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halogalopaghost · 11 months

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Maternal Instincts

6,103 words | read on AO3

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Raph winced and his shoulders instinctively hunched at the startle. Busted. He slowly turned to face Leo, who had his arms crossed over his chest. “I promised Mrs. M I’d drop by today.” He flapped a hand at Leo, brushing it off.

Leo’s expression relaxed a little, softening around the edges. “Oh. You really shouldn’t be helping her out with anything today.” He gestured to the bandages taped to a large portion of Raph’s plastron, toward the right side of where his belt would usually sit.

Raph looked down at the bandages, then back up to his brother. “Nah, it’s fine. She just wanted me to watch some TV show she likes.”

“Raph, don’t lie to me. You’re a terrible liar.”

He scoffed. “Not any worse than you. And I ain’t lyin’!”

“Yes you are! Just tell me the truth, you know I won’t be happy about you leaving either way.”

That little neatly-contained bubble of anger in his chest popped. He threw his arms out dramatically, taking a step in toward Leo. To his credit, he didn’t so much as flinch. “What are you, my mom? I dunno how you have time to stand in front of the mirror and practice your self-righteous speeches when you’re always so far up my ass about stupid shit. You want me to go wake up Don, see if it’s too late to get joined at the hip? Get off my shell already!”

Leo’s jaw was set in a hard line and the muscles at his temples spoke to his grit teeth. “Feel better now?”

“No,” he growled. “You wanna hold my hand all the way there, or can I go now?”

Leo’s eyes moved across his face, searching and analyzing. Raph hated how it always made him feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“You know I only ever get on you because I want you to be safe, right? Quit being so vain, I don’t sit around thinking about how I’ll torment you next,” he said, tone mocking and sharp. “I just care about you. I’ll work on that.”

He turned and walked away without another word, going back to where he’d been nursing his own injuries on the couch with a book and a cup of tea. Raph watched him go, anger ebbing with the adrenaline. He’d grumble about it all night, but they’d both be fine in the morning. Probably. He wasn’t gonna lie, the vanity comment kind of stung.

Raph did the same, turning his back on his brother to make a swift exit to the sewers.

Last night's patrol was normal for the first few hours, until they stumbled on some kind of deal between the Dragons and a smaller gang. When they intervened, both sides turned on one another and created a huge free-for-all of close-range weapons and gunfire. The four of them were real fuckin' lucky that none of them were shot, but that didn't mean they got out unscathed. Far from it, actually. They were all wrapped up like mummies, more white than green, with all the scrapes and cuts and sprains. The only reason they weren’t busting their asses to figure out what kind of deal was going on was because Donnie was dead asleep, and had been ever since they got home. The wound he suffered wasn’t serious, but he had lost just enough blood to feel like sleeping for a week.

In Raph's defense, he was a good turtle on the way to Mrs. Morrison’s—he walked an unused subway line as far as he could before surfacing. When he did get aboveground (after sucking in a deep breath of the relatively fresh night air), he stuck to the rooftops and even walked instead of running. He still had to jump the gaps though, and the sensation of the fresh wound pulling on the staples underneath that thick bandage was unpleasant to say the least. It definitely discouraged him from trying anything fancy. By the time he made it to the alleyway door of his friend, he was a little winded.

He knocked, and almost right away the door swung open. Lucy darted out to wind around his ankles and mew at him.

"Oh Raphael, it's good to see you," Mrs. M said, reaching toward him. With Lucy on his shoulders, he held her forearms while she held onto his. A sort of stand-in for a hug, since he tried to avoid any and all shell touching. "I was starting to get worried, you're late!"

"I know Mrs. M, I'm sorry. I had some stuff at home to take care of." Stuff, in this instance, being making sure that Donnie woke up long enough to eat something and change his bandages before falling back into his zombie-like stupor.

"Ah, that's alright Raphael. I know you're a busy boy."

He smiled wide as she ushered him in and locked up behind him. He was almost eighteen now, and Mrs. M was the only person he knew that still treated him like a kid. It was kinda nice, even though he'd die before admitting it.

Well…Leo treated him like a kid too, but not in a good way.

"I promise I won't keep ya. Let's get to work." He plucked Lucy from his shoulders and without thinking, bent over to put her down. The line of staples in his side screamed in pain, but he managed to let out only a muffled grunt. He straightened and pressed his hand to the wound. It hurt, but it at least hurt in a way that didn't make it feel like his guts were gonna pop outta him at any second.

“Did Lucy get you? That cat, sometimes—”

“No no, it ain’t Lucy. I’m fine Mrs. M.” Raph pulled his hand away and checked to make sure there wasn’t blood seeping into the surface of the bandage. When he saw nothing, he released a tense breath and shook his shoulders out. “Where’s those bookcases at?”

“Just back here,” she said. She hooked her hand around his elbow and walked confidently down the short hallway.

Mrs. Morrison didn’t need Raph’s help to get around her home—he was convinced she could map the place upside down and backwards if need be, but she did walk a little faster when she knew someone was keeping an eye out for her. Usually he was perfectly fine with her soft, wrinkled hand resting on his inner elbow and walking alongside him. Usually. Today, he had a bandage around his bicep just an inch above where she put her hand. He wasn’t sure what he was going to tell her if she touched it, so he just watched very carefully so that she didn’t.

And then his head hit the wall.

An almost cartoonish sound came out of his mouth as he collided with the drywall, effectively knocking Mrs. Morrison’s hand loose. She stood with her hand over her open mouth as he slapped a hand on his bald head, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

“Raphael, dear, remind me which one of us is blind?”

He huffed out a laugh. The impact startled him more than it hurt him; there wouldn’t be a bump or anything to tattle on him later. “Hey, you’re the one movin’ the walls around on me!”

She laughed. It always reminded him of church bells when she laughed. “You really must be more careful. I can’t send you home all banged up—I’m afraid it would leave a rather poor impression on your brothers.”

He took her hand again, this time directing her to his forearm instead of the elbow. “Nah, they already like ya. They figure anyone willin’ to put up with me must be a saint or somethin’.”

They took the last few steps (successfully navigating the doorway this time) into the tiny room that had once been her husband’s office. She was determined to clear it out before the end of the month. While the surprise money had been able to prevent the bank from foreclosing on the townhouse, it wasn’t enough for her to pay the mortgage and live on. With much deliberation, she decided she would try to make that few thousand dollars go much farther and move into a one-room apartment with Lucy. She didn’t need the space, she said, and with the social security benefits he and Don had helped her get in order, she wouldn’t have to worry about money so much. It was a smart plan, but he still felt a little heartache when she ran a hand over her husband’s desk, eyes fond and faraway.

The bookcases wouldn’t be going with her—she had managed to corner someone who would buy them in the bodega across the street. They were only paying half what they were worth, since they were obviously solid wood, but money was money, and Mrs. M could always use a little more of it. All he had to do was get them out to the alley so the couple could pick them up in the morning.

Raph stood in front of one bookcase, hands on his hips and head tilted up. “Uh, Mrs. M, I think you mighta overestimated my height here.”

She turned toward him. “Oh my. Are they very tall?”

“They’re at least a foot taller than me,” he grumbled. He’d gotten taller than Mikey and Leo, but Casey still insisted on the daily that he was very short.

“I must have forgotten. I suppose I never did spend much time committing them to memory,” she laughed. “Maybe we should call one of your brothers, hm? I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

He stuck his head in between a couple shelves and looked for any kind of seam in the center. How had they even gotten these in here to begin with? “No, I got it. I’ll just get ‘em out on their sides.”

“Are you sure?”

He grunted a bit as he straightened. The wound was still throbbing beneath the bandages. He turned toward her—even though she couldn’t see it, it felt more polite. “I’m sure. It’d take ‘em longer to get here than it will for me to move it.”

Mrs. Morrison’s hand trailed along the desk until it came to touch the chair against it, then she sat and folded her hands in her lap. “I’ll keep you company right here, then.”

Raph just stood there for a moment, looking at her. He couldn’t tell her to leave, for multiple reasons, but if she stayed there she’d hear him struggling. Couldn’t she go make tea or something? He kept standing there, and she kept sitting there, so he just gave up.

He got the remaining books off the shelf and neatly stacked them against the wall to be packed later on. Every reach over his head stretched his plastron against those staples. He held his breath every time. Once it was properly empty, he sized up the bookcase, compared its height and width to that of the narrow door. It would have to go through on its side, because it wouldn’t fit any other way.

He rubbed his hands together, glaring up at it. This would be the easy part. With his arms above his head, he gently pulled on an upper shelf and at the same time, pushed on the base with his foot. It took a lotmore effort to move than he thought it would. The full weight of it shifted onto him, and he eked out just a little bit of a grunt before he resorted to holding his breath again. He walked backward as he lowered it, bicep throbbing, to lay face-down on the carpet.

He puffed out the breath, sure his face was turning purple. It was a damn good thing the woman was blind, or he wouldn’t have been able to pull this off.

“Raphael?”

“Just takin’ a breather. These suckers are heavy.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Don’t push yourself too hard. There’s no shame in asking for help.”

His face burned hotter. “I’m okay, I do stuff like this all the time.”

He turned away before she could answer, kneeling to flip the shelf onto its side. His breath came in short little puffs as he fought back the pain and occasional wave of nausea. The sooner he just got it over with, the better. He could put up with a little pain.

With the shelf on its side, it was finally ready to be removed from the room. He got behind it on the narrow end and braced his hands against it, prepared to slide it across the carpet as far as he could. Considering he was too big to carry it through the doorway, it seemed silly to pick it up at all. With his feet braced against the carpet and his body diagonal to the floor, he pushed for all his worth.

The shelf didn’t budge an inch, but something in Raph’s chest did. He let out a wheezing cough as pain exploded in his ribcage and his arms almost gave out from the shock of it alone, which would have sent him headfirst into the shelf. He sat down on the carpet before he could fall, stars exploding in his vision while the room spun.

He blinked away the blackness and found Mrs. M sitting on the floor in front of him, holding the hand that he didn't have pressed to his side. When did she move? Did he lose a few seconds there?

He tightened his hand around hers, and she seemed to slump a bit in relief. "There you are. Breathe, now."

He took a shallow breath, expanding his chest only as much as he had to, and forced himself to release it slowly. In, out, slow. Don’t get worked up.

“Raphael, you aren’t feeling well.”

He looked up at her, still a little dazed. “Mrs. M—”

Her mouth set in a line. “Don’t Mrs. M me, young man.”

“But I made a promise!” I told ya I’d come help tonight and I was already late, let me just finish—”

“Absolutely not. I appreciate your help and care so very much, but you are clearly unwell. You’re going to come rest on the couch and that’s final.”

He could only blink for a few seconds. “You don’t hafta do that, I can call—” the crushing lack of air in his chest forced him to pull in a shallow breath before he could continue. "I can call one of my bros."

“Nonsense. It’s late, they’re sure to be studying or sleeping.”

He hesitated. She wasn’t technically wrong. Donnie was probably out cold, Leo too, and if Mikey wasn’t also asleep, then he was ‘studying’ a video game or comic. “Then I’ll walk myself home. It ain’t a big deal, Mrs. M.” Her hand, soft and wrinkled with age, was still around his. Her hands were almost comically small compared to his own green ones, but they spoke to her many years of life. A few kitchen scars, knobby arthritic knuckles, delicate if unkempt fingernails. He squeezed her hand again.

She frowned stubbornly. “Is there a reason that you need to go home right now?”

He opened his mouth to reply with the instant, obvious answer: yeah, I don’t want to bother you. He let out the breath in a short sigh instead. “No, I guess not.”

“Do you want to go home right now?”

He sighed again, shoulders slouching. She still had not let go of his hand. “Mrs. M, I love hangin’ out with ya…”

She raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And…I don’t want you to hafta take care of me. That ain’t your job.”

If it was possible, her scowl actually deepened and, despite his many years of training, he didn’t foresee her next movements. She slipped her hand away from his and brought the other up alongside it, capturing his round cheeks in her palms. “Raphael, you are not a burden. I enjoy spending time with you; I love you for who you are and how much you care, not for what you can do to help me. Now, you and your brothers have done a great deal to care for me these last few months. Let me return the favor, alright?”

This time, his rapid blinking was not from a lack of understanding, but to stave off the burning, watery sensation. Her hands were so soft and warm on the sides of his face, and they did not hesitate to touch the bandana, or to splay fingers where external ears should have been. She didn’t flinch away from his scaly skin, and she didn’t waver even in the slightest when a watery tear escaped containment and ran against her palm. He sniffled quickly to keep himself in check.

“Yes Ma’am,” he mumbled.

She nodded once and released him. “Thank you. Now come on, these old bones can’t sit down here much longer.” She patted his knee, then began to struggle to her feet.

She groped around for something to hold onto, eventually landing on an ancient filing cabinet. She pulled herself up to her knees by it, then began groping around for something else. Her hand landed on his shell.

A thrill of fear and excitement and nausea jolted him from head to toe, like it always did whenever she touched his shell. She had to know—he was certain she had to know. But she never brought it up even subtly, so he kept pretending that he had her fooled. He grunted a little bit at the effort of keeping his back straight as her weight shifted around on his shell. He released another breathy laugh to cover it up.

Mrs. M’s head tilted at the same time, cocking her ear toward him.

Ah. Raphael was used to living among those who could see, those who depended upon body language indicators. Mrs. M, without any of those things, compensated with her hearing. And even as old as she was, she had sharp hearing. “Ah, shit,” he sighed. “You keep hearin’ me,” he realized aloud.

“Yes sir, and I would advise you to watch your language,” she said, hint of a smile on her face. As if he hadn’t just heard her use quite a few colorful words last week when she burnt herself on the oven.

“Sorry Ma’am,” he said, same cheekiness in his tone.

Raph filed a new mental note: next time, worry more about not gasping and wheezing, less about not grimacing and shaking. He couldn’t help his gravelly little laugh—lethal ninja outwitted by senior citizen, there’s one he could never let Mikey know about.

She carefully settled back into the desk chair. “Look at us,” she said, eyes twinkling. “A couple of old crones, hm?”

Raph pressed his hands to his ribs as he laughed again, more heartily this time. He couldn’t help it around her, and something about the fact that it hurt so much made him laugh more. “I ain’t old, just stupid.” He reached out and grabbed the same filing cabinet she had used, pulling himself to his feet and wobbling a moment before the room stopped spinning. The aftershocks of that extreme pain still rattled around his bones.

“Tch. You aren’t stupid except for when you’re calling yourself names. Be kind to yourself, you hear?”

“You sound like Leo,” he muttered. He grimaced as pain washed over him again. Even the slightest little move was like getting shanked with his own bone. His weight began to sag against the cabinet. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he wondered if a rib end was poking his lung, and if it would puncture it. At the forefront of his mind was not losing consciousness in front of Mrs. M, because if she panicked and called 911, he wouldn’t know what to do. Even worse—if she panicked and called his brothers.

She stood and wrapped her hands around his forearm again, but this time it was her supporting him. “Are you alright?”

“…Hng,” he replied articulately. He focused on not letting himself hyperventilate on the short, quick breaths he drew in order to keep the lung from getting stabbed again.

“Here, lean on me. I can take it. That’s right.” They started in slow steps forward. “Now don’t let us go running into any walls this time, hm?”

He laughed weakly, then winced. “Mrs. M, I really ain’t feelin’ so good.”

“I know. Come on, just a bit further and you can lie on the couch.”

Raph dropped all pretense as he eased himself into the comfy old couch. He groaned, partly from pain, partly from frustration, and sighed deeply once his shell was nestled in the cushions.

Mrs. M, obviously operating on pure muscle memory, reached over him to pluck a crocheted blanket off the back of the couch and made sure every inch of him was covered. He could only smile at her through half-lidded eyes. How did he not realize how tired he was?

“How about some tea?”

“You don’t hafta do that, I’m fine.”

She gave him a dry look, hands on her hips. “Did you eat dinner?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now Raphael, you wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

He spluttered, starting to sit up in order to defend himself, but Mrs. Morrison easily pushed him back down. “No, I’m not lyin’ to you,” he pouted.

“Oh, I should know you would never lie to me,” she crooned.

He opened his mouth to confirm as much, and the words died on his tongue as his lies-du-jour came back to haunt him. Wow, that was some exceptionally prompt karma. He scowled, effect completely lost on the blind woman.

She laughed airily and headed for the kitchen. “What kind of tea?”

“Anything’s fine,” he grumbled, resigned.

Listening to Mrs. M hum while she moved about the kitchen, Raph let his eyes drift close and his mind wander while the pain in his ribs slowly began to fade. As annoying as it was, he found his mind wandering toward his conversation with Leo. Okay, less of a conversation, more of just....slinging abuse at each other. If Leo could see him now, he’d be steaming mad.

He shifted on the couch, sinking deeper into the crevice where the back and the seat met. Just that little movement brought a jab of pain along with it. Of those ribs that were previously cracked, at least one of them was now broken. At least the staples were still firmly in place, even if there was a small bloom of red on the bandage. Man, he was really lucky to have a blind friend.

“Do you want a snack with your tea?”

He shook his head. This woman. “Mrs. M, I promise I already ate. I ain’t hungry.”

“Teenage boys are always hungry,” she quipped. She brought the tea tray over along with a bag of bite-sized cookies. Raph was starting to suspect she kept them around just for him and the other neighborhood kids that sometimes stopped by to see or help her.

Very slowly and with an abundance of thought toward what sounds he was making, Raph sat up to take a warm mug into his hands. He remained slouched against the cushions so he wouldn’t put any strain on that wound or its staples that continued to feel ever tighter. He was probably overdue for an anti-inflammatory, but like shell was he gonna ask Mrs. M for anything more.

Mrs. M perched beside him on the cushions with her own tea in hand, holding it close under her nose as it steamed. He had seen his father do the same thing plenty of times. Just to placate her, he noisily put his hand in the bag of cookies and withdrew a single one, crunching it loudly and chasing it down with a gulp of tea. She smirked as she listened to his display.

They didn’t speak as they sipped at their tea. Raph enjoyed the silence, savoring the warmth as he swallowed and the ability to breathe without stabbing pain. His eyes started to grow heavy as his mug emptied.

“Are you finished with your tea?”

Raph startled awake with a soft snort. He blinked off the sleep, then nodded and held out the mug. Mrs. M took it and the cookies to the kitchen and returned shortly. She didn’t say anything, only pressed slightly against Raph’s arm to get him to lay down. With a little bit of blind searching, she located the edges of the blanket and tucked him back in.

“There,” she whispered. She took her seat at the other end of the couch and reached for the TV remote, in the same place she always kept it.

“How come you and Mr. Morrison never had kids?”

She faltered and let the remote rest in her lap. "We did have a son."

Only then did it occur to Raph that it was probably rude to ask. A little bit of his sleepiness wore off as he grasped for something to say in response. But, after a long pause, she continued.

