#the most interesting possibility to me personally is that she could have well. tinkered a bit with existing technology. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reilliane · 2 years

Text

Prosaic ⊱⊰ Heizou

A/N: First test ficlet for Heizou! I still haven't completed his hangout but I can say I've gotten a few notes down about his personality. Hence... this! >:) also yes, this is inspired from his hangout lmao

✤ A supposedly normal day for a detective turns out to be the most thrilling when he finds yet another letter of complaint on his desk. (Or in another angle, a later interrogation going wrong- no, right??)

✤ Words: 2k

Cracking cases, solving puzzles, and working up conclusions comprises his daily objectives—which means no 'light' tasks like finding a missing cat.

Yes, one can say that finding a feline is significant to some, but he's always seeking more. Something profound; the roots of a problem, the tellings of a quandary, anything that makes up a good mystery.

But even a detective has his slow days.

Slow, for this matter, is that the day fails to bring him any sort of fascination. Occasionally, it manages to swing by an interesting event—like meeting the Traveler—but this... is just not it.

So he finds himself seated behind his desk, tapping his fingers on the wood with a minuscule sigh of boredom.

His peers are casting him puzzled glances, unmistakably awed at the sight of the usually out-of-the-office man sitting where he's meant to be.

'For once, Shikanoin Heizou is actually present.' quoting Kujou Sara herself.

Literally present, yes, though that doesn't mean his mind is.

The detective filters through the papers in his hand with a weary hum. As expected, the given cases are rather... depthless.

He has no issue with those, no no, it's just that-

Arms stretching upwards, he yawns.

-He'd rather be solving and tinkering. Maybe an investigation will suffice, but there is nothing of the sort in any of the papers.

At least, not until he gets to the very bottom, where he sees a rather familiar file personally referring to him. It is the heaviest of odiums possible, a grand consequence for a probable mistake done in a scene that resulted in dissatisfaction.

It is—!

“Does anyone know who wrote and sent this in?” he calls, waving the paper around as he rounds his desk, “The name section is blank.”

A complaint letter.

How cumbersome, to think that somebody is discontented with his competence! Dear him, dear him.

“No...” answers one of his colleagues, “it's brought along with the feedback, suggestions, and requests form as a stack, so...”

So this could've been sent a few days ago and no one could remember the face of the writer. Dear heavens, it does not help that the Tenryou Commission allows anonymity in writing letters of complaint.

Humming for the nth time, he stares away at the wall, linking his mind back to days prior.

Ah, he doesn't know if he should perceive this as fascinating or troubling.

“Another one, detective? Have you checked what it's about?” asked Uesigi after downing a cup of coffee.

“Mm, well... oh?”

Fascinating...

Heizou feels his lips curling into a smile as he rereads what's written on the parchment. “Oh.”

Or troubling....

Doushin Shikanoin should be put behind bars for being so distractingly attractive. It's impossible to work when he's around. He's a thief for stealing my attention and a debtor for not paying back the time he made me spend cursing his damned appeal.

Why, it seems to be both.

To his luck, Sara appears through the threshold of her own office, eyebrow arched upon seeing him.

She must've been astounded, as well, though she fared nicely in restraining her shock.

Upon seeing the paper in the detective's hand, she nods with a sigh, recalling the day it was dropped off at the station. “Come to think of it, there's also a hairpin on the ground. Whoever sent it could've dropped their accessory.”

Dropped something?

How convenient it must be for the writer that no one saw them. Ah, he should ask the guards stationed outside.

Sauntering towards the lost and found shelf, Heizou is swift to lay eyes on the hairpin in question, stilling when he is able to recognize it in a beat of a second.

Aha.

With crisp neatness, he folds the letter and pockets it alongside the accessory before turning to his superior. “Ma'am, I'll be heading out for a while.”

The office is silent.

Sara does not speak, but with the baffled blinking of her optics, Heizou is grinning and already strolling out of headquarters. If they peer closer, which they do, an evident bounce accompanies each of the doushin's steps.

All of a sudden, he's become peppier. Wasn't he bored out of his mind just a while ago?

They can barely process the quick turn of events, but they've learned to let it pass. Shikanoin is rather eccentric and they've gotten used to it.

So, they all went back to their prior matters post-haste, saving their curiosity for later as they hear him exclaim out the door.

“I'm on the case!”

Only someone like him would ever call a complaint letter a case.

It is apparent that business is slow this morning. The people ambling to and fro are few, with most only passing a wave of greeting.

It just so happens that the most renowned festivities have elapsed, and the season of love is far away... so there are little to no folks who'd glance twice at your well-kept flowers.

Cheek resting on the palm of your hand, you sigh, waving at those that greeted you with a tiny smile. No such deductions are needed to be able to conclude that there will be no one buying today.

I can pay a visit to Yoimiya, it's always fun with her around. Objective in mind, you get to work, leaning off the counter to pat your kimono. I should close up for the day.

The location of the sun indicates that it's roughly around nine in the morning, ergo it's incredibly early to be closing, but you can't spend your time idling away.

Besides, if an urgent order arrives, your flowers are always prepared.

Your shop doesn't blossom in the season for no reason!

You lift a pretty bouquet of freshly imported silk flowers, about to transfer it to a neat and tidy glass case in the windowed backroom, when you hear rhythmical knocks against the wood.

“Miss [Name], good morning!”

Oh?

A dashing man stands in front of the counter, bright olive eyes telling of yet another possible gimmick. You wave.

“Good morning, detective. How do you do?”

A fascinating eccentric slithers in the dews of a prosaic morning, it seems.

Shikanoin Heizou doesn't frequent your floral shop unless it's to ask for some input regarding a case.

Your encounters mostly occur whenever you're free from floral responsibilities, bumping into one another in food stalls and event places. Having him here is not unwelcomed, however.

Now, he's always seen smiling, but he seems particularly brighter today as he wordlessly helps you transpose your flowers.

Perhaps the universe has sent him to liven up the day.

“Doing incredibly well, thank you,” he starts, dusting off his hands before flashing you an eye smile. “Do you mind answering a few questions?”

Ah, as expected.

He takes his prior position, in front of the counter and you behind it, much like a vendor and a customer.

Or for this matter; him, the interrogator, and you, the one being questioned.

“If it is in any relation to a case or of any aid, then I'd be pleased to,” you respond without batting an eye, swiping the petals that have fallen on the desk.

“Splendid.”

The sound of rustles prompts you to look, seeing him open a folded paper, though he keeps the contents to himself. He gives it a thorough reading.

You wonder what the case is about.

“So, may I ask where you were yesterday at the time of fourteen hundred?” he questions, flitting his eyes to meet yours.

His smile has grown lopsided, marginally appearing as a smirk.

Hearing his query drags a hum from your throat. Ah, is he asking whilst considering you a witness? Or a suspect?

Insouciant, you lean on the counter, mirroring his smile.

“Taking a stroll.”

“At the location of?”

“Inazuma city, of course.”

“In particular?”

“Here and there.”

Heizou folds his arms and gives you a frown, though this belies the highly entertained gleam in his eyes. You can't tell if he's dissatisfied with the fuzzy answers or not, though.

To any detective, they'd get pressed at the ambiguity, but this specific man... how should you put it—you have a feeling that he'd prefer a more unorthodox interrogation.

He always has a means to an end so he'll still get what he seeks regardless if you twist your answers. So, you suppose you're just making things a little more interesting.

Besides, you've got an inkling that this case isn't as critical as you assumed.

“You're being rather cheeky, miss [Name],” eyes slanting, he whispers, “If not suspicious.”

You can't help but laugh, disregarding his observation with a shake of your head.

“Oh no, but I am answering to the best of my ability! I haven't got any plans to go to Ritou or elsewhere, for the matter. So where would I take a stroll, if not in the city itself?”

He considers your answer with a thoughtful hum, mumbling something about it being a sensible answer as he cups his chin. It's not long before he is snapping his fingers, however, like he's conjured up a perfect query.

One that will force your ambiguous answers to conform with his.

“Hm! Then does the police station count?”

You shrug. “Well, your headquarters is in the city.”

The gleam in his eyes brightened.

With a flourish, he flicks the paper in his hands, turning it in your direction. “Then, can I assume that you are the one who filed this complaint letter?”

Humoring his assumptions, you lean on the counter, skimming through the words. You simper. Nothing short of flirtatious.

“What makes you think so, detective?”

“A friend told me that you did swing by headquarters at around two in the afternoon,” his eyes crinkle, accentuating the lift of his cheeks and the curve of his lips. “Need I say more?”

To add to the list of evidence upon which he can suspect that you are the writer, he takes out... ah, so that's where it is. The hairpin, you must've dropped it.

Still, the way he sounds assured with his conclusion makes it impossible not to be smug with your rebuttals. It is bizarre for him to delve straight into decisions without considering other known possibilities.

What can be the reason... oho.

“So you mean to say that simply because I went there, I was the one who wrote such a thing? You flatter me, doushin.”

His reaction is kept subtle, but it's no use under your equally watchful eye. There is a slight falter to his confidence, hardly noticeable.

With a slight tip of the chin, you draw out a prolonged sigh before gesturing behind him. He glances over his shoulder and sees a couple of women averting their gazes and speeding away, faces behind their sleeves.

“Surely, you are not blind to the gazes cast upon you by plenty of women. Yes, I came to the police station yesterday, but haven't you thought of the possibility that I was dropping it off for someone else?”

Heizou turns again, eyebrows arched. He doesn't bother hiding his surprise this time, but he's always been the tenacious kind.

One can easily tell that he will not be changing his mind about his answer anytime soon. Well, two can play at that game.

“My intui-”

“My intuition tells me that you came here with the hope that it was I who wrote it,” you cut him off, leaning closer and closer it's almost as if you're about to-

“Is that right, handsome?”

At the whisper, Heizou falls prey to stillness and genuine astonishment, watching as the florist withdraws with a charming smile. She only went close to take her accessory—that is now being slipped into her hair.

After his bearings have returned, he clears his throat and crosses his arms again. He tries not to let the compliment cloud the gears of his mind, though his cheeks are already rather hot.

“Then let me rephrase my question.”

The fixed [c]s on his person makes him feel warmer than usual.

Laid upon the desk is the complaint letter, sliding forward under the timid force of his fingers.

“Did you come to deliver this for somebody?”

He is highly, awfully aware of the soft fingers that graze against his own when [Name] moves to take the paper. Slow and purposeful, as though she's prolonging the 'accidental' touch.

The fact that they both aren't backing down from the others' stare sends a thrum of excitement in his chest. Fluttering butterflies, racing hearts, he yearns for it when the touch finally vanishes.

It takes him his all not to give chase.

“Oh, detective,” [Name] winks. An invitation. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

At least, until permitted.

Heizou's smile doubles in size.

Turns out that his day isn't as boring as he originally thought.

a/n: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE the moment 'complaint letter' showed up in his hangout i have gotten this idea ever since ahdjdhjasdhas what better way to return his charm with an equally charming MC? ;) but seriously, i am in love with mutual pining hasdhajksdask

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #heizou x reader #heizou fluff #female reader #mutual pining is muah #who doesnt like that trope it is splendid

324 notes · View notes

cyn-write · 8 months

Text

Another day, Another Oc! Meet the "Doc" of the Ramshackle Dorm: Reyna Bouc!!

Pre-NRC: Reyna and her 2 sisters are Orphans who have jumped from place to place most their life. The three were always trouble with Romella's mouth running, Rhea tinkering with things she was not suppose to touch, and Reyna making "abominations" and experimenting with dead animals in her youth. They jumped from school to school, but were not expelled until Reyna blew up the school by accident using her unique magic. Thankfully it happened late at night with no one there, but Reyna lost her arm and got gursome scars. The doctors thought she died, but before they pronounced her dead, she woke up. Her sisters broke her out of the hospital before the police came, which made the situation worse. Thankfully instead of going to Juvie, the three were sent to Thatch Academy for Troubled Mages. There, the girls thrived. Rhea helped make Reyna a "better" prosthetic, Reyna was allowed to study her passion (Bioalchemy, Biochemistry, Botany, Anatomy, really anything to do with the living body), and Romella became an expert in potions. The triplets have been with Thatch since they were 14, and now that the college group of Thatch has merged with NRC, the group had 2 choices, get sorted into a dorm, or join Ramshackle. Reyna chose Ramshackle since she was assured she could get a lab in the basement all to herself.

At NRC: Reyna likes being back in a traditional College. She really enjoys classes, but her favorite things was being in a club. She joined the Mountain Lovers Club beacuse it gives her a chance to forge in a new place. She was surprised to see that is was a club of one, but Jade was just enthusiastic as she is about mushrooms and foraging!! The two quickly bonded over fungi and it grew from a platonic to a romantic relationship very quickly. Her sisters are in other dorms, but Ramshackle has become her family. She is good friends with Ivy Shroude and Grace Wilde in her dorm and Ruggie has helped her in class so she considers him a friend.

