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danses-with-dogmeat · 2 years

Note

I love love love how you write! The little details you add into your reacts are amazing <3 I was hoping to ask if you haven't done so yet, what would the romanced companions say in their own version of the "Hi Honey" holo tape? It could be them making their own tape for any reason or to replace the one the SoSu's spouse made becuase it was destroyed or buried with them, it doesnt matter, just thought that would help the angst/comfort factor 😅 have a good day, love <3

Fallout 4 Companions' Versions of the "Hi, Honey" Tape

Okay, I adore this <3

It's a.... bit more angsty than I meant it to be, but it's all happy and fluffy underneath, so, you know... kinda my forte 😅 And also some of them are... more romanced than others, as you'll see, so just a heads up on that. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Also, I tried kind of a different format for this one, almost like you're reading the subtitles/script for the holotape, so hopefully the unique format makes this one interesting 😁

Oh, and just a quick TW for mention of suicidal thoughts/actions!

Cait:

"Oi, ya fucking-- Does this damn thing even work?"

*exasperated noise*

"Alright. There, I think that's done it."

*muffled adjusting*

"Okay."

*sigh*

"Hey. Sole... I uh, I don't really know how to tell ya everything I'd like to... Before I go through with this, you know. I'm not sure what's goin te happen, but I wanted you to know one thing before I go inte that machine, since... I don't know, I might not come back out as meself. Or, or even at all."

*deep breath*

"I just, in case somethin' happens, I want ya te know..."

(pause)

"I love ya."

*short chuckle*

"I know, sounds strange comin' from me, I'm sure, but... It's the truth. I do, and I have, for a bit, but... I'm not really sure why it took me this long te tell ya. Maybe cuz I was scared. Scared that I'd scare ya away."

*Huff of breath*

"Me? Scared? I know how it sounds, trust me, but it's true. I was... worried about losin' ya. Cuz, truth is, Sole, yer the first person who actually seems to give a damn what happens te me. You know this, I've told ya, I know, but even me own damn parents didn't give a shite about me. An' the ghoul, well, he only ever considered what I could do for him. Knew how to keep me hooked, to keep makin' him money. But you... I had my doubts, I'll be the first to admit, but... You've looked out fer me better than anyone, and you did from the start, with nothin' to gain by doin' so."

(pause)

"I don't know why ye did it. Almost scared me off, the thought of someone bein kind te me fer no reason at all. Thought you were gonna end up worse than all the rest, because there was no way you were just bein' that nice with nothin' te gain from it. But I was wrong. And I've never been so damn glad te be wrong in me whole life."

(pause)

*Deep breath*

"An' I want ye t'know one more thing... I knew about this machine. I knew about it a bit ago. I could've gone with someone else, could've gone on me own, even. Maybe I wouldn't have made it out alive, but it didn't really matter te me at the time. And neither did gettin' clean. I told you I'd been trying to get sober for awhile, but nothin' was workin', and that wasn't a lie, but... Before you, I didn't really want te get clean. There was just..."

(pause)

"There was no point to it. Get clean fer what? I didn't want to feel anythin'. Well, anythin' but the rush of psycho. Couldn't feel anything if I was off it, I was so damn numb to the whole world... But you... you changed that. Somewhere along the way, when I was with you, I felt... somethin' else. I want te feel that again, but I want te feel it all. No psycho, no nothin'. Just you. And I'm hopin' you feel the same, but if you don't... It doesn't matter too much. I just... I wanted you te know."

(pause)

*huff of air*

"So there. I said what I meant to. You heard it. An' whether or not ye feel the same, I... I just hope it means somethin' to ya."

*click*

Curie:

"My love! Look at what I 'ave found! Or... Listen to it, rather."

*giggling*

"But isn't zhis wonderful? I can now tell you 'ow much I love you! Zhough, I do suppose I say it quite often... Still, what better day zhan zhis? I know zhere are many who no longer observe zhis holiday, but it is our first one together and I wanted to do something special. I thought of many possible zhings to gift you, since I feel as zhough I simply could not give you enough!"

*laughter*

"But zhen... I settled on zhis idea... I want you to listen to zhis recording, any time you are not feeling at your best, when I am not around to help you, or whenever else you feel like it, even when I am in zhe room next to you, you will have zhis at your disposal."

"I just want you to know 'ow much I care for you. You are zhe one who saved me, who made me not feel so alone in zhis new world, who helped me not to be afraid. I was afraid, mon amour, you remember. I was afraid to go out on my own, so you stayed close to my side, I was afraid I could never follow my dreams, zhat I could not become who I am today, afraid I would never be able to be with you, to feel all zhat I do when you are near and beside me. I would not be myself without you, I would still be in zhat 'orrible vault, would still be afraid and alone..."

(pause)

"But I am not, and it is thanks to you. You are... zhe most beautiful person I have ever come into contact with. The kindest, the most loving, zhe gentlest, and you are zhe one I love, when I did not know I was capable of such feeling! You made it so, my lovely Sole, and I could not be more grateful to share all zhese new-- all zhese so very human experiences with you. I love you, vers la lune et retour."

*giggles*

"It is amazing zhat I can say such things and mean zhem! I had heard about love, had read about it, and knew of zhe chemicals and such, but to feel it, to say zhese things, to know why I'm saying zhem, who is making me feel zhem, it is a wonderful feeling, mon cheri/e."

(pause)

"Oh!"

*shuffling paper noises*

"And I almost forgot! Comme c'est drôle de moi... I have a poem to read to you! It is one I read from a novel long ago, I had to dig to find it, to make sure it was correct. I did not understand it zhen, not as much as I do now, but now, it is all zhe more beautiful."

*clears throat*

"Je dédie à tes pleurs, à ton sourire,

Mes plus douces pensées,

Celle que je te dis, celles aussi

Qui demeurent imprécisées

Et trop profondes pour les dire"

"I can translate as well! Do not worry! It just sounds so belle en François. What it means is, zhat I dedicate my sweetest thoughts to both your tears and your smiles, all of my thoughts, zhe ones zhat I say to you, and zhe ones I 'ave no words for, zhat are too imprecise. Even zhose thoughts zhat are so deep zhat you cannot say zhem aloud, even zhose go to you, mon amour. I dedicate so much to you, because you 'ave given me so very much since zhe day you and I met. It does seem rather small in comparison, just zhis little poem, after all you 'ave done, but it is zhe truth. I love you so much, my Sole. 'Appy Valentines day."

"Love, Curie."

Danse:

*clears throat*

"I know I'm not very good at these sort of talks in person, and... I'm honestly not sure it'll be any better through this tape. But I feel like I have to try."

"I'm... Well, let me just preface this by saying that I'm sorry for what happened today. You weren't meant to... Well, let's just say that I should've thrown that tape recording away a long time ago. That same day that I recorded it, even. And if it's any consolation, I never paid the contents of it any further mind after our talk at the Bunker. When I think of it now, I..."

*deep sigh*

"Knowing what I do now, what was to come... I can't believe I would've just... Just ended it."

(pause)

"Everything was so jumbled then. After I found out what I was, I felt so lost. My existence, without the Brotherhood, it felt so... purposeless. The words on that tape... they just helped me get everything off my mind. Helped me feel like there was a way out of all that uncertainty, as rash as it may seem in hindsight."

"Then you appeared below the surface. Even with all my defenses... I don't even know why I put them up, if I was just planning to...

*sigh*

"It's not a day I like to remember."

"You are what made it bearable. Not just that day, not just my... whole self discovery, but everything. Without you, I wouldn't have only been dead, but I would have been lost. Everything I truly believe in, all that I've worked for... I felt like less than nothing when it was all stripped away. Along with my identity. My personhood. But these past couple years... you've built me up again. You've made me into something-- someone I can be proud of. Helped me make the difference I thought could only be achieved through the Brotherhood, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for all that you've given me."

"My life, my belief in myself, the courage to move on when I felt I had nothing, that I was nothing... But I was wrong. I was always wrong. I never had nothing, not even on my darkest days, when I wished beyond reason that I could crawl out of my own synthetic skin. Even on those days, I still had you."

"The day that you confessed your feelings to me was the first day that I began to question a few of the core beliefs of the Brotherhood. With the overwhelming strength and certainty of my own feelings for you, I wondered how the Brotherhood could ever consider me-- my kind, to be soulless abominations. Every day my feelings of fondness for you grow stronger, and every day I stray away from the belief that I'm nothing but a mere machine. I never could've done that without you."

"Ever since the day I met you, I've felt like... somehow, our fates have been tied to one another. Like I was always meant to know you. And it might be strange, to phrase it that way, to think that some... higher power pulled the strings in such a way to ensure our meeting, our friendship, o-our love, but if it hadn't turned out that way... that tape I made would be in the Brotherhood archives, and I would be..."

*exhale*

"I just hope that my presence in your life has yielded even a fraction of the happiness, security and support that you provide me with. If so, it'll all have been worth it."

"I hope what I said on this tape doesn't make you uncomfortable, I-I know the subject matter is quite upsetting, but if I can offer further consolation, the tape in question no longer exists. I erased it, in favor of this message. I thought it would be... symbolic. The way our love for one another, and my dedication to you has erased the negative feelings I had for myself, that almost drove me to complete ruin. I apologize again for what you heard on that tape, and it pains me to know you felt guilt for not being able to do more after my... self discovery. The truth is, Sole, you were the only thing standing between me and the ending that that tape promised for my life, and I could never find a way to thank you for all that you've done for me."

"I love you, Sole. More than I thought could ever be possible, even before finding out that I was a synth."

(pause)

*clears throat*

"Anyway, that was what I felt I had to say. I know it was long winded, and I... well, I never know quite how to end these conversations, but I suppose it's worth saying it again. Thank you, Sole. For giving me my life back. The rest of it belongs to you."

Deacon:

"Csssshhhhk this is your captain speaking, yeah, we're gonna be traveling at around fifty eight thousand feet in a minute here, so just wanted to tell you to get comfortable, drop those trays, get out those peanuts, oxygen masks, space suits, and--"

*muffled laughter*

"No, but anyway... Hey Sole, it's ah, it's me. You're favorite crimefighting deathbunny, and partner in all things inappropriate. I... just wanted to make this... I know we don't have the same type of job security or workers' compensation from before the big booms, so just y'know, like an insurance policy, especially now that there's all this added paperwork with our little developing relationship status, it just felt important, y'know? Another record to dust off one day. And... I wanted to be sure you could always have a way to hear my lovely voice, my bad jokes, my flawless singing, you know, just in case... I know how much you'd miss it."

*sighs*

"Look, I... I know it hasn't always been easy, everything you've been through, to add all my problems to the pile. The trust issues, the compulsive lying, those pesky little intimacy problems that make things extra fun, and... I could go on, but I'm afraid the tape would run out of space."

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is... Thanks. Sole. You're everything I needed and never deserved or expected. I had this plan, this idea of what the rest of my life would be like, and you just--"

*breaks into laughter*

"You just waltzed right into those catacombs and blew those ideas to smithereens. Shot 'em down with your charm and your selflessness and good looks, and man... I didn't stand a chance. I can't believe you chose me. You coulda had anybody. Even Carrington, if you kept at it, but you chose to love me, even with how... difficult it must've been-- must be..."

"I still don't know why you did it, but I've never been more grateful in my life. You're my partner in crime, my fellow deathbunny, my bestie, and now you're my husband/wife?! ... It's crazy. Crazy awesome, and I... I never thought I'd tread that kind of path again, not with anyone, and I wouldn't have... if it weren't for you."

"Ahh, you. You're just... The best, and I love you. I know I don't say it enough, and when I do, I don't sound serious. But no matter how uncomfy it makes me feel to say it aloud, it's true. I love you, Sole."

(pause)

"But alright, bestie, I've gotta go. I'm about to have the best sleepover of my life, with this awesome person, I'm sure you know them, and I'm really feeling like I'm gonna get lucky. You can't see it, but I just winked at you. Anyways, wish me luck, and I'll... I'll see you in the field."

"Deathbunny out."

Gage:

“Hiya there boss… It’s…”

*under his breath* “I hope this damn thing is even recording.”

*snorts*

“But, it’s me. Jus’ wanted to say some stuff…"

*sighs*

“Look, it’s tough for me, I’m sure you know it more than most, but, it’s tough for me to reach out like this. I never… Well, you know this too Sole, but, I never done this sorta thing before. With the relationship and the… I don’t know, man, the arguments. Before, well, fights like this usually meant the end of things, but you said that ain’t how it’s supposed to be. We’re supposed to work through this shit, somehow, and so I… I guess I figured I’d start with this.”

*deep breath*

“I’m sorry. Sole. There, okay? I’m sorry for bein’ an asshole, for not givin’ you enough credit, not remembering that yer new to this whole raider thing, this whole Overboss thing. And that… well, you’ve probably never been with someone like me before. I sure as hell’ve never been with somebody like you, but… What can I say? It’s hard to find folks like you out here anyhow. You’re your own breed, boss. And that’s far from a bad thing. Jus’... Well, you know me. If you’re your own breed, I’m a goddamn mutt. I’m rough around the edges, not used to tryin’ to make things work. I’ve solved a hell of a lot more problems with my knife than I have with my words, but… I wanna… Well, I wanna make things work this time ‘round, boss… Sole… I mean, you know how I feel about ya, and I… I ain’t never had anything like this, and I just don’t know how I got along so long without you, cuz… Well, Sole, cuz you just make everything better.”

(pause)

“I mean… my life’s not worth a whole lot, that ain’t no mystery or nothin’, but when yer in it… It feels like somethin’ worth having. Not like the rest of my life, oh… stumblin’ around looking for scraps of quick fixes that could make me forget how little my life really means, but… having something worth holding onto, worth bein’ around for… that’s what it’s like with you.”

*dry chuckle*

“And to think, I was stupid enough to think that one little argument was worth losing all this over. Worth losing the only thing in my life that really makes it worthwhile. Cuz that’s what you are, baby. That’s what you are to me. Even though I don’t say it a whole lot… It don’t mean that I… That I don’t mean it, you know?”

*sigh*

“I can’t be the easiest to get along with, I’m sure. I’m so damn hard-headed most of the time, and I always act like I know what I’m talking about, which… Well, you know that usually ain’t the truth.”

*chuckles*

“But somehow you got the patience for all this. All my shit. And… I may not always be the sharpest knife in the drawer, or whatever the saying is, but I know what I got with you. I know what you’re worth, baby, and it’s more than I got, and I know you bein’ with me at all is a charity, but… Well dammit, I hope I got some worth to you too, cuz I just… I need you now, Sole. I wanna be worth the headache and the patience, and I wanna work through the fights and learn how to make it up to you. I never had this before… I never felt this way about no one. I don’t wanna lose it. I can’t… lose you. Things jus’, well, they just wouldn’t be the same…”

*deep sigh*

“I know I’m going ‘round in circles a bit here, but you know apologies ain’t really my strong suit. An’ neither is all this mushy stuff, but I’m trying all right? I’m trying for you. And I’m gonna keep on doing that until you tell me you can’t stand it no more. It’s just the kinda reckless, hard-headed, stubborn fool I am, Sole. Gonna keep telling you how you changed it all for me, how you’re so damn incredible it makes my chest hurt, how I… Well dammit. Guess I’ve gotta say it now, huh? Look, there. You did it boss, you got it out of me. Damn near slipped out before I could even catch it too. Nasty little words, but… It’s never been truer. I love you Sole.”

(pause)

*comical sigh*

“And while we’re at it, might as well say I’m sorry again, too. There. You got both outta me. Got it all. There’s nothing left for you to take, baby, all my cards just out on the table like that and I forgot how to fucking bluff.”

*soft chuckle*

“Nah, but… I mean it, Sole. I ain’t nothin’ without you. Next time we fight, just pull this shit outta your pocket and I’ll shut right up, I promise. And… If I’m ever not sayin’ all that… All that I should, if I’m being an ass like I do sometimes, just listen to this while I’m off sulkin’ somewhere. Cuz it’s true. It’s all true, and no amount of me bein’ pissy or stubborn is gonna change that... Is gonna change the fact that… Well, dammit, I do, I love you, Sole.”

(pause)

“Greedy bastard, you’ve gotten it outta me twice now, so you should be all caught up for awhile… Just don’t use it against me too often, okay? Don’t abuse this shit, or you definitely ain’t gonna hear it as much, I’ll tell ya that.”

*chuckles*

“Alright, don’t know when this thing is gonna run outta tape, but it’s bound to be close. I’ll, ah, I’ll see ya soon, baby.”

*click*

Hancock:

"Heya, Sunshine. It's, ah, it's me. I know it hasn't been all that long since we've seen each other, and I know you're busy. Hard being the hero all the time, hard being the best person there is in the Commonwealth, I get it. But I wanted to tell ya, that... I miss you. I miss you when we're not together, from the moment I see you leave through the Goodneighbor gate, I'm already turning to tell you how much I'm gonna miss you, before I realize that you're gone. That's how bad it is, sweetheart, I-I talk to you even when you're not here."

*chuckles*

"Maybe it's cuz I'm a little nuts, or something, I don't know. Either way though, when I'm alone like this, jus'... thinking about you, I wish I had a way to hear that pretty voice o' yours. So, I thought we could make somethin' like this. Just a reminder, that I'm thinkin' about ya, I'm wishin' you were here, even though I know it's important that you're away."

*sighs*

"Still doesn't change that I want you back here by my side. Or to be out there with you. Kickin' ass. Making a difference. Watchin' you in action, if you know what I mean, heh. Yeah."

(pause)

"Damn this hurts. I get it. I do. I know you have to be out there. I know I can't go everywhere with you all the time, an' I don't mean to make you feel bad, baby, not at all. Jus' want you to know. Know how much it affects me when you're not here."

*sniffles*

*forced chuckle*

"Fahrenheit even notices. Says I'm no fun when you're not around anymore. She's had to drag me outta bed a few times this week... Yeah."

*shaky breath*

"Sorry 'bout this, Sunshine. Sorry if it doesn't make much sense. Brain's kinda foggy right now. I don't mean to make ya feel bad, you know? Jus'... just wanted you to know."

(pause)

"Shit, already said that, huh? Damn, it's just, it's true. I miss you, I love you, baby, and I want you with me all the time."

*muffled* "Oh Jesus. What are you doing?"

"Nothin,' Fare, go on."

*Fahrenheit* "Who are you talking to?"

"Sole. Now go on. Not done yet."

*Fahrenheit* "Sole? Hancock, Sole's not--"

"I know. Leaving a message for 'em. When they are here."

*sigh*

*door closing*

"Jesus. See? Goin' crazy over here, with her hoverin' over me. Need you, baby."

"Now... what was I sayin'?"

*laughter*

"Sorry it's so all over the place. This is what you do to me."

*a breath*

"There's just one thing I'm gonna ask from you, baby. You can go, I know you've gotta sometimes, just... come back. Alright, Sunshine? Come back to me. Do what you gotta do, but just know, now, that I've got you. You're part of the package. The coat, the hat, my whole look, the talk, my title, everything that makes me, me, now you're in that. I can't--"

*sniffles*

"I can't be without ya. Not for good, ya hear? So all I gotta know, is that you're gonna come back to me. Just... Try and think about that when you're out there on your own. Don't take the risk if you don't have to. You're good, baby. The most selfless person I ever met, and I love that about you, but... don't make the sacrifice, okay? I know I'm bein' selfish, but I ain't a saint like you, so I'd say it's pretty on-brand."

*soft chuckle*

"Just don't... Jus' come back to me. That's all I'm saying. It's all I need, okay, baby? Just need you..."

*sigh*

"Think I should probably let you go now, huh? So you can get back to bein' a badass, an' all that. Just one more thing though, before you set this tape aside... I love you, Sole. Just need you to know that, if you haven't listened to anything else on this tape, just know that. I love you, and... I'll see you soon."

MacCready:

"Geeze I hope this thing works..."

*fiddling noises*

"How do you even know if it's recording? Is that...? Hmm."

(pause)

"Okay. Well, here goes nothing."

*Clears throat*

"Hey, Sole. I, ah, I hope this works, because I've got a few things I wanted to... um, say. Wow, geeze, really off to a good start here, huh? I just hope this dang thing is even recording."

*chuckle*

"But if it is... Well, I just wanted to say... thanks."

*soft sigh*

"Truth is, I wouldn't even be doing this if it weren't for you. Maybe one day, yeah, it was always the plan to go back to Duncan, to be with him, but... I never thought I'd be bringing him back to a family. It was... one of the reasons I think I was putting it off. I mean, what do I have to offer? As a dad I-I'm doing my best, but... Is it enough? Will he be lonely with just me? Can I look after him as well as I want to, as well as he deserves? Is he going to be happy, with just me? And maybe he was, and I worried for nothing, but... With you, the decision was so much easier. And..."

*deep breath*

"Well, without your help, I... I might not even have been able to ask those questions. Duncan might not have... You know."

(pause)

"But you helped me. Even when you barely even knew me."

*laughter*

"I didn't think there was anyone like you out there, who would just help me, and not expect anything in return, I didn't think I'd ever find someone out there worthwhile. I mean, after the Gunners, well, they made it hard to see the good in the world, and even when I met you, I know I was... Well, I was a bit of an ass, huh?"

*chuckles*

"But that didn't seem to phase you. No... I don't think anything I could've done would have scared you away for good, once you saw how badly I needed you."

"And that's why I love you so much, Sole. You put other people before you, and you don't expect a damn thing in return, and it's so... Gosh, it's so weird that you do that, I've never met anyone like that, and I've never met anyone like you, and I didn't think, honestly... I never thought I'd be able to fall for someone again, after everything, but... I never saw you coming. And I mean... I'm a sniper. So I've got good eyes, you know."

*breaks into laughter*

"Sorry for that one. Sort of. But I can see that face, without you even being here, I can see that amused but... disappointed look you give me when I make those bad jokes. Those 'dad jokes' as you call them."

*more chuckling*

"I love you so much, baby. I didn't think I'd ever be able to say those words again. To say those words and-and mean them, but I can. And... I know you felt the same way, about loving again, after everything you've lost, but... I'm glad you found me. In that dingy old underground bar, where I almost got my butt whooped by those Gunner clowns, where I was spending all my hard-earned caps trying to drown out my problems... You pulled me out of that, and probably saved my life... No, you did save it, cuz without you, if I'd lost Duncan too, I just... Yeah, I wouldn't have been able to go on much longer if I didn't have him. If I didn't have you."

*sniffs*

"But he's going to be..."

*laughs*

"Just so excited to meet you, I mean, I've told you about him, he's just so adventurous and playful, and even when he couldn't talk at all, he loved meeting new people, and he's- god, he's gonna love you. And I'm gonna have my work cut out for me, cuz, I mean... you think I'm cute? Just wait, I mean, I'm never gonna see you again, you're just gonna want to run off with him and leave me behind, I mean-- his eyes, Sole, they're so blue, and his little cheeks, and gosh, there's nothing I love more than him... than you, too, and the thought of you two together? Heck, I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself, I'm not going to be able to handle it all. To handle... for the first time in so long, being actually... happy. Being part of a family again..."

*exhale*

"You know... I think you know that it... It makes me nervous. To be so happy. To have so much to lose, but... I know that you know what that's like. And I just- I just can't wait for us all to be a part of it. No matter how scary it is, or how strange it'll feel to have it again, to have a family, but have it be different, but... I'm so glad it's with you. And I just... I can't wait to see you, baby. Can't wait for you to see him."

*a breath*

"Just promise me... promise me you won't... leave."

*sniffs*

"...That you won't run off with Duncan and leave me behind. I promise, there's enough of him for both of us i-if we ration, you know?"

*teary laughter*

"We can share him, just... Just stay safe, for me, Sole, okay? I don't want-- I can't lose... I just... can't do this alone."

*deep breath*

"But, ah, anyway, I'll see you soon, okay Sole? I'll see you when I-- when we get back. I love you, and the next time we're together... we'll be a proper family."

Nick:

"Hey there, Sole. It's ah, it's your Nick here. Just wanted to make somethin' for ya, to help get you through these next few... days, maybe. I know this isn't gonna be easy, but I want you to know, I'm proud of you. You did it. You made it where no one thought you ever could, and hopefully, it pays off."

*low sigh*

"God, I hope it does. If there's anyone out there who deserves it, it's you. But we both know it doesn't always work that way..."

*exhale*

"No matter what happens in there though, I'm here for you. Always, alright? I don't mean that lightly, Sole. I've helped you come this far... even when it really didn't seem like you needed my help."

*chuckle*

"I mean it was you who saved me first, right?"

*more laughter*

*small sigh*

"Anyway, guess what I'm really saying here, Sole, is that... I want it to go right. I want you to find your boy, I want you, more than anything, to be happy. You've been through so much, more than anyone should have to go through, and I want you to be able to rest, to have the family you wanted, that you deserve, or, part of that family, at least. You're one of the best damn people I've met in all my years, and no matter how this all goes, I'll be by your side to help you face it."

(pause)

"You know... I'm not really sure why you picked me, if I'm honest, Sole. I'm just a rusty old synth, but... I'm a rusty old synth who's... in love with you. Who wants, more than most anything, for you to just be happy. And if I can have some part in making that happen, well, then I guess I shouldn't really question it, huh? But who am I kidding? I'm a detective, it's in my nature to question unlikely things."

*small chuckle*

"Well, guess I've rambled on here quite a bit, but I wanted you to have something. For when you're in there, so you remember that you're not alone. You've got good friends out here, so many people who care about you, who are rootin' for ya. Me, most of all. No matter what happens, we're all proud of how far you've come. No one even thought this would be possible, but since the day I met you, I've been realizing that the word 'impossible' really isn't in your vocabulary, huh? Who would've thought some pre-war vaulty would get as far as you did? Well, you did, and you really showed anyone who thought differently. It's one of the, oh, couple dozen or so things I love about you, darling. You always show those that need showing, always right the wrongs around you, even when some would argue it ain't your business. But you show those folks too, don't ya?"

*chuckles*

"You're just a whole lotta something, there, Sole. I never met anyone like ya, and there's no one else I could think of who could get through everything you've survived. You'll get through this too, I know it. And... I don't know, maybe I'm just losin' a few screws or something, but I believe you're gonna find your boy in there... But no matter what happens in the Institute, just know you got people out here waitin' for ya. Wishin' ya the best. Wishin' for ya to make it back home to us. We all love ya, Sole. And me? I love ya most of all."

"Yours, Nick."

Piper:

"Come on, come onnnn."

*Nat speaking indiscernably*

"That did it? You think?"

*Nat* "Yes."

