#but my team is lashed to this beast of a company that feels like it's tearing itself apart because [redacted redacted redacted] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whosscruffylooking · 3 years

Text

The Purest Things-Something There

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: i am so beyond sorry that it has taken this long to get another chapter out. this doesn’t follow my post schedule that i had previously given, but hopefully this can be a good place holder till later this week.

The Purest Things Masterlist

May 2008

Bookend: "It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent." -Madeleine Albright

"There's no way I'm doing that," you rebuttal, "Hotch? Tell them it's a ridiculous idea." He stays silent, but his mouth twitches slightly.

Oh, you son of a-

"Richards is a classic narcissist. The challenge of facing a tough, fearless, and intelligent woman will give him his high. Narcissists are drawn to goal-oriented women, women who are resilient, adaptable, yet decisive. Show him that you are a good listener, but don't praise him."

"Think of him like a wild animal," Spencer adds, "You don't feed zoo animals because they are unpredictable. Remember, narcissists have an extraordinary sense of self, and when you praise his ego, you enable his unstable and feeble mind. He doesn't hear praise; he hears how much better he is than you. If you don't feed the beast, he won't have the stamina to combat your confidence later."

"Once you disarm him, I'll come in and challenge his confidence," Hotch concludes.

Could you have said that less attractively? That would have been more helpful.

Aaron cheekily smirks as if reading your mind but quickly looks away. You wish you didn't blush so fast-that you had some sense to keep your emotions to yourself. In a second, your cheeks are rosy, and you are convinced that everyone in the room can perceive your feelings as if you wrote them on little notes and passed them around.

You grunt and roll your eyes, "I hate all of you."

Derek snaps his fingers at you, "Lose the jacket."

"All men are pigs," you spit while removing your blazer, leaving you in a fitted tank top and your tight-legged jeans that hug your curves in all of the right places.

Derek wolf whistles at you, and you hurl your jacket at him. Aaron lets his eyes slide up and down your body, his gaze lasting longer than it should. He swears that as you stride into the interrogation room, your hips swing a bit farther side to side than usual. It is the very action that radiates courage, a mind coupled perfectly with itself and the world around it, concentrated and solemn.

Typically, Hotch would divert the task of adulating a narcissist to Prentiss, but he knows if anyone can take command of someone's attention, it's you. How does he know? Because you captivate him far more often than he cares to admit, defying his very being with every interaction. You are a secret weapon that he wants to keep concealed until you can allow your talents to shine genuinely. Aaron knows that now is your moment. ++++ "What is it that I am being accused of? Fraud? Embezzling?" The sharp-dressed businessman questions; his gaze is straying further below your eyes than you care for.

Pig.

You throw a file down on the medal table, and it slides across, stopping right in front of the man, successfully redirecting his stare somewhere other than your chest.

"Try murder."

His eyes widen, "You're joking. Come on, where are the hidden cameras? I'm ready for you to yell candid camera now! I am Milton Richards, for god's sake!"

"I don't know!" You shrug your shoulders. "Why don't you explain this to me, Mr. Richards. I'm just as confused as you are. What reason could a successful, charming, handsome, wealthy business mogul like yourself possibly have to kill someone?"

"Oh please," Richards scoffs, "This isn't an interrogation. You've already pegged me as guilty."

"I don't agree, but you have the right to feel how you feel."

He purses his lips, leaning as far away from you as physically possible while handcuffed to the table.

"Milton, why did you try to escape a moving vehicle when my team apprehended you?"

"Just felt like it, I guess," he shrugs mockingly.

"So, something just randomly compelled you to flee the custody of a federal agent?"

Richards leers at you. You stand up and walk around the table, leaning down next to him, "I get it. I do. You're a suave, wealthy, and ruthless business tyrant. You have to cover your tracks-do what it takes to survive."

He raises his eyebrow, turning to face you, your faces mere inches from each other. I got you now.

"Trust me. I know probably better than anyone what it takes to maintain a position you fought your entire life for. I'm a woman; I had to claw my way into the F.B.I. Do you think it's easy being surrounded by a team filled with uncontrolled testosterone? Womanhood requires balls; I see you keep your balls in your pants, cool, cool. Mine are on my chest, up top. As you've so duly noticed."

His eyes flicker to the aforementioned area, and you restrain yourself from gagging.

"And you know what, Richards? I use them every day of my life. Because in my line of business, sometimes I have to take the backdoor to get things done. Why do I get the sense that you were the same way before you became Mr. Wolf of Wall Street? How else does a kid who grew up in the projects become a multi-millionaire mogul by 27?"

"We both know what the other is capable of. C'mon, let's show each other a bit of respect here. No games, let's be upfront with each other," you appeal. ++++ Aaron watches as you work the room like it is your stage. You play the part perfectly. He admires your ability to absorb things and then responded rather than immediately react to douse firey circumstances rather than add to the flames.

Derek finds himself next to Aaron, smugly observing Aaron's visible fascination with you.

"She's fantastic, Hotch," Derek beams with pride. Hotch holds his breath behind pursed lips in an attempt to barricade himself from the feelings of foolish jealousy he feels creeping up.

I know she is. I think I recognize it a little too well.

Aaron knows that Derek will be scrutinizing his reaction to the commendation and refrains from responding.

Of course, Derek reads this lack of a reaction as a response itself. And he finds it strangely amusing. ++++ "Here's what I think happened," you twirl your finger around the manilla file, "I think you were having some money troubles and your top investors caught onto your little games. When you sat down, you volunteered the crimes fraud and embezzlement as reasons you assumed we brought you into custody. You listed them like they are apparent reasons for us to charge you. Those are two areas you are clearly willing to take the fall for and have cause to oblige by."

Opening the file, a photograph is revealed within of a murder victim. Richards shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stifling a cough.

"Do you know this man?"

"N-no," he claims as his eyes flutter from the photo to his hands.

Surprised by his blatant tell, you glance back at the two-way mirror.

Turning back to the suspect with a newfound spark in your eyes, you press harder, "Strike one. Try again."

"Excuse me?"

"The man in the image is Walter Barone, the C.E.O. of Jameson Whitely Associates...your accounting firm. Your company was going bankrupt, Milton. There was nowhere left for you to turn. So, do you want to try that again? This time, answer my questions directly and honestly."

"Walt had a reserve saved for me worth $5 million. Last week when I approached him about dipping into the fund to keep the company afloat, he withheld it. I wouldn't kill him for it, though."

"Well, see, that's the problem here, Milton. When he was found, that little reserve of yours was nowhere to be found. Naturally, you can assume where my mind goes when I try and put two and two together, right?"

"I told you," he says, clearly provoked by your accusation, "I wouldn't...didn't kill him."

"Wasn't it you, in your book, right? Who said, 'It's surprising what a man will do when properly motivated?' I don't know about you, but losing everything you'd ever worked for and having your one saving grace held from you seems like pretty good motivation."

Silence. "Oh, come on, Milton, now is not the time to act so arrogant!"

He slams his fists on the table; you abstain from being startled in an attempt to show him no fear.

Wild animals can smell fear.

"Arrogant, huh? Why don't you step up and prove me wrong? Prove you're better than me. You despise me for being successful; I despise you for your assumption that you could waltz in here like a tramp and seduce me into giving myself up. What? Too harsh? I'm not sure you and I are even the same species."

Hotch bursts into the room, and you quickly signal for him to stand down. I've got this.

He gives you a prideful wink. I know you do.

Somehow Aaron being in the room gives you that last little push to conclude this grand performance of yours. Slowly, you begin clapping dramatically for his little one-person comedy act. He certainly knows how to play the fool.

"Is that a dare? Challenge accepted. Your entire life, you have suffered from a disease... a fragile ego. You have built these walls of detachment so that you can conveniently solicit status to hide your true, weak self. You lash out because you feel it compensates for your insecurities."

"The truth is, despite being at the top of the corporate chain, every day you lead the life of a loser. You are willing to destroy people psychically, emotionally, and mentally. And you view that as a cause for celebration. You are the embodiment of a loser and abject failure."

Hotch touches the small of your back; you shiver at the sudden warmth that fills your body in reaction to it. He hands you a piece of paper, one that seals Richards' conviction.

"Milton Richards, you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Barone, Hank Simmons, Frankie Lisbon, and Jillian Ryder."

Hotch motions for you to do the honors.

"By all means, lead the way."

Holding yourself proud and tall, you waltz over to Milton and hoist him out of his chair. Inclining your lips to his ear, you tell him contemptuously, "You lose." ++++ "Way to go, superstar! You had us all on the edge of our seats," Derek says, wrapping his muscular arms around you. You breathe in his cologne and savor the sensation of being in his arms.

Since the day you met Morgan, you've felt a draw to him. Not in a romantic way, though you proudly admit he is hands-down one of the most gorgeous men to set foot on earth. He gives you the feeling of safety, warmth, and brotherly love. His hugs rejuvenate you after a long day of work, and you see to it that neither of you leaves the office without receiving your signature embraces.

Aaron observes you and Derek's shared embrace from the shelter of his office. Before he can comprehend his movements, his legs carry him to the terrace overlooking the bullpen.

What do you think you're doing, Hotch? Pull yourself together. They’re friends. Just like you and her are.

Dismissing his inner voice of reason, he calls out to you, "Y/L/N. See me in my office."

You grimace at his tone of voice but abide by his request.

Derek chuckles, "Green is not that man's color."

"What?" You turn to him, confused.

"Goodnight, superstar."

"Night, handsome," you blow him a kiss, trying to brush his comment out of your mind. ++++ "You summoned?"

Aaron's whiskey-colored eyes meet yours. The tempo of your heart quickens like a metronome.

"You did a phenomenal job in there."

"I've learned from the best." You. I've learned from you.

He clears his throat, "Those things you said...a-about the men on this team. Is that how you truly feel?"

Shocked by his willingness to believe such a misleading statement, you gasp and close the distance between the two of you.

You must have some nerve to believe that I would ever view you as anything other than the most upstanding man I've ever met.

"Aaron, what I said in there is further than the truth than I would have liked to have strayed. In fact, it was with you that I finally felt equal as a human being-like someone recognized me for my intellect and self-worth. A woman can't acquire that regardless of how 'equal' this world claims to be."

Aaron finds himself lost in your eyes, absorbing every meaning behind your words.

"It was a freeing feeling having someone I respect so highly show me similar respect."

No. Don't stop talking. Please. Hotch blushes at his inner monologue, incapable of comprehending precisely what kind of influence you hold on him.

"Anyway," you laugh, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face, "Sorry for my little tangent."

"No," Hotch interjects firmly, "Never apologize for expressing your feelings. I assured you last year that I'll always be available as a sounding board for you. That offer still stands."

Your gaze softens as you study him, his intentions, his mannerisms. He notices your pupils dilate, and it commences a chain reaction within his veins. To him, it's not the fact that you radiate beauty on the outside. Sure, you are physically fit and put in the effort to maintain your appearance. Naturally, that would be why someone like Derek Morgan would have you on his radar.

But, Aaron has gradually grown accustomed to the kindness that you seem to reserve just for him. He sees the differences between how you act around the team versus when you step inside his office or are alone in the car with him, even the way your confidence elevates when he walks into the interrogation room.

These differences aren't unique to just you, though. Aaron notices the same changes in himself when he is around you. Never did he expect to go home from work and lie in bed thinking about the way your eyes strayed on his for a moment too long, or how as he completed paperwork at his desk, he'd replay in his mind a cheesy joke you told the team. He knows how you like your coffee from observing you in the break room one too many times.

One cream, two sugars.

Your laughter warms his body from the inside out. When you talk about your favorite comic book with Prentiss and Morgan, the twinkle in your eye never fails to bring a smile to his face. He knows that you hate getting out of the car when it rains because your perfectly straightened hair that you spent god knows how long on will undoubtedly curl.

His changes were less evident on the outside. But, he knew that deep down, there is something there that wasn't there before.

Tag List:

@chellybear98 @destiny-tsukino @wanniiieeee @sweetiecake180 @vampiracontessa @weexinling @spaghetti-dad187 @hothskies @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @mac99martin @clairedragonessbaker @cecemariee7302 @halloweenwithreid @megans-txmblr @theoldestguard @purpledragonturtles @chazubagi @frogrrylovebot @agentaaronhotass @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @ssagube @enilledam @yougottalovefandoms @kenzies-mr-j @chazubagi @softhetixx @peachyotps @cat11-2 @prettylittlemoonlight @ravenmoore14 @gubs-boobs @spencerreidsoulmate @totalmess191 @yoshigguk @hopelesslylosttheway @britishspidey @timelesstay @averyhotchner @kyliesalvatore

177 notes · View notes

unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Lie Among The Flowers

For @candy-diick for the idea of: BH riding Alexander so tenderly in the pretty fields, cupping his face and whispering that they love him, kissing him and mewling so prettily when he cums just for them, breeding them.

Reblogs > Likes

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Caustic/Bloodhound

Warnings: NSFT/18+, Bloodhound has a vulva, Alexander ‘big dick’ Nox makes a come back, making love, just very fluffy sex in general, public sex/exhibitionism.

Word count: 2.6K

_______________

The planet Talos was beautiful. The flowers, the large plants and all the beauty of the fresh soil- where of course, the cold and the heat had yet to touch. Bloodhound had been rather enamored after they had dropped from the ship, nearly straying from their team, forgetting their place in this blood sport.

When it came time for the game to finish and for them to retire to the dropship, they still thought of the new arena. Their new homes as legends would be outside on a different part of the planet, still beautiful with the plant life and beasts that ran amok. Their dorm life felt rather boring in turn.

Bloodhound found this longing curling in their gut for the arena. Not to shed blood and slatra in the name of sacrifice for their god, as they would normally. No, no. Some...different version of sacrifice.

They had seen a part of the arena covered in beautiful little purple flowers, near where the heated geysers gushed and the sun shined down upon the earth. Casting beautiful shadows along the valley.

~Rest under the cut~

It isn’t hard to convince their partner. Alexander was always willing to follow in the name of science. He had found their religious practices interesting, found that not all of them were based on ‘not seeing’ what was there. Even Bloodhound could appreciate technology and what they could see. They were a technological tracker, after all.

So, if they said they wanted to show him something, to participate in something. Well, he’d be a fool not to follow.

Especially when they had spoken softly, grasping his large hand within both of theirs and holding his hand to their heart.

Something was personal about this planet. Alexander would ask another time what it meant to Bloodhound. Even now, they were just as an enigma to him as to anyone else. Very little shared about their past, only the present.

It’s easy enough to sneak out. Getting INTO the arena was a little harder without a dropship, but underground tunnels Bloodhound seemed to know like the back of their hand was their ticket in. They were geared up for this event, as much as they would be if it was a match. Alexander had dressed similarly, just in case some others had joined the arena and thought it to be another match.

Their stroll is quiet. They brush arms a few times before Bloodhound caves, gently reaching and hooking their pinky with his and it warms him in ways he doesn’t care to admit to. But, when he glances at them out of the corner of his eye through his goggles, they still have their eyes set ahead. On a mission it seemed.

It was kind of cute, being led by them. Felt like being led by a dog to their safe little area.

Except this was no dog- well, not today at least Alexander regards in his head with a bit of a smirk. No, this was a little hunter on a mission. One they did not tell him of.

When they do finally make it to the place Bloodhound wanted, it’s beautiful. It’s cloudy out, as is this planet’s typical weather. The hill is vast, covered in beautiful bright green grass and little purple and yellow flowers.

The destruction is farther in the distance, away from any human eye. What’s left are the little houses nearby, the large mountain surrounding the other half of the hill and providing enough shade without getting rid of the warm sunshine peeking through the clouds.

Alexander can hear the soft click and hiss of Bloodhound’s helmet and mask behind him. Turning in time to see them setting it down on the ground close by, pulling their long, curly crimson red hair from where it had been resting. They leave it down, pushing their parting to the side and peer up at him through their lashes.

Alexander’s heart about stops. Sure, he could come off cruel and stoic, but there was something about someone who could kill him so easily looking at him like he was the world. Something intimate.

“I take it that you have a plan for this little outing, Hound?” His voice is teasing as they smoothly step in front of him. Hooking fingers in the belt around his waist holding his suit together so they can pull him closer.

Their full lips quirk to the side in a crooked smirk, showing sharp canines that make him shudder to think of the talents hidden behind them. “I do. If, of course, you are willing.” They murmur in reply, urging him with a small tug that he obeys to.

