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thedragonnerd · 3 years

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Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #rayamaari #this was supposed to be a headcanon #but it all was just like 'hello must get out of the brain'#some fluff to keep you guys happy #while i work on the concept au angst

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thotful-writing · 3 years

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Descending into Darkness (1)

Summary: Kylo Ren's fury is known across the galaxy, his ruthlessness is unmatched, and unchecked for far too long. The Finalizer may not survive another outburst if his rage isn't sated. Kylo makes a request of his officers, find him a nobody, a distraction he can use at his will. An exchange of credits leads to your purchase, securing your place at Kylo's feet to satisfy his every whim. Will you make it out alive or will you be pulled down into the dark depths of depravity with him?

Warnings: Force choking, degradation, blowjob, NSFW

On AO3

Words: 6.7k

A/N: Smut? Porn? Shameless and explicit. Slow start in this first chapter, but things definitely pick up. Thank you to @supremeleadershitlord for being my most amazing beta reader.

Also, thanks for reading in advance! :)

Knotted fingers sat heavily in your lap, anxiety unfurling in the pit of your stomach as you remained silent. A gift. Obedient. Docile. The variance of words flitted through your mind, the words they’d used when they first approached the shop. Of course, Kil Zota, your most recent owner, was only too happy to nudge you towards the First Order officers when he heard the price they were willing to pay. In the years you’d been with him, you knew he would’ve sold you for much less, but he was quick to sing your praises and showcase your skills in obeying orders. He had been looking for a reason to downsize, always said there were too many mouths to feed even though he barely fed any of you.

Kil shoved you to the forefront the second he saw them approaching with their fine pressed uniforms and not a hair out of place. He gave them the whole over the top spiel, your skillset with fixing equipment and tech, how he’d barely heard you speak two words the entire time he had you, which they ate up, but they didn’t seem fully interested in your usefulness as much as your background. Perfect. The officers said with grins that made your skin crawl. The rest was nothing more than a blur of exchanging credits and objects, which included you and the rags you called clothing.

There was no point in fighting, not outright anyways. You’d been on Tatooine for years, too many to count, but enough to know you wanted out. You begged for the chance, the opening that let you slip away. You would’ve preferred an opening with less restraints, but you couldn’t be choosy. As far as owners, being purchased by the First Order didn’t seem like the absolute worst thing, although you still didn’t know what exactly they wanted with you.

“Think this is really going to help?” One of the officers asked as he took his seat in the front of the transporter.

“We’ve already had to repair six control panels on the bridge this week, not to mention the elevator. And the Commander made this specific request, I won’t be the one to question him.” The other officer glanced back at you.

“But this seems… extensive, just to stave off his rage? She’s-” He kept his voice low, but not low enough for you not to hear.

“He said find a nobody, she’s as nobody as they come. He destroys this one and no one’s going to come asking questions.”

They simultaneously talked as though you were and weren’t there, both arguing their point while they still headed in the direction of your destination. It wasn’t that you weren’t afraid, scared for what came next, but you had no way of avoiding it and it made no difference whether you cried or screamed to be taken back. You shifted in your restraints, feeling the heaviness of the cuffs weighing on your wrists. You wondered if they were to be a permanent fixture.

The transporter came to a slow as it docked with your destination, anxiety in full bloom now as it filled your stomach. The ramp of the transporter lowered slowly, adding to the build up to reveal your destination. As soon as the ramp lowered the rest of the way, you took a step forward, taking it all in. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen. A vastness that was greater than what your imagination conjured up when junkers spoke of discarded Federation ships from the old days. Hurried boots marched across the sleek floor, moving in unison as uniformed officers and stormtroopers made their way past you.

Life buzzed across the hangar, people hurrying to their next position while you waited on a breath for yours. You knew there were humans beneath the bulbous helmets, but they seemed so mechanical with their movements. In fact, all of them did. Every uniform that passed by you seemed devoid of any emotion or difference that would indicate they were more than an empty shell.

“Keep moving.” One of the officers nudged you forward down the ramp.

Sleek corridors matched the hard, sleek floors, decked in black and silver, contrasted only by the blinking red lights that peppered the panels. The chill in the air bit and nipped at your warm skin, a vast difference from the heated breeze on Tatooine. You took in your surroundings, however monochrome and unforgiving they seemed to be as you were pushed onward.

“Wait here.” The officer said as he paused outside of a large, framed door.

The officer finished entering a code on a small, numbered pad on the wall, causing the doors to open with a whir. They were hurrying you inside and shoving you forward through the room and without a word you complied.

“She does speak, right? Or at least understand English?” One of the men asked.

“You,” the other snapped his fingers, bringing your attention back to them, “say something.”

You hesitated, it wasn’t often that you were asked to speak, “um… yes, I can speak, actually-”

“Good. Now, when the Commander comes-“

The doors behind them slid open before he could give you an order.

A wall of muscle and thick, onyx clothing stood just inside the doorway, his presence demanding immediate attention. He had to be at least two feet taller than you and he looked as though he could break you in half. Without an introduction, you knew him by appearance alone. Dark, obsidian hair fell around his face, simultaneously disheveled and well kept, easily framing his intense gaze that revealed nothing but the fury rising within him. He glanced at the two officers and then to you, his gaze moving cautiously up and down while you stood completely frozen. He hadn’t said a word, but you were already intimidated by him, your heart beating in your throat.

“Comman-“

In the split second they opened their mouths to speak, he had them both flung against the opposite wall, gasping for air and fighting to be free of his hold. You stepped back suddenly, jolted by his complete disregard for what they had to say.

“You were to leave her here.” He centered in on you, keeping the men on the edge of consciousness without touching them.

You’d heard stories of his powers with the Force, wielding it with ease and bending grown men to his will with the twitch of his fingers. Seeing the demonstration up close was far more terrifying than you thought it would be. He released them instantly, letting them fall to the floor as they choked and fought to fill their lungs. He stepped towards you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Commander, we thought-“ The officer was cut off immediately with another twitch of his fingers.

“We wanted to make sure she remained, sir!” The other cried out before he met the same constricted fate.

The Commander released the other officer, “if either of you step foot in my quarters again, you’ll be jettisoned from the ship. Leave.”

They muttered apologies and tripped over one another as they left, both of them coughing and trembling. The door opened and closed quickly, leaving you to sit in the heavy silence between you and the Commander. He flicked his fingers again, this time releasing your wrists from the burdensome cuffs, letting them fall with a thud to the floor.

He remained silent and barely acknowledged your presence as he stalked by to head into another room. The anxiety had moved from your stomach to fully disburse throughout your entire body, which only added to the way you trembled from the cold that had enveloped you. You dared not move from your spot, fearing you’d suffer the same harsh fate as the officers.

His quarters were simple, in similar fashion as the corridors, monochrome but darker. Everything was shiny, clean, not a trace of sand or dirt, in complete contrast to what the last several years of your life had been.

A few moments passed and he returned, bulky, encompassing clothing removed, leaving him in only a t-shirt and pants that stretched to fit his massive, solid legs.

He paced around you with heavy steps, “Tatooine. Servant or scavenger?”

“Both, I suppose. I belonged to a junk trader.” You couldn’t rid yourself of the unease, feeling like you were being stalked like prey.

He stopped in front of you, “do you know who I am?”

You swallowed hard, knowing exactly who he was. There wasn’t a person in the entire galaxy that didn’t know him based off his frightening presence. Everything you’d heard about him was true but didn’t prepare you for the intensity that you felt the second he stepped into the room, how he sucked the air from your lungs with a glare.

“Commander of the First Order. Kylo Ren.”

“Not completely useless then.” His jaw tensed as he regarded you, taking you in.

His stare was unnerving, and it made you miss being invisible on Tatooine, ignored and disregarded easily. Being the center of attention was odd but being the center of his attention was daunting.

Kylo stepped around you to the seemingly untouched couch behind you, “let’s see what they’ve brought me.”

You followed his movements and turned to face him, knotting your fingers together in front of you. He sat back on the couch and outstretched his arms along the back of it, legs spread wide as he seemed to be waiting for you.

You were confused, “um, what do-“

“Was I mistaken before or-?” He snapped harshly, “get on your knees and do what you were brought here to do.”

You took a timid step towards him and lowered yourself to your knees. You dropped your gaze from his, wanting to avoid the intensity of his eyes that seemed to have an endless fury behind them. He let out another exasperated sigh and began unbuttoning his pants.

“A waste of credits.” He said as he pushed his pants down enough for his cock to spring free.

Your heart nearly leapt into your throat at the sight of him, long, thick, already hard in the palm of his hand. He leaned forward and grabbed the back of your head, pulling you forward.

“Get to it.”

Being bought and sold across planets had given you a unique experience, visiting different places, meeting new people, but it left you lacking in some areas. The opportunity for sex had presented itself, but your life had been centered around survival, not pleasure. You chewed your lip as you looked at his length, veins running up the underside of his cock, wrapping around. You knew what he wanted, what was expected of you, but you didn’t even know where to start. With your tongue? Hand? Maybe your whole mouth at once? You decided to just go for it. You leaned forward but before your tongue could make contact with the tip of his cock, he shoved you back.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He said with a harsh scoff, “you have no idea what you’re even doing, do you?”

He stuffed his cock back into his pants and buttoned them, “Imbeciles. What am I supposed to do with you? I gave them specific fucking instructions.” He stood up and stepped around you.

You remained in the floor, feeling like you’d already disappointed him within the few seconds of meeting him. Your eagerness wasn’t to please him, but to keep your life long enough to possibly live it without restraint.

You scrambled to your feet, “wait, I can be useful. I can do other things for you, I can be your servant, clean, cook, repair damage you’ve-“ You stopped before you said more.

“I see the officers have been chatting about me.” He turned back.

You felt like you continued to shove your foot in your mouth the longer you were there, “no- I mean, they mentioned the control panels. And the elevator.”

“Prove your worth and I’ll consider letting you stay.” He said.

You sighed in relief, hoping you could keep yourself from making anymore major mistakes. He seemed to have a short fuse and you really didn’t want to push him to his limit.

Kylo set your ground rules, which included the advice that you be seen and not heard. Your responsibilities were to keep everything in his quarters clean and spotless, which seemed easy enough. He expected you to mend his tattered and torn clothing and repair any damage he caused from here on out. It wasn’t a perfect situation and he seemed almost disgusted with your presence, but you were grateful for his mercy.

He stopped abruptly and turned, “mercy? Is that what you think?”

“Um… no, sir, I just-“ You took a timid step back from him.

He stepped closer, staring at you until your back hit the wall behind you, “I am not merciful.”

He was mere inches from you, raising his hand slightly, a pressure wrapped around your throat without his touch. His jaw tensed as the tightness around your throat grew, the pressure cutting into your airways and forcing you to swallow the bubble of air that was caught in your throat.

Your lungs spasmed, begging for relief as you grabbed at your throat, trying to claw your way to a breath, “p-please… sir-“

When he finally released you, you fell to the ground, knees hitting hard on the polished floor, gasping and choking as air filled your lungs once more. Your eyes watered as you glanced up to see him fixed on you. You started to question how long you’d survive if he could hear your thoughts.

“You belong to me now, right? My property?” He asked.

“Y-Yes, sir.” You coughed as you rubbed your throat, confused.

He grabbed your arm harshly and yanked you up to your feet, “then it’s time I inspect my property. Thoroughly. Strip.”

Your eyes shot up at him, “w-what?”

“I won’t repeat myself. Do as you’re told.” He took a step back from you.

You grabbed the hem of your shirt hesitantly, pausing for a brief moment before lifting it up over your head. You were reluctant to drop it, wanting to cover yourself with it still, but he snatched it from you and threw it aside. The cold air bit at your skin, sending goosebumps across your chest and making your nipples harden.

This wasn’t merciful, it was cruel. He was cruel.

Keeping your eyes fixed on his, you moved on to your pants, fumbling with the button. You simultaneously wanted to draw this out and keep some of your dignity, and to get it over with. It felt humiliating being in front of him this way, his focus completely on you.

“What dignity?” He scoffed.

It was disarming knowing he could root around in your thoughts freely without you knowing. It seemed like a breach of your privacy, not even your thoughts were yours anymore.

“I own you and your thoughts. Finish.” He crossed his arms as he waited.

When you pushed your pants down and stepped out of them his eyes moved hungrily up and down your body, slowly, deliberately as if he was silently criticizing every inch.

“I am.” He said, making you even more self-conscious.

Your entire body shuddered, shivering while he took you in. He brought his hand up and skimmed his fingers along the side of your breast before brushing his thumb over your hardened nipple. A sharp inhale of breath passed your lips as he touched you, the warmth from his fingers working to ease the cold that had set in. His other hand mimicked the first, soft and warm against your skin, which sent a heat pooling between your thighs.

“Not a complete disappointment. I would’ve enjoyed breaking this little body of yours.” He dropped his hands from you with a sigh.

There was a part of you that leaned forward, hoping to earn another brush of his fingers, a slight touch in some way. You shook your head, pushing out the thought of wanting a lingering touch from him, it was ridiculous. There were a plethora of reasons you should want to recoil from him and refuse his touch, but here you were, silently hoping for more. Confusing.

In the days following your arrival you fell into a routine quickly. He stayed away for most of the time, making you wonder if it was because of you or if this was his norm. Either way you preferred it to the opposite. Kylo’s absence was more than enjoyable for you. Your mornings consisted of cleaning and completing whatever chore he set out for you that day, but the afternoons were for you. It was a small glimpse of your freedom, doing as you pleased without command.

He left you with limited access to the various devices at his disposal. The holoscreen for entertainment, codes for the food replicator, and a data pad for research purposes. You requested clothing as well, but he only returned with three options, a short grey dress with pockets, a short grey dress without pockets, and a black one that looked more like a tank top than a dress, but he insisted it was a dress. You half wondered if he was just fucking with you, but you decided not to question him on it.

You decided on the dress with pockets, the grey fabric mimicking that of the First Order uniforms you’d seen, just without the rank or embroidery around the hems. It wasn’t the most unflattering thing you’d worn and it was definitely better than the sand stained rags you came in with.

The data pad he’d left for you held the vast amount of knowledge about the First Order and anything else you would ever want to know. He mainly provided it so you could research First Order tech and electrical repairs, but you took advantage of it. You spent hours scrolling through it, searching the database, learning whatever you could about your new placement. You settled into your role easily with minimal presence on his radar.

The longer you were there the more bits and pieces of him you picked up along the way. He was particular, specific in the way he liked things.

His cold stare and awkward silence made you question every move you made, even the smallest things.

“Redo it. This time actually put effort into it.” He pulled the sheets off his bed and left the room.

Bastard. You thought to yourself.

Suddenly your throat started to constrict, closing in and making you struggle for a breath. You glanced back to see him walking down the hall, his fingers curved slightly by his side.

Another lesson learned, keep insults to yourself without actually thinking them. Which was harder than it sounded.

His moods were based purely on how others reacted to him. He had the body and strength of a full adult, but the emotional tolerance of a child. Of course, not something you’d ever point out to him, not if you wanted to keep living.

It was becoming a habit of gauging his moods based off how he entered the room. If he was silent, he was content. If stormed in with a frustrated sigh, he was annoyed. But if he threw his heavy mask at the wall just as he stepped through the door, then he was furious and it was in your best interest to avoid him.

You flinched when you heard the main door open, signaling his return. You waited on bated breath, listening for the telltale sign of his mood, but it didn’t come, not in the way you’d heard before anyways. You realized you were still seated in his room as you’d taken a break to read through more of the Finalizer’s schematics. You could hear him muttering something but couldn’t make it out as you placed the data pad down and moved towards the door. You hesitated to come out of the room, not wanting to endure any of his anger, but you couldn’t remain there either.

With hesitant steps you tiptoed out of the room, careful not to make too much noise. You kept your gaze set ahead as you passed by the living room, hoping he was somewhere else entirely. A sound pulled you from your path, another person’s voice mixed with his, a woman. You peaked around the corner and froze. His eyes locked with yours as he sat back on the couch, in similar position from your first meeting with him, but he wasn’t alone. A woman was seated next to him, a Sergeant from the rank pinned to her uniform. She was beginning to unbutton her coat when she noticed you. Her eyes flitted to you and then back to him, her mouth opening slightly to question your presence.

“Continue. Just ignore her.” He said, still keeping his gaze on you.

She finished undressing and slid into the floor between his long legs, running her hands up his thighs before unbuttoning his pants. Her hair was dark, almost the same as his, pulled back in a long braid that draped down the curve of her spine. You could have stopped at any time, walked away and went on about your work, but your feet weren’t moving. Mainly because you weren’t telling them to.

She pulled his cock free and leaned forward, flicking her tongue over the tip. A low groan escaped his lips, awakening something within you, something that made you want to earn that sound from him yourself. A smirk ghosted his lips as he looked at you, making you blush immediately at the realization that he’d heard you. You hurried out of the room and back to yours, trying to make your mind blank again as you did.

Sand. Dry sand. Sand. Sand.

You repeated to yourself as you returned to your room, imagining the sand dunes on Tatooine, pushing all thoughts of him and the Sergeant from your mind.

You closed the door behind you and crawled onto your cot, heart pounding in your throat. It took everything you had to silence your thoughts, trying desperately to hold focus on something else, anything else. You squeezed your thighs together, needing some relief from an ache that had settled along with the flush in your cheeks. For a split second you thought about making yourself come to ease the need, but you quickly shoved the thought out, knowing he could probably hear you and was most likely laughing to himself about it.

Every now and then you’d pick up more sounds from them, a barked order from him, telling her what to do and at what pace to do it, or a loud moan or yelp from her. It was frustrating and enticing. You buried your head under your pillow, trying to ignore it until they finished, which was easier said than done. You were in a constant battle of controlling your own thoughts and trying to ignore them.

Time ticked by and it felt like they’d been going at it for hours. At some point you fell asleep, exhausted from the day and the events that had transpired, but your mind continued to race. Your dreams were chaotic, fleeting from one thing to the next, leaving you tossing and turning in your sleep.

Beg for your master, Pet. Kylo stood before you, hands clasped behind his back as you stared up at him, pink cheeks and drool dripping down your chin.

The sound of your door opening abruptly pulled you from your sleep instantly. You sat up, barely registering where you were for a second as you took a moment to regain full consciousness. You squinted your eyes, blinded by the light from the hallway until you adjusted. The silhouette of Kylo came into focus, pants barely hanging off his perfect hips, dips and dimples in the right places, leaving you distracted.

“Master? Pet? Even in your sleep you’re insufferably loud. Stop.” He pulled you from your preoccupied thoughts.

You swallowed hard, and looked up at him, realizing it wasn’t only your thoughts he could hone in on, “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll try to um… dream quieter.”

“Do or don’t sleep.” He closed your door and left.

You sighed and laid back down, utterly confused by your dream and why your mind seemed to be completely enamored by someone who appeared to despise your existence. Not to mention the way your body was responding to him, intensely attracted to him, an ache between your thighs followed by soaked panties that left you feeling helpless, especially with him around.

You knew Kylo was dangerous, a black hole that would swallow you up if you got too close, but you were curious and not smart enough to keep your distance. During the time where he was gone, you let your thoughts run wild, untamed, knowing he couldn’t hear you all the time. Or assuming he couldn’t and hoping he wouldn’t bring it up later.

Your fantasies always returned to your dream; on your knees, staring up at him, and calling him Master. She called him that, the Sergeant, but he didn’t call her his pet, nor any other term besides the normal derogatory slut and whore. She didn’t seem to mind it and from what it sounded like, she actually enjoyed his harshness. A twinge of jealousy began to settle within you, hoping he wouldn’t bring her back again. You began to wonder if you’d ever enjoy being called those names, imagining him saying it to you while he touched you in the most perfect ways. But it wasn’t like he would, he wanted nothing to do with you since you were so inexperienced.

The loud thud of his helmet signaled his return once more, making you jolt and hurry to finish your work for the day. You scurried out of the bathroom after replacing the linens, keeping your gaze to the floor to avoid eye contact and giving away any lingering thoughts.

“Stop.” He snapped at you as you walked by him.

You halted in place, refusing to look back, “sir?”

“Look at me.” He demanded with a snap of his fingers.

You turned around slowly and lifted your gaze to meet his, chewing on your lip nervously. He disarmed you with his glowering gaze fixed directly on you, which you assumed was his aim. He had to know how he affected you.

“Five nights. For five nights I’ve had to listen to your lust filled dreams and the whining whimpers that poured from that mouth. For five nights I’ve gone without decent sleep.” He tensed his jaw as he stared down at you.

