#( omes like is this meant in a friendly way or in a different way you all are a bit confusing to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bavrenilia · 4 years

Text

yandere headcannons | om!satan

tw: manipulation, dubcon, finger fucking, degradation, exhibitionism if you can read until the end, kitty and kitten as petnames.

Satan

ー It started as a friendly encounters when you started to live with them, he wasn’t the most comfortable person around other people but something in the way you smiled at him so sweetly made him want to let his guard down even if it was just a slight slip.

ー You being sweet was nothing new to the ones around you; always being patient withe everyone, listening to them carefully, eyes never leaving their orbs as your attention was fixated on the person right in front of you. Satan found it sweet, sickeningly sweet if he had to say the truth.

ー But when he had a lot of time to stand back and watch you, examine you with his sparkling but also dark eyes something snapped in him; a voice becaoming way too loud in his head telling him that you were looking like a cute little prey whenever you looked around with those pretty eyes of yours.

ー You were easy to talk to, easy to keep close because you were a human standing right in the middle of devils. A cute dumb prey, his mouth would always dry to the thought of this nicknames. Satan was the hunter, waiting for the right time to strike and get a hold of his pretty little and innocent prey.

ー With you, of course, he didn’t have to wait that long. He was smart, much smarter than you could’ve ever think of. He knew how to push the right buttons, what to say to you, how to make you shy, when to have you all to himself.

ー You liked to talk to him too, he was always nice to you. Eating lunch with you, listening to your ramblings very carefully, not laughing at you when you embarrass yourself, always trying to take care of you in his own way- which meant a strong arm holding you by your shoulders or your waist sometimes.

ー He knew what to say to you, he always knew how to talk yo into anything. Getting Lucifer mad? You were scared of the eldest brother’s reaction but Satan would protect you, he would never let you get hurt in any way. Reading book together late into the night? You were sleepy but he knew how to keep you awake.

ー You knew that he was kinda getting jealous of you hanging out with others but you just shrugged it off as you thought it wasn’t a big deal- he was a fucking grown-ass demon for fucks sake. Of course he wouldn’t get jealous of a human like you. This idea didn’t make you sad at all, on the contrary it made you feel relieved.

“Ah, you’re late tonight”, Satan gave you a soft smile when you entered his room with you eyes half closed, his silly girl.. what if you bump into something and hurt yourself? He stood up and walked to you, his free hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you to his bed.

“ ’m sleepy”, you mumbled as you made yourself comfortable in his bed- a familiar scent filling your lungs and a warmth letting you loosen up. Look at you, with your lashes almost touching your pink cheeks and your soft lips parted slightly- oh, you were so at his mercy. He could do anything to you, he coukd have his way with you and you’d lie in his bed all worn out looking at him with glossy eyes.

He would love to do that, but not when you’re out of his reach and tight grip. He had you, if course, but it was just a friendship that grew bigger and sweeter as the time passed by. Since you lived with them, becoming comfortable with each other was nothing but expectable- the second reason was the way you two had almost identical tastes in almost everything. The more he learnt about you, the more he felt like you were completing him.

There was a soft smile on his face as he watched you trying to keep your eyes open as you breathed deeply, your eyelids were literally fighting their greatest battle against your will. His eyes started to wander, taking in your delicious sight. You had an oversized shirt coming down to cover your soft thighs, his breath getting heavier and heavier while he kept examining your delicate body. You were so, so weak- so dumb, how could you let your guard down right in front of the very predator who had every type of dream and fantasy about you.

To his luck, he made you comfortable enough to sit on his lap while you two read- he didn’t know how you didn’t reject him, how you didn’t say that you’d be fine on the bed sitting right next to him. It was probably because you were too tired and cold since the temperature difference in Devildom always caught you off guard.

His smile dropped in an instant when he realized the shirt, realized its owner. “This lowlife of a demon”, he mumbled under his breath before putting the book on the bed, you perked your head up to see if he called out to you. “Did you say something?”, you asked, voice raspy and somehow low since you were swinging between falling asleep and staying awake. You promised him, after all. You always kept your promises.

Getting no answer from Satan made you furrow your eyebrows slightly, every reaction of you giving his heart a tight squeeze.

“Why are you wearing Mammon’s shirt?”

Your reply followed his question quickly, almost as if you started to realize the dangerous aura that filled the room.

“I didn’t even notice when I picked it up from the laundry, I messed it up and accidentally took a shirt of Leviathan too. I chose this shirt without looking at it, I’ll give it back to him.”

No response.

You watched him as his eyes darkened a little but you just ignored, maybe that was the worst decision you’ve ever made. Ignoring the very obvious signs in front of you, playing the dumb most of the time.. maybe, it really was the worst idea.

But whenever you caught Satan’s sudden change of aura, it was gone in a blink. His eyes were back to normal, shinning brightly while looking at you- his lips curled into a soft smile as he took the book and lay down right next to you.

“Will you read for me tonight, sweetheart?”, his voice was like a purr in your ear, hot breath caressing the shell of it as you gulped thickly. You always read to him and he always read to you but.. what was off? What was making you feel uneasy, whose voice was it telling you to run? You ignored everything, again, like you always did because how could you not? Sagan would never hurt you, he was there ti protect his little human friend after all- he cared about you, and it was true. He cared about you so, so much that it drove him crazy sometimes.

“Of course”, a wave of sleep hit you again as you took the book he was handing to you, fingers brushing softly and making your heart skip a beat. He was looking good, way too good while he was in bed with you like this. His hair was soft and messy, in it’s most natural shape you’ve always like to see. He was wearing comfortable clothes instead of the RAD uniform and his daily choice of fit.

You turned to your side since the moonlight coming from the window was hitting your face instead of hitting the book. Satan followed you movements and did the same as you, his body pressed against yours. You should be used to it by now because you always held you close to himself in your reading sessions; at first it was your hands or arms brushing slightly, then Satan held your hand and started to draw invisible circles- sensation was relaxing in every possible way, your hands fitting in with his way too perfectly. And when it became a habit and you started to hold his hand as soon as you two buried your heads into your books, Satan’s hand started to rest on your thigh, a little higher, and a little higher again; his hands roamed around your body like it was such a normal thing to do. It felt normal, it felt soothing, it felt like his hand belonged to your body. And all of these things turned into something much bigger, to your suprise. You, sitting on his lap- sometimes him making you move slightly to get in a more comfortable position and you could swear that every time he held the side of your thighs softly and moved you, you could feel him; his leg pressing against between your legs.. such a dirty little human you were.. making up scenarios in your head to get what you want.

Satan threw his arm over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder, you were feeling all warm again- actually way too warm you could just sleep but no, you promised him. A promise. You started to read the book and it actually made you sleepier, until Satan’s hand found its way to between your legs. Your mind was torn in between- did your body froze or did you actually try to free yourself from his grip.

“Satan?”, you breathed out his name and it sounded music to his ears, you weren’t even aware of how you sounded. Just like a cute little kitty, purring and mewling as his palm pressed right into the part you actually wanted to get some friction.

Your mind went blank as you realized your train of thoughts?

You wanted him to touch you?

Realization made your cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment as you squirm under his tight grip and delicate fingers.

“Ssh, keep reading kitten”, his voice was calm, completely fine as he acted like nothing was happening. You wanted to get up, but you also wanted to trap his hand between your thighs. How could you think like that? He’s always protected you and you were just thinking about this lewd stuff? Satan would be so disappointed in you if he ever heard that.

“I..I can’t”, you said breathlessly. “Stop-ah, stop touching me.”

“And why would I do that?”

Nothing came out of your mouth as he kept moving his fingers painfully slow, feeling your warmth and wetness even though you had your panties.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, and don’t make the same mistake again. If you don’t want me to tear that fucking shirt into two- keep reading.”

Satan almost growled and your face got even hotter, even redder as you tried to hold up the book with your shaky hands. Why couldn’t you say no? You knew that he’d immediately stop if you told him in a serious and demanding manner- but why your voice sounded so desperate even when you asked him to stop?

You started to read the book again, mind hazy as all you wanted to do was rock against his palm. Words were nothing but blur at this point when he pulled your panties to the side and a broken sob escaped from your lips.

“What did I tell you?”

“I can’t, I can’t, I just-”

“You can’t what? Can’t you focus on the book in your hand? Your dumb little brain is so full of dirty thoughts, hm?”

You wanted to say no, you didn’t want to disappoint him but instead a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Read, kitten. This is your last warning”, he was enjoying the view way too much, holding himself barely back to grind on your bare thighs as he did all the magic with his fingers.

Your head thrown back and resting on his shoulder, you shuddered- the petname he called you seemed to be appealing to your taste. Instead of turning your attention to the book, you dropped it off on the mattress and wrapped your fingers around Satan’s wrist; just to make him move his hand a bit faster, a bit deeper and then you’d read to him. You’d read to him till morning.

But Satan wasn’t really the most patient one when it comes to slutty bitches like that. He quickly hovered over you, his two fingers were now knuckles deep inside you as he grabbed the hem of the shirt with his free hand- his teeth holding the other side.

“Silly kitty, you should’ve listened to me in the first place”, he growled as the shirt you took as a mistake tore up in two, your mind’s too foggy to actually get a hold of the happenings around you.

His hand moved faster, faster and faster- rubbing and touching all the right places and it didn’t take you long to came around his fingers. Satan got up, licking his fingers clean before grabbing his phone to call Mammon. Everything settled in when you came down from your high, panic rising in your chest as you heard Mammon’s voice from the speaker.

“What do ya want this late, Satan?”

Satan’s eyes never leaving yours, a smirk lighting up his face in the dim lighted room; he answered.

“There’s a dumb little thief who wants to give you something that belongs to you.”

It was humiliating, your eyes filled with tears as you lay there unable to move. You fucked up, you knew you fucked up but whenever your eyes met with his suspicious green orbs your mind stopped working. Your breath caught in your throat as you heard Mammon’s footsteps approaching, you wanted to cover yourself before the second oldest barges in. But it was too late when your glossy eyes met with Mammon’s widened ones; looking at your slightly shaking body, your soaked panties that were pushed aside, his shirt that torn in two and resting on your limp body and your red face. He stood there, in pure shock before leaving as quickly as he came. Satan’s amused laughs filled your ears as he approached you. “You should’ve known better, kitten.”

ー Satan doesn’t like to share, not even a bit but he takes a great pride in the fact letting his brothers know that he’s the only one- and would be, who turns you into a mess.

ー You wouldn’t even realize that you’re being manipulated, slowly being consumed by his every little action. Even if he uses you /he actually told you that he’s trying to make you feel really good, and taking care of you/ you simply can’t turn your back in him.

ー You depend on him, clumsy human. How could you talk back to him? How could you say no? If he wanted to, he could eat you alive in a second- but you’re lucky, you’re too lucky that he wants to keep you by his side forever.

ー Since he has a way with his sugar coated words, he also knows how to shatter you in pieces. Always picking the right word to make you feel small, weak, uneasy in front of him. But that’s okay because he’ll take good care of you, he’ll make sure that you become so strong- you’ll be able to protect yourself one day.

ー Gets jealous not so easily, but gets angsty way too quickly. He likes to let others know that you belong to him, that you’re his stupid little kitten, his weak human. But he gets angry when you spend more than a two or three minutes with someone else.

ー Constantly ask you if you plan to leave him behind, if you go back to your world and never remember him. His voice comes out so, so sad. Your heart starts to bear faster every time he talks about this stuff. You place your hand on his cheeks, promise him that you’ll be by his side forever.

#🐑.yanderehcs #🐑.tw.manipulation #🐑.tw.exhibitionism #🐑.yanderesatan #obey me satan #obey me swd #obey me imagines #yandere satan #obey me satan x mc #obey me satan x reader #satan x mc #satan x reader

120 notes · View notes

self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 4 years

Text

Crush | Brad Davis x Filipina!Reader (Oneshot)

Prompt: Summer Vacation

Fandom: Spider-man (MCU)

Words: 2285

A/N: Look, I just like Remy Hii, alright? Anyways, I’ve had a draft of this for a while now, but I didn’t have the motivation until now to finish it. Reader is Ned’s younger sister, but was not affected by the snap/blip, so they’re in the same grade now.

Everything was different when the Blip happened, the event that caused half of the planet’s population, including your older brother, to disappear. Everyone that survived were forced to keep going without them, not knowing whether or not they’d ever come back. You entered Midtown without your brother to guide you in high school life, having birthdays without some of your friends and your brother to embarrass you in karaoke. Then suddenly, during a pep rally, everyone came back.

To accommodate those that had disappeared during the Blip, school had to start again, which meant that you were now in the same grade as your brother. He was surprised to see how much you’ve matured and became even more protective as before when he saw one or two classmates so much as look at you a certain way.

On the way to the airport, Ned was nagging at you to stick to his side and triple check that you had packed everything. You rolled your eyes and knew that while you had missed him during the five year Blip, you also knew that it was a matter of time before you would get tired of it again.

“Ay sus, kuya,” you groaned as Ned shifted his rant to your classmates that had survived the Blip with you and were suddenly an upperclassman like him.

As the two of you neared the group at the airport, you spotted Peter and gave him a pleading look to stop your brother. He looked a bit distracted but gave you a sympathetic smile. You slipped away from your brother as he turned to Peter, talking with the teachers before going through the usual international travelling process.

After going through the TSA, you met up with your classmates and discussed the locations that the class will be going to. You excitedly added that you managed to save enough money to get a film camera.

“What kind?” you heard a voice that made your heart skip.

You look up to see Brad Davis smiling at you. Your cheeks heat up. “What?”

“What kind of film camera?” Brad repeated.

“Oh, um, Olympus. OM-ten.”

He nodded in approval. “I love those. Very easy to use. Can I see?”

You blinked. You looked over at the teachers, then at the clock. There was still some time until the group had to head to the terminal. “Oh, yeah, sure. Lemme just…” You shifted your backpack around so you could pull your camera out.

His smile widened as he reached out for it. “In good condition, too,” he said, flipping it around to pop the lens cover off.

Your hand twitched as the cover hung from the string that was tied to the camera, swinging as Brad looked through the viewfinder and adjusting the focus. Just because you have had a crush on him since middle school, doesn’t mean he’s safe from your wrath if he breaks it. You didn’t even tell your parents that you bought it, as they would have told you to buy the cheaper digital cameras or borrow Ned’s camera.

Just as you reached out to grab the camera back, Brad turned around, winding the film and shot a picture of Michelle as she walked by. She paused and frowned.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” she asked.

“Well, yeah-”

“Ask for my permission next time. Don’t be one of those male photographers that take pictures of people through a hidden camera and make profit out of them. That’s all kinds of bad,” she said, grabbing the camera from him and handing it back to you. “What was that podcast you were talking about again?”

“Serial Killers by the Parcast Network?” you said.

She smiled. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna listen to that for the rest of the flight.”

“Sorry about that!” Brad called after her, before turning to you. “You listen to podcasts about serial killers?”

You shrugged, forcing yourself to walk away and find your brother. Of course, he liked Michelle. You almost forgot about that.

“Doesn’t it, you know, upset you seeing them like that?” Peter asked as you sat next to him in the plane.

He jerked his head towards the other aisle where Michelle and Brad were sitting together watching a movie. There was a twinge of jealousy and as soon as you found out they were sitting together, you hoped that she would just immerse herself in the Serial Killers podcast instead of interacting with him. You couldn’t be mad at her, though. Michelle was cool and she had always been friendly with you. You also knew that Peter had a crush on her, too.

“Why would it upset me?” you asked, feigning indifference.

Peter gave you a knowing look. “Because I see how you look at him-”

“Yeah, the same way you look at Michelle, right?” you countered.

“She’s got you there,” Ned piped up.

He groaned, hitting the back of his head on his seat. “I just… I had plans and now it might not even work out. When the hell did Brad Davis become like… like that.”

You shook your head. “You guys were gone for five years, Pete. A lot can change in five years.”

“And you still liked him all this time. Why?”

You looked down at your lap where you had kept one of the snacks handed out by the flight attendant. You picked up and started to play with it. Why did you still like Brad Davis? You always thought he was cute, but there were a lot of classmates that you thought were cute. That doesn’t mean you had a crush on all of them. He was smart and funny and he had the same interests as you. That's still not enough of a reason. You had many friends that fit those characteristics.

Then you remembered how he would always be paired with you in labs, how happy he would be because, according to him, being paired together would guarantee an easy A. Whenever you were studying alone at the library, he would pass by and drop a spam musubi that he always bought off of one of your classmates next to your textbook. Sometimes, he would join you at the table and study in silence together. He knew you were an introvert and he always made sure that you felt included while also making sure you were comfortable. It may sound so simple, but in a society where people tailor to extroverts and push introverts to become extroverts, it meant a lot to you.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said with a shrug, “I’m sure I’ll get over it during the trip. Not like we’ll be hanging around together anyways.”

