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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

Their Alright... For A Boomer

Masterlist

Summary: Being a girl with a larger chest always got you attention, maybe having your nipples pierced to try and fell more confident handt been the best idea, but how can you regret it when your latest client; the sexy Mr Cavill was ogling them but could this end up being more then just that one time you were eyed by a hot celebrity?

Warnings: Suggestive, No Smut, Fluffy? Cute and funny, Swearing

A/N: this was a request from @fanficlover91 i hope you like this hun, i tried to keep it hot but sweet and respectful? Which was a struggle but i hope i got the vibe you wanted. And as always i hope you all enjoy.

Taglist: In Reblogs.

You blushed as you looked down the lense at your model. He smirked sweeping his eyes over you non to subtly. You could feel the blues penetrating you with a hot stare. The was the distinctive fast clicks on you camera snapping a burst of shots managing to capture his smirking face and eyes sweeping over your form appreciatively.

You stood tall and smiled pulling away double checking the shoots. You bit your lip. Fucking hell this was both the best and worst job you had. Henry Cavill was the most enticing male you'd ever had the pleasure to photograph. He didn't even have a good side, every side was good! There wasn't an unflattering angle on the man!

"And that's a wrap? I think we have everything we need Mr Cavill" you said professionally making to move away from him and begin to swap sd cards and label them before packing away. Henry gawfed and rose quickly panicked almost.

"I- err no! Wait I was... Well hoping that I could have some more done?" he said chaseing you across the small studio you could hear his agent Leah scoff from the side lines. You frowned and looked to her nervously. The woman had been watching and tutting, scoffing and clicking her tongue through the whole session. It actually made you nervous, wasn't she pleased with the shoot? You were worried, being freelance this was your first time doing a celebrity shoot for a magazine but the usual photographer was in hospital having a stroke a few days prior and you were the only free photographer in the agency that was close enough to take the job. Sure you wasn't well known but still it was a little disheartening to have someone seemingly unimpressed with your work.

But it was when you eyed her you saw she wasn't giving you the evil eye. Her frown was directed at henry, a scolding look you'd give a misbehaving child. You frowned a little puzzled, but shook it off in favour of looking to Henry. Your actual client.

"More? I... I? Thought the piece only needed a few to choose from? They were very ah... How do I put it? Thorough? With the brief" you explained hoping Leah would step in and clarify just what was going on. Because you didn't have a clue.

"I yes but- I'd love to top up my portfolio? You know? I err yeah have a few changes going on and... I mean a few greys and such... Just want to update it a tad... I'll pay obviously- I'd pay anything for more time please?" he pleaded watching you closely eyes wide and bright full of hope.

"I... Err" you shifted swapping your camera from one hand to the other and craned your head around the man trying to spy his agent. But you had no hope of peeking around this gargantuan man. Just like with the camera he demanded your full attention.

"And for Instagram and stuff! There's only so much I can do in a selfie... I'd even recommend you- advertise your work!" he quickly added sounding desperate now. It would help you out if you did have a few shots of him for in your own catalogue. It shouldn't matter but having a celeb under your belt was actually a good thing. It meant you'd acted professionally and been good to work with.

"I suppose so, I do have a few extra sd's here... Tell you what I'll do another shoot for you as long as I can pick a few to put in my portfolio? Then we both update our files?" you nodded to him speaking slowly. He grinned and relaxed nodding quickly pleased with himself for wrangling more shots. You'd never know he was just glad to has more time with you.

"Oh yes absolutly! That's fine here should we get started now or?" he asked biting his lip trying not to stare at you for too long. But it was hard you were fucking stunning!

"Oh yeah sure iv got time, let me just sort these out and set up, need to switch, you've tired my poor camera" you said with a grin trying to ignore the man as he beamed at you looking excited nodding enthusiastically. You backed up and spun around trying not to blush as you felt henry gazing openly at you.

"Right well if the magazine ones are done I will be off then" Leah called packing up her bag with a small chuckle to herself. You froze and spun quickly seeing her seemingly abandoning you with Henry.

"Wha- oh you don't have to you can stay-" you tried to reason unsure why, I mean who wouldn't want to be alone with this huge glorious man? Maybe you just didn't trust yourself with him? He had been 'making love' to the camera all afternoon. Smouldering bedroom eyes that was making it hard to focus. You had been getting hot under the collar all day as you kidded yourself he was eyeing you, not the camera or would be readers.

It didn't help that you had caught him oogling your breasts earlier. But you wasn't mad, it was your own fault. It was the Hight of summer and you had on a string vest with a thin bra, that you could clearly see your nipple bars through. You didn't feel uncomfortable or anything, you didn't blame Henry for looking. You cant exactly ignore your tits.. The were pretty large for your frame. You were curvy but they were as one ex put it 'exceptional'. And besides he had looked not touched and he hadn't been a creep about it. In fact he had done a double take and then blushed when he realised he had been caught looking. But as you said you get that with big boobs, you'd had it your entire life, it was actually one of the reasons you'd got them pierced. It helped with your confidence and you convince yourself that they were looking at the bars. Not you per say.

"Okay aunt Leah I will see you in a few days." henry interrupted you quickly smiling practically ushering the woman out the door. He moved fast ever picking the womans phone and juice bottle to help her leave quicker.

"Yes, behave Henry I'll see you soon" she said with a giggle before calling a thank you and goodbye over her shoulder at you. You swallowed nervously and gave a quick bye as the door clicked behind her and you were left alone with Henry. The man groaned stretching as he spun around a huge grin on his face, making your knees tremble a little. Fuck.

Henry came over and watched you closely as you scribbled the name and date along with the publication name on the sd case label. You tried not to notice as he hovered biting his lip then took off the blazer and threw it on the table beside you drawing your attention as he did grunting a little. The v neck letting the smallest amount of soft looking chest fuzz that had been teasing you all day. He grinned slyly as he caught you eyeing him and crossed his arms over his chest flexing for your benefit. You gasped and quickly looked back to the camera in your hands inserting a new scarf into the new fully charges camera.

"Soo how do you like this kind of work?" henry said casually trying not to seem like a creeper but god damnit he couldn't stop eyeing you. If he had known how sexy you'd be he would have demanded to be doing a bloody swim wear shoot!

"You mean people?" you stuttered trying not to look him in the eye. Not that it helped because the rest of him was just as fucking sexy! You quivered all over desperately trying to remember how to breath, yet didn't want to draw in too deep a breath and make your tits bounce for him and look like a slut. There was a very fine line for a big busted girl, to much wobble will make you look like your trying to get attention.

"I mean celebrities, magazines we were told you mainly do private shoots for events and model portfolios" he offered leaning forward as he leant back on the desk next to you hooking one ankle behind the other. The way he stood placed his crotch in your line of sight as you looked down and worked on setting up the camera. You flushed. Oh god he looked er... Bigger then you'd thought earlier, not that you were looking but... Well you couldn't help notice the package! The man was a fucking serial man spreader! And that thing was huge! With the muscles he was packing he could probably bench press you with his crotch!

"Oh well its different... And you sir popped my celebrity cherry" you froze on the spot as you said that, it had meant to be an ice breaker, a joke but instead had sounded fucking creepy!. You snapped up to him making to apologize as your face flamed mortified but he had thrown his head back laughing. The deep rumble sent chilled down your spine.

"Well I'm honoured to have popped your cherry~" he teased placing a hand over his heart with a cheeky grin making you blush and nod then turned to him with the new camera all set up.

"Soo where do we start?" you said moving on quickly looking up at him trying to forget the whole cherry comment.

"Where ever you want me, i will let you take the reigns command me as you will" he chuckled standing tall once more and looked about the room casually to the various small set ups, different furniture, seats sofas and mini tables dotting the space.

"I... Okay then you said Instagram? How about we start with some facials-FACE SHOTS! Face. Shots. Not facials fuck. Shit" you quickly tried repairing the damage whist cursing yourself wanting nothing more then to be swallowed up by the floor.

"No, no love facials sounded perfect~" he said winking before gliding past you making you stutter and almost choke on your breath. Oh good lord this was a bad idea. You followed as he sat down on a sturdy sofa and looked head on at you and bit his lip once again watching you with a sultry look.

And that was the beginning. You followed him about taking various snaps whislt having small talk. He seemed to be very flirtatious as he spoke, dropping lines and compliments as he made eyes at you. You flushed each time clamming up at his suggestive comments. And rightly or wrongly you flirted back trying to seem cool and suave. But inside you were fangirling unable to belive you were here with this incredibly gorgeous man teasing one another. On a few occasions he even growled as you scampered about him, crouching and taking shots from blow getting some delicious angles that dampened your knickers. Then in between all this he managed to get little tied bits. You'd told him you were on agency freelance and were trying to get into the social media platform as it seemed easier in this day and age rather then to be in fashion photography. You wanted to be commercial not private but no one would really take a chance anymore.

Then you suggested a few shots on the sofa laying back trying to think of something different for your portfolio, maybe a body length shot. He was quick to agree and dived onto the sofa saying he had an idea you swallowed nodding not fully trusting the look in his eyes. But that was forgotten as he relaxed stretching out over the sofa legs crossed and resting on the arm of his hands behind his head and a devilish smirk looking down the lenght of his body. You knelt at his feet trying to get a flattering image of him looking down but cursed as the camera wasn't playing ball. The lense was focusing, this was why you used the other one first, the camera had a few issues and was temperamental.

"What's wrong?" he asked frowning a little at you as you growled pulling the camera away fro your face and began trying to manually focus the lense.

"Oh its.. It wont focus.. It does this sometime, really need to throw it out but.. She was my first I'm sentimental" you said feeling silly as you battled with the camera.

"We all are with our firsts... How about you come closer instead, I really want to see this shot, never done one at this angle.. Out of all my shoots your the first to suggest this~" you froze and looked to him but he just smiled impishly at you. Slowly you rounded the sofa and leant over him positioning the camera at his stomach as he looked right into the lense giving you a definite bedroom eyes, half lidded and burning. Both dreamy and amazingly sexy. It was as if he could see you beyond the lense, as if it wasn't even there!

"You can come closer love, I wont bite, not if you don't want me to~" his voice was low and teasing, luring you in like a siren. You trembled and moved along him but he tutted and moved a hand to your hip and pressed, coaxing you onto the sofa and sat you on him making you straddle him. You gasped squeazing your camera tighter as he moved you easily, warm palms holding you both delicatly and firmly. You could see in his eyes he was weary unsure if he had gone to far but you squeezed him between your thighs and relaxed making him grin up at you getting the message you didn't mind at all. You aimed the lense at him once more and got the shots you wanted.

"Perfect! Mr Cavill" you said actually a little sad that this session was over. It had been nice playing this little cat and mouse game with him. But all good things come to an end.

"Ah now i have a policy love, when a womans on top they can call me henry, among other things~" he said smoothly laughing as you chuckled nervously fiddling with the camera in your hands and shifted over him a little.

"I will try to remember that for next time boomer~" you teased managing to overcome your nerves as you pulled away the camera with a giggle winking at him as he stuttered. For a second you thought you'd gone too far but a quirk to his lips made you relax once more.

"That hurt, that was hurtful" he teased pouting not releasing you from his lap, instead holding you tighter, fingers digging into your sides making you gasp and bit your lip as he pulled you to his crotch and ground into you teasingly.

"I'm so sorry~" you uttered breathless trying to keep yourself together. But this man was something else, like a drug- the devil all fanged smiles and smooth words. God you were fucked, you knew this man could do anything to you and youd thank him for it~

"I doubt that" he cooed and slid his hand higher growing more and more confident. The last few hours of casual flirting had built up his appitite. There was no misconceptions, you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"Oh yeah?" you said coyly tipping your head to him playing along willing for this to happen, whether it be a one of fuck or something longer. You didnt have any complaints~ this was your body and youd enjoy it with who ever you wanted to!

"Yeah prove it!" he hissed and moved quickly sitting up and swinging around planting his feet on the floor. You yelped as he moved surprizingly fast and managed to keep you in his lap now face to face with you eyes roaming your face settling on your lips.

"And how should i do that" you teased tilting your head skimming your lips with his as you spoke. He groaned and held you tighter making you whine breathlessly willing this to happen. You wanted him and you wont deny yourself the chance.

"Make and old mans day" he said plainly and leant back resting on the back of the sofa, you watched him closely and brought your hands to his shoulders prodding at the neck of the t shirt and drew your fingers down slowly feeling him shiver at the light skimming fingertips.

"Oh really Boomer? And how would i make and old mans day?" you teased once more making him grunt but he quickly caught himself as your fingers smoothed over the teasing curls that peeked over his top. You scratched over them lightly with your nails making him draw a needy breath and chuckled at him. He was sexy and cute~

"By accepting a job offer?" he said before smileing smugly as you paused and frowned. Had you missed something? Was he after a freebee?

"Job offer? Really another shoot?" you snorted suddenly not feeling sexy, more like he was trying to butter you up for some fuck for parts shoots or something. He sighed and began speaking before you could get yourself all twisted. But then again you could have taken his offer wrong.

"Manage my social media. I have many companies and brands reach out to me for endorsements. They want me caught wearing their brands. But I'm to busy most of the time I cant make it to the locations they want. It actually doesn't seem worth it most of the time, with cost of flights and time lost travelling to and from studios itd be easier if I had my own personal photographer that travelled with me its be easy, slip on the clothes and what not take a few snaps and then you touch them up and post them on my social media." he explained watching as it sunk in that he wasnt trying to pull a fast one. Well he was but not trying to fuck you over... Just fuck you... And keep you because you were fantastic and he wants nothing more then to have you around hime as much as possible. In the single dat he had spent working with you, you had enchanted him, not only were you sexy but you were good at your job and easy to work with but also funny and cute and he needed to get to know you.

"Of course its a very big venture and we'd have to have a few dinner and lunch dates to work out all the nitty gritty" he added after a few beats of silence trying to make it clear he was interested... Very interested~ it worked as you fluched and a playfull look donned your face your fingers began stoking his chest hair once more. He relaxed shuddering under the nails as they teased his curls.

"Is this a big ploy to get a date Boomer?" you purred his new nick name making him groan when you squeezed him between your thick thighs once more grinding on him and the considerable bulge below you that twitched.

"No... Maybe is it working?" he said quickly hissing at you shifted in his lap once more, his hands snapping to your hips trying to still you before he came undone in his boxers. You were a very dangerous woman and something told him you knew.

"Well it sounds like an offer I'd be very, very interested in taking further~" you clarified giggling when he swallowed dryly and eyed you surprized that his plan had seemed to work.

"Good to hear~ so got anything planned after this?" he asked feeling a wave of confidence at the prospect of snagging a date with you. He hadn't meant to sound so eager but... He was eager and that was that.

"Yes" you said with a straight face and got up off of him spinning around heading to the table with your camera bags. You gave him a glance and giggled seeing him still sitting there gobsmacked legs wide open and his crotch that was now definitely bigger then it had been earlier.

"O-oh" he stuttered seemingly unsure how to proceed. You giggled as he fumbled over his words. Then decided to grant him some mercy and began speaking whilst popping out the sd card from the camera labeling it like the previous one.

"You see I had a very cheeky client today who asked for a shoot last mineut. But I wasn't to bothered he was very very sexy even if he was a boomer, but get this out of nowhere gave me a job offer? And we're having dinner- he promised pizza~" you giggled glancing at Henry as he slumped in the seat realising halfway through that you were talking about him. He smoothed his hands over his face and jumped up coming over to you shaking his head.

"You know I'm not actually a boomer?" he quipped folding his arms. You rolled your eyes at him as you packed your stuff away making sure to recheck everything.

"Have you seen your selfies? Your a boomer, boomer" you teased making him scoff but laugh at the name that has now stuck.

"Wait you've seen my selfies? What do you think?" he asked wanting feedback on the silly shots he took. You paused halfway through zipping up your bag and turned facing him fully giving him a thoughtful look then shrugged

"Their alright... For a boomer" you giggled when he preened for a second then his face dropped into a pout when you finished the comment.

"I repeat...That was hurtful" he said covering his heart with a kicked puppy look making you laugh and hoist your bags over your shoulder and make for the door with him hot on your heels.

"Its fine boomer a second date will make up for it I'm sure~" you sniggered at him playfully looking back at him as he followed you out of the door.

"A date for each time you call me boomer? Deal" he quipped walking along side you offering you his arm like a true gentleman unlike the teasing horny little shit he had been all day. Not that you minded either. Gentleman on the streets, freak in the sheets and all that jazz.

"God we may aswell marry now then boomer" he laughed nodding in agreement the banter from the day still in play as you both left the building.

"Seems so, I mean were at ten that's what the kids consider boyfriend girlfreind territory" he anounced with a sigh playing on the 'boomer' joke making you giggle and roll your eyes as he mentioned the tally. Then you frowned and quickly counted your 'boomers' and opened your mouth you correct him, arguing that ten was incorrect.

"I think its nine boomer- ah see what you did their sneaky boomer!" you cried pushing him playfully at his little trick. He roared with laughter and quickly tangled his fingers with yours dragging you back alongside him guiding you down the street towards a place he knew served pizza, he didn't remember but apparantly he promised pizza...

#henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n

418 notes · View notes

morgana-ren · 3 years

Note

I noticed youd said that you get more shiggy requests. So, if you'll indulge me for a sec.

We've had gatos input on how strade would be if the roles were reversed. Mc somehow had him under their control with the shock collar on.

I want your input because your writing is so detailed i know id enjoy reading what a submissive little bitch he'd become.

Please and thank you Morgana.

ily :3

Oh OH You know me so well! This is one of my favorite things to daydream about when I get angry or annoyed because since Strade is such a garbage human being, it tickles me so much to think about how cathartic it would be to turn the tables.

