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shootybangbang · 3 years

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[Talking Bird] 17: In which beans are ruined

[Ao3 Link]

At the mention of Trelawney, Arthur dimly recalls a scrap of half-remembered conversation from last year, when he’d idled with the man in a Lemoyne saloon while waiting for a mark to arrive. The first flicker of your existence, passing him by unknown. Like the brief touch of a licked finger through candle flame: deceptively benign, with just a whisper of the burn to follow.

Somewhere between his first and second glass of whiskey sours, Trelawney had mentioned the burgeoning demand for opium in Chinatown. A former contact of his had recently left the high stakes poker circuit to get in on the profit, and he’d lamented the loss.

“It’s a shame,” he’d said, absently swirling the ice cubes in his emptied glass and regarding the swirling wood grain of the countertop with a pensive, faraway look. And for once, the sentiment had sounded genuine. Knowing him, the man was grieving a lost business opportunity more than anything else, but it’d been a long time since Arthur had heard him even bother to feign emotion for a stranger. “She’s not suited for smuggling in the least. Can’t say I can see this ending well.”

Less Trelawney’s gift for prophecy and more stating the obvious, now that he knows exactly who he’d been talking about. Prickly disposition, clueless when it comes to violence, and far too trusting of strangers. The cavalier attitude of someone who’d never been exposed to serious conflict and who, having since been exposed, lacks even the conviction necessary to put a bullet in the man holding her hostage.

And far too delicate besides.

When you’d pulled the blanket down your shoulders to untie your braid, Arthur had tilted his head back just enough to catch an eyeful of your backside. A pretty thing to put to paper: the wet swathe of hair draped over your shoulder, the faint shadow of your spine a dark curve flickering with the shifting of firelight. Soft, dappled lines wrapped in the body of someone who’s caused him nothing but grief in the past weeks.

The view had confirmed something he’d already been suspecting: your lack of threat to anything larger than a rat terrier.

Judging by your physique, you’d probably struggle to lift anything more than fifteen pounds. Maybe twenty, on a good day. A veritably pathetic amount of muscle tone with none of the etchings that rough living leaves behind.

Some foreign high society girl fallen on hard times, he guessed. But oddly, none of the clumsy caution people of that strata have when confronted with any sort of real work. You’d fallen into the rhythm of whittling bark off the cottonwood branches too comfortably for someone unacquainted with physical labor, handled the knife with a deftness that comes only from rote repetition.

“I knew Trelawney had connections to some gang out west, but I never thought…” You shake your head slowly, dazed by the absurdity of this new development. “Did he know? When I sold them those bonds, did he realize they were yours? And why—”

“Nah, he wouldn’t have known. I, uh… wasn’t too keen on tellin’ folk I got robbed by a woman.” He rubs the back of his neck and lets out an embarrassed huff. “Told ‘em the whole thing was a bust.”

Looking back, he may as well have told them the truth. The lie hadn’t done much to salvage his pride, and had prompted weeks of jibes at his own expense. Snide little asides from Micah, overt ridicule from Bill, and the painful ordeal of Sean.

“Gettin’ sloppy in your old age,” he’d quipped. “I’ll tell you what you need, Morgan. You need to let someone else hold the reins for a change. Someone quick on the uptake, someone young and hot-blooded and—”

“Get back to me when you’re done complimentin’ yourself,” Arthur had replied, already walking away.

“Wait, Morgan — take me with you next time you ride out! I’ll scout somethin’ out, and we can…”

Sean had been insistent as a mosquito and twice as annoying, but ultimately bearable so long as he had a beer in his hand or a pillow over his head. His own head, though he’d been sorely tempted otherwise.

No, what had really driven him to leave camp had been Dutch.

Dutch and his put-upon fatherly air, all stern mouthed disapproval and downward sloping shoulders. His pointed observations of Jack’s tattered jacket, well on its way to becoming a patchwork Ship of Theseus. Pearson’s dwindling supply of seasonings, so scarce that the stews have become bland to the point of near inedibility. The stocks of medicine running low, bandages boiled so many times that their fibers have since frayed to a cobwebbed consistency.

“I know you’re doing your best, son,” Dutch had sighed, casting a weary eye over his threadbare kingdom. “God knows you’re the only man I can depend on to get anything done around here. But folks are… well. Folks are struggling.”

Arthur’s eyes had slid momentarily towards Dutch’s tent, resting on the golden gleam of the gramophone and the crisp cotton sheets laid across the bed. An unbroken sea of white, with not a stitch out of place. And not twenty feet away, Hosea’s shabby lean-to, the older man’s bedroll bearing the same disjointed array of colors as the rest of the camp’s accoutrements.

Dutch always did have a taste for the finer things in life. A level of refinement proportionate to the depth of his ambition, which in earlier days had been tempered by kinder, simpler ideals. Feed those that need feeding. Shoot those that need shooting. Robin Hood-esque, with a western (and occasionally lethal) twist. Evelyn Miller had been a fixture even then, but in those halcyon years Dutch had not yet twisted the author’s words to the tottering worldview that he’s since constructed.

The gang’s nascent success had bred standards and attracted new followers. A ragtag flock all too eager to nourish their leader’s growing, malignant appetite for grandeur.

“Just one last score, and we’ll be clear of all this… this manmade rot.” Dutch said, gesturing in the direction of Blackwater. “But for now, we’ve got to play their game. Get our hands dirty for the time being so we can wash ourselves clean of all this when we’ve finally got the means.”

Arthur had departed under the pretense of retrieving the missing bonds (impossible) or locating some cache of similar value (near impossible), but in truth he’d done so primarily for the preservation of his own sanity. More and more these days, he’s been seeing cracks in the foundation of the man who’d given him this life, dragged him out of the gutter and set him with a previously unwavering sense of purpose. And it feels treacherous — traitorous, even — to take any of it into question.

But as always, the open road and the unabiding sky of the prairie settled him into a different mindset altogether. The cycles of flora and fauna in untouched wilderness exist completely separate from the artifices of men, with the legacies of countless tiny lives encapsulated in the fine grit of the dust to which all things return. And in that certainty comes an overwhelming comfort. Everything else seems trifling in the wake of the vast perpetuity of nature.

A few days spent wandering would do him good, he’d decided. Spend some time away from all the trappings of civilization, then rob some poor sap on the side of the road so as not to return empty-handed.

And then you’d ruined his plans entirely by literally walking into him as he’d been passing through Strawberry.

“Well,” you say, offering up a small, nervous smile. “What now?”

What now, indeed. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Guess we take a visit to Trelawney’s,” he replies, already dreading the inevitable embarrassment of explaining the whole sorry situation to the man. “And if it turns out you’re tellin’ the truth, I’ll give you a ride from Rhodes to St Denis.”

You frown and furrow your brow. “Rhodes?”

“Yeah, Rhodes. Trelawney’s got a caravan there on the outskirts of town. You didn’t know?”

“You can’t take me to Rhodes,” you say automatically, as if stating the obvious. “I mean… look at me.”

“You’re a woman?” he asks stupidly.

“I’m an Oriental, you moron. And Rhodes is a fucking… it’s a fucking Raider town.”

“You’d be with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

You shake your head and set your mouth into a grim, flat line. “That’s worse. They might think we’re together. And they don’t take kindly to miscegenation.”

Your words have to them the quality of a veil being drawn back, exposing a corner of this country’s ugliness he’s not often been privy to. A familiar knot of guilt tugs at his innards, accompanied by the unpleasant, impotent sensation that surfaces each time he catches the ungracious stares of the crowd when walking into town with Tilly by his side. Each time he hears the practiced courtesy in a shopkeep’s voice drop away when the man turns away from him to address Charles. Each time he watches Lenny reread for the thousandth time the letter from his dead father, the creases in its paper worn so deep that it would have long since fallen apart were it not for the boy’s careful, reverent handling.

“You know those big plantation houses just south of Rhodes? They hire Chinese sometimes to work the fields. Cheaper than sharecropping, apparently.” The look on your face is drawn and bitter. The bite in your voice suggests something personal, the sting of an injury not yet healed. “One of the boys got involved with a white housemaid. He’d saved up for train tickets to Philadelphia, and they were… he was going to marry her there. Wanted an August wedding. The number eight’s lucky for us, you see. So August 8th, 1898… he thought it was all very romantic. Used to make this stupid joke that he wished he’d met her ten years earlier. Raiders strung him up in an oak tree a couple weeks before they were set to leave.”

Arthur’s tongue lies silent and heavy in his mouth.

You take in a deep breath that rattles with the failing determination of someone struggling not to break their composure, then look to him with a desperation so absolute that it seems almost indecent to witness. “Why don’t you just leave me here? Keep me tied up if you have to. Come back for me when you’re done with Trelawney.”

In the short span of time that he’s known you, you’ve made enough of an impression to warrant several conclusive classifications. A haughty, pampered little thing. An ineffective liar. A self-destructive fool — but not stupid. Definitely not stupid.

The sheer idiocy of your suggestion indicates a fear so deep that it’s completely severed you from your senses. Just a frightened little bird caught in a trap, scratching and clawing for the narrowest possible opening for escape.

“You’re tellin’ me to tie up a woman and leave her in the middle of nowhere? May as well just hand-deliver you to the wolves. No,” he says firmly, trying to shake off the unwanted pang of sympathy. Dutch had been right about one thing — the gang did need money, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity for it slip away out of misguided compassion for a woman who’d literally robbed him as he’d bled out. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Soon as we near Rhodes, I’ll tie you to Boadicea the same way I did when we left Strawberry.”

You blink and utter a disbelieving, “Excuse me, what?”

“Reckon they’ll treat us both a hell of a lot nicer if they think you’re a bounty. Gives me plenty excuse for keepin’ you in one piece, too.”

Your face ventures on a quick journey through the five stages of grief. The grief in question being for the loss of your dignity. The blank look shifts to a glare. You open your mouth to spit out something no doubt acerbic and very rude, but a flash of uncertainty crosses your face and you quickly bite your tongue. Then you lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally open them again, there is a defeated resignation in them that attests to a lost mental argument.

“You better ride slow if you don’t want a repeat of this morning,” you say wearily.

Arthur shrugs. “Can’t throw up if you got nothin’ in your stomach. We’ll just skip feeding you breakfast tomorrow.”

To his relief, the atmosphere lightens to blessed, familiar hostility. You tell him to go fuck himself. That you’ll literally fight him for the apples you know he has tucked away in his saddlebags. That maybe you’ll throw up anyway purely out of spite. That he’s a miserable piece of shit who you wish—

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the outcrop for a fraction of a second, painting everything beneath it into harsh shades of white and black. It strikes as sudden and violent as a fiery whip crack, leaving behind it the bittersweet scent of burnt grass and a curl of grey smoke like a departing ghost. Its near-simultaneous clap of thunder drowns out your last sentence with an ear splitting boom so encompassing that the vibration of it seems to rattle down to the bone. The silence that follows has in it the anticipatory hush of the void prior to Genesis. You shatter it with a quiet but appropriately placed, “Jesus Christ.”

The land outside is hedged low in the horizon, and the vastness of its sky swallows all else. It crowns as its dominating feature the movement of its anvil-shaped clouds. They shift leaden and portentous, translucent bellied and lit up by the jagged tongues of lightning darting throughout quick and sporadic as pale dragonflies. Roiling violet like the murky blood of some vast organism, pulsing membranous over the prairie with a fury of near biblical proportions. And below, the buttes with their strange eroded shapes like scattered islands in a black sea of grass. In the torrential dark, their silhouettes flash ivory with every strike of lightning only to sink back into the hushed umbra of night.

There is a muted look of awe on your face, as if witnessing for the first time the true scale of a storm. Something that before now had been glimpsed only through the gaps between high-shuttered buildings. Tempests caught in concrete snares and, not unlike the men that build them, diminished until they are but a feeble whisper of their former selves.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur. “I never knew rain could be like this.”

With a jolt of displeasure, he finds that the soft expression on your face renders you unexpectedly pretty in the fire’s flickering light, the amber reflection of it bright as copper in your eyes. A gentle chiaroscuro, the smooth line of your cheek and shadowed hollow of your throat the anchor points to which his eye is drawn.

You shuffle a little closer to the outlook’s rain-veiled edge. The roughspun blanket, still drawn tightly around your shoulders, shifts. Arthur quickly averts his eyes, but even so is met with a sliver of bare skin that runs neck to navel. The subtle outline of a breast, the mild fishbone curve of a rib.

And all at once he’s unbearably, disastrously hard, filled with a painful but directionless longing — not just for intimacy, but for the simple reassurance of another body pressed close, skin to skin and breath to breath. A kind of tenderness he’s been deprived of for so long that the memory of it brings not warmth but the brittle cold of hoarfrost. Absence like a thick pane of ice, the things he’s lost visible just underneath.

From the periphery of his line of sight, you’re but an indistinct blur in the vague shape of a woman. How appropriate then, that you should be the focus of this formless arousal. And how infuriatingly pathetic. He hadn’t lied when he’d said you weren’t his type, and yet here he is, his cock stiffer than it’s been in months at just the suggestion of a woman’s naked body.

In desperate search of both distraction and something to obscure himself with, Arthur pulls back the front flap of his satchel and fishes out your blue notebook. He glances briefly in your direction, already anticipating your angry shout of indignation — but you’re far too occupied with watching the progression of the storm to so much as glance in his direction.

The notebook’s contents are far more legible than he’d initially assumed. Most of the foreign characters seem to be either names or places, which makes it possible for him to pick out the main thread of most sentences.

Its first half consists of what looks like a ledger. Neatly organized columns with foreign characters and numbers that he hasn’t the slightest idea how to parse. When he flips past it, a slip of paper scrawled with the same strange, flowing text flutters from the pages and alights delicately into his lap. Arthur picks it up, and as he examines it, it occurs to him that he has no idea how to orient it.

Prior to this, he’d only ever seen Chinese characters painted on the roadside food stalls accompanying railroad workers on their long trek westwards. A strange, complex syllabary. He’d once read somewhere that each word of the language had its own unique character. A sort of pictograph that, when studied, relays its meaning to those who knew how to read it.

He scrutinizes the slip of paper in his hand, but finds himself unable to pick out even the vaguest of resemblances. The corner of the paper bears a square seal of red ink, inset with an intricate consortium of straight lines. Curiosity spent for the moment, Arthur slots the document back in place.

The rest of the notebook looks to be an odd mixture of field observations and long, ornate paragraphs about various landscapes. A few pressed wildflowers, field observations of city flora and fauna, crudely drawn animals reminiscent of the scattered petroglyphs he’s found carved in long-abandoned settlements. An earmarked passage describing the wetlands bordering St Denis, full of strikethroughs and hastily added phrases squeezed into the margins. Another describing what sounds like Cotorra Springs.

“The amber fields are dotted with sprigs of larkspurs and wild flax like blue-violet stars,” Arthur reads aloud.

You turn to face him so quickly that your wet hair arcs through the air like an ink-stained brush, scattering water droplets that sizzle and hiss when they fall into the fire. Wild-eyed as a spooked horse, but frozen into a horrified silence as he licks his finger and traces the rest of the line across the page, continuing, “And even further north, viridian-blue pools from which rise plumes of white smoke, the water still and clear as glass. Hills of black obsidian —”

You scramble towards him and, while clutching the blanket around your shoulders shut with one hand, slap the notebook out of his grip with the other. It lands perilously close to the fire, but you snatch it up without giving a second thought to the nearness of the flames.

“That’s private,” you hiss, hugging the notebook to your chest the way one might accidentally smother an infant.

“Thought it was fair turnaround, seein’ as you never extended that same courtesy to me,” he retorts.

The memory of that miserable morning after surfaces in him like a bloated corpse too persistent to stay hidden. His billfold emptied, ill-gotten gains vanished, and his journal speckled with smeared, bloodied thumbprints from beginning to end. Above a sketch of a mountain wildflower he’d drawn a question mark next to, the word “crocus ?” written in an angular, jagged scrawl.

“Yeah, because I thought you were going to die!” you argue back. “Figured you probably had your next of kin listed somewhere in there!”

Next of kin. The phrase pierces through like a stitch popped out of place, and Arthur nearly flinches. It’s an unintentional blow on your part, but nevertheless he deflects the only way he knows how. When bitten, bite back.

“Oh that’s real charitable, comin’ from the dope-peddler,” he jeers. “You save this compassion for everyone you fuck over, or just me?”