Removing his own mask and goggles isn’t hard, tossing them with no care near Hound’s own gear. The lining of his goggles creates pink marks in his pale, freckled skin around his eyes. Something that makes Bloodhound smile at.

“Surely you are aware of my habits by now.” They tease to him, pulling him with them until they lie on the ground together. Bloodhound easily moves their own body, cat-like as they settle over his hips. His canisters on his body set delicately to the side, following their own tactical bags and upper armor. It leaves Bloodhound in a skin tight dark green tunic, their black pants, knee pads, and boots.

Always one to admire, Alexander strokes over their curves, feeling over the powerful muscle as they sigh in reply. He can’t help but smile, always putty in his hands. “Habits? Which ones? The ones where you slink around at night to my bedroom, or the one with your insatiable appetite?”

Bloodhound doesn’t snap at him like most think they might to such bold teasing. In fact, they laugh. Freeing and low without their helmet. To make a point, they roll their hips into Alexander’s own and near growl in approval when he grunts back, hips lurching up a bit.

They lean down, applying weight to his body. Alexander was still, for the most part, dressed. But, they leave that for now in favor of nuzzling their nose to his. Intimately resting their foreheads together as both of their eyes close. Basking in the other’s presence as they settle down.

There’s a moment of rest, just the two of them. One of Bloodhound’s hands cupping his furry cheek, stroking with their thumb. And both of Alexander’s resting on their hips, idly petting. Enjoying the other’s company.

Then, Bloodhound speaks low, almost a whisper. “I wish to make love before the gods as an act of worship...Both to you, beloved, and to the Allfather.”

Alexander can only nod as best as he can, given their position. Murmuring his consent and brushing lips against their bare, scarred cheek.

There’s something more intimate and tender about this than any other time they’ve had sex. Sex with Bloodhound was wild. Teeth, blood, claws, feral growling and the ever hard edge of the two of them claiming dominance.

There was always something different when not bound by the rules of a bedroom. Something more open for them both when Alexander helps Bloodhound out of their clothing. Pulling their shirt over their head and pressing open mouthed, hungry kisses to their chest and shoulders until they gently push him back down.

Always something so much more intimate in the way they are unrushed to remove their clothing. Standing off him so they may remove their knee pads and boots before moving to their pants. Sliding out of them until he can see every bare inch of them. A strong body that could even pin him down, scars and their unique skin disorder causing the mixes of dark brown and peachy tones to clash with the pink and red raises of angry scars.

How their eyes, one blood red and almost demonic, the other blinded and looking like the sun train on him. Not predatory as they might be on this occasion. But open, bare, pleading, wanting.

They rest on their knees and wait for him like a pup might. Curiously watching him stand and begin at his own clothing. He can’t imagine he must look as beautiful as they did when undressing. Removing his gear, followed by his shirt. He’s got solid bulk to him, soft on his middle but still strong arms and shoulders. He’s rather hairy, but when he hears Bloodhound sigh and say, “Beautiful.” He flushes to his ears.

Because Alexander was not ‘beautiful’. He was a scientist to be feared, a weapon of mass destruction in the games.

And yet? When he looks to Bloodhound who smiles at him with all the fondness in the world. Well. Maybe.

Maybe he could believe he was beautiful.

When he is undressed completely, they move over before he can rest with them. He stands as they slide over, more of a crawl to rest on their knees in front of him. Kissing his knee, then his thigh as their hand caresses his other leg. Nosing at the hair on his thigh and kissing up to his hip.

His face must be red, he’s sure of it. The warmth blossoming down to his chest as they look up at him and sigh once more. “As beautiful as you are deadly.”

Alexander can’t help it, a chuckle bursting from him as he reaches down to cup their cheek. Heart lurching in his chest as they nuzzle their cheek into his palm. “I could say the same for you, little hunter.”

It’s a slow sort of build up from there. Alexander soon gets Bloodhound’s coat spread out like a blanket for them to lie back on. Working them up with deep, hot kisses as he hovers over their body and a bit to the side. Ravishing their mouth as his fingers sink in and open them up. Scissoring inside of their wet, tight heat and huffing in arousal himself when they growl into his mouth.

His thumb rubs at their fat clit when he uses three fingers. He doesn’t want to brag, he knows he’s a bit of a stretch. Something they took great delight in. However, Alexander couldn’t help but feel worried whenever their face scrunched up and they whimpered if they went too quickly.

Impatient, Bloodhound’s hips lurch up into his palm when he shoves his fingers in deeper. Rubbing upwards as they bite at Alexander’s lip and huff against him. “Let me- I want to-” They try to get out, squirming under him even as he shushes them softly.

Eventually he does allow them up. Licking their slick from his fingers and wanting nothing more than to spend his time worshipping between their legs. But, as per usual, Bloodhound has different plans. Gently pushing him until he lies on their coat and they can lick their palm and work at his cock to slick him up as well.

He’s not fully hard quite yet, but they both knew by now it was a rare occasion so much blood COULD flow to his cock. Something they liked and expressed greatly was the bit of give he had when they took him.

Throwing a powerful, scarred thigh over each of Alexander’s hips, he watches with a bated breath as they gently stroke his cock before bringing it back to them. As if sizing it from their position to their abdomen. Always had a fascination, even now after so many times.

Lifting their hips, they guide him through the slick folds by the roundness of his head. He barely gets to see his foreskin pull back when they slip him inside with a satisfied sigh. Carefully sinking down onto him with slow motions until their hips are pressed together.

It’s rather intimate from there. The warmth outside and the soft breeze caressing both their skins. Bloodhound carefully lies atop him, caging his head with their arms so they can bury themselves into his neck. Fingers gently stroking at his hair as they adjust to his size.

Alexander, never one to be a pillow princess, pets at their hips and up over their curves. Stroking down their back and using his nails until they shiver with delight and constrict around him briefly. Enough to make him grunt in return, which gets him a tender, hard kiss on the cheek.

It’s soft rocking from there. They move in sync, as one. Bloodhound rocks their hips, slow and grinding in a back and forth motion. Nosing at his cheek and kissing over his face as Alexander shudders from the sensations.

It’s all so much. Being out in the open, his hunter riding him and kissing at his face. The tightness, the wetness, the- the- the-

“I love you,” They breathe as their peppering kisses come to his lips. Kissing at his parted lips softly as Alexander whines in return to the affection.

“I love you,” They whine in return, repeating the phrase as they gently pull at his hair. Forcing eye contact. Alexander remembers just why they have their reputation. Dangerous, demonic eyes looking back at him with so much love and affection it could swallow him whole.

“You, Alexander Nox, are mine.” Bloodhound sighs against his lips, allowing for Alexander to curl one hand into their long hair, pressing to the back of their skull until they kiss him properly. It’s warm, hot even as their lips mesh together. Licking into his mouth with a clever, pierced tongue that makes Alexander hiss just as they grind their hips harshly together.

It’s all so much. Especially when they hiss in return in pleasure when he pulls on their hair. Feeling them retreat back to his neck, nudging at him to expose his throat so they may bite and kiss at his exposed skin. Sucking a hickey onto his pulse point as sharp teeth threaten to break skin.

Too much. Too good.

Alexander makes a beautiful sound in Bloodhound’s ear. A moan that fades off into a higher pitched noise of ‘God’ breathed out. They feel his cock jump once, then twice inside of them before they feel the warmth of his cum.

Cooing at him, they nuzzle at his jawline and whine back. “Good boy. Cum inside. Do not spill anything.” Their voice is heated, full of desire.

Just as they feel him start to relax, Bloodhound sits up. Rocking their hips a bit harder so their clit can drag and rub over the mound of his crotch in return. Alexander has enough sense to reach, cupping their hip and using his thumb to rub at their clit.

A feral snarl leaves them, followed by a beautiful sight that makes Alexander almost want to go again.

Bloodhound, the sun framing their body and their hair wild and free as they throw their head back. Body exposed, powerful and deadly with all their scars bared for him and their own God. How their nails dig at his chest and their hips rotate and grind as their clit pulses against his thumb as they cum. Their eyes, open and looking to the skies as red seems to pour from their very eyes in a bright almost smoke as the Allfather blesses them with a sight not even he could explain.

They’re both left panting and waiting until Bloodhound lets their eyes flutter. Carefully flopping on top of him with zero grace left in their body as they snuggle up to his neck, allowing his arms to envelop them.

“Mmh, you are beautiful among the fields, elskan....Perhaps we should try this at night under the full moon?” They lazily murmur, nosing at his neck.

Alexander can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

Absolutely insatiable.

#Caustichound #Bloodhound x Caustic #Bloodhound #Caustic #Apex legends #Apex lemons #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

13 notes · View notes

mistoelectra · 5 years

Text

Why Jack Harkness deserved better

I said I was going to write this so here it is

WHY JACK HARKNESS DESERVED BETTER (SPECIFICALLY FROM THE TENTH DOCTOR)

Okay, so this is something I’ve been meaning to write for a little while, because I’ve been rewatching New Who from the beginning, and Jack is probably one of my favourite characters, and seeing the way Ten acts towards him makes my heart hurt. It also makes me really wish they could have brought Jack back in to interact with other incarnations of the Doctor because I feel like seeing the different dynamics would have been really interesting (also let’s face it, John Barrowman would be hella up for it).

This is gonna primarily focus on Doctor Who events but draw on things from Torchwood because that obviously gave us a lot more info on Jack and his past. But also I’m not going to go too in depth with Torchwood stuff, because that’s a whole different essay with full in-depth vaguely shitty psychoanalysis (I have a degree but I am far from proficient).

Let’s start at the beginning with Jack’s first appearance in The Doctor Dances/The Empty Child, which are admittedly two of my favourite episodes of series 1. Admittedly, he does at first come off as cocky, brash, a little callous, and of course, a self-professed con-man and criminal. Except at the same time, we already get to see some of his heart. His cons are based selling space junk to (what seem to be) rather wealthy parties, then getting that junk destroyed before they find out what they’ve actually bought. He himself states that he believes the Chula ambulance was completely empty, so wouldn’t do any damage, and specifically programmed it so it wouldn’t hit anything living. While this doesn’t necessarily make things any more moral, it still says something about Jack. There are plenty who wouldn’t have even bothered to do that. There’s also the fact that he’s not doing it for money, but in an attempt to get back his stolen memories.

Continuing on, Jack rescues Rose and the Doctor from the hospital, proving further that he is not quite as callous as he might make out to be. Given he now knows they’re time agents, there’s technically nothing stopping him from just abandoning them and getting the hell out of this time period (except possibly his time agency training reminding him that he may have done fucked up and he needs to fix it). He almost immediately places his trust in the Doctor, jumps at the chance to help him, and when the time comes, he doesn’t even hesitate in getting the bomb (and don’t tell me he doesn’t know the risk to himself, because he totally does. He knows his chances of getting out of this are slim, but Jack Harkness is a self-sacrificing bastard if ever there was one).

(Brief sidetrack to Torchwood- Jack mentions in Countrycide (1x06) that he’s proficient in torture and once had a reputation as a go-to guy for getting answers, but it’s never really made clear when this occurred, or if it’s even truthful. Was it the Time Agency? Was it Victorian era Torchwood? Who knows?)

Next appearance. Boom Town. That interesting outfit choice. But that aside, this is where we get to see how smart Jack is. Sure, he’s from the future so he’s going to have knowledge that will sound impressive, but there’s also his plan to catch Margaret, which is pretty tactically sound. Again, Jack was a time agent, so he’s definitely not going to be just any old idiot, not to mention he was a soldier as well. We also see him working on the TARDIS, which is pretty much something we don’t really see other companions do much of in New Who, and certainly not in their third episode, which I think says a lot, both about Jack, and about the trust the Doctor now places in Jack.

The final two episodes. For one, and on a different tangent, Jack keeps a gun up his ass. Is this a common thing? Is this just so the Doctor can’t take it off him like he did before? How is this safe? For two, and on the same tangent, Jack stop groping the robots. Finally, can we appreciate how efficient Jack is? Sure, he’s a little confused at first, but he throws himself into the situation, lets them give him a few different outfits, then calmly takes them down, makes himself a gun and gets out of there without much hassle. His reaction to Rose’s ‘elimination’ absolutely breaks my heart just as much as the Doctor’s, because while the Doctor is just completely silent and lost looking, you can hear and see Jack absolutely going off in the background, lashing out. Similarly, his reaction upon realising that Rose is alive…just yes.

Second side track- how quickly did Jack get that TARDIS key? I mean, I know there were multiple adventures between episodes, but regardless, he had a key by Boom Town. That’s hella speedy.

And then there’s dealing with the daleks. Jack knows how big a deal this is, he was a time agent after all. One hit, that’s all it takes. The Doctor probably would have let him leave Satellite 5 if he’d asked, but he didn’t. He stepped up, almost certainly knowing he was going to die, but willing to do whatever he could to give the Doctor any little scrap of time he could. And he gets killed for it. And then he gets brought back to life, and he’s surrounded by dalek dust, and he gets to watch the TARDIS leave without him. And his expression is just so heartbroken, and it hurts so much. What is he thinking? Is he hoping they’ll come back for him? Does he think that they think he’s dead so they’ve left without him?

And this is the first of the Doctor’s assholery (albeit this is still 9 and not 10). He just abandons Jack, without any form of explanation as to what has just happened, on a satellite surrounded by dalek dust and corpses. While I appreciate all the Doctor was going through and the whole ‘Jack now makes me physically sick’ thing, like dude, c’mon, you owe him an explanation. He has literally just died for you, it’s the very least you can offer.

And then there’s all the shit Jack goes through before they reunite again. I could spend all day going into depth on this but let’s just summarise it: managing to get back to Earth, ending up in 19th century Cardiff, 150 years of waiting which include: dying a lot (like seriously, he has at least two separate times where people essentially kill him on repeat just because he can come back, don’t tell me that doesn’t have an effect on your psyche), being tortured, being more or less coerced into a job, two world wars, several lost loves, his boss killing the entire team and then himself, being forced into a leadership position that he does not want, recruiting his own team, Canary Wharf and Rose’s name on the list of the dead, Suzie, being shoved into the rift (Thanks Ianto), a cyberwoman in his own basement (Thanks Ianto), being blamed by his entire team for the faeries and Jasmine, watching another man out of his time kill himself and being unable to do anything but keep him company, watching one of his team more or less let a weevil attack him, being mutinied against and killed by a team member (Thanks Owen), and then getting his life energy devoured by a legitimate hell beast.

And then the Doctor shows up, and Jack runs for him, and the Doctor runs away. Nothing like a stinging sense of rejection and a jaunt to the end of the universe to help your self esteem. And pretty much the first thing the Doctor does is criticise him. And what’s worse is that the Doctor won’t even admit that he abandoned Jack. ‘Busy life. Moving on.’ It’s just such an incredibly callous statement that just completely ignores Jack’s feelings and just seems to treat him as a piece of trash to be discarded. And Jack would be wholly within his right to go off at the Doctor, but he doesn’t. Instead he asks about Rose, and there’s the hug, because he can just tell that the Doctor has something against him, but Rose is a somewhat neutral territory.

Cue the Doctor being blatantly rude to Jack for an entire scene about both his vortex manipulator and his abandonment, as well as making it more or less clear to Jack that he knew all along about Jack’s immortality. That him being left on the Game Station was no accident. And that’s just cold. And yet despite all this, the moment Jack’s with them again, the Doctor’s immediately controlling him. Dictating what he can and can’t do, and in all honesty, it feels very much like he’s still treating Jack as the brash playboy he knew in his last regeneration? Like he can’t see just how much Jack has changed since they last met, how he’s most certainly not the same man he was. He also willingly throws Jack into a situation which is dangerous and will probably cause him pain (don’t tell me that radiation chamber didn’t cause Jack pain. Just because it can’t kill me doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt) just because he knows Jack will do anything for him (and also Jack would probably volunteer anyway because he’s that sort of person). And he admits to Jack’s face that he’s known all along, that he ran away from him. He point blank tells Jack to his face that he’s wrong and that he can hardly bear to look at him, without so much as a thought to how that’s bound to feel. Asks Jack if he wants to die. The whole conversation just makes me feel on edge because it does not feel at all like a healthy friendship.