"Oh. Okay. Geesh, this is why I just wanted to write a letter or something, but Nat said I should... cuz of the tape that you lost, and what it meant to you, and hearing my voice and-- Geeze, already rambling. So unlike me, huh?"

*laughter*

"Uh, anyways, um... Hey. Blue."

*more laughter*

"Who let me do this? This is awful. I wanna just talk straight to you, you know? See that cute little face of yours, that embarrassed smile with the way your eyes crinkle. The face you're probably making right now. Eh? Did I getcha? Are you making that face? Bet you are."

*giggling*

"I guess I know you pretty well by now, huh? Four years, Blue. Four! I don't know how I've put up with you all that time, but also, I... I don't really know what I would've done without you. That day we met... I think back on it all the time. How perfect everything had to be for us to meet like that, to get that great first impression. It always makes me laugh, the way we still give Danny a hard time about it, blaming him whenever we have those silly little arguments, just so we can't blame each other. I wonder if other couples do that? If they have a sort of scapegoat for their silly little..."

(pause)

"Okay, yeah, getting off topic. The reason I made this, well, this tape recording, that I wanted to be a note, that I probably could've just said straight to your face, was so I could just say... thanks. I know I tell you a lot how much you mean to me, but, I also think you always need to hear it. You've been through so much, lived through multiple lifetimes... you really were-- and are, the story of the century, Blue. You're incredible, and strong, and goofy, and absolutely adorable, if I do say so myself."

*giggles*

"Ahem, anyways, um... Where was I?... Oh! Yeah, you're..."

*quick breath*

"You're a great leader, and you could do anything you set your mind to, I mean really, once you've lived over two hundred years, learned how to fight giant monster lizards, how to cure super mutants, travel through someone's brain, and even teleport, I think the sky is hardly the limit."

*more soft laughter*

"Yeah... I knew I'd get just a little off topic, but when it all comes down to it, there's really only one thing you need to know, Blue."

"I love you. And I'm so grateful to have you in my life and as my partner in everything, and though these past few years have been like... the best of my life, I think the future holds a lot for us. Keep being strong, keep being you, and I'll be right here, cheering you on, loving you. Like I have from the start."

(pause)

"Oh, and Nat'll be here too. Rolling her eyes. Scrunching her face when we kiss in front of her and pretending to barf, but... she'll be loving you too. Won't you, sis?"

*Noncommittal noise*

"See? She agrees. Love ya, Blue. See you soon."

(pause)

*whispered* "Which one do I press to stop it? Which one? Oh. Oh, okay, I see--"

*click*

Preston:

"Sole? Hey. It's Preston."

*light chuckle*

"But you could probably guess that, huh? Yeah, well, I just wanted to say a few things. So you have them, so we do, for later, and everything... I'm just... Where to even start with you?"

*a breath*

"You're just... so amazing. You have been, since the day I met you, and every day since. You've taken everything the Commonwealth throws at you, and you've turned it into something beautiful. Something we can help grow, help to make this world a better place. And... you've given me hope."

*light laughter*

"It sounds so simplified when I put it like that, but it's not."

*soft sigh*

"I had no hope, before I met you. It was gone, and I just felt... hollow, but now I see all of the amazing possibilities for the world, for you and me, and the Minutemen. I never would've made it this far without you, and what we're doing now? This big adventure we're taking together? I know... I know you've been there before. That you... had a family before, and I know the way it turned out, and I can't imagine how difficult it is to look past that, and to try again. But... I want you to know I'm here for you. I always will be, just like you were there for me, when I needed you most."

"I want this for us, and you're... God, Sole, you're just so strong to want this too, so brave, and selfless, and-- and you just see the possibilities in life and you go for them, and I love that about you."

"Even just saying all this, it has me smiling from ear to ear. Just thinking about you does that to me, babe. I couldn't tell you the last time I smiled like this before I met you. I don't think I even could, to tell you the truth, but now... I mean, my cheeks hurt. Just thinking about seeing you after this mission, thinking about our talk, about us... settling down... Yeah, it's gonna be tough. Like you said, it's hard to get me to stay in one place, but you like to wander a whole lot too, you know."

*laughing*

"But I don't think I've been more ready, more excited for anything in my life. I love you so much, I almost can't believe it sometimes, but then I see you, and I... Well, I can believe it, because you're just that good. That perfect, that kind and loving, and selfless, and I just can't believe that out of all the other people in this world, I was lucky enough to meet you, and somehow, you wanted to be with me too."

(pause)

"I think I might've told you this already. At least once, but just in case, I'm gonna tell you again... Sole. I loved you from the moment I saw you. I... I couldn't believe it."

*laughter*

"I thought it was crazy, thought I lost my mind or something, but it was true. As soon as you came into my life, I was ready to pledge mine to you. I-I was in love. And as unbelievable as it seemed at the time, so soon after meeting you, that's never changed. And I'm betting that it never will."

"I love you, Sole. So much, and I can't wait to see you back here, and I can't wait to make that pledge all over again, can't wait to start our family, and... And god, I'm so excited to see you, I can't even sit still, I just--"

*muffled voice*

"What? Now?"

*sound of confirmation*

"Already? But I thought--"

*Annoyed sound getting further away*

"No, hold on, I'm coming!"

"Sturges says you're here."

"You're... you're home. You're home early..."

*disbelieving laughter*

"I'm gonna go and see you. Now. Right now, I've gotta--"

*muffled rustling noise*

"I'm gonna go. Sort of. I love you Sole, see you soon!"

X6-88:

"Sole... Ma'am/Sir. This is X6-88. I..."

*small sigh*

"I would like to extend my condolences to you. Your son... I wish you could have known him as I did. As so many of us did, as you never had the chance to. It is unfortunate, but... What I said, before, when I told you that I believe in you... It was not a lie, sir/ma'am. I do believe, fully, that you are meant to take his place, that you will do incredible things for The Institute."

"To be honest, I'm not sure why I felt the urge to record this message for you, but... Perhaps it's because I feel... that you should be able to hear this, to listen to this tape if ever you feel... inadequate, or... alone. You are neither, sir/ma'am, I assure you."

(pause)

"And I also... I know what it's like. To feel that way."

"Perfection is something that's required in every unit that is created to be a courser. It's something hardwired into us, and so is our aptitude for solitude, and yet... Either there is great fault with my programming, or you were enough to bypass all of it altogether. I've never felt less... Well, perhaps not less perfect, but I've never felt... more..."

*quietly*

"Human, than when I'm with you."

"It is not by my own conscious decision, but all of my defenses seem to lower when you are at my side. I've spoken so outwardly with you, I've... laughed, which is something I never knew I was capable of doing. I've come to despise being alone completely. Or... perhaps not alone, but more... without you. It makes my chest feel tight, and my thoughts wander to your safety whenever I'm not by your side. I'm not... I'm not quite sure why I feel so differently about you than I do anyone else I've met, why you elicit these reactions and thoughts, but I do know that they are enough for me to believe you are... exceptional."

*soft exhale*

"There is no one more capable, or better suited to leading us. No one who has had the influence over me that you do. Not Ayo, not Father, not even the... infuriatingly endearing young Shaun."

*short laugh*

"None of them... and yet you, from the beginning, have surprised me. Your prowess in combat, your amusing commentary, your strange empathy and searing wit... It all took me by surprise. Which isn't easy, I'll have you know. I'm a courser after all."

*muted chuckle*

(pause)

"I'm a courser... And yet, you've always treated me like an... an equal. Not a machine, or a weapon, not something to fear or to order around without regard for my own preferences, my own... conscience. It's something I never thought that I would find to be a virtue. Not something that's ever mattered to me, and yet, now... Now anyone who's not you, everyone here who disregards me the way they always have... It tries my patience."

(pause)

"I blame you, for that, sir/ma'am. But also I'm... Thankful to you. I'm... glad I've been able to accompany you in your travels, that I've been able to guide you in your new time in this world, I feel privileged that I've been able to witness your transformation, that I've gotten to know you, after all this time, and I... I want you to know that I'm here for you. Now, as you grieve the loss of your son, and in the future, as you take on your new responsibilities as the leader of The Institute. I will be here, by your side. To protect you, to help you, to amuse you, even, if that's what you require from me, since I often seem to do so without realizing it."

*soft exhale*

"I want the best for you, Sole. I want you to feel safe, I want you to be... happy. It's not something I'm used to... wanting these things for another, but as always, you are the exception. If you need anything from me, if you want anything, I will be here. For you, Sole."

"Sincerely, X6."

596 notes · View notes

selanpike · 4 years

Text

Abandoned Trollcops/Problem Sleuth fic

i’m bored so i’m posting this old trollcops concept i wrote a couple years ago

i meant to have it be this big sprawling thing, including all the trolls and the beta kids and team sleuth and the crew, but it was way too big for me, so all i ended up writing was the first three chapters--basically, the intros for sleuth, pickle and ace.

i don’t plan to return to it. i still can’t get my head around the whole thing. but i like what i wrote, and maybe you might like it too? so here u go.

Chapter One

Spending any amount of time with Spades Slick is dangerous at best, you knew that. You also knew that you were making things worse by spending so much time with him, but you were counting on bruises and stab wounds, not this.

The interrogation room is sickeningly bright. The lights make it impossible to know what time it is outside. You know it was close to sunrise when they brought you in, but you’re not sure how long you’ve been here. Even the ticking of a clock would be a welcome reprieve from this boredom. You wish they’d just throw the book at you already.

The door finally opens, creaking a little as it does so. Apparently the Alternia Police Department can’t even afford a can of WD-40. Two officers walk in. You recognize them from your various interactions with the police in the past few years--Sergeants Terezi Pyrope and Sollux Captor. Sergeant Pyrope pulls up a chair and sits down at the table across from you, lacing her fingers together. You can’t read her expression through her opaque red glasses. You’ve heard that she’s blind, but she seems to stare right through you.

“Problem Thleuth.” Sergeant Captor reads from your file, standing behind his partner. “Thirty-five yearth old. Prothpitian. Failed out of polithe academy at age twenty-four. Ith that right?”

“I wouldn’t say failed,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “I jus’ didn’t like how y’all--I mean. I wasn’t a fan ‘f the bureaucracy.”

“Is that so,” Terezi says.

You nod.

“So you dropped out and became a private investigator,” she says. “Is that right?”

“You know the answer to that,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Don’t pretend like we’re strangers.”

The silence that breaks out is painful. You run a hand through your hair, quietly wondering if your hat is okay, wherever they’ve taken it. Why the hell did they take your hat? What sort of monsters would mess with a man’s hat? This sort of shit is why you could never cut it as a cop.

“You’re charged with being an accessory to arson,” Pyrope tells you.

“Do me a favor ‘n arrest th’ guy who actually did th’ arson-ing,” you mutter.

“The alleged perpetrator is one Thpades Thlick,” Captor says, reading the file. “Damn, man. Thpades, really?”

“I ain’t an accessory t’ nothin’ that asshole does,” you say, slamming a hand on the table. “I was tryin’a stop that goddamn arson!”

“We have multiple witnethheth who thay they thaw you making out with the thuthpect before the fire broke out,” Captor says.

You wilt under their stares.

“I was tryin’a distract ‘im,” you say, weakly. “He’s a dangerous customer, after all. ‘S the ol’ honey pot maneuver, y’know?”

“It didn’t work,” Pyrope says, grinning her sharp-toothed grin.

“N--no,” you admit.

Sergeant Captor hands Pyrope the file, and she makes a show of flipping through it. It’s a pointless gesture since you know damn well she can’t read it. You try to look at what’s written on the pages, but she pulls the file away so she can give it a good long sniff. You slump over, leaning your arms on the table, thinking about how fucked you are, and what you’re going to do to Slick to get back at him for this. They’ll put you away for ages for this, you just know it. The APD have never been fans of yours, and you’re sure they’ve been waiting for the opportunity to put you away.

You jump when Pyrope snaps the folder shut. She puts it down on the table, sliding it to the edge.

“I’m going to admit,” she says, slowly. “That, considering your history of making trouble, we took this opportunity to get a warrant to search your office.”

“You--you what?!”

“Well, the thusthpect is thtill on the looth,” Captor explains, and you wonder if you punch him hard enough if he’ll stop with that goddamn lisp. “We had to check and thee if there were any clueth ath to hith whereaboutth.”

“And what did you find, huh?” You’re raging mad now, and you aren’t bothering to hide it. “A whole bunch of jack shit. Or are you going to charge me with possession of a deadly writing implement or something?”

The two of them stare at you for a moment, and then Pyrope pulls a photo from her jacket. She places it in front of you. It shows your evidence wall, a large corkboard you’ve set up in your office to collect clues in the murder you’re investigating.

“So, what? You gonna charge me with murderin’ th’ District Attorney now?”

Pyrope and Captor look at each other, then back at you.

“We’ve been investigating the DA’s death too,” Pyrope says. “But we haven’t turned up a thing.”

“And here you are,” Captor adds. “With evidenthe we never even thought to look for.”

You grin a little. “Oh darlin’s, are you jealous?”

“We know Kingpin was behind it,” Pyrope says, and her voice is uncharacteristically devoid of humor. “Like he’s behind every other high-profile murder in this city. I’m sick of him making a mockery of this force.”

“Stop bein’ such a joke, then.”

She stands up, slamming her hands on the table. “Take this seriously!”

You raise your eyebrows and wait for her to get to the point.

“We’re willing to offer you a deal,” she says. “We’ll ignore this latest… indiscretion, and you’ll help us put Kingpin behind bars.”

You laugh.

You can’t believe they’re actually coming to you for help. How many times have they impeded your investigations? How many times have they told you to buzz off, leave this to the real cops? How many times have they told judges not to accept your evidence, or straight up confiscated your evidence and claimed they found it themselves? And now they want you to help them?

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, still chuckling. “I musta misheard. Y’ couldn’t possibly be askin’ for my help. I mean, I ain’t a cop or nothin’. I ain’t got no authority.”

“Don’t be a jackathh,” Captor snaps.

“This is in your best interest,” Pyrope says. “You are, after all, still under arrest.”

She does sorta have you, there.

---

You have your hat back when Sergeant Captor takes you outside, to the back of the department. The sun has definitely risen by now, and you’re treated to all the sounds of the city waking up.

“Thith whole thing ith completely off the record,” Captor tells you as he closes the door behind him. “Honethtly, I think it’th dumb ath hell, but at leatht if you get into trouble, nobody’ll blame uth.”

“As long as I don’t trail it back to you,” you add.

“Obviouthlly,” Captor says. He pulls out his phone and types into it. “But we need one of ourth with you. Making thure you’re not fucking up too bad.”

“I’d really prefer we skipped that part,” you say, fixing your hair and trying to find just that right angle at which to wear your hat. “I don’t need no cops following me everywhere. It’ll slow me down.”

“Think of it like exthtra security,” Captor says, still typing into his phone.

The door opens and a short troll walks over, hands shoved in his pockets. He isn’t wearing a uniform, save for a badge he has hanging on a lanyard over a ratty red hoodie. He approaches you and Captor, then squints at you.

“I know you,” he says.

“I get around,” you reply.

“You’re that drunk fucknut that’s always making a scene in Crew territory.”

“Guilty as charged. Y’all’re jus’ gettin’ me on ev’rythin’ t’day!” You nudge Captor. “Sorry officer, looks like y’ gotta charge me for another crime.”

Captor groans and rolls his eyes. He slaps the newcomer on the back and mutters, “Good fucking luck,” before heading back inside.

You wait for the door to click shut before you say, brightly as you can manage, “The name’s Problem Sleuth. Solicitations for my services are--”

“I’m sorry, do I look like someone who gives a fuck?”

You drop the friendly act. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Vantas,” He says. “Karkat Vantas. I’m the undercover guy. I figure I got stuck with this because they figured I could tell the Captain I’m investigating you.”

“‘N I’m sure she’ll buy it,” you add.

“Yeah.” He sniffs, and looks you over in more detail. “I don’t think I’m the only one they’re gonna hand you. I know for sure they said they’re putting my partner, Nepeta, on this case too.”

You rub your face. “Great. Good. More cops, beautiful.”

He asks for your phone, and you exchange numbers. You then tell him to find something else to do with his day, because you’re going home and going the fuck to bed. This investigation can wait until tomorrow.

---

It’s well after 8am by the time you get home, and all you want to do is sleep for ten years. Pickle and Ace will bitch about you not being at the office, but you can’t bring yourself to care. They’re already going to bitch when they hear about this new arrangement, so what’s a little more?

Unfortunately when you walk in, you find Spades Slick rummaging through your refrigerator.

You toss your keys onto the table and sit down. He turns around, cold pizza hanging out of his mouth, and slams the fridge door shut behind him.

“I figured they’d have ya’ in th’ slammer a few weeks,” he explains through a mouthful of pizza. “So y’ wouldn’t mind if I ate yer food ‘fore it went bad.”

“Y’ couldn’t possibly post bail for me?”

“Fuck no. Who do y’ think y’ are, my Crew?” He moves his mug of coffee from the counter to the kitchen table, and then sits down across from you. “So who’d y’ call. Th’ stickbug? Did ‘e hafta give up his booze fund for th’ month?”

“No, nothin’ like that,” you say, reaching over and taking the coffee. Obviously sleep isn’t happening anytime soon, so what the hell. “They let me off.”

There’s a loud clatter as Slick’s chair falls over, and a knife is at your throat. It always amazes you how fast he is. You raise your hands in a conciliatory manner as he snarls at you.

“You fuckin’ snitched, didn’t you?”

“Slick, my most precious of darlin’s,” you say. “I would snitch on you all day, ev’ry day. But that ain’t what happened.”

“Bullshit!” The knife presses harder against your neck, and you feel blood beading along the blade. “Th’ APD don’ jus’ let people go, ‘specially not when they been with me. Th’ fuck did you do?”

“They hired me.”

He looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. He doesn’t move the knife at all.

You go on. “They’re investigatin’ Kingpin. They wanted my help.”

He finally pulls the knife away, but he doesn’t sit back down. “Great. Jus’ what I need.”

“Yeah, Slick,” you say, sipping the coffee. You’re not surprised that it tastes like shit. Slick probably isn’t used to brewing his own. That’s what he has lackeys for. “It’s exactly what you need. You want Kingpin outta th’ way? Jus’ let me ‘n the cops handle it.”

“Kingpin’s mine,” he growls.

“‘Scuse you.” You put the mug down. “‘M sorry, but did you know th’ stiff we found last week? No. Fuck no, y’ didn’t, ‘cause he was th’ law, ‘n he was my fuckin’ friend, not yours. Kingpin’s mine. He owns this fuckin’ apartment, my fuckin’ office, he’s got me by th’ balls without even tryin’ ‘n he murdered th’ DA ‘n none’f that’s got anythin’ t’ do with you.”

Slick narrows his eye at you, before pocketing his knife and stealing the mug back. He chugs the coffee down.

“Fuck you,” he says, slamming the mug back onto the table. “I’ll do it my fuckin’ self.”

“Right,” you say as Slick grabs his jacket and makes for the door. “So I guess I’ll see ya’ tomorrow, then?”

He grunts in response, and slams the door behind him as he leaves.

You know he’ll be back. Partly because you know he can’t resist making your life miserable--the two of you have been caught up in your fucked up little dance for too long, and he’s not about to give that up--but also partly because you know he can’t take down Kingpin on his own. He’s tried for months to do things his way, to just murder his rival crime boss, but Kingpin is careful, and he’s elusive. In the end, the best way to go about bringing him down is to turn the city against him, to get the law on your side. If you can get an arrest warrant on him you can have the whole of the city’s resources helping you track him down. You could freeze his assets, plaster his face on every bulletin board in town. You’ll leave him no place to hide.

You’re going to do it. Your name is Problem Sleuth, and you are going to bring down Mobster Kingpin’s criminal empire.

The APD are definitely going to steal the credit when it’s all said and done, though, and that fact makes you sick to your stomach.

Chapter Two

> Be Pickle Inspector.

You feel as though you’re being punished for Sleuth’s poor life choices.

Nepeta Leijon is a new hire at the APD. She, and her friend Karkat, used to be common criminals. Pickpockets, for the most part, although you remember seeing a few other items on their rap sheet. You’d encountered them once or twice. Never up close--their crimes were never complicated enough to necessitate your intervention--but they’d show up sometimes as witnesses.

Uncooperative witnesses.

You were aware of their being hired. Something about the APD seeing them as valuable assets for undercover investigations. You see the logic, but you’ve never been a fan of undercover operations. You stand out too much. You’re too tall, too gaunt, too recognizable. Your preferred method has always been surveillance. You set up cameras and wiretaps all over the city, in all the seedier bars and meeting spaces. Nothing escapes your omniscient ogle.

Nothing except Kingpin. He’s careful. He doesn’t discuss anything important on the phone, least of all the phones in any of his businesses. You can’t figure out where he lives or where he holds any of his most secret of meetings. Even if you could, he always has too many guards patrolling his places, making it impossible for you to sneak in and plant anything.

It was infuriating before, but now with the death of the DA it’s got you on the end of your rope. And now they want you to babysit this rookie cop? How the hell are you supposed to get anything done?

You asked Sleuth what he did to invite this upon you, but he won’t tell you. You suspect Slick was involved. Slick is always involved these days.

You have a solution to this problem, though. Well, not to the Sleuth-Slick problem, there’s no solving that, but the Nepeta problem was easy: let her work on transcribing your recordings so the two of you can finish them twice as fast. It leaves you with just enough free time to make tea and doodle in the margins of your notes.

You’re halfway through a wonderful drawing of a horse wearing a bonnet when your phone rings. You have specific ringtones for every person who calls you often enough, and you put your head in your hands when you hear this one. Nepeta notices, and watches you as you sigh and answer the phone.

“I’m busy enough,” you whine into the receiver.

“That’s a shame,” says the smooth, dark voice of Diamonds Droog. “And here I had something I thought you’d be interested in.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Meet me on the corner of 34th and Feldings,” he says.

“D--do I have to?” you say, clicking your pen. “Can’t you just, just tell me? On the phone? Like a normal person? I p-promise the line’s secure.”

“34th and Feldings,” he says again. “Now.”

He hangs up. You put your phone down, put your head on your desk, and groan loudly. Why is this your life? All you wanted to do today was transcribe audio logs and not interact with anybody. You even packed a lunch so you wouldn’t have to go out and talk to any fast food workers.

Without your realizing it, Nepeta has picked up your phone and unlocked it. You make a mental note to change the passkey and not let her see you input it next time. “Diamonds Dickhead?” She makes an exaggeratedly surprised face, and puts your phone back on the desk. “Is that who I think it is?”

You stand up and fix your tie. “I have to go out.”

“Oh! Let me get my coat.”

“No.” You grab your own coat, put it on, and start buttoning it. You make a deliberate effort to put the buttons in the right holes, and you’re secretly glad you haven’t had much to drink yet today. “S--stay here and, and keep transcribing.”

“I’m paws-itively sure that’s super important,” she says, putting extra emphasis on her pun. You’ve noticed that she likes cat puns. In less infuriating circumstances, you’d think it was cute. “But I’m not here to help you so much as to watch you.”

You smooth your hair out and put your hat on. “That’s a terrible idea. N-no, you should just stay here, and not tell a soul I went out. U--unless I don’t come back. Then tell Sleuth. Understood?”

She grins a catlike grin and says, “Nope!”

Droog is never going to let you hear the end of this.

---

34th street is where his tailor is, so Diamonds Droog didn’t have to go out of his way to meet you. It is also clear on the other side of town relative to your office, so you had to go especially out of your way to meet him.

This is par for the course, and you make an effort not to look exhausted when you get there.

He’s waiting for you on a street bench outside his tailor’s, smoking one of his expensive cigarettes. You approach him, but don’t look at him directly. You stand behind the bench, facing away from him, pretending to read a bulletin board. Nepeta follows along, but she sneaks a few glances at Droog when she thinks you aren’t looking.

He breathes out a long puff of smoke before speaking. “Is the detective business so bad that you had to take up babysitting?”

“I n--needed the second job to, to support my tea habit,” you respond.

“That’s a funny way to say whiskey.”

“Oh, no. I steal that all from m-my boss. You see, he has a wealthy patron with a vested interest in, in keeping him too drunk to make good decisions.” You lean back onto the bench, crossing your arms. “I’m s-sure you don’t know anything about that.”

“I’m sure I don’t. Can she leave?”

“I don’t know.” You look down at Nepeta. “C-can you leave?”

“I can, yeah,” she says.

“A--are you going to?”

She shakes her head.

“Sorry,” you say to Droog. “It’s a, a long story.”

He pauses and takes another drag from his cigarette. He taps some ash out on the ground, then reaches into his jacket pocket. You have just enough time to hope that he isn’t pulling out a weapon with which to kill the witness you’ve brought along, before he pulls out a couple of photographs. He passes them to you. They all depict various old-looking artifacts. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen some of these in the museum.

“All of these have gone missing in the past month,” Droog explains. “Obvious signs of a break-in, but no evidence pointing to a culprit.”

“D--do you think Kingpin was involved?”

“Absolutely.”

You scrutinize the photos further, and notice that all the artifacts share a theme. Every one of them either depicts a horrorterror, or symbols associated with said terrors. “This, um. It looks like your sort of thing.”

“Hardly,” he says. “The four of us get our magic from the Terrors, but we don’t need trinkets like this to channel Their powers. They give it to us freely.” He illustrates this by producing a small purple flame in his hand. “Kingpin, though. He’s Prospitian, like you. He doesn’t have the connection to the Terrors that we Dersites have.”

You think about that as you pocket the photos. “Do you think he’s trying to make a pact with the Terrors?”

“Perhaps,” he says, extinguishing the flame. “It’s possible he’s seen what we can do and wants that power for himself. I doubt he’ll be successful.”

You wonder whether it would be possible for a Prospitian to make a pact with the dark gods. You’re almost tempted to let Kingpin try, just to get an answer. It’s not your best idea. If nothing else, these robberies give you one more thread you can follow in your attempts to get any charge at all to stick to him.

“I’ll look into this,” you tell him. “Call me if--if you hear anything.”

“As usual,” he says, before standing up.

He smooths out his suit, throws his cigarette to the ground and snubs it out with his heel. Without once looking at you, he strolls away. Nepeta waits until he’s out of earshot before she says, “You know, Mister Detective, you don’t act much like a detective.”

“H--how’s that?”

“All the wiretapping, and purr-tive meetings with shady guys,” she says. “You’re more like a spy.”

You let out a small laugh. “Don’t say that one to the others. They’ll start coming up with spy names for me.”

“Pickle Inspector’s okay for a spy name,” she says. You start walking, and she follows you. She has to trot a little to match your walking stride. “Spies don’t put ‘spy’ right in the name! It’s too conspicuous.”

