#my uncle called me an arsonist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinha-ri · 10 months

Note

I know nothing about your ocs so please give me the rundown I NEED to learn about them but have no idea where to start

Strap in this is going to be long bc i will give you a rundown of each lil fucker I have gl on the read ive been oc obsessed for YEARS also warning for lots and lots of dark and tragic themes not a single one of my ocs has a good life (at the start anyway)

Lily Artesia

he is the blorbo bleebus, the guy i was obsessed with for over 3 years and has over 110 art (that number is just as much as i could find on this laptop alone and NOT including shittier sketches)

he's 28 in present time, gay and asexual, trauma heavy fella, at this point its what hasn't happened to him he has the worst luck, chronic pain, shit dyslexia so he cant read, and his left eye is missing

He is a runaway prince from the holy star kingdom. His family is blessed by the stars and he is their first ever 2nd child, as they were "cursed" to only have 1 child, he has been the only outlier ever. This made him have a few of the blessings rather than all (list of said blessings)

As a runaway prince, he traveled across the sea to another land where he became a mercenary/bounty hunter, worked in the black market, dated a shit ton of questionable ppl, uhh..false sex work that ended up just being murder (as in..he murdered) before being kidnapped and enslaved for a year. He was saved but more like ownership traded w the military he uh, i guess he served there for a while and got in a questionable relationship with Valdis (more on him later) Almost died in battle, was saved by Oliver and ended up recovering and having a fufilling life with Oliver that turned to marriage :D.

He's a lil sarcastic, a big heart, arsonist, selfless, pretty empathetic, likes to murder (ppl he finds irredeemable), just a caring lil guy that copes in the only ways he knows which is ofc murder, self harm (this takes a few forms) and generally getting defensive where he can turn to violence if he really thinks he's in danger (which doesnt help when he has major anxiety and ptsd)

TOYHOUSE if you want anything on tumblr, just search lily in the tags of my blog and you will not run of content on there

2. Oliver Artesia

He is a favorite but sadly doesnt reach blorbo status as lily and hero but he's up there

30 in present time, demi sexual and romantic, doesnt know he has ptsd, isolated himself for over 5 years lol

Born as a grand mage (i cant find my source talking about this so uh, basically mages here are born with 1 skill type but grand mages can learn any skill type thats all you need to know (and theyre rare)) and a branch of the Artesia Family (rant here lol). Oliver's mother always wanted a daughter and so she would dress Oliver as one, enrolled him in school as such, and prevented him from trying to question her authority or pretty much do anything himself. She was abusive and held him to high standards. This led to a lot of bullying and being unable to make any friends.

This got him to be taken into the custody of his uncle, but once he hit 18, he was enrolled into the military (war just started) as a frontline medic. He absolutely hated this job and found it pointless to save someone who will only go back out to battle. He ended up committing War Crimes by lvling a field with foe and allies, tried to cause war disruption on his own, then let himself be caught so he could be bewitched (also cant find where i talked about this but basically, their magic is nerfed and theyre unable to physically lie), he ranaway soon after and lived alone for over 5 years in a refugee village, becoming the village doctor, herbalist, and pharmacist (he isnt licensed but he knows what he's doing)

He starts off selfish, blunt in adding unnecessary details/comments, has a really cheerful and upbeat energy to him but he will say the most vile bitchy thing ever, over confident in himself, smaaallllll power complex, comforting in his gender (being male) but will roast your ass if you call him she/her (Intentionally)

TOYHOUSE he is also one you can find a lot on my tumblr if you just search up his name on my blog

3. Jonah Artesia

the fucking baby boy, protect him with all your life

around 16 in the present, queer, god someone help this kid he is drowning in anxiety, low self esteem, and separation anxiety that makes him feel like he needs to be useful

Jonah was born into a Mage Family but was given the short end of the stick by being born a Dark Mage (a magic type that is feared and pretty much banned from these mages to practice at ALL), he was abandonded when this was discovered (around the age range 10-12). Trying to live a decent life, he found himself attempting to be useful via being a guide. He makes maps and sells them, he can read the stars and find his way out of most forests and places. He was finally taken in by a group of teenagers that needed a guide, in which he fit in perfectly. He tends to keep quiet and never voices his opinions, doing anything to be a ppl pleaser in hopes they'll let him stay, which they do after they find out he's a Dark Mage.

in the future, he ends up being adopted by Lily and Oliver, growing in a healthier steady environment where they try to help him recover and grow as a well adjusted adult

he's a big doormat, way too kind and caring and way too selfless, will never speak up for himself, he just doesnt wanna be left alone again and will give up as much of himself as it takes to :(

TOYHOUSE uhh you can find some lore on him but a few of it can be dated

4. Alexander (i dont have a last name yet sobbing)

he's recently been rising in my mind lately, he is the local WHORE

currently 32, his sexuality is anyone he can have sex with lol, he copes with sex, suffers from insomnia, he makes the absolutely worst dog shit decisions when it comes to his brother its astronomical how stupid he is and how much of a King manbaby he is with the way he approaches the situation.

The first son of the royal family and elder brother of Lily, he is currently King. He is the reason lily ranaway and blames himself for the rest of his life, aiming to make it right by all means. He is a good and caring leader that attempts to listen to his people. But he's very two faced in that he's actually super tired and bitter in the inside and would throw all this away if he could. He hates his job, he hates his life, he's miserable but never lets himself show it nor change how well he does his job. Due to his first lover having been someone who only used him to steal money from him, this man has never fallen in love since. The only intimate relationship he'd have with anyone is through sex but even than its under a disguise. He has no friends, he hates other royalty and nobles, but he will never lash this out on people. The kingdom loves him and he puts on a serene and comforting smile for them to stay trustworthy and complacent.

he's very Fake nice and flirty, he tries to look under the true intentions of anyone who attempts to have a relationship with him. Hardly trusts nor listents to anyone, he's actually pretty awkward when he isn't being King or doing official business, he just really does love sex

tOYHOUSE you probably wont find anything much on him on my tumblr except from pretty dated things i probably scrapped and are no longer canon lol

5. Valdis Nevermore

this is an image of him in the future but i dont have any of the present. i would say hes a himbo but hes problematic

31, bi, hes got a hero complex, turns from occasional drinker to alcoholic real quick after certain events, complicated family relationship

Valdis is born from a family of knights, and being the eldest, he follows in the footsteps of his father and his ancestors before. He knows there is a problem in the system, but he hopes to help change it from the inside, but finds himself following their orders more than questioning them. Despite this, he does have high morals especially when it comes to treating others and commoners. He attempts not to use his status as an advantage against others. However, once he is in charge of lily during lily's time in the military, he finds his passion reignited to question leadership and develops a hero complex towards Lily, feeling as if he has to help/save him but ends up making things far worse than they should. Once lily is assumed dead, valdis deserts as a Knight, gets disowned by his family, and is on a constant run from being tracked down. Lives with regret and drowns in alcohol

He is a very helpful guy, very kind to all, and a bit of a loser lol. Charming and charismatic when he's not wallowing in pity, he really does have a good heart that is misguided.

he has no toyhouse and very little information is avaliable on tumblr

6. Lenn (might change her name so ill just keep her nickname)

i have so little woman but GOD am i gay for her, she is wife

35, lesbian, she needs time off and doesnt deserve the treatment she gets fr, get a better job or beat alexander up

a half dragon half human that was "adopted" into the royal family. It was more like taking her in when she was a child, raised as their older sister, but eventually assigned herself the role as the royal guard to the brothers once their parents passed away. She has dedicated her life in trying to protect the remaining family she has, yet it seems alexander hasn't seen her as such in a long time. He hardly listens to her advice and attempts to shoo her away with unnecessary tasks. but she wont let up, even if they no longer see her as family she will strive to protect this family from ending itself even if her worth is no longer appreciated

when around alexander she is serious, stern, and straightforward. Yet in a casual setting, she's rather quiet and wants nothing more than have a moment to relax, yet her mind can't seem to let her. It's been long since she's ever been in a relaxed setting away from the King, but she can get pretty bashful away from it all

she has no toyhouse and almost nothing on my tumblr LOL

two more before i let you choose if you wanna listen about another OC that i will just list and give even more basic information on or give yourself a mental break from the absolute OC brain i have

7. Sergio Cartias

who brought their weed dad, for some reason i have so little of him yet he is SO loved

30, uhh, i forget what its called but he likes fem presenting people regardless of gender (but he is married to someone who uses she/her). honestly my most normal guy his biggest flaw is he smokes lol.

born from a mage family (listen..i did not realize how many of my ocs come from important Line families istg this was unintentional but when put together it does not seem that way) this branch specalizes in information and history, making him following in the line and steps of becoming a professor/teacher, specifically on witches. while the job was accepted by his family, the specifications and how he teaches about witches is not. The reason being he was Oliver's only friend that really sympathized with his situation and figured bewitching a mage doesn't exactly mean they're horrible people, because he couldnt believe some of the vile shit they would say about Oliver. He lived a fairly normal life with his spouse and being a pretty great teacher that students grew to love.

He's very laid back, he really is Just A Guy but in a good way and has the least drama carrying. He sees his own family above all, but he will be there for his friends or anyone who needs him or just someone who wants to talk to someone. Oh and he's a lightning mage and knows how to use magic with just his hands! (this is relevent?? sorta?? in my lore using your hands for magic casting is the ultimate control sign, as most mages use wands or other mediums given they have easier control with them than hands which is harder to master)

he doesnt have a toyhouse either and you can find some bare minimum stuff on tumblr

the next character is from an entirely separate universe/story, as everyone above is part of the same one.

8. Hero

foaming at the mouth and rolling around the dirt he is THE blorbo right now omfg I CANNOT stop thinking about this absolute piece of shit person he is my WORST character i fucking love him rn

228 years old baby, aro/ace with extreme sex repulsion and generally physical touch repulsion, god he is so fucked up there is so much wrong with him, might have autism but unrelated to him being an asshole he just isn't neurotypical aint no fucking way (this was done unintentionally btw but certain parts of him made me realize oh, typicals do not feel or think this way usually)

Born half human/half druid, he was left abandonded in a village filled with mixed species. He never knew his parents and he was never given a name. the village he lived in was raided by knights and many kids, including himself, were captured. After captured, he went through what is known as the Hero Project, in which they aimed to find and raise the most suitable to be the kingdom's official "hero". Hero, being the most human passing, was given an advantage already. When tests were conducted, he passed with desired results (praised/rewarded for following orders unquestioningly, least hesitant to harm others) It is no surprise he was the winning candidate to be Hero. Throughout, he was still never given a name but instead called by his title once he earned it. their biggest gripe with Hero was his personality, but through time, he learned to mask his true personality and instead showed one of heroism and kindness. All his expressions were calculated depending on who he was speaking to and especially in public. However, outside of the public eye, he was a nightmare to work with

He cared for no one, he is pure selfishness, he will strike down anyone in his way and in fact enjoys killing to an addictive degree. All crimes he's ever committed were swept under the rug in order to keep his image clean, and so he knew he could get away with anything he pleased. He will torment you in any way that will gratify him and worsen you, be it physical or mental torture. He thrives on seeing the expressions of despair and betrayal. He betrays his kingdom and party members at the drop of a hat because he was simply bored. He betrayed the only person that he somewhat cared for because he refused to change, continuing a campaign of destruction as he used his status as Hero to confuse those who haven't heard the news of his betrayal.