"When my poor Harry passed, it was very hard on our boy. He was terminally ill, you see, and he had a do not resuscitate order. It was a routine surgery..." her expression went faraway. She turned to him with a fragile smile and patted his leg. "Well, you certainly don't want all those details. I was asked by the surgeon if I wanted to abide by the DNR order, and I said yes. It was Harry's choice, I did not intend to take that from him at the most vulnerable he would ever be. Poor Rob, he fought me about it and tried to fight the doctors too, but I had power of attorney. He's never forgiven me for letting his father go like that."

Raph started openly, lips parted in shock. He'd known her so long now, how was he only just now finding out about this kid of hers? And how could anyone turn their back on such a kind and vulnerable woman like that?

She heaved a sigh. "That was almost three years ago now. I still don't know if it was the right choice... For now, I let him have his anger."

"He shouldn't be angry!" Raph burst out, propping himself up on his elbow. "You didn't do nothin' wrong—you were just takin' care of your family!"

She reached out and put a gentle hand to his knee. "Now Raphael, he has a right to be upset. He lost his father long before we expected and it was my own decision."

"It wasn't yer fault," he grumbled.

"No, it wasn't. And I reach out to him every now and again, so he knows that when he’s ready, I’m still here for him. Now lay down, I can feel you shaking.”

He realized that he was shaking, actually, with the effort of keeping himself propped up. That didn’t bode well for the long walk home. He laid back down and stared at the ceiling, steaming over this son of hers. How could he walk out on her like that? Did he know his mother had gone blind, or that his parents’ home was going to be foreclosed on? Did he know she had survived the Triceraton invasion of the city? Had he survived it? Family was supposed to take care of each other no matter what, even when they get angry. Couldn’t he see that?

Raph blinked. His argument with Leo again played over in his mind like a cassette tape.

“Mrs. M, could I ask ya one more favor?”

“Of course, dear.”

“Can I use yer phone?”

She walked him to the kitchen and took the phone off its cradle, stretching the cord for all its worth to reach him. She even punched in the complicated number for him, since their phones weren’t exactly on the regular city system.

“I’ll be just down the hall, Raphael.”

“Thanks Mrs. M.”

The phone rang, and Raph waited nervously. Leo might not pick up—he had never not picked up before, but…Raph usually didn’t try to call him so soon after an argument.

Leo’s first words were, “Are you okay?”

He almost rolled his eyes, then he remembered why he was calling in the first place. “Yeah, Leo, I’m fine. I just…uh, listen. I want to apologize.”

There was a beat of confused silence where Raph started to wonder if he’d been hung up on. “Go ahead.”

He sucked in a breath. “Uh, well I was lyin’ to ya. And that’s pretty childish of me, I guess.” He twisted the phone cord in his free hand, knee bouncing. “I was gonna help Mrs. M move some furniture, but she found me out. Guess I’m not good at hidin’ stuff even from a blind lady.”

“Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

“Are you lying again?”

He closed his eyes and smirked ruefully. “Yeah. I didn’t bust the staples or nothin’, but that cracked rib is probably broken now.”

Leo sniffed on the other end. “Well, I guess you learned your lesson at least.”

“Hey, could ya quit being an ass for a second? I’m trying to be nice here.”

He laughed softly. “Right, right. Sorry. I should apologize too—it’s not like I think you can’t take care of yourself, I just get worried. And I know I’m not your parent or anything, but…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come get you? I could bring the truck so you don’t have to walk.”

“Nah, I’m okay. Honest. I’m gonna hang out here for a little while, I can at least keep Mrs. M company even if I can’t help her move stuff.”

“Alright. Don’t stay out too late, okay?”

Raph smiled. Seconds after apologizing for parenting him too much and he was already back at it. “Okay. And hey—if you do come out for me, just send Donnie instead. If he sleeps too long he’ll be awake forever, and you should be resting too. Don’t think I didn’t see that limp.”

Leo laughed again, a little heartier this time. “Alright, alright. I think I can do that. Thanks for calling, Raph.”

“Yeah, whatever, don’t go gettin’ all sappy on me now. I’ll see ya later.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Raph hung the phone back in its rightful place. Mrs. M, who surely did not listen in at all, just so happened to return at that particular moment.

“Thanks fer lettin’ me use the phone, just needed to talk to my bro real quick. We can watch some TV now.”

They ambled back to the couch and, once again, Mrs. M insisted upon tucking him in with the blanket. He couldn’t stop smiling himself silly about it, but he indulged her.

“Uh, Mrs. M, I’m sorry about your son.”

“Thank you, Raphael. Now, here, find us something to watch.”

He took the remote and flipped through channels for a while. He considered stopping on a recap of last week’s football games, but he decided Mrs. M probably wouldn’t be too interested in that.

A flash of a sewing machine made him stop and go back. His mouth fell partly open as he stared at the screen, trying to figure out what the shell was going on.

“Is that a sewing machine I hear?”

“I think so, but man, I have never seen someone butcher silk like that!”

She laughed. “Raphael, don’t tell me you sew too! “

He flushed.

“You’re so talented. Your father really did educate you very well, I should like to tell him myself someday.”

“Ah, hush. I dunno how to sew much more than some straight lines. My brother—Mikey, he likes to watch these shows and he’s the one who does all the fancy sewing.”

She hummed in a way that sort of made him think she didn’t believe him, but moved on too quickly for him to dwell on it. “What are they doing to this poor silk, then?”

They watched for a while, him describing the outfits and contestants to her. Their commentary was full of genuine criticism interspersed with pettier comments and plenty of laughing. He described to her all the outfits as they went down the finished runway, which was both very fun and a fantastic exercise in holding back on the descriptive swearing.

He began losing attention as the judges started tearing into the contestants and they played the weepy sidebar interviews about how mean everyone was and they really deserved to win. Mrs. M didn’t need description for any of that, she was really good at keeping track of who’s who just by their voices, so he let his eyes drift closed. Just for a moment, he told himself. When the final judging was over, he would get up and go home. Leo probably wasn’t going to listen to his advice about sending Don.

He would just rest his eyes during the commercials.

---

Donnie woke up in the early hours of the morning, when he usually would have been going to bed. He felt a little disoriented as he got a good look at his clock and the date on it—had he seriously slept that long? He vaguely remembered Raph barging in at some point with a snack and some water, but the ice was long melted in the glass and the remainder of the snack was gone.

He hobbled out into the lair in search of a new, more substantial snack. He felt like his insides were about to eat themselves. He booted his laptop up and brought it with him, fan whirring fit to take off, into the kitchen. He slapped some butter and bread into a pan, heart set on a grilled cheese.

As the pan warmed up, he scrolled around on the laptop. Out of habit he checked all the security cameras and perimeter alarms, then the GPS program built into it. He stopped and squinted at the page. He zoomed in, then out, then restarted the program. No, it wasn’t program error. Raph was definitely not in the lair, and the last location on his now-dead shell cell looked suspiciously familiar. He wracked his sleepy brain for the answer.

Mrs. Morrison!

He shot out of his seat and grabbed her phone number off the fridge, punching it into his shell cell without hardly looking at it. Raph was probably fine, but…well, he wanted to be sure. Being sure never hurt.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Morrison! Hi, uh, this is Raph’s brother Donatello, is he with you?”

“Oh, yes.”

He sighed and sagged against the counter. The woman sounded remarkably awake for the hour.

“I tried to call your eldest brother, but he didn’t answer. I figured he’d fallen asleep, but one of you would reach out sooner or later.” She had herself a little chuckle. Donnie dove for the pan, which had begun to smoke a little as he neglected it. “He fell asleep on the couch and I just didn’t have the heart to wake him after how he was feeling so unwell.”

Don dumped the burned bread and butter into the trash and frowned. “Did he say he wasn’t feeling well?”

She scoffed. “Oh, heavens no. I had to wrangle the information out of him.”

Yeah, that sounded more like Raphael. “Do you want me to come get him? I don’t want to put you out—”

“Don’t be silly, he’s perfectly fine where he is. I say let the boy rest, and you rest as well young man, and one of you can come get him in the morning. The proper morning.”

He smirked as he put the pan in the sink. “Okay Ma’am, that sounds like a plan. Thanks for taking care of that bozo for us.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. I rather care for him, you know. I hope it isn’t too forward of me to say, but…he’s somewhat like my son. It’s nice to have someone to take care of every now and then.”

Donnie eased himself back into his chair at the counter. “That makes perfect sense. I’ll let you go then, and I’ll see you in the morning. Oh! I mean—”

She laughed. “You will see me in the morning, no worries. Goodnight, Donatello.”

“Goodnight Ma’am.”

#turtleposting #tmnt #the ghost writes #my fic #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt03

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ernmark · 2 years

Text

I was asked privately about the process of publishing a book, but I thought I'd repeat the answer in public in case it's useful for anyone else.

There are two main routes to publishing fiction. Both require that the manuscript be completely finished and polished to a shine before you do anything else, so I'd recommend getting at least three or four beta editors looking at it and getting it as refined as possible.

Route 1: Traditional publishing:

Once the work itself is completely finished, the first (and most important step) is to get yourself an agent. Precious few publishing houses will accept submissions from an unagented writer.

In order to snag an agent, you have to write (and then refine) a query letter and synopsis of your work, and submit it to an agent. Submitting a query is more or less like submitting an application to a potential place of employment, with the hopes that the person will give you an interview, with the hopes that that person will okay you to get a second interview, with the hopes that that person will actually give you the job. Each step weeds out people who aren't quite the right fit for one reason or another.

You can find lists of agents online, but the websites I used while querying were https://www.agentquery.com, querytracker, and I learned a ton reading through the archives at QueryShark.

When submitting to an agent, read each agent's profile carefully. If you submit a genre or vibe that they don't represent, or you don't address the email as instructed, you're disqualifying yourself out of hand. A very small percentage of agents will actually send rejection emails, an even smaller percentage will request a follow-up (a synopsis, the first couple of chapters of your manuscript, etc). Don't get discouraged if it takes a long time. Some agents will offer feedback on your submission. Often this is good advice, but it isn't always, so read it carefully and think on it before doing anything with it.

This is the only part of the process that's actually in your control. From that point forward, your agent will submit your work to publishing houses and negotiate a contract, and they'll guide you from there.

Route 2: Self Publishing

Some books don't work in a traditional market for one reason or another, or their authors just prefer to have more control over the process. Keep in mind, while the bar to entry for self publishing is very low, doing it well can be significantly more difficult and expensive.

Among the things that a self-published author will need to shell out for that a publisher usually pays for:

Editing. An editor to make sure that the quality of the book is up to par. These can be both for content and for line edits, and it's important to check.

Formatting. This is how the text looks on the page, and it's a lot more complicated than you would assume. I actually recommend using draft2digital to do the formatting for your digital files, because otherwise it is a nightmare. For print files, I'm told Scribus is solid free software, but I haven't yet used it myself. But trust me, a badly formatted file is a quick way to turn off readers.

Cover art. You can search cover artists online, or if you have a story that it works for, you can buy premade cover art at places like The Book Cover Designer and. Pay careful attention to how they look as thumbnails-- keep in mind that ebooks are frequently purchased through a phone or tablet, so the cover has to look good when it's tiny as well as in large scale. Another tip: pay close attention to the fonts, too. If a book cover looks slightly off and you can't quite place why, it's probably the font. You can frequently request that a premade cover change the font for free if you don't like it. A bad book cover is also a quick way to turn off potential readers.

Advertising. Yes, absolutely all the advertising is on your shoulders with this one. It takes a lot to figure out what works for you, your skillset, and your book. For me, I've found that I sell best at nerd-centered events like comic conventions and such, because I sell fantasy books. I don't recommend "all genre book events" unless you're selling cozy mystery or romance.

Printing and distribution. I use Ingram for printing, and I use Amazon and Draft2Digital for my digital sales. Draft2Digital allows you to sell to a variety of online markets, Amazon only allows you to sell to its own, but it's the biggest one out there. The latter two are free, while Ingram requires that you pay per file you upload. Ingram is also less user friendly, but I like the quality better, and it allows the books to be purchased by bookstores if somebody makes the request.

ISBNs. Amazon provides its own for free, but you can only use that in limited markets (namely, theirs and a small number of others). Depending on what platform you use to sell, you'll have to purchase an ISBN. DO NOT DO IT BY YOURSELF IF YOU CAN HELP IT. Because the way it's structured (to advantage Big Publishers and disadvantage self-pubbed writers), a single ISBN costs $125, buying 10 at once costs just under $30 each, and buying 100 costs just under $6 each. Yes, it is bullshit. I joined a writing group in my area, and we pooled our money and bought 100 ISBNs in bulk.

I hope that this is helpful to you, and I wish you luck with your writing!

#writing life #publishing

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theherosvillain · 4 months

Text

3: The truth catches up

Previous - Masterpost - Next

CWs: kidnapped, captivity

Untying knots using telekinesis was a huge pain in the ass. Lock picking was hard, too, but it was a lot more precise than pushing and pulling at bits of rope I couldn’t even see. I kept my eyes shut to stave off the headache as I worked on the knots, wishing I still had my knife on me. Of course, if Amoret hadn’t taken it last night, then Vale definitely would have, but that didn’t stop me from cursing Amoret’s name as I attempted to untie my hands. At least she’d had the decency to use handcuffs on me.

Finally, the ropes came loose, and it was a lot easier to untie everything else. I took stock of the room as I stretched my stiff, achy limbs: windowless and empty, with only two tiny vents in the ceiling. The door, of course, was locked.

I used my powers to poke around in the lock, jiggling the pins until they clicked. By the time I was done, I was getting suspicious of how long Vale had left me alone. Come to think of it, it was suspicious that he’d left me alone at all. This had to be a trap.

I waited for a moment, listening, but I didn’t hear anything outside. Slowly, I opened the door. The hallway outside was deserted. To my left was a clearly visible dead end; to my right, the hallway continued on.

Well, that was an easy enough decision.

Cautiously, I began walking, but I didn’t hear or sense anyone coming. The silence only made me warier. This had to be a trap, I just couldn’t figure out …

I turned a corner and froze, my stomach sinking as I saw Vale standing in the center of the hallway, waiting for me.

“You’re quite the escape artist,” he said, looking mildly impressed. “That only took about half an hour.”

Anger sparked in my chest. “So this was a test.”

“And you passed,” he said.

“I don’t suppose that means you’ll let me go.” I tried to keep the note of hopefulness out of my tone.

He didn’t seem to think the notion was worth entertaining. “Come with me,” he said, and he turned and began walking.

My first instinct was to push past him and run. There were no henchmen in sight, and that wouldn’t last long if I tried anything, but I’d rather put up a fight than play along. Sensing my hesitation, Vale glanced at me over his shoulder. “I suggest you cooperate, Phantom. You’re in no condition to go looking for another fight, and you’re not getting out of here on your own.”

My eyes narrowed. Of course, being my captor, he would discourage me from trying to escape. But my body ached, and my powers weren’t fully functional. My time was running out, but even I had to admit that trying to escape right in front of Vale was a dumb idea.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to be patient. Once I was alone again, I’d search for an escape route. For now, I could bide my time and play his little game.

A smirk ghosted across Vale’s face as he turned away again. “That’s what I thought.” He resumed walking.

My face reddened, but with little other choice, I followed along. The place was eerily quiet, our footsteps echoing in the halls. I assumed, from all the concrete and the lack of windows, that this was underground somewhere. I couldn’t be sure yet, but it would explain the lack of henchmen—if there weren’t many exits, there wasn’t any need to have Vale’s men on standby.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Vale said, startling me out of my thoughts. “What happened to you last night?”

“Besides you kidnapping me?” I muttered.

He cast me a disapproving look. “What happened before I found you last night?”

My bruises ached as I recalled my fight with Amoret—and I flinched as, suddenly, I remembered what she’d told me. Last night should have been a victory. Amoret confessed to everything I accused her of—including framing my own mother for her crimes. That was always my theory, and I’d spent months chasing Amoret down to prove it. But the satisfaction was overshadowed by the revelation that she was my birth mother.

I hadn’t decided yet whether I believed her, but the possibility of it made my stomach lurch with disgust. I never thought I’d learn anything about my birth parents, and I really didn’t want one of them to be Amoret. My birth mother putting the woman who raised me in prison? How fucked up was that? And it might explain Amoret’s interest in me, but …

“Phantom?” Vale’s voice snapped me back to reality.

I cleared my throat and shoved down all the messy, complicated thoughts. “Just my usual shenanigans,” I replied, my voice slightly strangled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Your usual activities wouldn’t leave you without your powers. I want to know who did that to you.” Before I could come up with an evasive enough response, Vale stopped and opened a door, gesturing for me to go inside.

The room turned out to be a spacious, utilitarian-looking office. Vale waved me towards the lone chair stationed in front of the large desk as he shut the door. Reluctantly, I sat down. With all the filing cabinets and the fluorescent lighting, it felt eerily similar to being in the principal’s office. (The chairs in the principal’s office are a lot more comfortable, just for the record.)

Vale sat behind the desk, and it was a relief to have the physical barrier between us, even if it did nothing to hide me from his piercing gaze. “I suggested that you cooperate, Phantom, and that means answering my questions. Who was it?”

I exhaled slowly. I didn’t want to talk about last night, but I should at least give him the illusion that I was cooperating. “Fine. It was Amoret.”

He didn’t look surprised. He was well acquainted with Amoret; I assumed he knew she was keeping an eye on me. “And what did she want with you?”

“Same thing as you,” I muttered. He raised an eyebrow, and I reluctantly elaborated, even though I thought it was self-explanatory. “She asked me to be her apprentice. I declined.” Which was a very nice way of saying that I beat her up and ran. Then I added, under my breath, “Because the last time she had an apprentice worked out so well.”

Vale frowned. “Amoret has never had an apprentice.”

I stared at him for a moment, the gears turning in my head. “Oh. You don’t know?” I’d assumed that Amoret gave Vale some important information, given that they were … lovers, or whatever. But maybe she didn’t talk to him about her work. Maybe I could ruin this for her.

As expected, Vale’s eyes narrowed. “Know what?”

“Amoret is a spy for the Hero League.”

His expression didn’t change. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He knew? Maybe Amoret wasn’t as good of a spy as I’d given her credit for. Or maybe she had some kind of agenda with Vale, but that wasn’t my problem. If that wasn’t enough to ruin her relationship with Vale, I had other secrets of hers. “She’s a shapeshifter,” I said bluntly. “She’s taken on multiple identities to frame people for the League.”

Vale raised his eyebrows, looking unconvinced. “That is a bold claim,” he said, “given that shapeshifters don’t exist.”

“Not officially.” I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask her yourself. Vivienne is pretty honest once she’s been caught.”

Suddenly, Vale became very still, an odd expression crossing his face. “What did you just call her?”

I straightened in my chair. That was the reaction I’d been looking for, but the timing was off. He didn’t believe that she was a shapeshifter, but suddenly her name interested him? “Vivienne Thorn,” I said slowly. “That’s her real name.”