Ned snorted. You smacked his arm hard, making him whine. Peter sighed, glancing back at Brad and Michelle, an idea forming in his mind.

“Ned, make it so I have to switch seats with Brad,” Peter said to your brother.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What about our plan? American bachelors in Europe.” You raised an eyebrow at this and snorted. Ned smacked your arm.

“That's your plan! That's a solo plan. Come on, this is my plan.”

Peter pleaded desperately to him. Ned rolled his eyes and sighed, coming up with a story that Peter was having a perfume allergy so he could move seats. You looked between them, his plan clicking in your mind. You narrowed your eyes at Peter.

“It’s not going to work,” you said.

“It will!” Peter said, looking back at Ned who gave him a hopeless look. Peter’s face fell.

After the long flight and the journey to the cheap dingy hotel, you joined your brother and Peter in their room. You sat cross legged on Ned’s bed while eating your airplane snacks, eyes following Peter as he paced back and forth.

“Dude, just talk to her,” Ned said.

“Tell that to (Y/n) with Brad!” Peter said, waving a hand at you.

“Whoa, stop bringing me into this,” you said, throwing a cashew at him, hitting him on his forehead. You winced. “Tita May told me your Peter tingle wasn’t working.”

“Stop calling it Peter tingle, it’s not… anyways, I’ve got a plan,” he said, standing in front of you and Ned. “I like Michelle. You like Brad. Brad likes Michelle, and Michelle… might like Brad. What I propose is to work in separating them.”

You raised your hand. “Right, but that would require me taking the initiative and confronting him,” you said, “This is me we’re talking about.”

Ned also raised his hand. “That would also require me to approve of Brad Davis being in proximity of (Y/n).”

“You’re spending the day with Betty, so why would it matter to you?”

“Well, I’m a man now, ading, and I can’t always be there to protect you.”

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculousness. “I was fine for five years without you, remember?”

Ned sighed, shaking his head at you. He looked at Peter. “They grow up so fast.”

Peter growled in frustration. “Enough! We’re leaving for Saint Marco Polo’s Square soon. Just… (Y/n), please.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do. Remember, this is me we’re talking about. Don’t expect much.”

You went around Saint Marco Polo’s Square with Michelle while Peter had gone to buy the Black Dahlia necklace for her. Brad had been trailing behind the two of you while you snapped pictures of Michelle every time she posed. She went to get food for the pigeons so she could take a picture with them. You checked the exposure on your camera finding the right focus to use. When you looked up, Brad was staring at you.

“What?” you asked, trying to look busy with your camera to avoid looking at him.

“I can take pictures of you, if you want,” he offered.

You hurriedly shook your head. “No. No, no. I’m… I prefer to be behind the camera. I’m not the type to be in front of it. I’m not suited for it.”

He frowned, opening his mouth to question your choice of words. Michelle bounded over with the bird feed and waited until they perched on her outstretched arms. You turned away from Brad to take her picture, shooting it as soon as she smiled widely.

“Okay, that’s enough picture taking for me today. Now, boh!” Michelle said, giving you a grateful pat on the head before heading off on her own.

Which meant that you were now alone with Brad. Until, of course, he decides to follow her. You cleared your throat, looking around the wide square for something to do. You couldn’t help but notice that Brad hadn’t left his spot since Michelle left. Slowly, you turned your head towards him just as he raised his own camera up.

“Can I take a picture of you, at least? Just one?” Brad asked, giving you a small smile.

Damn it. Your heart skipped a beat at how soft he looked. You lowered your camera, drawing out your answer as you looked at what the other students were doing. Some were vlogging, or taking pictures, or, like your brother, were getting their face drawn into a caricature or riding in a boat. You finally had alone time with him without any effort on your part and you honestly never thought you’d make it this far in the plan.

“What… what do I have to do?” you asked nervously, your cheeks heating up.

“You can just be casual, nothing too fancy. We can go get some ice cream and walk around, if that makes you comfortable.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you walked towards the shops, looking for an ice cream parlor, talking about cameras and the history of Venice. You didn’t know why you were always nervous at every beginning of your conversation with him, but you knew that over time, you were a lot more relaxed.

You were scooping the sides of your ice cream so it wouldn’t drip out of the cup when you heard a shutter. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Brad who was smiling with a camera in hand.

“Don’t worry, you look great,” he said, showing you your picture.

Your head was tilted, the corner of your lips turned up as you scooped your ice cream. You looked happy and content. It was honestly one of the few pictures of yourself that you were fine with.

“It’s… not bad,” you relented.

“You can take all the pictures you want of me, if you want,” he said, striking a heroic pose next to one of the bridges.

You laughed, quickly adjusting the exposure and focus of your camera with one hand before winding the film. He flashed a smile as you looked through the viewfinder. You were about to take the picture, when you saw the water churning behind him. You quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the canal as the water came crashing down.

Your brother, Betty, and Michelle, ran over. “Run!” Ned shouted, grabbing you and pushing you in front of him to start moving. Once you joined the other students and the teachers at a safe distance from the canal, all of you took a moment to catch your breath.

“Well, that was an exciting first date,” Brad joked.

You huffed out a laugh, not missing the dangerous look that Ned shot at him. At the sound of a loud crashing, you all looked up to see the water creature smashing a bell tower, a figure swinging around to save it while a costumed man shot green energy beams at the creature.

You sighed. So much for a relaxing vacation.

#WritersMonth2020 #brad davis x reader #brad davis #Spiderman far from home #mcu #mcu imagine #spiderman #filipina reader #oneshot

22 notes · View notes

twoblueheartslocked · 3 years

Text

This Dancing Was Killing Me Softly/Blaine Solo Para.

PARA: This Dancing Was Killing Me Softly

RATING: PG-13/R

PAIRING: Blaine Self Para. (And Seblaine is still very much the endgame.)

BLAINE: @twoblueheartslocked

TIME: Blaine’s senior year and the four years leading up to present day.

LOCATION: Ohio and New York.

INFO: A glimpse into Blaine’s senior years and his following years with Kurt.

WARNINGS(PLEASE READ THIS): This para includes past Klaine and mentions mental abuse, physical abuse, some sexual abuse, brief thoughts of suicide, death (Blaine’s parents)

EXTRA WARNINGS: (This RP is NOT Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

NOTES: Some canon events remain in place while others have been changed. Some things may even be out of order. You can consider this sort of canon divergent AU. A few changes are that Blaine’s parents are different from the show (His mother is Filipina), he didn’t cheat on Kurt or date Dave and Sebastian is younger than Blaine. Feel free to send a message if you have any questions!

Under Cut for content and length.

Blaine’s Senior year was a blur of melancholy, loneliness, frustration and anger. He had tried, in bouts of regret so huge it made him sick to his stomach, so many times just to get Sebastian to respond to him, even if it was just to tell him to fuck off. He never got it and it gutted him. He’d get into his car and drive all the way to the Smythe’s house only to catch a glimpse and be thrown into a full blown panic attack. He had so many of those these days. Thoughts of Seb, thoughts of his dead parents, even performing seemed to tip him over the edge. He lost count of how many times Sam had to pull him aside and remind him that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do. Over time he managed to fake it just to get through the day. It felt like another loss to him and he wondered if he’d ever love get back his passion for music again.

Blaine missed his parents so much it hurt to breathe sometimes and Sebastian was never far from his mind even though he had, outwardly at least, let him go. Everything hurt to think about and when friends and other McKinley students bad mouthed Seb he’d get so angry and set them straight in a way probably bordered on overcompensation. He’d tell them that he broke up with Seb because he was still emotionally unavailable and that Sebastian had done nothing wrong. He tried his hardest to convince them that Seb had been perfect- hadn’t they sent that at the funeral? Blaine didn’t think they believed him with their looks of pity and that made him hurt all the worse. They would always see Seb as their villain and it killed him that they would never know how good he really was or how much he’d meant to Blaine or how Blaine still held their time so close to his chest it hurts to breathe. It didn’t help that everyone had heard the rumpus about Sebastian and David getting into a fight and the reasons why. The looks of pity intensified after that.

Blaine ruined everything and it made him ache for the other boy so badly two weeks in he’d stayed home for three days in his bed, scrolling through Sebastian’s Instagram, Twitter and even his rarely used Facebook, miserable and sobbing quietly much to Cooper's annoyance. His big brother made it clear that this was his own fault and he should get up and move on. Of course Blaine knew Cooper was mourning their parents, but his big brother resented him so much for being forced to move back to Ohio that he was having a hard time feeling bad for him. He knew it was selfish, he just didn’t have it in him to care. The move wasn’t Blaine’s fault. He hadn't dealt this shitty hand, and the powers that had told Cooper it wasn’t a good idea to uproot Blaine in the middle of his senior year. So Cooper was stuck and Blaine guessed his best way to deal with it was by being as cold as possible.

The numbness set in towards graduation and when Kurt, who had been hounding him to give them another go, relentless in his asking and coaxing and general sweetness, asked if he’d live with him and Rachel in New York. Convinced him that he had too much going on and that he could take a much needed year long break before starting NYU the next year, it was the perfect set up for Blaine and he reluctantly said yes. Besides, Kurt was the only one that wasn’t treating him like a ticking bomb. He was the only one that wasn’t tip toeing around touchy subjects and didn’t feed him bullshit lines. And even though Blaine didn’t love him, and even though he didn’t really want to be with him, he told himself this was better than being alone. Better than feeling this emptiness and longing for someone he didn’t rightfully deserve anymore. Sebastian, in his silence, had made it clear to Blaine that he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. And well, maybe he could love Kurt again, maybe he could try. So while his smiles felt forced and his mind felt heavy he tried so hard to make it work. It never did and he’d regret it almost as much as letting Sebastian go.

Cooper had warned him not to move in with Kurt. Had told him it would be a mistake but Blaine was desperate to feel something other than sorrow or the empty numbness that ricocheted off of his loneliness in a way that made him wish he’d died instead. He should have said no, he really should have. He should have gotten a dorm, or stayed with David. He should have called Seb and begged him to talk to him because he loved him and not Kurt. But, he didn’t. He let himself be coerced and convinced and he’d live with the scars forever.

----

Year one was fine. Blaine even started to like dating Kurt again just a little. No, he didn't love him. He was still so fucking in love with Sebastian Smythe that he hated himself a little more everyday for not trying harder to get him back. That wasn’t the worst of it though, the worst was that Kurt knew Blaine still loved Sebastian. But, Kurt had just smiled sweetly and told him they just needed time to find their old balance and at least Blaine had stopped checking Sebastian’s socials.

Kurt, for his part, was the perfect gentleman for a while. He’d kiss Blaine, hold him, make him feel wanted. And Blaine accepted it, thinking it was okay enough. That it was what he deserved. Kurt didn’t even make him feel useless like he had when they were teens. Blaine had convinced himself that this was good enough, that maybe Kurt was right, maybe they just needed time. Blaine was wrong.

It started out small, little nagging things that seemed to piss Kurt off. Toothpaste not rolled perfectly, Blaine’s hair products spread too far out or a shirt left out on the bed. Kurt suddenly started judging Blaine’s sweet tooth, little faux playful pokes to his tummy, telling him he’d better cut back or he’d have to take out his clothes. Blaine began to feel guilt if he indulged even a little. And then things that made Blaine feel any bit of happiness started to annoy Kurt and he’d bite into Blaine with words until Blaine stopped trying out new things all together. Intimacy became a struggle between the two of them. Kurt started to take away his control and wouldn't let Blaine control anything. Whenever they were alone, suddenly Blaine was too big and it was too uncomfortable and Kurt only dealt with doing it that way because it made Blaine happy, but he couldn’t do it like that anymore. And Blaine, wanting so much to be touched and wanted, even if it was on his stomach without so much as a kiss- allowed it. Kurt became so controlling, almost clinical in the bedroom after the first year. A complete change from what they had been doing, Blaine couldn’t even pretend anymore. It was so different than being with Sebastian. There was no giggling, no exploring, no passion... Some months Kurt didn’t want him at all. It took Blaine more than a year to figure out that everything, from day one, had all been a game to Kurt.

The first time it happens it’s in the bedroom. Blaine’s dozing, drowsy from starting new classes after his year long break and at first the touch is so soft, intimate in a way that Blaine hadn’t felt in so long and he thinks maybe Kurt had reconsidered and wanted some intimacy. And God, Blaine was desperate for it, even if Kurt wasn’t who he really wanted, he was here and he was attentive…and why were his fingers squeezing so tightly? The touch grew harsher, strong, slender fingers digging into the back of his neck so hard it brought tears to Blaine’s eyes. There had to be a mistake. He tried to push away but Kurt smacked his hands down and pressed him into the bed, his breath harsh and his whisper sharp in Blaine’s ear, “Next time you’ll do better. Next time You won’t embarrass me.” And Blaine, to this day, still does not know what he’d done wrong. Was it the party with Kurt’s work friends? Did he not play well enough? Did he talk too much? His confusion was broken by fear as Kurt squeezed harder, just holding Blaine there; relentless until a sob broke free and his pleas of please stop, please worked. His fingers loosened and Kurt leaned in and kissed the back of Blaine’s neck in a mockery of kindness like it would take away what he’d done. Blaine curled into himself, his pitiful whimpers echoing in his ears until Kurt hissed at him to shut up and stop it. He felt so low that he couldn’t even lift his head to ask why.

The next night, he drank too much, sitting alone in their apartment while Kurt was at Vogue and Blaine, forgetting that Seb didn’t want to hear from him, pressed in the familiar name and called him. Sebastian picked up on the fourth ring sounding a little drunk himself, his voice raspy and sounding like home. Like an old favorite song that he hadn’t heard in a long while and talking to him felt like air breathed into the lungs of a drowning man. Blaine had sobbed to Seb about missing him and wanting to see him and Seb responded in kind gently telling Blaine he missed him back, and that he was sorry for how things ended and maybe they could talk again… There was hope glimmering in the other man's voice and Blaine felt a warmth he hadn’t in so long from the words and he wanted so badly to beg Sebastian to help him, to save him… to just love him again. Seb heard the catch in Blaine’s voice and asked him what was wrong- why did he sound like that? And Blaine almost let it all out, he was breaths away from it when Rachel caught him. And the phone was dropped and Blaine shrank into himself with a new fear that he’d never felt before.

Rachel told Kurt and Kurt left new marks in a different part of his body with his fingers. And as he sniffled and silently tried not to cry again curled into himself- he wondered why Rachel had spoken up about his conversation with Sebastian but not about his cries and struggles that he knew she could hear over the last two nights.. She would keep her silence up for years.

The morning after his drunken call, Blaine woke up bleary eyed and miserable and sore only to discover that Kurt had deleted every single picture of Sebastian off of his phone. “It’s like cheating, Blaine. Don’t look at me like that. You did this to yourself you know. Besides, he doesn’t want you, he doesn’t love you. You’ve seen his Instagram. He’s happy alone. There is no point in having those painful reminders there. You should be thanking me for getting rid of him. It’s good that you broke up with him when you did, he would have left you eventually anyway, that’s what he does. I’ve heard all the stories…” Blaine tried his hardest not to react, scared that he’d get hurt again. And it was stupid how fast fear set in. How could something so small lead up to something so damn big. That was the day he’d made us the lie about the teddy bear. He hoped to god Seb had kept their memories even if he hated him. Deep down he knew that Kurt was right, maybe he’d made up the love they shared for those euphoric six months. It was probably all in his head and Sebastian was better off without him anyway and he realized then that he was starting to feel as worthless as Kurt made him feel he was. Still, when he slept, he’d dream of constellations of freckles and sea green eyes and a smile that was only for him.

----

As the years go by Blaine lives in a world that isn’t his own. Friends try to help him, Sam and David desperate as they beg him to leave, but Blaine argues, tells them he’s fine. That he likes the turtlenecks even in the summer. And his mother would be so ashamed of what he’s allowed himself to become. He couldn’t even mourn his parents out loud for fear of ridicule. He became a househusband that’s only job was to look pretty, make dinners for Kurt’s friends, play and sing pretty songs and then get rewarded him kisses or sex or a gift that never felt worth it. And sometimes Blaine would mess up, make the wrong thing for dinner just to watch Kurt throw hours of work away, only to be asked to get out of the house while his friends are there. Learn to go months without a single kind touch, or kiss, sometimes not even words. He remembers being forced to watch as Kurt intentionally ruined hours of homework, only to pretend it was an accident. Blaine, not wanting to fail, stayed up for hours trying to fix it. He remembers only managing half of it and only vaguely remembers his gentle professor slipping him a card from domestic abuse and giving Blaine two extra days finish. School becomes his sanctuary.

Blaine saves the card, tucks it into his notebook like a lifeline, terrified to use it and it isn’t until Sam finds it that Blaine is forced to review his situation and Sam begs him to call. He calls it. He listens to the advice and when the time comes he stands up for himself.