Personality: Reyna is the quiet one of the triplets. She is more of an introvert but will chatted with those she knows. She is very intelligent and once she starts on a subject she knows (which is alot due to her photographic memory and her being a prodigy) she gose on and on and on. She has a hard time with new people beacuse of her being self conscious and always being surrounded by chatty people. Between her sisters and her dormmates, she cam rarely get a word in.... well unless they say something incorrect then she corrects them or the conversation turns interesting then she will talk beyond the formalities. A lot of people say she is weird, but she is just very passionate about dead things and things that come from dead things and possibly bringing them back to life. What's weird about that?

Trivia:

When Reyna first came to Ramshackle, she scared Grim beacuse she saw him and asked if she could take a sample of blood to run test on.

Grim is still scared of her beacuse she keeps trying to take samples!!

Reyna is the youngest triplet and her sisters like to use that as an excuse to "protect" her from Jade i.e. "IF YOU WANNA TOUCH MY BABY SIS YOU HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME!" -Rhea

Reyna was diagnosed a "Prodigy" by her first school in 2nd when she accidentally transferred a squirrel tail onto a frog and it worked. (It also made about a third of the class pass out plus the teacher)

That Frog and the Squirrel are both still alive and live in Reyna's Lab with an undead dog she patched up after it was hit by a car. Sometimes they get out but as long as the public doesn't find out they won't send the touches and pitch forks!

Crewel has banned her from the labs unless she is supervised. The last time he left her alone in the labs, she stunk up the place fore a week.

The first time Floyd and Azul met Reyna, she offered them some homemade soup made from her garden and on the mountain. They think she's perfect for him since they woke up the next day blind for a couple of hours.

She can detach her prosthetic hand and manipulate it independently due to magic, so sometimes when she needs something far away she well send her hand to get it. One time she did it in Alchemy and scared the living daylights out of Ruggie and a Pomfiore kid who passed out. After that Crewel told her to warn him before doing that again.

Jade's nickname for Reyna is Portabella due to their mutual love of the fungi

She Hates throwing away clothes, so she often takes old clothes and sews them together to save on cloth.

She is very self conscious about her scars from the explosion and her prosthetic arm, so she always has on long sleeves or her lab coat.

I hope you enjoy Reyna! If you have any questions or want to interact with her, feel free to ask! Thank you to @the-trinket-witch for Reyna's sprite!! Keep an eye out for Reyna content soon!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst oc #disney twst #twst fanfic #twst mc #Cynwritesocs #twisted wonderland Ramshackle #ramshackle

17 notes · View notes

lonely--shine · 4 months

Note

Alnair 🌂🧠 Atlas 🍎🎯 Shell 🎓🍀 Ebis ✨🥊🎯 Marcus 🌂

Thanks for all the questions!! :D Let's see...

*Alnair

🌂 - What genre do they belong in? Fantasy! She's an Arcana game OC, so fantasy all the way in.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC? They're the perfect mashup of self-insert to project into and character of its own to explore paths I myself would personally not walk through. I also love how she lets me rewrite canon events however I want xD

*Atlas

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like? In short, pretty good! Atlas has two moms, Naith (they/them) and Irdred (she/her) (and the auntcle/biological father, Laith (she/he/they)) and loves them very much. Atlas picked many interests from them (art, gardening, etc), specially from Naith. And athough he travels far and often (he picked that from Laith), he still keeps in touch regularly and visits home once in a while.

...wow, me giving a character a perfectly healthy background/family. This is rare to happen. Quick, make a wish!

🎯 -What do they do best? All things plants. In magic? That means potions, charms, etc. In daily life? You got him gardening, cooking, brewing tea... If it involves working with plants one way or another, he has you covered.

*Shell

🎓 - How long have you had the OC? I wanna say May 2021? *goes check* Yeah, I posted about her in June 2021 for the first time, so maybe I had her for like. maybe a month before that. Which means I had her for almost three years already? And she's still so little developed? Gods. In my defence I don't choose what my brain fixates on and also my life went to shit in late 2021 and kept like that for two years, so yeah. I want to take better care of my OCs and stories now tho ^^

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC? At first I just needed someone to comfortably play Asra's and Julian's routes with because it didn't quite work with either Alnair nor Atlas. Then I started wondering if it was possible to have one character that fitted all six Arcana routes. So I gave her an angsty backstory by which her identity was stripped and to be reshaped by the route she takes, gave her the name 'Shell' solely so I could have the play on words "Shell is your name and that's what you shall become" as part of her 'curse', and ta-daa! Yet another OC for the collection was born xD

*Ebis

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name? Okay, bear with me. Ebis is a Submachine OC, loosely based on the Player. And I say 'loosely' because there isn't really any information about Player to base Ebis on. Anyway, in one of the games you get out a padded room and there's the patient number 2183. Which, in digital clock numbers, if mirrored, kinda read like 'Ebis' if you squint hard enough. That's the logic Ebis follows to choose her name, since she wakes up without memories and it's easier to think of herself as 'Ebis' than a 4 digit number anyway.

Maybe it's a dumb way to decide for a name but if it works it works.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do? She loves tinkering away with computer software, which is good for her because she makes a job out of it post-canon (I have not written about that, but it exists in my head), and also numeric games for when she wants to scratch that brain itch without dealing with the inevitable bugs. She also loves gardening and not only that but needs to get her hands into the dirt and feel the sun on her face regularly for optimal mental stability. As for hating... I can only think of anything that would involve her going underground? Trauma related thing, after Submachine she's had enough underground for the rest of her life. Otherwise I don't know, I haven't given much thought to it. Oh! But she's incapable of sitting still and doing nothing, if that counts.

🎯 -What do they do best? She's very good at computers and programming... and the less socially accepted side of it as well (by which I mean she knows how to hack stuff, but she doesn't do that post-canon, and in-canon she does by necessity).

*Marcus

🌂 - What genre do they belong in? As the other Submachine OC I guess sci-fi/fantasy? Adventure? There's some post-apocalypse vibes to much of the game as well. Post-canon this would turn to the fluffy slice-of-life this poor tired man (and Ebis as well) deserves.

And that's all!! I believe I have talked enough for the day, thank you so much for the questions, they made my day :D

#shine answers #ask #ask game #I didn't proof read this so please forgive any typos #the arcana #submachine

6 notes · View notes

oddballtumbles · 4 months

Text

Building a Percy Jackson OC in my head right now. Have not read the books in years, I plan to reread them, just can’t right now. But this just WON’T leave me alone.

(Adult language and shit btw)

Daughter of Hephaestus, her mom met him in her early 20s, girl is 7/12, mom was pregnant 7 times, multiple sets of twins. ALL of them are kids of Hephaestus, their house is basically warded against monsters because by the time the second set of twins were on their way, Mom had enough and made Hephaestus deal with it. Hades now has a state of the art fetch machine for Cerberus, and monsters don’t bother her family until she dies. (Spoiler alert, Momma achieves minor godhood eventually due to popular demand and the invention of … something I haven’t decided yet; but it accidentally causes no monsters to be able to go after her bloodline. EVER lol)

Daughter is NOT an engineer (most of her siblings are engineers, tech developers, etc) but is thorough in SASS, and is more of a tinker type. The kind of person who knows random stuff and always carries ducktape but is more likely to only quick fix then refer you to professional than actually fix the problem. Just because the crack is taped doesn’t mean the bucket is fixed.

Specific interaction that keeps popping in my head:

Aphrodite (mad about long relationship with her husband, taking it out on the child of said relationship that happens to be in front of her)

Daughter (full of sass and absolutely fucking done with any and all dieties who think they are above the modern world just because they deign to exist within it occasionally. She has read the texts and watched the OSP videos. Nope)

A: I can’t believe anyone would even last that long! What could there possibly be to interest her in him???

D: idk but I can tell you that she likes the chair. Admittedly if she sat in it less there’d be less of us soooo.

A: please I be he’s only paying attention because she is the only one to look back.

D: well seeing as I’m a combo of both of them and when I went to camp everyone tried to send me to your cabin I’m not sure what that says about your poor taste. Or maybe eyesight?

A: are you calling me old?

D: you are literally older than Greece. What do you want me to do with that?

A: you-

D: look I’m just going to say this. If you paid even half as much attention to the husband you say you don’t want as you do to the lover you jerk around like an angry chihuahua, I probably wouldn’t be in your face sassing you.

A: Zeus arranged-

D: Oh please don’t get me started on that slut. We will be here longer than my mother’s been pregnant. Idk why Hera doesn’t just divorce the walking penis. It is a thing that exists! Also her taking out her rage on the kids and victims of his philandering is just avoiding the problem and causing more grief for the rest of us. If it’s some sort role play they are doing, nobody else is consenting the involvement, they both need to stop.

(Shocked silence.)

D: oh please, I cannot be the first to come up with that.

A: I’m not sure whether to smite you or give you a job.

D: I’ve never been smote before! Unless we count that time in the metallurgy which we do not talk to mom about. I came back fine! Barely even counts!

——————

Idk if I want her to have a Greek name or just a random one. I feel like she would get along with PJ-Dionysius in a “let’s drink and get high” kinda way.

She definitely has slept in all the cabins for no reason other than she broke in and felt like it.

Occasionally Hermes feels like she might be threatening his job a little, especially when she worked as a courier with heelies and a skateboard.

She’s ace by the way. Probably aro too, which is why she has no fear in front of Aphrodite.

#oc #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #i just want to sleep #maybe now I can #i’m so tired #plot bunny #leave me alone #asexual

1 note · View note

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena #fluff

367 notes · View notes

highladyluck · 3 years

Text

Why Egwene is really good at inventing weaves

I was talking about this with @bi-aviendha earlier, but had a bunch more thoughts about it afterwards, so here’s a mini-essay. Egwene was really, really good at weave development for three reasons: a) her raw magic abilities were very balanced and also very strong, b) she was extremely curious and ambitious, and most importantly, c) she had the broadest theoretical and practical magical education of literally anyone in the entire Third Age, including in Tel’aran’rhiod.

The fact that she was unusually balanced in her talents with each of the 5 powers (air, water, spirit, fire, earth) likely helped her develop new weaves. While strength with fire and earth is rarer in women then men, Egwene was able to use weaves that require those powers easily, which means she was likelier than other people to think about how to incorporate those powers in weave development, and also more likely to actually be able to work with them. Her raw potential being high also helped- not only could she actually do complex weaves that required more power, it's shown that people who are very strong in the power often are 'fast learners'. I think it's described in the books as a Talent. That's stuff she was born with, so it's not as interesting to me, but it is worth noting as an element of her success.

It also helped that she was very very curious and ambitious; she's the only person in the Two Rivers party who is leaving for fun, personal, career reasons, and she's always immersing herself in whatever culture she finds herself in, right from the get-go. Even where there's no magic to be learned, like with the Tinkers, she integrates socially into the Tinker camp in a way that is all the more obvious because Perrin and Elyas obviously can't/won't. And she was initially tutored by Moiraine, who was a wilder who taught herself a little, and so right from the start she knew that you could kind of teach yourself magic, and she obviously was never afraid of experimentation.

Egwene's big thing is that she wants to learn absolutely everything, and she's very much of the 'take what you want and pay for it' school- danger, morality, and the disapproval of those she respects are all subordinated to her desire to learn, as we see maybe most clearly when she's with the Aiel and metaphorically sneaking out to do Dreamwalking stuff. She's also absolutely the type to go out in a blaze of glory; live fast, die young unfortunately has Egwene written all over it. (I'm really sad she dies, but tbh I wasn't surprised; going out a la the last stand of Manetheren makes a lot of thematic sense for Egwene, and while I think she would also have wanted to hang on to power and make sure all her reforms got instituted, she was clearly a wartime leader and I don't know if she would have transitioned well to a less accelerated, high-stakes pace. Anyway, she has allies who can capitalize on her martyrdom and make that stuff happen.)

Finally, Egwene learned practical and theoretical magic from almost EVERYONE- it's absolutely the most eclectic education any Third Age magic user gets. She got early tutoring from Moiraine, like I said, who herself learned some things outside of the White Tower structure, and so from the beginning Egwene knew that the White Tower wasn't the only possible place to learn magic. Then she got taken by the Seanchan, where she was forced- artificially hurried along her natural learning/power growth curve- safely (since you can't burn yourself out while collared) and learned a bunch of new weaves and also got pretty traumatized. Then she had conversations with Rand about magic theory, which means she talked One Power with a) a male channeler and b) a male channeler who kind of sort of knew some stuff from the Age of Legends, which is an opportunity that not many people had or took advantage of. She also gets introduced to dreamwalking, first from the White Tower, then from the Aiel, where she also learns politics and other styles of channeling. Then she got theoretical hints/some actual weaves from Moghedien.