So as well all know, Strade, while very experienced, is not the brightest bulb in the box. He’s got years of know-how behind his expertise in kidnapping and torture, but there’s some shit that just kind of evades him sometimes. Double checking your ropes after he gets a little too excited and wants a dirty basement floor romp, for example. Thanks to his overexcitement and shit-idiot brain fungus he’s got going on, it’s entirely possible for you to slip your bonds. This mistake, in canon, costs him his life.

But what if MC wasn’t so kind?

With a level head, you might be able to scrounge around his torture room for a little bit. Maybe he has a needle with some knockout liquid hanging around for “difficult” catches. Maybe you just wait around behind the door until he walks in and smash him on the head as hard as you can and knock his ass out. Either way, he’s got plenty of restraints, and now he’s the one cuffed to a rusty pole. The look on his dumb face when he comes to is priceless.

You’re not making the same mistakes he did. He’s triple tied to that thing. You know he’s strong, and you’re playing on his home field. You’ve got to be prepared for everything. At least long enough to get upstairs and find help or call the police. Right? Right?

But what if you don’t?

What if, after he comes to and is sputtering and howling and hissing things at you in German that would make Lindemann blush, you decide not to go for help? He’s mad. He’s oh so very mad. He does not like this, not one bit. But he’s panicking beyond what you’d expect, even for a serial killer who’s been two-timed by his own victim. There’s something else in those dilated eyes. Something you’ve become very acutely familiar with over the last few days. You can still smell it lingering on you the same way it’s staining his shirt now.

Fear. He’s afraid. And not of death or capture.

I mean, he very well might be terrified of those things, but whatever it is he’s feeling right now is far overshadowing that. His face is red, and you can practically see the veins in his neck popping in rhythm with his thrumming heartbeat. He’s sweating extensively, and while that’s not uncommon for him, there’s not that macabre jolly smile plastered across his face. He’s baring his teeth and snapping at you like a feral hound, swearing to end your miserable life in a manner that would make the ghosts of his past shudder in horror for you.

You don’t put it past him to snap these ropes any second and wrap his hands so tightly around your neck that your eyes pop like overinflated balloons. Even if the cops show up and try to escort you to safety, there’s an unspoken darkness in his glare, something that promises pain in your future even if they manage to subdue him. A promise that you can’t guarantee yourself that he can’t keep.

It strikes you that you know nothing about this man.

Surely someone out there knows about this. Someone knows about him and his little hobby. Monsters run in packs and even if you can’t see them, you know they must be there. Best case scenario, they can’t have him spilling their secrets so they find a way to end his life before the police can. Worst case scenario? Worst case, they come for you.

You’ve seen enough Hollywood horror movies to know just how wrong it can go if justice is left to the authorities. You haven’t seen much of it, but this looks like a pretty nice house. If he has money, he can just buy his way out. Who is to say that he doesn’t already have a deal with the cops? Kidnapping people is risky business, especially when folks begin to notice that you’re gone. Surely he has some safety net?

What if he’s part of a network of psychopaths? There’s been enough late-night conspiracy youtube binges in your existence to know that shit like that is perfectly plausible. What if he’s just one of many? What if they have the pull to see him set free even after you’ve gone through the proper avenues to get him locked away? What if, one night, when you think he’s rotting in a 6 x 6 cement cell miles away from you, you wake up back here in this basement with even more Strades with different names and faces but each one shares the desire to see you ripped apart at the seams and devoured?

No. HELL no. You’re not going to be the cliche victim. He can bark and screech at you until his throat is sore and his gums bleed, but the plain and simple fact of the matter is that you have this monster on a leash, and you’re not about to hand that leash over to someone else.

How many people has he killed? How many have met their end in this godless basement? How many unsuspecting people has he dragged here only to take them apart piece by piece until their eyes glaze and their final breath moistens his cheek as he watches the light in their eyes extinguish? Do you even want to know? Would it make you feel better or worse to know that, at least for now, you’ve narrowly escaped such a fate?

You have to know.

His screaming turns fearful as you ascend the stairs. Again, not for fear of being caught, but because he already has been. It’s so odd to hear the phrase “Don’t leave me here!” from his quivering chest when he’s apparently in the place he values most, and there’s a sick sense of catharsis that settles in your gut as you listen to him begin to whimper and whine. You don’t let yourself dwell on it but you do slam the door behind you loudly enough that he will be forced to acknowledge that his pathetic pleas mean nothing to you.

His house is painfully average, at least for someone like him. He’s even got portraits up with what must be friends or family or someone that cares enough to pose for a cheesy photo with him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say an upstanding, if a little tacky, upper-middle class man lives here. The furniture is unremarkable and well cared for but lived in enough to not raise suspicion. His kitchen is filled with expensive appliances that might as well be fresh out of the box. His fridge, as expected, is filled with beer and various quick meals. Not much of a cook, you guess.

The car sitting in the garage costs in the six digit range and looks like it’s the most beloved thing in the entire area. It reeks of Armor All and disinfectant, and you’re willing to bet that if he was so inclined, he could put it on a showroom floor right now. He’s got tools and cables of all sorts thrown about, but not the kind you’ve gotten so used to. Maybe he actually does use them for their intended purpose sometimes.

As you walk the length of his home, you notice a distinct lack of screaming. You can’t hear anything, not even a peep from the basement, and you are very certain he’s crying up a storm down there. Interesting. He’s go this place sound proofed. You’re not sure what you’d expected, but it’s good information to have regardless.

After you’ve sated your curiosity by observing the dragon’s den, you make your way to the upper level. He’s probably not foolish enough to leave any sort of evidence behind where friends and neighbors can see it, so whatever it is you’re looking for is going to be somewhere a little bit more personal. Perhaps like a bedroom?

Bingo.

His bedroom, much like the rest of his house, looks about what you’d expect. King sized bed, wooden dresser with a TV and player on top, and a desk beneath the window. Sliding closet doors with all manner of free range dad apparel inside, and honestly, it’s the closest you’ve been to laughing since you got here. He would wear cargo shorts and plaid, wouldn’t he? A scrounge through the drawers of his dresser and closet reveal nothing remarkable, but you’re willing to bet your injured thigh that there’s something special in the desk.

Just like you’d expect, the desk is locked, but you’d noticed a pair of keys sitting willy-nilly out in the living room and you’d picked them up. About 7 key changes later and the desk pops open for you like a cheap whore. He really isn’t too bright, is he? Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting this to ever be a problem. Either way, you’re grateful he��s a moron.

Inside the drawer seems to be loads of DVDs, unmarked except for dates. It feels like you’re the unprepared cop in a serial killer movie as you look down at them. You don’t need to watch them to know what they are, but you’re going to anyway. You have to know. You need to know just who you’re dealing with here.

You pick one at random and pop it into the DVD player and the scene that greets you seems all too familiar. A hunched figure, bloodied and tied to the pole you’d become so intimate with over the last week. This person was in much worse shape than you, however. You could see shadows moving off screen and the camera fuzzes and refocuses repeatedly as what you assume is Strade messes with the controls. Not long after, he emerges, practically skipping into frame. Even though most of his face is concealed behind a hideous bandana, you can tell he’s smiling. It reaches his eyes.

He says what appears to be a rehearsed greeting and you’re left wondering just how crazy is he? Is he talking to his future self? You can see him making these videos to relive his sick, sadistic fantasies but talking to himself like an absolute lunatic is just a little disconcerting. However, you also acknowledge that the only reason you’ve even thinking about this is to distract yourself from the fact that you’re watching a homemade snuff film that you almost starred in yourself.

And then he begins.

Despite the visceral horror on display before you, the urge to vomit never comes. You watch, blank faced, as this poor soul is faced with every horror a human mind can conceive. It goes on for long. Too long. And Strade never stops talking.

The realization sets in that’s because he’s not the only one watching.

He’s not talking to himself. He’s responding. This wasn’t for him. This was for them.

If you had any emotional energy to give, surely you’d be absolutely horrified, but you don’t and you can’t. You’re not even surprised. Someone like Strade, that bubbly personality and 1,000 watt smile, of course he’d find a way to utilize his talents. He’d found a market. He had a hobby and he made money from it. ‘Love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ and you are just so willing to bet he loves his fucking job.

You let the video keep playing as you sit up from his bed and leave the room. You make your way down the stairs, back to the living room, and then back to the basement door. You open it and immediately are bombarded with the sounds of his screaming and hateful vitriol. It doesn’t phase you. You’re not sure anything will ever again.

Calmly, you walk into the room and stare at him. He doesn’t cease his incessant threats until he realizes you’re waiting for him to finish so that you can speak. He finally silences himself, though he continues to rip and tear at the ropes holding him hostage as you tell him you found his little home video collection.

“Let me out.” He demands, and you realize he doesn’t quite understand that he’s not the one in control anymore. Of course a dog without a tangible leash will continue to run wild. You needed to drive the point home.

You turn your back to him and begin to ruffle through his various cabinets, searching around the nooks and crannies for something that will help him understand just what position he’s found himself in. You make a very interesting discovery next to his med kit. A collar. A literal collar.

Poetic justice.

It’s thick and burdensome and more than a little hideous. It’s definitely homemade, because not even the most fucked of BDSM sites are going to offer something like this. It’s accompanied by a small remote with a large red button and not much else. You push the button and yelp in pain, the collar clattering to the floor as it slips from your fingers. It shocked you. It was so very painful, but you’re smiling.

You retrieve it from where it fell and pop it open, observing it curiously. Strade watches you through wide eyes and sniveling, trembling lips. The look on his face is a dead giveaway that you’ve found something you really shouldn’t have. The toothy grin you flash him shows him that you understand that.

Without a word, you approach him, holding the open collar in your sweating palm. His struggles begin anew and before long he’s practically yanking his arms out at the sockets trying to get away from you and your newfound toy. He’s throwing his weight around and doing whatever he can with his limited movements to make damn sure you can’t get that terrible thing around his neck, but it’s all in vain because energy is finite and he’s been expending a lot of it over the last hour.

He’s breathing heavy and you could swear he’s begging between heaves as you clap the collar around his thick neck. His flesh bulges from the side and you’re fairly certain it was made for someone much less burly than himself in mind. You get the odd urge to adjust it on him like a necklace but he’s still dangerous, even caged. You feel weirdly... proud.

“Stop-! you don’t know what you’re doing!” He hiccups, and as he pulls his head upward, you can see he is indeed crying. “Please! Don’t!”

You’ve never thought of yourself as particularly sadistic, at least in that sense, but some ghostly force pushes your thumb down on that big red button. Watching his eyes go wide and his body convulse and seize fills you with a sense of sheer euphoria that can’t properly be conveyed. The utterly satisfying clang of his head hitting the pole at mach 5 as he shakes and bumbles almost humorously while the collar sends x amount of volts through his body makes you giggle.

When you finally pull your thumb off the button, he’s still shaking from the residual shock, drool and mucus bubbling from his mouth and nose and sloping down onto his chin. He looks defeated; utterly pathetic. Is this how you looked to him all those times he stood over you grinning as he gifted you pain the likes of which had been unthinkable to you before you met him? The desire to push down again is overwhelming but you’re determined for him to understand there’s a point to this misery.

There’s a thousand thoughts going through your mind right now faster than you can comprehend them all, but they all have the same general principal. This man is a murderer. This man is a rapist. This man is contained. This man is afraid. This man is at your mercy.

And unfortunately for him, you just ran out.

‘How many’ you ask, despite already knowing. If the videos upstairs are any indication, there’s more than he can probably count. More names and faces than he can practically remember and they’re dead because of him. He looks up at you through wet lashes with a trembling lip, already caught on to the fact that there is no correct answer. Your thumb hovers over that seductive red button and he’s quick to spit out whatever he can regardless.

“I don’t know! I don’t!”

You don’t doubt that he’s being honest, but it sickens you none he less. You press that button for half a second and he jolts up off the floor as much as his restraints will allow. When he comes to, his eyes can barely focus in on you and when his slumps over, you can see the burns from the collar already settling in on his tan skin. You’re not sure how to turn down the voltage or how lethal it is, but you don’t really care at the moment. If he dies, he dies. You’ll deal with the complications of that later.

You could sit here all day and grill him, literally and figuratively, about his track record of atrocities, but it won’t bring you any peace. You’re not sure that peace is something that you’ll ever feel again, all things considered. Meeting the monsters that dwell in the dark is drastically different than simply acknowledging that they exist, and through some twist of fate, you’ve been given the opportunity to show this particular monster that he’s no longer at the top of the food chain. There’s so much you could do, so many things you want to do, and it’s at that moment you realize you’ve spent too long staring into the abyss to try and claw your way out.

You’re being offered the chance they never were. You’re holding the controls now. He’s already crying and you’ve barely touched him, barely done anything besides shock him a little. You remember that feeling well. If you recall, you were already crying before he put that knife to your thigh on your first day with him.

Truth is, you decided the second he fell unconscious what you were going to do.

Maybe a revenge like this isn’t yours to take, but you’re taking it regardless. For yourself, and for every sorry sap that’s met their end in his cement hellhole. They died for you to have this opportunity, and you’d like to think that maybe they’re there with you in this moment. Even if you never knew them, you feel a strange kinship with them. After all, it was almost you.

He continues to babble underneath his breath, various pleas for mercy or sympathy or any form of compassion you can muster from your still aching body, and though you desperately wish you did, you can’t find any. You’re certain when you look in the mirror next, it won’t be your own eyes looking back at you anymore, but something closer to his. Maybe you did die in this basement, because whoever you were before you met him is long gone and has been replaced with something so much more empty.

You explain to him, as gently as you can, that it’s your turn now, and his resistance will only make this harder. You don’t delight in seeing him in pain (whether or not that’s a lie has yet to be determined) but it’s a necessary evil for all he’s done. You don’t believe his life is yours to take, but you’d be as terrible as him if you let him loose on the world again. You can’t trust anyone but yourself, and since this situation is so delicate, you need a bit more time to think on it.

He doesn’t seem to understand, at least until you’re binding his legs and securing his head snuggly to the pole. Maybe it’s overkill considering the man looks like he belongs in a shibari magazine right now, but there’s no precautions you can’t take. You can’t have him escaping. It’s far too soon, and you have such wonderful things planned.

Were you a kinder soul, maybe you would put him to sleep because it’s so apparent he’s terrified. Being bound like this has really brought out his inner little bitch, and the way he’s looking, he’s going to piss himself. But its a price it’s only fair that he pay, all things considered. You don’t know what time it is or even where you are, but you know you’ll return to him when you’ve been rejuvenated, eager and ready to begin on him. You’re only a few steps toward the door when he begins shouting, words barely discernible between his emphatic weeping and sobbing hiccups.

“D-don’t leave me here in the dark! Let me go, let me out! You can’t! You can’t leave me here like this!” You grin softly, turning slowly to face him, and tell him that you can and you will. You ask what he’s so afraid of, but you don’t wait to hear the answer as you step through the frame and shut the door behind you, leaving him to rot in his personal dungeon. It’s only been an hour and he’s already so pliable. You wonder what you can make him do when you really make it hurt. Psychology says it takes 7 years to brainwash someone and coerce them into absolute compliance, but you’re willing to bet you can have it done in a few months.

You already know one of his fears, and are very clearly not ashamed to exploit it. How many else does he have, you might wonder, already planning tomorrow’s festivities. Maybe you were sicker in the head than you thought. Maybe Strade just brought out the worst in you, stripped away all that made you human and left you with raw hurt and despair.

It’s tempting. To give in. To sit and massage your aching body while listening to his screams as they echo through the soundproofed basement. But you’re tired, and you haven’t slept in a bed in over a week. His looked awfully nice. Maybe after that, you’d wash the dried blood from your battered body, order some food, and appreciate the niceties that civilized life had to offer. Niceties you took for granted.

After that? Well, after that you had a new pet to train.

#snaspants #Strade #BTD #NSFT #tw torture mention #im mean just mean lmao #IM LOVE YOU GIRL!!

