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cuethediscoandthedrinks · 1 year

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jake sully + breeding/pregnancy kink hcs~

a bit of fluffy smut, enjoy lovelies <3

song rec while reading: i see who you are - instrumental (björk)

• lying in each other's arms, sat not too far from the communal bonfire; you could see friends and family all around you from the secluded spot you were in

• most of the children were asleep at this late hour, but some gently sleeping babies and their mothers sat around the hearth, sharing stories with their sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers

• the dark of night contrasted with the warmth and yellowish hues from the burning embers, smiles and sleeping faces, alongside quiet laughs and chatter echoed off of the inner cave walls

• you'd felt especially restless all day, the only thought tiding you through the chores and work being this moment; sat with your head to jake's chest, nuzzled up into his neck; your face was turned ever so slightly to the side, taking in the sight before you

• usually the urge to fly, jump and run was enough to keep you distracted from this, but today the still of the little hours of the night with the steady beat of jake's heart was enough to remind you: this was home, and so was he

• the seed of hope in making it permanent had been developing as you immersed and integrated yourself more and more into the na'vi culture; your shared bond with jake only strengthening, and the yearning to share your love in new and more meaningful ways grew in your mind and heart

• looking out to the circle of na'vi huddled close together, sharing songs and stories, your eyes naturally inclined to those expecting; some mothers were yet to have their children of course, younger in stature and skin tone, their bellies swollen and full, usually their mates by their side; the sight made your heart flutter, and a small smile grace your features

• jake noticed this, of course; you'd been much quieter than usual, although the way your body relaxed into him intimated that this quiet was of no alarm - he'a merely been glancing down every so often to your form, curled up in his arms as he traced patterns on your hips and upper thighs

• your expression of an almost warm-hearted wistfulness caught him off-guard, though; usually you were asleep by now, breaths deeper and body heavier in his arms. this time your eyes were cast to the group sat about the fire nearby, your lips briefly pursing in thought only to grow back into a small smile

• using his index and middle fingers, jake ever so gently lifted your face up to his by your chin, taking in your softened sleepy features, whispering a quiet "...what's on your mind, babygirl?"

• sitting up a little further, you wrapped your arms around either side of his neck, lightly stroking the soft braid, brushing any stray hairs away from his face, behind his ears; jake's arms snaked their way around your waist, his eyes flicking up and down your form in curiosity

• you'd then proceeded to express what filled your thoughts; being human and working at the base in pandora, the probability of having any children was low. but your life was so different now; even your body was made of completely different components - all that was you was your mind, and whatever you wanted it to be was now up to you; unconstrained by human rules and physical limits

• at your words, jake made sure to listen closely; his earnest little tail flicks and swivelled ears making sure to pay attention, as you continued to express how you felt the increasing urge to have a family; and how the prospect of being pregnant was especially appealing to you

• the idea of being so claimed by someone, in such an intimate way; enough to change your whole body once more, not only for your baby, but for your mate. giving him a family, and the mutual respect and love that such a shared act represents, it made your heart swell

• jake's gently widened eyes and small open-mouthed smile only affirmed your words, giving you the confidence to continue, almost whispering your confession, "..i just...i want to have that with you, if you wanted it too...i don't have it in me to fight something so instinctual...i'd have your babies, i want them...with you."

• as you subtly began to gyrate your hips into his now slowly hardening length, jake's expression only deepened as he nodded along to you; your words almost washing over him and sending him into a trance. you wanted children, and to mother, and best of all..with him. you wanted his children

• paired with your now growing arousal, and lightly rocking your form against his, he could tell that this captivated you in more ways than one. his mind shifting from a place of pride and sentimentality, to that of lust and an intimate kind of eroticism at your proposed prospect

• he'd have no quarrel with fucking you deep, watching as you swell full with his child; jake sighed out at the thought, "ah, i see..must mean you want a daddy too, huh. a daddy and his babygirl, mmhm?", your now more desperate grinds only increased the heat between you, the proximity beginning to rile the both of you up

• "..yes..but really..w'na be a mama.." you'd let out, eyes flickering back and forth between his emerald orbs and the ground; your flustered form couldn't be masked even by the enthusiasm you showed at the idea of starting a family

• letting out a feigned-innocent hum of approval, jake nuzzled his face closer to yours, understanding what you really meant - maybe the family was in the future, but your current state: pussy wet, pupils dilated, hips circling hard into his cock, was more interested in the prospect of making the babies, rather than rearing them

• "..ahh, ok..so my babygirl wants to be a mommy, and wants mommy and daddy to make babies, am i right?..protect their family..take care of each other?..well shit, sweetheart", he'd keen, already knowing the answer through your eager nods, the little high-pitched whine that escaped your lips, and your eyebrows contorting in weakly hidden arousal

• jake was fully on board with this idea of course, but took great satisfaction in watching your squirms of pleasure at the fantasy; sliding a hand down to your cloth-covered entrance, he moved the material to the side, sliding in his swollen cock; there'd usually be more foreplay, but feeling how much of your juices were already dripping from you, he took little more time in riling you up

• making sure to be out of direct sight from those at the fire, he gently scooted both of you deeper into the shadowed corner of the cave; once fully-sheathed inside your clenching, wet pussy, jake began to gently pump in and out of you;

• hips bucking rhythmically into you, your hips matching his speed as you rode him in equal fervor; in between desperate chesty groans, jake continued to gasp out, "..ffuck..you w-want a baby, sweetheart? i'll give it to you, i'll give it...ah-ah, fffuck..",

• "so t-tight for me..must've really wanted this, hm?..mommy wants daddy's seed, deep inside, right? m'gonna fuck it nice and deep for you babygirl, don't worry..sh-shit..", as his hips pushed deeper into you, his head leaned back on the cold stone wall, eyes clasped shut from the way your pussy constricted around his pulsing length

• all the while your hushed moans echoed in his ears, as you wantonly nodded to his lustful words; knowing just how much you wanted his babies, he was going to make damn sure you got them.

:,)

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 6 months

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"See you tomorrow"

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 4 [prev parts]

#better drawn mdzs #MDZS Disco Elysium AU #mdzs au #Lan wangji #wei wuxian #yiling laozu #Happy Belated Halloween!#digital art #Thank you all for your patience as I drove myself into a madness only known by those lost at seas alone.#I put a lot of time into this one! It's not perfect but I am very happy with it + I am so happy to put down the tablet pen.#Digital art has some nice features but I'm sticking with traditional! I need a month to recover from the 2+ weeks of torture.#Okay lets talk about the AU and the comic now #Disco elysium has some of the best existential-horror-dream sequences I have ever seen.#The dialogue here is heavily inspired by The Final Dream - A scene I'd love to talk about more were it not so heavy with spoilers.#My AU is a lot more complex than a simple character swap but I really felt like LWJ + YLLZ fit this scene.#The final dream is about being unable to move on from a lost love. From something You made holy. From something You ruined.#It is about realizing that no matter how smart you are or what you offer or how you try to change -#You will never be able to turn back time. You will never ever be able to fix what is broken. That you also have been broken for a long time #You are a fuck-up who worships the nail covered ground of someone who did not want to be holy. And even though it hurts-#You cannot let this nightmare go. The pain keeps the love close. It is worse to forget. You promised to remember.#WWX died thinking LWJ disliked him. LWJ lost someone he thought was revolted by his love.