She only briefly got the 'there is only one way to channel and it's this way' indoctrination from the White Tower, and everything else that's ever happened to her- including being given access to a dream ter'angreal with instructions to try to learn about a lost Talent- has only reinforced her belief that there's a million different ways to learn about magic. Then, finally, she actually learns from a /non-channeler/, Perrin, after Perrin defeats balefire in Tel'aran'rhiod and tells her, 'It's only a weave.' Applying the things she learns in Tel'aran'rhiod- and being willing to get ideas from anywhere and anyone- leads to her reinventing Travelling and inventing the totally new anti-balefire weave. So, to sum up, Egwene learned magic from self-taught channelers, the Seanchan, a male channeler, the White Tower, the Aiel, Age of Legends channelers (male and female), non-channelers, and from messing around in an alternate dimension. She was also actively trying to network with the Sea Folk and the Kin, though I don't know if she specifically learned anything from them, and she also starts trying to learn about the Sharans when they show up. The only extant group of channelers Egwene has never encountered either directly or obliquely are the ones with the Amayar (RIP), the extremely fucked up Aiel male channelers that got Turned (RIP those guys too), and the ones on the Land of Madmen, and nobody knows what's up with the Land of Madmen. Egwene launched the saidar revolution because you could not keep that girl from making new connections if you *tried*.

#wheel of time #wheel of time meta #egwene al'vere #wheel of time spoilers #mostly no one tried to keep Egwene from making new connections #because they are smart and don't want to be steamrolled

176 notes · View notes

lightrises · 3 years

Text

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

101 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

Idk if you still accept requests but can you please bless us with more Levihan Witcher AU?Hanji as a bard/alchemist is so on brand for her.

anon, thank you so much for this ask! you woulnd’t believe it, but this fic was sitting in my drafts for almost six months, and your ask finally motivated me to finish it! this is super self-indulgent and also my nerdiness for witcher series is definetely showing but eh.... hope you still enjoy it <3

The town of Rinde, near the edge of Redania, was as shitty as they came.

The roads were washed away with dirt, the huts (calling them houses would be an exaggeration) stood dirty and even and kids were running around, dressed in torn clothes and without any shoes on.

Needless to say, all of it disgusted Levi.

And, really, he would have skipped that town altogether, it didn’t look like there was anyone there, who was rich enough to pay for hiring him, and, since he wasn’t on a hunt for a long time, he really needed to find someone, who would toss that coin to the witcher. He would have skipped that town, he almost did, but then he heard it. His witcher senses had picked it up immediately, the faint sound, the voice that was unmistakable for him, even though Levi hadn’t heard it for almost a year.

He headed in the direction of that voice instantly, the Roach following after him with an unusual willingness. Maybe, the horse has sensed her as well. The Roach always liked the annoying bard, after all.

After reaching the small tavern near the outskirts of the town and tying Roach to the outpost, Levi stopped in front of the door, giving himself the time to change his decision.

The tavern wasn’t up to his standards. At all. Even without seeing what was inside, it was enough for Levi to see the moldy walls to understand that he was standing at the threshold to a shithole.

He should have turned around and escaped this town. The nightfall was approaching and, as far as he knew, there wasn’t a town or even a village nearby. He’d have to sleep under the stars again. It was more preferable to stepping inside the unkempt tavern.

Besides, even without his supernatural senses, he could hear that the place was full of drunkards. Some shouted out vulgar jokes and laughed boisterously, some sang loudly and quite terribly.

And amidst all of it, there it was. Her voice that was laughing and singing with the rest of the patrons. For anyone else it would have been hard to decipher just one voice out of the dozens of others, but for Levi, this voice was special.

There were no doubts in his mind anymore. He pushed the door open.

All conservation ceased as soon as Levi walked inside. Well, that was to be expected. What was unexpected was the absence of a loud cheerful shriek greeting him. Although... considering the way he parted with Hange a year ago, maybe, he should have expected it as well.

Nevertheless, she paid him no attention, didn't even look at him. Levi's mood worsened. Glaring at all the patrons, he made his way to the bar.

"Tea," he ordered gruffly.

"Tea?" the maiden, who was standing behind the bar, raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you sure? We have ale, beer, vodka..."

"I don't want that piss that you call ale and beer here, and I definitely do not want to taste whatever the fuck substitutes vodka in this shithole. Just simple tea. You have it, I hope?"

"I'll look around...." the maiden nodded uncertainly. "Anything else?"

"If you have some soup that'd be great."

"Alright, I'll bring your order in a minute. Are you going to stay the night?"

Levi's eyes immediately darted to Hange. She wasn't looking at him. He sighed.

"We'll see about that."

Levi spent the whole evening boring holes into the back of Hange's head. She didn't turn around even once, too busy having fun with her new friends. As he watched the merry group in front of him, Levi couldn't help but scoff. Most of them, both men and women, were already smitten with Hange. He could see it in the way they subtly touched her hand or squeezed her shoulder, in the way they smiled dreamily and blushed every time she looked at them. Hange always had an uncanny ability to charm people. If it was her silvery voice or just the natural charisma, Levi wasn’t sure. He hated it nevertheless.

Not because Hange managed to put him under her spell as well (she did not) but because he hated when Hange paid attention to someone, except him. Apparently, even witchers could be childish sometimes.

However, considering what he had told Hange at that mountain, when anger and frustration took over him, maybe, he didn't deserve her attention anymore.

Still, Levi felt bitter, watching Hange’s smiles and teasing directed on someone, who wasn’t him. He missed her, goddamn it. It took him so long to realize it, but he enjoyed Hange’s company so much. The hunts just weren’t the same, if she wasn’t by his side, splurging some weird facts she read from bestiaries at Oxcenfurt. The roads seemed longer without Hange, who filled the silence with one of her new songs or her musings about the life. And even though, Levi always acted annoyed whenever Hange claimed that the nights were too chilly, so they have to sleep together to savor the warmth, now, since she wasn’t sleeping by his side anymore, even a brightly lit fire couldn’t make the cold disappear.

Shit, he was in such a deep shit.

As the evening progressed into the night, the patrons slowly started to tinker out of the tavern. Levi watched each of them carefully, trying to guess which of these lucky bastards would leave together with Hange.

However, soon almost everyone had left. The only other person, who was still at the tavern, was Hange.

As soon as the last customer went on his way, she sat atop the table and took out her lute.

She plucked the strings of the instrument, tuning it in. Throughout the evening, Hange sang numerous songs, all of them were accompanied by laughter and applause. But not by her lute.

A special lute that was given to her by an elf after her last one was destroyed and after Levi had threatened the said elf to break her nose if she dared to put that miserable expression on a pretty face of his bard ever again.

It was a shame that Hange still refused to look at him. He always enjoyed looking at her while she played. Her expression always matched the song she was performing - if the song was fast and catchy, she would be grinning from ear to ear, lightening up the whole room, and if she was singing the sad one, the one about heartbreak and tragic love, her face was mournful, her eyes distant.

Hange started to play, and Levi recognized the song instantly.

A storm raging on the horizon of longing, and heartache, and lust

Damn, of course, she decided to sing that song. Evidently, Hange was out to torture him as much as possible.

“I dedicate it to you, Levi!” she announced after she had first presented it to him.

They were in the middle of a road, resting in front of a fire after an exhausting hunt for a Nightwraith. Well, Levi was resting after an exhausting hunt, Hange was sitting beside him, blabbering almost nonstop. She sang a song to him too, after shyly confessing that this was her latest creation.

“How the fuck can this song be about me?” Levi grunted then. “It’s about woman, dipshit.”

“Ah, but a song about a man won’t be popular amongst my fellow bards! So I had to change a few things there and then.”

“So my kiss is that sweet?” he asked, fighting back a smile.

Hange snickered, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “And it destroys me each time.”

That memory – amongst hundreds, millions of others – kept replaying in his mind, as he listened to her beautiful voice. Hange was called a genius, one of the most talented bards in all Northern Kingdoms.

Levi always considered it to be bullshit. He was sure that even in Nilfgaardian Empire there wasn’t an artist half as blessed with a gift of music as Hange was.

As she finished the song, Hange got to her feet. She slanged her lute over her shoulder and headed to the bar. As he watched her order, Levi hid a small smile – it seemed Hange was still inseparable with the damn lute. Some things never change, it seemed.

His musings were cut off abruptly, when Hange sat down at his table. In her hands she held two cups with something that smelled very much like piss. Levi cringed.

Hange finished the first mug in one go. She wiped off her mouth and then put the mug down with a loud ‘thud’. She pushed the second mug to Levi.

“Drink,” she ordered, glaring at him.

“I don’t get drun—”

“Drink,” she pressed. “I don’t care if your stupid witcher physiology enables you from getting drunk. I won’t have this conversation if one of us is sober.”

“Alright,” Levi nodded and took a large gulp from the mug. Oh, so that was ale. Disgusting. “Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Hange crossed hands on her chest. “Now answer me this – what is so interesting about the back of my head?”

“What? I don’t—”

“You do,” Hange cut him off once more. “You do understand. You’ve been staring at me the whole evening. Don’t you have something better to do? Some important witcher stuff? What the fuck are you even doing here, Levi?”

“I…” he cleared his throat, feeling small under Hange’s furious gaze. “I needed somewhere to spend the night.”

“And that’s why you decided to spend your evening in the company of drunkards, eating your soup in a corner?”

“Maybe, I’ve missed the human’s company.”

Hange threw her head back and laughed. “You missing human’s company? Don’t give me that crap.”

“Well…” for a second Levi fidgeted with a sleeve of his armor, refusing to look Hange in the eyes. It was now or never. Either he apologizes to Hange right now, or there won’t be another chance to reconcile. He took a deep breath and lifted his gaze. “Maybe, I’ve missed you.”

Hange’s eyes widened just a fraction. She composed herself almost immediately, but Levi noticed the slight change in her. Could it be that not everything was lost?

“Bullshit,” Hange answered, her tone even colder than before. “How can you miss the person, who destroyed your life again and again? Who is the sole reason for any hardship you had ever faced? Who does nothing, but shit on your future?”

Levi silently lowered his head, not even trying to stop Hange’s angry tirade. He deserved every word, every insult she threw his way. He would endure a lot more offence from her, if it meant that Hange would forgive him. If everything could go back to normal. If Levi could finally reunite with his best friend.

Hange took a deep sigh and stood up. Levi looked up at her gingerly, expecting to see her storm out of the tavern. Instead Hange went to the bar again, ordering two more mugs of ale, and returned to his table.

“They are for me,” she told curtly, when Levi tried to reach to one of the mugs. “I really can’t deal with this sober.”

“Hange…” he cleared his throat, feeling more nervous and vulnerable than when he was staring at a mob of harpies. “The way I treated you was awful… I was angry and needed someone to pour that anger out, but you didn’t deserve it. I’m asking for your forgiveness, but if you can’t grant it… just say so. I promise not to bother you after this.”

“Sweet Melitele,” Hange shook her head. “Tell me, Levi, are all witchers assholes, or was I just lucky enough to meet an exception?”

She took a long sip of ale, wincing and wiping her mouth afterwards. For a long moment, Hange stared at the table, tracing the invisible patterns on the old, wooden surface.

“I forgive you, you dumbass,” she said finally. Her words made Levi’s heart swell. He stared at her, hope shining in his gaze. “But I have two conditions.”

“Anything,” Levi promised readily.

“Anything, huh?” Hange arched an eyebrow. “Are you really that eager to have my forgiveness or are you just naturally so brave?”

“Both,” he replied, shrugging.

“My first condition,” she smiled in an almost feral manner. Shivers ran through his spine, but Levi didn’t allow himself to shudder. Showing his fear would only make Hange crueler. “I want you to help me with my experiments. I found a new potion and I need a person with fast metabolism to run some tests on it, and I need to extract four front teeth from algoul for my next concoction.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Hange nodded. “As for my first condition. My second one,” she paused, leaning in and grabbing the collar of his armor. “I need you to give me that sweet kiss of yours.”

“Well,” Levi smirked, moving closer to her, before their lips were almost touching. “Ready to be destroyed then.”

#oh god this thing is probably incomprehensible for anyone who didn't watch the show or read the books #ah well :')#levihan

77 notes · View notes

writing-with-whiplash · 3 years

Text

Stealing More Than Kisses

“Stealing More Than Kisses”

Hey guys! This is a fanfic of @jangofctts amazing clone oc Sweets! Go check out her awesome clone oc’s by searching for “sunburst squadron” on her blog and also check out all the other amazing fics she has! Sweets is her creation. I do not own his character, I’m just writing for him.

Sweets x mechanic!reader

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: clone discrimination, stealing, mild swearing, fluff, gender-neutral reader

This is my first fic, so I’d appreciate any constructive comments and reblogs! Have an awesome day!

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

When you had been assigned as the new mechanic to the Sunburst Squadron, you had no idea why all the others before you had quit. That is, until you met the wild bunch that you affectionately called the Sunburst Boys. Although they were loyal and dependable soldiers, and your closest friends, you couldn’t help but think of the squadron as a bit chaotic. Between the death-defying trick flying of the pilot Kamikaze and the reckless altruism of the trooper Blue, it’s no wonder that you and Commander Blanche hadn’t had heart attacks trying to keep the squad together. Or in your case, keep the ship together, which brought you to your current predicament.

“Kamikaze!” you hollered across the hangar as the Sunburst Boys unloaded from their battered spacecraft. “What did I tell you about bringing the ship back all banged up?”

