous, and tended to stay in Skellige. The ones he’d met had all said they preferred their own monsters over the main Continent’s, thank you very much.

The Celadon Suite was, frankly, much too green for Geralt’s taste; but it looked well against Jaskier’s teal-trimmed dusky blue outfit. There was a small receiving room with a dining table and two seating areas; the bedrooms, large and lush and leaden with silence; one bathing room tiled with white marble, the bathtub large enough for Geralt and his brothers to lounge in; and a small balcony off of the bigger bedroom. Geralt chose the smaller one immediately.

“Oh! Oh, Geralt!”

The Witcher turned, and Jaskier grabbed his arm. He’d taken off the circlet, and unbuttoned his doublet, but Geralt’s nostrils flared as he caught a scent that was not as carefree as Jaskier’s appearance.

“We should eat and drink water before sleeping,” Jaskier said, faking a smile. “Don’t want to throw up at breakfast!”

Geralt nodded, reluctantly, and followed Jaskier to the dining table.

They were both silent for a moment, looking at each other. Geralt relaxed slightly, taking in Jaskier’s familiar face, his reassuringly broad shoulders, the little curls of hair over his ears and his collarbone. This was Jaskier. His bard. His traveling companion. There was no need to be on high alert with him.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, “What did she tell you?”

Geralt tapped his finger on the table for a moment, sorting his words. “She told me the ring you gave me is very old, and has always been in your family. She told me you were a coward when you were young. She said Pankratzes never change. And she implied that your grandfather on your mother’s side was of the Seelie Court. I don’t believe those last three for a moment. But I would like to know more about this ring.” Geralt set his hand on the table, palm down, and they both looked at the ring.

It was so small. A simple bronze band, a piece of agate, and six little pearls. Not that interesting. But it felt like... like being brought into Jaskier’s family, if only for a day or so. Having something so steeped in history pressed against his skin at all times felt like he was being asked to join that history.

But he was a Witcher, and human families were not for him.

Jaskier shrugged. “Mother said it would fit the hand of the person it was meant to,” he said, softly. “I don’t really remember the rest of her explanation. I was… lonely. So I decided it must mean that it would fit my very best friend.” He lifted his gaze to Geralt’s, and smiled. A real smile, one full of affection and happiness, so warm and enveloping that Geralt felt uncomfortable. “And it does! So you can’t say you aren’t my friend, because obviously you are!”

Geralt opened his mouth to deny it, then huffed in frustration and shook his head. Jaskier reached out and tucked his fingers between Geralt’s, interlocking their hands like cogs in a machine. The corner of Geralt’s mouth twitched. It always amused him that their hands were the same lengths, but Geralt’s was blockier, meant for work, and Jaskier’s hand was perfectly shaped to play any instrument. It was also interesting how Geralt’s wax-pale skin contrasted with Jaskier’s peachy hue, tanned ever so slightly.

He just liked looking at their hands.

Jaskier hummed a bar from a new song he was writing, and carefully wiggled his hand so that he could slide it under Geralt’s fingers, joining their hands. The Witcher didn’t mind. It felt nice, oddly.

“I… might have drunk too much,” he muttered, but he couldn’t look away from the tiny valley formed by their fingers.

“Mm, me, too,” Jaskier murmured.

They sat in silence for even longer, watching the light from the lamps cast warm flickers on their clasped hands. It was so calm.

Idly, Geralt picked up Jaskier’s wilting flower circlet and draped it over their hands. Jaskier smiled.

“I’ll be yours, and you’ll be mine,” the bard whispered.

“Hmm. Friends and comrades,” the Witcher murmured back. “Joined in battle.”

“Bound by time.”

“Forever yours--”

“--Forever mine.”

Geralt’s medallion might have stirred, but probably not.

Jaskier pushed their hands upwards, so that their palms touched. “This isn’t for anyone else to know,” he whispered.

Geralt squeezed his hand back. “No,” he breathed. “This is ours.”

#Geraskier #Geraskier fic #The Witcher #soft geraskier

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socksual-innuendos · 4 years

Text

Fallout OC Companion Meme

Ok so I’m redoing this and adding perks and personal quests. General is up top, companion quest is under cut.

Name: Emilia Vazquez

Location: Atomic Wrangler

Emilia can be hired as a companion after completing the side quest “Strangers in the Fight”

(art by @courierspikeee)

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together: “Oh, you really want me to come along? No promises I’ll behave.”

Use Melee: “So you want to see an old lady get her ass beat. Haha, so would I.”

Use Ranged: “Don’t worry if I disappear, you don’t have to see me to know I’m still around.” / “Good idea, the further I am the better I work.”

Open Inventory: “Ayayay! Use your own pockets and don’t bum off me!” / “Ah, the Lord has blessed me with a companion that will carry my shit for me— no? Well, worth a try.”

Stay Close: “Trust me, you do not want me up your ass”

Keep Distance: “Listen, whatever you’re smelling, it wasn’t me”

Stealth: “Aah, my specialty.”

Back Up: “Oh? You want to stand here? Fine.” / “My knee only works in so many directions, mijo/a”

Be Passive: “Your call, but when things get hairy I’m doing best for me.” / “If I hear shots, I will start shooting. Never doubt this.”

Be Aggressive: “Shoot them before they shoot us? That’s the most sound thing I’ve heard from you.” / “Good, they’ll be dead before they even know we’re there.”

Use Stimpack: “You ever need anything stronger, hahaha, you let me know...” // “Aaah...I could use another of those.”

Wait Here: “If that’s what you want. No promises I’ll still be here when you come back.” // “If I bore you, just say so.”

Follow Me: “Oh so now you want me back.”

Send her to the Lucky 38: “Perfecto. I’ve been wanting a shower.”

Send her Home: “Alright, you know where to find me.” (can be found in the atomic wrangler)

Injured: “Aagh, my other knee—!” / “I’m not getting paid enough for this...”

Death: (before personal quest) “I can’t...not yet...” / “Aaah, sorry Camila.” -- (after personal quest) “Always knew I’d die on the job—“ / “Mi renacuajita— mama will see you soon.”

Aggression: aggressive

Confidence: brave/foolhardy

Assistance: helps friends and allies

Perks

Like the other companions, Emilia has a starting perk that is replaced by another depending on how the player completes her personal quest.

Desierto salvajísimo: Weird things happen in the desert and with Emilia by your side they just got weirder! Something was definitely in that peyote...(Compounds on Wild Wasteland perk.)

Should the courier convince Emilia to apologize to her sister, she will gain Thy Brother’s Keeper perk.

Thy Brother’s Keeper: When the player falls below half health, Emilia will prioritize enemies around the player and gain a 25% damage increase.

If the courier convinces Emilia to let go of her sister, she will gain the Gone Rogue perk.

Gone Rogue: Stealth kills now do 25% more damage and enemies lose interest faster while sneaking.

Drops

El Silbón - Emilia’s sniper rifle. Unscoped shots have a 25% increase to critical chance.

Tattered Journal - A small journal that contains memoirs and recipes. Who is it for?

Froggy Grenades - Smoke bombs painted to look like frogs. Activating them will halve the chance of limbs being crippled and lower time it takes for enemies to lose sight of the user.

Quests and Recruitment

Strangers in the Fight

“You’ve been tipped off about an assassination that is suppose to happen tonight at The Aces. You aren’t sure who the mark is, but you’d gain some reputation and caps if you prevented their death.”

The courier can approach this quest in two ways. Either they hunt down the assassin or figure out who the mark is and warn them. Should the courier try and hunt down the assassin, they will be knocked unconscious backstage and fail the quest. Should they chose to investigate and warn the mark, the mark will thank them and leave The Aces that night. Later, the courier can find the mark dead in an alley the morning after they complete the quest. In either case, the quest will complete and the next time the courier enters the Atomic Wrangler they will find Emilia. Walking close enough to her will trigger an audio clip where she drunkenly berates the courier for causing trouble ‘the other night’.

Talking to her will give the courier a few options of dealing with her. Without perks, the courier can initiate dialogue that will lead to either recruitment or casual conversation. Recruiting can be done in two ways, either the courier can hire her for 300 caps or pass a speech check of 55. Passing the speech check makes her a permanent companion and allows the courier to access her personal quest, while hiring must be repeated if the courier dismisses her. If her health drops too low while on the road, she will dismiss herself and return to the Wrangler. If the courier has the terrifying presence perk, they can start a bar fight with Emilia in which killing her will not net a large loss in karma.

When she is recruited as a permanent companion her personal quest becomes accessible. To trigger it, the courier must complete quests for the ghoul Camila found in The Aces. The quests can be completed prior to recruiting her, but they must be completed to Camila’s approval. Once Emilia is recruited, a new quest from Camila will be available. Completing it requires Emilia to be in your party and when turning it in Camila will comment how her sister “Can’t seem to stop looming” and needs to let her “find her own way”. She will request that the courier doesn’t bring her around the Tops again, but thank them for their time. Officially, this is the start to Emilia’s personal quest.

A Tale of Two Sisters

“It seems as though Emilia is experiencing some family troubles. She’s not the type to open up about things, but if you travel with her she may let details slip. Keep her in your party and don’t push things.”

To do Emilia’s quest, the courier must keep her in their party when completing certain quests around the Mojave. Quests do not have a specific order to be completed in, however turning them in before acquiring Emilia as a companion will lock out completing her personal quest.

In Memoriam

“Elaine and her family are survivors from a Legion raid. Lately her eldest son has been closed off and she’s worried it’s because they left his father’s possessions behind while evacuating. Head down south to their old farm and see if you can find anything to bring back.”

Within the Bitter Springs camp a refugee named Elaine can be found. Talking to her reveals that she is worried about her son, who has been closed off since they evacuated their ranch. She says although their family was lucky enough to get away in one piece, she had lost her husband a few years prior. Their son was particularly close to him and he would often ‘talk’ to him after his passing. Since coming to Bitter Springs, those talks have lessened and he’s grown more distant. She suspects that their abrupt move caused some disconnect. Go down to what remains of their ranch and find something of her husband’s to bring back.

Heading southeast of Novac, the courier will eventually find a pillaged farmhouse. Going inside, the courier can pick up either a journal, a pocket knife, or a charred Dinky Dinosaur. Taking any will complete the objective, but each gives a slightly different dialogue when returning to Elaine. She will explain the value behind each item and thank the courier for their help. The quest will complete but to trigger the dialogue with Emilia, the courier must talk to Elaine’s son. He will recognize the courier and thank them, opening more dialogue options to talk about his father. Completing all dialogue paths and then talking to Emilia will allow her to comment on the boy’s outlook of grief. She will chastise how freely he talks about his father to the strangers, saying that loss can’t be fixed by just remembering someone and how it isn’t worth upsetting oneself again. The courier can respond to her in two major ways. They can either agree with her, saying that repressing grief is the only way to reign it in or they can try to convince her that closure sometimes requires vulnerability.

Take Us Back

“Change is nature. Some accept what life hands them, while others push back.”

Take Us Back can be a quest obtained by talking to a server named Charlie in the Ultra Lux. When talked to, the Courier can chose a dialogue path where she will tell them that she heard the news about Primm and that she is glad the town is now safe. Talking with her more, she will confess that she is worried about a friend who lives in Primm and that she has yet to hear from her since the attack. The Courier can then offer the check up on them, to which Charlie will express surprise that they would be willing to be so charitable with their help. The Courier can say they are either happy to help, or that they weren’t intending on doing this for free. Charlie accepts either option, and the Courier receives the quest Take Us Back.

The quest will take the Courier to Primm where they will meet Atta and her wife. The Courier can tell Atta about Charlie and her concern, to which Atta will say that she intended on sending a letter but that she had missed the last courier that came into town. She will be grateful for Charlie’s concern and that the Courier came to check up on them. Atta will then ask that the Courier take her letter back to Charlie, and will give them a small amount of caps for their trouble. The Courier can then pass a barter check to get more caps from Atta. If the Courier talks to Emi after this exchange, she will sarcastically mention how sweet it is that the Courier is passing notes around in class.

Upon returning to Charlie, she will read Atta’s letter and grow annoyed while reading. The Courier can then inquire as to what is upsetting Charlie. and Charlie will then bitterly remark that Atta always mentions her spouse, how those two are inseparable, and that it is the spouse’s fault that Atta moved to Primm. The Courier can then tell Charlie she needs to reevaluate herself and to pay up which will end the quest, or they can pry further. If asked, Charlie will admit how much things changed since Atta met her spouse, and that she has always been bitter at being second place since. She will then make a comment about how if she could get rid of the spouse, things might go back to how they were. The Courier can ask how serious she is about that comment, and she will mention that if she could find an assassin, she’d be very serious. The Courier then has the option to accept her offer, or lie and pretend to accept her offer.

If the Courier chooses to lie, they are given the option to tell Atta about the plan. Although she will not believe it at first, the Courier can pass a small speech check that allows them to convince her. She will be shocked, but thank the Courier for warning her. If the Courier takes the job they can kill Atta’s spouse anyway they chose so long as they do not get caught and do not kill Atta. Either choice requires the Courier to return to Charlie and tell her what they have done. Both choices lead to Atta sending Charlie a letter, though what is said will differ.

If the Courier decided to tell Atta, her letter will tell Charlie to never contact her again, and Charlie will become angry at the Courier for lying. Whatever the Courier says, Charlie will remain angry, and tell them to leave. After, if the Courier talks to Emi, she will joke that Charlie had it coming for being so trusting of strangers and that she should have been smarter about interfering with others’ lives. The Courier can either agree, which will end the conversation with Emilia laughing, or they can explain that people have lives outside of others and that should be respected.

Should the Courier follow through with the assassination, Atta’s letter will tell Charlie about her loss, and that she is considering coming to stay with her a while after funeral preparations are made. Charlie will thank the Courier, saying how glad she is that things will go back to normal after this. The Courier can talk to Emi afterwards, and she will make a comment about how she’s seen similar scenarios in the past, and that they never work. If the Courier asks what she means, she will say that murder can be a tool to fix things, but often its just a wrench being thrown at a broken water pipe. She will then say that she can’t blame Charlie for feeling the way she did, that she too understands what it feels like to have someone slip away, but she will be critical of how Charlie handled the situation saying that its better to prevent change before it happens as once it does things hardly return to how they were.

Friends Like These

“Problems don’t have to be dealt with alone. In times like these, it is nice to have friends.”

This quest requires that the Courier has taken Raul through his personal quest. It doesn’t matter which path Raul took so long as Old School Ghoul is completed. Travelling with Emi for a while after completing either Take Us Back or In Memorium will trigger her to talk to the Courier. She will say that she’s enjoyed their company despite not being fond of companions and will mention how travelling has been her entire life. She will then go to say how things seem to be coming to a slow in her life but that she isn’t quite ready to retire yet, and the thought of such an abrupt change leaves her anxious. Emilia will then joke, asking if the Courier could ever see her living a mellowed life, and the conversation will end.