“I can’t take it anymore, Kurt. I’m done.”

And Kurt goes to grab his neck, his other hand coming up to hit Blaine in his face, a place his boyfriend had never dared to hit before. A rage comes over him and he pushes Kurt hard. So hard he hits the ground with a loud bang, his eyes wide and his mouth set in an O of surprise. Blaine felt brave and tall for the first time in a long time as he looked down at Kurt.

“You’ll never touch me again. Never fucking again.”

And then he left, trembling from head to toe, and asked David if he could stay with him for the night. He remembers breaking down and calling Coop. And while they weren’t close anymore, and there was still resentment, Cooper comes to the rescue when he hears his baby brother’s quiet sobs and the words ‘he was hurting me.’ Blaine’s brother managed to get to New York from California in record time, and Blaine was out with almost all of his belongings- sans a pretty guitar, the last gift from his mom, a relic of his past he’d probably never see again. Just another way for Kurt to control him. And Blaine was tucked away in Brooklyn inside a little, imperfect apartment he got to make his own, that was paid up for four months, enough time for him to find work and get on his feet, and only the ones he chose were privileged enough to know its locked location. He owed Cooper so much now.

And even though he was finally able to breath a bit after countless therapy sessions Blaine still wonders why... Why did he let it happen for so long, and why did he wait so long to save himself?

/fin

#seblaine canon divergence #seblaine #Blaine Self Para #twoblueheartslocked #colorsicantsee #para #Para: This Dancing Was Killing Me Softly #tw #may be triggering

7 notes · View notes

hufflewritings · 4 years

Text

A Pirate's Life for Me: part 5

Tags: @thomothy @sophiefrye22 @thebluebutterflyaffect

Dancing with Jack Ketch: to be hung

Knave: a servant boy or dishonorable man

It was high noon when Eric finished mopping the decks of the pirate ship, and now Pete ordered him to scrub the main spar of the ship with a rag and a bucket of soapy water. He had only been on the ship for half a day and was already being worked to the bone, his back and arms were beginning to feel sore. But he needed to keep working, he didn't want to be on Magnum's bad side. He continued to scrub until he felt someone pat his back rather harshly, prompting him to turn around only to see Pete look down at him with a grin.

"Well, color me impressed, lad. This ship 'asn't glistened like this in ages." Pete began, taking the rag from Eric. "But the Cap'n says that ye 'aven't eaten yet. So 'ow's about ye take a break an' get some grub?"

"A-Aye s-sir," Eric whispered as he sat the bucket down, looking around. "Wh-Where do I-?"

"One o' our cooks be preparin' it fer ye an' will brin' it to ye shortly. 'e dyin' to meet ye," Pete answered, picking up the bucket and tossing the rag in. "'e'll be 'ere shortly. Just wait where ye be."

Eric gave him a nod, watching as the quartermaster walked away, before noticing the pirate named John, casting him threatening glares, talking with a small group.

"Why does 'e get to eat early? we did nay get that there special treatment when we were 'ired." one of them murmured, giving Eric a dirty look.

Eric flinched as he turned away from them, clutching his leather vest tightly. He wanted to run when-.

"You're Eric right?"

Eric jumped turning around to see a pirate, holding a plate of fruits and meat, a warm smile on his face. The timid ego was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, straightening his vest. "Uh, um yes- I mean Aye. I'm Eric. And uh um you are?" he asked, holding out his hand for him to shake.

"I'm cooking master Jim." He said with a smile, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "But you can call me C.J. since my brother is named Jim as well."

"Wh-Who's your brother?" Eric questioned before watching C.J. pointing over to a man steering the ship, who looked exactly like C.J. minus the different outfits.

"That be him." C.J. began. "He and I are twins. Mother thought it easier if we had the same names." he chuckled before looking at the plate. "Well, I was ordered to bring ye some grub and so I brought you the best that this ship can offer. Don't want ye working on an empty stomach."

Eric smiled, taking the plate from C.J. "Thank you C.J. it's nice t-to meet a friendly f-face here."

"Ye, but don't be fooled by the Captain's harsh exterior. He's got a kind heart." C.J. shrugged. "Just chooses not to show it sometimes... Well, I'll take me leave then. Enjoy."

Eric waved C.J. off, before walking over to a lonely corner, where he sat, taking small bites of his food, thinking over what C.J. said. The Captain didn't seem... Too harsh to him... Was he like that to the others?... And what made him so different?

After he was finished, he walked around the ship looking for a place to discard the empty plate when he was shoved out of the way causing him to fall to his stomach.

"Watch it!" A pirate snapped, glaring at Eric before walking away.

Eric shook his head, lifting himself to his knees, about to grab the plate, when something grabbed him by his shirt, lifting him up in the air, causing him to yelp. He was slowly turned around, revealing that it was Magnum holding him up in the air with one hand, looking at him with a grin, chuckling to himself.

"The others can be a 'andful to deal with me lad. But ye'll get used to them." Magnum began, setting Eric gently down onto his feet, before helping him dust off. "Ye okay?"

"Aye Captain," Eric whispered casting his eyes on the ground, rubbing his hands together.

"LAND HO CAPTAIN!" A pirate shouted causing Eric to jump.

Magnum looked up to see that they were about to enter a giant cave, causing him to grin before turning to Eric, patting his back. "Ye be in fer a treat me lad, come."

Eric watched as Magnum walked to the front of the ship, before following him close behind, looking around the dark cave. He watched as Magnum grabbed one of the ropes, holding it tightly as he walked on the very edge, leaning forward as he stared ahead, able to see an opening in the cave. "HEAD ON THROUGH!" Magnum shouted. "AN' PULL THE MAINSAIL IN!"

As commanded, the pirates pulled the mainsail in as the entrance became narrower, the ship getting closer to the exit. Eric was blinded by the sudden light, causing him to rub his eyes, before opening them once more and what he saw left him in awe. Through the cave was what looked like a small city next to the shore that was surrounded by a huge cliff barrier. There were buildings and people laughing, singing, and fighting. The smell of food cooking filled the air and the sound of music rang through Eric's ear and all he could do was stare in shock. "Wh-Where are w-we?"

Magnum only chuckled as he turned to the timid ego, who was looking up at him in wonder. "This... here be pirate gulch... 'ome o' the deadliest pirates ye'll e'er see." he then turned to Eric hopping back onto the deck looming over the timid ego. "So I'd advise ye to stay close to the crew if ye want to stay alive." he smiled as Eric gulped, giving him a nod, causing him to chuckle, before walking ahead, the boy following him close behind. "CINCH THE SAILS AN' DROP ANKER CREW, WE'LL BE 'ERE AWHILE!"

After the ship was secure, Magnum and his crew walked onto the deck, heading into town. The streets were busy with people selling either food, livestock, or jewelry, all yelling their prices and what's for sale. It brought a smile to Magnum's face. He loved the loudness of the streets, it was home. However, he turned around to see Eric walking right behind him, following him like a lost puppy, looking around with timid eyes. He gave him a small smile before patting his back. Maybe the boy needed a distraction. "So, do ye 'ave any questions boyo?"

"Uh... W-Well... Wh-Why is Pirate g-gulch surrounded b-by a cliff?" Eric asked, looking up at Magnum.

"Oh, why fer protection me lad," Magnum answered with a smile. "No one other than us pirates knows about it."

"Why do p-pirates hide? And... Wh-who are they hiding f-from?" Eric whispered flinching when a person at a booth coped the head of a fish completely off.

"Well, sea creatures like sirens, ghost ships, everything." Magnum began before turning to Eric, stopping in his tracks. "An' worse o' all, the Royal Navy. Ye stay clear o' them me lad. No jolly will come o' it."

"Wh-What will happen i-if I do?"

Magnum only grinned, giving Eric a dark chuckle. "Then ye'll be dancin' with Jack Ketch."

Eric blinked in confusion before turning around, looking at Pete who was behind them the whole time, his eyes full of question on what he meant. It was until Pete made a hanging gesture when he realized what that meant causing Eric to gulp, standing closer to Magnum.

After strolling down the streets of pirate gulch, Magnum turned to the crew, watching as they all paused one by one. "Alright, crew! I 'ave important business to attend to, an' I wish not to be disturbed. So, yer assessment be to restock on supplies an' after go one o' the taverns get yourselves a drink. Ye've earned it."

Eric watched as the crew only cheered, before beginning to break up into small groups, going to stands or into taverns. He only stood there before feeling someone pat his shoulder causing him to look up, to see Magnum look at him with a smile.

"Find a crew to 'ang around. This here business be a private matter I be afraid." Magnum ordered gently.

"B-But... But I d-don't know who will-."

"Come with us." C.J. smiled pointing to his brother who just waved. "We're getting food supplies if ye want to join us."

"Good lads." Magnum cheered, patting C.J. and Jim's backs with a chuckle, before turning to Eric. "I'll see to ye later Eric. Pete, let's make 'aste!" he ordered as he walked away, Pete following close behind.

Eric watched them leave before feeling C.J. taking his hand, pulling him along. "Let's get to the market for fruit supplies." C.J. smiled placing Eric right between him and Jim, heading further into the market.

A few minutes later, Eric was watching J.C. and Jim as they were picking out fruits for the ship, along with livestock that they could cook with. Other than that he was watching the people of the market doing their work when he felt someone forcefully grab him by the shoulders and drag him away. He went to scream for C.J. when someone clamped his mouth shut. He watched as they dragged him into an ally way right next to a store selling fish. He was then slammed against the wall, causing him to yelp before looking up in horror.

It was none other than John and three other crew members looking at him with harsh grins, chuckling at his growing fear.

"Ye listen well an' ye listen jolly." John began with a growl, watching as Eric coward and squint his eyes shut. "I don't care if you were stranded or if you're really are a stowaway. But you will not last a week on our ship."

"I-I... I'm n-not-."

"An' another thin." he interrupted, watching as Eric pressed his mouth shut. "Ye may be the Cap'n new little pet, but that there doesn't mean that we be fixin' to give ye special treatment. Ye be no pirate! Hell, ye be not even a cabinboy. You're just a Lilly-livered knave."

Eric flinched squinting his eyes shut, fighting the urge to cry, but that didn't stop his eyes from filling with water.

"Now stay out o' me way, or there be consequences, savvy!?" John snapped.

"A-Aye!" Eric whimpered, before being yanked off the wall and thrown out of the ally, landing right into barrels of fish that he knocked over. Eric shook his head as he looked up to see John and his gang walk away, causing him to sigh in relief before hearing someone yelling.

"Who knocked over my barrels?!" a man snapped before he paused looking down at a frightened Eric. "You!" the man then reached to his side pulling out a dagger. "I'LL 'AVE YER AN' FER THIS!"

Eric gasped as he scrambled to his feet beginning to run, the man following close behind. He ran past dozens of people, trying to plow threw crowds, but the man was still on his tale and getting closer. He glances behind himself seeing the man reaching for him before he suddenly stopped. Eric then looked ahead seeing a cliffside. That he was about to fall off. He tried to slow down and skid to a stop but he went over anyway. He squints his eyes shut waiting for him to hit the ground below, but nothing happens. However, he felt a tug as he was hoist into the air causing him to open his eyes, staring right at captain Magnum, who was looking at him in confusion.

"What be ye doin' boyo?" Magnum questioned looking him over. "Ye could 'ave caught yer death-."

"Sir!" the man who was chasing Eric snapped with a scowl, pointing at Eric. "Unhand that there no jolly scoundrel so that I can-!"

Magnum's warm eyes suddenly became cold and callous once more as he let out a low growl, slowly turning to the man, who's scowl fell, being replaced with fear. Eric watched as the people around them gasped, backing away in fear.

"C-Captain M-Magnum?!" the man breathed as he backed away some more.

Magnum then gently sat Eric down, stomping toward the man, things around them shaking with every step he took. The towering pirate clenched his fist as he spoke. "An' just what be ye plannin' on doin' to me cabinboy?"

"He-He's y-your?-"

"An' I 'ope it be nothin' that could 'arm the poor lad. Because if that be the case." he suddenly grabbed the man by the neck and hoist him in the air, getting into his face, hearing the man choke within his grasp. "Then I'd 'ave to shoot ye out o' me canon. An' I've been dyin' to use 'her fer a while now. Though we don't want that right?" the man frantically shook his head. "Jolly, now go aft to yer 'ell 'ole ye call a fish shop an' leave me cabinboy alone savvy?!" the man nodded his head, causing Magnum to let him go, watching as he dropped to the ground before scrambling onto his feet and run the other way.

Magnum huffed as he straightened his coat turning to Eric who was looking at him in fear. Suddenly the coldness left Magnum's eyes as he walked over to the boy, looking him over. "Be ye okay? 'e did nay 'urt ye did 'e?"

"N-No. I-I'm o-okay." Eric whispered looking down.

"What 'appen to C.J. an' sail master Jim?"

"I g-got separated from them."

Magnum thought for a moment before turning to Pete who just shrugged. The captain hummed to himself before patting Eric's shoulder. "I suppose ye can come with me to the meetin'. Ye be me cabinboy after all. Besides, it might 'ave not been the best idea to let ye wander alone. Would ye like to accompany me?" he asked watching as Eric gave him a nod. "Jolly, but I must warn ye, no blabberin', or askin' questions, do as I say when we enter, an' whatever ye 'ear do not tell the crew anythin'. I'll tell them when I be ready to, savvy?"

"Aye Captain," Eric whispered cowering slightly.

"Jolly. Now come, we be fixin' to be late." Magnum quickly said as he began to walk down the street, Eric and Pete following close behind.

#captain magnum #eric derekson #markiplier egos #a heist with markiplier #my fics #my writings #a pirate's life for me

39 notes · View notes

thecasinowolf · 5 years

Text

Writing Self-Insert Fics Using Overused Tropes To Make Myself Feel Better Day 1

It’s coping mechanism time I’m using this video to give me tropes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ux8u7QxRLaA&t=39s Day 1: There was only oNE BED

Running from Emberguard was one thing, but the gang not trusting Seth and his new physical form was another. At first, they stayed with Apep and Osiris in Akhemsat, but Apep didn’t want it to get out that he was hiding criminals; and he sent them on their way. After walking for quite some time; the group reached another town. It was smaller, and its inhabitants didn’t seem friendly what-so-ever. It was their only option for now, and they found a motel they could stay at for suspiciously cheap, but they wouldn’t expect any less with how run-down it was; and with how creepy the only employee was. “We need two rooms,” Chronos requests.

“Two? Chronos, we’ve only been getting one befo-” Cas begins, before being waved off.

“We’re not letting Seth stay with us,” Chronos explains, “He can stay in his own room. Which I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Right, Seth?”

Seth scowls, he was picking at chipping paint on the chair he sat on while waiting for everyone else to get situated. Chronos was getting rooms, Cider had run off to find a bathroom to fix his appearance; and boy was he taking a while, and Zephyr was pacing around the room out of boredom. Cas leaned against the counter impatiently, tapping his foot.

“I don’t mi-...ind. I would HATE to spe-e-e-e-end all night listening to Cider’s snoring,” Seth scoffs.

“He doesn’t snore,” Cas mutters to himself.

“Good. Then we need two rooms.”

“Alright, two room keys, comin’ riiight up,” The suspicious employee hummed as he rummaged through a drawer, pulling out various different trinkets, before handing Chronos two rusty old keys. “There you are, you boys have a nice night.” Before he has a chance to say anything, Cas snatches a key from Chronos’ hand and walks over to Seth.

“Great! Let’s go.”

“Oh, Cas, you cannot be serious,” Chronos says.

“I am serious. If you got two rooms anyways, I’ll take the less crowded one with Seth,” Cas replies.

“Do you need me to explain the situation you’re about to put yourself in? We could be stuck here for a while, we’re trying to avoid any type of law enforcement, and you’re willing to be alone with Seth with no one else arou-” It was Cas’ turn to wave Chronos off,

“Yeah, yeah. I know what I’m doing. I don’t think Seth’s a bad person...and if I did; I could defend myself.” Cas opens the door, Seth walking out ahead of him, “I’m not all weak and helpless, ya know.”

And with that, the two headed outside to find their room. Cas finally found the one that matched the number on the key, and they headed inside. As expected, it was small and gross. No windows, unkept, every surface seemed crusty, a thin layer of dust covered everything, and it had a light smell to it. Not too noticeable, but inhale just a little too much and your nose would be assaulted by a terrible stench. “Ah, disgusting,” Cas mutters. Seth’s eyes were darting around the room, he felt claustrophobic. All there was was a large bed and on a small table in front of it was a janky TV. The lighting came from an unknown source; but it wouldn’t stop flickering.