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story , so I have changed a decent amount of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy this one. )

~~~

“Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?” Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn’t the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

It was the only place that still had the vacancy sign on, so Brom had grudgingly agreed to see if they had a room that could accommodate them. Everyone needed a boost in morale, and a night in a bed and a hot shower would do the trick to lift their spirits. It was isolated enough that it would take a long time for any soldiers to reach them if anyone recognized them, and Saphira was well hidden in the small forest nearby. She could respond to any danger and was far enough away to be virtually undetectable.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. “It’s one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking.” She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom’s upper pocket. “Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside.”

“I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?”

“It’s ten extra Crowns.” The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk’s clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn’t react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. “We’ll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don’t have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse.” Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. “Thank you.”

Brom traded payment for the keys, extra bedding and toiletries and bid the sour attendant a good night. Murtagh grabbed the cot and the trio moved into the elevator, squeezing to one side to fit the roller bed in along with their packs. As the doors slid shut and they began ascending, Eragon leaned over to Brom. “How’s Arya going to–”

“Shut up. Not here.” Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It’s little red light was flashing.

The three exited the elevator in silence, quickly making their way to their room while checking as many exits as possible without arousing suspicion. Whenever he found a camera, Murtagh would point it out to Eragon and Brom as inconspicuously as he could. It would be best to keep out of the security tapes in case the soldiers came across the hotel after they left.

Upon finally reaching the room, Brom locked all the available bolts, chains and electronic locks he could as Murtagh unfolded the cot. Eragon checked the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, tested out the small A/C unit, then sat on the bed with a sigh.

“Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?” The boy asked, stretching tiredly. “Don’t tell me she’s going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us.”

Murtagh snorted, muttering something along the lines of the elf desperately needing one instead of deserving it, and pushed the cot into the corner so he would have a clear line of sight of both the door and the window from the side. Brom gestured to the aforementioned window, which was parallel to the bed Eragon was sitting on, and grunted, “Open that.”

Perturbed, Eragon did as he was asked and opened the window fully, the metal frame bumping the outer wall. A humid breeze swept in, lending the room the scent of damp leaves and warm night air. The young Rider braced his hands on the sill and leaned out to breathe it in.

A soft series of scuffing noises were all the warning he had before Arya was suddenly staring him in the eyes, comfortably resting her chin on the sill as she crouched with her feet against the outer wall and sure fingers gripping the windowsill. “Well hello.”

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. “How the hell did you just–”

“Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it.” Eragon backed away from the window as the woman ‘hopped’ into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. “Don’t gape. I parkoured most of it. It’s forty bloody feet up, even we can’t do that.”

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. “Did anyone see you?”

Arya shook her head. “No. If they did, it was at a distance.”

“Good thing we had you switch clothes.” The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, great. I’ll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I’ll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I’ll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still.”

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. “I might have an idea.” He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. “We’re pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag.”

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn’t want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. “Here! This could at least cover your ears. It’s not perfect, but it’ll be good in a pinch.”

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, “Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies.” And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

Dressed as she was, Arya looked almost no different from a human woman, if a bit on the angsty side. Dark loose jeans, grey hoodie, black shirt and a dark navy blue beanie tugged low over the tips of her pointed ears certainly gave her a brooding look, especially when leaning against the wall of a hotel and shooting glowering stares at anyone that even glanced at her. As long as no one got close enough to examine her facial structure, she would pass for human.

“Who wants to shower first?” Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. “Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done.”

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. “Ah, I don’t care. I’ll go first if you don’t want it, Brom.”

“All yours.” The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. “Feel free to shave. There’s a razor in there, fuzz face.” Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. “Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you’re at least out of easy sight.”

“Was planning on sleeping there anyway.” She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. “Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. “You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one.” She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. “So, um…you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don’t they know you’re an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can’t you just go as is?”

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. “They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional…remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur’s crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second.” Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. “So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave.”

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don’t trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?’ He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you, though? You’re helping them, and you’ve fought for them. Don’t they respect that? Haven’t you at least tried change their minds?”

Arya leveled her gaze with his. “Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I’m sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves.” She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. “Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can’t let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I’m okay with that.”

“Don’t give the boy any ideas.” Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. “And no getting him drunk. Unless I’m there. Then, well…we’ll see.”

Arya waved him off. “I know, I know.”

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. “Alright, who’s next?” He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

“You’re up, kid.” Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya’s arm. “When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I’m putting that lightly.”

The elf chuckled. “Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I’ve gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It’s been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point.”

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. “Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!” He lifted his head slightly. “Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room.”

“I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda.” Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

“–nds the economic report. Here’s Karl Yorgisson with the day’s news.”

Brom snorted. “Told you.”

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. “Shush, I want to hear this.”

“Thanks, Jason.” Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. “Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"We again advise that you keep your eyes peeled for any faces you have seen on watch boards. Remember, not only is there a sizable reward for information, there is also the pride that comes with defending your King and country from the insidious terrorists that lurk in our midst.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–”

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. “Well, that’s good. They’re not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can’t inform the general public about us or why they’re searching for us.”

“Attacked Gil'ead my arse.” Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. “I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don’t need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period.”

“Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can’t cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion.” Arya pointed out. “Besides, they’ll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden.”

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. “Wait…. You’re telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?”

“Never happened?” The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. “Of course they never happened! We don’t send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there.” She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. “Honestly! It’s too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!”

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. “Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?”

“That is different.” Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. “We weren’t attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I’d prefer it if you didn’t make quips about it.”

“I apologize.” Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. “It was in bad taste.”

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. “Apology accepted. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Murtagh shrugged. “Eh. Natural response.” The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon’s off key humming, and country music. Then, “What’s a frin br… fyrn bri….”

“Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language.” Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. “Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term.” He jerked his chin in Arya’s direction. “If I’m not mistaken, that is.”

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. “Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Arya’s jaw tightened slightly. “Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory.” She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

’Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.’ Murtagh’s heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he’d probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.’ The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

“Oi. Don’t sleep yet. You have to do laundry.” Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn’t even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, “Then wake me up when it’s ready to be done.” and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn’t take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

“I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep.” She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man’s reaction.

“Can’t have you wandering around out there.” Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. “If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast.”

“So I’m pretty much useless at this point in time?” Arya asked dryly. “Dear me, I’m in a room where I can’t leave. Out of one jail and into another.”

“Don’t get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh’s and maybe the angst will wear off.” The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. “Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?”

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. “Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?”

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, “Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there!”

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. “I’ll be done in a minute!”

“Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!”

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. “He’s a teenage boy. He needs his alone time.” She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. “Better he do that in there than when he thinks we’re all asleep.”

“He should have thought of ’alone time’ before he left Carvahall.” Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. “And trust me, you don’t get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind.”

“Poor Saphira!”

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“You could have just told me to hurry up.” The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. “Aye, but then you wouldn’t have actually gotten out right when I asked.”

“Well, I wasn't–” His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. “I wouldn’t do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?” Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

“Hey, I’m not saying anything.” Arya put her hands up. “What you do in the shower is none of my business.”

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. “You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh’s.”

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn’t seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

“You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to.” She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon’s general direction. “If you…um…if you don’t want to sleep on the floor we could…you know, split sheet.”

Eragon’s ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. “Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout.” The Rider mumbled a ’good point’ and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf’s dark eyes. “Is Saphira doing alright out there?”

“Yeah. She’s asleep.” Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. “I think she’s a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she’s been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night.”

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya’s lips as she turned another page. “I think we’ve all earned a little rest.”

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira’s sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. “Yeah.” He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. “G'night, Arya.”

“Good night, kid.”

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh’s bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

“Take as long as you want.” Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. “I’m sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep.”

“I’ll try not to destroy the entire hotel’s hot water supply.” Arya grinned wryly as she stood. “I’ll wake you if anything concerning happens.”

~~~

Arya shut off the water and watched the last dregs slide down the drain. It had taken ten minutes of soap, scrubbing and hot water to get the water flowing off her body to run lighter than dark grey. Another ten minutes saw it finally run clear, and five minutes under shockingly cold spray soothed the vicious burning in her healing wounds and scars. She shook herself and wrung out her hair as much as she could before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

A few brief minutes later she was again clothed in her borrowed jeans and her sports bra, and she stepped out of the bathroom. A quick check confirmed that Murtagh had not yet returned. He slipped inside just as the elf was tying off the last strip of bandage around her leg, the rest of the shredded sheet already wrapped around her torso.

“Heads up.” Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. “Good night, Arya.”

“'Night, Murtagh.” The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph’ of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

Eragon tore the covers off as a shrill alarm stabbed into his ears. For a confusing moment lights and sound blinded him. He threw his mind out to Saphira to see through her eyes, only to remember that she was a league away, hiding in the woods. He felt her wake and surge to her feet, his panic alarming her.

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon’s left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh’s borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

Of all of them, Murtagh appeared to be the least disturbed by the noise. He sat lacing up his boots, already clothed in his travel gear, and his previously covered rifle was laid out on the bed within arms reach. As he picked the weapon up and chambered the first round Eragon realized the man was swearing in a steady monotone, never once reusing a word. When he seemed to run out of words in the common human language, he switched to what Eragon gathered was a dialect from his local hometown. His vocabulary was impressive to say the least.

“What the bloody hell is happening?” Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. “From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they’re setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak.”

Murtagh’s muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. “Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–”

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. “What’s the alarm about then?” He checked that Zar'roc’s hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

“They’re trying to lure us to the emergency exit.” Brom growled. “Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her.”

'There won’t be anything to see if I eat them all.’ The dragon hissed in response. Eragon’s jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I’ll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.’

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh’s swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. “How are we getting out?” The younger Rider asked. “We can’t go out and we can’t go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can’t carry four people.”

“Theta Rescue.” Arya grabbed Eragon’s backpack before he could pick it up. “Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.’” She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

“Only if you’re up for it.” Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. “It’s quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won’t help.”

“No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets.” Her head cocked to the side. “They’re sweeping the floor below us.”

“Theta it is.” Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. “Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. “What are you doing?”

Arya flashed him a grin that didn’t reach her now flinty eyes. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don’t wiggle.”

“Wigg–” Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman’s carry. He only had time to spit out a quick “Oh Sweet Sara–” before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?’ She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.’ Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I’m going to hear about this later, aren’t I?’

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You’re just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.’ With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.’

'Yes ma'am.’ Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse’s hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #saphira #Brom #arya #murtagh #modern inheritance lore #hotel pit stop #sleeping arrangements #older mic stories #like from the dA days #everyone gets a very much needed shower #also introducing Common Elvish and other regional dialects!

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punkcherries · 3 years

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its 4 am i have no impulse control i finished writing the very bad blurb thing its ryan+min and its not good but im posting it under the cut here anyway <3 <3 (uh theres mentions/allusions toward underage drinking and also self harm and also internalized homophobia but its not like gnarly ok ok tfrtwser??????)

Min slipped his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, his hand brushing Ryan’s neck, before pulling him close for the photo. It was only a brief moment, but the afterimage of Min’s skin on his made Ryan’s hair stand on end, and his face flush. Not like the fuzz in his face from drinking when he really shouldn’t, or the warmth in his cheeks while flirting with a girl, it ran across from ear to ear, radiating heat. ‘This is wrong,’ he thought to himself, ‘This can’t keep happening.’ The click of the camera barely registered to him, the world was just noise. Just as quickly as it happened, Min was pulled away by someone at the party calling for his attention, snapping Ryan back to Earth. He placed his hand to the back of his neck, the bare air felt like ice in place of Min’s jacket. He turned his eyes back over to Min.

“Ah, uh, thank you...!” Min called back to whoever with a sheepish chuckle, and Ryan’s face turned almostly morosely soft. His heart thumped harder, and harder, he could feel it in his head, and he felt fit to burst, until, “Ryan? You okay?” Min’s voice broke through the dead air of the dance music, and Ryan looked like a deer in headlights.

“Uhh I….” Ryan spoke hesitantly, what he’d wanted to say all night and for who knows how long before bubbling up in his chest. He looked Min in the face only for a moment, and his throat suddenly felt strangled, “I just…. Uhh….” Ryan glanced around the room for a moment, before taking in a breath, “I…. kinda feel like…. I’m, uh, forgetting something important….” He made something up.

“Uhhh…. Oh, did you remember to put your guitar back in the van after the show?” Min gestured to the backstage door off to his right. Ryan snapped his fingers, “Y’know, I…. don’t remember! Better go check,” Ryan forced a laugh, slipping past Min, “Make sure no one’s touchin’ the goods. Be right back!” Ryan pushed his way past the other partygoers and backstage as quickly as he could, leaning against the door behind him and letting out a disgruntled groan. “What is wrong with you?” He whispered to himself, pausing a moment before standing back up straight. To his surprise, there, still backstage, was in fact his guitar, or at least the case. His brows furrowed, of course he really forgot that. Such an empty headed move. Ryan went and checked the case for all his things. Guitar, picks, strings, everything was where it was supposed to be, so he zipped it up and carried it out the back door to the tour van.

Walking round the side, he brushed his hand against the uneven surface, covered in slightly chipped paint from the Chicken Choice Judy mural he and Min painted on it about a year or so ago, before getting to the back doors. His mind raced as he placed his case in the back of the van, ‘You shouldn’t say anything to him. You have something good now, you can’t ruin it,’ Ryan studied the stickers on his guitar case, the razor blade in particular stuck out in his mind, and a quiet wave of a dull, stinging phantom pain washed over his thighs, ‘Not again.’ He shook his head a moment, before sighing deeply, and closing the van doors. Turning to leave, he let out a startled yelp, seeing a figure standing behind him.

“Woah, woah, it’s just me!”

It was Min.

“Dude, don’t sneak up on me like that...!” Ryan scrambled to play it off cool, but Min gave him a puzzled look.

“I... called your name, like, twice.”

“Oh….”

Ryan cleared his throat, and smiled nervously, “Sorry, guess I just got a little, uh….” He glanced at the van for a second, “...Lost in thought.”

“Yeah, are you…. Sure you’re okay?” Ryan could hear Min’s voice starting to go soft, the kind of soft it gets when he’s worried, and his heart rose up to the end of his throat. Ryan forced a smile and gave a dismissive gesture,

“Yeah, of course! Just got hit with lots of ehh, song ideas and, y’know how I think at, like, a thousand miles a minute, I probably just didn’t notice!” He chuckled, slipping past Min again, barely looking him in the face at all, “Nothin’ to worry about!”

“Ryan,” Min’s voice stopped Ryan in his tracks. It wasn’t upset, or angry, just…. Worried, and…. Disappointed? Regardless, it dropped Ryan’s heart like an anvil from his throat to the pit of his stomach. “You know you can talk to me,” Min placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, I just want to be there for you.” His voice was so tender. Ryan turned only slightly, just to look at Min, whose concerned expression turned to a gentle, reassuring smile at seeing his face.

Ryan looked away, folding his arms just a bit, and Min’s hand brushed down Ryan’s shoulder to his back, slowly at first. It felt almost as if it pulled Ryan’s breath in, and Ryan closed his eyes. In that same motion, as Min’s hand pressed against Ryan’s back, travelling back up, it pulled the words right out from his lips.

“Min-Gi, I’m in love with you.”

The silence that set in deafened Ryan, his vital organs felt as though they’d been filled and bruised with boulders, and his head burned a dizzying burn, as if the fire and brimstone of Hell were trying to crawl out of his body for the unholy thing he’d just said. He opened his eyes, to see Min, red faced and shocked, and he clenched the leather of his jacket sleeves tightly in hand. The choking feeling in his throat came back, and he couldn’t bear to look at Min, “I….” His shaky voice barely scraped above a whisper, “I’m sorry, I…. I know it’s crazy, but…. Just…. I….” He started to trail off as the heat in his face brought out tears in his eyes, when Min’s hand suddenly pressed against Ryan’s back, pulling him into an embrace.

Ryan’s eyes were wide, as Min held him close with one arm, and the other stroked the back of his head, fingers combing through his hair, Min’s breath shooting down his neck and his ear as Min whispered in a voice only for him, “I love you, too, Ryan.”

Time stopped. Ryan’s tense body softened, and he wrapped his arms around Min’s waist, burying his face against the crook of his neck. For what felt like an eternity and yet not long enough, they held each other there in the parking lot of a dingy local live venue, just a few minutes out from Min’s college campus, although it felt like anything but. Until Ryan sniffled, and Min pulled away in concern. “Ryan, are you…?” The salty burn of tears bore into Ryan’s cheeks, but there was a smile on his face, and Min smiled back, wiping Ryan’s cheek with his thumb, “Geez, you had me worried there.” They both snickered, “Sorry, sorry….” Ryan’s voice was still a little weak as he sniffled again, and wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms, groaning.

There was a beat of silence, before Ryan spoke up again, “You…. Really mean that.… Yeah?” He only realized how silly a question it sounded after he said it.

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I…?”

“I…. Dunno…. I guess I was just…. Nervous…?” Ryan shrugged, his voice trailing off a bit, “I dunno.”

“What’d you think was gonna happen?” Min’s face turned from humored to concerned.

“I…. I guess, I was worried that you’d…. Not…. Wanna be around me anymore, if I told you, I mean. So….”

Min paused a moment, before smiling again, “Ryan, you’d be my best friend before anything else, even if I didn’t feel the same. When I said you’re stuck with me, I meant it.” He laughed, and Ryan did, too.

“You said that, like, what? 2-ish years ago?”

“And I’ve been with you ever since, haven’t I?”

“Fair point!” Ryan chuckled and sighed. He fell against Min’s chest again, snaking his arms up and around his neck. “I’m glad.”

Min’s face turned soft, and he pressed his face into Ryan’s hair, stroking his back with one hand, swaying ever so slightly together. It didn’t take long before Min mindlessly pressed a kiss against Ryan’s head, and Ryan looked up at him with a surprised smile. Min looked slightly confused for a brief moment before fully processing what he’d just done and getting flustered, “Ah, sorry, was…. That too forward?” Ryan didn’t reply, not with words, he just cupped Min’s face in one of his hands, closed his eyes, and gently pressed his lips to Min’s. It was only a brief moment, but the sensation of Ryan’s lips on his burned into Min, who smiled and laughed nervously. “Too forward?” Ryan teased, and they both chuckled.

Suddenly, the sound of the back door to the venue caused the pair to part in a panic. “Oh, there you guys are. What’re you doin out here? Party’s not over yet!” A woman in orange flannel called out to them, and they looked at each other a moment. Ryan gave a disinterested shrug, and Min nodded. “I…. think we’re gonna have to head out early. Long day and stuff. Sorry!” Min called back to the woman, and she shrugged, “Suit yourself.” before going back inside. Ryan shuffled around in his pocket for a moment, before pulling out the keys to the van, smiling at Min, and eagerly hopping round to the driver’s side of the car. Min paused, and touched his lips with his fingers a moment, before getting a goofy grin and following suit to the passenger side.

Ryan started the engine as Min closed his door, and after shifting into gear, Ryan’s hand slid from the stick to Min’s hand, which rest on the compartment between their seats, and gave it a squeeze. Min tried to fight the silly look on his face, “Both hands on the wheel, uh…. dork.”

Ryan laughed, “You totally wanted to call me something else, didn’t you?” Min stammered over his words, much to Ryan’s amusement, “It’s okay, you can call me “babe” if you wanna.” he teased and winked, and Min covered his face with his hand as it heated up. “Cute!” Ryan chuckled again, “Shut up and drive!” Min groaned, barely concealing his own laughter, “Alright, alright! No need to be pushy!” Ryan joked, before pulling out of the lot, and driving off.