“I’m sorry, sir. I-I really don’t mean to- I can sleep during the day when you’re not here if that would help?”

“What would help is if you weren’t so unbelievably pathetic.” His tone was short, and you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

You noticed the darkness around his eyes, knowing he wasn’t lying about the sleeplessness. Which would also explain the even worse mood he’d been in over the last few days. You immediately stopped thinking when he narrowed his eyes at you. Your mind had always been your escape and now it wasn’t safe.

“Sorry.” You said meagerly.

“You want me to fuck you.” He said simply.

Blood immediately rushed to your cheeks, “sir, I- No, I-It’s just a dream.“ You shook your head, stumbling over words to try and deny it while your mind screamed ‘yes’.

“All you have to do is ask.” He crossed his arms, biceps bulging more from beneath his t-shirt, doing nothing to quell the heat rising within you.

“Ask?” You shifted in place, suddenly feeling more overwhelmed than you had before.

Kylo moved around behind you, his large hand curling around your throat as he pulled you back against his broad chest, muscles rippling and tensing against your back. It was the first time he’d actually touched you since he ‘inspected’ you, more than shoving you away or yanking you around by your arm. Your breath hitched in your throat the second he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Just ask, but know that I won’t be gentle with you, pet.” His fingers flexed at the base of your throat.

It felt like your mind had shut down for a moment, stuttering and running through all possibilities as you considered his offer. He was pressed against you, giving you the key to what your dreams had been fixated on, what your mind hadn’t been able to forget.

“Ask.” He said a little more roughly, squeezing your throat with his large hand.

His breath was hot against your ear, each syllable only adding to the warmth that seeped between your thighs and made you desperate to push back against him.

“Sir, I-“ You had no idea how to even ask for it.

“You’ll beg me soon enough, when you’re truly desperate. When your thighs are trembling for my touch and your cunt aches for my cock, more than it does now. You’ll ask me to show you how good it can feel. You’ll ask me to use you.” He whispered into your ear, releasing you suddenly and stepping away.

His touch was dizzying, pulling you in and simultaneously shoving you away. He made you crave him, addicted without so much as the brush of a fingertip. Your mind whirled with questions, why he kept you, why continue to taunt and tease you only to mock you for it later. It was all frustrating.

Before you could convince yourself it was a bad idea, the word came out with a harsh sigh, "why?"

The muscles in his back tensed just before he turned around, "why what?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, chastising yourself already, "why um... why do you keep playing with me?"

"I'm merely entertaining myself at your pathetic expense. I thought I was clear about that?"

"It's not fair. If you're going to kill me then do it, if you're going to fuck me then do it. I can't keep waiting for one or the other." Where this sudden confidence came from, you had no idea, but if these were your last seconds of life then you were going to take full advantage of them.

"You act as though those are my only options." He raised his hand, encircling your throat with the Force once more.

"I could kill you, easily, but I've spent credits on you and I'd like to get my money's worth." He stalked closer.

You remained still, fighting the urge to grab at your throat or beg for air until you were certain you were about to pass out. You refused to give him that satisfaction.

"And I could fuck you, I could use your little body until it gave out, bruised and marked, filled with cum. But what would be the fun in giving you exactly what your little cunt craves, hm?" With the slight twitch of his fingers he lifted your chin, bringing your gaze up to meet his while the Force tightened around your throat.

"No, no, I think I'll continue toying with you for however long I want. And when you get down on your knees and beg so pitifully for me to end it, I'll toy with you some more." His tone was thick with condescension.

"P-Please..." you choked, the word escaping out of desperation.

His hand grazed your cheek, "but to see those lips wrapped around my cock, tears staining these cheeks. That's an enticing image."

Your face began to turn red, the lack of oxygen making your head swim and your lungs spasmed for a breath. He released you suddenly and your body fell limp against the wall as you gasped for air. Kylo held no concern for you as he returned to his room, ignoring your disheveled state and any harsh words that floated through your mind. Which you were grateful for.

That night you stayed awake. You sat up on your cot and refused to go to sleep. You kept your thoughts on anything and everything you could, hoping he’d sleep better that night and you’d return to being off of his radar. As much as you dreamt about him and craved his touch, you were frightened, scared of the things he would do, the things he would show you. He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were already falling into some sense of depravity with him, sinking further each day.

The following week you were blissfully entranced in your duties. Kylo had left you alone for the most part, giving you some reprise from his torture. You were finishing up with changing his sheets when he stormed in, tossing his helmet against the wall you’d just pulled the dent out of the day before. You hurried to finish straightening the blankets and make yourself scarce. You listened for another voice but heard nothing this time. On bad days he required the help of another person, someone he could use to release his anger into, what your role was supposed to be. You tiptoed out of the room on light feet and peered around to see him seething, chest rising and falling quickly as he sat on the couch.

“Sir? Are you alright?” You stepped out from behind the doorway, your feet and mouth moving on their own.

“Out.” He said with a huff of breath.

You continued until you were standing before him, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“The thing I need right now is a little out of your scope. Leave. Now.” He all but shouted, stern eyes glaring at you.

It would have been smart to leave, retreat to your room and let him calm down on his own eventually, but intelligence seemed to abandon you in that moment. You dropped to your knees in front of him and slotted yourself between his legs, just as the mysterious Sergeant had before. Which made you question where she was and why he hadn’t brought her back with him.

“What are you doing?” He stared down at you.

"Use me.” Your voice was small.

"Go. You don't know what you're asking." He disregarded you, but you weren't giving up.

"You said you needed-"

"I know what I said. What I didn't say is that I want some sniveling little virgin begging for something she knows nothing about." He snapped.

"If you'd just tell me what to do, I could-"

"You think I want to hold your hand through sucking my cock? Or fuck you gently because it's your first time having a cock in your pussy? No. What I need is for you to shut up and leave.”

"Regardless of what you think, I'm not going to break. I've endured more than you know, or care to know for that matter." You shot back, your own anger now rising.

"A few backhands to the face and now you're an expert on getting fucked?" He said, revealing that he had already dug into your memories.

"I can handle whatever you throw at me. Maybe you're just scared, worried you'll-"

His large hand gripped your jaw roughly, "is this what you want? I've heard your little whimpers in the night, mewling for your Master to touch you. You keep begging for this and pushing me, are you sure you’re ready for what comes next?"

His fingers dug painfully into your face, his chestnut eyes burning with rage and fury.

"You want to be used? Fine." He released your face and snatched your arm, yanking you up to your feet in front of him.

“You think you know what I need, go ahead. Show me what you know.” He sat back on the couch.

With fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs, you lifted the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head before letting it fall to the ground at your feet. Fear had long since disappeared, only leaving pure adrenaline and anxiety to fight in the pit of your stomach as you dropped to your knees between his legs.

He made no move to assist you or guide you, waiting seemingly patiently on your timid movements, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he lost that patience. Trembling hands slid up his thighs, reaching for the zipper on his pants and then the button. Your fingers felt like jelly, moving on their own because your brain had glitched out as you took on this task.

Just as you wrapped your hand around his cock and pulled it out, he leaned forward and grabbed you by the back of your hair as he stood up.

“Come, pet.” He growled as he jerked you along towards the wall just beside the couch.

He shoved you back against the wall, keeping you forced down on your knees while you looked up at him.

“Mouth open.” He ordered as his hand stroked along his length.

You opened your mouth, trying to gauge just how much to open to fit him, but you quickly realized you had no choice in the matter as he pushed you back against the wall and shoved his cock into your mouth. You gagged instantly but he remained still in your mouth.

“Breathe through your nose.” He sighed with his fist entangled in your hair.

You tried to move back to get a little relief, but the wall stopped you from moving too far. You shifted on your knees and leaned forward.

“Teeth.” He inhaled sharply.

You opened your mouth more and adjusted to him, trying to keep your teeth out of the equation. He barely gave you a split second before he pulled your head closer, forcing his cock further into your mouth. He placed one hand on the wall above you as he braced himself and moved your head the way he wanted with his hand fisted in your hair.

Your tongue slid along the underside of his cock as he moved it in and out of your mouth. You glanced up at him, noticing the way his hair fell around his face, strands swaying slightly with each movement. You felt your own need building as he used your mouth and the second the broken groan left his lips, you were soaked. Kylo’s head fell back as he forced your mouth down around him more, the patch of

black hair tickling your nose. Your eyes watered as his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag, but he didn’t stop. You placed your palms on his thighs, desperately needing to take a full breath as he held your head in place. He finally loosened his grip and let you pull back for a moment, sucking in a deep breath as a string of drool dripped from your mouth.

Kylo looked down at you, “relax your jaw or you’ll strain it.”

You nodded and opened your mouth, waiting for him to use you more. He pushed your head back against the wall and stepped closer before sliding his cock back into your mouth. His hand tightened around your hair as he shoved his cock to the back of your throat suddenly, leaving you gagging again. This time he fucked your mouth a little rougher, using it as just a hole to stuff his cock into, but you didn’t mind it.

His hips snapped harshly against you, driving his cock to the back of your throat with force. Your eyes were watering and tears streamed down your cheeks from his persistence with the tip of his cock hitting your gag reflex. You didn’t know if it was possible for him to bruise your throat, but you were certain that’s what he was aiming for. Short, breathy grunts escaped his lips, building the heat that had pooled between your thighs. Each passing minute that he used you, you felt yourself leaning over the edge further, trying not to leap into the black hole but it was so enticing.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #kylo x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren smut #the first order #descending into darkness #nsft

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dadoroki · 4 years

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Reminder [3]

Dabi x F!Reader x Hawks

Description: the final chapter to the story ends here. You’re given an ultimatum, having to choose between your painful past and your current present.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: I can’t believe it’s been about 7-8 months since I wrote part 1. Whoops!

“Not so hard, Keigo.”

You hissed in pain as the man dabbed the cold cloth on your facial injuries. “Not my fault you wanted to play hero and fight all those Nomus yourself.”

If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have been alive. Iv tubes were hooked onto you and the beeping sound of the monitor aggravated you more than the nagging winged-man himself.

“Yeah well someone had to do it.” The sunset highlighted your face and Keigo couldn’t help but fall distracted. The moment was cut short the minute he heard a loud screech coming out of you. While being distracted, Keigo had accidentally pressed deeply into your wound and in return, you punched his arm. “Ow, sorry sorry.”

“Whatever.” You groaned as you laid back down, facing your back towards him. He was about to question your sudden change in attitude but sensed a weird aura around. Getting up from his seat, he headed towards the door in a hurry. “I’ll come by tomorrow alright? There’s something I gotta deal with.” Without looking back at him, you gave a weak wave.

He quietly shut the door to your room but before he could turn the corner, a voice caught him off guard. “So you and Y/N, huh? Never thought she’d go for someone so low.” How did he know your real name? A low chuckle left Hawks’s lips. He turned around and sent a fake smile followed by a wave. “Oh, I’m sorry. Have we met before? Oh right! I sent dozens of my feathers at you. Hope it didn’t kill ya too much!”

Dabi clenched his teeth, roughly pushing himself off the wall. “I’m gonna burn you to pieces you little chicken shit. You hear me?” Hawks playfully held his hands up. “Woah, calm down buddy! But if you’re serious, why don’t we take it somewhere else?”

~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~

And that’s exactly what happened. The two men faced eachother with two different expressions. One held eyes full of rage and anger while the other was smug and laid-back.

“What’s with the face? Makes you look even more uglier than you already are.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Hawks rubbed his chin, observing the man infront of him while thinking deeply. “I still don’t get it. Why do you hate me so much?”

Dabi only scoffed in response. “Enough talking. When I’m done with you, I’ll be sure to give Y/N your burnt chicken wings as a present.”

Hawks didn’t have time to think as blue flames ignited his way. He flew around the abandoned area, the flames following close and burning everything behind him. Now it was his turn to strike. He flew towards Dabi, a long red feather making it’s way into his hand and he striked. Dabi managed to dodge all his attacks with ease, causing the winged hero to flinch. “Huh, you’re so weak. I don’t understand Y/N.”

Hawks ignored his instigation, attempting to hit him at least once but continuously missing all his shots again. “Look at you, you can’t even hit me. Why would she pick a weak man like you? You couldn’t even protect her.”

Emotions ran deep inside Hawks. More specifically guilt? Insecurity? Deep down, he knew everything Dabi said was nothing but the truth. He couldn’t protect you and for that, his worth for you was a newly engraved insecurity. That sadness turned into matched anger, causing him to hold a tighter grip on his feather and putting all force into the swing.

Dabi let out a maniacal laugh, gripping onto the man’s wrist and throwing him onto the ground. He watched unapologetic as Hawks squirmed beneath him in pain. He reached down to his jacket pocket and took out a shiny object, twisting it between his fingers above the injured hero in a taunting manner. “Keigo Takami.”

Once the name reached his ears, he froze in sheer horror. First your name and now his? He slowly realized the shiny object was the promise ring he gave you. “You.” The unstable man continued with poisonous venom leaking from the single word. “It’s all because of you. Y/N no longer cares about me and that’s all because of you! I’ve always despised you Keigo. Even when we were kids.”

Hawks was at a loss for words. He was in disbelief, unable to comprehend the situation. “I’ve always despised you since the day we met. The day I realized my feelings for Y/N. But of course, you just had to be in my way. You were always in my way.” Dabi psychotically laughed, recalling the memories like it was yesterday. “You know, I used to blame Y/N for not knowing how I felt. But I loved her so much and felt stupid for even thinking about blaming her.”

Dabi laid his hand flat on Hawks’s face, watching the man hiss in pain as the light heat made contact to his skin. “And then I started to blame myself. I was the reason why she didn’t love me back. I wasn’t good enough for her.” The heat began to increase, making the hero groan in pain. If the first one didn’t leave a burn mark, this one definitely did. “But then I realized it wasn’t my fault nor was it her’s. It was yours, Keigo. Did you know I was planning on killing you back then? To pretend it was a double accident? I was gonna kill you but then I thought about Y/N. She’d be alone and depressed out of her mind and so I chose to spare your life. Man, was I stupid for that.”

With that, he removed his hand to reveal a complete burn mark along the hero’s left side. He stood up and dusted himself off, facing his hand towards the half concious man lying helplessly on the ground. “You ruined my life Keigo Takami and now, I’m about to end your’s.”

Before Dabi could finish him off once and for all, a pleading voice called out for him in a distance. “Touya, please! Stop it!” The voice was so pure and angelic that Dabi couldn’t help but retrace back to the old days. Back when he was Touya. He slowly let his hand fall, backing away from Hawks.

Dabi was undoubtedly a powerful man. However, no matter how powerful or strong you are, everyone has their own weakness. And for him, it was you.

You limped over as fast as you could, the pain from days prior still taking in effect. “You need to let this go. This was all in the past.”

“The past can come back to haunt you.”

“The Touya I know wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not Touya.”

“You are to me. You’ll always be Touya.”

That’s all it took for Dabi to be wrapped around your fingers. Those eyes once filled with hatred and rage were replaced with sadness and despair. In that moment, he fell completely vulnerable to you. “Just choose me damnit, Y/N.”

You rose a brow, confused at his words. “I know we have our differences but my feelings for you never changed. You promised me you’d always choose me so why can’t you just do that goddamnit?”

You realized at that point, you were given two critical choices. These two choices would lead to two very different outcomes.

Firstly, there was Touya. He wasn’t the same person he was back then but nonetheless, you still made a promise to him. Plus, it was hard to see him as Dabi when all you saw was Touya. Deep down, you were aware that some feelings were still there for him though you definitely wouldn’t admit it.

Secondly, there was Keigo. You always saw him as a friend but as time went on, it was like the friendship turned out to be a stepping stone for something new. Honestly speaking, you already imagined what it would be like to have a future with him.

The time to choose was now. You deeply sighed, getting ready to reveal your answer.

~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~

You stood infront of the mirror, taking a full look at yourself. Who would’ve thought the day would come for you to finally get married. A long white dress that made you look like a princess, your hair pinned up, and a sparkling veil travelling from the top of your head all the way down to your dress. The final piece was a necklace which you were having trouble putting on.

“You need help?”

Glancing back, you saw that beautiful faint smile to which you returned. The man made his way behind you and took the necklace from your hands. You watched as he clipped the chains together and smiled, matching his gaze through the mirror. “Thank you, Touya.”

“Anything for you.” He admired you from your reflection, eyes travelling all around to every single detail. He never thought he’d see the day where you were like this. All dressed up for the wedding. An uncomfortable silence filled the room and you couldn’t help but clear your throat. “You should get going soon. You shouldn’t even be here and your family came by the way.”

Touya hummed in response and nodded. He made his way towards the door but stopped and faced you. “It’s not too late, Y/N. Just come with me an-”

“No, Touya.” You said abruptly. “I’m not changing my mind. You know I can’t. It’s the right thing to do anyways.” The right thing to do. He sighed in defeat and quietly left your room. The moment you heard the door shut, you deeply exhaled and rubbed the sides of your forehead in stress. You stared at the promise ring Hawks had given you years ago. Today was the day where he would replace that promise ring with a wedding ring, just like he promised.

“Keigo. I choose Keigo.”

That was a sharp pain in Dabi’s chest like he’d been stabbed right there and then. He was expecting some kind of hope, at least just a little bit, to have you say his name. But you didn’t. There wasn’t even any hesitation when you spoke.

“Why? Why him? Am I not good enough for you?!”

You stared at the ground, unable to look the broken man in the eyes. “It’s just how it is, Touya. I don’t make the rules and I can’t choose any differently. I’m sorry.”

Huh, what a joke he thought. When you’re chained to the institution, you have no choice but to submit yourself. That’s exactly what happened to you and because of that, you were now their little puppet to control. Had that not happen, would you have chosen differently? Would you choose to live your life with him and keep that promise?

Hands deeply shoved in his pockets, Dabi walked away from the building and never turned back.

Tags for my peeps that had to wait😂: @trenchcoatdevilsworld @bmthevick @thepplaskingmonthsago

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wixelt · 3 years

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Stargate: “Hoag” - Mass X’over Idea

About this time last year, I started watching Stargate with my dad. We watched the original movie and SG-1. And Atlantis. And the SG-1 movies. And Universe. And Origins.

We finished the franchise somewhere about a third of the way through 2020, though with how this year’s been it feels like that was years ago, now. And for a lot of the time we were watching it and for at least a little while after it, I had a thought that wouldn’t go away and that I kind of liked.

Namely that I wanted to write a Stargate fanfic of some kind, possibly even a crossover. A mass crossover, in fact. As with most of my fan-fiction thoughts, no matter the work, they eventually fell onto my pile of half-started ideas. I’m awful at keeping to things and not getting distracted by “new shiny” ideas like some kind of fanfic magpie, even when I like the idea.

That said, this was a concept I really liked, so i’m going to share the basics of it now, as far as I got with it. Maybe it will inspire someone else, or maybe i’ll come back to this someday.

Regardless, though here’s the notes:

- Post-Universe, the war with the Lucian Alliance is still going, and despite the slightly dire situation things were headed toward last we saw, the SGC’s winning. The LA are on the back foot, and is starting to break into smaller factions. One of the larger LA factions decides to cut their losses and make a run for it, their space fleet making a beeline for the Supergate the Ori Army built to link the Milky Way and Alteran Home galaxies, having either deciphered or stolen the codes required to dial it. The SGC puts together an attack force to intercept the faction at the gate and stop their escape. The fleet is accompanied by several characters from existing series.

- The battle’s one sided, but the LA faction continues to make a run for the gate. And then it happens. I’m undecided on the details, but a mix of weapons fire on the ships trying to pass through and other circumstances - in much the same way as that classic episode of SG-1 - causes the open Supergate to “jump tracks”, the destination shifting to somewhere not in the Alteran Galaxy. A side effect of energy on this scale causes all ships in the vicinity to be pulled through.

- Emerging on the far side, the surviving ships exit through what seems to be another Supergate, albeit of less refined design. Later study will show it to be Ancient, instead of Ori. This lesser design proves unstable, leading to the SGC fleet being forced to destroy both it and their crippled ships to force a ceasefire with the LA ships, stranding a cast of both old and new faces wherever they’ve ended up.

- As for where they’ve found themselves, it’s the Hoag’s Object galaxy, they eventually discover. For those unaware, this is a real ring galaxy more than 600 million light-years from the Milky Way (~200 times further from Earth than the Pegasus Galaxy). It’s a galaxy for which we have a low understanding of the mechanics behind its formation - which sparked my interest as the ideal location for a Stargate series with an underlying mystery beyond just “get home”, in the tradition of Atlantis and Universe. It’s a fun place to read and speculate about.

