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spacehostilityy · 9 months

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NNT Rewatch s2ep1-6

(This was written weeks ago but was in my queue. I am moving back to my college town Saturday so busy days are to come but now I have things to procrastinate 😈)

So YAYAYAY time for season 2 (my fave season overall) !! I’ve rewatched this one before, so i actually remember some of this lol

Ban: I quit

Meliodas: your face is the only joke we can handle

HE GOT HIS ASS DAMN

i love both of diane’s orange fits, but s1 leotard hits different

i have thots abt the introduction of power levels that will be told beneath the cut

i mean it’s all very dragon ball (which i love, but in a very different way). I feel like they are just better executed in manga format, because saying the numbers out loud just kinda breaks up the flow of dialogue and action. Plus the numbers never stay accurate since the characters are always powering up and nakaba lowkey just stops using them at one point. so like assault mode!Meliodas has a power of 142,000. BUT he defeats enemies with powers higher than that and is shown to gain even more power. But this is the highest number we have for him. Overall, theyre clunky, not updated enough to be accurate, and just kinda cheesy :/ I feel like plot could have been added to justify and explain the eye of Balor (AKA Drole if i remember correctly) but it’s just used as an excuse to quantify the characters’ strength since this season is mainly focused on physical and emotional growth, as seen by the Ishtar Arc (one of my fave arcs hehe)

merlin’s friendship with hawk is actually so cute tho

so Meliodas’s beginner stats (still missing his powers) are magic 400, strength 960, spirit 2010. The way I see it, his insane spirit strength could mean one of two things: bitch is just hella determined in his quest to end their curses and protect his friends (likely) or merlin taking away his power only affects his strength and magic since spirit has to do with your mind (also likely) anyway what do y’all think?

how the fuck is gowther’s strength 500??? The average person who can lift 50-100 lbs has a strength of 30. HOW IN THE FUCK?? IS GOWTHER SECRETLY SWOLE????

Meliodas being like “no idk who the ten shadows could be haha” when he and merlin literally formed the sins to fight them and HE WAS THE LEADER OF THE 10 COMMANDMENTS is so funny like so tru king lie to their faces

the first thing Zeldris says is “3000 years... please tell me that he’s still alive” which tells me two things: 1) he doesn’t know about Meliodas’s curse, which could explain why estarossa kills him when he’s just going to come back a rival to the throne of the demon king and 2) the listed life expectancy of 1000 years for demons is probably not accurate lol

maybe it’s driven down due to number of battle deaths like the mortality rate of the middle ages lol

we are introduced to a demon who hopes mel is alive, shares a voice actor, AND HAS THE SAME FACE yeah the brother coding is very thick

AJSDBJKBHJEBFNWKFH YESSS THIS IS MY ALL TIME FAVE INTRO SONG AND ANIMATION

ban’s refusal to get jericho’s name right makes me laugh every time

Jericho: is scared and runs to Ban

Ban: 🤨 yeah. i don’t remember asking you to grab my arm🙄

im sorry but king rlly was a bad fairy king like mans didnt even know the forest was there 😭 its ok tho i love that for him

King hating Ban at first bc he “killed elaine and destroyed the fairy kings forest” only for Ban to pull THE BIGGEST uno reverse on him will never not be funny

wait does that mean ban is technically the 4th fairy king and king is both the 3rd and the 5th bc that would be rlly funny and does happen quite a bit historically

I love how as much as a smug asshole Ban is, he’s not rubbing it in King’s face and is showing him he’s still his friend

so if Gil is Margaret’s guard and Griamore is Veronica’s, does that mean Howzer was Elizabeth’s ?? bc that would be so fucking funny

Helbram got King’s ass with “and you’re short”

KASBDFNJBSDKF HE LOOKS SO GOOFY😭

MY BABYGIRLS ARE HEREEEE

Best girls Melascula and Derieri fr

i love that they said slader is gay, how can we let the audience know and then gave him the smoothest, gayest voice imaginable

merlin calling og gowther a great magician when we know he was the one to train her is actually so sad, i want to give baby merlin a hug

slader is hot, thanks for coming to the ted talk

how the fuck does he walk like this tho??

is there a reason i just don’t remember why they never really bring up albions again or do they just ~disappear~ conveniently from the story lol

So the whole concept of sacred treasures is really cool to me because they are clearly something unique to the Sins, despite all of the sacred treasures being very different and made of different materials. I mean Gowther’s is straight up made of light Still, them having weapons that serve as a constant and grow with them as they become more powerful is just a neat concept to me. I just wish we could have seen Ban use Courechouse more than just a few episodes. There really isn’t a plot reason he couldn’t have had it beforehand.

Gerheade being a bitch to Ban bc he’s a human makes literally no sense when we learn her backstory with Rou. Like NO sense at all lol

I honestly love that Meliodas destroyed the albion on his own. Like yes, he is my OP blorbo BUT he’s also supposed to be incredibly powerful in canon, which we haven’t seen him go all out with an enemy yet. Not only does he know all about albions (bc he’s a demon), but as leader of the 10 Commandments, he probably was on the controlling side of the golems. Then, as a member of Stigma, he fought against them. Not to mention, this is when he finally gets Lostvayne (the DEMON sword) back. This moment for me is when he gets to show off the perks of him being a powerful and high ranking demon. Might fuck around and do a full post later on Meliodas’s relationship to his own race and what/who he is lol

Ban screaming “you bitch!!” is... a wonderful experience

Yass king (hehehehe get it? bc his name is king? hehehe)

Galand petting Gloxinia is actually so cute lol

Merlin covering Arthur’s eyes 😭😭 she’s his mom fr

“its been a while meliodas” oop galand just let the Meliodas is 3000 years old cat out of the bag ehehe

(stay with me bc im about to get delusional) WAIT so galand says “to think that after all this time has passed youd still be in that form” in this essay i will prove that Meliodas looks like a young teenager because he essentially is biologically young for the demon race. Galand doesn’t know Mel was cursed, so he would think that he had aged in the past 3000 years. Plus, I think the demon king’s possession of Meliodas AND Zeldris can be (somewhat) compared to Sariel’s aging up of Solaseed. Anyway, i feel like this can support my hypothesis of Zeldris and Meliodas are just babies who will eventually look like adults. Also, I think them being super young just enhances the angst quite well.

everyone is fucking terrified of galand but hes just a silly foolish little fellow to me lol

ban and king being brothers-in-law makes my heart happy like theyre so cute

Ban threatening Gerheade and actually being pissed and serious has suddenly reminded me that if i saw a grown ass man who couldn’t die and was a 7 foot tall violent alcoholic i would be fucking terrified

like a demon 14 year old? creepy ig but not a 7 foot tall masochist with an 8 pack

I love how hard Diane always goes for the ones she loves, she’s just so devoted and passionate Best Girl tm behavior

*Merlin being incredibly confidant and nonchalant starting a proposition*

Meanwhile Merlin’s thoughts: SHIT SHIT I HAVE 10 SECONDS TO THINK BEFORE EVERYONE I LIKE DIES

Meliodas doing the same thing Hendy did by reattaching his fucking arms using Darkness and the sins still being like wait?? is Meliodas?? a... demon ??? 🤨

okay so we DO see him in this mode again. But what is it called? and why does he become no thots head empty? its not like he died. and even in assault mode, he has thoughts and emotions (when they’re not stuck in purgatory)

Im ngl, i forgot everything about this episode entirely lol

obvi i hate that derieri died, but at least the souls she fucking ate got returned lol

do we think arthur has a tiny teenage gay crush on meliodas? Discuss.

(the answer is yes ehehe)

gowther walking around with his dang a lang swangin hehe

Gil crying in annoyance and defeat as griamore and howzer bicker is literally so hashtag real

HENDYYY MY BABYGIRL IS BACK BAYBAYYYY

very suddenly realized that Hendy’s probably only like in his 30s. Mans is just not that old

exactly 3 seconds after I had that though Howzer calls him old man LOLLL

i forgot about hendy’s childhood trauma. damn. thats actually rlly sad :/

look how cute he is tho 😭😭

hendy and dreyfus are in love. thanks for coming to another one of my ted talks

so do we think dreyfus is half druid (and zaratras is full) or zaratras is half druid? i mean they’re half brothers but only one is a called a druid sooo

IM SORRY BUT THIS IS THE FUNNIEST FUCKING SCREENSHOT ASDFFHSLDH elizabeth scandalized, meliodas accepting his fate, slader leaning in closer and blushing ITS JUST SO GOOD

The ass shot of Diane 🤨😑

Damn Idk how i never realized that all of them pretty much only call Meliodas captain. Merlin, Ban, and Elizabeth are the only ones who will call him Meliodas, but even merlin and ban typically go with captain.

“im a giant, why arent you afraid of me?” hes a fucking demon. lol

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Gingerbread man as golem

@yaronata asked:

I would like to write a character who is Jewish and uses a Golem. She's based on the D&D class of the artificer which looks magic but isn't, because they produce all their effects with inventions, like the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" quote. Her story is that her very Jewish town was under attack from a terrible monster when she was little. Her Rabbis made a Golem to protect the town, and it succeeded but was torn to pieces in the process. She was fascinated by the Golem and as a kid didn't see a big difference between it's sentience and person's so was really thankful for its sacrifice like you would a person's sacrificing their life for you. They thought all the pieces had been devoured by the monster before it died, but she went looking and found the piece used to animate the Golem, which she, kinda misunderstanding called its "heart". She kept the piece and grew up to be an incredibly skilled cook, specialising as a baker in the town. I imagine she would make a lot of really good food for the Jewish holidays, or to break fasts on ones like Yom Kippur or Tish'abav. But she also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice and the town still being alive, because I feel "we are not dead woo" is a big theme for Jewish holidays from my research, so it could fit, for which she invented ginger bread men to be the golem, and gave them little "hearts" of fruit or honey, and you're meant to eat them limb by limb like the beast did before eating the heart. This would be the inspiration for using the "heart" piece later to make her own giant gingerbread Golem to help her save the world.

These are my questions 1) would it be considered bad or disrespectful for someone who isn't a Rabbi to make a Golem, or is this method of taking an animating piece someone else made disrespectful? 2) Her journey will take her far from her town and her Jewish family and friends and she will likely travel with gentiles. Would it be disrespectful for a Golem to be used to protect a lot of gentiles and one Jew in the course of saving the world? I don't want to fall into the stereotype of someone putting all their effort into valuing and protecting very specifically the group that in real life is oppressive to them. 3) While she is not using magic and is actually mimicking its effects with technology she invents, is this drawing too close to the line of "magical Jew"? 4) I like to "play test" my characters in ttrpgs to really get a feel for them before I write. Would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character when I am a gentile, and would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character in a setting where there are demonstrably real gods other than the one of Judaism?

I really like this character idea and I think it's cute and fun and rooted in Jewish culture but I really want to make sure it's respectful and as good as I, a gentile researching on the internet, thinks it is. Thanks so much! Have a nice day!

My answer to this is very complicated because there are things I both like and do not like about this premise. First of all, I love the idea of a cookie golem, and I'm even imagining the magic word that brings him to life (EMET/truth) would be written in icing. And I'm okay with the part about how she found a piece of the old golem and used it to build a new golem, because that makes sense for a golem made from a baked good when you think about how people use sourdough starter to make a new batch of sourdough.

However, here are the thing that make me cock my head to the side like my little sister's German shepherd:

1. re: "magical Jew" - that's not a trope I've ever heard of. Remember, marginalized groups don't receive identical disrespect across the board. It is indeed a trope to use Black people or disabled people as supernatural plot devices who exist only to further the stories of white main characters or able-bodied main characters. But I can't say as I've ever seen anyone using Jewishness that way. Usually if we are someone's one-dimensional plot device it's as someone's lawyer, fixer, "money guy", etc, not a supernatural force. So this isn't something you have to worry about.

2. I have a certain level of discomfort with you playing as a Jewish character just because playacting as a marginalized culture you're not part of strikes me as off, but I understand that that's how you gain insight into a character you're about to write so it's more of a writing exercise than anything else. (I wonder if D&D regulars from marginalized groups have written about this -- I've only played a few times casually with family so if I did run into this type of discussion in my social justice reading I wouldn't have absorbed it. If anyone is curious I played first as Captain Werewolf, and then switched to playing as Cinnamon Blade because lawful good was too hard. :P )

3. I would prefer you omit the detail about eating the cookies piece by piece symbolically, for two reasons: a. it unintentionally evokes Communion by having appreciative people consume a baked good symbolic of an entity who sacrificed his life for theirs, and b. focusing on the details of flesh consumption reminds me too much of Blood Libel (yes, a gingerbread man is in the shape of a person but how many of us actually think about it literally, the way this act would cause?)

As to your first question: I'm fine with her making a golem even though she's just a rando. Second question: I see what you're saying and maybe it could be more okay if it's really clear how well these gentile folks are treating her? And questions three and four are answered above.

I really do love the idea of a giant gingerbread man golem. Cookie golem T_T <3

--Shira

I would like to second Shira’s point about not ripping apart the gingerbread cookies. I honestly would prefer they were used as decoration, and other cookies eaten instead, since that part just feels so not-Jewish to me, but I don’t have golem-specific issues other than that. It seems like you have already been doing a lot of research, which is appreciated.

As far as the ttrpg/DnD aspect… I bounce back and forth on the topic of playing characters that are so very different from our experiences, other than in fantasy-related ways. However, I am aware that a lot of people will play with, and experiment with gender in game, and learn something about themselves in the process (the number of trans players of ttrpgs who tried out their gender in game before they were out is high). It’s different with Judaism, and even more significantly different when it comes to things you can’t convert into, like various actual, real-world races. But because people do sometimes experience growth from experiences like this, I’m hesitant to dissuade players completely. I do urge you to, at a minimum, bring the same care, research, and willingness to learn, that you brought to this question.

--Dierdra

This sounds like a creative storyline that you could have lots of fun with 😊

At first I was confused by this part:

She also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice

But then you really got me thinking about different types of Jewish holidays and how they come about, so thank you for that!

Because it’s often the little details that either make a story super powerful or kind of nonsensical, I think it would be a good idea to decide what type of holiday is being created here:

A full-blown chag with restrictions on labour and halachic obligations? These are commanded in Torah and new ones can’t be added.

A minor yom tov with halachic obligations but no restrictions? These were instituted by the rabbis prior to the destruction of the Temple, so again new ones can’t be added.

A public holiday or equivalent? This would usually be declared by the Knesset in Israel, and filter to the rest of the Jewish world from there.

A community-based yom tov with specific customs only for people in the know, such as certain Chasidic groups celebrating the birthdays of their deceased leaders? I asked around, but no one can really tell me how these holidays get started, which is probably a good indication that they arise quite organically from a group of people who all just feel that it should be celebrated. Probably not created by a single person, as such.

Something she runs from her bakery, not religion-based, but more like a day of doing special products and deals the way many small businesses do on their anniversary?

Now, if the people of a modern-day town were actually saved by a real live Golem, that would arguably be the most overt miracle for many generations, so there would be a decent chance of options 3 and/or 4 happening. It’s entirely plausible that there could be special foods for this day that become a tradition, including Golem cookies. People who directly benefited might also return to the site where the Golem fought the monster and recite the prayer, ‘Blessed is Hashem, Master of the Universe, Who performed a miracle for me in this place.’

Alternatively, if it’s important that your MC created the holiday, something like option 5 might be the best. Hopefully this will still fulfil what you need: you describe her as incredibly skilled, so I can imagine the day when she goes all out on the Golem cookies being one of the most exciting events of the year for the townspeople, just because her baking is that good. Plus, they already have a personal stake in the Golem’s sacrifice, so I definitely think it could be a thing without being an official holiday. Also, if she is outside of an all-Jewish environment, don’t forget that she would have to decide whether to commemorate the anniversary in the Hebrew calendar or the local one.

Coming back to the cookies, sorry if we’re getting a little repetitive on this point! But I don’t see the cookies being torn limb from limb as part of a celebration. First of all, this doesn’t sound like a very celebratory thing to do, to say the least. Can you imagine explaining that to a three-year-old on their first Yom HaGolem? They would be terrified! (I don’t read this suggestion as accidental anti-Semitism so much as getting carried away with a metaphor, which I’m sure as writers we have all done!)

But also, it’s worth pointing out that our commemorative foods aren’t usually that literal. If you think about hamantaschen, maror, or apple in honey, they’re all symbols. That’s not to say that having Golem-shaped cookies is a problem, as this sounds like just a bit of fun that the MC is having and not something that is directly at odds with Judaism or Jewish culture. But it’s worth bearing in mind that the more literal you go from there in terms of tying the cookies to the event they commemorate, the less culturally aligned your holiday food becomes.

Finally, about the Golem protecting non-Jewish people: I like this idea! There’s a stereotype that we only use whatever is at our disposal to help ourselves and other Jewish people, so a Golem being created by Jews but helping others as well is a big plus for me. Of course, as has already been pointed out, this would be an odd choice if her Saving The World team were anti-Semitic or otherwise disrespectful to her/her community, but I don’t think you were headed that way!

-Shoshi

I have to come back in here just to squee over the phrase “Yom HaGolem.” Well done :D

--Shira

#asks #Jewish #dnd #golem #food #Jewish stereotypes

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gloryofluv · 3 years

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"Oh Baby!" Time Traveling Child? The Younger Brothers React to It Being Their Child.

The rain was absolutely horrendous so seeing a demonic version of yourself completely soaked and coddling a bundle was hard enough as it was. What the fuck? This probably is bad.

“Here! Please, I don’t have time! Take the baby, [Insert name] is the father! I’m sorry, I have to go!”

Future self. Time travel. Giant mess. Now… a toddler.

The Older Brothers with Their Child

The Dateables with Their Child (Luke's reaction to Simeon's)

Satan’s Child-

Oh, brother. If anyone, and I mean anyone, was any more excited to be a dad, it was this boi. You explain the oddity, and it doesn’t phase him on the surface, at least. Inside, his brain is moving a mile a minute. Doesn’t spew about the concept of time and reality theories. He clearly sees you’re overwhelmed.

Dad mode shifts into high gear. Creates a twelve-point plan with variances. Immediately gets on the horn with all the contacts he thinks could make both your lives easier to request returns on favors. Orders a vast amount of parenting books for pickup from the shop so he can just grab them when he runs into town for both of you.

Knows his room is definitely not the safest for the child. Books everywhere. Insistent on staying with you in yours until he organizes his room to be more child-friendly. Only leaves you two for a short period to do the shopping, comes back with more than intended.

Refuses. REFUSES Lucifer’s help. Suck it, bitch. He’s a dad first! He’s absolutely determined to master being a father even if his child grates his nerves. However, being angry with either of you is NEVER an option now. Moderate to coach, but willing to listen, especially since you’re the other parent.

Magic? Oh, yes. Especially in his room once it’s prepared for all three of you to move back into it. Cat stuffed animals. Cat-eared onesies. The child might as well be part cat. However, cats are now officially replaced as his favorite. His child is number one. You’re a very, very close second.

His child will have tantrums but be highly intelligent. Picture books, kitty cats, and his papa are the only things that quell them. Oh, and please, for the love of everything sane… be sure to have patience. That baby is going to be a master manipulator and Lucifer torturer. However, father and child will love you infallibly for eternity.

Asmodeus’s Child-

Dun, dun, dun! Plot twist! He’s so on board, and honey, you’re just the ticket for his partner in crime. Really doesn’t care how it happened after you said it was most definitely both of yours. A demon you from the future? Okay! Promises. Promises!

Probably the easiest of the brothers to convince to let you stay in your own room. Not because he doesn’t love you. No, it’s all about space! You and the baby will have your bedroom completely redecorated! Don’t even think you’re getting out of having him stay with you or having a crib in his room for nights you’re up there!

Already has a giant shopping list. Ordered and special ordered, babe. No child of his will walk around in semi-cute things! Doesn’t have a gender preference, so expect both dresses and handsome onesies. Googoo gaga for clothing. You will be pampered as well, so you best get used to trio sessions with him painting your nails while rocking his little cutie in their bouncing chair.