A clear and unguarded expression of hurt crosses your features. The same you’d worn when he’d had to pry his shotgun out of your hands. Forlorn, helpless as a wounded prey animal. But it passes quickly into a cold disdain, your head raised high again and your eyes hard as flint.

“Do you know,” you say quietly, lip curling with contempt. “I seriously considered cutting your throat when I finally realized who you were. I should have.”

Then you blink, forehead wrinkling as you sniff at the air. You glance at the fire, where his forgotten can of beans is beginning to burn.

Arthur curses. He hastily swipes one of his discarded riding gloves from the grass and pulls it on, then grabs the can and blows on its contents, fanning away its delicate wisp of black smoke.

You retreat to the far inner corner of the outcrop and frantically page through the notebook until you find the red-sealed paper sheafed inside. With a sigh of relief, you slump against the rough granite wall, the tense set of your shoulders loosening as though some secret string stretched taut through the frame of your body had suddenly been cut loose.

A sullen silence permeates the shelter, punctuated only by the grating scratch of metal as he scrapes burnt food off the edges of the can with a spoon.

“You forgot to mention that the whole place smells like shit,” Arthur says finally. He keeps his eyes on the can, attention focused squarely on the arduous task of excavating beans.

“What?”

“Cotorra Springs. Smells like week-old shit. Especially around the pools.”

The rustle of blankets. From the corner of his eye, he watches you tentatively scoot closer. “You’ve been there?” you ask. Your voice is still deeply reproachful, but touched with genuine curiosity.

“You haven’t?”

“No. I’ve just seen pictures. And notes from people who have.”

“Huh,” he says. He scrapes another carbonized mouthful from the can. “Could’ve fooled me, the way you wrote about it.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think so?”

“Sure.

The corner of your mouth quirks upwards in a reluctant smile that unfolds like the breaking light of a clouded dawn. “Well, that’s… that’s good to know.”

“You writin’ a book or something?” he asks.

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” The smile wilts slightly, and you drop your gaze down to the notebook on your lap. “No. Just a favor for an old friend’s husband. The man fancies himself an explorer, but can barely string a sentence together. He’s paying me to pretty up his notes for him. Half of which I think are made up. There’s some bullshit in there about an enormous rainbow colored pond full of boiling water.”

Arthur laughs. “Naw, that bit’s true. I’ve seen it. It’s a hell of a thing.”

You seem skeptical. He doesn’t blame you. Even after having walked the rust-banded edge of that craterous spring himself, his memory of it still carries with it the preternatural awe of a place half-dreamed. He tells you about the slow gradation of color leading inwards from the rim. Ochre to cadmium, to turquoise, to a deep cerulean with the unreal brilliance of a painted ocean. Steam hanging like a pungent fog. Entire stretches of ground covered in a thick, boiling mud, bubbling ominous as something out of Dante’s Inferno. A constant gurgling of earth and water, as if he were treading upon some living thing in the midst of an infernal digestion.

Halfway through his description, you flip the notebook to a clean page and ask him for a pencil, then begin scribbling down his words with an unceasing, determined hand. This bemuses him. That anyone might find his drivel meaningful enough to commit to paper is a new experience altogether. It’s an odd feeling, but not at all an unpleasant one.

That is, until you begin peppering his narrative with so many questions that it takes the better part of an hour to accommodate them.

What kind of plants grew there?

“Bunch of disgusting slippery shit around the edge. Algae or something. Other than that, can’t think of a single thing that’d lay roots in boiling water and sulfur.”

Did the mud boil like roiling water, or was it more the viscosity of a slow simmering stew?

“More like wet cement, really.”

Were there animals?

“No. Nothing there for ‘em.”

Birds?

“Didn’t see any.”

Insects?

“A shit ton of gnats, but not much else.”

How wide were the prismatic bands around the crater? What was the geology like? Did the surrounding forest taper off gradually in the vicinity of the spring, or was the loss of vegetation sudden and absolute as a drawn border?

“Give me your notebook.” he says, having finally reached the point of exasperation. “Easier if I just draw it for you.”

To his faint surprise, you hand it over without hesitation. He sketches out what he’s able to recall, all the while acutely aware of the madness of the situation. Fucking illustrating an account of his own wanderings for the woman who robbed him while they both sit in varying states of undress. Scribbling out a messy landscape in the same notebook whose contents he’d derided just a little while ago. Focusing all his attention on Cotorra Springs so as to ward away the unfortunate possibility of another inopportune erection.

The mediocre drawing he finally manages to scratch out would have disappointed him under any other occasion. Instead, he feels a warm flood of relief at its conclusion. If this doesn’t shut you up, then nothing will.

Nothing will, it seems. To his immense chagrin, the drawing sparks another round of questions. After silently admiring his work just long enough to spark hope of your satiety, you ask him about the species of the trees. Had he explored the nearby forest? Were there flowers? What season had he visited in? Was the acrid smell of sulfur present even here?

“Look,” Arthur says wearily. “You clearly come from money. Why don’t you just hire someone out to take you sometime?”

You snort at the suggestion. The corner of your mouth lifts upwards into something that’s only nominally a smile, and more the type of grimace that accompanies an old wound. “The only two men I’d trust enough to take me out into the middle of nowhere are dead. And with the money I owe, I can’t… I can’t just… you know what?” you say abruptly. “It’s getting late and I’m fucking exhausted. I’m going to sleep.”

And with that, you tug the blanket tight around your shoulders and huddle against the ground like a felled shrimp. You lay with your back to him, the words left unsaid hanging over you both like an unripe fruit of a question.

Arthur fetches his bedroll and unfurls it close to the fire. A battered pillow emerges from the worn tarp as he spreads it flat. After a moment of contemplation, he picks up the pillow and tosses it in your direction. It hits you square on the head.

Immediately, you sit up and snarl at him. “What the fuck is wrong with — oh.” You pick up the pillow and grasp it tight, as if at any moment he might change his mind and demand it back. Your small “thank you” is puzzled and uncertain.

“I’m gonna put out the fire,” he says. “You try to slit my throat in the dark, I’ll wring your neck.”

But the threat comes out empty and toothless, and judging by the renewed sarcasm in your voice when you tell him you’ll keep it in mind, you seem fully aware of it.

Arthur douses the flames by kicking dirt over the embers, which glow dim and vermillion for minutes afterwards, fading slow to dull, crumbling ash when the heat finally bleeds out of them. The pleasant smell of smoke lingers inside the shelter for a good while longer, but even that dissipates eventually, leaving just petrichor and the crisp, clean scent of early autumn rain.

The worst of the storm has shifted westwards. Water drips in a steady stream from the outer edge of the overhang, churning the ground below to a soup of mud. The cloud cover is still dense, but it’s thinned enough that moonlight gleams through the feathery underbelly in a pale and spattered mottle. With it, he can make out the dim outline of your body, the rise and fall of your chest in a slow, steady rhythm he sorely doubts you’d have the patience to feign.

He lies awake there in the dark for a long while, shuffling through a jumble of discordant emotion. It’s as if the pieces of several sets of puzzles have been mixed together and jammed into an incomprehensible mess, so hopelessly and thoroughly muddled that he can no longer tell where one thing starts and another ends. He sorts his way through it until the rain weakens to a grey drizzle and the drip of rainwater turns from the unbroken stream of a faucet to a series of droplets beating out an abstruse morse code against the ground.

In the end, he’s only able to definitively place a single solid sentiment. Pity.

———

Couple notes:

Arthur's understanding of Chinese is incorrect, but aligns with the assumptions a lot of Western scholars during that time period had regarding it. There was a big tendency to treat it like Japanese, which despite using some of the same characters, uses a completely different structure.

Cotorra Springs seems to be based off Yellowstone. The big boiling rainbow spring is actually real: it's called the Grand Prismatic Spring and seriously does look like something out of a fever dream. Yellowstone also does smell like sulfur in some places, but it’s not so much like week old shit as it is the potent fart of someone who’s eaten far too many deviled eggs.

No algae grows in the spring. It's actually cyanobacteria, but there's no reason Arthur would know this. It does look pretty gross up close.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #fic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #my work #talking bird

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silyabeeodess · 3 years

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FusionFall Headcanons: The Academy

I think I’ve finally gotten to the point where I’m running low on a lot of the main topics for the OG version, so I’ll go ahead and add the Academy version. (Please note in advance that, due to conflicts these two versions may have, I’ll be sticking to info from the OG primarily and seeing what I can incorporate from the latter from there.) For now though, let’s just discuss the Academy itself.

At the beginning of the war, there was no real sense of structure to the Fusion Fighters as a whole; only within the separate groups that had joined together. While much of that is still an issue simply do to the massive scale of the war and number of differing forces involved, Earth was eventually able to organize enough to turn this odd bunch of soldiers into more of a true, unified army. Part of this included restructuring how new recruits were added in, training them in a controlled area as opposed to how many were thrown into the battlefield beforehand. Therefore, the Academy was created.

There were three main groups involved in the Academy’s creation: Providence, the Plumbers, and the AWSM. Providence already had experience quickly organizing in a crisis situation thanks to their work handling EVOs. The Plumbers had the greatest knowledge of Fuse and ability to maintain some structure of a large scale. The AWSM was able to rally even more heroes to the cause and keep track of each other in the event of another issue like the events of Dexter’s guide missions, in which several heroes went missing thanks to Demongo and his Fusion. More importantly, all three groups were able to offer training, room, and board.

The Null Void and Providence HQ were both prime locations to take fusion monsters for study and have new recruits battle them in a controlled environment. The base at Mt. Neverest (in the same range as Super Summit) was already being constructed as an HQ as more heroes were admitted into the AWSM following the events of the PPG episode “Members Only” and was repurposed for the war. Recruits are taught different tactics and levels of combat at each location, with the Plumbers and Providence agents relying on more structure and the AWSM heroes teaching more varied, flexible types of fighting. Mt. Neverest also tends to be where recruits get their first assignments after graduation.

For a lot of people, the initial dive into the Null Void for training is jarring to say the least: Compared to the lush life on Earth, it’s glaringly inhospitable and with the number of intergalactic criminals that have been dumped there, there’s more to worry about than whatever the instructors have you fighting on any particular day. This is what makes it so ideal, separating the true soldiers from the likes of those who only joined the fight to get in on the deal with Grim’s Resurrect ‘Ems. The fight for Earth is still bad enough that there’s always a place for someone in the army, and the Plumbers make sure to keep the newbies as safe as possible, but it’s a good test nonetheless. People find the training at Providence much easier by comparison thanks to the better atmosphere alone.

Occasionally, heroes like Ben, Lance, and Rex visit these locations to check on the recruits and assist in training. This also includes soldiers who fought in some of the roughest battles, like those who spent time in the Darklands. A handful of independent agents who would have otherwise ended their service signed on as instructors as well, so newbies will hear a wealth of war stories between training sessions.

Restructuring the Fusion Fighters also meant drawing in additional funding for them. As a result, new recruits were able to get better equipment early on.

Graduating from the Academy itself isn’t celebrated as much as meeting Earth’s various heroes and finding out which ones you’ll be working under. The ceremony is short, with more focus given to going over all necessary info with the recruits one final time before they leave. It’s common for many of them to keep autograph books and photos as souvenirs. So long as nothing they do risks security, most heroes don’t mind this as they’re used to the fanfare.

#headcanons #fusionfall #fusionfall academy #video games

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marvels-writings · 4 years

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Letters to Space (6)

Series Masterlist

Carol Danvers Masterlist

A/N: I messed around with themes for a solid hour, sorry to anyone who was looking at my blog then, if anyone has suggestions for a free theme I’m open

The recovery was a lot harder than you had thought, you were mostly in bed since you barely had enough energy to get out of bed. Carol was beside you most of the time, she slept in the chair next to you more times than you’d care to count. The entire team visited you often, thanking you and just talking to you about what you missed and what had happened.

But through it all, you still felt a little weird, your entire right arm was scarred and burnt, Cho had suggested the regeneration cradle to help, but there would still be prominent scars after. You didn’t know what to do, most of the team was encouraging you to try it.

“What if it only makes it worse?” You argued with Carol, she sighed and leaned forwards on her elbows, gently taking your hand which had been settled on top of your stomach.

“It won’t I promise, just try it out, for me?” She asked, a pleading look in her eyes.

Carol had seen how badly your arm was affecting you, she saw your frustration at being bedridden and being helped with everything. She wanted to see you happy, even if that meant you were never going to be the same.

“Only for you Stargirl.” You muttered, Carol grinned at you and left to tell Cho and the rest of the team, coming back shortly with a brochure on what was going to happen.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“And you’re sure this will work?” You verified, lying down on the regeneration cradle wearing a tank top and jeggings.

“Completely sure.” She reassured, impatience creeping into her voice as this was the fifth time you had asked.

Carol smiled softly at you and moved to your left side, you reached out for her and took her hand, she squeezed your hand and pulled her chair closer to you. She still hadn’t told you about your box of letters, you hadn’t asked either. The rest of the team loitered around, waiting for the cradle to start its work.

Once it had started, it just felt tingly, you chose not to look at it, instead talking to Carol more about what you’d missed on Earth. After Cho had told them it would take a few hours, some of them stayed by your side while others left for their own business. Clint hadn’t talked to you much, he knew how close you were to Natasha, he was mostly avoiding the guilt.

An hour went by quickly while just talking to Carol and occasionally joking about her haircut. You could barely believe it still, she looked different than what you remembered her. She was more worn out, but in the past few days, you could see that she was sleeping better and slowly turning back into her old self.

You eventually fell asleep while talking to Carol, she didn’t mind, instead, she went back to moving your old things back into your room. When you woke up, Cho told you the cradle had done its work, Carol sprinted into the room the second she heard you were awake. You turned to look at your arm, it looked much better, but you couldn’t move your arm.

“I can’t move it.” You stated plainly.

Helen’s eyes widened and she started asking you questions, trying to get you to lift your arm, but you had no feeling in your arm. Despondence started to weigh in on you, carol saw how it was dragging you down. She tried to help by sitting next to you and gently pulling you in her lap while Cho still asked you questions.

“Hey, I heard it was done, what’s the result?” Tony asked, bursting into the room, he wore a casual jacket, jeans and a t-shirt, you looked down.

“The skin is better, but I can’t feel anything.” You answered Tony looked at you sympathetically before running off and saying he would be right back.

You frowned, Helen finished her questions and concluded you had irrevocable nerve damage in your right arm. You clenched your jaw at the idea when you remembered the cradle had done some work on your face too, you asked for a mirror.

“See? It wasn’t all bad.” Carol said softly, trying to look on the bright side and holding the mirror in front of your face.

You turned your face to look at yourself better, it looked much better than before. There was still a large, light pink scar running from the top of your eyebrow down to the corner of your lip where the skin had been charred. The hair on your eyebrow was a little choppy still, the scar was the worst part about it.

You traced the scar gently with your fingertips as Carol held the mirror, admiring your features. You didn’t notice her staring, you sighed and put your hand on top of hers, forcing her to drop the mirror. Before Carol could speak, Tony came rushing in with a large briefcase.

“I made you something in case the cradle didn’t work.” He said excitedly, Helen frowned.

“You knew it wouldn’t work?” She asked, he shrugged and set the briefcase down next to you, snapping it open to reveal a fav/color and black right arm.

“The cradle can’t repair nerve damage.” He said, lifting up the arm to show you, your eyes widened as you lifted an arm to gently run your fingers over it.

The arm was exactly your size and build, the fingers were the exact same length. The arm was primarily black, but it had lines of fav/color adorning it as well as a small screen just above the wrist, almost like a watch.

“This isn’t metal.” You said, Tony’s grin widened.

“It’s better, T’challa gave me vibranium to make it for you and his sister, Shuri helped me with the design.” He grinned, you took your hand away, eyes wide.

“As in the stuff Steve’s shield is made out of?” You asked, eyes wide as a small grin started to creep onto your face.

“Yep, try it on.” He urged, you hopped off of Carol’s lap excitedly and offered your arm to him.

Tony gently helped guide your arm into the metal object, he switched it on using a tablet from the briefcase, the screen on top of your wrist lit up as the top of the arm attached itself to you. You felt a tingling sensation as the top of it attached to your shoulder to sense nerve impulses.

“Now, try giving Carol a high five.” He stated, walking behind a little with a grin on his face.

Carol put her hand up hesitantly to high five you, you picked up your arm with ease and gave her a high give, grinning the entire time. She winced slightly when you hit her hand a little too hard.

“How much power did you give that thing?” She asked, looking to Tony while you fidgeted with the small screen on your wrist.