- The base of operations for the “Hoag Expedition” as they try to contact Earth (a challenge when their arrival method and much of their equipment has been destroyed), is the “Spire”, an automated Ancient outpost which is, as the name implies, a massive pointed tower in space. The story behind it, as the cast discover, is that the Ancients were very interested in what was causing Hoag’s Object’s structure, and sent a large automated seeding ship to the galaxy, with the intent that it would automatically drop Stargates on various interesting worlds and other locales - similar to the Destiny - also seed a few worlds with human life, as was their MO to an extent, then take up a preset location and convert itself into a stationary... station, that would serve as the Ancient’s home once they were ready to arrive - a local Supergate also being constructed as one of the projects they were intending to test alongside their studies in Hoag. Like Destiny, though, they never arrived. The Spire was dispatched late in the Ancient’s time, likely around about when they were fighting the Wraith in the Pegasus Galaxy. After that, they focused on ascension, and the Spire lay forgotten, its systems waiting for a crew that wasn’t coming.

- Some of the first things the expedition discover on arrival are tied to the local gates. Firstly, they can’t dial home. Even when they work out where they are relative to Earth, they can’t calculate what the 8 symbol address required to dial would be (for reasons made harder by the second point). There’s no indication what the address would even consist of, given there’s no “dial Earth” address in the Spire’s database - presumably the Ancients didn’t know where they’d end up dialing from, and no-one ever arrived to clarify. Secondly, while the local gates are Pegasus-era 3rd generation Stargates, they have a different color palette - being purple rather than blue, because I like purple - as well as a completely different set of symbols. These symbols are determined to be a very symbol numeric system set up in 5s, presumably because the gate seeding was automated and chose a structured visual system. I actually created a guide for this system. As might be obvious, this gate network has more symbols them any other - to account for Hoag’s Object being a larger galaxy - featuring 41 non-Point of Origin options:

- As I mentioned before, however, I wanted this to be a mass crossover, which is where the Ancients’ MO of seeding human life comes in. Like the Pegasus Galaxy, you can still have those human cultures, but how far out Hoag’s Object is - as with Stargate Universe - allows for more alien cultures as well. Which naturally lets you drop pretty much any non-Earth (or otherwise, in some cases) setting into this concept amid other, more original planets and have it turn up as the expedition does what Stargate does best: explore new worlds. RWBY? No problem. Avatar? Eeyup. Fairy Tail? Definitely. Madoka Magica? Trickier, but even with that being set on Earth the Incubators have to come from somewhere, right? MLP? Simple, if the Equestria Girls world is considered the local side of the mirror and Equestria another reality. Heck, you could even throw in something as out there as Hermitcraft and probably make it fit.

- And yes, I did briefly play around with gate addresses for a few of the above places, too, but didn’t get very far due to waning inspiration (the above symbol system itself was already my 5th or 6th attempt to make something workable). I did include my meta-logic for choosing the symbols, though:

- There were other ideas I had for this whole thing, too. I played around with the idea of writing this on a forum thread on somewhere like SpaceBattles or Sufficient Velocity, and maybe I still could one day, where other people could write in the setting too if I got enough traction (always been a big fan of interactive and/or collab ventures). Also played with the concept of a story-line of two Goa’uld “brothers” who had left the Milky Way in centuries past in search of new pickings, finding Hoag’s Object and setting themselves up as gods over multiple worlds (one of which may have been RWBY, if that gives you an idea of where that was probably going), but that fell apart once I started questioning how they got to Hoag’s Object when the Spire and its gate hadn’t been touched before the SGC arrived.

All that aside, though, this idea is out in the open now. If someone wants to play around with it, they can. Or if people want to ask what i’d do with various settings or features, i’m happy to give it some more thought to get the creative juices pumping again.

For now, though, enjoy! :)

#stargate #stargate sg1 #stargate atlantis #stargate universe #stargate hoag #fanfic #stargate crossover #crossover fanfiction #crossover #fairy tail #rwby #mlp fim

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saharamae21 · 4 years

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Midsummers (JJ Imagine - Part Two)

Author: sguymon21

Summary: After JJ and you break up, it takes a lot to heal. Nothing seems to be working, so when Rafe invited you to Midsummers, it seems like just the distraction you needed. However, everything he does reminds you of JJ.

Warnings: None?

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We got the ferry and made our way around White Chapel. Everything was new to me and Rafe was so amused by my excitement. He was watching every reaction carefully and I knew that. I smiled at the thought and he just stared.

“What?” he asked.

“It just feels nice to be paid attentioned to,” I said. I stared at him with a small smile. His eyes softened when he heard that and grabbed my hand harshly to counter his expression. Then his hand became soft as it embraced mine. He was being careful with me for some reason. It made my heart flutter though.

We walked into a store filled with gowns. I stared at them. I knew I couldn’t afford anything in this room, but I didn’t want to disappoint Rafe. I watched as he went to a rake and pulled a few dresses he thought would look good on me. I blushed at the thought of him knowing what would work on my body. I walked through the racks and brushed my fingers against each one before something finally caught my eye. It was a slightly sheer, pale pink dress. The dress had a white ribbon pattern and pink and green flowers made of beads. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. Rafe grabbed it off the rack and handed it to me.

“Oh, I was just looking,” I said. It was a $6,995 dollar dress, something I couldn’t dream of buying.

“Just try it on,” he said. He asked a worker to get me a dressing room and put the dress in it. I stepped in and decided to humor Rafe. The truth is that I wanted to wear it though. I wanted to see if it was as beautiful on me as it was on the hanger. I slipped it on and the fabric felt soft against my skin. I was scared to look at myself in the mirror. I was scared I would like who stood in front of it. I finally got the courage to look up and the old y/n was gone. In her place was this beautiful, rich girl. A girl who demanded attention. I felt the curtain slide open and Rafe peaked in. “Wow…”

“I don’t know,” I said, remembering the price.

“It’s perfect. You look beautiful,” he said, unable to look away. I could feel myself blush. “We’ll take it!”

As I heard him yell that towards a worker, I felt my heart sink. I couldn’t pay for this. I opened my mouth to protest, but he didn’t let me speak.

“It’s a gift,” he said and smiled. He had no idea how badly I received gifts.

Kie and I were walking around together. JJ had decided to spend the day with John and Pope, so that left us having a girls day. Even though I was around Kie a lot now, we didn’t have very much one on one time. It was nice.

“So you and JJ’s three month is coming up soon,” she said. I smiled at the thought. Has it been three months already? “Do you have any plans?”

“He’s gonna take me out on the boat,” I said. I smiled at all the plans we actually had. A moonlight picnic on the sea and a night out under the stars. Everything I ever wanted.

“That sounds nice,” she said. “I heard he got you something pretty nice.”

I felt my anxiety rise when she said that. I had figured we were doing gifts and I loved giving gifts, but I didn’t receive many growing up. My family was poor and getting things we didn’t need to survive was like a sin.

“Do you know what it is?” I asked. She shook her head no and asked what I got him. I pulled out a small box and smiled. I had spent a whole paycheck on his gift. It was a nice watch, one that the country club kids wear. I opened the box and let Kie see and she smiled.

“He’ll love it,” she said. I hoped so.

When it came time to exchange gifts, we were laying on the deck of his dad’s ship. The stars shined brightly above us and I laid in his arms. As the waves rocked us, I reflected on the past three months. I smiled more than ever and I couldn’t remember the last time I was truly this happy. While I stared at the stars, he stared at me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. I thought I had misheard him for a second.

“They are beautiful,” I said, staring at the sky.

“No, you are,” he said. I turned and looked at him. He looked like he was looking at something precious. I kissed him quickly and placed my hand on his cheek. “Close your eyes.”

I closed them and felt his lips touch my forehead. Then I felt something fall around my neck, a chain. He told me I could open my eyes and my heart stopped. I looked down and saw a cute little compass pendant hanging from my neck. It had a little diamond in the middle and it was so shiny. We had passed this necklace walking around town and I’m surprised he remembered me looking at it. However, I was even more surprised when I remembered the price.

“Now no matter where you are, you can always find your way back to me,” he said. I opened my mouth to object to the amount of money he spent, but he didn’t let me speak. “It’s a gift.”

I held the bag in my hand tightly as I rode on the back of Rafe’s bike, back to my car. I hopped off and smiled at him. I thanked him for the lovely day and walked as he drove off. As I turned towards my car, a familiar set of blue eyes met mine. JJ. I stared for a second and sighed before breaking eye contact and getting into my car. If I stayed any longer I would just die on the inside a little more. I sat there for a moment before speeding away.

The rest of the week was filled with a mix of Rafe and loneliness. There was no real happiness though. I missed my friends, but I couldn’t face JJ. I didn’t fit in with Rafe’s friends and family. Even when I was alone with Rafe, everything he did reminded me of JJ. Finally, Midsummers was here though. I was getting ready at Kie’s and she helped me look my best. I looked in the mirror and I didn’t recognize the girl in front of me. I thought I wanted this, but really it was all just a huge distraction so I didn’t have to feel bad about myself anymore.

“Hey,” Kie said. “I should’ve told you this earlier, but JJ’s working for Heyward tonight. He’ll be there.”

I swallowed hard and just nodded, never taking my eyes off myself in the mirror. Kie knew something was wrong. She placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled.

“You look beautiful,” she tried to encourage me. I said nothing. “Are you ever going to tell me why you and JJ broke up?”

It was a matter of time before she asked. I had broken down in front of her a couple of times, but she never forced me to talk about it. She knew I would when I was ready, but the time never came. I sighed and sat down on her bed. The truth is that I couldn’t even wrap my brain around why we break up. It all happened so fast.

I loved spending time with him. The waves used to be my only found freedom, but something about JJ made that seem like nothing. He was the only thing that made me feel this unstoppable. I walked up the path to the beach, board under my arm and smiled. When I got out into the open, I looked around. JJ was already there, hair wet from the ocean. He was talking to this girl. She looked around our age, only I could tell she wasn’t from around here. Whatever she was saying to JJ was making him laugh. I felt jealousy well up inside of me, but I pushed them away. JJ wasn’t someone who would cheat on me. I walked up to him, a smile on my face.

“Hey,” I said. “Am I late?”

“Right on time actually,” he said and slung his arm over my shoulder. The girl took the hint and walked away, but she was the first of many. In the upcoming days, I saw more and more girls around JJ. I never said anything though. I trusted him.

A few weeks had passed since the girls first showed up. We were all together at the boneyard. The party was raging and I sat next to JJ. Something seemed off. I knew he had just gotten in another fight, but he never spoke of it. I wondered if it was with his dad, but I didn’t want to pry too much. I held his hand and tried to comfort him, but he just pulled his hand away from mine. I frowned.

“Let’s talk somewhere quiet,” he said. I smiled and nodded. He had held back from me for too long, we always told each other everything. I held onto his arm as we walked. I used him to help me walk straight. We had both had a couple drinks, but only I was feeling it. When we made it back to the van, he sat across from me. “Let’s not do this anymore.”

I felt my blood run cold. Nothing had ever sobered me up so quickly. All I could do was stare at his face and listen to him explain.

“I wanna see other people,” he stared. “I’m not the relationship type. I don’t wanna hear bout how your day was or tell you bout everything in my life. I don’t need a therapist.”

With every word, my heart sank further and further into my stomach.

“You’re suffocating me,” he said. I just nodded and pulled my knees into my chest. I could feel the tears coming as I looked down at my knees. He mumbled an apology and left me there. He left me alone to think about how I destroyed our relationship. I was clingy, no I was suffocating. All the days spent together were too much. All the nights we slept side by side were nothing. I felt like I was going to be sick. Now I felt like I was suffocating.

“Y/n,” Kie said and I snapped out of it. I felt my breathing slow back down to normal and my shoulders slumped. All the thoughts that I had locked away flooded my mind. I ruined us. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“I’m fine,” I said in the most convincing way I could. I pushed the hurtful thoughts away and finished getting ready. My hair was in loose curls and my makeup was done in a light and natural manner. I was ready to go to Midsummers.

I met Rafe in the lobby of the country club. He looked kind of handsome dressed up and waiting there for me. I blushed as he told me that I looked beautiful. He offered me his arm and I took it carefully. We walked through the doors together and all eyes were on us. It was like they were all thinking, one thing here is not like the others. Rafe smiled at me though and assured me that it wasn’t anything to stress over. For a moment I felt like Cinderella. I was the one they had never seen and dressed up in clothes that looked like everyone else's, but it was all fake. I danced around with Rafe and Topper without a care in the world, but then a familiar pair of blue eyes caught mine. He stared at me like he didn’t know who I was. I broke eye contact first and went back to dancing, only this time my thoughts ran rampant. Was me being here too suffocating for him? Did I just ruin everything I touch? I excused myself for a moment, needing air.

I found myself in the gazebo. The outdoor lights twinkled around me. My head was screaming from the endless thoughts. I just wanted to know what I did wrong.

“Kie told me to come ask you if you were okay.” I heard a familiar voice ask. I turned to see Pope standing in front of me. “If this is about JJ, he regrets it.”

“I don’t want to talk about JJ,” I said.

“We miss having you around,” Pope said.

“I don’t want to suffocate anyone,” I said. His posture softened. He didn’t know how to make me feel better. It just wasn’t Pope’s thing.

“He gets scared when people start getting attached,” Pope said. I didn’t want to hear it and tried to walk past him. He grabbed my arm and kept talking. “He pushes away when people get too close. He doesn’t know what else to do. In his fucked up mind, that's the best option. He doesn’t want to destroy lives and he thinks of himself as a ticking time bomb.” “Pope stop!” I said, tears filling my eyes. “I’m the time bomb. I ruin everything and maybe he saw that! Maybe he saw that I’m someone who isn’t worth wasting time on!”

“Y/n…” It wasn’t Pope this time, it was JJ. My head shot around to see him and tears streamed down my cheek as I freed my arm and walked past both of them.

I made it back to Rafe and as soon as he saw me he pulled me aside. He wiped the tears and asked if I was okay. As he brushed his thumb across my cheekbone, he stared at me. I told him I wasn’t okay. He cupped my face and told me I was doing great. He told me to ignore everyone else. Then, he leaned in and kissed me. I pushed him off of me and felt my chest get heavy. I muttered out apologies, but it was too soon. I couldn’t do this. I ran around the building and got into my car. I couldn’t breathe as I turned the car on. I sped out of there so quickly that it must’ve looked like I had just committed a felony.

_______________________________________________

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stelladente · 4 years

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Hey, um, I just want to ask you this, but does Vanessa take over Mustache Girl's role in this AU, and if so does basically everyone go to help him and give him support in the final fight against her? Also, don't think I didn't notice the writing on the cave saying Mafia Rescued in the post involving Mafia Town!

It dawns on me that I’ve been so busy working on my comics that I completely forgot to work on the Snatch Kid AU. PECKING WHOOPS

So, because I know myself and I know this is the only way I’m going to finish this thing, I’m gonna use this ask as an excuse to do a sketchy-summary of the rest of the AU. HERE WE GO-

I did manage to get a few images done before getting promptly distracted. This is the last one I managed, and I think it sums up where we left off and what happens next just fine. Snatch Kid is having a ball sabotaging the sets, when the Conductor catches him in the act. Rather than kicking him out, he offers Snatch Kid those ‘shiny hourglass props’ if he sabotages DJ Grooves. Grooves overhears, offering the same deal but in reverse, and long story short...

...Well, neither specified that he wasn’t allowed to sabotage both of them anyway. Now he gets the Time Pieces out of it, too.

The Review Meter, in this version, is replaced by the Sabotage Meter. Since Snatch Kid isn’t helping with their movies, his objectives become messing up their sets to the point that they can’t manage to properly film their movies. As you can imagine, this aggravates the directors - whoever loses the Annual Bird Awards (that is, whoever you sabotaged the most) is the boss that you fight, angry at Snatch Kid because they know he’s responsible for their loss.

Snatch Kid defeats the angry director, and heads off for Mafia Town. The Mafia of Cooks probably have more information, and he’s negotiated with them in the past, so that shouldn’t be too hard.

...Except, Mafia Town is covered in ice. The whole town is mostly frozen by the time he arrives. Gathering his courage, he goes to investigate...

...and finds Mustache Girl and Hat Kid, hiding in a cave on the frozen island. Yes I’m shamelessly reusing that picture shut up-

Mustache Girl is trying to comfort Hat Kid, and when Snatch Kid asks what happened, she’s the one who answers for them.

As it turns out, the events of the A Hat in Time are completely canon... for about two time pieces. Hat Kid arrived in the atmosphere, got her ship broken into by the mafia, Time Pieces got scattered everywhere, and she started in Mafia Town to try and get them back. After she rescued Mustache Girl from the Mafia, they decided to form a rebellion against them to retrieve the Time Pieces. Mustache Girl came up to Hat Kid’s ship to discuss the finer details... and then noticed Hat Kid’s ship saying how many time pieces she had gathered. Upon asking what the counter was for, Hat Kid - softly, carefully, and very clearly trying to hold herself together - explained that the Time Pieces were her ship’s fuel, and if she didn’t get them back, she wouldn’t ever be able to get back home.

Mustache Girl became sympathetic to her plight, and the two decided to go ask the Mafia for the Time Pieces. If they didn’t cooperate, Mustache Girl was more than willing to pound in a few heads, but if all went well they could resolve this peacefully...

Then the ice came.

The ice came, and if it weren’t for the Mafia acting fast enough to save them, Hat Kid and Mustache Girl would have been frozen over as well.

They tried to save them. To return the favor, and help them. They tried to rescue the mafia. But, as you can tell by the lack of tallies... they hadn’t had any luck. Fortunately, Snatch Kid is familiar enough with Vanessa’s ice that with the three working together, they can start to free the Mafia and gather the remaining Time Pieces.

The ice, however, continues to spread.

By the time the three of them have gathered all but the one Time Piece Vanessa has, the planet is completely covered in ice. The Finale is formally titled World Tour - as Snatch Kid, Hat Kid, and Mustache Girl travel the world and free those frozen, before marching upon Vanessa’s manner.

Snatch Kid decides this that he needs to own up to his mistakes, and face Vanessa alone- which is fine by her. She gets her little prince all to herself. But he’s not alone - he has all the people he’s helped along the way.

With the power of Friendship, the gathered Time Pieces, and the power he’s regained along the way, Snatch Kid sheds his child form and returns to his full being- and the Snatcher fights Vanessa head on.

With Vanessa defeated, the Time Pieces are returned to Hat Kid - she’s the one who knows how to use them, after all - and she uses their power to reverse the flow of the ice, fixing the planet once and for all.

Snatcher and Mustache Girl find themselves with Hat Kid on her ship, and the three say their goodbyes. Mustache Girl, having seen what a real Bad Guy is like up close, seems a bit more willing to give the Mafia a chance. Snatcher has become... well, not altruistic - that’s not his style- but he is more willing to help others now. Before leaving, Hat Kid gives Snatcher one of her Time Pieces- telling him it’s “just in case”.

Mustache Girl and Snatcher return to the planet below, and watch Hat Kid head on her way. And as the two head on their way...

...well, it seems like these two might be doing some adventuring together down the line.

---

That brings the Snatch Kid AU to a close. When I first wrote up my notes for this, Seal the Deal and Nyankuza Metro hadn’t yet released, so I didn’t really work them into the story. Chances are they’d slot in just after Mafia Town - as extra locations that the three have to search for the Time Pieces - but who knows what I would’ve come up with if I hadn’t gotten busy doing other things!

If you all have any further questions about this AU, feel free to send ‘em my way. It was fun to revisit it! Chances are that they’ll be answered in this silly-sketchy style, but eh... at this point, better something than nothing.

Hope you enjoyed this little foray into an alternate Hat in Timeline! ;D

#a hat in time #the snatcher #snatch kid #a snatch in time #yeah i have like. three comics i'm working on.#i don't know how to pace myself OR schedule myself #and that means things like this will probably be forgotten about #i am SO SORRY for forgetting this existed #Anonymous

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katlyn1948 · 5 years

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Firestorm: Part One

Firestorm

Katlyn1948

Summary:

London, World War II

Arya received her letter for evacuation while Gendry receives his to serve.

A confession leaves a lot of unanswered questions and one blissful night before one of the deadliest air strikes in history.

Notes:

For TO EVERYONE.

So...yeah.

I had to split this up into two parts.

The first is about family dynamics in the middle of a war while the next part will be about Arya and Gendry. I didn't get this up sooner because some issues have arisen, but writing is a good distraction. I hope to get the next part up on Wednesday or Thursday.