Kami turned sheepishly toward you, raising his hands in defeat. “Couldn’t help it,” he shrugged. He must’ve been exhausted to not send a snippy quip your way about the ship’s state. In fact, all of the soldiers looked worse for wear, their shoulders sagging under the weight of their brightly colored armor.

You decided to take it easy on him today. There would be more opportunities in the future to drag him for his dare-devil piloting. “You boys go rest. I’ll take care of the scrap pile,” you huffed. Kami rolled his eyes and slumped past you toward the barracks. The rest of the squadron followed suit, although one trooper lingered by the ship’s ramp. “What’s up, Sweets?” you asked softly, hoping to not startle the shy sharp shooter. Sweets lifted his eyes from the floor to meet your own, his teal bangs plastered to his forehead. He offered a half-hearted shrug and quickly shifted his eyes back to the floor. “Was the mission rough?” you asked, although you could already guess the answer. Sweets was normally quiet, but this time seemed different. The trooper nodded at your question and shook his head when you asked if he wanted to talk about it. “You just wanna hang out with me while I try to fix whatever Kami’s done to the ship this time?” The ghost of an amused smile danced across Sweets’ lips as he nodded again.

Sweets had been the first trooper of the squadron to grow on you when you first started out. Out of the rambunctious bunch, he was the youngest and quietest. While his brothers preferred to bond through roughhousing and swapping insults, Sweets preferred to just be near you. He didn’t talk much, but he loved to listen to you talk or hum while you tinkered on the ship. The quiet sharpshooter also loved to bring you little gifts that he picked up while on missions--a rock here, a bead there, a little figurine from a market on some backwater planet or another. You knew that not everything he brought back was...purchased, per say, but you didn’t mind. Everything he gave you was small and heartfelt and it’s not like the soldiers were paid anyway. If these boys were risking their lives on the frontlines to protect the entire galaxy, then you figured they deserved to swipe the occasional small item without worrying about what anyone would say. Maker, you knew they deserved so much more than that.

Recently, Sweets had been bringing back items that felt more personal than random rocks. He always had a knack for figuring out what you liked best. Not long after mentioning offhand that a particular type of stone had caught your eye in a jewelry shop, you found a pendant in the same stone in your tool box. When you talked about your favorite kind of candy that you hadn’t been able to find in a while, a few pieces of it appeared in your locker. Sweets had always been such a sweetheart to you and you had begun to fall for him as soon as you started working with him. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship by telling the shy soldier that you had feelings for him. Instead, you simply enjoyed his company as he hovered around your work station in the hangar.

The ship was truly a mess. Carbon scoring painted the hull that, miraculously, had stayed intact despite heavy damages. The edge of the starboard wing was crinkled and battered--there was an endless amount of reckless maneuvers Kami normally pulled that would cause that kind of damage. You clicked your tongue and shook your head, making a list of all the replacement parts you would need to buy for it. A wiring harness here, a set of gears there, a few durasteel panels damaged beyond repair. You had a lot of welding to do. The hangar had most of the replacement parts you needed, but working on such a small base on an Outer Rim planet left you with a few things to be had. Ah well, you grinned to yourself, all that meant was a chance to stretch your legs at the local market and swap meet.

“Hey, Sweets,” you called from beneath the ship, scooting toward him on your creeper seat. “Do you want to run to the market with me for some parts?”

Sweets’ eyes lit up as he nodded enthusiastically, making you chuckle at him and smile. Had you looked at him a little closer, you would have seen the quiet blush spread across his cheeks, highlighting the heart tattoo beneath his eye as he averted his gaze. The sniper couldn’t find the words to say it aloud to you, but he would go with you anywhere in the entire galaxy, just as long as he got to spend time with you.

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

The marketplace was bustling when the two of you arrived, the sounds of vendors hollering and the scents of various foods wafting through the crowds. The sea of customers and travelers parted around you as you wandered from stall to stall, quietly stretching your parts-run as long as possible. Although you could make it through a crowd just fine, you knew that many of the onlookers gave you a wide berth on account of the helmeted clone trooper who hovered over your shoulder at every stall you stopped at.

Sweets always kept his helmet on during your frequent market outings, telling you that he preferred to see rather than be seen, but secretly he just wanted to watch you without you noticing. He loved the way your fingers danced across the items you touched, the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled at friendly vendors, the way you fidgeted while waiting in line or running parts numbers in your head. All of these little observations over the past several months had allowed Sweets to figure out all the little quirks about you and the interests you never verbally divulged. He knew by the way that you tilted your head and looked at the ground while talking to a vendor that you were about to turn down his price on some wiring. Just as he predicted, you walked back toward him empty handed, a small frown pulling your soft lips down.

“If I were allowed a bigger budget for replacement parts I wouldn’t mind buying from that guy, but I just don’t have enough to cover it.” Sweets nodded sympathetically as you shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to keep going on down the line. What a shame that we’ll have to spend so much more time in the market, rather than sitting around the base.” You winked at Sweets, earning a quiet chuckle from his helmet’s vocoder.

The two of you wandered aimlessly throughout the market, striding slowly by stall after stall of alien fruits, handmade items, and spacecraft parts that weren’t on your shopping list. You had to practically drag Sweets away from a booth boasting several species of small cage pets, knowing that he would try to pocket one of the adorable, squishy-cheeked rodents. Just as you turned to tell him not to get in trouble with the vendor, a particular booth caught your eye.

“Ooh, look at this one!” The pet vendor didn’t have the chance to chew Sweets out as you grabbed the trooper lightly by the arm and pulled him to a booth full of wood bead jewelry.

Sweets was once again grateful for the cover of his helmet, as his face flushed at your contact. He leaned slightly into your touch, craving more, but, in your intense focus on the beads, you didn’t notice his change in demeanor.

“Look at this one,” you murmured to him, plucking a bracelet from the top of a large pile of wooden jewelry and displaying it in your hand. Your fingers swiped over the central bead, a little carved heart the same color as Sweets’ tattoo. “It’s you as a bracelet,” you beamed, staring directly into Sweets’ melting gaze, although his eyes were hidden behind his dark visor. Sweets swore his heart completely stopped when you looked at him like that, but all he could do was sheepishly nod. You had already turned around, grabbing a near identical bracelet, this time with the heart painted in what Sweets knew was your favorite color. “We should get matching ones.”

The old lady running the booth finally made her way over to you after you said that, eyeing you with suspicion. “Can I help you, dear?” she asked flatly. You noted how she only addressed you, almost refusing to look at the soldier standing beside you.

“Yes, my friend and I would like these two bracelets here,” you offered, already fishing the credits out of your pocket.

The old shopkeeper huffed. “Honey, this fella here ain’t your friend. He’s a soldier. A clone,” she sneered, arching an eyebrow at him. “He’s only here to shoot droids and serve the Republic, not buddy up with you. And I know for a fact that he can’t even pay for his own bracelet. Just shameful.”

You tensed and grabbed Sweets’ hand as he attempted to back away from the woman. Anger boiled in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your mouth. That old vendor had no right to speak about any soldier like that, especially not in front of one. Not in front of Sweets. You tossed the bracelets back onto the pile with a little more force than necessary. “Well if that’s how you feel about the men giving their lives to make sure that you can sell your cheap jewelry and bitch about them, then I don’t want to buy from you anyway.” You squeezed Sweets’ hand lightly with your own shaky one and turned to leave.

Before the rude shopkeeper could say anything, a small boy ran up to the booth screeching, “Nan!” The old woman cast one last seething glare at you before plastering on a smile for who appeared to be her grandson.

The instant she turned her back on you you felt a surge of boldness. You quickly snatched the bracelets you had thrown down and rushed back in the direction of the army base, sniper in tow. He had definitely begun to rub off on you. When you felt that you were far enough away from the booth you had just stolen from, you slowed down, heart still racing. Sweets pulled you into the alleyway between a noisy cantina and a bustling restaurant. Nobody seemed to notice the pair of you as Sweets pulled his helmet off and cupped your cheek. Your breath hitched at the contact and your eyes flitted up to his soft gaze.

“Are you okay?” he murmured. His other hand grabbed your wrist, rubbing small circles into the soft skin there.

“Yah, I’m fine,” you whispered breathlessly. “I just can’t believe she’d say something like that! That little--” Sweets cut you off with his thumb against your bottom lip.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. You watched forlornly as his normally bright eyes cast down and away from you. His shoulders began to curl inward and you placed your free hand against his chestplate.

“No, it’s not. I’m so sorry that you had to hear that. You don’t deserve that. None of you do. You deserve so much better than that.” You sniffed as your voice cracked, throat tightening. Sweets dropped your wrist and leaned closer at your words. You took the opportunity to pull the first bracelet out of your pocket and slide it up between his vambrace and glove. “I hope you actually wanted this,” you chuckled, “because it’s yours now. I’m not taking it back.”

Sweets rolled his eyes and stepped even closer, his face mere inches from yours. “I love it,” he breathed. The words fanned across your face and you pulled yours even closer to his, noses just brushing. Eyes closing, Sweets dipped his mouth down to press against you. You returned the kiss softly, your lips slotting gently together.

A fire lit within your chest at that first soft, slow kiss. You gently twisted your fingers through Sweets’ mop of curls while he pulled you close to his chest. You caught his breath between your lips when you parted mouths, panting slightly and pressing the tip of your nose to his. Sweets gazed into your eyes with such warmth and admiration that your knees almost buckled, but he was there to catch you. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing a quiet “thank you” into your ear. You responded with a kiss to his cheek and a sweet smile in his hair.

Neither of you wanted the moment to end. Days could have passed and the suns would have gazed down upon the two of you standing in the alleway, never parting. But, eventually your comm buzzed with orders to return to base. Reluctantly, the pair of you headed back, hand in hand, wearing matching stolen bracelets, and feeling the happiest you had ever felt in your life. Sweets snuck in one more kiss before replacing his helmet, smirking slightly at your flustered giggle. If this was the kind of response you got from getting Sweets gifts, then you thought you’d be okay with stealing more little things for him. Afterall, he had already stolen the best prize in the galaxy in his opinion: your heart.

#clone oc #clone oc x reader #jangofctts #sunburst squadron #not my oc #clone trooper x reader #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfic #clone wars fanfic #my writing

88 notes · View notes

nuttyrabbit · 2 years

Note

How have you been feeling about "season 3" of IDW Sonic (issue 33-presumably around 50 plus Bad Guys and Imposter Syndrome) so far? Especially with the whole having multiple writers outside of the Annuals thing instead of pure Ian (and heck with Ian outright playing a secondary role)

It's been....okay.

See, I think the stories have been fine for the most part, but nothing since Chao Races and Badnik Bases (and Bad Guys) have really interested me that much.

The Tower arc just felt like a bunch of disconnected action scenes interrupted by the occasional scene of development for Belle leading to the "shocking" meeting that was really predictable and didn't add much of anything.

Zeti Hunt felt like a filler arc to get the Zeti out of the way and to set up Imposter Syndrome (and fuel more Belle angst)

And the current arc feels like filler that's also meant to set up more Belle angst.

Really the main issue is that a lot of the stories of this season just feel like well, filler outside of whatever Belle is up to. And don't get me wrong, smaller, more self contained stories can be fun if they actually add something of substance, whether that be to the world or characters or general tone. But these just...don't. Like yeah the action is fun but I like to have a bit more to chew on yanno?

Whatever pacing problems Archie Sonic had, at the very least it always felt like something interesting was being added with each story, whether that be towards worldbuilding (which IDW lacks in spades) or characters (which to IDW's credit tends to handle pretty well in regards to the comic exclusive ones. It never feels like anyone is getting shafted unlike say, Rotor or Bunnie from Archie were). But here it feels like I could miss 5+ issues and not really miss much outside of Belle.

Speaking of, I wouldn't mind the generally filler feeling of the Season 3 stuff if the true focus of these arcs, Belle, was anywhere near as interesting as any of the other new characters, but she isn't.

Now I'll freely admit I have a bias against Belle. The meek, clumsy character archetype is one I've never particularly liked (before you say "What about your own OC Oliver" that's one of the reasons I rarely use him) so on personality alone she was a hard sell. But I could forgive that if her actual gimmick had any real substance to it.

The idea of a character being made by Mr. Tinker, searching them out, and finding out that he's actually Eggman and is a gigantic jackass is a decent one and would have some weight if it wasn't executed in the most predictable way possible. "Oh wow what a surprise, Eggman's a dick to her and she feels awful about herself who could've seen this coming?" is about the extent of that part of her arc. To make matters worse, "Eggman robot that turns out to be good and defects" is not only an old concept, but one thats been done better multiple times, between Gamma, Emerl/Gemerl, Omega, OVA Metal Sonic, and even Shard. All of these did what Belle was trying to do but did so with far more weight and substance.

What makes this all even worse is what they do with her after that meeting. Yes comic, I get that everyone in the base hates her because she's weird and clumsy, are you going to do anything interesting with it? No? Okay. Are you going to actually have her interact with Orbot and Cubot, Omega, or even Metal Sonic, all of whom would have interesting perspectives on her situation? No, just gonna ignore that? Okay.

The most interesting thing about Belle is that she's being used to make two more immediately interesting characters in Surge and Kit (whom I love just based off their designs alone).