Then, when Jack tells him he’s with Torchwood, there’s the Doctor’s reaction, and it’s just so vehement. His lack of belief in Jack is just heartbreaking, because it’s such a switch from his relationship with the 9th Doctor. It’s like Jack isn’t a companion to him anymore, but more of a sort of tool. And in the Year That Never Was, we pretty much get implied that Jack gets repeatedly tortured and killed for at least the third time in his existence, over and over for an entire year. It seems pretty likely too that the Master probably executes the rest of the Torchwood team too, probably using them in an attempt to break Jack. Sure, it all gets reversed, but it clearly fucks with Jack (and we can see that in Torchwood series 2). But Jack holds up the brave front, destroys the paradox machine. And you can bet it probably hurt him like hell when the Doctor mentions keeping the Master in the TARDIS, because it kinda seems like he’d rather have the Master there than Jack. And sure, he offers to let Jack come with him, but I feel like it’s an empty offer. He knows that Jack has found something else in their time apart, knows he’s probably not going to accept. And then of course, he breaks Jack’s vortex manipulator. While I do understand this, it also makes me sad, because if he’d at least left the teleport function working, there’s a chance that Owen and Tosh could have been saved.

Jump to their next reunion after Jack has faced the following: dealing with the psychological trauma from all the shit that just happened to him, losing Owen, bringing him back, finding his long lost little brother and being stabbed by him then buried under Cardiff for nearly 2000 years, being frozen for like a century, having to stop his little brother, losing Tosh, losing Owen again. And when the world needs saving, Jack doesn’t hesitate to jump straight in, especially once they get through to the Doctor, even though he is quite clearly terrified of the daleks. He’s the only one to actually be somewhat calm and methodical when the Doctor is shot. In the dalek ship, he willingly sacrifices himself in order to be able to explore the ship more and find some way to help them. But the moment he starts making threats, there’s the Doctor’s disapproval back again. But they do it, they save the world, they go home.

And then Children of Earth happens. Jack’s entire world shatters. He loses Ianto. He has to sacrifice his own grandson to save the world. The Doctor is nowhere in sight. Jack leaves Earth, crushed. And the Doctor does his little journey through the companions to say goodbye. He saves Martha and Mickey. He gives the scratch card for Donna. He saves Luke for Sarah Jane. He visits Rose just to see her again.

And Jack?

He gives Jack Alonso. And maybe it’s just me, but I find it wholly uncomfortable. It’s a possibility the Doctor doesn’t know about the whole affair with the 456 and what Jack went through, or that he more specifically doesn’t know about Jack’s losses. But it’s also possible that he does. And he feels like the best thing he can do is to essentially offer him a shag. Even though he’s very clearly heavily grieving (No hate to Alonso, I love him) and has just lost someone he deeply loved. It feels like further confirmation of the fact that Ten still sees him as the playboy he was. Because let’s face it, Jack still flirts like a champ, but Torchwood very much paints him as that only extending to his flirting. Any further seems to fall exclusively within having relationships, which are considerably infrequent in the series (with Estelle, Angelo, Lucia and Ianto seeming to be the principal partners in his life over his 150 years). To be fair, this ‘gift’ to Jack doesn’t really seem so much an asshole move, as just Ten no longer understanding Jack, not in the way he used to.

But yeah, this got kinda longer than I initially expected and could probably do with severe editing but oh well, here it is in it’s entirety anyway.

253 notes · View notes

wingardium-letmefuckyou · 5 years

Text

Harsh but sweet (Lucio x gender neutral!MC)

Summary: A little exploration of what would happen if Lucio and the apprentice got stuck in the magical realm for a longer time. What does it do to a person? Sometimes it brings out their worst, but sometimes also their best.

Words: 2122 (this was supposed to be a little drabble, oops)

Warnings: none. A tiny bit of angst, mostly fluff. MC is gender neutral.

The slow thump of his heartbeat almost lulled you to sleep. Almost.

It didn’t help that you and Lucio had been stuck in this icy and cold realm for almost three weeks now. Not that you kept count. At least not out loud. The first week had passed easily, your days had been filled with exploring and looking for a way out, your nights consisted of making out until the two of you were too tired to stay awake. Lucio couldn’t get enough of you, starved for affection after three years of not touching a living soul. You didn’t mind at all, answering his need with just as much enthusiasm.

The second week had proven more difficult. There was no food to find in the forest but you never grew hungry either, its magic working in mysterious ways. It was both convenient and frustrating. For the first time the thought of not being able to leave this place arised and filled you with a dreadful fear. Lucio started to feel frustrated, doubting Asra and his attempts at looking for you. He lashed out, like a trapped animal that had fallen from one cage into another. The venom was never directed towards you but it wasn’t always easy to deal with either. It took all you had to convince both him and yourself that Asra was most definitely searching for you. Besides, the laws of space and time worked different here. What felt like two weeks for you, might have only been ten minutes for Asra. For all you knew, Asra didn’t even know yet you were missing. But you had to believe there was a way out. You tried not to think about actually being trapped in a magical world where you and Lucio were the only ones alive. The only ones, except for the monsters of course.

The monsters kept coming, more and more of them. They appeared to be getting bigger, their visits more frequent. The first Wyrm was easily killed by Lucio’s impressive swordsmanship, the second met the same fate. The third one turned out to be more of a challenge, the fourth one also brought the fifth one along. As admirable as Lucio’s attempts to keep you protected were, you couldn’t let him fight alone. So now whenever they came, you were ready at his side, your magic shielding his blind spots, blast of energy hitting the beast where Lucio’s sword couldn’t reach. You actually made a great team together. You had both quickly realized that Lucio’s yelling cave was the safest place in the realm, the only place where the monsters hadn’t dared to enter yet. So that’s where you spend every night together, trying to ignore the screams and roars of the monsters, a constant presence that left you both on edge. Lucio started telling you stories to distract you, about his days as count of Vesuvia and the frequent lavish and extraordinary parties he loved so much. During the nights when both of you couldn’t sleep, he talked about his mercenary days. You figured the stories weren’t always entirely truthful, tweaked here and there to make Lucio appear more brave and formidable. He did surprise you with his vulnerability when he shared the memory of losing his arm, not able to hide the tremble in his voice behind his usual bravado. That night, you held him even closer. Lucio’s presence was what kept you sane when you started losing hope, when days started to bleed in one another and time seemed to lose meaning. He was your golden star in a dark, black sky.

By the third week you had tried everything in your magical power to get you out, you had ventured as far as you could from the cave, still looking for an exit. Sometimes it felt more like you were looking for a miracle. Until then, Lucio had been good company. His jokes had lifted your spirits, his sword had kept you safe, his arms kept you warm at night. His wicked grins and shameless flirting gave you a strange sense of normality in this magical mess. But the last few days, his demeanor had changed. He wasn’t as loud or boastful anymore and a worried crease had appeared between his eyebrows. This wasn’t his normal, pouty sulk but he wouldn’t explain to you what exactly bothered him. From what you had learned from him the past weeks, opening up wasn’t always his forte. Whatever was bothering him was stowed away behind carefully constructed walls. This somber silence worried you a lot more than the angry ranting directed towards Asra and the rest of the world. For the last two days he had refused to come out of the cave, claiming that the beasts were too many and that it was too dangerous. You kept trying to convince him that there had to be a way out and that you would find it together but you couldn't venture out on your own. You needed to work as a team.

Another roar from outside distracted you from Lucio’s heartbeat and you felt his gold arm tighten around you protectively. You were lying against his chest, his cloak draped over you so it would keep both of you warm. The golden prosthetic kept you close to him while his other hand clutched his sword, ready to strike whenever those monsters finally decided that the cave might be worth exploring. He had been like that for the last few days, coiled up like a spring, his body hard and tense. The way the gold arm was digging in your skin wasn’t very comfortable but you didn’t have the heart to tell him. He already looked close to falling apart and you didn’t mind indulging him to give him some form of comfort, to hold the pieces together for a while longer. You looked up at him, nuzzling against his chest. Touching him came so naturally by now, you couldn’t imagine yourself not touching him anymore. “Will you tell me another story, Lucio?” you whispered softly, trying to distract him from whatever storm was brewing in his head. If anything, it would at least distract you for a while, maybe relax you enough to catch some sleep. “Not tonight, sweetheart,” he answered, his voice sounded just as tense as his body felt. No jokes, no teasing. No shit eating grin that you had grown to love. His knuckles were white around his sword handle. You feared he was really losing it, that this realm would get the best of him. You couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t allow that. You got here together and you wouldn’t leave without him. You turned your body so you were facing him, gently stroking his cheek, bringing his attention to you. Softly and tenderly, you brought up your thumb to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows. The only response you got was a silent scoff but you were determined to guide him out of this, whatever this was. Slowly but surely you kept stroking his face, tracing his jaw carefully with your fingers, your other hand moving up to pet his hair. This had the desired effect, you could finally feel him relax a little, sighing softly.

“Talk to me, Lucio.” His silence might be what worried you the most. At times it had been almost impossible to make him shut up and now you had to beg him to say something. Lucio sighed again, he couldn’t tell what is was that finally convinced him to share what had been on his mind for the last two days. It might have been the clear and obvious concern in your eyes or the delicate way you were touching his face, making him feel like he was genuinely cared for. Or maybe he was just tired, too tired to hold up the walls.

“You shouldn’t be here, sweetheart. With me, in this realm.” Those were not the words you expected. You looked at him, confused: “What?” “Not that you’re not good company. You’re fine company, a perfect match for me.” He grinned in his typical way but you could tell it didn’t reach his eyes. You kept silent, giving him to chance to explain himself further. “It’s just… We’re trapped here. And you shouldn’t be. You are stuck here because I want to be alive again. I dragged you along, only thinking of what I wanted. I didn’t think, I just expected you to help me. I was selfish.” The words were pouring out of him now and you did your best to make sense of them. Was he blaming himself for your situation, for you being stranded here with him? Thinking about the consequences of his actions and how they affected others was a very un-Lucio thing to do, this place must have really been messing with his head. Then again, this wasn’t necessarily a bad development, just one that needed a little gentle guidance in the right direction. You smiled at him fondly and were met with a puzzled look in his pale, silver eyes.

“Yes, you are selfish,” you began and he huffed in answer. You just raised a finger, silently asking him to let you speak first. “You just are, there is no denying that. And yes, you want things, without thinking about the other people involved. You are the most important thing in your own world. But putting full blame on yourself for being trapped here is a tad bit dramatic, no? It’s not always about you, darling.” Lucio seemed to be at loss for words, something you hadn’t expected you could ever do to him. You placed a gentle kiss on his lips, barely brushing them, to soften the sting to your words before you proceeded with what you had planned to say. “And yes, we are here because I decided to help you. But I am helping you because I want to. Not because you think I should, not because you are count of Vesuvia and in some way entitled to my aid. Not because you sometimes think the world revolves around you. My decision to help is my own. I am here with you because I want to be. And when we get out of here I’m still going to help you and I will still want to be with you.” You ended your declaration with another soft kiss, leaning your forehead against Lucio’s, giving him time to taken in your words.

“That is both the harshest and sweetest thing someone has ever said to me,” he whispered after a while. You snorted in response: “I doubt that’s the harshest you’ve ever heard.” Lucio chuckled and the sound filled you with warmth. It had only been a few days but you had missed his laughter so much. “Definitely not the harshest, no. But I do get what you mean, I think. And I’m glad you’re here with me.” “Good.”

More kisses followed and you easily lost yourself in the sensation of Lucio’s lips caressing yours, his flesh hand finally dropped the sword and found his way into your hair. The presence of his golden arm was no longer uncomfortable, wrapped around you carefully, only trying to close what little distance was left between the two of you. A small nip at your bottom lip made gasp, giving Lucio the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss. You lost track of time, forgot about your surrounding s for one blissful moment. There was only you and him, two souls that were addicted to each other. It felt way too soon when Lucio pulled back, leaving you dizzy and breathless. He grinned smugly at the state you were in and it made your heart soar. He was back, your Lucio was back. For the first time in a while you were filled with hope, as if something had shifted. The realm felt somehow different. “I think,” he said, pausing in between to follow a trail down your jaw with his lips, “that we should go outside again tomorrow. Maybe find a spot where we haven’t looked for a way out yet.” You just nodded, pulling him closer to you by his collar, giving in to your craving need to be kissed more, to connect to him. He happily obliged. It took a while before you could pull away from one another but eventually you nestled against his chest again to try and get some rest. Lucio felt a lot more relaxed now and you sensed how his breathing deepened when sleep finally pulled him in. The sword lay next to him, long forgotten. “Good night, my love,” you whispered and you placed a tender kiss above his heart.

#the arcana lucio #count lucio #lucio x mc #lucio x apprentice #lucio x reader #gender neutral mc #gender neutral apprentice #the arcana #the arcana game #lucio the arcana #lucio route

197 notes · View notes

saidelia-draconis · 4 years

Note

12. A happy memory

Three days. Three long, agonizing days. The company had ascended the mountain pass, two score and a corps of civil engineers, bolstered by a handful of Dalaran mages. They were to establish a foothold within the breach. The vast wasteland was one of the ingress points into which the assault on Icecrown was to begin. What had started as forty capable soldiers had dwindled to less than a dozen. In the midst of it, Saidelia.

Fresh from an hour of the shifts in which the last of the half-finished keep was allowed to sleep, she had hastily slung her armor back on, strapped in by one of the engineers. She beat her blade against the heavy pavise she held in front of her. On her way to rejoin the fray, she was passed by a weary young man with a fetid arrow lodged in his shoulder. He nodded weakly at her. There was a grim understanding about him. He seemed to know that help was back behind the safety of the Argent lines. She nodded at him with the same resigned acceptance.

“See you when this is over, Taroe.”

Neither one of them believed her. Out from under the archway of the tower, she was already in the thick of it. Even with the high ground, the contingent had been beaten back nearly to their beds. Her heavy boots tamped down red snow. She drew in a breath, stepping over a ghoul, she passed the blonde cleric. Sam hardly acknowledged her. Tending to a dwarven rifleman, he was flanked by the group’s sapper.

Faruq Sayyid quietly stalked the edges of the battle, blades in hand. As a watchful skeleton took notice of Sam, its nimble fingers began weaving together plumes of frost, pulling from the frigid air around it. Its chest rattled with a cool, eerie laughter. At the apex of its incantation, the creature fell motionless to the ground with the Tanari man standing behind it. He disentangled his daggers from the lifeless pile of bones, his white coat almost melding with the snow behind him. Saidelia lost sight of Sayyid when she blinked.

Beyond the makeshift relief area, she passed an older man. His striking features and wild gestures were all she needed to recognize Alvarez. Another member of her company. With each wave of his hands, streaks of flame lashed their way through the undead hordes, either abating their assault or culling the weaker of the invaders.

His hands were blistered from the heat. His fingertips black and burned away, the barest hint of bone peeking through the charred flesh. He was deemed the only one who couldn’t rest. The only one keeping them from being completely overwhelmed. From behind him, Saidelia murmured a blessing. Her words seemed to echo as they passed from her to him. Her hands gripped at his shoulders, breathing what life she had into him. Still about to break, the mage’s strength was bolstered, at least for a time. The weary man nodded his approval.

“Thanks, kid. Glad you’re back. Halveth’s doting was almost worse than the corpses.”

The massive man in front of Alvarez scoffed. Clearly, he had heard them. The greater of the ghastly horde that resisted the flames shambled towards Alvarez. The hulking man in plate was ready with his hammer. He let out a half-roar, half-grunt as his strike was abruptly stopped by the skull of a lurching beast. It’s leathery, charred form crumpled at Halveth’s feet. Saidelia took up her position next to him, breathing in.

“’ Bout time you join us, captain. Get your beauty sleep in?”

“You’re prettier when you’re quiet, Halveth.”

“I’m always pretty. On your right.”

With his prompting, Saidelia’s shield was raised. She drove her foot into the ground, cracks of light springing up from the earth, dispatching several shuffling corpses. Even fresh from her nap, Saidelia was running on fumes. Several swings in, she had begun to grow sluggish. Halveth taking notice. He uncorked a flask across his chest. He didn’t waste time warning the girl. With one hand on the back of her head, he forced the concoction underneath her nose. It stung all the way into her lungs. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up.

“Up and at ‘em, Dragon. One shot at glory.”

She hardly had time to thank him. The skeleton crew of defenders fought on. What little assistance could be spared from the engineers and mages was all that kept them together. Time was a luxury they couldn’t afford to count. As their fight raged on, they could feel the earth shaking. Before they could even see it, they heard the unholy roar. Slowly trudging up the mountain, they caught sight of a mound of shambling flesh, bones, and hatred. It stood as tall as the tower that had been building behind them. The fleshcrafter that rode in the abomination’s palm gazed down at them with a smug sense of superiority.