He's cynical, calculating, and will do anything to let himself stay in control of his life

TOYHOUSE there is also so much more lore on toyhouse but ive dropped quite a bit on my tumblr recently

Time for speed rundowns:

Peter/Petros/Petra: The leader of golems that will do all in their power to ensure they thrive. the oldest golem that has little hope for humans, but isn't stubborn enough to put their people in jeopardy over them

Jairo Torrance: A farmer that is currently the closest to a friend Oliver has. He is generally nice but dislikes Lily given he was there when lily temporarily ruled the kingdom

Diene Artesia: the eldest daughter of the artesia family and the next in line as head of the family, she is a lesbian disaster and monster fucker

Azazel: a golem that is half sheep/human, he is mute and the 2nd oldest golem, but he keeps his whimsy and cares for Ophiuchus

Ophiuchus: a golem that follows azazel around, he helps communicate to others what azazel attempts to say and keeps him company and protection

Caide/Mushi: a demon working under a prince of hell, he had forgotten his purpose on the surface before coming to his senses and continuing the plan they had set in motion

Dylan: a half demon/human who was named "Demon Lord" by humans despite being far from it, he wishes to leave in peace but when push came to shove, he will do what must be done

#ocs #original characters #hooooo boy gl anyone #lily #oliver #alexander #alex #ollie #valdis #val #jairo #hero #lenn #sergio #jonah

5 notes · View notes

herrlindemann · 2 years

Photo

ROLLING STONE, APRIL 2001: Mutter review and interview with Paul

Very adorable, the tiny creature. His hands are so small and his eyes aren't even open yet. Don't think of anything at all and last of all probably of the evil Uncle Lindemann.

He now wants to be the voice from the pillow and take revenge badly. For the bad times when his mother's breasts didn't cry milk and he wasn't allowed to lick his nipples and didn't even have a navel. For this he will now sink Mama in the river and then dream of small children who are buried in the wet sand. A not entirely fair montage of the perfidious cover and three songs from the new Rammstein album "Mutter".

But Lindemann is certainly happy to be quoted - after all, no one writes satanic verses to be forgotten. The fact that he no longer wants to talk about it after the deed is done only makes his poetry even more of a beacon. This is now burning and blazing again over all continents and is lighting the hero's way to immortality. Alone: It flickers in the same colors as its predecessors. A new Rammstein record, but nothing new from Berlin. Pretty sick fantasies as if stolen from the Hannibal massacre, a song is finally called "Links 2 3 4" and is the only one that pricks your ears, but more of that later. When Lindemann drools "Rein Raus", there isn't a bit of metaphor involved in the sweaty game. If it weren't for the fact that the five friends were behind him, as always and constantly, the title would have what it takes to become a real hit on the Arenal ham road. Missed the chance, no metal goes with the sangria, what a shame. And then he comes too early, the stallion! We're already looking forward to the video and America's puritans to the stage show.

But to be honest, we're not too happy about it when we think of Germany's most successful rock export after the Scorpions. At first the arsonists kept us on our toes with the suspicion of serving themselves to the right fringe and made it difficult for anyone to be allowed to discover musical novelties in the crude mixture of heavy metal and techno with impunity. And now, with the critical voices from the left-establishment dying down, the boys are recording a third studio album that's about as surprising as recent Joe Cocker and Rod Stewart products. "As a musician, you always believe that your new record sounds fresh," says guitarist Paul Landers, who, after Richard Kruspe on the last one, was assigned to me as a credit agency this time. As I said, Lindemann doesn't talk. And so Paul thinks "Mutter" sounds fresh and new. Because every musician does, "even AC/DC and the Ramones". Of which it does not become truer in the carefully considered individual case. “But it's definitely nonsense trying to explain the innovations to someone who doesn't like the record anyway.”

Because my outing is still pending, Landers now continues light-footedly: "I think we left the tried and tested and redesigned the little things. Well, of course we're not Moby, who reinvents himself for every album. But he is also alone."And besides, there's something about being recognized by the fans. The class goal seems to have been reached. A plus, especially for continuity in America. But Paul doesn't want to know anything about that: “People now act as if we were the only successful German band over there." He is right. “But Atari Teenage Riot can also be bought there, the Guano Apes are known in places, the Einfallenden Neubauten, and Nena with the balloons in English!" But yes. And what about nectar? And didn't Inga Rumpf once have a ticket to New York?

For the new album, Paul tells us, the band have set themselves ”to be particularly good. That would have almost gone against the tree.” Pressure, of course, couldn't be denied, weighs heavily on a band and even on this one, “but I then called a fan of ours and he just said: Paul, you're good, so do it like this, you can!” After that everything was fine. Till brought 'about 50 songs' into the studio, there were discussions and then "Mutter". Life can be so simple sometimes. But now I would like to learn more about the discussions. “Of course there are two factions in the band!” Paul grins. I had already suspected that, even though Richard Kruspe didn't really want to comment on any of the lyrics at the time and Paul Landers now says: "The lyrics, that's so us!”

He says more. For example, that he is not Richard Kruspe and also belongs to the faction "which likes the piggy, messy and not the lyrically nice". His group is the stronger one it seems. But always ready to compromise. "When Till called out in a song, 'Hello hello, I want to fuck', the suckers wanted it 20 times, the others didn't want it at all. In the end it happened once. We always find a good mix.”

And sometimes they are also good for surprises, completely hidden. Which brings us back to “Links 2 3 4″. A noteworthy song, perhaps. It starts with a hundred people goose-stepping, then Lindemann asks a few stupid questions, and then it comes: “You want my heart in the right place, but then I look down and it beats to the left!” Hannes Wader could almost have written that back then, when Lindemann was still suffering through his messed up childhood in real socialism. “We made a song whose music the critics always wanted to hear, but whose lyrics they didn't want to hear from us. That is our statement. We say how we see things.” That's all there is to say, Paul believes. We think so too.

Then Lindemann sings "Here comes the sun" with the voice of Ozzy Osbourne, and then it gets gross again. Lindemann dreams of burnt skin and orders "Feuer Frei! bang bang” The world needs exactly such guys, or at least a good band, says Paul. “Without someone with character at the mic, nothing works. Good bands with an uncharismatic person as a singer never make it.” Voice is not important: “We see that with Grönemeyer. But we're lucky to have a man with life experience at the front. He went through things that none of us want to experience. Very bad things, but they are of use to us now.”

Even less godly, Richard Kruspe had described Till last year as "severely mentally disturbed". But Paul isn't Richard either, we've learned. With the new album, however, Rammstein have remained plain, simple and also somewhat disappointing. Pure pathos, bombast of steel, children's choirs and battlefield chants, bloodlust and purgatory. Produced by five nice guys and a sixth that you don't know exactly. The whole thing will probably only become interesting again when Mr. Lindemann writes his memoirs. We can even generously do without their soundtrack.

#Rammstein #Paul Landers #Till Lindemann #Richard Kruspe #a not so good review of Mutter for once #interview #translation #2001 #*

59 notes · View notes

ash-the-porcupine · 1 year

Note

Meena, Johnny, and Porsha moments

HEHEHE HANG ONTO YER HAT-

Porsha: GUY GUYS GUyS GUyS Guys GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS HEYYYYYY

Meena: HI…?

Johnny: Ash, it’s two in the morning… and you woke up my dad…

Porsha: BUT I JUST GOT A VIDEO OF SCARING THE HECK OUT OF UNCLE BUSTER

Johnny: LET ME SEE IT-

Meena: SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Porsha: It’s an upside of staying at the theater. I waited ALL. NIGHT for him to fall asleep at his desk so I could do this-

Meena: LEMME SEE ITT PLEASE PORSHA

Porsha: Nah I’ll torture you all for a while longer

Porsha: How do you successfully prank Ash?

Johnny: Dunno!

Porsha: Rosita?

Johnny: No living person can answer that.

Porsha: Uncle Buster???

Johnny: Top Ten Questions SCIENCE can’t answer. I can answer though. He is literally impossible to prank.

Porsha: …Whelp, I’m dead.

Porsha: YOU’RE INSN

Porsha: INSAN

Porsha: INSEN

Porsha: INSANA

Porsha: INSEEEEE

Porsha: INSANE!!!

Porsha: Holy cheezits.

Meena: …you took the words right out of my mouth

Johnny: GUYS I DID IT

Meena: YOU DID IT?

Porsha: You DID ITTTT!

Buster: Did what exactly?! Should I be worried?!

Rosita: You should always be worried

Johnny: I DID IT

Johnny: I successfully made a homemade flamethrower with the guidance of Nooshy.

Meena: …All I gathered from that is Noosh may or may not secretly be an arsonist.

Johnny: Oh, she probably is.

Porsha: WhAt?! NOOSHY ISN’T AN ARSE!!

Johnny: PORSHA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OTHER MOMENTS WITH JOHNNY, MEENA, AND PORSHA!!!

-Paint battle on the stage while Buster was on a conference call with Nana

-Taught the piglets master marshmallow thievery

-Destroyed more than a few kitchens making cupcakes for Caspar’s birthday

-Learned Buster slept in his drawer when they decided to find his most private possessions (Ex: an old journal, photo album, anything interesting)

-Licked wallpaper because Ash swore up and down it tasted like cherries. No one knows why Ash licked it in the first place

-Stuck Tootsie Pops on the famous Wall of Bubble Gum.

-Each ate a piece of pre-chewed gum from the wall of bubble gum.

-Chased one or two of the piglets with said gum

-Learned to cheat at Poker. I can’t tell you how they learned poker in the first place but, oh well…

-Consumed idiotic amounts of cotton candy

-Set Marcus’ rug on fire

#Marcus #AKA Big Daddy #Johnny #Meena #Porsha #Ash #Buster #Rosita #Rosita's Piglets #Headcannons #Sing #Sing 2

12 notes · View notes

harmonyowl · 2 years

Text

The Hell That Befell Them All

I had sudden inspiration to write the arrest scene with my deputy, Blythe Paige, and apparently as evidenced by the word count that inspiration took me to a place of no self control 😂 But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: None

┕ Masterlist

┕ Add Yourself To The Tag List

This was how she was going to die.

Blythe couldn’t believe it. After spending years profiling arsonists, serial killers, terrorists, and so many other kinds of dangerous people this was how God was going to have her go out: murdered by a militant doomsday cult. Because that was exactly how this entire shitshow was going to end.