Later, with Emilia as a companion, if the Courier talks with Raul a dialogue option mentioning a friend will appear. Choosing this the Courier will tell Raul about Emilia and he will joke about the introduction, asking what brought it up. The Courier can say that they thought those two would get along, and Raul will make a few more jokes. Ending the dialogue here will progress the quest, though a few more options will be present. After, Emi will comment on the introduction, joking that she can find her own hookups. The Courier can then say that if she is worried over retirement, to talk to Raul. She will consider this, and thank the Courier for remembering their conversation. After a time, Emilia will talk to them, again thanking the Courier for introducing her to Raul.

Completing a Tale of Two Sisters

Once the courier has completed the three quests, Emilia will ask to talk with them. If the courier accepts, she will inquire about them, asking if they’ve ever been responsible for someone before. The courier can say yes, no, or that they don’t remember, and Emilia’s response will depend on what is chosen. Ultimately she will come back to asking the courier what they thought of if they weren’t needed or wanted. The courier can ask if this is about her sister, and Emilia will get defensive, but confirm that is who she’s referring to. The courier can ask for details, and Emilia will tell them how she has been responsible for Camila’s well being for most of her life but recently she has been asserting her independence more and more. Emilia confesses that while she knows her sister will have to survive without her and is glad that she is finding her own way, she herself feels lost. The courier can then pry more, and Emilia will admit to expressing her frustrations through anger at her sister and that this is causing the strain on their relationship. If the courier tells her to apologize, Emilia will get defensive and end the conversation, but if they say that perhaps their relationship is coming to an end, Emilia will sadly acknowledge it and ask to be left alone. Later, regardless of what was picked, Emilia will ask the courier if they meant what they said. The courier can either say yes or change their answer. If the courier confirms that they think she should apologize Emilia will thank them, saying that she will need to think more on what to say to her sister. If the courier reassures her that all relationships eventually see a close and that this might mark the end for theirs, she will reluctantly agree with them and say that she needs some time to come to accept this.

Depending on what the courier chose, Emilia will gain a new perk. If the courier tells her to apologize, Emilia will gain Thy Brother’s Keeper perk. Later, the courier can talk to Camila in The Aces and she will thank them for their help, saying that she’s ready for both of them to start healing. If the courier tells Emilia to let her sister go, she will gain the Gone Rogue perk. Camila will not be in her usual spot in The Aces after this and if the courier asks Tommy Torini about her, he will mention that she has asked for time off.

El Silbón

“Legend tells of a lost spirit who wanders the world searching for revenge. His presence is only announced by a whistle.”

Upon killing Camila, the courier receives this quest with no map marker. If the courier had Emilia in party while attacking her sister, she permanently leaves the courier and can no longer be found at The Wrangle. For the rest of the game, the courier is being hunted. Emilia becomes a hostile random encounter that does not make herself known aside from a quiet whistle before she attacks. She will not stop attacking until the courier is either dead or they drop her health below 2/3, in which she will drop a smoke bomb and disappear. Emilia will continue to hunt the courier down until she is dead. Hiring a companion will lower her encounter rate, however if she is aggroed by more than one NPC she will try to escape. Upon killing Emilia, she will have three special items on her possession and two randomized chems. Her special items are her sniper rifle (El Silbón), a Tattered Journal, and Froggy Grenades.

Ending Slides

If Emilia dies (and El Silbón is not activated)

The life that had claimed so many had finally met its end, but for all Emilia’s infamy there was still one who mourned her. Camila grieved for her sister and all the things that were left unsaid between them but, refusing to let loss consume her, continued singing at The Aces.

If Camila is killed (and Emilia is not killed in El Silbón)

The Wasteland doesn’t discriminate in which lives it takes, and neither did the Courier. Camila, killed within the safety of New Vegas walls, left behind a distraught sister. Unable to handle the loss of her only remaining family, Emilia was overtaken by grief. She squandered what caps she had at the Wrangler and when her debts became too much to repay she was found overdosed in a Freeside alley.

If Emilia is killed in El Silbón

With nothing else to live for, Emilia hunted the Courier down. The murder of her sister was a trespass to be repaid in kind, but the assassin was not invincible. Unable to best the Courier, Emilia fell in battle. For all her anger and pain, she could finally find peace in death.

If Emilia’s personal quest is never completed

Despite all that the sisters had been through, New Vegas had strained their relationship like none before. Camila, though wishing to assert her independence, could not shake the control her sister had on her life. Once their business in the Mojave had been completed, Emilia left the Courier’s company, uprooting her sister once again to wander the Wastes. Although she had once held hope for a future, Camila no longer felt that ambition and remained silently by her sister’s side.

If the Courier sides with Legion and...

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her to make up with her sister

Seeing that the Mojave was no longer safe, Emilia uprooted her sister one last time. Fleeing north, then east, Emilia’s age caught up to her when the pair reached Indiana. Still determined to keep her sister safe, she pushed on further until they reached the Ohio-West Virginia border where the two were then ambushed by raiders. Overwhelmed by their numbers and worn from her travels, Emilia fell in battle with her sister following suit.

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her that she and her sister should part ways

Despite the courier’s words that their paths were diverging, Emilia would not let her sister remain in New Vegas when the Legion took the Dam. Uprooting her once more, Emilia led her sister north, then east. Determined to not be controlled by her sibling any longer, Camila fled when the pair reached Minnesota. With her age catching up to her, Emilia was unable to track her sister down. Camila had finally found her freedom.

If the Courier sides with NCR and...

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her to make up with her sister

Although NCR occupation of Vegas did not sit well with Emilia, it assured that her sister would remain safe. While Camila would go on to be a beloved addition to The Aces, Emilia’s infamy grew with the NCR forcing her off The Strip. Undeterred by her bounty, the assassin would often sneak back into Vegas to enjoy the night life, frequenting The Tops to hear her sister sing.

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her that she and her sister should part ways

Although NCR occupation of Vegas did not sit well with Emilia, it assured that her sister would remain safe. Employed at The Aces, Camila was able to support herself and was a welcomed addition to The Tops. Taking the Courier’s words to heart, Emilia slipped out of her sister’s life, allowing her the independence she so desired.

If the Courier sides with House and...

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her to make up with her sister

With Vegas safe from either NCR or Legion influence, the sisters could focus on resolving things between them. Emi, realizing how much independence meant to her sister, finally eased the grip she had on her life. The two were able to come to an understanding and for the time being the pair could call Vegas home.

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her that she and her sister should part ways

With NCR and Legion no longer a threat on Vegas, Emilia could finally take the Courier’s words to heart and slip from Camila’s life. Although no longer side by side, the sisters both remained in Vegas. Camila continued singing at the Tops while Emilia continued her work and havoc in Freeside. While Camila grew to be a beloved addition to The Aces, Emi went on to grow infamous, leading her to being incarcerated several times.

If the Courier makes New Vegas independent and...

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her to make up with her sister

Along side New Vegas, Camila celebrated her own independence. Now free to follow her own path she became a beloved addition to The Aces. Emilia, though still afraid of what the future would hold for them, proudly watched as her sister blossomed. For the two siblings, Vegas could be called a home.

Completes Emilia’s quest, telling her that she and her sister should part ways

With Vegas free to rule itself, Camila continued her career at The Tops. While happy for her sister, Emilia took the Courier’s words to heart and removed her presence. But, no matter how far she traveled Emilia would find herself back on The Strip, sitting in the crowd at The Aces listening to her sister sing.

#emi #emilia #emilia vazquez #Camila #camila espinosa vazquez

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oforamuse · 4 years

Text

i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) 1/?

mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.

the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.

or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.

au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

read and comment on ao3

They’re out of fucking milk. They’re out of eggs, butter and even bread.

There’s not even a bag of chips in sight - what the fuck is this?

‘Fuck.’ Mickey curses, he’s hungry and there’s nothing in his goddamn apartment to eat. He could’ve sworn Mandy went grocery shopping only a few days ago, how did they already manage to finish the lot off? He swears someone’s been sneaking into their fourth floor walk up to raid their fridge - it’s probably that bitch who’s always yelling at the ass crack of dawn on the floor below, Mickey’s constantly having to stomp on the floor at 5am to shut the bitch up. His stomach rumbles angrily, he got in late last night from work and couldn’t be bothered to throw something together before he passed out on the sofa. Mandy’s not even home right now so he can’t even be properly pissed at her for eating all their food as much as he would like to. He rubs his hands over his eyes, already exhausted by the day despite only waking up 10 minutes ago. He slept in late, later than usual, since work had been a bitch the night before. Too many drunken handsy people having to be thrown out of a club on a friday night - he definitely does not get paid enough to deal with that shit.

He opens the fridge door again hoping for some sort of fucking biblical level miracle but groans, it’s still as empty as before. There’s not even a 20c pack of ramen floating about, only a bag of flour, a few beers and a lonely can of soup sitting on the top shelf. There’s no chance he’ll be eating that can of shit. He begrudgingly resigns, it’s 2pm on his day off and he just wants some damn eggs.

To the overpriced bodega two blocks down he goes, he fucking hates that place.

He huffs and stomps grumpily into his room to quickly throw on some proper clothes, hastily picking out a clean t-shirt and pairing it with yesterday’s somewhat clean jeans. He shrugs at his reflection in the mirror - he ain’t got no one to impress, especially not on a run down the road. He goes into Mandy’s room and grabs the twenty bucks he’d seen sitting on top of the dresser - telling himself that he’ll pay her back somehow, despite the fact she’s the greedy culprit who ate everything. He throws a jacket over his shoulders, grabs his keys off the hook by the door and bounds down the narrow staircase. Their apartment sits on the top floor of an overpriced but barely used laundromat on a busy cross street in the high east nineties. New York is loud, people are rude and it stinks 99% of the time, but it works for them. Besides, it’s not Chicago, that’s the important part.

That’s the really important part.

Mandy had moved in here originally with an ex boyfriend she’d chased all the way out here from Chicago, and they’d actually managed to stick it out for a few years before he inevitably ran off with another girl. By that point, Mandy had already gotten a receptionist job at a gym downtown and somehow managed to score a relatively low rent with the landlord, so she decided to stick it out instead of moving home. Mickey isn’t 100% sure there wasn’t a blowjob involved or something, but he ain’t questioning it.

He got out of prison just over 3 years ago on good behaviour and pretty soon after found himself following Mandy out to the East Coast. He never thought he’d see himself leave Chicago’s city limits but as soon as he completed his 2 years of parole and he was free to leave the state, he hopped on a bus without looking back.

There sure as hell wasn’t anything left for him there.

His few years of parole had been lonely and even though he’d never admit it if anyone asks, the last thing you want after being locked up for years is to live alone. He mainly kept to himself, picked up some shifts at a local mechanic that his PO had managed to organise for him. Stayed out of trouble and mostly kept his head down - which wasn’t the easiest thing for a Milkovich to do but his heavy ankle monitor constantly reminded him that he was barely even out of the clink, he knew he couldn’t chance it to toe the line. It surprised him how relatively easy it was to stay out of trouble and it made him wonder how different his life could’ve been had he not been brought up by a sadistic criminal of a father and a nonexistent mother. If he’d had a normal childhood without the scrounging and the hiding and the beatings.

He didn’t try and reconnect with anyone he knew from before. What was the point? Svetlana had skipped town for some rich guy, she’d mailed him the divorce papers and they’d finalised it all around the third year or so of his incarceration. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to the kid, not that Mickey particularly minded, but he had been growing somewhat fond of the fucker. His brothers’ still lived at home, but he’d heard from some fellow inmates that his dad was out so he steered clear of his childhood home and any of his dad’s old local haunts. He bounced around dingy motels for the majority of the year, which was a fucking hassle since he had to keep asking his PO to change the radius on his montior, but it out weighed having to go and ask anyone for any favours. He avoided his entire old neighbourhood, willing every single time he got on the L or walked down a busy street that he wouldn’t bump into someone he knew.

Even if he wanted to reconnect with people he didn’t even know where he’d start, it had been 6 full years. It took him for fucking ever to track Mandy down, let alone…

No.

He’s halfway to the store when he stops. He can’t fucking breathe.

What the fuck.

He can’t move, he can’t physically move.

His bones feel like they’ve interlocked in place, sticking together and solidifying him into an ancient statue and he can’t. fucking. move.

Because it’s Ian fucking Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher standing right in front of him.

Ian fucking I don’t love you enough anymore Gallagher.

He’s standing right in front of him on the sidewalk in New York city, right outside a goddamn Duane Reade, hundreds of miles from the Chicago South Side.

What in the fucking fucking fuck?

Mickey could be dreaming, Mickey must be dreaming, because this can’t be fucking real. He’s often seen the ginger boy, man - he corrects himself, in his dreams over the last few years. He’s always appeared as a shadowy figure or even as a whimsical idea echoing in his subconsciousness but this is way too realistic.

He’s here, he’s here standing right in front of him in the living and breathing human bodied flesh.

Yet he’s still the exact same tall, red headed guy that a teenage Mickey fell for over a decade ago and it’s like being bitch slapped by a bus, full force and full of impact. Ian hasn’t seen him yet, he’s talking into his phone, laughing at something that’s been said and Mickey’s heart hurts. It’s been over nine years since he saw Ian laugh like that. His hands start to shake and his breath picks up in short, small uncontrollable bursts. There must be somewhere he can go and duck into. He checks the distance to the entrance to the Duane Reade, wondering if he could chance it before the other man notices.

He should turn around, groceries be damned, he should go right the fuck now before Ian see’s him and-

‘Mickey?’

Oh, fuck. Even his voice is exactly the same. God, Mickey has waited 9 years to hear that voice again but right now all he can hear is rushing wind in his ears, his entire world turned on its axis.

Is everyone around him moving in slow motion or is it just him?

He looks up and Ian is staring at him with a wide eyed, what the fuck is going on, expression on his face. Yeah, Mickey would like to know too, if only he could get his fucking breathing under control.

‘Mickey?’ He repeats without moving closer, the phone call hangs abandoned in his right hand. He wonders who from his past is on the other end of the line, Lip? Fiona? Perhaps a new boyfriend? Husband, even?

‘Hi.’ Mickey breathes out harshly, panic rising up slowly in his throat. He still can’t move.

This is a dream, this is a fucked up dream.