I wouldn't be harping on Belle so much normally, but the fact is that she's the main focus of Season 3, and since she doesn't work, we aren't really left with much else.

To end things on a positive note, I think the other characters are still strong. Tangle, Whisper, and Jewel are still good and developing in interesting ways, Starline's villain arc (and Bad Guys as a whole) is really fun to see unfold, and it's nice to see him really come into his own as a unique villain, and Clutch is just a fucking fantastic addition who I need more of now (wow Nutty liking the morally bankrupt trash man who could've seen that coming).

I think the art is still solid, the action is is choreographed, and the actual dialogue, whether it's Ian or Evan writing, is solid. And I do think that despite the multiple writers it doesn't feel disorganized, which speaks to a level of strong cohesion.

In the technical aspects, this season is pretty strong. And I'm also looking forward to Imposter Syndrome, as I love the concept and frankly, the minis have had the best writing so far.

But Season 3 as is, between most of the stories being kinda filler and the main focus in Belle falling flat, is just kinda meh to me. Not good but not bad. Just meh.

#idw sonic #asks

12 notes · View notes

actress4him · 3 years

Text

Overexposure - New Ideas

(Prompt #17 for Summer of Whump)

Ask to get on a taglist!

Previous | Next

Warnings: lady whumpee with male whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, captivity, referenced beating, noncon touching (non-sexual), forced stripping (non-sexual), restraints, stress position

It’s only a few days after the exhibit, a few days after the brutal beating Ellery received for trying to ask for help, when the door to her room flies open and he’s standing there with that smile on his face. The smile she hates more than anything. The smile that says she’s about to suffer even more.

“Good morning, Princess.” Lucas strolls into the room - the cell, really, just a tiny corner of the basement built expressly for the purpose of keeping her inside. “In the midst of the fallout from your misguided attempt the other night, I failed to mention how much of a success the exhibit was. Everyone adored you.”

Her skin crawls at the thought, but she knows better than to respond by now. Instead she pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them to herself as if she can keep him away.

“I’m getting plenty of sales, too. So many people who want to have our beautiful artwork all for themselves.”

She knows better than to respond, but she can’t help it. The image of those photos hanging on someone’s walls, or being hidden away to look at secretly… “Guess they’re just as sick as you are.”

All of her muscles tense up as soon as she says it, expecting him to lash out. But he must be in an awfully good mood, because he simply ignores the outburst, pacing toward the tiny table with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’ve been getting requests, too. Some from patrons at the last exhibit, others from people who have seen my previous work.” He turns, leaning up against the table, eyes roving over her body in the way he does when she knows he’s imagining ways to torture it. “Seems like there’s a whole collection of people out there who love...well, I keep hearing the word ‘whump’, but...basically, they draw all kinds of inspiration from what we’re doing. And now they’d like to see something...a little less refined, a little more...hm, how do I say it? A little more...raw. Primitive.”

The smile creeps back onto his face. “It’s something I’ve never done before, but I’m certainly up to the challenge. I’ve got ideas already. And I have a feeling once I get started I’ll be quite inspired to keep going.”

No wonder he’s in a good mood. He’s in his creative zone, which means a nightmare of a day for her. And it’s so soon, she’s still healing, her body isn’t ready.

He won’t care about any of that, though.

“Alright, come on, chop chop! Up to makeup we go.”

It’s one of the few instances when she’s allowed out of the basement, so she tries to enjoy it. If she cranes her neck as they come to the top of the stairs, she can catch a glimpse of green and sunlight through a sliver of window, and overall the rooms upstairs are much brighter. It’s a refreshing change.

Lucas’ assistant, whose name she’s never bothered to learn, is ready and waiting in the usual spot with her makeup and hair tools. It’s the one thing that he doesn’t do himself. Ellery expects the same treatment for the bruise around her eye - now turned a sickly yellow - as it got for the exhibit, but it’s ignored. Instead the assistant focuses on eyeliner, mascara, and a little bit of lip color. The basics, meant to make her features pop in the photos, nothing fancy. Maybe that’s what he meant by ‘raw and primitive’. She can certainly hope that it’s nothing worse, though hope has done her a fat lot of good so far.

“You want her hair pulled back at all?” the assistant asks.

Lucas, who has been lurking the whole time, watching the process, steps forward and runs thick fingers through her long black hair. She doesn’t bother to suppress a shudder and a look of disgust, but doesn’t try to pull away, either.

“Yeah. Go ahead and put it up, something simple, though. Simple and messy. I might take it down partway through, we’ll see.”

It’s brushed back into a ponytail with lots of strands hanging down around her face, and the top is fussed over until it’s perfectly, believably messy. The assistant looks up to Lucas for approval.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. I like it. Okay, moving on.”

This is the point where her starting wardrobe is usually chosen. She stands, waiting while he scrutinizes her current outfit of a baggy white t-shirt and black cotton shorts.

“Take that off, remind me what you have on under it.”

Ellery’s face flushes scarlet. She hates this, hates obeying and hates demeaning herself for him, but last time she refused to take off the clothes herself he just did it for her, and that was so much worse. And it’s not like he’s actually interested in her, not in that way. She was so incredibly afraid of that for a long time. But no, to him she’s not a person for him to want. She’s a piece of art, a canvas, a sculpture. A thing. All he’s thinking of is how he can best use her to create the ‘masterpiece’ he has in mind.

So she slips the t-shirt off over her head. Stands in just her sports bra and shorts with her cheeks burning and wishes that she could melt into the floor and cease to exist.

The expression that comes over his face is nothing short of delight. “Ooh, this is so much better than I was expecting.” He practically trots over to her, eyes on her bare stomach, and reaches out to brush his fingers along the tender, aching skin. She flinches, instinctively pulls back, but he only latches onto her waist, digging his fingers into a myriad of bruises. “This is fantastic. Just what we need for today. So glad I gave you these already.”

Gave her. Like the beating was a gift. She doesn’t need to look down to know that her torso is pretty much one giant bruise, she can feel it just fine.

“Yep. That’ll be perfect. Leave it just like that. No sense in covering up any of this beauty.” He strokes his fingers across her stomach one more time before stepping back to admire the whole thing. “Alright, thank you, Jordan. Let’s get back to the studio.”

The studio - aka the basement. Back down to the cold concrete walls and the artificial lights. She can’t help but slow, just a little, as they pass the room with the window, trying to get one more little peek of the outdoors. She pays for it with his hand coming to land on the back of her neck, squeezing tightly, promising much more pain if she doesn’t keep walking.

The area of the basement that Lucas uses to take her photos isn’t much to speak of, especially today when the white backdrop is rolled up at the ceiling. It’s just an expanse of grey, but it haunts her nightmares.

“Alright.” Lucas is practically giddy with excitement. “I’ve got so many ideas I don’t know where to start. No, scratch that. I do know where I want to start.” He turns to his shelf of props and rummages through a box, pulling out several pieces of metal with chains draping in between.

The dread that had been swirling in Ellery’s stomach all morning suddenly solidifies into something heavy, a stone that simultaneously pulls her down into the floor and threatens to make her sick. She can’t do this again. She can’t. The pain of being stretched into positions her body was never meant to be in, the humiliation of being photographed in the most vulnerable state possible...and now it’s even worse, because she’s already in pain from being beaten.

Lucas is at the far wall, tinkering with his contraption, using existing bolts and screws from previous sessions to attach things to both the wall and floor. “Come here,” he says after a few minutes, and it’s the last straw.

Something inside of her crumples.

“Please…” It comes out as no more than a trembling whisper, but it catches his attention anyway. “Please don’t, I can’t, I can’t, please…”

Sighing heavily, he walks toward her, boots clomping out her doom on the concrete floor. “I thought we were past this, Princess. You’d been doing so well.”

She opens her mouth, to say what, she doesn’t know, it’s all pointless anyway, but before a sound makes it past her lips his fist is connecting with her temple. Her world is reduced to black and pain and falling. When her vision returns, the room whirls around her, Lucas’ face up above hers dipping and bobbing in a way that makes her stomach churn, and her head throbs. She can tell she’s being dragged, though, by the ankle over to where he wanted her.

Rough hands grab her by the arms and heft her to her feet, and the room goes spinning again. Her back is pressed up against the wall, concrete blocks cold on her bare skin, and Lucas wraps an arm around her waist to lift her slightly. She gasps as he puts pressure on the ribs she’s pretty sure are broken.

A second later, something thin and cool falls across her throat, and after he fiddles with something just under her ear for a moment, Lucas steps back and leaves her to settle down onto her bare toes. They just barely touch the floor enough for her to rest her weight on, the metal across her neck digging slightly into her skin and threatening to cut off her air. She tries not to notice him watching her as she struggles to adjust her feet to push herself a little higher.

“Nice. I love it already. Actually, hang on, I’m also loving the disoriented look you’ve got going on right now. I need a shot of that.”

He grabs his camera and gets right up in her face. Ellery automatically squeezes her eyes shut, hating that lens, hating the thought of anyone else seeing her like this, but all she gets for it is his finger poking her in the ribs. Her eyes fly open as she cries out, and the camera clicks. Once, twice, three times.

“Ooh, I don’t know which one of these I like best.” He studies the screen with a grin, flipping back and forth through the shots. “The hazy, disoriented look I was going for, or the gasping in pain. And the restraint around the neck really sets it off. Fantastic. Okay, moving on.”

Bending down, he picks up the rest of the metal pieces, the ones with the chains attached. While she wasn’t paying attention it seems he had hooked one end of the chains to the floor, several feet out in front of her, and now he brings the other end to her. She only finds out what it is for sure when he yanks her hands away from the wall where she had been attempting to help support herself and clamps it around her wrists. The shackles pull her arms out in front of her, naturally making her body want to lean forward, too. But if she gives into the pull, or if her feet get tired and try to lower, she’ll choke.

Lucas stands back to admire his work. “Yes. Just as good as I had hoped. And you’re already starting to get that wild look in your eyes, too. I think if I leave you here for, oh -” he checks his phone -“around thirty or forty-five minutes, I’ll really get the desperation I’m looking for. Maybe an hour. We’ll see.”

With that, he turns and heads for the stairs. As the echo of his footsteps dies out, Ellery finally lets the tears start to pour down her cheeks. She can’t spare the focus to stop them anymore, anyway. All of her concentration until he decides she’s done is going to have to be on staying balanced so she doesn’t die.

Disclaimer: I don’t think people who like whump are “sick”. Obviously, I am one of them. Now, if there were actually people like Lucas out there who hurt real people for whump’s sake, then yeah. They would be considered “sick”. But of course, Lucas’ patrons don’t know what he’s really doing...or do they...?

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump17 #collared and shackled #overexposure #ellery the model #whump #whump writing #lady whump #lady whumpee #creepy/intimate whumper #captivity whump #nonconsensual touching tw #forced stripping tw #restraints tw #stress position tw #whump photography #original fiction

22 notes · View notes

alittlewhump · 3 years

Text

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 8

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: death mention, possible minor body horror with regards to injury

It had been a fortnight since Andariel. Morgan was adjusting to his new reality, one where speaking much louder than a whisper for more than a few sentences made it feel like he'd been screaming his throat raw. Where pain was out of proportion to the damage that caused it. Where his left arm was all but useless. Although he felt well enough to get up and move around, the wound on his arm showed no signs of closing. An inky colouration had spread out from the puncture, extending up above his elbow and down to his wrist. It turned his stomach to look at it. Any remaining strength in the limb was negated by the pain that shot through it at the slightest jostle or pull. Akara's expertise in the healing arts was not sufficient to handle a wound like this, caused by a demon queen and determined to linger. She had offered her sympathies and a supply of bandages, which at least allowed him to bind the damned thing so he didn't have to see it. His own limited knowledge of medicine did not extend to this manner of injury either, so simply keeping it covered and clean seemed like the best option available.

Morgan had been spending most of his time and energy on meditation and geomancy. Physical pursuits were not very attractive at the moment, so instead he focused on improving his magic. He would need it more than ever now, given the state of his arm. Eventually he would return to the graveyard he'd marked, to check on the restless spirits there, but he wasn't yet well enough for that journey.

The ground around the encampment was largely untended, but the soil was good. Morgan had been using it to flex his magical abilities cautiously, not wanting them to suffer from disuse. He turned small patches at a time, shuffling the richer earth up toward the surface bit by bit, until eventually there was a respectable area prepared. Nobody had asked him to install a garden, but it felt like it might be a useful contribution. It also helped to ground him. He had often tended the gardens back home, and found now that he was missing that work.

Short forays into the surrounding fields were still within the scope of Morgan's ability. Over the course of about a week, he'd managed to successfully transplant a reasonable variety of usable plants. Comfrey, feverfew, yarrow, and chamomile had all been easy enough to spot, and each had at least one medicinal use. They also had the benefit of being reasonably hardy, taking root well in the freshly turned earth. He had also experimented a little with some preparations of other plants he'd found - an outcrop of sway grass by a small lake, some sage nestled in among a patch of bright trefoil, a little bark from the willow just outside the encampment - but despite following standard procedures for preparation, none of the resultant concoctions did anything to relieve the pain of his injury. He took some fruits from what looked like an oleaster, intending to dry them for another attempt in the future, but he kept his expectations low. If the wound wasn't going to heal properly, it stood to reason that the other effects would also linger.