#cherryz txt #infinity train #i literally wrote this in one go and im not a writer pls dont come for me </3 im just fuckging vibing #tryna put my ideas into some tangible form..............#id draw it but taking on comics is a PAINNN.....#speakign of this is a ryan confession but its not the same as the ryan confession comic i was working on....#which idk if ill finish at this point LMFAO................ sad! oh well gjfhdgjk #i should actually draw smth now idk why im actin bananaz rn #delete later maybe

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weirdponytail · 4 years

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Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story {most of the stories posted en masse today are my earlier stories that I’ve built upon}, so I have changed a bit of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy the story.)

~~~

"Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?" Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn't the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. "It's one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking." She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom's upper pocket. "Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside."

"I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?"

"It's ten extra Crowns." The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk's clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn't react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. "We'll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don't have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse." Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. "Thank you."

"Shut up. Not here." Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It's little red light was flashing.

"Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?" The boy asked, stretching tiredly. "Don't tell me she's going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us."

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. "How the hell did you just–"

"Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it." Eragon backed away from the window as the woman 'hopped' into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. "Don't gape. I parkoured most of it. It's forty bloody feet up, even we can't do that."

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. "Did anyone see you?"

Arya shook her head. "No. If they did, it was at a distance."

"Good thing we had you switch clothes." The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, great. I'll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I'll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I'll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still."

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. "I might have an idea." He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. "We're pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag."

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn't want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. "Here! This could at least cover your ears. It's not perfect, but it'll be good in a pinch."

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, "Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies." And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

"Who wants to shower first?" Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. "Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done."

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. "Ah, I don't care. I'll go first if you don't want it, Brom."

"All yours." The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. "Feel free to shave. There's a razor in there, fuzz face." Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. "Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you're at least out of easy sight."

"Was planning on sleeping there anyway." She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. "Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. "You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one." She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. "So, um...you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don't they know you're an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can't you just go as is?"

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. "They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional...remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur's crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second." Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. "So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave."

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don't trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?' He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, "Doesn't it bother you, though? You're helping them, and you've fought for them. Don't they respect that? Haven't you at least tried change their minds?"

Arya leveled her gaze with his. "Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I'm sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves." She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. "Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can't let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I'm okay with that."

"Don't give the boy any ideas." Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. "And no getting him drunk. Unless I'm there. Then, well...we'll see."

Arya waved him off. "I know, I know."

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. "Alright, who's next?" He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

"You're up, kid." Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya's arm. "When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I'm putting that lightly."

The elf chuckled. "Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I've gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It's been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point."

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. "Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!" He lifted his head slightly. "Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room."

"I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda." Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

"–nds the economic report. Here's Karl Yorgisson with the day's news."

Brom snorted. "Told you."

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. "Shush, I want to hear this."

"Thanks, Jason." Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. "Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–"

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. "Well, that's good. They're not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can't inform the general public about us or why they're searching for us."

"Attacked Gil'ead my arse." Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. "I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don't need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period."

"Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can't cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion." Arya pointed out. "Besides, they'll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden."

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. "Wait…. You're telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?"

"Never happened?" The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. "Of course they never happened! We don't send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there." She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. "Honestly! It's too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!"

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. "Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?"

"That is different." Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. "We weren't attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I'd prefer it if you didn't make quips about it."

"I apologize." Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. "It was in bad taste."

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. "Apology accepted. I shouldn't have snapped."

Murtagh shrugged. "Eh. Natural response." The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon's off key humming, and country music. Then, "What's a frin br… fyrn bri…."

"Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language." Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. "Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term." He jerked his chin in Arya's direction. "If I'm not mistaken, that is."

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. "Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Arya's jaw tightened slightly. "Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory." She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

'Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.' Murtagh's heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he'd probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.' The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

"Oi. Don't sleep yet. You have to do laundry." Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn't even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, "Then wake me up when it's ready to be done." and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn't take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

"I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep." She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man's reaction.

"Can't have you wandering around out there." Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. "If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast."

"So I'm pretty much useless at this point in time?" Arya asked dryly. "Dear me, I'm in a room where I can't leave. Out of one jail and into another."

"Don't get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh's and maybe the angst will wear off." The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. "Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?"

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. "Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?"

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, "Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you're doing in there!"

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. "I'll be done in a minute!"

"Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!"

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. "He's a teenage boy. He needs his alone time." She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. "Better he do that in there than when he thinks we're all asleep."

"He should have thought of 'alone time' before he left Carvahall." Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. "And trust me, you don't get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind."

"Poor Saphira!"

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

"You could have just told me to hurry up." The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. "Aye, but then you wouldn't have actually gotten out right when I asked."

"Well, I wasn't–" His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. "I wouldn't do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?" Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

"Hey, I'm not saying anything." Arya put her hands up. "What you do in the shower is none of my business."

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. "You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh's."

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn't seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

"You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to." She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon's general direction. "If you...um...if you don't want to sleep on the floor we could...you know, split sheet."

Eragon's ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. "Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout." The Rider mumbled a 'good point' and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf's dark eyes. "Is Saphira doing alright out there?"

"Yeah. She's asleep." Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. "I think she's a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she's been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night."

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya's lips as she turned another page. "I think we've all earned a little rest."

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira's sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. "Yeah." He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. "G'night, Arya."

"Good night, kid."

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh's bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

"Take as long as you want." Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. "I'm sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep."

"I'll try not to destroy the entire hotel's hot water supply." Arya grinned wryly as she stood. "I'll wake you if anything concerning happens."

~~~

"Heads up." Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. "Good night, Arya."

"'Night, Murtagh." The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph' of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon's left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh's borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. "From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they're setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak."

Murtagh's muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. "Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–"

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. "What's the alarm about then?" He checked that Zar'roc's hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

"They're trying to lure us to the emergency exit." Brom growled. "Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her."

'There won't be anything to see if I eat them all.' The dragon hissed in response. Eragon's jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I'll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.'

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh's swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. "How are we getting out?" The younger Rider asked. "We can't go out and we can't go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can't carry four people."

"Theta Rescue." Arya grabbed Eragon's backpack before he could pick it up. "Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.'" She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

"Only if you're up for it." Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. "It's quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won't help."

"No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets." Her head cocked to the side. "They're sweeping the floor below us."

"Theta it is." Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. "Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh."

"Wait, what's happening?" Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. "What are you doing?"

Arya flashed him a grin that didn't reach her now flinty eyes. "Don't worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don't wiggle."

"Wigg–" Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman's carry. He only had time to spit out a quick "Oh Sweet Sara–" before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?' She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.' Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I'm going to hear about this later, aren't I?'

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You're just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.' With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.'

'Yes ma'am.' Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse's hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance story #arya #brom #murtagh #saphira #hotel pit stop #sleeping arrangements #old mic story #tbh this was and still is one of my favorites #i'd love to find a way to rewrite it while keeping the original spirit intact

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird “Keep them Warm pt. 4″

He ha, boy do I have something some of you guys are going to absolutely hate :) The final installment of this little mini series, and boy did it get just a little bit creepy though I totally didn’t intend for that to happen.

Hope you all enjoy!

“Hey little, Bro! So good to see you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have picked up the phone.”

“Look your practically glowing, come on guys can't you see the glow.”

Adam shook his head and sighed at his three grinning brothers on the other end of the video call. Despite living in different parts of the county, somehow they had managed to set aside time to get together and call him.

“So when’s the gender reveal?”

“Yeah have you come up with names. I have one of those baby name books right here, we can come up with them, as a family.”

“Can’t wait to see if they have your eyes lil’ bro….. or you know maybe your limbs. You never know with alien human hybrids..”

Adam leaned back on his bed resting his head against them all staring up at the ceiling, “Ha ha…. ha you guys are hilarious.”

“I think we are…. don’t you guys think so” Jeremy asked the others who nodded grinning at each other with smug expressions. David was nudged bodily to the side, and his partner, Jordan, inserted himself into the frame.]

“Ignore them, Adam. What they mean to ask is if you’re ok, and if there is anything they can do to help.”

Adam smiled at his brother’s better half, “See that’s right you load of assholes. Jordan’s nice to me, he understands.”

David nudged his partner out of camera view with a fond smile, “He doesn’t understand. If we don’t bother you then who else will?” He looked off camera smiling, but received only a snort of derision and probably an eye roll. He eventually turned back grinning, “Humoring my better half though. Are you ok?”

Adam sighed leaning back against the wall, “Yeah, I’m alright….. totally over it though. I’m hungry and cold all the time. Everything smells weird, and I haven’t exactly been sleeping great. They keep telling me it should be over soon, but of course they can’t predict when.”

Thomas shifted himself to a better position on the couch, “Ok, you know I need to hear how this even happened in the first place. I mean we knew you had a thing for aliens, but we didn’t exactly expect this.”

“Thanks….. for that, Thomas.” He groaned, “And it was a complete miscommunication and the unfortunate fact that I have a high body heat. She probably thought it was the best way to seal a peace talk. You know, if she takes some of our DNA, than that makes us practically family, and what could be more of a peace offering than that.”

“What was it like.” Jeremy wondered leaning forward in his seat.

David opened his mouth to protest, “If you don’t want-“

He raised a hand, “No no, its ok. Honestly the worst part is the fact that she looks like a massive ass spider with a wolf head, I thought she was going to eat me, or maybe lay her eggs down my throat, one of the two. I guess in the grand scheme of things, the eggs were evolutionarily meant to be parasitic, so it was like being implanted with a giant tic. It was cold ... and.” He shivered “Slimy. Luckily I didn’t feel the little fibers burrowing into my organs, I’m sure that would have been unpleasant.”

“WHAT! Burrowing into your WHAT!.”

Adam shrugged, “Well, they have to get food and nutrition somehow, right?”

“That is ... absolutely disgusting.” Thomas pointed out pulling a face.

“Dude, that’s kind of sick, I’m sorry to hear that.” David said a little more sympathetically than the rest of them had.

“Can we see.” Jeremy asked in mild excitement.

Adam groaned, but agreed. Resting back and stretching out. HE pulled his shirt up far enough to reveal the six black eggs and then turned the camera to face them.

“UHHHHH, WHAT THE HELL!”

“Dude, that is sick… and nasty.”

“Kinda cool though.”

Adam readjusted and sat back up again, “Yeah imagine what they’ll look like when they come out. Not entirely sure how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

“It’ll be cool. I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll manage.”

Thomas sat up a little straighter and leaned forward, “You know, speaking of your thing for aliens, there is something we have been meaning to ask you.’

The other two brothers turned to look at each other, “Really Thomas, you’re gong to ask that now?”

“It’s a good a time as any.”

Adam sat back against his pillows face bathed in the blue light of the projection, “What are you guys talking about.” He glanced quickly towards the door and then to the clock on the wall.

It was late, everyone should be asleep by now.

“Look Adam, we…. well we don’t mean to make assumptions.” Jeremy began

“And we completely support you, whatever your decision is.” David continued.

“But we were wondering……” Jeremy rubbed his hands together nervously, as if not sure how to ask the question that was on his mind. For the life of him, Adam couldn’t imagine what would make the three of them so nervous.

“Well you see… our question is.”

“Are you and Sunny dating?”

Adam’s eyes went wide as the rest of the brothers began trying to cover for Thomas re-phrasing his words in so many ways to make the question seem less invasive, but none of them denied asking the question.

Of course it would be Thomas to ask something that blunt.

“Like, its ok if you are.”

“Yeah we just wanted to know.”

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone.”

Adam finally regain himself and waved his had at the group of them, “Look guys, its really late here, so….”

“Wait, Adam, please don’t hang up, forget we asked anything.”

He simly gave them a smile, “Love you guys, don’t do anything stupid.” Then he shut off the camera and leaned back onto his pillows staring up at the dark ceiling above. He had left the viewing window open partially tonight, and turned on his side to watch the swirling bands of Jupiter roll past his window.

It was a pretty crazy sight, but somehow relaxing.

He had no idea when he had fallen asleep distracted and lost in his thoughts as he was, but he did remember waking up.

He woke up cold, unusually cold. At first he assumed it was just the fact that he had fallen asleep atop the covers, but as he shifted, and eruption of goosebumps ran up his arms and back as something cold and wet rolled down his stomach and left leg.

He froze.

He ... hadn't wet the bed or something ... had he?

Slowly, he reached a hand down and began patting at the covers below him. They were wet, and cold and….. slimy….?

Gross.

He reached a hand upwards patting as his shirt and sides. The shirt he wore was absolutely drenched and sticky. As he brought his hand away, he could feel a string of mucus clinging to his fingers. In the dim light reflected from Jupiter, he could just barely see the delicate string of glittering form his fingertips.

He dropped his hand to the fabric, and his hand brushed over something, whatever it was, it was slimy, cold and furry. He jerked his hand away paralyzed by the dark and the trembling fear that rolled through his body. The only sound he could hear in the darkness was his own ragged breath. He stayed very still for the longest time eyes wide.

And then…. something moved. His stomach churned with fear as… whatever it was crawled its way up his body. He could feel it’s multiple limbs as small, hard points of pressure crawling up his stomach and onto his chest. Tears of fear sprang to his eyes, but he was too afraid to move unsure of what the creature was going to do? For all he knew, the thing was going to burrow into his skin and eat him as it’s first meal.

His body trembled as the weight move closer and closer to his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. A cold pint of pressure came in contact with the skin of his collarbone, and his body trembled. More lines of cold dripped their way down his sides and onto the blankets below.

ANother cold, furry, limb pressed it’s weight onto his upper chest, then another, and then another.

He waited for the thing, perhaps to scuttle towards his face, or mouth ready to burrow into his insides and use his chest cavity as a cocoon, but instead, it seemed to turn in a circle, and curled up on his exposed skin between the junction of his neck and collar bones.

He grew dizzy realizing he had forgotten how to breathe for a moment. When he started ack up, his breaths came in ragged gasps. He looked at the door hoping that someone would come to check on him, for whatever reason, and HELP him. When no one did, he wanted to scream, but was too afraid of what might happen if he did.

The wet sheets were like ice on his back, legs and stomach, with his shirt plastered to his stomach.

Somewhere in the dark, there was a soft crackling noise, kind of wet too like the fracturing of a chicken egg. He whimpered, but was cut off as the thing on his neck shifted. A line of cold rolled down his right side.

He waited there in horrible suspense as the cracking continued. Something wiggled on his opposite side.

SOmething else moved. His entire torso flexed against the feeling, as, wet and cold, and slimy, the thing moved under his shirt, up the line of his sternum and onto his chest. TIny hairs tickled at his skin.

He felt as if his larynx were about to crawl out of his throat and GTFO. HIs mouth trembles and his eyes burned staring up into the darkness. WHatever it was, it curled up against the warmth of his skin, something tiny and mobile prodding at the muscle underneath.

He gritted his teeth and moaned softly, “Help.” but was too afraid to say anything else, any louder worried that he would agitate the creatures.

It was a horribly and horrifically slow process. He was freezing and covered in an unknown and unmentionable substance. Something tricked away across his stomach, down onto his arm. At his hand, more sensitive, than the rest of his body, he could feel ten searching legs, and a strange covering of course fuzz, like a tarantula.

His body trembled as the thing crawled up his arm, eventually making its way onto his shoulder. His entire body was just a mass of fizzing static as all his nerves fired in panic trying to tell him something was crawling on him, like he didn’t already know. He tried turning his head away, but that agitated the thing towards his collar bone, and he was forced to remain still.

The one on his shoulder inched forward prodding at his neck, and his jaw, his ear and his cheek. He felt as if ice were crystallizing over his skin. His eyes were squeezed shut. Finall the creature crawled downwards onto the pillow, and burrowed itself in the tiny hollow esteem his neck and the pillow.

He could feel it breathing.

That happened three more times, and every time his body grew colder with the slimy substance. Something made itself comfortable under the junction of one of his knees. Another burrowed under his back , and the last curled itself against his upper thigh.

He didn’t sleep trapped in some sort of living nightmare afraid for what was to happen if he owed.

***

Sunny was carrying another breakfast tray. She had made it a point to bring Adam breakfast the past two months. She wanted him to know that someone had his back. Besides, she liked the company, and when he was out working, he was often stolen away from her for more important matters

Instead of complaining or getting in his way, she made things work.

She didn’t much bother knocking anymore, since she came at the same time every day, and he was usually already up and waiting for her. She opened the door with one of her lower arms listening to the familiar hiss, and stopped.

Sensing her movement, the automatic lights slowly adjusted upwards.

She dropped the trey.

“ADAM!”

The bed was absolutely covered in blood. It soaked the blankets and the pillow, and tracks of it trailed up his arms, onto his neck, and on His face.

She rushed forward shocked to find he was still alive!.

His single green eye was wide with panic, though he didn’t move.

“Adam a-“

HIs right hand raised at her, and his mouthed moved pleadingly for her help.

That’s when she saw it. It was only one creature as far as she knew, but she began to spot signs of the others, though the one on his neck was the most obvious. It was about fist sized, from what she could see it looked like a white and grey ball covered in blood. The skin of its body was a strange grey color, and from it’s skin stuck little white-blond hairs heavier in some places than in others. As she watched the creature lifted it’s head catching her gaze with striking green eyes.

Like its earlier species, the creature had a wolffish head with a snout, nose and ears, but the face, instead of looking like the muscle underneath, was covered in a layer of human-like skin and a light dusting of blond fuzz over that.

It opened its mouth wide with a yawn , the interior a bloody pink, without any teeth to speak of.

“The fuck.” SHe whispered.

***

Dr. Katie and Krill were much less perturbed by the scene. While Kril was busy with Adam, Dr. Katie gently reached down to pick up the creature resting on his chest, “Well hello there.” Sunny watched in horrified fascination as the things spidery legs were revealed, curled under its body. The mouth of the creature opened and closed as doctor Katie tilted it this way and that gently examining the legs and the tiny head.