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tanis-drawings-2point0 · 7 months

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shootout to the fic i never got around to writing set in season 5 where they were trekking alone to hilltop road. Here after Martin spends some time yknow reading and stuff he finds that Annabelle got attacked (!?) by a hunt creature or something, and adamantly takes care of her u_u

the funny thing is that since it was all in martin's pov (and that it's annabelle we're talking about) there is always the question of whether the attack really happened or not, or rather, if it was completely unforeseen or she let herself get hurt to manipulate him in some way (and martin knows of that, he knows that pretty well)

(BUT ALSO theres the fact that for 8 years annabelle only had the p uncaring pull of the web to guide her so to have someone willingly take care of her for the first time in forever, well, it makes her feel some kind of way, alright)

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #annabelle cane #blackwoodow #magnuspod #tma season 5 #there was supposed to be more comic pages but they were p dialogue heavy and i... forgor that dialogue :')

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celestie0 · 2 months

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mannn this next kickoff chapter is lookin real damn long 😭 i’ve only written the skeleton for it but it’s already 10k+ words 💀

#i swear in my head im like nahh this wont be more than 6k words max #and then bam. longest chap so far #maybe bc this one’s kinda dialogue heavy #kickoff

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welcometogrouchland · 1 year

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Smacks lips. Also can we talk about how the Titan and the boiling isles in general has repeatedly been compared to and was clearly based on depictions of the Devil and Hell. With Belos literally calling it perdition this episode. And then Belos, the good Christian martyr who's never willed himself to look beyond this realms hellish surface and has tried to destroyed it because of that, ends up POSSESSING AND BECOMING WHAT HE MIGHT'VE ONCE THOUGHT WAS THE DEVIL ITSELF IN ORDER TO CARRY OUT HIS SUPPOSEDLY RIGHTEOUS MISSION. Like. Belos didn't get too much character exploration this ep until the end but this says sooooooo much it's really on the nose too I.

#ramblings of a lunatic #the owl house #toh #toh spoilers #he was literally willing to become the actual fucking devil to get one over on the realm he hates. it cannot get more obvious than this #''he deserved a more grandiose/in-depth death'' HE BECAME FUCKING CHERNABOG WHAT ELSE IS HE MEANT TO DO #look a long drawn-out dialogue heavy confrontation would've been rewarding to ME the character analysis and dynamic appreciator #but this. this also works #this is like. the whole core of his character #and also all the audience members who haven't been keyed into belos' deal as much as hardcore fans are will get it

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miodiodavinci · 8 months

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anyway probably my favorite thing about fafnir is the ever present gap moe of this incredibly sad and tired looking corpse man acting and behaving like a nervous little creature in a shopping mall, or perhaps a teenager who has been miraculously hired onto their first job despite having None of the qualifications w

my other favorite thing is the fact that he can do this w

#miodoodledavinci #scopophobia #just in case w #fun fact fafnir is Fully fluent in undercommon but learned sign as a second language #except the person who taught him was on a time restraint and Mostly just trying to cover up the fact that they.#accidentally brought a whole ass mimic into the village thinking it was some high ranking adventurer that could help #with their ongoing monster problem #so grammar wasn't a top priority #and thus fafnir ended up picking up his own iteration of Signed Exact Undercommon (with a Heavy vocabulary focus on Furniture)#hence why 'dragon' gets signed as like 'dangerous altitude couch'#or why he refers to himself as 'scam treasure'#i love him so much and Yes his speaking quirk was a Direct response to me wanting to pull back on talking so much #so other folks would have more chances to get in dialogue skjdfhgkljd #the coolest emerald division

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browngonzo888 · 1 year

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New comic here

#psychonauts #Psychonauts 2000 #comic test #psychonauts lili zanotto #lili zanotto #the art is gonna lean more on quantity and quality since I’ve written a dialogue heavy 20 scenes already

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hcdragonwrites · 9 months

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Letters (a @journey-to-the-au Drabble)

I made another thing (yeah I couldn’t help myself but this one is shorter I think. I hope you like it!) I just. Brain fire.

Inspired by <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/journey-to-the-au/722003448742248448/may-we-hear-about-the-yaogui-attack-0-apologies" >This Post </a>

(Also I suck at linking things I’m so sorry.)

Liu crossed out the line on the parchment before him, splashing ink onto the stone beneath his feet in an frustrated spray.

“No that doesn’t sound right either!” He gritted his teeth, growing frustrated. General Liu, one of the Four great Generals of Flower- Fruit mountain and friend to its King Sun Wukong, had a dilemma.

He set the brush down, still getting used to holding it in his hands. Wukong makes this look so easy! But things of the unmonkey nature came easily to Wukong- how could they not ? He had mastered the mysterious arts that had given him such power, had defeated the demon who had first claimed Water- Curtain Cave in his absence (and more beside.) Wukong had walked among the men of the world and had claimed treasure from dragons.

Wukong would be able to hold a brush with ease and write words with a steady hand. The general tugged at his fur and looked about himself. Rolls of parchment lay about him like discarded rinds of watermelons. All the failed attempts to transcribe what his heart was trying to speak. He tugged more, hairs coming free.

When Wukong spoke of his experience in the world abroad their mountain, he had mentioned how the important people within that strange world of mortals and immortals would communicate through scrolls and parchment.

“It was too quiet at times for my liking!” He reminisced once, splashing some wine as he gesticulated upon his throne. “What silence! What needed to be written that couldn’t be communicated with a clear voice?” He would then call for one of the troop of his subjects to retell a story, for Wukong loved the telling of a yarn through voice and act.

Liu had understood why one would want words written down however. The things he wanted to say- to tell- either fled him like mist before the sun or stuck in his throat like a peach stone. The Marshal scratched behind his ear, brushing the notched edge and remembering. Remembering her.

Rin Rin.

Liu had never been one for such deep hesitation as he was now. In all the Aolai country, among and betwixt the unicorns and the phoenixes who preened and called themselves the most beautiful, where the leopards and the tigers roamed and boasted their own majesty, Liu had faced all that threatened his home with bravery. He loved this mountain, from every blade of grass to every luminous stone deep in Water-Curtain Cave. He thought none of the beasts or birds or celestial bodies in Heaven was more beautiful than his home.

Except Her.

He wanted to tell her. Tell Rin Rin how she rivaled all the clouds in heaven for her softness. How no flower could compare to her eyes and how they shined like the sea when the sun hit it. Her smile could make the trees cry and her anger could chase the stripes off a tiger.

Liu was afraid. Not afraid of her. Afraid to miss this opportunity! His tail lashed and sent a bit of paper skittering over the stone floor, knocking into several stone bowls of almonds.

The mountain was a paradise. The waterfall that crashed beyond, the pine forests that dotted the slopes where their needles spiced the air. He had faced tigers and demons, fought and thrown himself into situation after situation of danger without a second thought for himself.

Now he was hesitant. He acted as he had on that day Wukong had found Water- Curtain cave: hesitant. Marshal Liu had not been hesitant since that time- so why had he returned to this state ?

Liu looked down at the paper and groaned.