You’re enjoying this flight of fancy, despite yourself. “I’ll need to imagine up some clever gadgets, to uh, to get me out of pinches.”

“And you’ll need a car,” she says. “A fancy one, that turns into a submeowrine.”

“And a, a dangerous love interest,” you add.

“Oh? You don’t have that already?” She grins up at you. “You and Diamonds Dickhead had an awful lot of chemistry. You aren’t caliginous?”

“What?” You shove your hands in your pockets and look towards the street. “No. Obviously not. Th-th-that’s just, just gross, ew.”

She giggles, and you don’t like the knowing look she gives you. You reach into your jacket, produce a flask, and take a long gulp. It doesn’t help your mood any. It just reminds you of the last time Droog caught you drinking in the middle of the day, and had the audacity to call you “pathetic”, as if lots of people don’t drink before noon on a weekday.

She’s still giving you that look. Fuck.

“A--anyway, the, the case,” you stutter, trying to get back on the subject of work.

“I know somebody,” she says. “That might help.”

“Who?”

She shrugs. “Old friend of mine. She knows all sorts of things about old stuff like what got stolen.”

“That would be, it’d be really useful,” you say.

“I’ll call her when she gets off work,” Nepeta says, adjusting her hat. “In the meantime we can get back to listening to your wiretaps. The part I was on was pretty juicy.”

You’re relieved she’s so easily given up the subject of Droog and gotten back to the task at hand. She might, despite your initial misgivings, be useful to have around.

“I’ve also started a shipping chart for everyone you’re surveilling,” she adds.

After she explains to you what a shipping chart is, you are simultaneously horrified, and intrigued at the new avenues this gives you when cataloguing and interpreting your data.

Chapter three.

> Be Ace Dick.

Once upon a time, you were a police detective. You like to give Sleuth shit over his lack of occupational experience, but he seems to think that his two weeks of police academy are all he could need. For someone who brags about his charisma, he really doesn’t understand the importance of making connections.

You haven’t been working on the Kingpin case with Sleuth and Pickles. You think they’re out of their league. Kingpin’s ruled this city since Sleuth and Pickles were still in grade school, they didn’t stand a chance. So while they ran around on their fool’s errand, you were out hitting the pavement, solving more sensible cases and keeping the agency afloat. Sergeant Pyrope was a rookie when you left the force, but she remembers you. Whenever you have a case that requires some APD know-how, you hit her up. There’s a little diner next door to the station that’s popular with the coppers, and that’s where she meets you to give you the low-down on some two-bit drug dealer who skipped out on a debt.

You buy her a second coffee once she’s said her piece and you’ve finished writing it all down. Then you tuck your notepad back into your coat pocket and say, “So I heard y’ gave Sleuth a job.”

She shrugs, grinning. “It should be worth a laugh. He always says he can do better than us, so let’s see it!”

You shake your head. “Here ‘m always tryin’ to tell him to stay off that case, and you’re just eggin’ him on.”

“So you’re not going to help?” she asks, before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hell no,” you say. “I quit the force to get away from that malarkey. You at least payin’ him?”

She laughs. “Do you think he’s going to ask?”

“He damn well will, because I’m goin’ to tell him to,” you say, jabbing a finger at her. She can’t see the gesture but she usually can tell that you’re doing one. You’re not sure if she hears the movement or somehow smells it. You don’t know how her weird sense of smell works. “We got rent to pay, missy. If he’s runnin’ around chasin’ Kingpin he isn’t doing other cases.”

“We’ll have to set up a collection,” she says. “I’ll put a little can in the break room. ‘Pay Mister Candy Corn’s rent’.”

Detective Vriska Serket walks over, whacking your hat off your head as she passes you to sit next to Terezi. “Can’t be too much, right? Doesn’t he live in a cardboard box?”

“That sounds right,” Terezi says. “But in this city that’s what, 500 bucks a month?”

“Depends on how new the box is, probably,” Vriska responds.

Terezi nods. “Either way, Kingpin owns it so it is absolutely drafty and leaks in the rain.”

“I’m not opposed to makin’ jabs at my dumbass not-boss,” you say as you straighten your hat out. “But I’m serious. You’re payin’ him. And Pickles too, if you got him involved.”

“We do,” Terezi says. “He’s got poor Nepeta bored to tears.”

“That’s a lie,” Vriska says, taking Terezi’s coffee and putting it in front of herself. “She started writing fanfiction about those counterfeiters on seventieth street. I’m going to try and convince her to submit it as evidence.”

“While that is hilarious, don’t. The Captain doesn’t need to know about any of this.” Terezi takes her coffee back and chugs down the remainder before Vriska can make another attempt. She coughs.

“Now there’s an idea,” you say. “If you don’t pay up, I’ll go let Captain Peixes know what you’ve been up to.”

“Why Ace,” Terezi says, leaning forward. “Are you threatening me?”

“Might be.”

“Maybe if the Captain finds out she’ll get embarrassed enough to put me on the case,” Vriska says.

“Gettin’ tired of solvin’ murders?” you ask.

She throws her arms up in the air. “The only interesting crimes are the mob ones! All the regular crimes are just dumb shit, there’s usually a witness or a camera or something, there’s no challenge!”

“I thought you liked racking up wins,” Terezi said.

“I fucking love racking up wins,” Vriska says. “But I want ones worth my time. Kingpin’s the biggest baddie there is, I gotta get in on that.”

“Maybe you should let her follow Sleuth instead of that angry kid,” you say to Terezi.

She snickers. “No, I’d give her to Tootsie Roll Frankenstein.”

Vriska slaps the table. “You think you’re kidding around but I’d love having that guy work for me! He’ll do all the tedious boring shit so I have more time to pound pavement and beat in faces.”

“I’m glad you appreciate Pickles’ special sort of appeal.” You stand up, straightening out your suit. “Thanks for the tip, Pyrope. Now please stop takin’ advantage of my teammates.”

She salutes at you, and it’s dripping with irony. “No, I don’t think I will. You’re welcome to come get taken advantage of, though!”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, getting out your wallet. You pull out a few bills, enough to pay for your coffee and Terezi’s, and drop them on the table. “Take care of yourselves, ladies.”

“Tell Sleuth if he gets evicted I just got a washing machine and he might fit in the box if he gets on all fours!” Vriska calls as you leave the diner. You hear the two girls snickering behind you.

They laugh, but you know the APD’s pay is shit. You do much better for yourself working as a private dick. The lack of benefits are a kick in the nuts, but at least you don’t have to deal with all the paperwork and politics, and every now and then you got a client who paid you a ridiculous sum for some dumbass thing. Sleuth could do as well as you. He’s certainly got the sleuthing skills for it. He just keeps wasting his time worrying too much about justice and too little about the real world.

You figure he’ll learn eventually. Kids like him always do.

#problem sleuth #midnight crew #trollcops #mspa #homestuck #writing #fanfiction #unfinished

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allycat-writes · 5 years

Audio

New Rules (Stephen Strange x Female!Master of the Mystic Arts!Reader)

A/N: So, yes, I live and I’m still in love with Doctor Strange currently and celebrating the release of details for a sequel!!! Still sorta sorry but oh well, what are ya gonna do lol. So like? This is sort of like all of the Avengers being young and attending a school together for super-heroey stuff? Also, obviously based off the song New Rules by Dua Lipa. Y/N is obviously *Your Name*, Y/N/N is “Your Nickname*. And, as always, thank you to my platonic soulmate, the Roger Taylor to my Freddie Mercury for everything, @unknownauthor .

Warnings: Probably swearing. Adult themes (like mentions of smut stuff and pregnancy-scare mention)

You know the drill at this point. Likes are cool, reblog are literally motivation to write more!!!

(Not my GIF)

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

One, one, one, one, one

Talkin' in my sleep at night, makin' myself crazy (Out of my mind, out of my mind) Wrote it down and read it out, hopin' it would save me (Too many times, too many times)

My love, he makes me feel like nobody else, nobody else But my love, he doesn't love me, so I tell myself, I tell myself

“Hey, kiddo. Why the long face?” You looked up from your phone to find Carol Danvers standing in front of you, her green and black backpack slung over one shoulder carelessly. You winced.

“You realize I’m only three years younger than you, right?” You bit her lip, pausing. “I may have done something really, really dumb,” you admitted, with a sigh. Carol raised an eyebrow before sitting down next to you.

“How dumb are we talking here?” Carol asked, her voice soft. You looked around to make sure none of the others were within earshot before looking back to Carol.

“Like sleeping with my best friend dumb.” Carol let out a low whistle.

“Shit, kid. You slept with Strange?” You groaned, putting your head in your hands. Carol noticed Tony Stark glance your way, his eyebrows furrowing together in worry as he noticed your distress. Carol waved him off.

“Yeah, I did. Now what the fuck do I say to him? How do we go back?”

“Well, do you want to go back?” You sat up again.

“Of course I do! He’s my best friend. I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“If you want to just be friends, why did you sleep with him?”

“What other option do I have than to hope things go back to normal or lose my best friend?” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Trying to make a real relationship with him. Obviously you must be at least slightly attracted to him,” Carol pointed out, gently.

“Of course I am. Have you seen him?”

“Then why not try?”

“Have you seen me? I don’t think he’s ever even thought about an actual relationship with me. I’m surprised he even said yes. I don’t think he has the same feelings for me and what if I bring it up and I’m right? Then I really, truly lose my best friend.”

“Okay, first, you’re adorable. Why wouldn’t he like you?” You groaned. “What? You are. And there’s only one way to know for sure how he feels. And what do you mean ‘said yes’?”

“‘Adorable’. See? That’s not typically a great thing to be if you want people to take you seriously.” You tensed up slightly. “I may or may not have......possibly asked him to fuck me hard......because I was stressed out and tense and......needed the release.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N/N. Then what are you going to do? Just ignore the elephant in the room? Keep sleeping with him?”

“I don’t know. Carol, what am I gonna do?” You sighed, laying your head on the older girl’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what to tell you. But I know someone who might,” Carol replied, with a half shrug. You lifted your head to curiously look at Carol. “Hey, Strange. How’s it going?” Stephen quirked an eyebrow as he walked past Carol.

“I’m still alive, so that’s something.” Stephen glanced at you over his shoulder for a moment before calling back, “Hey, Y/N/N. Spell practicing later?”

“You’re the boss, Sorcerer Supreme.”

One: Don't pick up the phone You know he's only callin' 'cause he's drunk and alone Two: Don't let him in You'll have to kick him out again Three: Don't be his friend You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning And if you're under him, you ain't gettin' over him

You were laying upside down on your bed, a pencil between your lips as you squinted at the notes you had taken over one of your sources when you heard a knock at your open dorm room door. You glanced towards the door to find Carol leaning against the doorframe. “How was spell practice with the wizard?”

“Master of the Mystic Arts,” you corrected her, gesturing your friend into the room. Carol closed the door behind her and sat down on the carpeted floor, raising an eyebrow. “I think......I think we’re fuck buddies.”

“You didn’t.”

“......I really did,” you sighed, sitting up. You sat there for a moment before turning to face Carol again, tucking your legs underneath yourself. You tucked the pencil behind your ear.

“You’re already way too attached to him to survive this, Y/N.”

“Of fucking course I am. He’s my best friend. I......” you paused, turning to look over at the wall, “Shit. I think...... I think I’m in love with him.”

“Y/N/N, you have to end this. You’re gonna get yourself hurt. You have to break this off. Go back to being just friends while you still can. You know Stephen. He won’t mean to hurt you but we both know it will happen.”

“How though? I don’t know how I can be close to him and just not...not love him.”

“You might need to take a break from being his friend. Can’t you practice spellwork or whatever with Wong?”

“I mean I can but......he’s my best friend? How do I just......take a break from that? How do I avoid my best friend? I don’t want to hurt him and make him think I hate him or that I’m mad at him when he hasn’t done anything. I’m the one that fucked things up between us...”

“Make some rules up for yourself to follow. Just tell him you’re going to be a little AWOL for a while. You do have a ton of papers and exams to finish up, right?” You nodded, biting your lip. You sighed, flopping onto your back to stare at the ceiling.

I got new rules, I count 'em I got new rules, I count 'em I gotta tell them to myself I got new rules, I count 'em I gotta tell them to myself

I keep pushin' forwards, but he keeps pullin' me backwards (Nowhere to turn, no way) (Nowhere to turn, no) Now I'm standin' back from it, I finally see the pattern (I never learn, I never learn)

But my love, he doesn't love me, so I tell myself, I tell myself I do, I do, I do

“Hey, Miss- Sorry, Y/N. I don’t mean to, I don’t know, spy on you, but it’s just. The table keeps vibrating and I just...... Shouldn’t you answer your phone? I think someone needs to get a hold of you.” You looked up, pausing your music and taking your other earbud out.

“I’m really sorry, Peter. I hope this isn’t distracting you from your work,” you apologized with a sigh.

“Oh, no, you’re fine!! I know that MJ keeps texting me so my phone keeps vibrating so really, you’re okay! I just. I don’t know, figured I should say that? But really, it’s not bothering me!” You smiled at the boy.

“You’re a good kid, Peter Parker. You know that?” Peter smiled, opening his mouth to say something when you heard a heavy sigh behind you.

“He’s way too young for you, Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” You turned to find Tony Stark, his arms loaded with books.

“He’s not my type, Stark. And I wouldn’t ever date a minor, even one as sweet as Peter.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh yeah, also. I’m pretty sure there’s some tension between you and your boyfriend so I’ll just warn you. He was at the front desk looking for you when I walked in, Sabrina” You grimaced, gathering up your belongings.

“Thanks, Tony. I really do appreciate it.” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and raised your hands to form a portal back to your room, sealing it shut behind yourself.

“You used magic in the library?” Wong asked, his expression disappointed as you walked into the room. You groaned, putting your workout bag on the ground.

“It was an emergency,” you muttered, grabbing a ponytail holder from your bag and securing your hair out of your way.

“I don’t think hiding from a friend is an emergency. And why am I not allowed to tell Strange that you’re practicing with me?”

“I don’t want him to think that I hate him and I’m avoiding him.”

“But you are apparently avoiding him.”

“I have like four papers to write and two exams to study for. Can we, I don’t know, actually get to practicing spellwork?” Wong rolled his eyes before he gestured for you to get into stance. You relaxed, squaring your shoulders before you moved into position.

I got new rules, I count 'em I got new rules, I count 'em I gotta tell them to myself I got new rules, I count 'em I gotta tell them to myself

Practice makes perfect I'm still tryna learn it by heart (I got new rules, I count 'em) Eat, sleep, and breathe it Rehearse and repeat it, 'cause I (I got new)

“Y/N, I know you said I have done nothing wrong but it definitely seems as if you are trying your hardest to avoid me. If that’s not the case, I apologize but I just,” Stephen sighed and you could feel your heart ache at the sound, “I miss you. So whenever, I don’t know, things calm down or you start to feel like yourself, I honestly don’t know what you’re going through but... I’ll be here. If you need anything. Maybe I’m not as patient a teacher as Wong but I promise I’ll work on it just...” he sighed again and you could almost hear him shaking his head at himself, “Get back to me when you can, alright?” You set your phone down on the grass beside your book.

“What am I going to do?” you whispered, your hand resting gently on your stomach.

“I don’t mean to intrude but... I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes and you’ve listened to that voicemail about...five times, no? Maybe you should just call him back? It is quite obvious that you miss him as much as he misses you. Or at the very least, I don’t think listening to the voicemail of a call you purposely avoided will help ease your pain.” You glanced over to see Wanda Maximoff studying you quietly, Loki laying next to her, flicking his fingers in boredom to draw green shapes in the air. “Sorry, I know we’ve never actually spoken to one another but it seems like your heart might actually be aching for this man.”

“It’s......complicated. I think I love this man and some stuff happened to make me realize I do actually seriously love him but I don’t think he feels the same way and I don’t want to get hurt,” you blurted out. Wanda smiled, gently.

“It already seems you are hurting. You might as well try and talk to him and find out if he returns your feelings before isolating yourself from him and causing both of you pain. You might also find it difficult to work together if you push him too far away.” You smiled.

“Thank you, Wanda. I definitely appreciate it. Maybe sometime we could practice fighting together? And maybe have Vision be referee or something,” you teased, causing Wanda’s fair skin to redden with color, a shy smile crossing her features. You picked your phone back up, typing up a quick text. Stephen, I’m sorry. Can you meet me at the library in ten minutes? I definitely think we need to talk.

“I will absolutely take you up on that, Y/N,” Wanda promised, smirking slightly.

One: Don't pick up the phone (yeah) You know he's only callin' 'cause he's drunk and alone (alone) Two: Don't let him in (uh-ooh) You'll have to kick him out again (again) Three: Don't be his friend You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning And if you're under him, you ain't gettin' over him

You glanced at your watch again before turning towards the window to see the sky in shades of pink and purple as the sun set. You sighed, packing your things up before grabbing your phone. You dialed Carol’s number as you exited the library.

“Danvers.”

“Hey. I...” you started, your voice trailing off as you felt tears start welling in your eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I tried texting Stephen because I need to talk to him and I asked him to meet me and...” You tried to choke back a sob. “I think I’m pregnant. And he hates me and I don’t know what to do, I can’t do this on my own.”

“Whoa, hold up. You’re what?”

“I haven’t taken a test but I’m late and my stomach has been feeling weird and I don’t know what to do, Carol. What am I going to do? I can’t hide this from him. He’ll know,” you sobbed, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your distress.

“You need to breathe. I’ll get a test for you and meet you back at your dorm, okay? I’ll wait with you. You don’t need to be alone right now, okay?” Carol replied, trying to soothe you. “Just portal back to your place and wait for me, okay?” Carol hung up and you tried to quiet your cries as you tried to calm down. After a few minutes, you were calm enough to form a portal to step through. You sealed it shut and laid on your bed, silent tears still streaming down your face. Ten minutes later, your door opened and Carol stepped in, a bag in her hand. “Oh honey,” she sighed as you silently took the bag and disappeared into your bathroom. Carol sat on the floor with you once you were done, both waiting impatiently. You glanced at the clock and sighed.

“Can you......can you check it?” you asked, your voice wavering. Carol nodded, squeezing your hand before she stood up. Carol laughed.

“Negative. It must just be the stress. You’re fine,” she replied, sitting back down to hug you. You laughed too, relaxing in your friend’s embrace. You froze again, tensing up.

“He still hates me though. What do I do?”

“Just sleep. You can worry about talking to him next time you see him. Just get some rest, Y/N/N, okay?” You nodded, slowly getting up to crawl into bed. You didn’t move as Carol threw the test away and left the room, locking the door on her way out.

I got new rules, I count 'em I got new rules, I count 'em (Whoa-ooh, whoa-ooh, whoa) I gotta tell them to myself I got new rules, I count 'em (Baby, you know I count 'em) I gotta tell them to myself

Don't let him in, don't let him in Don't, don't, don't, don't Don't be his friend, don't be his friend Don't, don't, don't, don't Don't let him in, don't let him in Don't, don't, don't, don't Don't be his friend, don't be his friend Don't, don't, don't, don't You're gettin' over him

You woke up the next morning to urgent knocks on your door and you rolled over to check the time. 8:15. Only one person you knew would be up and at your door that early. You threw the covers off, not bothering to change out of the clothes you fell asleep in or brush your hair or hide your puffy eyes. You opened the door, examining Stephen’s unkempt appearance. “I am so sorry I didn’t meet you yesterday. I had turned my phone off to study for my exam and I didn’t think you’d be texting me anytime soon.” You sighed, stepping aside to let him in the door. Stephen relaxed, moving into the room before he turned to face you again, his eyes locking on the puffy skin under your eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He started to reach out for you before he paused, holding his arms out awkwardly before he let his arms fall back to his sides before clearing his throat uncomfortably. “You said we needed to talk? Does that mean you’re done avoiding me?” You winced slightly.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to hurt you, I’m just......I’m afraid and way out of my comfort zone. But I do need to tell you something. And it could absolutely ruin our friendship. I don’t want to lose you, Stephen,” you started, taking a deep breath.

“I think any chance of a normal friendship went out the window when I agreed to......helping you relieve stress,” Stephen pointed out, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, wow, thanks for that. Never would have figured that out on my own. What would I do without you?” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You sighed, looking away from Stephen.

“Just say it. You obviously have other places you would rather be so get on with it. It’s fine.” You opened your mouth to speak when he raised a hand. “You don’t even have to say it. Understood. We can go back to pretending nothing ever happened.” Your eyebrows furrowed together at the bitterness in his voice.

“Stephen, listen to me. I don’t want to go back to pretending like nothing happened. But I want......if we just go back to fucking and that’s all it is, a means to an end, then......I know I’m going to get hurt. What do you want?” Stephen blinked in surprise.

“You......you want more?” he asked, his mind racing to catch up.

“I do. But if you don’t want that, it will hurt. I’ll get hurt. I know I will—” Stephen smiled, stepping forward and pulling your face up to meet his, one trembling hand under your chin, pressing your lips together. After a minute, you both pulled away, your breathing both ragged.

“Does that answer your question, Y/N/N?” he murmured, his hand still gripping your chin lightly, your breath mingling together. You nodded, standing on your toes to kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. Stephen smiled against your lips as your hand started playing with the hair at the base of his neck. After you broke apart for air, Stephen kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms around you.

“Wait, before...before anything else happens. I thought that I was...pregnant. I’m not, but I just...figured you should know.” He pulled away again to study your face before relaxing again.

“I care for you. More than you know.” You smiled, brushing a dark strand of hair off of Stephen’s forehead. “Can we please go back to practicing spellwork together? I miss my partner.” You laughed, nodding. Stephen smiled, kissing you soundly again.

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

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105 notes · View notes

creative-poptart · 5 years

Note

What would ut and Sf skellies do or think of a so/crush who had narcolepsy?

I like this, but I suspect you’ve also sent in two asks, anon!!! (No worries though, they will both be answered.... eventually...)

UT Sans/Vanilla: For someone who is borderline narcoleptic himself with how well he can sleep anywhere, he’s actually really bothered by this. The fact that you just sometimes fall asleep without even meaning to and without being able to help it is just a little concerning for him. Luckily you don’t ever sleep too long to make him super worried all the time. He’s always got a pillow or something handy if he sees you starting to drift off, and no matter what, he’s going to make sure you’re okay first before he does anything else. Vanilla’s actually really attentive around you, especially when you start having your moments where your consciousness slips and fades out into near nothingness when your condition kicks in. You’ll always wake up in a protective embrace with some form of a snack nearby, even if it was only for a few minutes.

“hey, did you have a good little snooze? brought ya some chisps to munch on in case you got hungry when you woke up.”

UT Papyrus/Creampuff: When it comes to sleeping, there’s not much that he can do to stop you, but there is a lot of concern that comes with each one of your “episodes”, as he calls them. The first time you fall asleep on him, he’s actually panicking that something’s gone wrong and that you’re Falling Down right before his eyes. You correct him, and teach him about your condition, so he’s a lot better informed and much more relieved than before. Now that he knows what to look for, Creampuff will basically be keeping a close eye socket on you to ensure that you are always safe in case you start to fall asleep. He reads up on all the other symptoms too, and he’s always got your back if you need something at any time! Just make sure you try to give him a warning if there’s something that comes up and he’s less experienced with it, he appreciates that.

“OH, ARE YOU STARTING TO FEEL TIRED? WORRY NOT, YOU CAN COME OVER HERE AND REST A BIT, I HAVE YOU COVERED!”

SF Sans/Black: When you first tell him you have a condition that makes you sleep a lot more, he laughs, not quite believing you. Then, when you pass out on him, purely by accident, not two hours later, he apologizes for his rudeness and asks what he can do to help you. You’ll have to give him all the details about what this can contain, so that he is fully prepared for anything that can happen. Half of the time, you wonder if he’s worried you’re going to fall asleep standing up, but that’s never happened to you. Black won’t let you leave your house without some way of getting to a safe spot and getting decently comfortable if you start to feel tired. He even goes so far as to start suggesting you get a service animal to make sure you can be assisted in that sense. If you refuse, he won’t press, but he will be more attentive of your symptoms and your needs any time you hang out with him.

“OF COURSE I’M CONCERNED, YOU HAVE A MEDICAL CONDITION THAT CAUSES YOU TO SLEEP WEIRDLY! GET COMFORTABLE, I WON’T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN.”

SF Papyrus/Rus: At first this seems like a match made in heaven for him, you like to sleep, and he likes to sleep! What could possibly go wrong? Well, when you actually explain to him what narcolepsy is and what it does, he’s a little less than happy about it. He’s not mad at you or anything, but now he knows that this isn’t just a time where you want to go nap, you literally don’t have a choice sometimes. That takes the fun out of it, and he can see why you don’t like it as much as he thought initially. Once he gets that little bit cleared up with you, Rus is now on the alert for if you start to get tired in the middle of anything. The moment he sees your eyelids starting to droop, he’ll ask you if you want to go home and get some rest instead of staying wherever you are. Answer yes, and he takes you through a shortcut in an instant to get you back to bed for a quick rest. Say no, and he’ll be ready to do it anyway.

“i just don’t want to see you gettin’ hurt ‘r something because you fell asleep. can we go ahead an’ head back home so you don’t fall asleep standing up again?”

Thanks for the ask anon!

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #undertale sans #undertale #undertale papyrus #swapfell #swapfell sans #swapfell papyrus #anon ask #poptartasks #tarts answers

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fayn3ko · 5 years

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My interpretations on the new Rammstein album

Alrighty, I think such ‘here’s my opinion how much I liked this and not’ are boring so I’m just gonna write what I think of and read out of the songs. I let out Deutschland and Radio cuz y’all know about them, I guess. Idk even if anybody is interested in this but here we go

Weit weg (far away) - one of my faves

On the first sight it seems to be kind of a love song because till sings about two people - a man watching a women undress and seeing her naked. Actually, it’s about Voyeurism. He is standing at her window, presses his face against the glass, there’s no interactions between them and she is the 'queen of his fantasies’. 'Ganz nah - weit, weit weg von mir’ (really close - far, far away from me) - he is incredible close to her and sees intimate moments, but he isn’t supposed to, they probably don’t even know each other. So, actually, emotionally they are far away from each other.

Diamant (diamond) - only sad song, big fave

Kind of a love song, Till is mostly singing about how beautiful the other person is, how bright her eyes shine, “how clear and pure” she is. It already sounds like as if he were in mad love with her, but he also wants her to finally 'let him go’, he wants to leave tho she is so marvelous 'like a diamond, but also just a stone’. He tried to reach her heart but wants to 'love someone who is able to hate’ - is she too perfect? Are they even together, or is it just him who struggles to let his love for her go? Maybe she doesn’t feel anything, doesn’t have anything except her beauty and is cold-hearted, diamonds “are just stones”.