Vale scrutinized me for a long moment. The intent expression on his face gave me the sense that I seriously miscalculated something here—I just couldn’t figure out what it was. But then, just as suddenly, Vale’s expression smoothed over, and he stood from his chair. “I think I will ask her myself. I’d like to hear what she has to say.” He strode by me on his way to the door. “Someone will be by to collect you shortly.”

I stared at him. “Wait, you’re just leaving me here?” I blurted out, and immediately regretted it. This could’ve been a golden opportunity for me, but Vale wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t leave me alone if he thought I could escape—which didn’t bode well for my chances, but I tried to push that thought aside.

He glanced back at me, his hand already on the doorknob. “I’m sure you’ll try to escape,” he said, his expression impassive. “I’ll be interested to see how far you get.” With that, he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

For a few minutes, I just stared at the door. He wasn’t worried at all, and it pissed me off and worried me. Was he underestimating me, or was he just that confident in his own defenses? It occurred to me that this could be another test. Was he really leaving to speak with Amoret, or did he just want me to think that? He expected me to attempt an escape; he said so himself.

I shook my head as I stood from the chair. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to sit here and wait for someone to come for me. This was probably my last chance to escape; I had to take it. I squared my shoulders, mustering up all the villainly over-confidence that had somehow gotten me this far, and headed out to look for an exit.

Title credits: Irresistible by Fall Out Boy

Tag list: ask me if you wanna be tagged in updates!

#original writing #original fiction #wip #heroes and villains #(try not to) kill all your friends #kidnapping tw #captivity #oc: axton vale #oc: the phantom prince #yay another chapter 🎉#i'm gonna try to update more consistently lol #at least until school starts again 😅

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the-hinky-panda · 2 years

Text

La Elección (Los Regalos Series)

Pairing: Colonel Horacio Carrillo x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You’re new to Colombia and the Search Bloc, loaned out by the Army to help sift through the wiretaps, sat phone calls, and other communications. Everything is off to a normal start until someone starts leaving little gifts on your desk and you’re determine to figure out who it is. (Carrillo is not married in this fic because I’m the author and I say so.)

Author’s Note: Okay, so two things. Number one, this is based on a prompt that was sent in asking for a fic where the reader leaves little gifts for Carrillo. Number two, here there be angst. Lots of angst. I’m sorry. But I promise I will fix it with the next installment.

Taglist: @xoxabs88xox

La Elección (The Decision)

You’re more than a little discouraged when you reach your apartment and unlock the door. You had been so excited to see Horacio at the bar this evening. So relieved when he had slipped his hand around yours. But when he had been walking you back to the apartment, he had been so standoffish and distant. Even though you knew why he was doing it, it hurt, surprisingly more than it should have. You knew you were falling for him, you just didn’t realize how hard.

Now you did.

And something needed to be done. This fake break up isn’t going to cut it. You knew coming to Colombia was going to be dangerous. You knew you would be putting yourself in harm's way. So what if you were seen in public with the commander of Search Bloc and that may raise the stakes slightly higher? You were willing to accept that risk. Being shot showed you just how short life could be. You were going to grab hold of this opportunity, this beautiful chance to be in love with someone who loved you back, and not worry about the consequences.

Love will find a way…right?

Well, you certainly aren’t going to give up on this just yet. But you need a way to show Horacio just how dedicated you are to giving this relationship a chance. He had left you gifts on your desk to show his interest, so maybe now it was your turn to do the same for him. You move through your apartment, gathering up things that you’ve brought from home that you think he might like or find interesting. You spread them out on the table and survey the collection. It’s an odd gathering of plants, candy, books, and soap but it’s all tied to your home state of Arizona.

You’re set to go back to the office next week but maybe you can sneak in earlier to drop off the first couple of gifts. It may appease his desire to keep the relationship quiet but still let him know that you’ve missed him. You don’t know if this is going to work but it’s worth a shot.

This relationship is worth a shot.

***

Horacio Carrillo is at his wits end.

And the bottom of another whiskey bottle.

He huffs in disgust and drops the empty container into the trash before reaching for a new one. He knew going to the bar with Peña was a bad idea. Yes, he had been happy to see you, elated when you sat next to him, and relieved to feel your hand in his under the table. You were alive, well, and just as happy to see him. Then his mouth got in front of his brain and he offered to walk you home. And you let him. Then you grabbed his arm and he couldn’t stop himself from holding you, even if it was just for a moment.

The scent of your shampoo still lingers in his nose, your perfume is still on his shirt. And the itch under his skin is still driving him crazy. He had thought this relationship, even with the fake break-up, would have been much easier than what it is turning out to be. You consume his every waking thought and even drift into his dreams. You are everywhere, even when you’re not in front of him. You’re a distraction, which would be fine, but lately one thought has consumed him.

How long is this going to last?

You can distract him as much as you can, but he knows it will only be temporary. He will catch Escobar and then what? He doesn’t know if the DEA and the United States care about the Cali cartel as much as they seem to care about Escobar’s capture. So once that goal is accomplished, you’ll most likely be sent back home. Which brings him to the current dilemma that is the cause of the multiple empty whiskey bottles: does he endure the heartbreak now or when you leave?

He blames the fake break-up for this train of thought. It made him realize that separation is inevitable. In the past, he would have taken full advantage of the situation, and you, if he were being honest, before sending you back on your way to the US without a second thought. But then the cafe happened. Your blood had stained the floor of the establishment and his heart had nearly stopped at the sight.

He loves you.

And love is not a feeling that typically survives in a warzone. If he were a smart man, he would end this foolishness now. Yes, it would hurt, dreadfully so, but better to end on his terms than on fate’s. So why, whenever he thinks he’s made the decision to stop this romance before it goes further, his hand reaches for the nearest liquor bottle? How could the decision that makes the most logical sense be the wrong one?

A knock disrupts his thoughts as he’s staring down into another glass of whiskey. He feels the room drunkenly tilt as he makes his way to the door, but he grits his teeth and focuses on making his steps steady and straight. He has no idea who would be visiting his home this late at night and the thought that he should have his gun in his hand crosses his mind, but he’s too numb to go back for it. He peers through the peephole and sees the last person he expects on the other side of the door.

Juliana.

He quickly unlocks the door and opens it. Her eyes are wide, teary, and dark circles make them look even bigger. Her clothes are rumpled, hastily thrown on her thin frame. She looks frail, pale, like she’s made out of paper and will disappear at any minute. Before he can say anything, she straightens her shoulders.

“I wasn’t sure if you were home.”

He glances behind her and to the sides, wary of an ambush. He doesn’t see anything that raises any alarms so he opens the door wider. “Come in.”

She cautiously steps over the threshold, her arms folded painfully tight across her chest. “I’m sorry for coming so late. I didn’t know where else to go.”

He closes the door and locks it. The buzz of the whiskey and beer is wearing off slightly. “What happened?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you all evening…”

“I…was out.”

She nods, her pulse beating wildly in her neck. “Rodrigo was shot today.”

That sobers him up significantly. Rodrigo Gonzalez is a superior, a friend, and Juliana’s husband. “Is he alright?”

She shakes her head as the tears start to fall. “He’s gone, Horacio.”

He almost asks her “gone where?” but stops himself. He knows what she means, his brain understands the message but his heart doesn’t want to believe it. They had been cadets together. They had grown up together. He had even stood in as Rodrigo’s best man at the wedding, despite his own desire at wanting Juliana as his wife. He had made peace with the situation, figuring if he couldn’t marry her, then at least she would be just as well off and taken care of with his best friend. In the ten years of their marriage, she had wanted for nothing. They had two children, a son and daughter, who were intelligent and personable. For a Colombian National Police officer’s wife, she was living a charmed life.

Except, now that’s all changed.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says. “I haven’t even told the children yet.”

Horacio closes his eyes. Manuel and Sophia. Most likely both of them are sleeping peacefully at the moment, unaware that their father won’t be coming home anymore. He takes a steadying breath, remembering just how insistent Rodrigo had been when he had asked Horacio to be the children’s godfather. And as such, he now has a responsibility to those children, to fill the role that Rodrigo can no longer fill.

“I, uh,” he clears his throat and pushes down his own emotions, “I can come by first thing in the morning. We can…we can tell them then.”

She nods, tears falling in earnest now and when he takes a step towards her, she practically falls against him. “I don’t know what to do.”

He holds her with numb arms as she sobs and is unable to find any words for the situation. Maybe fate has made the decision for him already by showing him that need is always greater than want.

***

You’re finally cleared to return to work and can barely quiet your thoughts and emotions so you can get a good night's sleep. You do your physical therapy, make a nice dinner, have a couple glasses of wine, and pick up a book to read in hopes that will calm you enough to rest.

You haven’t heard from Horacio since that night he walked you home a week ago now. You had enlisted Javier and Steve’s help with the delivering of your gifts and notes. You were anxious to find out what he thought of the small bunny-eared cactus that had come from a clipping of a larger cactus in your parent’s backyard. Or the piece of dried cactus that you may have smuggled out of a state park near your home in Phoenix. Or the small bag of prickly pear candy that your mother had sent you in the last care package you received.

You still had the creosote soap to give him as well as a first edition of your favorite book: To Kill a Mockingbird. Those two gifts, for some reason, felt far more personal than the others. You wanted to explain the significance of those two things to him in person. Creosote imitates the scent of rain in the arid desert. It represents relief and the provision of something needed for survival. That is how you feel about his presence in your life.

Then there is the book. Atticus Fitch, the main character of the book, was a single father raising two children and choosing to defend a wrongly convicted man that was assumed guilty based on his skin color. Atticus was the hero, the defender and protector of the innocent and falsely accused. He was honorable and upright, the epitome of a righteous man. You had already inscribed the front page of the book “To my Atticus Fitch. Heroes do exist.”

So when you finish the first chapter of your current book and a knock at the door breaks the silence of your apartment, your anxiousness returns. You get up slowly from the couch, pick up your gun, and slowly approach the door. When you reach it and peer through the peephole, there’s no one there. You carefully unlock the door and pull the door open. Your original observation is correct, there is no one to be found around your doorstep. You take a tentative step over the threshold and your foot hits something. Looking down you see it’s a brown cardboard box. Upon closer inspection you see its contents are familiar…very familiar.

A small potted bunny-eared cactus.

A dried piece of cactus.

A bag of prickly pear candy.

There’s a piece of folded stationery tucked between the pot of the cactus and the bag of candy. You pick it up, your fingers trembling as they unfold it and read the four words scrawled on the paper.

I’m sorry. It’s over.

#colonel horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo fic #los regalos series #narcos fic #hinky writes

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fallout4-reacts · 1 year

Note

Thank you for finishing my request! Your the best, and I hope you have clear weather and no traffic in your life.

Tbh, there’s still MacCready, Preston, Piper and X6-88

But thank you, I hope that respect the companions

Good weather and no traffic? Noted, I will not approach Toronto 🤣🤣🤣

Anonymous asked: Can I request fallout 4 companions (and Maxson if possible) reacting to sole getting infected with FEV but they’re not a super mutant yet. Like, there’s that spot if time after infection where sole is still relatively human but symptoms start happening (the paranoia, hardening skin, pain etc)

Part 4 (final) (1 - 2 - 3)

MacCready / Preston / Piper / X6-88

It's time to celebrate the triumph; the Institute has been blasted to the ground, and everyone is overjoyed. Then a voice emerges over the fray, a voice that Sole is all too familiar with. Justin Ayo's voice.

"Sole! You annihilated what I had spent my entire life defending! You ruined my home, family, and dreams. And you think you're going to get away with it?"

Sole's companion reacted quickly, raising their weapon at the former director of the Synth Retention Bureau, but even if they killed him instantly, it wasn't until he shot a syringe gun at Sole.

The companion turns to Sole, horrified to realize that the syringe contained... the FEV

MacCready : He takes a hesitant step back, aiming his sniper rifle at his employer.

"B…boss?"

Sole stares at him in horror, smashing the vial in their hand that they had just removed from their chestplate.

"Mac? What exactly are you doing?"

"With all due respect, Boss, do you know you're gonna turn into a super-mutant?"

Sole sadly shakes their head.

"In three days. This is the average time it takes for the virus to infect humans and turn them into... monsters."

MacCready blinks open his eyes in amazement.

"How do you know all of this?"

Sole sighs quietly, brushing imaginary dust across their forearms as if it might make the lethal substance coursing through their veins vanish.

"Virgil. The Institute's work. I read about it."

"But then, have there been studies?" MacCready jumps right in. "Is there a cure?"

His provider shakes their head sadly once more.

"Virgil could heal, but he had the tools and the means to do so. I seriously doubt it—

"We'll figure it out! You assisted me in saving Duncan; I will assist you in saving yourself!"

Sole would like to explain to MacCready that determination alone will not sufficient, but he is obstinate. He refuses to listen to what he categorizes as defeatism. The mercenary then led them across the Commonwealth in search of Virgil. The voyage is far from over, as Sole's symptoms worsen over time. The first day, it translates into frustration and rage, but Mac responds with tac-o-tac without hesitation, pinning the beak to the other more often than not. Then the pain, spasms, and resentment transformed into rage.

They made camp in the Glowing Sea's radiation-free basement. They'll arrive in Virgil's cave the next morning. MacCready nods off with assurance.

But he doesn't find Sole the next morning. Their sleeping bag is completely empty. Mac scoured the region, but the radiation will fry him before he finds his boss.

He sighs regretfully, comprehending.

Sole had told him that they had a slim probability of finding a cure. They must have become discouraged over the night, and Mac failed.

No! He hasn't yet failed! Mac breaks camp and summarizes his journey. He had gone too far, had vomited too much as a result of the radiation, to concede defeat. He made it to Virgil's cave and requisitioned the scientist... even stretching all of his purse's caps... And Virgil got right to work.

To make the Sole-specific serum, he uses DNA samples provided by Mac, and after a few weeks, he has created a few vials that can be armed with a syringe gun.

"You're not going to get a thousand chances. How will you know it's your pal you're injecting?"

"Believe me. A MacCready can be obstinate."

Several weeks later, the mercenary and some companions finally meet at Sanctuary's bar. Preston couldn't stop himself from asking MacCready to repeat the anecdote.

"... too busy tearing this deathclaw's jaw to notice me, but I had seen them. It's not like every super mutant in the Glowing Sea was decked up in blue and yellow stripes. And, hey... It's not like super mutants would run the Glowing Sea at the bottom. So I aim the pistol properly at them because I want to make sure the vial spreads properly, but this moron then bends in to get their little monster's tongue, and that's how the syringe got up in the butt!"

Everyone laughs again, except Sole, who has just heard this story for the twentieth time in three days, both in Diamond City and here. But they can't help but be happy and relieved to be themselves again. They're not about to forget their weeks as a super-mutant.

—and MacCready isn't about to let them forget they own him any time soon.

Piper : She sobs uncontrollably. Nobody knows who tears more between Sole and her. They both end up kneeling in each other's arms on the ground. Sole eventually managed to calm down and stare at her through the tears.

"You will have a hell of a story, recounting every step of the super-mutant transformation."

"How could you!? How dare you think such a thing?"

But, in the midst of her rage, offence, and grief, Piper begins crying again. No, she will not write a new article. If she does write one, it will be to recount Sole's victory over the infection.

…

Yes! That's it!

"We will find the cure!"

Sole has objected and attempted to reason with Piper, but she is like a track dog who sniffs out a scent and refuses to budge. She leaves Sole at the Home Plate to rest before crashing into Nick's agency like a tornado. She grills him on everything he saw or heard while travelling with Sole in the Glowing Sea or about the Institute. She spends every minute building the case, combing through every trace, pondering intently, and arriving at a conclusion that, although not wholly pleasing, is better than nothing.

She returns to the Home Plate and discovers that it has been completely ravaged.

Piper's heart sunk when she realized what was going on. The symptoms began to appear.

"Wow! You've done a fantastic job cleaning in here! But, okay, we'll pick up later; we need to get going. I'd heard of a crazy scientist who had collected the wreckage of the Institute's labs and was working on a viral cure—

But Sole merely shook their head. " It's too late now, Piper. I can feel it permeating my body."

Piper, on the other hand, refused to give up.

'No way, pig head. We'll join him and assist him with his homework. We're going to change your fate, this maniac, you and I!'

They don't have far to travel or far to look. The maniac in question is none other than Virgil, who has relocated to Greenetech to pursue his virus research. He wouldn't say no to a little assistance or a guinea pig. Sole isn't overly enthused, but Piper is.

She combed through medical periodicals, spoke with Virgil about each entry that felt becoming relevant to her. The scientist is pleasantly surprised by her ability to locate the nuances that matter among the vast amount of data at their disposal.

But as she and Virgil progress, things aren't looking good for her pal. Sole's condition deteriorated by the day, and time was running out. Piper watched as her companion steadily morphed into something unrecognizable, but she refused to give up because she knew she was their only hope.

They arrived at the solution just as Sole completed their change. Piper is the one who uses the seryngue gun to shoot her pal. Yeah, since the Super-Mutant that Sole has become is no longer willing to be treated...

Nothing happened for a few anxious moments, and Piper's heart fell. But, gradually but steadily, Sole began to alter back.

Piper's eyes welled up with tears as she saw her pal revert to their former selves.

Sole is jolted by excruciating spasms, but as the treatment courses through their veins, they notice that the metamorphosis has been reversed. They shake their head, returning to reality.

"How, though? It took Virgil several days."

The scientist gives a small smile.

"I'd been transformed for a long time, so it was a big deal. But also, thank to your thoughtful friend. The information she gave me enabled me to create a considerably more effective serum. Soon, I'll be able to find a generic cure for all super-mutants!"

Piper returns his smile, pleased to have been able to save her companion.

"I can't imagine life without super mutants. May I schedule an interview?"

Preston : "Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright."

It's understandable that Preston is terrified. It's simple for someone who knows him well. He yells orders, one arm around Sole to support them. The Minutemen clean up the area so that no one else at the Institute may threaten those who are still there. But Ayo was by himself. That alone is a source of relief. Preston returns to Sole and stares at the point of impact.

"It appears that the armor resisted. I doubt the virus has made its way to you. Everything will be alright."

Sole realizes Preston has gone into denial at this point. They are aware, without a doubt, that the syringe penetrated the armor and infected them with the virus. They try to persuade Preston, but his colonel shakes his head.

"To be sure, we'll inject you with antibiotics. But I assure you, you will not become a monster."

Preston made that assertion as if it were true, and his General was taken aback. They allow themselves to be dragged to Sanctuary's hospital. There are assembled the most capable doctors Sole could locate during their travels. Preston promises Sole that they will look after him. Everything will be OK. In the waiting room, he whistled while Virgil and Curie inspected his General.

Preston seemed to be refusing to accept what Curie and Virgil are trying to tell him, despite the fact that something is different. As the hours pass, Sole becomes increasingly irritated. Then they fold in half in pain from time to time. The following day, their skin begins to harden.

The stress is unbearable to endure. Preston determines that Sole needs a vacation.