“Enough of this farce. Your encroachment into these cursed lands ends here. Witness me, for I will be the last thing you see, and the first when you are reborn.”

A rifleman’s shot landed uselessly in the creature’s thumb, protecting the necromancer. A throaty laugh mocked them. Halveth and Alvarez began whispering desperately to each other, embracing. Saidelia locked eyes with Sam. There was a silent understanding among the group.

As the legion of the damned marched forward, its progress was halted. Streaks of white, brown and gold dotted the sky. The sight of shrapnel and calamity erupted from within the midst of the undead army. As the glints in the sky drew closer, the beating of wings could be seen.

“No… To me you fools, let none touch me!”

The hippogryph riders rained all manner of magic, bombs, and arrows down on the stunned forces of the scourge. As their assault finally abated, even the massive construct was buckled, its body riddled with wounds. Saidelia could feel the ground beneath her as she fell to her knees. The aftereffects of Halveth’s questionable brew leaving her feeling weak and depleted.

Through what remained of their defenses strode a stern-looking sin’dorei. His eyes were narrow, his lips pursed. He surveyed what remained of the battalion. Finally, he spoke. He sounded every part of a commander.

“Who among you is the ranking officer?”

With the swift chain of succession ripping through the ranks in the past few days, the burdens of command had all but been abandoned. Without an answer, the elf drove his foot into the helmet of one of the fallen scourge.

“Do you think I am one who has time to waste, or have you all forgotten your ranks? Who among you holds command?”

Through the silence, Saidelia felt an elbow, creaking against her plate, and drawing the commander’s attention. She could hear Halveth in her ear.

“Shit, Dragon. I think you might be the only knight left. We’ll try to vouch for you.”

With a looming sense of dread, Saidelia rose to her feet. If her comrades were to be believed, this had to be what a hangover felt like. Without the surging adrenaline, and the noxious fumes of whatever Halveth had given her pumping through her blood, she felt meek and powerless. Her head was pounding. She reluctantly gazed up at the elf who had been staring at her. Three days without more than a wink of sleep had finally caught up with her.

“I… Think I might be, sir.”

Without stopping to observe her, the man strode forth with purpose, pressing a finger against the center of her breastplate.

“You are, hmm? And just what do you have to say for yourself? Report!”

Saidelia stared blankly. She had never been tasked with anything more than a reconnaissance team. Now she stood at the base of a tower she had ostensibly overseen, with the better part of what was not her company laying with the mound of Scourge corpses. She stammered as she tried to speak.

“I–”

“You what? Do not waste my time, girl.”

“I was tasked with keeping the keep from falling, sir. For three days without rest, that is what I did.”

His piercing glare softened, suddenly curling into a smirk. He slowly nodded. He eyed the half-built keep with a nod.

“Indeed you did, girl. Maybe not with intention, but if you’re the last of the leadership, I believe this is your victory. We might speak of it later. You need a bath, a hot meal, and a warm bed. The lot of you. I will make preparations.”

(Thank you so much for the ask, @madame-miersae! Sorry it’s a little late… To say the least)

#Asks #Backstory #Prompts #Writing

8 notes · View notes

punishandenslavesuckers · 5 years

Note

(For the fic summary post) In lieu of Fjord's confessions to the group in ep 72, a fic following Fjord as he studies and views Caduceus as an inspiration and those feelings as an almost idolization and protectiveness is a concept sitting in the back of my mind since that stream

AO3 Link: HERE

So there’s a bit of protectiveness that naturally generates among their group when Caduceus joins up.

Not a surprise. There’s a few reasonable reasons for it.

A: because Caddy has (if possible) less practical experience than Jester (a literal shut in). B: He’s a cleric and you guard your clerics because they’re the vicious beating heart of a combat unit’s anatomy. C: Molly is fucking dead.

It goes without saying because saying it would be awful, but Caduceus is very literally filling a void left by a violent death in the party and there’s no getting around the associations that come with that. The times that Fjord has accidentally called Caduceus ‘Molly’ out loud: 1 time. The times he’s started to call Caduceus ‘Molly’ and stopped himself: a fucking lot. Honestly, just, an embarrassing amount of times and Fjord would rather not too closely examine why it’s taking him so long to get it right.

“Fjord.”

“Hmm?”

It’s the middle of the night (or whatever passes for night in a city that sees no sunrise) and the interior of their Xhorhasian home is gently lit by the fire-fly glow of magical string lights and the flicker of interior lanterns. Fjord’s been sitting in the main common area, contemplating the falchion blade where he’s laid it on the table so he can stare at its golden gleam in detail and ponder the pieces of the Summer Dance rapier subsumed by the living sword. An echo of Mollymauk’s weapon still in the blade.

Beauregard climbs over the back of a chair and takes a crouched position next to him with her knees drawn up like a monk-ish gargoyle. She glances furtively across the room, then takes an overly casual posture with one elbow on the table to appear casual, but just ends up looking odd half scrunched in her seat but leaning her weight wrongly. She commits tp it though, eyeing him.

“What’s up?”

“Why… why’re you sittin’ like that?”

“I – what?” Beau self-consciously sits up, adjusts her hair, and pats her ribs down for some reason. “I don’t know what –” She shakes it off, annoyed, and yanks the chair around so she can sit backwards straddling it and facing him. “Fuck it. You’re staring at Caduceus. What’s up?”

Fjord blinks. “I wasn’t starin’ at Caduceus.”

“Are you wondering if his face is, like, velvety?” Beau lowers her voice in a conspiratorial way. “Because I’ve totally wondered that. Answer: Yes. Totally. He’s, like, slightly fuzzy all over. I dunno. I think it’s a firbolg thing.”

“What? No.”

He has, in fact, wondered precisely that.

“Well, okay, then that means you’re just staring at him. Unless you were zoning out and he was just, like, there. I’ve done that. Been there.” She nods. “Had to run from the city guard. It happens.”

“Beau, not to be rude or nothin’, but I wasn’t staring at Deuces. I was just thinkin’.”

Caduceus is on the other side of the room sitting with Jester who’s showing him something in one of her sketchbooks. The long blue length of her tail lashes around, flipping back and forth while she gestures grandly at what might just be a collection of smutty looking scribbles from one of Caleb’s smutty history novels or whatever. Cad looks politely baffled.

“I dunno, thought you might be…” Beau pauses as thought to reassess her commentary. “Look, a lot of other shit has gone down recently, but back in the City of Beasts, Cad went down. Like, for real. If jester hadn’t had that diamond…”

Fjord feels a slow tension crawl through him from his belly outward, recalling. “Yeah, that certainly did happen. Uh-huh.”

“Caduceus almost dies a lot and it kinda bugs me since, like, we kinda asked him out there with us after Molly died. Does that bother you? Cuz it kinda bothers—”

“Yeah, it fuckin’ bothers me.”

Beau looks at him. Dammit, that maybe came out a bit quick. Fjord by the nature of his innate half-orcish complexion cannot actually blush, but he feels his face get hot all at once and clears his throat while Beau’s eyes narrow. For all that she’s bad at talking to people, she’s pretty decent at reading them from time to time, not that he’s 100% certain himself what she might perceive.

“You worried about losing him?” Fjord rejoins.

“I was standing right there when Molly died.”

There’s a moment of silence. Beau is staring at the table now, but isn’t seeing it. It’s the first time in – what? – how many months since Mollymauk took his last breath that she’s actually said anything beyond the most basic and brutal facts about it. She drums her fingers on the table after a second of quiet and goes on.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to do that again, you know?”

“Hey, I’m not gonna let anything happen to Caduceus.” A pause. He clears his throat. “Uh, none of us are gonna let anything happen. I think he’s got some big stuff he’s supposed to do, you know?”

Beau nods. “He doesn’t freak you out anymore, Fjord?”

“Freak me out? He never freaked me out.”

“Coulda fooled me the way you kept grimacing every time he, you know, is Caduceus and does something eerie as hell and a little morbid. Because, like, he does that. A lot.”

“Well, sure, at first. But I guess I’m used to it now.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s kinda nice having someone in the group who seems to have confidence in where he’s going and what he’s doing.”

“Right? He’s so, like, sure.”

“I don’t know if sure is the right word,” Fjord says, shaking his head. “He definitely doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. And the stuff we do scares the hell outta him sometimes. But he just… I dunno. He fuckin’ abides. Bad shit happens and he just… has something else to lean on and he doesn’t know if that something is gonna let him die or keep him alive, but he’d be… fine with it. Does that make sense?”

Beau blinks. “That sounds like a thought that didn’t happen over the course of a short conversation there, Fjord.”

Shit. Fjord feels heat spread through his face but shrugs to hide it.

“He just ain’t scared of the same shit I am, I guess.”

Beau tilts her head. “What’re you scared of?”

Shiiiiiit. Why the hell did he say that?

“Nothing specific. Just saying. Different views on the world and all.”

Beau squints at Fjord. Fjord maintains his casual demeanor with the professional control of a man for whom deception has come as second nature for about half a year now in the company of friends. He puts a real effort into appearing casual, lest Beauregard somehow glean from the angle of his eyebrows the constant underlying current of gut-clenching fear that’s begun to grip him every night.

The nightmares coming faster now and more confusing – the oceans, darkness, Avantika’s laugh interrupted by the crack of her neck breaking, and the sensation that someone touched him while he was asleep. He wakes up certain there’s a rope around his neck or a hand over his mouth, fingers on his tongue, a fist around his throat and bone-crushing sinew wrapped around his wrists, his knees, his chest and dragging him down, down, down fathoms deep until the crush of darkness is so deep he just –

“So Caduceus is hot, right?” says Beau.

Fjord sputters. “What?”

“I’m kidding! Yeesh! Calm down, team leader, or you got that whole ‘doth protest to much’ thing going on.” Beau gets up, grabbing a sitting pitcher of water from the table. “Just saying, you’re staring.”

“I am not staring.”

“Whatever, man. If you want a sweet pink undercut, I’ll bet he’d tell you how to get one.”

“That aint remotely it.”

“I know,” says Beau, looking at him.

She waits.

Fjord isn’t sure why, in that moment, with her staring at him, the random impulse to just tell her comes to him. He almost opens his mouth and forgets Vandren, almost swallows that voice like a pill he’s held under his tongue all this time. But the moment passes even as the pale blue curiosity of Beauregard’s stare holds steady and in the wake of that feeling of almost release, he feels tired.

Fjord sighs. “The truth?”

“Or whatever you feel like telling me. No pressure. You just… seem to be thinking is all.”

“I was thinking that his goddess, Melora, seems pretty cool.”

Beau blinks, visibly surprised.

“Oh, yeah, I guess so.” She grins. “Any goddess that says ‘get high and pray to me’ is pretty cool.”

Fjord glances at Caduceus who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with their other cleric.

Jester appears to be showing him lewd diagrams, which he’s regarding with the same academic mien that one might regard anatomical drawings of flora. Fjord can’t begin to understand the compound flush of fondness and jealousy that takes hold of him looking at Caduceus; the fact that the closest thing he’s felt to that was when he first met Avantika – this confusion of response.

He realizes now that his impulse toward Avantika was certainly desperate self-defense and attraction, sure, but having more time to study a similar feeling now, Fjord thinks he got it wrong. He didn’t want to possess the person he was looking at or be possessed by them. Looking back now, he wanted to just be her.

He wanted to inhabit the body of someone who knew what the fuck they were after so badly it felt like arousal. So he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that, lately, when he looks at Caduceus he feels the same unformed impulse to occupy the same damn space as him.

The waking fantasy where he crosses the room, ignores the disinterested academic look Caduceus levels at anything suggestive, and finds out exactly what it would feel like – sliding your fingers into unkempt mane of pink, gripping hold, and pressing your mouth against his. Tasting his tongue, feeling that strange and intimate vibration in his throat when he tries to talk through a kiss so you can just swallow that sound.

Fjord doesn’t know what to do with the notion that doing so would tantamount to worship – or blasphemy – but he knows that the impulse is taking root inside him. Sure as a notion to touch something he shouldn’t just to know the feeling of it. He doesn’t know what to do with this raw, ugly ideation.

So Fjord just grins back at Beau.

“I mean, I sure wouldn’t mind that,” he says.

#critical role #fjord #caduceus clay #cr2 #the mighty nein #crfic #fjord is a confused warlock idiot #with a crush #and alot of problems #rae writes #raewrites

48 notes · View notes

frogmanwritings · 5 years

Text

Alright frickers, listen up.

This isn’t to shame anyone that writes these sort of things or to call them out, but to be used as reference as to help writers keep things better in character for Teen Titans fics. I recognize that ‘in-character’ for Teen Titans is kinda convoluted, considering the many canons the characters have, and that writers will purposely write characters like this to lean their fics more towards the story/ship they are writing(again, not shaming anyone here), but this sort of thing has also led into shipping culture all together, and I’ve seen plenty of comments(not naming names or calling out anyone) from people who seem to really believe that this is how the characters from the show are. With that said, here we go:

Robin is NOT a cruel, heartless leader who cares first and only towards ‘justice’. While a big part of his character in the show revolves around his relationship towards Slade and how it borderlines on pure obsession, this does not define him as a character. The only time one could argue that he’s done this is when he was drugged into fighting an illusion of Slade, in which he was clearly not himself, and in Trouble In Tokyo, but in the end, he recognizes the fault in his ways and rekindles with Starfire after having offended her previously. He can be reckless when pursuing villains, like when he broke his arm chasing after Johnny Rancid, and he does have a higher need to catch villains than others, but to believe that catching criminals is all he cares about is just blatantly not true. He has a close relationship with each member on the team and clearly cares for them deeply, as shown throughout the show.

To follow this up, Robin’s not quite the ‘angst machine’ that some say he is. Yes, he’s probably the second most serious member on the team besides Raven, but there’s a fairly big space between him and her. It think a good reason for this way of thinking is because of his dark relationship with Slade. He is much more serious when Slade is involved, and this is most prevalent in Season 1, when he lied to his teammates to try and get closer to Slade, and during his apprenticeship under the villain. But besides Slade and his time in Tokyo, Robin can be a fun guy to be around. He’s not pulling pranks or playing Stankball, but he’s usually seen in partaking in games with the others, like the times they’ve played football and volleyball, and he’s also been seen playing video games with Cyborg and Beast Boy, being just as competitive as the two while doing so. He actively helps Starfire in understanding human culture, he often pulls cheesy one-liners whenever they encounter a villain, he has on multiple occasions been the one to reach out to Raven whenever she has been down or isolated herself more than usual, and while a competitor, he never takes things too seriously, almost to a fault at times. Again, he’s not on the levels of goofiness of Beast Boy, Cyborg and Starfire, but he’s not this debby-downer that so many portray him to be.

Raven isn’t a complete bitch. Yes, I know that this may be a minority I’m telling this to, but this is a bit annoying to run into, especially when it’s for the sake of ships. This is most often shown in Beast Boy ships that aren’t BBRae, and it’s weird that it seems that either Raven loves Beast Boy or hates him in fanfics, at least in my experience. Yes, Raven is easily annoyed by Beast Boy’s antics, and she often lashes out, but it’s never malicious in the way she does it. She very clearly cares for Beast Boy, and this is shown on multiple occasions that when he doesn’t try to play annoying jokes or pranks on her, she often appreciates his company. She embraced him after he comforted her during the whole Malchior drama, even joining in on playing Stankball with him and Cyborg. She treasured a goddamn penny that he gave her. A PENNY. Because he gave to it ‘for luck’. After he ended up going full Beast Mode in ‘The Beast Within’, she comforted him after he felt down about hurting her, or thinking that he hurt her, cheering him up and reassuring him about the beast form he had and even saying herself that they were having a moment, and smaller things like her respecting his choice to not eat meat and often being the one to save him in battle when he gets in trouble. They are opposites, yes, and she hates his jokes and pranks, but she very clearly doesn’t hate him.

Starfire isn’t stupid. Yes, she doesn’t know much about human culture and she ‘talks funny’, but this doesn’t mean she’s dumb. Having spent all of her life on Tamaran, she’s clearly more accustomed to their culture rather than Earth’s, and she’s still a newcomer to the planet in the show. I’d imagine it’d be quite difficult to know two cultures of entire planets, and speak their languages perfectly. She is a bit naive, but this is mostly because of her kind and caring nature and not because of any mental disadvantage. In terms of things that aren’t related to culture, she has been shown to be bright, catching on others’ emotions fairly quickly and understanding them well(except for Robin’s romantic feelings xp).

