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kaseven7 · 3 years

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If Dishonored 3 is set in Morley...

Dishonored is „resting for now” and if it comes back, it would focus on new characters and maybe visit new places like Morley, Tyvia or Pandyssia. Maybe there will be a time skip – we know from Billie that things in the world are really bad 3 years after DOTO. Now let’s sum up what we know about Morley and possible events in D3 from games and books.

Morley is heavily based on Ireland and Scoltand. Green hills and rich soil, but also dreary damp, dark moors and mires. Wynnedown is the capitol city.

Morleyans are fiercely independant and almost a half century ago they rebelled due to public outcry against the exploitation of Morley and its people by the extremely wealthy families from other nations (Morley Insurrection). After loosing the war Morley’s ability to self-govern was dismantled by Gristol Parliament and Morleyan navy was constrained, becoming ineffective in defense from a plague of pirates raiding shores.

A few months after DOTO there was the Tree-Day War between forces of the queen and the king of Morley. Now both monarchs are dead, so civil wars might erupt soon. Sister Rosewyn foretold in DOTO: „More political unrest in Morley. Useless squabbles to no end. At Lord Kerrington's next feast, they will display the head of a bloodox as a centerpiece, and assassinate their rival at the dinner table”.

Morley is renowned for its food culture and is important food source for the rest of the Empire. Especially Tyvia is highly dependent on imported food.

The famine caused by a blight (similiar to Irish Potatoe Famine) has ravaged a big part of Morley just after Insurrection. It ruined a whole generation and forced many Morleyans to emigrate far from home. New crops from south saved the population from starvation, but… a prophecy from Blind Sisters in D2 mentions another blight, this time starting from south: „No, no, sister, that's not what he intends to do. He will carry them to the harvest market, as he swore he would. But the harvest... the harvest will fail. I see it now, all is withered with blight. Now the rot is upon all the fields east of Potterstead, and to the south... to the south the fields are burning. We must warn them. Burn the fields. Make a black line across the map to stop the blight...” and from sister Rosewyn in DOTO: „A baker using sawdust instead of flour in Karnaca”.

Morleyans value art and education above all else. The intellectuals, inventors and artists could be found even among the poorest folk. Morley is renowned for it numerous art galleries, museums and the famous University of Wynnedown, attacting top minds across the islands, but most Morleyans can’t afford it and blaime foreign aristocrats for that.

The Leviathan Company operates in Morley and now builds the Leviathan Causeway – a new type of rail network, able to link all parts of the Empire with fast travel routes. When it’s finished, it would shift the balance of power from Dunwall to Wynnedown (Dishonored meets Deus Ex). The corporation employs some of the best natural philosophers and is greatly interested in how the nature of magic was altered after events in DOTO, with the largest collection of runes and bonecharms in their hands. They have tools to study and measuere the supernatural. They also discovered how to enter the Void hollows and use the Void stones as a powerful fuel, putting whale oil to shame. Remember the book by Barnoli Mulani and his ambitions to explore and eventually conquer the Void? Leviathan Company could aim for that and after dissolution of the Abbey of the Everyman (6 months after DOTO) there is probably no one to stop them.

Witches are important part of a folklore and encouraged creativity among Morleyans in the past. The legend mentions two powerful witches, untouchable by any weapon and able to force armies to their knees with just a gesture. Unlike Delilah, they did good for their people and put bloody civil war to an end by crowning the first queen and king of Morley. Just a wild guess, but a part of Billie’s arm looks like witches work, so maybe they somehow aided the Outsider in creation of it just like Pierro did with the Heart?

The altar used to create the Outsider (the one from D2 cutscene) was discovered in the Void Hollow in Alba city. It still has a magic of its own and a skilled person with a knowledge can tap to at least some of its power. The artifact was lost durning events in The Veiled Terror Book and there was a suggestion it was split in two before.

If there are any signs in stars urging to create the new Outsider, the famous Royal Morley Observatory in Alba migt be a good place to observe them.

Wyman is a noble from Morley and a close friend of Emily. (S)he is also secretly in charge of the Leauge of Protectors – a clandestine organization founded to „defend against the scourge both from within and without, to safeguard the legacy of the Throne in perpetuity, whatever maybe”. The League seems to be well organized and funded and has its agents in almost every city across the Isles. Strangely, the League didn’t care much about the coup in D2 and Wyman left Dunwall just before it started. Agents to the League tried to track and kill Daud, but in the same time they didn’t want to hurt Billie.