Zeig dich (show yourself) - a fave, its really nice

Obviously a song about the church, unlike Hallelujah (which is about the child abuse of priests) this one is about the church in general. Most of the text are enumerations,“[they] do crime … forgiveness of all crimes, burn, … tracking, … accidentally abuse children” (Irony, damn that’s fore sure provocating) always ending with 'in the name of god’ which describes the long history, mostly the negative aspects and how the church allowed themself to do anything if they say they do it in gods will - a lot of people believed that. The dramatic choir underlines how much power the church had and how often it abused its power. 'Show yourself … we lose the light’ - religion gives humans hope and something to believe in, exploited by the church, but all these things are hidden behind a mask.

Puppe (doll (sometimes also puppet, toy)) - probs most interesting one

The protagonist is a child, who got a doll as a gif from his sister (he calls her 'Schwesterlein’ so he is probably way younger?). Her workplace is in the room next to his, he sees men coming there, 'sometimes it’s even two [men]’ - she is a prostitute. While she works, he is looking at the sky, taking his medicaments [like a good boy] - so he must be sick in some way. Since he 'rips off the head of the doll, bites off the neck of the doll’ and sings 'I really don’t feel good’ it’s probably something mental. Later, he watches through the keyhole how his sister gets beaten to death, he continues ripping of the head and biting off the neck but now 'he feels finally good’. No parents are mentioned, so the sister seems to be the only relative, probably being responsible for him and buying him the medicaments (one of the only details we get so they have to me important in some way). Maybe he didn’t like her and he imagined the doll is her? Being unhappy because she is still alive and after she got killed, finally being happy? Maybe, he is happy that he won’t need to take medicaments anymore, he looked the whole day outta the window and seemed to do nothing, bc the meds blocked him)

Was ich liebe (literally 'what I love’, in this context, “the things I love”) great song

Fans who heard through some demos should know this one because it’s the demo of Pussy. They used the very different lyrics and refreshed them (changed the 'will die’ to 'will verderben’) , making them into a song about a person which doesn’t want to be happy, doesn’t want to enjoy and doesn’t want to love. A lover of him will 'verderben’ - it’s a prediction, he doesn’t even think it just 'could’ happen, it will happen. He will be unlucky at some point and suffer, 'in luck is also ubglück’, he fears to be hurt so much that his lover 'must’ verderben. Though, he still talks about a lover, so next to this fear, he still does and wants to be happy, enjoy and to love.

Tattoo (tattoo) - I like the music and singing but the topic is boring to me

Pretty simply, it’s about tattoos. He compares paper with his skin and describes noticeably often the pain “when the pain hugs the flesh…” you feel while getting one and how much he likes them on his skin. ‘Show me yours [and[ I’ll show you mine’ it sounds more like a demand as if it were something intimate. Also, after gettin the name of the lover tattooed - in case that the partner would end the relationship - he would prefer to find another partner with the same name instead of erasing the tattoo. He’s just crazy for tattoos.

Hallomann (is norwegian and a word for moderator or similiar) - pretty good?

It sounds kinda as if he would like to spend his time with a little girl. He’s telling a her to “just get in” and to “dance for him” but he doesn’t want her to speak. They go together to the sea, he buys stuff for her. ‘You are alone’ - the girl is alone, maybe she was walking around alone? - and he is ‘all alone’, this sounds more like on an emotional base, being lonely. Not sure of in a romantic or a platonic way. After the dancing would come the Hallomann to her - I really don’t see the connection. Later they sunbath, do something with skin and sand. She has to ‘give her word’, take his hand and afterwards it won’t be the same. ‘Perl on the ring’ - a wedding ring? I’m not even sure if the person himself is an adult or maybe just a boy. In the end he says ‘don’t ask for the meaning’, maybe he just wanted to spent a nice day with her. It got some pedophile vibes at the first sight but nothing really indicates it. Maybe I just don’t see the methaphors lol okay everybody says it's about a pedophile and I guess;; he used phrases pedophiles often use

Ausländer (foreigner) - sounds like Schlager Urgh [german trigger] but good

Simply just a Gigolo jumping from one bed to another and fucking his way through the whole world. He doesn’t even “stay over night, just for 1 or 2 hours.” Anyways, it’s practical to speak many languages so he can talk with the foreign women. In that way he tells us that he’s good in these and speaks a lot, but the last sentence means something like ‘you coming with [me], I’m you doing goodd’ which is pretty bad in grammar but it’s enough to let her know what he wants.

Sex (sex) - love the melody and riffs, really good one

Uhm also pretty much just about sex? Sex without feelings tho. He ‘gets sick when he looks at you’ - it’s really just about the act - ‘mine is yours and that in you’. This is underlined by ‘better slovenly than again not’, he probably put the ‘again’ before the ‘not’ to let it stand out, again, so they already did it at least a couple of times, or better said, didn’t do it. Maybe they are in a relationship? But he can’t look at her anymore, he just wants her body for sex - and only the important parts. The contrast to that is the refrain, ‘We live only once, we love the life, we love the love, we love sex.’ The last sentence is ‘We live because … sex.’ So, he sings often they love the life and in the end it’s they only live for sex = they love just the sex.

#i could go deeper into the material but oof who even wants that lmao #some songs confuse me anyway #rammstein #personal #song interpretation #r+#if you see grammar mistakes just eat em i didnt watch it too much to b correct everywhere #if theres anything strange or in german just at me bc i dont see it then

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despairforme · 5 years

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‘ Dreamcatcher tattoos ‘ was a pretty LAME name. Nnoitra wouldn’t even have considered walking in there if it hadn’t been familiar. While he wasn’t opposed to trying something new, he wanted to make sure that he got a skilled tattoo artist. He happened to know that Kyota had been working here for a while, and since he couldn’t think of a more talented artist than him, he figured that this was the sort of place who hired SKILLED people. Their standards were probably high. Of course, Nnoitra wouldn’t have gone here if he thought he would run into Kyota. Even he could see how insensitive something like that would be. Nnoitra didn’t have any wish to cause the tattoo artist – his ex – any sort of problems. In any case, there was no chance of him running into Kyota, who hadn’t showed up at the studio for months.

Nnoitra entered the shop, his attention caught briefly by the ringing of a bell, signaling his arrival. The studio wasn’t ‘ fancy ‘, but neither did it look like a common street-shop. There were various pieces of art decorating the walls, and a comfortable waiting area with well-used chairs. By the front desk, there was an exhibition of piercings, some looked pretty expensive. Nnoitra briefly mused over the fact that Grimmjow had gotten his bellybutton pierced. For a bet, right? What an idiot. It brought a small smile to his face just thinking about it, or rather – about him.

He headed over to the front desk, and leaned against it. There was nobody manning the front desk currently, but he didn’t mind waiting. He studied the artwork on the wall above the counter. Having dated a tattoo artist, Nnoitra actually had a little bit of knowledge about tattoos, and could recognize the designs as traditional Japanese. Dragons, geisha and --- what were those dogs called again? Nnoitra didn’t get the chance to try to think back to when he had been told about these designs, because someone approached him. Nnoitra turned his attention to the man, and straightened himself up from leaning on the counter. He noted that the other’s expression changed to slight surprise, now that he got to see just how tall Nnoitra was.

❝ Yo. ❞ Nnoitra greeted, cocking his head back all casually. The man was much smaller than himself, with pierced ears and bleached hair. Silver hair. See, it wasn’t just Grimmjow who was in his late 20s and still dyed his hair!

❝ Welcome! I’m sorry I wasn’t here to attend you. I’m Kimura Katsu, how can I help you? ❞ The man introduced himself with a Japanese name, and that meant his first and last name had swapped places. This made it even more difficult for Nnoitra to remember, but thankfully ‘ Katsu ‘ was a short name. He repeated it a few times in his head in order to at least attempt to remember it.

❝ ‘S fine. ❞ A small shrug was given. It was a good thing that the guy was busy, right? It meant this was a popular place, which mean lots of people trusted these tattoo artists to not fuck up their skin. ❝ I’m lookin’ ‘ta get tattooed. ❞ Might as well cut to the chase. Nnoitra had wondered how he was supposed to walk into a tattoo shop and say with a straight face that he wanted to get a couple tattoo. With his boyfriend. It had SEEMED like a problem, but after the whole ordeal he had been through now, it just wasn’t that big of a deal anymore. If anything, Nnoitra was so fucking happy to still be together with Grimmjow, that he didn’t think it was embarrassing to want to get a couple tattoo. ❝ Me ‘n my partner- ❞ Nnoitra rarely talked about Grimmjow to others, and he never referred to him as anything other than his ‘ friend ‘. Sure, he could’ve just made this tattoo artist think that he wanted to get a friendship tattoo with his best friend or something, but no. Nnoitra wanted to do this properly, without pretending it was something else. He didn’t have to be ASHAMED of being together with a guy. It didn’t make him girly or weak or anything like that. Right? So, he decided to correct himself. ❝ - My boyfriend. ❞ He watched the tattoo artist’s expression, to see if he was judging. The other’s face didn’t change at all, he was still smiling politely, just like he had been a moment ago. ❝ We wanna get some matchin’ tattoos. Just a pair ‘a simple ones. ‘S that somethin’ that ya’ll do here? ❞ If they didn’t do couple tattoos here, then there was no need for Nnoitra to waste his time.

❝ We do them. ❞ Katsu said with a small nod. Nnoitra thought there was a bit of hesitation in his voice though. He arched his brow, as if to urge him on to say what was wrong. ❝ I know it’s really not my place, but as someone who has seen people make decisions about their skin they have regretted later on, I have to ask if you’re both completely sure you want this? A tattoo is something you’ll have for life. ❞ It was obvious, even to Nnoitra, that Katsu was uncomfortable, even though he was being what Nnoitra would describe as ‘ professional ‘. Nnoitra knew why he asked, of course. Relationships could end, and who would want to walk around with their ex’ name on them? But he really was CERTAIN that he and Grimmjow would stay together. Grimmjow had asked him, or – told him – to stay with him forever. Nnoitra was never going to leave him. They loved each other. This tattoo artist didn’t know anything about them or what they had been through, and Nnoitra didn’t want to share DETAILS with him, and saying something like ‘ we love each other and will stay together forever ‘ was simply… Too much for him. Referring to Grimmjow as his boyfriend had been a big enough step. Instead of saying anything about his relationship with Grimmjow, Nnoitra rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, to flash an insanely skinny wrist. It even surprised himself to see how skinny he was, and it put him off for a moment, but then he held it up for the other to see. What was he showing him? Oh, the tattoo he had gotten in his last relationship. There was a small, black infinity symbol.

❝ It’s from my ex. No matter what happens, I ain’t gonna regret nothin’. ❞ Basically, he was showing Katsu that he was the sort of guy to make bad decisions. Though, Nnoitra didn’ regret that tattoo, or the two others he had.

❝ I see. Well, I’ve done my duty of asking now, but since this is something you’ve done before you know what you’re getting yourself into. ❞ Oh, this guy was pretty REAL wasn’t he? Nnoitra would rather have people be like that with him. ❝ Have you and your partner thought about designs? ❞

❝ Yeah. I’m gonna be gettin’ a sun, ‘n he’s gettin’ a moon. ❞ Was it lame? Nnoitra didn’t even know. He had seen online that it was actually a pretty ‘ common ‘ couple tattoo to get, but that didn’t bother him. Seeing as these symbols actually had meaning to them. Why should they care that others also had such couple tattoos? They hadn’t got shit to do with their relationship. ❝ I was thinkin’ ‘a gettin’ it here. ❞ Nnoitra pointed to the inside of his forearm, right beneath his elbow ditch. ❝ We’ve both gotten tattooed before. ❞ That was the sort of thing tattoo artists liked to know. ❝ I’ve got ‘da ‘lil tattoo on my wrist, ‘n on my tongue - ❞ He briefly dipped his tongue out to show off the ‘ 5 ‘ there ( it needed to be refreshed, honestly ). ❝ ‘N I also got this one. ❞ He tugged his hoodie down a little, to show the top of some sketchy letters spelling ‘ Santa Teresa ‘.❝ ‘N he’s got a tattoo on his lower back, ‘n also beneath his eyes. ❞ So they weren’t going to be fucking pussies about getting tattoos. Nnoitra knew that dealing with people who were getting their first tattoos was difficult. Having dated a tattoo artist came in handy.

❝ Looks like you’ve really prepared for this, hm? ❞ The other mused with a small smile. ❝ What kind of style would you prefer? ❞

❝ Black ‘n grey ‘fo ‘sho. ‘Ta match ‘da rest ‘a my tattoos. I ain’t ‘bout that color. ❞ He said, shaking his head like the thought of a colorful tattoo was really off-putting. Which it was. He wasn’t a fucking happy-go-lucky guy who would wear permanent color on his skin. ❝ We just want somethin’ simple, but I don’t want it ‘ta be too small. Gotta be able ‘ta tell wha’ it is, ‘n don’t gimme any ‘a that girly shit. ❞ He was a MAN, and he wanted a manly tattoo. Not one of those fucking ‘ instagram tattoos ‘. He’d rather have a burn mark.

❝ So, you want something strong. Something that’s easily visible and legible. Simple, but not simplistic. ❞ It seemed like Katsu was talking mostly to himself, nodding a bit like he was making mental notes.

❝ Yeah, ‘daz right. Neither ‘a us can draw, so if ya wanna do it, I’mma leave it ‘ta ya ‘ta draw ‘da designs. ❞ He could trust this guy to do a good job, right? It seemed like he understood what Nnoitra wanted. That he understood that even though Nnoitra was dating a guy, he didn’t want some faggot tattoo. No fucking rainbows or flowers or that shit. Just a SUN. And a moon for Grimmjow.

❝ I’d like to draw them. But I want to draw something that matches your personalities. I think I have a good idea about how yours is going to look. ❞ Oh, was it that easy to read his personality? GOOD. Nnoitra wanted everyone to understand what sort of person he was. That he was a STRONG MAN. ❝ I’d really like it if you could tell me a bit about your boyfriend? What sort of person is he? ❞ This made Nnoitra pause. He never talked about Grimmjow, so it was a bit difficult to just all of a sudden describe him to a stranger. What sort of a person was Grimmjow? The BEST type. If that was a type. But anyone would say that about the person they loved.

❝ He’s… ❞ He tried to come up with something that would describe Grimmjow. ❝ He’s ‘da sort ‘a guy ya’d turn ‘round ‘n look at if ya passed him on ‘da street. ‘N that ain’t just ‘cause he’s got fuckin’ blue hair ‘n he’s missin’ an arm. He’s just so fuckin’ bright. ❞ How FUCKING LAME! But this was how Nnoitra saw Grimmjow. He saw him as someone who brightened up everything, wherever he went. Like the sun. ❝ He’s fuckin’ snarky as hell, ‘n he uses sarcasm all ‘da time. ‘N he’s loud when he talks, ‘n somehow he always knows what’s ‘da right thing ‘ta say. ❞ Always. No matter how low Nnoitra got, Grimmjow – somehow – always managed to pull him back up. Above water. ❝ He’s strong. He ain’t no fuckin’ pussy. ❞ There was another pause, while Nnoitra wondered if he should say the last thing he was thinking about. The tattoo artist patently waited. Fuck it. ❝ ‘N he saved my life. ❞ Yeah. He saved his life. Nnoitra COULDN’T live without him. Grimmjow had said that he wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him, and now – the same was true for Nnoitra. Without Grimmjow, he really wouldn’t survive. He wouldn’t want to survive. Katsu was still smiling, and he gave a small nod.

❝ I think I know what kind of moon I will draw for him. ❞

Nnoitra ended up leaving the tattoo studio with an appointment set for next week. It was just a consultation though, and he would bring Grimmjow so that they could look at the designs the tattoo artist had drawn. Nnoitra could hardly wait to tell Grimmjow! Finally, they would be getting those tattoos! If ever there was a time to get them, it was now. After everything they had been through, Nnoitra felt even closer to Grimmjow. It was an amazing feeling.

#[ wanted to get this moving a bit? ]#[ I MEAN IT'S BEEN AGES SINCE THEY DECIDED TO GET TATTOOS ]#[ COME ON GUYS GET THEM ALREADY ]#[ also nnoitra....... you need to eat ]#[ and physically recover from all that's happened ]#[ fsdf getting a tattoo is so painful for nnoitra bc he is so bony lmao ]#[ and YEAH i have a tattoo artist oc so... there is that ]#[ anyway just wanted to write a drabble ]#[ i actually wrote this a few days ago but didn't get to post it ]#ᵈᵉˢᵖᵃᶤʳ ;; ic.#ᵇᵘʳᶰ 'ᵈᵃ ᶜᶤᵗʸ ;; verse.#ˢᵗᵒʳʸᵗᶤᵐᵉ ;; drabble.#longpost //

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eledritch · 7 years

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10 Tips for Writing (Good) Smut

so. let’s do this.

About a year ago, I had to read a book for my school’s summer reading assignment called How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster. It’s not a bad book, pretty decent actually, but there was this one chapter about sex scenes in literature. And one of the first sentences was along the lines of “writing sex is boring.”

and I did a double-take. Bc in my experience, that is absolutely not the case, and if you do find yourself bored while writing smut, then you’re not doing it right. See, Thomas’s main argument was that there’s only so many ways you can write sex scenes, because there’s only so many sex acts you can choose from. (My boy Thomas is clearly a vanilla dude, but let’s not hold that against him.)

But one of the most important things to keep in mind while writing smut is that it’s not necessarily just about the act itself. So while Thomas is right that there are limits as to how many ways ppl can have sex, he failed to realize that writing sex is about a LOT more than that. And I’m gonna prove it to you.

Just to get it out of the way, I’ve been writing smut for about 6 years now. I’m 18 now, so yeah, been doin’ this since I was 12. Which is a little weird, thinking back on it, but honestly I think it’s healthy for adolescents/young teens to explore their sexualities and learn about sex in a safe, controlled setting like writing fanfiction has been for me.

It was a better sex ed than anything else I got in Arizona, that’s for sure. And for the record, I’m a virgin and I don’t believe you need to have sex to be good at writing it. Conversely, you could have sex a hundred times and still not be good at writing it. The important thing is that you EDUCATE yourself and do your research so you know what the heck you’re writing about.

When I first started writing smutty fics in middle school, they were pretty bad. Not the worst, but not good either. Don’t let the seemingly simple nature of writing sex fool you - it can be really hard (ha, ha). Even if you’re a good writer, you might try to write a sex scene and find yourself slogging through it because you, like my boy Thomas, are focusing only on the act itself. that’s a mistake. don’t do that.

Which brings me to this list of 10 things you SHOULD do:

1. You gotta get in the right mood. By this I don’t mean you need to be horny to write smut, you absolutely don’t, in fact you probably shouldn’t bc you're likely to get distracted. What I mean is that if you wanna write vanilla, sweet, slow love makin’, then you should be in a good or at least halfway decent mood. Get comfy. Make yourself a warm drink.

Don’t try to write sweet sex if you’re angry or upset or sick or in pain - it’s either gonna turn into not sweet sex, or it’s gonna take you a long-ass time. Case in point, I tried to write a tender blowjob scene shortly after getting my wisdom teeth removed and just couldn’t do it, because ow, can you even imagine.

But you can use those negative moods/emotions to your advantage, too. If you're having a bad day, it’s actually a great catharsis to take those feelings out in your writing. You can apologize to your characters later - or maybe you’ll work out all your pent-up rage halfway through a brutal scene and turn it into something a little less intense, that works just as well!

2. Do your research. Research is important before you dive into any piece of writing, but it’s a necessary step for writing smut. If you’re a virgin or have no experience with the kind of sex you’re writing about, you’re gonna have to do some Googling. You don’t need to look up porn, porn honestly grosses me out and isn’t my favorite thing to draw from, but you do need to know the complete ins-and-outs (ha...) of whatever act you’re writing about.

A good way to do research is to read other fanfics, popular fanfics by seasoned authors who have gained a large following/a lot of attention by writing the right stuff. You can also check out posts by people who actually gave tips to fanfic writers, there are several by gay guys which are helpful if you’re not a gay guy and you’re writing a sex scene about gay guys. They’re the authority, listen to them over the fanfic authors.

If you’re delving into something like BDSM in your writing, do your research on that, too. Don’t misrepresent people and practices just because you didn’t bother to learn about them. If you’re not willing to learn about them, you’re not going to be able to write about them.

Oh, and lastly, but not leastly, LUBE. if your characters are having anal sex especially, they need to use lube, my dude. the human body made that rule, not me.

3. Write empathetically. It’s unavoidable - when you’re writing smut, you have to learn how to put yourself into the shoes of the POV character. This can be kinda challenging if, for instance, you don’t have a dick and having a dick is very important for the POV character to make that scene work. But that’s what your imagination is for - use it.

Think about how this character would experience this situation not just in terms of the obvious sensations they’re feeling, whether pain or pleasure, but also in terms of their thoughts, their emotions, their memories, etc. A lot of good characterization can happen during sex scenes, and it makes me sad that all too often writers don’t take advantage of that.

4. Don’t be afraid of using repetitive words. Sex is a repetitive act, get that through your head before you write it. One of the most irritating things I come across while reading smut is the author’s need to use endless synonyms for ‘cock.’ Stop. Please stop. Cock is fine. You can use ‘dick’ too if you really wanna add some variation. But anymore than that, and it’s just downright distracting. Don’t use member, penis (just...not a sexy word, at all), organ (NOT SEXY), etc - use length, prick, and erection sparingly if at all, and boner is more of a funny word than a sexy word, so keep that in mind. I’ve also seen ‘manhood’ used and i mean....i guess??? but why would you use that when you can accomplish the same thing in 4 much better letters? C O C K. just do it.

alternately, when referring to parts of a cock, just stick to the basics. shaft, head/tip/crown, balls. that’s it. maybe talk about veins if you’re gettin real detailed. you don’t need to wax poetic about it, or about the actions within the sex itself. you’ll find yourself reusing a lot of verbs and that’s ok! the usuals may include (but are not limited to) - thrust, buck, shove, press, slide, glide, ride, fuck, bounce, drive (into), arch, kiss, suck, bite, stroke, smack, slap, rock, embrace, squeeze, tremble, shudder, moan, groan, whine, whimper, hiss, shout, scream, gasp, curse, beg, sob, grunt, sigh.

5. Understand connotations vs denotations of words. This is an important tip not just for smut writing but for any writing. Words that may be ‘synonyms’ in terms of definition may not actually be synonymous. This can be an issue if English isn’t your first language - even if it is, it still trips people up. ‘Shudder’ and ‘tremble’ are both defined as someone’s body shaking, but they have different meanings! Shudder is more violent/intense, more of a full-body kinda deal and often more negative in connotation (i.e. ‘shudder of fear’). Tremble is more subtle, and more of a localized thing (i.e. his hands trembled) and connotates nervousness or apprehension more than outright fear - or it can be used to convey a more subdued/internalized fear. There are situations in which they can be interchangeable, and situations in which they really aren’t.

Understanding exactly what words mean will help you know when to use them and make your writing more fluid, comprehensible, and realistic for the reader.

6. Avoid using cliche/overused phrases. For the love of god, don’t use the phrase ‘their tongues battled for dominance.’ I’M BEGGING YOU. listen, i’m guilty as charged, i’m sure i wrote it at some point in my earlier days, but don’t make the same mistake! not only does the phrase have some troubling implications about the perception of m/m relationships (in which the phrase is almost exclusively found) as little more than a fight for dominance, it’s just...that’s not how kissing works?

Your tongues don’t battle, that’s not a good description for it. Why would you use a cliche phrase like that when you can talk about teeth clashing, tongues pressing, mouths sliding/slipping, biting at lips, hair pulling, nails scratching, hands grasping, pulses racing, and everything else that goes into kissing? Using phrases that many have used before you is a lazy way out and it dulls your imagery and the reader’s immersion into the story.

7. Think for yourself while writing and be original! It’s the only way you’re going to find your unique voice, or writing style, which often shines through in smut-writing and sets yours apart from the rest. Writing mediocre smut is easy, but if you’re reading this, you don’t want to go that route. While it’s helpful to draw from other smut writers when you’re getting started, you need to be able to draw from your own mind above all.

Yeah, it’s true that your fifth grade teacher probably didn’t mean ‘brainstorm new and exciting sex positions and scenarios’ when she said ‘be creative.’ But you’re not in fifth grade anymore (or at least, you better not be), and that’s what I mean when I’m telling you to be creative right now.

Developing your voice/originality happens through a variety of ways, including plain old practice, trial and error, and understanding the technicalities of writing. What I mean by that is remembering all the stuff your English teacher taught you about - imagery, figurative speech, idioms, irony, dialogue, diction, syntax, figurative devices, metaphors, simile, etc. Speaking of which...

8. Everybody loves a big, dramatic sex metaphor once in a while. This is tricky, because you really shouldn’t overdo this - if you do, you risk making your smut the most pretentious, unreadable piece ever. Metaphors tend to do that when you use them without discretion. But when you choose and use them carefully, you can turn a sex scene into something more meaningful, both for the character and the story as a whole.

If you’re just writing a quickie in a club bathroom, don’t bother with this (unless that quickie was life-changing and birthed the spark of TRUE LOVE between your characters, which is entirely possible, no judgment, I’m happy for them). But if you’re writing about your character losing their virginity, having sex with someone who means a lot to them, having sex with someone who just returned from a long absence/is leaving them for a long time, etc...you may wanna make things a little ~deep~ for a second.

I’m not gonna tell you exactly how to write your sex metaphors because you’ll know when and how to use them if the occasion presents itself and if you have your voice figured out. Talk about bodies being more than bodies, lips being like brands of fire, whispers being sacred vows, orgasms being fuckin’ nirvana, idk, orgasms are tricky because sometimes people will write ‘his orgasm RIPPED through him’ and you’re like ??? is he okay? that sounded painful...

You can see how metaphors can quickly make a story exhausting/confusing/unenjoyable if you use them too much. But once in a while? Man, go for it.

9. Humor is key. This is perhaps one of the most important tips I have for you, because personally it’s improved my smut writing the most, as well as made the whole activity a lot more fun. Smut is supposed to be an enjoyable thing to read. But no matter how arousing/hot/absolutely obscene you make it, some readers are going to get bored. I said earlier that sex is a repetitive act, it just is. Your goal is to make it sexy AND entertaining. You want to keep the reader engaged.