#teentitans #teen titans #beast boy #robin #starfire #cyborg #raven

51 notes · View notes

ryanmeft · 5 years

Text

Mortal Engines Movie Review

Maybe it’s just my personal make-up and my love of larger-than-life fantasy, but yes, I can work up an interest in a desolated future world populated by mobile cities on tank treads that prey on settlements like ancient beasts lumbering across prehistoric tundra. It’s popular among critics to dunk on the very ideas of such things, as if only real-world character pieces can be worth viewing. What’s harder to stomach is when the folks making the film don’t seem too invested in their own story. Dialogue in this movie is entirely meant to move the action along, and most characters are so underdeveloped they might as well be named Plot Device. It’s a pretty empty world.

Long story short: a thousand years ago, we blew ourselves up with Evil Bad Weapons, and the world that’s left is dominated by moving cities that look like a cross between Transformers and populated tanks. They roam the world, attempting to prey on smaller cities and permanent settlements for resources. The most powerful of these is London-To-Go, which has many layers topped off by St. Paul’s Cathedral, the only building not to get nukefied. It is ruled by a man named Valentine (Hugo Weaving), whose grand plan is develop a way of sustaining the city without absorbing other cities so he can---kill more cities.

No, it doesn’t make much sense, but Weaving can play a baddie like few others, and in the early scenes of the film, he injects his character with the only complexity we see. He seems to genuinely have the fate of the city in mind, though only he, in his view, is qualified to judge what that fate should be. He is opposed in this by a mystery woman with a scar across her face named Hester Shore (Hera Hilmar), and although the fact he murdered her mother to acquire a piece of mysterious technology seems, in the film, like it is supposed to be a spoiler, the trailers all make it so obvious people who haven’t seen them probably know. She fails in her one shot due to the interference of a naive pretty boy with the Dickensish name of Tom Natsworthy (Robert Sheehan), who hears too much in his pursuit of her and winds up pushed out of the city by Valentine, who then sics a Golem-like bounty hunter (Stephen Lang behind probably a few million dollars’ worth of CG) on her. There’s a connection between her and the hunter that’s too nonsensical to even think about. They are eventually joined by an ass-kicking Chinese stereotype (Jihae). Back on London Tank, there’s a reasonably engaging mystery as to what is actually being done inside St. Paul’s. but this plot focuses on the two dullest characters, Valentine’s daughter (Leila George) and a totally random engineer (Ronan Raftery). I gather from bits of dialogue that these characters might have had some place in Philip Reeve’s novels, but the movie has absolutely no time to waste on any of them.

What happens, why it happens, and what anyone feels about it is completely irrelevant to the film, which spend about 20 bucks on anything that isn’t special effects, costumes and choreography. In this regard, the film is a rousing success, as long as you’re willing to accept a Steampunk post-apocalyptic world. I can understand that not being your cup of tea, but just as I wouldn’t demand that a superhero movie be an LGBT drama, I looked at this one for what it was. The lumbering London evoked memories of Hayao’s Miyazaki’s animated rendition of Howl’s Moving Castle, a clanking, creaking collection of parts that seems to stay together more through sheer force of will than any fantasy ideas of technology. The giant treads it leaves behind end up functioning as canyons threaded throughout the land, and roads for Hester and Tom to navigate. A slaver city evokes Waterworld, which is never going to be remembered as art but had better sets than you recall. A floating city consisting of many docked airships lashed together horizontally reminded me of the wondrous locales of games like Final Fantasy. Perhaps the reason these sights are themselves unjustly ragged on by some critics is they draw from a wide variety of sources, and things like pulps and video games are still appreciate by precious few. The world that Peter Jackson and his team of producers spent 150 million bucks on, at least, gives us our money’s worth.

Why, then, if Jackson is joined on the script by his faithful collaborators Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens, is it so mind-numbingly dull? Weaving and Hilmar, in a role that would make her famous in a different film, show the only passion on display, and they’re fighting the screenplay for every inch of it. This team managed to both stay true to J.R.R. Tolkien’s high fantasy while punching up the dialogue just enough for Hollywood, creating modern blockbuster filmmaking in the process. They made a King Kong that contained humor, pathos, variety and thrills and was underappreciated by impatient audiences. We know full well they do not have tin ears. It seems questionable to blame director Christian Rivers, previously Jackson’s career-long storyboard artist, when he’s so closely tied to his former boss. Then again, perhaps Jackson did what few producers in Hollywood seem to do, and gave his man free rein. In this case, sadly, it would have been better to provide a steady hand.

That the movie doesn’t work is sad, because we desperately need new blood in the fantasy genre. Jackson and company may have ushered in a new era almost twenty years ago, but the genre then gave itself over to dull work that mostly looked and felt the same, and allowed superheroes to take the throne as the winning pop culture icons; by the time Jackson made the Hobbit movies, their era had passed. Well-meaning fantasy lovers keep trying to revive them, and if efforts like this are the best we’re going to get, they’ll have to keep on trying.

Verdict: Not Recommended (1 out of 4 stars)

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

You can follow Ryan's reviews on Facebook here:

https://www.facebook.com/ryanmeftmovies/

Or his tweets here:

https://twitter.com/RyanmEft

All images are property of the people what own the movie.

#mortal engines #hugo weaving #peter jackson #movies #hera hilmar

2 notes · View notes

askredrage · 6 years

Text

Open up your EYE (Thoughts on MLP Movie)

Has the show gotten one of those characters that doesn't know what a sense of humor is and fights back with combat? Or am I thinking of a lot of reformed characters from other media? Spoilers down below. Haven't seen the movie? Well the DVD/Blu-Ray aren't far behind.

Um...so that was the movie I had almost missed out on, huh? Well it was.........something... Ok, so I'm afraid this "review" is going to be EXTREMELY difficult to judge because the night before I actually watched Disney/Pixar's Coco first (by the way, 10/10, would DVD/Blu-Ray again). And sitting down to watch this movie second was probably a huge mistake as this movie left me with a rather sour taste in my mouth. Perhaps if I waited to see Coco later, then I wouldn't feel this...negative. I'm the kind of person that goes to the movies a ton so I'm pretty much judging this movie along with all the other movies I've gone to see in the past several years. So let's get an obvious good thing out of the way first; the movie's return to 2-D or 2.5-D animation. Never in a long time since Princess and the Frog in 2009 have I been glad to see the return of hand-drawn styled animation. It's actually quite interesting when you learn that the movie characters were actually made 3-D FIRST before becoming 2-D characters in a 3-D world. Speaking of which, a major chunk of the pony characters don't feel like repeatedly used poses like in the TV show. They've been given a similar design to the show but more expressive and created with greater, fluid movement in a few areas. So of course Pinkie Pie would be the one to mostly get the spotlight in this area. I think people were worried about the 3-D landscaping dampening the style, but I'll let it slide as they did create the landscapes beautifully. Plus 3-D environments have worked for 2-D movies in the past. Talk to a good chunk of Disney Renaissance movies like Beauty and the Beast's Ballroom. An interesting way to segue into this next part. Whereas the Disney Movies were mostly the movie first and merchandise later, Hasbro's the company that will make a product first then get their animators to make an episode or movie around it. Also I am aware that Hasbro has one hell of a leash on these animators. They've probably had a ton of amazing ideas for a My Little Pony movie to appeal to all audiences instead of the targeted one. But what I was given to view not fell into my low expectations...it went even LOWER! Perhaps being exposed to Coco first had ruined my enjoyment for this as there was much needed room for improvement. See if I can sequence this a bit. Let's start with the story. Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship has created a massive party in an unusually-styled Canterlot that's looking a bit spacious than the busting city I'm usually seeing in the show. Through some comedic introductions, a song and a series of show-related cameos we are given the things that the outside audience needs to know. Things get shaken up when Tempest Shadow, an broken-horned unicorn visitor representing for the Storm King, arrives with an army to take over the entire kingdom in order to siphon the magic out of the four princesses. Now it's up to Twilight and her five friends (not six, Starlight Glimmer got shoved out of the spotlight) to find aid outside Equestria and take back their home capital. Interestingly enough, the one hour and forty-four run time actually felt kind of long when normally I'm sitting for two to three hour-long movies...but then it quickly sped through the story in a poor pace to show off their new toys/playsets and have money left in their budgets. I'm probably not the first to say this movie was poorly paced, am I? From memory, I think the longest we've stuck with a setting outside Canterlot was probably the desert city of Klugetown. You could probably argue that perhaps it was Hippogriffia/Seaquestria but events there kinda made me WANT to make it go faster. Get to that part in a second. Songs? As a 90's kid, you know that most of the songs are either set aside or forgotten (like the ones in this film) for the most important one: The Villain Song. And Tempest Shadow's Open Up Your Eyes (currently having its instrumental being spammed repeatedly during this typing) is indeed worthy of the title "Villain Song". The setting, the lighting, the flashback made by a different team (according to the credits), I loved it all. I'd say it reminds me of Unleash the Magic from Friendship Games but I rank this song much higher. Honorary note for Sia's Rainbow. I'm being told by some reviews that the song felt a bit too somber for a finale but I don't know, this felt like a calm, perfect way to wrap up the movie with. I haven't a clue what the problem with it was. Finally, how about the characters. We've got your familiar TV show cast along with a ton of celebrity voices, including Sia as Songbird Serenade at the beginning and end of the movie who is literally modeled after one of her actual outfits. I chuckled when I dug up her photo, I don't know how she manages to see through that hair. Other noteworthy celebrities that got a good chunk of screen time were Kristin Chenoweth as Princess Skystar, Liev Schriber as the Storm King, Zoe Saldana as Captain Celaeno, Michael Peña as Grubber the Hedgehog and Taye Diggs as Capper the anthropomorphic cat. Most have been given the appropriate amount of screen time while others (STORM KING, MAIN ANTAGONIST OF THE FREAKING MOVIE), were held off until the end. Oh yeah, that one Parrot Pirate with the squawking and demolitions. Loved that guy. Sadly, the weakest of the group was the Storm King himself and not just because he was saved for the climax. Previous TV show antagonists have ranged from either self-motivated tyrants to strategic conquerors for their own kind. This knucklehead is literally announced as "evil" from Grubber and there just wasn't much from him to label him as an awesome villain. Even his own funny moments couldn't save him. And this is coming from a guy who isn't very fond of Starlight Glimmer yet she's still WAY more interesting than this cloud yeti. Oh well, maybe next time don't model your villain to be a lazy, wacky monkey. On the other side of the spectrum, however, is Emily Blunt as Tempest Shadow, the true antagonist of the movie, picking up all the work for the Storm King to restore her cracked horn. Compared to "her boss" this character has her own goals and motivations, sort of like a bounty hunter or mercenary. Kudos there as those areas would reach up into the top three MLP:FIM villains on my list. Sadly, as the movie is indeed called "Friendship is Magic", she's (OMG) reformed much like many of the other unicorns in this show (Anyone seeing a trend here?). Regardless, when she was a villain, this was a skilled and probably self-trained fighter trying to regain her happiness through any means necessary, even serving a clown. Even gave me a chuckle when she lost her cool in Canterlot in front of Grubber before realizing and calming down. The Mane Six and Spike are mixed in their performances and what they're given to do. I'll have to rate them all from best to worst...you're not gonna love who's on the bottom. Pinkie Pie stuck out the most with previously mentioned animations and tons of interactions with the girls and the strangers they came across. Side-note: She is mean with a barge of cupcakes; had they been red-frosting, that fight scene might have been banned. We even get a serious moment with her and Twilight where--getting ahead of myself. Getting there soon, promise. Rainbow Dash, despite causing some extra trouble, gives the "awesome" the movie needs including getting the Parrot Pirates off their rears to face off against their former employers...that doesn't last long. Rarity's charm and generosity got Capper the cat to not only change Tempest's army's course but gather the other characters for a full on pledged climax fight. Fluttershy has hardly anything except the funniest moment in the entire film regarding opening up with a Storm King soldier. Honestly want to know what became of those guys now. Spike, you trustworthy pal and weapon. The TV show might have given you terrible episodes but who would have thought you'd become a necessary Pyro tool? TF2 Workshop! Make a mod! NOW! Applejack...sold apple juice and roped a few people and rocks. That's uh....that's about it. ....you all hate me now for this: Twilight Sparkle ends up on the bottom heavily and deserves it all from actions, character writing and poor pace. Our beloved Princess of Friendship is still the nerdy and orderly princess aimed at saving her home kingdom enough to act grumpy, annoyed and careless in her actions. Said carelessness led to attempted robbery and created the biggest and most painful moment of the movie: When Twilight angrily lashes out at Pinkie by saying she'd be better off without friends like them. Not only was this stupidly painful, but it was the necessary tool for the whole "We're not friends anymore but then we get back together later" bit. And said apology was being shoved in a climax to be ignored for comedic effect. Now if perhaps both Twilight and Tempest were together during the end of the battle for apologies, that would not only be forgivable but an excellent moment for the movie. But no...more like the Princess of Pace-dumping. Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh....I know, I know, this is a movie targeted towards children, but so was Coco. It would really help if some of that Disney magic could save the MLP Movie from its Hasbro chains. I know if the team wasn't being held back, they could have gotten away with much, much more to save the film from me giving it a 4/10. Well, this is the West Coast Psycho, and in the words of Max G, "I hope ya hated it."

#review #opinion #my little pony #my little pony the movie #tempest shadow #west coast psycho #my little pony friendship is magic #mlp:fim #other

6 notes · View notes

ultimaxell · 7 years

Text

Testing Fate : A WolfPack AU

Word Count: 10011

All at once her night was lit up with stars, bright flashing bursts of white lights exploding in her eyes, making Nephi’s lashes flutter with a slight discomfort, nose scrunching as her bright green gaze moved to a sheepish looking girl who was already fiddling with her phone to turn off the flash. The excitement was still clear to see under the fear of upsetting one of the School’s queens, and Nephi watched, a light, distant amusement drifting over her as she watched the flushed faces of friends taking pictures as the music played in the background, a low bumping bass that threaded through her veins and called to her, made her desire to move and twist and dance, but she refused, turning away from the dance floor to look for her own friends.

All her life, she had heard stories of this night. She had heard the excitement that seemed to run through the veins of every teenager she had ever met, the happy wistful little whispers of girls as they entered high school, the one night that was supposed to make up for all the horrible bull shit that was the rest of your days in the confines known as public school.

Prom night.

Or THE night, depending on what girl you seemed to be talking to.

There was a lot of rumors that floated around about this night. With the way that people went off about it, you would think it was some sort of ritual or a rite of passage rather than a just extensively long and supposedly lavish dance. Nephi had never seen the appeal, her brother’s dates before her awkward and filled with ill fitting suits and shy smile as they handed over the flowers they had saved for, but her friends had been excited and had been giggling about boys and streamers and themes like it was the second coming. In the past month, Nephi had heard so much about prom, had seen so many bad movies based around the night that Nphi held no hopes or expectations for hers. She knew what it was supposed to be.

Tonight was a night of wonder, of days you spent daydreaming finally coming true before your very eyes and you get everything you ever wanted, all the attention, the recognition…

The boy you had been pining for since kindergarden….

Nephi sighed as she leaned a little, settling her weight to her left leg, long slit of her dress parting to allow a length of brown skin to peek beyond her Dresses folds. Her date had wandered off somewhere, a boy on the football team that she could hardly remember his name but he had asked her and had been the least repulsive of them in the way eh had asked, so she had ended up saying yes to save herself the embarrassment that was the only one of her family to not have had a date to prom. Her brothers would have never let her hear the end of it, and truthfully, Nephi was glad to lose him.

The boy may have been pretty to look at but he wasn’t the brightest bulb of the bunch. He followed her around like a lost puppy, telling her, often, frequently, like it was the only point of conversation that eh wanted to talk about was how great her legs looked or how her heels made her ass look great, a vulgar tongue she had not known before she had said yes. She was glad to lose him because it saved her a little bit of sanity she would need to make it through this night, but truthfully she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand his company, her mind too used to the whipcrack mind of her best friend, Ryker Ecchevarria, or the strange unique taste of her perverted but bubbly other best friend, Braithe Durendal, or even Lunthe’s constant movement. This man was a dead rock in the water, about as entertaining as a cavity search, and had lost her ten minutes after arriving.