“Well. It’s a good thing you didn’t want to stay wi-w-wi-wi-w-w-with the guys,” Seth says as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I saw an opportunity and took it,” Cas shrugs and lays down. The bed was gross; it didn’t feel terrible uncomfy but it was a light yellow; clearly used to be white, and the blanket on top was a scratchy plaid green mess. “Eugh.”

There was a moment of silence, before Seth scooted himself towards the front of the bed.

“Hey.” He says, getting Cas’ attention. Cas sits up and looks at the coyote with a curious glance. “The way they’ve been talking about me...what made you feel safe enough to share a room with me anyways?”

Cas looked around for a second, like he was thinking.

“I dunno. You’re kinda scary but you haven’t been acting up or anything.” He responds. “Like...I feel like if you really were the person they say you are, the second that crazy science witch gave you a physical form you would have attacked someone or something.”

“Huh, yeah I guess.” Seth says, satisfied with that response. There was a following silence, before they got a knock on their door. Cas got off the bed, having to crawl over Seth’s legs in the process, and answered it.

“Chronos told me to check up on you guys,” Cider informed. Cas nodded,

“Well. Hey,” He says.

“God, we haven’t even been here a minute and he sent someone to make sure I wasn’t committing a murder or so-...ome bullshit.” Seth grumbles to himself.

“Hi,” Cider laughs. “Well, you seem to be doing fine. I guess I should report back.”

“You don’t wanna visit?” Cas replies, Seth catches on to the flirty intent in his voice and grows jealous.

“No, he doe-doe-doesn’t,” Seth scowls. Cider takes the hint and backs off.

“Yeah; I don’t want Chronos to think I got murdered,” Cider says, taking a jab at Seth. “Later~” Cider concludes, before heading off. Cas closes the door and sits back on the bed.

“Um...are you...okay?” Cas asks worriedly, Seth looks away; not wanting to express what he was feeling.

“Fine. He just pisses me o-...off.” Seth growls.

“Jeez, sorry. I forgot you guys kinda have...a tension thing going on because of Zephyr or whatever.” Cas says. “If I wanna see him I’ll just go to their roo-”

“No!” Seth cuts him off. After a moment, Seth realizes what he said and stands up. “I mean, no it’s um, fine. I do-do-do-don’t care if they visit us or no-no-not. I’m going for a walk,” Seth grumbles as he leaves. Cas wasn’t very good at reading people, but he did know that Seth was acting a little...off. But looking out the window, and then at the time on his phone, he realized he could worry about that in the morning. First; it was 11 pm which meant if he didn’t sleep now he wouldn’t sleep until 8 in the morning. So, he laid down and tried to to go to sleep, despite the current situation he was forced to be in. He closed his eyes. How did he get roped in to this again? Oh yeah, he was a criminal himself, according to the justice system at least. That seemed like nonsense to him, he had never committed a crime in his life, but he guesses that made him the perfect person to be framed for murder. Then after trying to escape, he ended up with this bunch, and he was stuck with them. Cider was the only one he really became friends with, Seth never seemed like the ‘friend’ type to him. All he knew when he met him was that he was some sort of ghost and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be able to see him. But he could, and that’s how this whole thing started. By the time his thinking had almost put him back to sleep, the door opened again. He panicked at first but a glitchy static type noise reassured him it was just his new roommate returning from his quick walk. Seth sat on the bed, and wondered why he felt so tired. It must have been from his new form. As a ghost, he never got tired, but with a physical form...well, he guessed he had to take care of it now. But they had spent the past day and a half walking, so of course it would have worn him out. He laid down on the bed. It was weird, he had never slept before...he turned his head. He had never slept with anyone before. It was reassuring...in a weird way. He existed now; he was real. He turned over, facing the dragon next to him. Was he...? “Cas,” Seth whispers. Cas, who had only been pretending to be asleep, opened his eyes.

“Hm?” He responded wearily.

“Come here.”

#undertronic #fanfic #fanfiction #sharax #seth #xephyr #self insert

4 notes · View notes

patricianandclerk · 5 years

Text

Visit The Infidel

Rated T. 7k. Cute. Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets/Rufus Drumknott. That’s it, that’s all I got. No explanations: we die like men with our cute so-rare-we-invented-them-pairs.

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Requests always welcome!

“Oh,” Nobby said, and Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets looked to him in askance, but Nobby’s gaze was pointed straight forward as they entered the bullpen at Pseudopolis Yard, and Constable Visit followed his gaze. Sitting outside Commander Vimes’ office, his briefcase neatly held in his squarely-set lap, was the figure of the Patrician’s personal clerk.

“Oh?” Constable Visit repeated, looking at the clerk critically. He was in his mid-twenties, with unfortunately youthful features that were only escalated by the perennial pinkness of his cheeks, which were slightly round. Despite the natural inclination of his features – which seemed to have been made with cheerfulness in mind – he had a severe look about him, his gaze cold, his plump lips drawn into an unnaturally thin line. He greased his hair back from his head, with a very straight parting, and he wore a very neat suit.

Whenever Constable Visit had seen him before, it had been with his clerk’s robe over top of the suit, but he didn’t have that on now, and he had set his coat – a very muted, blue affair – over the back of his chair. He somehow looked bigger, without the robe on.

“That’s Mr Drumknott,” Nobby said disapprovingly.

“It is indeed, Corporal Nobbs,” Mr Drumknott said quietly: despite the fact he spoke in barely more than a whisper, his voice carried well in the room, and Constable Visit watched Nobby shiver. “Hello, Corporal Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets.”

“Hello,” Constable Visit said. He was, truth be told, somewhat surprised. No one, since he had come to Ankh-Morpork, called him by his proper name even after he introduced himself, except for other Omnians: his name sounded awkward translated in Morporkian, people said, with too many words, but no one would even try to pronounce the original syllables. Ankh-Morpork expected certain kinds of assimilation, after all. “Er, Mr Drumknott,” he added, feeling like his tongue was longer than usual, and that he was tripping over it: he wished there were more syllables in Mr Drumknott’s name, so that he could return the greeting he’d been given. “Hello, Mr Drumknott, is what I meant.”

Mr Drumknott looked at Constable Visit for a long moment, his neat eyebrows knitting together slightly, and forming a furrow in his forehead.

Nobby was also giving Visit a funny look, and Constable Visit coughed.

“You waiting for Commander Vimes, Mr Drumknott?”

“Indeed so, Corporal Nobbs,” Mr Drumknott said. “I have a message for him.”

“I could give it to him, if you want,” Nobby said, leaning forward on his toes.

“You could not, Corporal Nobbs,” Mr Drumknott said, with a tone of steel. “And I should keep your hands in your pockets, were I you, and keep them far from mine.”

“Wouldn’t never!” protested Nobby, who suddenly took a step back from where he had been meandering closer to Mr Drumknott. Nobby tended to pickpocket – and, indeed, to pilfer small objects – in the same way most people absentmindedly scratched an itch. It was not a matter of meanspiritedness or unpleasantness, or even selfishness: it was the basest of instinct, and one he could scarcely hope to resist without some focus.

“Do go away, Corporal,” Drumknott said, with a polite smile that could have made glaciers of the holy fires of Ur. “I do not care for these contretemps of ours.”

Nobby did not understand Quirmian, but he understood dismissal well enough, and he bristled with the injustice of it. “You shouldn’t talk to me like that, Mr Drumknott! I’m old enough to be your dad!”

Mr Drumknott arched his eyebrows. “You are old enough, perhaps, Corporal Nobbs, to be my especially unbeloved uncle. Happily for us both, however, we bear no relation to one another whatsoever.” Nobby stomped away to put the kettle on, leaving Constable Visit standing directly in front of Mr Drumknott, who looked at him with mild curiosity.

“Do forgive me,” Drumknott said quietly. “It’s the only way to keep him from trying to pick my pockets.”

Visit gave a slow nod of his head. “How did you know my name?” he asked.

“Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets, badge number 243, of Manete’s Omnian Watchhouse on Wattley Street,” Mr Drumknott said casually, with a delicate shrug of narrow shoulders. He didn’t seem to even be thinking all that hard about it. “I know everybody in the City Watch, Constable, by name and badge number.”

Visit looked down at Mr Drumknott for a long moment. “Why?”

“It’s my job,” Mr Drumknott said.

“Oh,” Constable Visit said. “I thought it might be because I’m an Omnian.”

Mr Drumknott seemed to consider this. “Ankh-Morpork is full of immigrants, Constable. Our own Patrician’s father was a native Brindisian.”

“We might be enemies of the state,” Visit said, albeit half-heartedly.

“Are you?” Mr Drumknott asked.

“No,” Visit admitted.

“Good,” Mr Drumknott said.

Constable Visit was left in the uncertain position of wanting to continue a conversation without having scripture as a basis for it. He elected for reaching for the obvious. “Are you familiar with the word of Om?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mr Drumknott said. There was a short pause. Mr Drumknott gave Constable Visit a very small, polite smile, leaning forward slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“People don’t usually say yes,” Constable Visit said. “I haven’t seen you at the temple!”

“I’m not an Omnian,” Drumknott said. “But I have perused your holy books.”

“You’re not an atheist, are you?” Visit asked anxiously, unsure why it struck him as so especially important that Mr Drumknott should say no.

“No,” Mr Drumknott said, and Constable Visit felt himself relax, letting out a short, breathless laugh. Mr Drumknott’s thin smile widened by a fraction of an inch.”

“Would you— Would you like a pamphlet?” he asked.

“Alright,” Mr Drumknott said.

Visit stared at him. People who said yes were very few and far between, and he was somewhat thrown by receiving an assent. Mr Drumknott looked up at him expectantly, and it took Visit a few moments before he turned and scrambled through his satchel for a hard binder, which kept his pamphlets uncreased and unwrinkled as he carried them on his person.

Drumknott looked at it with undisguised approval, and when Visit handed him the pamphlet, their fingers brushed against one another. Mr Drumknott’s fingers were cold against his skin, and surprisingly hard for a clerk’s: Constable Visit could see a mess of scars and burns over his palms and his fingers as Mr Drumknott delicately retracted his hand with a copy of Unadorned Facts.

Mr Drumknott stood to his feet, and Constable Visit was aware of the difference between their heights: Visit was lanky and rather tall, but Mr Drumknott was short and compact, a little bit shorter even than Commander Vimes.

“I like your suit,” Constable Visit blurted out.

Mr Drumknott’s smile, which had flitted away from his features, returned, and he gave a small bow of his head. Constable Visit could see his cheeks darken a little in colour. “Thank you, Constable. You’re very kind. Watch Commander.”

“Hello, Drumknott,” Vimes said, coming up in line with Visit’s shoulder and giving him an uncertain look. “Constable Visit isn’t bothering you, is he?”

“No, your grace,” Drumknott said as he followed Vimes into his office, and Constable Visit stared wordlessly after him. “Not at all.” The door closed behind them with a click, and Constable Visit was only aware he was stood there, still staring at the door, when Nobby pushed him in the hip.

“You alright?” he asked. “You’re sorta… staring.”

“Oh,” Constable Visit said. “Yes, yes, I’m alright.”

“Cuppa tea?” Nobby offered, with a friendly smile that would make many people run in fear, but Constable Visit was almost used to it, at this point, and manfully supressed a shudder in the face of it.

“Thank you very much,” Visit said, and took the mug.

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

“Doing research for his lordship, Mr Drumknott?” asked Mrs Triplett, the housekeeper at the Patrician’s Palace, and Drumknott looked up from the pamphlet Constable Visit had given him, which he had been reading idly at the dinner table. He often read at the dinner table, once they had finished their respective meals: it was pleasant to take a moment in the warmth of the servants’ hall to take ten or fifteen minutes’ break before he ascended the stair and returned to the Oblong Office.

“Research of my own, Mrs Triplett,” Drumknott said, dipping his quill once more in a bottle of red ink, and circling a spelling error. There were several in the pamphlet: it was evident that it had been written by someone with a lot of passion, but no especial understanding of punctuation, grammar, nor traditional sentence structure.

He had never met Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets before, but he was… pleasant. Kinder than Drumknott had expected: some of the Omnians were very forceful in their attempts to convert new prospects, but he had seemed… shy.

It had been endearing.

And he was—

Attractive, after a fashion.

Striking, one might call him: his nose was strongly-proportioned, although the tip of it was soft, as if it had been blunted; he had stubble across his cheeks, the dark shadow of a man who shaves every morning and finds it insufficient; he had drooping eyelids over dark-hued eyes. His skin was the handsome, warmly brown colour of aged parchment, with dark eyelashes the colour of ink.

“I ought return to work,” Drumknott said, stoppering his ink bottle. “Good night, ladies, gentlemen.”

The servants chorused their good nights to him, and Drumknott left the room.

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

“Ah, Constable,” said a quiet voice, and Constable Visit turned his head to look at Mr Drumknott. He was wearing his coat and a pair of gloves, a thick, woollen scarf wound around his neck, tucked beneath his coat. Constable Visit was waiting outside of a café for Sergeant Colon, and he hadn’t thought it had been especially cold, although Ankh-Morpork could get very cold indeed, in winter.

He had the Patrician’s dog on a leash beside him, leaning against Drumknott’s ankle and panting quietly. He was an old dog, Visit thought: his muzzle was beginning to grey about the face, and he had watery eyes and uneven teeth. Wuffles, its name was.

Mr Drumknott had been stabbed, before Hogswatch, by the people who’d kidnapped the dog. Visit knew that.

“Hello, Mr Drumknott,” Constable Visit said, leaning toward him.

“Here,” Mr Drumknott said, and drew from his briefcase a pamphlet, holding it out. Visit stared down at it, crestfallen to recognise the very issue of Unadorned Truth he had handed to the clerk the week previous. People didn’t normally give them back. They just quietly threw them away. It seemed kinder, somehow, to do that.

"What's this?" Constable Visit asked, staring down at the paper Mr Drumknott pressed delicately into his hand, the soft, supple leather of his gloves brushing against Visit’s gauntleted hands, and Visit almost wished they both had bare hands again. "Didn’t you read it?"

"Of course," Mr Drumknott said, but Visit already had it open, and was looking through the pages, looking at the neat, red ink circling some words and fragments of sentences. "I made some small corrections to spelling and punctuation, as well as including some formatting suggestions, that might allow for ease of reading and more efficient use of the page... And there was a citation of Ossuary 4:7, which I believe was meant to be 4:17. I made a notation."

Constable Visit was looking down at Mr Drumknott, he was vaguely aware, with the expression of a thirsty man who had never before known water. He didn’t know what he was thirsty for, exactly. He tried to reach for scripture, but no appropriate quotes made themselves known.

"Oh," he said hoarsely. "Would you— Would you like another? Pamphlet?"

Mr Drumknott smiled. "Yes," he said. "Alright."

“Ah!” said Sergeant Colon as he stepped from the café, looking at Mr Drumknott with his small eyes wide with panic. “Mr Drumknott!”

“Hello, Sergeant,” Mr Drumknott said. His gaze never left Visit’s face, and Visit laughed softly, unsure what was funny, as he grabbed in his satchel for another pamphlet, handing it over. The one that Mr Drumknott had corrected and made notes upon, he gently set in pride of place atop the others in his file box, and set it back into his satchel. In parallel to his own movements, Mr Drumknott delicately put his new pamphlet into his briefcase.

“Do you need a Watch escort, Mr Drumknott, back to the Palace?” Constable Visit asked, his tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth. “For— For safety?”

“I respect your sense of duty, Constable,” Mr Drumknott said mildly, “but I promise you, I don’t plan to do anybody any harm.”

Constable Visit took a moment, and when he digested what Mr Drumknott said, he laughed too loud and too high, the sound ripping from his throat, and Mr Drumknott looked up at him with a warm smile on his face even as Visit felt embarrassment burn at the back of his neck and the front of his chest.

“Oh,” he said, aware of the way Sergeant Colon was looking between the two of them with a face wrought with confusion, and aware of how he was breathing heavily himself. “No, I meant— I meant, er, to protect… you.”

“Yes,” Mr Drumknott said. His cheeks were blushing too. “I know. But I’ll be alright, I think, without your watchful eye.”

“Watchful,” Visit said, a little too fast. “A punne!”

“Not really,” Mr Drumknott said, taking a step back, and giving him a small smile as he patted his hip, letting Wuffles waddle after him, back in the direction of Broadway. “Goodbye, Sergeant. Constable.”

“Goodbye,” Constable Visit called after him, waving, although Mr Drumknott did not look back to look at him.

“You’re trying to convert the Patrician’s clerk?” Colon asked, sounding sceptical. “You really do pick your targets, eh, Washpot?”

“He’s a nice man,” Visit said defensively. “He took one pamphlet, last week, and this week, he took another.”

“There’s naught so queer as folk,” Sergeant Colon said lowly, shaking his head, as if this behaviour of Drumknott’s was very suspicious. “What was that, about giving him an escort?”

“Well, he was stabbed the month before last!” Visit said.