‘What, what are you- you’re out?’ Ian asks, finally breaking the barrier between them and moving a step closer. His face is practically the same as he looked the last time Mickey saw him, but it’s been clear the time that has passed. He’s lost even more of the baby face he once possessed, his jaw now sharp and precise. His eyes are bright and alive, worlds apart from the dead and sunken look Mickey recalls from their last interaction - the one where Ian had told him he’d wait and never fucking visited him again.

‘Fuck you doing here, Gallagher?’ He hears himself blurt out shakily and he barely even realises he said it, only noticing Ian’s eyebrows furrowing together in a response. He looks so confused and concerned but also somewhat hurt and Mickey wants to. fucking. bolt.

All he wanted was some god damn eggs but instead he gets sucker punched by history and the feeling he’s about to spew his guts out onto the sidewalk.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ Ian replies, dumbfounded. Someone shoulders grumpily past Mickey and he’s suddenly pulled back to the fact they’re standing, staring at each other in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

‘Fuck you, watch yourself asshole!’ He calls after the guy in the classic New York fashion he’s managed to perfect in the last few months, he’s getting quite good at blending in. People continue to shove passive aggressively past them, though neither men move. ‘Been here almost a year.’ He says without bringing his gaze back to Ian, staring just over his shoulder at the busy traffic.

‘What? You’ve been out for a year?’ Ian’s ask incredulously, bringing Mickey back to the shocked expression on his face. It’s almost as if he never even considered the possibility that Mickey might’ve made parole early instead of sitting his full sentence. Behind the confusion there’s a small smile playing on his lips, it reminds Mickey too much of those days and it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

How is it still hurting after 9 years?

‘Almost three.’ Mickey replies, his attempt at nonchalance hardened by the bitter taste flooding his mouth. He feels like he’s about to choke, he has to get out of here. ‘Listen, I gotta go-’

‘Mickey, I-’ Ian interrupts, stepping a foot closer to him. His arm is raised in front of him in a way that looks like he’s going to try and touch him or hug him or something-

Mickey spins on his heel and gets the fuck out of dodge.

Groceries forgotten, Mickey practically sprints back to his apartment, the streets a blur around him as he shoulders through. He takes the four sets of stairs two at a time, not letting himself register the sharp ragged tightness in his chest until he gets to his front door.

His hands fumble as he pulls the keys out from his pocket, but somehow he manages to steady himself enough to let himself into his apartment. He slams the door behind him and slumps immediately down to the floor, his back against the wood as he tries, unsuccessfully, to steady his breathing.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck.

What on fucking God’s green earth is Ian doing here?

Here.

Here in this world that Mickey has so painstakingly created for himself, for him and Mandy. A world that is hundreds of miles away from Chicago, from the South Side, from them. From the porch steps where Ian stood blankly, rejecting Mickey’s heart and crushing it in his hands. Hundreds of miles away from the Kash and Grab where they’d fuck in the back room but laugh out front, from his broken childhood home that was made just that little brighter by Ian’s laughter, from the prison he sat in for 6 fucking years doing time for Ian fucking Gallagher.

Mickey’s hands are shaking, the tattoos on his knuckles blur as he shoves them underneath his thighs in an attempt to get something under control and closes his eyes. He breathes slowly, his stomach nauseous, his rabid hunger from an hour earlier long forgotten. He doesn’t think he could eat anything for another week.

There’s a quiet, hesitant knock on his apartment door, a foot or so above Mickey’s resting head.

‘Mickey?’

It’s Ian again, Jesus, he must’ve followed him here. He curses the fact that the main door downstairs is broken so any random fucker can walk in. He’s told their landlord so many times to get it fixed, and God he should’ve done it himself because he really could’ve used a proper lock right about now.

‘What do you want?’ Mickey grunts out, pulling himself off the floor to grab the pack of smokes sitting on the small table by the door. His hands shake as he pulls out a cigarette and it falls to the floor, fuck.

‘Mickey.’ Ian’s voice persists, and Mickey rolls his eyes because the kid was never good at getting the message of go the fuck away. His stomach jolts at the thought of that persistent teenage ginger freckled freak that buried himself under Mickey’s skin and tattooed himself there when they were just kids. He remembers 16 year old Ian’s earnest way of looking at him like he held the world in his hands, following him around and slipping into Mickey’s life almost seamlessly. He remembers the feeling of agony he felt every single day, sitting in that cell and willing to turn back time and change things. Mickey registers something flowing through him, something fiery and hot, it’s anger. He feels it swarm from his fingertips all the way down to his toes, it pushes him forward. He swings around, unlocks the door and stares at the man standing in front of him.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ He spits, years and years of pent up disappointment and heartbreak coursing fiercely through his veins and he feels like he’s about to explode. This isn’t how he used to imagine seeing Ian again would be, he always imagined warmth and floating and butterflies in his fucking stomach. He imagined kisses and tears and I love yous.

He stopped imaging seeing Ian again around the 4 year mark. 6 years of sitting in a prison, waiting, changes people.

And yet, everything feels the same. His heart still fucking pounds in the same way and his knees feel like they’re about to give out at the sight of those eyes and that ginger hair.

‘It’s you.’ Ian breathes, the surprised expression slipping away from his adult and aged features revealing the same kid he’s always been, ‘It’s you, here.’

‘Yeah no fuckin’ shit Sherlock Holmes.’ he snaps, patting his pockets to find a lighter in an attempt to give his hands something to do other than shake. Fuck, he must’ve left it inside.

‘I didn’t know you were out-’ Ian starts awkwardly, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do now that he actually has Mickey in front of him, like the bastard didn’t follow him up here and practically demand his audience.

‘Are we really going to do the fucking sentimentalities?’ It comes out way more breathy and defeated than Mickey would’ve liked but he’s tired, overwhelmed and really just wants a smoke. They stare at each other, it’s awkward and clunky and full of history. ‘Like, how's the fucking weather been? Really?’

‘No, I just- you look good.’ Ian offers quietly, his eyes flickering down, following Mickey’s entire body to the floor. It should feel good, getting checked out, but it doesn’t.

‘Not a lot to do in prison other than work out.’ Mickey says firmly, puffing his chest out slightly. He doesn’t miss the way Ian’s shoulders slump as a response at the mention of his incarceration.

Good.

Truthfully, other than his heart hurting every minute of everyday, the majority of prison feels like a blur to him now. It was hours of working out, fucking and volunteering in the canteen, the library, the yard. Anything to keep his mind off of things. He’s managed to keep up with the working out though, regularly running around the top end of central park and he sometimes gets one on one boxing lessons from a guy down the road. It feels good, he feels strong. Ian was always the strong one between the two of them - not any more.

‘How ya been?’ Ian asks casually as if it’s only been weeks and not years, the ease at which he says it slaps Mickey, it stings.

‘Oh real fuckin’ fine and dandy.’ Mickey replies harshly and Ian’s eyebrows drop, his forehead creased by the words that hang unspoken. Mickey can feel a heavy scowl form on his face, it hurts with the intensity he’s holding it.

‘We could, uh, go for a beer? and talk, maybe?’ Ian presses earnestly, somewhat testing the waters. Mickey can’t help but bark out a laugh. Nine years of fucking silence and the guy wants to go for a beer. His stomach churns and he feels like he’s going to vomit. He stares at him, his silent answer glaringly obvious. Ian’s eyes fall, they’re heavy and sad and they’re burning right into Mickey’s skin. He shakes his head, exhausted by it all and goes to close the door, but Ian steps forward sharply and grabs the handle.

‘Don’t- Mick, please.’

The nickname stabs Mickey in the gut. He can’t do this.

‘Really, Ian?’ Mickey asks in disbelief, ‘Nine fucking years of nothing and you want to go for a beer-’

‘I know that-’ Ian tries but Mickey keeps barrelling through.

‘Act like I never went to prison for your ass?’ Mickey fires back sharply, unable to hold it all back, ‘And you never fucking visited me? Not once after that first time- six years I sat there like a bitch and nothing.’

Mickey’s breathing is ragged, his chest heaving. He's angry, he's so fucking angry.

Ian’s face crumbles. He resigns and releases his hand from where he’d been holding the door open and steps back cautiously, shame hangs in the air between them.

‘I just want to talk to you.’ Ian says softly, his eyes serious but desperate. There’s a glimmer of wetness in them that makes Mickey want to both scream and take him into his arms. They’re the same green eyes Mickey filled into the 'IAN GALLAGHER' filing cabinet and locked away in the back of his mind - he doesn’t think he’s even slept with someone with green eyes since Ian. He’s fucked a lot of gingers over the years, a lot more than he would ever probably admit, but those eyes? They’re something you can’t just replicate.

Fuck those sad eyes, he thinks, you don’t get to be sad.

You don’t get to be sad when you are the one that did this.

‘We had six years to talk.’ Mickey bites back venomously, he’s not sure where this surge of confidence came from but he’s grabbing it by the reins and riding it out.

‘I know, I-’ Ian steps forward, his hands raised up as a peace offering. Mickey wants to push them far away but also grab them by the wrist and never let him go. His head hurts, he’s confused. He wants to throw up.

‘Ian?’ A voice calls out from down the hall, slicing through the red hot tension between the two men. Mickey breathes out heavily and glances down the hall at his younger sister.

Fantastic, just what he needs. He braces himself.

‘Ian!’ Mandy all but squeals, throwing her arms around him happily, her skinny arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. He lifts her off the ground easily for a moment before dropping her back on her feet. God, they're like a bunch of school kids. Mickey shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly, not knowing where to put himself between the two old friends, and ultimately, he just wants to leave.

‘It’s so good to see you, Mandy.’ Ian says quietly, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile, his eyes then shift plainly over to Mickey. He looks away sharply.

Mandy steps back, throwing a slow glance between the two of them, Mickey standing in the doorway, eyes down, and Ian a few feet back. The atmosphere shifts as her slow realisation sets in.

It’s an echo of a moment all those years ago, Mandy standing in the doorway just before Mickey’s disastrous marriage to Svetlana after Ian had begged him not to go through with it.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ She asks awkwardly, and Mickey wishes his sister could just read the fucking room for once.

‘Uhhh…’ Ian begins, clearly unsure where to start but Mickey rolls his eyes because fuck this.

‘No, you’re not.’ He grunts, turning around quickly and slamming the door on the two of them - despite knowing fully well that Mandy has her own key and Ian could walk right in there anyway.

He stomps into the kitchen and paces, the filing cabinet deep in the back of his brain marked ‘IAN GALLAGHER’ breaks open like Pandora's box and decade old memories he’s tried so hard the last few years to lock up come flooding out. They fall out onto the kitchen floor and Mickey feels like he’s drowning.

I love you. What the hell does that even mean?

Shut up.

Don’t. Don’t what? Just…

Shut up.

You love me and you’re gay.

Shut up.

Ian what you and I have, makes me free.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. He slams his fist into the wall, pain coursing through his knuckles and up his arm. It does nothing to relieve his anxiety, only leaving him with an inch dent in the wall he’s going to have to fork out for at some point. He can’t bring himself to care.

He pulls the fridge door open and reaches to the back for a knocked over beer. He opens it deftly and chugs it in one. It’s bitter as it goes down and does nothing to suppress the swarming unwanted thoughts.

Chugging beer in the dugouts, covered in blood, breathless. Kissing. Fucking. The taste of beer and blood and sweat lingering on each other’s lips.

‘Fuck.’ He mutters, he can’t even have a fucking drink in peace without his brain reminding him and reminding him and reminding him.

Reminding him that if Ian walked in right now, heart and arms open, Mickey would probably fall into them willingly, years worth of heartbreak be damned.

Fuck, he thought he was done with this. He’s worked so fucking hard at being done with this, but apparently, Ian Gallagher is allowed to just walk back into his life - without notice - and set fire to years of his progress.

He reaches for the fridge door and has his hand wrapped around his next beer when Mandy comes storming in, knocking it from his grip. It clatters to the floor, spinning slowly to a stop below the sink.

‘You’re a fuckin’ rude asshole, you know that?’ She spits, her face twisted and ugly.

‘Fuck off.’ He fires back, once again going to open the fridge without bothering to pick up the fallen can off the linoleum. He just wants to get fucking drunk and forget, but of course, Mickey’s not one to usually get what he wants. Mandy’s hand slams the fridge shut before Mickey can even inch it open.

‘You haven’t seen the guy in years, you could at least be fuckin’ nice.’

‘Can’t a guy have a fuckin’ beer in his own home?’ Mickey snorts, feigning nonchalance but fooling neither of them. He steps out of her glare and bends down to collect the fallen can. It’s gonna be a bitch to open, but clearly access is denied to the fridge right now. He needs another drink.

‘No wonder he fucking dropped your ass as soon as you got locked up.’

He stops. Mickey feels like he’s been slapped.

One hand grips the can and the other balls instinctively into a fist. He stares down at the floor, he can’t move, panic and anger and sadness all flare up in his chest, like broken fireworks spitting out against a dark sky. He was brought up to never use violence against women, but fuck, this is the first time in his life he feels like punching, slapping, or doing something to his sister. Making her feel even an ounce of the agony he’s dealt with for the best part of a decade. He won’t, but his hands are shaking, his breath is rising up his throat and he wants to scream.

He doesn’t. He stays there, halfway bent down to the floor, staring at his shaking white knuckles wrapped around the Bud light in his left hand.

‘Fuck you.’ He grunts without looking up. Mandy scoffs and turns away, padding slowly into her room. Her door slams shut and Mickey’s knees buckle to the floor.

He lies on the dirty kitchen floor and breathes.

#gallavich #gallavich fic #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #shameless #mickey milkovich #shameless us #shameless fic #sorry i know i already posted this #but it got messed up when i went to reedit #so here it is again

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enchantedlokii · 4 years

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Coming Soon...

Projects in Progress: 33

Projects in Que: 1

Projects Posted This Week: 2

Most Popular Project Posted This Week (9.27.20-10.3.20): Demons Prologue

Cardigan

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peggy has just lost her closest allies after learning they were using her. She feels that she is finally alone in the world, and no one believes in her. She isn’t expecting a visit from someone from her past.

Together

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

For the first time since his accident, Rhodey gets a chance to talk to the rogue Avengers. After explaining what happened to Bruce, he realizes that someone is carrying guilt that he didn’t expect to.

That Don’t Sound Like You

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

In the same world as Delicate, Loki visits his former neighbor. He finds that she is unhappy, and tries to help her like she did for him several years earlier.

Not Without You

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Bucky has his memories back, but that hasn’t given him happiness. If anything, it’s made it worse. He finds himself carrying too much guilt, and he fears that he won’t be able to continue in his state.

Delicate Chapter Three: Neighbors

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Loki wakes up to a knock on his door. He is surprised to find a teenage girl who is eager to meet him and doesn’t seem scared by him. He’s even more shocked when she offers him help that he knows he will eventually need.