"Perhaps we should go to the castle. The sea was said to be beautiful this time of year."

"PRESTON!"

Sole no longer has the patience. They no longer have the control. When the man passes them, smiling on his lips and gaze into the wave, thinking of the sea and the sun, they punch their fist into the wall in front of Preston. His subordinate takes a slow look at them.

"Yes, General?"

"Don't dare to tell me you don't understand what's going on!"

"I get what you're saying, General. I completely understand. I understand that in two sunsets, I'll have to fire a bullet in your brain to keep you from turning into a monster. I get it. I understand that everything we've built in the last year will crumble. I get it. I realize that the sliver of hope that I had managed to resurrect in my life has simply slid through my fingers. I get it. Do you truly need me to collapse with you?"

And he dares to say it while smiling. The shoulders of Sole are sagging. Indeed. Preston is aware. Preston had a better understanding. With a long, agonizing sigh, they bring their fist back to themselves and wrap an arm around Preston's shoulders.

"So, is the sea really exquisite?"

X6-88 : He failed. He let Sole down. He failed, and Sole will now become a super mutant. He failed on every level. He couldn't defend Sole, and he couldn't reconcile Sole with the Institute before that. Because the Institute most likely could have saved Sole. Nothing can save him now. The Courier moves his gaze away from Ayo's lifeless body and lifts his gun against Sole.

"Please accept my apologies, Ma'am/Sir. Thank you very much for everything you provide me."

And then he shoots. He fires without a second thought. It's unnecessary to have it. He knows what is going to happen; why prolong the agony? Protests erupt all around him as he watches Sole drop on the ground, as lifeless as Ayo. He was able to relieve their suffering. Sole will have no time to panic, suffer, or transform into a nasty, uncontrollable monster. They will not have had time to notice the others' grief and sorrow in their eyes.

And now the others are looking at him with hatred in their eyes. They don't get it, foolish. But X6 did what had to be done. They might get it one day. X6 will not see the sun rise that day. He could survive because he could kill their companions. But he's not going to. He will not destroy what Sole has created.

He stands proudly, taking on the role of the villain with phlegm. The other people with him don't show any more hesitation than he does.

His final thought is whether Sole was correct when they said he had a soul. He wishes to join Sole in the Great Infinite in order to continue serving them faithfully.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #fallout #fallout 4 reactions #fallout 4 react #fallout companions #fo4 #sole survivor #rj maccready #robert joseph maccready #maccready #fallout maccready #piper wright #fallout piper #preston #preston garvey #x6 88

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awalkthroughstellis · 8 months

Text

Eternal Dunes (I)

Warnings: Spoilers for Luke’s SSR card “Overflowing Thoughts”, mentions of violence and death

Summary (Part One): As an Oracle Priest, Robin’s duty is to tend to matters at the temple and listen to those in search of guidance. When people in the city start to disappear, she can’t sit idly by. Her investigation into the matter forces her into an encounter with the true culprit… but maybe, he’s not the real person responsible.

Every day my view outside the temple’s windows was the same. The streets always seemed to be bustling, the air full of voices and rich smells of fresh food wafting in to make my taste buds eager for a bite. I always thought of the busy town life as a show of gratitude to the sun god, but as I walked those same silent streets beneath the moon, I hardly recognized this place.

Traditional to the Wag Festival, many houses had plates of food set outside their door. This was a means of comforting the spirits who have yet to move onto the afterlife. This year, the festival was accompanied by a haze of fear that grew thicker and thicker with each passing day. More and more people were flooding the temple to offer prayers and beg for the recent curse to end, for citizens to cease going missing and for those who have to return safely.

No matter how many times I’ve tried to bring this to the Pharaoh’s attention, no word has been sent about seeing to this matter. Whatever plan the Pharaoh claimed to have, no action was being taken quick enough. This is why I’ve chosen to enter the town this late. The people were crying out for help and as an highest ranking oracle priest, I had to do something.

Turning a corner, I tugged at the large hood of my cloak yet again to ensure it stayed up. Oracle priests were discouraged from casually leaving the temple and if someone close to the Pharaoh recognized me I’d likely be sent back.

“AHHHHHH!” A bloodcurdling scream came from nearby.

The sound ripped through the silence like a dagger through paper and after a brief moment of shock, I found the courage to run towards the person in danger. I followed the sound of pleas for help until I stumbled upon an alley, the voice no longer present but an unconscious man was.

I rushed towards him, dropping to my knees and shaking his shoulder. “Sir! Sir, are you alright?”

No reply. I was about to stand up and go searching for help but something from deep within was shouting that the unconscious man and myself weren’t the only ones here. As if guided by instinct, my head turned towards a dark corner further into the alley.

“Sometimes being sharp isn’t a good thing.” A voice said, a figure stepping out of the shadows a moment later.

The mysterious person was a tall man wearing a jackal mask over most of his face, leaving only his jaw uncovered. His black top was sleeveless and cut short, ending near the bottom of his ribs. He wore a fair amount of gold jewelry; an earring, bracelets, armbands, a necklace in the shape of a cross except the head of the cross was rounded with a hole in it. Dark pants, boots… if I had to guess off his clothing, he was an assassin or something of the sort. Normal people with nothing to hide had no need to keep their faces covered.

Rising to my feet, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I take it you’re responsible for the disappearances. What right do you have to take people from their lives like this?!”

He breathed out through his nose as if he were laughing. “You’re either brave or stupid to lecture someone you just met. You should learn what someone is capable of before getting involved where you don’t belong.”

“If you commit crimes in the streets, it is the public’s business.”

“If that’s your view, we have a serious problem.”

The silver blade of his dagger glinted in the moonlight as he strode towards me. True to the ways of an assassin he was quick on his feet, and as I stepped back to avoid him I tripped over the unconscious man. My hood fell as my back hit the stone wall, a scream building in my throat as the man drew close enough for me to breathe in his scent. It was unlike anything I’ve smelled before but for some reason, it calmed me and the scream in my throat vanished, tense muscles relaxing and my heart, which had been racing mere seconds ago, returned to a regular rhythm. The dagger stopped inches from my chest, the crimson eyes of the jackal mask peering into mine.

“You…” He said, voice quiet like a whisper. There was something else hidden in his tone, an underlying tone of disbelief. “You’re an oracle priest from the temple of Amarna.”

Eyebrows furrowing, my head tilted a little. Has he been to the temple enough times to recognize my face? No, that can’t be so. His voice, his figure, this scent clinging to him, none of it was familiar and I prided myself on recognizing people who frequently came by to offer prayers. My clothes were hidden beneath the cloak and I purposely removed my jewelry to further disguise myself. How could he have recognized me?

“That is correct.” I said, standing a little taller.

He hummed and withdrew. “Nothing I can do, then.”

He motioned with the dagger for me to move and I stepped away from the unconscious man. Looking around I caught sight of a thin pole, the hard bristled broom it was once attached to laying a few feet away. Just as the assassin reached for his victim I swung the pole, but with a speed he proved earlier he turned, grabbed the pole and tugged me forward. I crashed into his chest, one of his arms wrapping around my waist to hold me steady while the other tossed my weapon to the side.

“You shouldn’t try to protect others if you can’t even defend yourself. You won’t last long.” He said. My heart was racing again, hammering against my ribs as I tried to pull away. His grip tightened, easily keeping me trapped against him. “It would be wise for you to keep quiet about this. Even if you are reckless enough to run around shouting about what you saw tonight, no one will believe you.”

I glared into the eyes of his mask and bit my tongue. He must have been satisfied with my silence, because he finally let go and took a step back. Picking up the unconscious man, he carried him further into the alley until the shadows swallowed them both, leaving me with nothing but the sorrowful howls of the wind and more questions I could ever hope to find answers to.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days passed and no matter how hard I tried to get a handle on the situation, nothing was coming out of my efforts. People were still disappearing, my letters of request to meet with the Pharaoh were getting denied, and the informant I hired to dig up information on the assassin was unable to discover his identity.

I heard the commotion in the temple’s courtyard before I saw it. An incredibly small number of guards were struggling to get the crowd under control, frantic voices and demands for justice flying left and right. The fear of these disappearances had the people on the brink of a riot.

Some in the crowd suddenly looked in my direction, a look of relief appearing on their face. “It’s the High Priest!”

Instantly, the focus was turned on me. Several people rushed forward, talking over each other so quickly I couldn’t tell what was being said or who was saying it.

I put my hands up. “Please, try to calm down. I can only understand one person at a time.”

Suddenly, a voice sliced through the chaos. “How much longer are you gonna let this go on, cap?”

Every muscle in my body grew tense, an intense shiver running down my spine. Much like everyone else I instinctively turned to gaze at the roof of the temple but my position didn’t offer a clear picture of whoever was perched up there. That voice, however, left a clear image in my mind. It was the voice of the assassin.

Dozens more guards dressed in the armour of the Pharaoh’s Royal guard appeared, getting the crowd under control within minutes. Once everyone had settled down, the head guard unfolded a sheet of papyrus paper and read it out loud. He announced that the Pharaoh would soon be holding a ceremony to cleanse the curse and that I, as the High Priest, would also be taking part.

Relived sighs and praises rang out in the crowd but I was left with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve heard nothing of this ceremony until this very moment, no notice nor instruction on what to prepare. Besides, the ceremony would prove to be fruitless; the culprit behind the disappearances was a man, not spirits.

The head guard suddenly turned to me. “High Priest, if you would please come with us. We will escort you to the ceremony grounds.”

A lower ranking guard stepped towards me but I was quick to take a step back, pulling the arm he was reaching for away. “Don’t touch me.”

Something darted between us, a sharp sound filling my ears as the tip of a large dagger plunged into the ground, separating the guard from me. The voice from above spoke again. “Don’t bother. I’ll escort her.”

The guard mumbled something under his breath and reluctantly took a step back. Extending an arm, he gestured towards the temple. “If you would, High Priest.”

I had no idea what was going on but I had little choice but to follow along. Taking in a breath to banish my anxiety, I turned towards the temple and headed towards the roof top. The roof of the temple was the highest point of the entire city, bringing whoever stood on it closer to the sun god who watched over everything. Eagles, messengers of the gods, freely soared overhead but it wasn’t them I was here to see. I had no idea what to expect as I stepped into the sunlight; perhaps the jackal mask, but not this.

The man resting on a ledge against a pillar wore the same clothes I last saw him in, held the same dagger he pointed at my chest, and the same mask that hid his face was now laying next to him. Chestnut hair swayed in the gentle breeze, bright coral eyes a contrast to the soulless crimson eyes of the mask. He was handsome, and if I didn’t already know what he was capable of, I would have thought he looked rather gentle.

“You’re awfully quiet now. I didn’t think you’d take my warning of silence so seriously.” He said, speaking casually as if I hadn’t witnessed him commit a crime several nights ago.

“What game are you trying to play, here?” I asked, more like demanded.

My tone didn’t phase him. He remained calm, and if anything, seemed slightly amused. “There’s no game. I’ll be your escort to the temple outside the city under the Pharaoh’s orders. You can call me Luke.”

I couldn’t decide if I believed him or not. None of the guards below reacted to his voice or stunt with the knife, leading me to believe that they didn’t view him as a threat. So, one way or another, he really did have some connection to the Pharaoh. But why would the Pharaoh ever associate with someone who stole the lives of others?

Luke’s grin dropped. “You’re staring again. Do I look that strange to you?”

“No, you just look more normal than I imaged.” I replied.

“And you don’t look like the poor commoner you disguised yourself to be. You’ve seen my true face. I can send your head and body in different directions in seconds if I so desire.”

He was right on all counts. There was no need for the cloak anymore so I was in my usual garments; a white top that ended below my chest, a gold trim along the collar and hem. One sleeve was a short cuff while the other was much longer, ending at my wrist and hanging long like a curtain. My skirt was also white and had the same gold trim along the waist, hugging my hips and trailing just below my bellybutton. A white and gold veil of sorts was braided into my hair, hanging off the back of my head and ending at my low back. As for the head and body comment, he proved twice in one night that he was faster and stronger than me. He could kill he in the blink of an eye and there would be nothing I could do about it. However…

Placing my hands in my hips, I narrowed my gaze. “You could, but you won’t. If my existence meant nothing you would have done away with me earlier. If you’re following the Pharaoh as you claim to be, you wouldn’t even think about it.”

Luke studied me for a moment, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just don’t like being underestimated.” Jumping down from the ledge, he gestured towards the interior of the temple. “High Priest, do you know why I said no one would believe you?”

Following his direction, I moved inside. “It’s Robin, and no, I don’t.”

“It’s because the Pharaoh already knows the truth. He declared those guilty of imaginary crimes and punished them accordingly. The disappearances of all those people are his will.”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. He loves his people, he’d never do anything to harm them.”

“Is that how you see it?” Luke let out an exasperated sigh. “I take it you’ll agree to follow me despite the suspicions circumstances, then? All because the Pharaoh wishes it?”

I took a second to think over my reply. “I don’t know what plans the Pharaoh has to abolish the curse, but if you can confirm for me that this ceremony will be the end of the disappearances, I’ll go. The people are scared. I can’t just sit by and watch them live in fear. So, look me in the eye and tell me if this ceremony will be the end of it.”

“It will be.”

He held my gaze for a while, and no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t detect any dishonesty. Strange, I never expected an assassin to be so honest. “Okay.”

Just then, a maid carrying a class of wine approached and bowed. “High Priest, please have some sacramental wine before your journey.”

“Wine?” Luke asked, eyebrows furrowing as I accepted the glass.

“It’s part of an Oracle Priest’s daily rituals. Drinking it helps us better communicate with the gods through a greater consciousness.” I explained, bringing the glass to my lips.

Luke suddenly plucked the glass from me and poured the contents onto the floor. “Too much wine isn’t healthy. Its best you stay off this for now.”

Astonished, I stared at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t have to spill it like that.”

He didn’t, but something told me his reason for doing so was to spite the Pharaoh. In the few minutes we’ve maintained conversation, I was starting to get a grasp of his distaste for the gods.

With nothing further to discuss, Luke and I left the temple and headed into the city. I’ve always witnessed the lively streets from the windows within the temple but being outside with everyone, listening to the laughter of children and smelling all sorts of delicious scents, brought forth an experience I didn’t realize I was missing out on. Citizens called out to me left and right, offering greetings and blessings for a peaceful day, some even shouted their thanks for my participation in the upcoming ceremony.

Luke, who was walking a few steps ahead of me, looked back over his shoulder. “Do you not come into town often?”

I shook my head. “No. This is my first time leaving the temple in broad daylight. It’s only acceptable for us to leave when it’s required of us, so I’ve never taken strolls like this.”

“I see.” He looked to the sky as a flock of birds flew overhead. “We worship birds because they are messengers of the gods. You are also a messenger, yet you trap yourself in such a small cage. Why?”

“Birds have wings, I do not. They can freely take to the sky when they’re needed, I cannot. Remaining at the temple is my way of being present when I’m needed.”

Luke stopped walking and turned to face me. “Even birds land for a rest. They can’t remain in the sky forever or they risk exhaustion and will plummet. Then who will deliver the gods messages?”

I’ve never thought of it like that before. Whenever I needed a rest I’d return to my room, but thinking about it now, living in the same temple I worked in meant I never truly got away. I always felt like I was waiting for someone to come by and request me again.

“I-” A growl came from my stomach, cutting my voice off and bringing an intense blush to my cheeks. Feeling shy, I averted my eyes. “Ignore that.”

He chuckled quietly and led me over to a bench. “Wait here. I’ll get you something to eat.”

He disappeared into the busy street, returning several minutes later with round delicacies wrapped in leaves. The steam rising from the plate smelled divine.

“Here, falafels straight from the oven. Be careful not to burn yourself.” Luke said, taking up the space next to me on the bench. He stuck a toothpick into one of the balls. “I’m not as well trained in looking after someone like the maids in the temple are, but I’ll do my best.”

My cheeks grew warm as he held the falafel for me. “I’m capable of feeding myself, I’ve just never seen anything like them before.”

The food prepared in the temple followed very strict guidelines, meaning the seasonings and style in which it’s been prepared hasn’t changed in years. The Pharaoh always said we must be humble in what we consume so that the gods will continue to reach out to us. Surely it wouldn’t offend them to eat what was available in the time of hunger, right?

Leaning forward, I took the falafel off the pick with my teeth and chewed slowly. The coating was crispy yet it broke apart so beautifully in my mouth, the flavours of exquisitely seasoned beans and vegetables exploding with flavours I never imagined were possible. For the first time in days, I smiled naturally.

“It’s delicious.” I said, eagerly picking up another.

As I continued to eat, something in the back of my mind was bothered. The taste of these falafels somehow felt familiar but I know I’ve never had them before. My earliest memories of life took place in the temple and I’ve spent every day of my childhood proving myself as someone worthy of serving the gods. There’s no way I could have ever eaten these before and yet…

“What is it?” Luke suddenly asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking how much of a shame it is the other priests won’t be able to try these.” Shaking my head to be-rid myself of those strange thoughts, I rose to my feet. “Shall we be on your way?”

The trip to the edge of the city was full of exciting sites. Even as we crossed the line that separated civilization from the golden desert, countless stalls run by travelling merchants aligned evenly to create a street in the sand. One particular stall selling what appeared to be bottles of spices caught my eye, much so that I stopped walking without realizing.

“Do you want to have a look?” Luke asked, snapping me out of my daze.

“Ah, I shouldn’t. If I keep stopping to look at everything, we’ll never reach the temple.”

“It’s fine. We’re almost there, anyway.”

Even though I turned the offer down, Luke headed towards the stall. I followed close behind, returning the merchant’s greeting with a warm smile.

“I have quite the variety of spices here, Miss. Is there any one in particular you’re looking for?” The man asked, the gestures to the many crates behind him. “If nothing on the counter peeks your interest, I have plenty more hidden away.”

As I glanced over the many small bottles, the calming fragrance I smelled on Luke a new nights prior came to mind. I couldn’t recall the exact scent, just like I really liked it. “Which one of these do you use, Luke?”

The man looked a little taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t noticed? There’s a nice fragrance clinging to you. It was there the night we meet, too.”

Luke’s cheeks turned bright red. “You shouldn’t just say stuff like that.”

Clearly flustered, he took several steps to put a fair bit of distance between us. Was he shy about whatever scent he wore? Or perhaps he didn’t receive compliments often? Regardless, I brushed his strange behaviour off and asked the merchant for his suggestion instead. He showed me a blend of spices called kyphi, and after learning the story of such a slice had relation to the gods, I thought it was perfectly suited for me.

“There is one more thing.” The merchant said as he packaged the kyphi into a small box. “This spice was once used in rituals. It’s very strong and can cause whoever ingests it to experience paralysis and hallucinations. Be careful not to accidentally consume it in large doses.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I said, trying not to show my concern. Was it really safe for something like this to be sold casually in the market?