And humor is the best way, I’ve found, to do that. A lot of fanfiction sex is guilty of being too perfect. Try to steer clear of that. As tempting as it can be to make a sex scene where everything works without a hitch and everyone is serious, fully consumed with love/arousal, etc, there is something genuinely delightful about writing the awkward, funny parts of sex, too. They don’t have a place in every scene, but in many, especially first times/trying new things, they’re great. Not only does adding humor make your characters seem more human and likable, it makes the bond between them seem more real and makes the reader more attached to them.

And isn’t that the point? Your readers aren’t gonna to want to read about flat characters they can’t relate to or straight-up dislike, no matter how hot the sex is.

10. Don’t forget the little things. This final point goes back to what Thomas got wrong in his book. Sex should NOT be boring to write. Don’t write on the surface about what’s happening, adjust the lens through which you, the character/s, and the reader view it. Write about the sex itself but also write about the little things (not your character’s dick, don’t be mean) - the freckles on their lover’s shoulder, the fading bruises on their neck, the way their lover’s hair feels against their skin, all the not-obvious sensations that add realism and a spark to the scene that sets it apart.

This goes for non-tactile things as well - maybe your character has ADD or is just distracted easily, and goes off on tangents of thought (or speech) during sex. Maybe they’re really fascinated with a certain aspect of their partner/s, like their eyes or mouth or hands or the sounds they make. Maybe they notice small details about the setting - the smell of the sheets is comforting, the crack on the ceiling reminds them of their bedroom back home, the weird deer head on the wall looks like it’s staring at them, the possibilities are literally endless. It’s up to you how you want to use them, but please - use them.

So in summary, no, Thomas, writing sex - and reading it, for that matter - shouldn’t be boring. It’s an excellent way to further characterization, improve your writing, find your voice, and make your story overall a better one.

#writing #writing tips #fanfic tips #i've had this in my drafts for soooo long jeez louise #hopefully it helps #even if it's long af and rambly woops

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iphoenixrising · 7 years

Text

Dr!Tim: London Bridge is Falling Down

Anon asked: How would his vigilante boyfriends react were Doctor!Tim to actually get hurt at some point? Be it just by a simple mugger or even accidentally via their own hands? Up for any more of your lovely drabbles?

Second Anon asked: Up for some more Doctor!Tim? Maybe something soft and fluffy this time? If Tim came home from a long, long shift and just crawled over into his boyfriends laps asking for a bath and some warm cuddles? Where could it go..?

Arkaedia wanted Dr. Tim in the field a bit and totally had the bridge idea, so I’m covering three in one with this little thing. We needed bad ass Tim, some hurt!Tim, and some soft and fluffy. Welp, here’s my attempt and making it all come out in the wash.

(FYI: @satire-please, @poison-basil, and @the-sky-is-a-lie are all my babes to read this when the muse was being mean)

Ride-alongs are his and now for something completely different.

It’s a chance to get out of the hospital, to ride with the EMTs, to take a chance looking for bolt holes and hidey places where criminals, victims, and nice vigilantes might, you know, hang out. (And if he totally has those spots mapped from his time running the streets of Gotham, well, then there’s that.) Besides, Kerry and Hailey, his partners for the night (and the same EMTs that kind of knew the night company he kept since that one time with Robin almost dying had him flagging down the ambulance for a bag of O pos), were so on to him about having a boyfriend that he’s having fun making them guess all the deets.

(But, he did tell them it’s “boyfriends” just to hear Kerry’s mad cackle and get a high-five from Hailey.)

There had been a few instances of need, shortness of breath with a little chest pain and numbness on the side down in the Narrows (yeah, he knows meth when he sees the effects, thanks). A kitchen fire in the Upper East Side neighborhood (his parents had lived here once, lived this life) with a bewildered housewife looking ashamed at leaving the oven on while he bandaged her hand and suggested a trip to the ER for just in case. (Of course not, Harold wouldn’t hear of it).

Even cooler, they’d received a call to swing by Arkham Asylum to check up on Nora Fries (even though he’s been one of the doctors permitted inside the Asylum, and one of the fewer that has taken the weak vitals of Mr. Freeze’s wife, it’s still a creepy place to go) when the power grid blipped for a few seconds. Any time the complex machinery keeping Nora alive in suspended animation has any kind of issues, the administration contacted one of four physicians in the Tri-State area Fries will allow anywhere near her.

Luckily, Dr. Drake is already en route.

Kerry is talking over the radio to the on-call guards at Arkham as they’re half-way across Trigate Bridge, and Hailey is detailing her Princess Serenity Cosplay for this year (and yes, she has the wig because some people do it right. He used to LARP when he had time, so they have plenty to bond about)—

When the first explosion rocks the ambulance, Kerry jerks the wheel hard, the instincts bred from running headlong into typical Gotham catastrophes shown when the ambulance balances precariously on two wheels for long, heart-stopping moments before slamming back down on the pavement, bouncing all three of them around.

The consistent traffic around them, however, not so lucky.

“Hold on!” Kerry turns around to the doctor and second EMT, eyes wide and knuckles white on the wheel.

The first car slamming into the side is poor timing, hitting hard enough to throw the ambulance into oncoming traffic in the other lane, supplies flying all over the place. The next hit is enough to break the windshield, which lets in the sound of screaming and shit just breaking on the bridge all around them.

Even after a toss into some very painful metal cabinets with supplies, Tim is just dazed enough to pick out some very, very not good sounds of heavy iron bending. He sucks in a breath because all the evidence is there.

So many people are going to die (and they might be thrown in that mix). The ambulance is five miles out from Gotham and another three from the island housing Arkham with a whole lot of Atlantic right under them. If supports have been blown, then it’s only a matter of time how long the structure would hold.

They had to get people off as fast as possible; they had to assess as many wounded as they could and get off this fucking bridge.

“Everyone all right?! Kerry! Tim!” Hailey shoves the gurney off her legs, swimming up from a pile of gauze pads. Dazed but functional because he’s the only one in the ambulance that’s come to realize oh shit time has kicked in.

(Then again, he is the pet doctor to a horde of terrifying vigilantes. That just gives him an edge in the ‘blow shit up’ department.)

He climbs up and over the front seat, looking at the blood on Kerry’s face from the glass.

“We need to get out there,” the EMT is saying, hands shaky. “Whatever happened, people are going to be hurt—”

“Explosion,” he fills in both EMTs in while flicking a penlight in her eyes, happy for no concussion and, you know, being alive (for now). “Something exploded on or under the bridge. We need to assess who we can, load up, and get the hell off as soon as possible.”

“I’ll phone Dispatch, but I have no idea how the mainland wouldn’t have heard it already,” Kerry shakes herself, finally lets go of the wheel. The soft burr of accent soothes over the resounds crash and sharp, biting sound of twisting metal. He grins a little and quickly puts a few pieces of tape against the cut high on her forehead, glad there was no concussion to worry about. Once they get outside the ambulance doors, though, all bets are off.

“Supplies,” Hailey mutters to herself, snatches up satchels, stuffing them full so each EMT can carry two-at-a-time. As usual, Doc Drake has his own bag around his shoulders, impressively staying with him through that little shift in gravity. “Okay! We get out and start prelims. What’s our radius? I mean, we can’t cover the whole bridge.”

“As far as we can,” he takes his time to scan outside the broken windshield, already reaching for the door, “I’m going to take off, get as far as I can, so don’t wait for me. You two take as many as this rig can hold and get to safety. I’ll hitch a ride with someone before it goes.”

“I don’t like that idea,” Hailey fills in, coming up between the chairs to give her partner a once-over, handing over supplies.

Kerry seconds that sentiment, “there’s no guarantee you’ll get another ride, Tim!”

“Someone needs to get between both points.” And yes, it’s reasonable considering half the bridge if pretty much gone and the other half is full of overturned cars, people panicking, broken concrete, and more chaos than he’s ever seen (and that? Is saying something). “There’s probably another ambulance somewhere further down anyway, so it’s fine. If not, then there’s plenty of functional cars already on the road.” His jaw tight, tingling with get ready, Tim eyes the two EMTs also with game faces on. (Really, all the fuckery that goes on in Gotham bonds people.) “We get out, get who we can, hit up as much trauma care as possible, and get the hell gone. Agreed?”

Hailey grins at him, heads to the back of the rig, readying the gurney to pull out. Kerry just sighs a little and gives him a decidedly arched brow, “sorry, Doc, doesn’t look like you’ll be gettin’ that easy night after all.”

“Believe it or not, I’m okay being busy,” he banters back so they both have a second of normal before the time to rock, and lets her call in to dispatch.

He takes a breath to prepare himself for whatever he’s going to face, and finally rips open the passenger side door as Hailey knuckles-down and shoves the damaged back doors open right with him, throwing themselves into the fray.

As expected, it’s fucking chaos.

The Trigate Bridge is the third longest on the East Coast, spanning from Gotham, breaking off to have a double-lane highway to the smaller island housing Arkham, and continuing on to the mainland near Somerset (thus Trigate, three directions). The explosion(s) were apparently meant to take out key supports and maybe send thousands of people into the water below with a mass of debris and oncoming death. As far as he can see, spans of the bridge on the north side and east have felt the burn. (Two sides the bridge were set with explosive charges…) Literally. Hunks of bridge and probably crucial structure have already been sacrificed to the murky water below, and the loud, creaking groan is only a punctuation on how close the whole thing is from giving way. There’s no way to assess how close they were to impending doom.

However, the next layer of oh shit are the vehicular accidents lining the bridge due of the explosion. On both sides of the ambulance, there’s screaming, burning, crumbling holy fuck going on.

Tim takes in a deep breath, the smoke starting to fill the air, gauging the areas of most need that he can immediately see. The plan starts to form even as he’s tapping the special clip on his name tag. (The one Dick switched out last week and thought he wouldn’t, you know, notice.)

“Okay, Kerry gets to stay close and prep as much room as we’ve got,” the doctor turns in a circle, trying to place the immediate need during their very critical time window. “Hailey, take north. I’m going down the east side toward Arkham. Try to get anyone that can drive to start heading back to Gotham. Take anyone that needs transport, stabilize as you can.”

The two EMTs are wide-eyed, looking at the aftermath with professional assessment since horror and fear have to be on the backburner. Hailey squeezes his shoulder before she’s off to the blue SUV turned on it’s top and a teenagers trying to get out the window.

“Promise me!” Kerry snatches his arm before he even moves, “get off this bloody thing before it goes!”

“Scouts honor,” his vision narrows down, mind working with all the evidence and perceptions.

“All right! See you on the other side,” and Kerry is off too, slinging the satchel securely over her shoulder and moving, already gloving up, fast and efficient even with the owfuck. She’s checking on the driver of the car that hit the ambulance in the first place, taking his vitals and pulling the crushed door open with strength alone. A grim smirk is the last thing he’s got, and Tim takes off in the opposite direction, running full tilt through the wreckage, climbing over busted concrete and overturned, empty cars, checking them out before he moves on.

With the blood pounding in his ears and screams echoing all around them on the open water, he’s trying to keep an eye on the damaged bridge, check structural failure so he know about how much time he’s got before more important pieces would start breaking off. (Far out he sees the line of white ships that could very well be the Coast Guard on the way because a little bit of help here would be just fucking stellar).

He’s already gloved up by the time he gets to the car hanging perilously close to the edge of the damaged bridge, the skid marks telling the story on how that happened. A bigger sedan had knocked into the little car, sending it skittering through the protective barriers and almost over. The thing is only precariously out of the water by sheer willpower and the rusty bumper snagged on a broken support line. The driver is terrified, one hand extended over the back where a small, blonde child (like Layla) is clutching a worn-out teddy.

(Cass is on after school babysitting duty. It’s fine, they’re fine. Dick is probably going to be called in to the Police Station once they hear about this. Jay might have woken up with the explosions. Steph is at Mercy and everyone is fine.)

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he talks fast, stepping carefully, already reaching the back door. “I’m right here, and I’m going to get you out. I need you to hurry, okay?”

“Mommy!” The child screams out when the car inches forward, tilting down more to the churning waters below.

“Karmen,” the wide-eyed mother puts on the voice, “take his hand and get out of the car. You need to get out Right. Now.”

The kid is panicking, and he completely understands, but, well, impending doom. The wrong move, the wrong breath, and the thing is going over, taking them and him with it. He moves carefully, gingerly, sweat making its way down his back with how he maps out the right way to keep the thing from going over. “It’s okay, Karmen, right? Hi, my name’s Tim.”

“H-Hi, Doctor Tim,” the child whimpers with tears in her eyes as she’s squishing further back in the leather seat, looking from him to the Atlantic Ocean through the windshield.

“What’s your buddy’s name, Karm?” He gestures to the stuffed animal she’s clutching like a lifeline.

“C-Carl. He’s Carl the Bear.”

“That’s cool. I used to have a Bear I called Robin. Made him a mask and everything.”

She blinks at him and her expressions changes into something like Steph’s right before she calls him the Nerd-Wonder (and yes, he’ll take that title, thank-you very much).

But it’s fine. It’ll be easier to her to jump if she’s laughing at him instead of terrified.

He gingerly pops open both doors on the driver’s side, tries to keep the weight dispersed to the back of the car, “Okay, Karm, time to listen up. I want you, Carl, and your mom to jump out when I give you the signal. I bet you can jump really good, right?”

“Y-Yes. I-I’m a good jumper.”

“Awesome. I need you to jump the very best jump ever, okay? Can you try that for me?”

But her eyes are filling up again, going from her mom to the churning water and back to him. “I-I’m scared, Tim! I’m too scared.”

“I know you are, but it’s okay. As long as you do what I say, you’re going to be fine.” And it’s a crazy balancing act to keep the doors open, try to make sure the weight doesn’t shift enough to send the car plummeting the long and painful way down into the water.

“Please,” the mother gasps out, eyes wet and dazed from fear, “please save my baby girl. Please don’t let her drown.”

“We’re working on saving you both. So when she jumps, so do you. I’m right here, and I’m going to grab you, so just Get. Ready.”

His hands are out, his other eye on the mother’s trembling hands as she gingerly unclicks her seatbelt.

“Mommy,” Karmen whimpers again, a terrified little girl.

“I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much,” and the crack in her voice is enough to make his chest tight, to make sure he’s got them. “Get ready to jump to Tim, okay? Mommy’s so proud of you, my brave girl.”

When those eyes came back to him, wet but resolute, he knew they found the next kick-ass vigilante someday.

“Okay… Jump!”

He snatches with both hands, fast, pulling, throwing the three of them away. Mother and daughter watch as the car goes over, gripping each other tight, and Tim is absurdly glad for quick thinking and shit like gravity.

A rudimentary line of cars is flowing off the bridge at slow speeds, pausing to let others on foot get in. Carrying Karmen and gripping her mother’s arm, Tim flags down a truck with a few people already in the back. He lowers the tailgate and holds his charges up for waiting hands to pull the small family to safety.

“Tim!” Karmen calls as the truck pulls off, the strangers checking over her and her mother for serious injuries, “Tim! Thank-you! Thank-you!”

But her hero disappears into the smoke from the burning bridge, she only catches his back as he runs further into the crisis, one hand thrown up over a shoulder in a bye-bye, before he’s out of sight.

Four people are trying to push back a car pinning a young woman to concrete debris. He’s one of those people, muscles straining with effort. When she’s free, one of them has a working vehicle ready for transport.

(Gotham never ceases to amaze him. In a city usually overrun with every flavor of psychopath, you have to be resilient and adaptable. The people, however, always seem to come together in times of crisis and crazy assholes trying to demolish the city. It’s amazing when things like kicking bad guy ass brings out the best in people.)

Tim does as much trauma care as he realistically can, talking quickly to one of the people riding with her, giving rapid instructions for her to tell responders off the bridge.

The next breath, he’s pulling up metal and concrete, yelling with the effort, forcing his tired muscles to give more when some relatively unharmed civilians attack him with thank God hugs. The little blonde boy looks dazed, blinking with blood in his eyes from a nasty scalp wound, but remembers his name is Leo and he’s ten, Dr. Tim.

It takes a second to lift the kid up and brace the Father with his other arm, the group making a beeline for an empty vehicle that might still have keys in it. (None of them judge him when he cracks into the steering column and hot wires the damn thing. Because, you know, he has other hobbies.)

In no time, he’s using some pieces off a ‘79 Honda Civic to immobilize a broken leg, splints it like a boss.

Charlie is seven and has a better iPhone than he does. The bus full of first graders on their field trip out of Gotham are calm, but the bus is done for. He manages to rope three transports, checking quickly over the class, and helping their shaky teacher get on the flatbed. Charlie give him a low five and they’re gone while he pulls the first aid kit out of the bus for just in case.

Streams of cars are passing him by, some stragglers helping others, and it’s moving fluidly enough that he can guess emergency crews are on the other end, flagging traffic to get the evacuation moving. He’s caught by the arm a few times, but just puts the usual amount of authority to make people thinks he’s in charge of something before he takes off to the next cry for help.

Climbing over a ten car pile-up is a tricky enough business with things pretty much holy unstable, Batman.

He slices his damn hand open on a broken window, loses his grip for a breathless, heart-pounding second. On the way down, he manages to tape gauze over the bleeder and see that his phone—

The screen is cracked to all hell.

Fuck. He can’t even call for a very nice pick-up right about now.

The bridge gives an abrupt groan, a sound reverberating down his spine, making the oh shit feeling swell in his gut, the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and every instinct in his body screaming to run. He tries to move (but there’s nowhere to go). The hard twang echoes when a few of the supporting cables lining the bridge snap, iron bending dangerously, concrete on either side starting to crumble and break.

He can’t throw himself out of the way fast enough, gets knocked off his feet, slams into crumbling debris while more falls around and on top him. A hard chunk pins him, agonizing, terrifying. His leg is wedged by iron, sharp, biting pain from his calf and the torn, jagged bicep trying to lever enough strength to shift something to free him without bringing more down on him. With other frightened screams and groans of almost giving up happening further down the bridge, he doesn’t have time for a whole lot of this bullshit.

He calculates fast and furious, gauging the stability of the pile he’s under and starts kicking at the concrete with his other foot viciously. Sweat and blood makes his gloves slippery, makes him pant with a strike of panic while he pushes harder against the shit blocking out the light.

Tim has to shake himself, yell at the stupid fucking debris (Damian will never let him live it down if this is how he dies. Seriously). One more hard kick and a piece crumbles enough to get his damn calf through, gives him the leverage to shove the piece at his back away, climb up and out, to cough and gasp in a breath of dirty Gotham air.

There’s a few sparse people still running. One stops long enough to help him out, pulling him quickly with both arms locked around Tim’s upper chest. “It’s going to collapse! You’ve got to get out of here!”

“I have to see if there’s anyone else. Get going!” Tim gives him a shove and takes a long moment to assess. He still has time. Dammit, he still has time. So he takes off again, making his leg work, holding the bag to his side, unconsciously fishing out a new pair of gloves.

He hits the halfway point where the bridge bisects, going toward Arkham or toward Somerset, glad he can’t see anyone in the long, damaged span of twisted, falling iron and crumbling supports.

Still, he’s limping, dropping some random blood spots from his shredded calf while he checks abandoned cars and piles of debris for a last, frantic attempt. Even with the leg as it is, he can start back now and make it in less than fifteen minutes, maybe even get one or two more that might have been missed. He can still try, dammit—

But as luck would have it, his calculations are off, and he runs out of time.

His heart takes an abrupt journey to the back of his throat when the heavy twang from earlier echoes again. Faster, heavier as the support cables give way in rapid succession. The tension finally enough to start the unavoidable collapse. Helpless, he’s alone for a far as he can see, watching the cables snap, each one flipping sharply out of control because of the tension, slamming into remaining cars and breaking up more concrete. The echo makes a roll of dread hit him stomach, the things snapping all the way back to main Gotham and the inevitable destruction ensues as sections of the bridge start to crumble at the lack of support. A large section twenty feet in front of him gives a sick, metallic scream before the whole damn thing drops a foot down, and the loud snap catches cottony as all he can do is watch the section break apart and drop down into the ocean.

Can’t go that way.

Swallowing down his thundering pulse, his hearing goes wonky even before he’s spinning, throwing up his arms when the progression keeps going, snapping cables right past him. He’s not fast enough to dodge a mess of concrete from a flying cable, taking the heavy hits to his back, trying to keep his feet under him.

The horror movie moment when he looks over his shoulder and sees the rest of the bridge for the next mile finally give way, the concrete and supports under the thing cracking, crumbling, falling into the ocean (no way for the Coast Guard to make it anywhere near here), puts enough fear that he can keep his feet under him. The only way to go is toward Arkham (the horrible irony, being safe at the asylum known to house crazies of all flavors), and he makes himself run. He has to try staying ahead of the crumbling concrete quickly gaining on him. And even with the pain in his calf, the agony in his back, the burn in his lungs and thighs, the way his eyes are getting wet, making the way blurry and unfocused, even if it is so pathetically, sadly useless because there’s no way he’s going to outrun this.

He’s going down in the murky Atlantic, buried under cars and shopping bags with milk and eggs, under girders and cables and concrete. He’s going to be down there with anyone else that didn’t make it off, and he couldn’t even say goodbye to Dick or Jay or Steph or Ives because his goddamn phone is busted. He couldn’t say he is so fucking sorry about this. That no matter what, he loves them. They are his family, all he has in the world, and they are the best. And if he could only—

There isn’t time now, and the realization, the fucking agony of it strikes him as the ground under him gives a sick lurch, slamming down abruptly on the weakening lower support beams, giving him some kind of false hope while at the same time, bringing him to his knees.

He holds his breath, shaking, bent over, eyes wet, and just please, please.

He doesn’t want to leave them.

A drop of blood from his cut cheek hits the pavement and groaning metal tells him it’s so far past too late. Gravity falls out from under him as the supports under this section of the bridge finally give way. The immediate weightlessness makes his stomach lurch sharply and fear strikes in his spine, getting him on his feet for the last-ditch attempt from his brain pan has him leaping up on a bumper, breaking the windshield in his mad dash without enough breath to really make it.

But again, he’s got nowhere left to go when the world falls out from under him, and his heart gives a hard, painful beat.

His brain blanks out when he’s hanging suspended in mid-air for terrifyingly still moments caught in time, and everything is in a crazy kind of slow motion; the sounds of the world around and under him are muted and cottony, only his panting breaths echoing in his ears. The only thing he can see is Dick’s face relaxed in sleep, and Jay’s eyes, so blue, when he’s laughing—

The choking sob makes it up out of his throat, spilling out instead of I love you, I love you and I’m sorry.

Because he is. Fuck, he is.

Somewhere along the way, somewhere between a dying vigilante on his fire escape and now, he’d come to believe in them wholeheartedly. Knew they’d never abandon him, never hurt him, never die on him even if they risked their lives every night. He believed in their strength and their convictions, believed they would fight through Hell itself to make it back to him.

They would never leave him the last one left standing.

(And how fucking ironic is it that he’s the one going to leave them? The Joker would really get a kick out of it.)

His chest aches with the revelation (or the fact he literally can’t get enough air), and God, he only wanted to a few minutes, a few seconds even, just so they would know, so he could just tell them—

(Even though they were both his Robins, he’s in love with Jason and Dick, not Robin, not Red Hood, not Nightwing...and now they’ll never know. It’s too fucking late.)

Everything.

The world comes back abruptly when the weight of his body takes over and he starts to drop, his medical bag caught up at his side.

Already grieving for them, for his only family, Tim closes his eyes while the sounds of cars and debris, of shit breaking and falling, of the fucking world ending in the depths of the ocean, all of it infiltrate, give him a sense of how fast it’s going to be over. There’s always a chance, always a plan, but with his leg torn up, he won’t be able to swim with enough strength to get back to the surface before his air runs out, taking into account he doesn’t get crushed by the pressure and debris already down there—

(But...but at least, his brain does him a solid in the seconds before he’s going to die, just a little reminder that he should be grateful he’s had them, to think about all of them, and all the good times, all the love and laughter, all the things they gave him with hearts open. At least....at least he had that much.)

And he’s not sure if his eyes are wet because he’s crying or because of the air, but the pain, the fear, the sensation of falling, it’s Death opening up its’ great maw, ready to chew him up and spit out his slightly damaged soul.

(I love you. I’ve never had anyone to love like this. I’ve never wanted to love like this, but now that I have, you two are all I never knew I needed.)

He hopes they don’t mourn, he hopes they keep moving, he hopes they take care of each other. He hopes they remember him without remorse or regret. He hopes he doesn’t make some imaginary list of things they never finished.

He hopes they know without hearing the words one last time.

(And fuck, now that is him crying, isn’t it?)

The rapid blast, a sonic boom, hits his senses, cutting through the thousand things in his head, even with the air rushing around him dampen everything.

Tim doesn’t open his eyes until the last second (because who really wants his last sight to be of his family), gasping in hard enough to be fucking painful because it’s like he’s a nine-year-old kid again, standing down in alleys or crouched on roof tops clutching his camera. It’s the same awe and amazement because at this very second, he’s watching the Dark Knight in all his fearsome power fly.

The silhouette has dropped out of the dark shadow against the sun, thrown himself out of the plane without a thought, the tracking signal bringing him right here where he feared the young doctor would be in the middle of the mass crisis.

(He didn’t need Dick’s panicking tone to get his ass in gear because Tim’s signal wasn’t moving off the bridge by the time the first sections broke apart.)

Tim’s lungs scream for air he can’t seem to get, his eyes going wide as the Batman swoops down a flawless arch, arms tight at his sides to be even more aerodynamic and forces the speed of the fall, determined Tim isn’t going to hit the damn water. (Hold on, Tim. Hold on.)

He’d yell if he could, tell B it’s too close, there’s no way he could pull up in time, to save himself. (Gotham would always need saved, would always need him.) But no words can escape and his eyes are blurry enough that the dark shadow is fuzzy, the whiteouts gone for electric blue eyes. He can’t even gasp as the Batman reaches him mid-death drop, catches him with an arm that has to be made of iron.

The abrupt change in direction almost makes him vomit, only strength of will keeping him from painting the vigilante’s back with stomach juice.

Even though his brain pan is fried, he gets handfuls of leather and Kevlar, fists tight his shaky hands into the cape while he tries to get his air back and hides himself, huddled against all that strength.

He might have been more terrified (since, you know, imminent death) than he let on because he has no clue how they’re just suddenly in a plane, sitting his shaky ass down on one of the seats in the back while B is kneeling down with his leg in both gloved hands. B must have taken his satchel off, laid it down somewhere, and the arm of his scrubs is torn open to the bleeder on his bicep.