Super excited to take this next step. You’re officially never leaving him! Sorry, Solomon, you have replaced him indefinitely now, both of you. Just celebratory and giggly all the time, often asking his brothers to hold the baby so he can take tons of pictures. All the pictures. All the time.

A little grossed out about the changing and boogers but will do it for you and the little beautiful 'Mini Asmo.' Bath time is the best. Cuddle time, you guessed it, is the best. Everything the three of you do together is the best moment of his life, and it gets better and better. Lessons of life will be showered in sweet tips to his child. Beautiful is about living it, baby!

His baby will be a charmer, the sweetie demon who everyone falls in love with immediately. Or… he will make them. Expect your family to be chaotic in the best way. High fashion family with tons of love.

Beelzebub’s Child-

Sweet boi doesn’t get it at first. You, him, a baby? How? Lucifer specifically said that demons have to have sex to make them. Oh, this is a future thing? Wait, you both had sex? In the future?

Cue bright blush and a smile as he rubs the back of his neck. Well. Now what? Immediately asks Lucifer. Not because he’s dumb, but he really really doesn’t want to mess this up. Lucifer sits you both down and carefully designs a plan. He will follow this plan to the letter, with no variation unless you ask for it.

Very quick to hold the baby. It’s so small and definitely needs protecting. Nestled in his sweater, he’ll take it around the house while following this plan. Obviously, you can’t move in with him and Belphie, so he moves around your room with you before reluctantly leaving you and the baby behind to go shopping.

Calls Satan while out. Asks about the books he needs. What food should he buy? If Satan doesn’t have an answer, he’ll call Lucifer. Very much a concerned boi about getting this right for you and the baby. Will return home with too much food, many books, and clothing he wasn’t sure about but got it anyway.

You will have to take the lead on care. Show him. Teach him. Love him, please??? He won’t push, shove, or complain about what space you might need with this dramatic change. Just wants to be there with you and support you and the baby so badly.

Ends up sleeping in your room every night. If the baby is crying late, he’ll get up, get it a bottle, and himself a midnight snack. Talks to the baby all the time about you. He is just so happy and enraptured because he knows now you really are family, the three of you. Won’t ever yell, but will listen if you say certain rules your baby needs to follow. Strict on the routine for your sake. Great gentle dad.

His child will be sweet and gentle and likely always hungry. However, the easiest baby to care for and love. A big demon fan of yours and papa is in full support (you’ll always be protected then by him and the baby.) The sweetest, most natural family, full of love, and of course food.

Belphegor’s Child-

If you can manage to wake him. Telling him is a different type of adventure. He understands about realities, shifts in time, etc. He even gets the possibility of you being corrupted enough to become a demon. However, the child in your arms… his?

He had dreams about you being a happy family one day. Not that he wanted to be a father, per se. However, the idea of sticking it to Lucifer was there. This. Well… He wasn’t expecting it at all.

The conversation was easily a partnership about a plan. He would stay with you in your room; however, he apologized ahead of time for his lack of care. He worries about his sleepiness and affecting you and the baby. Things are ordered, items are built in record time.

The first cuddle sleep session between him and his baby is the seal of the deal. From then on, you're fucked if you think you’re going to pry that baby from his hands. Surprisingly alert about when it wakes up or needs something. (Stay at home dad??? Yep!)

He is actually less sleepy and more of an equal participant in both your lives. Shouldering much of the burden for you while letting you get precious hours of sleep at night. He carries the baby in his sweater with his pillow pressed under it. Loves hard. Really hard. This is both of your child, and he’s so fucking proud.

I repeat. You really have to pry your child from him. He is in full dad mode when he’s awake. Trips to the Planetarium, the attic, out in the garden with Beel. All the things his child needs to learn and know… yes, including all the dastardly plans he has in store for Lucifer.

Pushover for his child. Makes you be the bad guy. Often. Too much in love with both of you to give two shits about if his spawn is spoiled rotten, so does it all the time… to your greatest detriment. However, he makes it up with sweet kisses and so much love.

His child is probably the most devious. Not quite as sleepy as papa, but definitely devious. Finds ways to con Lucifer into letting them have their way and knows how often. Proud papa with so much love for the two of you. Don’t expect to ever leave their side… you’ll never be alone again, that’s for sure!

#accidental baby acquisition #obey me fandom #om! headcanons #obey me headcanons #om! mc #obey me humor #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor

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alltooreid · 3 years

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Invisible String

Although Spencer Reid and the Reader don’t find themselves in a romance with each other until well into their adulthood, their relationship has been decades in the making. Almost as if something as been pulling them together all these years.

A/N: sorry for such a long wait but i’ve been struggling a lot mentally as of late. i hope you guys enjoy this one shot!! As always requests are open and heavily encouraged!! And of course this is inspired by the taylor swift song of the same name :)) Also keep in mind although the following scenes are heavily inspired by some scenes in Criminal Minds, elements of them have been slightly altered to fit in Y/N as a character.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute strangers to lovers fluff fic!

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: typical criminal minds case discussion, mentions of child trafficking when discussing this case, but no real detail. slight spoilers for season eight (beginning maeve stuff) and tiny spoilers for season fifteen (briefly mentions max but nothing really important to the plot at all)

“Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?”

You had met Spencer Reid 3 times before you had really met him.

It was almost silly to think about it now. Now that you and Spencer have been dating for 3 years, it was strange to believe there were so many chances for you two to meet years earlier.

When you were sixteen years old, you got your first part time job. You worked at a self-serve frozen yogurt shop called Iced Dreams. You hated it so much. Your manager was a total creep, your older coworkers were rude and condescending to you, since you were one of the youngest people working there, but most of all you hated the uniforms.

Consisting of a very stupid looking hat, bright pink with randomly embrodiered teal patterns, an outdated bright teal shirt, it had been given to you from a dirty bin in the back, and judging by the sewn in shoulder pads, it had to be at least a couple decades old.

So one day, you didn’t wear the hat.

It wasn’t entirely purposeful. You couldn’t find it, you searched your room, you searched your car, so eventually you had to leave without it to prevent being late. Still, as you clocked it and passed the box of extras in the office something made you decide to leave it alone.

You were about 8 minutes into your shift when your manager approached you. “Y/N? Where’s your hat sweetheart?” You hated this man so much. You had gone to your parents time and time again, recounting his creepy behavior towards you and the other teenage girls who you worked with, but they refused to let you quit.

When you had started working there, he used to enforce this ridiculous rule that all the female workers had to wear skirts as part of their uniform, but you had gathered all the sixteen and seventeen year olds who worked there and all threatened to quit if he didn’t change the policy. So you were no stranger to breaking and defying the rules.

“Yeah I couldn’t find it, sorry.” you shrugged.

He chuckled and reached his hat out to touch your face. You jerked back, you almost wanted to refuse to wear one of the stupid extra hats just so that you could get fired.

“Well, Y/N its policy sweetie. No matter how special you are to me you still need to wear the hat. There’s extras in the office.”

“No way I’m wearing one of those. I bet they have like lice or something.”

He pursed his lips and sighed “Well I suppose that beautiful hair is just too pretty to wear a used hat huh. . . What do you suggest? If you’re working you have to wear it.”

You laughed, “Well you could let me go home.”

He paused, “Why don’t you go sit in the office, I’ll come talk to you in a minute.”

So you did, for about 10 minutes you sat in the office, surrounded by frozen yogurt flavor marking posters and boxes of old uniforms, and each passing minute you feared for the worst. Maybe you were actually getting fired? You really didn’t want to go that far, because, as much as you hated it, you really needed this job.

When your manager finally came to talk to you he held a small salted caramel frozen yogurt, your personal favorite flavor, and a twenty dollar bill. He handed them both to you.

“You seem so stressed Y/N, why don’t you take the day and go get lunch. My treat,” he said, smiling that weird twisted smile that always made your full body shiver.

However you were broke as hell, and no teenager in their right mind would ever pass up free food, so you took it, grabbed your keys and started to leave

Yet as soon as you walked out the back door you dropped your frozen yogurt, cup fully upside down, onto the pavement. You cursed, you hadn’t even taken a bite of it yet, and it looked like he had put coconut flakes on it, and you loved coconut. Still, you had your twenty bucks, and that was a pretty sweet pay out considering you were only clocked in for about 20 minutes.

So you got Chinese food, and spent what was supposed to be your shift in the shopping mall across town, completely and blissfully unaware of the fact the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was dragging your manager away in handcuffs.

➽───────────────❥

Young Spencer Reid had only joined the FBI about a month ago. Despite being a genius, and providing crucial information to the solving of cases, he was aware of the most obvious. He was only twenty two years old, and he was scrawny as hell.

He felt this intense need to prove himself, especially to make Gideon proud.

So when they got a case about a the kidnapping and sex trafficking of teenage girls, he saw it as something he could really involve himself in. Based on the profile, it wasn’t going to be a large, strong, confident unsub who Morgan needed to tackle. This man would be ugly sure, but he would be a manipulative mastermind. Reid could work with that, he could prove himself.

He surprised everyone with his sheer work ethic and determination to find this man, and through consistently revising and delivering the profile soon enough they got a hit. A young woman in her early twenties called the tipline and reported her own manager. Insisting he fit the profile perfectly, and described how strangely he treated the minors who worked there, and how he almost exclusively hired young girls, treated them great and then switched as soon as they became legal.

So Garcia did her magically digging, and soon enough the FBI was tearing up a frozen yogurt shop, looking for any evidence of pedophilia. Garcia was even brought along, as she was pivotal to discovering any secret files in his computer.

At first, all they could find were strange compilation videos and under employees skirts. Spencer, and the rest of the team, were struggling to connect how he could get so many videos from an angle like this without anyone noticing or reporting him, until Gideon uncovered an old dusty pair of shoes, in which the right one held a small camera at the toe.

Although this was absolutely disgusting, it wasn’t enough to prove he was running the ring or kidnapping the girls, so Garcia kept digging. Meanwhile, Spencer tried to make himself useful by checking out the back of the store.

That’s where he found your clock-out receipt.

“Hey guys, we might want to take a look at this,” he shouted out.

Morgan grabbed the paper from his hand, “Ok, I don’t get it kid, it’s trash.”

Spencer pointed to the details on the slip, “Yeah but it says here she clocked out 18 minutes ago after only working for 23 minutes and 46 seconds. If this guy is our unsub, this girl could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe she’s still here, has anyone checked out the parking lot yet?”

Spencer shook his head, and followed Morgan out the back door. There they discovered some almost completely melted salted caramel frozen yogurt.

Morgan bent down to investigate, “Yeah, we gotta get this to the lab, but I can tell you right now that there’s clearly more than just coconut topping this yogurt. It also means we have another victim.”

Spencer crouched down as well, “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean kid? We’re missing a teenage girl and we’ve already found illegal evidence on this guy's computer. She’s in trouble.”

“Well judging the shape and inscription of these pills it appears to be some pretty strong rohypnol, almost certainly prescription grade. And ingesting it like this means she probably would have begun to feel its effects fairly early, I would predict 15 minutes. She clocked out 18 minutes ago, so even if she left exactly at that time she would have certainly crashed her car on the way home. The nearest residence is 8 minutes away from here, we’re in a complete shopping district. There’s only two cars out here and neither have a passed out driver, so I would bet she didn’t eat any of it. Also, the only spoon out here is still wrapped in plastic, “ Spencer analyzed.

Morgan sighed, “Well what do we even do then?”

Before Spencer could answer Hotch opened the back door. “We got him.”

Spencer turned to Morgan, “I’m sure her phone number is somewhere inside, I say we call her and make sure she’s ok. She probably doesn’t even know this is happening right now.”

So he did find your phone number, and although he initially pushed the phone to Morgan, he just chuckled and pushed it back.

“No way pretty boy. You’re the know-it-all with all that profiling out there, you can call her,” and before he could protest Morgan left, so Spencer was left to call you.

And strangely, for it being the first time he would ever interact with the love of his life, he thought nothing of it.

And that was the first time you had met Spencer Reid.

➽───────────────❥

The second time was years and years later, when you were waitressing night shifts to make extra money. You had never forgotten meeting Spencer Reid the first time, but this was the first time you would ever see his face.

You were slightly concerned when you got a call from a man, whose name you had now long forgotten, claiming he worked for the FBI. Although you weren’t incredibly surprised to hear your manager committed such heinous crimes against children, you were taken aback by how close you had come to becoming one of his victims.

But that was 9 years ago. In your college days it became a fun story you told at frat parties, but you were 25 now. Sometimes you would think about the incident when you couldn’t sleep, and if you were feeling feisty you would use it as an icebreaker or a “two truths, one lie” statement, but otherwise you didn’t really think about it.

You had plenty of other things to worry about, in fact, that’s exactly why you worked so much. It was so much easier to forget when you were constantly preoccupied with complaining customers and terribly awkward blind dates.

You had just sat this man, incredibly handsome, however it was clear he was on some kind of date. His reservation was for two, and he spent way too much time adjusting his clothes and table setting for him to not be trying to impress someone special. He also brought a gift, which judging by the packaging and shape, seemed to be some kind of wrapped book.

Even though he was 15 minutes early for his own reservation, he still looked really nervous, almost like he already believed she might not show up. You couldn’t help yourself, you had to go talk to him.

“Anyone ever tell you you should model?” you started with.

He looked up “Excuse me?”

“Sorry for being so bold, you just look so familiar,” he weirdly sounded very familiar as well, but you didn’t tell him that. “Are you sure you haven’t modeled? You have excellent bone structure. I bet you could.”

He laughed to himself, “yeah I’m sure.”

“Well your date is very lucky either way. I wish I had a boyfriend as handsome as you. Actually I wish I had a boyfriend period, but that’s a whole other story.”

He chuckled, and although you knew in your heart that you shouldn’t be flirting with him considering he was 15 minutes away from being actively on a date talking to him made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “What happened with your boyfriend? Do I even dare ask?”

“Well I kind of always knew he wasn’t super interested in me, but I really liked him, so I did my best to ignore his wandering eyes,” you sighed. “That didn’t stop him from leaving me for his coworker though.”

“That’s terrible.”

You smirked, “That’s not even the worst part, he broke up with me over a 27 second phone call. He didn’t even let me respond, he just kind of hung up.”

“I’m sorry, no one deserves that. Especially not you. I’ve only been talking to you for a couple minutes and I can tell that.”

“Oh really? What makes you so sure?”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.”

You smiled, “Well I should probably stop flirting with you now, considering your date hasn’t even started yet. And don’t worry, she’ll show, you’re so handsome she’d be stupid not to.”

He looked confused. “You were flirting with me?”

You laughed, “I thought you were good at reading people?”

He smiled back at you, and it made your heart soar, this silly, pure goofy smile that made you want to replace his date and have dinner with him right then and there.

You walked back to your hostess stand. A couple minutes later you noticed the handsome stranger on the phone. You thought nothing of it until later when a woman came in, clearly nervous, holding a gift bag.

“Can you give this to Spencer Reid for me please?” You recognized the name, the man you were just speaking with had filed his reservation under it.

“Um, yeah sure, aren’t you going to go in? He’s at that table over the-” but before you could finish your sentence the woman was gone. Your heart sank, poor Spencer, how could someone drop their date off a gift but stand them up anyway? That’s just cold.

When you get up to bring the gift to him, he’s already heading out of the restaurant himself.

“Sir? Spencer? Dr. Reid?” he turned his head. “A lady came in and dropped this off for you.”

His face dropped, it almost looked like he was about to cry. “Thank you,” he said as he looked up at you before leaving.

He ran out the door, both gifts in hand and whipped his head around a few times before sighing and speeding off in one direction. Even before you learned what happened after that and leading up to it, you felt terrible for the handsome stranger.

How could you not for someone so clearly distressed? Someone so clearly in love?

➽───────────────❥

7 years and a divorce later you were spending your Saturday in a park, strangely contemplating love itself. Although you barely remember that night all those years ago when you spoke to Spencer, he did. Vividly. In fact, on this Saturday you both were in a public park, contemplating your many failed attempts at true love.

It was your first wedding anniversary without your husband. Although you had only been married for two years, you still were having a hard time navigating life without him.

You started to wonder if you would ever find the true love you had been wishing for since your youth. Was 32 too late? Had you lived out all of your opportunities?

When you were little your mother had told you that all soulmates were attached at the left ring fingers, by small, incredibly thin strands of gold string, invisible to the naked eye. She insisted that these strings were constantly trying to pull you and your soulmate together, and that when life was ready for you two to meet, you would.

Until then, you would have small, mindless interactions. Things you wouldn’t think about, maybe even things that weren’t interactions at all. You would get the same commercial jingle stuck in your head. You would both get an intense craving for the same food. You’d have the same dream.

As a kid you were obsessed with this idea, you thought it was so romantic, and you fully believed everything your mom told you about it. You always asked her for more stories, and at bedtime you refused to sleep unless she would tell you more.

But now you were sure soulmates, true love even, didn’t exist. The invisible pretty gold strings your mother weaved fantastic stories with were completely fabricated. If they weren’t, you would have seen the clues by now.

Right?

➽───────────────❥

Spencer Reid was given an assignment from his therapist. He had to spend his Saturday off trying to interact with a stranger. Making friends with someone other than his colleagues may seem like a simple task for some, but it was something the young genius had almost no experience with.

He understood that it was probably for the best. He wasn’t exactly great with relationships of any kind, but especially not romantic ones. It didn’t take a genius to know that a couple of flirtations, a dead girlfriend he had only seen once, and a long time unrequited (or at least he thought unrequited) infatuation with his best friend and godsons’ mother was not a very great track record.

He, just like you, was also beginning to believe that he was hopeless when it came to love. That 38 was too old, that his time to meet someone and have the children he dreamed of had long passed.

But right as he was about to call JJ, to see if she would invite him in on the case Garcia had started to work on, he saw you.

Unlike you, he remembered your face and your interaction vividly. That almost date with Maeve was one of the biggest defining moments of his life, and what are the chances that the waitress from that very night was now less than 30 feet away from him, reading under the green leaves of a tree.

He wasn’t going to say anything, until he saw the book you were reading.

The Narrative of John Smith.

It must have been a sign, for what he wasn’t exactly sure yet, but it just had to mean something. The universe had to be reaching out to him, he had experienced crazier things.

And just as he was about to walk over to you, to close the gap between the gold strings tied around your ring fingers, a child interrupted his train of thought.

“That’s a strange haircut.”

➽───────────────❥

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were finally reuniting after many years. They barely got to see each other these days, but even though he was teaching and working at the BAU, Spencer still was willing to clear his schedule to second Derek suggested they meet up.

Morgan was excited as well, both to see his friend and to hopefully help him get a date. Sure, he had liked what he had heard about Max, but he wasn’t exactly surprised it had only lasted a couple months between her and Spencer. They just seemed too different.

Plus, now he got the chance to play wingman again, and he was ecstatic about that. Spencer not so much.

“I don’t know Morgan, it’s only been a couple months since we broke up. Wouldn’t it be too early to start talking to other people?”

“Pretty boy, you and I both know that the rate in which you’ve had relationships is not even close to the average. You need to balance that out somehow.”

Spencer sighed, he knew Derek was right, but he still felt strange.

“Morgan, have you ever heard of the red string of fate?”

“No, but I’m sure I’m about to hear all about it.”

“It’s an East Asian philosophy, based on the discovery that the ulnar artery connects the heart with the pinky finger, actually that’s where the belief in pinky promises come from. The reason it’s integrated in so many different cultures is that-”

“Kid, you’re losing me here,” Morgan interrupted. “Finish your thing about the string.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s the idea that human relations are predestined by a red string that the gods tie to the pinky fingers of those who find each other in life. Legend has it that the two people connected by this thread will have an important story, regardless of the time, place or circumstances. The red string might get tangled, contracted or stretched, as surely often happens, but it can never break. Essentially, the idea is that although we might not realize it, our lives move in a pre-ordained direction, guided by invisible strings that are woven into the fabric of the Universe itself. And all the while, the red thread connecting us to our distant soulmates is getting shorter.”