“I just want to tell her how beautiful she is…”

Steps approached from outside Liu’s room.

“So this is where you’ve been!” Wukong called, stepping into the room with a frown on his face. “I have been waiting for you in the Throne room for hours! Sentries have spotted what look to be the makings of a camp. We have a troop of creatures lurking in the shadow of our mountain and I need my Generals— what is all this stuff ?”

Liu didn’t bother to cover up his failings- he just lay his head on the stone table and glared at the brush.

“You only called for a meeting a few minutes ago, my king.” He replied from the table.

“Minutes- hours. It has been too long! What have you been up to in here?”Wukong picked up a paper scroll, the feathered crown on his head bobbing.

“You are as pretty as a … hmm. You never finished this one Liu!”

Liu moved his face to flatten into the stone table, feeling his cheeks burn and his ears itch. Of course my king would start reading them.

Shuffling paper noises sounded again as Wukong picked another scroll up.

“My heart becomes a candle when you are near—“ he frowned. “You crossed out the rest in a mess of black.”

Liu wished he could dissolve into the stone.

“You smell as sweet as a magnolia flower- your eyes are the shape of stars —“

“Please My King.” He begged. “Spare me.”

“You wrote them Liu! I am only reading.”

“And I ask for mercy, please.”

“Seems you’ve had trouble finishing whatever you were trying to say.” Mused the Sage.

“None of the words formed well enough on the paper.” Marshal Liu sighed. There came a shuffle and a brush beside him. He lifted his head to see Wukong had crossed his legs beside him, a shoulder companionably against Lius. The Monkey King twirled the brush between his fingers, unrolling a new scroll of parchment.

“If I help you Write your love poem to Rin, Will you stop mooning so sadly ?” Wukong cocked a brow at his general, side eyeing him in a way only a friend could.

Marshal Liu felt his pride pricked, just a bit. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liu- you have been my friend for countless years. Longer than most monkeys usually live.” Wukong dipped the brush into the inkwell, checking the ink stone and grimacing at its diminished size. “I know you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your fur. We have fought and bled side by side. You may be a master at strategy and planning but. My friend.”

Wukong turned his whole face to stare at Liu. “You suck at hiding how in love you are with Rin Rin.”

The Marshal sat up, opened his mouth to defend, to deflect —

Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, waited. His face set in a neutral and very are you really going to argue with me? expression.

Liu closed his mouth, tugged at his fur and set his chin on the stone table. “She makes me feel so—-“

“Mhm.”

“She’s so—!”

“Mhm…”

“I just can’t get the words out!” The Marshal admitted finally. “Each time I start to tell her, I freeze. I’ve tried so many times!”

When Rin and He had shared a sweet patch of strawberries he had tried to say how he loved her.

When Rin had been tending to a scratch on his face, chiding and reprimanding him for his recklessness again. Her anger had made him want to hold her and reassure her that he was fine.

When they had decided to stay out late, tails curled together as they counted the stars. Liu had wanted to compare her to each one.

And each of these times his words had either fled him or had refused to come out.

“And you thought to write them out because they keep getting stuck.”

Liu nodded.

“Give me the words and I’ll write them down.” Wukong set the tip, ready. “If I write this for you, then will come and put your mind back to keeping our mountain safe?”

Guilt itched beneath his fur. “My King i'm sorry—“

A affectionate rub of Wukongs head against his own shut the general up as the king tugged at his ear in play.

“Liu. I may not understand the power of what you are feeling,” Wukong cut off, tail thumping against the Marshals “but that doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t important. And … seeing you so distressed makes me distressed. I can help my friend in this simple task at least.”

Liu felt a warmth well from him. For all his Kings boasting and prideful proclamations, Wukong cared for each of his subjects - even in the face of his incomprehension. He would do what he could to ease his friends, his subjects, his families struggles. Wukong began to write as Liu began to speak, his face warm and his hands slowly beginning uncurl from his fur.

After just an hour with Wukongs transcribing and Liu describing, the confession was complete. Liu clutched the scroll and strapped it to his side.

He had been able to attend the Council with a lighter heart and a smile on his face. The discussion and the plans to increase patrols along the pine forest to the west of Flower Fruit Mountain had been unanimously agreed upon as the troubling information came to light.

The scouts' reports had indicated that there had been activity - a half made campfire kicked over and cold with bones from what looked like a small deer- not a few leaps and bounds from the slopes. Liu had frowned at the description of the tracks- five footed, fur and the scent of musk in the air. Another band of Monkeys … but they seem to be scouting us as well.

When Liu had this brought to attention, an immediate patrol had been sent out to gain more information on how many may be circling their home. The unspoken kept being danced around but all in that council chamber had a suspicion. Demon Monkeys….

Until they knew further who and what they were facing, Wukong wouldn’t risk a war troop to prowl the nearby hills and leave the rest of his family and people exposed.

Liu had a bit of time beneath the growing moon of night to find Rin Rin now. Before his nerves left him. Wukongs handwriting had made the words look better, flow better, feel better to the Marshals eyes. His King had sat through his flowery language, and had written it all diligently if with a little bit of snorting at times. (“Don’t compare her to pine nuts!” “But she smells of the pines and the wood and everything I love!” “…. But pine nuts ?”)

If his words failed him, Liu had them written down. If they stuck in his throat, he could pull them apart with the help of his letter. His heart was thumping, his fur was sticking out a bit as electric nerves rolled on his skin. Liu was in full armor having come from council, and it jangled softly in the night air. But it was a comforting jangle- a separate staccato rhythm against his body.

As the moon rose outside of Water-Curtain Cave casting the spray in silver light, Liu gazed out. Some other monkeys mingled in the cooling air enjoying the clear night. Tending to loved ones by either grooming fur, sharing ripening fruits from the many orchards across the vast mountain, or cuddling down in the soft grasses to gaze upward. Liu greeted each in turn, butting heads or brushing hands. Pride welled in him, making Liu stand taller. This was his home- his family. The peace they lived in was hard won and protected by their King and his Marshals- and that peace was precious.

A small bundle of babes shot past, one carrying a lychee fruit as a prize to be kept from the others. A pair of older simians gazed into the waters of the pool, leaning into each other. Liu would fight a thousand demons, all the celestial beings in the world, to keep this peace. He would tame dragons and pull the moon down from its boughs in Heaven to preserve this peace.

Liu turned, green eyes seeking. There, just beneath the pomegranate tree overlooking a mossy spray of water, he spotted the cloud gray of Rin Rin. Even in the shadow of the tree he could see her moon flower perched behind her ear, the fur perfectly groomed in wonderous swirls. He wished he had a bouquet of moonflowers to bring her or a cup of tea to present to her. He wanted to come bearing gifts and to tend and tidy her hair and weave flowers throughout it.

He came bearing his heart instead.

Said heart thumped against his chest. Steady Liu.

Liu took a moment to groom his finger through his fur, his tail, and to dust at his armor. He grabbed at a small patch of pine needles, snapping them between fingers and briefly rubbing the tips over his fur. He wanted to look his best to smell his best to be his best.

Then, gathering himself and tapping the scroll's top at his hip, Liu straightened and stepped forward.

He would tell her how much she meant to him. He would show her how much she was worth to him- between the words he had been able to wrangle and place onto a page.