Festival of Churners is a national festival, a celebration of both the dead and the living. At the shores families cook feasts together and toss parts of it to the waves to feed their deceased relatives. People believe that splashing sounds in the middle of the night mean that the dead are near. It reminds me of the Outsider’s whispers from hollows in DOTO: „They scream against indifference and whisper questions. All their hate, their loneliness, their terror. They break against the rocks, one wave after another.” and „All the old boundaries are falling apart. Between the living and the dead, the real and the forgotten. She watches them crumbling.”. The famous orchids of Morley are a key ingredient in several medicinal elixirs, including Piero’s Spiritual Remedy and Addermire Solution (let me play a witch with a knowledge about the alchemy, please please Arkane!).

#dishonored #dishonored doto #dishonored 3 #dishonored lore

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samanthadalton · 4 years

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Star crossed lovers (au)

pairings: poppy x mc (bea)

warnings: throughout this fic (there will be a bunch of parts to it) there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

(this chapter is more about setting up the basis of the story so is more context than anything else, part 2 will be more interesting I swear 😭, also it’s like 4am so if there’s any gramatical mistakes I’ll fix it later)

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @simpforpoppy @ognenniyvolk (I’m pretty sure this is my tag list if you wanna be added or taken off for future chapters just ask 😊)

word count: 3.6k

Part 1: The introduction

As the sun began to set, the houses along the street began to bask in its warm glow. The neighbourhood is quiet, like always, excluding the occasional car engine rumbling through the roads until they disappear into the distance and once again the silence is deafening. This neighbourhood was your typical suburban type, their structures stood tall and bold. Looking from an aerial point of view, one could argue that it’s almost like the houses have been copied and pasted along the street, they almost look perfect. One theory is that they were purposely made to look like they're perfect because they don’t want anyone to find out their secrets. It’s harder to catch a true glimpse when everything looks flawless.

If you compare the northside and the southside of Greensburg, it makes it seem like they’re living in two different worlds and maybe they are. The polarisation between the rich and the poor only becomes bigger, demonstrated by the high socio-economic backgrounds of those who lived in the north who go to the best schools, have the best jobs and sometimes own more than one house. Compared to those in a low socio economic background in the south, who usually have to work two jobs just to feel some sort of financial stability in their lives or have no choice but to indulge in illegal jobs just so they can feel some sort of power and superiority and have money of course. Only a few in the south are able to lead a straight and narrow life and successfully do it without having to engage in the culture of illegal activities.

Bea Hughes, a girl who lives in Greensburg is someone who managed to immerse herself in both worlds. She used to be part of the upper class lifestyle but after life fucked her and her family over at the tender age of 8 years old, she was pulled into another world, one that she quickly had to acquaint herself with, because in the south, survival matters. The luxuries she once knew as a kid had disappeared and she constantly lived in a fight or flight situation. Now as her senior year of high school looms ahead, she finds herself still living in a similar situation, but instead of dealing with gangs or her addict of a mother, she had to deal with stuck up rich kids in Greensburg’s most prestigious school, Belvoire, which may have been her toughest obstacle of all. Against all odds, Bea managed to earn a scholarship at this private school when she was 15, and in order to keep her place, she has to maintain a 4.0 GPA, join at least one extra curricular activity and immerse herself into the culture of the school (whatever that meant).

Even though life managed to be shitty most of the time, there was one constant, one thing that made life worth living, one thing that made her the happiest…

“Crap”, the brunette clung onto the branch of the tree trying to regain her footing after narrowly avoiding her death (or more likely a trip to the hospital). After recovering from her mild slip, she rapped on the window beside her and a few seconds later the window slides open and as she enters the room she trips up on her own feet landing face down on the floor.

“Real smooth”

Bea chuckles at the snark comment as she looks up and as the sunlight shines through the window, it highlights all the features of the other girl. She was shorter than Bea (although not in this moment since Bea was practically laying on the floor), her facial features were sharp and her strawberry blonde hair fell perfectly around her shoulders. Her plush pink lips were curled up in a small smile as she offered a hand to the girl to help her up.

“I totally meant to do that” Bea takes her hand and lifts herself off the floor, and after she quickly dusts herself off and grabs the blonde’s wrist pulling her towards her while her other hand settles on her waist. “So how much time do we have?”

The petite girl wounds her arms around the taller girl’s neck and slightly tip toes to whisper, “my dad has dinner with a bunch of investors so he’s not going to be back until midnight”. A huge smile appears on her face as she leans back slightly taking in the appraising look of the brunette.

“Perfect”.