“Well it’s an interesting theory kid, but it’s a lot to think about. I mean, we’re in a bar, let loose a little bit. Not every interaction has to be about getting closer to your soulmate. And sure, maybe you’ll meet them one day, maybe even soon. But you’re here now, and just because your one true love may not be, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it to be here.”

Spencer sighed, “You’re right. I don’t even know if I believe in that anyway, maybe I’m just looking for something to explain this all.

Derek patted his friend on the shoulder, “okay pretty ricky, this is how it’s about to go down. I’m going to buy you two drinks. You’re going to take both of them, and go find someone, anyone here to go talk to.”

“Ok, I think I can do that. Who?”

Derek looked around, trying to find who he believed would be the best match for his friend. “How about her?” he asked, pointing at you.

Spencer couldn’t believe it when he looked. There you were, the girl, the one he had met three times before, even if he could only remember two. The woman he knew was some sort of universe sent sign that Saturday he saw you underneath the greenery. The girl he was so close to talking to before he was interrupted by Max’s nephew. The woman who (and he obviously did not know this at the time) he would marry 3 years later. The one who would carefully knit the baby blankets for all of their friends and exes. The one who he would adopt 3 children with. The woman who, he was now sure, was at the other end of his invisible string. The girl he needed to talk to right now.

“Is it just me,” Morgan said, “Or does she look kind of familiar?”

“Yes,” Spencer responded, “yes she does.” He got up quickly and started making strides towards you.

“Wait!” Morgan called, “You forgot your drinks!”

“I don’t need them!” he shouted back. When he sat down next to you, you smiled. It made his heart soar, you had this silly, pure goofy smile that made him want to ask you out right then and there.

Instead he settled on the only conversation starter he could think of.

“Have you ever heard of the invisible string story?”

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

“A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #reid #Criminal Minds Reid #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #reid fanfic #reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #reid x reader #spencerreidxreader #spencer reid taylor swift

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thedeadhandofseldon · 3 years

Text

The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

#unprepared casters #bombyx mori #haley whipjack #long post #this is really rough but I don't have time to keep working on it and it's already a month later than intended

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

in the “everyone is in love with Bella” scenario, what about the wolves? Wouldn’t it be really fucked up for Sam to fall in love with her? Would it make the wolves try to redefine imprinting? how would Leah react to the whole situation?

Anon is referring to this post. For the record, I didn't get into them in the post because the plot would veer so far off-course in Twilight that Edward never leaves and Victoria never becomes a threat to Bella, meaning Bella and Jake don't get close and she doesn't need their protection.

But, let's do this.

First encounter

Bella arrives in Forks, and Billy and Jacob are there to hand over the pickup.

Boom.

They fall in love.

Jacob, having never had a real crush before nevermind something so powerful as falling in love, is overwhelmed by these new feelings. He blushes and flushes and stutters, and fails to say anything reasonable or even intelligble to Bella. Too mortified to function, he decides to hide in La Push until the embarrassment fades. Which very well could be never.

Billy, meanwhile, is unable to cope. He just fell in love with Charlie's daughter. Charlie's 17-year-old daughter who used to make mud cakes with Billy's daughters.

This is bad.

This, to a good man like Billy, is unforgivably bad.

He goes from being Charlie's best friend to suddenly being very distant, not wanting to ever cross paths with Bella again.

But, you asked about the wolves, not just Jake and Billy, so let's take this scenario further.

Bella's friends, all of whom are hopelessly in love with her, drag her to La Push

Jessica, Lauren, Mike, Angela, Tyler, Eric, Ben, the whole gang, they're all going to La Push for the weekend.

And it just won't be the same without Bella. She's just so great, you know?

Everyone looks at each other and nods. Yeah, it's just not fun without Bella. Bella's great, someone should invite her.

They all invite her, one by one, all of them with wide, adoring eyes. "It would be so amazing if you came, Bella," Jessica says dreamily, twirling a lock of Bella's hair around her fingers. "Your hair is really pretty," she giggles.

Angela and Ben are each blushing too hard to really say anything to Bella, so they end up running away from her. Bella is left feeling like some kind of freak. She later receives two notes in class, one from each, begging her in cramped writing to come to La Push. Yeah, not helping her feel like less of a freak.

Mike, Eric, Tyler, and Lauren all corner her, each worse than the last.

By the end of the schoolday Bella doesn't know what's going to happen at La Push but she does know that she doesn't want to go.

She complains about this to the Cullens (remember, her and Edward became an item much earlier in this timeline), and they all fawn and coo over her and act like she just went through a warzone. If she wants to go to the beach, she could try Isle Esme Bella. Would she like that, an island vacation? Or an island?

Bella is pulled out of school for a romantic two-week totally-not-a-honeymoon.

La Push never happens.

But surely Bella and the wolves must meet at some point

Billy catches wind that Bella Swan is dating Edward Cullen. As in, the girl he has fallen so deeply in love with is now being preyed upon by a blood-sucking demon.

Billy's own sense of propriety or honor be damned, he has to save this girl's life.

He tries to speak to her, just as in canon, but just as in canon this goes poorly. Bella is a savvy 17-year-old who doesn't need no warning, and besides, the Cullens are all so sweet. They're like hobbits, really, obviously she's not in any danger. She tells Billy as much. Vampires are lovely, does he know they gave her an island?

(Billy did not know this, and yes, that's weird. Doesn't mean they're not evil, though.)

Billy gets nowhere with his would-be intervention.

Time to bring in the big guns.

Sam phases around this time, and imprints on Emily. Break-ups with Leah, maulings, and tragic lovestories all around are had.

It is around this time that Billy brings Sam up to speed on the Bella situation, although leaving out the part where he's hopelessly in love with the girl because that would not be received well. Could Sam go speak with her about this, see if maybe she will take his warning seriously? The situation is dire.

Sure, Sam can do that. No one wants a human girl to get eaten or turned, after all.

Sam goes to see Bella.

And promptly falls in love just as he did Emily.

Emily, who is currently in the hospital from Sam mauling her, which happened specifically because Sam had imprinted.

It's official, Sam thinks, he's the greatest scumbag there ever was.

The Emily and Leah situation was awful enough as it was, breaking all three of their hearts and causing irreparable damage both physically and mentally. Sam wronged them both colossaly, and he can never amend that.

But he imprinted. He wasn't just being a douchebag, actual magic made him do it.

Now, though...

Either Sam imprinted on multiple people, in which case his happy ending is now polygamy. And how would that be a happy ending for Emily and Bella?

Or, possibly even more terrifying yet, he didn't imprint on either woman.

Breaking up with Leah, mauling Emily, making Emily fall in love with him after that and ruining her relationship with her cousin, in short putting these women through hell, all of it- it was for nothing. Sam's just a horndog who sees supernatural intervention where there's really just hormones.

Why couldn't he just have imprinted on Leah?

Sam can't go on a sabbatical to figure this out, his tribe needs him. So he takes to living in the woods alone, where he is alone, to try and figure this out.

But it gets more painful yet, because he can't just disappear on Emily.

So, he tells her. He owes her that much. And it's not goodbye forever, either, just- goodbye until he can figure out how to be the man she deserves. A man anybody deserves, really, because right now Sam's not it.

Emily has no idea what to make of any of this, but she knows her heart is broken.

She has to see this woman all of this is about.

Naturally, she falls in love as well.

The plot thickens

The next time Sam drops by, Emily gives him the news. They're both in love with Bella now.

Sam no longer knows what to make of anything.

Is the universe trying to tell them to form a polycule?

Nothing like that has ever happened before, but not much is known about imprinting. There's a first time for everything..?

At this point they're both giving themselves headaches trying to figure this out. It's a mess.

More, Bella hasn't even met either of them. Sam and Emily can't just walk up to her and say "Hi, be our wife".

Or can they?

If Emily fell in love at first sight, maybe it'll work in reverse. Maybe Bella just has to look upon them, and she'll fall in love.

Sam is dubious, but at this point let's just do this. Let's just do this, see what happens.

They walk up to Charlie's to deliver some of Harry's fish fry. Bella opens the door.

"HIIIII" Emily says, trying to act normal.

Sam's not saying anything.

"Hi," Bella says back, nonplussed, and looks at the bag Emily is clutching with white-knuckled fists.

All three of them are silent.

Bella is starting to wonder if there's something with the town water supply. She is also wondering if these people are planning to say anything, or if they just really enjoy knocking on doors and saying hi to people. Is there something Bella should be doing?

Eventually she clears er throat and asks if there's anything she can do for them.

Sam and Emily glance at each other. Bella's not looking starstruck with love, but she's not acting normal either. Who stands in a doorway and stares at people for almost a minute before talking?

It's inconclusive.

Emily hands over the fish fry. "From Harry," she says, and introduces herself.

Bella nods, remembering Charlie's friend who all but ran out of the door when he saw her and hasn't been fishing with Charlie since. None of Charlie's friends have. Charlie is going nuts. Maybe she should try hooking him up with Carlisle, vampires are lovely, they'd get along so well.

Bella, noting Emily and Sam aren't saying anything else, says bye and moves to close the door.

"Wait!" Sam yells, at the same time as Emily rips a piece of paper from her pocket, and sticks it into Bella's hand.

Bella looks down on it. It's two phone numbers.

She looks back up at Sam and Emily, who by now feel quite certain that this girl hasn't fallen in love with them and that this is the most humiliating moment of both their lives.

Just in case, though...

"Call us," Emily says flirtatiously, winks, and runs away.

Sam follows.

Bella never calls them back, and they never speak of this again.

A few months later, Leah who’d been shopping in Forks happily tells Sam and Emily that she's fallen in love with a girl, she lives in Forks, she's amazing, her name is Bella Swan.

"I took one look at her, and I knew," Leah says dreamily.

#sam uley #leah clearwater #emily young #billy black #jacob black #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight quileutes #twilight shapeshifters

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emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Heatstroke - chapter 24/24

Last time, Gold confronted Zelena over trying to frame Regina, and Lacey caught the whole show on tape. This is the final chapter! Happy endings FTW!

[AO3]

Lacey set down the camera on the shop counter, and raised an eyebrow at Gold.

“So,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

He inclined his head, lifting a hand and letting it fall.

“It appears you have a story to tell about Miss West,” he remarked. “I feel the choice is very much yours. Perhaps Mr Glass can be persuaded that running an exposé is in the public interest.”

Lacey hesitated.

“Yeah, I think he would,” she acknowledged. “It’s just - Mayor Mills doesn’t know, does she? About Zelena.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think maybe we should tell her,” said Lacey. “Before it all comes out, I mean. That would be the decent thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” he agreed, and let out a heavy sigh, his head rolling back. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“What is?”

He raised his head again, sending her a stern look.

“It appears I’ve discovered a conscience,” he said. “The rumour was I didn’t have one. I blame you for this outrage.”

Lacey giggled, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Does that mean you’ll come with me to break the news?” she asked, and he offered his arm.

“To the Mayor’s office,” he said. “I’m sure Regina will be just delighted to see us.”

“This can’t be true.” Regina was staring at Lacey’s phone, having watched the recording twice. “This - this is impossible!”

“This must be a hell of a shock,” said Lacey, and Regina shook her head.

“I always thought she disliked me, but Mal told me I was being paranoid,” she said. “All this time she was plotting to ruin my life because my mother abandoned her? The nerve of the woman!”

“I guess sibling rivalry’s tough to deal with,” said Lacey. “Makes me glad I’m an only child.”

“Well, she certainly has my mother’s ambition and vindictiveness,” said Regina, with a sigh. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the father?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Gold. “Did your mother ever hint that you had a half-sister?”

Regina shook her head.

“She never spoke about her youth,” she said. “Other than to tell me she had to fight for anything she could get and I should do the same.”

She handed the phone back to Lacey and frowned at Gold.

“Exactly how long have you known about this?” she demanded, and he smiled.

“I heard what you did,” he said.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” she said coldly. “I know you, Gold. Were you holding onto this information until it was of use to you?”

“You think I’m working against you?” he asked, in a mild tone.

“I think you never do anything that doesn’t benefit you.”

“Well, perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said. “Or perhaps we assess risks and benefits differently. Either way, you have Miss French to thank for the investigation of her past and this recording. I merely - encouraged a confession.”

“Quite the sleuthing team,” said Regina, in a dry tone. “Can we expect a new office in town? French Gold, Private Investigators?”

“I don’t mind investigating his privates,” said Lacey, and Gold shot her a very level look as Regina curled her lip.

“Thanks, I’m going to spend the rest of the evening trying and failing to get that image out of my head.”

“You’re welcome,” said Lacey cheerfully.

“The question for you,” said Gold, “is how are you going to handle this? Miss French has quite a scoop on her hands, but she wanted to bring it to you first before raising it with Mr Glass.”

Regina shot Lacey a grateful look before sitting back in her chair with a sigh.

“There’s supposed to be a debate,” she said. “The two of us up on stage. You think it’s her intention to reveal the whole sordid story in front of the whole town?”

“I don’t believe she wants the rest of the town to know,” said Gold. “If they did, then her whole campaign reeks of sour grapes. She’ll want to play on the image she’s created while she’s been here. However inaccurate it is.”

Regina growled under her breath.

“I can’t believe I’m having to go through this charade!” she snapped. “I’m supposed to stand there and - and debate her when she’s trying to frame me for corruption and destroy my life!”

“We don’t have any actual evidence that she’s tried to frame you,” said Lacey, and Regina nodded impatiently.

“I know, I know. Nothing court worthy on that tape, however much she hinted at it,” she said. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hand it over to the Sheriff, get him to look into it.”

“If you agree to an exclusive interview with me after the debate, sure,” said Lacey quickly, and almost blushed as Gold shot her an approving look. Regina drummed her fingers on the desk.

“She’s far too good for you, Gold,” she said abruptly. “I hope you know that.”

He smirked at that, winking at Lacey.

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

Gold was finding it hard to stop grinning like an idiot now that he and Lacey were dating, and even found himself unexpectedly granting rent extensions, much to the surprise of nervous tenants. He made dinner for her again later in the week, and she stayed the night, Darcy curled at their feet as they drifted into sleep. It was pleasant being nuzzled awake by a purring cat and finding Lacey in his arms. It was a feeling he could get used to.

They had eventually managed to finish the interview, most of which was carried out in bed, and he had found himself telling her things he had previously had no intention of revealing. He blamed that on Lacey; it was difficult to maintain his usual cool distance when she was wearing his discarded shirt and looking at him as though he was a particularly delicious snack. She kept her word about giving him the final say on the article, however, and upon reading her draft, he noted that she had kept some of the more personal details to herself. He only felt the need to redact a couple of minor points about his early life, but was happy to let the remainder stand as it was. If the rest of Storybrooke was surprised at the intimacy of the piece and his sudden desire to be open about his life - well, they could all go and fuck themselves, as far as he was concerned.

The only opinions he cared about were those of his family, and it wasn’t too long before Neal called. Gold sighed as he looked at the number flashing on his phone. They’re gonna tease me relentlessly about this. Emma especially.

Shaking his head and smirking to himself, he picked up.

“Dad, hi,” said Neal. “Thought you might have called to let us know how your big social occasion went. You’re not avoiding the issue, right?”

“Of course not,” said Gold. “Been a busy week, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. Emma thought you’d say that.” Neal sounded amused. “She’s been dying to find out about the dance, so I said I’d call for an update.”

“Tell her she needs a better hobby than worrying about my social life,” said Gold dryly. “How’s Henry? I was wondering what to get for his birthday.”

“Nice attempt at deflection, but I’m not done with you,” said Neal. “Come on, how did it go?”

“Uh - it was fine,” said Gold.

“Did you ask Lacey to dance, like I said?”

“Yes.” Gold hesitated. “We’re - uh - sort of dating now.”

Neal whooped, making him grin.

“Way to go! See, I knew you could do it!”

“Yes, well.” Gold scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “It’s early days, I suppose. Very early days, but it’s going well.”

“I am so happy for you, really. Wait until I tell Emma.”

“She’s gonna tease me, isn’t she?” said Gold dryly.

“No more than usual.”

“A lot, then.”

“Hey, her teasing comes from a place of love.”

“Hmm.” Gold was amused. “Well, you can tell her I love her too.”

“And you can tell Lacey we can’t wait to meet her,” said Neal, and Gold’s grin widened.

“I believe the feeling’s mutual,” he said.

“Good. How about in two weeks’ time?”

Gold smirked to himself.

“Excellent timing,” he said. “It’s the Mayoral debate and election.”

“I’m almost certain we can find something better to do than listen to some crusty old politicians.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” said Gold. “It could be an interesting night.”

The evening of the debate arrived more quickly than Lacey thought possible, and she was nervous about more than just reporting the evening’s events. Gold’s son and daughter-in-law were due any minute, and there was a tiny part of her that kept whispering that they wouldn’t approve, that they would wonder why the hell Gold, with his money and power and class, was dating the likes of her. Stressing over her coverage of the election was a welcome distraction from the unwelcome internal monologue, and she concentrated on getting her things together for the debate, checking the recording equipment on Gold’s kitchen table and fretting about the sound quality.

“You’ve already checked it three times,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“I’m supposed to be writing the front page article!” she snapped. “What happens if I fuck up and don’t get anything recorded? I’m gonna look like a total idiot and Sidney won’t trust me with anything more complex than the hot dog eating contest!”

“I can record everything on my phone, if you’re worried,” he said. “Besides, don’t you do shorthand?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You’ll be fine,” he said gently, and kissed her head. “I promise.”

The doorbell rang, and Lacey started, heart thumping.

“Relax, that’ll be Neal and Emma,” said Gold, heading for the door. Lacey frowned at his back.

“Relax, my arse,” she muttered, shoving the recording equipment into its bag.

There were voices from the hall, and a sudden burst of laughter, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm the hell down. Footsteps from the doorway made her look up, and she was greeted by a warm smile and an outstretched hand. Gold’s son had his eyes, and curling dark hair above a ready grin.

“I’m Neal,” he said. “Really pleased to meet you.”

“Lacey,” she said, shaking his hand. “Uh - likewise.”

She was reminded vividly of the fact that she had flashed him on their first encounter, and felt a blush start to rise in her cheeks. If Neal was thinking of it too, he was better at hiding it than she was. His wife was a pretty blonde, with a kind look in her eyes and a plump baby in her arms, who was glancing around curiously at everything.

“This is Emma,” added Neal, “and that’s Henry.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” said Emma, shooting Gold a teasing look.

“Well, I won’t ask if it was all good, because I’m willing to bet it wasn’t,” said Lacey, and they chuckled.

“Maybe not at first,” admitted Emma. “Don’t hold it against the old bastard, though.”

“Oh, believe me, the feeling was mutual,” said Lacey.

“I’m standing right here,” said Gold evenly.

Lacey caught Emma’s eye and returned her grin. She felt herself relax a little, and leaned over to kiss Gold’s cheek.

“We got there in the end,” she said. “Uh - how hungry are you guys? I didn’t even think about dinner.”

She shot Gold a look, hoping that he would suggest something, and he nodded.

“We’ll head to Granny’s after the debate,” said Gold. “I have no doubt that Lacey will be demonstrating her excellent skill as a journalist, and I’d hate for you to miss it.”

“No pressure then,” said Lacey, and he smiled.

“You’re writing the article for the Mirror front page,” he said. “You have an exclusive with the Mayor herself after the debate. Sidney Glass clearly believes you to be as capable as I do.”

“Yeah, because I got that interview with you,” she said. “I didn’t tell him we were naked when I got most of that info.”

Neal closed his eyes with a pained expression.

“Shows ingenuity if you ask me,” said Emma abruptly. “I can usually get a ton of stuff out of Neal when we’re naked. Must run in the family.”