“Fucking hell. This night already blows. Where’s my real Date?” Nephi spoke, her voice low and muttered over painted lips as she cast her gaze back to the floor, trying to find her tiny friend.

-------

"Damn, I missed the entire thing," Braithe Durandal whispered overly loud to herself, but her body was moving forward, blue eyes finding her dark skinned best friend. "All those plans going up in flames and Nick losing his mind and wanting to machete someone. I slept right through it. Next time, wake me up! What was the point of getting a hotel room if we don’t get to see the crazy stuff?"

Deliberately, she glanced over her shoulder at Ryker and some other new guy, pretending to be covert, as if her booming voice was so low in her pretend whisper that they couldn't possibly overhear her or know she was talking about them as they trekked in single file through the narrow opening of the gymnasium doors.

Ahead of her, Ryker stiffened, but she didn't turn around.

Ryker pressed her lips together tightly. Braithe was only going to make things worse by being so boisterous, but she was teasing and the darkling knew that. She wanted to stir up trouble because neither Nick nor her sister would give her the time of day and her ego was bruised. She sighed and rubbed her hands against the back of her neck, stretching the other above her head as she pressed against the wall beside Nephie. She couldn't wait to make it to the end of the night, but honestly she had only came here for one hope. The hope of seeing the one person that had been missing for the past week. Although Ben Charger had stayed true to his word and kept a close watch for him, along with Jubal Sanders and Gary Jansen no one had seen him. His social media had died. No snapchats. No late night skype calls. For a week. And it was getting to a point where her feeling were in the way of being in trouble.

Ryker reached her hand back and brushed Nephi's arm. The touch was featherlight, but Nephie and Braithe could feel her fingers tremble slightly as she adjusted the dress that was a little too skin tight. She had gone very quiet, rarely speaking, her face pale and for the first time, lined a little with worry, her bright gold eyes flashing over the crowd. Braithe tried not to feel panic, but she honestly felt as if one of her best friends was retreating from her, slowing slipping away. Everyone had talked nonstop of the incidents in the middle of the night. And Ryker had been to afraid to come out of the bathroom for a good majority of the night.

Half the girls regarded Nick as if he suddenly had become a serial killer. But it was not as if nightmares weren’t a normal occurring thing. He just He didn't seem to remember much, just kept repeating it was a nightmare he'd been caught up in and how sorry he was. To be strictly honest, Braithe felt terrible for him. She was still afraid of him, but she couldn't help but see the misery in his eyes, and he had tried to resist that continual pressure and command in his mind. She'd seen him two or three times trying to go back to the bed, to stop moving around and trying not to defy the sleep that was beckoning him.

But after that she had knocked out. The rest of the night a blur to the intoxicated and then unconscious Braithe Durandal. But she had heard whispers of the things that had happened.

Ryker hadn't made a single comment, not even when Braithe had explained she'd seen him have nightmares before, this time he just reacted a little bit,... more than usual. She'd just looked at Braithe with hopeless eyes-almost with that same defeated look Nick had-and shook her head. She'd hardly eaten anything before they'd started out again. Nick and the other guys were hoping to get to the back to the hotel by nightfall. From there, each group would go their own way. Braithe had to admit, she wasn't as eager to part company with Ryker and Luneth and Nephie as much as she'd thought she'd be. There was something very reassuring about the three of them.

"I wish he'd stop talking," Braithe said suddenly. She rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. But her eyes flashed to the vice principal at the podium. Welcoming the incoming seniors and juniors in with a warm welcome and a lecture.

“I don’t think he knows how to.”

“‘Welcome to prom. Try not to get knocked up kids.’ We get the gist Mr. Portmen. Get on with it already.”

“I think the point is to not get it on Braithe.”

Braithe watched with a sly smirk as gold eyes rolled, pale hands reached out to grasp onto Nephi’s undisposed arm, wrapping herself around the sun kissed skin. They stood there after that, the three of them all trying to let the man finish. Which felt like it dragged on for too long, but they finally got through it. Ending the whole lecture with wild whoops and screams from the surrounding students. A small blonde bundle emerged from the students, her hands waving at some and her lips offering small smiles to others. But those matching blue eyes caught onto her twins as she approached.

“Looks like they already got to the damned punch. These damned hooligans.”

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

The lights stung. Bad.

He could feel the sting starting behind his eyes.

The lights from oncoming cars hurt his eyes and seemed to pierce right through his skull, stabbing at his brain until he wanted to scream. He quickly tuned the radio station until the soft, voice of the Night Siren flooded the car. It was taped, but it helped. Helped calm the lump that was beginning to form in his throat. His vision tunneled, so that everything took on a dream like quality. Buildings flashed by, cars appeared as streaks of light rather than solid matter. Nerves should not have been settling in the way that they were. It should have been a time for excitement. A time to feel like he was truly alive for the first time. One of the only opportunities that he had ever actually taken a chance in.

Truth be told he was excited, somewhere deep inside him he could already feel the beast bubbling up. Unfurling and stretching as low rumbles escaped. But Heru sucked it down as he watched the students file into the building, all of them dressed to impress and all of them were happy. Unknowing. Almost innocent if he hadn’t known how they had treated him, he would have called them that at least.

“Where are we going?”

He jumped. For a moment he had forgotten he wasn’t alone. Throwing an impatient glance at the whore seated beside him, he felt the terrible pounding in his head, which had just begun to ease, return. In the dark she looked a little like the woman he needed. A little bit like the woman that he had already decided he was going to have one way or the other tonight. If she kept her mouth shut, he could pretend. Tempted to tell her she was going to hell very soon, he forced a slight smile instead. “You’re getting paid, aren’t you? What difference does it make if we drive around for a little bit?”

She leaned forward and fiddled with the radio. Tanned fingers skimming through the channels too swiftly. Light eyes transfixed on the flashing numbers in front of her.

He slapped at her hand. “Don’t touch anything.” He had the station tuned right where he wanted it, needed it. The Night Siren’s voice was drifting out over the airwaves, making his body hard and his head clear. The woman wasn’t going to make it through the hour if she touched that dial again.

Not when he was already on edge.

He kept his eye on the car he was following. He knew what he had to do. He had a job and he was damned good at it. The whore was such a good cover, and gave him such an anticipation of the pleasure to come later. He hadn’t been caught yet. Damn Arsen for his interference. The man had threatened to send someone else again. Stupid man didn’t like his reports. Well, fuck him. The man thought he was so superior, so intelligent, and was worried about the situation deteriorating. What a crock of bullshit. There was no situation, nothing was deteriorating. He could handle surveillance on a school any day of the week.

Arsen and Neket both seemed to think that since this decision happened they were all to be revered. Well, that was something Heru could whole heartedly agree with. He knew better now, more than ever that no one was going to every question him again. they were genetic mutations, aberrations, abominations, not the fucking miracles Arsen purported them to be, but Heru had no problem with it being seen this way. The entire lot of them should be wipe humanity from the face of the earth, and they were just the men to do it. They were nothing more than scum that should have been scrapped long before they were ever let loose on the world.

He saw himself as the guardian, the lone man standing between themselves and the humans. He should be revered. They should bow down to him, kiss his feet, thank him for his mere glances and his attention to detail…

“You never told me your name. What do I call you?”

The voice jerked him out of his reverie. He wanted to slap the girl by his side. To pound his fists into her face until there was nothing there but bloody pulp. To take her head between his hands and hear a satisfying crack just to shut her up, but that was for later. If she kept her mouth shut he could fantasize that she was...

She belonged to him and he’d have her soon enough. He just had to get rid of the rest of the pest once and for all. And then she’d do everything he told her.

“You don’t need my damned name.”

The girl had the audacity to roll her eyes at him, but he resisted the urge to punish her. Resisted that tingle in his hands as his fingernails pressed into his palms. He had other plans for her.

“I am a naughty girl,” she said and leaned over to rub his covered dick. “And you obviously like me that way.”

“Don’t talk, you sound like a fucking idiot.” he snapped, and sighed when she opened his pant suit. Let her just go to work on him while he took care of business. It would keep her mouth and hands occupied. He could look at her skin and hair and everything would be all right. It was going to be a long night tonight, and at least he could look forward to later.

Up ahead the car he’d been following pulled to the curb. It was a strange thing to do, but he couldn’t get caught and he couldn’t lose them. He pulled over as well and waited while the girl worked on him, the rush beginning to flood his veins like a drug.

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

One night.

One night could change everything.

This. He knew. Neket knew the power of change, knew the pull and switch, knew intimately the feeling of rushing air about you as your world shifted and pulled out from under you, everything you knew shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. He had already gone through it, had faced Change and survived, had come out the other side of his sudden freefall better and stronger and better at the end. It had only take one night for everything to change in Neket’s life, the life he had long gone, a distant burn on his memory that eh could recall with vivid detail, but could not touch, could no longer connect with that person he used to be.

There was nothing to miss in his old life. He would like to say there was something to it, something good he could pull from his memories, but nothing, nothing that he hadn’t already reclaimed was really something he could call good. His life was nothing more then hit after hit, insult after insult, prank after prank after harassment and threats… It was Safe to say, Neket Dhouti never quite…. Fit in.

Starting at a young age, people seemed to avoid him, be it from his odd mismatched eyes or the way eh clung to his brother like a moment apart would be the end of him. Whatever the reason was, whatever it was that seemed to turn people away from him, it had become a constant pattern in his life, and everyone else seemed to just,,, pick up this vibe from him, this strange sort of air eh could not explain and avoid him and antagonize him. All Neket had ever known was ridicule and slander, all he had known of looks were nasty and disgusted, and all he had learned of touches were drunken slurs of how hot he was, how bad, how he was such a bad idea, so mysterious and alluring. People ignored him, people saw him as pathetic, the weird, fucked up kid, the one fucking idiot failing his classes and being yelled at in the back of class for not turning in some assignment…. Again.

But It only took one night to change your life, one night to change the way the world treated you, saw you, reacted to you. It only took one night to shatter it, and one night to make sure, nothing would ever be the same. There were only a few of those nights, only a slight few in the lotto that was your life.

And Tonight … he was feeling lucky.

The air rushed around him as he sped down the mountain roads he had long since learned by heart, twists and turns he could make in his sleep as the woods of his mountain home passed him by, slowly giving way to his small little no tourist town, a little dot barely on the map nestled between the mountains and the woods that covered them. He was flying through them, speeds far too high to be safe in any sort of situation, but there was something liberating, something wholly uplifting and relaxing to feel that sharp sting of pain as razor winds cut under the sleeves of his suit, already slightly rumpled from his fast paced ride down the mountain. The roar of an engine next to him made his eye drift, lips pulling in the slight smirk as he watched the sleek black care slide from the shadows, the low tint of purple flashing in the street lights as they passed by.

Neket inclined his head, a stiff nod toward the driver before passing him, the laughter spilling from his lips drowned out by the rushing of the wind past him and the roar of engines in the dark the surrounded him, his gaze brightening as his eyes landed on the hell he still managed to just barely call a learning institute.

His school.

The parking lot was practically full by the time he arrived, but Really, Neket didn’t mind the little bit of the extra walk eh had to make because he was parked so far away from the school, in the grasses barely used and some even in the parking lot of the fast food chains that had decided to make a good business move and place themselves next to impulsive buyers with little sense of the value of a dollar. Neket moved, taking off the helmet to shake his ink black hair out of the mold it had found itself in, his eyes wide, body shaking as he placed down the hemelt. He shifted, moved, pulling his leg over to settle himself as nervous hands found the wrinkles in his suit, pulling and twisting them before they straightened back out, the light smile on his face small and almost hesitant as he looked over himself, pleased with the look his messy hair and straightened suit.

The rest of his friends slowly pulled in, one by one by ne, filling up the rest of the empty spots easily as they filed out, dressed to the nines in their own sort of flairs and Neket watched each of them with a interested tick of his brow, seeing so many of his friends dressed so far out of character.

But Every important event required a suit. It was the only belief he had taken from his father, a distant angry bitter old man who was too busy fucking other people’s wives to pay attention to His sons. Every important event often had impressions attached and every event that meant anything required a suit if you really were serious about it, and Neket was nothing if cut throat serious about his long awaited night.

His Night. He loved the sound of it, the very thought filling him with an excitement that could not be held off his features.

“Everyone have their party Favors?” He spoke easily, fixing his cuffs as he asked, voice breezy and light, like eh didn't have a care in the world.

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

“Hooligians, Or Prom savors? Let me tell you, I’m already feeling ten times better about coming here thanks to them.”

Lunthe Smiled as she brought her drink up to her lips, already the fifth glass she was on and the effects of the alcohol that had already found it’s way into the vibrant selection of punches lines along the wall were already beginning to appear on her skin. Her face was flushing, a light ghosting of dusky pink over her cheeks as she grinned, her eyes clear but bright, her body never stilling, little light movements in time with the music that played as she dance in her place, almost unconscious of the movements as she held out her hand, three cups placed precariously in her hands, held together only by balance and Lunthe’s fingers. She waited for each of them to take a drink, watching Nephi’s eyes narrow as Ryker grabbed hers, the clear worry written over her face at the sight of the extraordinarily tiny girl taking the drink to her lips.

“Ryker, You sure you should drink that? You weren’t able to eat this morning Or afternoon.”

“She’s fine, Momma Bird, stop hovering over her. One night of drinking is fine, plus there lots of little finger foods over there she can nibble on.”

Lunthe jerked her head behind her, toward the other wall that held lots of station, different arrays of food that were all line of prettily on plates and platters, waiting for the large jocks to devour everything and make the caterers struggle to keep up wit the demand. Nephi’s eyes softened slightly, but her back straightened as she took her own drink to her lips, a light, embarrassed blush fluttering over her features.

“Someone has to worry, cause none of YOU seem to.” She tried to defend herself, valiantly as always, but it fell a little short at Lunthe’s little laugh, the buzz of the poison in her veins making everything feel bright and hazy.

So she wasn’t exactly a heavyweight like her sister. So sue her. She knew that alcohol didn’t affect her sister like it did her, where as five cups in this would have done nothing to her sister but it was already making her world just that bit more colorful and alluring. She didn’t mind being a light weight,as It made it all the easier to forget that she had come here alone because no one had bothered to ask if she wanted to go.

Lunthe was Popular. This much could be said without any sort of doubt. Lunthe was Popular,She was loved, she was adored by the masses of her school, for reasons both that had to do with school and without. She was a popular girl, a cheerleader and energetic theatre kid all rolled into one, the kind of girl that got invited to parties and had a hundred people blowing up her phone at any given time. People liked to talk to her, liked to hang out with her. There was no shortage of people who would kill to spend even a moment at her side.

But no one ever really Liked her, not in the ways she ever liked them. In all her seventeen years, Lunthe had not had one single person ever ask her any sort of dance, any sort of person ever confess a crush or feelings toward her, and any time she happened to have plucked up the courage to tell someone she had a crush on them, it was always met with a sympathetic pitying face and the start of an awkward separation of friendship. Over time, it became easier for her to avoid those feelings, notably most happening when she was young, and so the disappointment of not being asked never really stung so bad…. She was able to ignore it, ignore the slight stings as The girls around her got boyfriends and dumped them, a rinse and repeat process that never really started for her.

But this was prom, PROM NIGHT, Night of fulfilled memories and awkward, weirdly sentimental first times in hotel rooms that cost way too much, and despite her promise to not place herself in that sort of situation again, Here Lunthe was, Pining and yearning for someone who could not, would not like her back.

She didn’t see him here, she had noted that a while ago…. But that didn't really come as a surprise. She didn’t really expect him to come, not with how the rest of the school treated him, but she had been hoping maybe she could trick a dance out of him if eh had shown up, all the weird desire in her chest churning in disappointment.

Lunthe took another drink. She almost hadn’t shown up either, the pressure of being popular and arriving alone getting to her as everyone started to clamor about dates and pictures and limos, Her acquaintances asking who was taking her and her making up vague little excuses before she managed to brush the subject off, her throat closing with embarassed waves…. all of it was making her head swim as she fretted over stupid things.

In the end a little rum and a pep talk was all she needed to go, and now here she was bouncing on her feet as her lips split into a grin.

If nothing else, Lunthe loved a good party.

“Braithe~ My Love, My sister, My Darling!”

Lunthe moved, sliding over through the bodies of her friends to wind her arms around her twin, mirror image of her own face staring back at her with artificial brown strands falling into her face, carefully styled to keep it’s hold but still look natural.