Cain had been good company, stopping by often. He inquired about the garden as it was talking shape and seemed legitimately interested in the various applications of the plants filling it. Morgan took care not to speak at too much length on any one topic, endlessly interesting though they were. Equally fascinating were the tales Cain had to share in exchange. The story of Tristram had been a sobering one, between the king's corruption by Diablo and the destruction it had wrought. And it seemed that it was not yet concluded, given the hero-turned-dark-wanderer who had fled. It would be worth pursuing that tale to its conclusion; Morgan's original request had been duly fulfilled, but the evident threat to the Balance was more pressing than returning to the Necropolis.

He'd also been alternating between meditating on ways to improve his clay golems and creating small versions to test the changes he'd thought of. So far he had come up with a lot of failed designs, going too far to the extremes to test the boundaries. A build with above average mobility that would crumble in combat, a strong and sturdy make that could absorb a great deal of punishment but would be too slow to hit anything that wasn't standing still. Now it was time to rein it in, to tinker with proportions and the flow of magic through the construct until something better emerged. Morgan slipped easily into the in-between state, retreating into his mind while his body rested in a comfortable cross-legged position. A pleasant breeze ruffled the leaves of the tree he was leaning against. Today would be good for focusing on the smaller details. He lost himself for a time in the contemplation of his designs.

A crawling, prickling discomfort pulled him back into reality. The sun was getting low in the sky. Someone had put their hand on his shoulder, and they were speaking to him.

"- word I've said, have you?" It was Blaise, looking annoyed.

Morgan shifted away from her, and she let her hand fall. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't hear you. I was meditating." The rough sound of his voice was another thing he was still getting used to. He rubbed his throat gingerly. Should have thought to keep some water nearby.

"Of course you were. I said, I talked to Kashya and she's agreed to give you some training. If you're going to keep fighting monsters and demons, you'll need some help. With your swordplay. It's not very good."

She was right, of course. Now that he could no longer hold a shield, his sword would have to be defensive as well - and magic had always been his strength, not actual physical strength or coordination. He'd been planning to refocus himself entirely on the magical side of things, but this was undeniably a good idea even if he didn't relish the prospect of physical training. Any formal instruction in the use of a sword would be useful.

"When?"

"You're welcome. Whenever you're ready. As soon as tomorrow." Instead of turning to go, she sat next to him. He expected her to keep talking, but she didn't. Maybe she was working up to something. The silence stretched uncomfortably. She didn't like him, she'd often said as much - so why was she staying so near? He'd been doing his best to be avoidable, true to his word. She hadn't been taking advantage of it, instead crossing his path at least once a day. Probably some sort of sense of obligation. The Sisterhood had been treating him with a cautious, grudging respect since Andariel's defeat. It was... strange.

That reminded him of a question he'd been meaning to ask. Now seemed as good a time as any, so he turned to study her. "Blaise. Why did you tell everyone I killed Andariel?"

She startled visibly and raised a hand to shush him. "What the hell, Morgan," she hissed, "you can't just say-" she cut herself off, looking around furtively. Apparently satisfied that nobody was eavesdropping, she continued in hushed tones. "Look, if Akara and Kashya knew I killed that big ugly bitch, they'd never let me get away from this backwater. It's different for you. They're expecting you to go. And when you leave, I'm going with you. At least until I'm well away from here. This place... I'm not really cut out to be part of something like this."

"Ah." That explanation made enough sense. He hadn't realized she wanted to leave, but then he often didn't realize things about other people. Perhaps he'd misinterpreted her loyalty as fondness. There wasn't always a correlation there. She hadn't exactly been talkative during their time together - not to him, not about personal wishes and desires. It also explained the closeness; by spending time around him, she was putting on a front, laying the groundwork that would justify her departure. Satisfied, he turned away to look at the sky. It was starting to be tinged with pink, and it was lovely to see.

"How do you do it?" Now it was her turn to scrutinize him. She was staring intently at his face as though it was going to hold anything other than confusion. Do what? Had he slipped back into his thoughts and missed part of the conversation? "I mean, doesn't it bother you?" That clarified nothing. He stared blankly, and she huffed. "People don't like you. As a necromancer. I mean, we didn't exactly give you a warm welcome. But there's no way it's just us. Your kind are... well, hated."

Oh, that. It was just a fact. He'd come to accept it easily enough. People didn't usually take kindly to him even before they knew his particular area of specialization. He shrugged, wondering idly what had lead to the question. She didn't seem to like that response.

"It's normal," he offered.

"It's not normal! How could you think that's normal? How do you... live with it?" She gesticulated, as though the waving of her hands might clarify her meaning. It did not. How else would he live? He took a moment to search for the words to frame it.

"As followers of Rathma, we are driven by pursuit of the Balance. What others think of us is not important."

"Not im- Morgan, of course it's important! The way people treat you matters. You have to rely on other people all the time."

"I try not to."

Blaise pinched the bridge of her nose as though the conversation was giving her a headache. "Yeah, I know you do. But sometimes you don't have a choice. Like - there's no way you could have gone up against Andariel alone, she would have killed you in a second."

"Mm." While certainly true, it didn't change much. Alone, he would have been more cautious, planned better. Probably died anyway. Others would have come to take his place. His individual life only held value in the contribution it could make toward the Balance. Death came inevitably to all things; to die in service was at least honourable.

Blaise seemed agitated. "I don't think you understand - this is life and death stuff. For fuck's sake, you nearly did die! When-" she lowered her voice, which had risen in frustration. It shook a little. "When I brought you to Akara, she argued with me. She didn't want to waste her supplies on you. She was just going to let you die on her doorstep, because she doesn't like you. That's not normal. You can't just think that's okay."

It certainly wasn't extraordinary. That was why necromancers generally brewed their own potions, not that he'd had either the time or the forethought to reach for his own during the encounter. He started to shrug again. Akara had been pleasant enough since - oh. All the pieces came together suddenly, but the picture they formed didn't quite make sense. Blaise had lied to save him. She'd decided, probably on an impulse, out of desperation, to frame him as the hero because the healer wasn't going to touch him otherwise. She had wanted him to live, and had sacrificed her own part in the story to ensure his survival.

Of course, that type of instinctively selfless behaviour was part of the reason he'd decided she was a genuinely good person. But having that kindness extended to him - that was new. He didn't quite know what to make of it. People weren't kind to him, as a rule. That was familiar, at least, predictable. It didn't feel like he'd done anything to earn this special treatment. He'd have to tread carefully.

"It's what I'm used to," he said quietly. "Death comes to all things. We do not expect others to delay it for us. But you... are extraordinary." It didn't really feel adequate, but he would need some time to process this new information, and the moment would be long past by then. "Thank you," he added. That also felt shallow. He had no reference to draw from - what was the appropriate way to convey this tangle of feelings? Indebtedness, surprise, gratitude, admiration, and those were just the aspects he had names for. He purposely held her gaze for a moment, hoping she would be able to glean something from that since his words weren't doing the job.

Blaise opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Instead, she stood and stretched. "I bet you haven't even eaten today. Come on, Charsi made these beautiful rabbit pies. You have to try them." She extended her hand toward him. He didn't especially want to join a communal meal, but it would be rude to refuse such a rare offer. And he had, in fact, neglected to eat. He took her hand to pull himself up. Tomorrow he would attempt to train with Kashya, but right now he wouldn't worry about it.

#my writing #story: unbidden #death mention tw #body horror tw

14 notes · View notes

coffeebeannate · 4 years

Photo

From This Prompt List

“If a person is destined to have a soulmate in this life, they will find that one of their eyes has changed colour, reflecting the colour of their anticipated soulmate.

For this to occur, the two must be in close proximity to one another (most studies say no less than several miles, but others claim that there have been some variations), and that, upon meeting, the eyes will revert to normal.

In some legendary, and notable cases, the eye colours will remain heterochromatic for the rest of their lives.

Of course, keep in mind that these stories are not always the same, and not every couple has a soulmate status. And that there is nothing less valid about non-soulmate couples.”

“Nicky?”

Nicky looked up, hastily closing the cover over his tablet, “Ah, sorry, can I help you?”

“The computers broken, again.” His co-worker sounds the most interesting combination of annoyed and sheepish, “Do we have to call tech support?”

“No, no, let me take a look, it’s alright.” Standing up from the desk, “The one we use for catalogue searching?”

“What else?”

He sighs, muttering curses under his breath, “Thing is about as good as a piece of scrap metal, at this point.” Resigning himself to an afternoon tinkering with the world’s most stubborn library resource computer. “It’s alright, go back to work, I’ll let you know if it decides to behave.”

“Thanks, Nicky, call me if you need help.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem” Facing the not-ancient but absolutely useless desktop, “You going to behave, or do we have to fight?”

Predictably, the computer blinks at him, Nicky sighs again and settles before it.

---

It isn’t that Nicky hates his life. Because he doesn’t, and despite what people might think, he’s fairly content. Working full-time as the head librarian might seem like an outdated job, but Nicky’s only 32, and he likes to argue that libraries are a vital part of society. Upgraded as they are, and some facets available entirely online. Besides, he had a degree in the stuff, and plenty of practice.

Andy might’ve had a series of interesting names for his life. His small apartment, three cats, more books and tech than is strictly necessary for a single man to have, and a car that is really a ridiculous thing, but it runs and he loves it and maybe the radio doesn’t work and it has no AC and the heater is also dying, but it’s a good car and he happens to find it charming.

He’s fine.

He’s dated, some one night stands, but nothing sticks.

“Are you reading that book again?” Andy asks, when she catches the soulmates book opened up on his tablet for what is definitely not the 10th, 12th, let’s not talk about it time.

“I think it’s comforting,” Nicky retorts, catching her look of disbelief.

“You know that in most cases, that shit’s a load of crap, yeah? Quynh and I have been married for eight years, no issue. She’s my soulmate, magical eyeballs aside.”

“I know I know..I just think it’s sweet.”

Nicky does not tell her that, for the last six or seven months he’s been glued to the damned thing. Everything feels antsy. He’s not an anxious man at all. His life has never felt empty, nor hollow. And yet, a few months back everything started feeling weird. Like he just couldn’t settle. Bee’s beneath his skin. Ghosting sensations across his scalp. Tingles.

He’d casually mentioned it during his yearly physical, but the doctor determined nothing out of sorts physically, and Nicky had been delaying calling a psychiatrist.

“Maybe you just need a change of scenery.” Andy suggested, stirring too much sugar into her coffee. ‘Maybe your library is finally getting to you.”

Nicky had declined to respond, but filed it away in the back of his mind regardless.

The morning that it happens, Nicky is running late, and doesn’t bother to look in a mirror much beyond ‘brushing teeth and running a comb over hair” before heading into work.

They’re finally upgrading the useless front computer, and he has to let the techs inside. Meaning he’s supposed to be at work an hour before he’d usually be, fiddling with his keys and muttering apologies as he opens the door fifteen minutes after he was supposed to let them in. Offering to buy them coffee for the troubles.

He’s that sort, after all.

He stands in the early morning crowd rush at the cafe yawning and buzzing, body thrumming with tension he can’t pinpoint, nor understand. It’s ridiculous and by the time he stumbles his way through the unfamiliar order, he feels much like he’s about to explode from it all.

The techs are thankful for their coffees, at least, Nicky tries to do some work in his office, and by the time he finally takes a break from his unsatisfactory work, it’s nearly noon.

There, in the libraries Men’s Room, is when he finally notices it.

His left eye isn’t grey, or green, or blue.

(Or whatever true colour his eyes seem to think they are)

It’s dark brown. So dark Nicky can barely see any other colour to it beyond pupil.

He blinks. Splashes water across his face, scrubs his cheeks.

It’s still there.

He takes a selfie with his camera, and stares.

Still there.

It’s still there after work, and the next day, and the Friday when he meets Andy for their usual after work time at the bar, Andy staring at him.

“So it’s not a contact?”

“No, I don’t wear contacts, or glasses! You know that.”

“You think your flowery soulmate shits legit then?”

“What else could it possibly be, Andy?”

Andy studies her beer, for once, she has no answer.

---

It is an extremely boring Wednesday morning when Nicky scrolls through his emails and finds something that bothers him for absolutely no reason at all.

It’s from one of the other departments, and it’s about the national art show being hosted at their oh so esteemed library. Nicky’s library is a popular venue because the building is historic and has a nice receiving room.

That’s not what bothers Nicky. He looks forward to this show. And it’s the first time he’d be in charge of much of it since becoming head librarian some eight months back, but no, it’s the shows headline artist that is prickling at him for yet again, reasons he can’t discern.

Nicky scrolls past the necessary details, but keeps going back to the beginning.

Headline Artist: Mixed Mediums. Classics with a Twist. Yusuf al-Kaysani

Nicky saves the email.

Again, no reason at all.

“Do you think it means anything?” He asks Andy and Quynh while four beers in and sitting on their couch.