“It’s a little stronger than Bucky’s arm, the touchscreen monitors your vitals, location, and you can play flappy bird on it.” Tony joked, you grinned at him then leaped at him in a hug, shocking him as you wrapped your arms tightly around him.

“Thank you so much.” You whispered, squeezing him tightly, his finger clinked against your metal arm to get you to stop squeezing.

“We’re gonna have to get you used to that.” He croaked, you pulled away and laughed apologetically, sitting on one of the chairs next to the cradle and looking at the arm pensively. Tony left to make some modifications to the tablet controlling the arm, leaving you alone with Carol.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked softly, you looked up at her, smiling weakly before looking back down at your new arm.

“I just, this feels so weird.” You said, sighing before explaining yourself.

“I never thought I’d need help from others just to live my life, I always wanted to help people ever since I joined SHIELD and got these powers.” You lifted your left hand and let wisps of red and gold run through them before bringing it back into your lap.

“But now, I don’t really know what I’m going to do.” You confessed, sighing and putting both your hands in your lap.

“Hey, look at me,” Carol said softly, you continued looking down in your lap. The blonde hooked one finger under your chin and lifted up your head to look at her, hazel eyes boring into yours.

“No one is going to blame you if you want to go settle down in a small cabin by the lake. No one is going to be mad at you for taking a break okay?” She asked softly, the other hand gently reaching and taking your metal hand.

“Can you feel this?” She wondered softly, you nodded, Carol started drawing gentle patterns on your hand.

“Whatever you choose to do, I’ll be there with you the entire time. If you want to explore space with me, kick HYDRA’s ass, take a break, get a dog, whatever it is, I’ll be there with you.” Carol promised, you smiled softly up at her, Carol swore her heart skipped a beat.

“What did I do to deserve you Stargirl?” You asked softly, chuckling at yourself when you noticed how close Carol was to you.

“You almost got yourself killed for starters,” Carol muttered, you laughed and looked down at her hand on top of yours before looking up at her, letting yourself get lost in her eyes for a second.

“I also might have read your letters.” Carol blurted suddenly, your eyes widened when you remembered the last letter you’d written in the box.

“You mean, the box full of letters called ‘letters to space’?” You asked, eyes wide as a prominent blush started to spread across your face. Carol laughed at your flustered expression and nodded.

“I love you too.” Carol smiled at you, hand moving to gently cup your cheek.

You leaned in slowly, scanning Carol’s features to make sure she wanted this. Carol didn’t show any hesitation, instead, she pulled you in, her hand gently sliding into your hair. Your lips moved over hers hesitantly, becoming more confident as the kiss deepened. You reached out your left hand to pull her closer, the blonde’s hands embedding themselves in your hair as your lips moved in sync.

“Damn, that’s not what I expected,” Bucky stated, leaning against the doorway in black sweatpants and a loose, short-sleeved t-shirt.

“Oh come on.” You groaned, sliding away from Carol and moving to glare at him. His green-blue eyes glinted with mischief as he smirked at you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, you nodded and raised your arm. His eyes widened and he moved closer to your arm, grinning before giving you a small high five with his metal arm.

You laughed softly as he joked about being ‘metal arm buddies’. Carol watched you with lovesick eyes the entire time. You were all she had ever wanted and needed from life, she had spent so long without you but now that you were finally with her, she wouldn’t let you go.

| Part 7 |

Taglist: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @sighsam , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: Thoughts?

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imaginepirates · 4 years

Text

Loving and Loved

A third part to Scarred and Scared! For @kay-maybe, who wanted some more Beckett. Well, here you have it. Featuring: an incredible amount of self-consciousness and some tender treatment.