She had done some damn good work.

“Last night was weird, for sure, but it’s nothing that hasn’t already been resolved. Nick is practically sobbing at Your feet to get your forgiveness, and Ryker is okay. So let’s drink,and make tonight a better one. ”

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

Heru Dhouti leaned back against the plush seat in the low-slung sports car and stared incredulously at his date, his hands wiping the debris off on the girl's white laced dress. He tapped a finger against the door's armrest, fingers sliding the window down. Excitement filled the air between the boys who were arriving but Neket’s voice was the only one to rise above all of them. There was a beautiful melody to his brothers voice, the happiness that laced through his words felt contagious as he opened the door to his car with one hand. The other came up to wipe at the blood that was beginning to settle on his lips, thumb brushing the liquid back into his mouth as he let multi colored eyes shift to the puppy like boy he called his twin brother.

“Nobody's going to forget them Neket… I know i didn’t.”

There was tilt to his voice as he spoke to his brother. His eyes gleaming in the same respect as Neket’s as he glanced at his twin. So engrossed in his plans that nothing could truly ruin his mood. Not even a sarcastic younger brother, those eyes just trapped him. Forced a smile to his own lips.

Inked fingers found their ways into his pockets, finding warmth in the shallow depths of the slacks.His fingers traced over the cold metal that clung underneath the thin cloth. The only part about this whole thing that felt too showy. But it was what Neket wanted. And who was he to deny a king.

There were very few things in life that Heru was not sure about. This plan being one of them. Really the plan here was to more make sure they got some sort of revenge on the beings that had made their lives a living nightmare. Not just to go in guns blazing and take them all out in one swift move. No they all wanted them to suffer. They all wanted some sort of retribution or at least acknowledgment from their fellow peers. A feat he was sure by the end of the night they would all be throwing at their feet. Not that any of his squad was going to listen. Another thing he knew for certain.

They were ruthless in their ascent. Knocking down who ever they wanted and who ever they needed in the last week. The last week felt almost like he was on top of the world. Like they were meant to be there from the very beginning. The gods had just been a little confused on their positions at first, but it had seemed that they had fixed their previous mistakes. So what could Heru say to that.

They knew where he stood, his rule to this low maintenance plan that they had thrown together so haphazardly. One that he hadn’t truly thought would be put into action, but here they were. Buttoning up their coats, slicking their hair back and trying for some reason to look some what appealing to these people. Something that without a doubt in his mind he knew they would all achieve.

Some of the girls were already flocking, their eyes on the men in awe and questions. Their dates seemed to stare in the same kind of awe. A trait that with this new found ‘power’ Heru found he could not really complain about. He could hear their shocked gasp, hear the small whispers. The doubt that they were who they thought.

A half cocked smile spilled over Heru’s lips. His eyes turning from his brothers to the small crowd, taking each of the gasping students in for a moment. Allowing them to bask in his gaze for a singular moment before he began forward, his hand extending out to the door while his eyes shifted back to the small group.

“Shall we get this started then?”

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

The taste of victory was sweet on his tongue, washing away all the bitter hate that used to cling to his throat in heated lumps and stinging eyes, that hate, the bile, the bitter sting falling to his gut to churn into something so much darker. His hands found his pockets, the door slamming behind him as he locked the newly acquired car he had added to his collection, the sleek black nearly blending into the shadows the trees about them created, his eyes flashing, his lips parting, gleaming white teeth sharp as razors in the moonlight.

His gaze fell to Neket, the power the coursed through him hot with a new feed and the tang of blood still lingering in his mouth making his lips part in a slight sigh, a thrum of energy under his skin that allowed him to roll his shoulders smoothly, easily, his expression softening, warming, but in the most lethal of ways.

“Everything will be to your liking, Your Majesty. There’s not a pawn out of place…” His voice was a purr, low, dark, unhurried even as he shifted his own hand to his pockets to feel the bit of cold metal into his flesh in several different places as he shook his head, allowing the long brown strands to fall about his face…. The ones not currently held back in a bun that he normally never cared to wear.

He moved, sliding past them, toward the doors of the Gymnasium that hed the practical entirety of his school, of the people who had long since pushed him past the breaking point and had decorated permanent scars along his ego and psyche, wounds that would never heal, and scars that would linger forever on his skin, times, moments, years they had taken everything he had and god Arsen had only wanted out.

He watched them as they took him in, watched them as the stunned awe hit them first, a low darkly pleasured growl boiling in his throat as he made his way in, only flaring as the recognition hit them second, the realization of who he was more pleasing than anything else he had seen so far. This gift, this ability, whatever it was that Neket had granted him just that week ago, made the heads of girls who had long since scorned him turn with lust painted over their faces like a whores make up, the men blinking as they tried to connect the scrawny boy who sat in the back of class and got good grades, a natural target for bullies to try and get him to, stereotypically do their homework.

More often than not he did it, if only to avoid the beatings and the bullying that was sure to follow a no.

He wasn’t that boy anymore. Arsen was no longer the kid they could push around and get what they wanted.

Arsen moved, his stomach full but his body taking him to the steam of cooking food and heated whispers, the area of the gym everyone seemed to be gathering with unspoken social cues. He moved easily, picking up foods he knew he liked, foods he was curious about, things he simply saw someone else wanted and he took so they could not have them. It brought him pleasure to know he had obtained something someone else had desired, knowing they felt a little of the disappointment he had known too intimately and deeply for nearly all his life. He moved with ease, gaze flickering to watch as his brothers, his friends slid along the floor to mingle, relishing in the way the people stared, the recognition that it was the class losers that had stolen their girls attentions.

Then his eye caught sight of a group he had slowly been getting to know, his eyes narrowing in on the one girl who had been on his mind consistently, for years now, her thin form standing out next to her friends, exceptionally tiny even in her beautiful dress that only accented everything he loved about her.

From the moment he first saw her, He had known she would be his downfall.

It was a quiet knowing, a soothing rush of river currents over a sunburn you obtained yesterday, the play of the sun heating your skin as you dipped into ice to allow the chill to sit and settle into your bones. He knew it like you craved that cold, knew that she would ultimately lead to the ruination of his character, had known that when his life changed again, because meeting her was something that had so effectively altered his life he could not say that meeting her was not a life changing event, That she woulds be at it’s center, the catalyst that started it all. She would be the reason his whole world turn upside down, the whole reason he would change everything, for better or worse.

He was not wrong, but what eh could say was she had changed his life in a way he hadn’t expected at all. Ryker Ecchevarria was most definitely a girl worth changing your whole life over. However, He had expected it to be for worse. There was something about Ryker that drew you in. She was small, but she made a huge impression. She was gorgeous, that much inarguable when you saw her, pretty pink lips pulled into smiles and bright golden eyes framed by ink black hair. She had flawless skin, laughter that made his knees weak and eyes that made his heart flutter in his chest. She was more than that though, devastatingly smart and funny and poise, sweet and kind and she tried so hard to to offend him it almost made him cry. She cared, she saw him, she saw him as Arsen, not as the kid who would do your homework and not as the kid who you should push around.

She was different from the usual…

She looks stressed.

He mused as he felt Neket move beside him, hand outs to clap against his back, his gaze following his to catch onto the small group of four that were huddled by the wall, lips splitting as he took in his own little addiction, the social media Queen of snapchat, Braithe Durendal.

“Do you think they saw us?” He asked, the childish, almost playful tone still lingering only his voice as he breathed out his words, looking up at the brunette as he cocked his head, tilted it to look overly curious.

“Oh i hope so.” He answered himself, that smile bordering on madness as he straightened and turned away from him.

“I hope they all saw. The spotlight suits me, don’t you think?” He asked, practically twisting on heel as he spread his arms out a little, eyes bright, flashing, razors and all lethal energy under the guise of friendly conversation. “ I think It suits all of us so much more then the shadows they tried to force us in.”

There was a pause, before, Neket laughed, legs bending slightly in over exaggerated gestures of joy. He moved, faster than eh should have to keep a low profile, eyes wide, on him as he took his face in his hands, forehead pressed against his as a suddenly serious look drifted over the Freckled kings features. He shook him slightly, lightly, with meaning, his gaze steady, clearer than he had ever really seen it.

“We’re going to get absolutely everything we deserve Arsen. Everything will be handed to us on golden platters simply because we wish it to be. Do not forget it.” The words were a his, spoken with such reverence and determination Arsen could feel his heart stumble and jump at the intensity of the words.

Neket moved, danced away, the twist of a fae’s smile on his lips, the Dark king in his ballroom.

“Enjoy yourself, Enjoy others, Enjoy that ice statue over there, I don’t judge! Tonight is The last night, before the rest. Of. Our. Lives...So make it your bitch!”

Neket thrived in the spotlight, Arsen mused, shaking his head at the excited king as he moved through the crowds, relishing in the way the girls clambered.

“Revenge brought out a demon in your brother.”

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

“For all my love birds out there, this is a special love song from the Dj to you.”

The Dj’s voice was loud, booming through the speaker systems so that everyone could hear him. His eyes searched over the crowd but he clearly couldn’t seen any of them their retinas probably burning from the blaring lights that were flashing in his eyes. Ryker had no sympathy for him, the boy had chose the position though she had warned him relentlessly that it was going to be hard on him., instead she let her own gaze fall back to the blonde that was strapping herself to her twin.

A sigh passed pink stained lips, gold eyes closing as she shook her head. Her thoughts shouldn’t have been so low but with her body the way it was right now. She knew there was no way to stay positive in this sort of situation.

“Five minutes in and it’s already about love birds and couples. Of course.”

Ryker sent her soft, whispery voice out over the airwaves, punched in the music, and stared up at the clock for the hundredth time.

Her head was shrieking at her, she had a sore throat, and she had wiped beads of sweat from her forehead more than once. She couldn’t even come up with decent dialogue for tonight's conversations between them all. The studious little sure to be harvard graduate was as sick as she could possibly be. She had been out of the hotel room for exactly two hours and she was ready to surrender.

Ryker rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the awful pounding. She had fallen asleep at six in the morning and, unusual for her, had slept most of the day away. The sore throat and headache had been with her from the moment she’d opened her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, you guys don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” she muttered resentfully. She had looked the epitome of health as she went off to start the weekend, but she had been distant. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Ryker was never distant, but she felt she was closed off to her friends, and she was never that. She sighed and laid her head against the cold of the cement wall, using her arms for a pillow. She was too sick to figure anything out.

Brian Hutton, her soundman, waved to her from the other side of the gymnasium, indicating the phone. When he mouthed the principal’s name, Ryker wrinkled her nose in distaste and shook her head. Just the idea of the louse increased the awful pounding in her temples. She was going to have to go home, crawl in bed, and hope she could fall asleep with the lights on.

She flipped a switch. “They told me it would be done when prom started,” she said with genuine regret. She had never missed a day of school, had never even been late. It meant nothing to her to be able to go to prom committee, however brief her stay always was. She liked having a clean record, knew they would think well of her after she left. But she moved, pushing through the crowd to the blonde that continued to beckon her over.

“You look like hell,” Brian informed her.

“Oh, thanks. I needed to hear that. Would you cover for me so I could go home and get some sleep?”

“Sure, Ryker,” he agreed sympathetically. “It’s just as well, the crazies are calling in tonight.”

Her fingers wrapped around the phone she had been reaching out for, and everything inside of her stilled. “What crazies, Brian?” She was exasperated and she knew it showed on her features no matter how hard she fought the expression down.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured. “I didn’t think you would be so upset over the news. We will get it under control if anything happens Ry. Just go home, get some rest. Don’t want your crush to see you looking like that.”

Ryker forced a laugh, forced her tense muscles to relax. “If they could only see me now.” But she would have to be more careful than usual. She’d grown too comfortable here. Too comfortable with Brian. “What did he want? The principal?”

“Nothing. He just wanted to see what was happening, how everything was going.”

Ryker breathed a soft sigh of relief, dropping her head into her hands. All she wanted was to crawl into a hole and hide.

Brian pressed closer to her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You’re burning up. You okay to drive? Or do you want me to call you a cab? I can drive you home.”

She patted his hand, shifting out from under him on the pretense of gathering her things together. “I’ll be fine, Brian, thanks. Rest, orange juice, chicken soup, I’ll be here tomorrow Monday with bells on.” She held up her car keys. “I didn’t lose them this time.”

He grinned at her. “That’s a shock. Wait for the security guard. You know how Nephie is about you wandering around in the parking lot alone this time of night. He’d have my job first, then my head, if I let you.”

“Poor Nep.” Ryker smiled at the thought of her in spite of the fact that even her teeth hurt. “She really thinks I’m a pack of trouble, doesn’t she?”

Ryker took out the little phone from her purse, clutching it in preparation to call Nephie and let her know about the current situation. There was way too many pressures right now.

“I’ll call her, don’t worry about it.”

Brian grinned at her. “She’s right too. Come on, I’ll walk you down.”

“Thanks, I’m fine, really, but next time you want to take a day off, do it on someone else’s shift. On some other guys shift, like the Dj, whatever his name is…” The boy said chucking a finger back to the man that Brian called his brother.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s a grump and a bore. Last night was no fun at all working with him.”

He grinned at her. “I’ll be sure to plan all my future days off around your schedule.”

She thumped his shoulder, knowing sarcasm when she heard it. The sound of vibration humming from the boys tux pocket. “My phones lighting up all over the place.”

He shrugged, uncaring. “Probably that nut. He’s called six times already tonight. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Might be,” Ryker agreed. “But on the other hand it could be our mighty boss. Ever think of that?”

Brian’s smile faded instantly. He was halfway through the gym by the time Ryker lifted a heavy hand to wave. She sighed running a hand down her neck as she sighed loudly. Her eyes shifting to the bar that she stood by, the smell of the food making her face turn in disgust. There was nothing in the slightest appealing to her on this table, her fingers coming up to press the cold of her phone to her lips. Trying to cover the expression.

There was a sharp turn on heels that were too high for her, her body shifting to turn away from the array of smells and smacking her straight into a brick wall. At least that’s what he felt like to her, her own body flinching from the impact, her head shrieking in protest to the pain. Thin fingers pressed her phone against the table, leaving it in its place so she could press cold fingers to the bridge of her nose. But her hand came up to wave lazily trying for the life of her to focus on the person in front of her.

“I’m sorry... Sorry. I should have watched where i was going.”

Gold eyes took in the burst of colors in front of her, allowing her eyes to roam over the well tailored suit, to the brown tendrils that dropped loosely onto his shoulders not stopping until they landed on violet eyes, smoldering. And she could feel her heart drop in her chest only to reappear in her throat. Those eyes were transfixed, and there was something in them that made her recoil, a fear jumping over her bones as she took a quick step back.

“Sorry! Sorry! So sorry,...”

Pale fingers reached out to snatch her phone, and run but she never got the chance her name a whisper between the two. She let gold eyes slowly flick back to the brown haired beauty that was in front of her. His smile drew her and forced her to suck in a breath, his teeth practically gleaming in the low lights of the thrumming prom. It took her a second, her eyes wandering over the man again.

“Ryker.”

There was an ache in his voice.

But that wasn’t what gave away who he was.

Ryker’s fingers clenched the edge of the table as she inhaled deeply Arsen’s distinctive male scent. It flooded her lungs and made her stomach do a strange little flip. He had been missing for a whole week, in one of her busiest weeks he had disappeared along with the rest of the squad he hung around, But now here he was, all smiles. Her mouth curved at the thought. He said her name and she could feel her already fragile heart flipping in her chest, but she loved his voice. The thought of it, of him solely talking to her, had a warmth spreading quickly through her entire body.

She took another breath, breathing in the heady aroma that she had grown so fond of, wondering whether she should leave immediately before she became obsessive over him, or stand there lost in him forever, slip him into her emergency pack so if she had to run fast she would always have him.

Arsen. He smelled so good all the time. He smelled safe and clean and so very male. With a little sigh she forced herself to back up. Having no idea what she was going to do with herself, she forced her body into motion, taking no time in throwing a smile over her lips, genuine, savoring the feeling of his gaze on her.

Now she wasn’t going to be able to get the boy out of her mind.

“Arsen! I’m glad you came,... you look incredible!”

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

Tonight…. God, Tonight was absolutely magical.