“Some artist’s name you’ve never even met or heard of?” Quynh snorts, ‘Yep, definitely cracked some universal secret code there Nicky.”

He sighs, “Hand me another..”

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe he’s being ridiculous.

“Sorry, are you uh,,Nicky..Genova?”

Yes, okay, that does sound odd. But to his credit! He was named Nicolò thank you very much. His mother had made some comment about classics, traditions, blah blah.

“Yeah! Sorry just let me-”

He’s at the top of a ladder, fiddling with a birds nest, of all things. The outside of the library (again historic building) attracted plenty of them.

“Take your time, I don’t usually yell at people on ladders, on principle and all.”

The voice is nice.

It’s the dumbest thought Nicky has had in his head in months.

“Good practice, that.” Finally gasping the nest, starting to climb down the ladder, “Okay!” When he’s returned to solid ground.

“So, what can I do for-”

Nicky, quite elegantly, forgets how to think. Or breathe. Or do anything appropriately life sustaining like that.

The man before him, nice voice man, his brain helpfully supplies. is..gorgeous. And see, Nicky has SEEN gorgeous men and is nicely partial to them. But this man is gorgeous, attractive and, most distractingly, has one blue-grey-green who actually knows eye, and one dark brown one.

And! Nicky notices, has completely lost his own ability to speak. The two of them seem to amend this moments later by pointing at each other’s face mostly rudely, stunned and confused.

Nicky seems to find intelligent language first, but only manages to say, “..Are you Yusuf al-Kaysani?”

The equally stunned gorgeous man confirms this, and Nicky is quite sure he either faints, or dies.

(He does neither of these things, thank you very much)

“..It’s nice to meet you, Nicky.” Yusuf says, finding actual intelligence far before Nicky does. Nicky just swallows.

Their eyes never reverse to their birth states.

Not at the first date.

Not at the proposal.

Nor the engagement party.

Or the wedding.

10 years later, Andy remarks that ‘the most romantic bastard she knows’ would indeed, find an even MORE romantic sap, and that they’d have the perfect book romance.

Joe’s cleaning out the closet one evening when he finds a well-worn paper back version of the novel that Nicky had read endlessly on his tablet all those years ago.

“Hey babe, you never told me you had a paper copy of this.”

“Hmm?” Nicky pokes his head out of the bathroom, “I do? Oh, yeah, it’s a bit worn out.”

Joe flips open the cover of it, peering down into the slightly musty paper, reading aloud and finding his way to join Nicky at the vanity.

“Before reading this book, we must advise and remind that soulmates in this manner are rare, and that there is little scientific study to show a truth. Please do not fret if you never fall into this concept.”

Nicky hums, accepting the arm to his waist, the familiar kiss to his cheek, ghosting along the side of his lips.

“Go on,” Nicky says, casually.

“You know this story, my heart.” Joe chuckles, but continues.

“This rare phenomenon has been observed throughout history..”

#the old guard #kaysanova #au #soulmates au #prompt fic #prompt fics #fanfic #fic #nate does writing #oops this got longer than i anticipated #old guard au #nilefreemans #bi-leigh-bi

107 notes · View notes

intothewickedwood · 3 years

Text

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 6x14 Page 23

Okay what episode do we have today?

Ah okay, a Regina centric. That’s cool.

Is that the same guard Snow stripped naked in 1x16? Whaaaat?! Just looked it up and it totally is! Awesome call back! I’m going to name him Jim.

Oh my God, she killed Jim!!

Wait, so this has to be after Heart of Darkness.

The terrified look on that woman’s face when Regina strokes her chin, looks at her longingly and tells her she loves her. Omg Regina was in love with this woman all along! It was never about Daniel. It was about Christina! I’m naming her Christina. 

They are my otp now.

How did Tinker Bell get out of neverland? Pan decides when people leave, and I doubt he’d let her leave just to pay a visit with the Evil Queen. But then and again maybe it was all part of his big plan.

Oh. Pixie dust doesn’t dictate who your true love is. It just shows you possibilities. That’s not what you said before, Tinker Bell!

Regina, we all know you spared her because she’s your ex-girlfriend.

Actually, this visit from Tinker Bell is odd because she doesn’t seem angry at all like when she, like, wanted to kill Regina in 3x03. How did she go from, “okay. I lost my wings because of you but it’s all cool. I just want my otp together.” to “I’m gonna f***ing drug you with pixie dust and rip your heart out!”?

Also, this is the Evil Queen I like to see. So cold, terrifying and breaking on the inside. I’m not a fan of the humorous one in 6x02. I wish Split Queen was more like this as well. Ah different writers and director. Interesting.

Split Queen: “…not some burlap-loving peasant who sleeps on dirt.” Wish Robin: “Excuse me, I sleep on hay.” Important distinction!

Snow’s so excited about the wedding, bless her.

Lol Zelena just drags Emma’s hand to look at her ring. My girl loves shiny things! And how could I forget, her otp is getting married! She is in heaven right now!

I love Emma just casually talking to Zelena like they’re gal pals at a sleepover. More of this please! 

I can see what sqers say about this scene. Regina really does look hurt by the notion of Emma getting married. There is no heterosexual reason for her to react like this unless she’s in love with Hook. I think this is the only time they hug. Man, I feel so bad for sqers because upon this rewatch I can really see where they are coming from with that interpretation. It’s definitely there. And then they hug because Emma’s getting married to someone else. I would be so upset if that was my otp. What am I talking about, I watched 10 seasons of Smallville as a hardcore Chloe x Clark shipper. I think this exact scenario played out and it freaking hurts! 

In other news, I am so in love with Snow. Have I mentioned that? I feel like I haven’t mentioned it in a while and it needs to be said. 

I’m also in love with David, in case you forgot. I want to join their marriage. Can I join their marriage? I’m joining their marriage. Emma, I’m your mummy now. Don’t think about the age difference too much. 

I’ve eaten a lot of chocolate already today. Can you tell? I feel so alive! I want to share my social security number and be freeee!! I am trying to block out my anxiety about having to move house again next friday. Yep, that’s right, 4th place in two years. I think I will write all of these high on chocolate.

What would happen if you cut your hair with those sheers? Or your garden bush? No, that is not a euphemism, you dirty bastards (affectionate). 

I haven’t had a haircut in 10 years. Holy cow! That’s why my afro is so big, it’s full of secrets. 

Nemo is your dad now, Hook. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s a lot younger than you. 

He called him “My boy.” hehe.

I remember when I thought Hook and Rumple had the same mother. That would have been quite the twist.

I thought that vase of flowers was a giant cauliflower. Did you know broccoli, cauliflower, cabbages, brussels sprouts and turnips are all related? I wonder what thanksgivings are like when they all get together. Probably not fun for them. 

See what I did there xD? 

Emma: “This is my fault. I’m the one who convinced you to bring him here. It’s on me.” Regina: “Emma, you don’t have anything to make up for. You were just trying to help.” Omg, this compared to when she told Emma she’d ruined her life because Emma saved Marian. The development. I really appreciate this change because I nearly lost it with Regina when that was her attitude. 

Screw it, I’m making bean enchiladas. Brb. I’ll save you some!

I’m back! They’re in the oven. Anyone wants the recipe hmu! They’re veggie! 

You just know Split Queen and Wish Robin have a sexy dungeon in their castle. They just do.

Enchanted ropes would have been useful in so many situations.

The enchiladas are ready! Repeat after me, Becky: “I will remember oven gloves this time, I will remember oven gloves this time.”

Robin is so into Split Queen. He wants her to live with him and everything, even though they just met. 

I don’t think that arrow would have taken her to Robin since it takes her to the thing she loves most. She can’t love someone she’s never met. We all know it would shoot Christina right in the ass. That’s true love biatches! Evil Peasant 5ever!

Oh snap! Emma found Hook looking at himself killing her grandfather??! I completely forgot about this!

Why does she say, “That’s David’s father”? Why doesn’t she say, “That’s my grandfather,” or “That’s my dad’s dad”? She hasn’t called her dad ‘David’ in years. It’s like she’s trying to separate herself from the victim as much as possible.

She’s not even a little bit upset he killed her dad’s dad? That that event caused her father so much pain? She’s just infuriated that he tried to burn his memory. I mean, yes, she should be angry about that but where’s the empathy for her dad at least? I didn’t know any of my grandfathers well but if I found out I was engaged to someone who did that I would be angry for my grandparent, angry for my parent and angry for myself. I’m just speechless that that’s all she cares about. It seems so out of character. But then and again Regina had her other grandad killed. 

And now he’s gonna leave because he rightfully got told off. Can’t say I’d offer the same thing but she said, “until you’re ready” not “you’ll never be ready”, dude. 

I think he’s just scared David will punch him in the face at this point. It’s the only explanation for doing the exact opposite thing Emma asked of him.

“Captain Hook is always welcome on the Nautilus.” More like welcome on the naughty list after that stunt.

She doesn’t want a man, Henry Sr. She just confessed her deep, passionate, sexual love for Christina like 20 minutes ago, remember? Sometimes I wonder why I bother. It’s not even subtext, dude. Get it together, man.

Why don’t they fight themselves with magic?

Her dad is so heartbroken the person Regina hates most is herself. 

That is really sad that the person she hates most his herself. I can relate.

Yes! Launch those apples at yourself! 

My conversations with myself be like-

Oh boy. This is too reminiscent of conversations with myself. Yes, I sword fight myself wearing a fancy black, cleavage-revealing dress in my head all the time. Only joking, I wear trilby hats. 

Oh okay. Now they’re tying each other up. I see what this is really about. I still haven’t bleached the “we do like it rough, don’t we Regina?” line from my mind. 

I suppose she did take back some of her own darkness. But I was hoping she would just merge herself back together. That would have been a really predictable outcome, but I just would have preferred it. 

This scene is so weird lol, but it helped me tremendously. I used to hate myself so, so much. You don’t even understand. It was like a violent hatred for myself for not fitting in and for every single little mistake I’d ever made. Then with a lot of self- healing and the help of this episode I began my journey into loving myself. I wrote on a sticky note “Love yourself. If the Evil Queen can do it, so can you.” and stuck it to my wall. Nothing I’ve done is comparable to what the Evil Queen has done and if she can learn to love herself, why can’t everyone else. Anyone who’s struggling with self-hatred, please take this episode to heart. You are worthy of love, most importantly from yourself. Any time you find yourself hating yourself just try to remember this scene and that the flipping Evil Queen of all people recognised the importance of self-love and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. She damn well gave herself a chance. I’ve heard a good technique is looking in the mirror and telling yourself what you love about you. Even if you’re not feeling it at first, you could get into the habit of it and your brain will start to accept those words as true. Because they are true.

Aww she sees the Charmings as her family. 

Regina: “it did give me hope when I needed it most, and that is just as important.” Oh my God, preach the word Regina! Regina is preaching with fire today! 

It’s like she’s having a therapy session with herself. I need to do that. I really do. Then I need to get actual therapy lol xD. But baby steps! 

Okay. A loophole as to how he can change Split Queen’s story. You know what, at this point I’ve learnt just to go with it.

Can Snow and Zelena be best friends? Please. It’s literally all I want in life. And to join Snowing’s marriage. I’m not asking for much. I’ll talk about it in self-therapy.

Henry’s got Gideon’s haircut now. He wants to be cool like his uncle.

I want to look at myself with the love and adoration Regina looks at herself with. We should all get to that point where we look like we’re about to intensely make out with ourselves when we look in the mirror. 

I know what they were doing with page 23. I just wish Split Queen had changed her outfit so it could have been exactly like the page illustration. But I don’t think it was meant to predict the future. It was just one of Isaac’s fanfictions, wasn’t it? Hmm. I think it was a mystery to him as well if I can remember correctly.

It’s nice that oq shippers got their ship in the end in one form.

Snow is just constantly high up to her eyeballs on hope, bless her. 

Emma needs a dog. She seems like such a dog person.

Also, that enchilada was yumilicious, if I do say so myself.

#ouat #once upon a time #regina mills #emma swan #the evil queen #ouat 6x14 #6x14 page 23 #ouat rewatch #ouat rewatch 2019

9 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | Chapter Five

Chapter Five

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Summary: (fluff only) weekly Saturday reading only they are joined by an extra 15 lost boys, not just Spencer

Warnings (adding as they happen): fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers, library smut, oral (female receiving) lots and lots of fluff

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

He woke up Saturday morning to the sound of a bunch of voices coming from beyond the walls of his room. Only it wasn’t his room, it was the room he slept in when he stayed with Y/N and Amoreena, he hasn’t left since he arrived on Thursday and he had no plan to either.

They still hadn’t told her about their relationship, not wanting her to come crawling into bed with her mom in the morning to find Spencer there too. She wasn’t ready to explain to Amoreena what it meant for Spencer to be in her bed, how they were in love and that she might need to learn how to knock before entering.

So he slept in the spare room, completely contently because he knew she was only on the other side of the wall, instead of 30 minutes away like she would be when he slept at his own apartment.