Liu would never get the chance to unwind that scroll however. The night air that had been full of gentle chatter and warm conversation was broken by screams as the mountain's peace was shattered into a thousand screams of fury and fear rang off the mountain.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #I Hope you like it !#this was a bit more difficult because I kept looking at RinRin and Liu art of him giving her his cape flower #like. it kept melting my heart #very dialogue heavy #Marshal Liu is a boy with heart eyes for only one girl #rin rin #jttw au #jttw monkey king #for journey to the au #this one may not be my best only because I wanted to write more but I didn’t want to imped on what was already created #I Like filling in the blanks inbetween because it’s fun to make connections #drabble stuff #I may have made Liu a bit too obsessed with pine needles #had to pull down my big old Journey to the West book to see how many fruits and details they list for Flower fruit mountain #THEY HAVE A LOT OF FRUIT WTF I DONT REMEMBER IT FROM THE FIRST TIME READING #but again that was years ago #I’m reading a shorter version and then will be diving into that four book translation #this was fun to write because I was able to take from the book itself to give dimension to the mountain #I love adding dimension and culture to writing it jsut makes me want to go there and see and touch and feel and smell everything #if you need me to edit anything I can do it though! like if I didn’t get yer boy right I don’t mind fixing it !#hcfanfics

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simonsquest · 2 months

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Simon opens up to Selena about his absent father, and his concerns about being a parent.

Sleepless nights were commonplace now, Simon laments as he lays awake staring at the ceiling. His only comfort is the fact that his wife sleeps soundly by his side, unbothered, and unaffected. What a blessing that is.

Selena often falls asleep curled up against him, her head upon his bare chest. Simon’s arm is wrapped around her shoulders, ever-protective, even in the comfort of their bed.

The only trouble is that Selena is a very light sleeper. The smallest movement can wake her, yet she insists on sleeping in his arms. And while Simon has grown to appreciate sharing the bed with her, stillness has been difficult lately. When he can’t sleep—rather, avoids staying asleep for long periods, lest the nightmares plague him—he feels compelled to get up, move around, busy his hands. Anything but lay down and stare at the ceiling.

But Selena’s comfort is paramount, especially now that she carries their second child. Thus, Simon does what he can to stay completely still, fighting restlessness as it gnaws at him. Fighting the spiralling thoughts that enter his mind only in the quiet of night.

This evening, however, Selena wakes up unprompted. She lifts her head, blinking sleep from her eyes, before craning her head up to look at him.

“Did I disturb you?” Simon inquires, his warm voice a whisper.

Selena shakes her head, sliding a hand upon his chest. “I had a strange dream, I think.”

“Oh?” Simon adjusts his body, at last, as he draws her closer to him. “What did you dream of?”

Selena laughs a little in reply, minding her volume. “I cannot remember the details.”

Simon huffs a small laugh, leaning his head down to kiss the crown of her head. Selena hums agreeably in reply, nuzzling against him.

“Are you unable to sleep again?” Selena inquires instead, still hushed.

“It seems so.” Simon replies simply, shirking the question.

“Am I crushing you?” Selena asks suddenly, raising her head again.

Simon stifles a laugh—such a warm and rare sound. “No, rest assured.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Selena asks instead, her eyes closing as she settles against him again. She relishes the feeling of his firm warmth against her, his powerful arms wrapping around her, hands smoothing over her shoulder.

Simon hums something soft as he thinks of how best to reply.

He chooses honesty: “my parents.”

Selena blinks. This answer takes her by surprise. Simon has mentioned to her that he doesn’t remember much about his parents—no faces to put names to. What is it he could be thinking about? Selena is eager to learn more, but, she feels it may be a sensitive subject.

Instead, her fingertips run idly along a prominent scar on Simon’s chest. A minute, comforting gesture.

“Would you like to talk about it?” She finally asks.

Simon hesitates for a moment. Selena’s gesture stills. Perhaps it was wrong to ask.

With a soft sigh, Simon tries in a whisper: “my father deflected when I was a child.”

Selena processes this information. She had assumed Simon’s father died. Does he yet live? She chooses to keep quiet as Simon continues.

“I do not have the precise details, but…” Selena feels Simon turning his head to the side, grasping at his thoughts, trying to articulate himself. “I reflect on that fact, at times.”

Selena notes how his heartbeat quickens. Simon has always been one to shirk his concerns. She understood, early on in their relationship—they both hesitated to become attached, and open up—but now, all of these years later, after all they’ve been through, and the love they share… Selena wishes he wouldn’t feel the need to.

But the gears turn in her mind. His father must have been the Belmont descendant, for him to deflect. And for him to deflect, and neglect his duties as a Belmont… that must mean that Simon was raised by his grandfather. And Selena doesn’t have the most favorable opinion of him.

Selena smoothes her hand over Simon’s chest as she props herself on her arm, getting a better look at his face. He’s looking away, and there’s a tightness in his jaw.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know.” Selena whispers in apology, genuine. Simon shakes his head, closing his eyes.

“I never told you. No need to apologize.”

Selena stays as she is, trying to read Simon’s face in the darkness of night. She doesn’t know what to say next. What would be appropriate to say, or ask?

She tries: “does his absence hurt you?”

Simon’s brow furrows as he opens his eyes.

“No,” he starts, hesitating. “Not anymore, but…”

Selena’s heart breaks for him. She envisions him, so young, shouldering the weight of his lineage, with no support from his parents. How cruel.

“It makes me reflect on my parenthood.” Simon admits in a whisper at last.

Selena blinks. “In what way?”

She can see how Simon’s mouth has twitched into a frown, he’s still looking away from her. There’s an incredibly long pause as Simon tries to put his concerns into words.

“I haven’t a point of reference,” Simon tries, so awkward. “I don’t feel as though I’m doing any of this right.”

There it is. Selena is grateful to know what’s plaguing his mind. She’s eager to reassure him.

Selena softens. “You’re a wonderful father, Simon. Mathieu loves you.”

She can plainly see that Simon is struggling to take her words as truth. He resists: “it is you who has raised him. I am hardly present.”

“That isn’t true,” Selena retorts, her voice still hushed. “He respects you, and misses you, and is always eager for your return home.”

Selena has propped herself a bit higher, now, choosing to brush her fingers upon Simon’s cheek, gently moving the red hair from his face.

He finally looks at her, and turns his head to face her again.

“He is kind and just. He has your heart of fire.” Selena underlines, rubbing her thumb upon Simon’s jawline. This earns her a hint of a smile, and her heart swells at the sight of him trying to take her words to heart.

But there’s something that stops him from doing that.

Looking down at Selena again, Simon hesitates before finally sharing: “he’s a Belmont.”

Smiles fade. She knows exactly what Simon means by that. Their boy must shoulder the same fate that Simon has. Perhaps not directly fighting Dracula—Simon prays with all of his heart that he’s put an end to that. But his children. Their children. All strung along in this awful lineage of bloodshed and fighting. Mankind’s evil deeds will never cease. And the Belmonts must always be primed and prepared to protect the people.

Mathieu will endure the same training Simon has.

And their second child yet unborn, too, will have to shoulder this fate.