Calm

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter always loved to stargaze. It was something he rarely was able to do before his enhanced vision allowed him to see stars even with the New York lights shining below. He discovers that the only thing better is seeing them reflected on the lake outside the cabin that has become his second home.

Ride With Me

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Recovery isn’t easy for Rhodey. He’s forced to live a new life. One where he knows that he might never walk in. Meanwhile, the one person he wants to see gets himself injured in a fight and Rhodey is left alone with his thoughts.

Finding Home Chapter Three: Time

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter and Tony make it back to the cabin where Peter learns he has his own room. He’s running out of time before Ross finds his location, and he has to trust his mentor to keep him safe and away from the Raft.

Boom

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Rhodey knows that his best friend’s family has a lot of money. He also knows that, because of this, his best friend has a lot of enemies. What he doesn’t know is he will find himself in the crossfires when he goes to visit.

Trapped

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter is finally given the chance to join a real Avengers mission. Sure, he doesn’t actually get to fight, but that doesn’t stop him from getting himself into trouble.

Meet Me Inside

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

When Coulson gets a text from Clint asking to pick him up, he is not expecting to see the Black Widow he was sent to kill helping him onto the jet. His confusion and anger, however, is nothing compared to the reaction from Nick Fury.

Warmth

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

After a bad day at school, Peter finds comfort in spending time with his adoptive parents. He had already determined that Tony and Pepper really do care for him, but now he has all the proof that he needs.

Peace

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Tony and Pepper have only been back together for a few months. He knows that he doesn’t want it to end again. Not ever. He only worries that she doesn’t feel the same way. But he understands, because he knows that she will never truly be safe with him.

Epiphany

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Bucky is frantic when he pulls Steve from the Potomac River. His friend is dying, and he knows it. He doesn’t know Sam, but he knows that Steve trusts him. What he doesn’t expect is for Sam to invite him along.

Poison

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Tony doesn’t see anything wrong with inviting Peter to a party. He knows that the boy would never do anything he wasn’t supposed to. What he doesn’t think about is the fact that Peter isn’t the one he has to worry about causing problems.

Core Memories

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Loki struggles after the Battle of Earth. He wants to believe that Thor and the others trust him, but he knows that they could never. He knows that no one loves him. The proof is implanted in his core memories.

Spots

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to admit to Tony that he wasn’t born a boy. He plans to tell him eventually, really, but Mother Nature has another idea.

Can’t Trick Me

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter calls Happy after waking up in a holding facility in the Netherlands. When it’s not Happy that comes out of the jet, he is sure that it’s Beck trying to trick him again.

“I Quit”

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

After several incidents where it seems no one cares for Spider-Man, Peter decides to quit. Too ashamed, he stops going to the Tower and cuts Tony off completely. What does it take to change his mind?

Grade Point Average

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

When Peter’s GPA drops, so does his sleep. He knows it’s not healthy, but he also knows that he can’t continue going to Midtown if he doesn’t raise his grades. He sometimes forgets that his AI seems to know him better than he knows himself.

The Stars Still Shine

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Returning from Titan without Tony hurt Peter. It hurt even worse when Pepper takes him in and admits that she is pregnant. He knows that they have to be strong, for each other and for the unborn baby, but it’s not an easy task.

Not Good Enough

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter hates depression more than anything. Except himself. After a workshop session that just isn’t going well, he finally reaches his breaking point.

Cruel Summer

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter gets a last minute call from Pepper asking him to babysit a sick Morgan. He of course accepts, but he’s still dealing with his own demons after his experiences with Mysterio.

Stronger

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter is terribly injured after his fight with the Vulture. He tried to make it home on his own, but he soon realizes he can’t. Luckily, he gets a call from Happy that very well could have saved his life.

Wide Awake

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter had always had weird symptoms of the night and when he first woke up of the mornings. He always brushed it off as anxiety, but after staying with Tony, FRIDAY lets them know that something more severe is going on.

Priorities

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter and MJ have a whole weekend planned just to themselves. The only problem is, Peter is an Avenger. When he gets a call, he has to take it. Usually MJ doesn’t mind, but after breaking a promise, she forces Peter to make a decision.

The One

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

After Steve leaves and returns as an older man, Bucky is devastated. He doesn’t understand why his best friend and the man secretly loves left him. Sam tries to help him, but it’s an uphill battle for both of them.

Churning

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter doesn’t get sick often, but it does happen. He’s managed to get food poisoning, and May refuses to leave him home alone while she goes to work. There’s not many choices when it comes to who can stay with him.

Quarantine

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter knows that there’s a very low chance that he will catch the Coronavirus, but he worries about his non-enhanced friends and family. More than anything, he worries about his Aunt May, who works as a nurse. When Governor Cuomo puts the state in quarantine, Peter is forced to go without seeing his aunt for an unknown amount of time.

Stay For Lunch

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Steve, Natasha, and Scott decide to stay at the cabin for lunch. They don’t expect Morgan to start talking about the Civil War and Peter. They definitely don’t expect the secret that she reveals at the table.

A Bit Of A Problem

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

After a mission gone wrong, Tony is de-aged. He doesn’t remember anything after the age that he is reverted back to, and the rest of the Avengers are faced with an arrogant teenager who refuses to believe they are friends.

Don’t Look Down

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Steve and Bucky always promised “‘til the end of the line.” When Bucky falls from a train into a ravine, Steve knows there’s not much of a chance he survived. But he also knows that he can’t give up on his best friend.

Cyberbullies

Started: before 9.28.20

Last Edited: before 9.28.20

Peter is being targeted by cyberbullies on Twitter. He planned on keeping it a secret, but Tony finds out and is not happy about it. Cue passive-aggression.

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renaer-is-allegedly-hot · 4 years

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session 7 notes

again . i have no pity for the formatting .

OK WHEN YOU'RE IN COMBAT

Roll a d20 to attack

If you're using a weapon +5, if you're not +3

IF YOU ARE USING

Dagger (20 ft reach)

1d4+3 damage

Shortbow (80 ft reach)

1d6+3 damage

Shortsword (5ft reach)

1d6+3 damage

And then you add sneak attack ONCE PER TURN!

2d6 added to damage

Alrighty here we go

Jacob's gonna dm a broken sink one shot

Halfway through offtime, freetime

We went back in time

Have been getting used to living w each other

Tensions starting to build bc different living habits

A week and a half into downtime, downstairs for breakfast

Before kitchen was set on fire

Halflings are cooking bc I said it was funny

We have a fridge

Cel opens the fridge, investigation check

There's half a carton of half and half, two eggs, jar of jalapeno sauce jelly (or is it jalapeno sauce and jelly?), half a loaf of french bread, four potatoes, onion

Dip bread in the egg, mix w half and half…savory french toast?

But the sink is clogged

Cel is taking the food out of the fridge, theo is making the vegetables and cel is doing the french toast

Theo is making a dexterity check, cel is doing a wisdom check

19 and 4, respectively

Cel forgets what french toast is or forgot the basic steps so scrambles the eggs and puts them on top of the bread like eggs benedict, now it's toast w eggs on top + perfectly diced potatoes

We probably have an oven we have an oven

Theo sticks the potatoes in the oven

Has passive insight of 9

Puts potatoes in a little too long, come out a lil too dark

Throwing jacob for a loop bc he's not using the sink

And we didn't wash the potatoes

Asyna and Aerana

Asyna was sleeping, aerana comes back from a walk

Asyna walks downstairs, aerana busts down the front door, take a deep breath and it's burnt potato skin and scrambled eggs

Surprisingly appetizing

Dm will probs let it happen

We eat breakfast, asyna says it was good

The potatoes were a little burnt - we roll constitution checks

None of us r poisoned

Now we have four dirty dishes

Cel tries using the sink, water comes out

Sink starts to fill, cel turns off the sink, water just below the top

Grinder next to it

Sloshing water, kinda gross

Asyna proposes turning into a fish to swim down

If she dies in this it's fine

Turns into a good fish

Turns into a newt

"do newts have legs"

They breathe through their skin

Tb to that one episode of wild kratts

Yeets in as a newt

Barely fit in the drain bc apparently newts r kinda chunki

Rolls a 12

Actually got an 11

Squeezes in the really tight sink drain

Halfway through it's pitch black but lizards have darkvision so

Halfway down hits a fuzzy black mass

That's . Icki

Water barely trickling through it

"can I shove it with my strong newt arms"

Makes asyna want to sneeze

Asyna is gonna make a nature check

Rolls a 7

Can tell it's kind of like a plant

"can I eat it"

"do you want to"

Takes a nibble

Constitution saving throw w lizard stats

Gets poisoned w an 11

Except we don't know she's stuck

Now has disadvantage on all rolls

Feels terrible

"you bite into this fuzzy mass, and it's super, super bitter"

"there's so much that you take a big bite - damn you are really poisoned now - you did take out a solid chunk" but there's enough that it's still clogging

Tries climbing back up

Makes acrobatics check w disadvantage

9, gets halfway back up the drain, poison really hits n kinda bloats, makes her stuck

Moans

The mold was at the curve (we don't know it's mold tho), halfway in between bottom curve and top is where marguerite is

Stick ??? Wire ?? String ???

Sleight of hand check, you roll 14

U shove it down and u hit smth and u hear a noise, wedge it in between the side of the wall and the newt, start inching back up, eventually we see a tail poke out of the drain

Bright orange newt

Animal handling check, you roll an 11

But u pull her out

Asyna leaves the sink then turns back into a non-newt

She's still poisoned

Asyna knows it is black and fuzzy n smth similar to a plant

Cel runs nature check w advantage

19 cel is like yeah that's black mold

Using a stick and poking aggressively, theo is

Dexterity save, 23

Shoves mold down, toothbrushed the drain and pulls it out

Looks like a stick w a black marshmallow at the end w a bite taken out of it

"I was trying to help"

Sink has been successfully unclogged, asyna is poisoned, our fridge is empty and everyone ate unpeeled potatoes

Dom's turn

Snuck into residence trying to sneak around groundskeeper n stuff

Lots of dead ppl lying about

U know what would b fun a dnd campaign but make it criminal minds homebrew lmfao

We're in g10 on the map, can still hear fighting upstairs

We've only been in g7 g8 and g10

Adam is holding vicious mockery and stealthily opens the door for g6

Total of 20 for stealth, appears to be a pantry w spices n jars n preserves, against far edge is a barred door from the inside

Two servants inside who r dead, older human male and a younger halfling

Adam closes door, tries not to throw up, opens door and slightly investigates bodies

Medicine check - 16, looks like stab wounds; older human dressed more finely, younger wearing an apron

Both r v dead

Door barred from jacob's side, he gets us into the room, we all go in

Cel looks at the barred door; heavy plank of wood placed over to keep it from being opened

Aerana rolls 21 perception check, you don't hear anything but sounds like it could lead to the street

Adam is gonna peek into g5, door opens without trouble

Just a kitchen, large fireplace w space for a big pot

Pot is empty, nobody's in the room

On to g9 we go, ppl draw their weapons

Asyna and cel go to g9, adam cel and aerana hang out in g8

Aerana knows that it gets foggy and rainy in waterdeep in the spring, you start to hear heavy rain from outside

Room is furnished for comfort, lots of dainty chairs n lounging sofa, wine cabinet, paintings depicting different humans in noble attire, two more dead bodies in the room that look like guards

Asyna and cel don't recognize any faces

Upstairs we go?

Nope theo does g11 adam does g12

Theo goes in first, door is locked

"haha lockpick time"

Door is made out of wood

Puts ear to door to listen for anything, rolls 6 for perception

Doesn't hear anything

Now will pick lock, 11

Doesn't open lock

Adam tries kicking the door, 13

Can't open the door

Gets a bruised shoulder jk a bruised toe

They go to g12, it's a cozy library w tall bookshelves and wooden panels

There r tomes

Adam checks out the book on the lectern

Theo goes back out to let us know what they found

Adam sees a locked book, looks like it could be a wizard's spellbook but not sure

Picks it up, takes it

10 for intelligence; there's a symbol similar to the one on the bodies of the guards like a coat of arms

Comes back and tells us he found the book

Theo tries lockpicking

Rolls a 22, opening it in g8

Opens the lock, first page has symbol

Says 1,239 - 1,422

What does it mean jacob will roll intelligence

Rolls an 8, doesn't know

Second page is all black

Adam holds it up to the light, feels cold or like coal ?? Falls out and gently floats to the floor

Splits into three pieces

We roll for initiative

Cel has nat20

17 for asyna

16 for theo

12 for adam

Aerana has a 9

Piece of paper falls to ground, splits, from the three they melt into the floor but then become a taller form and swirl around in grayish smoke, they look like ghosts, v skinny n purplish w long claws

"hey there demons, it's ya boi"

Cel goes first w shsw, hacks the closest one

Doesn't hit, monster is making strange gasps things, kind of reaches out to strike, hits, 14 damage lmfao

Halved her hp, makes constitution saving throw

14, swipes at her and hands pass through the armor, feels drained

Asyna is gonna try to turn into something guess it's a badger

Attacks the one that's closest to asyna, rolls 15 to hit and rolls a 12, both hit

Rolls d6 and adds 1 and 2d4

7 damage for one, 7 damage for other

It's like ur trying to hit smoke

Theo will hit w shsw, 17 to hit, 4 to damage

Lashes at same one, swings shsw and connects but feels like not injuring it that much

Adam makes all of them make charisma saving throws, 18 14 and 2

One of them disadvantaged but not at a disadvantage they just have to subtract a 1d4

Uses cutting words on the other least damaged ghost thing

For next attack have to subtract 1d6 from roll

One lurches forward to attack theo but misses

Aerana deals 18 damage to closest one to you that hasn't been hit yet

Strikes and it spins around, almost gets out but u hack at it and sword passes through part of it but comes back together

Other guy tries to hit aerana, 11 misses

Cel does shsw again, 18 to hit, 7 damage

Our current attacks are dealing half damage

Other guy doesn't hit

Asyna goes, rolls 14 and 6; 14 hits and deals bite with 7 damage

Theo rolls 16 to hit, 8 damage

Frenzy kind of fight, everyone in melee

None looks more hurt than others like difficult to tell

They're hovering

Adam rolls, sees cel p damaged, heals cel a little bit to 16 hp, healing is a bonus action so vicious mockery on one of the ghosts

survives

Other guy goes while jacob pees

We're in g8 and coming down the stairs we see a man drenched in all different kinds of blood with a shortsword, short dark hair, human, runs down and wearing a dark armor reminiscent of the zents, makes an immediate left at the front door and runs away into the rain