I just want to say thank you to everyone that follows me on Tumblr that have sent their love and support of what transpired this weekend. I truly appreciate all the kind words and spiritual hugs. I hope you enjoy reading the first part. It is funny and witty. It is a good part to read before the true emotions and action happen!

Chapter Management

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Chapter 1

: Part OneChapter Text

Firestorm

September 3rd, 1939

The soft buzz of static radiated throughout the room as the Stark family gathered around console radio. It was a large thing with a square body with a rounded top. Sir Eddard Stark had bought the monster just a few months prior in order to keep up with the wartime effort. His wife, Mrs. Catelyn Stark, thought it a waste of money, distracting the young children from their schoolwork. For the most part, she had been right.

Bran and Rickon would come bounding through the door, tossing their school satchels to side to catch their favorite afterschool program before their mother would return from whatever gossip circle she had attended. It was a welcome distraction to what was going on in the other parts of the world around them.

Sansa had not cared for the thing and Arya thought it interesting.

She had not seen an object so shiny and mystifying in her life. Often, she would sneak away from her mother’s teatime to listen to the radio shows that her younger brothers would commonly speak about. They were crude, rambunctious, and definitely not meant for a young woman’s ears, but Arya had been used to such humor. Her brother and cousin out aged her by five years and their conversations with other men their age would turn quite dirty on occasions.

Her mother would chastised her for frolicking with the older men, but she found it pleasing.

Robb and Jon had not minded their little sister tagging along; so long as she minded her business and didn’t insert herself in things, she did not know about. Theon, Robb’s longtime friend would often tease her for playing with the ‘big boys’ while Gendry, Jon’s best mate, would protect her from his snarky remarks.

She had much more in common with them then she did with the other girls her age and enjoyed their company, but when she began to develop hips and breasts, her mother was quick to put a stop to her outings.

Arya hated teatime and gossip. She was convinced it was a punishment strictly meant for her alone. Her sister reveled in her disposition, causing friction within their relationship and Arya would often tease Sansa about her lack of social interests aside from the boring conversations with other prima donnas.

That day was no different.

They were bickering, and had been the whole way home from school. Arya had tried to convince Sansa that there were more important things than what dress she would wear to the end of year gathering. Sansa of course called Arya a prude and stomped off ahead of her, leaving Arya to snicker with laughter behind her.

Now the laughter had ceased and there was only the radio with its disembodied voice announcing the one thing that sank the heart of millions across London.

“On this day, the 3rd of September, 1939, the United Kingdom has formally declared war against that of Germany. Parliament has enacted the National Service Act, conscripting all men between the ages of 18 to 41, with some exemptions…”

The sobs from her mother were piercing, while the fear across her sister’s face echoed that of hers.

Arya new what this news meant.

Father, Robb, Jon, Theon…and Gendry would have to fight in this bloody war.

29th December 1940

The tiniest sliver of daylight had escaped the blackened curtains, shining through the small crack directly onto Arya’s face. The warm heat from the sun’s rays were welcoming and ushered in yet a new day in this war that had taken nearly everyone Arya held close to her heart.

She cracked open her eyes, squinting at the piercing light and quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She pulled herself up and glanced over to the form of her sleeping sister. Since the war, their mother had insisted that they share a room, ensuring that the other was safe, but Arya believed it was to keep her from sneaking out after curfew.

Sansa was a notoriously light sleeper and even the tiniest creak of a floorboard would wake her.

Arya pushed her duvet from her body and slipped out of her bed, wincing at the sudden shock of the cold floor upon her feet. Heat was scarce these days, due to rationing, and the luxury of such amenities was something that her mother could hardly afford. They barley had enough to stay in the house, not to mention food for five people, so things like gas for heat, or even the automobile her father had bought months before the war were not important.

Their mother had to sell a few of their fancy things just to be able to make ends meet.

Luckily, the extra shifts at the factory her mother had been working at helped offset the costs.

It was strange seeing her mother work. For as long as Arya could remember, she always saw her mother tend to the house or host important guests from her father’s work, never once had she seen her mother lift a finger to willingly work with dirt and grim. But this was war time and the factories needed workers. The only ones left to do it were able-bodied women, no matter what class they belonged.

Arya sighed as she sat upon the edge of her bed. Sansa looked so serene sleeping under the layers of duvets. There were times were Arya would climb into her sister’s bed just to stay warm at night, cuddling against her back, basking in the warmth her body emitted.

She felt almost guilty for having to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Almost.

Grabbing her nearby pillow, Arya chucked it across their room, hitting Sansa square in the head.

“Wake up. Mother has already left, and we have to get the boys ready.” Arya groaned as she stood fully, stretching her aching muscles.

Sansa let out an audible yawn as she popped her head from under her duvets, “Do we have to? It’s our last day in London, can we just enjoy it?”

“You sound like me,” Arya smiled, “But, no, we cannot. We have to pack and Bran and Rickon cannot do it themselves.”

Sansa scoffed, “Bran is perfectly capable of packing is own trunk. He has a broken leg, not a broken back. And Rickon…well, he will need our help.”

Arya nodded, “Right and we have to pack our own things. I want to finish before noon.”

She dared a glance over to Sansa and saw the knowing look in her sister’s eyes, “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t leave without saying goodbye and the only time I’ll be able to see him is right when his shift ends at the coal factory.”

Sansa sighed, “Mother will not allow it. If she finds out—”

“She won’t find out...because you won’t tell her.” Arya shuffled her way to her sister’s bed, taking a seat on the edge. “Make up something...I’ve gone to the library or to the market place...something!”

“Arya, I cannot lie to mother, it’s near impossible. She knows when something is amiss and she’ll see right through me. Besides, all the libraries have burnt to the ground.”

“Not Cambridge.”

“In last week’s raids.”

“Harrington?”

“Two months ago.”

“Mmh...Citadel?”

“That...well I think that one is still standing.”

Arya smiled, “Perfect. After we pack and we get Bran and Rickon situated, I’ll take a trip to The Citadel.”

Sansa groaned, “You’ll be the death of me, Arya Stark.”

“No, this bloody war will be.” Arya gave a quick pat on Sansa’s leg and shuffled out of their bedroom.

The house creaked with chills as Arya made her way to the shared bathroom her and Sansa used. The boys were still tucked away in their bedroom, warm under their duvets. There were times when Arya wished that the outcome of certain circumstances where different. Since the war, hundreds of thousands of men, women and children have died, her brother and father included.

When the conscription occurred her father and brother, along with Jon, Theon and Gendry had make their way to the registrar’s office to sign up to fight for their country.

Months went by and neither of them had received the letter.

That is until the New Year rolled around.

Eddard Stark was the first to be dispatched to some part of Germany undisclosed to them. With a week, Robb and Jon had both received their assignments and Theon was not far behind. The only left was Gendry, a low class bastard boy with only two cents to his name. Arya was sure that his letter would follow shortly after Theon’s, but it never came. There was some sense of relief that at least he was safe, but the worry she had for her father and siblings was insurmountable.

It was like this cloud of darkness hovered over her and her remaining family, just waiting to unleash the deadliest of tempest upon them.

On the evening of the 19th of June came her worst nightmare.

A solider at the door holding, not one, but two letter of condolences from the Prime Minister himself. One was for her brother Robb, his plane crashing somewhere in the middle of the ocean, and one for her father, a bomb mangling him beyond recognition. The only identifiable item were his tags of service.

Her mother wailed for days, clutching at her heart, trying to find some way to live beyond that night. Sansa’s soft sobs were echoed throughout the house and her brothers grieved in their own ways.

Arya had shut down. She didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, she had nothing left within her.

Her daily life was that of routine.

She woke, helped Sansa prepare what breakfast they could find, assisted with her brothers and make her way to the market with whatever money her mother would leave behind. It was mundane and that of a girl who truly was no one.

It wasn’t until a simple trip to the market place began her process of healing.

She hadn’t seen Gendry in months, yet there he was unmistakable as ever. His hair was shaved down, no doubt for the military and his clothes were covered in soot. He’d been working at the coal factory making wages to live his life. Even when Arya had meet him when she was 10, he was working the factory. It was a miracle that Robb and Jon even became his friend, for he only had an education of that of a 7 year old. But he was humble and kind, and had gotten her brothers out of tough binds, bonding them for life.

He was haggling with a street merchant for a loaf of bread, but by the looks of it, the street merchant wasn’t breaking. She had a few coins left over from her haul and was more than happy to help with the situation. It helped ease the tension that was rising and Gendry was truly grateful for the help.

“Don’t worry about it.” She said to him.

“Let me help you.” He replied.

He had carried her bags all the way to her front door, setting them down gently on the front patio.

Since then, she had made it a point to meet him every day in the market right after his shift, whether it be him walking her to her door, or to talk their minds off about anything than the war around them; a welcome distraction allowed Arya to heal the wounds that the war had already caused.

Shaking her head of the memory, she splashed cold water of her face, fully waking her from the slumber of last night. Shuffling out of her robe and night shift, Arya tugged on her work dress, securing the waist with a thing belt. She pinned her unruly hair from her face and slipped on the brown leather loafers her mother had gotten her just before the new school year approached. Her stockings laid upon the sink side table and all Arya could do was grimace. She hated wearing the torture device and cursed the person who invented such atrocities.

They were uncomfortable and unnecessary and she never understood the purpose behind them.

Giving herself a once over in the mirror before her, she nodded in liking and exited the bathroom, letting an annoyed Sansa in.

“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting to take a piss.” She scowled.

Arya shrugged, “Oh come off it! Just get ready and help me with breakfast. I’ll get the boys up.”

Sansa stocked off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Arya chuckled and cross the hallway to where her brothers were sleeping. Bran would be easy to wake, but Rickon proved difficult. Often times, Arya would have to dump ice-cold water of his head just to rile him up from slumber.

“What took you so long?” Bran scoffed as Arya pushed their bedroom door open.

“You know, I don’t have to help you. I could just let you fend for yourself.” She hummed.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Bran challenged.

Arya smirked, “Try me. You may be near a head taller than me, but I’m quicker and will knock your arse straight on the floor.”

“That’s not fair; I have a broken leg and a sprained foot.” He whined.

“Well whose fault was that? Mother told you plenty of times not the climb the banisters, yet you did, causing your misfortunes.”

Arya glided towards her brother’s bed and pulled the duvet from his body. The sudden chill of the air sent gooseflesh all along his exposed skin, causing him to shiver.

“My god, it’s cold!” He huffed as he outstretched his hands for Arya to grasp.

With a quick pull, Bran was upright and Arya was gathering his clothes for the day.

“Well when it’s near freezing outside and we have no heat, then yes, it will get quite cold. Now come one, I don’t have all day. I have to help you get dressed and packed and try to get Rickon up all before noon.” She chastised.

“I can get dressed myself, you know. I’m not a kid.” He said matter of fact.

He was right, Bran was just two years younger than Arya and was more than capable of dressing himself, but with a broken leg and bad foot, Arya was sure that he would topple over when he tried to shuffle his trousers over his cast.

“I know that, but if you fall then mother will blame me for not helping. So, please let’s hurry.” She gestured for him to stand and he managed the best as he could while Arya gathered his clothes. She tossed his shirt and sweater vest his way, allowing him to pull the garments over his head himself.

She walked over to him as he leaned on his bedpost, trying his best of shimmy out of his pajama bottoms. Arya chuckled at her brothers misadventures and strides to where he stood, helping him clothe.

Sansa joins the room as Arya his helping Bran into his trousers, quickly buckling them in place.

“Is he up?” Sansa asks as she points to the sleeping red head boy in the next bed over.

Arya scoffed, “What do you think?”

Sansa gave a curt nod, “Right, well I suppose there is only one way to do this.” She turns on her heel and exits the room as quickly as she entered, returning just a few short minutes later.

Arya is already trying to suppress a laugh while Bran looks on, shaking his head at his little brother.

In her had was a pot of cold water ready to pour on top of his head, “Rickon, I know you’re awake, so please save me the trouble of having to pour this on your bed. I’d rather not explain to mother why your mattress is drying on the front patio.”

Rickon shot straight up from his bed, rubbing his eyes in the process, “I’m up, I’m up.”

Sansa’s lips curved into a smug smile as she beamed with pride. There weren’t many times when she could out best their little brother, but whenever she did, Sansa would gloat the entire day if given the opportunity.

“Lovely.” Arya watched as Sansa turned in her direction. “There is a pot of potatoes boiling for breakfast and the toast is already set out.”

Arya nodded, “We will be down in a few. I have to help this one--,” she pointed towards Bran, “—down the stairs.”

Sansa gave a quick nod before turning on her heel and exiting the small bedroom. Rickon was in the corner, pulling his sweater over his head, messing his hair in the process. He hobbled on one foot while the other was sliding into the leg of the slacks Arya had laid out for him to wear the night prior.

“Be careful, we don’t need two of you with broken legs.” She chastised as he stumbled over his own feet.

“I’m always careful.” He smiled.

Arya chuckled as she passed the smiling boy, grasping onto Bran’s arm in order to stabilize him.

Their way down the stairs was sloppy, but effective. Arya had time to perfect their maneuvers, considering she had to do it every day for the last three months. He still had a couple of more week left in the cast, according to the doctor that came by every other week to see him, and Arya couldn’t wait to be free of the physical work. If she had a say in the matter, then Bran would have remained in his bed for the entirety of the day, with only a few bathroom breaks. Her mother nearly chocked when she mentioned such things.

Once Bran was placed firmly on the floor below, Arya left him to fetch his crutch so that she could be free to move about the house without having to worry about him.

He was a perceptive kid and could hobble from place to place when need be.

Arya shuffled quickly to the kitchen and began placing the plates upon the table. Sansa was preoccupied with the boiling potatoes and making sure, they were cooked to perfection before serving.

“Are those the last of the potatoes?” Arya asked as she finished placing the silverware.

Sansa nodded, “Yes, mother wanted them gone before we left. It’s be a waste of her if there were six potatoes left for just one person.”

Arya filled several glasses of water and placed them on the table, with Bran sipping his as soon as it hit the smooth wood. Rickon bounced down the stairs just as Sansa was depositing one potatoes on each of their plates.

“Potatoes again?” Rickon whined.

“Yes, again.” Sansa chimed. “They are good for you. Now eat up.”

Rickon grumbled as he stabbed is fork into the soft flesh of the vegetable. “Do we at least have salt this time?”

“Rickon when have we ever had salt? Since this war broke out, we are lucky if we get the damned potato itself!” Arya huffed in frustration. She would never admit it openly, but she was sick of eating potatoes. It was the only thing they had for breakfast in the last month and the same constant taste began to bore her palate. Of course, she was grateful that she had something to eat, for there were plenty of people who did not have so much as a crumb of bread.

Their lunch and dinners were quite modest as well.

Whenever her mother would leave the money for her to go the market, it was always the same items on the list. Cans of beans, stocks of celery, potatoes, and a pound of meat (if they had it). Their mother would come home and make the same soup, always preserving a little left over incase their rations dwindled.

It was difficult to adjust to such rations and often made Arya wonder what those who already had so little were doing just to make it through the day. She wondered about her friend, the butcher’s boy, who relied on outsourced goods to keep their business going or about the little girl, her sister used to watch when her mother would work double shifts at the factory. They barley had two pennies to rub together before the war started, and now she was sure they were dead.

But the worst of the what this war had to offer were the mandatory curfews and blackouts. Not a single light could be on after dark. Curtains were provided to block the ambient light, making the streets of London look desolate. Eating by candle light had provided issues and there was a time that Rickon nearly set the whole house on fire with his carelessness.

That’s why, when morning came, Arya would be the first up.

She wanted to bask in the sunlight and enjoy the hours of normalcy before having to cower in the shadows come night.

The market trips was only reprieve she had, so when her mother had abruptly stopped asking her to do this simple request, it nagged at her inner being. That was her time to spend outside with Gendry, her time to feel like a normal girl again.

“Are you packed?” She asked Rickon who had given her a scowl at her earlier outburst.

He nodded his head, not meeting her eyes.

“And what about Bran? Did you help him pack?”

Another nod.

“So you are all set to head to the train station come tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.” It was a quick response that left matters solidified.

The rest of the family remained quite as they munched at their bland potato.

Most mornings consisted of the same old routine and this one was much the same. They would eat, read, and play a few games. Then Arya would head to the market, while Sansa watched the younger siblings. Then when Arya returned home, usually with Gendry at her tails, their mother would be coming through the door just a few hours later. The only difference was that instead of heading to the market to meet with Gendry, Arya would sneak to the coal factory where he worked. She was sure her mother had eyes at the market, so if she risked meeting him there then her mother would know before she even got home.

“When do you plan on going to the library?” Sansa questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Arya cleared her throat, glancing between Bran and Rickon to see if they were aware of the sudden change in plans, “As soon as breakfast is cleaned up.”

“The library? Why would you go to the library?” Bran suddenly chirped.

Arya cursed under her breath and tried to think of a good excuse to sway her brother in another direction. She could be sure that Sansa would at least try to keep her secret, but Bran was a differently matter entirely. If he wanted to rat her out then he would, unless there was something in if for him.

“Does there have to be a reason to go to the library?” Arya countered.

Bran shrugged, “I suppose not…but aren’t most of the libraries burned to the ground from all the air raids?”

“Not all of them. The Citadel is still standing, last I heard. I want to be able to take a piece of London with me, that’s all.” She assured.

“And you plan on stealing a book from the library?”

“More like borrow…” She shrugged.

Bran nodded, and then his eyes went wide, “Wait! The Citadel is on the same side of town as the coal factory. You’re going to see Gendry.”

Arya groaned, “Name it, whatever it is, that will keep you quiet.”

“When we get to the host’s house. You do my chores for a month.” He smirked.

“Deal, no shake on it.” Arya outstretched her hand for him to grasp. Bran had a smug smile as he spit into the palm of his hand, clasping it tightly with hers.

“Deal.”

#gendry x arya #Arya Stark #Gendry Waters #arya/gendry #modern era #wwii au #firestorm #stark family #sibling bonding

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video-killed-the-radio-host · 5 years

Text

Heartbeats on the Airwaves chapter 9

Well this ended up being longer than I planned. Oops.

@acealex-blueiguana

@mrtacothethird

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After Kevin was stitched up and checked over, he was sent home to rest. Cecil sits in the waiting room waiting for Carlos to come out so they can leave. He wraps his arms around himself, Kevin’s words running through his head. He started down at his returned ring. He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps. He doesn’t look up when he felt someone sit down beside him.

“Hey.” Carlos says softly. “You okay?”

“No. Cecil answers honestly. “I feel dirty.”

“Cecil, he did it to protect you.”

“He shouldn’t have had to!”

“If he hadn’t, you might be dead right now.” Carlos whispers.

Cecil looks away. “I know.” He looks back. “I’m scared. What if he comes after me? Or worse. Goes after you?”

“I’ll kick his ass before I ever let him touch you again. I don’t care if I lose my license.”

“Carlos no. Its not worth it. You’ve worked so hard to be where you are today, and I don’t want to ruin that….”

“Cecil, you are worth loosing everything. I don’t care what it takes to keep you safe. Because I love you.”

“But- “

Carlos leans over and presses a kiss to Cecil’s lips. “You are.”

Cecil sighs a little, knowing that arguing with the other was pointless on this subject. “I love you too.”

“Come on. Let’s get you home. It’s been a long night.”

Cecil just gives a quiet nod and stands, holding out his hand. Carlos takes it and stands, pulling Cecil close and kissing him gently. “We will get through this. Me and you.”

“I hope you’re right.” Cecil nuzzles into the crook of Carlos’ neck. He closes his eyes and exhales softly.

“I am right. You’ll see.”

“Could you maybe stop being cocky and just take me home?”

Carlos laughs softly and nods. “Let’s go.” He steps back and takes Cecil’s hand, leading him out the door.

The drive home was spent in a comfortable silence. Carlos’ hand rested on Cecil’s knee, rubbing back and forth with his thumb. The warmth and motion were comforting. Cecil let the tension fall from his body and leans back, closing his eyes.

“Carlos?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t tell you enough how much I love you.” Cecil opens his eyes and looks over at his fiancé. “I love you more than anything.”

Carlos glances over. “I love you too. You are the light of my life. My moon. My sun.” He squeezes his hand a little, making Cecil blush. “What brought this on, may I ask?”

“Listening to Kevin earlier……It made me realize that we have no idea what could happen. We can lose everything in a split second. I want you to know how much I love you. In case something happens to me.” Cecil rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “I want you to know that I love you more than anything. You are amazing. Never forget that.”

Carlos pulls into the driveway and turns off the car before answering. He unbuckles and turns in his seat, facing the other man. “Look at me.” He says gently.