Even though I wondered this I didn’t ask, simply bid the merchant farewell and continued to follow Luke further from the city. The temple in the distance got bigger as we drew closer, and each step forward filled me with an inexplainable sense of dread. I found myself second guessing my decision to trust Luke, and just as the idea of making a break for it came to mind, a sudden cry for help broke the silence.

Turning in the direction of the voice, I spotted a very tanned man stumbling towards us. His clothes were tattered, beard long and he looked exhausted. I gasped as he collapsed into the sand, but before I could make a move to help him, Luke was in front of me.

“Stay back. I’ll go.” He said, a protective edge up his voice I hadn’t heard before.

He took a few steps towards the stranger before tossing him a water skin. The weak man repeated his thanks over and over again as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful. I glanced at Luke, trying to understand why he was being so cautious. He��d be able to take the man down in an instant if something happened, so why the suspicious look in those beautiful eyes of his? The stranger thanked us yet again as he handed Luke back the waterskin. In the blink of an eye, Luke twisted the man’s arm and pinned him into the sand.

“Luke!” I gasped, having to plant my feet into the ground to keep from running over and pulling him off. “What are you doing? Let him go!”

The man thrashed under the assassin’s weight. “I won’t go back there! I refuse!”

“There?” I whispered, eyebrows furrowing as I turned my head.

Off to the west laid several unfinished pyramids, and upon squinting my eyes I was able to make out what looked like thousands of figures hauling heavy materials and faint shouts of orders. Two guards dressed in the armour of the Pharaoh’s royal guard appeared, bowing to Luke before grabbing the man and dragging him back towards the pyramids. I could only watch in silence, too shocked to even think of words as the worker struggled for his life.

“I’ve been under the impression that everyone working on the pyramids was there because they wanted to be…” I said softly, talking to myself more then to Luke.

“They’re wasting their lives to build monuments for the dead, all under the wishes of the Pharaoh you are so loyal to.”

“Oh…” Was the only response I could muster.

“Robin.” The sound of my name rolling off his tongue redirected my gaze. “What you saw just now wasn’t a good example. Remember to always deal with threats before running away. Otherwise, it’ll all be for nothing.”

Luke’s tone was stern yet gentle, as if he was really trying to teach me something about the laws of survival. I’ve lived my life believing that honest prayers to the gods and unwavering belief in them meant the gods would protect us, but Luke looks at the world through a different lens. To him, it seemed, every individual person had to protect themselves. It was a sad way to view things, and as much as I didn’t like it, there was nothing false about his statements to refute.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I hope you enjoyed your tour of the city, High Priest, because the second you stepped into this temple, you lost your connection to the outside world.”

Luke’s words kept repeating themselves in my head. I’ve lost track of how many days have passed; being trapped underground, far away from the reach of the sun meant I had to rely on others to keep track of time. If I was counting right, it’s been about four days.

Other then Luke or the maids occasionally dropping by, I was completely isolated. The feeling of boredom was a new experience. With no people visiting to offer prayers or seek guidance, no friends to talk to when I had a few minutes to spare, there was nothing to keep my mind occupied. Being left alone with my thoughts meant there were no distractions to keep me from doubting, and, too scared to abandon the only lifestyle I’ve ever known, I turned to an old hobby I haven’t practiced in far too long.

“Hush now, my baby, be still, love, don’t cry. Sleep as your rocked the stream~ Sleep and remember, my last lullaby~ So I’ll be with you when you dream~”

The emptiness of the room I now called home made my voice echo, the marking etched into the sandstone wall unchanging as I traced them for the thousandth time.

“River, oh, river, flow gently for me. Such precious cargo you bear~ Do you know somewhere he can live free? River, deliver him there~”

Hearing the door open, I turned my head to find Luke entering the room. He was carrying a tray that contained a glass, a clay pitcher, a plate of food and some more falafels, a treat I’ve been receiving on a daily basis since entering the temple. Perhaps it was a trick of the torch light, but his cheeks appeared a little pink.

“You sing very well. Where did you learn that song?” He asked, setting the tray on a short, round table.

“I’m not sure. I’ve just always known it.” I answered honestly, moving to sit on a floor pillow in front of the table. “I must have heard it somewhere before, I just can’t recall where.”

Taking the pitcher by the handle, Luke poured me a glass of water. I wouldn’t give us the title of friends, but he has been nice enough to keep me company while I ate. Our conversations have been small, sometimes we just sat in silence, but it was nice to have someone around. Perhaps it was because I’ve been so isolated, but deep down I really wanted to trust him. However, my belief in the gods and my belief in the Pharaoh… or rather, my wavering belief in the Pharaoh was keeping me from trusting him completely. I thought that if I avoided talking about the ceremony I would lose my doubts, that if I just followed along like I always have I’d return to my normal life, but now I wasn’t so sure.

“Luke,” His name slipped past my lips so easily, so softly it was as if I had known him for years. “This ceremony, what’s the purpose of it? If it’s as you claim and the Pharaoh is organizing these disappearances, I don’t see why any of this is necessary when he can just order it to stop.”

“The Pharaoh’s control over the people is slipping through his fingers. He has no blood relation to the previous Pharaoh; how he gained his seat on the throne is a mystery. He’s using this ceremony as a means to regain control.” He studied me for a moment as if checking to see that I was genuinely listening. “He’s using the disappearances to strike fear into the people’s hearts, the ceremony is a means to play the hero… and you will be a symbol of hope. An impossible dream that will keep everyone trapped in their loyalty.”

“Me?“ I shook my head in denial. “I don’t see how that can be. I’m nothing special, I’m just hard workout and dedicated.”

“And your honest. The people have more love and respect for you then they do for the Pharaoh. In his eyes, you’re a threat to his position.” Luke closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. “Your failure to recognize your value must make you all the more precious.”

I wanted to argue, I really did, but no words of that nature came to mind. My sense of reality was starting to crumble and although I wanted to run from it, I couldn’t stop trying to frantically gather the pieces and put it back together.

“If I’m supposed to give the people hope, then… what am I supposed to do?” I asked.

Something resembling pity flashed in Luke’s eyes. “Come with me.”

Luke lead me out if the room and deeper into the temple. After passing through a hallway darker then the rest, we ended up in a large room with two statues of the god Anubis, several torches mounted to thick support pillars and a short staircase that led up to a platform containing a long stone table and a smaller wooden one. The wooden table was lined with all sorts of tools and jars, and as I got closer, a familiar scent hit my nose. It’s the calming smell I’ve been picking up on Luke.

“What is this place?” I asked, turning to look at Luke.

“You seem to really like this fragrance. Would you have said the same earlier if you knew what this smell came from?” Picking up a sharp chisel from the table, Luke rolled it slowly in his hands as to not cut himself. “The Pharaoh is going to give you the rite of passage into the Field of Reeds. That is the hope the Pharaoh wants you to be.”

“The Field of Reeds? That can’t be right. Only the deceased can-” I stopped myself mid sentence, the weight of the truth too heavy for me to continue.

Luke walked towards me slowly, only stopping when he was close enough for me to be the only thing reflected in those pools of coral. “He’s also using this ceremony as a means to get rid of you.”

Every fibre of my being was screaming at me to fight this, to keep grasping onto the life I knew even if it came back to bite me in the end. “You’re just trying to scare me. Even if something were to happen to me, I’d be reborn no different then I am now.”

“Listen to me, Robin. Legends say the only way a person’s soul can be released for rebirth is after carefully preserving the body. As the High Priest, you should already know this.” Luke placed the handle of the chisel in my hand and closed my fingers around it. Then, he wrapped his hand around my wrist and pointed the sharp tip against his forehead. “To prevent decomposing, this part needs to be dug out first.”

The light in his eyes had grown dim, an almost soulless expression on his face as he guided my wrist down, letting the blade gently run over his skin without leaving any marks behind. My heart pounded against my ribs as he slid the chisel down the bridge of his nose, his neck, over his chest until it was resting against the muscles in torso. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the tool no matter how hard I tried, couldn’t turn away from the horror no matter how painful it was to watch.

“Next are the remaining organs, which are all removed from a hole cut in the abdomen.” He continued, unbothered by how badly my hand was shaking. “Then all that’s left of the heart. Everyone believes the heart is the essential for the journey to rebirth.”

His grip loosened and the chisel fell from my fingers, falling to the ground with a sharp sound that echoed off all four walls in the room. My jaw dropped a little but no words or sounds come out, the sheer terror running through my veins has made my mind go blank. Luke took hold of my wrist again and placed my palm over his heart. The muscle was strong, beating like a steady drum and I’m amazed I could feel it so clearly.

“But even if the heart’s left in the body, do you think it will beat again after all that?” Luke’s breath tickled my skin as he spoke, speaking in such a low voice it was almost a whisper.

Finally, he let me go for good but I was frozen, hand still glued to his chest. The rhythm of his heart was the only thing keeping me grounded. My ears were ringing, I couldn’t think, my eyes were stinging with tears and just like that, the truth I didn’t want to accept crashed over me like an angry wave.

The Pharaoh was planning on turning me into a mummy… and Luke was the one who was supposed to do it.

#tears of themis #x oc #tot luke #luke pearce

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guardxdavis · 10 months

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sinqua walls, bisexual, male + he/him ― hey look, it’s davis brooks! they’re 33 years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for one week, and they’re currently working as a security guard in shrike mall. i heard they’re pretty uncertain, but i think they’re so brave at the same time. can they make it out alive?

Davis Brooks thought he had his entire life figured out. Coming from a military family, there was never any doubt about what he’d be. His grandfather was a Marine, and both his parents were in the army (which was how they met), and then his older brother and sister both followed in their footsteps, joining the navy and the air force, respectively. For him, it felt strange not to join the ranks as well, and beyond that, Davis genuinely wanted to, especially after his father was killed overseas. For Davis, there was no greater aspiration than protecting people, and that was what he wanted to do, so he joined the army like his parents.

Davis rose through the ranks, and he truly felt like he'd found his calling. This was his dream, and it was coming true. However, his personal life was not as fulfilling. He’d dated, but he’d never had a relationship last. And even worse, he wasn’t sure he’d ever loved any of his past significant others, and the longer things went this way, the more discouraged Davis became. Maybe love wasn’t something meant for him. Or maybe he just couldn’t get over his first love.

Growing up, Davis and his best friend Alec had been inseparable, and for Davis at least, it been more than that - he’d been in love. However, Alec had always claimed to be straight, so Davis had accepted that, never professing his love for the man. It was enough just to be near him. As they got older though, they began to drift apart as they went down different paths, Alec falling in with a bad crowd. Davis had tried to help, but there was only so much you could do for a person who didn’t want help. And eventually, they lost touch.

That changed though in a way Davis had never expected. There was a home burglary in his hometown, wherein one of the residents had been badly beaten, and Davis discovered on the news that the description of the perpetrator matched Alec, particularly a unique scar on his arm that Davis remembered from a biking accident. But that couldn’t be right; the Alec he knew wouldn’t hurt anyone. So he told no one, instead looking into it himself, and after a bit of searching, Davis tracked Alec down.

When they reunited, it was like no time had passed. Alec seemed genuinely happy to see him, and after talking, Davis knew that Alec couldn’t have done this. Alec swore he had nothing to do with the break-in, and he seemed aghast that suspicion was ever thrown on him. Davis believed him, though he was admittedly troubled when he learned that Alec had briefly dated the man who had been attacked. But Davis had been thrown off by the fact that Alec wasn’t as straight as he had assumed, and his friend revealed that he’d always had a crush on Davis. And then the men finally acted on their long-standing feelings for each other.

Alas, Davis had been wrong: the house was broken into again, and just as before, the man had been attacked. This time he’d had a security system installed, so he escaped major injury, but his security cameras had footage of the attacker fleeing. The footage was shown on the news, and when he watched it, Davis knew it was Alec despite the grainy footage. Even though the man’s face was covered, he recognized the scar and the tattoo on Alec's wrist he’d seen during their night together. Davis felt so foolish, and, angry with himself, told his mother everything, seeking her advice. She was furious he’d kept this to himself, and after his mother called the police, they converged on Alec's house. Wanting to talk to his friend, to try and convince him to turn himself in, Davis went there too, reaching the house at the same time as the cops. But Alec would not come quietly, and there was a standoff wherein two people were shot before they were able to get into the house and arrest Alec. One of them was an officer who was hit in the spine and would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. The other was Davis, hit by what he thought was a stray bullet.

The wound could have been worse: Davis was shot in the shoulder, and apart from some physical limitations, he’d made a full recovery, though he was no longer deemed fit to serve due to his injury, and the army honorably discharged him. But Davis would never forgive himself for letting love blind him to Alec's true nature. His mother never told anyone else (her call to the police had been an anonymous tip), though the police briefly questioned Davis given the fact that he'd been there during the standoff. But Davis's mother could not look at him the same way, and Davis couldn’t blame her. So she suggested he move to Shrike Heights, the town she grew up in and where her mother still owned a home, having recently retired to Florida. After his siblings figured out what had happened, Davis had nothing keeping him in Boston.

#shrikeintro #about davis*#shooting/gun violence tw

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missstiefel · 2 years

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Victim of Victory

A Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney fanfiction.

Tags: slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, fix-it-fic. drama, humor, angst with a happy ending, implied/referenced self-harm, suicide attempt

Read on ao3

Chapter 3

Laura and Chris stayed in touch after that. They kept messaging each other back and forth, checking up on the other. They talked over the phone at least once a week and Chris became something like a father figure to Laura. A place where she could simply be herself, talk about her insecurities, anxieties, and fears and not be judged.

He never pushed her to talk about anything in particular, but even if she said she didn’t want to talk about something at first, it usually ended up spilling out of her mouth anyway.

She became invigorated and dedicated herself back to her studies. With her newfound motivation it became easier to keep up and she could honestly say that she had fun studying again.

Her personal life lit up again as well. While she still didn’t really talk to her peers, she got comfortable leaving her apartment again. She had even gotten her eye checked out professionally and had a surgery to be able to fit a glass eye in the socket. The scarring around it was still bad but at least it wasn’t inflamed anymore. She looked almost like a normal human being and not like something out of a horror movie again.

The initial surgery had been covered by her insurance and Chris had insisted he paid for the implant, claiming it had been his fault in the first place. And not because he had bitten Max, but rather because he had seen the message on his answering machine but had decided not to listen to it.

In her off-time Laura had taken up weightlifting and boxing. At first it had been simply a way to keep in shape and to build up the necessary muscles for dealing with large animals and livestock but aside from that, her confidence had strengthened again as well. She sometimes wondered if it was an unconscious desire of her mind to gain physical strength as a compensation for her mental break during the winter, but she rejected that idea immediately; she had fun, and that was the main thing.

All things considered Laura was comfortable in her skin. Sometimes a depressive episode would hit, but they weren’t as bad as the first one. The voice at the back of her mind had quietened down and stayed exactly that- a voice at the back of her mind.

Now, her first year at Landis was nearly coming to an end. It was the last week of lectures, and she was frantically searching for an internship position to get some practice hours in over the summer break. So far, she had asked three local vet clinics, but all had turned her application down even though they had sounded more than positive over the phone. She couldn’t help but think that her disfigured face might have been the cause for that.

This was why she was now looking for places in wildlife care, thinking they would be more open to her application since she wouldn’t have to deal with customers there. Her laptop currently displayed the homepage of a wildlife rescue and rehabilitation organization in Baltimore, and she was in the process of jotting down the number when her screen changed with an incoming video-call.

Laura’s face instantly lit up when she saw Chris’ name appear on screen. Without hesitating she accepted and used the time while the call connected to comb her hair with her fingers. A distraction was just what she needed.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Chris. How are you?” He seemed cheery but there was a certain tiredness in his face that wasn’t present in their last video chat.

“Ah, you know, busy preparing for the summer. How are your exams going?”

“Fine, yeah. Nearly finished now. Got two more upcoming ones next week and then I’m off to… somewhere.”

“So, you still haven’t found a place, yet?”

“Nah, but to be honest that’s kind of on me. I was a bit discouraged after the last rejection, so I’ve been procrastinating.” Laura shrugged and wanted to play it off, but her guilt crept up to her regardless.

“Oh well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it might actually be a good thing.” How was this supposed to be a good thing? Her internship was supposed to start in two weeks, and with her now being forced to look further away from her college, she would have to find a place to stay as well. She could feel her anxiety returning while she was internally freaking out.

She still didn’t know how he did it, but Chris managed to see her teetering on the brink of a panic attack again. So he specified his statement, “Look, with the curse gone the local wildlife at the quarry has begun to flourish again. Which in turn means, that we can add wildlife care back into our camp program. And we would obviously need a qualified counsellor for that. So, maybe I was thinking I could kill multiple birds with one stone by inviting you.”

Laura was flabbergasted. Did she really want to go back there? Her instincts were screaming at her to decline but her logic was pleading to not even think about it. On one hand she would have to face her fears and revisit the place where her sanity had gone out the window but on the other, she would have an actual internship. One where she would be doing more than just brewing coffee and guiding people to their respective treatment rooms.

Don’t let your doubt and insecurities turn you against yourself. You are stronger than this. Her internal debate was rather short-lived, it seemed to be a no-brainer. But she wanted to see where this was going, she wanted to let Chris work for it. He seemed pretty intent on getting her to come back, so she decided to play dumb.

“But if I was to kill birds, how would that be described as wildlife care? Or do you have some kind of avian flu going around that would warrant emergency slaughter?”

He actually seemed taken aback by her sarcasm and did a double take before answering, “Um, I hope you know that it was supposed to be a metaphor. I just thought that since you were looking for a place and I had a spot open, it would benefit us both. Also, Kaylee and Caleb are really looking forward to meeting their saviour. And well, I’d like to see you in person again as well, I guess. And you could spend some time away from college…”

Chris seemed to be aware of his rambling and stopped himself. Laura was too focused on not bursting out laughing that she didn’t register his eyes flying open in a shocked expression, thinking that he might have made things worse.

As soon as she did though, she put him at ease. “Relax Chris, I was joking. Though I would really appreciate not having to kill anything this time around.”

Relieved, he chuckled. “I think we can arrange that. Does it mean you’re saying you’re in?”

“Hell yeah. How could I say no to that?” Laura was aware that she sounded far surer of herself than she felt. She guessed she had some more emotional unpacking to do before the last fibre of her being was on board with the idea.

“Great! Camp starts July 13th, but maybe you’d like to come a few days earlier? I promise I’m not letting Travis arrest you this time.”

“Uhh sure, I’ll let you know as soon as I sorted things out on my end.” She didn’t think his last statement was necessary, though she could appreciate the foresight.

They made some more small talk before Chris had to rush to the door for a delivery he had been waiting on, so they decided to call it a day.

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

Laura was rushing home from college with a spring in her step. Her stepfather had just agreed that she could borrow a car for the summer and the time of her internship. Of course, he didn’t know that it would be in North Kill, but then her parents never really knew what happened last summer anyway.

Jogging through the stuffy streets, the slapping of her trainers onto the concrete matching her pounding heart, she couldn’t believe her luck. It seemed like the stars had aligned for her again and she was back on track in her life.