It was Gold’s turn to look pained. Neal put his hands over his face with a heavy sigh, and Lacey and Emma chuckled. Lacey decided that she liked both Emma and Neal very much. She zipped her bag and nodded to Gold.

“Okay,” she said. “Wish me luck.”

The town hall was filled with residents, chatting amongst themselves and casting curious glances at the empty stage. Ruby was seated next to Leroy on the third row back, and she winked at Lacey as she and Gold took their own seats. Ruby had been delighted to hear that the two of them had started seeing one another, and had only made a salacious comment to Gold on one occasion. Maybe two.

“Big turnout,” said Neal, glancing around. “I had no idea the people in this town were so into politics.”

“Usually they don’t bother,” said Gold. “The Mayor getting some competition appears to have piqued their interest.”

As though his voice had summoned her, Regina walked onto the stage, chin held high, looking calm and competent in a sharp black suit. Zelena followed, in a green dress with a soft silk scarf around her neck and gold hoops in her ears. A green folder was tucked under her arm, her hair tied up, and Lacey thought she was going for the image of a respectable school teacher. A gleam in her eye spoiled the look.

Dr Hopper was moderating the debate, and Lacey quickly checked her recording equipment and opened her laptop, rattling off a few sentences about the tense atmosphere of the hall and the opening statements from each of the candidates. Zelena gave a speech about decency and traditional values, at which Regina seemed to be stopping herself from rolling her eyes with some difficulty. Regina spoke of her record on town planning, law and order—she shot Zelena a look at that point—and prosperity.

“Thank you, ladies,” said Dr Hopper, when she was done. “Now, perhaps we’ll go to some questions from the press before we deal with those the townsfolk have submitted.”

“I have a question for Miss West,” said Lacey, in a loud, clear voice, shoving her laptop at Gold as she got to her feet.

Zelena’s mouth twisted, her smile more of a grimace.

“Of course,” she said lightly. “It’s - uh - I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

She waved a languid hand, and Lacey felt her mouth flatten.

“Lacey French, Storybrooke Mirror,” she said evenly, and Zelena let out a tinkling laugh.

“Of course, silly me,” she trilled. “How could I forget Storybrooke’s eager young reporter? Lending the local newspaper such an air of class in that - lovely - outfit.”

There was a muttering amongst the townsfolk, and Lacey distinctly heard Ruby say ‘What a bitch!’, but she smiled sweetly as though she hadn’t understood the insult.

“Yeah, I have a question about your motivation for running for Mayor,” she said. “You said yourself you’ve never been involved in politics, so what inspired you to make this move now?”

Zelena smiled widely.

“Well, as I said, I thought about where I could do the most good,” she said. “Storybrooke is a wonderful town, with many excellent qualities, but talking to its residents has made me realise that there’s a feeling that it may be lacking direction. I sense a need for a return to the basics of community. Neighbourliness. Family values. The traditions of small-town America that we all grew up with.”

“But you grew up in England,” said Lacey. “Wasn’t your father a diplomat? How do you know this view of America is either accurate or desirable?”

Zelena’s nostrils flared as she continued to smile brightly.

“Well,” she said. “Who’s been doing her homework?”

“Yeah, it’s just that people hear politicians mention tradition and family values, and all too often it’s a smoke-screen to hide racism and homophobia,” went on Lacey. “How would you address those concerns?”

Zelena spread her hands.

“I’d say look at my record,” she said. “Since I moved here I’ve made it clear that I’m happy to work with people of all backgrounds. It’s important that no one feels left out, and my initial conversations have led me to believe that there are concerns, and that some residents feel that their interests are not - fully appreciated - by the Mayor.”

“What kind of interests?” asked Lacey quickly, before Zelena could turn away, and her mouth twisted again as she tried to keep smiling.

“As I said, some feel that traditional family values are being lost in the push for modernity,” she said. “I’d like to reassure them that I stand for everything that Storybrooke represents. Decency. Morality.”

“Does that mean you think the Mayor is immoral?” asked Lacey, and Zelena pulled a face.

“I think there have been some questionable decisions at city hall under her watch, yes,” she said. “Does anyone really think that a seedy bar called Queens of Darkness is fitting for this town?”

“It’s a jazz club,” said Regina. “And there’ll be dance lessons each week. A perfectly respectable establishment, run by three accomplished businesswomen.”

Zelena let out that insincere laugh again, and Lacey sat down, retrieving her laptop from Gold and opening it up as Zelena addressed the room.

“Well, it’s not only the company the Mayor keeps,” she said. “We’ve all heard the rumours. Missing money, accounts not holding quite as much as people thought…”

“That’s an outrageous lie,” said Regina coldly. “Where’s your evidence, Miss West?”

Zelena smirked, as though she had been waiting for that very question. She held up the green folder, showing it to the room.

“I have the evidence right here,” she announced. “A brave employee of city hall managed to smuggle this out to me. Evidence that the Mayor has been embezzling town funds!”

There was a shocked intake of breath around the room. Lacey typed furiously.

“How dare you!” snapped Regina. “That’s a lie and you know it!”

“I believe this is my allotted time to speak!” Zelena snapped back. “I think the people of Storybrooke deserve to know exactly who you really are, don’t you? They should understand the choice before them!”

The doors at the end of the hall opened, and there was the sound of heavy boots on the floor. Zelena looked surprised, and then somewhat nervous, and a low-level muttering started up in the audience. Lacey glanced over her shoulder, watching as Sheriff Graham Humbert walked towards the stage with his deputy Dorothy Gale by his side. Regina appeared to be drumming her fingers on the lectern, and Lacey couldn’t work out whether it was anxiety or impatience.

“Miss West,” said Graham. “We’d like you to come with us, please.”

“Why?” demanded Zelena. “I’m a little busy winning this election, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s a matter of obstruction of justice,” said Graham. “If you could come to the station, please.”

Zelena opened and closed her mouth, a sudden flicker of fear in her eyes.

“What if I say no?”

“I’d prefer not to have to handcuff you,” said Graham.

“But we will if we have to,” added Dorothy, folding her arms.

“This is a conspiracy!” blurted Zelena, waving a finger at Regina. “Did the Mayor put you up to this? This is exactly the kind of corruption I’m talking about! The Sheriff being used as the Mayor’s enforcer!”

“Miss West…”

“Mayor Mills will do whatever it takes to silence me!” she went on. “She’s scared I’ve exposed her for what she is!”

“Miss West, I didn’t want to have to arrest you, but…”

“One hint of competition and she calls in her - her goon squad to crush it!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I know you’re my sister!” said Regina loudly.

Silence fell, and Lacey hurriedly typed a few sentences, describing the shocked atmosphere of the town hall. Zelena was staring at Regina, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

“I wasn’t going to mention it,” said Regina, curling her lip. “I wanted to give you a chance to be a decent person and deal with this in an honourable way. But since you’re determined to try to ruin my life for no good reason, then yes. I’m well aware we share the same mother, and frankly she’d be disappointed at this pathetic bid for attention.”

“How dare you—”

“I believe it’s my turn to speak,” interrupted Regina. “We’ve listened to enough of your rambling this evening. Since you’d been dropping hints about corruption in my office, I had Sheriff Humbert investigate. He told me earlier this evening that someone had been planting evidence to try to frame me. No doubt that’s what he wants to speak to you about.”

“This is—”

“The residents of Storybrooke know how seriously I take my duties as Mayor,” Regina went on, addressing the room as a whole now. “They know that I value their support and their trust. Of course I’d want any threat to that to be investigated. I’m just - I’m beyond disappointed that the threat comes from my half-sister.”

Her voice echoed around the silent room. Lacey was watching the townsfolk avidly, their eyes fixed on Regina as she spoke.

“I had no idea that my mother had had a daughter before me, no idea that I had another family member out there in the world,” she went on. “Her coming to Storybrooke should have been a time of joy and reunion. But instead of her reaching out to me, she tries to undermine me, to take away the most important job I have in this town.”

She looked down, shaking her head, and Gold leaned in close.

“I wonder how much of this is for the benefit of the voters and how much is genuine,” he murmured.

“Maybe fifty-fifty,” Lacey whispered back, and he nodded in agreement.

Regina raised her head, taking a deep breath, as though steeling herself for something unpleasant. Graham and Dorothy had edged towards the stage, Dorothy removing the cuffs from her belt.

“All I can do now,” said Regina, “is trust that justice will take its course.”

“You know nothing about justice!” shouted Zelena, as the Sheriff started reading her her rights. “You’ll pay for this! All of you!”

She was still yelling when Dorothy handcuffed her and marched her from the room. The sound of the doors closing was very loud in the silence that remained.

“Well,” said Regina, placing her hands on the lectern and looking around the room. “I think we can all agree that this was one of the more - eventful - political debates this town has seen.”

There was a ripple of nervous laughter, and she smiled.

“I truly hope that Miss West gets the help she so desperately needs,” she went on. “And when she has, I want her to know that she’s welcome to visit with Mallory and I. After all, we may not be able to choose our family, but that makes it all the more important to nurture the bonds we share with those around us.”

There were noises of agreement from the audience, and Gold leaned in close again.

“Ever the politician,” he murmured, and Lacey nodded.

“Storybrooke is like an extended family to me,” went on Regina, “and all families have their moments of conflict and frustration, but underneath that there is respect for one another, and a common set of values. I believe I have lived by those values for every year that I’ve served as your Mayor. I will always reach out to those in need and I will always act in the best interests of this town. Under my leadership, Storybrooke will continue to prosper. I guarantee it.”

There was applause, and a couple of cheers, and Regina nodded, looking extremely self-satisfied. She started taking questions, and Gold kissed Lacey’s cheek and whispered that he would see her in the diner when she was done. She watched him leave with his family, Emma balancing the baby on her hip and Neal pushing the stroller after them. Lacey turned back to listen to Regina field a question about the state of the town’s roads, bent her head to her laptop, and began typing up her article on the Mayoral debate.

She emailed the article over to Sidney before leaving for the diner, and walked back there with Ruby, who was chattering about the drama that had unfolded. Regina had been in her element when answering the remaining questions, and Lacey had felt a surge of satisfaction over her part in exposing a crime. Perhaps small town life offered the chance for rewarding work after all. She could see Gold and his family through the window, and his face lit up as she entered, making her stomach flip. Damn the man. I’m falling in love with him.

“Excellent job this evening,” he said, getting up to pull her chair out and kissing her cheek. “I got you a rum and coke, I hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect,” she said fervently, and took a slurp, relishing the taste on her tongue.

“How’d the Mayor look at the end of all that?” asked Emma, and Lacey pulled a face.

“The whole place gave her a round of applause, and she was looking about as satisfied as she could, I guess,” she said. “I still feel kind of sorry for her. Not every day you find out you have a half sister. Especially one that’s out to get you.”

“Well, it could have been a lot worse,” said Gold. “I very much doubt Miss West will present much of a challenge from a jail cell.”

Lacey nodded, taking another sip of her drink.

“Does this mean you and Regina are friends now?” she asked, and Gold smirked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “What’s that term the kids use these days?”

“Frenemies?”

“That’s the one.”

“Kind of like we were,” she observed, and he laughed.

“Regina would fillet me with a letter opener if I even contemplated looking at her the way I look at you.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” she said. “I just meant - well, we kind of had that thing where we poked at each other to get a reaction, right?”

Gold looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh, and she swatted his arm.

“Stop thinking about dirty stuff! You know what I mean!”

“I do,” he acknowledged. “And I, for one, am very glad that we - er - got the reaction we wanted.”

“You’re still thinking about dirty stuff, aren’t you?” said Emma shrewdly, and Gold shrugged.

“Maybe a little.”

They ate ribs, sticky with Granny’s special sauce, licking it from their fingers and washing it down with beer and wine and rum. By the time they got out into the cool night air, Lacey felt wonderfully tipsy, and regretted putting on her high heels earlier in the evening. At least there was no one else around to see if she fell on her arse, she supposed. Neal and Emma were walking ahead, pushing the stroller and talking quietly, and Lacey let out a sigh, slipping her arm through Gold’s for support, and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I ate too much,” she said, and Gold chuckled.

“We all ate too much.”

“You didn’t throw half of it over your lap, though.”

“No, I thought I’d leave that to you.”

“Stupid gravity,” muttered Lacey, and he laughed, squeezing her arm with his.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah. Long day.”

“Maybe you should have an early night.”

She glanced up at him, and he was grinning at her, his eyes twinkling.

“How’s that gonna work?” she asked flatly. “Your family’s staying over. No way I’m letting you give me screaming orgasms while they’re in the room next door.”

“In that case I could sneak over to yours,” he suggested. “You could scream to your heart’s content.”

Lacey giggled, barging him affectionately with her shoulder.

“I think I love you, Mr Gold,” she said, and Gold stopped dead, turning to face her with a stunned look on his face.

“Really?”

Lacey turned to face him, taking his hand.

“Really,” she said. “I mean I’m kind of drunk, but that’s not why I’m saying it. I think I’ve sort of been in love with you for a while now. Is that okay?”

He was staring at her, wide-eyed, and a softness seemed to spill over his features, making his eyes gleam as he smiled.

“Well,” he said. “I think I love you, too, Miss French. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then raised his chin.

“D’you want to move in?” he asked.

“Can I bring Darcy?”

“Of course.”

“Then you got a deal.”

He was grinning, and she found herself grinning back, her heart swelling with love for him.

“Let’s wait until after Neal and Emma go before I move in, though,” she said. “I think you said something about screaming orgasms?”

Gold’s grin turned wicked, and he bent his head to kiss her.

“I’ll be over later.”

She let his lips pull at hers, leaning in to feel the warmth of his body as his arms went around her, and let out a sigh of contentment. Yes. Life in a small town could be amazing.

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #rumbelle fic #golden lace #rumbelle #my fic

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givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet! (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it.

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet.

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?”

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest.

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!”

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to.

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov

#Fix'er Upper #Frankie Catfish Morales #frankie x reader #catfish x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

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ramblingkat · 3 years

Text

Fic: Stars

This was encouraged by the UraIchi discord server. Basic concept: Everyone is born with a tail. If you live long enough, you get more. If you find your “soul mate” you get a new color on your tail.

Here, Yoruichi noticed the new color on Kisuke’s tail. He had happily been oblivious. And has no idea who’s reiatsu matches that new color of fur on his tail.

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Urahara Kisuke, Shihoin Yoruichi, Ishida Ryuken, Kurosaki Masaki, Kurosaki Isshin, and Kurosaki Ichigo

***

“You have gold in your fur.”

Yoruichi’s voice, deep and raspy, was a familiar one, and he knew she’d been sitting behind him for a bit, so Kisuke didn’t jump. Though he did pause, a cup of tea against his lips. Then he lowered it again, turning some to look over his shoulder at his friend.

She was crouched next to his tail, eyes focused on the tip. Kisuke didn't actually look at his tail all that much, with it being out of his direct line of sight. Oh, he made sure it was brushed and neat enough, but it was just another limb. As long as it worked as he wanted, he never thought about it too much.

Now he flicked it up, bringing the tip up closer since that was where Yoruichi had been focused.

This was the only tail on display, as humans rarely lived long enough to gain a second tail, let alone a third as Kisuke had. The other two were hidden, as they had been for almost a century of hiding in the special gigai he had created. The only one on display was the same ashy blond as his hair, a sleek fox tail that had gotten him quite a few appreciative looks. And more than a few people asking for blessings.

Apparently, pale fox tails were a sign of favor. Not something he had expected when he had first come to the living world.

Shinji had laughed at him, the man’s golden lion tail lashing lazily behind him. Kisuke had asked how it felt to only have to deal with one rope instead of the multitude that the older captain usually had. That had lead to a spar, and gotten Shinji distracted.

Now, however, Kisuke saw that there were fine golden hairs growing at the end of his tail. They didn’t stand out a great deal, not yet. But they were definitely golden. A distinct change from the pale fur they grew in.

Yoruichi’s reiatsu, as muted as it was, radiated delight. Kisuke was feeling a bit stunned himself.

“But,” he protested, voice distant in his own ears, “I haven’t met anyone new. Not for long enough to have our energies to click enough to bond.”

There was a flat-out chortle from Yoruichi, and she rose up onto her back legs, resting her paws against the back of his shoulder. That let her get a better look at his tail. “You found someone to soul bond to and didn’t say anything.” She sounded highly amused and no small amount of pleased. “What have you been up to?”

Kisuke snorted. “Plotting and planning. The usual.” He flicked his tail against her face, then let it relax again. “I wonder who this is. I don’t know of anyone I’ve seen recently that has that color of reiatsu.”

He reached over and poked Yoruichi’s nose as she opened her mouth. “And don’t start on SoiFon. Right shade, very much wrong person.” He smiled faintly. “She’d murder me if we ever created some sort of spiritual bond.” Kisuke paused. “Though the way she hates me would definitely qualify. But the timing is wrong.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Yoruichi protested. Ignoring Kisuke’s amused, yet unimpressed, expression, the cat continued. “She’s just prickly about my honor.”

Kisuke snorted again, hand moving to rub his friend’s ears. “Very prickly,” he said drily. “If she could make me vanish, she would definitely do so.” He shook his head. “In any case, SoiFon’s disdain for me is not the topic here. I honestly have no idea why I would have golden fur coming in now. Everyone I interact with now are the same people I have interacted with for years. I doubt any of them have changed that much.”

“Something to figure out later,” Yoruichi agreed. “It’s not like your crimson isn’t a distinct shade.” She licked a foot, quiet for a moment. “Though now that I am here, how are things with Isshin and Masaki?”

Still absently petting her, Kisuke smiled faintly. “Going well. From everything that Ishida-san and I can tell, the baby is healthy and growing well. They are likely to have a mix of Isshin-san and Masaki-san talents.” Kisuke considered it a moment. “I believe, once the baby is born, they’ll take the hollow with them. That will be vital for their stability. They are so in balance at the moment that the loss of one aspect will likely prove lethal in the long run.” He considered that as fingers moving softly over dark fur. “Something I have impressed upon the parents to be. The hollow is sealed and will continue to be until we break it at some point, but the power it holds is present. So the baby will be…impressive.”

There was a snort from Yoruichi. “Maybe it’s the baby,” she teased, though there had not been any documented cases of soul bonding with an unborn child. “You do the impossible regularly enough. Why not do it again?”

Kisuke tweaked her ear, hand blurring as he dodged the slash of her claws. “I doubt even baby Kurosaki is developed enough to have a proper reiatsu signature yet,” he said easily. “While they have a strong presence already, it’s…malleable. Though I do hope that you’ll be in town when the time for the birth gets close.” He wrinkled his nose. “I am already noticing an uptick of smaller hollows. Masaki-san has been attracting quite a bit of attention from the wrong quarters. I think when it is time for baby Kurosaki to be born, they will lure in hollows for miles around. We’ll need to set up a protective line around them and deal with the swarm that is likely to descend on us at that level of power energy.”

A nod from Yoruichi. “Just contact me when it gets close to time. Though I don’t know if I’ll go too far.” Her tone went light and teasing. “After all, I have to find out who your mysterious suitor to be is. Only you could get a soul bond and not notice.”

That got her a sigh and a shrug. “It wasn’t like it was that big a deal,” he protested, giving his friend an over-exaggerated pout. “And I’ve been busy.”

Yoruichi perked up. “I have to talk to Tessai,” she warbled out, as close to singing as she got. Dodging Kisuke’s grab, the cat ran into the house, yowling out the name of their other friend, and Kisuke sighed.

Collecting his tea, he focused on that. No need to think about Tessai-san’s matchmaking urges now. He’d be dealing with them soon enough.

***

The stars looked amazing, and Kisuke found himself panting as he watched them decorate the night sky.

They weren’t as bright here as they were in soul society, but there was a great deal more progression in the living world, so bright it dimmed even the night sky.