She handed it to an assistant who, somewhat hesitantly, cleaned the creature off with a soft-wet cloth.

It opened its mouth again, and as it did the room was filled with a quiet squalid.

“What the fuck.” One of the Nurses repeated mirroring Sunny’s reaction from earlier.

“Behind…. my head…. get it off…. get it off.” The man moaned lifting his head slightly as Dr Katie reached behind his head pulling out the second tiny body. THis one had scales AND hair, which was a very strange look. It too had a rather wolffish looking head. She examined it and then handed it off to a PA

Sunny patted his hand as the rest were removed, and Dr. Krill looked him over, “Don’t worry, Commander, it isn’t your blood, or at least not entirely. It would have been inside the eggs, so take a few deep breaths, alright. Your blood pressure is starting to scare me.”

Dr Katie had one of the PA’s cut away the wet fabric of his shirt, retrieving a rather miffed hatchling who glowered at her with large- blue eyes, “They’re kinda cute.” She added tilting the one she held onto its back giggling as it snapped at her hand toothless.

“Under my back.” Adam muttered softly cringing as the creature moved in response to his speech.

All together they retrieved all six, and adam eventually sat up. He looked exhausted to sunny, and was shivering horribly. It looked like a horror show covered in blood-colored goo. As he moved, the egg-shells shifted and slid to the side dripping red fluid.

WIth one shaking hand the commander reached down and dislodged the egg remnants. The skin below was unusually pale and rather slimy looking, but otherwise unharmed, as was the muscle below that.

Under where each egg had rested were two tiny scabbed-over dots barely noticeable as anything other than freckles.

Sunny hurried over, and helped the man stand on his single leg, supporting much of his weight as he sagged into her, “That was some bullshit.” He muttered head resting against her arm.

“You’ll feel better after a shower she urged helping him over to the door, and looking back at Krill, who nodded in agreement, “We will examine these….. well, whatever they are.”

Dr. Katie leaned over the towel-lined box smiling and cooing at the little creatures, “They’re so cute!.” SHe exclaimed, “In a really uncanny valley sort of way.”

Adam shivered, and vanished behind the door as the rest of the medical staff stripped the bed, throwing the leftover contents into biohazard bags. Dr. Katie appropriated the box and left the room cooing and giggling to herself as she went.

The commander emerged well over an hour after he had entered, skin scrubbed to a bright red looking much more put together than when they had found him. Sunny helped him to the chair, and he pulled on his prosthetic, “You ok.” She wondered.

He looked up at her a bit ruefully, “Probably only number ... ten on my roughest night list, but I think I’m ok. Let’s go take a look at my progeny.

The staff in the medical bay of the UNSC headquarters stepped aside to let them through. THere was a large circle of people trying to get a good look at Dr. Katie and her box. At least three PAs from the ship were helping her to weigh, test and catalogue the creatures, who seeed less than happy to being handled the way they were.

Adam was rather hesitant on approaching, but once he did his natural curiosity overruled whatever experience he had the night before, and he leaned in to examine one of them, “The original ones didn’t have hair, did they.” He wondered reaching out a finger to stroke the tiny hairs sticking up from the creature’s body.

“No, “ Dr. Krill commented, “The original ones weren’t warm blooded either. It looks like they have incorporated the human visual system, warm bloodedness, dermis, hair, and larynx.”

“Creepy.” Adam said leaning in a little bit closer, as he did, the four creatures which sat on the table turned towards him simultaneously sniffing the air with their tiny noses. Adam pulled back a bit, but it appeared as if they caught his scent and recognized him. Together, they scuttled across the tub, clambered over the wall, rushed across the table, and one of them managed to make its way onto his arm and hand before he could pull away.

He had to try very hard not to squeal and throw the thing off as it scurried up his arm, onto his shoulder before dropping itself into the pocket on the chest of his shirt with an indignant grumble.

He craned his neck downwards and was received by a set of angry grey eyes looking up at him reproachfully as if wondering why he had abandoned them to be poked and prodded. The rest of the medical staff muttered quietly from behind.

“Ok……”

On the table before him, the creatures were mewing unhappily.

WIth one hesitant hand, he reached outward, placing his palm against the table. It didn’t take long for the creatures to sense him, and moved forward crawling one by one up his arm. When they couldn’t find anywhere comfortable to rest like the first had, they settled with clinging to his shoulders.

He turned to face Sunny arms held out a bit uncomfortably, “Well, this….. is my life now.”

Sunny hummed deep in her chest, “Super cute, its a good look for you.”

“Dr. Katie walked over with the two remaining creatures duped in either hand, “Wait, we aren’t done yet.”

By the end, he had one in his pocket, two on his right shoulder one on his left and two clinging from his belt loops.

He sighed, “Well I guess it could be worse.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced of that in the next moment, as the one on his right belt loop crawled up under his shirt, practically using his spins as a ladder.

468 notes · View notes

beerecordings · 4 years

Note

Bee, do you have bastard cats au fluff? Please? Do the kitties know that chase loves them very much? You don’t have to answer but I’d appreciate it

yes of course my friend!! ninja if you want something in specific i will even write u a lil fic or something you just let me know!! also i am always up for talking about my kitty boys but i never do without prompting haha. okay let’s see what we got

Chase used to think cats were a little like girly - like he didn’t look down on women with cats or anything like that but he just always thought his friends would kind of make fun of him if he was like a cat guy so he was always like “uhh yeah i like dogs” even though really he likes soft squishy warm cats

but then he meets Jack and Anti and OHHH MY GOSH HE LOVES CATS SO MUCH??? he ends up staying with the two of them for a while after the divorce and he’s all sad and crying a lot and he won’t always let Jack comfort him so Jack like scoops up Anti and he’s like “buddy I got a special mission for you” and slips Anti into Chase’s room and like… Anti is not a comforting cat lmao but just having him there running around is stimulating for Chase… and then sometimes Anti gives up the ghost and comes and sits purring on Chase’s chest while he cries and Chase rubs his warm soft ears and loves him so much and Anti’s like “okay this guy’s okay, whatever” and lets him

after that Chase NEEDS his kitty fix so he starts volunteering at an animal shelter and just PETTING CATS FOR HOURS YEHHHHH but then holy cow. holy cow. holy cow Jackie

he is the most perfect beautiful cat Chase has ever seen and yes Jackie has some neurological problems and tends to run into walls and get over-excited and stuff and nobody really wants him but Chase - oh, Chase sees him all sad and lonely in his cage and as soon as he opens it up Jackie is the friendliest cat ever to live, charging at Chase and shoving himself into his chest, begging to be petted, cause no matter how many times humans screw him over, Jackie doesn’t care, he’s such a loving cat and Chase doesn’t know why he’s crying but he loves Jackie, he loves him, he can’t leave him here, this is HIS cat and he scoops him up and kisses him and brings him home

Jackie is SOOO HAPPY YESSSS HUMAN ADOPTED HIMMMMMM THIS IS THE DREAMMM

He wakes Chase up with kisses every morning and Chase gives him a big hug and Jackie purrs and purrs. He grows out of awkward little teen cat into BIG BIG BIG RED BOY WITH FUR EVERYWHEREEE just unbelievable fuzz

and yes, yes, yes, he knows Chase loves him, never doubts it for a second, cause Jackie is the warmest cat in the world and Chase is the one who refills his bowl and lets him have bits of his dinner and holds him in his lap and pets him and loves him all the time and Jackie knows, Jackie knows. so he is always trying to love on Chase right back, kissing and arching his spine up beneath his hands and sitting with him when he’s sick or sad, putting his lil paw on Chase’s face and looking him dead in the eye, like sometimes he’s just trying to say it out loud, “I love you dude!!!!!” and Chase just squishes him to his belly and tells him he loves him too against his fur

Jackie is BIG PROTECTIVE of Chase and he WILL fight dogs to keep him safe (but Chase never gives him the chance lol)

Marvin is a surprise kitty cause one of Chase’s aunts leaves him to Chase in her will and Chase is like “you can LEAVE cats to people?” and the answer is yes if that cat is a snow-white show cat worth like three thousand dollars

Chase can’t sell him though because Marvin is the proudest, sassiest, most lovely little cat and Chase adores him from the second he gets his hands on him. Marvin loves walking all over Chase’s chest and pretending he’s not looking at him and ignoring Jackie’s antics because he is too dignified for that - okay maybe he will chase the laser pointer for just one second -

when Marvin gives Chase affection, it’s like being blessed by a picky god, and Chase just closes his eyes and lies back while Marvin steps over all prissy and perfect and bestows gentle headbumps and kneads his claws into his chest

Chase: THE PAIN IS WORTH ITTTTT ily Marvvvv

and Marvin is stepping around all proud like “duh of course you do I’m perfect” (but really he is very nice kitty and very polite and folds his paws and does not beg and always brings Chase dead leaves as presents because he is such a gentleman and so clever, as Chase tells him endlessly

Jackie and Marv always sleep halfway on top of each other and fully on top of Chase. Jackie snores. Chase is so exasperated and he whispers “dumb-ass” and strokes his head and when he wakes up every morning he gets either paws in his face or two happy kitties mirroring each other on his chest, purring with their eyes closed, and he is Happy

Chase, hugging his kitties: thank you for the dopamine tiny babies

After Chase adopts Henrik he does in fact start to get teased a little by his friends but then he’s like wait a second…. i don’t need less cats… i need BETTER FRIENDS SCREW U ZACH DR. HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN HAS DONE MORE FOR MY MENTAL HEALTH THAN YOU EVER HAVE AND YES THAT IS HIS LEGAL NAME HE HAS THREE PHDS

Schneep is. VERY MEAN at first actually. When he came into the shelter all torn up (they think a dog got him) he was so gross and sick and flea-covered that no one else really gave him much attention, and he would just lie at the back of his cage wheezing and trying to growl. Chase would pet him, though, and Henrik would just melt and slump down in his arms, too tired to purr, just staring up at Chase like he was begging for help. Everybody told Chase Henrik would die, but he didn’t. Chase had to bring him home

Henrik was very untrusting and angry and hurting and getting in fights with Jackie and Marvin for a few weeks, but Chase just tried to give him space and love and reward him for even the smallest attempts at being sociable, and finally there was this day where Henrik just… broke for Chase. came to him crying and trying to purr and begging for attention and Chase just started crying too and picked him up and loved on him for hours.

now Henrik is a HEALTHY HAPPY SNARKY KITTY always going >:3 and Chase is just his favorite person ever and he hates just about everybody but Chase. he is Chase’s loyal little boy and whenever Chase is feeling bad Henrik seems to be able to tell, cause he’ll follow Chase around like meowing at him, and Chase like gives him a voice and pretends his little doctor is reminding him to take his medicine and everything

also no offense to Jackie and Marv but. Henrik is like. way smarter than them adkfnkdgd he won’t do tricks but he has learned things like he’s not allowed to sit in Chase’s lap when the red light is on the camera, but he can when it isn’t, which Chase just thinks is?? ridiculously smart for a cat?? he’s not sure though

when Jack goes into his coma, it’s one of the hardest times in Chase’s life, and he’s such a mess and can’t focus on anything. but Anti needs him, and so do the other cats. even on his worst days, he finds himself dragging himself out of bed to refill everybody’s food and scoop Anti up before he can start yowling for Jack and crying again. sometimes he can even get up the strength to play with him for a little while, trying to take his mind off his missing owner.

he probably wouldn’t have survived it without his cats, in retrospect. Jackie keeps batting things in front of his face and going :DDD trying to cheer him up, and Marvin’s flaunting his big bushy tail all around the house, brushing on Chase’s legs and face and meowing politely, thanking Chase every time he feeds him. Henrik keeps leading Chase into the kitchen and Chase is too tired to argue with him so he’s like “you want a snack, sweetie? You can have anything you want” and gets the fridge open, but Henrik is just staring pointedly at the leftovers on the top shelf and Chase is like… “i think this cat wants me to eat” so for Henrik’s sake he tries

Anti misses Jack…. but Chase is the one who looks after him now. so he’s gone from his owner, and he’ll always miss him, but… he’s okay, you know? he’s not hurt or hungry or lonely. he’s okay, just like Jack would want him to be. he knows Chase loves him because even when he is a huge troublemaker and throwing a tantrum and trying to be a bastard just because he’s sad and angry, Chase is still gentle with him, Chase forgives him and lets him pretend to hate him only to slink onto the end of his bed late at night….. yeah, Chase loves Anti and Anti knows it. Anti loves him too, though that’s hard to see for just about anybody but Chase himself

and things are okay, they’re holding on, they’re surviving. Chase is trying to keep his head up, but there’s a long time where it feels like Jack and the cats are all he can think about, and even they kind of make him sad, because they remind him of Jack and make him think he’s been a horrible owner, never able to spend enough time on them when he’s on his down days. he needs something to pour his energy and love into, something to distract him from everything, something new

and there he is - the perfect baby boy

Jamie is a tiny, tiny, tiny kitty who’s been living on the streets for all of his short life and Chase falls in love with him. he finds him in the gutter a couple blocks down the street - no one else has noticed because Jamie can barely meow, this tiny little whisper-cry - but Chase sees him. he spends three hours trying to get Jamie out of there. afterwards he has this filthy, mostly-blind, malnourished, stinking baby cat who needs him desperately, and there’s no going back after that. there’s no giving Jamie away.

and Jamie love him very much. he seems to know that Chase saved him. he is very tired and weak his first few months and he never gets to be very big - in fact, he will always be a tiny little cat - but Chase thinks he’s the most perfect, beautiful little thing he’s ever seen, and he spends hours nursing him and flattering him and telling him he loves him. Jamie gives him his tiny half-mew and chews on his fingers. he can’t much purr, but Chase recognizes the little coughs and chest-sighs he gives off as his best attempts at it

the other cats are like “BABY????”

Jackie tries to teach him cat kung-fu, jumping around the walls at three am in the morning. Marvin tries to teach him MANNERS in the midst of all these hooligans (Jamie is very polite too in the end but also just as chaotic as his biggest brother). Henrik is!!! very!! hecking!!! concerned for this sick little infant!!! he is licking Jamie all matter-of-factly and rumbling at him like he’s telling him to get better (once Chase catches Henrik carrying Jameson by his baby scruff to sit on HIS bed instead of the couch, but that is a secret because HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN DOES NOT SHOW ZE OTHER KITTIES AFFECTION)

Jameson imprints on Chase and follows him around the house like a duckling on tiny kitten paws. it is hard for him because he can’t see well, so Chase starts singing around the house a lot. eventually the cats all learn that this means he is probably not busy and might give them some pets or snacks if they come, so he starts humming and cats converge on him like he’s catnip, with tiny Jamie tottering along behind them or hanging out of Jackie’s mouth like he’s bringing Chase a present

Chase narrates Henrik as German, Jamie as British, Marvin and Jackie as Irish twins, and Anti as SCREECH

he just. he just loves them so much. he knows it’s maybe a little silly to have five cats but he just… loves them. they’re so important. they’re so real to him. they’re not just pets, these are his little buds. he takes care of them and they take care of him.

he comforts them at the vet. they steal his whiskey when he’s not looking. he puts a little bow around Marvin’s neck. Marvin spends two hours purring on his chest when he’s crying the next day. he plays games with them. they hide his socks and make him look for them. and damn, he’s got so many good memories with these little dorks…. Jackie getting stuck in the kitchen drawer, Marvin getting scared by the thunderstorm and needing a hug, splashing Henrik in the face when he got all curious about the kitchen sink, the first time Anti snuggled up with him, Jamie licking gently at his hands while he sat up all night with him just to keep him alive….

They’re his buddies. He loves them. They know. They knew all along. Cats are clever. They know. They won’t forget. They love him too

#soft!anti #long post #bastard cats au

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80s-roger · 5 years

Text

EX - Roger Taylor {pt 4}

click here if you haven't read part three!

this part, includes mature language!

thank you all for the love you're showing me!

chapter five will be posted soon!

on with the story!

You woke up the next morning with a weird feeling growing inside of you. There was something that made you feel nervous.

You slightly opened your eyes, checking the environment around you. Of course you'd be at your room, in your bed but turning around, you noticed Roger wasn't there. His figure was absent and you felt insecure about it. You always try to convince yourself you're not emotionally depended on him but you lose. You can't live without Roger. When he's touring around the world, you lose your sleep thinking if he's cheating on you or he doesn't feel the same anymore with you. There was that day on your first times together, in which you had a period delay for a couple of months and you freaked out thinking if you were pregnant. You never told Rog about it, considering the fact if he'd abandon you in God's mercy. Turned out, it was just nervousness because of the press following you every time and writing things about you.

What do we need to know about Roger's new girlfriend, Y/N Y/F/N.

Y/N Y/F/N's exes we tried to track before Roger Taylor.

The secret life of Roger's girlfriend, Y/N Y/F/N.

Your life after Roger turned upside down. What you are now, is Roger Taylor's girlfriend. Just that.

You used to have your silence but now, being a rock star's girlfriend, causes you anxiety. Thinking of secret life, you immediately thought of the sex tape coming to the surface. What if Roger left you to deal with it by your own? You walked over your parlour, checked at your cabinet for any note. You let out a breath after seeing Roger's handwriting on a post-it note.

"my love, I'll be at the studio earlier than usual. I kissed you before leaving, don't worry,

your roger x"

You felt suspicious. You were scared to go at the office you work, afraid if there'd be a pap following you. Your day off the previous day was kinda cool but today's another day. You had to dress on your office clothes, wash your teeth and face, make up and grab a coffee on your way.