Cecil keeps his eyes glued to his hands, folded in his lap. His eyes dart up in surprise when Carlos hooks two fingers under his chin and tilt his face up.

“Look at me.” He says once again.

Cecil licks his lips and nods a little.

“Cecil, you are more important than anyone on this planet to me. I will go to hell and back to protect you. I would swim a million miles for a glance of your face. I would climb the highest mountain just to hear your voice. Hell, I’d spend ten years in a desert otherworld if it meant I could come home to you.”

Cecil opens his mouth to protest but Carlos put a finger to his lips.

“I’m not done.”

Cecil closes his mouth and Carlos smiles. “I would lay down my life, give up my medical license, walk across broken glass and hot nails barefoot for you. Your safety and happiness are the most important thing to me. You are my whole world. I love you, Mi Alma, Mi Vida, Mi Corazon.”

Carlos moves his finger and presses a kiss to Cecil’s lips. “You are the center of my universe. Never forget that.”

Cecil leans back over for one last kiss. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll take it.” Carlos smiles softly. He pulls opens his door. “Let’s get you inside. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

Cecil follows in suit with a snort. “You’re one to talk, doctor man.”

“Hey. Do as I say and not as I do. That’s our motto at work.”

“If I have to take care of myself, so do you.”

Carlos huffs a little. “Fine. But only cause it’s you.”

“Damn straight.” Cecil nods, taking Carlos’ hand and starting up the walk. Carlos trailed behind him and pulls away long enough to unlock the door.

“Come on. I’ll make you dinner.”

“Nothing big. I don’t really have an appetite.” Cecil says, slipping his shoes off near the door.

“It’s been a long day. You need a good meal.”

“I’m tired.”

“I need you to eat Ceec. Please?”

Cecil quietly follows Carlos to the kitchen. He sits on a bar stool and watches Carlos move around the kitchen, humming to himself. “Tell me about your day?” He asks.

“Well, some interns got in a fist fight. An attending got caught sleeping with a patient. Drama, drama, drama. But I was about to cut out a huge tumor.” Carlos waves his knife a little as he talked, making Cecil chuckle. “It was the size of my fist! But The guy is fine. Really nice guy. Teaches music at the college.”

Cecil slips off the stool and rounds the counter, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist and resting his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Mm.”

“It took almost seven hours.”

“It baffles me that you and keep yourself concentrated for that long.”

“Not all of us get distracted by shiny objects.” Carlos teases.

Cecil nips at him. “Not all of us can stab people to life either.”

Carlos turns his head a little. “You are not allowed near knives any more if you keep talking like that.”

“It is essentially what you do, is it not?”

Carlos sighs, then holds up a fork. “Open.”

Cecil obeys, closing his eyes. His lips close around the fork and he hums in satisfaction. “Chicken…garlic…. lemon grass?” He guesses, opening his eyes.

“You forgot thyme.” Carlos says. “But three out of four is pretty good.”

“Oh no! Look at the thyme!” Cecil cackles loudly.

Carlos just rolls his eyes and hands him a plate of chicken and carrots. “Eat.”

Cecil takes the plate and sits back down on the bar stool. “You have to eat too.”

“I am, I am.” Carlos joined him, leaning against the counter across from where Cecil sat. “See?”

Cecil kept his eyes clued to Carlos’ face until he started to eat, before smiling and starting to eat himself. The meal is shared in the same comfortable silence from the car. It was a moment of understanding. Of love and healing. Cecil finishes first. He was hungrier than he originally thought. He pushes the plate aside and watches Carlos eat, not even annoyed at how loud his chewing was. It didn’t matter. Not in this moment. Possibly not at all.

Two weeks later

Cecil blinks awake when Carlos presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Mm... What time is it?” He asked, sitting up and reaching for his glasses.

“It’s eight thirty. You need to get up or you’ll be late. You don’t want to deal with Lauren lecturing you again, do you?” Carlos teases.

Cecil makes a face. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Well, sooner you get there, sooner you can get home. We have a date tonight.”

Cecil’s face lights up. “Happy Anniversary.”

“And to you. Now get dressed. I’ll drop you off.”

Cecil half rolls off the bed, falling into the floor before heading to the closet. He pulls down the purple dress shirt that Carlos called the purple shirt of sex. He digs out a cream-colored tie and carries them plus a pair of slacks to the bed. He shrugs out of his sleep clothes and gets dressed, forgoing the vest today. The door opens as he drapes the tie around his neck. Carlos crosses the room and comes to a stop in front of him.

“Let me.” He says.

Cecil drops his hands and tilts his head back. Carlos works quickly, tying the tie perfectly. Cecil looks back down at Carlos, his lips slightly parted. Taking the silent cue, Carlos pulls him close by the tie and kisses him deeply.

“We have to go.” Cecil murmurs.

Carlos gives a soft whine but nods, pulling away. “If we must.”

Carlos nods and heads for the door, stopping only to grab his bag. The coffee shop wasn’t far, so Carlos drops him there, apologizing that he couldn’t come in. Cecil just gives him a kiss and tells him it’s alright.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He says, climbing out.

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Go help some people today.”

Cecil strolls into the station with an easy smile. He looks around but sees no Lauren, which is always a plus. He does however, spot Dana near the coffee machine and makes his way over.

“Oh, someone looks dapper.” She teases.

“I have a date tonight.” Cecil blushes a little.

“Like a date date or a date?” She asked with a mischievous smirk.

“Dana!” He smacks her arm.

“Oh!” She laughs. “I knew it!”

Before Cecil could answer, the happy atmosphere was sucked from the room with the sharp click of heels. Cecil groans into his coffee and downs it before turning around. He now stood face to face with the person everyone in the station hoped to avoid. Well, not quite face to face, due to Cecil being half a foot taller.

“Ms. Mallard. How may I help you?”

“Bank robbery on fifth. Go cover it.”

Cecil bites back a retort and just nods.

“Oh, and Cecil? Try not to get shot this time. The paperwork is dreadful.”

Cecil could feel Dana boiling behind him and reaches back to put a hand on her arm. This woman isn’t worth it. Cecil held eye contact as he fights back the urge to smack this woman. Lauren just gives a dark smile and walks away. “Take a crew with you!” She calls over her shoulder.

Cecil lets Dana go and takes a deep breath. Dana is still fuming beside him.

“God, I hate that woman.”

“I know Dana.”

“I wish she’d die in a ditch.”

“I know Dana.”

“I am going to do something about it!”

“Dana no.” Cecil looks at her. “Because you don’t know what she’ll do to you. And you’re the only one here that I feel safe around. Plus, you can’t be my best man if you’re in jail.”

“You are lucky I love you Palmer.”

“I know Dana.” Cecil chuckles and hugs her. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Hey Mendez!” Rochelle calls from across the attendings lounge. Carlos looks up from the chart he was reading.

“What’s up?”

“Your boyfriend’s on TV!”

Carlos joins her, looking up at the mounted TV.

“There appear to be three hostages inside, but no children. The robbers are armed and very dangerous-”

“God damnit Lauren!” Carlos yells at the screen as Cecil keeps reporting. The news cuts to a woman that Carlos recognized as Dana, Cecil’s best friend.

“That is the report given an hour ago. Cecil Palmer has now been taken hostage, in exchange for the other hostages. He will only be realized when the demands are met. There is a bomb planted inside. The bomb squad is on its way. We will keep you updated as the situation unfolds.”

Carlos’ blood ran cold. Then he saw red. This was her fault.

“Carlos, where are you going?”

Carlos faces her. “Think about it. Cecil was in danger of dying exactly a year apart because of his idiot boss. I’m going to confront her.”

“Carlos, don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t. I’m just going to have a talk. Page me if I’m needed.”

And with that, he was out the door.

Carlos finds Lauren sitting in the main room of the station, watching the newscast.

“Lauren.” He says coldly. “We need to talk.”

She turns. “Ah! Mr. Mendez! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Dr. Mendez.” Carlos corrects. “And you need to stop sending Cecil to risk his life.”

“He’s a reporter. He’s doing his job.” She says, with an eerie grin.

“You’re trying to get him killed!”

“If he gets killed in the line of duty, oh well.” She shrugs.

Carlos fought the urge to strangle her right then. She wasn’t worth losing his license over. A loud noise draws Carlos’ attention to the TV. His stomach dropped and his heart nearly stopped. The bank had exploded. Lauren’s face was blank, unreadable. Carlos growls and runs down, pulling his phone to call Rochelle.

Cecil wakes yet again, in the hospital. He had a weird sense of deja vu, but at least this time he didn't get shot. He was cold and hot at the same time. His arms were tingly.

“Carlos? “He asked, his voice rough, his throat burning. It was likely damaged due to the explosion.

“I’m here.” Carlos stands and takes his hand.

“I hope this isn’t a yearly thing.” Cecil muses, closing his eyes. A dark bruise was prominent against the tall man’s pale face. “Please don’t smack me this time. I’m not dying.” He smiles a little.

Carlos huffs a laugh. “I’m glad. I couldn’t live without you.” He presses a gently kiss to Cecil’s lips.

Lauren crosses her legs as she answered her phone, a scowl on her face.

“You failed. Again. How hard is it to kill one man?” She scoffs. She listens to the excuses starting to come but cuts them off. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

She hangs up and leaves the building, hailing a cab.

“Where to, ma’am?”

“Mercy Eastern Hospital, please.” Lauren answers, her jaw clenched, yet determined.

Carlos hadn’t left Cecil’s bedside since he woke up. Cecil wasn’t complaining but the man looked exhausted. He carefully slid over and pats the bed.

“Lay with me?”

He knew there was no way he could convince Carlos to go sleep so maybe this would help.

Carlos quirked a smile. “Is this you trying to trick me into sleeping?”

“Maybe. But I want to be close to you. I almost died today and that means I deserve cuddles.”

Carlos gives a huff of mock annoyance but smiles and climbs into the bed next to him. Cecil immediately folds around him, best he could. He lays his head on Carlos’ chest and looks up.

“I can feel you thinking. What's on your mind?” He asks softly.

Carlos reaches down and entwines their fingers. “Ever since you got shot, I'm always worrying about you.” He pauses and kisses Cecil's knuckle. “And I know that in your line of work, you get sent all kinds of places, but it kills me that I can't protect you.”

Cecil opens his mouth to protest but Carlos goes on.

“But when I see you reporting, I see how happy you are. You have a……. glow about you. It's truly beautiful. Because this is what you're meant to do. I'm not asking you to give up what you love, I'd never, ever, do that. But….” He sighs a little. “The most important thing to me is your safety. And Lauren-”

“I don't trust her Carlos.” Cecil whispers. Cecil's expression broke Carlos’ heart. He was terrified of this woman. Carlos couldn't even begin to imagine what happened inside the bank.

“I think she's trying to kill me, and I think the guys at the bank worked for her.”

“Did they do something to you?” Carlos asked, his brain going through terrible situations.

“Nothing I won't survive.” Cecil says, waving his hand a little. Carlos knew there was more to that statement but didn’t want to pry when Cecil was so vulnerable. ”I've learned to read people. For my job. And I pick up on things. Like how your smile spreads from left to right when you find something funny but right to left when you're excited or joyful.” He pauses, touching Carlos’ cheek. “She hates me. I know that much. But does she hate me enough to kill me?”

“I wish I knew the answer.” Carlos says softly. “But I really don't know.”

Before Cecil reply, Carlos’ pager went off, making Cecil jump and then whimper in pain. Carlos cursed softly and reaches for it, reading the message.

“It's 911. Dammit.” He looks at Cecil. “I can have someone else to handle it-”

“Go.” Cecil says softly with a smile. “I'll be here when you get done. I'm fine. Someone needs you to save them.”

Carlos kisses his lips gently. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“I'll be here.”

Cecil nods and lays his head back, closing his eyes. He listens as Carlos leaves the room, relaxing slowly.

He was almost asleep when he heard a distinct click of heels against the tile floor. His eyes snap open and his breath catches in his throat as he sees Lauren standing over him. He starts to tremble at the sight. It was like something out of a nightmare.

“Cecil, you are a very hard man to kill, despite having all the grace of a drunk cat.” She tsked.

Cecil tried to call out, but his voice was shot. The only sound that came out was a dry whisper.

“Looks like you have to shut up for once in your life.” She muses. “I wish I could enjoy it.”

She pulls a small vial from her pocket and holds it up. “Do you know what Batrachotoxin Cecil is?” She asks. She picks up a needle and fills it, holding the needle up to the light. Then she continues. “It's one of the deadliest poisons in the world.”

Reaching over, she yanks out the IV, making Cecil give a cry of pain. She then jabs the needle into his arm, despite him trying to fight her off. His limbs were still shaky from the explosion.

Batting his hand away, she pushes the stopper down.

“First you'll go numb. Then your muscles will deteriorate. Then your heart will fail. Then the rest of your organs. Last is your brain.”

Once the needle was empty, she pulls it out and gives a grin. “Isn't it amazing?”

Cecil gasped, choking.

“Well, I wish I could say it's been fun, but you've been a giant pain in my ass. Good riddance.” She smirks and leaves the room. Cecil barely managed to fumble with the nurse call button before he blacked out.

Carlos paces the waiting room, his mind going through all kinds of situations before one of the other doctors comes out. He stops and gives them a hopeful look.

“Is he okay?”

“He's alive.” The unspoken 'for now’ hung in the air between them.

“What happened?”

“He was dosed with an extremely lethal poison. He is in a medically induced coma to give his body a chance to try and flush it out.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Only time will tell.”

18 notes · View notes

darks-ink · 5 years

Text

What A Nice Surprise CH.2

This thing just keeps getting longer and longer. I have vague ideas for future chapters (and a more defined plan for the next one) but the characters keep derailing my plans, so idk how long it'll be. As I've said before, this is just a story that I write whenever I feel like it, as opposed to Disinterred. That, and the chapters are longer than Disinterred's.

Also normally I stick to a specific POV per scene, but I kind of... switched from Jack to Maddie in the big scene? And idk how I feel about it, so I would appreciate hearing what you guys think.

(Previous Chapter - Next Chapter) (AO3 - FFnet)

Danny threw another glance at the clock. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, even more so than what was normal for Lancer’s English class. He shoved his leg against his backpack, which was resting on the floor next to his desk. The rounded shape of the Thermos met him in what should be a comforting feeling.

It wasn’t. Not after the events of earlier that day, during lunch.

There had been a ghost attack. Of course there had been a ghost attack. Not a big one, nothing he couldn’t handle himself.

But Cujo had mistaken the Thermos for a toy. He had lunged for it, and before Danny knew it, Cujo’s teeth sunk into the metal of the Thermos.

He immediately distracted the ghost dog, but it had been too late. His fangs had punctured the metal of the Thermos, and an arch between the two punctures showed where the rest of his teeth had met the cylinder’s surface as well.

There was nothing he could do to fix it. He had send off Cujo, thanking his luck that at least the dog would be easy to get rid of without any kind of catching technology. But if another ghost showed up… He would be nigh powerless. And while his parents had created different ghost catching devices, none of them were as easy to carry or hide as the Fenton Thermos.

He had already decided that he should pay his parents another visit as Phantom. They didn’t know Fenton carried a Thermos, after all. Didn’t know that he carried ghost-hunting equipment at all.

Besides… They had asked him to come by without injuries.

Danny just hoped that they had another Thermos. Or maybe they could fix this one, but he highly doubted it. And… This Thermos had been through a lot. Maybe he had just been tempting fate by not looking for a replacement earlier.

The bell rung, snapping Danny out of his thoughts. He swung his backpack on, the cylindrical shape of the Thermos pressing against his back. One of the sharp edges of the punctures dug into his flesh. A constant reminder of how badly it needed to be replaced.

Like he could’ve forgotten.

He quickly swept by his locker, glancing at the sticky note stuck on the inside of the door. The handwriting was neat and loopy, and anyone who knew him could tell it wasn’t his. They usually thought it was Jazz’. Danny was fine with letting them think that.

‘overheard mr. falluca mention a pop quiz tomorrow – check chapter 8’ the note said. Danny grinned, gratefully. They might not have gotten along well at the start, but Sidney was a good friend to have.

Besides, who else could pass him notes for class by just leaving them in his locker? Someone had to make sure he could keep up with class, with how often he had to leave to fight ghosts. And while Sam and Tucker were fine with playing along at first…

Well, Danny was sure that he would’ve gotten tired of his secrecy if he had been them, too.

They were still his friends, of course. But he just didn’t have much time to hang out with them anymore. And he couldn’t tell them the truth. Besides the obvious concern of what they might think… The danger that it would put them in was simply too great. It would make them a target for his enemies.

Besides, Sam would never allow herself to stand by if he was going out to fight ghosts. She would insist on fighting by his side, never mind how dangerous the ghosts were. She would get torn apart.

And Danny couldn’t allow that. So he let them think whatever it was that they thought about him. It was safer that way.

After making sure that his math textbook was in his bag, Danny made his way to an empty bathroom. It had been attacked a few time when ghosts first started showing up, leading to rumors of it being haunted. After some encouragement, Sidney had gladly taken to reinforcing those rumors. It had become a perfect spot for Danny to ‘go ghost’, since no one ever entered it.

Moments after Danny walked in, Sidney flickered into visibility. Danny quirked an eyebrow at him. Usually if Sidney left a note, he wasn’t planning on showing up. “Hey Sid, what’s up?”

“Found your dog,” the boy said with a frown. He lifted up his leg to show Cujo hanging off of it, thankfully in his puppy form. The dog was wagging his tail like crazy.

“Oh, uh. Oops?” Danny grimaced, grabbing Cujo. The dog immediately let go, tongue lolling from his mouth as he panted. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” Sidney confirmed with a comforting tone. He brushed off his pant leg. “And he was so distracted by me that he didn’t hurt anyone else either.”

“That’s good.” Danny looked at the wriggling dog in his hands. He should bring Cujo back to the Ghost Zone. He was already going to FentonWorks as Phantom anyway. But… the dog had an awful tendency to cause trouble wherever he went, and Danny didn’t need his feeble truce with his parents to be ruined.

He shot a doubtful look at Sidney. “Hey, Sid. Could you… keep an eye on Cujo for the rest of the day? I need to get a new Thermos from my parents, and I can’t take him with me.”

“I guess.” Sidney sounded as uncertain as Danny felt. He crouched next to the dog, reaching out with his hand. Cujo squinted at the boy ghost, apparently trying to gauge if he was an enemy or not.

Danny set the dog on the ground, keeping a hand on Cujo’s back. Then he grabbed Sidney by the wrist, gently putting his hand on Cujo’s forehead. “Cujo, this is Sidney. He’s a friend, okay?” Then he released Sidney again.

The dog looked unsure, glancing at Danny and then Sidney. Finally he started wagging his tail again, allowing Sidney to pet him.

Danny sighed in relief. That was one problem taken care of, at least.

Sidney grabbed the dog, cradling Cujo in his arms. “Well buster, I guess I’m taking care of you now.” Then he stood up, nodding towards Danny. “See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Sid,” Danny said as he started rifling through his backpack.

“Don’t mention it.” And then the ghosts were gone, leaving Danny alone in the bathroom. He was glad that Cujo had accepted Sidney. If the dog showed up again, he might be coaxed into playing with Sidney instead of him.

Besides, if Valerie saw those two hanging out, she might finally understand that Cujo wasn’t his dog. Or she would think that Sidney was dog-sitting Cujo for him. Which he was, technically.

Danny’s fingers met the sharp edge of the Thermos, and he pulled them away with a hiss. That’s what I get for getting distracted, he reprimanded himself mentally.

He pulled out the Thermos, laying it on the floor next to him. Then he closed his backpack again, swinging it on his back. Once he shifted into Phantom, the backpack would be inaccessible. Would cease to exist until he became human again.

In a flash of light he morphed into his ghost form. Grabbed the Thermos, careful not to cut himself on it. And then he shot off towards FentonWorks, making sure to stay invisible.

The doorbell rang, and Jack automatically looked away from the experiment he and Maddie had been working on.

“Do you think that that’s…?” he didn’t finish his question, but he knew his wife would know anyway.

“Maybe,” she said, pulling her goggles off. “It has been a few weeks since he last came by.”

“I hope he hasn’t gotten himself injured again.” Jack frowned at the partially dismantled invention in front of him.

The two of them had been working on the Booo-merang, hoping to reassemble it to pick up on an actual ghost. In fact, they were hoping to tweak it into picking up Phantom specifically. The first time he had come to them for help, he had barely made it to their house. As much as they disliked it, there was a decent chance of Phantom getting hurt worse. And if he disappeared… There was no one who would look for him. No one who would miss him, not really.