Though all of his senses felt dimmed. The Kurosaki baby had come into the world, and he was grateful that Ishida had a charm that he and Masaki had put on the baby. It would allow more of the child’s reiatsu to release over the next year or so. Slow enough that they shouldn’t have a repeat of tonight.

He was exhausted, and he was sure that Yoruichi was the same whenever she was at.

The Visored had taken the outer layer of the patrol. Kisuke and Yoruichi had focused on the blocks around the roof of the hospital that the baby was being born in. And outside of all of it, Hachigen and Tessai had been working on keeping all of this under wraps. While he knew Aizen had an idea where they might be, they did not need the baby’s explosion of power to attract his eye.

He was pretty sure they had dealt with every hollow from miles around, all attracted to the initial spike of power that the baby would have screamed out with their first breath.

That was something he needed to check on well.

Pushing himself upright, Kisuke glanced around. It only took a moment to spot Yoruichi, leaning against an air conditioning unit a few roofs over. Waving to catch her attention, he waited until she nodded back, then he let himself drop over the side of the roof.

Ishida had given him a room number, and Kisuke had already scouted out where it was in the hospital. So it only took a moment to wrap a hint of reiatsu under his feet to slow and then stop his fall. He pulled a phone out and texted the man, making sure he was able to come in.

The curtains shoved apart, and Ishida was scowling at him. The man opened the window. “Get in here,” he muttered. “The sooner you make sure the boy is all right, the sooner you can leave.”

Kisuke smiled. “A boy? I am sure that Kurosaki-san is thrilled.”

“Isshin is being an idiot over it, and Masaki is pleased to have a healthy baby.”

He shifted aside, letting Kisuke step through and land lightly on the floor, geta making only a small clicking as they hit the ground. Then Ishida continued. “They named him Ichigo. I assume you dealt with any outside trouble.”

Kisuke grimaced a bit. “After this, I think we’re all going to go find out beds now that the charm you have put into place has muted his strength. The area should be hollow free for a few months.”

A sigh. “That’s good,” the white haired Quincy said. “Hopefully they’ll be gone for even longer than that.”

Kisuke considered that. “If you like, I can set up patrol when your own child is born.” It was an honest offer, as he knew that the man’s wife had taken poorly to pregnancy. She was happy to be pregnant, but every time Kisuke saw her around, she looked exhausted and drained.

Ishida tensed, then made himself relax. “We’ll discuss that later,” he said, which made Kisuke smile to himself. That wasn’t a no, and it was nice to see how devoted the man was to his wife. He was as bad as Isshin was, if quieter about it.

But he only nodded in response, quietly following as he was lead to the bed.

There was Masaki, who was watching them, though Kisuke could see she was ready to go to sleep. Beside the bed was Isshin, whose tail was wagging back and forth like mad. And beside him, placed where both he and Masaki could reach, was a tiny little being.

There was a tuft of dark hair, though he could already see strands of a paler color in it. Kisuke wondered if baby Kurosaki… Ichigo, his name was Ichigo, would have his mother’s hair?

He was wrapped firmly in a warm blanket, swaddled quite tightly. Though he managed to get a foot and a puffy little tail out of the confines already. Kisuke smiled faintly, tucking the fluffy grey tail and the foot back into the blanket. “Already a trouble maker,” he murmured to the child, and then rested his hand on Ichigo’s chest. Closing his eyes, he focused, threading his reiatsu gently to make sure everything was still balanced.

This was something he’d been doing since Isshin had come to tell him that Masaki was pregnant, in a near panic. There had been two pregnancies before this one, and neither had gotten far. The third time was the charm, and the balance of energies settled in ways to keep the boy from coming to harm.

Everything still felt good, and he opened his eyes with a smile.

“Congratulations,” he said, smiling at them. He knew they had been heartbroken the previous times, and having Ichigo here, all red-faced and scowling, had to be such a relief.

“Masaki-san?” he asked, offering her his hand. She rested her fingers against his palm, and he did his own scan of her energies.

Once he was done, he gave her hand a light squeeze and let go. “It’s as I thought. The hollow passed on to Ichigo, but the seal on it seems to be intact. Though he’s definitely strong enough to see spirits without much help.”

He smiled at the new parents. “You should have an easier time of things if you decide to give him any siblings without the hollow energies causing such distress on your own.” That was to Masaki, who looked relieved. He knew she had taken the failed pregnancies hard, but this should help her feel better about any future attempts.

Moving away from the bed, Kisuke absently sealed Benihime back into a cane, nodding at each of them. “Now that everything seems to have settled both outside and in here, I’m off. Let me know if you have any other concerns that I might be able to help calm.”

He went to perch on the sill of the window, then threw a grin back at them. “And, as always, come visit the shop and pick up a few items. I always have a wide range of stock for your purchasing pleasure.”

Ishida shoved him out the window with a snort.

Kisuke laughed as he caught himself, and took off into the night. Time to find everyone and let them know that they could do whatever. The situation was done, and it was time for a well-deserved rest.

Besides, now that Ichigo was actually born, Kisuke had potential plans to adjust.

#Bleach #fanfic #soulmate au #tails universe #Urahara Kisuke #shihoin yoruichi #ishida ryuken #Kurosaki Masaki #Kurosaki Isshin #Kurosaki Ichigo

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coffee-without-caffeine · 3 years

Text

Childe x reader ~ “Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

Details: Modern AU!, Soulmate AU!, F!reader (if anyone would like a male reader I can rewrite it to be with a male reader instead and post that too) Character: Childe/Tartaglia (Genshin Impact) Trigger Warnings: A very toxic relationship in the beginning (not with Childe), mentions of the mafia, mentions of attempted kidnapping, childe literally breaking into your house(?). A/N: I love Kaeya but I couldn’t think of a better name so I just used his name for the ex. In now way shape or for is this how I see Kaeya or want others to see Kaeya so please keep this in mind when he is mentioned. Thank you <3

“The mirror’s image tells me it’s home time,”

The music blared from you phone as you curled into a tighter ball, pulling the polyester material closer to your face as it soaked up the stray tears. Why were you crying over him again, Kaeya, he wasn’t even your soulmate... Where was your soulmate? You’d been on this earth for twenty-two years yet you hadn’t heard a peep. Not a single word, tattoo, flare of pain. There was no red string tied around your finger like so many others had. Did you have a soulmate? Surely he would have shown up by now, or at least made his presence known.

“But I’m not finished ‘cause you’re not by my side.”

The song was little more than background noise now as you found yourself stuck in your own head. After coming to the conclusion you were one of the unfortunate people born without a soulmate, you had turned to meaningless relationships. You had thought they were meaningless, until you had began a relationship with Kaeya.

“And as I arrived, I thought I saw you leaving,”

It had started off beautifully, everything perfect and as it should be. You weren’t sure what had changed within the time you had been dating but at one point the magic of a new relationship had faded and the curtain had dropped. Not once has Kaeya made an effort to show he cared about you, all of the effort had stemmed from you. You were the one who woke up each day and texted him good morning, you were the one who would listen to him rant only to be shut down when you were crying and in pain. Every phone call revolved around him and what he had to say while you could do nothing more than offer up how you agreed with him.

“Carrying your shoes, decided that once again I was just dreaming of bumping into you.”

You had thought it was normal at first, you were both in a happy and loving relationship so why should it matter if he listened to you or not. He didn’t have a soulmate just like you, so why did it matter? You were meant to be together, this was the universe’s way of giving you a soulmate. Right?

“Now it’s three in the morning, and I’m tryna change your mind.”

It took you longer than you’d like to admit to come to terms with the fact you didn’t have a soulmate. Having someone else who shared the pain with you, the feeling of losing something you never had to begin with, was the best feeling. It had filled what you thought to be the gap of your soulmate, like fitting a piece into a puzzle that wasn’t from the same set. It wasn’t supposed to work but it did. You were so happy to have someone like you, or so you had thought.

“Left you multiple missed calls, and to my message you reply”

He had a soulmate. That piece of information had snapped the last thread holding your relationship together. You had clung to the hope that there was someone else like you, but there wasn’t. You two had been arguing, over what you couldn’t remember, but things had gotten heated and he had screamed that he should have never dated someone who wasn’t his soulmate. “You don’t have a soulmate though, you’re just like me! We’re meant to be together because of what we lack!” He had laughed cruelly, “You really think we were meant to be together? What are you stupid?” You watched in horror as he pushed his long sleeve up his arm to reveal a gorgeous tattoo of a bundle of yellow carnations. You couldn’t hear him anymore, you couldn’t see anything except for that bundle of carnations inked onto his arm. There was no doubt that it was the mark of his soulmate. “Get out of my apartment.” That’s when the tears had started falling.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” Childe muttered as he walked down the bustling city street. “She’s listening to that song again? What is it now, the third time this week?” He thought, pushing his way through the crowd that blocked the entrance to the subway. Childe had ignored his soulmate for as long as he remembered. He refused to communicate in any way, never drawing on his skin, never singing to a song no matter how catchy (ahaha for ✨plot✨); not once had he tried to reach out. It wasn’t because he didn’t care about them, oh how he longed to hold you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, it was the exact opposite. Childe cared deeply for his soulmate and, in his mind, being the soulmate of someone deeply rooted in the mafia was more of a blessing than a curse. The Fatui were feared in most towns, known mainly for their debt collection tactics and their deep roots in politics at a national level. Childe had been taken in at a young age, handed over by his father in hopes to pay off his debt to the Fatui (yes I know in his actual backstory his father sent him to the Fatui in hopes to change is attitude, sorry I couldn’t find a way to fit that in properly). Childe had grown up, and soon rose up the ladder that was the Fatui, eventually becoming a so called “Harbinger,” one of the highest ranks within the Fatui. So, deciding that living life constantly worrying about his soulmate was not one he wished to live, Childe had decided to ignore his universe given other-half. That is until the universe had other plans.

It was supposed to be a simple job, to give someone in debt a little bit of incentive to pay the Fatui back. They had found that Kaeya was close to a woman named Y/N. After a little bit of digging they had found out that Kaeya was in a relationship with Y/N, and that he had constantly been in and out of her apartment until a few days ago. Despite his recent break in the pattern of visits, his calls to Y/N’s number had remained more or less the same. Stepping out of the subway car Childe found himself running through the job once more. Break into the apartment, kidnap Y/N (yes, I know it’s cliche), leave a note for Kaeya and leave with you until he payed back his debt. It’d be quite a bit easier than most of his previous jobs, shouldn’t take him longer than two hours; the majority of it being the drive. What Childe hadn’t been expecting when he picked the lock and opened your door, was to see the very person he was supposed to kidnap cocooned in blankets, sobbing, and listening to the exact song that had been playing in his head the entire way here. Raising your tear stained face the two of you made eye contact, your red and puffy eyes meeting his wide and terrified ones. There was no denying it for either of you, the syncing of your breathing, the song that was now playing through both of your heads, you two were soulmates. Childe wasn’t sure how to react, halfway through the door and unsure if he was supposed to come any closer, he just stood there, unmoving. A pure mixture of fear and joy was pounding through this veins as he stared back.

You on the other hand, had no idea how to feel. You had spent your entire life believing you didn’t have a soulmate, and yet here he was half way through your door and a very bewildered look on his face. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that but you couldn’t say that your first impression of him was the best- seeing as that he had picked your lock and broken into your apartment while you were crying your eyes out. The circumstances of you meeting him had been less than ideal, as was the history of your relationship with him. You were so happy to have finally met him, that gap in your chest finally filled... but that wasn’t the only thing that filled your chest at the current moment; pure, burning, unbridled rage pooled in your chest and spread through out your body. You had a soulmate, but not once had you heard from him. Not a single sung lyric, not a single doodle on your arm, no tattoo or shared pain, nothing from the man who now stood fully in your apartment. Before you could process what exactly you were doing a harsh smack echoed through the space of your apartment.

Childe wasn’t sure how to feel now. After finally walking all the way into your apartment he had watched as you sprung from your bundle of blankets and stormed towards him. Apparently your way of greeting your soulmate wasn’t a hug or a handshake, it was to slap him straight across the face with surprising force. Childe was now looking at your wall with a stinging cheek and a blank mind. He found himself speaking to you before he could think about what he was about to say “Well that’s one way to greet your soulmate.” Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say to you. “Greet your soulmate? Greet your soulmate! ‘Greet your soulmate’ my ass I think I have every right to greet you like that when I didn’t know you existed until a couple of minutes ago! Keep in mind I have lived a soulmate less life for twenty-two years and here you are waltzing into my apartment after you picked the damned lock!” “At least I know you aren’t younger than me...?” And that’s how Childe found himself with not only a hand shaped mark on his right cheek, but a large goose egg on his forehead from the book you had unceremoniously flung at his face.

The two of you now sat on your couch, you with a freshly poured glass of wine and Childe with a bag of ice pressed to his forehead. “So you mean to tell me that I have spent twenty-two years believing I didn’t have a soulmate, because you were part of the mafia and didn’t want to put my life at risk.” “That’s exactly what I’m saying, I’m so glad you under-” “God nobody told me that if I had a soulmate he was going to be such an idiot.” “-stand... I’m sorry what was that just now?” Of all the responses Childe had expected, yours wasn’t one of them. “I know you heard me perfectly fine.” You snapped back, reaching for the book that now sat on the coffee table. The look of pure fear on Childe’s face was one you wouldn’t forget as he raised the hand that wasn’t holding the ice pack in surrender. Letting out a small huff you instead opted to grab your wine glass and drink the rest of the nearly full cup. “Look I could care less that you’re part of the fatui. While I don’t appreciate the fact you were going to kidnap me in order to get my ex to pay back his debt, I do understand why didn’t make yourself known all these years.” A guilty look overtook Childe’s face, one that made your heart ache, but you kept going. “We could have worked things out, I could have learned to protect myself better and you could continue to do your job. I understand you wanted to protect me physically, but you gravely miscalculated when it came to mentally protecting me.” There was a beat of silence before Childe spoke, his words carrying an emotion you weren’t sure you could identify. Three words that carried so much meaning and heart, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he didn’t mean them. “I’m truly sorry.”

Silence overtook your apartment once more, yet it was somehow lighter than the last wave. A mutual understanding, and forgiveness. Sure your soulmate was an idiot for not contacting you, and sure you could have not thrown a book at his head, but he was there. And so no words were exchanged as you rose from your chair and sat down next to Childe, leaning against his chest as he wrapped his free arm around your waist. You would figure the rest out later, but for now it was just the two of you- and you were perfectly fine with that.

“So would it be too much to ask for a kiss?” “Don’t push your luck pretty boy.”

#genshin impact #childe #tartagalia #genshin impact x reader #mango writes #genshin impact fatui #fatui #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #fanfiction #genshin impact fanfiction #modern au #genshin impact imagines

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according-to-the-laura · 2 years

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StackedNatural Day 101: 1x13, 3x09, 14x12

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

January 31, 2022

1x13: Route 666

Written by: Buckleming

Directed by: Paul Shapiro

Original air date: January 31, 2006

Plot Synopsis:

Dean is contacted by an ex-flame who asks him for help when black men in her hometown are being murdered by a driver-less racist truck.

Features:

Racist trucks, Dean’s first love, mob justice, high speed ghost chase, hallowed church ground.

My Thoughts:

The thing about this episode that @meg3point0 said is that even though it has all the subtlety of a brick to the face, it wouldn’t actually be so bad if it wasn’t completely insistent that all of the town’s virulent racism was a thing of the past. Cassie is the only one who brings up racism happening in the present, to the mayor, and then the narrative sides with him by having him be part of the cover-up of Cyrus’ death. An old white dude says he isn’t racist and so for Buckleming, that’s the end of that.

Cassie is a great character. I love when Dean gets to be more vulnerable with someone than he is with Sam, especially this early in the show. It’s excellent accidental foreshadowing that her name is Cassie when Cas is going to become such a huge part of Dean’s life later in the series.

This episode makes me very sad about desperately lonely Stanford-era Dean, who fell in love in the couple of weeks it took him and his dad to work one case in town, and then told the truth because he wanted to make it work. The scene where they argue and then kiss works only because both actors are selling it but the writing is quite bad. And it’s so wild to watch the early seasons episodes where there are sex scenes because they used to be really drawn out and in late seasons they do a lot of implying and fade-to-black instead of anything like this episode.

I enjoy any episode where Sam is a little shithead for no reason. Younger brother behaviour.

Notable Lines:

“You told her the secret. Our big family rule number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?”

“What's interesting is you guys never really look at each other at the same time. You look at her when she's not looking, she checks you out when you look away. It's just a...just an interesting observation in a....you know...observationally interesting way.:

“Everybody's gotta open up to someone sometime.” “Yeah, I don’t.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 7.0

IMdB Rating: 7.4

3x09: Malleus Maleficarum

Written by: Ben Edlund

Directed by: Robert Singer

Original air date: January 31, 2008

Plot Synopsis:

The seemingly harmless practices of a group of neighborhood witches goes bad when one of them kills a woman. Ruby offers her assistance... but she has a few secrets of her own.

Features:

Teeth falling out, hex bags and witches, coven book clubs, Ruby saves Dean’s life, demons were once human, Ruby is preparing Sam to wage war without Dean.

My Thoughts:

We watched out of order and saved this episode for last today because we wanted to reward ourselves for watching two Buckleming episodes with a Bedlund episode, and that was the right choice.

It actually seemed like just a Fine episode in the beginning, but it really picked up when Ruby appeared. I always forget how much season 3 Ruby rules because I haven’t rewatched season 3 that much.

You can tell that Robert Singer directed this episode because both of the first two women to die died in sexy little black slips. At one point when they were looking at the second body there was a really weird clunky zoom out and @meg3point0 said “oh my god Robert Singer you are doing violence to Ben Edlund”, which I thought was funny so you all get to hear it too.

The coven/book club is fine as a plot point, but it’s the Ruby and demon stuff that really gets me in this one. Also, early Supernatural used to be really gross and that’s a compliment. Just really visceral stuff. Demons used to be really scary, too, and they are in this episode.

I LOVE Ruby. She plays them so well for such a long time. She basically negs Sam into trusting her and that works. She knows that trying to make Dean like her will never work, so she acts like she doesn’t care, saves his life, and gives him a ton of information he can’t get anywhere else. You know it worked, because at the end of the episode he calls her by her name instead of “Bitch”. Her go-to move to trick the other demon is homoeroticism.

I love the reveal of demons having been human. It’s such a huge paradigm shift and they really nailed it here.

Final thought: I really assumed that the internet was just making fun of Dean for the “it tasted like ass” line, but he truly delivered it in a way that made it seem like he’s literally eaten ass before. You didn’t have to do that, Jensen. It’s not the first way you would read that line, either.

Notable Lines:

“And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?! The poor little guy.”

“If she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives.”

“If I'm gonna fight this war after you're gone, then I gotta change.” “Change into what?” “Into you.”

“That's what Hell is – forgetting what you are.”

“I remember what it’s like. [...] Being human.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 8.7

IMdB Rating: 8.5

14x12: Prophet and Loss

Written by: Buckleming

Directed by: Thomas J. Wright

Original air date: January 31, 2019

Plot Synopsis:

Sam and Dean must figure out how to stop the bloodshed when Donatello who, in his current condition, is inadvertently scrambling the order of future prophets. Nick comes face to face with his past.

Features:

Ma’lak box nightmares, classic Buckleming torture scenes, Sam and Cas scheme behind Dean’s back, Michael is trying to escape Dean’s cage, Donatello’s successor as Prophet, Nick’s wife’s ghost, the homoerotic undertones of Lucifer’s possession, Donatello wakes up.

My Thoughts:

This one hits a lot of Buckleming bingo slots, including unnecessary torture porn, Mark Pellegrino, scenes the w*ncesties will love, continuity errors, and a deus ex machina.

The frankly kickass opening of Dean’s nightmare of the Ma’lak box reminiscent of Lazarus Rising is a redeeming moment, especially with the transition to his fingers bleeding where he was scratching the walls in his sleep. Cas playing dress up in a doctor outfit is too, although they really missed the opportunity to do a Dr. Sexy callback. I’m glad they call John a bad parent.