As she got back to her dingy little dorm room to pack up the last of her clothes for the summer, she shot Chris a short text to tell him she’d be there tomorrow evening. Unbeknownst to her, he’d already been sitting on pins and needles because he hadn’t heard a peep from her for the whole week.

Stuff all packed up Laura relaxed back on her couch and put on a random Netflix show. She didn’t pay the TV much heed while she was simultaneously researching the area of North Kill. Something she probably should have already done last summer but had been too lenient to do so.

Concerning the town itself her search wasn’t very fruitful. But there was more than enough information on the local wildlife, albeit mostly the huntable part. That was probably also why she only found information about local diners and pubs.

The Harbinger Motel actually had a decent web presence. Everything the hunters obviously needed were a place to stay, food and alcohol. And prey. God, Max and I should have just gone to the motel.

Before her thoughts could drift off again into the dark abyss that made up the could-have-been, her phone pinged with an incoming text message. Chris affirmed her arrival and invited her to dinner at the lodge.

With that she closed her laptop and went to bed. Tomorrow would be an exhausting yet exciting day.

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

You’re the voice in my head when I’m at my weakest

You’re the ache in my chest and I hate to feel this

Hey doubt, there’s no doubt, I’m here to prove you wrong

You’re dead to me now, I’m done living with this doubt

The speakers were blaring loudly while Laura drove into the forests of North Kill. Carefree and on the top of her voice she sang along to the lyrics of ‘Doubt’ by Through Fire. The perfect song to quieten down her raging subconscious thoughts.

You place your hands around my neck

And now I feel you stealing every breath

As you’re telling me what I’m never gonna be

But in the end, you’d be nothing more than a memory in time

When I say goodbye

As the trees grew denser around the road Laura was currently driving on, her phone slowly but steadily lost connection. Thankfully, she had planned ahead this time and marked the position of Hackett’s Quarry on her map.

With a little sense of direction finding the Quarry was a piece of cake this way. She parked next to Chris’ car in front of the lodge but stayed seated to gather her scattered belongings and finish listening to the current song of her playlist.

She just got out of her car and made her way to the trunk when another car pulled up alongside hers.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Even if the lights fixed to the cars roof weren’t proof enough, the word sheriff written in bold letters on the side was like a slap in the face.

Laura had absolutely no intention of running into the sheriff on her first day in North Kill. Or ever. Yes, she supposed it wouldn’t have been possible to evade him for her whole stay. He was Chris’ brother after all.

But him being the first person she crossed paths with? Again? It was like a fucking déjà-vu. A morbid, infernal repeat of events past. What was she going to do now?

She decided to give him the cold shoulder. Do not talk to him at all. She wasn’t so sure she could remain calm if she talked to him. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by accidentally cussing him out in front of his brother. She was supposed to be above that by now.

But something in the back of her mind nagged her that there was a much bigger chance of her spilling all her recent breakdowns and insecurities. And there was just no way she would give Travis Hackett the satisfaction of seeing her carefully re-curated façade crumble.

So, without further ado she grabbed the duffel and made her way up the stairs. In the broad daylight the front porch looked far less intimidating than she remembered. She’d almost say cosy if it weren’t for the memories of her last visit.

Before she even got the chance to knock on the door, a deep and well-known voice called out behind her.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? This is private property.”

So much for the slight chance of the sheriff being replaced by someone else.

Closing her eyes and mentally bracing herself for the inevitable, she feebly lifted her fist to knock on the door.

“Ma’am!” before she could rap her knuckles against the wood, he interrupted her again. “I’m talking to yo-“

He immediately broke up as she spun around. Laura was surprised that he was far closer to the stairs than she had anticipated. But it gave her a clear view of his face. He looked baffled.

“Cat got your tongue?”

So much for giving him the silent treatment. His face still triggered a flight or fight response that Laura was unable to resist. Since fleeing didn’t work, she would just have to engage. Just don’t say anything stupid.

‘’Miss Kearney,” he pursed his lips as his face went back to a neutral expression. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t see why that would be any of your business.” snapped Laura. It was familiar territory.

Surprisingly he relented, “You’re right. It’s not.” The fuck? Travis Hackett has a conscience all of a sudden? “Doesn’t mean I won’t ask again.” Or maybe not.

While he stared relentlessly at her, she held his gaze as good as she was able to. It wasn’t much but she had to stand her ground. To evade the uncomfortable position he has her trapped in, she turned back around and knocked on the door.

She was invited after all. As soon as he opened the door, Chris would tell Travis politely to get lost since he had company.

She counted the seconds in her head because while she heard footsteps from inside the house, she also heard the sheriff advancing on the stairs behind her. Just as Travis reached the top of the stairs, a cheerful Chris opened the door. Thank God.

“Laura! It’s so good to see you.” Before she could reply he wrapped her in a fierce bear-hug. As he released her, he adjusted the kitchen towel draped over his shoulder and turned to his brother. “Perfect, now that everybody’s here, dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Come on in!”

“Wait,” Laura and Travis exclaimed simultaneously. Warily, Laura glanced back at Travis. He looked as confused as her. For a split second their eyes met before she averted hers to the floor. As she turned back towards Chris, she found he had already disappeared back to the kitchen probably.

With a gentle shove Travis ushered her further inside so he could close the door behind him. Without another word he snatched the duffel bag out of her hand and brushed past her into the large dining area where he unceremoniously deposited it on a bench.

Not knowing what else to do with herself, Laura followed him cautiously. As she glanced around the vast area, she couldn’t help but wonder how she got to this point in the first place. Nope, no, don’t go there.

To divert her thoughts from going back in time, she fixed her sights on the sheriff who had gone to sit at one of the tables. He was still in uniform -as if he owned anything else- and he looked as grumpy as ever. Chris obviously hadn’t told him she’d be here either.

As if he knew she was looking at him, he looked up. “So, how has life treated you?” Laura tried to fill the uncomfortable silence with small talk and to avert him from her staring at him.

As an answer he raised an eyebrow. Working his jaw, he thought about a reply. “Can’t complain. Though I have to say it’s refreshing to have someone else judge me again.” He offered sarcastically.

Wow, was that an insult wrapped in a compliment?

“You know what? Never mind. Sorry I asked.” Civil was definitely not a word that could be associated with Travis Hackett. But he wasn’t the reason she was here, so she’d just have to bear him until he left. She was here for a reason, and she wouldn’t let a creepy cop stop her from achieving her goals.

Thinking about her practice hours gave her the courage she needed to face the upcoming hour. This summer she was going to leave the past in the past and forge ahead. Just like she used to. Chris made sure of that, and he had promised to keep Travis at bay though she seriously questioned his methods.

As if summoned by her thoughts, she heard Chris approaching and announcing, “Dinner is ready!”

#victim of victory #the quarry #travis hackett #laura kearney #hackearney #fanfiction #travis x laura

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emilycollins00 · 2 years

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One season at a time (SakuTaiTen)

Spring

Sakuya wouldn’t call himself adventurous, though he always did his best to try everything. One wouldn’t know otherwise, or he had always thought.

“Um, Taichi-kun, I don’t think-” His legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, trying to maintain the form on top of the skateboard. “Whoa!” He tries to figure out some resemblance of stability going slowly back and forth a couple more times before gravity tries again to roll him back to the pavement.

“Hold on, Sakkun!”

Taichi’s hands catch his elbows and hold him steady from behind. “You gotta tuck your elbows and head in.” he instructs. “Also, if you feel the speed is too wobbly, keep your upper body over the board and position slightly forward.”

“L-like this?”

“Yeah! Man, you look so cool!”

The spring member blushes, because if anything, Taichi is the one who does cool things in his opinion. "How did you get so good at this?" he asks curiously after a while.

He has always watched him skate at the dorm. Nothing too fancy, since Sakyo would have probably said something otherwise, but in Sakuya’s mind he was truly incredible. The backwards skating, the spins and jumps blew his mind everytime.

“Nah, I’m barely okay.” Taichi laughs embarrassed at the sudden compliment and scratches the back of his head. “You should see Ban-chan. He’s the real deal whenever he tags along!”

Sakuya hums, because it’s probably right since Banri is extremely athletic. However, part of him thinks that no matter how good he is, Banri’s eyes won’t really stare at the TV with sparkles in his eyes as he sees a person performing a cool trick like Taichi’s do.

He really likes it when that happens, because he likes Taichi’s eyes. Yeah, he would love to enjoy their warthm all the time.

“Whoah!” landing back to reality, Sakuya stumbles again, needing to support himself on the autumn member. He notices Taichi’s strong hold on him, and his heart skips a beat at the closeness. “I- sorry I got a little distracted. I-It won’t happen again!”

“It’s fine!” his voice doesn’t show any discomfort whatsoever. “You are doing amazing for your first time. Wanna take a break?”

Sakuya knows he’s probably just saying that so that he doesn’t get discourage, but there’s something about the energetic actor praising tone that makes him nod bashfully.

They leave the main part of the skate park and seat on one of the benches. As they do, Taichi looks around, soon finding the object of his search. “Sakkun! I’m gonna get us something to drink, kay? You stay seated and rest, I’ll be back in a second!”

“Ah, but it’s not necessary-” before he has time, the autumn member is already on his way to the vending machine. Without being able to argue, he sits back, using the time to take off the safety wear and helmet. While the place was a skatepark, many families and children walked by, allowing Sakuya to enjoy the distant voices and laughs.

He always hears Sakyo and Yuki sighing at the autumn member extreme energy, childness and clumsiness, but to Sakuya, Taichi felt like a breath of fresh air. His eagerness and genuine appreciation something he has gotten used to in his daily life, allowing him to forget years of side comments and fake, overly polite smiles. He looks down at the helmet, and caresses it affectionately.

The silence crumbles as soon as he hears a familiar voice echoing in the distance. Taichi runs from the other side of the park towards him, carrying two sodas on his right arm while he waves at him.

And while this makes people turn and many would have felt embarrassed at the scene, Sakuya waves back and smiles. And of course, the action make a grin appear on the autumn member, who lights up everything around and Sakuya’s own heart runs a whole marathon in the few moments it takes the blue-eyed actor to arrive.

People say he’s never selfish, but he if he had the opportunity, he would wish for Taichi to always look at him the way he did just now.

“Here!” the red-head gives him the drink before slumping on the bench. Suddenly, his hand reaches Sakuya’s head, patting his hair. It makes his brain go fuzzy -shivering under his soft touch.

“T-Taichi-kun…?”

“Ah, sorry! You had some cherry blossoms on your head from the trees.” He laughs, lowering his hand. Sakuya wished he didn’t -proving to himself that he is indeed quite selfish-. “You know, spring vibes totally suit you!”

Sakuya feels his cheeks burning at the compliment. Should he be proud, as the spring leader?

“Man, this was so much fun than skating alone! Let’s come again soon, what do you say?”

At the bright sight the blue-eyed teen shows, Sakuya’s chest thumps once again quicker than usual, though it always happens when Taichi is around.

Sakuya enjoys the feeling.

“I’d love to!”

Summer

“You’re gonna get a sunburn like that, you know.”

Sakuya barely has time to lift his head when a cap clouds his field of vision. He blinks under it, and chuckles as he takes it off. “Sorry Tenma-kun. Thanks!” he secures it on his head.

The summer troupe leader sighs and sits next to him on the courtyard, leaving a plastic bag between them both. “Omi-san brought ice cream for everyone. You like strawberry, right? Got you some before the others finished everything inside.”

“I do!” Sakuya confirms with a tone that matches the surprise and joy in his face. How’d you know? it sounds like, and Tenma chest rises slightly proud. “Thank you, Tenma-kun!”

Of course, the look he gets in return is a reward in and of itself. It lights up Sakuya’s eyes with a certain kind of softness that he wished was only for him. He opens his mouth and closes it right after, not really knowing what to say. Of course I know what you like. He then clears his throat. “So, what are you reading?”

“Ah! I found this book at the library when Muku and I went this morning.” Sakuya leaves the book on the young actor’s hands while he himself picks up the ice cream from the bag. “If you want I could lend it to you after I finish!”

Tenma reads the title and opens it, moving the pages and reading some lines here and there as Sakuya seems to enjoy the cold snack.

“Is this the novel for that play you went to see?”

“Yeah! I enjoyed it a lot so when I saw it I couldn’t help myself. Ah, this part is really good! It reminds me of…”

Sakuys gets closer, and of course their shoulders end up bumping against each other. And once again, Tenma is reminded that just like Sakuya’s warm smiles -ones he has come to know well- his warmth tends to spread throughout the width of his body too.

Persistent, lingering on his skin like the sun on a hot summer's day. It simmers, burns, leaving prickles in its wake. Yeah. Sakuya’s touch is sometimes too much for his heart, and he can already feel his ears heating up. He coughs and moves away.

“Anyway, couldn’t you read this inside? I can’t believe you can stand the heat.”

“Now that you mention it has gotten hotter…” The red-head looks up, then back to him. “You don’t like summer, Tenma-kun?”

“Hmh? It’s not like I hate it, I just…”

Tenma knows people tend to enjoy summer. It meant going to the beach, no need for school and going out with friends until late. However it hadn’t been until now that he actually got to take part in those activities, and having no beach near, a series in the making and no air conditioner whatsoever due made the decision. He shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s just obviously sticky and hot all the time.”

Crickets sound in the distance. The red head hums, taking in consideration the arguments. Half the ice cream was already gone. “I guess. But I do love summer!”

Sakuya always saw the brighter side of things. And while part of him had expected it, Tenma lets out a snort anyway and offers the book back to its owner. “Of course you would say that.”

The spring member blinks. He leaves aside the stick of popsicle and leans back on the bench, caressing his book in thought, as if by doing so he could concentrate better. He then looks up at the clear sky again, and the corner of his mouth lifts up.

Tenma could have kept staring at him for another hour if he hadn’t spoken.

“It also reminds me of you, Tenma-kun.”

Always pure and earnest. Tenma will probably never know what to say to those things.

“How the hell do you not feel embarrassed after saying something like that.”

Sakuya lets out a soft laugh that set a thousands butterflies in the summer members’ stomach. “Well, I thought it just now.” he scratches his cheek. Light blush decorate them. “It’s always shiny and vibrant and you know, it’s supposed to be the season of endless possibilities.”

It was too much for him. “I…”

“Tenma! Your manager has arrived!”

He jumps at the sudden yell from Izumi coming from inside. Right, he was supposed to be preparing for that photoshoot.

“I, uh… I gotta go.” The summer member stands up and falters before speaking. “Can you pass it to me when you’re done?”

Sakuya looks down at the book, and lifts his eyes excited. “Of course! I’d love to talk about it with someone!”

I love Summer

It reminds me of you.

When they both links eyes once more, Sakuya touches the cap and secures it in his head smiling before waving at him as he leaves. Tenma waves back, aware of just how much hopelessly love-struck he probably looked.

Maybe summer wasn’t so bad.

Autumn

“Hot!”

Taichi laughs at the clumsy attempt of Tenma trying the warm snack. “It’s a steamed meat bun, Ten-chan. It’s supposed to be hot!”

“How am I supposed to taste anything if my mouth is burning?!”

“Aha!” he points at him loudly. “That’s when you gotta use the technique!”

Tenma frowns, clearly not convinced. Taichi is aware being with Yuki and Kazunari for so long only leads now to suspicion when trying things, so he’s far from offended. In the end, the summer leader gives in. “…What technique.”

“Oh man, you are gonna love it!” Taichi lifts his chest proudly, making Tenma roll his eyes. It’s not everyday he got to teach the young movie star something after all. “Okay, pay attention!”

Under the still suspicious, yet slightly focused look of the spring member, Taichi bites the meat bum and process to munch on it with its mouth open, making different chewing noises, allowing the cold from outside to enter his mouth over his loud and heavy breathing.

“Whaf- whaf wo you fhink!” he manages to ask. Tenma’s frown -which had lowered the more time he watched- lowers even more, making a disgusted face.

“That is absolutely gross.”

“Oh come on!” Taichi complains as he shallows the last bits. “Do it at least once! It won’t taste as good if it’s cold!”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Come on, Ten-chan! You gotta experience this!”

Taichi knows it’s not the most elegant way to eat, but it’s the way he remembers from when he was young. And if there’s something Taichi would love more than anything, is for Tenma to experience things he clearly couldn’t before.

“Just one bite! You’ll see it’s worth it!”

Tenma sighs, and Taichi inwardly knows he has won. Tenma never likes to disappoint others after all. Is one of the things he found more endearing about him. “Ugh, okay! Just- make sure no one is looking.”

Taichi nods rapidly. “You got this!”

Tenma watches embarrassed the snack and looks around to make sure there are indeed no people to watch before biting a portion of the meat bum. “Oof!!“

“Now! Chew!”

The summer leader chews with his mouth open, pain visible in his eyes as white clouds of steam come out of his mouth. “You are doing it!” No sooner the red-head finishes the sentence, a few coughs come out of the actor, making part of the steamed bum leave his mouth. Gross indeed.

“Oh, no!” Taichi pats his back as the coughs get louder. Panicking, he reaches for the strawberry milk he had bought for Juza and offers him. Tenma however shakes his head and bends down, resting his hands on his knees. Taichi pales. Maybe this hasn’t been his best idea.

“D-don’t die Ten-chan! I’m sorry!”

After a few more seconds, the cough subdues. Tenma is red from the effort yet. He offers him again the drink and this time he drinks some of it.

“Sorry Ten-chan.”

“It’s… fine.” He sighs, putting back the cap on the drink. “I won’t be eating a steamed meat bum soon though… What are you doing now?”

“Mhm?” Seeing Tenma look at his feet, he lifts one of them to show him. “Sorry. I was stepping on the fallen leaves to hear the crunch unconsciously.”

“Why?”

“You have never done that before? Look for a crunchy leaf and step on it?”

“No. But I think I’ve had my share of trying things.”

”This is different! Look! Um… that one looks crunchy!”

“How can a leaf look crunchy?”

“Just do it, you are gonna love it!”

With anticipation, Taichi watches Tenma slowly places his foot on top of the first time. The action itself is quick, and the sound pale, yet a tiny smile reaching the summer member’s features when he does, and Taichi beams at the sight.

Because the earthy -and often a bit wet- smell of dry leaves feels cozy and comfortable, but nothing feels to him warmer than seeing Tenma smile because of something he offered.

“Autumn is a bit boring, but I guess things like Halloween and crunchy leaves can make up for it!”

At his words, Tenma stops looking down and frowns. “Boring?”

“Uh? Well-”

“Autumn helps people get used to change from summer to winter. It calms the weather and brings new things and while not everyone might like it, it’s…” he falters. “…anyway, autumn is important. Not boring.”

After the sudden answer, both resume their walk in silence, until Taichi hears the summer actor’s voice again. It doesn’t feel like it’s directed to him, yet he manages to catch it. “Autumn and you feel kinda similar, somehow.”