“He’s a dangerous little bugger, though,” Colon said, shaking his head. “He would’ve stabbed them if they’d not caught him by surprise, I expect.”

Constable Visit did not consider this, in depth, until he was back at home, and lying in his bed with the candle doused, in the dark. I promise you, he said, I don’t plan to do anybody any harm. What sort of harm could he do? He was only a little man, but—

Dangerous little bugger.

He did work in the Patrician’s Palace. He did…

Constable Visit coughed, and turned over in his bed, pressing his knees together.

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

“You stopped to talk to Constable Visit?” Lord Vetinari asked, and Drumknott glanced up from the editing work he was doing at his own desk in the Oblong Office, his quill scratching quietly upon the minutes from the Thieves’ Guild meeting, making small notations upon relevant information and contrasting it with the information they’d already gleaned this week from other meetings.

Vetinari was perusing the Dark Clerks’ notes upon Drumknott’s movements earlier than afternoon – this was not because Vetinari distrusted him, but because Drumknott had made a delivery to the Assassins’ Guild to see who might follow him in the wake of this delivery.

“I saw him outside Darden’s Café,” Drumknott agreed, setting his quill gently down. “I had a pamphlet of his, upon which I had made some notes for edit.”

“And he gave you another,” Vetinari said, in the voice of one trying his best to understand a natural contradiction.

“Yes,” Drumknott said.

“Why?” Vetinari asked patiently.

“He asked me if I would like another,” Drumknott said. “I said yes.”

“Mr Drumknott,” Vetinari said slowly, steepling his fingers and leaning back in his seat, his thin lips quirking up at their edges, “are you, or are you not, a devotee of Blind Io?”

“Yes, sir,” Drumknott said.

“You have no ambitions of conversion?”

“No, sir,” Drumknott said. “Not at all.”

“Then, my dear man, why would you take multiple pamphlets from an Omnian missionary?” Drumknott said nothing, but he levelly met the Patrician’s amused gaze, and for a long moment, they rested in silence, before Vetinari said, “You know, Drumknott, there are times wherein directness is called for.” He did care, about Drumknott. Drumknott knew that, that Vetinari cared, about Drumknott, as a person, as a friend. He cared, too, about the Patrician, in kind.

“I don’t disagree, sir,” Drumknott said. “But in this case, I should favour subtlety in my pursuit.”

Vetinari chuckled, quietly: his smile was warm and fond, and supportive, Drumknott felt. He was always supportive, when Drumknott reached for one man or other, although he had not for quite some time—

Constable Visit was not the sort of man he usually took up with.

“Good luck, Mr Drumknott,” Vetinari murmured, and Drumknott smiled as he returned to his work.

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

Vimes stopped on the stair.

Drumknott also stopped, because Vimes was standing in the middle of the stair, and as small as he was, the stairs in the watchhouse were narrow, and he would have had to flatten himself against the wall for a chance of coming past him.

"Drumknott," Vimes said, his brow furrowing.

"Good morning, Watch Commander," Drumknott said.

"Patrician upstairs?"

"No, sir."

"Patrician been here?"

"No, sir."

"Delivering another message?"

"No, sir."

Vimes considered this for a long moment, trying to think of another explanation for the presence of the personal clerk to the Patrician would be in Pseudopolis Yard, and be caught here. It was a little before half-past seven, and he was just coming off the night shift, dropping off a report before he walked home. It was an early hour even for the Patrician’s clerk. "Why are you here, Drumknott?"

Drumknott stared down at Vimes, his eyes slightly wide behind his spectacles, his lips pressed loosely together. "Personal reasons, sir," he said, at length, as if simply admitting to this was unthinkable.

Vimes stared at him.

Drumknott cleared his throat, and looked meaningfully past Vimes, down the stairs.

“Er, right,” Vimes said, stepping to the left, and he let Mr Drumknott walk past him, out of Pseudopolis Yard and, presumably, back to the Palace. Frowning, he came into the bullpen, his brow furrowed, and he glanced around the room for an explanation.

He found Constable Visit in the kitchen, washing out a pair of coffee mugs. He inhaled, smelling an unfamiliar scent in the little room: oats and fruit, he thought, maybe some yoghurt?

“What’s that smell?”

“Oh, Commander,” Visit said, turning and greeting him with a smart salute. “It’s muesli, sir. Er— Mr Drumknott brought some, for breakfast. He knew I was starting my shift as the nightworkers came off, sir.”

“Mr Drumknott brought muesli… For the day shift?” Vimes said, even as his brain caught up with Visit’s use of the personal pronoun, and the fact that the younger man’s dusky cheeks were reddening. “You two had breakfast together. Right.”

“Is that alright, sir?”

“There’s no city law against it,” Vimes said, trying to ignore his own discomfort. It took all sorts, after all: they had golems in the Watch, now, and dwarves, and gnomes, and trolls. There was nothing wrong with tailors, and he knew that, he knew that—

Although he wouldn’t have expected it from Constable Visit.

“Isn’t there—” he asked, already regretting asking Constable Visit a question to do with his religion, which no one usually dared to do, “isn’t there, you know, religious doctrine against it, though?”

“Against muesli, sir?” Visit asked. “No, no, you’re thinking of the meat of a goat, sir.”

“Er,” Vimes said. “No, I meant—”

He gave up.

“Righto, lad,” he said, and walked to his office.

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

They’d had breakfast together three times, now.

Mr Drumknott always seemed to know Constable Visit’s schedule, probably because a lot of the Watch’s information passed over his desk in the Patrician’s Palace, and it was… It was nice, when he appeared, because he often just drank coffee in the mornings, instead of having breakfast—

Or, he had been drinking coffee.

Mr Drumknott didn’t usually drink coffee, and he drank a lot of varied teas. He’d suggested some he thought Constable Visit might like, and Visit did like them, liked all their different scents and tastes.

“This is made of dissen root,” Drumknott said quietly on their fourth occasion of breakfast together, and Visit inhaled deeply at the edge of the mug, taking in the strangely flowery scent of it. It didn’t taste as bitter as he had expected a root to taste. “It will lower your blood pressure: it’s ideal for stress.”

“Sounds like witchcraft,” Visit said.

“Yes,” Mr Drumknott said demurely. “My aunt is a witch.”

“Oh,” Visit said. “Oh. Right. Yes. But— But the Book of Om says witches… Witches oughtn’t be allowed to live.”

“That’s alright,” Drumknott said. “Witches don’t believe in gods: nor are they beholden to scripture.” Visit felt himself frown slightly, but Drumknott did not seem unkind or mocking in the way he spoke, sipping at his mug. They were sitting outside in the yard, settled against the edge of the wall, and Visit cupped the mug a little more tightly in his palms.

“You— You aren’t… Omnian,” he said.

“No,” Drumknott agreed.

“But you’re religious?”

“I’m a devotee of Blind Io,” Drumknott said.

“A heathen god,” Visit said. “You’re an infidel.”

“And you visit me with pamphlets,” Drumknott said, reaching forward and touching the tips of his fingers against the polished metal of Visit’s breastplate[1]. Visit stared down at his fingers, feeling his mind stop in his tracks, and he didn’t know why, didn’t know why he was arrested as he looked at Drumknott’s hard, strong hand, touching him.

“The Patrician is an atheist,” Visit said, “that’s worse.”

Mr Drumknott laughed. He didn’t retract his hand, but leaned forward, looking up at him. “Lord Vetinari isn’t an atheist,” Drumknott said, shaking his head. Constable Visit frowned, taking this in.

“Isn’t— Isn’t he?”

“No,” Drumknott said. “If a Creator exists, Lord Vetinari despises them… And you have to believe in them to do that. One might call him agnostic, but I believe the Patrician does believe that a Creator exists. With that said, I think he should like to physically fight the Creator in question.”

“Blasphemy,” Visit said.

“Interrogative thought,” Drumknott replied. “If a Creator, Omniscient, Omnipotent, and All-Powerful, has created the world about us, wrought with sin, and suffering, and pain, how might He claim Himself worthy of morality?”

“You cannot judge Om by our standard of morality,” Visit said, furrowing his brow. “He is apart from us, above us, all about us: he allows suffering not to punish us, but to challenge us to be better, that we might elevate our souls.”

“Then He should allow a thousand, a hundred thousand, souls to suffer and wallow and die, for the sake of one soul apart, sanctified? How worthy, how deserving, might a soul be, to warrant such sacrifice? What moral God might place so many cries in the night against one ascension, side-by-side upon a scale?”

“You really have read my pamphlets,” Constable Visit said breathlessly.

“And I often dance this dance with my employer,” Drumknott murmured, his tone rueful. Constable Visit felt a strange burst of envy, that Mr Drumknott should speak with the Patrician about religion, where he is undeserving, uncaring: he wished he might spend such time with Drumknott, hearing his opinions, hearing him talk. “He is more vicious about it than you are.”

“It isn’t in my nature to be vicious,” Visit confessed, his hand moving up almost without his permission, and he let his fingers brush against the back of Drumknott’s hand where it rested on his chest, feeling the coldness of it. “I do try. I should be ready to rain holy fire on the heads of those who are cruel and unworthy, but I… It is hard, I think, to be the Hand of Justice. Better to be the Voice of Reason.”

“Each has its place,” Drumknott said, leaning closer, close enough that his chin almost brushed against Visit’s breastplate, and Visit was looking down directly at him. His heart was beating fast beneath his armour, his head reeling, although he did not know why. There was something about Mr Drumknott that simply… He did not know. Visit was absently rubbing his thumb over the back of Drumknott’s hand where he held it against his chest, warming it up slightly by gripping it in his own. Drumknott said, “I have a day off, on Octeday.”

“Oh,” Constable Visit said. “Me too.”

“We might run into one another,” Drumknott said meaningfully. “Perhaps in the afternoon, we might promenade?”

“With your dog?” Visit asked.

Mr Drumknott laughed, shaking his head. “The Patrician’s dog, not mine. No, just you and I, Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Pamphlets. We might continue this philosophical discussion.”

“Do you like philosophy?” Visit asked.

“Funny that you should ask,” Mr Drumknott said. “I quite despise it.”

“And you would walk with me to talk about it?”

“Why not?”

“I’m prosletyzing,” Visit said, although he hated to do so.

“But after the hour of four, on an Octeday, you must not knock on any doors.”

“Yes,” Visit said, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Then we might meet at four-thirty.”

“Oh. Yes. We… Yes.”

“I have to go to work,” Drumknott said.

“That’s a shame,” Visit said.

“You’ll have to release my hand,” Drumknott said, and Visit stared down at Drumknott’s hand, and then he reluctantly let it go. He liked Drumknott’s hand under his own, he realised. Drumknott’s palm was smaller than his, but he liked how it felt in his grip. “I’ll meet you on the Maudlin Bridge?”

“Alright,” Constable Visit said. “Yes. Please. I would… I would like that.”

“See you, Constable.”

“See you,” Visit echoed.

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

“You’re smiling, Mr Drumknott,” Lord Vetinari said mildly.

“Yes, my lord,” Drumknott murmured, tidying some of the files on the Patrician’s desk. He had been smiling all day, in fact, albeit in the way that Mr Drumknott smiled. It was a small, secretarial smile, a slight upturn of his lips at their very edges, subtle and delicate in its crescent shape. “My apologies, my lord.”

“No apology is necessary for your high mood, Mr Drumknott,” Vetinari said, and he smiled himself, paging through a report. “You still wish for a reprieve, this Octeday?”

“Yes, sir. Please.”

“Very well.”

“The crossword, my lord?”

“Please.”

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

“You needn’t walk with me,” Constable Visit said as they came back toward the Maudlin Bridge, and beside him, Smite-The-Unbeliever-With-Cunning-Arguments crossed her arms over her chest, frowning deeply.

“Who are you meeting?” she asked.

“No one of note,” Visit said.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“Is she pretty?”

“No.” Smite gave him a cunning look. He was accustomed to her having a cunning look on her face. “It’s not a she, it’s a he, and we’re not— It’s not to do with, with conversion. He works in the Patrician’s Palace.”

“You’re not working, are you?” Smite demanded. “It’s a holy day!”

“No, I’m not working,” Visit said.

“Then he’s your friend?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“From work?”

“Er— No, not really.”

“Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets,” Mr Drumknott said, and Visit turned to look at him, staring at his outfit. He wasn’t wearing a suit, today. He’d never seen Mr Drumknott without a suit on. Instead, Mr Drumknott was wearing some black trousers, and a shirt and his ever present necktie, and a jumper. A jumper! It was a thick jumper, made of black, corded wool, and it had obviously been made for Drumknott’s body, because it hugged tight to his arms, to his chest, his belly.

He was wearing his gloves, and he was just shrugging on his coat – he’d stepped from a nearby stationery shop.

“And Miss Smite-The-Unbeliever-With-Cunning-Arguments, isn’t it?” Mr Drumknott asked pleasantly.

Smite stared at him.

“How did you—”

“It’s his job,” Visit said hurriedly. “Mr Drumknott sees a lot of public records.”

“Oh, working for the Patrician,” Smite said slowly. “You’re a clerk?”

“Yes,” Drumknott said pleasantly.

“Are you an infidel?”

“Yes,” Drumknott said, equally pleasantly.

Smite opened her mouth, but Visit patted her shoulder.

He didn’t know why he felt so annoyed that she should be lingering – he usually liked to spend time with Smite, walking alongside her through the streets and making light conversation as they knocked on doors and watched people hide behind their furniture through their windows. Right now, though, he wanted her elsewhere, that he and Drumknott might be—

Alone.

“See you, Smite,” he said.

She gave him a funny look, but said slowly, “Nice to meet you, Mr Drumknott.”

“And you too, Miss,” he said, with a small nod of his head. He didn’t shake her hand, Visit noticed: a lot of modern Omnians didn’t mind if men touched the hands of unmarried girls, but Smite didn’t like it if men touched her without permission, her family and Visit excluded, and Drumknott didn’t so much as offer his hand to shake. She walked back toward Nap Hill, and for a moment, they were still, looking at one another.

He didn’t know if he should feel uncertain, that Mr Drumknott knew so much about people, without knowing them. But he didn’t use it for harm, Visit didn’t think.

“How are you today, Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory Pamphlets?”

“You don’t have to use the whole name,” Visit offered, as they walked across the Maudlin Bridge. “If you, er, if you don’t… wish to, that is. I know that people find my name to be a mouthful.”

“I’ve never been certain of nicknames,” Drumknott said.

“It’s shorter,” Visit said. “In Omnian. But people won’t try it, in Omnian. And I have another name, though, too, it’s a… I have an Omnian given name, that my family and my friends call me, that I write on holy contracts, and then this name, which can be translated. It is like a title one gives one’s children, a wish for the skill they should have, or the work they should do.”

“What is your given name?” Drumknott asked. “If I might ask?”

“Omnaliah.”

“Omnaliah,” Drumknott repeated, and Visit felt himself shiver, to hear Drumknott’s quiet voice and lightly plump lips wrap around his name. His Morporkian accent didn’t take away from it. It sounded… nice. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“It means Om is exalted,” Visit said. “And your given name, Mr Drumknott, do you… Of course you have one, but, what… What is it?”

“Rufus,” Drumknott said. “It means red-headed.”

“But you aren’t red-headed.”

“In the summer, my hair lightens somewhat. It’s redder, then. And, ah,” Drumknott lowered his voice, and said, “and the hair on my head is darker than elsewhere.” Visit stared at him, blankly, and then understanding dawned, trickling down his spine like warm water. He swallowed. He imagined Mr Drumknott, nude, and—

“I like your jumper,” he said, trying to force away the thought, so inappropriate, so unexpected.

“It was a gift, this Hogswatch,” Drumknott said. I wasn’t able to wear it for some time – it was difficult to raise my arms to put it on.”

“Because you were stabbed,” Visit said, and then worried that this was insensitive. He was often insensitive, he was told, although he didn’t mean to be. “Does it still hurt?”

“When it’s going to rain, I feel the change in air pressure, and it aches,” Drumknott said, reaching up and touching the side of his shoulder. The Patrician, Captain Carrot had said, had kept Drumknott close to hand, when he’d been injured, had been furious that his clerk had been hurt. He didn’t like it, Commander Vimes said, when his staff were injured or killed in the line of duty. “But it is no more painful than other old ills of mine.”

“Who gave it to you?” Visit asked, hurrying too fast to change the subject, and he winced at his own haste, but if Drumknott noticed, he didn’t draw attention to the fact.

“The Archchancellor of the University,” Drumknott said. “Archchancellor Ridcully.”

“Oh,” Visit said. “Do you— Do you know him well?”

“Quite well. He’s a kind man. I jog with him, at times.”

“Jog?”

“He’s fond of jogging. I like your cardigan, Constable.”