Both of the Buckleming episodes today had stupid titles. It’s picky but Route 666 is named as if it’s demonic, but it's a ghost. Prophet and Loss isn’t even a good pun.

The whole plot with Tony Alvarez was completely unnecessary and just an excuse for a bunch of torture. The only thing that comes out of it is that Donatello’s brain is rebuilding itself (the deus ex machina), which sucks because Donatello is one of the most hateable characters on the entire show. I’m still bitter that they killed off Kevin Tran and then gave us Donatello instead.

There’s no reason for Nick to be a good fighter when he’s not possessed, although we can chalk that up to the cop being useless. There are two main problems with this whole Nick plotline in Season 14. The first is that in concept, Lucifer’s vessel becoming psychosexually obsessed with him is a very cool plot, and somehow they flub the execution so badly that it’s either uncomfortable to watch or just plain boring. The second is that I don’t understand what place it has in the greater narrative other than to show that it is possible to pull an angel out of the Empty, and then the greater narrative conveniently forgets that it’s possible when Cas goes to the Empty, which enrages me so much that I have to stop thinking about it or risk medical issues.

They really wanted the scene with the wife to be a powerful moment and reveal, but it's very obvious what they were leading to and the woman playing the wife was not a strong enough actor to pull it off. On a related note, I usually say that Jared is a good actor when he’s trying, but he is trying so hard in this last scene and it is NOT working for him in any capacity. Terrible to watch. Sorry, Samgirls.

More nitpicking: within the lore of the show, there’s no way Sarah’s ghost would still be coherent 10 years after her death. The video Cas takes of Donatello has his face clear while he mumbles Enochian, and then he has a breathing tube when they run into the room mere seconds later (the continuity error mentioned above).

@meg3point0 and I both agree that it would have been a much more fun and sexy solution to have Cas possess Dean and fight Michael to kick him out. This isn’t important, but please just imagine it, or else send me the links to your fanfiction.

I was watching with my roommate (Meg’s husband) and at the end of the episode when Sam was trying to give his big faith speech, he said “this is very ‘man-who-just-discovered-Bell-Let’s-Talk-day’” and “I just think they shoudn’t have put their suicide allegory in the hands of the worst writers on the team”. He’s right, and he should say it.

Notable Lines:

“Dean, you were the one who was always there for me. The only one. I mean, you practically raised me.”

“Sometimes when I was… when I was away, you know it wasn’t ‘cause I just ran out, right? Dad would… he would send me away when I really pissed him off.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 3.5

IMdB Rating: 8.2

In Conclusion:

<< Previous Day | Next Day >>

#Stackednatural #supernatural #spn #1x13 #Route 666 #14x12 #Prophet and Loss #3x09 #Malleus Maleficarum #meg also thinks we should have got a homophobic episode about a homophobic truck but thats neither here nor there

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lightsaberupmybutt · 3 years

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Three’s a Crowd - Reader/Ben Solo/Poe Damerson (Modern AU)

alright so Ben/Kylo is a big ego kid in this, because of course. Also, Rey is ACTUALLY Lukes daughter in this, making them cousins. Ive fiddled with the plot okay sue me.

Summary: Poe, Finn and their roommate have been living in a harmonious tenancy, but when Finn decides to move out for a year of travelling, the two are left with no option but to look elsewhere for their third body. Rey Skywalker, a friend of the group, proposes her cousin for the role. He's in a band, wears all black and all in all is somewhat of a social reject - but he's also all theyve got.

“I think that one was actually somehow worse than last weeks” You tell Poe, as he pours himself a juice and settles down next to you on the sofa. You'd just finished showing around another possible roommate and you felt exhausted in every sense of the word.

“How can he be worse than the neo nazi?” Poe shot you an unbelieving look and rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and knocking some of your papers in his wake.

“Alex was a she, and they asked if they could hang their deer head in the front room” you grimaced even thinking about it, weren't all artsy college students supposed to be vegetarians anyway? why did you have to get saddled with the only blood thirsty one on campus.

“Thats not so bad”

“Poe she showed me a picture of her taxidermied cat”

“Oh”

You had tried to find a polite way to stop her from passing you her phone, but you were too nice to make her feel uncomfortable, and now the image of the long dead tabby would remain behind your eyes for god knows how long.

“was she hot?” You shook your head, causing Poe to sigh wistfully.

“Not hot enough to cancel out her obsession with dead bodies anyway” you informed him, the hopeful look from his eyes gone.

“Face it Poe, were doomed” You let your head fall into your hands, Poe letting out a laugh before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Hey we’ll get someone! who wouldn't want to live here?” You knew his question was rhetorical but when looking around the cleaner than usual flat, you had to admit it was missing something. Bare spaces on the walls from where Finn had taken down his pictures, the empty side of the kitchen counter that had once houses his overpriced coffees. You even missed picking up his empty cups after him, the room feeling like it had less character without them. It truly hadn't felt the same in the flat since Finn had left, and although Poe concealed it well, you could see it was getting to him too. Poe had, after all, known Finn first; Finn managing to get a very drunk and outspoken Poe out of a sticky situation he had found himself in when running across a local gang in a dive bar. The ‘first order’ as they so called themselves, had an infamous reputation around campus for being trouble makers and general doers of bad deeds. Ever since that night they had been an unstoppable duo, until they met you of course, and their duo became three.

You loved Finn, and you knew told miss him like hell, but you also knew that Poe must be feeling that ten times over.

“You wanna do something tonight?” You asked, changing the subject before his mind drifted to where yours had.

“what kind of something?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively,

“Gross”

“hey I'm serious!”

“what about Razor Crest, they are open late, we could grab some drinks and meet up with some people”

Razor crest was the only worth while bar in town; it was certainly nothing to write home about, but it played fairly decent music and it had a marginally less sticky floor than others. Additionally, your other friends lived just over from the humble saloon, making it the perfect watering hole for you guys.

It didn't take much convincing before you had Poe out the door and ready to socialise. Upon arrival, he headed to the bar while you were waved over by Rey, who had already found a booth and was already at least a few drinks in.

“Look, i think i have a solution to your roomie problemo” She told you, peeking over her straw, a gleam in her eye that made you feel not all too confident in her yet to be spoken plan.

“Go on” you told her, cautiously.

“My cousins back in town” She told you between gulps.

“The weird one?” You asked,

“Hes not weird, just ...eccentric” the last word was more of a question, but you could tell she was on a roll,

“He's just joined one of the college bands and Auntie Leia says him and Uncle Han are butting heads”

“ah cool, weve always wanted live music in our own flat at 2 am” Poe injected, rejoining the table and placing a drink in front of you before taking a sip of his own.

“hes not BAD at it, he just plays loud i think” She corrected him, “anyway, he's not a total twat, I'm sure he would be considerate of your sleep schedules”

“didn't he try and stab you with a stick when you were five” you asked her, you'd heard stories of this cousin before and none of them were quite savoury,

“that was ages ago! he's like way old now” she was starting to slur her words, but you had a feeling this was something Rey was quite set on. Rey was stubborn, and when she got something in mind she would move hell to make it happen; she was also your best friend, and someone you trusted the judgment off. Had she gotten you into some weird shit in the past? sure.

Did you have any other options; nay on that.

“Fine, get Han or Leia to bring him round at some point next week and one of us will give him a tour” You tell her, and she lets out a little happy shrill at her own personal win. Poe, not so much.

“Speak for yourself, weirdo cousin can see himself around” he crosses his arms and pouts, you give him a little nudge.

“Hey, maybe you'll be best mates” you offer, but when he shoots you a death stare you go back to your drink.

The family turmoil must have been more vicious than Rey had let in on; It was barely the next morning before you had a tall, intimidating male knocking on your door.

“Hey!” you offered him, in as cheery a voice as your hung over self would allow.

He looked down at you from his towering height, but gave no verbal response.

“You must be Ben?...” He offered you the slightest nod you'd had ever seen in response. Okay so, not much of a talker, noted.

You waved him in, shutting the door behind him. God, he looked even bigger inside? is that possible? Rey had failed to mention the sheer height on the boy. You'd seen pictures of her and her aunt and uncle, it seemed like Ben was a scientific and biological mystery. Like how did he get clothes to fit? did he have to shop somewhere special or

you were snapped out of your thoughts by a clearing of a throat.

“So, how much is the rent” so he DID have a voice,

You informed him automatically, still part dazed.

“Ill be in by the weekend” he told you, and with a nod he moved past you, making his way back to the door.

“But wait .. y .. you haven't even seen your room yet?” You stumbled, dumbfound by the lack of foreplay. The previous people you had shown around were full of questions; they wanted to know the ins and outs of the place. Ben had seen all of the door way and the front room and he was already signing the lease.

“See you then” he didn't stop, hand on the door knob as if you hadn't spoken.

“But i don't have your phone number” you don't know why that came to you first, but it was true. At no point had Rey offered you direct contact with Ben, probably assuming he would. It seemed reasonable, that you'd need his number before he moved in, didn't it? Poe was always texting you about random shit in the flat, arguably too much, but it seemed like the norm for people coexisting in such a small space.

He turned back at you and gave you a confused look,

“why would you need my number?”

“erm... to talk to you” your condescending tone not completely masked,

“but ill be living here” he stated, which, he had you there.

Before you could even think of a response he was out the door.

True to his word, Ben had his things over by that very same weekend. Although it was unsurprising considering just how light he packed. In fact, other than his bass and musical equipment, you couldn't really think of anything he had actually brought with him to the flat. You got to meet his parents when they dropped him off, both of whom seemed leaps and bounds more conversational than their son. Ironically, you got Leia’s phone number before her sons; her telling you to message if you ever needed anything. It felt like an indirect jab at Ben, a ‘if he fucks up let me know’, but you digress. The tension between Ben and his dad was blatantly obvious, them sharing no words before he got back into the car and Ben into the house. He did give his mum a small hug goodbye though, and you thought you saw a small tear in her eye before she managed to wipe it away.

Since his move in, Ben had kept painfully to himself. You barely saw him at all in those first days, just heard him through the walls the odd time he dropped something - or saw a plate or cup gone from their places in the kitchen. To be honest , it felt more like a paranormal haunting than a new roommate. Poe was vocal of his apprehension to the situation, sharing glances with you when you would both be in the living room and you'd see ben scurry by or passive aggressively texting you when his favourite cup had been used by someone who wasn't him. it was a relatively small issue, but Poe had blown it so out of proportion that you had ordered a new set of cups from Amazon and sent him the link, shutting him up for a while before he found something else to complain about.

it was the fifth day before you actually bumped into ben again. He was on the sofa with his base set up, twiddling with his amp. The sight surprised you so much you physically jumped back, causing him to look up. crap. act cool. act cool.

“hey” you offered him

“hi” hi replied back, looking back down at his amp.

right, yer. his space, give him his space. Just get your stuff and go back to your room. don't speak to him, leave him alone. he clearly wants to be left alone.

“nice day isn't it” you wanted to cover your mouth, the words coming out against your will. Truthfully, you had no clue why you said it. You hadn't even looked at the weather this morning. Its just what people say right?

“Erm” his eyes shot to the window and then back to yours,”no”

sure enough, it was pissing it down outside. The sky was actually comically grey and you'd have laughed if you werent so angry at yourself. You were unsure of what to do, and he was still looking at you, almost assessing you. His eyes were so serious and dark they felt like they were burning tiny holes into your skin. shit, you had to speak now right?

While regretting every single life decision that had brought you into this kitchen at this time, Poe sauntered into the room like your night in shining armour, ignoring Ben all together and coming straight over to you, placing a big arm around your shoulders. You saw Ben drop his head back down to this bass, and you used all your might to not let out a sigh of relief.

“Tonight, I'm taking you out” He offered, a cheeky gleam in his eye.

“Are you now”

“Razor crest, drinks and dancing, be there or be square” He lists off as if he's a paid promoter, causing you to let out a giggle.

“Whos invited?”

“just the gang” he said, causing you to shoot him an eye roll, knowing full well you ‘gang’ consisted of all of three people, yourself and Poe included in that number.

but then you remembered, there was another person now, whether they liked it or not. Poe’s eyes followed yours to Ben and then back to meet yours again, you saw the realisation change to disgust, as he shook his head silently at you.

you knew this look, the ‘don't you dare’ look, the ‘not in 1000 years’ look. But you couldn't help it, your lips were moving before you could stop them for the second time this morning.

“Are you free tonight, Ben?’

The look of sheer betrayal on Poe's face made you wince, surely he'd understand right? he knew you well enough to know your verbal diarrhoea problem.

Ben didn't even look up, but he did let out a small laugh that felt quite antagonistic.

“i dont go to Razor Crest”

“i don't go to razor crest ugh” Poe mocked, causing Rey to let out a hysterical giggle, and you a sigh.

You'd been out for all of three hours and you were all already feeling the effects of the alcohol. It was late and the bar was jam packed with students all raring to go. Poe had been making eyes at one particular red head almost all night and you were half surprised he hadn't already made his move. Poe put out, it was a fact. You and Finn had at one time made a fridge chart for him, a gold star awarded every time he brought girl home. Whether the goal was to make him feel proud of his conquests or embarrassed, you still weren't 100% sure, but after a month or so you had both lost count and given up. You told yourself it didn't bother you, that he was just a friend, and that he owed you nothing, but every time he left you at the bar for another girl something stung inside; something you pushed deep down but regrettably was still there none the less.

Sure enough, as the night progressed, you and Rey ended up fending for it alone, and instead of feeling sorry for yourself you decided to do the responsible thing and drink more.

After the third round of shots, Rey calls it in.

“I think I'm gonna be sick” she tells you sheepishly, and you can't help but belly laugh in response. She starts to shuffle towards the door and you go to follow.

“Hey don't leave on my behalf” she tells you earnestly, but you wave her off.

“Nah I've had my fill, I'm starting to forget which flat number i live at” you tell her, causing her to giggle this time.

You both stumble out the bar, past the smokers and up the cobbled road towards her flat. She unlocks her door and lets herself in, not before giving you a drunken hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

As you ready yourself to make your way back to your own flat, you come back past the bar entrance; a particularly prominent cobble causes you to trip ever so slightly and gain a whoop from a group of boys who were passing round a box of marlboro straights.

You suddenly realised just how dark it was and just how alone you were. Most nights you wouldn't stay out this late, and if you did, then you'd normally be walking back with finn. You let out a shiver, a mix of both the cold night air finally breaking through your drunken daze and a smidge of fear. The Razor Crests entrance lights were getting progressively further away, and although you know that you only had a maximum of a half mile walk back to your home, it felt like ample distance to get kidnapped or murdered in, most probably both.

How many true crime stories started with a young drunk girl, scantily clad and out alone at night? You could hear the police reports now, which photo would they use? you prayed it would be a hot one, at the very least one after your thin brow phase.

Being literally bumped back into reality, in almost a cruel humorous way, you felt yourself walk head first into a figure, their arms coming out to catch you as the sheer momentum bounced you back.

Oh god, I'm dead. I'm literally going to die.

“Hey, chill out” The voice made your heart beat both slow and race again,

“Ben?!” you shrieked, voice hoarse through pure anticipation of your thought to be demise

“Are you okay” he asked, and only then did you realise you were shaking like a leaf.

“Im fine” you let out in a small voice, looking down at your shoes. You could feel the redness in your cheeks through pure embarrassment alone. This was not an ideal situation for him to see you in, and you kind of started to with that he had been a murderer, at least then you wouldn't have to deal with the second hand embarrassment in the morning.

“What are you doing out here”

“why are you out alone”

you both asked simultaneously,

“I was coming out for a smoke” He told you, flashing his tobacco pouch at you from inside his coat. His very warm looking coat, might you add. Another shiver ran down your body.

“Im coming home from Razor Crest” you tell him, trying to be matter of fact but slurring your words just enough to spoil the show.

“Yes obviously, but why are you alone” he shoots back in some what of a patronising tone, it wouldn't sit well with sober you and it definitely doesn't go down well with drunk you.

“Im a big girl”

“clearly” he makes, making extra sure to look you up and down from his towering distance above you, causing you to huff.

“well i can take care of myself”

“you shouldn't be out alone around here, its not safe” he ignores your response, looking you dead in the eye.

You feel something inside you flutter, a warmth that you can't quite control. Okay, ben might be weird and a bit annoying it would seem, but he was handsome, thats for sure. The limited light danced off his strong features and dark shaggy mop of hair, making him look both dangerous and appealing.

As if you were standing here mentally flirting with the idea of being with Res cousin; you made a mental note to punish yourself for the ludicrous thoughts in the morning.

“Okay well I'm going home now” you tell him, attempting to push past him, but his large hand finds its way to your forearm and pulls you back,

“yes, you are, come on” If what he said before was patronising, he was now speaking to you like you were a dog he was walking.

“go have your nicotine, ive got this one covered” you tell him with a mock salute, causing him to roll his eyes. He lets go of your arm and you take your win, trying to step confidently away without falling. You're proud of yourself for handling the situation when you realise he's following all of 10 steps behind you, rolling a cigarette in his hands while holding a filter between his teeth.

when he catches you looking, he nods down to his hands,

“want one?” he mumbles between his lips, still holding the filter pride of place.

“no thanks” you snap, picking up pace.

Ben smirks at you, but you miss it, too focused on not embarrassing yourself and keeping your feet in line.

#Star Wars #Star Wars imagine #star wars modern au #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #Ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo x y/n #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader

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patchwork-panda · 3 years

Text

“I won’t do anything. Probably.” (BSD OdaSaku x Reader) Part 2/3

Title: “I won’t do anything. Probably”

Genre: Comedy/Romance/soft angst/smut

Rating: Part 2 is semi-nsfw. Part 3 is 18+ (NC-17 aka nsfw)

Reader-insert is written as afab (gender non specified, so can be femme or nonbinary but IS shorter than OdaSaku) and 20+

CW: afab language, kissing

Plot: You are a member of the Port Mafia who has been sent on a “cleanup” job with Oda Sakunosuke, who you have a crush on but won’t admit it. You don’t finish the job until very late at night, at which point, you’re forced to check into a hotel. But there’s just one problem:

There’s only one room left.

And only one bed.

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

@calamityismyspecialty you asked to be tagged specifically, so here ya go! :3

“You really shouldn’t have cut him off like that, you know,” Oda says as you stalk down the hall. “It was pretty rude of you.”

“Rude?”

You snort.

“If I cared about being polite, do you think I would’ve joined the Port Mafia of all places?”

Oda shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a beat of silence. Oda speaks again.

“Did you? Actually choose to join, that is?”

Instead of answering, you walk faster.

The distance between you grows.

“When do you think the rain will stop?” you ask, after a pause.

You don’t look back at him as you speak, but you hear a soft rustling of fabric, as if Oda is calmly shrugging behind you from down the hallway.

“I dunno,” he replies, confirming your guess.

His tone is polite. Even. He doesn’t seem at all offended that you completely ignored his question.

“Early morning, perhaps?”

You sigh.

“In other words, we’re gonna have to spend the rest of the night here?”

“Not necessarily,” Oda hums. “You did suggest camping out under a bridge earlier--”

“There’s no way we’re doing that and you know it.”

Oda falls quiet. You wonder if he’s shrugging again.

“Okay.”

“Look,” you say slowly, as patiently as you can. “It’s late, we’re tired and it’s raining. We’re clearly going to be stuck here for the night, so let’s just not make it any weirder than it already is.”

You can see your destination coming up ahead: a nondescript wooden door at the very end of the hall, the numbers on the placard beside it dark and clear.

“It’s like you said earlier,” you declare, taking the keycard out of your pocket as you approach. “We’re just a couple of colleagues who got stranded in an unfamiliar town while out on a business trip.”

You take the keycard and hold it up to the door.

“And we’re just going to be sleeping. Just sleeping.”

There’s a soft beep. The light beside the door turns green.

“In any case.”

You grab the doorknob and turn it.