Taichi knows he has many flaws. He is messy, only plays half okay the yo-yo and skate, and has a hard time getting to know the timing of scenes when acting. But Tenma has made him understand that none of these things were fully flaws. Not a single one. Because they were what made him him. And he has a million other things for what he was known and loved for, that he hadn’t been aware until now.

Taichi thanked him for that. So much his heart hurt.

“Do you really mean that?” His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he notices Tenma trying to hide the blush in his cheeks

“I- I haven’t said anything!”

Winter

Tenma has come to know from long afternoons, from nights like this spent too long chatting under the courtyard tree, sitting in the very same bench, that the two red-head in front of him were one of the most important people that have crossed in his life.

Taichi has claimed so too on more than one occasion – quite loudly, in fact. Sakuya agrees of course. Bright, unwavering. Their warmth is all-encompassing, from their smiles, voices, eyes and actions.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Hehe, merry Christmas you two!”

“So, should we start the exchange?”

“Sure! Want to start, Taichi-kun?”

“Oh man, this is big! Is this really your gift for me?”

Sakuya nods, and Tenma rises his eyebrows at the question. Taichi laughs, and can barely contain his excitement as he opens the present. Immediately, his blue eyes lift to look the the two practically beaming.

He quickly swifts, catching Sakuya and Tenma off guard. His hands cup their faces and lightly pecks their lips lightly against his.

“I love it!”

And as always, they blush.

Because they also love Taichi,

They love how vivid he explains his dreams every morning.

They love how because no matter how others see them, Taichi makes them feel special.

“Here Sakuya.”

“T-thanks, Tenma-kun!”

He opens his gift. And the next second he is so full of love, that he needs to take more air than usual. His eyes water, making Tenma and Taichi worry. Soon they pull him in, one at a time, and their lips meet yet again. Gentle and oddly vulnerable.

Because they love Sakuya.

They love how he looks so adorable when he sleeps.

They love how he inspires them and make them feel so much passion each day.

“Your turn, Ten-chan!”

“We really hope you enjoy it.”

“Okay, okay… dam it, why does this have so much tape?”

“My bad!”

Once he opens it though, Tenma feels as if his ribcage can’t hold his heart, and when he looks back into their eyes, he sees admiration involved in pure and utter love. The view of both waiting for his reaction is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. “I… thanks.”

Taichi and Sakuya look at each other, and giggle at the reaction while Tenma takes a few steps towards them. It’s all he needs to be close enough to pull them against him, wrapping his arms in a warm hug. He kisses them, of course. As if they were so fragile that they could break at the faintest touch.

Because they love Tenma.

They love how he calls them every day when he leaves to film for a few days.

They love how he stays true to himself against the adversity.

But above it all, they all feel just how much they are loved in return. Sakuya’s eyes soften, Taichi laughs and Tenma smiles intertwining their hands. Their hearts feel warm, fizzy. and content.

“It’s starting to get cold. Should we go lay in the living room for a while?”

“If you two want.”

“I do! Let’s grab some cocoa and some blankets too!”

The three walk inside, leaning onto each other, breathing one another scents.

They smell good. Familiar. Like home.

Most happy things do.

____________________________________________________

Little birthday present for amazing @skateboarding-poet!! 💕💕

Sorry this took so much longer than expected Viv. I still hope you enjoy it as well as anyone who reads it! This was so cute to write.

Now onto my daily sappiness: Thank you so much for being my friend, for being such a delight to talk to, but most of all for being you. You are amazing and never ever forget it 💕

Have a wonderful day. Muah!

#Fuck you with love asdfgh #a3!#a3! sakuya #a3! taichi #a3! tenma

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mintymemesandrpshop · 1 year

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@torens-nightshift replied to your post “Open for Business! Hello~ This is an RP help blog!...”:

Hi!! sorry if this isn't the right place to ask (i still struggle with tumblr etiquette & didn't see anything against this in your rules ><) how do people get started in tumblr rp? i've been quietly observing a few blogs for a while and it looks fun but i feel like no one would be interested in talking to me or whatever ( _ _")

Hello there! Getting Started™️in tumblr rp has two parts, I think. making the actual blog, and networking (while Doing Things.)

Your blog itself probably needs a rules page, this can be anything you want to say or express- some people's rules are specific, some are just a few sentences. Establishing some boundaries or guidelines can be pretty important! But! it's entirely up to you, it gives a first impression to others on you as the writer. People mostly hesitate or have anxiety about accidentally upsetting others, so having something there helps! Even if it's just saying you're pretty chill.

Something else helpful is a muse page- people want to know what kind of character that you are writing! For some they will link to a wiki page, and for some they write out a whole bio for their headcanons- For example if you looked in my Volo's bio, you'd see that he's 32, cisgender, albino, and can see through fog. all headcanon stuff that might not appear in every reply i do! For OCs especially there can be a history section detailing their life and who they are!

The other major half is networking. Following RP blogs, making a promo (which you can make visible in tags;; blahblahfandom rp, multifandom rp, crossover rp, etc.) when you find a blog you are interested in, you can reach out! through ims or asks as well. (If your blog is curated enough and has its own dash/account, your sidebar may of course recommend rp blogs! that's about the only algorithm involved. the rest's work. sideblogs notoriously have trouble because they can't Follow people.) Like, I figure a lot of personal blogs find my posts/blog through tumblr's search function- which i'm still not used to because it's the new default, rather than going into the Actual #tag.

a subset of networking is Doing Stuff. Making headcanon posts, in character posts, open starters, and threading with other people will show off your writing enough for people to notice. Some people turn their nose away if a blog 'only' contains 'too much' RP memes, vent posts, or just doesn't have what they're looking for. While it's not a requirement, it may be helpful to make sure you have examples up to see. This part kind of really never ends imo, networking and doing stuff, but it's pretty essential to getting noticed. But like any facet of the internet or world, there's always someone who wants to talk to you! And would love to hear what you have to say! I'm sure that's something that even seasoned rpers might need to hear, everyone gets discouraged sometimes. It only takes a few people getting going to boost you along tho, so! Try to appreciate people! Y'know, socializing and all that, haha.

As far as some etiquette goes, try not carelessly spam-like or reblog. Since the person is writing a story thread, they use their activity to keep track. 'hmmm i wonder if someone replied today?' i ask! i look in my notes! somebody liked this somebody liked this somebody liked this somebody liked this

oh no! where is my post? it can be a little frustrating, so try to keep likes to real time or so, it's much more manageable. People do enjoy likes and feedback, but the first major reason that people block personals is to avoid this kind of thing. In my opinion, it probably doesn't help that it's a wordless interaction, but it depends! If you're not overdoing it, it's delightful, too!

Replies are much more free game imo, it's words as feedback and a bit more enjoyable. (I'll admit a reply on a pinned post is...a first for but hey! this works!)

Asks are enjoyed and adored. Literally as long as it isn't hate, any tumblr user likes getting asks, but RPers are ravenous, lmao. Some may get overwhelmed by their own workload and have to delete em, but socially speaking people love talking about their muses! Or how they as a mun write!

The second reason people block personals is discourse. I'd say the biggest cultural difference, if you are stepping into rp, is to please learn to share. Especially with the onset of Search showing things even mentioning character names. (some people even cen.sor their muse's name to avoid this.) You've probably seen mockey of kin discourse 'no doubles' and etc. Basically, don't be an ass about headcanons and try to respect people's portrayals. RPers would rather write, so many will not deal with the bullshit and their blog is not for arguing. Trust me that when anons or whoever interject in order to be a dick, you become the butt of the joke for that blog's whole audience. Many people love to write threads with duplicates! But even those whose rules say no duplicates as far as interactions go know that it's not nice to insult people and stay in their lane. Be Kind! Ask questions! If you'd like to share a headcanon of your own, the blog owner might like to see it, just don't be pushy and you're good! They might even have their own headcanon even if they disagree with yours and may share that! Everyone's writing is unique and that's the beauty of it! I've personally even had some random personal reply trying to shut down my headcanon/simping in a belittling way, which....i didn't fucking ask. let me have my fun!!! Sooo yea read the room! Have fun!

hopefully this isn't too much of a ramble but the first two sentences I said are the short and sweet answer :')

#long post #rp advice #torens nightshift #rp newbie #ooooh i rambled. oops! hehe #a doozy.#oopsieeee <3 pff

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spagheddiesquash · 2 months

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hi heres how to turn off that stupid ai third-party thing, with pictures

because i had to figure this out through plain ol’ comments. which was not fun. this tutorial is for the desktop site, which is what i use. i’ve never used the mobile app, and i don’t think i ever will, so unfortunately i can’t help with that. sorry :^(

go to settings

2. you should see this sidebar

3. scroll down until you see where it says “blogs.” for example this is my blog, but obviously you will see yours. click on it.

4. you’re gonna wanna look at this panel on the left right here where it’s got all your actual blog settings. i gotta remove that little blue teeth thing i’ll do that later

5. scroll down this panel until you see the “visibility” section. i have marked the button to toggle.

and you’re good!!

IMPORTANT NOTES:

if you want this to be across all of your blogs you need to do it manually. for each one. which. idk thats just annoying and unnecessary

the person who wrote the comment i got all this from suggested to consider maybe toggling the “discourage external searching” option as well. i didnt do that but again, it could be something to consider.

hopefully this tutorial was useful!! ive seen people spreading around just the option to toggle, or just the instructions in plain words but i dont think ive seen anyone do a whole step-by-step tutorial yet, so i made one :^)

#important

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365daysofj2 · 4 months

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Rescue Mission: Impossible (SeaQuest AU, 2/5)

When Jared woke up, he was surprised to find Jensen already out of bed and sitting at the computer. Jared sat up, prompting Jensen to look over at him and grin. “About time,” he teased.

“What are you doing? And how long have you been up?” asked Jared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Researching, and about 20 minutes.” Jensen sat back in his chair. “We’re due on the bridge in half an hour.”

Jared nodded. “Do you need me? I want to get a shower.”

Jensen waved him off. “Nah, I’m good. Go ahead.”

“You got any clean towels?”

“Yeah, there should be one in the linen cupboard.” Jensen smirked. “It’s not exactly Sasquatch-sized.”

Jared chuckled. “I guess I’ll survive.” As he walked past Jensen’s chair, he wrapped one arm around his chest and kissed the back of his neck. “Don’t work too hard.”

“Can’t make any promises,” replied Jensen, leaning into the touch. He angled his head, giving Jared an opening to kiss him on the lips. Jensen’s lips were soft and yielding, and Jensen groaned slightly when Jared broke off the kiss and stood up straight.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” said Jared. “And then we can pick up where we left off.”

“Can’t wait,” said Jensen, smiling softly.

Jared went into the head and dug out the last clean towel from the back of Jensen’s linen cupboard, along with a clean washcloth from a small stack on the middle shelf. Jensen wasn’t always the best at remembering to do his laundry, even though the boat boasted state-of-the-art ionic dry cleaning closets that didn’t require water or steam. After this was all over he’d have to nudge Jensen to take his laundry down to one of them.

Jared didn’t rush himself. It would be at least 24 hours until he’d have time to do this again, so he wanted to enjoy it a little. Jared chuckled a little as he lathered Jensen’s shampoo into his hair and smelled the spicy citrus scent that he had come to associate with Jensen more than any other. He had no idea where Jensen got it from, because it wasn’t the standard issue stuff that Jared ordered for the rest of the crew. He’d never asked. He figured it was better if he didn’t know.

Jared stepped out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed. He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush he’d started keeping there after Christmas, when their relationship became officially legal. Jensen preferred his quarters to Jared’s, and Jared didn’t mind spending his time in Jensen’s. Jared hadn’t really put anything of his own personality into his own quarters, as that was discouraged at the Academy, but Jensen had no such compunctions. Jensen’s quarters definitely felt more like a home than Jared’s did.

When Jared returned to Jensen’s room, Jensen was poring over some kind of technical specs. It looked like some kind of electronic device, but Jared couldn’t identify which one. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s specs for a long-range space probe,” replied Jensen.

Jared furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you need that for?”

Jensen turned around in his chair. “I have to program the WSKRS to look for the equivalent of a black hole. So I’m researching how space probes do that.”

Jared sat down on the edge of Jensen’s bed. “I’m not sure I get it.”

“Okay, so the submersible essentially is a black hole of data,” replied Jensen. “It doesn’t reflect or transmit any kind of sensor data. So that means there’s a lack of data at the site where data would normally be. So I have to get the WSKRS to search for the absence of data rather than the presence of it. No moving currents, no electromagnetic waves, no visible or invisible light, no sound, and no biological signatures. That’s not a natural phenomenon. I just have to put all the parameters together and tell the WSKRS to search for those anomalous parameters.”

Jared nodded, even though Jensen completely lost him with the last sentence. “And you do that how?”

“I’m working on a chunk of code that I can insert into the OS,” answered Jensen. He pulled it up on the viewscreen, but it was complete gibberish to Jared, just a mess of alphanumeric characters and symbols with an occasional word like if or then or return scattered throughout.

“And that will work?”

“Theoretically.” Jensen shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.” He sounded a lot less sure than he had just seconds before. Jared wasn’t sure what had happened, but he could tell it was his fault that Jensen seemed to suddenly doubt himself.

Jared stood up and wrapped Jensen in a tight hug. “You’re doing great,” he assured Jensen, who looked only slightly more encouraged. “Seriously. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you. The Captain has complete faith in you. And so do I.”

He pressed his lips to Jensen’s gently but firmly until Jensen reciprocated the kiss. When they broke for air, Jensen looked noticeably happier.

“Thanks, Jared,” Jensen murmured. A soft chime interrupted his next sentence. “Crap, I’ve got ten minutes to finish this. I gotta get back to it.”

Jared kissed the tip of Jensen’s nose and disentangled himself from the teenager. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Jensen turned back to the computer and started typing rapidly. Jared watched without comprehension as the lines of code shifted and new lines appeared. Whatever Jensen was doing, Jared sure hoped it was going to work. From what little Jared understood, it seemed like a sound scientific idea. Time would tell whether it would achieve their objective of finding the downed submersible.

Jensen stopped typing barely a minute before another louder alarm went off. He copied the program onto a portable drive and stood up. “Bridge time,” he said, pocketing the drive. Jared gave him a quick side hug before following him out and into the MagLev to go to the bridge.

“Jensen, good, you’re here,” said Captain Morgan when they entered onto the bridge. “The carrier crew thinks they’ve detected a 17-centimeter crack in the outer hull of the submersible through their monitoring system. Can you and Buckmaster reconfigure Junior to look for that?”

Jensen frowned. “17 centimeters is way below the minimum parameters. We can boost the gain as much as we can, but I don’t know that it will be enough.”

“Give it your best shot,” said Morgan with an encouraging nod.

Jensen took the portable drive out of his pocket. “Let me add this to Loner first and then I’ll deal with Junior.”

Briana motioned to Jared. “Padalecki, can you run down to B Deck and grab me a toolbox? We’re gonna need to open Junior up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jared went off to B Deck’s engineering storage block and retrieved a toolbox from one of the shelves. He signed it out on the computer and went back to the bridge. (1,156)

Jared entered the bridge, only to find Briana missing. He walked over to the sensor station and stopped beside Jensen. “She went to get Junior,” said Jensen without looking away from the screen. “I’m working on the code to boost the sensor gain beyond its maximum threshold. She’s going to adjust the actual sensors. Hopefully this works. 17 centimeters is literally a needle in a haystack.”

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Jared. He felt terrible about basically doing nothing while Jensen was working his ass off.

Jensen smirked. “Hold her tools like a good little bridge bunny.”

Jared lightly smacked Jensen’s shoulder. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’re the pretty one, not me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jensen retorted, still typing frantically. “I’ve overheard stuff in the science lab. You’ve got a small but dedicated fan club.”

Jared couldn’t tell if Jensen was messing with him, but Jensen was working awfully hard on the programming. It seemed unlikely that he would have the brainpower left over to make up that kind of story.

“Don’t worry, they’re not your type,” Jensen continued. “All girls.”

“You better not be joking,” Jared warned him in an undertone so no one around them would hear.

“I’m not.” Jensen stopped to save his program to the portable drive. “I swear.”

The bridge hatch opened to admit Briana and a crew member from Engineering who were carrying Junior between them. They laid the probe out on the saddle. Briana opened the toolbox and pulled out a power drill. She handed Jared a wrench. “Start on the bolts holding the casing in place.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jared looked over the probe in front of him. There were bolts circling the center of the probe as well as at either end of the oblong sphere. He went to work removing them. The engineer, whose name Jared didn’t know, stood by and waited for Jared to finish. When Jared was done, the engineer lifted the casing panel off. Underneath was a mess of wires, circuit boards, microchips, and other components Jared didn’t recognize.

Briana unscrewed a small plate in the lower right quadrant and handed the screws and plate to Jared. She put down the drill and picked up a couple of small tools Jared didn’t recognize as well as one he’d seen in Jensen’s quarters: a laser cutting pen.

“Are you finished with the programming?” she called to Jensen over her shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re good to go,” replied Jensen.

Briana started working on the device underneath the plate, which Jared assumed was one of the actual sensors. Jensen got up from the sensor ops station and crossed the bridge to stand next to Jared, close enough that their shoulders were touching.

“You okay?” Jared murmured.

“Yeah,” Jensen answered in a low voice. “That was the easy part.”

“I’m afraid to ask what the hard part is.”

“Actually finding it,” replied Jensen, leaning into Jared’s side. “Getting these probes to function at levels way beyond their inbuilt limits. Reaching the craft in time and pulling those people out without imploding the damn thing.”

“Most of which you are not responsible for,” Jared reminded him. “You can only do what you can do.”

“Jensen, did you send Loner out yet?” asked Morgan.

“Yes, Sir,” said Jensen. “He’s circling the outer perimeter of the search area now.”

“Buckmaster, what’s your status?”

Briana didn’t look up. “I need about five more minutes. Then I can turn him loose and see if this works.”

“Excellent. Good work, Commander.” Morgan picked up the comlink and called down to the launch bay. “Lieutenant, what’s the status of the launch?”

“We’re ready for launch, Captain,” Benedict replied. “Just waiting on your orders.”

“Stand by. Buckmaster’s almost finished with Junior’s modifications.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Morgan out.” Morgan replaced the comlink and crossed the bridge to the sensor station. He looked over the readout from Loner’s HUD. He gestured for Jensen to join him. “What am I looking at?”

“He’s looking for a data black hole,” answered Jensen. “The code I added is searching for null values where positive values would normally be.”

“I didn’t know it could do that,” said Morgan. He looked impressed.

“I’m not sure it can,” replied Jensen, running a hand through his hair. “It’ll be hard to tell whether there’s nothing out there to find or there’s no way for the programming to work.”

Morgan placed a hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “You did a hell of a job on that. Good work.”

Jensen nodded, biting his lip. He didn’t look convinced.