On your way to the office, there was indeed a pap who spotted you walking in a rush. Your heels hurt you a bit because of the speed walking but you had to avoid him. You wished you had taken the car.

"Why aren't you with Roger?" Is this guy serious? You thought. You're dating but you also have separate lives. Your job and his job.

"Did you break up yesterday night? That's why were you crying? Did he ask you to break up to find some other chick? Isn't your sex life strong enough?" This pap was incredibly rude. You really wanted to reply but you were afraid of Roger's reputation. He was probably one of those last night who took shots of you.

"Roger and I work like ordinary people." You smoothly said but he kept following you.

"Did you break up?" these people really want to see your inner world demolishing.

"Why should we break up when we're happy together?" You said again looking away from him and his camera.

"Because he's the womanizer of queen." He was so rude with your boyfriend, you had to defend him.

"You know, there's always that moment in our lives, in which we decide what to do with ourselves after a loose time. Roger found that, unlikely you. Keep invading into our lives." You snapped and that pap was literally in shock. You were known as the silent and quiet girlfriend of the queen members. You did have a bunch of ex lovers and many make out sessions, but after dating Roger, you settled down, facing it in a serious way. However, you never made a fuzz about your past. You never gave the right to anyone. But the paps, don't know a word called privacy.

As you walked inside your office, you greeted everyone and walked inside your post. There was your desk and a gossip newspaper in front of you. You were in the headlines with Roger. Your feet were shaking. You sat down, reading it carefully. The photo was you two yesterday night, when he sat next to you, trying to wipe off your tears and another one when you were walking together hand in hand to get into the car.

Roger Taylor - Y/N Y/F/N.

What's wrong with their lives?

It's been so long since we last saw them together. Of course you'll guess it's because the Queen's drummer was living la vida loca on the last US tour. But the next day, we do see his girlfriend crying in front of him! We know our blonde drummer as a sex icon and a lady's man! Did he tell her about an affair of his while in America? We'll soon find out! We're dying to know!

Oh you sure are! you thought. You started crying and tried to reach Roger on the phone. You had to call at the studio and tell him.

"Island Studios, good morning, how may we help you?" There was a female voice.

"Can I please talk to Roger Taylor?" You impatiently asked.

"We are terribly sorry, but we can't accept fans' phone calls. Have a nice d-"

"No wait! I- I'm his girlfriend, Y/N Y/F/N." You doubted she'd believe you.

"We've received phone calls in the past saying the same name. Please, we have to hang up. Have a nice day." You heard a man's voice in the background before she could hang up. "Hang on a second please." She told you.

Island Studios

Roger was walking at the studio's office by chance. He had a break that moment until he heard the woman talking about a name reference.

"Who's on the phone?" He interrupted the woman who was sitting at her office.

"Hang on a second please." she hid the microphone. "There's a young lady asking you, she says you're her boyfriend. She sounded nervous." She answered.

"That's her, connect her to the studio's phone line. I'll go pick it inside."Roger demanded and ran through the studio, where the boys were working on some lyrics. He picked up the phone. "Y/N is that you?" He asked and waited for you to recognise your voice.

"Thank God Roger you interrupted her, I wouldn't be able to talk with you." You said with a lump in your throat.

"Is everything alright? I am sorry but I had to leave earlier than usual. Band discussions, you know? I left you a note." He tried to pick up his non existent pace.

"No it's not it. I saw it and I love you for that but didn't you see the gossip newspaper? We're on headlines." You tried to remain calm but you couldn't.

"The yesterday's photos? When we were out, isn't it? I avoid reading these things babe, and you better do it too." He advised you but he didn't know.

"Roger they're going to find out soon. I'm fucked. I can't do this anymore." You sounded desperate. You literally couldn't.

"Babe, calm down please. Please! It's going to be fine. Just do your work and we'll see each other at the afternoon. I love you." He tries to calm you down but you couldn't do it.

"Roger I can't stand the idea of me being naked internationally." You started getting annoyed by his attitude not trying enough.

"You didn't consider it enough when you fucked him though! How high were you?" His strong words, hit you everywhere. You had to gather all your strength to answer him. There was silence. Roger just noticed what he said and tried to apologise. The boys looked at him in shock. John lost it.

"Save it Roger. Don't make the effort coming at my place tonight." You hung up and tried to get started in work.

"Roger are you serious? What did you tell her?" John asked him. The drummer grabbed his hair in despair.

"I didn't mean it." He said staring at him.

"Either meaning it or not, you fouled. You gathered us all here - Freddie actually, to tell us about the sex tape." John started it and Roger knew he was right.

"I'm so under pressure now, I'll lose my mind. That asshole is threatening her with money and then he'll have her body exposed at the press. She's going to be worldwidely embarrassed. She won't even walk opposite her home for the rest of her life." Roger was so stressed, not even the cigarettes he smoked didn't assist him.

"Darling, you didn't have to snap so much. Now you just had a fight with her. You're both currently on headlines, low-key beneficial for me because they don't say so much shit about me now but wake up, we have a traitor in the other room and you argue with her? For what? For your jealousy? For something that happened years ago before you?" Freddie tried to make up his mind. Brian nodded his head, agreeing with Fred.

"When's the press conference?" Roger asked.

"In three days, why?" Brian asked.

"Should I tell them I filmed me and my girlfriend having sex? That dick won't attempt calling her a cheater if I am the first to say about it." Roger thought of an idea which could possibly help make the scandal less painful to you.

"You should. But you should first tell Y/N about it." Brian said calmly.

"But first you're going to apologise to her," John said and stood up, going inside the instruments' room.

"How?" Roger stopped Deaky, having his hands on the air as a sign of confusion. "She won't let me talk. It gets really bad when we argue, you know that." He added. John ignored him, by picking up his bass.

"Of course we know darling. You're both so fierce, you solve your issues with sex. There's nothing better." Freddie placed a cigarette in his mouth.

"H-how do you know that?" Roger asked and Fred raised his shoulder in an acting way. Brian was just staring at them. "Don't fucking tell me." He guessed right.

"There's that little bird who tells me how things are after an argument." Fred giggled and Roger exhaled in frustration.

"Well, I have one more reason to argue with her. Thanks Freddie." He aggressively said. He was really pissed off today. And it was only 11 am.

"Aw no don't do it darling. You don't want to see me mad. I am best pals with your sexual partner. I know her for like five, six years. I'd take her virginity if she asked me to. She wouldn't give it on a guy who doesn't deserve it." Freddie laughed and Roger was furious. He'd attack any moment. "I'm kidding. Let's go for some recording. Go at your drums." They stood up and walked inside the room.

John was playing the bass, made some catchy beats and then Derek appeared at the room. Roger looked at him irritated. Brian looked on him. He had to intervene if anything would happen.

"New beat? Do we have a new worldwide hit coming soon?" Derek said and walked close to John. John looked at him emotionless.

"Do you mind pissing off? We're working here." Brian said and Roger stood up, coming closer to Derek. A volcano was about to explode.

"I am here to see you working," Derek said unsuspicious of what Roger would say next.

"Did you bring your camera? You love filming things don't you?" The band members stopped what they were doing. Even Deaky. Freddie's attention gets caught by the drummer. He wasn't reading the lyrics anymore.

"Filming things?" Derek get caught but decided to play with Rog. He knew what the drummer was talking about.

"Yes, filming things. Or should I say bodies doing things? Female bodies?" Roger walked around him.

"Roger, stop..." Brian quietly said.

"You're not helping me." Derek played it chill and that frustrated Roger.

"I'll give you a hint. Harder, deeper, faster." Roger raised his eyebrow. He's not the one who gets catfished. "You love it when a girl's telling you that. You love it when you take control." Roger stared inside Derek's soul.

Brian approached. There wouldn't be a studio in less than ten seconds.

"You love it when her current boyfriend is a celebrity and the press is after us. That's why you love threatening her asking her for money or what you filmed with her will be published." Roger forcibly pushed him behind. He was standing too close on the drums.

"Roger calm down." Brian came close to the blonde man.

"I still love watching her giving me a blowjob. I'm sure you know how it is. You know, the feeling." Derek played with the non-existent patience of Roger's. The drummer literally turned red. He felt insulted when he heard Derek saying nasty things about his girlfriend. Brian got in the middle, ready to split these two.

"I'm gonna put you in the fucking ground!" Roger yelled and Brian intervened.

"Roger take it easy!" he said and pulled him back.

"You won't get away with this so easy," Roger warned Derek who didn't give a shit.

"I'm gonna be richer than you all. I have a strong weapon in my hands, I'm not afraid to use it." Derek winked to Roger, referring to the sex tape.

"I have a stronger weapon between my legs, you don't want me to use it, do you?" Freddie said eagerly. That line gave another vibe in the place.

"I'm sorry Freddie, but the press would die to know if Y/N cheated on Roger. I should definitely sell my made-up story." He evilly laughed and Roger was too close on hitting him but Brian pulled him back again.

"You're not leaving. We are those who gave you the job." Freddie ordered.

"I quit. Now let's see who's in control, Roger." he smiled and reached the door. "Oh, I don't need your redundancy. It won't worth the money I'll make." He left the studio and the members were in shock.

"Y/N is going to kill me. We handled it like shit. Fuck!" He gasped.

"We made it shittier than it was before. We should have waited a little more." Deacon answered.

"Yeah, thank you for intervening when I was about to kill him a few seconds ago," Roger said to John.

"Hey, don't talk to Deaky like that. You should have to keep that big mouth of yours to yourself." Freddie said, protecting sensitive Deaky.

"If he was talking to you like that about Mary, I'm sure you'd act like me!" Roger yelled and sat at the drums.

"Hey no words for Mary here." Freddie warned him.

"That was a bad day already..." Brian whispered and wore his guitar around and started making some chords.

"Today's a shitty day Roger, you better fix your life after we're done. And Y/N is in your life too. You better prepare her, or I'm afraid she will see herself, censored at The Sun newspaper tomorrow. And it will affect you too." Deaky advised him and the day went really intense.

"This is shit." Roger loudly said.

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adrienaline-rushed-art · 5 years

Text

Heart-to-Heart

This was meant as a request from a raffle for my last milestone, but I just want to thank @cartoonfanorwhatever for not only their patience but also supporting me on kofi simply out of kindness <333

So here’s a bodyswap one-shot for all to enjoy, although I totally get that it’s a bit confusing so it may not stay a one-shot. For now, maybe I’ll explain a little something in the A/N at the end.

Rating: T

Genre: Comedy/Fluff/General

Chapters: 1/1 (maybe)

Ships: Left to interpretation. Alyanette, Alyadrien, Lovesquare, Alyadrienette...

Summary: Marinette discovers that the body she’s in does not belong to her, and perhaps neither does the heart.

ao3

Aside from knowing for a fact that her capris hadn’t been too tight a second ago, Marinette felt completely out of place upon regaining consciousness. From one point of view, she felt out of place in a good way, and in others in a terrible way. For one, there wasn’t a horrible tightness in her jaw, the burning of blood-shot eyes, stinging from pricks on her fingers, nor a sense of weak limbs. On the other hand, there was a sudden pain in her lower back, a weight on her chest, blurry vision, and her hair irritated the nape of her neck. Nothing felt as it usually did.

Bringing her hands out in front of her, she confirmed that these were not, in fact, her hands. She was in someone else's body. Marinette turned to the large display window behind her. Her reflection met her with the image of her best friend, Alya.

As she stared at herself - watching others collapse, switch, and revive from the corner of her eye - she was more puzzled by the fact that she was in the same spot she remembered being when she was hit.

“I guess-” Marinette cleared her throat, blinking at her new voice, “-this is the difference between swapping minds and swapping bodies…”

“Thank goodness, this way you can still stop the akuma.”

Marinette whipped her head around to look at her kwami. “Tikki! You’re still here!”

“Yeah, you still have your earrings after all,” Tikki smiled.

“Ok, let’s go!”

Marinette started to run but wobbled to a slow stop. “I-I’m not quite used to moving in this body yet.”

“Do you feel weak?”

“No, I feel pretty strong actually,” Marinette flexed her arms a bit, “but I feel like a teenage boy on a growth spurt, tripping over myself because I’m suddenly a different height and weight. And I can barely see.” She groaned, “Great. As if I wasn’t clumsy enough.”

Marinette shook her head and ran off despite herself.

* * *

Alya went to move the pale hand from her face, “Marinette?”

She froze when she realized the hand she was reaching with also seemed to belong to Marinette. She didn’t know what was going on, she was sitting at her desk and apparently fainted. There were no reasons for Marinette to have been in her room as far as she could remember, but now she wondered if even she herself was in her room. Was she even awake? It felt like she was dreaming or in a coma, trying to move only to watch blurry figures move about her.

“What…?” Alya removed her glasses and stumbled around for a mirror, coming face to face with Marinette.

“Well,” she sighed, “this is new.”

Alya leaned forward and rubbed at the puffy skin under her eyes. Her whole body felt drowsy and weak, as though she hadn’t slept in days. God, what had Marinette been up to? She tried smacking her cheeks to wake herself up but stopped when she realized she should be gentle with Marinette.

At least she could check the akuma out and snap some photos.

Alya rushed to her door before stopping to stare at her closet. She grabbed a belt and tightened until her pants finally stayed on her hips and continued out the door.

* * *

“My Lady?” Chat Noir looked Ladybug once over, “you’ve been hit, I see…”

Ladybug put her hands on her hips and smirked, “How are you so sure I’m the real thing, Kitty Cat?”

Chat bowed, “I’d always recognize you, Bugaboo,” He peered up at Ladybug, “besides, I know how the akuma works.”

“Really? How?”

“You switch bodies with whoever you consider to be your best friend,” Chat grinned, though a little sadly, “I’m hurt, My Lady, I thought I was your best friend.”

Ladybug smiled. “Of course you are, silly.” She walked up to Chat and touched his shoulder, “you can have more than one best friend you know. It’s not like ‘best’ is for a level of competition. You’re Ladybug’s best friend, Al- er- this… body is.. Ma- my civilian best friend! Don’t you have a different best friend when you aren’t Chat Noir?”

Chat Noir nodded, “I guess I do…” he puckered his lips in feigned deep thought, leaning sideways toward Ladybug, “but… if it were a competition-”

“No way, Chat,” Ladybug giggled, pressing her finger against his nose and pushing him back. “That’s not how it works. Just know that I love you, ok?” Her voice quieted to a more serious tone, making Chat Noir blush, his playful exterior fading.

“Oh- um, thank you- I mean! I… I love you too!” he blurted, finally having the opportunity to speak the three words constantly playing in his mind. “I’m nothing without you.” His eyes widened, knowing he’d already said enough and if he wasn’t careful he’d continue rambling the self-deprecating nonsense that he knew Ladybug didn’t like to hear.

Ladybug reached up to hug him. “It’s not that you or either of us are nothing without the other. It’s that we’re everything together.” Chat Noir smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but Ladybug held her finger to his lips. “I’m gonna have to stop you, sorry Kitty. We still have an akuma on the loose and we’d better spring into action before we get caught with our pants down.”

The two of them stiffened in their embrace upon Ladybug’s statements. They quietly pulled away from each other as Ladybug clarified. “I mean… caught off guard, eheheheh.”

“...right…” Chat tried to laugh.

“Let’s just... go…”

* * *

Ladybug groaned. Dodging all of the flying beach balls was getting tiresome and watching everyone switch bodies was confusing to say the least.

“Well, it doesn’t really do much harm to get hit. At least you kept your powers,” Chat Noir huffed as he ran alongside Ladybug.

“That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t been hit yet,” Ladybug jumped into a tumble as she dodged another ball.

“You seem to be handling it well.”

“I’m getting used to it, but if I switch again I can’t say the same will happen. I think now’s a good time to use my secret weapon,” she winked.

Chat looked toward the street. “Ok, do your thing, I’ll be right back.” He jumped down from the rooftop and ran up to the civilian amidst the chaos. “Marinette? Since when are you interested in recording the fights?”

Alya smirked. “I’ve got a blog to keep up. Who do you think Marinette would switch bodies with, Cat Boy?”

He blushed at the sight of Marinette’s apparent change of personality. “Oh right, Alya then? Live streaming for the Ladyblog?”

“At your service,” she winked.

“Well, hey Ladybloggers!” Chat waved at the phone, “sorry, but I think your reporter will be logging out. Because for about the millionth time,” he tilted his head at Alya, “I have to tell her it’s not safe here.”

“What do I have to lose? This akuma is harmless.” Alya countered, though she lowered her phone slightly.

“Relatively. But who knows who you’ll switch with-”

Alya gasped, stopping the livestream, “You’re right, I’m glad I never used the front camera…”

“-I mean, you and Ladybug are pretty close so if you two ever…” Chat Noir whirled around to squint at Ladybug, then back to ‘Marinette’ . “Wait a fucking minute.”

Alya sighed; realizing he’d put two-and-two together, she pocketed her phone. “I know imagine being the girl who took a bit to recognize her own body.”

“You- t-that’s your… oh, I’m not supposed to know this,” Chat winced.

“Neither of us are. Stop panicking and- look out!”

Chat Noir flinched as a beach ball bounced against his head. He blinked away a fuzz, stretching out a pair of smaller hands and reaching up to feel the ties that pulled his hair back into two pigtails.

Alya cried out in a painfully familiar voice. “Oh, Marinette, wait till you hear that Adrien thinks your his best friend! Is that a good or bad thing…”

Chat Noir and Alya turned to each other slowly. Chat saw his worst enemy, Adrien Agreste, staring back at him with a smartphone held out and reflecting Adrien’s face.

Alya noted that Chat Noir has in fact been hit, and displayed who she could only presume was Marinette’s body.