~3000 words

@paljonkaikenlaista @emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official

~~~~~~~

The weeks following your capture were pleasant. Beckett had certainly found a new use for you, and you were enjoying yourself more than you’d like to admit. He always had a hand on yours, and he would press light kisses to your knuckles or the back of your hand. Occasionally, when he was feeling particularly bold, he’d ask you to guide one of his hands to your cheek so he could kiss you there. Only when you were alone did he let you kiss him on the lips, and you could feel him smile when you did so.

Currently, you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes, stretching in the morning sun that streamed through the curtains. You donned your usual robe; Beckett gave you robes of all colors and levels of scandal to wear around the house. You indulged him, even if he couldn’t see you. They were comfortable, and light in the Jamaican heat. You chose one of seafoam green with little white shells embroidered across it. Fitting, you thought, given your location.

Though Beckett owned a dining room, he hardly ever used it. You met him in his office during most mealtimes, unless he was meeting with somebody over food, which was the case more often than you might have liked.

You visited the kitchens to get a tray filled with breakfast foods before walking back to his office. You gave the door a little push with your hip and entered, setting the food on a table in the middle of the space. He hummed, acknowledging that you were there.

“I brought breakfast,” you told him.

He leaned back in his chair, looking up in your direction. “I can smell that. A good thing too, because all I’ve had is tea.”

“I figured as much.” He drank enough tea to fill an ocean. You walked over to him, helping him out of his chair and over to the table. He was getting better at walking, you noticed. It didn’t take him as long to move from place to place. Everything was slowly becoming easier for him, and you were glad to see it.

He yawned upon reaching his seat, and you handed him a pastry. “Will you keep me company this morning?” He asked.

“Of course.” You often did, simply sitting in a chair near him, reading a book, your hand over his. It was nice enough, and he always wore a small smile when you stayed.

“I’ve scheduled the servants to have tomorrow to themselves. They’ll be leaving this evening.” Beckett picked at his pastry, eating small chunks at a time.

It was the first time he’d scheduled a day off for his household servants, but you heard it wasn’t uncommon. Every month and a half or so, he’d give them a day entirely to themselves. That, of course, had been before his injury, when he’d been self-sufficient. You assumed you’d be staying with him, even if you didn’t consider yourself a servant.

“Will you be leaving as well?” he asked.

“Why would I? You need somebody to take care of you.”

“I’m sure I can find someone up to the task. Besides, you haven’t been able to properly explore the city since arriving here. It’s a beautiful city; don’t let me hinder you.”

You moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’re not a hindrance to me. Not you.”

He didn’t respond, nor did you expect him to. He was unused to your compliments and assurances, and you thought it possible that he didn’t quite believe them. Over the past few weeks, he’d been shocked by your kindness, and it had clearly shown. You pitied him a little for that. How he’d grown so unused to any kind of affection baffled you. Had it really been so long since somebody had cared for him?

You assumed, by the way things were now, that Beckett lived a solitary life. He was surrounded by his work and his domestics, but they weren’t people he shared his life with on a personal level. His thoughts and feelings were kept to himself, creating a lonely man.

You helped Beckett back to the chair at his desk. He’d have servants to read all the papers to him and write down his responses, so you could continue your regular routine of reading by his side. You sat with a copy of Macbeth, enjoying the soft sounds of the ocean from outside. Without his sight, Beckett was primarily concerned with sound, so he made sure windows were left open so he could hear things he couldn’t see. He was at his most calm when outside, listening to cicadas and birds during the early evening. You agreed that it was less stressful than the sounds of people, and less dull than the readings of documents.

Though you had learned, while reading, to block out the voices around you, you had a harder time ignoring your own thoughts. Lately, they had plagued you with nothing but worry and guilt. You’d been staying with Beckett for weeks with no knowledge of what was happening in the outside world. Sure, you could read the latest news from London and women’s fashion, but you wanted to know about your world. You wanted to know about piracy.

Every time you thought about it, a pang of guilt shot through your chest. You were living a life of luxury with Beckett to provide for you, the exact same luxury you’d so hated before. This sort of wealth went against your moral code. No one person should control so much, especially if they were controlling human lives in the process, one of the many things Beckett did on a daily basis. You worried that you were changing into a new person, somebody you shouldn’t be. You were getting accustomed to living with the enemy.

The enemy. Exactly what Beckett was, really. It hurt you to think so. You’d grown close with him- too close- and every minute with him drove you to insanity. You couldn’t decide if it was bad of you to love a person you knew was the enemy of your lifestyle. He was your opposite, and you’d been taught to hate his kind from a young age, but you found that his treatment of you was far better than most people’s. You were afraid of what this meant. If it meant giving up your old self, you weren’t sure you could stay, no matter how much you wanted to.

In truth, you were afraid of how close you were to him.

Evening came, and the servants were dismissed. You hadn’t been paying attention to the time, distracted with reading. Dinner came and went, and it came time to retire to your rooms. The house was strangely quiet with nobody but the two of you, and it felt entirely too big.

You took Beckett back to his room, unsure of what to do next. With no servants to help him, you weren’t sure he could do everything himself. You were a bit nervous about leaving him alone; he had a tendency to try doing things he shouldn’t, and you were afraid he would hurt himself. He was too stubborn to admit he needed help with things, so you weren’t sure if you should bother asking him if he wanted you to stay.

As if to prove your point, he fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, unsuccessfully struggling to rid himself of it. You pushed his hands aside, unbuttoning it yourself. He protested slightly, but you undid the waistcoat and set it on a chair.

“I can do that myself, you know,” he grumbled.

“I know you can, but I can help you. For convenience’s sake.”

“I have to be allowed to do something myself.”

You sighed. “I know it makes you feel better to do things yourself. I just want to help you. You’re taking care of me here, and I want to care for you in return.” So saying, you pulled at the ties on his undershirt, letting the top hang open.

“You’re rather eager to undress me, aren’t you?” A smirk played across his lips. “Shouldn’t you at least be taking your time with me?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You had your fingers tucked around the bottom of his shirt, tugging it upwards to get it over his head.

Beckett’s fingers closed around your wrists, keeping your hands in place. You were startled by the quickness of his movements. He stared uncomfortably at the floor, lips pursed. You hadn’t thought he would mind your helping him, but his face said otherwise. You found yourself feeling a little hurt.

“I can do the rest myself,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t quite understand his reluctance. He’d just been flirting with you the moment before, even though you’d meant the act as being nothing but helpful. “I hope I didn’t overstep anything.”

“No, no,” he assured you. “I would just rather you not see.”

“See what?” You were thoroughly confused. You’d taken off his shirt before, in the lighthouse, to apply salve to his burns. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“The burns. The scars. The obvious signs of age and the… eating habits of the upper class.” He continued to stare at the floor, as if he would see disappointment or horror on your face if he looked. As if he already could.

“Cutler.” You spoke softly, but he flinched as if you’d hit him. “I’ve seen it all before. There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.”

“I was unconscious then, so I didn’t have to deal with your reaction. I admit, I care about your opinion of me too much now.”

His admission took you by surprise. “You don’t think I’m judging you, do you?”

“Everyone else has.”

“Well, I’m not everyone else.” You cupped his cheek, running your thumb across it lightly, tracing over his scars. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, pausing to whisper his name. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s said it, hasn’t it?”

He hummed his agreement. “It sounds sweeter on your tongue than it ever did on anyone else’s.”

You blushed a little. He still got to you, sometimes. Most of the time, actually, but you’d never admit it. “Do you trust me?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

You slipped a hand under his shirt, lightly tracing over his chest and stomach. He stiffened, and his breath hitched, making you smile. “Have you let someone do this to you before?”

“I was considerably younger.” One of his hands came to rest in your hair, his fingers tangled in it.

When you finally lifted his shirt over his head, he gasped faintly, just enough for you to hear. He crossed his arms over his chest in what you guessed was an attempt to hide himself.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” you whispered. You rested your hands on his chest as his arms fell to his sides. You stared for a moment at the burns covering his body before you kissed him. He let you do so eagerly, returning the kiss with a searing one of his own.

You both pulled away a moment later, and his hands came to rest on your waist. “Are you sure you want this?” He sounded more vulnerable and unsure than you’d ever heard him.

“I make it a point not to do things I don’t want to. As it stands, you have all my attention.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, you came together again, your mouths hungry for one another. He pulled you close, fingers pressing firmly into your sides, holding you in place. You smiled into your kisses; if he liked anything, he liked control.

He kissed you desperately, his body pressed flush against yours. The sensation was both overwhelming and delightful. You let your hands wander to his back, feeling his scars there. Your fingers found thin scars among them, clearly caused by something other than his burns.

“What happened?” you whispered between kisses, your fingers tracing the scar.

“Pirates.” Beckett took a shaky breath. “I was eighteen. My ship was taken by a pirate, and he had no trouble bestowing his gifts,” he said bitterly.

Things began to make sense. No wonder Beckett hated pirates so much. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your doing.” And, as if reading your mind, he added, “I don’t hate you for who you are. I know you’re still a pirate at heart. But you’ve shown me the most tenderness I’ve ever known.”

“I hope to continue doing so,” you answered. You lightly traced his burns with a finger. “You should get some sleep.”

“I suppose.” He made no move towards the bed, instead preferring to let your fingers wander over his skin. “Will you join me?” Too embarrassed to answer, you stood trying to form words that you couldn’t quite find. You knew your face must be burning red.

“I only mean to sleep.”

You gave an inward sigh of relief. Kissing him had been enough excitement for the evening. You weren’t sure you should do too many firsts at once. You agreed to stay, helping him to the bed and climbing in next to him. The experience was new to you, and you were unsure of what to do. Thankfully, Beckett answered your question by wrapping an arm around you when you laid down, pulling you closer to him. Your back was pressed against his chest. You considered, briefly, how indecent it was to wear nothing but a silk robe while in bed with him, but you ignored the intrusive thoughts, instead focusing on his arm around you.

“Sleep,” he mumbled.

You did, drifting off comfortably with Beckett next to you.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains when you woke, and you turned over to find Beckett still asleep against you. He rubbed his eyes as you rolled over, letting go of your waist. You stretched out on the bed, then turned your attention to your bedmate. Beckett sat up sleepily, his short hair sticking up from his head. Yours wasn’t any better, you knew, but you laughed all the same.

“And I’m sure your hair is perfectly styled,” he said after you explained your amusement.

“I’m sure mine’s a mess. Worse than yours, because it’s longer.”

“Shame I can’t see it. I suppose I could feel it, if I liked.” His fingers curled into your hair, and he tugged you forward suddenly, kissing you. You could feel his smirk against your lips.

“You’re wicked,” you breathed.

“So I’ve been told.” He pushed himself up to sit beside you and groped around his bedside table. “I don’t suppose you can see where my nightshirt went to.”

You rolled out of bed, snatching the shirt up from off the floor where you’d left it. You handed it to Beckett, who pulled it over his head, and you sat on the edge of the bed. “Should we go to breakfast? The servants will be back by now.” You were starving, having only picked at your dinner the night before. Then, in a more panicked tone, “should I leave before they find us together like this? They might think….”

“Oh, bugger what they think. And what of it? You’re no lady, no socially important woman. There would be no scandal anyway.”

“I am a pirate. A few of them know that, anyway.”

“All the better.” He stretched and patted the sheets next to him. “I don’t have to meet anyone until later this morning. Come back to bed for a while longer.”

You slid back under the sheets. You remained sitting, but found that the covers kept your legs warm while you were in your robe. Beckett’s hand found yours, intertwining your fingers. His hands were warm, and he rubbed little circles into the back of your hand with a thumb.

“Do you like it here?” He asked softly.

You hesitated. Of course you did, but your thoughts wouldn’t leave you. Somehow, this was wrong, no matter how much you enjoyed Beckett’s company. “I do,” you answered after a moment.

Beckett frowned. “Something’s bothering you.” He swallowed. “You can always tell me if my affection is uncomfortable.”

You almost rolled your eyes. Wasn’t I the one who took off his shirt? “It’s not you,” you assured him. “I just….miss my old life. I feel like I’m betraying it, somehow.”

“Listen to me.” He cupped your cheek, turning your face to look him in his milky eyes. “You owe that part of your life nothing. You’re allowed to grow, and change, and do new things. The old part of you doesn’t have to die for you to add more to yourself. You can be the same person you’ve always been, and you can have new things, too. You aren’t defined by one thing, and you can’t be blamed for staying with me. Why turn away comfort and security? It costs you nothing. I’m not asking for anything in return, so why leave? Nobody would blame you. You’re not doing the wrong thing.”

“It goes against everything I’ve ever known,” you admitted.

“Then learn something new. Learn that you aren’t betraying yourself by choosing a new path. And you don’t have to stay here, if you don’t wish to.”

“If I left, I’d be leaving you behind.”

“Yes. I’d rather you stay, of course.” Then, softly, “I do love you.”

You pulled him closer, giving him a light kiss. “I know. Don’t think I would have stayed here so long if I didn’t love you in return.”

His eyes went wide, and you couldn’t help finding his surprise to be adorable. “Oh.”

“Have I not made it obvious?”

“I didn’t want to assume.” A smile lit up his face. “You won’t mind staying in our current arrangement, then?”

“I’d like nothing better.”

You’d found a good life for yourself with him, you realized. Strange, but good.

#potc #pirate #pirates #pirates of the caribbean #beckett #cutler beckett #x reader #request #requests #writing #drabble #drabbles

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stronglyobsessed · 4 years

Note

Hartwin father/son Fathers Day - Eggsy and eggsy’s little one give Harry a grandpa present for Father’s Day

Okay! So this turned out A LOT longer than I thought! It is 2.5K and I hope you enjoy!!!

Thank you SO much for such a cute prompt!

*It’s long so located under*

Here is the link for it on AO3!

Manners Maketh Grandfather

“Daddy!” A small voice called beside his ear. Eggsy rolled toward the sound, one eye cracked open to see a crystal blue set staring at him. “Happy Father’s Day!” Caleb claimed happily.

Before Eggsy could properly thank his four year old, a homemade card with ‘Happy Father’s Day’ written in his wife’s beautiful cursive on the front was thrust into view. Although the little hearts, cupcakes, flowers and stick figure form of what could only be Eggsy and Caleb, were clearly his son’s work. Behind him Tilde stood holding a plate that contained a generous stack of pancakes, eggs and bacon. She was immaculate, of course, with her blonde hair tossed in a messy bun. A tired smile lit her face, as her other palm mindlessly rubbed her protruding stomach.

“Thank you!” Eggsy leaned over the side to collect his son, bringing him under the sheets to cuddle him close. Caleb went without complaint, as always, and instinctively curled against Eggsy’s chest. He made sure to take the construction paper card and place it on the nightstand; he’d look at it later, right now he wanted a snuggle.

Caleb stayed put for a whole five minutes before he scurried back out, taking Eggsy’s card with eager hands. “I made this for you, Daddy!”

Eggsy beamed happily at his boy, Tilde now moved to sit next to them while Eggsy sat propped against the headboard. Caleb clambered to rest between his legs, giving Eggsy his card to read.

“Mama helped me with the words.” But Eggsy could see where his son tried to write his name. “But I told her what to say!”

“You did,” Tilde confirmed. She reached out to brush blonde wayward strands from their son’s forehead. “And he even helped me make breakfast!”

“I love it!” Eggsy promised after he read it aloud and dropped a loving kiss to the crown of Caleb’s head. “And I can’t wait to eat what you’ve made! Helping Mama cook, you’re getting so big!” His heart hurt at the reality. Their first baby wasn’t such a baby, and next fall he’d start nursery school just as they’d welcome their daughter.

“How's my princess doing?” Eggsy reached forward to rub where his girl resided. There was a soft kick against his palm. “Hello my love, good morning, Daddy loves you,” he cooed, just as he always did every day.

“She’s right as rain, sitting on my bladder and using it as her personal trampoline.” Tilde covered his hand with hers. She gave a quick squeeze before letting go, and took the tray to place over Eggsy’s lap, which also covered Caleb’s. “Happy Father’s Day, darling.” She murmured, lips hovered his skin before she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

Eggsy tipped his face, a hand cradled her cheek to guide into a full, delicate kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She promised with an elated grin as Caleb made a face.

“Stop kissing! Daddy has to eat now!” Both parents laughed.

Eggsy tucked in as his son instructed, his son assisted in the consumption of his pancakes. It was perfect, a little noisy as Caleb romped around the bed with JB, but one of the best Father’s Day. Although Eggsy found himself saying that each year since becoming a dad.

“Come my little love. Time for a wash up and proper clothes.” Tilde herded Caleb off the bed. “Remember we have to finish the surprise for Grandpa, yes?” She added, just as Caleb began to make his ‘I’m going to have a strop’ face.

Thankfully the mention of Grandpa had a smile on his face and rushing to toddle beside his mother. Eggsy watched with fond eyes as they left so he could get himself ready as well. He sent a quick text to confirm their meeting, of course he was reminded to be punctual. Which was fucking hilarious, because the man had little regard for punctuality in his career.

“Are we ready?” Eggsy held Caleb’s black peacoat for him to slip his little arms into. “You sure you’re okay here, babe?” He worried as Caleb plucked small feet into trainers identical to Eggsy’s. But today he wore a casual pair of dark grey trousers, a hunter green button down and a freshly shined pair of oxfords.

Caleb was dressed just as nicely, but refused to wear the oxfords his Grandpa had bought him. “Ready!” He proclaimed. “Mama, I can carry it!” Caleb made grabby hands for the box that contained what he and Tilde had made.

“I’m fine, Eggsy.” She assured him. “Don’t run with them, okay?” Tilde carefully placed it into Caleb’s waiting arms. “And be good for daddy, make sure to give Grandpa my love.” She lay a soft kiss to his hairline. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mama! Bye!”

Eggsy placed a hand on the top of the eager one's head; Caleb ready to bolt out the door. “Hold it bud. Daddy has to say goodbye too!” He cupped Tilde’s face with his freehand, coaxing her in for a tender sweep of lips. “Take care of my girl.” He touched her tummy, where their daughter danced against his palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She promised, and they were off.

The drive to the Mews was short from the small home he lived in now. After Tilde renounced her title as Princess, and stepped away from the crown, they moved back to London. Eggsy continued to work for Kingsman, but on more local missions and the occasional overseas recon assignments. Nothing ever as risky as when he’d first become an agent. After the whole Golden Circle scare, and the loss of so many, they found the world a little less littered with insane, psychopathic villains...at least for now.

“We’re here!” Eggsy announced. Caleb cheered from his car seat, as if he didn’t have weekly visits here, or Sunday dinners at Grandpa’s. He collected his son, the homemade gifts and a box Eggsy had stowed away in the boot, and made their way to the door.

“I can press the button, Daddy?”

“Sure.” It was work to hold Caleb and juggle their offerings so that a tiny finger could press the doorbell. “Ah ah!” Eggsy cautioned when he started to push it again. “Let’s give him a minute, yeah?”

“Okay,” Caleb sighed mournfully. He’d end up spamming his grandfather with a string of chimes, if Eggsy allowed it.

He started to lose his grip on Caleb as he wiggled, getting restless that he couldn’t make the doorbell ring again, but just as Eggsy repositioned Caleb he heard precise footsteps approach the door. Caleb let out an ear shattering cheer when the door was opened, and Harry caught the small body that lunged toward his person.