“Forgive me,” Simon apologies, raising a hand to cradle Selena’s cheek as she ruminates the implications. His calloused thumb rubs on her cheekbone.

Neither of them can change the fate that God has willed for them and their descendants. This they know. There isn’t any point in wasting energy on it.

But it is so sad. And weighs so heavy on Simon especially: the progenitor of this perpetual curse. Selena, and their children, are unfortunate casualties in it.

“There is a difference between you and your father.” Selena tries, leaning into his touch. Simon’s brow raises, eyes searching hers.

“You will never abandon your children.” Selena underlines.

Simon softens. Selena’s right. He would never.

“You’re a good man, Simon,” Selena emphasizes. “You’re a good father.”

As if to illustrate her point, Selena closes the distance between them, claiming Simon’s lips in her own. He hums a soft sound, returning the gesture.

When they part, Selena moves to cradle his cheek in her hand. Simon relaxes into her touch, moving his hand to hold hers, kissing into her palm.

Such a sacred, soft moment, so private between the two of them.

“You need your rest.” Simon reminds in a whisper, gentle. Selena concedes, settling into the bed again, but choosing to lay on her back beside Simon, rather than upon him.

Noting the change, Simon moves to lay on his side, facing her. He watches her with a soft gaze, admiring her beautiful face in a mess of her golden hair.

Selena takes the opportunity to hold his hand, and guide it onto her enlarged abdomen. She holds it there, turning her head to look at him.

Simon softens at the gesture with eyes downcast as his thumb rubs the spot, so gently.

Simon will do all he can for their children.

Selena believes in him. And that’s more than enough.

#much more dialogue heavy than my last one aha #this is post-CV1 by about 5 years in my fanfic continuity #soft stuff ugh i'm so embarrassed Q_Q #akumajou dracula #castlevania #castlevania chronicles #simon belmont #selena belmont #selena (castlevania)#selena (haunted castle)#my writing

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twistedappletree · 3 months

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I really want to write a short post-canon story about Jin Ling having nightmares from all of the trauma he’s endured, so Lan Sizhui uses his spiritual energy and their connection to guard his dreams one night and ends up guiding Jin Ling through his sleep.

Meanwhile, everything they see in Jin Ling’s dreamscape is lush and vibrant and fantastical without even a hint of anxiety or darkness, and while Jin Ling assumes the entire dream is shaped by Lan Sizhui’s influence, Lan Sizhui is only blocking out Jin Ling’s intrusive thoughts—the rest is all of the light and wonder Jin Ling’s imagination conjures on its own, a glimpse into what his dreams would be like every night if he hadn’t suffered all that he did.

#it would also give me an excuse to write something super description heavy which is literally my forte lmaoooo #I haven’t done that in so long bc most of my short stories require quick descriptions inbetween dialogue to flow as #well a short story #I already have SO MANY PRETTY THINGS IN MY HEAD #and even lsz is looking around in total awe of how rich and colorful and versatile Jin Ling’s dreams are #nothing bad happens they just explore a beautiful shifting dreamscape together and have a chance to truly relax from the waking world #anyway #fic ideas #👀👀👀👀#apple babble 🍎#zhuiling musings #not sure if I’d put a ton of romance in it maybe some light fluff like holding hands #bc I really wanna focus on the experience of the dreamscape more than anything #just have it be a cute fun little feel-good fic #bc I swear that’s what I need rn lmaoooo 😭#jin ling #lan sizhui

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shelfperson · 10 months

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Aight, look, Good Omens 2 empirically does not need to happen. The book was a complete narrative that concluded satisfyingly, was adapted quite well, one of the co-authors has passed away, the story is over. It is inherently superfluous.

BUT. I am so very deeply exited for Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore's high concept Terry Pratchett tribute fanfiction featuring wacky mysteries, hopefully even more Best of Queen, and gothgirl David Tennant. That sounds rad to me.

#also #and i've talked about it before #the first season of good omens seemed like it lacked some je ne sais quoi idk #it felt a little less whimsical and intimate than the book #i'd guess it's something to do with #how narration heavy the book is and how there's probably as much depth and humor and character in the narration as in the dialogue #and making the focal point Aziraphale and Crowley (a very good move!!) leaves even less time than usual #to put that depth back into the other characters through on-screen action #but this season seems to have a more streamlined ensemble and more time for character building (25 MINUTE MINISODES?! DUDE!!)#and from what i've seen and heard from season 2 it is nothing BUT whimsical and intimate #what i'm trying to get at is like. this is the very definition of a Sequal. not a second act. a Sequal.#but i am so very exited #good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #neil gaiman

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thewhizzyhead · 2 years

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how firewatch played around with red herrings and foreshadowing and all to purposely build towards an anticlimactic climax is genuinely one of the smartest ways to implement these kinds of narrative elements because it just fits so, so well with the whole message of the story. all the core characters in the plot don't want to face their real lives especially in terms of accepting the loss of a loved one (in all the different forms said losses take in the game) and so, they isolate themselves in the literal wilderness to escape from their realities and in doing so, they get paranoid. characters worry over being caught and watched and found out and so, they simultaneously leave behind and pursue red herrings until the conspiracies they make all fall apart.

and the game really takes advantage of inflicting such worry onto the player as well by making breadcrumb trails of vague clues that seem to foreshadow to something more sinister because to us, that would make sense given the nature of most mystery-focused video games. but at the end, you reach mundane conclusions because the climax you thought the game would lead up to is simply fueled and brought forth by Ned, Delilah, and Henry's paranoia fuelled by their want to be secure in their escapism. There is no conspiracy, there is no mysterious murderer. There are only the lives they left behind - and the wild fire forcing them to return.

#so yea firewatch was fun tjcjd #i am being as vague as possible here because i really do want people to check this game out #because damn it's really good #really damn good storytelling #and the voice acting and dialogue aaaa #and the scenery too!#i have a Couple of Questions about why Delilah chose to go to the creek to deliver the walkie talkie #instead of like i dunno meeting up with henry - who was nearer #but i'll give it a couple more days for the thought to sink in gjdjx #really do suggest this game a lot woo check it out!#deals with heavy stuff tho so yea #firewatch

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antisocialxconstruct · 4 months

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gonna make an extremely self-indulgent worldbuilding change to WALL which is that gendered pronouns just kinda fell out of use some time in the last couple hundred years and now there's just one universal third person pronoun and if someone want a pronoun with a distinct Implied Gender they have to ask for it

#and everyone honors that request of course #tbh I DID always kinda like the idea of spoken English in WALL being a more distinct dialect #like it's still definitely English and it FEELS intelligible but you're still gonna be learning a lot of new words on the fly #via context clues and such #I'd just have to be careful not to like... lay it on so heavy that players dont feel like they know what dialogue options actually mean. idk

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armor-goblin · 6 months

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who's got two thumbs, stands six foot two in socks, is constantly wreathed in lightning, and can't stop making puppy eyes at the local warlock?? THIS MOON CLERIC

#bg3 #tav #tiefling #susurration the cleric #she's mostly a tempest sorcerer... bc i love lightning charges and being a giant woman in heavy armor going ZAP ZAP #and also being a girl towering over a boy asking him to say if he loves her (he does) (they're very cute together)#siri is an artist #cos that is still the art tag lol #larian give me more tiefling dialogue with wyll this INSTANT #also give me horn jewelry pls #sus is from our tandem game i'm still working on the durge and also my karlach romance druid...it's Going. i keep getting distracted #and having other real life things to think about i guess also