His mouth opens, closes wordlessly because he’s trying so hard to say it, “thank-you for coming for me.”

“Calm down,” is a little less the night than in his usual dealings with the Batman, “you’re going into shock.” And B doesn’t wince for the obvious damage done to Tim’s leg, but it’s a close thing. Instead, he is very relieved he’s not going to have to be the one to tell his sons their significant other met his end at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

The Batman’s (Bruce’s) voice gives him a little bit of air back, just enough to wheeze, “th-thanks...for the save.”

Still, he’s blinking rapidly, shaking too much, hitting the wrong side of adrenaline and fear, wrapping his arms around himself to try and stop it.

“The Coast Guard is already on site, taking care of people. So far, the fatality numbers are incredibly low for an incident of this magnitude. I’m sure you played a hell of a part in that.”

But Tim’s still on the mindblown side of things, woozy and light-headed, still not feeling the real owfuck of the sitch yet to say much. The leg of his scrubs is finally just ripped away so they can both look at the raw hamburger he’d been trying to run with. “Hn. The boys aren’t going to be happy about this, Tim.”

“I…” The boys. Oh God, he’s going to see Dick and Jay and flip the utter fuck out. “I-It’s-it’s okay.”

Inside the cowl, B arches a brow (oddly enough, that’s what Robin might say. Any of them.) “That’s the adrenaline talking. You’ll feel it soon enough.” B turns just slightly, “Bat Computer. Alert Agent A. We need prep for an incoming.”

He gets a little less fuzzy as the whole alive thing sinks in. So, time to make his brain switch gears from perpetual screaming to oh, who’s the bad guy of the week again?

“Anniversary,” he tells the kneeling vigilante, “B, it’s the anniversary.”

The cowl pauses in looking over his injured leg and slowly moves up until those eyes are on him, gears turning.

“Sal Maroni’s trial was ten years ago today.” His voice is hoarse, but dammit, he’s right on this one, leans forward enough to grip the dangerous gauntlets in one shaking hand. “It’s...it’s too good for Harvey Dent to pass up. He had the bridge set with charges, and there’s another one. He’s going to set a second one because that’s how he works with his shitty traps, and you have to find it, B. You have to...”

And it’s a crazy thing, seeing the Batman smile.

“Dick told me you were good,” is a calmer voice, one laced with amusement. “I contacted Gordon hours ago when I suspected Two-Face would have something devastating on the roster for tonight. Police crews have been combing the city and all his old hideouts while I’ve been researching in the Cave. He only sent the clue to GCPD an hour ago, and if Dick hadn’t been on shift, I wouldn’t have gotten it in time to stop the Robinson Bridge from blowing up already.”

Tim blinks, leaning down almost in B’s face, staring into those eyes while his brain catches up.

No other hurt civilians. Damn...the day is starting to look up. Well, you know, World’s Greatest Detective, of course he would have figured it out in time.

“O...Oh.”

B presses his shoulder, casual strength making him sink back into the chair.

“Again, good work, Tim... I’m not going to stop being surprised about your “hobbies,” am I?”

“I’ll try to keep you riveted.” But he’s sinking down with things like blood loss, trauma, and utter fucking relief, tongue getting too thick in his mouth to be especially witty.

“Do that. It’s a nice departure from the normal psychos I deal with. And by the way, don’t move. We’re going to do a full assessment once we land. I’m sure Alfred is already wearing a path in my Cave.”

Tim blinks, tries to nod but the motion is a little jerky and uncoordinated. Conversation apparently over because the Doctor is sinking deeper into shock and has lost enough blood (for a civilian) that the vigilante is concerned, B stands up and fishes a blanket out of a storage compartment, wraps it around Tim’s shaking form.

“Just relax and try to stay awake. We’ll be home soon.” And the cape swishes with a sigh of sound, being easy while the plane rumbles under his ass.

(He probably imagines a gloved hand resting on the top of his head before B strides back to the controls and takes the plane off autopilot. Not that it matters because his brain is pleasantly all about white noise when he starts to crash from the adrenaline overdose.)

And since he’s very, very safe in the plane, by himself while B’s back is turned, he fades in and out, holding the blanket to his chest tightly, his eyes filling up and clearing out at odd intervals. He’s about forty percent with it, drifting in and out with calculations and diagnosis from the bridge skimming over his thoughts, taking completely by surprise when the cockpit is invaded by whirling tornados of concerned boyfriends.

(His heart picks up, and Tim tries to shake off lethargy and strain because they’re both so fucking beautiful right now.)

“Tim! Timmy!!” Dick looks haggard, his eyes astoundingly blue.

Jay is right on his ass, jaw tight with obvious worry, “JesusfuckingChrist, Sugar.”

Dick is still in his uniform, tilting Tim’s face up to look in his dazed eyes with such utter relief he shakes a little with it, those steady hands weak for just a moment in time (I love you. God, I love you). Jay leans in around that hand and presses a fast, hard kiss to the top of his head, and goes for the blanket, knows he’s looking for something. He gets jackpot when the scrubs beneath are blood-stained, torn and dirty, making Jay’s heart beat just a little faster.

“B, what the fuck? Couldn’t cha at least bandage our boy up a lil bit?!” He bites it out sharper than intended, but his boy ain’t looking good, and the last images O managed to get off the bridge cameras as they went down is the mound of debris falling right on top a kid in scrubs. He and Dick had only been reined in by Dami and Alfred with appropriate threats of tying them down should they even try it. (He can take Demon, but Alf? Nope. That’s a fight he’s always gonna lose.)

“We weren’t far.” B defends lightly, pushing his cowl off and kneeling by Tim’s feet again, unabashedly gripping an ankle to stretch the leg out of the blanket so the owfuck can air out. “I also wanted Alfred to look at this before I did anything.”

“Oh my God, that’s a lot of blood.” Dick is now even more concerned, latching on tight and pressing him close.

“Damn right it is.” Jay and B exchange the look.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles against Dick’s hand on his jaw, staring dazedly up, eyes sluggishly sliding to Jay. “I’m okay.” Because, dammit, looking at them, being absurdly fucking grateful for this, for them, everything is really just…

Fine.

“Yeah, Timmy, just fine. Right here with us, ain’t cha?” Jay crouches down, and he’s careful, easy about it when he takes a wrist and gently unwinds the dirty, frayed gauze to the nice slice taken out of his hand.

“Fuck.” Because that ain’t good. Timmy’s a surgeon, lives by his damn hands. “We need ta getcha bandaged up. Let Alf gedda lookit that leg.” Jay shoos Dick back so he can wind both arms around their civilian sweetie and lift him, blanket and all while B holds the leg up and stable, walking back without a hitch with the doctor between them.

And laying there in Jason’s arms, it gives Tim plenty of time to stare up at his profile, trace the line of jaw and the crooked line of nose with his eyes and be utterly grateful. So, so grateful.

(I’ll never deserve you, but I’ll never stop trying either.)

Alfred and Damian are monitoring the clean-up from the bridge, leaving the live footage as Jay and B ease Tim down to the medical gurney. It’s second nature to press his mouth to the top of the doctor’s head while B just smirks to himself and lets Dick slide around them to be on Tim’s other side.

Jason steps away to scrub and glove fast while Dick stays holding on a little too desperately and Alfred begins preliminaries. Dami does his usual, “tt,” and goes back to monitor the sitch (but the little asshole always looks back when he thinks they don’t know any better.)

Once B is satisfied Timmy is in good hands, he starts up with the search for Harvey himself and tracks the police reports Dick happened to copy while they were hot off the printer.

Jay is absurdly careful, even by Alfred’s standards as he stitches the slice in that precise hand and fervently hopes he’s not doing more damage.

Slightly slurry, tired with strain now that the adrenaline and other stimulants in his system have worn off (chemicals balancing, he thinks slowly, and added opioids because it took a bridge collapsing to admit he was completely in love with these two. Fuck, is he really that dense?), he answers Dick’s careful questions as well as he can, rambles on about the car pile-up, the people he hoped were able to get help, the sound of the cables snapping (that’s a sound he’s never going to forget), the new iPhone he is going to get. To try staying out of the way without going too far, Dick lays his head beside Tim’s on the pillow and listens, squeezes his hand at the hard parts.

He vaguely remembers, “need...need to know if my EMTs...made it.”

“B is looking into it. We’ll have an update soon, okay? Just relax, baby.” It’s something soft and sweet to his muddled brain (Alfred...must have given him something before starting on his leg. It’s a distant, dull thing.)

“I should...I should go to the hospital—”

Jay pauses in finishing up with his bicep, raises a gloved finger to wag close to his face, “don’t cha even try it, pal. Steph already said they got the sitch under control.”

“Nu-uh, Timmy. You can’t even stand right now, so you’re going about as far as the main floor.”

“But…”

There’s no use in trying to argue. He’s one against four (and dammit, five because Damian is standing right by Dick’s hip, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at him for upsetting Grayson. Dammit, Drake, he’s a Robin that needs Peace and Quiet. Shut these fools up and give in.) Still, he says he can walk, really it’s fine, but Dick gives no shits getting to be the Bat carrying him this time, talking low and soothing while taking him upstairs in the Manor and pretty much deposits him in the utterly comfortable sitting room on the First Floor.

There are blankets and food, intermittent sleep between episodes of some reality show, and one or the other of his significant others close while the sedatives and antibiotics run their course in the first few hours post-injury hours.

Night must be falling because at some point, they’re talking about Two-Face and the second stage of his dastardly plan.

Later, he’ll vaguely remember his leg and other bandages taken off, being held in warm water while the dirt and dried blood is washed off with careful, patient hands (someone is holding his leg out of the bathtub and being so absurdly gentle). Hands in his hair to get the worst out, but the sedatives and painkillers make him useless to do much more than lay there and let it happen.

Time skips and he wakes up in the middle of a massive bed, half-aware enough to know his leg is on fire and just, fuck it all hurts.

There’s cameras apparently everywhere because Alfred and Jason are through the door before he even makes it to the edge of the bed. He gets one vigilante boyfriend crawling in with him to keep him down, pills to swallow and tucked back in (after the butler quickly assesses under the bandages).

Jay talks low and soothing against his temple, while the pain eases and things are just… good. So, so good.

A few days later, Tim Drake is laid up on his couch with his healing leg wrapped up and elevated on a few pillows (even though the thing is really much better, Alfred, you don’t have to call for an update every day anymore. It’s...it’s really thoughtful though). Since his significant others have that kind of humor, Scrubs is playing on the television and a scattering of things are literally everywhere. A laptop is open on the floor with half a dissertation on the effects of Joker venom on cellular growth, a copy of Catcher in the Rye is stuffed between the cushions, a knitting project pokes him from a corner in odd moments, a manila file folder with notes from the recent bout of tainted heroin is dangling just oh so enticingly on the stand closest to him (dammit, Dick. Touché).

Tim gives it ten minutes after his significant others leave for patrol (finally) before he looks around his empty living room with narrowed eyes and gingerly pulls his foot down off the cushions and plants it on the floor for literally the first time in a week.

(The first three days of being carried—even by Damian, believe it or not—were actually kind of nice. By day six, however, the novelty had worn very, very thin.)

So he might be grinning a little to himself since he sounded completely sincere when he promised Jay he was not going to get up while they were on patrol, that he had everything he could possibly want right here, and they had to get going because Gotham needed them. He made sure to catch the shadows falling from his fire escape before he even turned in his seat, gave it an extra few minutes for, you know, just in case.

So he’s got a hand on the arm of the couch, ready to shove himself to his feet and just go into his kitchen to make a damn cup of coffee himself thank-you very fucking much, ready to put weight on the injury.

(Really. He should have known better.)

The abrupt, jarring slam followed by the mini-tornado doesn’t even give him a chance.

The move is too fast for him to counter, but he’s just suddenly held high up against a broad chest, staring up in the blue eyes of Superboy, noting the obvious displeasure by his frown and drawn brows.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” is more deadpan than he imagined, which just makes Superboy frown that much harder.

“Yo! Doc Drake!” Kid Flash is right there, holding a hand out for a serious high-five. “Totally nice digs, man. You? Are so obviously in the mode.”

The annoyed noise comes all the way up from his toes because this? This is just not even necessary.

“I can’t believe they’re wasting your time with this,” Tim groans aloud, doing such an epic facepalm the sound echoes. “It was just...a collapsing bridge, okay? I’m really fine.”

But when he looks up, really looks, something is just off because—

Superboy is in jeans and a plaid shirt, sporting a pair of wire-framed glasses. Kid Flash has no mask or body suit, but huge sneaker and—

They’re not in the masks.

He sucks in an abrupt breath and almost chokes.

“Oh yeah,” Superboy looks at KF all nonchalant. Just, you know, NBD man, here’s our secret idents.

“It’s cool.” KF shoos the shock away, “Dick said you were totally on the level, so we’re good showing you the real faces, you dig?”

“I...Are...are you sure you’re okay with this?” He can’t help but ask, looking from one to the other.

The super clone just shifts his weight to hold him up by one arm and stick the other by his chest, “Conner Kent.”

Dumbly, he shakes the hand, staring up at the blue eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Bart Allen. Time traveler extraordinaire.” Bart completely takes the initiative and shakes his hand super-fast.

“Ah, yeah, wow...this is- this is kick ass. Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Both Titans give him wide grins and Conner turns to gently put him back down on the couch. Bart fluffs the pillows before his legs goes right back where it was before.

“I’m going to make some coffee,” he hedges, “you know, my leg is just stellar, and I should start putting weight on it—”

“Dick and Jason would probably kill us in horrible ways if we let you do that,” Conner shrugs easily, “so it’s okay, I’ll make you some coffee.”

The loud gasp by his television makes both of them crane around to see Bart going through his X-Box One games with huge eyes.

“I want to play this one right now,” the speedster bellows, swinging Arkham Knights around in one hand.

His inner nerd sparked, Tim grins a little viciously, “I already beat it, so all the cheats are unlocked.”

“Holy shit, man! I totally call Batman!”

“I want Harley Quinn,” Conner calls on his way to the kitchen, “if I’m going to watch someone run for an hour, I want it to be someone with a sweet ass.”

“Totally feel that,” Bart nods while he sets up the game. “How about you, Tim?”

“Robin,” he says quietly, “I’m usually Robin.”

He gives them both a hundred vigilante points because neither of them say a word.

#dr!tim #yet another drabble #because why not #love my anons #thank-you for the love in my inbox #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #the littles!#my fic #my writing #my muses are with me on this one #bad ass tim so beware

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aniallstory-blog · 7 years

Text

Chapter Eighteen

After the emotional part of the day was done, it was time to celebrate. We all went back to my house, buzzing from the success of the day and started the party while we got ready. Around nine pm, we were picked up by yet another limousine and headed out on the town to meet up with my other bridesmaids. Charlotte and Gemma assured me that it would be a good night, but would't tell me where we were going so when we pulled up outside Rumpus Room, one of the busiest rooftop bars in London, I was shocked.

“Are we actually gonna try to get in there?” I asked as we stepped out on to the sidewalk. “It's guestlist only, there's no way we'll get in at this time.”

“We will if we're on the guestlist,” Gemma smiled at me, linking her arm through mine.

“Are we?” I asked her, my voice full of skepticism. “How'd we manage that?”

I suddenly felt an arm around my shoulder and someone standing on the side of me opposite to Gemma.

“Bein' related to Harry Styles does, on occasion, have some perks.”

I smiled at the familiar voice and looked up to see Harry looking down at me.

“Wow, I really am being spoiled today!”

“'Course ya are,” Harry grinned. “Only get one bachelorette party!”

Harry slid his arm off of my shoulder and led the group towards the door.

My other bridesmaids were apparently already inside and ready to start the party as they greeted us with a tray full of shots. Charlotte, Gemma and I reached for them eagerly, but Harry quickly disappeared to buy something a tad less strong for himself, his mother and Maura. We settled into a nice booth in the corner of the room with a great view of the city and I looked around at my little posse, my heart filling with love.

“Can I just take a moment to thank you all for being here?” I asked, interrupting the various conversations my friends and family had fallen into. “I know weddings are a hassle and I know this one has been particularly rushed, but I appreciate each and every one of you for supporting Niall and I. I hope I haven't been too much of a picky bridezilla, especially while I was picking out my dress today.”

“Oh my god!” My bridesmaid, Abby squealed. “Did you find one?!”

I couldn't even hide the massive grin that burst onto my face.

“I did!” I told them as I pulled out my phone to find the picture Gemma had sent me. “It's this one right here.”

I held out the phone so the three bridesmaids who weren't there and Harry could see what I looked like. The girls all cooed and showered me with praise while Harry looked a tad teary.

“Ya look amazin', AJ,” He said quietly. “Niall's gonna lose it when he sees you.”

“That's what I said,” Maura smiled as she sipped her gin and tonic.

“Do you think he'll cry?” Sarah asked, handing me back my phone.

“I don't think so,” I said scrunching up my nose. “I think he'll think I look beautiful and he'll be happy, but I don't think seeing me in a pretty dress will be enough to make him cry. Maybe once he realizes he'll have to spend the rest of his life with me the tears will start.”

Everyone chuckled at my self-deprecating joke and Anne swatted my arm as she shook her head.

“He's a lucky man for getting to spend his life with you,” She insisted. “And your dress was enough to make us all cry today so I wouldn't underestimate the power of a beautiful bride!”

Maura nodded in agreement.

“If I know my son like I think I do, there'll be a few tears on the day,” She warned me. “He's a typical Irish lad who doesn't like to get too emotional unnecessarily, but he's been known to shed a tear over much less than something like this. He won't be able to help himself when he sees you.”

I blushed and took a gulp of my drink, never one to take a compliment well. Luckily Gemma swooped in before I had to comment.

“I think we'll all be sobbing through the whole ceremony,” She smiled. “We're an emotional bunch. Hopefully Lou has some very waterproof makeup for us all!”

“Lou's doin' yer makeup?”

I nodded in response to Harry's question.

“Yeah, I asked her the other day,” I informed him. “I asked Lux if she wanted to be the flowergirl too, she was over the moon.”

“I bet she was,” He smiled fondly. “I know you're trying to keep the wedding small, but I was wonderin' if m'allowed t'bring a plus one?”

Suddenly all the eyes at the table landed on Harry and he shifted nervously under our collective gaze.

“Of course you are,” I said, my voice laced with suspicion. “As long as it's not a Kardashian or any of their relatives. We're going to have enough trouble keeping the paparazzi away as it is.”

“S'not, I swear,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

He offered no more information as we all stared him down.

“So who is she?” Gemma blurted out after a tense moment of silence. “I didn't know you were seeing anyone.”

Anne nodded in agreement, looking quite shocked that she hadn't been informed. I was surprised too as usually Harry told his mum everything which usually meant I knew far earlier than I was supposed to as she told my dad and he told me. Word travelled fast in our family, secrets like this were hard to come by.

“Her name's Isabel,” Harry said quietly, a proud little smile on his face. “She's french and we're not really 'seeing each other' yet, we're just talkin', but m'going to see her tomorrow after the premiere to talk about things.”

“Awe, I'm happy for you, Haz,” I smiled. “Of course she can come to the wedding!”

“Might not get that far, but figured I'd ask jus' in case.”

“Show me a picture,” Gemma demanded, still looking shocked that this was the first he'd mentioned her. “How'd you meet her?”

“On the set of Dunkirk,” He explained as he fished his phone out to pull up a picture. He scrolled through for a minute before his eyes lit up and he passed the phone to Gemma. I peeked over her shoulder and my jaw dropped.

“Harry, she's gorgeous!”

“N'smart too!” He beamed proudly. “She's a historian, was helpin' out with makin' sure the film was accurate, s'how we met.”

“Well she's the prettiest historian I've ever seen,” Gemma smiled. “Does she model too?”

“Nope, has no interest in that stuff,” Harry informed us. “Doesn't even think she's that beautiful, no matter how many times I tell her.”

We passed the phone around so Anne, Maura and all my friends could see and everyone's reaction was the same as mine.

“Well I hope it works out for you, Harry,” Charlotte said as she passed his phone back. “She seems lovely from what you've said.”

“She is,” Harry agreed. “And I can trust that none of this information leaves this table, yeah? S'still new and m'worried about the fans. They always tear my girls apart and I don't want that for her, 'specially not when we're not even together yet.”

“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes as I finished my drink off. “These girls are experts at keeping top secret One Direction love life details to themselves. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Just makin' sure!” Harry protested, holding his hands up in defense. “Now, let's get this party started, shall we? Looks like there's a few people who need another drink.”

Almost two hours later, it was safe to say that I was drunk. Apparently being the guest of honour meant that I had to constantly have a drink in my hand and was scolded if it didn't disappear fast enough. And that was how I found myself on the dance floor, dancing badly and shouting along the words to some cheesy pop song. Just as my current jam ended, I felt myself being pulled away from my bridesmaids. Looking to see who was holding my hand, I saw Harry's familiar face.

“M'gonna take these lovely ladies home now, yeah?” He told me once we were away from the noise of the DJ and next to Maura and Anne. “They're tired and I've got an early flight.”

I pouted dramatically and shook my head.

“Nooo,” I whined, holding onto Harry as I felt myself sway slightly. “You can't go yet, the party's jus' gettin' started.”

Harry chuckled as the older women smiled at me in amusement.

“Have to, love,” He insisted. “But Gemma's goin' to take good care of ya, gave her money for your cab home and everything.”

I sighed dramatically, but nodded my head.

“Alriiiiiight,” I said, dragging out the word as I reluctantly let go of Harry to give the other's a hug. “Thanks for comin' and thanks for the help today. Get home safe.”

“Do ya want me t'get you some water before I leave?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrow at me in concern causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.

“Water? M'good with gin for now thanks,” I informed him before an idea struck me. “Ooh, but could I bum a cig off of you?”

“A cig? You don't smoke, AJ and neither do I so I don't have any.”

“And if he did, he wouldn't give them to you,” Anne informed me, giving me the look she used to give me when I was younger and misbehaved which I promptly ignored.

“Well if you don't have one, can ya bum on off someone else for me?” I asked. “I like a cigarette when m'drinking sometimes, you know that. Jus' don't tell my dad or Niall, alright?”

Harry shook his head, a smile on his face.

“M'not gonna bum one for ya either, love,” He told me, patting my shoulder in what felt like a rather patronizing way. “Now, go find Gemma and enjoy the rest of your night, yeah?”

I sighed dramatically once again, but nodded and pulled him into a hug before I pranced off back to my friends.

Once I had the idea in my head that I wanted a cigarette, I couldn't kill the craving. Luckily Charlotte was also in the mood once I mentioned it so the two of us snuck outside to see if we could scrounge one up to share. It didn't take us long to find a very generous drunk girl who 'absolutely, completely, adored my outfit' and was willing to donate to our cause.

As Charlotte lit it up and took a long drag, we enjoyed the quiet, cool air and I pulled out my phone. I had a message from Harry letting me know everyone got home safely and to enjoy my night and a few messages from Niall that were full of typos showing his level of inebriation was probably close to mine (unless of course my blurry vision was inhibiting my reading abilities). I took the cigarette from Charlotte as I opened Instagram with the intention of posting one of the many selfies we'd taken that night. However, before I could switch to the posting part of the app, a picture of Niall popped up on my screen. Well more specifically Niall's back.

“Oh no,” I groaned, handing the cigarette back to Charlotte. “Niall's not even been in Ibiza for a day and he's already sunburnt!”

“Really? Let me see,” Charlotte laughed, taking my phone to look at the picture. After a moment she rolled her eyes and handed it back to me. “That's nothing, he's barely pink!”

“Yeah, but if he's pink now, just think how bad it'll be in the morning!”

She rolled her eyes again, but as she got distracted by some cute guy that just walked out into the smoking area, I closed the app and pulled up Niall's number in my phone. Unfortunately for me, Charlotte's attention snapped back to me as soon as she heard the ringing.

“What are you doing?” She demanded to know, her tone stern. “Who are you calling?”

“M'calling Niall,” I admitted. “Gotta tell him to put some lotion on before he goes to bed tonight and to make sure he wears extra sunscreen tomorrow if he's already burnt.”

“What, are you his mother or something?” She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Give me your damn phone.”

Before I could even oblige with her request, my phone was snatched out my hand, the call disconnected as it was shoved into her purse.

“Charlotte, what was that for?”

My words came out a lot whinier than they were meant and she simply shook her head as she passed my the last little bit of the cigarette.

“This is supposed to be your last wild night out as an unmarried lady,” She reminded me. “I know your wedding's still ages away, but you are strictly forbidden from talking to your groom during your bachelorette party!”

I pouted slightly as I stomped out the cigarette butt.

“Fine, I promise I won't call him,” I relented. “Can I have my phone back now?”

“Nope!” Charlotte grinned, linking her arm with mine. “You can have it back at the end of the night when I know you won't be making any naughty phone calls! Now, let's go get ourselves another drink!”

It was almost three hours later when I stumbled into the house, waving goodbye to my friends in the cab as it drove off to take them home. I was absolutely plastered. The drinks had not stopped all night and considering I was already decently intoxicated when Harry, Anne and Maura had left the bar and now I was done for.

“Jus' get ya self some water 'n go t'sleep,” I drunkenly mumbled to myself as I locked the door.

That was when I realized all the lights were on and the smell of delicious greasy food wafted into my nostrils. Furrowing my brow in confusion, I staggered into the kitchen and found Maura plating up the most amazing burger I'd ever seen.

“Ah, perfect timin'!” She smiled. “I thought ya'd be home soon.”

“You made that for me?” I asked as she nodded her head. I felt my eyes well up with tears as I slipped into the mushy, emotional kind of drunk I always got when I started getting tired. “You stayed up to make me drunk food?”

“I did,” Maura confirmed. “Wanted ta make sure ya got home alright anyway and I thought ya'd need it from the state you were in when I left!”

“M'in a worser state now!” I informed her (just in case she couldn't tell) as I pulled myself onto a stool by the island and she pushed the plate towards me. “This s'so nice of you, Maura. You're the best.”

“It's no trouble,” She smiled, shaking her head as I bit into the burger and let out a moan of absolute bliss. “Let me get ya some water too, you need that more than anything.”

I mumbled my thanks through my full mouth before continuing to devour my food. Maura took a seat across from me, a cup of tea in her hand and we sat in silence until I finished shovelling food into my face. Once I was done, I chugged down the glass of water.

“You're the best mother-in-law ever,” I told her, causing a laugh to burst from her lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Maura nodded. “I'd like to think by now you know I'm always here for you, can ask me anything you'd like.”

“Are you glad Niall chose me?” I asked, picking at my nails nervous for the answer. “Like are you and Bobby glad that he’s marrying me?”