One Federal Marshal, one County Sheriff, and three Deputies to arrest the Joseph Seed? Were they joking? They needed the whole damn cavalry here to back them up, what the hell were the Marshal’s thinking? Were they really so arrogant as to only send one extra person? Because five would not be enough no matter how high up the badge; we were the law of men, of perverted ideals and corrupt governments. Sinners and heathens, not the highest authority. For when you had a divine purpose, when you were only beholden to the authority of God and their righteous plan; to the law of God alone, no other earthly power could ever hold any command over you. You needed to pose a problem, a danger even, for something like this to be carried out successfully. All that the five of them posed was fuel for their cause, justification.

Not that the Marshal seemed to care for her qualified opinion on the matter, it didn’t make him rethink his plan. Now that she no longer held federal authority it seemed he no longer held professional courtesy to at least take her experience into consideration. At least she knew that she wasn’t the only one who thought going in like this was a terrible idea. However, no matter how much her Uncle Earl tried to make the Marshal reconsider it seemed he would not be swayed, and every vibration of the helicopter made Blythe’s stomach clench even further. She tried to relax her grip on her phone as her uncle caught her eye with a sigh before opening a call with Nancy, not even her familiar and kind voice could ease Blythe's anxieties. She hoped they gave her a chance at survival when the time came.

‘We’re approaching the compound, Nancy. Over.’

‘Roger Sheriff, you still planning to go through with this? Over.’ God Blythe wished that they weren’t, and the fact that they were almost there made her close her eyes and take a few deep breaths. She needed to get into work mode, make herself ready, she tucked her phone away and slid her gloves off. Blythe hated wearing them as part of her uniform; she felt like she could never get a grip on anything and she was sure her uncle wouldn’t enforce them this time given the circumstances.

‘We are, unfortunately, still trying to talk some sense into our friend the Marshal. Over.’ Burke gave a little snort at that, as if the idea of turning back and coming up with a much more logical plan was a preposterous one.

‘Alright, lucky I’m not there, get into any trouble you just let me know. Over.’

‘Ten-four, over and out.’ Blythe just shook her head slightly as the call ended and fiddled with the medals on her corded bracelets, if there was ever a time that she needed the courageous blessings of Saint Joan of Arc now was that time.

‘Maybe we should have brought Nancy along with us instead of the Probie,’ Staci pointed back towards Blythe with a slight smirk, ‘these Peggies wouldn’t fuck with her.’

‘Pratt.’

Probie. Rookie. Rook. It almost made Blythe crack a smile despite the situation, something that was once used to mock her when she first came back and irked her to no end had now evolved into a fond, ironic nickname they had for her. Although less fond when it came out of the Marshal’s mouth but she’d let it slide, it wasn’t worth it, Blythe already knew how truly ironic the nickname Rookie really was. Much like she knew how utterly moronic it was to drink when you were about to make a dangerous arrest. She narrowed her eyes at Staci as he pulled out his flask and took a swig, and Blythe highly doubted it was a refreshing drink of water. Debating whether or not to say something and draw everyone’s attention to it, Blythe saw Joey shake off Staci’s offered hand and he put it away, thank God for Joey Hudson.

‘We’re here. Compound’s just below.’ Blythe looked out of the window and saw the white church and all the buildings with their dark roof’s dotted around, it had been quite a few years since she had been at a cult’s compound and yet it felt no less daunting. The helicopter swung around to make its descent and everyone’s collective sighs could be heard through her headset.

‘Last chance Marshal.’ He only sighed in response to her uncle and delivered the final verbal nail to all of their coffins.

‘We’re going in.’

As her uncle gave Staci the order to set them down, Blythe could start to see the people as they got lower. The very heavily armed people. The very heavily armed and annoyed people. The stifling aura of unwelcomeness and distaste was heavy even before Blythe and the others had stepped outside.

‘Now listen up, three rules,’ her uncle shouted over the rotors as they all took off their headsets, ‘keep close, keep your gun’s in your holsters, and let me do the talking, got it?’

‘Got it.’ Burke responded and Blythe did the same, she checked the gun on her hip before looking back at her uncle to confirm. He looked worried and rightfully so, Blythe gave him a small smile and a nod to try and reassure him: she was on alert, she was taking this seriously, she hoped he wouldn’t worry about her but Blythe knew there was a small chance of that happening. It didn’t matter how much trust he had in her or how capable she was, her uncle would always worry.

‘Alright everyone stay sharp,’ he then sighed, ‘let’s go!’

Blythe let the Marshal go first before hopping out after him, he seemed to be chomping at the bit and she thought it would be more prudent to watch his back instead of getting in his way. As soon as her boots hit the ground she tried to take in as much as possible. People up ahead holding weapons openly: warning. And they had a relaxed stance: confident in their home and in their abilities. Blythe could hear dogs barking: a problem if things got violent. And the people around her were openly berating them: testy and non-cooperative. As the four of them walked through the gates towards the church Blythe heard them close behind her, she turned at the noise and could see some of the members trailing behind, watching them. Trapping them in, or, stopping them from being able to get out. One of them locked eyes with her and bared his teeth in malice but did nothing else, the massive shotgun he was holding spoke for itself. Her fingers started to trail along the bottom of her holster but she kept her breathing even, the worst thing that could happen here was someone getting overly excited and trigger happy. Blythe counted the number of buildings as they passed them, made note of their names and repeated them in her head. Deadly sins in Latin? Of course they were. They were even closer now and had started to hear faint singing coming from the church.

‘Everything’s just fine.’ Her uncle muttered which apparently exasperated the Marshal next to him, who seemed to be constantly underestimating the situation they were in.

‘Jesus, you’re wearing badges aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, but they don’t respect badges much out here.’ Joey piped in.

‘They’ll respect a nine millimetre.’ Blythe hoped that that was just false bravado in front of the cult members, because they had all just walked by a man with a flamethrower ten seconds ago and everyone since had been armed and seemed to know how to use their weapon.

‘Not every problem can be solved with a bullet, Marshal.’

‘When God is the only being you answer to, we are but insects in their perfect haven in comparison.’ Burke didn’t respond to Blythe’s quiet words but she knew he had heard her, she’d been saying the same thing since the Marshal brought in his warrant to the station.

They were now approaching the doors of the church where the singing could now be more clearly heard as Amazing Grace, where Joseph Seed would be no doubt residing and the fate of all of this would be decided. God she hoped her parents wouldn’t be inside, anywhere else but here, she didn’t want them to get hurt if this went south. When this went south. Blythe sent up one final prayer to Saint Joan of Arc for courage before falling in line behind her uncle and the Marshal. Burke went to open the doors but her uncle stopped him by putting a hand on it.

‘Woah Marshal, we do this, we do it my way, quietly, calmly. You got it?’

Burke took his hand from the door handle and made a placating gesture before responding with ‘fine.’ Her uncle instructed Hudson to stay at the door and not let anyone else inside, which was the best choice, Joey was tough as hell and would not be intimidated by anyone here. But she was still only one person, if everyone here wanted to get inside they would have no problem overwhelming her.

‘Blythe,’ she lifted her eyes to meet her uncle. He was all serious now, no visible hint of the worry from earlier, ‘on me.’

‘Yes sir.’ She responded.

‘And you just,’ he turned back to Burke, ‘try not to do anything stupid.’

‘Relax Sheriff, you’re about to get your name in the paper.’ Blythe hated everything about this.

Joey gave her a nod and an ‘it’ll be fine’ before turning to guard the door, Blythe wasn’t sure if it was more for her benefit or for Joey’s but at least one of them had some form of optimistic thinking, no matter how piss poor it was. Her uncle opened the doors where they were greeted with a familiar voice immediately, ever a man of perfect timing:

‘Something is coming, you can feel it can’t you?’

The three of them slowly walked up the aisle, their footsteps creaking and cult members lined their way on either side. If the outside felt unwelcome then here inside this place of worship it felt truly sinister, as if the entire room was waiting, tensing, readying itself.

‘We are creeping toward the edge, and there will be a reckoning.’

It was dim inside with the only light being cast by the fixture on the back wall, shaped like their Eden’s Gate cross. The light shadowed his figure but Blythe knew it was Joseph Seed, she’d seen him enough, interacted with him enough to know his movements and how he stood. She watched the others in the room carefully, their faces were clearly agitated as they turned to look at the intruders and Blythe could see that they were already outnumbered in this church alone.

‘They will come, they will try to take from us, take our guns, take our freedom, take our faith. We will not let them.’

Blythe’s eyes immediately flicked to the far left and caught Jacob Seed standing there, problem number two. Her eyes kept scanning back towards the right when she locked eyes with John Seed, he smirked at her before she broke eye contact to keep scanning, problem number three. Once her eyes made it all the way to the right side of the sanctuary she found Faith Seed, problem number four. And with every word that Joseph spoke, every barbed undercurrent and scathing tone to his preaching, he riled up his congregation and they had started to rise, problem number one.

‘We will not let their greed, or their immorality, or their depravity hurt us anymore!’

Blythe could see that the Marshal was getting antsy, her uncle kept telling him to wait but it was only a matter of time before he lost his patience. He was getting overly excited, as was the room.

‘There will be no more suffering!’

‘Nah fuck this!’ The Marshal brandished the arrest warrant to Joseph, as if it were some divine text or maybe a paper shield. ‘Joseph Seed, I have a warrant issued for your arrest on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm. Now I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see ‘em.’

The Father did just as he was asked, raising his hands calmly, not even a look of frustration at being interrupted. Blythe wanted to roll her eyes because of Burke and his lack of tact but refrained, she wasn’t going to undermine them in front of everyone here. Now that it was done they needed to be firm, a united front.

‘Here they are,’ Blythe was starting to hear shouting and she sensed some movement behind her, she subtly moved her hand to her holster and kept watch for anyone about to explode, ‘the locusts in our garden.’

They were moving, be calm, be calm, they were closing in.

‘They’ve come to take me away from you.’

More shouting, getting even closer.

‘They’ve come to destroy all that we’ve built!’

Such inflammatory words, it did the job. The congregation were surrounding them, blocking Joseph and looking livid. They were close, too close, Blythe wasn’t sure she’d have much room to manoeuvre, they’d overpower her and take her down so easily. She wasn’t the one with the power here, none of them were, they were just standing in the room with the builders of their coffins.

Burke went to unsubtly reach for his service weapon which just threw fuel onto the already simmering fire, emotions were becoming very palpable, and her uncle tried to keep a hold on the situation by shouting at the Marshal to keep his weapon holstered. But all he did was show Joseph where the crack in their team was.

All it took was a touch, his hands on his followers shoulders for the noise to quiet, for the turbulent energy to be sucked back out of the room, for a calm to settle. He may not have said any words but Joseph’s message was clear: your hands may hold the badges and the guns and mine may be empty, but these empty hands are all I’ll need.