Oop adam the guy rolled a nat20, somehow the other guy is getting damaged ? Wait I'm confused ok ig so

13 damage and jacob gets OHHHH it's a reactionary fire thing bc he's a tiefling

Guy does 23 damage and adam is down

Adam has to do a constitution saving throw, 17, adam falls unconscious like he's fainted

Aerana rolls 17 to damage

Deals a really heavy blow to one of them and it almost vanishes to nothing but then comes back and reforms

Misses attacking me suck it

Celandine casts cure wounds for adam for 8 hp

Other guy attacks and misses

Badger!asyna time

Uh is it bad that I just . Haven't mentioned groot . And that groot should still be there from last session . Oopsi

Anyways badger!asyna rolls nat20 for one and 2 for the other

Picks bite or claw, doubles whatever is rolled for dice, rolls 9 so is that 18 or what ? Ig it doesn't matter for me

Goes for the one closest to her so the one attacking cel

Solid bite attack

Theo's turn, 22 to hit, 8 damage

Adam wakes up, has other guy make wisdom saving throw w 11, needed a 12

2 damage and it has disadvantage on next attack

"danny phantom more like danny phandumb"

Sends it reeling w a mental attack

Rolls and misses to hit adam

Aerana rolls and kills it with 13 damage

Brings shsw up to get it out of face, appears to be too much for it to take, gasps and recedes to floor then dissipates

Cel's turn w shsw, 6 and does not hit

Other guy doesn't hit either

Badger!asyna rolls 9, doesn't hit, 13 and hits w claws, w 7 damage

Yikes didn't kill twas close tho it's v weak but not dead yet

We notice three guards dressed in the same attire as the dead ones downstairs and they also just straight run out the front door

Theo hits with 7 damage

Kills one of them, slashes and almost does a decapitation but it just reforms bc it's a ghost and then it melts into the floor

Just the one left

Adam's turn to roast it, misses ig, healing words self

Ghost's turn ig, doesn't hit

Aerana rolls 13 to hit, 8 damage; close but doesn't kill (no sneak attack)

Cel's turn, misses

Badger!asyna rolls 19 and 8, both hit; roll for damage, 6 damage

Kills it w claw and smashes it to ground as it fizzles away

The book is open, no other black pages in the book; closes the book and adam puts it into his knapsack

No sound of fighting upstairs

Let's go upstairs w asyna going first ig

Badger lumbers up stairs but it's awkward bc claws were not designed for this

A lot was happening in g13 but now it's like most ppl r dead upstairs

Turn to left w door directly in front left ajar, pushes it more open

Goes into 15a, hears a shout "the city watch is on the way !!" from area g16 but pushes into 15a and sees a small antechamber like a repurposed closet space

We're all in g13 now

Adam is gonna walk into g16

Doors are closed but he's able to open them; two occupants w an older middle-aged human woman w a breastplate carrying a rapier standing next to a half-orc bodyguard in center of the room - looks like well-furnished bedroom

They see him and r staring at adam

"hi . I'm adam . Uhm . These r my friends . We saw a couple of guards and a really bloodied up man in robes run out of this building and we were concerned for its occupants"

Attempting to persuade

Rolls an 8 and it's a bad lie but she's bad at reading people

Has a few daggers and a small crossbow and can see he has it

Puts up rapier and screeches at adam to disarm self

He sets ukulele on floor

"there is no time for jests ! Disarm urself, sir !"

Picks the ukulele back up

"did u see where that thief went"

"I just saw him run out of the building"

"we're all great citizens of waterdeep we just want to make sure ur ok"

Half-orc gives adam a look that could shatter a vase

As we turn to leave, we hear sounds of sobbing inside area 15b

Theo will knock for asyna

Everyone is in g16 except for theo and asyna

Hears sounds of sobbing and then they stop and you hear a voice "no please don't hurt me"

"we're not here to hurt u we just want to make sure ur ok"

"alright ?? Am I alright ??? My life is in dAnGEr"

"adfsjkdfa I'll never tell" mans is a burbling mess

Theo rolls persuasion check at disadvantage, 9

Man says he's armed and will kill if they come in

Back to g16

Cel disarms, u disarm shsw and shbw but keep dagger hidden

Look around the room, looks a little bit in disarray; there's a window w shattered glass and it's raining

U can tell that the window on the far north wall has been shattered

Noble woman tells us to sit

Adam asks if we're in trouble

Adam looks at us then the other ppl

Adam casts pyrotechnics and smoke bombs them, 20 ft of smoke hitting them and we run "beat it guys"

Originally we arrived here bc naya led us here, we're looking for the owner of the necklace

There's smoke in the room just kidding jacob undoes pyrotechnics

Doo do dood o dood o do do do do do doooooooo do do do od ododo dod o do dododo dod o do dod o do do do do

The jeopardy theme song as dom re-summarizes

Ok w that in mind guess we gotta figure out the owner

Back to the other room, there's more sniffling but maybe he needs a therapy!badger

"would u happen to b missing a necklace"

Pause and he goes "necklace ? Well I never"

Insight check, nat1; hard to tell if he's telling the truth or not

Door is locked from the outside

Theo asks if he needs help getting out "nO ur a beast"

Try lockpicking again w thieves' tools check

D20+ proficiency + dex modifier

Gets a 20, picks lock; inside is a bed like a smaller guest bedroom, can hear sniffling behind the bed

"sir we're not here to hurt u . Do u recognize this?"

Theo shows him the necklace, asyna is still a badger, trying to look cute

Making a performance check, gets 14 and tries best to look non-threatening but the balding human man w a rapier in his hand screams when he sees badger!asyna

Theo rolls for persuasion check

Rolls a 6, gets sense it's not someone who's going to respond

Maybe badger!asyna will try to intimidate

Cel realizes the lady is one of the people in the painting

"the lives of my soldiers, the integrity of my home"

"and what about a necklace"

Insight check, flash of shock across her face but she regains composure

We take our weapons back and back out of the room

Badger and theo try scaring with theo making an intimidation check w advantage from badger, rolls 17

Groot survived combat !! I'm gonna make groot bite the dm smh you can try me I'll keep getting dogs as a side quest

Theo says badger is hangry and is threatening w the hangry badger!asyna, theo is standing on the bed

Man immediately drops rapier and starts crying and pleads for his life

"please pls u wouldn't dare I'm crying" OOP THE WOMAN WAS DEALING W THE PPL TEA PUPPET WHERE

Bro the stone what wait

We just want info

Here's what we got

Smth abt half a million dragons

Smth abt the zents fighting the xants

Smth abt being involved w the zents but his wife specifically

Smth abt giving the necklace to "the puppet"

Theo asks abt the puppet

"that's the problem w these stupid things they think for themselves I heard it blew up half a street accidentally" was supposed to go after the gnome but missed

Takes theo's hand "pls u can't kill me I'll tell u - what do u need"

Tells us we gotta go the house of grinda or smth in the dock ward for the puppet

Gains his composure and leaves from hiding behind the bed, takes a piece of paper w a well-done sketch of a strange being

Looks like a contract w a guarantee of quality for a construct

"pls it looks like this don't kill me pls"

Theo takes the paper

We stand up and go from g16, badger and theo see we had left, adam shuts the door

Theo apologizes to the guy

Adam casts sleep on the dude just in case

Makes him sleep w 26, we leave

We look outside and there's a bunch of torchlight by the gate - citywatch ? The inspector is there investigating a murder or disturbance or smth

We book it out of g6 into the street on the opposite side of the mansion

Raining a lot

We walk/speedwalk away, adam makes a general wisdom check for nearby taverns

The yawning portal is in the trades ward, we're in the north ward or we're in the sea ward

We're in one of the wealthy wards

It's raining so much that we have disadvantages on stuff

Are we ?? Riding the badger ???

Could be ridden by halflings ?

Theo and cel ride asyna

We're walking to mirt's ig

Stopping point ? We're dealing w mirt's house next session

We learned some weird info abt the puppet

Oop we're roleplaying that just theo bc asyna is a badger

His wife had business w the zents, they sent the order for the puppet and theo has the plans

And that's that ig

The stone might b real 0.0

"it is truly springtime in waterdeep" w the fog and the rain

Oh we level up ig

#sn #7 #mn #dnd #d&d #wdh #this is a lot #of #breathing

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terri-does-gods-work · 5 years

Text

Somersault (a fic following the events of 3x13)

Disclaimer: I’ve tried to make this as realistic as possible but I can’t really write narrative so here goes; also this is the first fanfic I’ve written djkfhsk

Word count: 2733

Chapter One - Apologise

Seven missed calls from TJ. My notifications show two messages from him:

“Cy, please pick up.”

“It’s not what you think, I swear!”

“He’s texting me again. What do I do?” I ask Buffy and Andi as I shuffle around some baby taters.

“Don’t text him back,” replies Andi.

“Yeah, he needs to feel how you feel,” Buffy adds on.

“But he said, ‘it’s not what you think’! What does he mean?”

Sure, I am undeniably upset that TJ bailed on me for some girl he’d known for, like, two minutes, but I still want to hear his explanation. It might put some things in perspective.

“Does it matter, what happened? He bailed on you. You counted on him and he did a costume with Kira,” started Andi.

“Who he met five seconds ago,” continued Buffy.

“And with the whole gun thing…” Andi trailed off.

“We’ve moved past that,” I said, “Something’s wrong, I can tell.”

“If you’re so sure, then confront him,” Buffy paused for a brief moment, “but we don’t think you should,”

“Yeah, Cyrus, we don’t want you to get hurt again. We don’t want TJ to become a ‘Jonah: Part Two’” Andi continued.

“What? That’s not how it is at all!” I probably wasn’t being very convincing. I really like TJ, and I wish I knew what was going on inside his head when he ditched our amazing costume- which he thought of- for a less-than-minimal effort basketball costume with She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

Buffy’s phone rang. “I have to go. My mom is calling me home for dinner,”

“I should go, too. I’m meeting Amber. Apparently, I still need some more ‘rage relief’” said Andi.

I let out a fake chuckle as they leave The Spoon and unlock my phone. My thumbs hover over the keyboard on my chat with TJ. I have no idea what to say. Realising he’s online, I say the first thing that comes to my head. “What is it, then?” I type, instantly regretting how passive-aggressive that sounds. But almost immediately he replies, “It’s hard to explain over text. Meet me by the swings in ten?”

I say “Okay” and leave some cash on the table before leaving the diner.

By the time I reach the park TJ is already sitting on the swings, not swinging. He probably heard my footsteps because he suddenly looked my way.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, before I can even open my mouth, “I wasn’t thinking, and I shouldn’t have gone with Kira. Especially without telling you first.”

“So why did you do it?” I asked, still confused, “it was your idea to do the costume together in the first place!”

TJ sighed before asking, “Do you hate me?”

His eyes were filled with worry and he looked at me, hoping for a response. I look away. I start to turn on my heel to walk away. That was some explanation, I thought.

“Before you walk away, please, just give me a chance to explain,” I turn back to face TJ.

“Isn’t that why you called me here?” I replied, curter than I wanted, but it seemed to do the trick.

TJ sighs and stands up, “Kira came by after you left and asked me to do a costume with her,”

“I already know how this goes, TJ, I don’t need to hear it from you after having lived it last week,”

“Cyrus, please. Hear me out,”

I shrug and sit down on the swing next to his.

“Kira came by after you left and asked me if I wanted to do this ‘really cool’ costume with her. I told her that I was already doing one with you, but she wouldn’t let up. Then she asked me if I would rather do a costume with her or with you and—”

“And you picked her,”

“No, that’s not it! She said, ‘have fun with that’, and started walking away. I wanted to know what she meant, so I caught up to her,” TJ paused and took a deep breath before saying, “She has something on me. Something I thought I was fine with, but apparently, I’m not. And she told me she would tell people if I didn’t do the costume with her.”

I could feel my eyes involuntarily widen, “TJ, you know you can tell me anything. I’m—”

He turns away from me and looks straight ahead, “Honestly, of all people, I’m the most scared about telling you,” he started shaking. He fiddles with his fingers for a while before sitting back down beside me. He stares at the grass below his feet.

I could hear my heart beating out of my chest. Was he? There was no way. The biggest jock in the school could never be- it just doesn’t make sense.

“TJ?”

TJ looked up from the ground and into my eyes. As if it was even possible, my heart raced even faster. Was I really about to tell him? I wonder if TJ can tell how nervous I am. Not right now, I thought.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I swear, I was going to, but I didn’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell you what happened,”

“Well, I have something to tell you, too,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I need to take a minute before I continue, “but you’re the one person I don’t know how to say it to, either,”

“I guess we both have stuff,” TJ shrugs, before looking back at the ground.

“I guess we do,” I reply, trying to deconstruct TJ’s countenance.

We swing in complete silence until TJ’s phone beeps.

“I have to go,” says TJ as he gets off the swing.

“Was that Kira?” I ask.

He began to say something, but I cut him off, “I get it.”

I start to walk away, but as I do so, he is all I can think of. I turn back to see TJ walking in the opposite direction, before carrying on with my journey home.

Chapter Two – Me Too

When I get home, I open the GHC group chat and begin to type:

Me: Don’t be mad, but I talked to TJ.

Andi: And?

Cyrus: He said Kira made him do the costume but idk anymore.

Buffy: He didn’t say why? I should’ve known Kira was behind this.

Cyrus: He said she has something on him, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.

Buffy: TJ Kippen isn’t telling the truth? Shocking.

Andi: He still could have called.

Cyrus: He said he didn’t know what to say and he seemed genuine.

Buffy: Like when he used to say that I was right, just to get his way?

Andi: Have you spoken to him since then?

Cyrus: He keeps texting me saying he wants to explain but he never seems to have the words.

Cyrus: And sometimes, neither do I.

Buffy: What do you mean?

Cyrus: I almost told him. I almost said it. Luckily, I didn’t, or that would have been a big mistake.

Andi: You weren’t ready. It’s okay. He needs to sort himself out first, anyway. I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way.

Cyrus: I’m not, I promise.

Cyrus: I should go, it’s dinner time.

***

After dinner I check my phone. Ten messages from TJ:

TJ: are you still mad at me?

TJ: I understand if you are

TJ: I’d be mad at me too

TJ: but please talk to me

TJ: I just want to know if you’re okay

TJ: I know I haven’t been a good friend lately

TJ: I really want to tell you

TJ: I just don’t know how to say it

TJ: cyrus please say something

I hold my breath as I open the chat.

Me: I don’t know what I feel rn.

TJ: cyrus I want to talk to you

TJ: in person

Me: Idk, I’ve been kind of busy lately.