“Well I can't speak for Bobby, but from what I've heard and seen and the few conversations we've had I think he'd agree when I say that of course we are,” She told me, looking slightly taken aback by the question. “You make Niall very happy and we support anything that brings him joy.”

I nodded in thought for a moment before I realized I wasn't satisfied with her answer.

“But do you like me? Are you happy that it's me making Niall happy?” I tried to explain myself. “M’not making sense, but you can like things that aren't good for you, yeah? Like how Niall likes beer a little more thans good for him sometimes and apparently I like smoking if tonight is anything to go by.”

I wrinkled my nose in disgust at myself as I caught a whiff of stale cigarette smell from my hair earning another laugh from Maura.

“Oh, honey! We absolutely like you! Love you, even,” Maura assured me. “You're smart, beautiful, independent, funny. I could go on and on if you'd like. We've always loved you and I think you're wonderful for Niall. You keep each other grounded and you're not afraid to tell him when he's bein' an idiot. Like this whole delaying the weddin' business. You didn't let him get away with that nonsense for a minute and that's what he needs. Too many girls would let someone like him walk all over them, but you stand up to him. Helps keep his head on straight!”

My cheeks felt like they were going to split from how wide I was smiling by the time she was done singing my praises.

“Means a lot, Maura,” I told her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I love your son a whole lot. More than I ever thought I'd love anyone. You did a good job raisin' him, he's practically perfect in every way and I dunno what I'd do without him. Makes me happy to know that you're all as excited for me join your family as I am and I hope that when me and Niall have any babies we do half as good a job raising them as you did with Niall.”

Maura smiled proudly at my rambled compliment.

“Thanks, honey, I'm sure you'll do even better than we did,” She assured me. “Now let's get you to bed, the later you stay up the worse you're going to feel in the mornin'.”

I nodded, hopped down from my stool and followed Maura down the hall to the stairs, leaving the dishes to be dealt with in the morning.

#Niall Horan #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fiction #niall fic

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selanpike · 6 years

Text

Unfinished Trollcops thing

I remembered I had this thing, and figured I’d post it because it’s good, but it is never going to get finished.

I had this idea that I wanted to write a big Trollcops AU fic, from Team Sleuth’s perspective, but it sort of collapsed under its own weight. I wanted to include all the trolls, plus the kids, PLUS Team Sleuth (including the girls), the Crew, Kingpin.... I couldn’t find things for all these characters to actually contribute, and also, I’m not great at writing all the trolls!!

But I did write the first three chapters, which were the introductions for Sleuth, Pickle and Ace respectively, so here u go. Abandoned Trollcops fic.

Chapter One

“Problem Thleuth.” Sergeant Captor reads from your file, standing behind his partner. “Thirty-five yearth old. Prothpitian. Failed out of polithe academy at age twenty-four. Ith that right?”

“I wouldn’t say failed,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “I jus’ didn’t like how y’all--I mean. I wasn’t a fan ‘f the bureaucracy.”

“Is that so,” Terezi says.

You nod.

“So you dropped out and became a private investigator,” she says. “Is that right?”

“You know the answer to that,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Don’t pretend like we’re strangers.”

“You’re charged with being an accessory to arson,” Pyrope tells you.

“Do me a favor ‘n arrest th’ guy who actually did th’ arson-ing,” you mutter.

“The alleged perpetrator is one Thpades Thlick,” Captor says, reading the file. “Damn, man. Thpades, really?”

“I ain’t an accessory t’ nothin’ that asshole does,” you say, slamming a hand on the table. “I was tryin’a stop that goddamn arson!”

“We have multiple witnethheth who thay they thaw you making out with the thuthpect before the fire broke out,” Captor says.

You wilt under their stares.

“I was tryin’a distract ‘im,” you say, weakly. “He’s a dangerous customer, after all. ‘S the ol’ honey pot maneuver, y’know?”

“It didn’t work,” Pyrope says, grinning her sharp-toothed grin.

“N--no,” you admit.

You jump when Pyrope snaps the folder shut. She puts it down on the table, sliding it to the edge.

“I’m going to admit,” she says, slowly. “That, considering your history of making trouble, we took this opportunity to get a warrant to search your office.”

“You--you what?!”

“So, what? You gonna charge me with murderin’ th’ District Attorney now?”

Pyrope and Captor look at each other, then back at you.

“We’ve been investigating the DA’s death too,” Pyrope says. “But we haven’t turned up a thing.”

“And here you are,” Captor adds. “With evidenthe we never even thought to look for.”

You grin a little. “Oh darlin’s, are you jealous?”

“Stop bein’ such a joke, then.”

She stands up, slamming her hands on the table. “Take this seriously!”

You raise your eyebrows and wait for her to get to the point.

“We’re willing to offer you a deal,” she says. “We’ll ignore this latest… indiscretion, and you’ll help us put Kingpin behind bars.”

You laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, still chuckling. “I musta misheard. Y’ couldn’t possibly be askin’ for my help. I mean, I ain’t a cop or nothin’. I ain’t got no authority.”

“Don’t be a jackathh,” Captor snaps.

“This is in your best interest,” Pyrope says. “You are, after all, still under arrest.”

She does sorta have you, there.

---

You have your hat back when Sergeant Captor takes you outside, to the back of the department. The sun has definitely risen by now, and you’re treated to all the sounds of the city waking up.

“As long as I don’t trail it back to you,” you add.

“Obviouthlly,” Captor says. He pulls out his phone and types into it. “But we need one of ourth with you. Making thure you’re not fucking up too bad.”

“Think of it like exthtra security,” Captor says, still typing into his phone.

“I know you,” he says.

“I get around,” you reply.

“You’re that drunk fucknut that’s always making a scene in Crew territory.”

“Guilty as charged. Y’all’re jus’ gettin’ me on ev’rythin’ t’day!” You nudge Captor. “Sorry officer, looks like y’ gotta charge me for another crime.”

Captor groans and rolls his eyes. He slaps the newcomer on the back and mutters, “Good fucking luck,” before heading back inside.

You wait for the door to click shut before you say, brightly as you can manage, “The name’s Problem Sleuth. Solicitations for my services are--”

“I’m sorry, do I look like someone who gives a fuck?”

You drop the friendly act. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Vantas,” He says. “Karkat Vantas. I’m the undercover guy. I figure I got stuck with this because they figured I could tell the Captain I’m investigating you.”

“‘N I’m sure she’ll buy it,” you add.

You rub your face. “Great. Good. More cops, beautiful.”

---

Unfortunately when you walk in, you find Spades Slick rummaging through your refrigerator.

You toss your keys onto the table and sit down. He turns around, cold pizza hanging out of his mouth, and slams the fridge door shut behind him.

“I figured they’d have ya’ in th’ slammer a few weeks,” he explains through a mouthful of pizza. “So y’ wouldn’t mind if I ate yer food ‘fore it went bad.”

“Y’ couldn’t possibly post bail for me?”

“No, nothin’ like that,” you say, reaching over and taking the coffee. Obviously sleep isn’t happening anytime soon, so what the hell. “They let me off.”

There’s a loud clatter as Slick’s chair falls over, and a knife is at your throat. It always amazes you how fast he is. You raise your hands in a conciliatory manner as he snarls at you.

“You fuckin’ snitched, didn’t you?”

“Slick, my most precious of darlin’s,” you say. “I would snitch on you all day, ev’ry day. But that ain’t what happened.”

“They hired me.”

He looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. He doesn’t move the knife at all.

You go on. “They’re investigatin’ Kingpin. They wanted my help.”

He finally pulls the knife away, but he doesn’t sit back down. “Great. Jus’ what I need.”

“Kingpin’s mine,” he growls.

Slick narrows his eye at you, before pocketing his knife and stealing the mug back. He chugs the coffee down.

“Fuck you,” he says, slamming the mug back onto the table. “I’ll do it my fuckin’ self.”

“Right,” you say as Slick grabs his jacket and makes for the door. “So I guess I’ll see ya’ tomorrow, then?”

He grunts in response, and slams the door behind him as he leaves.

You’re going to do it. Your name is Problem Sleuth, and you are going to bring down Mobster Kingpin’s criminal empire.

The APD are definitely going to steal the credit when it’s all said and done, though, and that fact makes you sick to your stomach.

---

Chapter Two

> Be Pickle Inspector.

You feel as though you’re being punished for Sleuth’s poor life choices.

Uncooperative witnesses.

You asked Sleuth what he did to invite this upon you, but he won’t tell you. You suspect Slick was involved. Slick is always involved these days.

“I’m busy enough,” you whine into the receiver.

“That’s a shame,” says the smooth, dark voice of Diamonds Droog. “And here I had something I thought you’d be interested in.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Meet me on the corner of 34th and Feldings,” he says.

“D--do I have to?” you say, clicking your pen. “Can’t you just, just tell me? On the phone? Like a normal person? I p-promise the line’s secure.”

“34th and Feldings,” he says again. “Now.”

You stand up and fix your tie. “I have to go out.”

“Oh! Let me get my coat.”

She grins a catlike grin and says, “Nope!”

Droog is never going to let you hear the end of this.

---

This is par for the course, and you make an effort not to look exhausted when you get there.

He breathes out a long puff of smoke before speaking. “Is the detective business so bad that you had to take up babysitting?”

“I n--needed the second job to, to support my tea habit,” you respond.

“That’s a funny way to say whiskey.”

“I’m sure I don’t. Can she leave?”

“I don’t know.” You look down at Nepeta. “C-can you leave?”

“I can, yeah,” she says.

“A--are you going to?”

She shakes her head.

“Sorry,” you say to Droog. “It’s a, a long story.”

“All of these have gone missing in the past month,” Droog explains. “Obvious signs of a break-in, but no evidence pointing to a culprit.”

“D--do you think Kingpin was involved?”

“Absolutely.”

You think about that as you pocket the photos. “Do you think he’s trying to make a pact with the Terrors?”

“Perhaps,” he says, extinguishing the flame. “It’s possible he’s seen what we can do and wants that power for himself. I doubt he’ll be successful.”

“I’ll look into this,” you tell him. “Call me if--if you hear anything.”

“As usual,” he says, before standing up.

“H--how’s that?”

“All the wiretapping, and purr-tive meetings with shady guys,” she says. “You’re more like a spy.”

You let out a small laugh. “Don’t say that one to the others. They’ll start coming up with spy names for me.”

You’re enjoying this flight of fancy, despite yourself. “I’ll need to imagine up some clever gadgets, to uh, to get me out of pinches.”

“And you’ll need a car,” she says. “A fancy one, that turns into a submeowrine.”

“And a, a dangerous love interest,” you add.

“Oh? You don’t have that already?” She grins up at you. “You and Diamonds Dickhead had an awful lot of chemistry. You aren’t caliginous?”

“What?” You shove your hands in your pockets and look towards the street. “No. Obviously not. Th-th-that’s just, just gross, ew.”

She’s still giving you that look. Fuck.

“A--anyway, the, the case,” you stutter, trying to get back on the subject of work.

“I know somebody,” she says. “That might help.”

“Who?”

She shrugs. “Old friend of mine. She knows all sorts of things about old stuff like what got stolen.”

“That would be, it’d be really useful,” you say.

“I’ll call her when she gets off work,” Nepeta says, adjusting her hat. “In the meantime we can get back to listening to your wiretaps. The part I was on was pretty juicy.”

You’re relieved she’s so easily given up the subject of Droog and gotten back to the task at hand. She might, despite your initial misgivings, be useful to have around.

“I’ve also started a shipping chart for everyone you’re surveilling,” she adds.

After she explains to you what a shipping chart is, you are simultaneously horrified, and intrigued at the new avenues this gives you when cataloguing and interpreting your data.

---

Chapter three.

> Be Ace Dick.

She shrugs, grinning. “It should be worth a laugh. He always says he can do better than us, so let’s see it!”

You shake your head. “Here ‘m always tryin’ to tell him to stay off that case, and you’re just eggin’ him on.”

“So you’re not going to help?” she asks, before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hell no,” you say. “I quit the force to get away from that malarkey. You at least payin’ him?”

She laughs. “Do you think he’s going to ask?”

“We’ll have to set up a collection,” she says. “I’ll put a little can in the break room. ‘Pay Mister Candy Corn’s rent’.”

Detective Vriska Serket walks over, whacking your hat off your head as she passes you to sit next to Terezi. “Can’t be too much, right? Doesn’t he live in a cardboard box?”

“That sounds right,” Terezi says. “But in this city that’s what, 500 bucks a month?”

“Depends on how new the box is, probably,” Vriska responds.

Terezi nods. “Either way, Kingpin owns it so it is absolutely drafty and leaks in the rain.”

“I’m not opposed to makin’ jabs at my dumbass not-boss,” you say as you straighten your hat out. “But I’m serious. You’re payin’ him. And Pickles too, if you got him involved.”

“We do,” Terezi says. “He’s got poor Nepeta bored to tears.”

“Now there’s an idea,” you say. “If you don’t pay up, I’ll go let Captain Peixes know what you’ve been up to.”

“Why Ace,” Terezi says, leaning forward. “Are you threatening me?”

“Might be.”

“Maybe if the Captain finds out she’ll get embarrassed enough to put me on the case,” Vriska says.

“Gettin’ tired of solvin’ murders?” you ask.

“I thought you liked racking up wins,” Terezi said.

“I fucking love racking up wins,” Vriska says. “But I want ones worth my time. Kingpin’s the biggest baddie there is, I gotta get in on that.”

“Maybe you should let her follow Sleuth instead of that angry kid,” you say to Terezi.

She snickers. “No, I’d give her to Tootsie Roll Frankenstein.”

“I’m glad you appreciate Pickles’ special sort of appeal.” You stand up, straightening out your suit. “Thanks for the tip, Pyrope. Now please stop takin’ advantage of my teammates.”

She salutes at you, and it’s dripping with irony. “No, I don’t think I will. You’re welcome to come get taken advantage of, though!”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, getting out your wallet. You pull out a few bills, enough to pay for your coffee and Terezi’s, and drop them on the table. “Take care of yourselves, ladies.”

You figure he’ll learn eventually. Kids like him always do.

(i can’t remember if this ace chapter was even finished but EYY THERE U GO)

#trollcops #homestuck #problem sleuth #midnight crew #mspa #writing #fanfiction

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kaialone · 7 years

Text

Yokai Watch 3 Sukiyaki Translation

(Masterpost for my Yokai Watch translations can be found here)

This will contain spoilers for a sidequest of Yokai Watch 3 Sukiyaki (and I think ver. 2.3 in general), so proceed with caution.

With that being said, this will be a translation of the entire “The Yōkai Council's Secret Investigation Order” sidequest.

I know this is not from ver. 3.0, but I’ve been meaning to do this one since Sukiyaki’s release, it’s just that 3.0 got released faster than I expected.

I’ll go through this scene by scene. (There will be links to watch the scenes on youtube, too.)

Bolded is original Japanese; for reference and in case someone who is better at Japanese than I reads this, and feels like correcting something.

Bolded and italicized is my translation.

(Number) Indicates I got a specific comment to make on that part in the translation notes.

Please keep in mind that I´m a beginner when it comes to Japanese, so it’s possible that I make mistakes, too.

First of all, in order to be able to start this quest, you will need a certain item that you get by scanning in the QR code of Nurarihyon’s medal. However, this item isn’t actually involved with the quest itself.

Item Description: 議長の錫杖妖怪評議会議長に選ばれた者のみが持つことの許された錫杖。ぬらりひょん専用。 Chairman's Khakkhara A khakkhara that only thoses who were elected chairman are allowed to possess. Only for Nurarihyon to use.

Note:

A Khakkhara, called shakujō in Japanese, is basically a staff used for prayer and as a weapon by Buddhist monks, from what I know.

Accepting the Request:

Nurarihyon: はぁ… まったく。 *Sigh*... Honestly, now.

Whisper: おや？ずいぶんとお悩みのようですねぇ。 Oh? It sounds like you’re quite worried about something.

Nurarihyon: …この街の危機を救ったお前たちにならまかせてもいいかもしれんな。 ...Maybe I can leave it to you, the ones who saved this city from the crisis.

Nurarihyon: 妖怪評議会としての依頼で極秘の調査をたのみたい。 At the Yōkai Council's request, I want to conduct an investigation.

Mission Description: 妖怪評議会のぬらりひょん議長。エンマ大王の側近でもある彼から直々に極秘の依頼があるようだ。一体どんな極秘指令なのだろう？ Chairman Nurarihyon of the Yōkai Council. It seems that he, who is also the Great King Enma's aide, personally has a top secret request. Just what is this top secret order?

Nate: それでなんの調査をすればいいの？ So, what kind of investigation should we do?

Nurarihyon: …その前に場所を移そう。だれかに聞かれてはこまる内容なのだ。 ...Let us go somewhere else first. ...It would be troublesome if someone overheard it.

Nurarihyon: たしか… おまえたちは「バスターズハウス」を拠点にしていたな。 If I am not mistaken... You used the Busters House as a base.

Nurarihyon: 私がそこに向かおう。依頼内容についてはその後に。 I will head there. There I will tell you about the details of the request.

Nate: うん分かった！ Right, got it!

At the Busters House:

Happierre: 待ってたボーノ！お客さんが来てるボーノ！ I've been waiting, bono! There's a customer, bono! (1)

Nate: もしかしてぬらるひょん？ Is it Nurarihyon, by any chance?

Happierre: そうだボーノ！失礼のないようにするんだボーノ。 That's right, bono! Please be respectful, bono.

Nurarihyon: それでは依頼内容についてだが… これは評議会からの極秘指令だ。 Now, I will tell you the details of the request, but... this is a top secret order from the council.

Whisper: 超・超・超！重要ってことでうぃすね！ So it's a super, super, super important thing, whis!

Nate: …ごくり。それでオレたちは何をすればいいの？ ...*gulp* So, what are we supposed to do?

Nurarihyon: エンマ大王さまを調べてほしい。 I want you to investigate the Great King Enma.

Nate: ええええ〜！？どういうこと！！？ Whaaat!? What do you mean!!?

Nurarihyon: あのお方はときおり人間界へ... それもお前たちの街へと出かけられる…。 He occasionally goes out to the human world... and to your town, at that...

Nurarihyon: しかも人間に化けてまでだ。そうちょうど…… He even takes on human form. Yes, the form... (2)

Nurarihyon: このような少年のすがたでな。 ...of a boy just like this.

Whisper: …よよく覚えてますね。 ...H-He sure remembered that well.

Nurarihyon: わざわざ人間たちにまぎれて… いったい何をされているのか…。 Going out of his way to mingle with humans... What in the world is he doing...?

Nurarihyon: そう… たまりにたまった仕事をほっぽりだして何のおつもりなのか…。 Right... what is he thinking, leaving behind his piled-up work...

Nurarihyon: だいたい私が目をはなすとすぐにどこかに行ってしまわれ… He usually immediately goes off to someplace the instant I take my eyes off of him...

Nurarihyon: ……コホン。というわけだ。 ...Ahem. That is the situation.

Nurarihyon: あのお方が人間界で何をしているかそれを調査してほしい。 I want you to investigate what he is doing in the human world.

Nurarihyon: 私が行くべきなんだがいろいろあってな。人間界へ同行することはできん…。 I should be going, but I can not do that for multiple reasons. I can not go to the human world with you...

Nurarihyon: ゆえにコレをわたしておく。何かあれば連絡してくれ。 Therefore, take this. Please contact me if something happens.

Text Box: ぬらりひょんから謎の黒いスマートフォンを受け取った！！ You got a mysterious black smart phone from Nurarihyon!!

Nate: コレって… スマホ？ This is... a smartphone?

Nurarihyon: ただのスマホではない。私に連絡ができるのは当然だが… It is not just an ordinary smartphone. Of course you can contact me with it, but...

Nurarihyon: 大王さまの妖気に反応し居場所を特定してくれる。 It responds to His Majesty's yōki, and determines his whereabouts. (3)

Nurarihyon: さらに持ち主の気配を「ぬらり…」と隠す特性も持っている。 Furthermore, it possesses the characteristic of 'slimily...' hiding the presence of its bearer. (4)

Nate: そんなこともできるの！？ It can do that, too!?

Whisper: こんなスゴいスマホ… ヨップルストアでも売ってませんよ！ Such an amazing smartphone... They don't even sell that at the Yopple Store!

Nurarihyon: ああ私ヨップル社に作らせた特別製のスマートフォン… Yes, a specially constructed smartphone that I had the Yopple company make...

Nurarihyon: ぬらりフォンだ。 The Nurariphone.

Nurarihyon: お前たちの住む街が夜に変わるころ… 大王さまは出歩き始めるようだ。 It seems that His Majesty goes out... when night falls in the town you live in.

Nurarihyon: そうしたらぬらりフォンが反応し大王さまの居場所を示してくれるはずだ。 When that happens, the Nurariphone should react and show you His Majesty's location.

Whisper: つまり日本で夜まで寝たときにぬらりフォンが反応するってことですね！ In other words, once we sleep until night in Japan, the Nurariphone will react!

Nurarihyon: 調査方法はまかせる。それではたのんだぞ。 I leave the method of investigating to you. Now then, I am counting on you.

Notes:

In Japanese Happierre ends most of his sentences with ボーノ/bōno, which is derived from his Japanese name ホノボーノ/Honobōno, which in turn is derived from ほのぼの/honobo, which means something like heartwearming.

The word used to describe Enma taking on human form is 化けて/bakete which is a word often used to refer to the transformations of yōkai and similar creatures from folklore.

“Yōki“ is a term used in the Japanese versions of the Yokai Watch games. It is made up of these Kanji: 妖/Yō (the same Yō as in Yōkai, which can mean “mysterious” or “bewitching”, among other things), and 気/Ki, which is the Japanese word for the concept of Qi. It’s not a term exclusive to this franchise, but in Yokai Watch it seems to basically refer to a yōkai’s Ki, to put it simple.

Nurarihyon is making a bit of a pun here. He says the phone can hide its bearer’s presence “nurari...”-like, which is of course a reference to his own name, and ぬらり/nurari can basically be translated as something being slimy or slippery.

First Night, Beginning:

Whisper: ケータくん！ぬらりフォンが反応しているでうぃす！ Nate! The Nurariphone is reacting, whis!

Whisper: エンマ大王さまが人間界に来ているようでうぃすよ！ It seems that the Great King Enma has come to the human world, whis!

Nate: ホント！？どこにいるの？ Really!? Where is he?

Whisper: ええっと… レーダーの反応によると… Let's see... according to the radar's reaction...

Whisper: どうやらさくらの湯にいらっしゃるようでうぃす！ Appearently he went to the Springdale Hotsprings, whis!

Jibanyan: 大きなお風呂に入りにきたニャン？ Did he come to take a big bath, nyan?

Nate: う〜ん… とりあえずさくらの湯に行ってみようか！ Umm... let's just go to the Springdale Hotsprings for now!

First Night, Finding Enma:

Whisper: ああっ！エンマ大王様えすよ…！それと… となりにいるのはもしや…。 Ahh! It's the Great King Enma...! And... next to him is...

Enma: ひさしぶりだな。 …いつ見てもお前は変わらないな。 It's been a while. ...You just don't change one bit, no matter how often I see you.

Mr. Goodsight: これはこれは… 大きくなられましたなぁ。 Dear me... You sure have grown.

Enma: 最近調子はどうだ？人間たちとも上手くやってるか？ How are things lately? Getting along with the humans? (1)

Mr. Goodsight: ああこの街の人間たちは物を大切にしてくれる人ばかりでな。 Yes, among the humans in this town, there are many people who cerish things.

Mr. Goodsight: 時計の修理よりもおしゃべりをしに店をおとずれる方が多いくらいじゃ。 There are more people who visit the shop to have a chat than those who want to have their watches repaired.

Enma: ハハッそうか。 Haha, is that so?

Whisper: まさかおふたりが知り合いだったとは！ No way, these two actually know each other!

Nate: 昔からの知り合いみたいだけど… どういう関係なんだろう？ It sounds like they're old acquaintances, but... I wonder what their relationship is?

Whisper: う〜ん… サッパリでうぃす…。 Hmm... I haven't the foggiest, whis...

Nate: そういえば… オレたちの姿って見えてないんだよね？ That reminds me... They can't see us, right?

Whisper: うぃす。こんなに近くにいるのにちょっと不思議でうぃすねぇ。 Whis. It's a bit strange, since we are so close to them, whis.

Nate: うんヘンな感じ。結局何の用だったんだろうね。 Yeah, feels weird. I wonder just what this was for.

Whisper: むむむよくわかりませんねぇ…。 Hmmm, I don't really understand...

Notes:

I think Enma makes a bit of a pun here. In Japanese, the part I translated as “how are things?” is 調子はどうだ/Chōshi wa dōda?, which sounds similar to Timers & More’s Japanese name: チョーシ堂/ Chōshi-dō, which I think is probably a pun on the phrase to begin with. Adding to that, in Japanese Mr. Goodsight is unnnamed and is only referred to as “Owner of Chōshi-dō”.

Second Night, Beginning:

Whisper: ケータくん！ぬらりフォンが反応しているでうぃす！ Nate! The Nurariphone is reacting, whis!

Whisper: この街にエンマ大王がいらっしゃるみたいです！ It looks like the Great King Enma has come to this town!

Nate: よしさがさなきゃ！場所はどこ…！？ Alright, we gotta find him! Where is he...!?

Whisper: ええっと… レーダーの反応によると… Let's see... according to the radar's reaction...

Whisper: …さくら中央シティの路地裏にいるようでうぃす？ ...it seems like he's in Downtown Springdale's back alley, whis?

Jibanyan: 路地裏なんかで何してるニャン？ What's he doing in a back alley, nyan?

Whisper: それを調査するのが私たちの目的でうぃす！ It is our objective to find that out, whis!

Nate: よしこっそり行ってみよう！ Alright, let's go and see, stealthily!

Second Night, Finding Enma:

Jibanyan: あの人間きっとエンマ大王だニャン！それに見たことある人もいるニャンよ？ I'm pretty sure that human there is the Great King Enma, nyan! And also, someone we've seen before, nyan?

Ms. Frost: もう… いらっしゃるなら前もって言ってくださればいいのに。 Honestly now... I wish you would tell me in advance before you come to visit.

Enma: 顔を見に来ただけだから気にするな。店のジャマをするのも悪いしな。 I'm only here to see your face, so don't worry. Getting in the way of your store would be bad. (1)

Enma: 「スナックゆきおんな」… ずいぶん人気の店みたいじゃないか。 "Frostia's Place"... Seems like it's a pretty popular place. (2)

Enma: アンタにグチを聞いてもらえばどんなに頭に血がのぼって熱くなっても… You got this reputation that, no matter how angry people get, how heated they get...