‘We knew this moment would come, we’ve prepared for it.’ Had they? While it wasn’t possible for Blythe to be any more tense and alert than she already was, those words got her attention. What else were they going to do? How much more out of their depth could they get?

‘Go. Go. God will not let them take me.’ And so they did, shuffling past so close that they almost brushed up against Blythe’s arms. Her muscles were tensed right up until the last sneering face passed by her vision and she could hear them walking out the doors. She dropped her hand from her holster and turned back to Joseph, his arms in the air and his siblings congregating behind him, watching them, but doing nothing. Wary.

‘I saw the lamb open the first seal and I heard as it were the noise of thunder one of the four beasts say Come and See-’

Revelation, the book most commonly associated with the ending of our world. Not an uncommon one for a doomsday cult to preach from, but Blythe felt like Joseph wasn’t just quoting for the sake of it. The man had even said it himself: they had prepared for this.

‘Step forward.’ Burke interrupted but it did not dissuade Joseph, just made him speak at him in a kind of defiance.

‘-and I saw! And behold it was a white horse.’ He looked to her uncle, speaking as if this were a wonderous thing and Blythe could see in that moment where Joseph’s brain was going. When you were a servant of God there were no coincidences. Then those eyes slowly shifted to Blythe and she found she couldn’t look away from the blue, though they were obstructed by his yellow aviators. It was as if they locked her into place, much like they did all the other times they had spoken, although this time it was a much less amiable conversation.

‘And Hell followed with him.’ Joseph extended his hands out to her, a submissive gesture from a man that was anything but. Surrendering to the so-called impending Hell. Blythe wished she didn’t have to play into his fantasy but it was too late to tuck tail and turn away now, all they could hope to do was get out of there cleanly and try and mitigate the damage back at the station.

‘Rookie,’ Blythe’s eyes snapped to Burke’s and she couldn’t help the way they hardened, how could he undermine her in front of Joseph and his siblings by calling her that? They weren’t back at the station, they were out in the field arresting a potential criminal and Blythe was livid, but her face stayed schooled, if they made it out of this alive he’d be getting an earful about it later. ‘Cuff this son of a bitch.’

As her eyes drew back to Joseph with his hands still outstretched, he repeated himself again but this time to her personally, Blythe couldn’t help the chill it gave her:

‘God will not let you take me.’

A promise, a benediction, it made her pause.

The Marshal wanted Blythe to put the cuffs on him, and she would, but Joseph had rooted her in her spot, his gaze almost imploring. Blythe’s eyes looked to the figures behind him, still not making a move and gazes still boring into her, but she didn’t know if they would stay doing nothing now that they were close to taking their brother away. Blythe couldn’t believe how hopeful she had once been. It was worrying enough to return home and find her parents had happily joined this religious group, this cult, but the more Blythe spoke to the Seeds: Joseph, John, and Faith in particular, the more evident their appeal was to her. They were charming (as all cult leaders were in some way), they spoke truths and preyed upon the vulnerabilities of the world, and sometimes they were even kind to her, and Blythe had hoped that there would at least be a peaceful way to resolve this. They had seemed reasonable at the time, open to cooperation even, maybe she could find a way to gently disengage her parents from them; her kind and trusting parents.

But that had been too trusting on her part as well, why did she always feel the need to give people the benefit of the doubt? Once the accusations and complaints started to pile up Blythe saw the writing on the wall, the chain of familiar events that would lead her to the exact position she was in now. Although she had hoped that there would be exponentially more people here to back her up than there were currently.

‘Put down your guns,’ Blythe’s eyes snapped back to Joseph’s when she heard his voice, ‘take your friends, and walk away.’

No, she had come too far, they had all come too far now to just walk away like he wished. If they walked away now it would tell them all that they had power over the Sheriff’s office, it would give them another inch so that they could keep running their mile. No, this was how it had to be done.

Blythe unclipped the handcuffs from her belt and took a step forward to gently grab his wrists and place the cuffs around each of them, no need to make this more antagonistic than it already was. He still offered no resistance and his siblings didn’t move either, but Blythe felt the heaviness of Joseph’s gaze on her, and then he spoke again. It was quiet, whispered, a personal warning meant for her ears alone:

‘Sometimes the best thing to do is to walk away.’ It made Blythe’s hand twitch above his as she was removing it, this was more personal than any other arrest she had ever done in her life, not even arresting her former criminal informant felt this intimate.

‘Step forward Mr. Seed,’ was all she quietly replied with. As Blythe moved to stand behind him, she took her final opportunity to observe his siblings; they did not look happy. They hadn’t made any approach but their stances were much more relaxed now, indicating they would be following them, and Blythe did not like the idea of all three of them directly behind her while she was guiding Joseph. She felt too exposed to them, but she placed her hand on Joseph’s bare shoulder nonetheless.

‘Let’s go,’ her uncle nodded to confirm and when Blythe returned it he and the Marshal turned to lead the way. Joseph’s skin was warmer than she expected but it may have just been in comparison to how clammy her hands had become, this was easy, it was all too easy.

Then they opened the doors, and it all made much more sense to Blythe.

‘We’ve got to get the fuck out of here.’ A white truck pulled up with armed cult members just as they exited the church and Blythe could hear so many more ahead of them. Calm breaths, calm breaths, stay alert and calm breaths. Panicking would mean death. If Joseph felt her fingers tense slightly on his shoulder he made no indication of it, and Blythe forced herself to relax them again, keeping firm as she walked him back towards the helicopter. Although she barely needed any pressure at all, Joseph seemed very content to let himself be walked wherever she wanted him to go, it made Blythe suspicious. Something was coming, she could almost feel it.

The crowd was getting even more agitated, panicked shouting and cries of indignation, they were taking their Father away from them. A woman tried to get in the Marshal’s way and he shoved her down, the first act of violence, Blythe doubted it would be the last but the helicopter was closer now. Almost there. They reached out towards Joseph, praying and imploring while glaring and shouting at Blythe, scorning her for her perceived arrogance and disrespect. How dare she take him.

Blythe saw the first stone arch high towards the Marshal before the others quickly followed, emboldened by them, more started to come and she could see one winding up for her to her left.

‘Don-’ she went to warn, but was interrupted by her aim being off. A look of horror filling the cultist's face at her mistake. Quickly throwing out her free arm Blythe managed to catch the stone just before it smashed into the side of Joseph’s face, his reactionary head turn towards her hand was the only reaction he had given since leaving the church. He looked at her hand for a moment before she saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, and then returned to looking ahead of him. But Blythe’s entire palm now pulsed with pain and she clenched her teeth slightly, the rock was sharp and when she lowered her arm and let it slide out of her hand there was blood. But a little blood was the least of her worries right now.

The rest of the team had pulled out their firearms and circled to keep the cultists at bay, the dangerous air had crept back in and despite the helicopter being right in front of her, Blythe had never felt further from safety. The Marshal got behind Blythe to protect her while Joey helped her get Joseph inside the chopper, she fell back onto her seat as she made eye contact with the cultist hanging outside the window desperately trying to get in. They were all swarming for them now. Pounding on the outside, shouting and loud noise everywhere, Blythe’s eyes snapped up as she heard thumping on the top, how did they get up there? She frantically grabbed onto the Marshal as a cultist hung onto his arm as the helicopter started to rise, with a bang! he went limp and plummeted back to the ground. God everything was happening so fast! The adrenaline raged through Blythe’s veins as another cultist suddenly climbed around into her vision, Blythe latched onto her arm to desperately try and pull her inside but the cultist just used it to try and pull Blythe out.

‘Stop, stop! I’m losing my grip, you’ll fall!’ And with a lurch from the helicopter, Blythe slipped and watched the woman drop off the side to her death. Why didn’t she just stop and listen to her? There were still so many cultists hanging off the helicopter trying to climb in and get to the Father; Joseph had now started to sing again, still as calm as ever. God will not let you take me. Slamming herself back into her chair, Blythe quickly put her seat belt on and then pushed Joey back into her own seat to do the same. It almost happened in slow motion for a moment; Blythe noticing the cultist on the windshield, watching him bend his legs to brace himself, the thought dawning on her, the disbelief at what lengths Joseph could inspire someone to go to.

‘Pratt!’ Too late. There was a loud groan from the rotors, the worst sound Blythe had heard all night, as the cultist threw himself into them and what was left after splattered all over the glass. The helicopter lurched, spun, those on the outside were flying off and all Blythe could do was brace herself and pray.

God! Oh God! Please don’t let us die!

All she heard was the crash before everything went dark.

Talking. That was the first thing Blythe heard when she started to wake, a muffled voice. She hadn’t been sure if she would wake up again. Her vision started to blur in next, the Marshal with his arms above his head, Joey in the same position to her right, glowing in her peripherals. Fire. Blythe’s head was pounding and she couldn’t feel her arms, blinking to try and regain her full vision she lifted her head to realise they were all hanging upside down. And Joseph was gone.

That voice…Nancy, where was it coming from? God Blythe hoped it had been fifteen minutes so that help had been called, they needed it urgently. She caught sight of the hanging headset to her right with Nancy’s panicked voice coming out of it, if she could just…and then Blythe heard him. Amazing Grace, again, he was close but no matter how much Blythe whipped her injured head around she couldn’t see where Joseph was. But she needed to hurry. Reaching out her tingly arm she desperately tried to grab the headset, her fingers just short and Joseph’s voice getting closer. Panic started to set in as Blythe desperately clawed for it, almost there, so close, come on! The headset wildly swung at Blythe’s pawing, but just as she managed to grab the earpiece on a back swing, a tattooed hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. So close, always so close but never enough.

Blythe’s whole body froze as Joseph looked down at her, blood on her head and bruises on her face, green eyes unwilling to let him out of her sight. She had no idea what he was going to do. Joseph released her wrist causing her arm to drop then he pulled her closer by her shoulder, his thumb ran back and forth on Blythe’s neck in a mock pacifying gesture as he observed her.

‘I told you God wouldn’t let you take me.’ Blythe opened her mouth as if to say something back but nothing came out, everything hurt and she waited for her fate to be decided by the man in front of her. Oh, how it had all changed so quickly. Joseph, without breaking eye contact, reached up to grab the headset and bring the microphone close to his mouth:

‘Dispatch,’ Blythe heard Nancy sob in relief and her stomach dropped, dread was starting to creep in suddenly as her instincts screamed at her, ‘everything is just fine here, no need to call anyone.’

‘Yes Father, praise be to you.’ Her eyes closed at those words, her last hopes thoroughly dashed. Joseph really would be the final decider of her fate, of all their fates, and they had just kicked in the door to his house and dragged him out of it. Joseph leaned in closer, so close that when he spoke all he needed was a whisper to make himself so loud to her.