“Caleb!” Eggsy hissed. “That is not polite!” But it appeared every ounce of manners, polite behavior and lessons to be a proper gentleman went out the window as Harry swung the boy onto a hip and hugged him.

Sometimes it was hard for Eggsy to separate Arthur and Harry at home. The man was a bit different since he’d ‘died’ and come back to life.

“Happy Father’s Day!” Caleb crowed. “We brought presents!”

Harry’s smile was soft, the softest Eggsy had ever seen it, and only for his son. “That was very generous of you, Caleb, but shouldn’t you be spending the day with your Daddy?” Eggsy kept Caleb’s presence a secret, but it looked like the older man enjoyed it quite a bit.

“Daddy’s here!” Caleb pointed out, with a face that could only be inherited from Eggsy.

“Yes, I am here. May I come in?” Eggsy grinned cheekily as Harry stepped aside, his arms filled with his boy, and the sight was something Eggsy would never tire of. “Happy Father’s Day.” He was finally able to wish Harry, giving him a half hug because Caleb dominated the other side, and pressed a loving kiss to Harry’s weathered cheek.

“Thank you, Eggsy.” He could hear the emotion stuck in Harry’s throat, as his remaining eye watered a bit. “Now.” Harry turned back to Caleb. Much like every time Caleb was in Harry’s presence, Eggsy took a back seat, and it’d been that way since the day his son was born; he didn’t mind a whit. “Shall we have tea, young man?”

“And open presents?!” Both men laughed at his excitement.

“We can.” Harry threaded fingers through Caleb’s blond strands. “Come. I have a full set in the sitting room. I think I even have a few biscuits for you.”

Eggsy wanted to argue that it wasn’t even lunchtime, but the words died on his lips when Caleb tightened small arms around Harry’s neck and a loud, wet kiss was slammed against his cheek. He wouldn’t deny his child, or the man he considered a father for over ten years, the simple joys that they seemed to bring one another.

They settled in, cuppas poured, and Eggsy sat watching two of his favorite men talk adamantly to one another. Though the conversation was led primarily by Caleb, who told Grandpa all of the neat things he’d done at home with his mother, and the mention of Tilde resulted in a thoughtful gaze from Harry.

“She’s good.” Eggsy reassured. “Trudging along with our little lady growing. Both are healthy and safe.” He was bloody excited for their daughter to be born.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Please pass on my love and well wishes to both ladies.”

“I will.”

That was about all Eggsy was able to get in before his son monopolized Harry’s time. Though it didn’t seem like the man minded at all. He never pegged Harry to be a kid person, but as soon as Caleb entered the world, Harry was determined to be the best pseudo grandfather. Eggsy and Tilde had formally asked him to be when he visited hospital, and Eggsy wouldn’t speak to a soul that Harry had wept a little.

“Caleb,” Eggsy said after an hour. “I know you really like talking to Grandpa, but how about we let him open what we brought?” The reminder caused his boy to hop up, darting off of the sofa and collected all that his small hands could hold.

“For you!” Caleb shoved them in Harry’s lap, and crawled to sit beside Harry once more. “I made mine. Daddy didn’t!”

Harry bit his lip, an amused glint in his eye. “Well, I’m sure your Daddy put a lot of thought into it as well, hm?” Caleb nodded enthusiastically. “This is a charming card. You made it all by yourself?” Harry held a piece of construction paper similar to Eggsy’s.

“Yep! Mama helped with the words!”

“Well done,” he praised Caleb. And much like his father the boy preened, always willing to receive compliments and praise for his work. “Now what have we in the box?” Harry waited with all the patience any grandparent would have, as Caleb grabbed said blue, white striped box and handed it to Harry. “Is this your handy work as well?” Harry wondered as he opened the top.

“Yeah! But Mama used the oven. I can’t.” Caleb sounded displeased by that. “I mixed and helped pour the batter in. Then we frosted them!”

Inside were a dozen chocolate raspberry cupcakes; Harry’s absolute favorites. Leave it to Tilde to ensure Harry got precisely what he enjoyed, instead of the vanilla and buttercream frosted ones Caleb would have suggested.

“Now isn’t this a treat.” There was clear restraint in Harry’s brown eye as he stared at the sweets. “I will be sure to have one after supper.” He nodded, closing the lid and set them aside like he wouldn’t dig right into them once they left.

“Do you like them?” Just as the question was spoken, Harry scooped Caleb into his lap to give a big, full armed hug.

“I love them so much. Thank you, Caleb.” Harry dropped a soft kiss to Caleb’s head.

“Good!” Caleb crowed, wrapping his little arms around Harry, or as near as he could. “Daddy.” He turned to Eggsy. “You have to give Grandpa your presents now.” Eggsy nodded as he collected the long, thin box he had beside him.

It was wrapped in shiny silver paper with an equally shiny blue bow on top.

“Here you are.” Eggsy handed it over with a soft smile. He had a lot more patience than his son when it came to gratitude and praise for gifts. And he supposed that had to do with being thirty five, though Harry would argue the patience wasn’t extended to work; he was right.

“Oh, Eggsy,” Harry breathed. A hand swept over the polished wood handle of the rainmaker, as the other curved to cradle the taffeta canopy and lifted it out. “This is gorgeous.” The awe in Harry’s voice was well deserved. It was the newest model Kingsman had to offer.

“Comes with all the bells and whistles.” Eggsy promised, even as his son scrunched his nose; clearly unimpressed with something so mundane. “There’s a message engraved, too.”

Harry smiled tenderly as he turned it to read the inscription. “Manners Maketh Man.” He gave a whispered chuckle. “Thank you.” Eggsy heard the emotion beneath two simple words.

He marveled at it for a moment longer before Harry stood to wrap Eggsy in a warm, tight embrace. Eggsy returned the affection in kind, tipping his face to give a delicate kiss against Harry’s wet cheek; a few tears slipped despite his saying so.

Harry cleared his throat, swiping at his face to get rid of the moisture. “This has been lovely. You both have outdone yourselves.”

This time, both Caleb and Eggsy gave identical sheepish grins. After the paper and rubbish was cleared away, they enjoyed another cuppa and helped Harry tidy up. Just as Eggsy loaded the last plate into the dishwasher, his phone pinged with a text from Tilde.

“Hey.” Eggsy got Harry’s attention. He gestured to the front door and said, “You feel like joining us for dinner? Tild is making Beef Wellington.” Harry’s eye lit up. “We would have plenty,” Eggsy promised before Harry could ask.

“Yeah! You have to come, Grandpa!” Caleb already bombarded Harry before he could even speak a word. “And you can tell me a story before bed.” He shifted pleading blue eyes toward Eggsy. “Right, Daddy?”

“Of course! Grandpa is more than welcome to take over tuck in time. If he’d like.”

Harry scoffed, clearly offended there was even a question. “I really don’t want to be trouble. It is Father’s Day, and you should spend it with your family.” It was Eggsy’s turn to feel insulted.

“Dad,” Eggsy murmured, a name he used on and off in the recent years. The way Harry’s breath caught tugged at Eggsy’s heart; Harry was not used to hearing it still. Eggsy took Harry’s hand and held it. “You are family, and we’d be honored if you came.”

It only took a second for Harry to compose himself, evident that Eggsy’s declaration of his spot in the family caught him off guard, but it turned out in the best possible way.

“I’ll get my coat.”

Eggsy’s ears were filled with Caleb’s cheering and the quiet sound of Harry sniffling as he donned his jacket.

As Eggsy thought earlier, it was the best Father’s Day ever.

#eggsy unwin #harry hart #tilwin #Kingsman #prompt #cute #fathers day #adorable kids #eggsyobsessed writes #mine

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theycallmebeccawrites · 5 years

Text

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 17

Hello my lovelies! I hope you are all doing well. This chapter took me awhile to write, but at last, it is finished and I’m not sharing it with y’all. This chapter would not have happened without four important people in my life: @nomadicpixel @mycapt-ohcapt @heather-lynn (thanks for the title, yo!) and @alievans007. They constantly encourage me and sometimes give me a kick in the butt when I need it.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in March 2014, specifically the week of the Los Angeles premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This episode can also be read on AO3.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 16.5

Episode 17: Unofficial Plus One

March 2014

Chris was unusually quiet and reserved during the first two days he was back from his seclusion. Ellie would have worried about it if he hadn't spoken to her candidly about similar situations in the past. He'd explained that sometimes in order to process everything going on around him, or even within his own brain, he needed to take a step back and distance himself from the situation, even if only mentally.

Knowing that how his brother could be, Scott, had assured her on the morning of the third day that Chris would snap out of it soon and be as good as new.

Sure enough, that afternoon, Ellie was in the office finishing up a video chat with a prospective new author when Chris appeared in the doorway. She gave him a smile before she redirected her attention to the person she was talking to. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chris taking in the changes she'd made to the room; namely the fact that she had stolen one of the arm chairs from his bedroom.

After saying goodbye, Ellie closed the chat window and then turned her attention to him. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied before nodding his head towards the chair. "That looks good in here."

"You said I could make it my own," she replied with a small shrug. "And this room gets amazing afternoon light and I can only sit in this computer chair for so long. Not to mention the chair was free and easy to move." Chris raised his eyebrow at the idea that she'd moved the chair by herself. "Ok, so I might have bribed your brother to help me."

"That's more like it," Chris said with a chuckle before turning serious. "Sorry I've been in a -"

"You don't need to apologize," she quickly cut him off. "You warned me that sometimes you need your space and I get it. I'm the exact same way, especially after I've been at the coast with my family and all of us in a very small space."

A small smile spread across his face and Ellie couldn't help but get out of the computer chair and go to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. His arms closed around her and he held her close to him.

The fact of the matter was, even after spending two weeks alone with his thoughts, Chris still wasn't sure what the future held for himself and Ellie. Until he knew that, he couldn't make a commitment to her. He'd spent the last two days keeping himself away from her in hopes that the answer would magically come to him, but the only thing he'd figured out was that he missed spending time with her. That, in itself, was an answer of sorts. He figured that, for now, it was answer enough.

While Chris had been away, Ellie had worked with his mom to figure out just how many people could logically stay in the house when his family and friends came to Los Angeles for the premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Logically, they knew that there was a limit, but Chris was notorious for telling anyone who asked that they could stay at the house. With help from his management company, they had located a couple of houses nearby to rent for the week, in order to lessen the number of people sleeping on the floor or sharing beds.

Even with the additional housing, they'd known that there were people that Chris absolutely wouldn't let stay anywhere else. Which was why Ellie would be sharing her guesthouse with Shanna. His mom would take one of the guestrooms, Chris's friend Tara and her husband would take the other guestroom, and his sister Carly and her family would take Chris's bedroom. Which left Chris and Scott on air mattresses in the office and numerous other people camped out on couches and air mattresses on the main floor of the house and in the basement.

With Chris seemingly back to normal and knowing that a lot of people were coming for the premiere, Chris and Ellie spent as much time as they could together during the week that followed. With Scott making himself thoughtfully scarce despite still living with them, they had their sexy times, but spent most of their time together clothed and out of the bedroom. With projects on both of their radars, movies for him and editing for her, they often sat quietly together working and, occasionally, taking makeout breaks before returning to their tasks.

It was after one of these makeout sessions that Chris asked Ellie if she wanted to go to the premiere. He'd been trying to figure out how to ask her since he'd gotten back, but hadn't been sure how to address it. They'd already agreed, before he'd gone on his trip, that they weren't ready to let everyone know they were together, but he wanted her to be there if only as a friend. Going with that notion, he didn't let her say no before he said:

"I want you to be there. At the end of the day, you're one of my friends and it would be weird for you to miss it," he explained. "You wouldn't have to walk the red carpet or even be seen with myself or my family. I would send you and your friend with my former roommates and their wives, safety in numbers, right?"

"How can I say no to such a well thought out request like that?" she replied with a smile. She had secretly been hoping that he would invite her, but she hadn't wanted to press the issue so early on in their relationship. She was relieved that she wouldn't have to walk the red carpet with him, something that she hadn't even thought of when she'd been mentally preparing herself for the event. She'd already scheduled the day off at the bookstore, just in case, and now all she had to do was figure out what to wear. "So, what does one wear to a premiere?"

"Something dressy that won't keep you from dancing at the after party?" he suggested with a shrug.

"The after party? Isn't that where you guys go to let your hair down and get drunk away from the public eye?" she teased, tilting her head. In all honesty, she had no clue what happened at any Hollywood parties.

"And visit with our family and friends that get the invite to said party. We can talk about it more later, if you want to," he replied, his voice trailing off as his eyes dropped to her still swollen lips. In a lower tone, he said, "but right now, I think I'm done working for the night."

Ellie gave him a knowing look before she pushed him back against the couch cushions and pressed her lips against his. They had worked enough for tonight.

Eventually, they made it to the guest house for one last night together before everyone started to arrive. Chris stayed with Ellie for a while after, but when the alarm went off on his phone, he kissed her forehead and got up. He pulled on his boxers and gathered his clothes before making his way back to the big house and his bedroom. His mom and his best friend Tara would be arriving sometime before noon and he didn't want to risk being caught in Ellie's bed or be seen sneaking back to his own.

----

Ellie chewed on the end of her pen as she studied the rough arrival notes for Chris's family and friends. His mom and his friend Tara were due to arrive at any time. The rest of his family was arriving tomorrow and most of his friends, including Tara's husband, would be here on Monday, which was the night they'd planned a large get together at the house.

Flipping to that page in her notebook, Ellie quickly counted the number of guests, again. It was up to fifty people now, after the text she'd gotten from Chris's mom last night. The good news was that she and Tanya Kelley, the wife of Chris's friend who had catered the Super Bowl party, had counted on 75 people being at the party so their numbers were still ok.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up to find Scott in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Mom and Tara just got here," he told her. "Come on."

Setting her pen down, Ellie took a moment to adjust her clothes and her hair before she followed Scott at a much slower pace. She had heard all about Tara from Chris and Scott and was nervous about what the woman would think of her. She knew she was special to Chris, but she also knew that Chris considered Tara his best friend and Scott held the woman in a similar esteem.

By the time Ellie got to the front door, Chris and Scott were pulling suitcases out of the hired car while their mom and Tara, she assumed, made their way to the house.

"There you are, Ellie!" Lisa Evans exclaimed with a smile as they entered the house.

Ellie returned the smile and gave the woman a hug. There was something about Lisa's embrace that put Ellie at ease and she felt her anxiety over Tara vanish almost immediately.

Upon letting go of Ellie, Lisa seemed to recall that she and Tara didn't know each other. She made the introductions as Chris and Scott came into the house with the suitcases.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Tara said, shaking Ellie's hand. "I've heard so much about you."

"It's nice to meet you as well," Ellie replied. "Chris and Scott both rave about you."

"I wouldn't believe half of what those two say," Tara muttered conspiratorially and Ellie couldn't help but laugh as the brothers protested.

"I've learned that," Ellie said with a sidelong glance at Chris as he and Scott carried the suitcases up the stairs. "Full of hot air the both of them."

Tara snickered beside her.

"I can see you two are going to get along just fine," Lisa said with a smile. "Just don't be too mean to my boys. Sensitive egos and all that."

"MA!" Chris and Scott shouted from upstairs.

Still giggling, Ellie led Lisa and Tara into the kitchen and brought them up to speed on the arrival plans and the catered dinner.

"We've been doing events like this for years and it has never been this easy," Lisa said, shaking her head in amazement. "And it's all because of you."

Ellie felt her face flush, but shrugged off the comment. "You gave me all the information and I just made it happen," she replied as she heard the alarm go off on her phone. "I've gotta go to work. I'll see you guys later."

"You're going to dinner with us, right?" Tara asked.

"No, I won't get off work in time," Ellie replied as she grabbed her purse. "I'll grab something on my way home." She passed Scott as he came into the kitchen and found Chris waiting for her by the front door.

"Have a good day," he said with a smile.

"Oh, Chris, I'm glad I caught you both," Tara's voice came from behind them before Ellie could reply to him, causing them to both turn. "We should get a to go meal for Ellie that way she doesn't have to stop on her way home."

"It's not a problem," Ellie said at the same time Chris said, "That's a good idea."

Ellie looked up at Chris and saw that he was giving her his 'I'm not backing down from this' look and sighed. "You know what I like," she said simply. Then she gave him and Tara a small wave before she slipped out the front door.

It took Chris a moment or two longer than it should have before he closed the front door, Tara noticed, and when he finally turned around, he blinked in a manner that suggested that he had forgotten she was standing behind him. Curiosity peaked, Tara made a mental note to watch the two of them while she was in town.

----

For Ellie, the majority of Sunday was spent going between Chris's house and the two rental houses. First thing in the morning, she, Tara and Lisa went to the other houses to make sure that everything was ready for company. Then they went to the grocery store to stock up on the basics for the people that were staying in those places. Chris's dad's family would be staying in the smaller of the two rentals while his friends with kids and their wives would be staying in the second.

Once the other houses were good to go, they returned to Chris's house to act as the official welcoming committee and direct people to where they were staying. For those staying at the other two houses, they were shuttled there, while those who were staying at Chris's house were assigned a spot to put their luggage.

With so many people coming and going, Ellie had planned an easy taco bar style dinner. It meant that people could fix themselves whatever they wanted and heat it up as they so desired.

"You're used to big groups coming and going?" Tara said conversationally as she helped Ellie replenish the empty containers.

"Definitely," Ellie replied and then found herself unable to not explain. "I've got three sisters, but my parents each have four siblings. And my dad is really close with his cousins and their kids. We spend a week in August at the coast together. We used to be able to fit in the cabins my grandparents and my grandma's sister purchased in the 1970s, but we've outgrown them and have to rent additional cabins to have enough places to sleep. But even then, there are usually five or six tents set up for people to sleep in."

"Sounds like a lot of fun," Tara said. "So tomorrow shouldn't phase you at all then?"

"Honestly, I'm a little nervous about tomorrow," Ellie confessed as she glanced towards the dining room that was full of people. "I've met a lot of people today and I know I didn't get all their names and I know more people are coming to the party tomorrow night and -"

"Relax," Tara said with a smile. "We'll be here and so will Chris's buddies, the Frat Boys."

"The Frat Boys?" Ellie asked, confused. "You mean his old roommates?"

"One and the same," Tara replied with a grin. "You've met them, right?"

"Yes I have," Ellie said with a nod. "Many times. I've gotten some fun stories from them…"

"I have even more," Tara said with a grin as she saw Chris come into the room with his brother.

Chris froze as he saw the smirk on Tara's face and then an amused smile on Ellie's. He glanced at his brother who just grinned wickedly before continuing into the room. "What's going on?" he asked Ellie.

"Nothing," she replied with an all too innocently look.

Turning his attention to Tara, he leveled her a menacing look and said, "No storytelling."

"You ruin all my fun," Tara pouted as she crossed her arms.

"Someone has to," Chris replied before winking at Ellie. Hearing his name called from the other room, he nodded at both women and then walked away.

After making sure Tara was busy, Ellie let her eyes follow Chris as he headed towards the dining room. He was wearing her favorite pair of jeans and she didn't think it was on accident. He knew exactly what she thought of those jeans and the way they hugged his ass.

Next to her, Tara cleared her throat and asked, "Are there more taco shells?"

"Taco shells?" Ellie repeated confused at first. Then her mind snapped back into place and she nodded. "In the cupboard next to the fridge. Second shelf."