TJ: tell me when you’re free

Me: Ok.

***

The next day, Andi, Buffy and I walk side by side down the corridor of Jefferson Middle School. We part ways to get to our lockers. I see TJ standing by mine and stop in my tracks. I take a deep breath before continuing, not making any eye contact with him.

“I have something to tell you,” said TJ.

“If it’s about Kira again, I don’t want to hear it,” I open my locker and take out my books.

“It’s not. It’s about me,”

I shut my locker and stare at TJ.

“Kira found out—”

Really? I thought, “I should have known! Kira, Kira, Kira. You’ve barely known her a week and she’s all you can talk about! What does sh—”

“Cyrus, Kira found out that I like boys!” TJ shouts.

I don’t know what to say. TJ Kippen. Gay. Like me.

“You…” “Yeah,”

“You mean you’re—”

“Yes, I am.”

“TJ,” I began.

“I have to go,” TJ hurriedly walked away, panting and shaking. I watched as he did, dumbfounded.

I could barely concentrate the rest of the day. Andi and Buffy were constantly trying to bring me back down to Earth. I still don’t know how I feel about this. Happy? Relieved? For one, I was worried for TJ. God, I can’t believe Kira is that awful of a human being. At least I understand why he did what he did to me.

During lunch, I sat with Buffy and Andi, per usual.

“Did you see TJ today?” questioned Andi.

“I hope not. That boy is trouble,” I try to interrupt Buffy, but she continues, “And paired with Kira? I can’t even imagine,”

Oh, if only they knew.

I look at Andi and shake my head, “no”.

“He’ll come around. He always seems to,” Andi paused, “for you,”

I think I saw a little smirk across Andi’s face, but I’m not sure. Buffy kicks Andi under the table.

“Huh?” I say.

“Nothing, don’t worry,” replies Buffy.

And just like that, there goes the lunch bell.

As we walk out of the cafeteria, I catch a glimpse of TJ sitting alone, out of the corner of my eye. He sees me, too, and walks away as fast as he can. I hope he doesn’t think I’m homophobic, because I’m the exact opposite of that! Homo…philic? I thought to myself, making myself chuckle out loud, receiving strange looks from Andi and Buffy.

***

The day goes on. I’m still befuddled by TJ. I go home by myself (making up a half-hearted excuse for not going to The Spoon with the rest of the GHC) and collapse on my bed. I take out my phone and check my messages. Nothing from TJ. I open our chat and look through the messages before typing, “Hey, can we talk?”

TJ, as usual, responds within milliseconds, “At the park?”

“You know the place.”

This time we reach the park at the same time. We walk towards each other, hesitation in every step. I wriggle my hands in my pockets. I can feel them become sweatier by the second. When we meet, neither of us break the silence. TJ turns and we start walking in the same direction.

After a minute of silence, TJ says, monotonously, “I know what you’re going to say,”

“You do?” I ask.

“You’re going to say that I’m ‘too young’ and that I don’t know what I’m doing, or that it’s ‘just a phase’. But it’s not, Cyrus and—”

I really can’t have TJ, of all people, thinking I’m homophobic, “TJ, I was going to say that I’m proud of you. Because I am,”

“You are? Kira said—”

“What Kira said doesn’t matter,” that name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, “You’re you. And no one else can tell you who that is,”

A faint smile appears across TJ’s face, forming wrinkles at the corners of his mouth. He is so cute, I think to myself.

“But that’s not all I wanted to say,” I guess there’s no time like the present, right?

“Oh?” I notice TJ’s smile fade.

I stop walking, TJ soon realises and stops, too.

“You know how you just said—”

“Yeah, I know” he interrupts me, afraid.

I take a deep breath before saying, “I am, too.”

“You are?” TJ’s eyebrows furrow.

Well, I don’t really hide it, but yes, I thought, “Just like you,” I half-smile and look TJ in the eyes. His beautiful, green eyes.

“Do Andi and Buffy know?”

“Yes,”

“And Jonah?”

“Him, too.”

“I see,” TJ’s expression doesn’t waiver, “when did you—”

“At my bar mitzvah… and at my grandmother’s shiva,”

“Is this what you wanted to tell me at the swings the other day?” asked TJ.

“Is this what you wanted to tell me at the swings the other day?”

We look at each other, visibly anxious but smiling, and continue our walk.

Does this mean I have a chance with TJ Kippen? There’s no way.

Chapter 3 – Confess

Over the weekend, I barely hung out with Andi and Buffy. Which I should have felt bad about, but I was too busy with TJ. We were together pretty much the whole weekend. He even slept over. But the whole time I wished we were “together” in another sense. I still walked to school with the rest of the GHC on Monday, however.

“You and TJ seem to be spending a lot more time together,” Andi states.

“Yeah, I thought you guys still hadn’t worked out the Costume Day thing,”

“You talked to him?” asks Andi.

“It’s complicated,” I reply, “I can’t tell you everything,”

“Cyrus, you can tell us anything, you know that,” says Buffy.

“I know, but it’s not my story to tell. What I can tell you is that… I told TJ,”

“You did? That’s great, Cy!” Andi practically starts jumping up and down, “What did he say?”

“Not much,”

“Oh,” says Buffy, disappointed. I could tell she kind of started to like TJ.

“No! That’s not bad! He didn’t mind. Like Jonah’s reaction, or lack thereof,”

“I guess Kira didn’t poison him after all,” says Andi.

Yeah, Kira.

The bell rang and we went to our classes. Buffy and Andi had the same class and didn’t bother to keep their conversation secret as I walked away.

“Do you think Cyrus likes TJ?” asks Buffy.

Am I that obvious? Gosh.

“Buffy! He’s still in earshot!”

I’m always in earshot- they’re so loud.

“Ok, ok!”

They wait for a few seconds before continuing, “Yes, I do. Does Cyrus know, though?”

“He has to! They’re his feelings,”

“Feelings are weird,”

“I’ll ask him after school,”

“Buffy?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be harsh.”

They started talking about Jonah or something after this.

***

After school I checked my phone.

Buffy: So… TJ?

Cyrus: What about him?

Buffy: Do you like him?

Cyrus: Yeah. He apologized and we put all that stuff behind us.

Buffy: That’s good.

Buffy: So, do you like him?

Cyrus: I just told you.

Cyrus: What are you getting at?

Buffy: Oh, nothing. Just wondering if you like him.

Cyrus: Like him like what?

Buffy: Like… how you like Jonah?

Cyrus: I think so.

Buffy: This is great!

Cyrus: Why?

She didn’t reply.

***

I hear a knock at the door and rush to open it. It’s TJ. My heart starts beating at the speed of light. Are you allowed to call yourself whipped?

I let him in, and we go downstairs, to my game room. I get out the table tennis racquets and hand one to TJ, along with the ball. He looks… anxious.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

TJ rolls the plastic ball in his hand, “I think I like you,” his shaking hands serve me the ball, but I let it bounce off the table.

“Me?” Me?

“Is there anyone else here?” TJ asked.

“I guess not,” I respond, unable to process what was just said. I pick up the ball from the ground and serve back. As it bounces across the net, I realise that I had to say it, “I think I like you, too.”

Once again, the ball bounced off the table.

“Me?”

“Do you see anyone else in the room?”

TJ lets out a nervous laugh and I do the same.

“What does this mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

#andi mack #tyrus #hc #fanfic #this is how im coping #this hiatus is killing me #already

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felix-tee · 5 years

Text

finders keepers | mink + fee

@kidrebelmink‌:

The weather was sort of nice today, meaning there was no rain and the overhanging clouds didn’t seem to offer any rain for the rest of the day either. If you looked well enough, you might see some sunshine once in a while pull through the grey clouds. Meaning a training session outside could be welcomed by all, or at least Mink was looking forward to some chucks of wind brushing through their hair, pulled at the short strands, having the sweat dry up under the edgy cold of a January season. Nothing wrong with a little cold.

The trainer had them walk a couple of laps in order to heat up, and Mink had been feeling extremely feisty that morning, being called back a couple of times whenever they pushed through into a sprint. That wasn’t the goal of the exercise. It didn’t hold Mink back however, they felt a surge of energy pick up and had to act on it. Their whole body felt like it was bursting with energy, wanting to run, fight, jump, whatever the trainer had in store for them.

After ten laps, which Mink finished first, the trainer teamed them up based on quality, and told them to work on their offense and defense poses. That part of training seemed even harder to Mink, because poses meant not really attacking other people, nor going all out. It meant holding back. And they were getting extremely irritated by holding back. Didn’t help that their opponent was someone they really wanted to smash. The other, probably noticing how Mink was jumping around on their spot, taunted them whenever it was their turn to attack. Saying things like “boy” or “girl”, which Mink hated, and telling them that they hit like a “girl”, which in itself was a stupid taunt, but the fact that the person had the audacity to assume their gender was a hateful thing.

Mink eventually, thinking the trainer wasn’t watching, made their move on their opponent, coming out of nowhere after having placed themselves in a defensive position, to attack the other straight on. Bending their stance a little so the put the other off guard, making use of the other’s sudden open pose, and swinging a fist into the other’s belly. Watching with great enjoyment how the person doubled over and fell to the ground.

Not a smart move however, the trainer shouted at them from a distance and told them to take a time out, sit at the bleachers until the end of training. Fuck! Mink threw the trainer a middle finger when they weren’t looking, and fuming, they made their way to the stupid benches.

To their surprise, they weren’t the only person who had to sit there, or at least they figured as much. Some youngster with blonde hair had taken a seat on the bleachers as well, he wore a pretty cool jacket, with flowers in different colors. They recognized it as a jacket that they also owned that exact jacket.

Still fuming, Mink sat down a little away from the other, looking up, studying him momentarily. “That’s a freaking awesome jacket.” They said, forcing themself not to look down, because from the corner of their eye they could see their opponent looking up with a grin. There was a little suspicion in their voice, as they studied the other. “I have the same one, but I lost it a couple days ago.”

@felix-tee

From behind a set of oversized, Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses, Felix sat chewing rather flavourless bubble gum on the bleachers like some kind of high school dramedy cliché. With his legs neatly and tightly crossed, his propped up ankle shook in an absent but consistent rhythm: he was bored. Restless. But he was also smug.

He didn’t particularly want to be there—even back in grade school he’d had very little interest in watching or participating in the hype of team sports. In fact, the only thing that ever did put him in the stands a time or two had been when he’d either been there on the arm of a pretty and popular boy, who’d later try (try being the operative word) to get Felix out of his daks in the locker rooms, or because he’d simply wanted to soak in the view of jocks getting muddy and taking off their shirts at half time—that’s what they called it right? Half time? To be honest, if that was right, it was a lucky fucking guess. No matter the reason Felix had ever had to put him at one of those games, none of them had ever been for the sake of learning anything about the sport, or paying any kind of real attention.

But now he was smug, because he got to sit on the sidelines looking cute as fuck, if he did say so himself, and simply observe while everyone else was killing themselves over relays or circuits or... whatever the poor sods were doing. He sort of felt sorry for them. But not sorry enough to stop him from feeling a little triumphant that he was up here, smelling of tangy summer eau de parfume and they were down there smelling like... that. Of course, he couldn’t smell much at all from this vantage point other than salt water and seaweed carried up on the wind from the rocks below, but his nose crinkled just at the thought. He did, after all, have a very active and capable imagination.

But Cambie has specifically told him that until further notice, he wouldn’t have to participate, and as soon as she got approval through the ‘correct avenues’—whatever that meant—they’d be able start their one on one dance training. Honestly, Felix doesn’t like to show too much enthusiasm for anything that someone of authority is offering to him, because it sort of puts him at risk of getting lazy and simply going along with rules or expectations, instead of making a fuss to get exactly what wants and how he wants it—and even if it’s a delicate, passive-aggressive fuss, he’d always rather make at least something of one, because getting too complacent was dangerous. It could mean that his standards were lowering, and that was a very slippery slope to find oneself on. One minute you’re at the top of the social food chain, and the next you’re making friends with the rejects and the lunch lady, wearing—shiver—knock off brand hand-me-downs and letting yourself physically and hygienically go.

God, if he had any motivation at all to make even a single close friend (or fan) here, the leading one might strictly be so that he had someone to stab him in the throat if he ever let himself become one of those un-self-respecting bogans. Ugh, just... ew.

So he made an effort to keep himself and his eagerness for Cambie’s plan both respectable and in check. He showed her enough sweet, angelic appreciation to encourage her to follow through with the whole thing, but monitored just how grateful he was, because he didn’t want to wind up in a position where she was the one holding all the power. She was only meant to think she was.

Unfortunately, the truth of it was that he was already quite fond of Cambie. And he was genuindely very excited about the idea of dancing again. Like really dancing. With structure and a goal, and a purpose—and hell, a partner to do it with him. As self absorbed as he was, he had to admit it was more fun to share those kinds of things with other people—even if it was just so someone else was there to praise him and tell him what beautiful, impressive work he was doing. He knew that, of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like to also hear it confirmed.

But he was still waiting to hear from Cambie regarding setting up the dance sessions, and he didn’t really have too many friends to reach out to yet to keep his time filled, so for now he used the glaringly open block to sit perched in the stands watching everyone else suffer. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it. But he found lying pretty easy, so—he’d be happy to tell you what you whatever you wanted to hear about his current mood, one way or another.

The cherry on the cake, however, was that he’d found this fabulous floral jacket. It was a bright print of cherry reds, sunshine yellows and lime greens—there was even a hit of vibrant fuchsias in the daring and delightful petal-like design. Frankly, it looked designer, but he couldn’t really tell one way or another because some total drongo had gone and ripped out the label. Ugh, whoever the past owner was, they were clearly a tragedy.

But it’d just been lying over the back of one of the sofas in Delma, and it fit him perfectly. It was just a touch too big, as most things were on Felix, naturally, but that was also the ideal fit for the style. He didn’t know who it had belonged to, but it didn’t have a name in it anywhere, and if the owner had just gone and left something that fetch just lying around, they clearly didn’t appreciate its value, much less deserve it for themselves. Finders were totally keepers, anyway, everybody knew that.

Besides, there wasn’t a chance in hell it looked as good on anyone here as it did on Felix. No offence to the Colony 22 population—there were at least a handful of pretty people worth taking long looks at around here—but he was Felix Turner. It wasn’t like anyone would expect them to compete with the likes of him.

The person who loped over to him then had been the little one causing trouble on the fields a few minutes ago. To be honest, Felix hadn’t been paying much attention to the kerfuffle because he’d been too busy staring at some fit, dark skinned boy running laps in the other direction (who’s brows, by the way, were totally slaying, like wow). But he looked to his new approaching company now, and he was glad he was wearing sunglasses because he could feel his expression running skeptical at first. This person looked.... dirty. And just a little too friendly, considering what he’d just half-witnessed on the field. It made Felix think this person was a little like a feral cat—unpredictable and possibly diseased.