‘No one is coming to save you, Blythe.’ No, there wasn’t, and it seemed not even Joseph would. He squeezed her shoulder in a surprisingly gentle manner, an antithesis to what was happening, before his hand slid off and Blythe watched him step out of the helicopter into the arms of the awaiting faithful that had found them. When Blythe noticed Joey starting to move out of the corner of her eye, she reached out to try and rouse her, if there was any chance of them making it out of this they needed to do it now.

‘The first seal has been broken,’ Joseph announced from the car he had climbed atop of, ‘the collapse has begun, we will take what we need.’

Blythe reached out again: ‘Joey! Joey wake up, come on!’ Her voice was thick but Joey did open her eyes, delirious but awake. Coughing came from in front of Blythe and it seemed the Marshal was waking up as well, good, they needed to get her uncle and Staci and then get the hell out of there.

‘These harbingers of doom will see the truth,’ Joseph then started to raise his arms and Blythe’s breath caught in her lungs, ‘begin the Reaping!’

It was only more chaos from there, they all struggled to unbuckle themselves before the cultists came but gravity was working against them all. They grabbed Staci first and then Joey quickly after, Blythe couldn’t see her uncle but she hoped he would get away from them somehow. What were they going to do with them? What was this Reaping? She needed to hurry, needed to think, but her fingers kept fumbling with the buckle. Flames sprung up around her, the heat prickling her skin and adding to her panic.

‘Let them burn, this is God’s will.’ Blythe watched the Marshal unbuckle himself, she thought he’d help her, but once again she gave him the benefit of the doubt and was disappointed swiftly after. He left her to die, just as it seemed Joseph would.

Last chance. Blythe desperately grabbed at the buckle on her seat belt, shoved her fingers under the latch continually, pulled as hard as she could until her fingers slipped out and then she tried again. The fire was creeping closer, it would get to the engine, she was going to die in the explosion. But Blythe felt herself suddenly lurch forward and then she was falling to the ground, tumbling out of the side of the helicopter and onto the dirt. The blood rushing from her head made it spin, but the alarmed shouting and gunfire behind her forced her to get up and move.

Blythe thought she heard her name but she didn’t care, she just ran from her pursuers as fast as she could, boots pounding down on the earth as she zigzagged into the trees. Her breathing was heavy but her adrenaline carried her through, no thoughts, just run! Joseph and the Marshal may have been willing to let her die, but Blythe wasn’t about to make it so easy.

They may have just unleashed a hell upon Hope County, one worse than she ever could be. For if Blythe was the hell that followed the white horse, then Joseph was the prophet that led the masses to their anguish. One false word at a time.

#my writing #blythe paige #fan deputy #far cry 5 deputy #far cry 5 oc #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #earl whitehorse #joey hudson #staci pratt #cameron burke #deputy rook #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 oneshot #far cry 5 #fc5 #fae's fics

14 notes · View notes

hollymartinswrites · 23 hours

Text

Say Hi by HollyMartins

[ao3]

Summary:

In the mall food court, Lee Russell bumps into someone from his very recent past.

TW: Lee Russell comments on teen's weight because of course he would.

Notes:

So I’m on a Walton Goggins kick because of Fallout and I binged Vice Principals, not expecting for the amoral, selfish, dishonest, evil, sometimes arsonist that is Lee Russell to worm his way into my heart.

I don’t condone any of his actions but man, do I enjoy watching him do them. And I can’t believe there isn’t more fic about this show. Maybe the Ghoulggins renaissance will help.

Anyway, the Spring Break episode broke me when Janelle called him Uncle Lee and he gave her a kiss and said it was so good to see her. Was he lying? Probably. Do I like to believe he had a genuine soft spot for her because of Neal? Yes. Did I expect Lee Russell to be the catalyst out of my writing slump of nearly two years? No way in hell.

And now with new edits.

"Uncle Lee!"

Lee freezes, his good hand clenching around the styrofoam cup of diet soda. Thank God he had left his table of coworkers early and is now mercifully alone.

A hand touches his arm and he flinches but forces a smile as Janelle steps in front of him.

"I thought it was you," she says breathlessly, smiling.

"It's me, sweetheart," he replies, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue like it used to. He stops himself from hugging her, however. "Look at you. Looks like you finally did lose some weight."

Janelle rolls her eyes before observing, "I haven't seen you in forever."

Lee swallows. Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe she thinks he and her dad are still the best of friends and they regularly meet to bullshit and laugh and get on each other's fucking nerves.

"I've been busy," he lies. "What with the physical therapy, and now this promotion. Being a regional manager is just as hard as being a principal. I don't know who are bigger pieces of shit, high school students, customers, or corporate."

Janelle glances down at his gloved hand and he frowns.

"But do you like your job?" she asks instead.

"Course I do. I finally have a nice discount on shit I actually want to buy. You know how much I hated going to Staples."

Janelle smiles tightly and goes quiet, both very much aware that Lee has never stepped foot inside a Staples in his life. He hopes a friend of hers will pop up and whisk her away to Spencer's or Claire's or wherever the fuck teenage girls hang out in at a mall. But as the silence stretches towards awkwardness, he has no choice but to clear his throat.

"So, how's school?"

Fuck.

Janelle shrugs.

"It's okay," she admits. "The teachers aren't bad and I made some new friends. Wish Dad was still there, though."

Something in Lee's chest twists and he looks down at the sticky, outdated, and frankly ugly as shit tiles of the food court.

"Wish you were there, too."

Lee's head snaps up so fast he knows he'll have to make another visit to his acupuncturist soon. That twisty feeling in his chest tightens as he sees the wistful look on Janelle's face. He tries to offer a smile again but it feels uncomfortable on his face. Fuck. He used to be good at bullshit.

"You wouldn't want that," he insists. "Wouldn't want the other students being judgy pricks because you have an in with the principals, right?"

Janelle shrugs again. Lee has never been one for comforting but he feels a need to put his arm around her. He very nearly does until he remembers he's still holding a half-empty cup of tepid soda. And he's not about to bring his fucked up arm near her. Later, he'll wonder if this was one of those profound moments in a teenager's life where they could really use some guidance or understanding or even just some fucking acknowledgement. He has no idea because all he can bring himself to do is offer her his discount anytime she comes into his store. At this, she actually laughs.

"No offense, Uncle Lee," she says, wrinkling her nose, "but your store isn't really my style."

"Oh, and this is?" he asks, motioning at her outfit with the soda. She laughs again. Lee relaxes. This is easy. This is familiar. "What'd you do, go dumpster diving at Goodwill?"

Janelle just shakes her head and rolls her eyes again, a smirk on her face. At least she gets his sense of humor. Suddenly, a voice calls her name and Lee turns to see three teenage girls heading their way. Thank God.

"I gotta go," she says. "We gotta catch a movie."

"Alright," he says and steps out of her way, allowing her to walk past him.

"See ya," she says over her shoulder. "I'll tell Dad you said hi."

"Yeah," Lee sighs as she rushes towards her friends. "Yeah, you tell him."

#vice principals #lee russell #walton goggins #neal gamby #janelle gamby #hbo vice principals #holly martins writes

1 note · View note

restapesta · 3 years

Text

Piercings. 5+1 ficlet, but with piercings. I have a problem.

Ian thought he knew pretty much everything about his husband. He knew him, inside and fucking out.

How could he not? Ian's pretty much been with him for a better part of his life, and they've had enough late-night talks to share all their demons with each other, however hard it may have been. They knew each other.

There was no doubt about it.

But, well. Ian should have known Mickey kept secrets.

He also should've known that one of those secrets was bound to put him in the grave one day with the inscription on his tombstone saying that he died from horniness.

Because one of these days, he would. There was no doubt about it.

It wasn't the most conventional way to go, but Ian didn't mind it.

Because, holy fuck, Mickey just admitted he used to have his ears pierced.

"Sorry," Ian balked at his husband who was standing in the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror, a pair of black studs in his right hand. "Did you just say you had your ears pierced?"

"I probably still do." Mickey grabs an earring and places it against the healed-up hole that is so faint, Ian needed to come impossibly closer to see it. Mickey had pointed it out to him after he initially said he was getting his ears pierced again. Right after Ian was left with his mouth wide open, staring widely at him, not trusting he heard him right. "And if not, I'm just gonna reopen them."

How did Ian never notice it? How did he never see Mickey, the love of his life, with earrings in his ears? With little patched-up spots of skin that were so plainly visible to the eye, now that he really looked at it.

Mickey grimaced as he pressed the needle against the hole, pushing and prodding against the uncooperative entrance. He eyed Ian in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "What are you staring at?"

Ian was stunned speechless. Of course he was. Of fucking course Mickey was about to bust out some crazy thing two years into their marriage that would make Ian finally break. Like having his ears pierced, making every single yet-undiscovered fantasy come to life.

He couldn't help but imagine Mickey with a nose ring, now. Tongue piercing. Eyebrow piercing.

Nipples.

Holy fuck.

Blood was rushing straight to his dick, and goddamn it, this was it. Ian was about to die.

Because holy fuck, the earring went through.

So did the other one.

And now, Ian was staring at Mickey, who was sporting black studs in his ears. Two dark diamonds that were obviously fake but could've not been, because this wasn't Mickey anymore. This wasn't the Mickey who rolled his eyes at anything gay—except getting pounded, obviously.

No—this was Mickey with earrings.

Ian's mouth was dry. It was dry as Mickey turned away from the mirror to face him. He stood in front of him, a determined look on his face as if waiting for Ian to call him out. Him, in all his fucking glory.

"Did you, uh," Ian finally stammered out. "sterilize the needles? I don't want you to get an infection."

"That really all you gotta say?"

Ian swallowed. "How come I never saw you with," He pointed at Mickey's ears, unable to even say the word. "those?"

"I was really young. I got 'em pierced when Mandy did. Took them out fairly soon, 'cus, you know." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Ian knew.

He gripped Mickey by the shoulders pulling him closer. His eyes were on Ian's, but Ian's were on the earrings, and Ian never really knew he had a kink for jewelry.

Well, there was the wedding ring, but fuck, this had nothing to do with their relationship, and yet Ian was still sporting a raging hard-on Mickey had yet to notice.

"I love them." He said truthfully, mentally noting to get Mickey real studs once he got the chance. Not the cheap grocery-store ones, but actual diamonds that he wouldn't mind spending money on. Not when they would look so good on his husband.

Mickey blushed, pushing Ian away immediately, not getting away far, arms practically out so Ian could pull him back in. And he did, squeezing him tightly against his chest, careful not to place too much pressure on the newly-reopened piercings.

Mickey mumbled something against Ian's shirt, incoherent.

"What? I didn't hear you"

"I love you."

Ian smiled. Pulled Mickey away so he could stare into his eyes.

"You know you gotta let me fuck you with those on. Pretty sure it will be the best orgasm of my life."