“You just stay in your bed, on your side of the room,” you say, fumbling along the wall for a light switch.

You find it just as Oda squeezes into the narrow entryway with you.

“And I’m sure we won’t have a--”

The lights click on and your voice falls to a hush.

“Problem.”

Oda steps into the main room with you just as you realize what the receptionist was trying to tell you.

This is a single.

And there’s only one bed.

Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out.

Oda was right. Maybe you shouldn’t have cut off the receptionist...

Without another word, Oda brushes past you. He heads for the couch in the corner.

“No good,” he says, lifting up some of its weathered fabric cushions. “It’s not a pullout.”

He drops the cushion back onto the couch and stuffs it into place.

“And it’s too short for me to sleep on.”

And to demonstrate, he sits down on it, his back against one armrest. His long legs take up most of the couch’s short length.

Letting the keycard drop onto the nearest nightstand, you walk towards him.

“Let me try,” you insist, gesturing for Oda to get up.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, as you sit down on the couch and try to lay horizontally on it. “You’re gonna fall out.”

“No, I won’t,” you insist, stubbornly tucking your legs up towards your chest.

But once again, Oda proves right.

The minute you wrap your arms around your knees, the springs under the couch squeal and before you know what’s happening, you roll out onto your face.

You think you hear Oda suppress a laugh as you pick yourself up off the floor and as you look up at him and scowl, he quickly looks away.

Your scowl deepens.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you mumble, your cheeks red.

The tap squeaks when you turn it.

The water comes out a little colder than you expect it to and you wince as some of it leaks out of the showerhead above you and onto your head.

It wakes you up a little and the realization that this is real--that you’re really, really stuck sharing a hotel room with Oda Sakunosuke hits home.

As the water heats up at last, you peel off the rest of your dirty, grimy clothes and get in.

You glance at the door.

Oda Sakunosuke is just outside that door.

While you’re in here. Naked.

He’s probably sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone while he waits for you to finish up.

And then it’ll be his turn...

Suddenly, your cheeks burn in a way that has nothing to do with the heat of the shower.

You grab the miniature bottle of shampoo sitting in the alcove and dump it onto your head, scrubbing at the tangled locks of hair as if you can scrub the image out of your brain but you can’t.

For some reason, you can’t get the image of Oda Sakunosuke taking off his clothes, dumping them on the floor in a pile where yours were now and walking into the shower, where the hot water would run down his skin and soak into his hair...

He’d be using the same shampoo and bar of soap you’re using now.

And you know for a fact that there’s not enough steam to cover up what needs to be covered...

Freaking out, you throw the soap at the cubbyhole in the wall but it bounces and hits you in the face.

Groaning with pain, you crouch down in the shower, clutching your forehead as the not-as-hot water slowly runs down your head and body.

“You okay?” Oda’s voice calls out from the other room.

“Fine!” you shout back, embarrassed.

You somehow manage to finish the rest of your shower in peace.

“All set?”

Oda calls out to you without looking up from his phone.

Clutching your bathrobe (there were two in the bathroom) tighter about your body, your hair still slightly wet, you nod.

You’re not quite sure whether you’re relieved or offended that he’s not looking at you, but you quickly decide on “relieved.”

Oda’s yellow jacket lays neatly folded on the couch, resting a few feet above his shoes and socks. And while he hasn’t taken off his black striped shirt, he’s undone the first several buttons, revealing a narrow stripe of skin right down the middle. His sleeves are rolled up halfway to his elbows and you notice that every time he types something into his phone, you can see his forearm muscles tense.

Your mouth suddenly feels dryer than before.

Something about seeing Oda like this, lounging so casually on the covers of a queen sized bed, just browsing his phone with his shirt half unbuttoned... it makes your heart race.

Noticing your silence at last, Oda looks up.

His deep blue eyes seem to pierce into yours and without knowing why, you tense.

“My turn?” he asks, to which you only nod.

He nods back.

“Thanks.”

And with that, you’ve traded places.

You realize only when the bathroom door is about to close that you’ve left your clothes inside--including your bra and underwear.

“Oda-senpai--!” you call out just as the click of a lock rings out throughout the room.

Too late.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you trudge towards the couch, grabbing your phone on the way there. It’s not very comfortable to sit on and the cushions sag under your weight but you don’t want to sit on the bed. The bed that Oda was laying on.

The bed you might be sharing in just a few, short minutes...

You scroll through your apps, trying to find something that might distract you from the sound of running water next door and the mental image of Oda stripping in there when you realize you can hear a deep voice humming.

Oda is humming in the shower.

He sounds pretty good...

Your face growing warm, you turn away from the bathroom wall and continue scrolling through your phone. You find a game you haven’t touched in a while and start playing...

But you can still hear Oda humming and occasionally singing quietly from the next room over the sounds of your game.

All too soon, the water stops running.

Oda’s finished showering.

Your heart beats faster as you hear footsteps approaching the door. You’re still wearing nothing but your bathrobe...

For one heart-stopping moment, you wonder if he’s going to come out shirtless, in just a towel. Just like the hot guys usually do in those TV dramas.

But before you can look away, the door clicks open and Oda steps out.

“That was a nice shower,” he comments casually as he strolls through the room, toweling off his wet rust-colored hair.

You’re so busy staring at the way those dampened dark-red locks frame his cheekbones and face that it takes you a moment to realize it.

Oda is wearing the second bathrobe from the closet and nothing else.

Now you match.

Like a honeymooning couple.

“Hm?”

He blinks at you.

“Why are you sitting on the couch all bunched up like that? Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“N-no.”

Oda just stares quietly at you and your hand flies back to the front of your bathrobe. It wasn’t falling open but you suddenly feel the need to hold it closed.

Just in case.

Oda shrugs and goes to sit on the bed. The mattress and covers sink a little under his weight.

“Ready to sleep?”

Shakily, you nod.

“Y-yeah.”

But you don’t move any closer.

“By the way,” Oda says, reaching for his cell phone. “While you were in there earlier, I managed to look it up.”

He turns it towards you so that you can see the screen.

“First train’s at seven in the morning so if we want to catch that, we should get some rest soon.”

He lowers the phone and looks at you over it.

“Unless…”

As he moves, his bathrobe opens up down the middle a little more.

You can see the line of his chest muscles...

“You’d like to sleep in a little more?”

Oda regards you, his deep blue eyes meeting yours from across the room.

You flush.

“What are you saying...?”

“I’m saying,” Oday says calmly, his expression as stoic as ever, “if you’re not a morning person, we can sleep in a little longer.”

He flips through the phone again.

“There’s trains coming at eight and nine too.”

He looks up at you again.

“What did you think I was implying?”

“N-nothing! The seven o’clock one is fine!”

“Okay. In that case...”

Calm as can be, Oda sets his cell phone aside and reaches for the alarm clock, programming it.

“Let’s hurry and go to sleep.”

And before you can say anything, he lifts up the covers and slides in (his bathrobe almost falling open in the process).

He looks to you expectantly.

“You coming in?”

It’s cold in your corner of the room and the couch springs are hard and uncomfortable beneath the thinned, battered cushion but you don’t move a muscle.

You squeeze the front of your robes closed.

“I’m fine here.”

“You sure?” Oda asks.

The corners of his lips turn downwards.

Or you think they do.

He’s so stoic, it’s really hard to tell.

“That looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s really not,” you lie, as the couch springs dig into your backside. “I’ve had worse.”

Oda looks unconvinced.

“Have you now?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer, but instead of words, a huge yawn comes out.

Oda’s gaze softens.

“Hey...”

He sits up a little, propping his head up on one hand as he regards you.

“You’re really tired, aren’t you?” he asks gently.

You stifle your yawn immediately as he slowly sits up, the covers slipping off of his body as he moves.

“It’s warm here, you know. The pillows are soft, too. So...”

Oda pats the bed next to him.

“Come and sleep. I won’t do anything.”

He pauses to think for a moment, his sapphire-blue eyes flicking up towards the ceiling.

“Probably.”

Probably?!

“Mm. Yeah,” he mumbles, his eyes still fixed on that spot on the ceiling, his expression as impassive as that of a man reviewing a grocery list.

Crossing his arms, he nods to himself a little, as if he’s made up his mind on something.

Oda looks back at you.

“I won’t do anything,” he says again.

Somehow, it’s even less convincing the second time he says it.

You don’t budge from your corner and Oda sighs.

“Like a frightened alley cat,” he mumbles under his breath and upon hearing this, you bristle.

“I’m not scared of you!” you snap, stomping towards the bed.

Without further ado, you grab one corner of the covers and get in with your back to him, tucking yourself into bed like an angry little burrito.

“Good work today, Oda-senpai! Good night!”

You hear a soft chuckle.

“You too.”

The lights click off.

“Good night.”

Your pulse pounds loudly in your ears.

It seems to echo back to you in the gloom.

You wonder if Oda can hear it.

He was right. The bed is soft. And warm. And comfy.

It’s been quite a while since he turned the lights off and you’re as tired as you’ve ever been.

And yet...

You shift a little under the covers, your heart racing in your chest.

Even though you’re taking care not to turn in any direction that could risk you coming face to face with Oda (you’ve chosen to sleep with your back to him), you just can’t get yourself to calm down...

How can you? When you’re sharing a bed with Oda Sakunosuke? Both of you wearing nothing but these thin bathrobes?

You feel Oda shift next you, a subtle dip in the mattress accompanied by a soft, barely audible creak of bedsprings. His body is heavy, dense with muscle and you feel yourself rolling slightly towards him before you shift away to stay on your side of the bed.

But the span of mattress between you still seems much too small.

The minutes tick by, accompanied by only the sound of soft, steady sounds of Oda’s breathing.

You find yourself wondering if he’s asleep.

And if he isn’t...

Is he lying here, staring at the ceiling or at the opposite wall, with his heart pounding, unable to stop thinking about the person lying behind him?

Just like you?

You feel your pulse quicken at the thought of Oda thinking about you, or even looking at you.

Is he facing you right now?

Your shoulder tingles as you imagine him reaching over and grasping it, pulling you towards him so that you can face him.

Is his hand already stretching towards you?

You clutch the pillow next to your face. Your whole body feels like it’s burning with anticipation.

But he said he wasn’t going to do anything, didn’t he?

And Oda is a man you know you can trust.

He’s helped you out of a pinch so many times already, including this morning’s mission and he’s always been kind to you, even though he is a bit hard to read.

The beating in your chest slows and you feel your body slowly filling with the cold emptiness of disappointment.

Your grip tightens on the pillow.

What if... you really do end the night without anything happening?

Is that really what you want...?

Closing your eyes again, you take a deep breath in and sigh.

The darkness seems to grow deeper.

Suddenly, Oda’s voice pierces the dark.

“Can’t sleep?”

You mumble something unintelligible and shift again, just a little further towards your pillow. You decide not to roll anywhere or you’ll fall out of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice gentle. “Was it today’s job?”

Oda shifts a little, the little bit of mattress between you sinking under his weight as he moves towards you.

You realize he’s looking at you, or facing you at the very least, and something about that makes you feel a little bit better. Your cheeks warm but you still don’t answer.

“Yeah, it was kind of a messy one, wasn’t it?” Oda says, shifting again.

Judging by the sound of his voice, he seems to be even closer to you than he was before. Your back begins to prickle.

“I told you yesterday, didn’t I? My jobs aren’t for the weak of stomach...”

Oda trails off. He sounds like he’s thinking very carefully about something...

“Hey... if today’s job seriously got to you... I can ask for someone else instead of you next time.”

The bed springs creak as he shifts again (he’s definitely facing you now) and the prickling feeling on your back grows stronger. You’re not sure if you’re growing warm from the proximity to his body or if it’s your own body heating up as you realize he’s drawing closer to you.

“I might not have that much pull at the organization,” he says, “but I can do at least that much--”

“I-It’s not the job.”

Oda stops talking.

“I see.”

The bed springs groan and you realize he’s lying on his back. Probably facing the ceiling with one arm behind his head.

That bathrobe’s probably getting a little looser around his body.

“Then... what’s bothering you, if it’s not today’s job? You wanna talk about it?”

Does he really not know?

You stay silent, not sure if you want to tell him the truth or not. You smile a little.

He’s pretty dense, Oda Sakunosuke, but at least he’s hot...

In fact, he’s a lot of things...

Oda sighs.

“Ah. I think I get it.”

Your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s figured you out. That hand’s going to come reaching over to your side, over the invisible line between you any moment now and then...!!

Your pulse begins to race again. Your eyes are wide and staring at the wall in front of you. You wonder if you used enough soap in the shower earlier--

The bed springs creak again. The weight on Oda’s side of the bed suddenly lifts and you realize he’s getting up.

“If you’re that bothered sharing a bed, I can sleep on the floor--”

“Wait!”

Oda stops moving as you sit up abruptly. He looks down at his arm and sees that you’ve latched onto his sleeve. Realizing it yourself, you let go at once.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” you tell him. “Sleep on the floor, that is.”

Oda studies you.

“You’re sure?”

You nod and shift back as he sits back down on the bed.

“And if you were wondering... I wasn’t all that troubled by today’s job,” you mumble. “I might not have been with the Port Mafia for long but, I’ve seen and done much worse than this. So you don’t have to worry about me...”

Oda grows quiet.

The silence is starting to feel awkward so you tuck yourself back under the covers and face away.

“How much was it?” you ask, suddenly, to change the topic of conversation. “The hotel room? I can pay for half.”

“What?”

Oda lets out a soft, incredulous chuckle.

“That’s what you were thinking about?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I have the money, you know. Just tell me how much it was and I’ll transfer you my half in the morning.”

“Like I said,” Oda says, his voice betraying a hint of amusement. “It’s fine. You don’t have to pay me back. Think of it as a favor from a senpai.”

“But I want to,” you insist, rolling over to face him. “I’m not like one of those kids you take care of, you know--”

“I know,” Oda says quietly, cutting you off.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

Something about his tone just now.

It’s almost as if...

“I don’t see you like that,” he says, his voice low.

...as if he meant he saw you in that way.

In the same way you saw him...

The short stretch of bed between you suddenly feels that much smaller.

“Oda-senpai...”

Your body is burning.

You wonder if he can see what you’re thinking.

He moves closer. His blue eyes lock onto yours.

“You know,” he says quietly. “I did say I wouldn’t do anything earlier. And I meant it. I’m not going to do anything to you, so you can relax. I’m not like that.”

“I know,” you murmur, your gaze dropping to his lips as he finishes speaking. “I know you wouldn’t do anything without my permission. Senpai isn’t that kind of man..."

You bite your lip.

You know what it is you’ve said.

Now the only question is if Oda has figured it out. Has figured you out...

He falls silent.

“Without your permission, huh?” he asks, studying your face.

The red light from the alarm clock behind him casts his head in a dull red glow--like a halo. His expression is pensive.

“Does that mean you’d like me to do something with your permission?”

Your heart’s pounding again. You can’t look away from his face.

Slowly, hesitantly, you nod.

Oda considers you for a moment.

“In that case...”

He reaches towards you and lets his thumb and forefinger curl about your chin. His eyes seem to burn as they look into yours.

“Let me ask you again,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. “Do you want me to do something?”

You wet your lips. The place between your thighs feels hot.

Your voice comes out in a breathless hush.

“Yes.”

Oda smiles.

And it’s the first smile you’ve ever seen on him like this.

He looks utterly bewitching.

“Thought so,” he murmurs.

And without another word, he presses his lips to yours.

#odasaku x reader #bsd odasaku #oda sakunosuke #bsd oda sakunosuke #bsd oda sakunosuke x reader #port mafia reader #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #odasaku x y/n

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: In The Act {1}

Chris Evans x Famous OFC Cassia Drake

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing

Word Count: 2.2

Summary: After the release of your hit movie “Roman Holiday,” you’ve become Hollywood’s new “It Girl.” Everyone wants a piece of you. While at a Hollywood event, you get pulled into an epic selfie similar to the one from the MET Gala with the megastars of Hollywood. The next day all anyone can talk about is this epic picture but not because of the star power in it, but what was happening in it.

Note: Yep, another one.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️❤️

“God, it’s hot!”

You fanned your face and tried to cool your skin. It wasn’t helping one bit; you were just getting hotter.

“My makeup is going to melt, and when I get there, I’ll be a hot mess.”

“Calm down, Cass, I got you,” Tiffany said, whipping out a portable handheld power fan. The cool breeze was the best thing you’d felt all day.

You hated getting ready for events. It was always a whole day thing that left your hair damaged, your skin dry and slightly irritated, your cheeks soar, your back aching, your feet cramped, and your energy completely gone. To you, this was one part of fame you didn’t like too much. You’d spent the last six hours getting ready for this event, and you were already counting down the hours to go home.

“Fix your face. I’ve told you about the scowl. It causes wrinkles.” Pieter scolded. You rolled your eyes then closed them.

“Ignore him,” Tiffany began fanning your agent and manager off before she continued. “You look incredible. You’re going to get out this limo, and you’re going to stun them on this red carpet and have a good time,” she finished.

You looked at her wide smile. “And maybe cop a few numbers. I hear the who is who of the industry is going to be there. Maybe a certain blue-eyed ex-captain will be there,” Tiffany added.

You snorted and gave her the eye for her to stop. The last thing you needed was for Pieter to hear and actually understand your code. He had just gotten done hammering into you that dating was out of the questions now. According to him, you were going to be too busy with all your obligations. You needed to keep your eye on the prize and your career and not complicating it. He had a point. It was hard enough to set yourself apart from the countless other young actresses, but it would be harder for you because you were black. It was a known fact, a black actor in Hollywood had to work twice as hard, but a black actress had to work thrice as hard as them all put together. It was unfair, but it was what you’d signed up for, and you were determined to stake your claim in this glittering town where fallacies were the norm. So if Peiter said you had to put the nix on dating, then it was what you would do.

You could feel Pieter’s eyes burning a hole into you. Straightening, you held your head high. “Don’t be silly, Tiff. This is business.” Tiffany rolled her eyes while Pieter gave you an approving nod before he buried his face back into his phone.

Tiffany adjusted her dress and took her cell phone out. You knew what she intended to do, so you took yours out as well and put it on silent.

MSG Tiff: You give him too much power.

MSG: I give him as much power as he needs to have.

MSG Tiff: And he needs to have control over your personal life?

MSG: Tiff, you know what I’m up against. Cut me some slack.

“Phones away, it’s time to work,” Pieter announced. You dropped your phone back into your clutch and prepared yourself for the sea of paps and deafening screams.

When the limo stopped, there were a few moments of quiet before Pieter got out first on the opposite side that the red carpet was on.

“Remember to have a good time, okay, Cass. Yeah, it’s work, but you’ve worked hard to get to this level of your career. It’s important to enjoy life as well as work,” Tiff cautioned with a gentle squeeze to your hand.

You knew she was right, and times like these, you were happy that she was down to coming on this ride with you. You’d been friends since you were nine ever since she saved you lunch after you got sent to the principal’s office for getting into a fight with one of the boys from the other class who didn’t know how to shut up. Ever since then, you were inseparable. When you got your big break, there was no doubt you wanted her by your side for this wild ride.

The door opened, and you took a deep breath before you stepped out with Pieter’s help. Once you stepped out, the screams got louder, and the flurry of camera flashes immediately blinded and stunned you. This wasn’t your first event, but they all still managed to stun you. Feeling Tiff’s hand take yours, you took a breath and squeezed it, fighting the nerves. You pulled her to your side and walked the carpet with your signature smile. As they screamed your name telling you where to look, it quickly got hectic.

You and Tiffany walked down the carpet posing and whispering to each other. Tiff pointed out funny things she peeped with the paps as well as other actors who walked the carpet with you. When you came to these things with Tiffany, she always managed to take you out of the seriousness of it all, and you were grateful for it.

After giving a few interviews and posing for a few more pictures, you went inside to find your seats. This event was a banquet that was geared towards the collaboration of fashion and film. There would be speeches, recognition, networking, and, most importantly, for you and Tiff, food, and alcohol.