“Thank you,” Visit said quietly, and he wondered how best he might ask, that Mr Drumknott should use his given name again, that he should speak to him… personally. Was that a breach in propriety? Ankh-Morporkians seemed to be so casual in their manners, but not Mr Drumknott: he was delicately proper, and yet—

He wanted him to use his name. He wanted to hear the Omnian on Drumknott’s tongue. He wanted to ask Mr Drumknott to take his arm, that they might walk arm-in-arm – friends did that, didn’t they? Or he might take Drumknott’s hand in his own again, he might warm it—

“Have you been to the UU Library before?” Drumknott asked. They were just coming into Sator Square, and Visit looked to the great gates of the University, slowly shaking his head.

“No,” he said. “No, no.”

“I just need to pick something up,” Drumknott said apologetically, stepping across Sator Square and toward the campus’ entrance. “Do you mind?” Visit did mind. His mind rang out with hesitation, with quote after quote: it did not do well for one to linger where wizards tread; magic was wicked and would drive one to ruin; one ought trust only in the holy word of Om, and not the words that went against his making of the world.

“Oh,” Visit said, but Mr Drumknott was already leading the way, his short legs moving deceptively fast – a jogger! – and Visit hurried to follow him. He lead the way into a great building, and Visit looked at the dozens of high bookshelves on every side, his breath catching in his throat.

“Hello, Mr Librarian,” Drumknott said quietly, and Visit looked to the Librarian, who was sitting at his desk and reading a book about plants. Visit waved at him.

“Ook,” the Librarian said mildly, returning the wave with one absent-minded foot.

And then Drumknott’s hand came back for Visit’s own, his cold, thin fingers interlinking loosely with Visit’s broader, clumsier ones. Visit’s breath caught in his throat, and he didn’t even think to complain as Drumknott led him into the stacks of the Library’s wide-reaching and infinite shelves, but his heart was pounding in his ears.

People got lost in the Library.

He knew that, he knew that – some of the student wizards got lost for decades, and came out again as Heads of Department, fifty years older; some people went missing and never came back, and he scarcely dared to glance at the shelves as they passed them by on each side, hearing the books whisper and fidget on their shelves.

It wasn’t that he was frightened of the Library.

Om would protect him, he knew, Om would protect him against all ills, all injury, against harm and horror, but—

But people went missing. Occult forces of unimaginable proportion, unimaginable sources, sent them unto the ether, potentially to never return. And even with faith, even though he knew he had Om’s protection, it was—

It was frightening.

“Oh, Mr Drumknott,” he said anxiously, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he tried to focus on Drumknott’s hand, on his body, on the back of his neck. “I really shouldn’t, we really—”

“It’s alright, Constable,” Mr Drumknott said, turning back to look at him, and offering him an encouraging smile that made Visit’s stomach flip. His teeth, which were very clean owing to a complicated dental hygiene routine, seemed very white in the dim light from the lamps. “I’ve got hold of you, I won’t let you go. You’re quite safe.”

“You won’t let me go?” Visit repeated, wondering why the words felt so significant, wondering why he wanted to commit them to memory that he might quote them with his scripture forevermore.

“No,” Drumknott promised. “No, I won’t.”

He kept walking.

“How are you so confident?” Visit asked as Drumknott made turns, leading them in amongst tall shelves that all looked the same to him, with so many books, so many—

“I grew up in this library,” Drumknott said. “I know it inside out.”

“Isn’t it infinite?”

“All libraries are infinite.”

Drumknott came to a stop before a great, oak door, and Visit stared at it, but Drumknott didn’t even waver: with his spare hand, he turned the handle and pushed it open, and he drew Visit into a small, plush room with dark shelves against the walls, decorated with gilt.

“I may have been… deceptive,” Drumknott said softly, turning around and pushing the door closed. He had to lean across Visit’s body to do so, and Visit felt light-headed, his mouth dry.

“You oughtn’t lie,” he said. “It’s a sin.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Drumknott said. His fingers were resting on the side of Visit’s hip, and Visit was hyperaware of his hand’s weight against his waist, against the woollen fabric of his brown cardigan— “They have many holy books in here.”

“Holy books?”

“Omnian holy books,” Drumknott said.

Visit stared around the room.

He saw different copies of the Book of Om, in different bindings, different additions, some of them in Morporkian or Omnian, others in different languages, ancient languages; he saw books of religious philosophy, proofs of Om, of ethics; he saw manuscripts of prophecy, of doctrine…

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, we don’t even— We don’t even have this much in the temple library.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Drumknott said. His chest was up against Visit’s, now, one of his hands tight on Visit’s hip, the other roughly entangled with his fingers.

“You’re… You’re very thoughtful,” Visit said. “Thank you. This is— This is kind.”

“Kindness doesn’t come naturally to me,” Drumknott said softly, in the air of one confessing. “But I try. It is… hard, I believe, difficult, to be kind where one is inclined to rage. It is hard to be soft, in the face of a world that drives such blades into soft edges.”

“Blind Io preaches kindness?”

“Not especially,” Drumknott said. “But I believe that although one has faced suffering, one ought do one’s best to repair that suffering in others. One feels pain keenly: I choose to believe the world has shown one pain, that one should feel more keenly the need to save others from suffering.”

“That sounds noble,” Visit said. “For an infidel.”

“Do you think?” Drumknott asked, his lips shifting into a slight smile.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Visit asked, hearing how hoarse his voice was, how it cracked in the middle. He had never kissed anybody before, not ever, not ever, and it was wrong of him, he thought, to want it.

“I would like to,” Drumknott said.

“The Book of Om says that a man who lies with a man, as he lies with a woman, is an abomination.”

“Have you ever lain with a woman?”

“No.”

“Then we’re in the clear.”

Visit frowned. “I don’t think that’s how it—”

Drumknott’s lips weren’t like his hands. They weren’t cold, or hard, or rough: they were soft and warm and smooth where they brushed against his own, and his tongue flicked against Visit’s, and it was—

It was good. Sparks seemed to play in Visit’s head, bursting behind his eyes as he kissed Drumknott back, grasping at handfuls of his jumper and pulling him closer, letting Drumknott lean up on his tiptoes to kiss him more deeply, more fervently, with such passion as Visit had ever known, and Visit felt faint, felt as if he might walk upon air itself—

Drumknott drew away, touching the side of his cheek, and Visit leaned into it, swaying on his unsteady feet.

“More?” Visit asked. It was the only syllable he could force his lips to form around, and he heard Drumknott’s quiet laugh. "Rufus?"

“Yes, Omnaliah,” he said primly, and drew Visit to sit down with him upon a low couch in the middle of the room, and they lay side-by-side, kissing, kissing—

Just kissing.

And it was unfathomable.

It was divine.

♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔ ☩ ♔

“So,” Vimes said. “You and Visit.”

“Yes, sir,” Drumknott said, arching an eyebrow as Vimes signed the paper Drumknott had set in front of him – one that needed to be quietly taken around, and kept on Mr Drumknott’s person. “You have a comment?”

“Oh, no,” Vimes said. “Not worth my salt to comment on a thing like that.”

Mr Drumknott gave him a small, secretarial smile.

“You’re very kind, your grace,” he said.

“Nope,” Vimes said, shoving the paper back. “How many Guilds you have to go to after this?”

“Six.”

“Take him with you, if you want. Protection.”

There was a moment’s pause, as Mr Drumknott looked at Vimes, and then he smiled wide enough that Vimes could see his teeth. He had never seen Drumknott smile that brightly before. It made him look his actual age, instead of the usual younger-than age his face defaulted to.

“Very kind, your grace,” Drumknott said softly. “Thank you.”

“Go away,” Vimes muttered, waving his hand, and Drumknott went on fleet feet out of the door. Vimes looked after his exit, and then he thought of Sybil, at home, later this evening. He’d finish early today, he thought.

Give her a surprise.

There was a knock on the door, and Vimes looked up to the face of Constable Visit as it poked in the door. “May Om reward your work, and promote you, and give you a commendation-and-or-certificate, for kindness will be ever rewarded. That’s Aphasians, sir.”

“What, Visit?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Get out, Visit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Close the door.”

“Yes, sir!” Visit said, and saluted.

The door closed.

Sam Vimes lit a cigar, leaned back in his chair, and smiled.

[1] Buff as he might, however, it could not match the beautiful sheen of Captain Carrot’s.

#as defined by dictionary #rufus drumknott #Constable visit #sam vimes #Discworld #fanfic #dictionary writes

16 notes · View notes

donnarider · 6 years

Text

!!DISCONTINUED!! Klance - soulmate au (part 4)

Author’s notes:

update 12th July 2019: This story is unfortunately discontinued. There will not be a next part. I’m really sorry.

Read part 1

Read part 2

Read part 3

“Bold” texts are from Keith, “italic” texts are from Lance

„Wow, that’s… rough?“

„Yes it is! I mean… I meant what I said. I just thought he would...”

“Say that he wants to be more than friends?”

“Yeah…” Lance put his head on the table they were studying at. The library was quiet and Lance had a hard time keeping his voice down while telling Hunk about his horrible not-date date.

“So how did the rest of the da…what happened after that?”

“Well, I was dying on the inside and pretended everything was fine on the outside. So, the usual.”

“Lance!”

Lance sighed and leaned back on his chair. The library’s ceiling suddenly seemed very fascinating to him. “We talked about stuff like favourite movies and such. I asked him about his bike. I had to leave for my seminar and he said he’d text me.”

“Well that doesn’t sound too bad,” Hunk decided and squeezed Lance’s shoulder supportively. “Maybe he just needs some time?”

“And what do I do if he doesn’t? I thought I’d be fine with being just friends but-,” he waved his hands around in a helpless motion. “I was basically doomed when he told me to be nice to my coffee in Spanish. I can’t just NOT crush on him now, you know. And that sucks… big time.”

Hunk smiled sympathetically at him and continued to flip through the book in front of him. “Just take it slow. Take a break for a few days and then invite him to do something and see what it feels like then. He’ll either change his mind or you could just bring me and Pidge along to make the friends thing easier. Maybe that’ll help?”

“Hmm. Yeah, maybe.”

Hunk closed his book and got up. “You up for visiting Pidge and Matt? I don’t think we’re gonna get anything done here right now. Also I think Matt finally got that video game you wanted to play so badly.”

“Nooo, Hunk. You wanted to study. I didn’t mean to distract you, I’m just gonna-“

“It’s fine, Lance. I can’t concentrate anyways. And you helped me so much with my last essay, I think I can go a day without studying.”

Lance smiled at him and got to his feet as well. “Okay. But I swear I’ll be back to normal tomorrow and then we’re gonna take a look at the stuff from Iverson’s physics lecture.” Hunk groaned loudly and made Lance laugh with his desperate expression. “I know, I know. But we both have to get better at that stuff.” He stood behind Hunk and made a gesture over his shoulder like he wanted to show Hunk a beautiful landscape.

“NASA, dude. NASA.”

“Ugh, you’re right. But Matt and Pidge now. My brain needs a break.”

Lance swung his backpack over his shoulder. “Maybe I get one of Pidge’s hugs. I love Pidge’s hugs.”

Hunk beside him nodded. “Everyone does, man. They’re the best.”

Wednesday

(3:15am): WTF DUDE? ???

(3:17am): I KNOW SORRY! Its our stupid neighbors having a party…

(3:18am): AT T HIS HOU R???

(3:18am): pls kill them for me

(3:20am): I would but prison isnt as appealing to me as you might think

(3:21am): So ur bad boy attitude knows boundaries? ;)

(3:22am): Dont mock me Im too tired for this

(3:24am): Yeh I can feel that

(3:24am): u really dont deal well without ur beauty sleep

(3:25am): Sorry :( And no, I really dont

(3:31am): KEEEEEEITHH do smth!!!!

(3:32am): I have a test tomorrow !!

(3:34am): OM G IT STOPPED

(3:35am): Keith?

(3:35am): did u kill them?

(3:36am): maybe

(3:36am): KE ITH!

(3:37am): I slipped an anonymous note under their door that I would kill their cat if they didnt turn off the music immediately…

(3:38am): O M G thats cruel

(3:38am): u dont threaten peoples pets

(3:38am): NOT COOL!

(3:39am): chill, I was joking. It said Id call the cops on them

(3:40am): Oh okay good hope ur not just saying that

(3:40am): Also thankk

(3:41am): no problem. Good night, Lance

(3:43am): Lance?

(7:36am): SORRY FELL ASLEEP!

(7:37am): Have fun at work today :)

Friday

(4:12pm): why

(4:25pm): what? u dont like it? ;)

(4:28pm): no

(4:29pm): oh come on! The queen is my best study motivation!

(4:30pm): please just stop

(4:32pm): KEITH! YOU INSULT BEYONCÉ YOU INSULT ME

(4:33pm): Can’t you study to something normal

(4:35pm): Normal normal or you normal?

(4:36pm): I dont care. Just no more beyoncé please. It’s been hours

(4:39pm): Lance?

(4:42pm): really?

(4:42pm): Evanescence? That’s mature…

(4:43pm): WAKE ME UP INSIDE

(4:43pm): WAKE ME UP INSIIIDE

(4:45pm): I hate you

(4:46pm): No u dont :)

(4:47pm): STOP THIS MADNESS!

(4:48pm): Hunk says if you come to a college thing with us tomorrow, he’ll stop me for you

(4:50pm): What kind of thing?

(4:51pm): dunno, Hunk wont say, but its really good apparently

(4:53pm): OKAY DEAL NOW PLEASE STOP

(4:54pm): Party-pooper

(4:56pm): Tell Hunk I love him

Keith got off his bike, took off his helmet and unzipped his leather jacket. He headed towards the university building with mixed feelings about what awaited him. He had fought with himself about coming today but eventually the curious side of him had won. Keith wanted to see what Hunk had planned for them and also even if it scared him to admit it…he missed Lance.

Logically he knew that it did not make any sense. They hardly knew each other. But emotionally he just… missed him. He sighed and blinked against the bright sunlight. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes against it and bumped into someone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t sweat it. All good here.” A friendly voice interrupted him. The tall boy in front of him looked him over and tilted his head to the side. „Hey, are you Keith by any chance?”

Keith nodded. “The one and only.”

“Oh, great! I’m Hunk.“ Keith took the big hand he was offered and returned the welcoming smile. When Hunk gestured for them to move out of the sun and stand in the tall building’s shadow Keith followed him thankfully.

“Nice to meet you. Thanks for saving me yesterday by the way.”

“Oh, no problem. Lance can get like that sometimes when he’s stressed. He didn’t mean anything by it. You know… finals and all. He’s a bit on edge around this time of the year.”

“No, I get it. NASA is a big thing, who wouldn’t freak out, right?”

Hunk gave a nervous laugh. “Yah, I guess. So umm, Lance had to pick up our friend Pidge, they should be here-“

“Exactly now.” Lance’s voice interrupted them. He stopped next to Hunk and let Pidge whom he had been carrying just now slip off his back.

“Hey, Keith. This is Pidge. They use they pronouns. I guess you already know Hunk by now.” Lance smiled at him and clapped Hunk on the back.

Keith nodded and raised his hand in greeting at Pidge. Immediately he regretted the awkward gesture and lowered his hand quickly.

“What’s up butter cup.” Pidge replied with a grin completely ignoring Keith’s weird behavior, who in return just raised an eyebrow at their choice of words.

“Lance, why did you carry Pidge here? Did you take ‘pick them up’ literally again?” Hunk asked with his hands on his hips.

“They paid me two dollars.”

Pidge shrugged. “I didn’t want to walk. It’s too early.”

“It’s almost noon, Pidge.” Hunk said while shaking his head but there was a visible smile on his lips.

“Exactly. Way too early.”

“I feel you, Pidge.” Keith threw in. “I had three coffees before I got here.”

Pidge yawned and stretched their arms over their head. “Good thinking. I only had one and I feel dead inside.”

“So, Hunk. What is this thing? Why are we here?” Lance asked and absently patted Pidge’s head while they leaned against him, eyes closed and repeatedly yawning.

“We are here, because today…” Hunk made a dramatic pause, “They are having a lecture about space for family and friends of students and-“

“AHHH STAR CEILING?” Lance interrupted Hunk excited while bouncing up and down, Hunk just smiled and nodded.

“Yep, Star ceiling.”

“What exactly is star ceiling?” Keith asked confused. Judging from Lance’s reaction this had to be the best thing in the entire universe.

“It’s only the best thing ever, dude,” Lance started to explain while taking Keith’s arm and pulling him in the direction of a big building.

“They only do this once or twice a year when they have family day for the freshmen and around finals for the really stressed out students so they don’t go all homicidal and stuff.” They entered the lecture hall and Lance directed them to a row in the back. “It’s basically just a short lecture about space and planets and what we do here at college but at the end they turn off the lights and project stars on the ceiling and walls. Dude…it’s the most beautiful thing ever. It will change you!” He gestured for Keith to sit down in one of the empty seats and sat next to him.