Except them.

So they had to be ready to help. In any way they could. From tweaking their inventions to ignore Phantom’s ecto-signature, to building ones specifically intended to help him… Whatever they could do, they would.

“He probably has,” Maddie said with a sigh. “We better go check.”

“Yeah.” The Booo-merang could wait. If Phantom was injured, he was more urgent.

The two of them raced up the stairs, swinging open the front door. No one was there, but Jack stepped aside with a small grin on his face anyway.

“Thanks,” said the empty space, voice surprisingly light and airy. He didn’t sound like he was hurt, but he might be putting up a front.

They entered the living room, and Phantom became visible. His jumpsuit was shiny and pristine, hair disheveled but undirtied. His glow was bright and didn’t flicker. He seemed… healthy. As much as a ghost could be, that is.

“Not injured for once?” Maddie queried, cocking an eyebrow at the ghost.

“You did ask for me to come by without needing stitches,” Phantom quipped back. Then he deflated a little, nervously playing with something in his hand. It seemed metallic, reflecting the light of Phantom’s glow. But Jack couldn’t see it well enough to tell what it was. “I, uh. Could use your help, though.”

“Of course!” he boomed. “What do you need us to do?”

Phantom hesitated for a moment. Then he held out his hand, showing the metal object he had been playing with.

It was a Fenton Thermos – or used to be one, at least. The cylinder had been badly dented and even punctured in two places. Jack couldn’t even imagine the power needed to achieve such a thing.

More importantly, however… How did Phantom get a Fenton Thermos?

There had been stories, descriptions of Phantom using a tool which certainly sounded similar to their Thermoses… but this was the first time that Jack had seen it with his own eyes. And it was, without doubt, a Thermos just like theirs.

“How did you get that?” he asked, cautious. People had been describing Phantom with this tool for a long time. Way before they ever got a truce. Phantom couldn’t have gotten it back then, not unless… “Did you steal that?”

“What? No!” The ghost seemed offended by the suggestion, pulling the Thermos against his chest again.

“Then how did you get it?” Maddie repeated the question, frowning at the ghost. She also seemed put-off by the suggestion that Phantom might not have been as good as they thought.

“I- Jack threw it at me!” the ghost exclaimed, throwing out his hands.

“I did?” He didn’t remember doing so… but it also sounded strange enough that he couldn’t imagine a ghost coming up with it as an excuse.

And apparently Maddie thought the same, because she now let up her frown to quirk an eyebrow at Phantom. “When? And why?”

The ghost huffed, crossing his arms in a somewhat disgruntled fashion. “How am I supposed to know why he threw it? As for when, it was during my first fight to protect Amity Park. Against the Lunch Lady ghost.”

Phantom turned to look Jack straight in the eye. “He hit me right in the face, and he wasn’t even aiming for me!”

That… did sound like something that he would do. But he couldn’t imagine just throwing out one of his ghost hunting inventions, not while there were ghosts running rampant! Unless…

“Hey Mads… Wasn’t that when Jazz convinced us to give up on ghost hunting?”

Phantom blinked, apparently surprised by this revelation. “You… almost gave up on ghost hunting? I… really can’t imagine that. What changed your mind?”

“You, actually,” Maddie added, now also remembering that day. “You phased by and showed us that ghosts really do exist.”

“Huh,” Phantom said, playing with the Thermos in his hands again. “That must’ve been right after I caught the Thermos.”

“And that’s what you were here for, then.” Jack held out his hand.

“Uh, yeah.” Phantom handed over the Thermos. “I was hoping you could fix it? Or, uh.” He glanced over at the device with a grimace. “Or replace it, if you have something else I can use.”

Jack shook his head at the state of the ghost-catching gadget and handed it over to his wife. There was no saving it. But maybe his wife could see something he didn’t. “We got plenty of capture and containment devices.”

“But something small, like the Thermos?” Phantom vaguely gestured at himself. “I can’t exactly go about dragging a vacuum with me, can I?”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, before frowning. “Wait a minute, how do you know about the Fenton Weasel?”

“Honey, you caught Phantom in that. Remember?” Maddie looked up from the busted Thermos and also shook her head in the negative. “And there’s no fixing this, you’ll need something else. We’ll have to check the Weapons Vault if we have another Thermos for you.”

Jack, meanwhile, frowned in thought. He had captured the ghost kid before? “When was that?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean the catching thing?” Phantom scratched his cheek, thinking for a minute. “That was… Oh, that was during that bounty thing. You let me go so we could work together to save your family. Remember?”

“Oh yeah.” That was when all those other ghost hunters came to Amity, just to catch Phantom! And then the Wisconsin Ghost had tried to steal their Portal! That dastardly specter!

“You never told me you two worked together.” Maddie’s tone was accusing, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. She seemed… amused.

“Wasn’t much working together,” Jack said with a shrug. “He phased me out of the cage the Wisconsin Ghost trapped me in and he flew me most of the way to FentonWorks. And then the ghost hunters showed up so he left me to fight the Wisconsin Ghost alone.”

Phantom rolled his eyes, crossing his arms again. “His name is Plasmius. And I did come to help you in the lab, but you didn’t need it.”

“You did?” Jack didn’t remember seeing the ghost… Oh, duh. “You were invisible?”

“Yeah,” Phantom confirmed with a nod. “And you kicked Plasmius’ ass. It was fantastic.” His grin was wide and clearly heart-felt.

“Language,” Maddie chastised. Then she stopped and blinked, apparently surprised by her automatic reaction.

Phantom, in turn, stuck out his tongue. The incredibly childish gesture was ruined only by the fact that his tongue was as green as the rest of his ectoplasmic flesh.

Jack cleared his throat, catching the attention of both his wife and the specter. Then he stuck a thumb in the general direction of the Weapons Vault. “Let’s go check the Vault, shall we?”

His wife nodded and got up. The two of them made it all the way to the hallway before they realized that Phantom wasn’t following them.

Maddie turned to look over her shoulder at the ghost. “Are you coming too?”

Phantom blinked, apparently surprised by the question. “You’re letting me, a ghost, look at your Vault of ghost hunting equipment?”

“We’re letting a fellow ghost hunter look at our ghost hunting equipment, yes.” Jack shrugged at him. “Unless you don’t want to see it, of course.”

“No, no, I would love to.” The ghost drifted towards them, remaining roughly at eye level. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jack replied as he started moving towards the Vault again. “You won’t be able to access it, since the lock runs off of DNA and you don’t have any. But if you come to us we can open it for you, or grab you whatever you’re looking for.”

“I mean, it’s not like I need ghost hunting equipment very often.” Phantom floated by on his side, keeping pace with the two humans. “Besides something to catch them in, of course.”

“We don’t just make weapons, you know,” Maddie added, looking over her shoulder at him. “I’m sure that a ghost scanner of sorts could come in handy.” Then she frowned. “Although you seem to be perfectly capable of finding them already.”

“Yeah.” Phantom shrugged. “I kind of have one built in. One of my first abilities, and my first non-standard one, was the ability to sense other ghosts. I’ve honed it so I can sense direction and strength, too.”

“Now that is a convenient power for a ghost hunter to have,” Jack exclaimed with a grin. “Can you imagine, Mads? Not even needing a ghost scanner? Just knowing when a ghost is nearby?”

“I can even identify some ghosts by their ecto-signatures,” Phantom proudly added, now also grinning. “Mostly the ones that show up a lot, though. And all my allies, of course.”

They stopped in front of the large metal door that led to the Vault. While Maddie went to unlock it, Jack turned back to the ghost. “We’re working on something similar for our gear, too. Getting it to exclude your ecto-signature.”

“Really?” Phantom asked, smile brightening. “That’s- That means so much to me.”

The mechanism of the Vault unlocked with a beep and a metallic clunk. Maddie withdrew her hand and pulled her glove back on, simultaneously turning to look at Phantom. “Well, we said that we were going to help you. Making sure our equipment doesn’t target you is a good start, no?”

Phantom huffed, blowing a few stray hairs out of his face as he did so. “You would think that, but Red never bothered to do so. Then again, we usually go for temporary truces, not… this.”

“You’ve worked with the Red Huntress before?” Maddie questioned as she opened the Vault door. “Do you know who she is, then?”

“A couple times,” Phantom admitted with a shrug, drifting towards the Vault as it opened. “And yeah, but I’m not telling anyone without her permission. She wears a mask for a reason, you know?”

“You’re not worried that she’s gonna get hurt?” Maddie stepped aside to let Jack enter first, quirking an eyebrow at the ghost.

“Of course I am!” he answered, sounding offended. “I worry every time I see her out there hunting ghosts! I worry about everyone in this damn city!” Then his shoulders slumped, a somewhat defeated look coming over him. “But she doesn’t trust me to keep Amity safe. And I can’t stop her from going out.” He sighed heavily. “And she has someone looking out for her. If she ever gets in too deep… Gets hurt… He’ll take care of her.”

“And you have us.” Maddie gripped his shoulder comfortingly, before she started guiding him towards the Vault. “And we’ll take care of her too, if you want.”

“Thanks.” Phantom floated into the Vault, then glanced around at the shelves of equipment. “Wow, this is a lot of stuff.”

“And you haven’t even seen the stuff in the lab and the shed yet!” Jack exclaimed, appearing from deeper in the Vault. In his arms were several pieces of ghost hunting equipment – none of them weapons. “Here, I gathered some of the things that might be helpful to you.”

Phantom opened his mouth to reply, but then Jack dumped all of the gear into the arms of the ghost. He struggled to keep a hold of all of it, and Maddie watched as a glass contained of Ecto-Dejecto toppled off-

and stopped right before it hit the floor. A green aura lit around it, and it slowly floated back to the stack of things Phantom was holding.

She cocked a questioning eyebrow at the ghost. “Since when do you have telekinesis?”

“A couple of months,” the ghost admitted, attempting to shift the stuff he was holding to get a better grip on it. “But I don’t use it much in combat. Takes too much focus.” The vial settled on the stack, this time without falling off. “I’m still working on it. I don’t know how useful it would be in a fight, but it could be useful to keep the citizens safe from debris and such.”

“It could be useful to grab projectiles before they hit you,” Maddie offered, glancing over to figure out where her husband had gone. “Things like nets and such.”

Phantom blinked, then groaned. He looked like he would’ve slapped himself in the face if his hands weren’t already occupied. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”

Maddie laughed at his forlorn expression. “Glad that I was able to help.” Then she eyed the teetering heap of equipment the ghost was holding. “You can bring that downstairs if you want, see if there’s anything that catches your attention. I’ll check for a Thermos or something similar in the meantime.”

“Uh, alright.” Phantom nodded before turning transparent. The items he was holding followed soon after.

“See you downstairs,” he said with a grin before falling through the floor. Maddie blinked for a moment at the display of his ghostly abilities. She hadn’t had much opportunity to observe him using his powers yet, so seeing him use them so casually… It was a little startling.

Not bad. Just… unexpected.

Maddie came down not much later to find Phantom in the kitchen. The stack of gear that Jack had handed him laid on the table, the ghost already picking through it. Most of the gadgets were put to the side, clearly discarded.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention. “Sorry Phantom, I’m afraid that we don’t have a Thermos for you.”

“Oh,” he said, disappointed. “Nothing else I could use, either?”

“No, sorry.” She sat down on one of the free chairs, looking over the pile of inventions. “We can build you a new one, though. If you come back this weekend we should have it done for you.”

“Really?” He perked up, eyes bright. “I’ll be sure to drop in, then.”

Maddie smiled at him, then gestured over to the gadgets he had been sorting through. “No interest in most of these?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Most of em I have no need for, or they’re things I can already do on my own. These three could be useful, though.” He picked up three items he had put aside, showing them to her.

One was the vial of Ecto-Dejecto he had almost dropped earlier. The others were a broken Fenton Ghost Fisher and some Fenton Phones.

Maddie took the snapped fishing rod from his hands. “Why do you want this? It’s broken.”

“I’m more interested in the line,” he confessed. “It could be useful to tie up enemy ghosts, if I can’t quite catch them in my Thermos, or if I need to talk with them.”

She hummed, handing him the fishing rod back. “That’s fair. What about the Ecto-Dejecto and the Fenton Phones? You are aware of what the Ecto-Dejecto is supposed to do, right?”

“Well, yeah.” He grinned, a little cockily. “But its current iteration strengthens ghosts, right? It could be useful if I ever get in a really tight spot.”

How did he know that? He was right, of course, but how did a ghost know about this recent invention?

“Yes it does… But Phantom, how do you know about that?”

His eyes widened, like he realized that he had accidentally told her something she wasn’t supposed to know. The bright green irises cast shaky light all over the kitchen.

“I, uh.” He started fidgeting with the vial in his hand. “Um. I might’ve… occasionally spied on you two in the lab. Because it was easier to avoid getting hurt if I knew what kind of inventions you had.”

Maddie eyed him suspiciously. She wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, but if he was… Well, as much as she hated the idea of a ghost spying on her, his reasoning was understandable.

She sighed. “I suppose that that’s fair. We did target you with experimental inventions a lot.”

“Heheh, yeah.” He smiled somewhat sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in a motion that reminded her of her son.

She wondered, suddenly, what her kids thought of Phantom. Because while she and Jack were now on his side, they hadn’t talked about their truce with their children. And while most teenagers seemed to side with Phantom… Her kids were also raised by strongly anti-ghost parents.

They might hate Phantom, not knowing that their parents supported the ghost.

Phantom’s face fell, and he dropped his hand too. He looked vaguely worried. “Is something… wrong?”

Maddie realized that she must’ve been frowning at him. She waved off his concerns. “Oh no, sorry Phantom. I was just thinking…” She eyed the ghost speculatively. “Are you… familiar with my kids?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘familiar’.” He shrugged. “I know a lot of kids that go to Casper High by name, especially those that get caught up in ghost attacks. But I don’t really know any of them.”

Then he grimaced suddenly. “Except Paulina Sanchez. I’m a little too familiar with her.”

Maddie quirked an eyebrow at him. “How so?”

“Well, I’m sure that she doesn’t think so, but, uh.” He flushed bright green. “She kind of… has a shrine dedicated to me in her locker. I saved her a couple times and now she’s got a huge crush on me.”

She snorted at his confession. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. “Reminding you of those worshiping ghosts of yours?” she teased Phantom.

“At least they don’t have a crush on me,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “And even if they did, at least they’re also ghosts. There’s something weird about a living girl having a crush on a ghost.”

And he did look very uncomfortable. Maddie felt for him. It couldn’t be easy, to be a ghost and so aware of the difference between you and the living. Especially since he was still so similar to them.

“Well, if she ever gets a little too persistent,” she laid her hand on his shoulder, “just tell us. Jack and I will play the role of overprotective parents if need be.”

Phantom huffed out a laugh, his glow brightening in joy. “Thanks, I’ll… keep that in mind. But, uh. If you can not give her ghost hunting equipment if she asks for it, I would appreciate that. Last thing I need is for her to be able to trap me.” His eyes sparkled with joy, making it clear that he was just joking around.

“I’ll make sure,” Maddie promised him, lifting her hand off of his shoulder to ruffle his hair instead.

She was about to say more, but Phantom shivered suddenly. His aura flickered brighter for a moment, and a puff of blue vapor trailed out of his mouth.

The ghost groaned, floating out of his chair. “Well, duty calls.”

“Was that your ghost sense, then?” She pushed herself out of the chair as well, reaching for one of the ecto-guns stored in the kitchen.

“Yup,” he confirmed, stuffing the Ecto-Dejecto and the fishing line into bags on his belt. He eyed the Fenton Phones for a moment, stuffing two in another pocket but leaving the rest.

Maddie holstered a gun and reached for one of the other pairs of Fenton Phones. Phantom caught her hand, however.

“You don’t have to help,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just the Box Ghost, no one threatening.”

“Oh, that one.” Maddie relaxed her posture a little, pulling her hand away from the earphones again. “Yes, I’m sure you can handle him alone.”

Phantom nodded, floating further towards the door. “Yeah. It’ll be a little harder without a Thermos, but it should be doable enough. I’ll see you and Jack this weekend, then.”

“Yeah. Bye Phantom, good luck.” She smiled and waved him goodbye.

“Thanks!” he called back as he left.

#danny phantom #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #dp fanfic #phanfic #danny fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #sidney poindexter #dark writes #i dont know how to write sidney's speech so just like... deal with it #also the fentons have absolutely adopted phantom and he doesn't know how to feel about it #i was gonna have jazz in this chapter but it got out of hand so she'll be there next chapter #what a nice surprise

32 notes · View notes

scifimagpie · 5 years

Text

Game of ZZZs: How Long Stories Ruin Everything

I've been putting this one off because I was kind of busy writing an 18-part series deep-dive involving journalism and undercover work, but since Lindsay Ellis has released her video essay conclusion, I have finally put my thoughts in order.

youtube

So, today we're going to talk about something contentious. I have no issue with books being long, or shows being long, or movies being long - but at the same time, I do. And yes, I know some people adore epic scale stories for their own sake. Not everything needs to be a thousand-page-long ten-book series with three spinoffs and prequels. Oh, sure, market forces and advertising play a role in this, but creators still participate in it.

But sometimes a story isn't long because it needs to be, it's long because the writer thinks it HAS to be. From my personal experience as a reader and writer, and especially as an editor, I've come to some conclusions about how stories are artificially extended. And in a world of global warming and climate change, shouldn't we be fighting waste everywhere, on every level?

Now, a certain show ended its eighth season not long ago; Big Bang Theory came to a whimper of a close after ten seasons, and Veep - which I only heard about towards its grand finale, alas - has also finished up a seven-season run.

I'm not saying all of these shows participated in various errors. I'm saying pretty much every show, book, and movie series will partake in them eventually. So how do we do better than the bad ones, and how do we echo or even improve on the good ones? We can't fight what we don't know about, so let's get into it.

Spacing

Everything happens, but not right away. No, the important events are distanced from each other, to the point where there are long stretches of dead zones or deserts of nonsense in between them. I'm not talking about character interactions as nonsense here, but unfortunately, a lot of authors seem to think that they count, and that human drama isn't interesting enough to be a climax. Older fantasy works--cough, cough, Wheel of Time--can be particularly bad about this. The problem with spacing out events and using human drama between the big McGuffin/army-driven fights is that readers get frustrated by the human drama rather than finding it rewarding. Or worse, they find the army and McGuffiny-crap a distraction from the human stuff.

Padding

I know about this issue from the inside. Bad Things that Happen to Girls started off as a book called Foreverland, and then was untitled for a while before getting its current name. It went through two full rewrites before arriving at its current published form. When I wrote it at first, I thought it absolutely had to be a long novel, with lots of details about the girls' lives and a slow-burn breakdown, then an extended road trip in the middle and a bunch of scenes about their experiences in university.

I didn't realise I was padding it, but when I experimented with radically decreasing the timeline of events, I had a revelation. I didn't need years and paragraphs on paragraphs chronicling their lived experiences, full of pointless dialogue and meandering descriptions. All I had to do were give little samples and important moments, and that would get the idea across. Sometimes a flash reveals more than a long exposure shot, to put it in cinematic terms.

Cramming

EVERYTHING MUST HAPPEN AND IT MUST HAPPEN NOW AND HERE ARE TEN NEW CHARACTERS AND A NEW SUBPLOT AND HOLY CRAP WE MUST MAKE UP FOR WRAPPING UP TOO MANY THREADS AT THE END OF THE LAST SEASON OOPS.

The caps lock here was entirely necessary and appropriate, because with cramming, the story often feels like it's shouting at you. (Probably in German.)

The biggest problem with cramming, too, is that it requires glossing over things. If readers get interested by a small detail, they might end up screaming, "wait, go back!" long after the author's moved to another topic, or three other topics. Finding the balance between this and padding can be tricky, but the best solution I can offer is "external perspective." Get someone to read over your work, and when they lose attention, that's time to cut. It's a trick I often use with editing manuscripts - the minute my attention wavers, I mark it, just in case.

Crashing

this tends to happen to shows that have lived past their expiry date. Supernatural is a fine example of this. This is where "shark-jumping" tends to come into play; characters do things that go against their nature and development for the sake of jump-starting a narrative or adding some excitement.

Oh, the shark-jump. That's worth a mini-section of its own. Honestly, most shows either end or jump the shark in order to keep going. There's no such thing as a perfect writer or a perfect story; mostly because these things are subjective, but partly because keeping all the balls in the air for a story is just plain hard.

Endless escalation

Science fiction authors are prone to this, and so are epic fantasy authors. In an effort to keep reader interest, stakes rise and rise and rise, and then lose sight of the human scale of things. The problem is that stories are made of people, and if you forget about the people, you don't have a story anymore.