Mickey only smirked, eyes lighting up immediately at the suggestion. He looks fucking amazing, Ian thought.

"Lead the way, hotshot."

Ian was right. With the earrings and the smugness—

It took him less than a minute.

When Ian saw the photo, he was pretty sure he was going to die.

No, not pretty sure. One-hundred percent sure. Death was awaiting him now, ready to pull him in. He was already feeling faint, ready to just slip away into unconsciousness. He was going to die, for sure.

Or maybe it was just the loss of all the blood that was heading way down south that was making him feel this way, because holy shit.

Holy shit.

When Mickey took the earrings out after a few days of usage, claiming how they sucked, Ian thought that was it. Mickey was never going to do anything that reminded him of being gay ever again. He had probably been embarrassed and wanted to take them out, and Ian was feeling at such loss when he saw his ears vacant that he was ready to throw hands.

But, oh God.

Ian was now staring at a picture of Mickey—a picture he posted on goddamn Instagram for everybody to see—and it was him.

Him with a fucking nose piercing.

Ian checked the comments first. It would've probably been saner to call his husband and ask if he actually got a nose piercing and if he was ready to be a widow because Ian won't be lasting much longer, but there were a bunch of comments on the photo, and fuck if Ian wasn't going to leaf through them all. This could be a joke for all he knew.

Some sick joke to get Ian's hopes up, just to get them crushed down until he never had any hopes in life ever again.

Mickey with a nose piercing. Mickey with a nose piercing.

Carl said it looked 'fuckin' sick'. Lip was putting 😲 emojis all throughout the chat, sometimes even adding the 😏 one, probably a reference to Ian (at least Ian hoped it was). The other comments were just about how good Mickey look, which was really no surprise, but holy shit, did that mean this was real?

Mickey was out running some errand. Said he had some shit he needed to. That sneaky bastard. Ian didn't care if he was in the middle of the goddamn line at the Costco aisle or in the middle of a drug run.

He facetimed him.

When Mickey's face came into view, the nose ring present and very much real, Ian was lost for words. Mickey was biting his lip to keep from smiling and once he noticed Ian was just going to continue and stare, he scoffed.

"Man, it's just a piercing."

"No," Ian said. "This is much more than 'just a piercing'."

Mickey chuckled. "Well, I figured since I didn't really like the earrings, I could do this. It felt right."

This was the Mickey Ian knew and loved. The Mickey who wanted to try new things, get to know his own style. Mickey, who was finally confident enough in himself, and hopefully comfortable in their marriage, that he didn't even consider this a big deal. Ian was filled to the brim with emotions, and he was ready to explode.

"You need to come home now."

They met each other's eyes through the screen, blue glimmering in mischief. Mickey smiled. "Why?"

"Because."

"This piercing shit really gets you going, huh, Gallagher?"

It did.

It really did.

"If you're not home in ten minutes, I'll get the whip. So better be fucking home." With that he hung up, getting up to ready the supplies.

Mickey was home in eleven.

Ian knew it was fucking intentional.

Ian might've been getting used to the fucking hotness that Mickey Milkovich with a nostril piercing was, but that didn't mean others were.

In the end, it probably didn't even matter that Ian was one million percent down for any types of piercings Mickey wants to get—he might have even been pushing him for a nipple piercing, but the why of it was for another time—what would eventually decide whether or not the earring stayed in was the reactions of somebody other than Ian.

It was unfair, really, that others would be able to affect Mickey's decision to finally do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, despite his ever-growing confidence. Still, Ian had a way of making sure that nobody made him feel shitty for doing something he wanted to do. Something for himself, without fearing the judgment of others like he had his entire life.

He was an arsonist, for fuck's sake. Let them try and eye his husband the wrong way.

Ian perhaps expected it from old, batty women at the grocery store who didn't have a clue what century they were in or Karens who were homophobic pieces of shit—but he never would be guessed it would be his own family poking fun at something that probably took guts to do. Because it took guts to actually get something like a nose piercing if you were a Milkovich with a past of growing up in a homophobic household.

"So, uh, you gone full gay now, Mickey?"

"Watch out, Ian, I think he might out-twink you."

"You look like Sandy now. Don't be surprised if I jump you."

"I think you look cool, Mickey."

"Uncle Mickey, what's that in your nose? Can I have one?"

Mickey didn't seem to really care about the Gallaghers' opinions. It was mostly just him flipping Lip off at the twink comment and winking at Franny for that last one. Ian, on the other hand.

Ian was the one who was getting fucking offended.

What if Mickey decided that all the teasing and sideways glances aren't worth it and he takes the nose ring out? What if Ian's deprived of sexy, liberated Mickey because of assholes like his own siblings?

It didn't matter how selfish it sounded. There was no way in hell Mickey was ever going to feel conflicted over something he didn't need to feel conflicted about.

So, the second Mickey was out of the room, and the Gallaghers were still unrelenting at the teasing, Ian knew what he had to do.

"Okay, that's enough," He said simply after the eight-hundredth joke about how the ring looked like a booger in his nose—what the actual fuck, Lip?—his voice stern.

"Come on," Lip said, despite the others clearly relenting, palms going up with sheepish expressions on their faces. "We're just joking."

"Well, enough jokes. You could be more like Liam. Tell him he looks good."

Lip snorted. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to?"

"He knows it's all jokes. He doesn't even care."

"I do." Ian narrowed his eyes. "I care whether or not he feels like he's done the wrong thing because you won't shut the fuck up after the joke's not even funny anymore."

That was what made the smile on Lip's face thin. He lowered his head sightly, as of bowing it down in shame. Ian knew he had finally caught on. Finally understood that, sometimes, even jokes could hurt people's fucking feelings.

Maybe Mickey wasn't at all touched by this. Maybe he really didn't give a shit about what Lip or some old-ass grandma at the store thought. Maybe it was only Ian who gave a shit.

But fuck it, he could give enough shit for the both of them.

If it meant Mickey would always feel comfortable in his own skin, then fuck yes he could.

"Okay," Lip said simply, and Ian smiled at him, thankful.

And when Mickey reappeared with a slight frown on his face and a, "what, no more jokes?" followed by a wide smile, Ian knew he had done the right thing.

Because Mickey looked good.

And the ring stayed on.

"What is it with you and the goddamn nipple rings?"

Ian bit at his lip. Okay, he may have gone a little overboard. With all the research and the reference photos and all the places you could get one... But fuck, he had a fantasy, and he needed to see it come true.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Come the fuck on.

"Babe, listen," Ian started, moving so he was positioned against the headboard of their bed. It was almost midnight—what better time to lay it down on Mickey that he would look really fucking good with piercings in his nipples and that it would be Ian's dream come true. "They'd look so good."

"Then why don't you get them?"

Ian made an incredulous face. "Because they wouldn't look good on me. They would look good on you."

Mickey swiped at his nose, diverting Ian's attention once more to the perfection that was his black nose ring. How could Ian not see all the possibilities with multiple piercings when Mickey looked like that with just one?

"Come on," He said again, the image in his head even more vivid than before. "I googled it. It doesn't even hurt that much."

"I have a feeling like that is a very obvious lie."

Ian rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe it was.

He pushed himself back down onto the comforter, shifting so he could have access to Mickey's chest. He trailed a finger from his neck, then slowly down so it rest in between his nipples, laying out his palm so it could feel the beating of Mickey's heart.

"Imagine the sex," He whispered, trying out a new technique. Seduction. It had to work.

"Probably not until it's healed up and stops hurting," Mickey scoffed. "Also, I really don't think I'd like it. I'd look like a bull."

"You'd look like a very sexy bull. Oh, by the way, septum piercing." Ian wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't you see it? Don't you think it'd look awesome?"

Mickey looked like he was on the verge of either laughing or punching Ian straight in the dick. "I think," He began. "that I've created a monster."

"A monster who is extremely horny for your ass."

"Why do you have to have a kink for this? Ian, out of all the things. Just look up porn with a bunch of jewelry on the guys if you need to get off."

Ian frowned at the imagery. "It's not the jewelry, Mick. I've had hookups who wore a shit-ton of jewelry and it never made me all hot and bothered."

Mickey smiled at the hot and bothered part. "Dork. Then what is it?"

"Well, fucking obviously it's you."

Mickey's face lit up. "It's me?"

"Ugh, Mickey, we've been together for a while. Don't make me feel shy over this."

The exasperation made Ian's cheeks pink. Suddenly, Mickey was leaning in and pressing his lips to the heat, smiling all the way through it.

When he pulled away, there was a wide grin stretched across his face. Ian was a sucker for that grin. That grin was everything he needed in life. Nothing more.

"I won't get a nipple piercing."

Sadness. All Ian felt was sadness.

"But maybe we can check out other options." It was Mickey's turn to wiggle his eyebrows. "Tongue piercing float your boat too?"

Happiness. All Ian felt was happiness.

Eyebrow piercing. It ended up being an eyebrow piercing.

And God. Ian was done. He was completely done with everything. This was it. This was all he ever needed to see in life. Now, he could die peacefully.

He was married to the hottest man alive. Ian could pride himself in that fact. Mickey truly was the hottest person Ian had ever laid eyes on.

Especially now that he had a nose and eyebrow piercing at the same fucking time.

Ian knew there would never be another man to get his attention again. Never anybody else to make Ian feel like he need to avert his gaze. Not when all eyes went to the Mickey with the hot body, amazing ass, great face, and perfect piercings.

"Maybe you should get some piercings, too," Mickey said as they sat together at the table, munching on cereal. "I mean, if you act this way over my shit, who knows how I'll act over yours."

Ian smiled. "I can't pull anything off like you can."

"Bullshit. You're hot as fuck."

Ian's cheeks pinked. "Shut up."

"No seriously," Mickey said as he got up to get more coffee. "Hottest guy I know."

Ian licked his lips, slowly running his eyes down his husband's body. "Well then, guess we both got lucky."

Mickey smiled and the piercings come into view again.

Ian really was a complete goner.

+ 1

"No," Mickey said once he saw Ian come into view. "No. No. No."

Ian grinned widely, tilting his chin slightly so he could showcase the tiny diamond—actual diamond—studs in his ears. "You like it?"

Mickey knew then that this was what heaven felt like.

He barely stopped himself from tackling Ian onto the floor.

Oh, who the fuck is he kidding.

He didn't stop shit.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #fanfic #PIERCINGS #piercings #5+1 things #:)))))))))#i said i had more #i wasn't lying #*ficlet

153 notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter thirty-three

Phew! That was a quick turnaround! This chapter happened so fast, but it’s a favorite. You guys are going to despise it, though

Today’s chapter title is from HONNE’s song “Someone That Loves You” xx.

Warnings: angst! All the angst

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Thirty-Three: You have someone that loves you

Working the arsonist case goes on into the night. You and Garcia blow through another pot of coffee before a semblance of a lead comes up.