Hunk took the seat on Keith’s other side and Pidge sat next to Lance. It seemed like they were just in time because a man holding a mic entered the small stage. From the corner of his eyes Keith saw Pidge leaning over to Lance and whispering something into his ear. A moment later Lance bent forward so that Hunk and Keith could both hear him.

“Sorry guys, we’re gonna get Pidge more coffee. They are literally about to murder someone. We’ll be back in a minute.” With that they both left the room and Keith was alone with Hunk, which he didn’t mind that much. They had only exchanged a few sentences but Keith already liked the guy.

The man on the stage started talking about the importance of astronomy and explained the different subjects they were teaching. Unfortunately he had a really boring and monotone voice and Keith immediately zoned out. Thank God Hunk was there to keep him entertained.

“I know this stuff isn’t really interesting, especially not when he’s talking,” Hunk pointed in the direction of the stage. “But it’s really worth it. Lance didn’t exaggerate…well maybe a little… but it actually is crazy beautiful.”

“So you three all study astronomy?” Keith asked. This was his opportunity to learn a bit more about Lance and his friends without this nervous feeling he got around his soulmate. Hunk somehow managed to create an atmosphere around him that immediately made Keith feel comfortable.

“Yeah. It was actually Lance who got me into this stuff when we were younger. We met Pidge here on our first day. They are this crazy genius and got into college early. They are only sixteen but way ahead of most of the students here. Turned out they and their brother Matt live in the same building as me and Lance so we hung with them a couple of times and now we’re all basically besties for life.”

“Space nerds unite,” Keith said with a smile.

“Haha, yeah. Basically.”

“So… do you and Pidge wanna get into NASA too or is that only Lance?” Keith checked the stage for a second but the guy was still talking about boring stuff and Keith noticed that a few other people in the audience had started quiet conversations.

“Well Pidge is as good as in, let’s be real. Me… well. Of course NASA is the dream for almost everyone at this university and I would be thrilled… but I’m not as set as Lance if that makes sense. I feel like I could work anywhere as long as I’m close to my friends.” Hunk shrugged and knitted his brows in deep thought before he cleared his throat.

“Lance is working really hard for it though. You have no idea how many scholarships he had to apply for before he finally got a foot in. Didn’t stop him though.” He smiled and Keith could feel how proud he was of his friend. “You know, the first year was rough. He failed an important test two times and was sure they were gonna kick his ass but he studied harder than all of us and now he’s always in the top 5.”

“Wow. That’s really impressive,” Keith heard himself say and immediately wanted to slap himself. Way to sound like a high school fangirl, Kogane. Can we please think before we speak, brain?!

“Yeah it is.” Hunk sighed, unfazed by Keith’s inner distress. “It’s also really hard to watch sometimes though…”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not the part where he’s top of the class, no. I mean how he gets there. You can’t imagine how many all-nighters the boy pulls during finals and he always pushes himself to get better. I mean it’s great that he’s improving but sometimes I wish he would allow himself a break.” He stiffened and gave a quick laugh. “I’m talking too much again, aren’t I. Sorry, this must be a weird first impression.”

Keith didn’t say anything for a while and chewed on his lower lip. “Is it really that bad? I mean… I haven’t noticed anything and finals are just around the corner right?” He thought back to the few times he’d seen Lance. He had always looked cheery and well… relaxed.

Hunk seemed to be pondering over his answer for a while. That’s when they heard the door behind them open slowly and Lance and Pidge slipped back into the room, Pidge holding a coffee cup in each hand. Hunk leaned over a bit and whispered just before the other two sat down. “Look at his eyes, he thinks we don’t notice…”

Keith had no idea what he meant by that and was staring at a spot on the floor absently when Lance waved his hand in front of his face to get him out of his trance. “Keith, buddy, my man. They’re about to start, don’t pass out on me now!”

Keith blushed a little and sat up straighter. “Yeah, sorry. Not passing out. Now, let’s see your space magic thing. Hope it’s as good as you made it sound.”

The boy next to him grinned from ear to ear. “Better.”

The crowd around them applauded loudly. Apparently the speech part was over and somebody dimmed the lights, making everyone go silent. It was now completely dark in the hall. Keith could feel his palms getting sweaty. Why was this taking so long? He swallowed hard.

He whispered, almost inaudible “Lance?” but in this exact moment they turned on the projectors and surprised ahhhhs and ohhhs could be heard through the entire room.

Keith threw his head back so quickly he almost hit it on his seat’s backrest.

Lance’s words hadn’t prepared him for what he was seeing now at all. It was truly just… beautiful. Thousands of little stars were dancing on the ceiling and the floor and just everywhere. He knew he was sitting in a boring lecture hall and he felt incredibly stupid for even thinking so but for a moment he really felt like he was in space. His heartbeat sped up and his eyes wander around the entire room so quickly he was almost getting sick.

Keith was trying to take it all in before it stopped. The stars danced around his fingertips as he raised his hand in front of his face and watched. He wasn’t even questioning how the whole thing worked it was just too… too everything. In a good way.

“Sooo, did I promise too much?” Lance suddenly whispered next to his ear.

Keith just shook his head and then turned it to smile at him. “No, you didn’t. This is great! Thanks for inviting me to this.” Lance smiled at him and then quickly turned his head to the ceiling again. Neither of them mentioned that it had actually been Hunk who invited Keith.

Keith was still staring at Lance’s face from the corner of his eyes, watching the stars being projected onto his skin and their reflections in his eyes. He looked so beautiful like this, it made Keith’s head spin. He wanted to say something, to tell Lance how pretty he was but he bit his tongue instead. Just friends he reminded himself.

That’s when he remembered Hunk’s words from earlier and looked at Lance’s eyes more closely. What was he supposed to see? The long eyelashes? The small freckles underneath them? The well blended but thick layer of… concealer? Something clicked in his brain. Hunk had mentioned that Lance wasn’t sleeping enough and pushing too hard. Of course he and many others were unable to tell if they didn’t know what to look for. Lance had covered up his dark circles almost perfectly. Almost… Keith turned his gaze to the ceiling again and frowned. Why was he pretending to be fine? It was normal to be tired around finals wasn’t it? Why was he trying to hide it?

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid we have to end this now since our time is up,” a voice sounded from the front of the room. “Thank you all for coming and enjoy the rest of your day on campus.” They turned off the projectors and disappointment could be heard all around. Some classical song started to play and people started to shift but the lights were still out. Keith dug his nails into his palm and tried to breathe evenly. It’s fine, he tried to tell himself. They’re gonna turn them back on every second. Only they didn’t.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we’re having some trouble back here. We’re sure everything will be fixed soon,” the voice echoed again. “Always a bit hard to find the light switch in the dark.” The voice said and gave a fake laugh. Some parents laughed as well. Keith didn’t. He gulped and pressed deeper into his seat.

He could feel Lance stir in the dark next to him and a hand touching his shoulder. “Keith? Are you okay?” Before Keith could even think of something to respond with the lights were finally turned back on. Keith let out a very deep breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding until now. He quickly unclenched his hands and turned his head to give Lance a small smile.

“All good, yes. I’m a bit sad it was over so quickly though.”

Lance looked at him questioningly for a second longer before he returned the smile. “Right? I wish they would do this more often!”

The group got up and headed out before the mass of people in the hall could block the aisles. The bright sunlight blinded Keith for a moment when they walked outside and he held up his helmet to shield his eyes. Someone walked into him from behind and he quickly turned around to apologize for stopping in the doorway but it was Lance he was looking at. An elderly woman complained about them being in her way and they stepped aside and walked a few feet to get away from the mass.

“Sorry for bumping into you,” Lance started, “It’s just,” he pointed at the helmet in Keith’s hand. “I didn’t notice before because I was so excited about the star thing but… did you bring your bike?” Hunk listened to their conversation and laughed looking at Lance now. Keith didn’t exactly understand what he thought was so funny and turned to Pidge for help but they were just quietly smiling at the whole scene.

“Ummm, yes? It’s how I got here. I don’t have a car, soo…” Keith shrugged a little lost.

“Awesome! I mean great. I mean...,” Lance scratched his head. “Can I see it?”

“Uhh, sure. I parked right over there.” Keith pointed over his shoulder. Lance didn’t even wait for the others. He was already on his way to the parking lot, almost running. When the others caught up with him he was inspecting Keith’s bike and admiring the details of the machine by almost touching it with his nose.

Hunk and Pidge seemed kind of impressed too and Hunk slapped Keith’s shoulder. “Sweet ride, Keith!” He joined Lance in walking around the bike to get a better look. “Lance mentioned you work at a workshop. Did you build this yourself?”

Keith nodded and then realised that Hunk wasn’t looking at him so he couldn’t see. “Yah, I did. It was the first project I did without Shiro’s help. Took me a while to find all the parts. I could get a better bike if I wanted but I’m kind of sentimental I guess.”

Lance nodded. “No I get it. It’s a bit like it’s your child, right? I mean… you made her.”

Keith smiled. “Yeah. I guess.”

Pidge gave a fake cough to get everyone’s attention and pointed at the bike. “If you’re finished drooling over that can we go get some food please?”

“That?” Keith repeated in a fake hurt tone.

“They’re secretly loving this more than Lance and me. You should see the stuff they build. We should visit you at your shop and just leave Pidge there for a few hours. They’d have the time of their life.” Hunk chuckled at the expression on Pidge’s face after his revelation.

“Speaking of food though,” Lance looked at Keith and tilted his head, “We thought about grabbing a bite at Planet Altea. You in?”

Keith considered for a moment. He could spend some more time with them and get to know them better. He probably should. Shiro would tell him to… but he also really wanted to go home. The light incident had seriously freaked him out even if he didn’t want to show it. He’d rather calm down at home, alone, where he could stop pretending and no one would see what a mess he really was after such a small thing.

“Sorry, I need to leave. Shiro wants to visit an old friend of his and he’s dragging me along.” Lie. Shiro never dragged him anywhere Keith didn’t want to go. Apart of from that Shiro wasn’t even home right now.

Lance chewed his lower lip. “Ohh. Okay. We’ll text then?” The disappointed look on his face made Keith feel bad instantly.

“Yes definitely. It was really great. Thank you all for taking me.” Let me leave let me go.

Pidge and Hunk said goodbye and they watched Keith take off quickly. Lance waved one last time before he was out of sight, but Keith didn’t turn around to see it.

Usually driving calmed him down but he felt himself get more anxious with every mile. He was glad he could finally take off the helmet when he arrived at his and Shiro’s place because he could breathe more freely instantly. He put the bike in the garage, unlocked the front door and took the elevator up to their floor. After hastily unlocking the front door and locking it after himself again, he immediately kicked off his boots and headed for his bedroom.

He’d learned a few breathing techniques during his never ending counseling sessions and was really glad about that right now. After some minutes of leaning against his door he got his breathing under control. His thoughts however where still spinning, so he put his favourite playlist on shuffle and flopped down on his bed.

After a couple of songs Keith took out his phone to ask Shiro when he would be home and noticed he had gotten a few messages.

(2:17pm): Hey, u ok?

(2:18pm): Getting kind of an anxious vibe over here?!

(2:20): Also thats an awful lot of emo music for someone who insists hes not emo ;)

Shit. Sometimes he forgot the soulmate connection was a thing.

(2:33pm): Sorry! Yes I’m good

There was an immediate response.

(2:33pm): U sure? Doesnt feel like it

(2:35pm): Idk

(2:36pm): Maybe not

(2:36pm): do you wanna talk? I can call u

Keith’s whole body tensed. Was he ready for that? Should he lie, maybe say he was tired and wanted to nap or something? Should he tell the truth? He frowned.

(2:37pm): I’m not… good at phone calls

(2:37pm): Np u can just listen and I’ll do the talkin

(2:39pm): that’d be ok?

Keith swallowed. Shiro probably wouldn’t be home for a while and he really needed to talk to someone. The question was if Lance was safe to talk to? Would it overstep the friendship line? Why could things never be easy…

(2:42pm): yes, ok

[Incoming call: Lance McClain]

More author’s notes:

This fic on AO3

Yeah after 500 years I finally updated. I could explain at length why it took my so long but it comes down to this: I was stressed, I was depressed, I’m sorry but now it’s finally here! Hooray!

As always a big THANK YOU to @alteanmoonchild for being my beta and for reading every new draft and honestly telling me when what I wrote isn’t good so I can improve and grow. I love us working together on this <3

Thank you to all of you for reading! If you have any questions or feedback send me an ask or dm me <3

Me an my friends finally cosplayed Voltron so if you wanna see me as Shiro and my awesome friends as Keith, Lance and Coran head over to my instagram.

Do you know what keeps me motivated when I so often doubt my writing and don’t know how to continue? Getting feedback! So please reblog, like, comment or even draw fanart. Whenever I read an “I love this” comment it makes me incredible happy! Also one of my goals is to someday have someone draw fanart for something wrote soo... if you wanna do that I’ll love you. Also please tag me if you do.

If you want me to tag you in the next part when I post it, just send me an ask saying so and I’ll add you to the taglist.

taglist: @alyy--caticus @princealektheorange @an-important-nobody @teddyorionpotter @spookyscaryshitstorm @ladythugs @positevelybakerstreet @meganmoo02 @atomicengineerdetective @jishwadun-is-jishwafun @anemoee

215 notes · View notes

lynfantasy · 6 years

Text

Tumblr? Friendly discussions? Doesn’t happen.

Yesterday, I tried to participate in what I believed could be a friendly and engaging discussion here about Allura and what the implications of her actions in season 2 could mean as an example of overcoming racist tendencies. I just want to say that I am severely disappointed in the response I’ve received, which is why I’m not even planning to respond to what little I have seen about the replies I’ve gotten.

Things people have done to me:

Not tagged me in replies. Seriously? You do realize that I won’t get a notification that you reblogged unless you’ve tagged me, right?

Prevented me from reblogging their responses. Are you kidding me?? If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t talk about it. If you’re going to reply, give me a chance to reply also.

Openly admitted to not actually reading what I wrote. I just. F*ck that. That is the most disrespectful thing ever. If you want to ignore me, just ignore me. Don’t go out of your way to be a brat by “replying” to let me know that you’re not planning to listen. If you feel the need to tell me to back off, send me a private message, thanks.

Been hostile in responses even when they agreed with most of what I said. Wow. Great way to promote a healthy discussion. Good job.

Come after me solely for my examples and analogies instead of actually discussing what I had to say. Come on, guys. No example/analogy is perfect. That’s not the point.

COMPLETELY MISSED MY POINT. ENTIRELY. 110% MISSED THE POINT. Don’t ignore my thesis to argue with me about my subpoints. That’s not how discussions work.

So... I’m done trying to actually read these responses. THANK F*CKING ALL OF YOU FOR REMINDING ME WHY I STOPPED TRYING TO TALK TO PEOPLE ON THIS HELLSITE.

Things I will admit to:

I did not clarify my definitions. I should have specified that I meant subconscious racism from fear, not mindful and systemic oppression. It’s the same word for both with very different implications.

My examples were not perfect. However, I think they still worked for what I intended them to be. Still, I can see why some did not appreciate them.

I did not talk about why the original poster was, at least in part, wrong about the “ethnic cleansing” thing, mostly because I was trying to be non-confrontational and I did not want to make a big deal out of little semantics. In short -- if it was really “ethnic cleansing”, why were Haggar and Lotor kept alive? It was an act of war to destroy the enemy, not an act of “ethnic cleansing”. It’s genocide either way, but if you want to make a point about the motivations behind the genocide, just think that through for a minute. Daibazaal was destroyed first.

I probably should have specifically asked people to tag me in responses, even though I thought that was just a common courtesy to do when you’re trying to talk to someone here.

Slight hope for humanity: No one sent me anonymous hate over this like I was expecting, so I’m grateful for that. A true holiday miracle right there.

Also, nixthelapin was respectful enough that I was able to reblog their answer and add to it, so... thanks?

Additionally, one person (that I saw at least) brought up a valid counter-point that I respect. However, since they did not allow me to reblog, I can’t add that to the discussion. Whoops. If you want me to acknowledge that you contributed something useful, allow me to reblog, thanks.

*long-suffering sigh* I honestly don’t have time for this. I wasn’t planning to write anything about this because IT’S FUCKING FINALS WEEK I DON’T HAVE TIME. But. Every time I thought about this, my heart started to race from anger and from fear that everyone would think that I’m just hiding. I’m not hiding. I’m just done. If your goal was to get me to shut the fuck up, congratulations. I’m DONE. If you want me to actually see and reply to anything, you need to tag me, ask me, or message me. Otherwise, I’m not even planning to read any of the other responses. Thanks to the first few people who completely ruined this experience.