“Padalecki, come help me put this casing back on,” said Briana. She handed Jared the wrench and a screwdriver. Jared helped her lift the casing back into place and they went about securing it with the screws and bolts. Several minutes later, they finished the job.

“Buckmaster and Padalecki, take Junior down to the launch bay and set him loose. Jensen, report to seaLaunch Impala and prepare for departure.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jared. He helped Briana pick up the probe and together they carried it down to the launch bay. It was a bit tricky to get it down the ladder to the porthole—Jared ended up having Jensen help him lower it down to Briana, who maneuvered it to the porthole.

She radioed up to the bridge to have whoever was filling in at Sensor Ops propel it out into the water. It took off, and Briana climbed back up the ladder.

“All yours,” she said to Jensen, nodding at the ladder. She quickly left the staging area so Jared and Jensen could be alone. Jared made a mental note to thank her later.

“I gotta go,” said Jensen, glancing nervously at the ladder.

“I know,” Jared replied softly. He pulled Jensen into his arms and just held him until he felt him relax into Jared’s embrace. “Do the best you can. But try not to blame yourself if things go sideways.”

Jared felt Jensen nod against his neck. “I’ll try,” he agreed, his voice shaking slightly.

“I love you,” Jared murmured, lightly pushing Jensen away so he could kiss him.

Jensen broke the kiss reluctantly. “I love you too,” he replied, keeping his voice low even though they were alone.

“I’ll be right here when you get back,” promised Jared. “Now go before Rich comes up here looking for you.”

Jensen nodded and disentangled himself from Jared’s arms. Jared squeezed his hand before stepping back and letting Jensen climb down the ladder to the launch bay.

Please let this go well, Jared thought, not sure to whom he was addressing the request. He wasn’t really a religious person, and neither was Jensen.

Jared made his way back to the bridge just in time to hear Morgan say, “SeaLaunch Impala, you’re cleared for departure.”

Jared watched on the main screen as the minisub came through the hatch and set out into the open sea. The plan was for it to split the difference between the paths of the two WSKRS, which were searching in opposite directions from one another. Loner was circumnavigating the outer perimeter of the search area, while Junior had been sent on a path straight down the middle.

Jared watched the WSKRS readouts for a while, but without the ability to understand the numbers, there wasn’t much point. Eventually, he sat down at Speight’s empty station and just watched the Impala’s progress on the main screen.

Two hours later, Briana sat bolt upright in her chair. “Captain, Junior’s picking up an extremely faint electromagnetic signature 300 meters from its current position, 35 degrees north-northwest of the launch sub.”

“Collins, tell the Impala to set a course for 35 degrees north-northwest and follow Junior,” said Morgan, rising out of his chair.

Misha relayed the order to Benedict, who steered the minisub toward the signal Junior was tracking.

Jared watched on the main screen as the Impala approached a small crater in the seabed. He held his breath as the launch sub descended out of the viewscreen’s range.

“Negative, Captain,” said Misha about five minutes later. “Sheppard says it’s a downed sub, all right, but it’s not Pellegrino’s sub. It’s an old Ulysses-3 minisub, looks like it’s been there for at least 5 years.”

“Dammit,” muttered Morgan.

Briana guided Junior out of the crater. “Looks like the signal was just the death throes of its battery.” She sighed. “Sorry, Captain.”

“Not your fault, Lieutenant,” replied Morgan. “Keep at it. We’ve still got a lot of search area to cover.”

Briana sent Junior back out into the open sea.

“Has Loner gotten anything useful?” asked Morgan.

“Not so far,” she answered. “But that’s assuming it actually can carry out the programming Jensen added. I’m not sure it can.”

“Understood,” said the Captain. He sat back down in his chair.

Another hour passed before Briana spoke up again. “Loner thinks he’s got what Jensen told him to look for,” she said. “300 meters past the target area boundary, 85 degrees east.”

“Collins, tell Benedict to head due east 85 degrees, 300 meters past the boundary line.”

Misha relayed the message to the Impala. Jared watched as it swung around and headed off to the coordinates Briana had indicated. The sub was 600 meters out, so it took awhile for the Impala to reach the target. The launch sub was still around 150 meters away when Briana cried out and jumped back in her seat.

“Lieutenant, what happened?” Morgan barked, clearly unnerved.

Briana took her headset off. “One hell of a bang,” she said, shaking her head. “If the Pellegrino sub had been at that location, I’m pretty sure it isn’t now. I’m guessing the hull fully breached and it imploded. It’s going to take me a while to recalibrate Loner to look for debris.”

Misha hailed the Impala and told them what Briana had said. “Do you want them to disengage?” Misha asked Captain Morgan.

Morgan shook his head. “Negative. Tell them to remain on course and start scanning for debris.”

“Yes, Sir.” Misha gave the Impala crew the order.

About ten minutes later, Misha turned to the Captain. “No debris, but their readings indicate a definite shift in current direction and water pressure that’s consistent with the kind of disturbance an implosion would create.”

“Tell them to transmit those readings to Sensor Ops,” replied Morgan. “And remain in place for now. I want Briana to confirm the implosion before they scrub the mission.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I’m not finding any debris, but explosive decompression wouldn’t necessarily leave debris behind,” said Briana. “At least, nothing big enough for the WSKRS to detect.”

“Are you getting the same environmental readings that the Impala is?”

Briana groaned. “Jensen overrode that part of the programming when he added his own code,” she explained, clearly frustrated. “So I don’t have those readings.”

“Do you have any data that can confirm the implosion? Or any other event that could have created a disturbance like that?”

“I’ve gotta get Mother in here, she’s the only one who can do that kind of work right now,” she replied. “I need about 10 minutes to get her in place, and I don’t know that the remnants are going to tell me anything useful.”

“Do your best, Lieutenant,” said Morgan.

While Briana was rerouting the unaltered WSKRS probe, Jared contemplated slipping away and trying to contact Jensen on the launch sub. He didn’t think he could do so without alerting the rest of the Impala crew. But he really wanted to be the one to tell Jensen the bad news. He knew Jensen would blame himself for the WSKRS’ inability to find the experimental sub in time. It was an awful lot to put on a 16-year-old’s shoulders, and Jared fumed silently at Morgan’s accession to do so. It wasn’t fair to Jensen—he wasn’t a trained sensor technician; he wasn’t even military. This assignment was way above Jensen’s pay grade. But Jensen wouldn’t see it that way. He would just see it as a personal failure.

“Captain, the carrier crew is hailing us,” said Misha. “They have confirmation of the implosion in their internal systems. They’re grateful for our assistance and apologize for the outlay of resources.”

“Acknowledged. Please send them my condolences for the loss of their crew,” said Morgan.

“Yes, Captain.” Misha did as he was instructed. “They’ve sent the non-proprietary sensor data they gathered from the implosion.”

“Excellent. You can go ahead and recall the Impala,” replied Morgan. “Tell them to prepare for debrief at 0900 hours.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jared glanced at the clock on the ops station. It was just after 0100 hours at the moment. The mission had ended long before anyone expected. He hoped he’d be able to leave the bridge and stay with Jensen until the debriefing.

“Lieutenant Buckmaster, you’re dismissed from bridge duty to prepare your report for the debriefing,” said Morgan. “Padalecki, you’re with me.” Morgan stepped toward the bridge hatch and indicated for Jared to join him.

After the bridge hatch had closed behind them, Jared followed Morgan to the MagLev. “Officially, I want you to help Jensen prepare his report for the debrief,” said Morgan. “Unofficially…you know what to do.”

Jared nodded. “Understood, Sir.”

They sat down in the MagLev and went down to the launch bay. Speight was just coming up the ladder when Jared and Morgan arrived at the staging area. Jensen was already standing off to the side, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Morgan clasped Jensen’s shoulder and gave him a small smile. “You did good, kid. Real good. I’m proud of you.”

Jensen frowned. “But it didn’t work.”

“Junior found the submersible, didn’t he? You did that. It’s not your fault that we didn’t get there in time.”

Jensen bit his lip. Morgan stepped in front of Jensen. “Look at me,” he ordered. Jensen’s head snapped up to meet Morgan’s intense gaze. “Yes, the mission failed. The mission. Not you personally. Do you understand me? This is not on you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jensen nodded slowly, still not looking convinced.

Morgan stepped back, squeezing Jensen’s shoulder as he did. “You’re dismissed. I want you to give a report at the debriefing at 0900 hours. Padalecki can help you prepare it.”

Jensen’s eyes widened. He finally noticed Jared standing behind Morgan. Jared smiled encouragingly and Jared could see the relief play across Jensen’s face.

“You’re dismissed,” Morgan told Jensen. He moved over to talk to Rob and Rich on the other side of the staging area.

Jensen made his way over to Jared. “Hey,” he said quietly. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let me stop at my quarters and grab my epad,” said Jared. “I’ll meet you back at yours then.”

They stepped into the MagLev and sat down. Since they were alone, Jared slid an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Officially, I’m helping you with your report. But unofficially…I’m there for whatever you need.”

Jensen nodded, gaze firmly fixed on the floor. The MagLev arrived at Jared’s deck first, so he stood up to leave. But first, he kissed the top of Jensen’s head.

“I’ll be right over,” Jared assured him. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

#365daysofj2 #j2 fanfic #j2 au #j2 #seaquest dsv #military au #fusion au #submarine #based on a true story #oceangate

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marshmallowloves · 11 months

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Spoilers for TotK 👀

__________________

I've thought about how Sepria would fit into the story of TotK, given what happened to Master Kohga in BotW. I know it's kind of long fjsgfh but I like what I came up with for this~

When Kohga is defeated by Link and falls down the pit, Sepria is crushed. Kohga had become her rock since she joined, and all of her effort was for his sake, not just as her leader but as her close confidant. Some believe he is dead, that even someone like Master Kohga couldn't survive such a fall, but continue their work in his honor. Others believe he's alive, and work diligently in anticipation of his inevitable return. Nobody actively searches for him though - the ones who think he's alive figure he's strong and smart enough to return when he's needed, and the ones who think he's dead, well...they're not about to risk their lives searching for a corpse.

...except for Sepria. She spends many sleepless nights by the pit, trying to figure out how to safely search for Kohga, and she becomes increasingly doubtful that he's alive... that is, until the Yiga Clan starts to discover the Zonai devices after the Upheaval. Immediately, she dedicates her time to learning how they work, and builds herself a vehicle to travel below the surface. Most of the clan discourage her, saying it's a stupid idea, it'll never work, she doesn't know what's down there, it could really be bottomless... but she's determined, and it pays off.

She successfully reaches the Depths and touches ground, and by light of a torch, she comes across something completely unexpected... a piece of stone carved with a message, in Master Kohga's handwriting, explaining where he's currently camping while he figures out how to get back up to the Surface. She almost can't believe it, but she doesn't hesitate - she navigates the darkness all the way to the Abandoned Central Mine, and when Kohga turns to chew out whoever the hell is intruding on this place he totally claimed for himself, he sees none other than his favorite scout standing before him. After a moment of initial shock he nearly explodes in excitement that somebody finally came looking for him - and that it's Sepria, to boot! Since nobody's around he doesn't care about appearances, so he scoops her up in a big bear hug, and then they think of where to go from here.

They're able to travel back and forth between the surface and the Depths by way of the Zonai devices they find. By Sepria finding Kohga, she's essentially the one who gets the other Yiga Clan members to start setting up and exploring the Depths, though of course Kohga is the one who plans to use the mines for Ganon's return.

She is still first and foremost a scout, but Master Kohga decided that she would pretty much be his scout - when he needs to be present for a mission he specifically brings her, and sometimes he'll send a team for reconnaissance that she leads. She was assigned to be a scout because she's not really built for fighting - she's quick and quiet, but also a bit small and lean. But after they began working in the Depths, Kohga made it a point to teach her more offensive tactics. Between him and the Blademasters, she learned to use that quickness in fights, and to use her opponents' weight against them.

Except for a few instances where he sends her on recon to the mines that you aren't required to visit for the story, she travels with Kohga most of the time as protection and support. She would be fooled by Link's Yiga disguise, as she herself kind of breaks the uniformity of the Clan with her appearance and figures there may be some exceptions... but Kohga has told her in great detail what the little twerp looks and acts like, so she knows what to look for.

...I haven't thought about what she'd do after the whole Yiga side adventure is finished, but...I imagine it'll be pretty similar gkshgf.

#Sepria #self insert #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #tears of the kingdom spoilers #totk #totk spoilers

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definitely-not-an-alb · 2 years

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Disjointed Dreamwidth Tips (written by someone who wasn’t on LJ)

Edit 05/01/22: It’s fictional_fans not fictional_friends!

So as always when Tumblr decides to break its own gear, people are contemplating Dreamwidth. One thing I don’t really see much are recs on what to do after you’ve figured out how to use the site for yourself and are in that time where your feed is empty and you are discouraged from screaming into the void. I was also never on LJ, and for a long time after getting a Journal I didn’t use it because my feed was dead, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.

Some general tips past the obvious to get started

When making your journal, you should fill out your profile and interests, but what I find way more useful is to have a pinned post. You can either actually pin it on your journal or just set the date to some ridiculous date in the future, and it’ll stay on the top. On that pinned post go your interests and maybe your posting habits (are you doing regular updates or rapid-fire shitposting whenever you feel like it? Are you often gone for a while and answer slowly?). It’s also the place to put stuff about how you handle privacy, like ‘If you want to be added to my nsfw filter, shoot me a message here’.

A lot of people like and use the tumblr anon-ask function, and dw doesn’t really have that. So here’s an idea on how to set up something similar: Make a dedicated pinned/predated post, put in the post that it is your ask post, how to use it, what kind of anons you aren’t comfy with maybe. Set the comment function to ‘screen all comments’ or ‘screen anon only’. This gives people a way to leave you anon messages only you can see and copy over into a post. You can turn it off at any time by editing the post’s comment (not comment screening!) setting to say Disabled. I haven’t actually tried setting this up myself, but it should work. People who don’t have a dreamwidth account can message you this way, too.

People who like anon prompts might also be advised to go look for kinkmemes for their fandoms. A kinkmeme is a community or journal that lets people post and fill prompts anonymously. Contrary to what the name suggests, in a lot of them neither prompts nor fills must be sexual nor even romantic (thought they often are, so go browsing on your own risk). Requests are all anonymous, fills can be posted anonymously directly on the com, or on anon on ao3, or deanon’d on ao3, or any combination thereof.

So, you’re lonely on Dreamwidth

Dreamwidth has no reblogs and no algorithm, so there’s nothing to push stuff at you and help you find new friends. You’ve got to go looking for them, and invite them over to your place, too. Basically, think of tumblr as one giant, never-ending, really loud cocktail party – it’s easy to drift around and find a group to stand with, and you don’t even have to talk to have fun. Dreamwidth is more like bouncing from friend’s place to friend’s place for tea and gossip, or having a nice wine and dinner with The Squad or spending all night smoking and chatting on the balcony or something like that. Fewer people, slower conversations, more effort, more payoff. That doesn’t mean you can’t rapid-fire shitpost over there, people absolutely still do that. But keep that comparison in mind.

Type in an interest in the search and look for active people who also have that interest tagged. Look for communities with that interest. Look for people you vibe with in the communities you share. You can see everyone subscribed to a specific com in the com’s profile, and you can see people’s mutuals in their profiles, too.

A lot of stuff doesn’t show up in the interests tho. A great way to find people on Dreamwidth are friending memes. A friending meme is a post in a community or on a personal journal where people post little bios with personality, interests, posting habits etc. in the comments, and then go browsing for other people to chat with and follow. I don’t know if there’s any active right now, but participating in those does a lot ot liven up your dash and find people, especially people who want to be found and are actively looking for new people, too! There’s one at the end of Snowflake every year.

Etiquette – Likes

One thing that throws people off about switching from Web 2.0 to DW is that there’s no likes. I’ve found that posting a <3 comment is totally fine with many people tho.

Etiquette – Linkspamming

No reblogs means Linkspam is the name of the day. Linkspam is absolutely okay on Dreamwidth! I know it feels weird! Just do it! Websites like tumblr constantly discourage us from linking off-site or even to other stuff on themselves – Dreamwidth is not like that! ‘One/three/six interesting articles I read this week’, with a link and a sentence or two are a valid post, and people will chat with you about them in the comments. Posting a rec-post on your own journal and then just dropping a Post that’s like ‘I rec’ed seven Character X/Character Y fics over here’ in a relevant community is valid. To embed a link, copy over this

and replace the Link part with your link, and the Text part with what you want it to say. Go ahead, spam away!

Posting images

Honestly the best way is to embed them imo. Host somewhere else (Imgur, or your Insta, for example), and then use this code

To make dreamwidth display them. If you want them centred, use

When you want to show off other people’s images, consider just posting a link, thought. Embedding is not like reposting (if the source is deleted, the embed won’t load anymore), but it looks like reposting, and a lot of people don’t like that.

Other HTML

Ironically, I cannot link you to any, or tumblr will nuke this post, because tumblr sucks. Copy “html basics for dreamwidth” into your search engine of choice and you should find several journal entries that are just that, though! HTML is not as scary as it looks, and the Rich Text Editor also works fine.

Some communities to fill your feed, let you find stuff and get to know people:

These are obviously centred around stuff i like, but they are also pretty central and active in my experience.

fandomcalender and fandom_on_dw – People advertise new/restarted/repeating communities, fests, exchanges and such here! Great place to find stuff you want to participate in or just keep an eye on.

snowflake_challenge is running this year – it’s a one-month challenge were you get a blogging prompt every other day for all of January, so it starts in only a few days! Prompts are something like ‘write or update your bio’ or ‘what was your first fandom? Tell us!’ or ‘create something for the prompt X’. You fulfill the prompt and post about it on your dw and in the comments of the prompt post. You can always catch up later if you get busy and you're always free to just drop a day. Chatting on the prompt-posts and going to others’ journals to comment is considered good form. Gives you ideas to use your journal, lets you connect with others and generally get a start at Dreamwidth. sunshine_challenge does the same in the summer.

fictional_fans – A community specifically to let you be a Dreamwidth Noob among other people! Great place to ask embarrassing questions about where to find what button.

fancake and recthething are pretty active multifandom recing communities. Fancake has a theme each month, and recs are one fic per post, only finished fics, no self-recs. Recthething is less structured, for making posts directly in the com or linking to rec posts on your journal, and they also have a weekly catch-all post every Thursday for making recs in the comments. Asking for recs is specifically allowed here.

fandom_icons is a community for people to post links to their icon uploads, with a good tagging system. Just go look for some nice stuff for your fandom and remember to credit the artist!

You can find any of these communities (and also other people’s journals) by setting the drop-down menu by the search to ‘Site and Account’ and typing them out like that, or by dumping them into the search engine of your choice with ‘dreamwidth’ at the end. Unironic tip, that one, dreamwidth search is Not Great for finding specific people or coms sometimes.

#tumblr being tumblr #dreamwidth #i can't use my dreamwidth tag anymore because it has a forbidden word in it oh noes #one more reason to Just Leave If It Sucks

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