Good news is, though, the gas station fire – or explosion, as you’re calling it – had no injuries. You have no idea how, but you’re thankful the most was a sprained ankle from the worker. He was running so fast to get out of there that he rolled his ankle, aggravating an old injury.

Right now, with the office building and the gas station having zero injuries, you’re worried this unsub will start another fire at any second. Literally any second because there’s been no timeline to this.

The Smith and Miller homes were set on fire during the night. The Protestant Church went up in flames on a Sunday morning. Both at times when injuries would be expected, and deaths resulted.

But the office building was set on fire midday, when deaths would be expected, only no one was there. Same with the gas station. The fire was set at night, when at least one worker would be there, and given that it’s a gas station, customers at that hour are a given. But no one was injured, not even the worker – aside from the irritation to his ankle.

“Arsonists don’t actually desire to kill; the killing is almost accidental or disregarded in their minds.”

“So, what, are we thinking this unsub is one of those arsonists? He’s just setting fire to these buildings for fun and the people who were hurt were collateral damage?” You ask.

“It’s a possibility,” Hotch says.

“But that makes no sense,” you reply, noticing the way his eyebrows raise on the screen. “I mean, these fires were all set at times when you’d expect death to result. If this arsonist isn’t after killing anyone, then why is he setting them at these times?”

“Arsonists are incredibly random,” Reid adds. “It’s what makes them hardest to catch.”

“I know,” you nod. “I’m just worried that this guy is going to start another fire really soon, especially if he is after killing someone. If that’s where he gets his thrill.”

“We’ll get officers to check on Eric Hanover and his uncle,” Hotch decides. “Putting police cars outside their homes might help deter the arsonist if he is after them.”

“Wouldn’t fire trucks be more helpful?” You question. “Especially since we are dealing with an arsonist.”

You can see you’re starting to get on Aaron’s nerves, but your brain hardly registers it.

“Fire trucks would draw too much attention,” he replies. “But we’ll make sure they are prepared to move faster than normal.”

“They probably already…are…” Your words slow when Hotch gives you a hardening look, one that has you cowering in your seat. Maybe you are being mouthy, but it’s not your fault. You’re stuck behind a screen, and Garcia is gone to get snacks from the kitchen, so it’s just you. And it’s not like Hotch isn’t asking for your input.

“I’ll be calling you in five minutes,” he says monotonously. “Don’t decline the call.”

“Yes, sir.”

He leaves the screen to speak with some officers about visiting Eric and Kevin’s homes. Emily and JJ raise their eyebrows at you.

“What?” You ask defensively. “He was asking for my input.”

“Yeah,” Emily laughs. “But not your sass.”

“Listen, it’s six in the morning, I’m exhausted. What does he expect from me?”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs. “But have fun with that phone call.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you scoff, turning your phone face up so you’ll see when it comes in. “Was I bitchy?”

Emily shakes her head. “No. But in Hotch’s eyes? Probably.”

“Great.”

You’re definitely going to get it when he calls you, then.

Garcia comes back with an armful of snacks, announcing her presence with, “What did I miss? Why the smirks?”

Emily answers. “Y/N sassed her boyfriend.”

“No, Y/N sassed our unit chief,” JJ corrects her. “He doesn’t look very happy.”

Garcia gives you a look.

“I’m getting a phone call in five minutes,” you sigh. “Wish me luck.”

“You’re gonna need more than luck, my friend,” Garcia chuckles, sitting back down and adjusting her headset. “But sure, good luck.”

“You three are the worst.”

As if on cue, your phone begins ringing with Hotchner appearing over a smiling picture of Aaron. The dichotomy of your unit chief and your boyfriend.

You share a look with your girls before standing, lifting the phone to your ear. “Agent Y/N.”

“Go to my office.”

“Yes…sir,” you furrow your eyebrows, looking back at Garcia with a confused shrug.

You exit her office and walk back to the bullpen, pushing open the glass doors. The silence in your ear is deafening as you walk up the stairs and into Hotch’s office, shutting the door behind you.

“I’m here,” you say, reaching under the lampshade to turn on a light.

“Good. Sit down on the couch.”

You obey, and for a moment, your brain runs wild with the possibilities. He deprived you before he left, but maybe now he’s going to relieve some of your frustrations through the phone.

Your hope deflates like a sad birthday balloon when he speaks again. “Lay down. And go to sleep.”

“What?” You blurt.

“You heard me,” he says. “Go to sleep. You’re exhausted and irritable and you need your rest.”

“Aaron—”

“Y/N. I am serious. If I see you on that screen again or hear your voice before eleven, there will be consequences.”

“Unit chief consequences? Or sexy consequences?”

“I will remove you from this case.”

“Damn, okay,” you grumble, swinging your legs around and stretching out. “I’m laying down. Happy now?”

“I’m always happy when I get to hear your voice.”

“There’s the sap,” you tease. “What are you thinking for this case? Does this unsub have a revenge list on buildings or people?”

“We can talk about the case in the afternoon,” he says. “Right now, I want you to rest.”

You sigh. “Okay.” You pause, adding, “Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“Of course,” he murmurs. “I’ve got to go, but…I love you. Try to get some sleep.”

“I will. Do you have a jacket of yours I can steal?” You need a blanket, but his jacket has bonus points for smelling like him. It reminds you of that time on the jet when he gave you his jacket, back before either of you had admitted anything, and were still hellbent on fighting your feelings tooth and nail.

He chuckles, and the sound makes you smile. “Hanging in the cabinet, yes.”

“Thank you,” you grin, standing to walk over to the cabinet.

“Goodnight, honey pie.”

You practically melt. “Goodnight, Daddy.”

And Aaron melts, too.

+++

The part that you hate (but honestly love) about being with Aaron is moments like these. He could tell you were tired and needed to sleep, and despite your protests, hearing his voice and his commands made you give up the fight and close your eyes.

You were out like a light after texting Garcia to let her know what you were doing. Curled up under Aaron’s blazer on his couch, you slept like a baby.

That is, until some incessant knocking on his door woke you.

You’re still half-asleep when you realize the knocking is happening in real life and not in a dream. You scramble up from the couch, leaving Aaron’s blazer a crumpled mess on the couch.

And when you open the door, your confusion only grows.

“Hi there,” you say, trying your best to speak through the sleepiness in your voice. “What can I help you with?” Thank God you’re still wearing your badge clipped to your shirt because otherwise, you’re aware of how bad this can look.

“Is Aaron here?” The woman asks. She has short blonde hair and looks…eerily familiar, but you can’t quite place her.

“He’s not,” you reply. “Can I ask who you might be?”

“Haley,” she says, and it all clicks, like a cold bucket of water splashed right in your face. In one word, you’re awake and alert. “His wife.”

Ex-wife, you want to say, but you don’t. “Oh, right, sorry, Mrs. Hotchner.” The name burns on your tongue.

“Please, we’re actually divorced,” she explains. “Call me Haley. And you are?”

You blink, her change in tone giving you whiplash. You can’t figure her out, and you can’t believe this is Haley, the Haley that Hotch fell in love with back in high school. “I’m Agent Y/N. Agent Hotchner and the rest of the team are in Arizona currently working on a case.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows furrow, and you can’t tell if anything about her is genuine or not. “Why aren’t you? It’s nice to meet you, by the way.”

“You too,” you chuckle, trying to muster up a smile. “I decided to stay behind and help our technical analyst from the office for this case.”

“Oh,” Haley nods, and you hate that she says oh like that, but you can’t tell if you’re still tired or if your jealousy might be showing. “Oh, were you the agent that was injured?” She asks, and you freeze. “Aaron told me one of his agents was injured.”

Her sincerity is something so baffling. You can’t imagine why she’d actually care, or why she’s asking these questions. But again, maybe you’re just jealous.

“Yes, that was me,” you answer tentatively. “But I’m in recovery now and I’m about a month out from being back in the field.”

“It must be hard,” she presses on. “Being here while everyone is gone.” She glances around Aaron’s office when she says here, and you can’t tell if she’s insinuating anything or not.

“It’s different,” you agree. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

“Oh, you said your name was L/N? You’re the new agent, then, right? The youngest?”

You want this conversation to end so badly you can’t stand it. “I am. But I’ve been here for almost two years now, so I don’t consider myself new anymore, but I am the newest member to join the BAU, yes.”

“Did you feel you had a lot to prove?”

That has to be an insult, right? “Actually, I was recruited by Agent Hotchner, so…yes, but also not entirely. Listen, I should be getting back to work, so—”

“Oh, is that what you were doing in here? Working?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, I—”

She cuts you off again. “Our son, Jack, you’ve heard of him, correct?”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your temper under control. “Agent Hotchner has mentioned him a few times, yes.”

“Well, he talks,” she continues. “He’s at that age now where he…notices things. And he asks about them.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure that I follow exactly what you’re trying to say. Can you be more specific?”

“Are you or are you not having sex with my husband?”

The question stuns you so harshly to your core that you take a step back, almost like she had hit you with a physical blow. She awaits your answer with raised eyebrows and white knuckles gripping her purse.

“I don’t have to disclose anything about my personal life to you,” you answer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think it is time for you to—”

“I will not have you sabotaging my husband’s job just so you can climb a ladder,” she hisses, stepping in front of you, blocking your path.

She demands eye contact, so you give it to her, but you glare. “I have no desire to climb any ladders.”

“Then why were you sleeping on his couch?” She glances over at it. “Covered up in his jacket, too?” She says it like it’s the most heinous crime she’s ever encountered.

“Because he told me to. I had been awake since nine yesterday morning. It was six a.m. when he told me to get some rest. You can ask him yourself if you so desire, but might I reiterate, we are currently on a case. One of which is more time sensitive than others, so please,” you pause, gesturing out the door, but keeping eye contact. “Excuse me.”

This time when you brush past her, she doesn’t try to stop you. Frustrated tears are welling in your eyes, but you hold them back. You will be damned if she sees you cry.

“He’ll see the truth one day,” she calls after you.

Yes, you think. I hope he does see the truth about you.

+++

You’re shaking by the time you reach Garcia’s office. You pause outside her door to take a few deep breaths, not wanting to draw attention to yourself when you walk in. You’re still processing what the hell just happened, so there’s no way in hell you’re telling Garcia or anyone else about this right now.

Aaron should know. Shouldn’t he? You’re not sure.

Haley could’ve been dealing empty threats. But her words suggested otherwise. Her words were possessive. Our son. My husband, his wife, never ex, even though when you called her Mrs. Hotchner, she did seem to bristle. She did admit they’re divorced, but only then.

And bringing Jack into the conversation was the worst part. Now you have a sinking feeling that you’re damaging his well-being, bursting the bubble of his upbringing – no matter how you may feel about it, it’s not your place to do so.

You feel guilty. For what? For loving Aaron? Is that what it boils down to? Is that what you’ve felt all along?