Welp, thanks for reminding me to never try to actually discuss things on this site. :) :) :) Nobody’s here to learn and communicate and open-mindedly share opinions! :) :) :) I’ll never do that again!! :D :D :D

Fuck this hellsite.

1 note · View note

un-enfant-immature · 5 years

Text

Uber tries to reassure customers that it takes safety seriously, following NYTimes book exerpt

It’s hard at times not to feel sorry for CEO Dara Khosrowshahi, given all that he inherited when he became the ride-share giant’s top boss back in April 2017.

Among his many to-do items: take public a money-losing company whose private-market valuation had already soared past what many thought it was worth, clean-up the organization’s win-at-all-costs image, and win over employees who clearly remained loyal to Uber cofounder Travis Kalanick, an inimitable figure who Khosrowshahi was hired to replace.

Things are undoubtedly about to get worse, given the upcoming publication of a tell-all book about Uber authored by New York Times reporter Mike Isaac, which comes out in less than two weeks. In just one excerpt published yesterday by the newspaper, Isaac outlines how Uber misled customers into paying $1 more per ride by telling them Uber would use the proceeds to fund an “industry-leading background check process, regular motor vehicle checks, driver safety education, development of safety features in the app, and insurance.”

The campaign was hugely successful, according to Isaac, who reports that it brought in nearly half a billion dollars for Uber. Alas, according to employees who worked on the project, the fee was devised primarily to add $1 of pure margin to each trip.

Om Malik, a former tech journalist turned venture capitalist, published a tongue-in-cheek tweet yesterday after reading the excerpt, writing, “Apology from @dkhos coming any minute — we are different now.”

Malik was close. Instead of an apology, Uber today sent riders an email titled, somewhat ominously, “Your phone number stays hidden in the app.” The friendly reminders continues on to tell customers that their “phone number stays hidden when you call or text your driver through the app,” that “[p]ickup and dropoff locations are not visible in a driver’s trip history,” and that “for additional privacy, if you don’t want to share your exact address, request a ride to or from the nearest cross streets instead.”

The email was clearly meant to reassure riders, some of whom might be absorbing negative press about Uber and wondering if it cares about them at all. But not everyone follows Uber as closely as industry watchers in Silicon Valley, and either way, what the email mostly accomplishes is to remind customers that riding in an Uber involves a bit of risk.

Stressing that the company is “committed to safety” is the debating equivalent of a so-called negative pregnant, wherein a denial implies its affirmative opposite. It’s Uber shooting itself in the foot.

It would have been more on point — too much so, perhaps — for Uber to email riders that when it talks about safety, it means business (and not the kind where it swindles its own customers).

Either way, it underscores the tricky terrain Uber is left to navigate right now. Though campaigns like Uber’s so-called “safe rides fee” was orchestrated under the leadership of Kalanick — who did whatever it took to scale the company — it’s Khosrowshahi’s problem now.

So is the fact that the company’s shares have been sinking since its IPO in early May; that Uber’s cost-cutting measures will be scrutinized at every turn (outsiders especially relished the company’s decision to save on employees’ work anniversaries by cutting out helium balloons in favor of stickers); and that Uber appears to be losing the battle, city by city, against labor activists and its own drivers who want to push up the minimum wage paid to drivers.

And those are just three of many daunting challenges that Khosrowshahi has been tasked with figuring out (think food delivery, self-driving technologies, foreign and domestic opponents). No doubt Isaac’s book will highlight plenty of others.

How Uber handles the inevitable wave of bad publicity that comes with it remains to be seen. We don’t expect Khosrowshahi to come out swinging; that’s not his style. But we also hope the company doesn’t take to emailing riders directly. It’s great if Uber is taking customer safety more seriously than it might have under Kalanick’s leadership, but reaching out to tell riders how to remain safe from their Uber drivers isn’t the way to do it, especially without acknowledging in any way why it’s suddenly so eager to have the conversation.

#TechCrunch

0 notes

thenightmareofyourdrems · 4 years

Text

@xnsaniam X :

‘Pleasure t’ make y’er acquaintance, Stiles, ‘ the ginger chirps softly, her insides cringing at the idea of how peppy she was currently being to keep this facade up. ‘ I’ve been ‘ere for almost two weeks, an’ so far I like it. Reminds me a bit o’ back ‘ome… ‘ Words had drifted off for the moment at the mention of the coach. Alice knew very well who he’d been talking about. There’s a small part of her that hopes that he is guarding the place, that way if she needed help, she would at least have a teacher’s help should things go south. ‘ I ‘aven’t meant many people, no. I tend t’ try an’ keep t’ myself. Though I ‘ave ‘ad some chance encounters with the team y’er talkin’ about. ‘ Her first day was her displeasure of meeting that team, with their boys that thought it was funny to tease her about her nationality on her first day. Not as if she would relay that message back to Stiles, of course.

W hen he opens the door to reveal the empty halls, there’s a part of her that’s screaming to run off before she does something stupid. But, as it always seemed, Alice ignored that logical part of her, since she wants to ensure that this Stiles guy was normal. ‘ Wow, it looks so different at night… ‘ A typical girl response, but one she hopes would keep up this act she was trying to juggle.

An eyebrow was firmly arched at the sound of her words.” Don’t let them drag you to their parties. Really. They have this…tradition with the pranks on new students.” He advised. Which was a half truth at this point. Most of the lacrosse team members were nice kids. Some others, not so much. Wasn’t it always this way, though? Bad and good blending together till balance got lost? Till one of them outdid the other? Eliminated the other?

There was a distant sound coming from the end of the corridor. A low ringtone coming from one of the classes. “Guess I found it.” He still held the girl’s device firmly in hand though, didn’t hand it back. “Come on. It’s fun being here, isn’t it? This atmosphere. Quite eerie, if you ask me.” Quiet, lonely, suffocating: such a fun combination. And so dark… The kind of darkness that pressed in, conquered the place heavier than a thick blanket. The kind of darkness that kissed up one’s skin, only to finally tear it apart. Rip it into pieces. “Do you fear the dark?” Words sank in casualness, in a friendly curiosity. “I used to be afraid of it. Thought a monster would come out of the wardrobe. Kill me or my dad.”

#muse[voidstiles]#xnsaniam #v: canon / season 3 #for the queue is full of surprises

0 notes

evodex · 7 years

Text

14 days of Everest Base Camp: Pages From My Travel Journal I

Everest Base Camp Trek

There is a real world and a mountain world and I have existed in both. In the mountain world, we play different roles and it tests us in our weakest moments and bares our souls even to strangers. We feel a strange connection with people we may never meet again in life but while we exist there, we are bonded. We were a team of eleven strangers, some known to each other, some not but while in the mountains we became the EBC family.

While you are looking and probably reading the blog to know more about the trek, I can’t do justice to the same without sharing my experience and the background story. So when I decided earlier this year that I wanted to do the EBC trek, my only experience was a low altitude 5-day hike that I had done in Iceland last year and more grueling 100 kms trail walk under 48 hours. While the former was easy to medium level the latter was a test of grit. I was reaching a milestone in my life and I knew I had to do this to make this special but I needed one more such crazy person and I have to admit that I asked a lot of people around me. Meera, my trail walker teammate agreed to it. She was a little unsure but I hung on to the idea and made sure she doesn’t back out. It was only later that I figured out many occasions that she was made of sterner stuff and I was glad for it.

EBC(Everest Base Camp) at 5564 meters is the holy grail for all mountaineers, for the ones who claim to be and the ones who actually summit, all have to touch forehead here. The trek has been marked as medium to difficult and trust me whether it is the lack of oxygen, hours of climbing, the substandard tea houses, gross common toilets or commonly occurring landslides on the way, they all test your grit, passion, and ambition. Which is why I strongly believe that no person who decides to go on this trek is ordinary but whether it’s a mom who does it for her child or a mom who does it leaving her kids behind for three weeks, or a seventy-year-old or a first-time trekker they are all driven by their own reasons.

Kathmandu, Nepal

We arrived in Kathmandu on the 27th of October and were accommodated in the Thamel resort. Meera and I chose to arrive a day early and catch up on some sightseeing. Both of us are moms to two kids and it took us months of planning, begging parents to babysit and overcoming all the motherly instincts when we realised that we will be away from our kids for a really long time. I have been away for a week at times but 19 days was too much. We kept two extra days to sightsee. Some of the touristy things to do in Kathmandu are Pashupatinath, Durbar square, Bodhinath, Patan etc.

Your guide will give you an orientation a day before you leave and that’s the day you will end up meeting your group as well. Let me introduce them to you to them. You already have a background of Meera and me. The next was a group of five; an American named Justin( 36 years old), Sunil Nehru(71 years), and Ashok Mahadevan(69 years), Anita Singh(43 years) who was doing it again to mark her son Angad’s thirteenth birthday. Arun, an avid trekker(43 years), who has already done some 8-9 treks in the Himalayas. Then there were three brothers from Karnal, Rahul(40 years), Raghav(25 years), and Madhur(23 years), two of them were first-time trekkers and one had trekked in various national parks in the US but nothing as demanding as this one. The reason I have mentioned everyone’s age is to give you an idea of how varied the group was.

pic credit- Meera Prashant (Do not miss spotting Kunthal in the blue shirt who has climbed Everest and is celebrity status for all aspiring climbers.)

The next day Meera and I decided to cover up some sightseeing and headed to Bodhinath Stupa and then to the Sherpa shop, which was highly recommended by Meera’s friend for authentic trekking products. Kathmandu is the best place to buy trekking gear from brands like Northface, Icebreaker etc but you have to be careful about authenticity and make sure you buy Northface and not Northfake :).

P.S. We booked our trek with White Magic Adventures and while some people might like to trek on their own and it’s very possible, I would not suggest the same unless you are a hardcore trekker. Managing bookings at various tea houses, arranging for porters and taking care of the whole background work becomes too much. Plus if you fall ill your guide is your best shot to recognise the signs and fly you back to safety. We saw many helicopters evacuating people on a daily basis.

For the ones who are reading for some inspiration in between our story you will know what the trek looks like;

pic credit

The minor difference being that we skipped Pheriche during our trek.

Day 1 — Lukla(2850)/Begin Trek/Phakding (4-6 hours)

While booking your trek if you have done your research, unlike me, you would know that Lukla airport @2850 mtrs is listed in the top 10 dangerous airports in the world. We prayed hard to survive this as it would be a complete shame if our expedition would end before it even started. Luckily we had a smooth landing. Next, we headed to Yak Donald’s resort and met our porters there. The highlight was meeting two women porters Anjali and Dilmaya who would be lifting around 30 kgs each and pacing with the male porters. They were indeed superwomen in their own right, a fine example of women liberation and empowerment. I was so proud of them.

We started our trek at around 8.30 and we trekked from Lukla to Fakding. Most of the trek is downhill, you descend down along the river Dudh Kosi(which means milk river) and this day was easy. We stopped at around 11.30 for lunch. Lunch was a standard for all Nepali veg thali set and then ginger honey tea which was really nice. Little did I know that slowly I will get bored of my wits eating these. On the way, you will pass many beautifully embossed stones known as the ‘Mane Pathar’. They have some mantra written on them, most probably it says “OM Mane Padmai Hum’, a very well known Buddhist mantra. You cannot miss them.

The people in Nepal are very friendly and the Nepali kids are used to strangers. They love posing for pictures and I got a few lovely shots with them.

Loved how he was playing with his cycle.

Once we reached Fakding, Meera and I decided to voice record our day on our phones so that we can pen it down when we reach home. It was a brilliant idea, because, I am really reliving every day listening to them.

P.S. My right knee was already hurting as we had climbed down many stairs today, so I decided to tape it as I knew next day was going to be a lot more stairs and walking. This is a special roll tape which my physiotherapist had recommended I carry. I checked Youtube videos on how to apply the tape.

Day 2 — Phakding to Namche Bazaar(3440 mtrs) – (6-8 hours)

Every night before we retired to bed our guide Sanjeev, would give us a briefing on the day ahead. What we needed to wear, what to carry and what to expect on our trek. He told us that Phakding to Namche would be fewer steps but my phone stepper showed around 116 floors climbed at the end of the day. I think he purposely hid this bit from us to keep us away from the pressure. Now, this where I felt good about not doing research because had I read about this stretch earlier I would have been weighed down by what lay ahead. Sometimes having no expectations is great. Of course, we also had people like my dear mountain sister, Anita, who even after having done the trek in 2015 didn’t remember any parts of it and to counter her was Meera who knew the names of the Peak and all that was to know of the trail and someone who had watched the EBC youtube videos many times over . On day 4, we entered the Sagarmatha National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site, at Monjo.

Meera and Me

The entire Sagarmatha park is a wifi enabled zone and honestly, I was a little disappointed as I was looking forward to social media detox for the next few days. I had finished my work before flying to Nepal and left my team with instructions on how to handle it while I was away. This meant I would still be tempted to check my device.

The Dudh Kosi river in the background

We walked through villages along the Dudh Kosi river(Dudh-Milk, Kosi-River) and crossed multiple suspensions bridges. The most noteworthy was a double suspension bridge that we had to climb.

Double Suspension Bridge

The trek went on for four hours to reach Monjo and another four hours to reach Namche. The second half from Monjo to Namche was more of an uphill climb and was killing. I stopped on a few occasions to stretch but did not stop for too long as the body tends to start cooling down and then you start shivering.

Taking a halt just before we reach Namche Bazaar

At 4.30 pm we saw the first steps to the market town of Namche Bazaar filled with Tea houses and restaurants and even spotted the Irish pub, which we marked for our return celebration. Today we celebrated with Pakodas, chai, and Mars roll( Mars chocolate dipped in flour batter and deep fried), very unique to this trail and would recommend it as a must try. Angad, the thirteen-year-old with us was the last one to reach but I was so impressed with this kid. No complaints, just very focussed. Ashok, on the other hand, walked with both his hands folded on the back, like a walk in the park. Both Ashok and Sunil(69 and 71 years to their credit), didn’t ever take breaks and managed to stay ahead of the pack.

pic credit: Justin Brown

We changed into fresh clothing as we were sweating and wore an extra layer as it tends to get colder here. Here we met Shanon and Rebecca, two nurses from Las Vegas. What I learned from them was that they are going all the way to EBC and doing Kala Pathar but taking a helicopter back. They paid 2700 dollars for the entire trip which is way steeper than what I paid, but as they explained time is a valuable commodity for them and they couldn’t have taken more time off. Honestly, I was tempted but I knew I would feel unaccomplished if I didn’t walk the entire route back as well (an option that will keep clouding my mind many times on the way back).

P.S. You burn about 4000 calories per day, so stock up on those carbs people.

Day 3 — Acclimatisation Day At Namche

On the trail to EBC, the guiding companies plan a few acclimatisation/rest days for you to avoid medical issues and acclimatise better. These rest days don’t mean that you will laze around in the tea houses but they take you on short treks around the area. We had our first rest day at Namche and we hiked 250 meters up to see the Tenzing Norgay Museum. I was experiencing a little shortness of breath and then I saw these two women racing uphill. They were runners from Malaysia participating in the Everest Ultra Marathon which starts from EBC and goes all the way to Dingboche. The museum has a lot of information regarding Sagarmatha Park, the animals, flowers, people and about the various expeditions that were carried here. Would definitely recommend a visit here to the museum and also you get lovely views of the Everest from here if you are lucky to get clear weather unlike us. I picked up some medicines, an Icebreaker Merino wool base layer(you don’t get this brand in India and it’s expensive but worth it), a few t-shirts for my kids etc. This is also the destination where my guide adviced me to start Diamox which helps in combating altitude sickness. I napped for a few hours and woke up feeling terrible. All kind of thoughts were clouding me. It was just the start of the trek. If I was going to feel sick then how will I manage the rest of the days? I couldn’t even eat my food. Sanjeev, my guide was amazing. He told me to just remove every negative thought from my mind and relax. While I couldn’t it felt good to see someone tell you that. Luckily I had carried theplas(Gujrati bread) and ‘achar'(pickle) from home and polished away a few. The salt levels in my body improved and soon I was chasing a huge insect from our room, instead of lying down and pitying myself. My apologies for ever doubting the reasons for any Gujarati family to carry this stuff on their holidays. They were a boon that night.

p.s. Some side effects of Diamox are that you pee a lot and might have blurry vision.

p.s. Namche Bazaar is the last place where you can shop for anything you need for your trek and the last place you will find ATMs.

Intrigued to know more about the Everest Base Camp? Keep reading, I promise to be back with more stories. This post is getting too lengthy, so I am going to divide it into a few more posts as I am aware that reading so much can get boring. Until next post, Ciao and happy dreams of the mountain world.

The post 14 days of Everest Base Camp: Pages From My Travel Journal I appeared first on Maa of All Blogs.

14 days of Everest Base Camp: Pages From My Travel Journal I published first on http://ift.tt/2Afzj22

0 notes