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thatsgoodsquishy0 · 5 months

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Pairing: F!Reader x Ranger!Sam Coe Rating: M+ Bio: Set during Sam’s younger years working as a Freestar Ranger alongside his wife, Lillian Hart. Whether circumstance, or impossible luck, you're given a second chance at life, ultimately growing close to The Coes. You take a shine to Cora, but the family dynamic is something else entirely, albeit a little overwhelming, as you realize the toll Lillian's absence has taken on the family, but more specifically, her husband. Sam Coe is witty, charming, and ambitious; a man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to reach his goals, but when his wife seems to prioritize her career over her family, it's hard not to notice the strain growing inside him. Your friendship may be just the support Sam needs, even if the temptations for something more linger, and when your past threatens your future, where will your morals lie? Will you end up back where you started? Chemistry is a cruel mistress chapter i: Bound cross-posted to AO3 credit of course to the lovely @seraaphiel for keeping the Ranger!Sam spirit alive & @cafekitsune for the divider. special thanks to @fangbangerghoul and @bearlytolerant for literally hyping me up every day to write this fic. your endless support and love inspire me more than you know. and THANK YOU to the readers who've enjoyed this journey so far!! <3

i listened to this song from the Red Dead Redemption II soundtrack pretty much on repeat while writing. it fits the vibe of the chapter, and if you'd like a little extra immersion, feel free to play it whilst reading.

ii. MAN OVERBOARD

You stood beneath the torrent of water, your skin gently scalding as you waited for your body to adjust to the temperature. When it did, you sighed and stared at the shower wall, gaze blank. Your hair felt heavy, weighed down by the stream and caked with blood that was slowly breaking away. You looked down at your feet. Grime and gore snaked through the grout of the tile floor, slipping into the holes of the drain, gurgling as steam enveloped the shower.

Minutes passed. You waited for the water to run clear. Streaks of diluted red flowed down your chest, past your stomach, and in between your legs, reaching the bottom. You lifted your hands, eyes glaring at the bracelets of purple and black wrapped around your wrists. You turned your palms towards the ceiling assessing the rest of your injury, only to find your hands trembling; inflamed with anger. A scream simmered in your throat, ready to boil over. Whether the heat of the water or justified wrath seething within, your face reddened and nostrils flared. Your lips curled as you parted them, ready, but then, you drew a steady breath instead; a warning to yourself to behave, be civil, because this was not your space.

You were a trespasser.

You quickly grabbed for the nearest shampoo bottle and squeezed a handful into your palm, lathered it up, then rocked your hands back and forth against your scalp. Frothy bubbles of red poured down and settled between your toes. You swiped your foot towards the drain, flicking away the bubbles, splashing your soles against the floor. You shivered as the water devolved to luke-warm, and frantically, you scrubbed your skull raw. You closed your eyes. Rinsed. Grabbed another handful of shampoo. Lathered. Scrubbed. Rinsed.

By the time you finished, you felt as though the nerves in your wrist might snap. Your vision blurred by a mix of water and tears, your legs buckled as if they were jelly. You slid back against the wall and curled your legs into your chest as you rested your forehead against the fresh bruises on your kneecaps. Underneath the water with your lips locked, you allowed yourself to cry, tears streaming into the rushing cool. If no one heard you, it would be okay.

You were owed this, and with time, vengeance against him would owe you, too.

Sam

The mission was straight and narrow, albeit improvised, but when it came to the badge, Sam was no stranger to unscripted moments. Hell, he enjoyed spontaneity most of the time, but when an innocent’s life entered the picture, there were strict rules he followed – a code to adhere to; be on the same page. Disagreement was a form of arguing, and arguments led to distractions, and distractions got you killed. Sam lounged back in his chair, his feet propped on the desk and arms crossed against his chest as he waited for Lillian to finish her debriefing with the Marshal. He knew this was coming, still he bit the inside of his cheek. He had every right to that conversation, yet she kept him on the sidelines, as if he were a witness, but maybe it was best that way. Lillian’s memory was exceptional and she’d have a thoroughly combed-through report for Marshal Blake, all the while Sam brushed past details he thought were trivial, like what time the ship was ambushed.

But there was nothing in that report about Sam recognizing the rescued woman.

Weeks ago, he was sitting at the bar nursing his second thumbs worth of whiskey, his attempt at unwinding from the day proving idle as he drank. His hat was warm against his head, the beginning thrums of a migraine settling in. He shut his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. Cora was just getting over a fever, which meant she’d spent more than enough time with Jacob.

He counted — four days. Four days without her. He was stir-crazy, his father’s intuition scratching at his bones as every waking thought flashed to the Coe Estate, little Cora putzing around and Jacob’s manipulative eyes beaming upon her as he planned her entire future. Bet that just got his bastard heart beating with pride thinking she’d carry on the legacy someday -- the dreaded Coe legacy, at least, the one Jacob twisted to fit into his narrative.

Sam’s lips grimaced against the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

His absence was justified (warranted, at least, by his leaders), but one day without his daughter was tough enough. Four days was agony, and Lillian wasn’t much comfort considering the only conversations they seemed to share were Ranger-related.

The Rangers could wipe out every single drug lord in the Settled Systems and Sam still wouldn’t sleep a wink – not without twinges of guilt stabbing him through the night.

He signaled for a third glass of amber liquid, and for a fleeting second imagined the opportunities of fatherhood and marriage away from the Freestar Rangers.

As soon as his drink manifested in front of him, he tabled the thought, thanked the bartender, then lifted the edge of the glass to his lips. He took a burning swig, familiar heat landing in his stomach as he wiped his mouth, and then, he saw her; face plastered on the tv screen, a lifted curve to her lips and a gleaming kindness in her eye — a complete departure from the woman Sam would later carry out of a fried spaceship filled with dead bodies. The camera focused on a plaque sandwiched between her and another adult, some official maybe, outside a storefront.

… but which store was it again?

Sam shook off his recollection, his focus turning to Lillian’s chestnut brown ponytail as it swung to the side as she spoke. Her hip jutted out just a tad; one of the few mannerisms Sam picked up on over the years. His gaze lingered with anticipation, tracing modestly all the ways the ranger’s outfit hugged her body. Some days, he couldn’t believe they were a young married couple fighting the good fight, and other days, it was suspicious; this future he never conceived for himself, laid out by a woman who shared his last name, and was the mother of his child.

Sam guessed she was wrapping up her conversation; the body cue being a slight turn away from the other Ranger, as if her mind were there, but her body was ready to leave. She caught his stare, but offered little more than a cocked eyebrow and neutral gaze. Sam gifted a smile, teeth and all, to his wife as she traveled closer.

“Feet down,” Lillian said, her southern drawl popping out.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam uncrossed his arms as he sat upright in his chair, adjusted his hat. “So, what’d the Marshal have to say?”

“You’re gonna love this. Turns out that ship we ambushed? Stolen. Reported weeks ago. We’ll have to notify the owner of its condition and locale, which unfortunately means more paperwork on our end.”