“Alya, I- there’s nothing I can really tell you…”

“There’s plenty you can tell me, over coffee tomorrow at 7am - HOLy shit i was right . And now you have to bribe me not to tell Marinette because this is huge… this…”

“Marinette has already figured it out, do not threaten the poor boy.”

Alya and Chat Noir looked to the side, Ladybug - still in Alya’s body - stood there staring back.

Chat Noir blinked, “I want to kiss someone but I don’t know who…”

“Uh…” Ladybug tried to focus, “I’m about to transform back…”

“Into Alya…”

“Right.”

“I’ll go take care of the akuma while you recharge.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.” he blurted again, not sure why this time.

“You… have my face…”

“You have mine!”

“No, that’s Alya.”

“Oh, yeah… so did I just confess to Alya?”

“No, I did, that’s my body you have.”

“We all have a lot to talk about,” Alya decided.

They all nodded silently.

“After the akuma,” Ladybug finished.

“Yeah, after the akuma,” Chat Noir agreed.

A/N: Near the end, Chat Noir swaps with Alya because she had Marinette’s body - and Ladybug was the best friend he was meant to switch with. There is confusion of emotion and feelings both from being flustered in the situation/moment as well as the fact that there is a combination of past romantic feelings and ‘swapped’ romantic feelings.

ex: Marinette and Alya swap, Alya has feelings for Adrien/Chat Noir. As for Marinette, rather than have feelings for herself, she’ll have a slight yearning for a relationship between herself and Alya. These aren’t strong and immediate feelings, more background noise that has them in a confusing mess toward the end of the fic.

If I write a second chapter, I’ll still try and leave it vague enough so that there is no main ship, but clear enough that this explanation becomes unnecessary. Sorry it couldn’t be clear the first time around. Hopefully next time I won’t write late at night.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ladynoir #alyanette #alyadrien #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #cass writes

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eternal-star-rogue · 5 years

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@hero-of-humankind

Zipper woke to a sharp pain in her muscles. She sat up with a hiss, wincing in pain. Her surroundings were dark and cold, though she could see just fine. Irkens have perfect night vision after all. As far as she could tell she was in some sort of cell. She stood up and immediately her head felt light and full of fuzz. She propped herself up against the wall and groaned quietly. What happened???

She felt a pit of sickness opening in her guts as she remembered the stranger that rushed her in Aunt Gaz’s house. Zipper felt a panic setting in. A stranger had taken her. It couldn’t possibly have been Dwight. She saw the broadcast he’d been fighting with Addie… had they won? Had they gotten him for good? They had to have…

Zipper loathed to think that her family could be dead, or worse… so much worse… in fact far worse than her current situation. A thought that made her feel, at least the littlest bit more brave. Whoever this was had no idea what they were in for. She knew she was young but Zipper had spent most her life in chaos. She wouldn’t go out without a solid fight. Speaking of-

Zipper began to check her PAK for signs of tampering. Everything was intact. Her PAK legs, her internal weapons systems, her gadgets, and every loose item she kept in there. Though her trackers and internal coms were off. Something was jamming the signals, and now that she thought about it, she could almost hear it. Like a pulsing ringing noise. Very very faint, almost out of her range of hearing.

Now the only question left to be answered was, what fool could’ve come across technology powerful enough to jam irken signaling systems, let alone have a taser powerful enough to put an irken’s PAK into temporary short-circuit? She clicked in frustration. Who’d be capable of getting ahold of such technology? This entire town was incredibly secure, or at least she thought Auntie Tak had made sure of that.

Perhaps someone was just smart enough to fly under the radar.

Zipper peered around her cell hoping to find a way, a means of escape. Something.. there had to be something… That’s when she noticed the camera in the corner of the room, nestled up to the ceiling. Her blood ran cold. She was being monitored. It’s not like she wasn’t expecting that possibility but… it was still a grossly disturbing thought all the same.

She refused to be scared yet. She could handle this. She could take care of this problem and still have enough spoons left to chew both her dads out for not having their shit together. If… they were still ok…. NO. No crying. Not yet.

Zipper sat down, sitting perfectly still while glaring angrily into the camera, and began internal repairs on her PAK. Maybe if she could just remote hack the signal that was jamming her coms she could call for help. Her first attempt to lock on to the signal caused her PAK to short circuit and send her flying a short distance. She yelped in pain as she tumbled into the wall.

She slowly struggled up to her feet. Now she was really scared. Whoever had gotten ahold of this technology was certainly slowly mastering it. The better they got the more dangerous they’d be.

Zipper backed up and glared up into the camera, keeping itself trained on her.

“HEY!” She shouted “HEY ASSHOLE. I KNOW YOU CAN SEE AND HEAR ME.” She hissed and flew the irken equivalent of the bird.

Suddenly she felt a jolt of electricity charge into her spine from her PAK.

Zipper squealed in pain and keeled over onto the floor. Apparently they didn’t like being called out. Well now that was just too damn bad wasn’t it? She stood back up on shaky feet, tears welling up in her eyes, before she let out a long string of swears in every language she knew. For every curse there was another jolt, and every jolt got stronger and stronger, until she was in a weak, sobbing heap on the floor, hissing out a vortian curse that very important had taught her long ago.

Suddenly there was a soft crackling noise from the little speaker beneath the camera and a dangerously smooth sounding masculine voice spoke to her over the com.

“Oh you dear little insect. I will break you, if I must.”

Zipper was done playing around. She got back up and pulled her PAK legs out and started slashing through the walls. She ignored the frustrated and alarmed shout that came from the speaker. This man would learn a fucking lesson.

She successfully tore the door off its hinges. Solid iron was no match for the purified vitalitanium that irken PAK components were made of. She scuttled out into the hallway, bright blue fluorescent lighting and white walls. What was this place? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was escaping. She began booking it down the hallway on her PAK legs, taking out every camera she saw, until she came to a stop.

She’d been running past doors… ones like hers… these were other cells…. were there other people trapped here too?

Zipper didn’t have time to find out, she could hear frustrated yelling and footsteps behind her. She booked it down another hallway, irk this place was like a maze! There had to be a way out, it was just cell after cell! Zipper rounded another corner and saw a tint vent shaft in a dead end. She began busting it open, knowing fully well it would draw the attention of her captor. She clambered inside as soon as it was open, hearing a frustrating curse just behind her. That was close. Too close.

She retracted her PAK legs and peered out from the vent, getting a good look at her captor, who was glaring up at her with eyes for daggers. Good thing her PAK records everything she sees. The man was lanky looking, messy blond hair, green eyes, a narrow face, and a rather frazzled looking appearance. Clearly this man was living on Red Bull and coffee. In fact, she could smell it on his breath even from here. She noted the taser in his hand. That was Vortian and Meekrob technology! No wonder it short circuited her PAK so well, dammit.

This man didn’t look like he knew how to fight very well. Maybe a little too reliant on technology to get his jobs done hm? Better to be safe than get cocky.

Zipper glared at him and decided that it’d be just fantastic to spit in his face before skittering off into the vents to find a means of escape, maybe a way to contact someone. Anyone. She sat still, ignoring the yelling and screaming of her captor to come back, and tried to hack into coms again. She prepared to be shocked again, tensing up in preparation. Nothing. It seems as though her captor preferred to harm her manually. Stupid.

Zipper thought for a moment. Who she could possibly contact. Both her dads would be out of range at this point. So would Dek, Midge… Tak? No she was on vacation with her Gaz. Addie? Certainly not… Chance? No he had to be on his way to Addie already. ARÉUS! Aréus was still on earth!

Zipper tried calling him as soon as the thought popped into her head. She waited anxiously for him to pick up, but.. nothing.

“Damn you Aréus you horny bastard quit screwing around with Krugg and answer me.” She hissed in agitation.

Suddenly she heard her captor yell from behind her. “DRAKE.”

Zipper paused for a moment as she heard thundering footsteps and then suddenly the crunching and squealing of the vents being torn apart behind her.

“SHIT.” She screeched before skittering forwards, only to be stopped by the vents in front of her being crushed inwards like someone crunching a soda can in their fist.

She was suddenly shaken around as the piece of vent she was in was torn out of the ceiling and tossed to the floor. She felt her head ram against metal, and she lay there curled in a tired bruised ball, whining softly as her vision became spotty and fuzzy.

A massive hand reached into the chunk of vent she was in and grabbed ahold of her by the back of her neck as she blacked out again.

#[tw kidnapping]#[tw violence]#[tw abuse]#[tw torture]#[Volatile Volition]

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skychasezone · 5 years

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Avidus opened the door to Keo's apartment. She knew that she kept the door open during the day--at night too, honestly; Keo didn't have to worry about intruders cause they'd just get a beak through their eyes. It made things easy for Avidus though. She could stroll in whenever she'd like. Such was the current case. The apartment smelled like...brownies? Avidus sniffed the air again, the unmistakable smell of warmed chocolate filtering through the homey apartment, replacing Keo's typical body mists and perfumes. "Babe!!" Avidus called. She rounded the hallway corner to see some animal documentary paused on Keo's tv. "Hey hot stuff," she started upon seeing Keo hunched over the kitchen counter. A smile immediately found its way to Keo's face. "To what do I owe this honor?" "I was just in the neighborhood, y'know, swindlin," Avidus grinned as she brandished some poor sap's Rolex. "That, and I heard that a little someone had some goods baking in the oven."

"I don't recall missing any periods." A toothy smile of Keo's own spread across her features as she moved towards her shorter girlfriend. Avidus, momentarily stunned, could only stand with slightly widened eyes. "I--"

Keo cupped Avidus's face gently, both her thumbs running over the soft peach fuzz of her lover's cheeks, as she leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'm just kidding. If ever a time came for something like that, I'm sure we'd have everything talked about and planned ahead of time, right?" Her hands lazily ran down Avidus's arms until two pairs of hands intertwined themselves together. "Right..." was all Avidus could mutter. It was strange to be the target of such a calm love. She had amassed riches over the ages and could spoil Keo until the Earth ceased to exist, and yet, that was not the focus of her lover. Her eyes were not set on the digits in Avidus's bank account or the jewelry gifted to her. Part of it made Avidus feel...like she didn't have enough to give. But the other part of her saw the soft gaze of her girlfriend and knew that all Keo ever wanted was the person she was, not her fortune. Keo tugged on Avidus's hands, gently leading her to the kitchen. The sink was filled with various bowls and mixing cups, and a carton of eggs still laid open on the counter. "It's not much, but I know you like chocolate and caramel, so I decided to bake some caramel filled brownies for you." The source of the smell lied in front of Avidus's eyes. A small sheet pan with brownies cut into squares lied amidst the mild chaos of Keo's kitchen. Caramel seemed to drip from the sides, filling the gaps that Keo had cut with liquid gold. A light dusting of powdered sugar topped the brownies off. It must have been applied recently if it hadn't absorbed into the batter yet.

"You made these for me?" It was such a small gesture, but...something about Keo made all the small things seem like grand gestures of their own.

"Who else for?"

Avidus paused to think. "Well," she started, "yourself, for one."

"And miss out on an excuse to call you over? I don't think so," Keo smiled. "Besides, the inspiration for it is...a bit embarrassing."

Avidus's brows raised, genuine curiosity written across her features. She couldn't recall any time Keo felt embarrassed.

"And why is that?" she asked, hand already reaching for a brownie.

"That," Keo paused emphatically as she took the piece Avidus was reaching for, "is a secret."

Avidus couldn't help but grin at her girlfriend's cheeky behavior. She's opened up a lot in the time they've gotten to know each other--her playful personality coming out and teasing Avidus lovingly. It was such a stark contrast from the wise, guardian-like attitude Keo had before. Avidus sensed that it was because Keo had let so much of the barriers surrounding her heart down. And she couldn't deny it was a privilege. To be Keo's first love...she knew she couldn't mess things up.

"Aww, how about a hint then?" Avidus batted her lashes and pulled up flush against Keo's side.

Keo tapped her chin in thought. "I suppose...but only because you came while the brownies were warm." The garuda tilted her head toward the TV, with its still paused documentary. "Well, I guess I'll just give it to you. But only because you're so cute."

A mischievous grin crept up Avidus's face.

"I was watching some documentary about rainforests and it talked about hornbills--birds--that loved eating figs. They'd fight over figs in a tree and all that. There were some serious fights. But as the fight died down, the narrator talked about the importance of securing a good food source, and it's not always because of a bird's own self interest."

Avidus listened intently, acutely aware of the fact that her bird demon girlfriend had an obvious soft spot for birds. "David Attenborough has a wonderful narrating voice, and I'm sure it really tied the scene together, because as the camera focused on a hornbill picking a fig between its beak, Attenborough's ever calming voice said that...giving gifts is a way to deepen a bond. And once a bond is established, the pair stay together for life."

Keo turned to face Avidus; her free hand reaching for the shorter woman's. "I have no grand gifts to give--no such fig to win your heart over. All I have are pleasures of the flesh and small gestures. But I feel a vulnerability in both of us, and instead of distancing myself from it, I want to embrace it, if you'd give me the chance," she whispered. Avidus felt soft lips brush against her knuckles--a small ring of powdered sugar sticking to the space that Keo had just kissed. The whispered words and raw emotion that left Keo seemed to knock the air from the succubus's lungs. She was so strong--a demon that could tear anybody asunder, a demon that could sink deadly talons into jugulars and rib cages as if they were paper. Yet there she was, wearing her heart on her sleeve and asking for forgiveness when there was nothing to forgive.

"Don't..." Avidus started. "Don't think that way baby. I spoil you because I feel like I can't give enough--you don't owe me anything. You don't--"

"But I do," Keo interjected, a serene smile gracing her lips. "You've taught me how to love, to let loose the bindings of apathy. I used to think immortality a curse--something humans yearn for foolishly. But if immortality means a thousand lifetimes by your side, then perhaps I need to recount my blessings."

Avidus wasn't the type to tear up, but a sting still caught in her eye. Every word that slipped from Keo's lips felt like a promise from the gods--like kisses that would ease away any insecurity that would ever pop up in Avidus's life. Every word added to the thunderous beat of Avidus's heart until all she could hear was her body's devotion to her lover. Her own hands reached to grasp Keo's face like the most delicate rose. Tip toes brought her closer to her lover until their lips met--the chocolate and caramel from the brownie still not enough to drown out the taste of Keo's tropical kisses.

"You mean more to me than you'll ever know, Keo." Avidus rested her forehead against Keo's; their noses just a centimeter apart.

"Then show me," Keo smiled.

#AK

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onepumpofsyrup · 7 years

Text

What I See ll Seungri ll Prologue

What I See : Prologue

BigBang : Seungri

Pairing : Seungri x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst, Humor, Romance

Words : 1.5 k +

Summary: Seungri only sees the reader as a walking disaster. But the reader sees him as her night in shining armor.

a/n This story is a big thank you to all my amazing followers.

People rushed left and right, working around the various cameras, trying to perfect small details while the group before them practiced in preparation for the final shot.

If asked, you would easily say that you loved your job. You enjoyed the chaos, and working in the music industry, there was always chaos to spare. You’d majored in music and production in college and dreaded the day you’d have to settle for an office job. You’d been lucky though, and scored a job as an assistant right out of college with YG Entertainment. You were assigned to work as an assistant to BIGBANG, and while your talents were a bit wasted on following five rambunctious men around, you couldn't be happier with the pace they'd forced you to keep up with. Every day was a new disaster. Every day a new problem. You were in your element when fixing things, creating perfection.

Today though, you’d been slow on the up take. Slow to anticipate the boys’ needs. Slow to perfect the little things. Your body felt cold, freezing, in fact. Despite the layers you’d pulled on today, you couldn't shake the chill from inside you. You could swear your bones were made of ice and no number of sweaters and heat packets would help.

"Hey! Get over here and help me hold this!" What should have been a quick head turn had you feeling as if a weight had settled on your neck, making the turn slow and sluggish. You blinked a few times before realizing that one of the crew was struggling to hold a large fan steady.

Lead weights encased your legs as you pushed yourself over to the man. Small release was found by leaning your body into the metal contraption, allowing your weight to be shifted from your exhausted feet and onto it.

"Is there a reason you look like you face-planted in blush today?" A long pause, followed by an irritated, "Hey, I asked you a question."

You blinked, and looked up at the man.

Is he talking to me?

"Hey, kiddo, you okay? You hearing me?"

A buzz was filling your ears, making his voice muffled.

"Kid!"

Black dots swirled in front of you.

"Hmm?" you finally pushed the hum from your throat.

"Geez, you're a mess. Look, just go over there and make sure Seungri's got some water. Keep the guy nice and hydrated. Can you do that?" His gaze was hard on your face, his annoyance plain. "Go!"

I’m doing what I can. Sorry I’m not super strong, jackass.

Again, you blinked as your only response before standing up, struggling your way over to the refreshment table. Your hands shook slightly as you held a cup under the spout of the clear water dispenser. Pressing the button, you watched as perfectly cut cucumbers and mint leaves fell with the water into the cup, whirling around one another in a sort of dance. Your distraction got the best of you, and soon enough, water was spilling over the top and onto the floor.

You placed the too-full cup on the table and grabbed some napkins. "Shit," you mumbled as you shook the water from your hands and began to wipe up the mess. "What is wrong with you today? You got plenty of sleep, you've been eating healthy, and you drink lots of water. Get it together!"

You picked the water back up and walked it slowly over to Seungri, hoping that your careful, steady pace would keep the water inside it.

He was speaking to a photographer when you approached, his attention away from you and instead focused on how best he could model the concept. You stood next to him, head down as a wave of dizziness took you over. The cup fell from your hands, coating Seungri's pants in cold water and marring the suede of his shoes. You vaguely heard him call out and sensed him stepping back from you as a dark fuzz formed around the edges of your vision. The blackness grew larger, taking over your site entirely.