You can’t think about any of that right now, so you don’t. You enter Garcia’s office with a smile, hugging her and stealing a piece of candy.

And when the team comes back on the screen, you offer your input once again, but you mostly stay quiet, writing it off as still recovering from your nap.

If only Haley Hotchner’s appearance had been a nightmare, and not a real conversation that you now bear the weight of.

Next chapter

484 notes · View notes

aethslove · 2 years

Text

Summer Road Trip! (part 1/???)

(A/N: i project onto y/n oops, modern au???, this was a wip for like 5 months, also I can't write romance so this is all platonic lmaooooo, written while vibing to this playlist:)

Genre| Fluff, Crack

Characters| basically everyone in genshin excluding npcs, gender-neutral y/n

Pairings| platonic!Genshin Impact x reader, implied jean gunnhildr x lisa minci

Warnings| mentions of alcohol, diluc is a grumpy ass as always lol, curses, all in lowercase???, all of ajax's names are used cause why not haha-

POV| third person

"all packed?"

"yes, jean,"

"gas tank filled?"

"yes, jean,"

"all the portable chargers are charged?"

"yes, jean,"

"is there wine in there?"

"no venti,"

"sleeping bags and blankets just in case we get into traffic and-"

"YES MOM WE GET IT, WE HAVE LITERALLY EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE!" y/n yelled in exasperation after jean had gone over this list at least fifty times in the past thirty minutes.

jean paced around the room, holding her head in her hands.

"I'm just worried, you know anything can happen y/n-"

"relax darling, i'm sure we have everything covered." lisa said, patting jean's shoulder.

"yeah, don't worry jean it's all fi-KLEE DO NOT BLOW UP OUR BUS I WILL CONFISCATE YOUR BOMBS." y/n screeched as they ran after the tiny arsonist heading towards the incredibly customized bus being packed by diluc.

lisa sighed softly in exasperation.

---

"y/n, where is mona's luggage?" diluc asked while peering at the trunk"i've looked through the entire car at least five times."

"MISTER DILUC! MISTER DILUC!" mona exclaimed while running wildly toward the duo.

"here, my luggage for the trip." mona panted out, leaning on her knees for support while holding up a large purple...backpack?

"mona, we're going to be out for 2 weeks."

"this is all the clean clothes i can muster y/n..."

"very well," diluc sighed while taking the bag and placing it inside the trunk.

"off we go then! diluc get everyone, tell them we're leaving them behind if they're not here in fifteen tops. also remind ajax to bring the snacks." y/n ordered diluc.

in no time, everyone found a comfortable position in the large bus diluc had bought to accommodate about...forty people?

'how on earth is this possible?...' y/n thought while getting into the passenger seat and already fiddling with the radio dial.

this was a mistake.

"play my chemical romance."

"play twenty-one-century pilots!"

"PLAY TAYLOR SWIFT!"

"can you play coldplay?"

"NO. we're listening to k-pop. that's it. no argument." y/n insisted despite the suggestions.

---

"SMOOTH LIKE BUTTER-"

---

"CH-CH-CH-CH-CHEWING GUM-"

---

"I CAN'T STOP ME CAN'T STOP ME ooOhooOh"

---

"HIT YOU WITH THAT DDU-DU DDU-DU DU-"

---

"YOU CAN'T STOP ME LOVIN MYSELF OH OH OoooOOH OH OH OooOHoooOOH-"

---

"URIN SEUKEITEUBODEU WIRO

MACHI CHUMEUL CHUDEUT BAREUL GULLEO

BARAM GEU SAIREUL GAROJILLEO

YEOGIJEOEOGI MEOLLI AJUAJU MEO-"

"that's enough," diluc said from the driver's seat as he paused the music playing on full blast from the speakers (After School by Weeekly) "i'm going to get into a car crash at this rate."

"don't be such a debbie downer," childe whined while slumping in his seat.

the others nodded in agreement. After School was a vibe.

after a moment of silent annoyance towards diluc, kaeya piped up.

"well, tartaglia bought snacks! i'm hungry, aren't you guys?"

"YAY! DID YOU BRING MY DINO NUGGIES UNCLE AJAX? DID YOU, DID Y-"

"yes, i did klee! i'll give it to you in a second...is anyone else craving something?"

"me and aether want sandwiches," lumine called from the back, answering for her brother who was reading a book quietly in a corner.

"HAND OVER DILUC'S BEEF JERKY IM EATING IT." y/n yelled from the passenger's seat.

"no"

"well fuck you diluc, im eating it. this is what you get for having a driver's license" y/n said while popping pieces of jerky in their mouth.

"..."

"y/n, you have a driver's licens-"

"with all due respect, which is a lot, I barely passed my driving test albedo. do you really want me driving a bus with around forty people in it for five to seven hours?"

"...no"

"exactly."

---

Does this deserve a pt. 2?

(January 7th, 2022)

31 notes · View notes

crystalirises · 3 years

Text

This Poor Fox

Fundy was many things.

A soldier. A friend. A follower. A lover. A son.

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

A soldier

Fundy was but a young kit when the war began, his crayon-colored suit heavy upon his shoulders as he listened fervently to the promises of freedom and independence his father continuously spoke of. He looked up to his father then, hoping for the day that he could prove himself.

Then the inevitable end came.

“It was never meant to be.”

His friend… Eret traitortraitortraitor

His home, torn to pieces by The Tyrant.

His uncle younger than he and yet he already knew of war dueled and lost.

But for the price of his uncle’s discs, they gained their independence.

He stood beside his father, the dawn of a new day rose upon their great yet broken nation. He cheers, tears of joy cascading past his cheeks. They were finally free.

Yet he does not miss the look on his uncle’s face, his nearly empty gaze as he handed his precious discs over to The Tyrant. He watches his uncle – Tommy – celebrate and sees the pain of loss in his eyes. They had all lost something of value to this war.

And as Fundy looks over their country from the top of the caravan.

He wonders if it was worth it.

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

A friend

The lull that came after the war was bliss.

He forgave Eret. It took a while, but he did. Their little prank war a symbol of their friendship, as strange and chaotic as it may have been.

They didn’t talk about the war. Fundy didn’t want to talk about the war. Eret would remain his friend. Eret was the only friend he’d ever had in the war. He remembered their jokes, their schemes, the houses they built together…

And even if Fundy’s nights were plagued by those haunting white eyes, he would rather have his friend than nothing at all.

Then Niki came and the war felt as though it happened in another lifetime.

They had started a bakery together, the sweet smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the streets of L’manburg. Their hands may have been caked with flour, but it didn’t matter. For once, Fundy finally felt at peace.

Then…

Fungi didn’t deserve to die. Not to The Arsonist, and certainly not to anyone else. Fundy’s anger was uncontested then, provoked to the point that he had challenged The Arsonist to a duel.

He knew he would lose, but he had to try. For Niki. For Fungi.

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

A follower

Schlatt was not an easy man to follow.

Fundy couldn’t pin heads or tails with him. Some days he would stagger around L’manburg Manburg, drunk out of his mind as he muttered an incomprehensible jumble of words. And some days… it felt as if he couldn’t do or say anything without Schlatt knowing.

Fundy didn’t know why he had stayed, why he didn’t run the moment his father was exiled. But a seed of a plan had begun to form in his head as he watched his father escape. He would be a spy. A spy for his country, a spy for his father.

And he needed to gain Schlatt’s trust… through any means necessary.

The days ticked by. The walls were gone. The flag was burnt. He did that, didn’t he?

But… there were some days… where… Schlatt made sense.

Well… Schlatt was elected president… and… the people wanted him, didn’t they?

They elected him for president, what did they expect?

And Schlatt… Schlatt listened to him. He gave Fundy a position, a role to play. He wasn’t just Wilbur Soot’s son anymore. He was someone.

So Fundy follows, he follows and smiles.

He forgets what he stayed for.

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

A lover

The Tyrant— Dream.

Who would have thought he would have ever fallen for his father’s greatest enemy?

It began as a joke. A teasing suggestion to watch Treasure Planet with him.

Then Dream had said yes and Fundy almost couldn’t believe it.

Fundy had taken them to a restaurant, far away from Manburg and the SMP. It was just the two of them. Two people on a date. Definitely, normal.

Fundy had been nervous. This was, after all, the man who had torn his country apart. But the night had been… well, great.

They talked for hours. Fundy’s fear dissipated as the night grew longer. As the minutes blew by, Fundy had a hard time imagining that this was the very same man he had once called a tyrant.

That one date evolved into two… then three… then four… then…

His hands were shaking, the air tense as Fundy kneeled on one knee, a diamond ring in his hand as he looked up at his beloved.

“Dream, would you marry me?”

Dream was silent, then…

“No way…”

He felt his heart shatter into two.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you Fundy.”

He had never felt so alive. He was engaged!

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

A son

The festival came and went. Tubbo left. Niki left. Quackity left.

He was alone. With Schlatt. The man who he thought he could follow. The man he had begun to see as a father figure. The man who had publicly tried to execute a child. The man who had imprisoned his friend. The man who had driven his own vice president away.

How could he have been so blind?

He leaves. The book in his hand felt heavy as he made his way through Pogtopia, to his father… to his family.

He sees the manic look in his father’s eyes and wonders if he had been too late.

“My traitor son!”

“I despise you, Fundy.”

The words sting. His own diary – he had worked so hard on that! – discarded as soon as his father was done reading it.

They don’t want him, and he feels his heart begin to ache.

So he burns.

He burns and burns and burns, until the forest he had stumbled into is nothing but ash.

“You know who would be proud of me? Mr. Soot.”

And he lies. He lies and lies and lies. Because his father hates him…

And maybe Fundy hates him too.

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

Fundy is...

He doesn’t know what he is anymore.

His fiancé betrayed them.

His home was gone.

His father was dead.

Tubbo was president.

And… he had nothing.

Nothing to his name. Not even a single shred of family left.

Tommy probably hates him.

Phil didn’t want a fucking furry for a grandson.

And Techno—

“You’re an orphan now, Fundy!”

You know what Techno does to orphans, don’t you?

He shudders, hugging his knees closer to his chest as he watches the sun rise over the rubble that he used to call home.

He watches as Tubbo and Tommy run around the ruins, doing everything they could to piece back what they had lost.

Oh… what they had lost.

Fundy sighs, the thought of running away surfacing to the front of his mind.

Before the war… he had joked to himself that he would make a cabin away far, far away. Where no one could ever reach him again.

He stands. His mind made up.

There was nothing here for him. Tubbo and Tommy had each other. They would be fine.

And as he walks away, he swears he could hear the haunting tune of a guitar waving its goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello! This is my first try at writing something so pls don’t kill me hahah. Anyway, this is just a small writing idea I wanted to entertain. So, yeah. :)

#fundy #itsfundy #fundywastaken #fundy angst go brrrrrr #pain and suffering is my bread and butter

274 notes · View notes