“I don’t think they’re gonna want it once we tell’em, well, whatever it is we’re gonna tell’em.”

“That won’t be our problem. Marshal said if that woman was found on that ship alive, chances are she’s involved.”

“You don’t think, wrong place, wrong time? Sort of thing?”

Lillian shook her head. “I get the sick feeling they were keeping her for something.”

“Which means there was some serious illegal shit happenin’ on that ship,” Sam stated, his mind recalling what lined the path to the cockpit; dead bodies, ecliptics, … cases of harvested organs.

His stomach churned.

Lillian grabbed a slate from her pocket, pushed a few buttons, then brought the screen closer to Sam.“These were the ship’s last inputted coordinates. I had them downloaded before we left. Once we crack this, we’ll know where they were headed. Hopefully that, plus any information this woman is willing to spill, should give us enough of a lead.”

“You really went the extra mile, Mrs. Coe.” He stood from his chair, closing the distance between them. He traced the outline of her lips, his eyes noting the divot on the top in the middle. He could kiss her now, hell, he wanted to, if not for the active duty reminder on her chest.

“Oh, Sam. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you do it so well,” he replied.

Her smile beamed, as if that was her favorite compliment to hear from him. Sam leaned his palms against the desk, and dropped his head forward, stretching out his neck. “Should I grab us some Terrabrew?” A longing in his heart guided him closer, practically breathing her own air as the gravel in his voice barely whispered. “Could be a long night.”

“I’m alright, thanks.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Shouldn’t be a long night if she cooperates,” Lillian said.

Sam’s hands itched to grab her waist, but his restraint knew better. “And if she doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll have to use oppressive measures.”

He pressed his lips together immediately, words backpedaling against his tongue.“I — um, I thought we weren’t gonna go that route. She’s been through enough, don’t you think?”

“That was before she became a possible suspect, Sam. Don’t go soft on me now.”

“Ain’t going soft on you, but we gotta look at it differently. If we go in there yelling and screaming at her, she’s gonna clam up, then we’ll absolutely get that long night.”

Lillian paused, grazing over his innuendo as she pursed her lip. “If that’s what you think we should do.”

Instinct nudged at Sam’s subconscious. He’d done this before; hell, he was an expert at this point. The only achievable method towards controlling the unattainable was befriending the impossible; becoming a false ally. The Coe name wouldn’t work in this scenario, he knew that, but the skills collected throughout his years as a rebellious adult taught him a thing or two about word play, specifically, verbal disguise — manipulation.

“I mean … if that’s what you think would work,” he double checked. “I just think if we get her to trust us, she’ll lay her cards out on the table.”

Lillian cocked her head, arms crossing in front of her chest as she stifled a frown, leaned back against the desk. “It could work, and it could not. We can’t risk this plan failing. What if she refuses to tell us anything at all?”

“She won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Cuz even if she was involved, nearly getting shot by ecliptics wasn’t part of the plan. If we didn’t show up when we did, guns ablazin, she’d be dead.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

Twice. She disagreed with him twice, now, which was conventional and always came from a place of concern, but even something as routine as administering a trauma pack to a survivor shouldn’t have been a slippery slope, yet the argument steamed up a train of thought that chugged at his brain. Comparatively, Lillian’s motives centered around the heart of what it meant to be a Ranger; Frontier Justice — protecting and preserving the best interests for the Freestar Collective, but her experience with the seedy Underbelly of the black market was only surface level. Sam didn’t write the book when it came to smuggling, but he definitely had his hand in a few chapters. He recognized his talents, beyond piloting a ship. Lillian was due for that reminder.

Down the hall, the woman waited in the room. Confidence swelled inside his chest. He was capable of making Lillian and The Rangers proud.

He met Lillian’s eyes, speaking directly into them as not only her partner, but her husband as well.

“Let me talk to her.”

The Ranger’s interrogation room consisted of three gray walls with an accent brick wall mixed in, a table and a chair, and a single two-way mirror. Sam had listened to many culprits inside the square asylum, a place he’d heard justifications ranging from misunderstandings in a bar to cold-blooded murder. Innocent until proven guilty was an old earth law, but credibility lurked within the ancient rule still, even if the Ranger’s didn’t out rightly practice it. He’d give this woman the benefit of the doubt until his morals persuaded him she was liable enough for arrest.

But that’s if he could get her to speak.

Lillian’s focal point consisted on cracking the coordinates for the ship’s final landing, as well as finding the owner of the stolen vessel. Sam knew she preferred to have her hands full rather than empty, sometimes taking on more than he thought she could handle, but he respected his wife’s decisions, knowing her ambitions meant new leads for the Rangers to follow, and he snatched up any opportunity to assist where he felt the most helpful.

A rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins as he took a breath, remembering the mission, remembering what Lillian expected, what The Rangers expected. The door creaked mildly as he pushed it open.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought he entered the wrong room.

She appeared human; a near perfect clone of the woman he’d caught a glimpse of on TV. The air smelt of dust and earth, but there was a trace smell he could only describe as the planetside scent of a descending waterfall. Sam met her anonymous stare, his own nameless as he sat down and cleared his throat.

“Do you remember me?” He asked.

She nodded her head. A flatness to her eyes.

“How are you, uh, feelin?”

“Fine.”

Was she already lying? How could he be so sure? What answer did he expect to hear the moment the question left his lips? He asked out of courtesy, a spark to break the ice, but it felt out of place, like forced small talk, but fact of the matter was she didn’t weep or fold into a blubbering, nonsensical mess, like he predicted.

Strangely, a sense of reverence led Sam forward.

“Can I get you some water?”

“No.”

Her composure remained as stiff as her back against the wood slats of the chair. Whatever her angle, he had to play his hand logically. Stamp the obvious on the forefront of his brain; she was here for a reason.

“Alright. I’m gonna ask you some questions. I know you’ve been through hell and back, but I need you to answer them honestly, okay? We want whoever did this to you to face severe punishment. I’m sure you want that, too … you do, right?”

In that moment, it was as if the gears stuttered within the mechanism of her brain as her face hid any indication of an answer. Sam waited, greatly anticipating her response, his elbows propped on the table and folded hands inches away from his chin. He tilted his head, and when she still didn’t speak, he verbally poked her. “Ma’am? Do you want justice against the one who did this to you?”

Her face shot up, eyes cold. “I do.”

“Alright then,” he began, leaning forward, his hands dropping onto the table. “We’ll start from the beginning, ease ya into it. What do you remember before the events of last night?”

Her hardened persistence remained, but he noticed the small lax in her shoulders as she took a breath. Her eyes closed. “I was at my friend’s apartment, just needed a box of my things that I’d forgotten,” she recalled, opening her eyes, her hues connecting to Sam’s. “I couldn’t just leave it there, but I thought about it. I thought about turning around and going back home, but I didn’t.”

“Must have been important to you — whatever was in that box.”

“I – I like to collect old Earth books. Sinclair’s pays me to refurbish them as best I can, and then I donate extra copies around the Settled Systems.”

Sinclair’s. That was the storefront she posed in front of on TV.