As with Cramming, this can lead to glossing over interesting bits as well. The full impact of a big change or shift isn't always felt if we rush to the next big, shiny thing. In real life, though, long-reaching consequences of events can have ripples for decades or even centuries. The Magna Carta was a big deal when it was signed; the effects of the Spanish Inquisitions, the Crusades, the unification of China (which happened more than once), the Viking cultural expansions, and the colonization of North America (by which I mean the land-theft and genocide of Indigenous peoples) are all still talked about to this day.

Bad things that happen to characters need room to resonate. PTSD and trauma are not only interesting, they're natural, and even when people mostly recover from them, they leave a lasting impact. Let your characters get wrecked by something. Have characters reference things that have happened. Let characters get fatigued, collapse, and have to fix themselves. It'll not only demonstrate the actual impact of your events, it'll keep you from having to throw together another big, shiny thing to make the story more exciting (looking at you, Avengers series and mainstream comics).

So, what tends to actually cause these writing techniques behind the scenes?

Burnout or boredom

One of the most difficult and important factors - one which arguably contributed to the absolute mess that was the GoT finale - is just getting tired of your own damn story. When this happens, authors and creators will end up trying to revamp something with weird new twists partly to keep themselves interested, might engineer an awkward left turn to justify a foreshadowed plot element, or might just do a half-hearted wrap-up of the previous plot elements.

Here's the thing - audiences don't always consume stories at the same rate as authors write them. Many times, readers or viewers will stumble on a work and binge it in a relatively short time, so what took years for the writer will take months, at most, for the consumer. This can make tonal clashes very jarring.

In other cases, an author will abandon a series due to writer's block or life events - a sin of which I, cough, am guilty - and then try to pick it up later. This will still impact the story, often negatively. Maybe one has just gotten well and thoroughly tired of the subject matter, or it's been done to death in the popular sphere. It doesn't really matter - either way, authors are subject to the world around them, and sometimes, the only way to deal with burnout or boredom is rotating to another project. That's fine - the only issue comes when the first project is completely abandoned, and languishes, unfinished.

Societal changes and personal development

I'm combining these two because the world around us affects us, and sometimes, we even affect the world. If you'd told me that Donald Trump and Boris Johnson were going to rise to power during my lifetime, I wouldn't've believed you. To many, it sounded like a bad dream. Well, here we are, and the long night has not yet come to an end. Using art to cope with dark times and critique them is a long-celebrated human trend, and there's no reason to stop now. Sure, we might fear our work aging poorly - but stories that try to be timeless always age anyhow, and an earnest time capsule often lasts longer, because it can tap into the problems of an era (which echo forward, as discussed in the section above).

If you'd told me that I'd be able to deal with my family issues in a more satisfactory way, I might have believed you - but realising the impact of that on my writing both as a Game Master and an author is another matter. However, the additional perspective and maturity of healing has, rather than distancing me from characters' struggles, provided additional objectivity and even empathy. Fixing ourselves and healing doesn't "take away our artistic magic" - far from it. If anything, getting over issues unlocks the ability to deal with them in fiction much more effectively.

Disillusionment and insecurity

These are nasty brain demons, all right - perhaps one has taken a look at the broad span of one's work, compared it to one's goals, and feels they are just - well, left wanting. Every creator struggles with this at some point, whether crafting a story for a D&D party or for hundreds of readers or thousands of viewers. The only way to deal with it is with external perspective and turning to objective sources of both external critique and validation.

After all, we tell ourselves things that may or may not be true all the time, and measuring them against the perceptions of the audience can drastically correct things. Your readers might just be happy to see the characters get married - never mind that it took you five years to write about them getting together. And even if they don't like something specific or complain about it or nitpick - hey, they're coming back. You compelled them. Even if the readers, say, abandon their fandom and proclaim it a trashfire - they're still paying for or giving your story attention and money. And ultimately, from a marketing perspective attention is always neutral or positive - even if that attention is controversial - because it increases profits.

How do we even begin to fix all this?

But. All hope is not lost.

By acknowledging burnout, boredom, disillusionment, insecurity, personal development, and societal change - the factors which often lead to writing shortcuts detailed in the previous section - we can compensate for the natural creative struggles by accepting and anticipating them.

Try to write books in a series in a continuous stretch when possible, making it harder to lose track of the tone or style or character journeys. Plot things out, and get yourself a hands-on editor and/or extremely trustworthy beta-readers. And forgive yourself for screwing up - then get back to writing. At least, that's what I'm doing!

***

Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people's manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.

Find her all over the internet: * OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing *

* Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

#game of thrones #how to #advice #writing #editing #beta reading #list

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jarienn972 · 5 years

Text

Curse of Undoings - Part 4

So we have a slightly longer installment this time as these two scenes fit together. Killian's short reprieve is over and he's about to face all new torment. The snow globe will also make a brief appearance in this chapter. I really liked the thought of something so pretty being a prison like was presented at the end of S7 so I added my own twist. And now - on to whumping a pirate again...

Tagging my whump-loving cohorts @killian-whump @hookaroo and @castielamigos For those who’d like to read from the beginning: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Also on AO3 and FF.net Reminder that this contains graphic portrayal of violence

No stranger to prison cells throughout his lifetime of piracy, Killian had endured more than his fair share of humiliation and tribulations. He'd been on the receiving end of far more beatings than he cared to count but there was something about the woman he loved dishing out said beating that was weakening his resolve rapidly. He knew her head was filled with lies so it was of little use to fight her. He'd rather suffer the torment than dare raise a hand against his beloved, not that his current restraints allowed for that anyway. He wouldn't play into the madness either. If she intended to keep him gagged so he couldn't speak the truth, he would have to find another way.

He now steeled himself for another round of her interrogations as he heard the rattle of a key in the door, bracing as it swung open to reveal the faces of Gideon and his dungeon assistant.

"The Sheriff is ready to continue with your session now," Gideon announced as he pressed the business end stun gun into Killian's side as his silent partner released all of the padlocks from their tethering chains. Once their prisoner was free of the chains, the two men each grabbed hold of one of Killian's arms and dragged him from his cell.

Killian was taken to a different room this time, a little larger than the first torture chamber, but no less intimidating. In the center of the room, instead of rusting chains and iron shackles, there was a slab of rectangular metal positioned vertically. It resembled some type of examination table standing on end, but this one had the addition of metal loops along the sides and bottom and a length of chain at the top. It didn't take long for Killian to figure out what those fixtures would be used for when he was forcibly spun around and his back was shoved against the freezing cold metal. The shock of the icy metal momentarily soothed the welts on his back, but that would be the extent of any pleasantries with this experience.

Gideon's hand pressed against the collar ringing Killian's throat, holding the pirate's head in place as the collar's padlock was attached to the short chain atop the metal table. This new tether was so short that Killian could barely raise his head from the table nor could he look down without the collar cutting into the tender skin below his chin or choking himself. He didn't need to see what his captors were doing to know what was happening though. His hand was yanked to the side and the shackle was attached to one of those steel loops, but then his perspective was drastically changed as the metal slab was pushed backward, jolting to a stop with Killian now laying uncomfortably on his aching back. Staring at the single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling above, he could feel a shackle being attached to his previously unrestrained ankle while hearing the clicks of padlocks securing both legs to the table. Only his stumped arm remained free but it seemed to be of little concern to his captors who clearly believed he was fully restrained and now ready for the next interrogation, although the realization that they'd not removed the gag meant he probably wasn't expected to do any talking.

He tried to turn his head to see the expression on his wife's face as she entered the chamber but he didn't have enough range of motion to see her yet. He could smell her perfume though, sweet and flowery against the putrid stench he knew was emanating from his own body. But it wasn't long before she was there, leaning over him and suddenly, he'd never felt more vulnerable. The infuriating gag didn't allow for easy swallowing and right now, he was trying to swallow back the biggest lump forming in his parched throat, emotions conflicted between primal fear and the intensity of the love he still felt for this woman.

"Been enjoying our town's hospitality, Hook?" she asked snidely, drawing a gloved fingertip along his sweat-soaked chest. "Since you didn't want to talk earlier, I decided you deserved a little bit of persuasion so that you'll remember how to properly answer a question when you're asked." She gave a brief tug on the short chain that fastened his collar to the metal slab, ensuring its tightness as she prepared to deliver another round of pain. "This time, I won't be asking any questions. I'll just be telling you what I already know while you suffer your punishment for not responding earlier."

Satisfied that the restraints would be sturdy enough for the next session, Emma took a step back from the table and extended her gloved right hand toward Gideon who dutifully placed the stun gun atop her palm.

"So, here's what I know…," she continued. "You are Killian Jones, a common thief who calls himself Hook after the namesake prosthetic you wear." She paused to flip the switch on the taser and test its spark before pressing it against the bare skin a few inches above Killian's right hip. His body writhed and trembled as the electricity coursed through him, the metal table intensifying the jolt. After a couple of agonizing seconds, she pulled the device away, giving her prisoner only a brief reprieve before repeating the process on his left side. Killian's jaw clamped down against the bit gag so hard that he feared he'd broken a few teeth, although that would likely be the very least of his problems. His heart was racing and probably arrhythmic at this point, but she seemed to be finished with the stun gun, retuning it to Gideon in favor of a new toy.

"That taser seems so tame compared to what you deserve," she stated as she stepped away from the table, turning her back to her still-shaking prisoner as Gideon held up her leather satchel. It didn't take long to locate the implement she wanted and when she turned around to face her terrorized, prone prisoner, her gloved hands were wrapped around a very familiar object. "Ten years ago, you slaughtered my parents with your hook so perhaps it's fitting that today, I'm going to use it on you." She gripped the base of the shiny, steel hook tightly and as she raised it above him, Killian could tell it had been very recently sharpened. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd been threatened by the point of his own hook, but it had never before been at Emma's hand.

She taunted him at first, drawing the tip across the bare skin of his abdomen, leaving a trail of crimson drops in its wake, but the teasing came to an abrupt end as she drove the razor-sharp point deep into his left shoulder. He screamed around the gag at the vicious impalement, nearly choking on the bile that filled his throat, but she wasn't done yet, twisting the point all the way down to the bony shoulder blade before yanking the weapon back out of his flesh. She hovered the dripping hook above his face as though she was about to drive it between his eyes, but she simply held it there, allowing bright red droplets to rain down onto his face. The whole time, his gaze remained fixated on the extension and representation of him that had become a weapon once again, fearing it would claim his heart next.

"Is this how you taunted my mother before you drove this hook into her jugular? Oh, sorry – I forgot you can't answer right now so I guess I'll just have to finish the statement for you. You took sickening pleasure in it, stabbing her repeatedly and leaving behind a huge pool of blood, but that was all I found – a pool of nearly dried blood in their living room. I promise you, before I kill you, you will tell me what you did with their bodies. I owe them a proper burial. I owe my son proper closure since witnessing their deaths traumatized him so deeply that he started hallucinating and inventing a fantasy world of fairytales that only he believes in. If it weren't for Dr. Hopper and his medications, my son would have lost his mind by now and it's all your fault!"

Killian started up at her from the slab with tear-swollen blue eyes, praying he'd see something of the woman he loved in the face that glared down upon him, but all he could see was rage. How could the Emma he loved do this to him? Was there nothing she could see within him to make her recall even a minuscule portion of their lives together? He must look pitiful – chained up nearly naked to a metal table, covered in burns, bruises and lacerations with eyes begging his True Love not to kill him. But no matter how long he stared into her darkened emerald eyes, he could find no love reciprocated in the coldness of her gaze.

His punctured shoulder throbbed but there was nothing he could do to ease the pain or stem the flow of blood since his hand was shackled to the slab beneath him. Every pore exuded fear that his hours upon this Earth were numbered.

"Should we take him back to his cell, Sheriff?" Gideon asked as Emma backed away from the table.

"No – leave him here. He isn't going anywhere and we can finish when I get back." Emma wasn't anywhere near done with her prisoner but the constant vibration of her cell phone in her back pocket was becoming a distraction.

"Yes, ma'am," Gideon grinned almost lecherously as he and their assistant, who had still yet to speak a single word, followed their boss out of the chamber. Leaving their prisoner stretched out and trembling on the metal table, Gideon switched off the light, plunging the cell into near total blackness before slamming the door closed. Killian clenched his teeth around the bit as he heard the bolt slide into place to lock him in, although he didn't quite see the necessity of it. He wasn't going anywhere and was likely already laying on his own deathbed.

Emma peeled off her leather gloves before ascending the stairs out of the underground prison secreted away beneath Storybrooke's Town Hall. She was ready to head out to lunch, having worked up an appetite this morning, but apparently, the mayor had other plans, evidenced by the two missed calls and three text messages her honor had sent over the past fifteen minutes. Emma quickly tapped out a response as she reached the main floor, informing Mayor Fiona that she'd be right over to her office.

Despite outward attempts to appear affable, Emma was well aware that Mayor Fiona Black had a much darker side. Who else would keep a subterranean prison beneath their place of employment? Her office itself was mostly impersonal, cold and austere, bearing only a few touches that hinted at her personality like the scattered portraits of various infants. But she and Emma had come to a tenuous agreement: when Emma had needed additional resources to hunt her parents' killer, Fiona had obliged with Emma promising to hire Fiona's grandson, Gideon, as her deputy. Emma had also agreed to keep Fiona apprised of any developments in this case and while Gideon's capture of the infamous Hook this morning had certainly been one of those developments, Emma had failed to keep her end of that bargain in her haste to question her prisoner. Her honor apparently wanted that information shared now.

Emma knocked tentatively on the frosted glass panel bearing Fiona's name that made up most of the upper portion of the door, immediately hearing an invitation to enter. Upon opening the door, she found the mayor leaning over a table beside the window, pouring herself a cup of tea from an ornate white china tea pot.

"Emma, I'm so glad you finally got my messages," Fiona began, flaunting a reptilian-like smile as she offered one of the porcelain cups and saucers to her guest. "Would you like to join me for a spot of tea?"

"No thanks. I'm really more of a hot chocolate girl myself."

"I see… Well, please – have a seat. I want to hear all about the prisoner we're holding downstairs. My dear Gideon informed me that he captured your parents' killer overnight?"

Yeah, I guess he did. Maybe I should have gone out drinking last night so I'd have stumbled into him, but anyway…" Emma casually flopped down into one of the two upholstered leather armchairs facing Fiona's desk. The mayor frowned at Emma's somewhat immature behavior but allowed the Sheriff to continue her story. "Can you believe the audacity of that son of a bitch – to sail back into my town on the tenth anniversary of their murders?"

"Some people have no respect for such important anniversaries," Fiona replied as she demurely placed her cup and saucer atop the desk before taking a seat in her own plush, ebony leather chair. "But I have heard that you've been interrogating the prisoner. How has that been going?"

"I can't say that he's enjoying it," Emma chuffed. "He's denied everything, even trying to tell me that my parents were still alive when he last saw them, despite all of the reports to the contrary. But he will talk soon - although honestly, I really expected him to be more of a braggart so his silence has been a little off-putting. Maybe he just needs a little more motivation…?"

"And you've found ways to motivate him to tell you what you want?"

"Unless it kills him first, although I can't necessarily say I'd be too torn up over that…"

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're making progress," Fiona smiled as she raised the cup and saucer, hiding most of her evil sneer behind the delicate china. The rage and disquiet she'd implanted within Emma's false memories through her curse were playing out exactly according to her ploy. Her grin widened as she caught sight of the snow globe decorating the bookshelf on the opposite wall. It was only a matter of time before Emma Swan unknowingly condemned her entire family to oblivion, their stories already unraveling as they faded from memory. All that stood in her way were Emma's True Loves – the new husband she was thoroughly enjoying beating the hell out of and her son, Henry. "Oh, and Emma – I'm a bit concerned about your young son. I've heard he's been a tad unwell as of late, spouting off with delusions and other nonsense."

"He just hasn't been the same since his grandparents were killed. He was only four at the time and I know he saw too much and it… it damaged him. Sometimes I swear he lives in his own fantasy world. I'm going to get him back in to see the Doc as soon as this is all over. Maybe it's time to adjust his medication again?"

"Yes," Fiona agreed, embellishing her response with a dramatic sigh. "It seems as though that may be necessary to better take care of him." She tried her best to sound sympathetic, but in reality, Fiona wanted to cheer. At this pace, Emma would break both of her True Loves before the day was through. "Well, Sheriff, I've taken up enough of your time. I know you have work to be done so I will let you get back to it."

"Right now, I'm breaking for lunch and then I plan to break a prisoner," Emma replied, her expression darkening with the fury raging within. She was going to enjoy this. "I'll update you later."

"Please, see that you do," was Fiona's dismissive response as Emma stood to leave. She was going to enjoy this nearly as much as Emma.

#ouat ff #ouat fan fiction #killian jones ff #killian whump #curse of undoings #tw torture #tw violence

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words-writ-in-starlight · 6 years

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hi, it's the adhd anon again. according to the dsm-v, i think i have it, which is weird bc i've never seen myself as having more trouble than others. (my grades are better than almost anyone else in my grade.) (although that might just be bc i'm interested in what's being taught - when something's not interesting or too hard, i have a pretty hard time doing it.) anyway, if it's not too much trouble, what does feel like to stim/hyperfixtate for you? (i'm so sorry to bother you in advance)

Hey, dude, welcome back! So, okay, first things first: the stereotype of someone with ADHD automatically doing terribly in school is based heavily on the original diagnostic criteria, which categorized ADHD strictly in terms of “young hyperactive white boy who has violent outbursts and/or disciplinary problems and Just Doesn’t Do Well in academics.” And there are people who manifest ADHD like that, it’s a stereotype with roots in reality--a lot of people with ADHD either consistently struggle with academics or eventually reach a point where their previous focusing techniques fail them.

However.

I left high school for college two years early, and if I hadn’t, I would probably been valedictorian of the graduating class, because I had a GPA well above 4.0 due to my general habit of doing extra credit whenever it was offered. In college, I had a reputation for turning in beautifully complete lab reports and essays five pages over the minimum requirement. I got high honors on my thesis, graduated magna cum laude, and finished a pre-medical major in half the recommended time period. When I was a kid, the phrase “savant syndrome” got thrown around a lot, to give you some context.

On the other hand, I manifest a lot of those stereotypical ADHD symptoms: I’m loud, I interrupt people a lot, I have erratic and overwhelming mood swings that I struggle to control, I fidget incessantly and can’t stand silence, I have a tendency to get destructive when I’m angry, I have managed to seriously injure myself because I couldn’t resist a stupid impulse more than once, and if we’re all being honest, I would never have graduated high school at all, because I was on the brink of expulsion for getting into fights during class periods.

It’s easy to feel like “I never really struggled academically” is somehow a counterargument to any and all symptoms of ADHD that you might manifest, but it’s really not. (Heck, sometimes ADHD is even helpful--I finished my thesis a full week before anyone else and had time to fix my citations, mostly because my ADHD responds well to pressure and that crunch time hyperfocus Had My Back.) It might take time for you to come to terms with this idea, and that’s okay! But try to at least consider it.

All that being said, I am actually gonna answer your question, I just got distracted because the amount of time I spent making the statement “I’m faking having ADHD because I did well in school” is mindblowing and I have a Thing about it. Forgive my ramble.

Stimming: I’m going to answer this first because the answer is going to be the most useless. The ways I stim tend to be vocal/auditory stuff (I talk a lot when I’m alone, I sing and play music when I’m doing menial tasks, if I’m really anxious I’ll hum a single note until I calm down) or tactile stuff (sometimes destructive things like scratching my arms, sometimes neutral stuff like tapping my fingers in specific patterns or rubbing my palms over my jeans or the leather of a jacket or something). It’s mostly things that ‘pass’ for neurotypical with very few exceptions, because I trained myself out of a lot of my ‘non-passing’ stims (rocking back and forth, knocking into walls, hand-flapping, that sort of thing) really young. As for what it feels like to stim, it’s just...good. It’s sort of like the brain equivalent of running your hand the right way along velvet, and discovering that you’ve been rubbing it backwards all along. Or like the equivalent of stepping into a cool shower on a really hot day--it’s not that it’s miserable outside the shower, it’s just that the shower is extremely good. I have a playlist of music that, for whatever reason, hits the right combination of voice and rhythm and notes and words to make my brain suddenly get calm, and it’s not necessarily my favorite music or a cohesive collection of tunes or anything (featuring Six Shooter by Coyote Kisses and also Human by Rag’n’Bone Man, which have nothing in common), but it’s Good.