“Ms. Drake, allow me to show you to your seats.”

You nodded and let one of the ushers lead you through the floor. As you passed people, you smiled and waved. When they saw you, everyone wanted to stop you and compliment your hair, dress, makeup, jewels, and, most importantly, your performance in Roman Holiday. What should have been a minute walk across the floor turned into a mini networking catwalk. You didn’t get to your table for another thirty minutes. By the time you sat, Tiff was on queue with pouring a glass of champagne.

“It’s Ace of Spades. Do you think Jay and Bey are gonna be here?”

You snorted and shook your head. Her goal was to meet Beyoncé and Jay Z. you couldn’t fault her, whose goal wasn’t to meet them. You tapped glasses and downed the liquid with a moan. It was good.

“The way they were touching you, I thought you’d be missing a few jewels,” Tiff joked. Your laugh couldn’t be suppressed, and it rang out, bringing the attention of a few people around you.

“Stop it, you’re going to make them think I have no couth,” you whined to her in a whisper.

“Oh please. Even if you showed to be uncouth, they would still flock to you. Everyone wants a piece of you now. Soak it up.”

She was right. Since the premiere of Roman Holiday eight months ago, your name was at the tip of everyone’s tongue. You’d done at least six magazine shoots and countless interviews where the term “it girl” was thrown around quite a lot. The film had already rolled in over four hundred million at the box office, and you’d gotten calls from almost every big-name director wanting a meeting. It was overwhelming, but you tried to stay on top of it. Pieter said to ride the wave and learn how to jump to another that is higher.

“Hollywood is fickle, let’s not give them any fuel to turn the tides,” you said through a plastered smile while looking around you, returning the eye contact of those who were looking and whispering.

You still hadn’t gotten over the whispers. You never knew if they were good, or bad and it always got to you. When everyone took their seats, the event began. This was when the stares and whispers stopped. Everyone’s eyes were trained to the stage ahead, which gave you a reprieve. The show was filled with laughs, applause, and small talk. Tiffany had you in stitches, making fun of all the pomp and ridiculousness around you while those sitting around you did their best to keep your attention. You nodded, smiled, and did your best not to appear starstruck though you were more times than you could count.

After the show, and dinner it was again time to mingle and rub elbows. Thankfully good music helped. You walked around the room arm in arm with Tiff talking amongst yourselves. Every so often, you stopped and chatted with someone. First, it was Zac who was more buff in person then MBJ, who was just as charming as you’d expected him to be. When you were pulled to the side by Zendaya, who was still drop-dead gorgeous, you did your best to not come off as an amateur, but you found yourself hanging off of every word she spoke. It took you some time to recover.

When the music cranked up, and the talking turned down, you found yourself even more at ease. Tiffany was the only reason why you let loose the way you did. She urged you to dance and let your real self out while not caring who watched or what they said. Every time you tried, you saw Pieter from the corner of your eyes giving you a stern look that said keep it classy. So classy is what you kept it. It didn’t stop Tiffany from having the time of her life. You were glad for it. She deserved it.

By the time you looked at your phone, it was nearing two in the morning, and you were more than ready to go. Your feet were killing you, and you were tired of wearing clothes. You just wanted to lounge in bed completely naked while eating a pint of ice cream. As you made your move to leave with Tiff and Pieter on either side of you, you heard your name being shouted from across the room. You looked and saw a huddle of people waving you over.

“Go,” Pieter urged damn near pushing you toward them. You took Tiffany with you. When you got closer, it became clear what was going on. A group of at least ten of them were trying to get a selfie with everyone in the frame while one of them held their phone attached to a selfie stick. You snorted, remembering another photo like it.

“Come on, you guys, get in,” John Boyega invited.

“Absolutely,” Tiffany responded, pulling you along with her as she submerged herself in the crowd.

They all made room for you to squeeze in, and a squeeze was what it was. You looked to your left and nearly passed out. You were standing next to Chris Evans. His eyes met yours, and he gave you a friendly smile. As quickly as your eyes met, you looked away, finding Tiffany already looking. Your jaw dropped, giving her a look that she eagerly returned. You did your best to act cool and pose.

“All right, everyone, squish in.”

As instructed, everyone squished together. You felt his breath on your ear before you heard him.

“Is it okay?”

“What?” He leaned closer, giving you an even closer look at his lips. They looked soft.

“Is it okay, my hand?” You looked down to his arm as it registered what he was asking.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s cool,” you answered.

Chris’s arm wrapped around you, touching you in the middle of your back. Your heart literally skipped a beat, but you faked it and kept your cool.

“On three. One, two, three,” everyone counted down. Once at three, you smiled and struck your pose. As according to Hollywood standards, one picture was not good enough, two and three followed before a random paparazzi got in on the action and snapped a few as well. No one seemed to care, though.

“That was epic!” You didn’t know who it came from, but everyone erupted in laughter.

After going through a round of hugs with those who leaned in for one, you made your exit then got in the car. Once inside, you kicked off your heels and begged Tiffany to unhook the back of your corset. You couldn’t take it any longer. Pieter went over your schedule for later, but you barely listened. You were ready to call it a night and pass out.

Tiffany was the first to be dropped off, which left you and Pieter. He talked and talked. You were convinced he liked to hear himself talk. You knew everything he was saying was necessary, but you also knew that he would send an email and a text about the same thing in a few hours. You knew him that well. When he was dropped off, that was the first moment of peace you had all night. The silence was comforting.

You walked into your house just as it was turning three, and you wasted no time stripping your clothes off as you walked upstairs. Once in your bedroom, you only had your underwear on.

“Bed. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” You dropped face down, and before your head hit the five thousand thread count comforter, you were asleep.

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

Lee’s Note: What do y’all think? Should I continue?

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***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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#in the act fic #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc #slow burn fanfic #angst fanfic #chris evans au

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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Maybe this is bold of me to ask, but are there any deleted scenes from your fics, or scenes you had consideted writing but didn't? And if yes, would you be willing to share them someday?

Oh no problem!

Usually when a scene is deleted it stays deleted, so I don't have a lot to give you. There are a few things that were cut in betaing for various reasons, I can put a few of them below a readmore in this post.

There's the prologue that never was to Nebuchadnezzar's Dream, from back when the fic was supposed to be told alternately from Bella and Carlisle's respective points of view. In the prologue we saw how Bella, Alice, and Edward came to the point where they decided to overthrow the Volturi. Or, we would have, except I didn't actually like that prologue, and found myself jumping straight to writing chapter 2, the "Carlisle is at a party and gets attacked by a werewolf" chapter instead. My good beta @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin asked why I didn't simply make the whole fic from Carlisle's point of view, I realized she had an excellent point, now here we are.

For that matter, this is nowhere near the only significant change that happened to this fic during writing. One example, in the original outline I never brought up Carlisle's gift. Two significant things in the last chapter were not planned until after I published chapters twelve and thirteen, respectively (Luckily for me it'll look like I plotted them all along, so yay for that). For a tightly plotted fic, this one has had a lot of leeway.

Slight caveat, as I’m self-conscious: with most of these you will probably be able to tell why they’re deleted scenes. Especially the prologue. God, that prologue.

(Also, for the record yes I do write other things, but due to 1. being betaed, and 2. being long, I really only have examples for Nebuchadnezzar's Dream.)

The prologue that never was. Apologies for the fluff saturation:

The Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II once had a dream.

There was a statue that was gold on top, then silver, then copper, then iron, then clay and iron. As he watched, a rock struck its feet, and soon the whole statue crumbled, leaving nothing but rubble. The rock then grew into a great mountain that covered all the world.

This, the prophet Daniel told the king, was a message from Jehovah.

The statue represented five great human empires, the golden head being the Babylonian Empire, and the following three being those who would come after. The last would be both iron and clay, a divided kingdom. It will fall, and then the kingdom of Heaven will come, crushing those empires in its path.

Thousands of years later, in 1453, the Byzantine Empire fell. The last of the Roman Empire, a divided kingdom, had fallen.

The Christian world trembled, because reckoning was surely near. With the fall of this last, great human empire, all the world would fall to rubble.

Fifteen years had passed.

The Cullens had left Forks behind, settling in the small town of Grafton, Idaho. Carlisle had quickly settled into the new hospital, and Esme had designed a beautiful new home for them while the rest attended the new school. Jasper and Rosalie were Carlisle’s younger siblings while Bella, Edward, Renesmée and Esme comprised another set of siblings. Alice and Emmett were the fosters.

Jacob wasn’t far, he still lived with his old .

«Did you hear they all scored an A on Mr Rosen’s test? Seriously, all of them!»

The words were uttered by Jenna Gilbert, a blonde sophomore who reminded Bella very much of Jessica Stanley. She was sitting on the opposite end of the cafeteria from Bella and her family, though

«Jen, it’s the Cullens, that’s just what they do. You should stop comparing yourself…» her friend said soothingly.

Bella ducked her face into her hand to hide her smile, and winked at Alice, who grinned back at her.

It was Bella and Renesmée’s first time going to high school as a vampire. It was exactly what Edward and Alice had said it would be, for better and for worse.

For the worse, because she spent her days pretending to be a human girl, never using her strength or speed, pretending Edward wasn’t her husband and Renesmée wasn’t her daughter.

For the better, because she got to spend every day with Edward, Renesmée, and the rest of her new family. The others had done the high school routine too many times to see things the way she did, and Renesmée had never known a life without the Cullens, but to Bella, attending high school as one of Dr. Cullen’s adoptive kids felt like she had truly come full circle since that first day she spotted Edward in the cafeteria. She was one of them, truly, irrevocably, and high school was nothing if not a promise of the countless years to come surrounded by the people she loved.

Edward caught her eye, and she smiled back at him. She lowered her shield briefly to show him how happy she was to be with her family.

His face softened into that beautiful, lop-sided smile of his, and he leaned in to whisper into her ear, «You’ll be less happy when you’ve been through English 101,» he said.

«Hey, hey,» Jasper said quickly. «Don’t you dare, Edward, I need all the happiness I can get in this place.» He locked eyes with Bella. «Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.»

Bella laughed, and rested her head on Edward’s shoulder. He placed his hand above hers on the table, and she smiled. «Not a problem, Jazz.»

Jenna’s voice caught her notice again. «Look at how they’re sitting! Try and tell me they’re not incestuous, Cam. Just try.»

Her friend didn’t reply to that one, although a quick glance informed Bella that the girl was staring at the Cullen table with a frown on her face.

Bella and Alice caught each others’ eye again, and this time they couldn’t hold back the giggles.

***********

Later in the day, Alice’s eyes lit up. «You’ll receive a letter from Stefan and Vladimir a week from now,» she chirped.

«Oh!» Bella exclaimed. «What does it say?»

«The usual,» Alice replied, her eyes slightly distant as she concentrated. «They hope we’re all doing well, and they included a new story of how things used to be before the Volturi. It’s the story of how they once built an entire temple for themselves in just one day. Oh, and they have a new phone number. O-seven nine six five nine six.»

Bella’s eyes widened as Alice talked. She hoped they had included drawings of that temple, it sounded incredible.

Bella hadn’t expected the Romanians to stay in touch, when they left after the thwarted battle with the Volturi she thought they would slink back into the old European shadows they had cloaked themselves in for that past several thousand few years, not to be heard from until some new threat to the Volturi loomed.

But no, that very next Christmas Bella had received a gift from them. It was an old, if flaked painting of Ivan the Terrible looking a lot like Vladimir, and a note from Vladimir explaining how he fooled all of Russia into believing he was their ruler for decades, all right beneath Aro’s nose. Carlisle had broken into a fit of uncharacteristic giggles when he heard that, and even agreed to put the painting in the hallway. To this day, he’d huff with silent laughter whenever he walked past it.

After that, Bella and the two Romanians had been in touch. They’d send her gifts, stories, and their own observations about the Volturi, and she’d respond fondly.

It was a very unlikely friendship, but she was was eternally grateful to all those who had stood with her family when the Volturi came. The Romanians were no exception,

«Are you going to call them?» Alice inquired.

Bella nodded. «They were going to tell me about their visit to Thebes.»

(Outline: Prologue of sorts. Status quo update, everyone’s happy except for the part where the Volturi are waiting to kill them. Alice, Bella, and Edward form their plan. Alice sees that she’s going to have to send Carlisle away, and coincidentally his hospital colleagues are having their Christmas weekend in Montana. PERFECT. She talks to him.)

***********

Heavily altered scene from chapter 7

Carlisle makes more jokes than he did in the final product, they're unfunny to the point where my beta said "you can't publish this", the plague joke in particular is a bit too dark for him so I gave it to Jane instead. More importantly, the chapter itself has a very weird, clunky start:

«Is it the gift of being profoundly unimpressed by ridiculous claims?» Carlisle deadpanned. «Because if so, Aro, I think you might be on to something.»

Several seconds had passed since Aro made his ridiculous claim. At first, Carlisle had burst out laughing. Then, as he realized he was the only person in the room laughing and Aro was staring at him in full seriousness, his laughter had trailed off and he’d been left to stare dully at Aro for several long seconds, waiting for Aro to crack up and say «gotcha!».

Aro never cracked up.

Carlisle had absolutely no idea what Aro was playing at, especially not immediately after Carlisle had very reluctantly decided against shutting him out of his life.

«You can’t be serious,» he’d said.

Aro had sighed. «I’m afraid I am.»

And now, at Carlisle’s deadpan guess, Aro only shook his head. «Not quite.»

Carlisle stared at him for another second, before he ventured another, scathing guess. «Are you hoping it’s the power of being highly suggestible? Because I definitely don’t have that, or I would have abandoned my diet centuries centuries ago.»

Aro just looked at him. «If you would let me explain-» he began, but Carlisle cut him off.

«No, no, you want to try and convince me I have some sort of gift, then I want to guess at what you’re going for,» he said, crossing his legs at the knee and propping his chin up on his knuckle in a faux-pensive look.

«Now,» he continued, even as Aro gave him the world’s most unimpressed glare, as if Carlisle was the one who was being ridiculous, «I’m pretty sure I would have noticed the power to throw fireballs by now, so it can’t be that,» he mused aloud. «Same goes for the power of…» he searched his mind, «turning into a bat. That one would definitely have come up at some point. Or maybe I should suspend myself upside down in a cave. See if it triggers anything. Just to be sure.»

«Carlisle,» Aro murmured, but Carlisle wasn’t done.

«Maybe I spread disease. My father certainly thought demons did. Maybe that’s why I get so many interesting patients. Those brain fungi,» he nodded towards Renata, who was still sitting with the book open in her lap, «I’ve had two in one year. That’s a lot.»

«Carlisle-» Aro tried again, but Carlisle held up a finger, a wide grin spreading across his face.

«The power to change my eye color. You see, yesterday they were black-»

Aro actually rolled his eyes at that. Of course, he made the insolent gesture look like a fluid, enchanting movement.

«Yes, quite funny, now if you would let me explain…» Aro tried again while Carlisle tried not to snicker at his own joke.

***********

Two deleted paragraphs from chapter 9. The alteration was made because it was a bit on the nose about what Renesmée does.

Humans were mammals, and mammals were hardwired to protect their young. This extended across species, making mother cats care for puppies and humans care for anything that was small and cute. The instinct to love and cherish anything cute and helpless was an evolutionary necessity, and had to run deeper than anything if a species wanted to survive.

Enter Jane, who was the smallest, cutest thing Carlisle had ever seen, but from a species humans instinctively knew to fear. Maybe the very fact that she was something that humans knew they should want to care for made their fear exponential, made it impossible to deny that something was very wrong about her, that they were looking at a predator.

Perhaps too there was something to vampires having retained some of that human instinct to protect their young, if the countless stories of covens dying to protect their immortal children was anything to go by. Carlisle himself had been no exception when the Volturi came for Renesmée, even as he found himself risking the lives of countless friends.

How far things had come, he thought, from preparing to die along with his loved ones at the hands of the Volturi to sitting across a café table with Jane and pitching costume ideas.

***********

Chapter 9 was heavily altered, mainly as it was too funny the first (and second!) time around and I kept having to return to insert more existential dread. A side effect of this is that Carlisle in the original draft was still undecided on whether he had a gift up until the very end of the chapter, whereas it's proven beyond a doubt much earlier in the published version.

Jane was looking a bit daunted, though it was nothing compared to how Carlisle felt.

Silently, they went to stand in front of one of the many sports stores that Whitefish had to offer.

«This could still be confirmation bias,» Carlisle whispered, and leaned against the wall. For all the human blood that was in his system, his knees felt oddly weak.

Jane let out a startled laugh. «You’re seriously still in denial?»

Carlisle shook his head quietly. «They reacted pretty reasonably, just because they didn’t run away screaming…»

«Reasonably?» Jane echoed dully. «Carlisle, you can’t actually…» she shook her head. «Remember that bubble we talked about?»

Carlisle put his head in his hands, and let his fingers move up, under the wig, pulling it off in one neat motion.

Jane shook her head at him. «You look even more glamorous with your real hair.»

Carlisle still said nothing, balling the wig together in his hands.

Could it be he actually had a gift?

***********

The chapter 11 outline originally had Renata and Carlisle failing to communicate like normal people because they've spent too much time with Aro, and unintentional innuendo keeps ruining their attempts to make polite small talk. Sadly (or happily) this is a lot easier to conceptualize than carry out in actual writing, and their conversation wound up being far too serious for that, so it was cut. Luckily for you I did pen Carlisle flashbacking to a time his foot got in his mouth:

The moment after the words were out her face scrunched up.

Carlisle snorted. «Aro is a horrible influence on us all.»

He remembered one of his first talks with Jasper, when they were still getting to know each other.

Jasper had been a little starstruck when he learned Carlisle’s friends in Italy were those Italians.

He’d asked Carlisle a lot of questions once he got past a misplaced sense of awe, wanting to put a face to the eternal, petrified, leaders of the vampire world.

During a hunt with just the two of them, Jasper had been asking about Aro’s gift.

«What do you even think about when you’re with him?» Jasper had marvelled aloud, and he would later explain that the way he say it, this was like the way the Egyptian gods supposedly measured souls.

Place your heart upon the balancing scale against the weight of a feather, and if your heart weighs heavier it is devoured by the demon Ammit.

Place your hand in Aro’s, and if he deems you guilty of breaking his law, you will be torn to pieces in the space of a second.

Being friends with the man sounded unbearably stressful to Jasper.

Unfortunately, Carlisle’s mind had gone in the opposite direction, and what came out of his mouth before he could stop himself was, «England.»

He’d covered well enough for that, or he hoped he had. Jasper never asked.

***********

Chapter 11 was also supposed to have Renata being brave enough to ask for a selfie with Carlisle when they're both in black robes, this because I just really want Edward to sift through the Volturi group chat after all this and finding that. Alas, I couldn't work it in there. (Determined to not lose the joke, I had Aro take the photos in chapter 12 instead.)

***********

Chapter 12, the fandom ghost requested I include another butt slap and offered me fanart if I fulfilled her wish.

And so:

He held up a hand, presumably to touch Carlisle’s arm in comfort, but just then Alec started retching.

«He ate human food,» Jane deadpanned to Demetri, Felix, and Renata. Shaking her head, she brushed Alec’s hair out of his face as he hurled into the river.

Aro grimaced slightly, his hand hovering in the air.

Carlisle felt all the bread, corn flakes, and water that he’d swallowed press uncomfortably against his esophagus. «I’ll do you one better, Alec,» he choked, before he span around, fell to his knees and started retching, much like a cat.

Aro, evidently not sure what to do with his arm but not about to let it drop purposelessly, gave Carlisle a supportive pat on the bum before kneeling beside him to hold his hair as he hurled.

It was funny, but simply didn't fit the tone considering what happened after. It had to go. But hey, I got the art.

#there's more but these are the things that came to mind #my fic #nebuchadnezzar's dream #fic spoilers #of sorts kinda #doktrajediscovery

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