Enma: 不思議と熱が冷ませるって評判だったぜ。さすがだな。 When people tell you about their complains, they're mysteriously able to cool down. As expected of you.

Ms. Frost: うふふ… そう言ってもらえるなんてとても光栄ですわ。 Teeheehee... I am deeply honored to hear you say this.

Ms. Frost: 今度お店にもいらしてくださいな。おいしいお菓子を用意しておきますよ。 Please, come into my store next time. I will prepare delicious candy.

Enma: おいおい… ガキ扱いするなよな。 Hey now... Don't treat me like a kid.

Nate: このふたりって知り合いだったんだ So these two knew each other...

Whisper: ママさんケータくんにはお菓子を売ってくれますけど… Ms. Frost sells candy to Nate, but...

Whisper: エンマ大王さまってばお菓子好きなんですかねぇ〜？ Does that mean that the Great King Enma likes candy?

Nate: ええっ？そういう話なのかな…？ What? That's what you got from this...?

Nate: でも何かしてるワケでもなさそうだし… 遊びに来てるだけなのかも。 But, he doesn't seem to be doing anything... maybe he just came to visit.

Whisper: うぃす… そうかもしれませんねぇ。 Whis... yes, that might be true.

Whisper: それにしてあのおふたり… どこで知り合ったんでしょう…？ But still, those two... how do they know one another...?

Notes:

Unsure if I got the second line here completely right.

In Japanese, Ms. Frost’s shop is called スナックゆきおんな/SNACK Yuki-onna, with Yuki-onna being a type of yōkai and Frostina’s Japanese name. The “snack” part refers to the fact that it’s a so called “snack bar” , or just “snack” for short, a type of Japanese hostess bar. Adding to that, in Japanese Ms. Frost goes unnamed and is only called “Mama-san”, which is what the female mangers of such establishments are called, from what I understand?

Third Night, Beginning:

Whisper: ケータくん！ぬらりフォンが反応しているでうぃす！ Nate! The Nurariphone is reacting, whis!

Whisper: かなり強い反応ですよ！おそらくこの近くにエンマ大王が…！ It's a pretty strong reaction! Perhaps the Great King Enma is close by...!

Nate: えっ！近く…！？ What! Close by...!?

Whisper: ええっと… レーダーの反応によると… Let's see... according to the radar's reaction...

Whisper: どうやらさくら第一小学校の体育館にいらしゃるようでうぃす！ Appearently he went to the gym of Springdale Elementary, whis!

Nate: 学校の体育館？なにしてるんだろう？ The school's gym? What is he doing?

Jibanyan: さっそく調査開始だニャン！ Let's begin with the investigation immediately, nyan!

Third Night, Finding Enma:

Nate: エンマ大王ホントにいた…！あれ？いっしょにいる人って…。 He really is here...! Huh? That person with him...

Mr. Barton: おやおやこんな夜更けに子どもが出歩くものではないよ。 Oh my, children should not be outside this late at night.

Enma: 何かあればお前がどーにかするだろ。 If something happens, you'll take care of it.

Mr. Barton: それは… 信頼されていると思ってもいいのかねぇ。 That is... Should you be thinking that you can trust me? (1)

Enma: 好きにしろ。 Suit yourself.

Enma: しっかし… お前が先生とは… そういう性格には見えねぇけどな。 But... You as a teacher... You really don't seem like that kinda person.

Mr. Barton: それどういう意味だい？まあ… この立場は何かベンリでね。 What do you mean? Well... there is something convenient about this position.

Mr. Barton: よその町から礼儀をしらないキツネの子が人間に化けてやってきらとしても… Even though there is a fox child with no manners, that came from another town, and took on human form...

Mr. Barton: 学校の先生として自然に追い払えるからね。 As a school teacher, I can drive him away naturally. (2)

Mr. Barton: それに意外と面白いものだよ。みんな元気でいい子たちだしね。 And, it's suprisingly interesting. They're all energetic, good children. (3)

Mr. Barton: キミも学校に通ってみるかい？ Would you also like to go to school?

Enma: …エンリョしておく。 ... I'll pass.

Nate: エンマ大王って理科の先生と知り合いだったんだ！？ The Great King Enma knows my science teacher!? (4)

Whisper: この人もナゾの多いお方でうぃすね…。 That one is also a very mysterious person, whis...

Nate: うん… いつもの先生としゃべり方もちがう気がするし。 Yeah... the way he's talking also feels different than usual.

Nate: ちょっと意外かも…。 I didn't really expect that...

Whisper: ですがどうやら先生とも話しているだけのようですねぇ。 Still, it seems that he's only talking with your teacher.

Whisper: 何をしに来たんでしょう…？ What did he come here for...?

Notes:

I’m unsure if I got this line right.

Because of how the Japanese language works, a pronoun isn’t actually used to refer to this fox child he mentions, but I’m pretty confident that he is referring to Kyubi-kun, so I went with “him”. EDIT: Also note that he could be referring to multiple fox children coming to the village too, given the ambigious plural of the Japanese language.

The word I translated as interesting here is is 面白い/omoshiroi, which can also be translated as amusing or funny.

In Japanese, Mr. Barton goes unnamed and is only called “science teacher”.

Fourth Night, Beginning:

Whisper: ケータくん！ぬらりフォンが反応しているでうぃす！ Nate! The Nurariphone is reacting, whis!

Nate: エンマ大王は今日はだれに会いに来たんだろう？ I wonder who the Great King Enma has come to see today?

Jibanyan: レーダーはどこを指してるニャン？ Where is the radar pointing, nyan?

Whisper: ええっと… ひがん山トンネルを指しているみたいでうぃす。 Let's see... it seems to be pointing to Prayer's Peak Tunnel, whis.

Nate: ひがん山トンネルって… 団々坂の？ Prayer's Peak Tunnel... the one in Blossom Heights?

Jibanyan: そんなところだれがいるニャン？ Who would be at that place, nyan?

Whisper: ででもレーダーはそこを指してるんでうぃす！ B-But the radar is pointing there, whis!

Whisper: とりあえず行ってみましょう！ For now, let's go there and look!

Fourth Night, Finding Enma:

Enma: 出てこいよ。今日もついてきてるんだろ？ Come out. You're following me again today, aren't you?

Whisper: もしかしてバレてるんでうぃす！？ Has our cover been blown, whis!?

Enma: やっぱりお前たちだったか。 So it was you guys after all.

Nate: いいつから気づいてたの？ W-When did you notice?

Enma: ん？ああ… だれかが尾行してるのは最初から気づいていたんだがな。 Hm? Ahh... I noticed that someone was following me from the get go.

Enma: なにかの力がジャマして気配が感じ取れなかったんだ。 Because some kind of power was getting in my way, I didn't sense any presence. (1)

Whisper: きっとぬらりフォンの力でうぃすね！ It must've been the Nurariphone's power, whis!

Enma: だがこの場所は少し特殊でな… オレの妖気が強くなるんだ。 But, this place is a bit special... My yōki is stronger here.

Enma: だから尾行に気づいたんだが… お前たち何が目的だったんだ？ So, I noticed you following me, but... What are you guys up to?

Nate: あうん！ちょっと聞きたいことがあって。 Ah, right! I got a quick question for you.

Nate: この街で何をしてたの…？街の人たちと合ってたみたいだけど…。 What were you doing in this town...? It looked like you where meeting townspeople, but...

Enma: …アイツらはこの街で人間として暮らす物好きな「妖怪たち」だ。 ...Those guys are curious 'yōkai' who live in this town as humans. (2)

Nate: ええっ…！？あの人たちって妖怪だったの！？ Huh...!? Those people where yōkai!?

Enma: ああ… アイツらは昔からこの街を守ってくれてるんだ。 Yeah... they have been protecting this town for a long time.

Enma: オレたち妖怪と… 人間たちとをつなぐためにな。 In order to connect us yōkai... with humans.

Enma: それは… 部屋に閉じこもって書類と向き合ってるだけじゃわからない。 This is... something you can't understand just by staying confined to a room facing paper work.

Enma: 今の世界がどうなってるかも知らずに妖怪たちを束ねる王なんて… If the king who rules the yōkai were to not know about the current world...

Enma: 閻魔大王の名が聞いてあきれるだろ？ That wouldn't be worthy of the Great King Enma’s name, now would it?

Whisper: ははぁ… 妖怪と人間の関係を知るためにああやって人間界にきていたんですねぇ。 Hahah... So you came to the human world like this in order to learn about the relationship of yōkai and humans.

Enma: それじゃオレはそろそろ帰るぜ。 Well then, I should be heading home.

Enma: お前たちの「依頼主」さんも心配してるだろうしよ。 Your "client" is probably worried, too.

Nate: あ行っちゃった…。 Ah, he left...

Nate: あっぬらりひょんからだ。 Ah- It's from Nurarihyon.

Nurarihyon: すべて聞いていた。そんなお考えだったとはな… I heard everything. So this is what he was thinking...

Nurarihyon: …話がある。あらためてバスターズハウスにうかがおう。 ...We need to talk. Let us meet at the Busters House once more.

Nate: わかった！待ってるね！ Got it! Wait for us!

Notes:

The word I translated as presence, both here and when Nurarihyon first explained the phone, is 気配/Kehai, which can be translated as presence, among other things, but in fiction it notably is sometimes used to refer to people’s presence in the sense of like an aura or ki.

The word I translated as curious is 物好きな/monozukina, which can also refer to someone being eccentric or having peculiar interests.

Back at the Busters House:

Nate: …というワケでけっして遊びに来てたわけじゃないみたい。 ...Because of that, it really doesn't seem like he went there for fun.

Nurarihyon: ご苦労だった。 Thank you for your efforts.

Nurarihyon: 大王さまは妖怪と人間の未来をだれよりも考えておられる… His Majesty is considering the future of yōkai and humans more than anyone...

Nurarihyon: 今回のことでよくわかった。 Now I understand this.

Nurarihyon: 日々の仕事に追われ視野がせまくなっていたのは… Being driven by one's daily work, one's horizon narrows... (1)

Nurarihyon: どうやら私の方だったようだな。 It seems that is what I have been doing.

Nate: ぬらりひょん…。 Nurarihyon...

Nurarihyon: 今度は私も妖怪と人間のつながりについて学んでいこうと思う。 Now, I think I will learn about the connections of yōkai and humans, too.

Nurarihyon: お前たちといればそれが学べるのだろう？ I wonder if I could learn about it if I were to stay with you?

Whisper: ももしかしてケータくんのともだち妖怪になってくれるんでうぃす？ C-Could it be that you're going to become Nate's yōkai friend, whis!?

Nate: えっ！？ほんと！？ What!? Really!?

Nurarihyon: ふっ… 今の私にはそれが必要なようだからな。 Hmph... It currently seems necessary to me.

Nate: やったぁ！ありがとう！ Hooray! Thanks!

Nurarihyon: ただし… However...

Nurarihyon: ともだち妖怪になるのは私に勝てたらの話だ。 I will only become your yōkai friend if you can beat me.

Nate: え… それってまさか… Huh... No way, so then...

Whisper: バトルってことでうぃす〜！？ You're gonna battle us, whis!?

Nurarihyon: 見せてみよ！おまえの実力を！ Show it to me! Your true power!

Note:

The word I translated as horizon is 視野/shiya, which refers to one’s literal field of view, but also to one’s view of the world, mental horizon, etc.

After the Battle:

Nurarihyon: ふっ… さすがだな。 Hmph... As expected.

Whisper: まさかいきなりバトルになるとは思いませんでしたねぇ…。 I really didn't think this would turn into a battle all of a sudden like that...

Nate: は〜… 強かった。さすが議長…。 Haah... You're strong. As expected of the chairman...

Nate: でもこれでともだち妖怪になってくれるんだよね！ But, with this, you're my yōkai friend now!

Nurarihyon: ああ。よろしく頼むぞわが友よ。 Yes. Well met, friend of mine.

Nurarihyon: さあ大王さまの愛する人間たちの生き様… Now, please show me...

Nurarihyon: とくと見せてくれたまえ。 The humans' way of living that His Majesty loves.

Meanwhile:

Enma: クソッ！つえーなこの人間…！もう１回だ！ Damn! This human is tough..! One more time!

Enma: までも… Though...

Enma: エンマ大王の仕事なんかサボって人間と遊ぶ方がずっと楽しいぜ！ It's so much fun to just kinda ditch the Great King Enma work, and play with humans!

#yokai watch #youkai watch #yo kai watch #yokai watch 3 #yokai watch spoilers #yokai watch translations #my translations #yokai watch 3 ver. 2.0

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mu-zi-yang · 7 years

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Expanding the Definition of “Canon”: Queer Coding in Media

I know this might be a controversial opinion, but I don’t believe that a fictional character has to explicitly state that they’re LGBTQ+ in order to be canonically queer. That’s pretty unrealistic tbh, unless they story is explicitly about them coming out or something like that.

For me personally, I very rarely say the sentence “I’m bisexual” unless I’m coming out to someone (which I do very rarely because it’s uncomfortable and oftentimes not their business) or answering a direct question about my sexuality. In general, I’ve found that queer people usually have a pretty good sense of who else is queer even if that person has never stated it. I’ve never claimed to have a great “gaydar” (partially because I feel like that term has been overused by straight women looking for Gay Best Friends and I want to stay far away from that mess), but I’ve found that I’ve gotten pretty good at recognizing the way that queer people talk about their relationships and sexuality without explicitly talking about it. There’s a certain way of subtly trying to feel out whether other people are queer around you, and certain ways of talking that tend to indicate queerness.

For a few real-life examples, I once made a really quick comment in my Chinese class about how just because a guy didn’t have a girlfriend didn’t mean he was single. Literally no one in my class noticed except for my gay male classmate, who later came up to me and was like “Hey, I see what you did there.” Or on another occasion, there was a girl who didn’t present in a way that people stereotypically associate with queerness; in fact, I’d venture to say that 99% of straight people would read her as straight. My first conversation with her was literally less than a minute long, but I got a certain vibe from her and sure enough, I saw her on tinder two days later (later on in the summer, we made out, but that’s irrelevant to my point besides confirming that she wasn’t just on tinder looking for friends).

For some more general examples, I’ve found that oftentimes queer people will refer to their exes or their significant others in gender neutral terms; just yesterday, I said “my ex” instead of “my ex-girlfriend” because I was talking to someone I just met and didn’t know how they felt about LGBTQ folks. Another thing is presentation. Not all queer people present a certain way, but there are certain ways of presenting that are associated with queerness, and some people present that way intentionally so that other queer folks will pick up on it. I saw a post on tumblr recently by a WLW saying that she could recognize WLW in clubs because every woman she’d ever seen who went out without a “clubbing outfit” ended up being a WLW. Obviously, this isn’t 100% accurate, but thinking back, I realized that it was shockingly accurate in my own experience.

I’m getting back to my original point soon, but the point I’ve been trying to make is that LGBTQ folks have ways of recognizing each other and ways of letting themselves be recognized, both intentional and subconscious. More importantly, these things, obvious as they may be to LGBTQ folks, fly completely over straight people’s heads. Which means that for writers in media, it would actually be pretty easy to slip a queer character into a piece of media without straight people ever realizing it.

Think about it: how do people know that fictional characters are straight? It’s rarely because the character says “I’m straight.” Usually people assume based on their heterosexual relationships and the fact that the characters’ experiences line up with their own as a heterosexual person. Likewise, there are certain characters who never talk explicitly about their sexuality and may not have a queer relationship onscreen, but based on these little cues that I can pick up, I can tell you with absolute confidence that they’re queer.

Now, I’m not talking about cases like Dumbledore, where JK Rowling, a straight woman, retconned a character who (to my recollection) was not particularly queer coded as gay in an attempt to gain ally points. And I’m also not talking about the fandom practice of queer fans claiming a character as their own and headcanoning that they’re queer despite lack of evidence or evidence to the contrary in canon (a practice which I wholeheartedly support, by the way. If we don’t get representation, we damn fucking well can make our own out of any character we want). I’m talking about how in the new Ghostbusters movie, pretty much ever WLW who watched it took one look at Holtzmann’s character and said “Yep, she’s one of ours.”

This is why I find it so frustrating to see fandom arguments about the sexuality of a character whose sexuality is “ambiguous.” It’s hard to argue with straight fans because they simply do not see the really obvious evidence that queer fans are seeing because they’ve never had reason to look for it. (Some cases are complicated because the writers are queerbaiting, but that’s a whole different issue). But the fact that straight people don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there, and it does not mean that it’s not canon, especially if the writers are LGBTQ.

I don’t have a catchy way to wrap this up, but basically my point is that queerness can be signified in media by much more than front-and-center queer relationships or an explicit declaration of sexuality, and coding characters as queer through more subtle details is just as canon and just as valid as a character singing a musical number about “Gettin’ Bi.”

#queer #lgbt #lgbtq #fandom #wlw #q slur #sorry this is so long and out of the blue it's just something i've been thinking about #and i have more that i could say but i'm supposed to be doing science homework #not writing an essay about queer coding in media

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snakeslide · 7 years

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Lynn’s Giant Steve/Bucky Reclist (part 2)

Continuing from part one and my Steve/Bucky/Sam list. Made for @luciferyl but available for all!

Containing: Absolutely NO unhappy endings, some angst, some plot, and lots of fluff. Not containing: overwhelming angst, many fics set pre-WWII

Sections: General, Modern AUs

* = over 10,000 words

$ = over 50,000 words

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1488142 Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face."Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas." http://archiveofourown.org/works/1744628 In which Bucky doesn't fall from the train, Steve has company when he wakes up in the twenty-first century, and neither of them knows how to talk about their feelings unless they're about to die. http://archiveofourown.org/works/1721768 Bucky knows it's going to be a bad one when Steve wakes up again, lifts his head up from the side of Bucky's fancy electric hospital bed, and says, "Now don't get mad until I explain." http://archiveofourown.org/works/5620300 when you’re a thousand miles away from home, even holidays don't feel the same. or: brooklyn boys versus the california cool. http://archiveofourown.org/works/2083218 Bucky chuckled and Steve’s stomach fluttered. “But actually, Stark did tell me to come tell you that fireworks are gonna start soon. Real special ones, just for you. You had to turn ninety-five, but you’re gettin’ the show you deserve.” Part of a series, but the other ones are often depressing. This one’s cute http://archiveofourown.org/works/1966497 Bucky is alone for a day and Steve leaves post-it notes on his metal arm. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/4906753 Bucky picks up the ring and holds it between them. “Steven Grant Rogers,” he says solemnly. “Will you marry me?” *http://archiveofourown.org/series/23724 Steve leads a Tactical Defense training course a few months after the events of the Avengers movie, and gains himself some SHIELD-issue ducklings. A series of interconnected stories set in the same universe. * http://archiveofourown.org/works/1507499 In the absence of orders, the man wearing the face of Bucky Barnes must figure out who he will be. The answer, mostly, is "somebody Steve Rogers can love." Nothing so easy should ever take this much work. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/1009876 An AU where Bucky is a young selkie who is accidentally called to Steve and ends up staying around to help this poor, wretched kid not die *http://archiveofourown.org/works/3696965 Steve and Bucky: an edible history. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/5520335 By the time Bucky rounds the doorway into Steve's hospital room and sees Sam, flipping through a medical file with a thunderstruck expression, he's prepared himself for just about anything to greet him on the other side of that curtain. What he's not prepared for is Steve saying, “Hey, Buck,” kind of sheepishly, and pushing all five-foot-four inches of himself a bit further up the bed. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658254 “And this is the thing, Steve. I would rather relive this day for eternity than watch them win and you die, or see you be enslaved to them the way I was.” Groundhog Day *http://archiveofourown.org/works/1591178 Steve and Sam chase the Winter Soldier's trail of cold cases across Europe. Meanwhile, Bucky keeps an eye on their progress. As his memories return, he begins to find it harder and harder to sleep and there's only one person he can think to turn to. A lot of emotionally repressed bed-sharing ensues. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/2890913/chapters/6453446 In 1943, the Howling Commandos wrote goodbye letters to be given to their loved ones in the event of their deaths.In 2014, Sharon Carter finds those letters in a tin can in an abandoned HYDRA base. * http://archiveofourown.org/works/2439302 In which Steve Rogers loses God and finds God and loses God, and also: Bucky.

[Actually, just read everything written by Speranza. “20th Century Limited” http://archiveofourown.org/works/4719176 and “the nightmare from which I am trying to wake” http://archiveofourown.org/works/1710950 and “Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes” http://archiveofourown.org/works/2171703/chapters/4750209 are good too.]

*http://archiveofourown.org/works/1704596/chapters/3628919 In which various people deal with things they never signed up for, but at the end of the day no one's particularly surprised. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/1447585 History, Peggy has learned, never tells the whole story. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/1508177 He's been in Steve Rogers's company for less than twenty-four hours and he's already losing sight of his mission. $ http://archiveofourown.org/works/2660255/chapters/5945588 While on a mission storming a HYDRA facility, James Buchanan Barnes touches one of the many strange alien devices collected by the Red Skull. He does this, in fact, twice— in the past, and in the future.Next thing he knows, Bucky Barnes is opening his eyes in the 21st century, which is full of great gadgets and coffee, and at least includes his old pal Steve. (And, inexplicably, a different Stark.) Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier finds himself in the middle of World War Two, helping Captain America hunt down HYDRA (which is at least familiar). $http://archiveofourown.org/series/426577 It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.[Note: series w/o summary. Read the 2nd one first. Very detailed and also addresses some big issues, so read the tags. YMMV. On the other hand, they adopt kids and it’s adorable.] $ http://archiveofourown.org/works/1871955/chapters/4031307 Someone is building machines that look and act like people. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/1695929 Steve's known Bucky his whole life. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/1933773 When the Avengers realize that Steve doesn’t have anything to remind him of Bucky Barnes, they embark on a project to track down Bucky memorabilia. But it seems that Steve isn’t the only visitor to the (unofficial) J. B. Barnes memorial (which is totally NOT a shrine, Tony). *http://archiveofourown.org/works/2630747 Steve looked good, He looked hale and hearty and uninjured in his leather jacket, too-tight shirt, and jeans. He got off the motorcycle and his movements were graceful and fluid - no obvious signs of injury. He took off his helmet and -- Oh. Steve had a beard. Bucky’s mechanical hand spasmed oddly. http://archiveofourown.org/works/4653984 Steve and Bucky go on a road trip. Breakthroughs are made. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/2304905/chapters/5071058 The Associated Press @APWinter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE http://archiveofourown.org/series/117082 Steve chuckled. "Handsome and charming," he said. "Very popular with the dames." He brought his hand to the crown of Bucky's head, ran his fingers through his hair. It was still long and Bucky had never shown any interest to cut it down to his original style; Steve assumed it was here to stay just like the metal arm. He had Bucky back but the Winter Soldier was a part of the package. "Do you remember?"Bucky shrugged. He rolled his face into Steve's touch. "Some things. There're still blank spaces. I know enough to tell when the book's lying." http://archiveofourown.org/works/2185989 Bucky enrolls in a college course about Captain America. It doesn't go well.

*http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sbb2016/works/7907179 After finding himself alone for the first time in decades, the Winter Soldier learns how to be a person again. Mostly through caring for an orphaned kitten, countless rounds of YouTube roulette, and stalking Captain America. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/2398808 The other problem is that Steve loves him, and Bucky isn't sure he remembers how to love. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758087/chapters/3758717 In the aftermath of Steve's return to the world of the living and the battle of New York, the academia and the Internet react. $ http://archiveofourown.org/series/99215 series w/o a summary. 4 fics spanning from WWII to Winter Soldier and beyond (not Civil War compliant) $ http://archiveofourown.org/series/464914 series summary: You'll be on my mind, my destiny. Summary of first fic: Steve and Bucky break, mend, and try to find their place in the world without the mantles of Captain America or the Winter Soldier. AU, post Civil War. Second fic is long Civil War fix-it

Written pre-Winter Soldier movie $http://archiveofourown.org/works/516956/chapters/912562 The man who used to be Bucky Barnes lined up his shot. His finger twitched, only once, very precisely.Help me, the bullet sang.Ninety-eight floors below him, the bullet glanced off a vibranium shield with a musical ping. And Steve Rogers looked up. http://archiveofourown.org/works/437007 There's a kill order on the Winter Soldier and Steve Rogers has been acting kind of strangely lately.

Modern AUs *http://archiveofourown.org/series/407643 series w/o a summary. Summary of first fic: There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.” *http://archiveofourown.org/works/3189626 Bucky looks like he’s had a difficult month, what with the eviction notice and all, but that’s not the reason Steve gives for allowing him to stay on his Couch. Everything by this author is pretty good *http://archiveofourown.org/works/2113371 Bucky's newspaper keeps going missing. http://archiveofourown.org/series/166100 Literally this person has written 50 different meet-cute AUs?? Most of them aren’t particularly long but some are 10k-ish. Over 300k in all *http://archiveofourown.org/works/7766836 Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero. tbh, any of this author’s fics are good. http://archiveofourown.org/series/635039 collects the longest ones *http://archiveofourown.org/works/7848298 “We should date,” Bucky blurts out, inspiration suddenly striking.That gets him Steve’s attention, at least. “Excuse me?” he asks. “No no no, hear me out,” Bucky says. “You wanna get back at them, right? Imagine the following: We date, fall madly in love, then have the most horrendous breakup in history and make them deal with that. They’ll feel terrible because they set us up, and we get to eat free ice cream and see their faces when we eventually tell them we pulled one over them,” Bucky finishes with a smug grin.“That’s a terrible plan,” Steve says. *http://archiveofourown.org/works/3626802/chapters/8008566 Cats. Can't live with them, can't let them live without you. Is it possible to be an unwitting partner in a cat timeshare? Not without meeting the other person who has stolen her heart…$http://archiveofourown.org/works/7033105/chapters/16002481 Captain America trashes his motorcycle a lot. Tony says he'll fix it, then never gets around to it and just buys him a new one. Steve, the Depression-era kid, can't stand the waste and goes looking for somewhere near him in Brooklyn where he can get his bike fixed. That's how he finds Red Star Bike Repair, and the hot Russian-immigrant bike racer who runs it: all long hair and muscles and tattoos. And for the first time since he woke from the ice, Steve feels a connection to someone; a comfort in the other man's silences and his space, an attraction in his sheer skill at racing. But James Barnes isn't exactly who he seems...

#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #mcu #avengers #marvel #luciferyl #fic recs #recs #stucky recs

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superblyjovialtheorist-blog · 6 years

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