Ellie was practically dead on her feet by the time she retired to the guesthouse for the night around 10. She'd stuck around for an hour to play charades with the others, but the craziness of the day had caught up to her eventually and she had made her excuses.

By the time Ellie was out of the shower, Shanna had come to the guest house and Ellie helped her blow up the air mattress she was sleeping on. Then, while Shanna showered, Ellie got into bed and read while she waited for Shanna to come back out and turn out the lights.

Hearing her phone ding from an incoming text, Ellie grabbed her phone and smiled when she saw she had a message from Chris:

Set an alarm for 5:45

Her smile fell from her face as she read his message and she replied:

As in the morning?!

Chris replied immediately:

Yes. I want to see you before I leave for the day.

Just come outside the guesthouse and I'll meet you there.

I promise it will be worth your time.

Ellie couldn't help but smile at his rapid fire responses.

I'll be the judge of that, but yes, I'll set an alarm.

Chris's final reply was a thumbs up emoji and a simple "see you in the morning."

----

At 5:45 the next morning, Ellie was cursing Chris under her breath as she forced herself out of her bed.

"What's going on?" Shanna mumbled from the air mattress she was sleeping on.

"I've got to let Daisy out," Ellie replied. "Go back to sleep."

Shanna mumbled something but promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

Confident that Shanna wouldn't check to see if Daisy was there or not, Ellie left the sleeping dog on the bed and pulled on the sweatpants, sweatshirt and flip flops that she had set out after getting Chris's text. She carefully made her way past Chris's sleeping sister and let herself out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

When she turned, Chris was making his way towards her with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Is that for me?" she asked.

"I told you I'd make it worth your time," he replied as he held the steaming cup out to her.

She took a sip and sighed contently. He'd doctored it just the way she liked it, which was way sweeter than he liked it.

"Is it worth your while yet?" he asked as he took the cup when she offered it back to him.

"Not quite," she replied, letting her voice trail off. She wanted to suggest a good morning kiss, but they could be caught at any moment. And then she remembered that it was 5:45 in the morning and no one in their right mind would be up yet.

Her eyes met his and he gave his head a slight nod before he leaned in to kiss her.

Though she could smell trace amounts of coffee and something that smelled like maple syrup on him, he tasted minty fresh. She rose to her tiptoes as she held onto him, wanting the kiss to continue, but knowing it couldn't.

It was a text from the car service that brought the kiss to an end, a moment later.

"Fuck, I've gotta go," he grumbled. "I'll see you tonight." He gave her another short peck on the lips before he turned, coffee cup in hand, and made his way back to the big house.

Ellie watched him until he disappeared from sight and then quietly slipped back into the guesthouse. She made her way back to bed and slipped back under the covers after kicking off her shoes. Closing her eyes, she fell back to sleep with the feeling of Chris's lips still against hers.

With Chris's mom taking care of breakfast and getting people out the door for various activities, Ellie slept in until eight when Daisy's whimpering woke her up.

As she let the dog outside, she noticed that Shanna was already up and gone. It wasn't until she and Daisy made their way to the big house for breakfast that she recalled Scott mentioning that they were going to Disneyland today with some of their dad's family. Many of Chris's guests had opted to do the typical touristy things during the days leading up to Thursday's premiere, which meant the house was nearly empty.

Arriving in the kitchen, Ellie filled Daisy's water and food bowls and then fixed herself a bowl of cereal. She was almost finished with it when Lisa and Tara came into the room.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Lisa said with a smile. "Chris told me last night that you're coming with us to the premiere."

"He invited me Friday night," Ellie replied after swallowing the last bite. "My cousin Phoenix and I will be going with the Frat Boys and their wives."

"That will be a fun group," Tara said with a grin. "Chris also mentioned that you had never been to a premiere and that you weren't sure what to wear to it."

"I've got some stuff but nothing that seems right for a movie premiere," Ellie confirmed.

"Come shopping with us then," Tara told her. "There's nothing for us to do here until this afternoon when the party rental place gets here with the extra tables and chairs."

"Alright," Ellie replied since she didn't have a good reason to say no. Tara was right, there was nothing to do but sit around and wait.

Five hours later, she was thankful to be back home. With Tara and Lisa's help, she'd found a simple, black cocktail dress to wear to the premiere with a pair of teal heels to wear with it. It had taken them four hours to do their shopping, with both Lisa and Tara finding dresses to wear as well, and then Lisa had treated them to lunch.

After depositing her outfit in the guesthouse, Ellie switched into party setup mode. The weather was in the 70s which meant that everyone from the east coast would likely want to sit outside while everyone from California would likely want to sit inside where it was warm. There would be mingling between the two groups, Ellie knew, but it made it easier to arrange the rented tables and chairs on the decks and grass in the backyard. By the time Tanya arrived with her catering staff, everything was ready to go and Ellie gladly let them take over the kitchen.

With Chris due back around seven, people started returning to the house around six and other people started to arrive around 6:30. Ellie was talking to one of Chris's many cousins when she felt her gaze pulled towards the front door where Chris had just entered. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, but dimmed briefly when she saw his face shift as he tried to hide how tired he was from a day of dealing with press.

The decision to throw the party tonight or another night had been heavily debated, but the decision had been Chris's ultimately. He'd reasoned that he was going to be exhausted by Thursday and that it was better to have the party earlier in the week than later because of how drained he would be.

As she watched him greet friends that had come to the party, she spotted his mom making her way towards him with a hot cup of tea. After a long day of talking to reporters, she knew that was exactly what his strained voice would need before spending an evening talking to family and friends.

Across the room, Chris gladly accepted the cup of tea from his mom and gave her a one armed hug in thanks. He took a sip of the hot liquid and felt its soothing embrace as it slid down the back of his throat. Seeing that his friend had started a conversation with someone else, he took a moment to survey the group that had gathered. Then he felt his stomach flip at the sight of his younger sister leading their dad towards Ellie. He watched with a twinge of jealousy as Shanna introduced the two, wishing that he could be the one to introduce them.

Sighing, Chris looked away from them and found Tara looking at him with an odd expression on her face. He gave her a questioning look in response and she just shook her head and smiled, playing off the look as nothing. She then nodded her head towards the kitchen and mouthed that dinner was ready.

With a nod, Chris turned back towards the group and whistled loudly. There were chuckles as the crowd both inside and outside, on the patio off the living room, quieted.

"Before we eat, I just want to thank you all for coming and give an extra thank you to Ellie, Tanya, my mom and Tara for making this party happen. Now, Ellie is going to tell us how to go about getting food," he said loudly.

Ellie blinked in surprise at being singled out, but recovered quickly. "There are two buffet stations setup, one in the formal dining room and one outside by the pool deck. There is a lot of food, so please eat as much as you want so we don't have a lot of leftovers to try and fit into the fridge." That comment got her several chuckles. "And with that, go get yourself some food and find a place to visit."

In the end, they still had a lot of food leftover. Even after sending food to the other houses and home with people who lived in the Los Angeles area. It all worked out, however, because it meant that people could reheat the leftovers on Tuesday and Wednesday as they desired.

Unlike Monday, the next two days were pretty low key. Most of the guests spent the day out exploring and very few people who weren't staying at the house came over in the evening when Chris returned from his press duties.

Despite how tired he was both nights, Chris hadn't been able to turn down the invitation to play games with his family members and they had all badgered Ellie until she'd agreed to play, too. When it was all said and done, Ellie had to admit she'd had a great time playing the games even though it made her a little homesick as Chris's family reminded her so much of her own.

----

The morning of the premiere started much like the days before. Chris left the house early to take care of promotional stuff and everyone had breakfast at the house before leaving for whatever they had planned for the morning and early afternoon.

Ellie had planned on spending the morning relaxing before getting ready for the premiere in the afternoon, but a text from Chris changed all that.

Scheduled a surprise for you. Be showered and in the big house by noon.

He didn't reply to her attempts to get more information from him, so she went up to the big house in hopes someone else could shed some light onto the situation. She found Chris's mom, sisters and Tara in the kitchen discussing similar texts they'd all received from Chris, too, and they were all as lost as she was.

In the end, it wasn't until noon when a hair and makeup team showed up at the house, that they finally found out what Chris had planned for them. A few hours of pampering before the premiere. He'd thrown in one additional surprise for Ellie though, in the form of Gus, the hair stylist from Ray and Kady's wedding the summer before.

Much like their first interaction, Gus took one look at Ellie's hair and let out a long breath. "We've got some work to do," he said.

In no time at all, the kitchen and breakfast nook were converted to a makeshift salon with hair, makeup, pedicure and manicure stations setup to take care of them all while they sipped mimosas. And, three hours later, all five ladies were ready for the premiere, save for being in their outfits for the occasion.

Shanna and Ellie went down to the guesthouse and quickly realized that they needed each other's help to get changed without messing up their hair or makeup. After a lot of cursing and nearly pissing themselves with laughter, they finally managed to get out of their street clothes and into their outfits for the premiere before making their way back to the big house. As Lisa had instructed the night before, everyone going to the premiere was gathering in the living room while they waited for the hired cars to arrive.

Ellie's cousin Phoenix arrived a few minutes before the limo and the party bus. The limo was for Chris's mom, sisters, Tara and anyone else who was walking the red carpet with him. Ellie, Phoenix and the other guests would be riding in the party bus that would drop them off away from the red carpet entrance and they'd entered behind the scenes.

As it was her and Phoenix's first time at a movie premiere, they followed the others off the bus and got into line with the other people waiting to get into the theater via the private entrance. The line was hidden from the view of the fans and press that had gathered around the red carpet, but they could still hear the screams.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," Phoenix said, raising her voice to be heard.

"I haven't heard a crowd like this since I saw Hanson in concert as a teenager," Ellie said with a laugh.

"Ah the memories," Phoenix said with a sigh.

It wasn't until the cousins had made it to their reserved seats within the large auditorium that they found Chris's former roommates and their wives. They visited as they waited for the rest of the audience to come in and for the event to start.

The cast, director and Marvel executives were the last to come in and there were a couple of speeches before the movie started. There was an excited cheer as the room darkened and the movie began to play.

Ellie had worried that she would just see Chris on the screen, but she quickly lost herself in the movie and forgot that Captain America was played by Chris. She felt like she was on the edge of her seat as the plot twisted and turned in unexpected ways. There was an audible gasp from the audience as the Winter Soldier’s true identity was revealed for the first time. They all knew that he was Bucky Barnes, of course, but knowing and seeing it play out on the big screen were two very different things.

The audience cheered and applauded as the end credits began to roll. No one got up to leave, however, and as everyone waited for the credit scenes, the applause died away. In its absence, Ellie could hear people murmuring about what the collapse of SHIELD meant for the successful TV show and how it would affect the storyline.

Once the credits had finished, there were a few more speeches before the celebrities were escorted from the auditorium ahead of everyone else. Then the ushers let each section out a couple at a time, so there wasn’t a mad rush for the doors.

Ellie and Phoenix stuck with Chris's friends as they made their way across the street to the after party at the Hard Rock Cafe. They grabbed food and drinks on their way inside and then found a table that was large enough for their group, even resorting to stealing a couple chairs from a nearby table to make it possible.

Chucky was telling them all about the Captain America: The First Avenger premiere when Chris finally made his appearance after taking care of additional press and photo ops. He playfully slugged Chucky in the side for the story before accepting a hug from his friend and everyone else at the table. During the exchanges, the chair next to Ellie became available and he took it, giving a nod of thanks to Tanya, who was now perched on her husband's lap.

"The movie was really good," Ellie told him with a smile. "Really good."

"Thanks," Chris replied with a slight flush to his cheeks that only deepened as his asshole friends gave him similar but sarcastic comments as well. He knew it was all in fun and, not wanting Ellie to feel awkward, he bumped her knee with his under the table and gave her a reassuring smile when she glanced in his direction.

Chris sat with them for a few more minutes before he forced himself to get up and move about the room to visit his other guests. Despite that, he found himself looking in Ellie's direction every so often and, occasionally, she was looking back at him. He wanted nothing more than to return to the table and hang out with her, but he knew he couldn't.

After being at the party for a couple hours, Ellie and Phoenix decided it was time to leave. They said goodbye to Chris's friends before making their way over to Chris's mom's table to see if any of the other guests, who had stayed for the after party, were ready to go back to the house, but none of them were.

They were making their way to the exit when they bumped into Chris talking to a couple of his co-stars.

"Are you guys leaving?" Chris asked, after introducing them to Anthony Mackie and Scarlett Johansson,

"Yeah, it's been a long day," Ellie replied with a nod.

"Well thanks for coming tonight," Chris said. He gave Ellie a hug and then gave Phoenix one as well. "Do you guys need a car to get home?"

"We ordered an Uber," Ellie replied and had to fight back the grin when she saw Chris's jaw twitch. She wasn't sure what he had against her using Uber, but it amused her to no end.

"Congrats on the movie, Chris," Phoenix said, stepping in to diffuse the tension. "I think it's going to be a massive hit."

"It was nice to meet you both," Ellie said to Anthony and Scarlett. "See you later, Chris."

Then she and Phoenix made their way out of the restaurant and down the street to where their Uber driver was scheduled to pick them up. The driver took Phoenix home first and then took Ellie to Chris's house. It wasn't until she was in the guest house that she sent Chris a text saying that she had gotten home safely.

----

It was after two in the morning and, even though he'd been up late every night that week and had had jam packed days, Chris was too wired to sleep. He briefly considered texting Ellie and asking her to come outside, but that would only raise questions he wasn't ready to answer yet and there wasn't anywhere to go where they could be alone. So, instead, he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and went out to sit on the deck.

He'd only been out there for a few minutes, when he heard the door open behind him and, looking over his shoulder, saw Tara closing the door behind her as she came outside.

"Am I really that predictable?" he asked as he patted the spot next to him on the outdoor couch.

"Yes," his best friend replied as she sat down. "The movie was great, Chris."

"Thanks," he said, bashfully. There was something about getting praise for his work from his close family and friends that made him feel a bit shy and awkward.

Tara chuckled next to him and took the opportunity to steal his beer. She took a quick sip of it and then gave it back to him. She waited until after he'd taken a sip to say, "So Ellie?"

She smirked when she saw his body go rigid and knew she'd been right about the glances she had witnessed between the two when they thought no one else was looking. She had to hand it to them, they had been very sly about it, but having known Chris as long and as well as she did, it hadn't been hard to figure out. Realizing that he was still on edge, she finally let him out of his misery. "Relax, I like her."

At her words, Chris did relax to some degree, but he still seemed on edge.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, cautiously.

"Only to someone who knows you really well," she replied with an arm on his shoulder. "I really do like her. She's not like the ones you usually date."

"She's not," he agreed though his mind was still whirling over Tara's words. If she had figured it out then his mom probably had, too. Clearing his throat, he casually asked, "Do you think mom knows?"

His best friend snickered into the back of her hand, clearly enjoying his discomfort. He glared at her, momentarily forgetting they were sitting outside in the dark and that his glare wasn't effective if she couldn't see it.

"Honestly, I don't know, we haven't discussed it," she replied though they both knew the topic would come up eventually. "Your mom isn't dumb and she knows both you and Ellie. I'm sure she has an inkling that something is happening, but you and I both know she won't say something to either of you until you or Ellie tell her that something is going on."

Chris nodded his head, knowing that she was right. His mom had always been the type that would wait for you to confess your sins and/or share news before she spoke to you about it, even if she knew what had happened before you told her. And she always seemed to know, especially when he'd done something bad.

After downing the rest of his beer, Chris rolled the empty bottle between his hands. He knew he should tell his mom what was going on with him and Ellie, especially if she already suspected something was up. But telling his mom would change her relationship with Ellie and he knew that Ellie valued his mom's friendship just as much as his mom valued it. Not to mention the added pressure that came with telling your family you're dating someone and the expectations that naturally arose from such an announcement. Adding all of that to the fact that he still wasn't sure about things made it even more complicated.

"You don't have to decide or do anything tonight," Tara's voice interrupted his thoughts. She squeezed his shoulder as she stood up. "It's late and I know you have a flight tomorrow. A long flight with lots of time to overthink it all a million times. Go to bed. It's going to be a madhouse around here tomorrow with most of us leaving."

Somewhat reluctantly, he followed her into the house and made his way up to the office where his empty air mattress awaited him. As did the loud snores coming from a couple of his buddies. He shook his head as he crawled into his sleeping bag. Maybe next time he'd insist on sleeping in a real bed after his premiere and maybe not by himself.

Episode 18

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sunlightpike · 5 years

Note

what do you think of the theory it was the Cerberus Assembly that has been kidnapping teenagers for their dunamancy experiment and not the Xhorhasian?

Well, I’m doubtful that it was the Kryn that were kidnapping children. But, there are three possible options as to who was doing it. The Kryn/Xhorhasians, the Assembly, or the Iron Shepherds. I’m not exactly sure which it is yet, but I’m definitely between the Assembly and the Shepherds-- the Kryn seemed focused in on their goal of getting the beacon back, so why would they care about children from the Empire? How would that help them reach their goals?

Besides, let’s look real fast at what we know about the kidnappings and at the geography of the Dwendalian Empire.

The families and children are known to be missing from Nogvurot. We get this info from the town crier, who attributes it to the Kryn:

"Families missing in Nogvurot! Crick kidnappers steal them away in the night! Lock and seal your windows and doors while you slumber!”

and from Darrow, who tells them his group was investigating the kidnappings in Nogvurot (more on this later).

So let’s look at the area around Nogvurot (circled in yellow-- note: this is the best quality picture of the map around. This video lets you see locations in better quality and is what I used to check illegible names).

First let’s look at it in terms of the concept that the Xhorhasians are the ones coming across the border to kidnap the children. We don’t know exactly where the border falls but we can approximate based off the geography and what we know about the Empire. The Ashguard Garrison (blue arrow), which fell into Xhorhasian hands, and the Rockguard Garrison (pink arrow) seemed to mark the border, with the Brokenveil Bluffs between them and the Ashkeeper Peaks to the south. The border to the north of the Rockguard Garrison is also marked by mountains, and just past those mountains is a body of water, which means that Xhorhasian lands either end in the mountains or at the coast.

With that in mind, I’ve marked an approximation of the border in yellow here:

Now, let’s look at the info we have on Xhorhasians crossing the border. The town crier from above mentioned that the Kryn were kidnapping people from Nogvurot. Another town crier warned “Conflict at the Xhorhasian border grows violent! Watch your children at night!” Matt also says that children are being stolen from homesteads “close to the border”. (Keep in mind that all these sources are either directly from the Empire’s criers or info gathered from people who would only have heard from them.)

But the thing is, Nogvurot? Not close to the border. The dashed white line there shows how far it is from Nogvurot to just north of the Rockguard Garrison, which is really the only place someone would be able to cross over between Xhorhas and the Empire that far north. Even with the ability to tunnel, it’d be a long tunnel to reach all the way to Nogvurot.

We know a Kryn soldier made it to Zadash before the attack on Felderwin, but that seemed more like a small mission sent in to get in and get out-- an operation like stealing children would require a way to transport them at the very least.

Also, looking at Felderwin, we know the attack there happened primarily to grab Yeza + hopefully the Beacon/his research on it. They had a reason to make that attack. And even if they were trying to steal children, Felderwin is right there, and lots of other towns are closer than Nogvurot. Why would they go almost triple the distance just to steal children in the middle of the night? Why, if they attacked Felderwin and were the people stealing from Nogvurot, would they not steal more than just Yeza from Felderwin? What use would they have for the people?With what we know about the Kryn, it doesn’t really make sense. It’s possible, yes, but... there’s the big question of why? that hasn’t been answered. And remember all the sources we have saying the Kryn did it are Empire-based, so could just be them blaming it on the Kryn to incite anger and make the war more justified.

Now moving away from the Kryn being the kidnappers, let’s look at the Assembly and the Shepherds. One thing I want to bring up before them is what Darrow told the party about the kidnappings:

Darrow: Well, we’re stationed in Nogvurot, but  we’re from a ways further than that.Jester: Did you notice any of the kids that were  missing up there?Darrow: (sighs) That has been an occasional  problem, yes. We had been sent to investigate two of those instances and in all of them it seemed to  be that they were stolen– (stops himself) I’m sorry, I do not know how much I can discuss of these with you.

This was all we got, because Jester crit failed her charisma check, but we do learn two things here. One is that there was a commonality between the way they were stolen in all the cases. The other is that this commonality is not something that is being openly discussed, and is something that he is weary of sharing. I’d imagine if it was evidence damming the Kryn it’d be plastered everywhere, so I’d doubt that that would be the case.

One possibility regarding this is the Shepherds, of course. Shadycreek Run is right around Nogvurot-- while we don’t know the exact location, the Gentleman tells them that it’s past the Quannah Breach (underlined in orange), and in the Greying Wildlands (the forest where the yellow circle is located). Thus, it’s around where the yellow circle is on this map.

Nogvurot is directly south of this, and the Iron Shepherds are known to travel in this area-- note Hupperdook and the Crispvale Roadway (the Crispvale Thicket being where Nila’s clan is from) as well as Glory Run being labelled in this area.

And, while the Iron Shepherds seem to attack mostly travelers they know they can overtake, we know they attacked Nila’s clan when they were all gathered for a celebration. We don’t know anything about them attacking towns, but it’s possible that they could be the source of the missing families.

If this was the case, the commonality in all of the cases would be something along the lines of what we saw-- the silence spell, the fact that no one hears them scream, them probably disappearing without a single trace. It’d make sense, but there’s not really much of a motivation for them to enter Nogvurot unless they couldn’t find any travelers.

Alright so the Shepherds are a possibility, but what about the theory you’re asking about here-- what about the Assembly?

Maybe you’ve noticed how close Rexxentrum is to Nogvurot. The Soltryce Academy is there, and it’s where a lot of the members of the Assembly are said to be based. Most notably to the Mighty Nein, of course, Ikithon’s there. But the only member of the Assembly that is confirmed to not be based there at least some of the time is Hass, who runs the Halls of Erudition in Zadash.

So it’s distinctly possible that the Assembly is sending its people to Nogvurot to find promising young people (young people seem to be a trend here).

If you look where the arrow’s pointing here:

You can see there’s kind of a passage through the trees, a path between Nogvurot and Rexxentrum. It’d make Nogvurot one of the closest towns to Rexxentrum, but most importantly it’d make Nogvurot the closest town to the east, in the direction of Xhorhas. They’d have an easier time blaming kidnappings from Nogvurot on the Kryn than kidnappings from, say, Odessloe or Rexxentrum itself.

Hearing that the Kryn were kidnapping people from Rexxentrum would cause mass panic, because Rexxentrum is the capital. But Nogvurot? It would cause some levels of panic, especially if they were playing it up, but it wouldn’t be unbelievable.

And if my meta post about the Assembly is right, it’s definitely possible they’d be kidnapping people to either get them on their side or experiment, like they did with Caleb, with boosting power. They might have been seeking out specific kinds of children-- ones with an affinity for Dunimancy. We know that people can have an affinity for it because of the notes in Yeza’s basement: “word has found me of Trent finding a few of his proteges have a knack for early dunimancy.”

Of course, the Assembly seemed to be using their own students/people for their experiments before this. It’s distinctly possible that they’re kidnapping people because their experiments have progressed past the point of being performed on their own people. Or, because the assembly clearly has long-term plans based off of the notes-- “I hope to have this alchemist produce a number of batches over the next twelve to sixteen months”-- it’s possible they’re kidnapping children/younger people so that they can train them for a while before they institute their plan.

Maybe they’ve discovered how to teach people dunimancy but it only works if they start learning at a certain age, so they’re kidnapping children to teach them dunimancy and use them in battle later, which is a terrifying idea.

That’s all speculation at this point, but definitely some sign that the Assembly is connected to this would get Darrow nervous and make him not talk about it. Or even something that just doesn’t make sense-- maybe there seemed to be a specific trait they all shared (an affinity for magic, maybe?) or it seemed to happen from a certain location each time, or around the visits of a certain person (a member of the Assembly, perhaps?)

Tbh I don’t trust the Assembly at all, so I’m probably a little biased in saying that I wouldn’t be surprised if they were connected to this. But at this point I think that until we learn more about Xhorhas and the Assembly and the Empire and the politics between them, we won’t be 100% sure of the source of the kidnappings.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #ish #c2e56 #ask #meta #mine #m9 #anon

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catbowserauthor · 5 years

Text

A few more Hobbit thoughts, mainly Bilbo and Thorin, and a small snippet of a probable story

So, I'm working on my next few pieces for my Hobbit AU and something popped up that I have been thinking about a while. Now, don't get me wrong, I love to see awkward Thorin. It's adorable. Seeing a King put out of his element is great...

Having said that though, something I see a lot in fanfiction is that Thorin is utterly clueless when it comes to children, especially a little Frodo whereas Bilbo takes to it like a fish to water. Again, I like these stories because they always have some awesome cute and bonding moments.

But honestly? I think it would be reversed.

Thorin, at least by most fan (and the movie's backdrop, possibly the book's) standards helped to raise Fili and Kili. Several of the actors stated that Thorin has developed a "father-like" relationship with his nephews. Given that dwarves appear to age slower than Men or Hobbits (at least by most fan interpretations as we have no canon on how they actually age, save they live to be around 250) and value the children they do have like gold, Thorin should probably be old hat at this. I'd imagine a Hobbit child would be much easier than a Dwarf child.

Then, we have Bilbo, who while an awesome character is the definition of a major introvert. Heck, in the books, he states that he uses his magic ring to avoid social situations. It doesn't look like he has much interactions with other Hobbits before his adventure, let alone Hobbit children. By the time Frodo is orphaned originally, he has developed some skills but I still stand by the fact that he would be a novice at best!

I'd love to see more stories where it's Thorin showing Bilbo the ropes.

Dabbled in it a bit....

***

All of this had been planned so well. Bilbo had made plans for Thorin’s arrival, taking into account the Dwarf King’s horrific (or non-existent) sense of direction. By all accounts, Frodo should have been back with Primula and Drogo a whole day before his old friend arrived.

That was not what had happened.

For probably the first and only time in his life, Thorin had arrived early and with nary a bit of trouble locating Bag End. Per his explanation, he had seen no reason to stop one eve, given he was quite energetic and pursued onward through the night, cutting almost two days from his journey. It had resulted in him arriving late in the evening, not two hours after Primula had dropped off Frodo.

So much for Bilbo’s well-laid plans.

Yes, yes, he had been looking forward to this visit but now he was very much tempted to strangle his old friend with his own braids. The infernal dwarf was laughing at him. He was! Standing in the shadow of the doorframe, watching his struggle with a twinkle in his eyes, a rumbling chest and occasionally taking a drag from his pipe. Even in his sleeping slacks and night tunic, the blasted dwarf managed to look intimidating and Bilbo Baggins did not appreciate being laughed at. Not one bit.

Snarling, if just a bit, Bilbo countered “Well, Mister-Informed, feel free to try your hand at this!”

Putting out his pipe and laying it on the table, Thorin remarked, surprisingly, “Alright.”

The Hobbit was forced to admit that he had not anticipated this response. However, he was willing to relent and let his friend try. Perhaps then he would stop this laughter! Let’s see how the dwarf felt when he was the one on the receiving end of the faunt’s protests. Everyone knew it was far easier to criticize than correct! While still keeping a hand on the baby’s chest to prevent him from falling, Bilbo gave a simple nod to his friend as he approached. The blasted dwarf wasn’t even looking at him or the baby! He was looking around the room as if an answer to the predicament would appear.

Thorin knelt, scooping up something from the bag Primula had left and approached, dropping to one knee to make the process easier. His large hand replaced Bilbo’s and he inquired in that deep voice “His name is Frodo, yes?”

Nodding in response, Bilbo stepped back and he was rather astounded at what followed.

Thorin Oakenshield had always been a rather gruff and stern figure but as he looked down at the infant faunt that was barely as large as his hand, the King Under the Mountain smiled and it was a smile that spread through his face and up to his eyes. His gravelly voice softened significantly and one finger gently poked Frodo in the nose, “Ah, little Frodo, I know this is hardly fun for any of us…” he paused, dropped his voice and oh, was that…yes, that…he was heightening it! “But, would you look here?” The Dwarf King twirled his fingers, producing the small brightly colored plush flower he had retrieved from Primula’s bag. “Look at that, just for you, my lad!”

With the colored plush less than an inch from his face, Frodo’s eyes lit up. His attention was focused and little gummy hands reached up and grasped the stuffed item, immediately bringing it to his mouth, intent on exploring it with his gums. With the faunt’s attention occupied, his squirming ceased.

Thorin, with far more precision than Bilbo was aware any being possessed, let alone a dwarf with such large hands, took this opportunity to wipe the little faunt down with a dampened cloth that Bilbo had laid by the table, dry him, and then with nary a pause in his procedure, wrap the lad within new layers of cloth. All of this was done within a few seconds and then the chuckling king was scooping the child up and settling him in Bilbo’s astounded arms. He cleaned up the table, again with such detailed precision, before heading towards the washroom.

Bilbo, the now quiet faunt happily chewing on his toy, still in his arms, followed.

“Thorin…” He inquired, softly. “I…when…since when do you know such about infants?”

Loud, boisterous laughter greeted him as Thorin rubbed his hands down with soap and water. “Oh, you know little, Bilbo Baggins. That is hardly the first nappy I’ve changed in my life nor is little Frodo the worst. I’d wager that Fili was far worse. Kicked and screamed as though you were killing him, he would. I also suspect that when my Kili finally settles on his one and sires the children he wants so desperately, I will be showing him the same tricks.”

Eyes wide, the gentlehobbit of Bag End inquired “I…did not know dwarven men took such a hand on rearing their young.” He rubbed his neck nervously, hoping he had not offended him. Much as they knew one another and as well as they got along, there were still aspects of one another’s culture that were alien. “Among hobbits, while we certainly love our little ones so, it is primarily the women that tend the child-bearing tasks, especially these kinds of matters. My father was much more an educator and potential playmate.”

“Dwarf children are very rare, Mister Baggins,” Thorin provided as answer, “When we are blessed with some, it would hardly be appropriate to place the majority of the burden on our dwarrowdams.” Pausing, he added “Though, yes, our ones usually do take over such tasks as nursing and bathing and the like.”

Raising a brow, Bilbo asked “But not you, Thorin?”

Smiling that warm smile of his again, the dwarf shook his head, stepping out to stand by his friend and smile at the contented faunt. “Aye, not me, Mister Baggins. I decided early on, back when my sister first announced she carried a babe within her, that whether her husband was involved or not, I would be.”

#the hobbit movies #the hobbit fandom #The Hobbit movies had potential #The Hobbit movies AU #everyone lives and no one dies #Post BOTFA AU #Thorin Oakenshield #bilbo baggins #thorin and bilbo #Uncle Thorin #bagginshield #thorin is a good uncle #Thorin knows more about parenting than he gets credit for #oblivious Bilbo #for a change of pace

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lunima · 5 years

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☽ ` * • EZRA’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET !

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name:

Sugarplum!

OOC Contact:

IM & Discord, though I can be incredibly slow to answer. Feel free to ask for my discord if we’re moots!

WHO IS MY MUSE + MAIN STORYLINE(S):

Ezra is the personification of the soul and by extension the moon. At the beginning of all things, the Creator placed the power of each concept ( Life, Death, and Soul ) into a star or planet. Ezra, the soul, resides within every moon. Life is in every star, and Death takes up residence amid the dark matter and occasionally the furthest planets/moons from the nearest stars ( re: pluto ) A portion of Ezra’s soul/sentience was lured to earth by a malevolent spirit and the cult that that desired to harness the power of life, death and spirit, and trapped within the confines of a human body.

POINTS OF INTEREST:

(What might other characters recognize about your character? Strange behavior, quirks, noticeable features?)

She is mute - Depending on the timeline, whether or not she has a body and who she’s interacting with, she communicates primarily via sign language, written word, and electronic devices. If your muse is a being of higher power, if she trusts you implicitly, or the situation demands it, she will speak to you spiritually. You can read more about this HERE.

As she was never meant to be contained so, the tiny portion of her sentience is destroying the body she was trapped in, resulting in her being spelled asleep for centuries at a time. Her soul is tethered to her body, but her spirit is locked within the spirit realm until she is reeled in for rituals. She can wander through dreams and occasionally possess people and objects for short amounts of time.

Ezra is always wearing long sleeves and very occasionally a pair of gloves. This is, in part, due to the scars across her back, shoulders and arms, and partly to avoid direct skin on skin contact when possible.

Physical touch is agonizing. Her power commands that she leech the mental, physical, and spiritual pain from a person. She was never taught how to turn this off, only how to turn it up. This doesn’t stop her from reaching out to people though

She’s dying. Her body cannot contain the amount of cosmic energy stuffed into it. She can look quite unwell at times, though she does her best to heal herself and avoid activities that make her condition worse. At her worst, she might look nearly corpselike, her lips chapped and skin peeling. She will be incredibly hot to the touch. At her best she is alarmingly ethereal and takes to dying her hair auburn/brown to tone herself down.

She glows when she’s happy, and when she’s using her powers. There’s a particular iridescence that clings to her when she’s “healthy” too that doesn’t quite go away. There’s just something odd about her overall physicality that can garner attention.

If she dies (by someone else’s hand or simply because her body can’t take it anymore) her spirit will be confined to the earth and its spiritual realm until its end.

WHAT IS SHE DOING:

(What plot lines or story arcs is your blog going through? What’s motivating your character right now?)

There are two main timelines in Ezra’s story and one sort’ve sub-timeline. When she is in possession of the cult and when she is “free” from it. The sub-timeline is, as stated above, is where she’s trapped within the spirit realm. She can venture into dreams and wanders the earth as a “ghost” on occasion.

Her cult timeline is flexible and can be adjusted as needed and can be set anywhere from the 13TH century to present time.

Post-cult she is on her own, desperately searching for more information about herself and how she can break the spells that bind her to earth while attempting to avoid those that would drag her back to her keepers.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND HER:

(Which locations does your muse frequent?)

She was “born” on the border of Russia and Norway and was toted across most of Europe and Asia from that point on. At the turn of the century she’s transported to America, mostly along the east coast until she is settled in South Carolina.

Post-cult she could be just about anywhere tbh. There is no Fixed place for her.

CURRENT PLANS:

(Do you have any upcoming arcs in the works? This can be as vague or specific as you feel like).

Not at present, as I’m still trying to get back into the swing of thing uwu.

DESIRED INTERACTIONS:

(What kind of interactions would you like for your character? Do they need more friends? Enemies? Maybe a shoulder to cry on, or someone to teach them how to dance?)

Any and all kinds tbh! I might elaborate on that more eventually but we love all the things here.

OFFERED INTERACTIONS:

(Does your character make clothes? Fix things? Challenge passers-by to battle? Steal people’s lunch money? What scenarios can your character offer that other players might be interested in?)

Both cult and post-cult interactions Ezra is a healer of emotional and spiritual wounds (and occasionally physical wounds if she is “charged up” enough) This is done with simple, physical contact. During her time in the cult she is visited by those who 1) have enough money/power/influence to pay to be healed and 2) those who are chosen to be made an example, to show off her powers. Post-cult if she notices someone is going through it she might reach out and try to help them, though it can be super rare because she doesn’t want to freak anyone out.

In her search for information, there are a plethora of occupations she can possess that rage from a librarian, an art conservator, a motivational speaker, a barmaid, and a waitress.

CURRENT OPEN POST(S):

None yet but they will be added here when they exist~

ANYTHING ELSE?:

Be excellent and party on. Also feel free to ask for any information / Ezra’s stats/bio if you have any questions.

TAGGING: Whoever sees this and wants to do it tbh! I tag you.

#out.#I FEEL LIKE I'M MISSING SO MUCH AKEJNFD #i'm in a brain fog tho #this will be something i add to my pages tho and update as needed #pls feel free to nab this tho and say i tagged u #NOW I WORK ON STARTERS~#UPDATE: wow i rly forgot to add the title didn't i hhhhhh

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dabblesindrabbles · 5 years

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Pjo/Hoo Disney Parks AU

Inspired by @son-of-rome and his work A Kiss From A Prince which was originally inspired by this ask.

Okay, so, the Disney College Program is about as close to a Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter sort of experience as I’ve ever had? So I’m placing the Seven + Nico/ Reyna primarily in College Program (CP) or Internship roles.

The Greeks = Walt Disney World. The Romans = Disneyland. East Coast vs. West Coast. The Most Magical Place on Earth vs. The Happiest Place on Earth. Similar, related, but absolutely not the same thing. Yes I know Disneyland predates Walt Disney World but let’s not talk about that.

Annabeth. Magic Kingdom - Main Street West Merchandise. Sorry East side, no hate, but I felt like it was a good nod to Annabeth’s ties to the West Coast. The OG Disney park in Florida, The Magic Kingdom is one of the most visited theme parks in the world. Cast members brave large crowds, crazy late hours, and traverse the Utilidors on the daily - a Labyrinth if I’ve ever seen one. Annabeth obviously has a perfect attendance record, at least three “4 Keys Cards” and has extended for a full year in the hopes of later returning for an Imagineering Professional Internship in Architecture.

Percy. Typhoon Lagoon - Lifeguard/ Magic Kingdom - Quick Service Food and Beverage. A lot of people don’t know that the waterparks close for refurbishment in shifts during the winter months, meaning that CPs are often moved to Quick Service when their respective waterpark is closed for refurbishment. Percy’s cool with it. I put him in Typhoon Lagoon because that wave pool is sick. Percy started during Annabeth’s extension, has a point or two on his record for sleeping in or running late, but definitely has a few Cast Compliments on social media. No plans for a future with the Company, just there for a break from school and a good time. Sends his sister all kinds of fun stuff from the parks and can’t wait for his family to visit.