Hyperfocus: You didn’t actually mention this, but I think it’s worth mentioning because it’s one of the hallmarks of ADHD. It bears more than a passing resemblance to the concept of “flow”, but turned up to 11. Hyperfocus is the state of being so overwhelmingly tuned in to the thing you’re currently doing that everything else falls away--which is fine, unless you’re one of us folks who can hyperfocus ourselves right through meal times. It’s inexorable, it’s all-consuming, and it can feel pretty fucking great, which is why it’s important to be careful and find a way to hydrate yourself. The primary difference between hyperfocus and flow is that hyperfocus is generally involuntary and does not necessarily tune you into something you planned or wanted to pay attention to. If you ever see me publish a fic that includes a note about “I didn’t mean to write this but it’s 2 AM so here”, that’s code for “please validate me, I’ve been hyperfocused on this for two or three hours and I failed to do a lot of important things as a result.” The other thing about hyperfocus is that afterwards, the drop coming off it is a real bitch. It leaves me feeling hollowed out, exhausted, and kind of pettily disinterested in anything that would usually hold my attention. Being hyperfocused is like being a machine designed to do one thing and one thing only and doing that thing feels incredible; coming off hyperfocus is like being an overtired toddler.

Hyperfixation: Hyperfixations are the ADHD equivalent of a special interest, aka: that thing you’ve been struggling not to pester every single person you know about, every single second of every single day of the past two and a half weeks. Were you around, dear anon, when this blog was Only Animorphs, All The Time, and if you didn’t give a shit about morphin’ teens you just had to sit down, shut up, and learn some stuff, or else unfollow me? That’s what hyperfixating looks like. Sometimes it’s useful stuff--do you know how unbelievably useful having a hyperfixation on triage techniques is to me? I crushed my triage training, I owned that shit, I wrote a whole chapter of my thesis on it. Other times, it’s...well, Animorphs. Or the American Revolution. Or X-Men. Or dinosaurs. Some random shit like that. Learning about hyperfixations, talking about them, is generally pure unadulterated joy. On the other hand--oh, God, listen, I know how annoying I am, but I cannot stop myself. I know I haven’t talked about anything but Animorphs in three weeks, I know I’ve made forty-five TAZ posts today, whatever you’re about to complain about, I already know, okay, I am aware, and there is nothing more painful than to have a fucking out-of-body experience watching yourself rattle on about a hyperfixation while the other person obviously gets bored in front of you. And then you try to keep your mouth shut and it physically hurts not to talk about the thing. It’s hard to describe what it ‘feels’ like except that ADHD brains are magpies at their core and hyperfixations are the shiny, shiny objects your brain wants to take home.

Anyway, I’m not sure how useful ANY of this has been, but like. After a certain point, you kind of have to trust yourself enough to decide, once and for all, whether you really, truly believe you’re faking a neurological disorder for the attention. If the answer is no, then great! You have sussed out your symptoms and can start managing them accordingly, whether that’s some helpful apps on your phone or medication or something in between. If the answer is yes, then you probably need some therapy, and your therapist will be able to help you get to a point where you feel able to trust yourself.

Go with the neurodivergent gods, my dude.

#adventures in adhd #actually adhd #stimming #hyperfocus #hyperfixation #advice from starlight #HELLO FRIENDS THIS IS UNDER A CUT BECAUSE I RAMBLE #LIKE #CONSTITUTIONALLY UNABLE TO NOT RAMBLE #anyway ch'boy wrote some stuff today #and now i'm answering some asks #so really what i want is a pat on the damn back for getting shit done THANKS #idiot teenagers with a queue #anonymous #asked and answered

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sunshiney-souls · 6 years

Text

Collar full // chp 2.5

summary: the one with all the memories

warning: idk if your hearts can take all the domestication and fluff of the trio

word count: 1284

Skye had packed her toiletries and she had moved back to her room.

Skye was a person of memories. She kept things just for the sake of remembering that moment. So the fact that she now had to wittle all her things down to just a few was killing her.

Skye had to bookshelves in her room. Only one was filled with books; even then, it was only the top three shelves. The bottom shelves and the whole other shelf was just a place to store her things. But it wasn’t just normal books that were on these shelves, oh no. There were journals and diaries and sketch books and notebooks that Skye had written and drawn in throughout the years. One specific sketchbook caught her eye. She reached for the deep green book and flipped through the pages.

Now Skye wasn’t an artist by any means. Her drawings were not remarkable, realistic or had great shading; but they were not terrible either. Skye had found a perfect medium of a “meh” art style. Her thumb let the pages flutter by until she stopped on one specific drawing. It was of two boys, swinging on a swingset, with seemingly perfect, poofy clouds in the sky. Skye remembered the moment perfectly.

“Okay look,” the small boy said. “Aunt May taught me this. She said, you look up at the clouds, and whatever shapes you see, you have to make a story out of it!” his brown eyes were bright with that child-like wonder.

The bigger boy that sat on the swing next to him, tilted his head back, mouth agape.

“Uuuhhh, i see....

a blob. Peter how the heck am I supposed to make a story out of a blob?” He rolled his head and tilted his head back to its normal position.

Across from the swing set, there was Skye, sitting across from her best friends, sketchbook resting on her knees, lightly brushing the pencil across the page. Peter’s head looked back down, right at his best friend.

“Skye, what do you see in the sky?” A little smile broke out on his face due to the two words. Skye set her sketch book next to their bags at the base of the tree, and sat in the swing next to Peter, looking at Ned.

“Ned, you need to have a better imagination for this kind of thing.” She said as she situated herself into the swing. Her head fell back and she glanced up. Her imagination was running wild.

“I see a tree, and a book, some kind of circle thingy, a spider, a cat, and a pizza slice!” Skye rambled on about the different shapes. Her little head craned back around to look at the boys. “Make a story about that!” She teased, her little giggle escaping her body.

Ned had gone completely slack-jawed, not knowing how on earth Skye had just came up with so many shapes out of blobs. Skye looked over to Peter, who also was slack-jawed, but his eyes sparkled.

Skye was jerked back to reality when she continued to flip through pages to find the empty ones in the back. She shook off the memories and tossed the sketch book into her bag. Along with some pens, pencils and markers.

Skye moved from her bookshelf to her little desk, where a bunch of little odds and ends were scattered about. Some cute trinkets, paperweights, or anything Skye liked, she would get and put on her desk. There was one object in particular that jerked at Skye’s heart strings: a little box. Of course, it was what was inside the box that Skye loved so much. She reached out for it and snapped it open, revealing a stunning, and yet simple, moonstone ring.

“Skye, you promised you would keep your eyes closed!” She heard that easily recognizable voice.

“Yeah yeah, just hurry up with it! My mom said they have this big thing planned and we can’t be late for it!” Skye’s all too popular smirk had taken over her face. She held her arms out, stumbling around her own apartment, eventually grasping onto Peter and following him around.

“This will literally take like, two seconds, calm down.” Peter laughed as he spoke, causing the knot in Skye’s stomach to grow tighter. She had never been lead around her own home for her birthday. She was slightly scared.

Soon she felt the carpet under her feet, and knew it was her own bedroom. She let go of Peter. “Alright Parker, what’s going on, can I open my eyes now?” She questioned, crossing her arm, looking slightly to the left of Peter. All she heard was Peter’s soft laugh and the slight bounce of her own bed.

“Alright, alright, open your eyes!” She could hear the smile on his face as she quickly opened her eyes.

There sat Peter, sitting on the edge of her bed, his feet dangling off the side, holding a small, black, jewelry box. Skye’s head fell to the side in confusion.

“What, are you proposing to me now?” She did her best, but she couldn’t fight the smile that was creeping up on her face.

“Oh, stop it.” Skye seemed to miss the slight redness of his face, trying to control her own. “This,” Peter started as he opened the box. “Is a moonstone ring. I was walking through the mall once and I saw it, instantly thought of you.” He reached out for Skye’s right hand and put it on her fourth finger. “I even got one so we can match. Although,” He paused again, fishing a chain out of his front pocket. I’m keeping mine around my neck, don’t need people thinking we’re married, huh?” He said with a smile, elbowing her in her side

Skye couldn’t take it anymore. She hadn’t worn the ring in so long, and she felt guilty and ashamed. She picked up the ring and put in on her finger. She sighed and figured that was enough remembering for now. She figured she should go over to Peter’s place and get some of his things.

Aunt May was, hopefully, still at work as Skye opened their door. She quickly went to Peter’s room, looking around.

The first place she looked at was his desk. It was an absolute mess, the way Peter always was. She moved around some papers, keeping her eyes open for anything that might be useful, but her eye being distracted by something shiny; a chain.

She reached out for it and pulled it out from under all the papers. On the end of the chain lay the very ring that Peter got to match Skye’s ring.

“I guess he doesn’t bring it to school.” She shrugged. Peter never liked wearing necklaces to school, just another thing for Flash to grab while he was fighting. She reluctantly put the chain around her neck. She went to his closet and her eyes landed on his Midtown sweater. Peter loved wearing that sweater, and she knew she had to bring it. She grabbed that and pulled it on over her head, inhaling her best friend’s scent, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time she did so. As she was about to leave, a small journal caught her eye.

It was peaking out from under his mattress. She reached for the small, black book and opened it to a random page before realizing it was a diary. She quickly closed it and saw there were two other journals under the mattress. A blue and red one. Without thinking, she put all three in her backpack and went back to meet Ned before heading off to Stark Tower.

A/N: Hey guys! sorry if this absolutely sucks, but I’ve been insanely busy these past few days and I wanted to finish this as fast as I could so y’all could know that I’m still writing this story :) Also, there were some people that asked to be in the taglist for this series and i forgot their urls (i’M SORRY) so if you’re not on this list and want to, p l e a s e tell me again and i will write it down and remember it.

Anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this little extra chapter thingy, and i will do my best to get chapter 3 out as soon as possible :) thank you for reading and please please please give me feedback!

Tag list:

@ninjamidnight @scarlettxspider @selixjammm @multiposting @choke-me-sweet-pea @peters-vlogs @royalparker @sierramalfoy514 @serpentbucky @topisdead

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lucifercaelestis · 6 years

Text

how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist

a fic i’ve been meaning to write for months and finally finished. basically shiro’s vlog plus a private message to keith, with a twist. hope you enjoy!!!

summary:

The night before their attack on Zarkon's base, Shiro decides to make some videos.

Months later after Shiro's disappearance, Keith watches them, feeling the weight of Shiro’s loss keenly.

read it on AO3

Shiro was frustrated.

He knew after the first hour of lying down in his bed that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep that night. His body wouldn’t allow him to, and if for some reason he did manage to sleep, he would probably spend it trapped inside his nightmares.

No. Sleep was not an option.

What he really wanted to do was to go to the training deck where he could finally release the energy that had built up under his skin and distract himself from his worries. But he didn’t fancy the thought of getting caught and being dragged back to his room and ordered to sleep like a recalcitrant child.

So he was forced to make do with running through his workout routine in his room, and when the aimless tension got too much, he’d pace around his room.

It didn’t help that the workout got so repetitive and instinctual that it was all too easy for his mind to slip back and think about the battle coming tomorrow.

He was about to give up on restraint and just head to the training deck to spar with the training bots just so he wouldn’t have to think about all the ways it could go wrong tomorrow when he noticed a strange object Allura had given him a few weeks ago.

She’d called it a memory storage upload oscillator, mentioning that Coran had built it to record things. It had the appearance of old Altean tech, sleek and shiny with a telltale blue glow. To his surprise, it actually reminded him of a futuristic camera with a tablet attached by a cord. According to Allura, she wanted to record all of them officially for documentation purposes, that it would be a record of them for future Paladins.

She’d allowed him the privilege of going first, but he’d never found the time or inclination to do it before.

He smiled wryly. It was a hell of a time to record something like that, but it beat wearing himself out so much that he couldn’t even think anymore.

It was almost comforting in a way to know that some part of him would live on, even if he didn’t.

It was fairly easy to set up, even as he marvelled at the differences between the Altean tech and the few cameras he’d kept back on Earth. Finally, it lit up at his touch, displaying an empty storage space.

He adjusted the position of the device a few times before he finally felt satisfied. He ran his hand through his hair once to check if it was presentable before clearing his throat and preparing to speak.

***

Keith found Allura’s insistence on seeing him immediately somewhat bewildering. She’d asked for him to meet her privately as soon as he’d come within range of the comms devices even though she knew that he had just gotten back to the castle after a long and arduous flight to search for Shiro.

It must have been important but if he had even a little less self-control he would have been dragging his feet as he walked to the bridge from Red’s hangar.

His brow furrowed when Allura didn’t even chastise him for taking so long, instead waiting patiently for him to gather himself. His worries got worse when she still didn’t speak.

He was even more confused when she turned around to face him but she still couldn’t look him in the eye.

He’d missed it over the comms, but now that they were in the same room, there was a certain tension in the air.

“Allura, are you alright?” he asked. He couldn’t think of anything that could have happened while he was gone that would make her react like this. He froze when he realised one possibility.

Had he left them vulnerable to an attack, leaving them down by two lions while he was busy in another galaxy, looking for any traces of Shiro? Was she upset with him for that?

“Was there an attack? Did something happen while I was gone?”

She looked horrified at his assumption. “No, no, nothing of the sort,” she stated, still avoiding his eyes.

“What happened? Why was it so important for me to meet you immediately? ”

“I found something that–Well, please don’t be angry with me, I did not realise–“ she tried to explain, but it only succeeded in making Keith more confused.

"Allura. What happened?" he asked briskly.

Normally, he wouldn't be so short with her, having been relieved by her acceptance of him after her negative reaction to his Galra heritage but he was physically and mentally exhausted after a long and fruitless search and her evasiveness was starting to frustrate him.

She sighed heavily before replying. “There’s something I think you should see."

More than anything, it was her expression that threw him off. It was sad and guilty? He couldn't figure out why she was upset.

“I would advise you to watch it alone," Allura told him, pressing a tablet into his hands. She still looked sad as she walked away, like she didn't want to see how he reacted to it. She paused right before the doors, “I’m sorry, Keith."

After she left, he wasted no time walking back to his room.

Frustrated with her cryptic words, he almost just left the tablet on his table for another day. He was exhausted and his bed was like a siren’s call. Ultimately though, his curiosity won out.

What was it that could make Allura so upset upon seeing it and so important that she would insist on him seeing it immediately too?

His question was answered when he powered up the tablet and the first thing he saw were two thumbnails with Shiro’s face on them.

His hands trembled as he gripped the tablet tighter.

Was he really prepared to see this?

No. No, he wasn’t.

He pressed on the first thumbnail anyway.

The thumbnail enlarged, taking up the entire screen. Keith's eyes traced over Shiro's face hungrily.

“I'm Shiro, Paladin of the Black Lion and leader of Voltron.”

Shiro’s face and voice were just the same as they ever were, and for a second, Keith saw the image from the video in front of him superimposed by the picture of Shiro that had begun circulating after Pilot Error.

That image flickered and he saw Shiro as he was now, white hair and scar included and he forced himself to pay attention. Now wasn't the time to let his emotions get the better of him.

"I used to be a pilot for Galaxy Garrison before we were captured by the Galra and sent to the arena. Somehow, the Garrison never covered what to do when an alien empire kidnaps you on one of your missions. Not very thorough of them, I’d say."

Keith wanted to groan. It was just like Shiro to downplay everything that happened to him like it was just a minor setback in his life and make a joke about it too.

“Thankfully I escaped. I found my team– well, technically, they found me, and somehow we ended up fighting against an empire that stretches across most of the universe in 5 mechanical lions that combine to form a giant robot. Apparently when life gives you lions, you make a giant robot man?"

Keith couldn't help but snort at that. He’d missed Shiro’s brand of humour more than he’d thought; other than the morbid kind that came out when he was dying, he could live without that.

Shiro continued, unknowing of Keith's amusement. "I’m proud of them though. We're a bit of a ragtag group but seeing how much they’ve grown and improved, well, I couldn’t ask for a better team."

Shiro straightened up in his seat, falling into what Keith liked to call leader-mode.

“Being Black’s paladin is a privilege. The bond between a lion and their paladin is all about trust, and I hope can prove myself worthy of it someday."

Seeing how much Shiro clearly loved the Black Lion, how naturally he’d taken to being a leader, it only made it so much clearer what they were missing now.

“We’ve come so far, and tomorrow we’re taking the next step to ending this war once and for all. So even though I’m worried about what might happen tomorrow, I have hope. ”

Shiro had this ability to draw people in, to make them believe in him. He’d seen it back at the Garrison and he saw it later when Shiro acted as the leader of Voltron. Even the Galra couldn’t change that. Something about him just made you believe in something bigger than yourself.

He made you want to be better than you were.

“A wise man once told me, if you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might miss the chance to do something great.”

Shiro smiled, eyes all but gleaming with trust and belief, and Keith wondered how someone like Shiro could possibly exist.

“So go. Be great."

Seeing this video, it just drove in the fact that their team was missing something essential without Shiro.

He rubbed his thumb over his fisted hand and took a shaky breath. There was still one more video to go.

Clicking on the icon, he waited for Shiro to begin speaking.

”Keith." Shiro's voice lowered to that gentle, private tone he always used when talking to Keith. Of all the things about Shiro Keith never thought he’d miss, hearing the way Shiro said his name hadn’t even made it on the list.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to lean into it.

His gaze was fixed on Shiro, but it was always like that wasn’t it? He’d never stood a chance.

“Keith– If you’re listening to this–” Shiro faltered for the first time since the videos began, “–if you’re listening to this, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my promise after all.”

Keith had to choke down a sob. Shiro had promised once that he’d never leave Keith, that he’d always come back. It had been broken once after Kerberos, shattering the life Keith had made for himself, only coming back together when he found Shiro in a Garrison containment unit. And now, again, after Keith thought they were finally safe. That this time, he could protect Shiro.

It seemed like Shiro was destined to break his promise, and Keith was helpless to break the cycle they were trapped in.

Losing each other, finding, and losing again. Rinse and repeat. The universe did love its patterns after all.

“There are so many things that I want. I want to go home with you. I want you all to be safe. I want this all to be over already. But I have a bad feeling about tomorrow, and if there’s any chance I could save you, I’m going to take it. I never wanted to leave you behind again... I guess it was always meant to end this way.”

No. He would find Shiro. He wouldn’t give up on Shiro, even if it seemed like Shiro had given up on himself.

“I know, I know, you’d hate me saying this, but I’d fight it ok? I’d fight to come back to you.”

If there was anything he could trust, it was Shiro.

“Who would have ever thought we would end up here? This wasn’t how I expected to be going into space with you, but I’m so glad that you’re here with me. You’ve saved me, so many times, and you keep saving me, just by being here."

Shiro laughed wryly.

"How many times are you gonna have to save me before this is over? ”

As many times as it takes, Keith wanted to promise. Every day for the rest of his life if he had to.

Then Shiro tilted his head, and his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and Keith had to swallow around the lump in his throat.

He hadn’t managed to save Shiro yet this time, but he would.

“I like to think that we were always meant to find each other. You said I changed your life, Keith, but I can’t imagine who I’d be without you. ”

It was hard to imagine who he would have been without Shiro too. Shiro had been the one thing he couldn't expect, and he had been the one to change everything.

"Maybe after all of this is over, we can stay out here, exploring the universe like we’ve always dreamed of. Co-pilots…Partners?” Shiro offered.

A future. Shiro wanted a future with him, even after everything.

"I have so many regrets already, I don’t want this to be one of them.”

Shiro paused, looking like saying whatever he was going to say was the hardest thing he would ever do.

“I love you. I don't know how long I've loved you, but god, sometimes I feel like I've loved you my whole life. ”

Keith’s heart stopped for a moment before it started beating again twice as fast. Shiro loved him.

“If I had to tell you when I realised it though, it must have been when I woke up in your shack, and your face was the first thing I saw, and all I could think of was ‘I'm home’."

Somehow Shiro had managed to pin down exactly what Keith felt the first time he saw Shiro again, after Kerberos. He’d looked at Shiro and for the first time in over a year, he'd felt like he was finally home.

“I always wanted to make history, you know? I loved space, but more than that, I wanted to be the one to bring humanity further than they had ever been before. But now…if I had a choice... If there's any way I want to be remembered, I want it to be for loving you."

The screen suddenly blurred and he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. It had been so long since the last time he'd cried that he wasn't sure how to stop anymore.

Tears fell onto the tablet, smearing the screen even more and his grip slackened. It fell to the floor with a thud, and the screen cracked, leaving the image of Shiro smiling frozen forever.

#voltron #sheith #shiro #keith #my writing #this was fun to write

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