There was a feeling, a light hum of burning energy that simmered under Neket’s skin. It was like a livewire, bright and snapping with cracks of vicious electric energy that simmered under the surface of the whispers that were spreading around the room. It was burning, bright, a hum even more apparent when they had walked into the room. Part of it was the natural sensual bubble of promised anticipation that happened at any sort of event like this, the pressurized simple things that held more worth than they really should. There was a charge to it, a lacing ribbon of something otherworldly twisting into the seams of the night and pulling it all together, his heart elated at the sight of so many eyes on him, the thought the retribution at hand.

His fingers found his hair, shaking even as they moved, soothing back the black strands into the sort of messy slicked back style that seemed to be working for all the girls that were around him, the sound of their little hearts racing for something they shouldn’t want only adding to the almost giddy elation that had found it’s new home in his heart, his throat, his mind. He let out a breathy laugh as he twisted on heel, turning as he allowed the world to slow, taking in the pathetically attempted decorations and the contrasting with the phenomenal catering service the school seemed to choose to pour the entirety of the Prom budget into.

Everything was so different with a view from the top.

“Neket!” He heard her call, the vision of red hair flashing in his head as he turned, smile still in place as he took in the sight of Vivianne Strides, A girl who, just last week had told him off for touching her desk when he was falling and tried to catch himself so that he didn’t fall straight to the floor and hit his head after some random pushed him. He smiled wider as his hand came up, palm up and extended, something she delighted in as she placed her fingers along his, her face turning smug for only a second, her eyes flashing back to him. He lifted her hand to his mouth, lips never touching her hand, but instead breathing in, before he dropped her hand suddenly, like it burned him.

She looked flustered, but undeterred, at least, Until he moved, pulling out a handkerchief out of his pocket to rub along his hands, his eyes unbothered but his lips pulling slightly at the edges.

“You’re not supposed to touch trash with your bare hands, you know. My mother would beat my ass if she found out I had forgotten. She was such a strict woman, lovely when company was around, Smiles, perfect hostess ...beat me and my brother with rulers and starved us when we made noise, or breathed or make less than an A on a test.”

He shook his head fondly, leaning back to bend his legs again as he balled up the cloth in his hands, rolling his head as he straightened back up to look at her with an almost child like innocent expression. He leaned forward, his hand up over to the side of his face like he was sharing some sort of secret, his voice low, whispered only for her to hear.

“She also told me not to kill her, begged me really, but I did that too; I really was never good at listening, I have a real problem with authority.”

He spoke this with a nod, laughing as she pulled away, the laugh catching in his throat as she lifted her gaze to him, absolutely disgusted.

“You’re a fucking freak.” Her words stopped his laughter, expression falling as he narrowed his gaze on her. He reached out, careful that the handkerchief stayed between them as he pulled her to the side, into a darkened corner that no one was paying attention to. She attempted to scream, but her eyes caught his, a shifting blend of colors swirling in her eyes as he reached into her, the strange compulsion spell falling over her as he lifted his fingers to his lips.

“Shhhhhhhh……” He hushed her, low hiss sliding past his lips. His gaze stayed steady on hers, her breathing growing faster as she realized he held her there with nothing more then his gaze. His lips quirked, a light lift of a half smirk that fell before it could fully form, his mind clearly racing, flashing with the option to completely fall or to allow this new persona to fall through.

“You’re not to say a word, not one more noise is to leave you until I tell you otherwise. I want you to suffer, silently, Quietly, without notice...as I have for the past eighteen years….”

He took a step closer, her body taking a step back to hit the wall, her eyes tearing up as she watched him grin, watched his finger, still against his lip move, curl away from his mouth as he leaned down toward her. The ability flexed in him, the compulsion a vibration to his words, a low sensual growl as he purred them, commands directly into her.

“You will live, as I have. And you will say not a word. You will not leave, you will not scream, or cry, or sob, but you will be plagued by your worst nightmares.”

He saw it when the visions started to appear before her, dark light and fading fragments shattering in her eyes as the darkness started to overtake her. He watched her eyes for those few moments, losing the light of a happy life as her mind filled with her own horrible nightmares, mind trapped in an endless loops as she had to live her reality. He watched it because he recognized it, the soulless eyes that just barely passed as living, a mirror image of his own. He watched with that growing smile as she shook, trembled, taking a step back to enjoy it, enjoy her fear, the fear of a girl he had once feared himself. Her nightmares came to him like knowledge, things eh could block out if he wanted, but he simply smiled, before throwing the cloth at her.

“Here, i’m sure you’ll be needing it to clean yourself up later after twenty men corner you in the bathroom to gang rape your drunken ass. No need to thank me, all in the spirit of Prom, no? Don’t bother returning it, I don’t want to catch anything you might get.”

She stared at him wide eyed, as he pulled away, shrugging like he was honestly doing her a favor and it really was no problem. She shook as he waved, grinning as he took those steps away from her with a carefree wave.

“Enjoy your night!”

And he was gone, the sound of her knees hitting the ground as she silently screamed her despair into a void in her mind making the giddy happy feeling rise again. God it felt great to put the filth in their place, to put someone who had once made it a rather nasty point a state why no one would ever want to date him or ever even want him and had encouraged him to take out the problem in his life, which she had assure him, was himself, into such a state of distress all she could do was shake and silently cry.

Tonight was shaping up fantastically.

Neket moved, stepping back into the crowd, standing up to his toes as he took in a deep breath, the hum of blood making his mouth water. He allowed his gaze to move, slide over the people to catch heads or tails of someone he knew, be it bully, Friend or….

Braithe.

He saw her, was able to pick her out of the crowd easily. She wasn’t dressed like the rest of them, was never one to follow what the rest of the masses like but rather stayed very true to her own cares and needs. She was popular, Her and her sister But Neket had never really had much interaction with Lunthe, but rather most of his free time was spent with Braithe over the internet. She stood out blatantly, something that made his heart stutter as he looked at her, cheeks heating as he watched her bounce on her feet, looking around like she was looking for something as Ryker walked away and Nephi seemed to panic.

Desire hit him like a freight train, and before he knew it, he was moving, sliding through the people until he manage to sneak up behind her, Nephi not seeing him as she looked around, his hand sliding along Braithe’s waist to pull her back, into his chest. He was already moving,twisting them, turning her in his hands in easy moves that had her dress spring out and her words shifting, before he settled, his hand finding the divots of her waist, holding her as he lowered her, dipped her so she had to rely solely on him to not fall to the ground. His other hand pulled up her leg, fingers finding her thigh and pulling, holding her tightly to him. He grinned at her, lips pulled into a half smirk, eyes flashing as he looked her over.

“Good Morning Beautiful… Well, Technically goodnight, but I have about a week of greetings to make up for.” He spoke easily, playfully even as he gave her a slow burning look that only grew the longer he looked at her. He purred his next words, a rumble of need in his voice that wasn’t present before, a longing only ever apparent for her.

“Did you miss me?”

145 notes · View notes

justmecarefree33-blog · 7 years

Text

Bechloe Fic Preview

So... I wrote a thing. It’s kinda long, so this is really only the preview. The rest I will link to my FanFiction/AO3 accounts for the rest of your reading pleasure. Let me know what you think, yeah?

"You know what you need? A dog."

Beca glanced up from her phone, mouth still full of chicken burrito goodness, giving Stacie an eyeful when she mumbled, "Whhaa?"

Stacie shrugged, taking a sip of her water. "I said you need a dog."

"I know what you said, Stace. I meant it like 'what the hell do you mean I need a dog?'"

"I think you should get a dog because it'd be good for you."

Beca snorted. "Yeah, no. Not gonna happen."

"Aw, c'mon Becs!"

Beca shot her a warning glare. "I don't do animals." Her tone implied it was the end of the conversation but Stacie paid no head to the shorter girl's stink eye.

"Hear me out, okay? You just moved into your first condo-"

"Correction: I've been living there for almost three weeks now and I had an apartment before-"

"Well sure, but you were living with Jesse then, and now that you're single and alone in that big ol' condo of yours, you should get a dog to keep you company. You know, for when your best friend ain't around!" Stacie shot her a wink.

Beca smirked. "Really now? I didn't know Fat Amy was in town." Stacie's jaw dropped and Beca laughed.

"You cut me deep, Becs. Real deep."

Beca shrugged, shaking her head. "But really though. No dog."

"But Beca dogs are so cute! They're cuddly, friendly, fluffy, total sweethearts…" Stacie insisted, twisting her lips in thought. "Yeah you could definitely use a dog to mellow out all of this," she said, gesturing to the frowning musician. Beca flipped her off in return.

Stacie snickered. She leaned forward suddenly, lowering her voice to a husk. "Plus, chicks dig puppies." Stacie winked again, laughing when Beca's cheeks grew ruddy. Beca threw her face into her palms with a groan.

"Stacie, you're my best friend whom I love like 'the sister I never wanted'," Stacie reached across the table to slap Beca's arm. "But I'm not getting a dog just to find myself a girlfriend. Jesse and I broke up like a month ago and I just…I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

Stacie Conrad (self-appointed best friend and unofficial "sister from another mister") was no stranger to the ways and wiles of Beca Mitchell. They had been best friends since birth. They grew up together, watched out for each other, and had one another's backs all through high school. Beca had been there for Stacie's pregnancy scare back in sophomore year and Stacie had been there for Beca when the tiny deejay started to question why she found the girl in her trig class more attractive than James Jackson, the (questionably) hottest guy in their school.

She had been devastated when Stacie moved down to Georgia for college while she was shipped up to Boston with her father, but they never lost touch and spent every summer together. Back when she told her best friend she had feelings for a guy named Jesse (even when Beca had spent her senior year of high school finally some-what comfortable being known as the 'mysterious gay alt-chick with the awesome mixes') Stacie just took it all in stride. Then again, Stacie was bisexual and knew what it was like to occasionally bat for both teams—once at the same time, or so she had bragged to Beca the morning after. Beca had hung up mid-conversation when she heard someone moaning in the background. Seriously, Stacie had no shame.

"Who said anything about a relationship? Like I always say Becs, the best way to get over someone old is to get under someone new." Stacie wiggled her eyebrows, sporting her signature toothy grin. "But if you're not interested in chasing tail, so to speak, I'll be more than happy to step in for you."

Beca groaned. "Jesus dude like what the hell? You want me to get a dog so you can use it to find your next… sexcapade? No, just- just no. That's like, animal cruelty, or something."

Stacie huffed but finally relented, leaning back into her seat and grabbing her fork to finish her salad. "Fine. Just so you know, you're the worst wing-woman ever, Becs. Like… ever. But that's alright because I love you."

Beca rolled her eyes and the two went back to their meals in silence. After a minute Stacie looked up through her long dark lashes and grinned. "I still think you should get a dog."

It was true when Beca had said she "didn't do animals". Or rather animals just didn't do her. Perhaps both.

Her mother had a cat when Beca was younger (meanest bastard alive), and after being attacked by that goat at the petting zoo when she was ten, she had essentially sworn off all animals in general.

And really who could blame her? Animals were messy and smelly. They needed to be trained (unless you wanted poopy carpets and chewed up shoes) and constant supervision lest the damn thing wander off and get stuck under the bed or something. Not to mention dogs basically barked all the time and Beca valued her silence more than anything, especially when she was mixing.

If she wanted to deal with all of that then why not just adopt a toddler for crying out loud!

So no, she wasn't getting a dog. Stacie could suck it.

It would seem, however, that fate had other plans.

She was walking home after her shift at Residual Heat, the record label she had just started working for, still without a car and having decided against the bus to avoid any more potentially fatal run ins with the crazy old lady she had sat next to that morning.

She was wearing her headphones, more focused on the mix currently playing than what was in front of her. When she rounded the corner her nose nearly kissed the pavement tripping over some kind of animal cage. Luckily the cage was empty and Beca managed to stay on her feet (granted her big toe hurt like a mother), but the noise had caught the attention of the two employees standing in front of the pet store. Furthermore, now one of them was walking her way.

Despite her dark appearance, perpetual scowl, and "don't fuck with me" attitude, Beca did in fact possess the ability to be polite (really only when necessary), and she knew it would have been rude to just ignore this girl.

Damn. She'd been less than ten minutes from home too.

Beca begrudgingly pulled off her headphones to dangle loosely around her neck and gave a tight-lipped smile to the grinning blonde striding up to meet her.

"Hi there!" (Oh dear god, one of those people? Should she just keel over now or suffer through attempting to talk to this girl and ultimately die from her own awkwardness?) "Would you like to hear about our adoption program today?"

Beca would have answered that no, she did not want to hear about their adoption program today or any day or anything regarding animals for that matter, thank-you very much. But, as per usual and because she was just so excellent talking to random people on the street, her words jumbled around inside her mouth before she could even get them out. Which was fine because the blonde was pressing on with or without Beca's approval.

"It's national Adopt a Pet Day, but here at Barden's Pet-a-Tete we've turned it into Adopt a Pet Week!" She gestured to the various cages and dog pens before turning back to Beca with a sad smile. "All these little guys here come from a pound in Atlanta. They need good, loving homes, otherwise the pound will take them back to be euthanized by the weeks end."

The blonde suddenly looked at her, all big doe eyes and pouty lips, silently begging the question Beca was hoping to avoid. She gulped, palms sweating, suddenly nervous this girl could see straight into her 'non-pet-loving' soul.

"Jessica, please, I doubt she needs to hear all that," the second girl said, wandering over to Beca and Jessica, carrying two puppies in her arms. The brunette smiled politely at Beca and handed the bigger puppy to Jessica who at least had the decency to look apologetic. Beca was thankful for the interruption.

Despite her aversion to animals, Beca was indeed a sucker for pouting puppy-dog eyes (how ironic). It was pretty much how Jesse got her to go on a date with him way back in their first year of college. That big dope just had to have the sweetest looking pout she'd ever seen and after she eventually caved and went out with him, he knew he could get away with so much because of that look. (That bastard.)

"Sorry, Ash. I know we still have time and more than half of the dogs have been adopted already, it's just that I want these guys to go to awesome homes. Like now! Aw Ashley, can we keep this one? Please!"

Jessica's puppy was some large breed dog from what Beca could tell and was happily licking the blonde's face into slobbery oblivion, waving his tail back and forth in a mad blur. Jessica started giggling when the pooch began nipping at her hair, trying to climb up her chest to get better access with a surprising amount of success.

Ashley shook her head with a small smile, turning to Beca. "Would you mind holding this one while I pry my girlfriend free?"

Beca, who was watching Jessica being (gently) mauled by the beast in her arms, nearly jumped when a tiny bundle of fur was stuck under her nose. Ashley was already turning to help Jessica and Beca had no choice but to grab the puppy from her unless she wanted to be responsible for dropping the poor thing.

She wasn't all that familiar with dog breeds (she could at least tell you the difference between a black lab and golden retriever) but she was pretty sure the little pooch in her hands was a beagle. Its underside was white with a mix of tan and black patches on its back, and two black ears that were far too large and floppy for its tiny head. Beca tried to adjust her grip and was suddenly nose to wet black nose with the pup.

"She's the last of her litter." Beca glanced over at a messy-haired Jessica, having been freed from the puppy's assault while Ashley put him away with two others that looked just like him. She smiled at Beca.

"The littlest one there was. She can be a little shy and timid, which is probably why she hasn't been adopted yet, but she's an absolute sweetheart and just loves her teddy." Jessica grabbed a tiny teddy bear from a nearby cage and handed it to Beca as little puppy teeth gently latched onto the bear's ear.

The beagle growled playfully when Beca gently tried to tug the bear away. Had she been aware of it, and not giving her fullest attention to the fuzzball in her arms, she would have felt her lips twitch with mirth… as if she were about to smile. (Oh dear god, the horror. She was so screwed.)

"What's her name?" she asked.

Jessica's smile widened and Beca realized her mistake, too little too late. "Whatever you want it to be."

Beca sputtered. Struggled to say something, anything. To give the dog back and run away as fast and as far as she could. She told Stacie "no dogs" and damn it, she meant it!

Ashley, almost nonchalantly, called over her shoulder, "You know, all store purchases are 50% off with every adoption. And you get an additional discount on every bag of dog food you buy from here for the next three months."

Beca could practically here the smile in Ashley's voice and if it was anything like the one Jessica was beaming at her then it was hopeless.

Well fuck.

So much for her "no pets" policy.

Read the rest here or here and let me know what you think. Here’s to 2017 Pitches!

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #stacie conrad #jessica #ashley #jessley #Chloe the Pupper #becahood we met a girl #pitch perfect #ficpost

5 notes · View notes