Piper. Magic Kingdom - Main Street West Merchandise. Piper thought about the program in California, but living expenses were so much more and she didn’t want to ask her dad for help with the bills. Lowkey prefers the more regular phone calls she gets being so far from home. Randomly matched with Annabeth in CP housing during Annabeth’s extension, though their assignments usually send them to different sections at work. Always able to talk her fellow cast members into trading shifts and is a wonder with upset guests. Annabeth is trying to convince her to apply for a Guest Relations Professional Internship, but Piper thinks the points on her record would be an issue. She’s considering going back to California anyway and is rethinking the program in Disneyland in order to be closer to her dad. Couldn’t stand the character performers at first, but is starting to realize that they really aren’t so different from any other cast members.

Jason. Previous: California Adventure - Park Greeter/ Trainer and Coordinator. Current: Epcot - Guest Relations Professional Intern. Jason isn’t quite sure how he ended up in Florida persay, as he was on track for a leadership role in California, but curiosity, a desire for change, and perhaps a strange twist of fate sent him across country and pulled him out of his comfort zone. He’s always felt bound by procedure in his previous role, but now gets to bend the rules for the right reasons, solve problems, and help guests in a number of ways. Though he can pick up shifts at any park and often does, he feels most comfortable in his home location, as the park promotes ideas of unity, understanding, and exploration. Jason’s attendance record is flawless, and he has received a number of recognitions from fellow cast and guests for his eagerness to help and his compassion.

Leo. Hollywood Studios - Attractions, The Great Movie Ride before it closed forever rip. With Leo’s energy, his quick wit, and knack for corny jokes a spieling role seemed fitting. He has no problem improvising in front of guests though his leaders have scheduled meetings with him repeatedly to discuss when it is appropriate. Of course operating the ride vehicles, animatronics, and cueing the pyrotechnics are his favorite parts of the job and he hopes to return to the company for an Imagineering Professional Internship in the future. There are surprisingly no points on his record of attendance, but then again, there’s no place he’d rather be.

Frank. Disneyland - Character attendant. Frank’s compassion and gentle nature makes him a natural fit for the role, and his fierce protectiveness of his fellow cast members and friends keeps them safe on stage with guests. Frank enjoys his role, but is dreaming of a Professional Internship with Animal Programs where he can share his passion for and knowledge of animals with guests looking to become wilderness explorers. He has one single point on his record for stopping to give directions to a guest, which resulted in him clocking in late.

Hazel. The Grand Californian - Conceirge. Surrounded by luxury but also silence, Hazel doesn’t see much guest interaction working third shift - or the graveyard shift as some might call it. She doesn’t mind. Hazel enjoys the quiet and occasional call down to the desk where she is happy to assist any guests with their needs. She holds her few Applause-o-grams near to her heart and loves that her role allows her to build relationships with guests over the course of their stay, even if goodbyes are difficult. She has no plans to continue with the Company as of yet, instead ready to see where fate takes her next.

Reyna. California Adventure - Park Greeter/ Trainer and Coordinator on a Temporary Assignment in Operations Management. Reyna was a shining star from her first day on the job, executing her role in compliance with the 4 Keys while also doing well to assist her fellow cast members. She’s worked hard to grow in her role with the Company and has done well to find herself in a management role so young, though it speaks to her capabilities, passion, and drive. Her flawless attendance record is a credit to her goal of continuing to rise in the ranks of the Company, and while she has no recognitions to her name, she knows she has done her job well.

Nico. Disneyland - Custodial / Magic Kingdom - Custodial. Somehow a seasonal cast member on both coasts, no one is quite sure if it has ever been done before, though Nico hardly boasts of his travel from coast to coast. He doesn’t particularly like cleaning up after guests but he enjoys the independent work, the freedom to roam around the parks at his own pace, and the ability to pick up shifts wherever he pleases. Cast members are often unnerved by how quickly he is able to cross the parks at a moment’s notice when he is called over the radio, and they sometimes miss the way he smirks when he overheares them whispering about it. No points on his record, no recognitions to his name, and no plans for a future with the Company, he’s happy to come and go with the seasons.

#dabbles.writes #annabeth chase #percy jackson #piper mclean #jason grace #leo valdez #frank zhang #hazel levesque #reyna ramirez-arellano #pjo #hoo

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dev-fiction · 5 years

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Rules: Answer 22 questions, then tag 22 people.

Tagged By: @h4harts Thank you for tagging me!

Nicknames: My name can be mashed into a number of different nicknames, although the only ones to really use these are my parents. Rosie, Rolleycoaster, Ro-Ro, and simply ‘Dev’. My papa calls me an assortment of Italian pet-names, but I don’t know how to spell them, so...

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Height: 4′9

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff - I get Hufflepuff in every quiz I take. I guess it’s just meant to be.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Last Thing Googled: “Mr. Beans Daughter” (my friend asked me if I knew what she looked like aha).

Favorite Musician(s): Eve, Kikuo, Starbomb, Ninja Sex Party, Mother Mother, Mystery Skulls, and Caravan Palace. Please check them out, they’re all worth a listen! Especially Eve...

Earworm: The song that the Other Mother in Coraline hums during the kitchen scene near the end. I find myself humming it all the time; it soothes me out.

Following now: Primarily humor and fandom blogs. I also follow quite a few art blogs!

Followers: 87

Do I get asks: Occasionally! Thank you to everyone who has sent me an ask in the past <3

Sleep: I usually sleep between 10-15 hours - even occasionally upwards of 20. I’m trying to cut back and force myself into a more healthy schedule, but it’s a bit rough. Hopefully seeing a doctor about it soon! :D

Lucky Number: I’m not really sure :sweats:

What I’m wearing: My favorite pajama’s! A short sleeved top and shorts; they’re very soft and loose. They’re black with white spots and a little bow where the hem meets.

Dream Job: I’m not really too sure on this one. I suppose I’d like nothing more than to work on something from home. Due to physical and mental limitations, I don’t think I could ever have an office job aha. Maybe something art or writing related!

Dream Trip: Yakushima. I had to do a report on Yakushima when I was in high school and everything about it enthralled me. While I’d love to visit Japan in general, Yakushima is by far my favorite location.

Favorite Food: Ever since I was a little kid my favorite food has been green bean casserole. My mom would make it every year for Christmas and it has such fond memories attached to it; plus it tastes pretty good too! Other than that I would have to say Silver Noodle Soup.

Instrument(s): I never really played any instruments growing up.

Language(s): English and Sign Language! My ASL is incredibly rusty and I still have a lot to learn, but my mom was an interpreter for the deaf before going deaf herself, so it holds a lot of meaning to me. My mom is trying her best to teach me and I can’t wait to learn! I took Japanese in high school, but the lessons never really stuck.

Favorite Song(s): All of the Kagerou Project songs, Additional Memory, Tokyo Ghetto, Say It, Ghosting, Sleep Awake, the Entire Starbomb Album, Green, and Sister

Random Fact: I am absurdly fascinated with the art of animation. Everything about it makes me extremely excited and sitting down to watch a beautifully animated film/short/video is the absolute highlight of my day. I get so excited/passionate about it that I usually have to take a break to rant or exercise the adrenaline out of me. So far the best film I’ve seen, that’s made me the most excited, was Spider-Man Into the Spider-verse

Aesthetic: Autumn. I love everything about the Autumn aesthetic; my room is even Autumn themed. The smell of pumpkin spice, chilly weather, and Halloween on the horizon...it makes me want to curl up with a book in an over-sized sweater and watch the changing leaves fall away. I also really like pastel pink.

Pass to: I don’t really have anyone to tag, sorry aha.

#personal #tagged #thank you h4harts <3 you're support is amazing #h4harts #i'm drunk sorry for typos

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yoolee · 6 years

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If Lee wrote otome #8 | Interstellar Shoestring Budget

PREMISE:

Top Secret and yet also chronically underfunded, understaffed, misunderstood government office focused on extraterrestrial affairs - primarily, keeping their presence a secret, helping stranded extraterrestrials integrate into Earth society, processing planned visits, occasionally preventing mass invasions - with a basically nonexistent budget, since the people making the decision on where to allocate money can’t know the truth. This means cobbling together disguises with the help of a local community theatre department or high school art program, macguyvering weapons together from duct tape, staplers and tech that’s 20 years out of date, and relying on an unpaid (extraterrestrial) intern to handle social media updates and PR. 3D prints most of their supplies. TAKES PLACE IN LAS VEGAS probably. Where else would you hide the fantastical?

Potentially fatal extraterrestrial parasite found? Let’s hope roach killer spray works on it. I think there’s some under the break room kitchen sink.

Large scale invasion by the Truorans imminent? We avoided the last one with Tweeter - do they have Tweeter? Do we know anyone who can communicate in Truoran? No - let’s try emojis then, I guess.

Newly stranded alien has blue scales and six eyes? Welcome to Earth - here’s a mepipe contouring video and some concealer, good luck.

Zero mind-control memory wipe devices - unless they can convince an alien with those abilities to do it, they pretty much have to rely on chicanery, natural skeptical instincts, and bribery (as a last resort, because, budget).

(side note - super tempted to say it’s old enough to have been ‘Ye Olde Extraterrestrial-Earth Transfer Support’ but over time the ‘olde’ and ‘support’ got dropped so now it’s just YEET)

HEROINE

Bad at delegating - takes on too much too often (usually because she’s so used to not having budget to hire more people to do it). Somewhat high-strung. Prone to trying every new ‘this will change your life’ trend out there but never makes it more than a month or two before falling back on bad habits. Excellent cook, often of very, very weird combinations in hopes of landing on the right mix for some of her clients (even though many of them find the practice of coming together as a group to independently ingest energy sources bizarre). Staunch believer in trying for peace first - just because we can’t communicate doesn’t mean we don’t have common ground, and just because something is unexplained or unfamiliar doesn’t mean it’s dangerous. Too tired to be scared of anything, which is good, because sometimes the existential questioning of her reality and the world beyond it can be derailing. Went straight into the military after high school, which is how she ended up learning about extraterrestrial outreach. Still keeps a lot of service habits. Currently trying to wean off of caffeine (it’s not going well). Has no social life because she is always on call for work. Angry and hurting about the cruelty of the world--not just hers, but universally--but tries to ignore the anger in favor of doing small things to make it better.

Love Interests

Alien 1: Alien who integrated into Earth six-seven years ago when heroine was first being assigned to the department. Has some serious telepathic ability, which allows them to conveniently convince anyone looking at them that they’re seeing a regular, normal human being, instead of what they actually are (basically energy-based, rather than having a solid manifest form). Unfortunately, they also kind of uses it willynilly to ‘convince’ people of over things, because they don’t believe in subscribing to human ethical codes except when convenient, which makes them a teensy bit untrustworthy. Generally seems content (even happy) to be on Earth, making a significant effort to establish a long-term life. Occasionally acts as a consultant to the department since their ability makes them generally able to communicate with most species, so long as they produce rational thoughts on a similar level, but refuses to help for free, dealing instead in favors (doesn’t need money since they can just convince people to fork over twenty bucks or food for free or whatever they need). Super shady about their backstory. Does not deal in absolutes - their perception of reality is somewhat more multi-tiered and probability-based. Originally from a species with collective thought/memory - something they were shut out of shortly after arriving on Earth, without explanation. Semi-dealing with the trauma of that, and waffles between being elated with their independence, and feeling a profound sense of loss and severance.

The Techie: “I have a computer science engineering degree from MIT and I took this lousy-paying government job because I thought I’d get to hack into alien spaceships but instead I’m basically the Help Desk for Earth-integrating aliens.” Eternally despairs over the incompatibility of Earth tech and extraterrestrial tech - though they’ve managed to make a few basic communication consoles work retroactively and never give up on writing some kind of code or program that will ‘click’. Teensy bit of a mad scientist when it comes to dismantling alien stuff to try and figure out how it works. Perennial smarta--. Knows how critical they are and milks it - basically constantly threatens to leave and go work for Fwoogle (particularly when called upon to do something like unjam the printer). Generally has to be bribed to participate, but more reliable than they pretend. Sociable nerd. Constantly dealing with parents who are disappointed because they expected them to be an Aluminum Valley billionaire by now. Builds apps that provide helpful tips for integrating aliens, and programs the 3D printer to print out disguise pieces.

Actually does quit to go work for Fwoogle or a startup in their own route to avoid coworker issue - except they get sucked back in to at least helping due to some major trouble.

The oh shoot we ended up in space for the final act route - and not only did we end up in space, but we are stranded on a ship that uses totally different tech than ours?

Alien 2: SUPER UNHAPPY about being stuck in this backwater solar system, with such a horrible, rude, unpleasant, backwards-thinking, awful-acting dominant species. May or may not be plotting to wipe them all off the face of the planet. Very volatile (in a literal sense - their surface tends to react explosively with Earth’s atmosphere), though they are trying hard to control it because that’s potentially fatal. From a very aggressive species that has a narrative of peace-through-conquest - but their last mission to do so, there was a catastrophic failure, and that’s the last Alien 2 knows.

Private Industry/Casino Owner (Alien 3): From a shapeshifting species that is essentially adaptive - becoming more and more like their surroundings as time goes on, which means they have super easily integrated into Earth society. Unfortunately, they arrived on Earth back when the Mafia was running Vegas, so, those are the behaviors that are integrated first. Generous but violent. Persuasive, arrogant, has a strict moral code that is a mix of alien and Earthling. Genteel but vicious. Literal embodiment of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger due to adaptive abilities. Has amassed enough of a fortune through running a (super shady) Vegas casino that they have opened their own charity to support extraterrestrials on earth. Frequently tries to hire MC to run it (look at all the resources you could have) but she considers it a conflict of interest (she’s more afraid they will entice away Techie). Has every intention of making Earth an interstellar destination for extraterrestrial tourists - regardless of what Earth’s governments think of it.

Space Pirate (Alien 4): There has to be one, okay? Child of a union between a generally terrifying species and one that inadvertently created them in a last-ditch effort to halt the conquest of their planet, which did not make for a great childhood as they were somewhat disdained by one parent’s species and feared by just about everyone else. Because of this, they have a very strong dislike/distrust of organized groups (governments in particular) but (deep down) they still believe in individuals, as they’ve found several of their life who have become friends or family (or crew). Fiercely loyal to their own. Likes Earth because as an unintegrated planet, they can come and go without scrutiny (except for one measly office that sometimes harangues them). Operates in a very gray morality - stealing is okay, killing in self-defense (even proactively) is okay, doing what you have to survive is okay (though they try to be one to make that decision before their crew), but some things just aren’t. Values independence and freedom over all else. Does not get along with Alien 1 at all because of the collective-thought aspect.

Conspiracy Theory TV Producer: coming soon maybe idk

Supporting Cast:

Various clients:

Doesn’t experience time in a linear fashion which makes them super hard to keep track of.

Myth bases - various types of dragons, mermaids, selkies, etc

A neon-based organism that is colorless and a low-energy loner, and returning them to their home would require a massive amount of voltage, which when applied totally alters them.

A sodium-based organism to whom water is toxic, making it a massive time crunch to get them to a desert location

A mercury-based parasitic organism that has found it can ‘merge’ with humans as their skin absorbs it, giving them a mobile vessel that blends in, except ultimately their toxicity kills their host and they have to find another.

Starkillers! Check it out. Iron-based organisms born from the death of massive stars (creating iron takes more energy than is released by the fusion, so stars that make iron essentially cannibalize themselves) - they are subsequently feared by default by most species that recognize the power inherent to stars. They consume other entities in search of the greater energy they once had. Consuming carbon-oxygen based entities stabilizes them into steel-based organisms.

Various visitors who they haven’t figured out how best to communicate with but they’re trying!

Fire cat: An alien lifeform that seems to be a physical, tangible manifestation of heat. It followed heroine home from work and refuses to leave. Since it likes to cuddle and has taken the shape of an Earth cat (...except for the fact it glows like a hot coal), heroine doesn’t really ask too many questions (Even though sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, she swears she sees some massive, fiery shape). She’s still not sure what it eats but it seems content. It’s even started purring on occasion. It will absolutely scorch her fingers if she pets it when it’s not in the mood, though. She keeps telling it she’s a dog person and it keeps giving her a perfect Judgey Not-Actually-A-Cat stare.

Author Roomie: Former frustrated wild child who has (sort of) settled down - with a vengeance. Only leaves the house when they have to - which, given modern conveniences, means almost never - or when they finish a book, at which point they disappear for a few days and MC never knows where they go. They actually hired one of MC’s extraterrestrial clients to act as them for book signings and the like. Was raised by their ‘aunt’ *coughcough*my ode to Aunt Beast*coughcough* who was, in fact, an extraterrestrial, which is how they know about all this. Super helpful in coming up with cover stories. Incredibly laid back about life, incredibly NOT laid back about their book plots - tends to bite MC’s head off (figuratively) around deadline time or when stuck on a particularly tricky chapter. Thoughtful, in the sense that they think things through before answering, clever. Jealous that fire cat loves heroine but won’t sit in author’s lap unless it is SUPER cold outside.

Author’s Editor: Had an absolutely hysterical panic attack when they found out their number one author’s stand-in was not from the planet Earth. Still prone to being hysterical about it if they think about it too much. Chronically weeps over their trouble child client - who is a consistent top ten bestseller, but the definition of exhaustion to work with. Ebbs and flows with author’s mood - when author is laidback, editor is stressed, when author is stressed, editor is the picture of serenity and encouragement. Totally ends up dating ET stand-in even if they have hiccups.

Author’s Aunt: The sort of being who imparts strength on/in others simply through steadfast grace. Just a profoundly loving presence. Healer in a very literal sense, she can help most species to be well and healthy, but there is not a good way to articulate how. Very, very old and has been on Earth a very, very long time - even before the government started a program to integrate aliens, she was acting as a kind of welcomer/healer/mentor/surrogate family to stranded aliens - and the occasional hurting, angry, frustrated human child, as was the case with Author. Often beats the government to the scenes of crashes. Home is always open to anyone who finds their way there. Heroine sees her appearance differently than the author does - when asked about it, neither can really explain why or how, since AA does not perceive the world visually.

Intern: Snarky college kid who acts like an absolute slacker but it’s all a smokescreen for a pathological need to exceed expectations - they actually work super hard behind the scenes. Primary duties include yelling PHOTOSHOP on forums where people post pictures of extraterrestrials. Always seems to have energy. Acts like they are super grouchy about having to adhere to the overly rigorous NDA but is actually extremely zealous about making the world better and safer for all of its residents.

#otome #if lee wrote otome #alien otome #aliens #extraterrestrials #extraterrestrial

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