Maybe it was too early to judge—but that had never stopped Felix before.

He blew a thin bubble with his gum. He’d probably been chewing it too long, because it was getting weak and a bit grainy, and the bubbles were barely holding any elasticity. It’d been pretty bad to start with, anyhow.

With the compliment and the appreciation of his jacket, he was fully prepared to preen, and semi-preparing to like this stranger just a fraction more—but then the words, ‘but I lost it a couple days ago.’

Something latched onto Felix’ Adam’s apple uncomfortably, and the little blond faerie of a creature was yet again grateful he was wearing sunnies. He swallowed, kept his tone even, and tried to inject it with just enough positivity to pull off flattered, if a little bored.

“Oh, thanks. It’s nice isn’t it? Well, clearly you have good taste.”

#sorry this is so long #it's actually sort of bc im struggling with fee's muse a little so i had to wander around in narrative to try to reconnect with him?#lol it kinda worked but now its hella long #no need to match at all though!#mink #para #paramink #finders keepers #reposting bc i wanted to tweak the title for ocd reasons lol

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nighttimepixels · 5 years

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ok but fell!maddie owning a bunch of goats as pets? sounds kinda passive-aggressive towards the former royal family of... goat-looking individuals... (or is it just me???) also wanted 2 say im, as always, in lov with your designs and backstories. i wonder what the worst of both maddies has been? the experiments leading to their soul/weapon obssession have been kinda vague and it's like. please elaborate more on them--? all your characters are super great, my heart be calm. ty for your time!

✧∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

It absolutely is a minor flipping off towards the former royal family, heh. Fell!Maddy just also happened to really love those tiny goats in the end though, unironically, so she’d also completely murder anyone who threatened them. Then again, they are curiously strong and capably pygmy goats so - really, even trying to mess with them behind her back might be a bit of a death sentence before she even catches you >v>;;;

Also, oh man, bless you anon, I’m so happy to hear that ;v; I’ll post Fell!Maddy art soon, I think you might like the twists with her design, heheh.

As for the worst of both Maddys- ooo, that definitely depends on whether we’re talking pre- or post-surface. I did leave the experimentation things a little vague, it’s true, didn’t want to wax on gayly if no one was interested-

To begin to broach it, well, let’s just say both Maddy’s have a higher LV. Maddy’s is higher than most Underground with the exception of the Queen, a wizened turtle crone in Waterfall, and her old fiery bartender friend, but Fell!Maddy’s is astronomical.

More below the cut! :D

Maddy had to make some hard decisions and fast. EXP is a tricky thing to measure sometimes - while gaining it via murder’s obvious, there’s philosophical debate amongst monsters as to whether letting someone die in front of you by negligence counts. So she was already a bit hazy... but after the accident where Alph died and she was only able to save the perseverance soul, a lot happened... fast.

With all but one of the souls gone, monsters began to Fall in droves. They’d held out so long, and yet now, the thing that was so close - well, they’d effectively lost nearly all their progress, and it took a harsh, sudden toll. Maddy, already overexposed to human soul magic, already snapped over the edge...

She made some decisions.

Whereas Alphys in UT tried to experiment to save monsters that would’ve died otherwise regardless and then turned recluse when it all went to hell, Maddy - with concentrated perseverance strapped to her back - didn’t do that. But that didn’t mean her first experiments went well... Or prettily.

She still sees the dust on her hands. It’s part of why she doesn’t take off her gloves any more - the grit of it between her phalanges... the screams, the melting of monsters she had known for years, the haunting whispers that echoed in her maddened skull...

Hundreds of monsters went through her lab before she at last was... successful. To a decent degree... not even entirely. She didn’t stop, and it was a blessing and a curse - for years, no one wanted to venture close to her new lab in Snowdin for fear of being forced to hear the screams that had been so common in the beginning...

There’s more detail to be had there, of course, but it was at that point that she started to expand her work, to restore and improve power and eventually literally construct a mini sun to power and light the Underground and turn it into a technological paradise. By that point, though, she truly earned the mad part of Mad Scientist - while chaotic good in alignment, there’s true chaos there. She’d do anything for the betterment - had done horrors for the betterment, the survival of monsterkind. There’s so much unsaid there but... as a taste... well, when someone’s done that much just to cure what was effective a plague of Falling, what else might they do...?

As for Fell!Maddy, well, she already lived in a kill or be killed world. It wasn’t about snapping and throwing away her morals - though, by all means, she did have them... just in a way that suited her world. She was loyal to her sister and their bond was unbreakable, and to those few that earned a decent measure of her trust she repaid in kind. She’s got her own fiery bartender that acted as partner in crime, and is now that and business partner as well. A few scattered allies - friends was pushing it, but you do what you can. She was always good to kids, or at least gave them the proper chance to get out of the trouble she’d find them in by running away with a kick to the butt and a gruff shout-

But after the accident, well...

See, the only soul Fell!Maddy saved was Kindness. Not perseverance.

To a monster in a Fell!verse, especially to someone like Fell!Maddy who’d always craved that unattainable, compassionate connection with someone, something just for her and soft in comparison to all her world’s hard edges...

Nothing could be more covetable.

Fell!Maddy guards the soul she saved fiercely. No one else can touch it, and since then literally no one has seen her without that soul near her.

With the souls lost, rather than a plague of Falling monsters, her underground faced a sudden civil war. Riots were everywhere, any semblance of tenuous ‘peace’ lost as no one agreed on what to be done. Her experiments began quickly - taking monsters on the brink of death or Fallen, and experimenting. Seeing what power monster souls could have, and what exposure to a human soul might do- what tech she could develop, how she could test the limits of space-time with even just that extra boost... For a long time her lab was more secret and impossible to find, but there was a part of Snowdin even the most grizzled of monsters didn’t dare venture to for the sheer horror of the screams and the darkness of the atmosphere under the exponential EXP increase.

In the end, Maddy was able to develop tech, weapons, means of manipulating space-time that allowed her sister to throw a coup from within the ranks of the Guard, toppling the monarchy and wresting control for herself. The civil war was put to a bloody and tense end, but in it’s wake she purposefully allowed a black market/underground to rise - secret fights and games of strategy played, dust spread in back alleys - in a world like theirs, malcontent was inevitable, so her sister used it to focus on the lower echelons and the harsher proclivities rather than turning up to the overarching leadership.

Fell!Maddy, of course, took up her own position as people learned they could turn to her for all manner of things done... for a price.

Her lab and home in Snowdin is connected by a terrible warping of space-time to her sister in the Capital; such a broad instantaneous reach keeps Fell!Maddy’s sister’s grip on the Underground ironclad and even begrudgingly respected. Meanwhile, Maddy’s lab is more visible, with a ‘lobby’ of sorts for business fronts with her fiery bartender friend.

No one wants to visit the depths of her lab- not lightly.

Her technology is magitech, and unlike anything the Underground had ever seen - and she develops some of it at the cost of soul power itself... of course, not her own, and not at the expense of her precious, protected soul. No, making a deal with her is far more intense than a blood debt. You’ll get what you ask for, and the impact of her work is all over the Underground - the place is practically cyberpunk now.