It had been a week since he saw them reading in the park, and now they were his family. It was incredibly fast, anyone who heard the news would say so. But that’s how his life worked, he blew through everything incredibly fast, it only made sense for him to skip every step in the book and become a stepdad overnight.

He woke up then, missing Y/N and Amoreena as he thought about the last week. Finally getting dressed and peaking outside, through the crack in the blinds, to see what was going on on the farm.

There were a bunch of men in the field with the cows dropping new cattle off in a big truck as a bunch of children ran around the yard. Y/N wasn’t kidding when she said her 7 siblings had produced 15 cousins for Amoreena to play with. Children all between the ages of toddler and 7-years-old, screaming while they ran after Rufus and the cats, it was a pure dopamine rush to witness.

He found Y/N in the living room, a book in one hand and a coffee in the other, “good morning cutie, all the ruckus on the farm wake you up?” She did her best fake southern accent as she smiled at him. Beautiful as ever in the early morning sunshine.

He nodded with a yawn, sitting beside her and snuggling into her shoulder. She placed her mug in his hands so she could wrap an arm around him and pull him in closer, letting him take a sip of coffee and become a real person again.

He noticed she was reading a book he had never seen before, reading the pages and not know the words. It was a first for him.

“What’s that one about?”

Y/N closed it to let him look at the cover. It was a hand-bound book, wrapped in green fabric that was at least 30 years old and in well-loved condition. The gold lettering reading Amoreena, along with a pressed gold rose and the author's name. He had never heard of it before.

“My grandma was an aspiring writer and the reason I love books so much, her name was Peggy and she had a dream once about a wonderful little girl named Amoreena and the magical life she created for herself. She wrote it all down and my grandpa had it typed and bound for her, she was so proud of this book,” Y/N gushed, smiling as she held it to her chest softly, thinking of all the memories Spencer didn’t know yet.

“Really?” Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her.

She nodded softly, “she loved Elton John, so much so that when my sister Ashley came out she threw her a party. Almost all those kids out there are Ashley's, by the way, she went down the adoption and foster root after I did IVF.”

She pointed out the front window at all the people gathered on her land, “Ben and Dylan dropped their kids off too while they help dad and Evan with the farm. Those are my brothers in case you didn’t know their names yet, there’s also Carver and Francis but they don’t live as close.”

Her little life was just so perfect, “did they want to come with us to read this afternoon? We need some lost boys.”

“They’d love that, are you sure you can handle 16 kids between the two of us?” she smiled, pure love spreading through her body as she held him.

“They’re not so different from psychopaths right?” He teased, watching her settle against him even more as they enjoyed their Saturday together.

“What else can you tell me about your grandma?” He snuggled into her more as he asked, wanting to know as much about her happiness as possible.

“She was always listening to music, she loved Elton's song Amoreena the most. It was the song she played for the majority of my childhood. It only made sense for me to name my little miracle Amoreena too, cause I wouldn’t have her unless nanny suggested I have a baby.”

“I would have loved to meet her.”

Y/N’s smile changed then, “she would have loved you and your big mind.”

“My mom wants to meet you and Amoreena,” he announces softly, he hasn’t really told her anything about his family yet.

“What’s she like?”

“She has schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s and she lives in a care home in DC right now, I try and see her when I can but she has her own schedule so I have to fit around when she’s having a good day,” it was hard to explain it to most people, but not to her. He didn’t feel any shame or fear in introducing them. Y/N was the most loving human, and Amoreena was just the same.

“When is she free next?” A simple question that made him feel incredibly giddy.

“Tuesday from 3-5,” he snuggled in closer to her as she wraps her arm around him.

“We’ll pick Amoreena up from school after work and take her over,” Y/N agreed, their lives intertwining like they were always meant to.

Like she was the ivy on his old cottage, she took him in and made him her own, wrapping herself all around him and never letting him go again.

He basically finishes her coffee while she holds him on the couch. The sound of the kids outside making them laugh every once in a while, dogs barking and cows mooing, the farm was alive and roaring while they enjoyed each other's company.

“Did you bring your costume for the reading today?”

He sat right up then, looking at her like she lost her mind, “of course I did, I wouldn’t have Penelope spend a week tracking down a Captain Hook costume just to forget it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, “you didn’t?!”

He simply nodded with a cheeky grin, “come on Tinker Bell, everyone knows she had a thing for Hook.”

“Who didn’t? He was the first and last bad boy I was interested in, I typically go more for Milo’s and Ariel’s; full of adventure and always learning something new,” Y/N teased him.

“Mhm, I always had a thing for Aladdin and Belle in search of far off lands and happy endings,” he mused, making her smile just as much as he was, “but for real it was between Hook and Wendy for my costume,” he made her laugh again, wanting to hear it for the rest of time.

“You still can, I have a blue nightgown you can borrow,” it was so easy for them to flirt, it fit into their conversation so simply it felt like they had been together forever.

He couldn’t help leaning in to kiss her, resting her back against the couch softly as she held onto him. He loved kissing her, she tasted like coffee and happiness every single time. She made the cutest sounds when they would make out like she was surprised by it or she wasn’t used to it at all.

She made him feel like he was young again like he was 21 and in love for the first time. All his trauma disappeared and that Spencer who used to stare back at him in the mirror was gone now. That guy packed his bags and left the farm to never be seen again.

Good fucking riddance is all he had to say.

He was happy, he enjoyed being happy and he was going to stay happy. It was the only goal he had going forward, and as long as he was in her embrace, surround by the laugher of her child and family, he knew it would be possible.

Amoreena came running inside then, finding the two of them making out on the couch before they could part from each other.

“Ewww!” She cried, jumping on top of the two of them and knocking the wind out of Spencer.

“Get off,” Y/N tried to speak as she was crushed by the two of them. “Mom down!”

Spencer picks Amoreena up then, taking her away from the couch and spinning her around like she’s an airplane. She cheers and cheers and doesn’t want him to put her down because it’s so fun. The next thing he knows he’s being dragged outside to twirl all the kids around like they’re Peter Pan, flying through the air on their way to Neverland.

He’s surrounded by giggles and tickles fights, he’s tackled down against the dirt as a herd of tiny children dog pilled him. Laughing until he cried, feeling more joy than humanly possible and then Y/N’s telling them all to get ready to he’d to the park.

Coming down the stairs in a pirate costume to a bunch of screaming kids was an experience and a half. Spencer couldn’t believe how happy it made them all to imagine Captain Hook had broken into the house and Amoreena, or Peter Pan as she corrected him, chased him outside with all the lost boys.

He took a moment to learn all their names, all 15 of them, however, unlike the cats, they had relatively normal people names.

Kate, Cade, Jet, Lauren, Cassie, Sara, Evan, Benny, Olivia, Jessie, Owen, Maddie, Gwen, August, and Parker, were the cutest little family of cousins. some looked like Amoreena, some looked like their own mothers, a handful of them were adopted out of the country, they were the most perfect cast of lost boys.

He's never had any cousins, no pets, no siblings. His life never felt lonely until he realized what he missed out on.

“Dad,” Amoreena whispered as she tugged on his shirt lightly, “look!”

She pointed towards the house where Y/N was standing. When she said she was going as Tinker Bell he really didn’t think she meant looking exactly like Julia Roberts at the end of Hook.

She looked magical in her beautiful white dress, curly hair with the most perfectly placed flowers and flawless wings wrapped around her shoulders. She was a vision standing on the porch, waiting for him to pick his jaw up off the floor and compliment her.

“Tink,” the words are more like air, soft and barely there.

“Is Captain Hook being nice? Or should we take him to the pond and let the Alligators deal with him?” Y/N teased, marching down the stairs and poking Spencer's chest.

“Ouch,” he teased her, holding his hand over his heart to make her feel bad.

But she didn’t, “some Pirate you are,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him before taking Amoreena’s hand and running off down the trail towards the main house, everyone following her lead.

Nanny packed enough snacks for all 16 kids, and a little extra just in case. Spencer slipped the lunch box over his shoulder and they made their way towards the adventure. Y/N pulling a wagon just in case the littlest ones didn’t want to walk anymore. It was spectacular.

Y/N stopped then, pretending to stand like an army man turning around abruptly to look at the troop. “Lost boys, are we ready?”

“Yes, Tinker Bell!” They cheered back.

“On my lead, 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4,” she marched, bringing her knees up high as they all followed her down the path. “We’re following the leader, the leader, the leader,” she began to sing.

Spencer was in awe, his heart felt like it was going to explode as he watched everyone follow her. Singing along as they marched their tiny little butts down to the park.

“We’re following the leader wherever she may go!” Amoreena yelled the lyrics back, leading the pack as Peter Pan should.

“Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day Tee dum, tee dee, it's part of the game we play Tee dum, tee dee, the words are easy to say Just a teedle ee dum, a teedle ee do tee day

Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee dum We're one for all, and all of us out for fun We march in line and follow the other one With a teedle ee do, a teedle ee do tee dum”

It was like magic, they all knew the words and they sang the whole way down the path. Every verse and then repeating it. Not a single kid strayed from the path, no one complained about sore feet or hot backs, they loved their Aunty Y/N and so did Spencer.

“We’re off on an adventure, adventure, adventure,” Y/N changed the words, making him smile as she brought happiness into the world. “We’re off on an adventure to read out in the sun! Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day…”

Every single time he thought she had given him the best day of his life, she manages to outdo herself.

—

They barely listened to the story, it was a disaster of epic proportions but they tried. 15 kids is a lot to handle as an ex FBI agent and a librarian, they had lunch and instead ran around the field playing lost boys instead. It was still an amazing afternoon.

He was going to be covered in bruises the next morning. He had been kicked, poked, trampled, jumped on, the whole 9 yards. They were the most energetic bunch in the whole world, and then they came home to ice cream.

“Y/N,” Spencer finally pulled her aside when all the kids were preoccupied with their cold snack after a hot day.

“Yes, cutie?” It was a nickname that was sticking, much like pretty boy, and he didn’t mind it at all.

“We’re going to need more than 2 songs tonight to get her to go to bed,” he teased, stepping into that step-dad role with ease.

She couldn’t stop smiling at him, wrapping him up in her arms gently so he didn’t crush her fairy wings. “We’ll take her swimming, that’ll tire her out instead. Are you lookin’ for some alone time?”

“I love her dearly, but I can’t kiss you as much when she’s around,” he whispered before pecking her quickly and hearing the group of lost boys pretend to be sick.

“Just because he’s my dad doesn’t mean you have to be gross like your mom and dad, mom,” Amoreena’s smart mouth making them both shake their heads and laugh.

“What would you do if I did this?” Y/N teased before dipping Spencer back like a princess and kissing him, he stuck his foot out in shock as she held him there.

“Ewww!!” All the kids yelled as she returned him to his feet.

“Or this?” Y/N pulled him into another kiss, her leg popping like Princess Mia’s in the princess diaries.

Amoreena and her cousins were all screaming then, laughing at how gross their aunt and her new boyfriend were being. Used to it clearly, their grandparents were just as in love and watching from the porch as they held each other on the swing.

“I love you,” Spencer announced, loud enough for all to hear without a care in the world.

“You better,” she smiled. “I love you too, cutie,” she added before kissing him one last time.

His life felt perfectly complete.

Y/N’s brothers were incredibly kind just like her. He learned that Ashley was the oldest with 5 kids and her wife Susie, then Ben who was 46 and his wife Shannon, they had 3 kids. Dylan and Laurie had 4 and Even, her twin brother had 3.

Turns out her mom had 2 sets of twins back to back, 7 children and only 5 pregnancies. It felt crazy for him to think about having that many people in his life for his whole life, he wouldn’t have known what to do with anyone more than just his mother growing up.

Spencer helped Bob with the barbecue, they made burgers and hotdogs for all 16 of the children while they continued to run through the fields. They had enough energy to last them 5 straight days of chaos. It was amazing.

Y/N and Spencer managed to wander off while all the kids ate, sitting under a tree with their dinner so they could finally have some time alone together.

She was beautiful, sitting in the afternoon amber glow as she tried to keep her hair from blowing in her face. Tucking the strands behind her ears so she could eat her dinner in peace before spencer handed her the hair tie on his wrist. Then she got ketchup on her cheek, seemingly on purpose as she smiled at him and laughing as Spencer wiped it off with his thumb. He was so in love he felt stupid, smiling at her like he’s never seen another person before, absolutely enamoured.

“Derek and his wife wanted to come over tomorrow and have his son meet Amoreena if that’s okay?”

Her face lit up, “his son is the one named after you right? Not your godson?”

He nodded with yet another smile, his lips were going to fall off at this point. “Yeah, he’s the sweetest little guy, Hank’s never been to a farm before.”

“You tell them our gates are always own to new minds and pure hearts,” she smiled. “That’s what nanny used to say.”

He leans in and kisses her then, resting his forehead against hers as she held his cheek in her free hand, smiling ever so softly as she stared into his eyes, they didn’t need words, he knew she loved him too. A week of pure bliss had passed within the blink of an eye, and they still had forever to go.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @manuosorioh @reidsfish @mochionly (send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list, I don't always see every reply! i love you guys thank you so much for reading)

163 notes · View notes