He leaned back against his chair, his cowboy hat tipped gently, shadowing his forehead under luminescent ceiling lights. “My daughter? Loves books. She just goes crazy for them. Of course, she can’t read them yet, but when I read to her, she giggles her little head off.” He offered a lightness in the room, sharing something normal, something friendly, something … definite, as the real questions simmered on the tip of his tongue. “Did you ever get your books back?”

“No.”

Sam frowned. “I imagine those books took some hard work to find. When this is over, would you like us to help track them down for you?”

She smirked, thinly, neither coy nor aggressive. “You won’t find them. They were jettisoned into space. Besides, it’s not that important.” She averted her eyes. “Not anymore, at least.”

He could hear the subdued ache within her words, but he still wasn’t pushing her enough.

“How did you find out your things had been scrapped?”

“I just … sort of assumed.”

“You assumed?” Sam repeated.

“Well, I … I really don’t remember.”

“Could you try?”

“I am trying, sir.”

“It’s Sam. Just Sam is fine.”

“Okay, Sam,” she said. “It’s all just … I don’t know. Blurry.”

“It’s common for foggy gaps in the memory when you’ve gone through … everything you’ve gone through.” He switched directions, like a sly fox cornering his prey. “Those assumptions you felt, they came from somewhere, and you didn’t leave the apartment. Did your friend ever come back?”

“No, I never saw him,” she said, an unusual rise in her vocal tone.

“If you never saw him and you don’t remember what happened last night, then how did you get on that ship?”

“Sir — Sam, I – I don’t know –”

“ – cuz that’s a large chunk of time not accounted for, and suddenly you just, don’t remember?”

“Like you said, brain fog and —”

“No, your selective memory’s not adding up, and I’m willing to bet credits you've been lyin’ for some time now.”

“No I’m not lying it’s just — fuck,” her voice cracked on the swear, her hands quick to cradle her head. Sam stared at the deep purple and blue bruises bound around her wrists. His throat burned. He twisted his focus elsewhere. “Look,” she started, “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, okay? I’m just – so fucked.” Her breaths shortened, raspy and thin as her forehead met the table with a thunk, arms barricading her face.

Inside the small of the room her confession lingered. The air was flexible now, much to Sam’s chagrin, knowing that whatever, or whoever, possessed her to lie to his face still controlled her thoughts even after all the nightmares she endured.

But lying to a Ranger — that was a punishable offense.

Muffled sobs clogged the room. An ache of sympathy lumped in Sam’s throat. He knew his duties, abided by them each time he fastened his badge to the uniform, but something about her confession pulled on his judgment. No moments of clarity graced this woman as she continued to wail, her pain amplified by what Sam could only imagine was the threatening fear of fate now that she’d confessed.

He swallowed. “I, um, uh … well, I appreciate your honesty, and if you could continue to give me that, I’ll … I’ll try and help you as best as I can.” He paused, quickly adding, “I can’t promise anything, but, if you tell me the truth from here on out … you have my word that I will try. Alright?”

She sniffled, her eyes slowly poking out from the crevice of her forearm, cheeks dampened and lips swollen. She considered him with a long pause, and finally, as silence embraced the room again, he watched her sit up. “I don’t know how you could help me.”

“We’re reasonable,” Sam encouraged. “And what we do holds alotta weight, being the law and all.”

“No, you don’t understand. There’s nothing the law can do.”

He stifled a chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

“I would be, actually, considering — fuck, okay.” She inhaled, long and purposeful, as if bracing herself. “I just don’t know, Sam. I’ve backed myself into a corner here and —”

“Then let me help you get out.” He tugged his body forward, catching uncertainty in her eyes as her gaze shuffled around the room, before finally attaching to his. “What are you scared of?”

“Everything.”

The room seemed to shrink. A sparseness filling Sam’s lungs as he breathed the gravity of her response, and the strain of it all – organs, murders, human smuggling, unbridled fear. His morals never disobeyed him, but the law … the law had its limits.

The Ranger pored over the suspect sitting across from him, and for a moment, her visage morphed to the woman he regarded on TV. The brightness in her eyes, her strong posture, and a smile that stretched across her face. No blood. No bruises. No tears.

“You were on SSNN, weren’t you?”

“Yes .. I was.”

“I saw you. In front of a store – Sinclair’s maybe? You were smilin’ and holding a plaque of some kind.”

Her eyes bulged, almost as if she’d forgotten as she touched her throat. “My citizen’s award.”

Sam nodded, a thin smile of respect growing on his lips. “Tell me how you got that.”

“... I traveled to a LIST settlement that specializes in fostering families affected by the Colony War. On my trip back, a reporter for SSNN took a seat next to me and … I guess the rest speaks for itself.”

“That’s really amazing. I’m sure those families really appreciated your doing that.”

She gave a half smile; humble but acknowledged.

Sam continued, “So, how does someone like you end up mixed in with the garbage of this mess?”

She faintly shrugged, shaking her head. “How do any of us end up in the messes we make?”

“Dumb decisions, not thinking about the consequences, … trusting the wrong people.” Sam observed her cadence, gauging any type of reaction that might reveal the rest of her; a twitch of the lip, an averted gaze, something.

“Was your friend involved?”

Nothing.

“Maybe they bit off more than they could chew? Ran into the wrong, very wrong, crowd? And now you’re payin’ the price because you … you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, too?”

He caught the clench of her jaw.

“Hell, maybe your friend doesn’t even exist.”

Her face flushed a bright red. “No that’s –”

“Not what? The truth? The truth that’s gonna be your saving grace if you just cooperate with me?”

“Fuck! I’m trying! Okay?!” She slammed her palms on the table, alerting Sam’s trigger finger as his hand flinched to his sidearm, but he didn’t retrieve it as she bellowed. “You think this is easy for me? Huh?! My life is on the line here. Again! And he’ll do much, much worse to me now than whatever those ecliptic fucks were paid to do!”

Sam raised his hands, his voice calm and diffusing. “Easy. Just — take a breath, and tell me about this he.”

She laughed, a frown etched across her face as she ran her fingers through her hair and held her head. “Might as well, right? I’m as good as dead.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Sam said.

“You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with death. Try me.”

His challenge left her rigid, or so Sam thought, until she regarded him earnestly, the whites of her eyes growing pale as she spoke. “How can you be so sure I’ll be safe?”

That damn question again; poking and prodding at his abilities as if his intuition was nothing but a fluke, as if his experience was nothing but fictional. For god sakes, he wouldn’t be alive if it were and he wouldn’t be the man he was today without it teaching him, guiding him, encouraging him.

As long as this woman revealed what she knew to Sam and The Rangers, he would do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t suffer at the hands of this — this tormentor. Sam was a man of his word.

“I just am.”

The woman lowered her head, eyes low as if reflecting on what’s to come. Defeated, but not hopeless.

“Now, can you tell me who he is?”

“He is … a plague. A disease. The cause of so much suffering across the Settled Systems, and he is … everywhere.”

Sam cocked his eyebrow. “Who?”

“Медведь. The Bear.”

#oooooh new character on the rise? most definitely #heavy dialogue woohoo!#also where are my blink 182 fans the title is for you #anyways i sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter!#sucks i'm sick but oh well more writing time #starfield fanfiction #coemancer #sam coe x reader #reader x Sam Coe #seriously thank you for the support it pushes me to remember to have fun cuz writing is fun

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