But people, when they’re not calling her the Mad Scientist of Snowdin, have a tendency to call her the Reaper in her position as mob boss. After all... she’ll come collecting, should you fail to pay the life debt you owe her.

~~~~~

And of course, that’s just underground ;D both of them get up to more and even wilder experimentation above ground once their respective barriers are broken - but I’ve rambled enough for now, so feel free to send more asks if you want more info on either of these mad skeletal scientist ladies _(┐「ε:)_♡

#night answers #madly science #maddy serif #fell madly science #gotta come up with a name for fell!maddy clearly #i've got a couple suggestions in my inbox i'll put em up for consideration later~!#Anonymous

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bondibee · 6 years

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Here’s another fragment of a story. Wanted to do something from earlier in the LaaC timeline ??

Also remember you can block #bondibeewrites if you hate seeing this stuff lmao

Generally, the silence of aperture wasn't noticeable. It was never technically silent, there was a constant white noise of computers and machinery humming away somewhere far in the distance, and in the testing chambers it was even a lite noisy sometimes with anything from chattering turrets to the buzz of lasers, and of course, GLaDOS’s comments.

However, this far down, as Chell stood with an unconscious GLaDOS in her arms on a rusty catwalk high in the air, it was dead silent. The only sound was her own breathing, and that of her somnolent companion. It was eerie, but at least it didn't last long.

The loud but unavoidable clanging of Chell's boots against the steel grate echoed through the cavern like gunshots, and while the portal gun didn't shoot bullets it wasn't exactly a quiet device.

Yet still, GLaDOS was out cold. This was the second time she had fainted like this, but she woke up from the first time just fine so Chell wasn't too worried. It was just a little annoying to have to carry her like this. She may not have been a big person, but she was still an adult woman and not exactly the easiest thing in the world to lug around. Especially not when she was just dead weight draped over Chell's shoulder. It was tiring, and Chell wasn’t sure where to go next anyway, so she decided they could take a short break.

As Chell set her unconscious passenger down to rest, she noticed something peculiar. Well, maybe it wasn't actually that out of the ordinary, but it was unexpected.

As GLaDOS’s head lulled back against the wall the long hair covering the right side of her face fell away, and Chell could see both of her eyes. She had half been expecting the right one - which she had noticed GLaDOS making an effort to keep hidden- to be some kind of computer optic, or to be scarred or outright missing, but it looked perfectly normal. Of course GLaDOS was still asleep so she couldn't know for sure, but for now at least Chell couldn't see a reason to keep it covered. This eye had perfect winged liner and mascara like the other one, so clearly the core's perfectionism hadn't faltered here. Maybe she was just used to having one eye? Perhaps she felt it was part of her identity. Though come to think of it Chell wasn't sure if GLaDOS could actually see out of her single eye in her chassis or if it was just there for aesthetics. Did GLaDOS even know what she looked like?

That was an interesting question. She didn't exactly have mirrors in the central chamber, and most of her body was above what she could see, assuming of course she could see from her single yellow eye. Surely she knew, because how else would she have gotten this body to bear such a resemblance to her usual one? It was definitely intentional. But that brought up the troubling question of where exactly she got this body from in the first place.

Chell was getting lost in her own thoughts, and didn't realize right away that GLaDOS had begun to stir. She groaned softly, slowly and groggily moving her limbs as she came around. Seeing that she was alright Chell started to stand and signal for GLaDOS to follow, but her attention caught on something.

It was only visible for the briefest of moments when GLaDOS first awoke, before straightening up and promptly fixing her hair, but that was enough. Chell saw it, GLaDOS's right eye.

The left one was unsettling, in a way, Chell had certainly never seen an eye color like that in a person before and had to wonder how exactly GLaDOS had made it happen. It was a warm yellow, like her eye in her chassis, but on a human face Chell thought it looked sickly and strange. Like something from a monster movie, not real life. Her right eye, though, was blue. A clear, brilliant blue that seemed almost jarringly normal beside the other. It wasn't too dissimilar from Chell's own eye color.

Chell smiled, and pointed to her own right eye to indicate this, but GLaDOS was predictably unamused. She quickly smoothed her hair back down over the right half of her face, before shakily rising to her feet.

“How long was I out?” She asked, obviously avoiding the test subject’s attempt at conversation.

Chell couldn't give her an answer to that, even if she was willing to talk she didn't know the time. So she just shrugged, and impatiently tapped her cheek below her eye again.

GLaDOS just ignored her. Of course now she wanted to be quiet, and not when Chell was actually trying to focus. Well, so be it then. They didn't have time to be standing around glaring at each other, so Chell let it go, and continued on their journey upwards.

It wasn't until a long while later that Chell saw that blue eye again. By then, things had changed a bit. GLaDOS had kissed her, not too long ago, and now Chell held her in a tense silence as they still searched for a way back to the more familiar parts of the facility, certain that they were close. Before then GLaDOS had gotten very quiet for a long time. Chell was smart, she could put it together, but there were still questions in her mind about Caroline, and GLaDOS, and who either of them really were. Maybe GLaDOS questioned the same things.

The AI was playing it off, she had stopped mentioning it and was again focused solely on the task at hand, but Chell was… worried. Maybe she and GLaDOS weren't the closest two people in the world, and Chell couldn't read her perfectly, but she didn't seem to be handling everything as well as she had when the first set out.

Eventually, Chell set her down just inside a test chamber, and tried to communicate her concern.

It still felt like some sort of personal betrayal to admit that she was worried for GLaDOS at all, but at the same time she felt proud for being the bigger person in the situation, being nice to her would-be murderer despite what she did. Showing forgiveness before GLaDOS was able to herself, taking that bit of satisfaction from her.

Painting every act of kindness toward GLaDOS as some kind of passive aggressive revenge plot made it easier to explain away the feelings that the small woman stirred up, even if Chell knew on some level that she was lying to herself.

Regardless of motive, she helped GLaDOS down to her feet and made sure she was balancing before letting go, and then gently took her chin in her hand. She raised GLaDOS’s face to look at her, and mouthed the words,

‘Are you okay?’

Chell figured it was a common enough phrase that GLaDOS should be able to read her lips, but maybe that wasn't the case, as the central core just furrowed her brow and blinked. She parted her lips as if to respond, but said nothing.

Chell raised her hand slowly, and brushed the tangled white hair away from GLaDOS’s face. For a second she looked back at her, both eyes shining in the dim light with something Chell couldn't quite read. Tired but still intense, and maybe- just a little bit- afraid.

It didn't last long, however. That vulnerable expression quickly shifted to anger, and GLaDOS slapped Chell's hand away. Her concern was gone in an instant with that, and she went back to being annoyed at the moody woman she was forced to drag around.

#love as a construct #bondibeewrites #some pre-girlfriend stuff ?????#I'm having big anxiety abt whether or not I mixed up right and left somewhere in this cause I do that while driving all the time-#portal 2 #chelldos

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shay-has-moved · 6 years

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Wowie, something not BNHA related on my page! Finally pfft-

Amyway, this is my first FMA Oc, but is it too late to be making an FMA Oc?? I’ll still post her bio below, so e h.

"I've learned that sometimes, it's hard to keep standing with no one to support you, but that doesn't mean you should let yourself fall either." ⋅⋆∘🔱B A S I C I N F O🔱∘⋆⋅ ◻Name: Unknown ◻Aliases/Nicknames: Etta, E-6 ◻Age: 10 ◻Gender: Female ◻Human Ethnicity: Ishvalan ◻Sexual Orientation: Demi ⋅⋆∘🔱P E R S O N A L I N F O🔱∘⋆⋅ ◻Residence: Somewhere in Amestris ◻Place Of Birth: Ishvala ◻Occupation: N/A ◻Amount Of Wealth: N/A ◻Amount Of Education: She has no clue how to read or write, and the highest she can count is to 10. She's never stepped foot in any school, and anything she learns is from the ones around her. ◻Family: Orphaned [U]Other Relationships: ⚪Riza Hawkeye - Riza was the first to find her and took her in. She's the only one aware of Etta being a chimera, promising to keep it a secret so she'll be safe. Etta sees her as a motherly figure, and trusts her deeply. ⚪Mei Chang - The two met by chance inside an alley, but Etta didn't see her as a threat when they met. She appreciates Mei for helping her while lost on the street, and giving her the chance to meet Scar. ⚪Scar - Etta was immediately relieved after seeing a fellow Ishvalan, and of course she has Mei to thank for introducing him. The two get along well, but she is still a little intimidated after seeing what he could do. 🔘Biography/Backstory: Etta was born a year before the Ishvalan war took place, however she has no recollection of her family or any of the events that took place, so it's safe to assume she was taken while still a toddler. Etta's only memories consist of the laboratory she was tested in, full of various animals and people of different ethnicities caged up, waiting in line for their turn. It's the only thing she can remember, sometimes believing she was created there for the sole purpose of being an actual lab rat. She struggled mentally and physically, feeling torment and regret as she watched each cage around her become empty, one by one. The day the scientists running the tests were successful in their research on making Etta a chimera, was when she was handed over to the Amestrian government to be used as a spy. Although, overnight she escaped using her chimera abilities to it's fullest. Her body was still slim from refusing to eat, so squeezing out of tight places was not a problem. She managed to run into Riza, who at the time was unaware of who the escaped chimera was. Riza, noticing how frail and thin the little girl was, and having no idea whether or not she had family, decided to temporarily take her home. When Etta was healthy enough, she snuck out of Riza's home, feeling as though she was a burden to her. Awhile after wandering the streets and staying hidden, she was surprised to meet Mei, another young girl around her age. Although, Mei wasn't alone, she introduced Etta to Scar. Etta's eyes lit up, as it was her first time meeting another Ishvalan outside of her laboratory. Even with the friendly face however, she still chose to leave on her own later on. She's been on her own, wandering around the city and scavenging since. ~

[S]In the epilogue however, Etta decides to stay with Riza, who would eventually adopt her and give her a permanent home. ⋅⋆∘🔱A P P E A R A N C E🔱∘⋆⋅ ◻Eye Color: Red ◻Hair Color: White ◻Skin Tone: Dark Skin ◻Body Type/Physique: Thin, very skinny ⋅⋆∘🔱C H I M E R I C I N F O🔱∘⋆⋅ ◻Animal Species: Mouse ◻Color Of Their Fur: Pure white ◻Color Of Their Eyes In Chimera Form: Red ◻Body Type/Physique In Chimera Form: Somewhat plump, but still thin ◻Ability To Transform Back To Human?: Yes ◻Chimeric Abilities: Sensitive hearing, heightened speed and agility, heightened sense of smell, can squeeze through tight spaces, strong and sharp teeth that can gnaw through most material. ◻Amount Of Animal Instinctual Influence: Not much, she'll get distracted at the scent of food every now and then, but she shrugs it off. ◻Other Notable Features In Chimera Form: There's a missing patch of fur with a tattoo that says "E-6". Her fur has been growing back, but very slowly so the symbols are still semi visible. ⋅⋆∘🔱P E R S O N A L I T Y🔱∘⋆⋅ ◻Personality: She's timid and easily spooked, so she only talks to those she trusts. She is smart enough to steer clear of anyone who looks to be trouble, including Amestrian soldiers. She would never intentionally go out of her way to hurt someone, unless it's out of defense. Etta is even seen to be selfless, going the extra mile to help those in need despite having nothing for herself. Anytime someone helps her, she feels guilty as if she's putting a heavy burden on them, so she tries doing everything independently. ✅Likes: Dark and dimly lit areas, fairytales, rain ❎Dislikes: Large crowds, loud noises, the cold, cramped spaces ◻Alignment: Neutral ◻Pessimist, Optimist, Or Realist?: Realist ◻Introvert Or Extrovert?: Introvert ◻Aggressive, Passive, Or Assertive?: Passive [BCU]⋅⋆∘🔱S T A T I S T I C S🔱∘⋆⋅ 🔘Strength: 2/10 🔘Speed: 9/10 🔘Agility: 8/10 🔘Intellect: 3/10 🔘Combative Training: 0/10 ⋅⋆∘🔱O T H E R I N F O🔱∘⋆⋅ ⚫She still isn't used to fully transforming back, so often times she'll still have her rat tail, or two noticeably large front teeth. ⚫She has a minor case of PTSD. Small and cramped spaces can cause her to panic. ⋅⋆∘🔱C R E D I T S🔱∘⋆⋅

Maker of this bio template - http://aminoapps.com/p/m76j2a I just heavily edited it.

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist oc #fma oc #my art #my OC #fmab oc #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood

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inappropriatefangirlneeds · 6 years

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Gotham s4ep21 “One Bad Day” Personal Review

“It´s an odd time for a nap” Warning spoilers below

* “Oh, Jim, you still think that you're the only one who can save the city.” Okay that one was lovely. Almost a bit like that one Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I love how everyone was vaguely rooting for the same thing: Save the City! while trying to as well reach their own personal goals. > LUCIUS FOX of course is the precious cinnamon roll that he is and just wants to save the city. > JIM GORDON kind of just wants to save the city as well. But I do think this whole talk with Edward, as entertaining as it was it was jarring plot wise. Of course we do have the “We're gonna settle this. No, Jim. This isn't the GCPD. Here, I make the rules, so we're not gonna do this until we talk about what I want to talk about.” line that claims Edward is the one that wants to discuss relationship stuff while Jim is the one who wants to stick to saving the city. But Jim actually brought as much into the conversation as Ed did. Especially if he indeed thinks Leslie is just using Edward he should have just kept this to himself and let Edward run into his misery and laugh about it over the whiskey into which he usually cries. But for Jim it´s at least as important as it is for Ed to plant his flag in that conversation. He´s still asserting “ownership” (for the lack of a better word..) over Leslie Thompkins by claiming he knows her better than Ed does. Ed might have the relationship and the sex but Jim still got the connection to who Leslie really is, ha ha take that Ed (to be read in Jim´s voice.) > TABITHA GALAVAN worries about the city, BUTCH GILZEAN doesn´t comment it but both want a cure for Butch. > BARBARA KEAN was really endearing in the scene with Jerome. She goes from “not really??!” to “absolutely not on my watch”, her personal stake in it was being nice to Tabitha. How Sweet. > OSWALD COBBLEPOT is a bit more used to situations like this. He´s just keeping an eye on his goals: Money. While waving the city issue aside “Of course not” just to scramble and struggle and scurry to do all he can to make things better once they went astray. > LESLIE THOMPKINS want´s her “legal knots untangled” and of course save the city as well. It´s a win win thing. “We solve it and we trade the information for clemency.” “I'm trying to protect what we've built.” > EDWARD NYGMA is bound to act in Leslie´s interest “Well, then the mayor would be wise to forgive Lee and I our indiscretions.” But he´s in fact kind of the only one to declare that he personally doesn´t give a damn about Gotham. “If Gotham becomes a rock pile, I mind zero percent. I'm only helping you because I'm with Lee now.” The situation is however one that he´s trying to use to figure out more about his nagging “does Lee even like me” question. > Oddly the show sent BRUCE WAYNE on a much more personal quest this week. By getting him out of the GCPD he´s separated from the Save Gotham plotline. Of course you could say everything that´s against Jeremiah could be useful for that other goal but there´s a split. SELINA KYLE also is just there to “be there for Bruce” what a muffin. * “I almost got killed fighting your ex-boyfriend's rotting corpse.” Everyone is so nice and grown up to each other. I don´t like the whole Tabs, Babs, Butch relationship mess but I really like how they keep treating each other. BARBARA KEAN sees how important BUTCH GILZEAN is to TABITHA GALAVAN and just a small reminder how Tabitha was there for her is more than enough to have her agree to helping her. JIM GORDON and LESLIE THOMPKINS agree that the past changed things but they still care for each other and respect each other. As icky as the whole situation including Edward Nygma is (rant above and below), that is sweet. Then the third trifecta is SELINA KYLE also despite all the ups and downs being there for BRUCE WAYNE and even explicitly voicing this! It´s not a I hate you but I´m here. It´s also a unmistakable I like you. Progress. And while we´ve had all those unusual little moments of agreement between Alfred and Bruce we have ALFRED PENNYWORTH acknowledge her by basically asking her to stay for dinner. Sweet. So JEREMIAH VALESKA and BRUCE WAYNE. I´m not feeling it > Jerome still tries to tell everyone he´s better than his brother and saneTM. “Are you out of your mind?!” “Why do you keep insisting I'm insane? What's insane about having a backup plan?” / “I'm nothing if not sane. And reasonable. Two things my brother never valued. Which is why I'll be successful where he failed. Well, that and being vastly more intelligent.” > He´s then again acknowledging that his brother was right that there was something inside of him. “Jerome gave me what I thought was the worst day of my life. But only by losing everything was I able to face what was inside me. And I believe I've seen something very special inside of you as well. But to free it, you'll have to lose everything and everyone you hold dear.” > I feel vaguely remembered of how RA´S wanted to kill everyone that Bruce loved to change him. > While talking to Selina Kyle Bruce wonders if that one day made part of him insane and if Jeremiah saw this and wanted to bring it out. I somehow could not care less. I don´t really feel medias obsession with that “beast/evil inside man” or whatever. Like just don´t? Even Jeremiah made an effort to “just don´t”, and it would have worked if it weren’t for him getting poisoned. That´s hardly relevant. > Then we have RA´s AL GHUL and Jeremiah both obsessing over Bruce Wayne and teaming up. Okay. > On a side note: Ra´s what good are your visions if you have to makes sure yourself that they happen? How´s that different from you know ordinary people, usually that´s called having an idea.

* “Ah, Lucius. It's making some kind of weird noise.” “What kind of a noise?” “A bad one, and and it's it's, uh, getting all glowy.” HARVEY BULLOCK so we got the message that mob mentality wise the GCPD is still pissed because of the Pyg scenario and blames Harvey. But all it takes to get them clapping again is some (dumb) luck of choosing the right 50% option. Okay, okay and the willingness to run up to a bloody bomb. But to be fair all the police still in the city took kind of the same risk, so we are down again to the luck thing. Look, I love Harvey. But the dynamics of “followers”, including the Valeska ones on this show are just ridiculous. * “Detective. Don't lie to me.” “It's not looking good, kid.” Harvey keeping to lie to himself about Jim´s likely demise was sweet though. Also hooray for another case of directly addressing an issue (Does it show that I´ve been around too much passive aggressiveness lately, and tbh struggle with that myself .. ) * “Leave Gotham. Start a new life somewhere else. Alone.” JIM GORDON telling LESLIE THOMPKINS that she should leave Gotham and should start a new life again (2x15). Like that one time when he already did, and she left and started a new life and then Jim shot her husband. Am I a bit sensitive here or is that additional “alone” kind of not okay? Like it feels like an implied if Jim can´t have her no one should. She´s been through so much and has done so much that she´s not worth anything more than a life in solitude? Like I get why Jim would think that Leslie couldn´t have feelings for Edward (and I agree #Kristen #framedJimlostchild etc) but hey how about she might think it´s nice that someone is around that cares about her, and even is ready to suppress his own narcissistic goals and ways for the sake of her.. While the scene with EDWARD NYGMA and Jim Gordon tattling about Leslie was funny I hate it in terms of plot. And if Leslie & Ed´s split is going to be about Jim Gordon or in general a “this is my wifey” conflict I´m gonna murder someone. There´s already been plenty of tension in between them before they mashed Jim into this. This could be about Leslie´s ambitions and goals. As much as I´m kind of meh about the whole atoning for her Virus related sins (or her injecting herself the virus in the first place .. ) thing I like that her character got a goal in doing god (even if they haven´t really shown how she wants to reach a better situation for her people in a way that does even seem slightly plausible) while at the same getting some badass scenes and now I fear this is going to be pushed to the background for the sake of everything being about Leslies feelingz. Nothing wrong with emotions but how about we can get her not being about her feels for men and about her feels for what she thinks is her duty. * JIM GORDON got some advanced phone trolling going on. Him being on screen just like the Valeska´s before is almost as good as him keeping hanging up on Jervis Tetch. * And “A PALE imitation of Jerome” how on earth could he drop that one with a straight face :D * “It doesn´t matter” What kind of crap interlude was the SCARECROW scene? Like I appreciate the view, thanks. I also very much relate to just abandoning the task once it turns out to be more difficult than expected. Like a girl against three villains who would have guessed that much trouble. But that´s just a waste of a potentially so interesting character. Like do something with that beanpole of terror Gotham! But hey .. at least his lack of commitment to the task DID in fact matter in the end! * And srsly why is the one that got tortured going to make dinner? I get that none of the three had an easy day so how about just ordering some food? ALFRED honey make that shower a very long hot and bubbly bath, that´s the least. * On another side note: Why did they spare Alfred? Why have a stand in? Why keep Alfred alive? Did they have something more sinister planned? Bruce killing real Alfred 2.0? * “ You do realize the city is about to be blown up? It's an odd time for a nap. “You know that she drugged me.” “Yeah. Don't really care.” * Think. Think. Think, think, think, think, think, think” * “ sighs You're behind me, aren't you?” * “Would you believe it? They put me on hold.” Whoever wrote JERMIAH´s lines, bless you. They are so polite, polished and yet vaguely unsettling. I love them. Of course bless Cameron as well! * “I hope you didn't catch a cold in my brother's grave. I know those things aren't exactly designed for the living.” * “No, not Alfred” Oh hello there Theo Galavan, long time no see .. they really refuse to do the “beautiful morning” thing with Theo (Aka you can´t have a dying character talk about something going to be a beautiful morning 2x11 and then have them be revived 3x6 and not have them say something like oh what a beautiful morning or not as beautiful as expected) but then repeat that one line with another character ??! Gotham?! * Oddly it´s even nice to see Oswald getting a dose of what others that went against him had to put up with buuut .. let´s get back to Oswald having the great Plan B´s n stuff again soon pls

#gotham #gotham meta #gotham s4ep21 One Bad Day #edward nygma #jim gordon #mine Gotham full episode reviews

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