"I need to sit down." The sentence was intended to be a thought, but your mind was so foggy that you couldn't help but speak it aloud.

"Hey... Hey, sweetheart, you okay?" You felt hands on your shoulders, gently holding you in place as your head lolled backwards. Whatever power had been giving you the energy to stay up right all day suddenly left as you fell limp in his arms.

***

Seungri's attention was focused solely on his phone as a nurse inspected a drip that had been inserted into the inside of his little assistant's arm. What was your name? Surely someone had said it earlier. He'd heard one of the crew workers calling you kid, but someone must have said your real name. He'd only ever called you Sweetheart, there’d been no need to learn it.

He cast his eyes towards you. He should be on the set right now, taking his turn shooting the video. But no, here he was, babysitting. His day would now be lengthened by another hour due to this little excursion. Didn't you know to stay home when you were sick? Didn't you notice the symptoms? Didn't you take care of yourself?

You were basically a kid. At least you looked it. Soft baby face, chipper positive personality, and an abundance of energy.

This wasn't the first time that he'd noticed you causing trouble. You moved too quickly and often forgot important procedures. Just last week you’d been helping put together a display for a photo shoot. Either you’d been moving much too quickly, or you’d misjudged its stability, but it had all come crashing down around you.

She’s a complete fucking disaster, but it’s not my problem. The thought rolled over and over in his mind, yet…

He was still there. Why was he sitting here? Why did he offer to go with you to the hospital? Why did he take care of your hospital bills?

You were cute. Or maybe he only thought you were cute because this was the first time you weren’t running around crazily. This was the first time you'd looked... peaceful? Well, as peaceful as someone who left a wake of destruction could look.

Seungri reached forward and smoothed the wrinkle between your eyebrows.

There, now she looks peaceful.

No more than a second later, the crease was back. He frowned and smoothed it again. This time, your nose wrinkled along with your eyebrows. He couldn’t help but smooth it for a third time.

"Stop touching me, Baron."

He glared down at you. "Who's Baron?"

Your eyes popped open and blinked at him, startled. "You're not Baron."

"No, I’m not."

A pale blush colored your cheeks. You bit your bottom lip lightly, deliberating on what to say. "Baron is my dog."

"Good to know."

"This is awkward. Do you feel awkward? Geez, I haven't felt this awkward since school." You spoke as quickly as you moved; unsurprising as he felt you must do everything in a rush.

"It's a little awkward, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

"Better," you answered as your eyes darted around the room, taking in the sterile environment. "Hospital, right?"

"You had a pretty high fever and passed out on me. Why did you come to work if you didn't feel well?"

Your eyes fell away from his. "I didn't really notice."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "You didn't notice? How did you not notice?"

"I mean, I noticed, I just didn't think much of it," you said with a shrug before moving to sit up. Automatically, he placed a hand to you shoulder and pushed you back down.

"Slow down, sweetheart. See that bag there?" He pointed up at the IV. "Whatever's in it is supposed to make you feel better. So be a good kiddo and let it finish before you sit up."

Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout. "I'm not a kid."

He lifted his hands up in a mock apology. "My mistake, I guess I just assumed you were because adults take days off when they're sick."

"Some adults can't afford to take a day off." You pushed his hand off you as you rose up in a panic. "How much is this going to cost me?!"

He placed his hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you back down again. "Nothing. I've already covered it. Just rest and stop worrying."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because, technically, I'm kind of your boss. Sure, I don't employ you, but I tell you what to do all the time." At the skeptical look you gave him, he sighed and continued. "Look, you're always taking care of me and the other guys. Let me take care of you." It was a bullshit excuse: he was only doing it because he assumed you were incapable of caring for yourself.

A blush began to rise in your cheeks again. "You're like a knight in shining armor," you tease, appreciative but embarrassed.

He sent you a wink. "I'm a real Prince Charming." He reached forward and ruffled your hair. "Just don't fall for me, I'm not a nice guy when it comes to pretty girls like you."

***

#seungri #bigbang #fanfiction #scenarios #series #angst #fluff #kpop #seungri scenarios #seungri series #seungri fanfiction #seungri angst #seungri fluff #kpop angst #kpop series #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #what i see

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pixiekptt863-blog · 4 years

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What's new in Grand Theft Auto 5

I have only committed a half-hour planning the perfect heist. I'm going in smart, blowing not on the protections with the team after the fragile jewellery counters from the mass with a carefully placed smoke bomb, and smashing into both cabinet with the handle of a semi-automatic rifle before reaching the flight on a regional getaway bike. I'm cut the cut so I could use the best hacker to disable the protection order, with a flair gunman to handle crowd control. And yet, despite our very best efforts, with a single poorly-taken corner upon the bicycle, everything goes wrong. I should be getting behind a moist sewer tunnel, sneaking our sense under the capital to independence. Instead, I'm here, mowing down say next wave of authorities on the town lanes, with with the new while performing a Grand Theft Auto game, I feel immensely guilty about it.

This isn't due to some grand moral awakening by the part, but an interesting side effect of what is the PlayStation 4 and Xbox One form of Grand Theft Auto 5's most make new piece: first-person mode. Even when GTA activity were Grand Theft Auto V free Download top-down shooters, there was always a bit of an disconnect between the sometimes shockingly violent scenes on-screen, also the mentality of the person. You could imagine that, despite directly organizing a quality, it was that exclusive caricature of a legal spending the crimes--you just played witness to them. First-person mode fundamentally changes how you view Grand Theft Auto 5's world. It has the power to make people cease and sense on your own motions, then to truly issue a character's drives. Then in the cycle that experience always been criticized for glorifying a years of crime, rather than questioning that, it is no bad idea.

Yes, there are plenty of violent first-person shooters around in which flows associated with morality can be created, but little are paired with the stunning Hollywood production quantities of GTA Versus. The city of Los Santos is one of the many beautiful and influence open-world environments to retain increasingly thanks a video game, and now their original higher-resolution guise, it's even more spectacular. Compared to the last-gen versions, the new Grand Theft Auto 5 is visibly sharper, largely due to improved antialiasing. Textures resolutions have been bumped, floors are, very, bumpier (thanks enhanced tessellation), and there are all approach of extra particle, elegant, with lens effects. You can cruise down Vespucci Shore and go for small aspect throughout the trinket gather and skateboard looks that lived there or. You can get about inside shower, marvelling at the beautifully rendered raindrops and puddles on the ground. And once you quit admiring the landscapes to producing some anarchy, explosions from a hastily thrown grenade pop in a stunning show of fireplace with light.

To enjoy this every into first-person is a pleasure. The vast, cinematic topic of see is very different to that regarding the average shooter, as is the slower time with you walk; think REHABILITATION. and you're on the proper path. Where the camera once easily roll up beyond and throughout the town, on ground level everything seems better and more imposing. I found myself going together the municipality streets, view because many weird and wonderful inhabitants of Los Santos moved regarding the interest. I strolled in shops, also those everywhere I can believe everything, to admire the amazing level of depth in eye plane, with great extent of area effects helping to offer the interest. This all really natural, the delicate head bobs and movements as you start over dams with drop out of cars drawing you into the game in a way that third-person mode never can.

This is especially true when the war legs up, with where the grizzly certainty of Grand Theft Auto 5 falls into sharp focus. With many missions turning around about shape of gunplay, the bloody splatter of a drug dealer put to squander on the pavement, or the groans involving a great injured cop mark on the cover involving his vehicle have far more of the influence than previously. Of course, not anyone will be as affected by this because I happened, yet there are several practical hearts toward contemplate too. Develop and throwing explosives is easier in first-person, flush with GTA's assisted aim disabled--provided you turn down the obscene levels of controller sensitivity before you start--but the wrapping system isn't really here, and also near were times when I live able to peek in a corner well and followed shot as a result.

Then there's the power, that, no matter how fast I attempted, I found far too trying to master in first-person. The fully performing with wonderfully detailed vehicle interiors might happen impressive, but the twitchy regulations that control so highly in third-person for moving down outrageous driving stunts are just far too vulnerable to quickly be cars on the road during a frantic police chase. There are too vehicle vision which simply weren't ended with first-person in mind either. Trying to take Michael's son because he swings away from a yacht on the highway, or playing a flying get through on the interstate is very hard. It's probably more realistic, but I found myself move to third-person in order to get them done. Thankfully, it's not an any or situation when it comes to the view. You can initiative with third-person and have the game automatically change to first-person when on-foot if you like, or even pan exposed to third-person if you get cover.

But even if you choose to ignore first-person mode completely, GTA V has escaped small regarding their lustre since release. Even now, after the days of improvement from the business and all the great up for in which I've played, I'm amazed how little have managed to replicate the Artist air and easy, natural dialogue of a GTA. This is a line which owns consistently been the most convincing and the most cinematic with sports, and GTA 5 remains that tradition with ease. Still impressive when central as credible creatures stay a curiosity, and yet GTA 5 manages to create an entire city full of them, along with three authentic head with which to journey through it. That's not to mention these leads are likeable characters, but perhaps that's the point. There may be several moment you sympathise with retired gangster Michael while his kind time crumbles in him, or if you think that wannabe gangster Franklin can become a wonderful man because he speaks he's always trying to solve the right thing.

But they are narcissistic, psychopathic killers who do not blink an eyelid on killing hundreds of perfectly innocent people after it functions their own ways. This is particularly right of Trevor, that remains far and away the most fascinating and well-written figure in the set, a terrifyingly insane yet remarkably intelligent criminal who regularly appears around the limit of some kind of mind breakdown. Scary doesn't even begin to describe it. These creatures are not without question, though--there are times when a figure will contradict his own motivations, seemingly just to mount the form of a mission--but the fact that these creatures can be so convincingly terrifying, so severe and sharp in their conversations with one another is a tribute to truly the way fantastic the creating in GTA is.

That develops for the planet at large too: the sprawling, gorgeously detailed capital of Los Santos deftly satirizes its real-world inspiration of La, with involving America as total. Highlights include the self-proclaimed god of gathering media, Lifeinvader CEO Jay Norris, And the company's beanbag-filled offices; the faithful bank of advertisements for celebrity magazines, prescription drugs, with plastic surgeries of which remain savaged on the radio; and also the corrupt federal groups such as Tale which a lot work worse than the criminals they're trying to put away. Sure, Grand Theft Auto V is a bit heavy-handed with its satire, although there are number of activities to dare go as far as GTA does with its nihilistic comments, with fewer even to do it with like conviction.

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Move in everything are bombastic missions to performance away like Hollywood blockbusters, with the finest of gangster films. Heists remain the identify, and the whole process of planning them off, hiring participants with the party, gathering equipment, and then going the fuzz doesn't interfere about the great period is entirely engrossing. Bombs are increased, helicopters are hit into the side of skyscrapers, and total squads of laws do chase as you make a futile attempt break lower the road; the utter joy of the four or five star chase like what seems like the entire state's quota of authorities descends about you could be understated. And yet, Grand Theft Auto V remains stuck in the past in certain ways. There are chase missions where losing spectacle regarding your goal because of a badly understood start the highway means making a frustrating restart, and shooting missions where, if you fly the rifle and destroy your goal before the game expects you to, you have to start over again.

But the sheer spectacle from it all drags you back in for more. GTA has not really been faint, and the game steamrolls the path because of it is less exciting moments, stop them with crafty pop culture-filled exchanges with breathtaking landscapes for you to ogle. There are extra quest to join in too, including the random creeps of Los Santos who question you to make points because mundane as tow vehicles for them, as well as to smoking prepare and mow down aliens in an hallucinogenic rampage with the town. There are the multiple leisure activities you can indulge with, or the real estate you can acquire, plus the accumulation you purchase along with the markets you can manipulate. Before you can just slack it all off fully then value Los Santos as your own wonderful digital playground, setting up sticky bomb-filled booby traps in the middle of traffic, or taking jumbo jets from the international airport also attempting to escape them under bridges. Indeed, that the journey you create yourself to typically show to be the most fun.

And then there's GTA Online. This safe to say GTA Online didn't get off to a good father, with server problems along with the whole manner of balance difficulties. With Grand Theft Auto 5, online gets a few boosts, containing the increase character creator, as well as backing for up to 30 simultaneous players (with a couple additional spectators), along with the supplement of 11 of GTA Online's existing updates. And agreed, you can fun with first-person too. These are good additions, but Online still suffers from a lack of direction. Although you can easily import the other character, I opted to create a new one, after which I was thrown against a pavement with Los Santos armed only with a plan full of confusing icons with very little idea about what I would do then.

Once you're over the hump and you've identified the means of getting work to do like taking packages from individuals, or working section with road races--and people to makes them with via your trusty mobile phone--things get more interesting. Once you've shape in place a fitting mountain of coins (which make take a while if you're shrink from the start), you can get a nice apartment to stay in, and hope cars to place into their garage. To what end, I'm still uncertain. Much has been said about how GTA online becomes extremely open, then just how sessions often turn into mass deathmatches, which is more of an issue with 30 chaotic players around--but for me that's always been portion of its draw. Trolling someone who's considered themselves far too seriously in the street competition in establishing an epic bar, or just wandering the avenues robbing convenience stores and staging a clean getaway still manages to raise a smile.

That these activities bring up a smile now (yet after played in first-person), and yet place in place a moral dilemma in single-player is as much to do with the lack of a narrative structure online as it is to do with my personal beliefs towards most new internet users. This produces an interesting conundrum too: is it better to performance with first-person and be pulled in Grand Theft Auto 5's function in the new profound style, before must anyone act in the third-person, distancing yourself on the game's more controversial moments?

The fact that I'm even thinking about that at all in a video game that's so standard and as, well, mainstream as Grand Theft Auto 5 is a evidence toward the excellent. On the day later, GTA V remains the most consistently entertaining video games I've always played. Even without the spectacular new images, first-person way, the epic new rail gun, the new murder mystery missions for Jordan, the new, even furrier animals, remote play foundation on PS4, a pile of another songs for the radio (including the personal favourite, I need This That Way by the Backstreet Child on the dash situation), also the revenue of automobiles like the classic Dodo seaplane, Grand Theft Auto 5 would be still be worth playing.

Aside from some mild frame rate issues that sometimes adopt the boundary away it is other dramatic moments, this is the definitive variation of GTA V, also the lock where all other open-world games, before certainly any game in which points regarding a cinematic think, should remain said. It is attractive, and thought-provoking, and kicking throughout. Even if you've played through Grand Theft Auto V once already, it's worth going back simply to be repeated regarding exactly what a outstanding achievement it is.

At its being, Grand Theft Auto V on PC is the same game that it is at additional program, although it is never appeared as good as it does with a solid PC, anyone who’s played Grand Theft Auto 5 elsewhere may not benefit from believing it for an additional or third stage unless they’re desperate for top graphics. If you get into to camp, you can simply move your progress onto the LAPTOP version by the Rockstar Social Club to stay anywhere a person gone off, diving headlong into the revamped Los Santos with minimal fuss.

It seemed great about PS4 and Xbox One, but Grand Theft Auto 5 shines in COMPUTER thanks to 4K-grade feels, the availability of additional post-processing make, also a great unlocked frame rate. Earlier form of the game played only great in 30 frames per minute, but you quickly appreciate the increase variability of enjoying at 60 FPS (if not added) by PC. If you can create that enough juice (read: afford top-end gaming hardware), then you can wonder with the added grows in 4K, even, yet yet a few Nvidia GTX 980's in SLI couldn't push the highest settings at 4K without dropping to present 30 frames per minute. Whether in 4K, before on 1080p, the new high-res textures pop with point, also new lighting effects lead to plenty of awe inspiring moments. GTA V could paint stunning pictures, with the appropriate mix of scenery, question, and daylight, to identify the usual magnificence of its geography along with the stain that pulses due to the physical veins. GTA 5 has always looked good, but a great gaming PC is the only way to see the full size of Rockstar’s admirable handiwork.

Keep in mind that GTA 5 retains evidence of their last-gen roots, level in MACHINE, with clean geometry abound. You sign low-poly standards in occasion as they contrast with the great texture composition and fun around, as simplicity and difficulty mix or the attention. GTA V is remarkable at times, but you never forget about to you’re showing a game that’s foundation was constructed with outdated constraints in mind.

You get a unique tool in the MACHINE version that allows you to show off all of the game's flare, as well as the imagination: the Rockstar Editor. This instrument enables you to record footage during vision or while free-roaming around Los Santos, both by manually recording gameplay or through sourcing the last few second of cached actions. More than just allowing you to stop together clips, you have complete power over the camera while going through your gameplay. You can put your angles manually, choose from a list of preset angles, then implement camera shakiness, redefining the style and perspective of a moment in time. Little touches such as blending make it easy to move from one video and camera angle to the next, without having to put much thought into it.

With Chief means, you have even more management of the functions at hand. You can pick actors, man or dog, to control, rather than being limited to the several main characters. You also state direct over time of generation, the area on the drawing, and whether cheats are permitted, allowing you to sample from a large palette of possibilities to shape the landscape regarding your dreams. There's a hearing curve to the editor, but Rockstar offers a range of tutorials which need to help felt and inexperienced editors alike.

Playing Grand Theft Auto 5 on PC means that you can now use a mouse and piano, which is a huge benefit during shootouts where perfection is important. Whether anyone show this here original- before third-person form, this definitely makes targeting easier. However, don't think of which an individual must put down the controller for good. Keyboard and mice lack analog buttons, which are important during driving sequences. Being able to run the throttle with a sensitive trigger becomes incredible you get used to and control naturally, often without offering that another imagined. The binary, at before off kind of a keyboard or mouse button gets in the way of your instincts also draws absent the nuanced control presented by analog triggers. For the best experience, remain a controller selected now and transition between that plus a mouse and piano for that second at hand.

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