Bea moves in to kiss the blonde, passion already igniting as their tongues tangle in a fight for dominance until Bea suddenly pulls away, foreheads touching, eyes blazing with desire as she whispers against the other girl’s lips, “I missed you Pops”.

The other girl rolls her eyes and unwinds her arms from Bea’s neck, slightly pushing her back and while maintaining eye contact she walks backwards towards the bed and sits on the edge, “shuttup, you literally saw me yesterday” her tone attempting to come across as catty but instead comes out in a more playful manner.

Bea raises an eyebrow as she saunters to where the girl is sitting and places two fingers under the girl’s chin lifting her face until their eyes meet, “so? I’m suddenly not allowed to miss my girlfriend?” She leans in, her lips ghosts around the blonde’s lips.

“You talk too much, come on we’re wasting daylight” the blonde grabs Bea’s shirt and pulls her down onto the bed with her as they tussle in the sheets, lips crashing against one another reigniting the same passion from the kiss before.

“Poppy..” Bea all but moans when Poppy places wet kisses along her jawline and begins biting at her neck. Not wanting her to have all the fun, Bea suddenly flips Poppy over pressing her deeper into the mattress as she ravenously kisses her, as if Poppy is the only one who can satiate her desire, and honestly speaking? She probably is.

“No more foreplay, I want you now” Poppy breathlessly says, breaking the heated kiss. Bea sits up to straddle Poppy, intertwining both hands with hers and places it above the blonde’s head and grinds on her hips earning a low groan from Poppy.

“Ask and you shall receive my queen”

In response, Poppy rolls her eyes and her tongue darts out of her mouth, teasingly moving against her own soft lips and as Bea leans in for another kiss her slender fingers move lightly above Poppy’s inner thigh, touching everywhere except where Poppy wanted her the most. After a few pleads from the blonde, Bea finally indulges her desires and they moved in perfect syncopation.

…..

After a while, Bea and Poppy collapse into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied recovering from their physically demanding rendezvous. Bea lays on her back with one arm behind her head and one arm wrapped around the petite girl who fit perfectly in her larger frame. Poppy relaxes her head on Bea’s chest, feeling lulled by her heartbeat which brings her a sense of calm and security. Bea softly kisses her forehead and looks down at the girl, entranced by her beauty, enrapturing the way her breaths are slightly longer and deeper than usual, the way her hair falls around her face and how her fingers subconsciously ghost around Bea’s stomach drawing lazy shapes.

Poppy Min Sinclair, a 5’2 blonde beauty who is Bea’s entire world. Everything about her screams perfection in Bea’s eyes. She’s a straight A student, captain of the cheerleading team, and likes to spend time volunteering at her local animal shelter and is secretly an amazing artist. Though her family was one of the richest families in Greensburg, Poppy wasn’t your average highschool rich girl. Though she would often go on regular shopping sprees and refuse to wear anything that wasn’t designer (unless it was Bea’s clothes), she never treated Bea any differently than how others would. She was a bright girl, who was loving, friendly, fierce when she needed to be and extremely loyal. When it was just her and Bea she could show her true self, not pretend to be someone she’s not or play a certain role, she could just simply be Poppy instead of Poppy Min Sinclair. Poppy often felt the gravity that came with her name, especially since that’s all her father pressured her to be, a Min Sinclair.

Hayden Min Sinclair, Poppy’s father, owned an entire empire of companies, differentiating from technology based businesses to architecture and finance. To say he was a businessman was putting it lightly, he was almost like a god or at least someone who was highly worshipped by business moguls. He built up his family’s name and within a decade he was a force to be reckoned with. Hayden Min Sinclair worked his ass off to lift his companies off the ground because as a person of colour he knew he would have to work 10x harder to get what he wanted. All he ever wants is life for his daughter to be easy, the irony is, that he’s one of the main reasons why it’s so hard.

He’s a man of honour and pride and has never expected anything less from his daughter, hoping she would keep the dignity attached to the Min Sinclair name and bring it to new heights. So his traditionalist and conservative views means that he’s expecting Poppy to marry a man, who’s also an aristocrat, in which Bea is 0 for 2 for Poppy’s father’s expectations. Hence, Bea and Poppy have to keep their relationship a secret, a way to protect both Poppy and her future but also Bea from Mr Min Sinclair’s wrath. Reputation means everything to the Min Sinclairs and to Mr Min Sinclair specifically, especially after Poppy’s mother passed away when Poppy was 10 after an unfortunate incident of a drunken hit and run which left Poppy permanently broken from the loss of her mother but had all the socialites gossiping about the tragedy for months. To this day Poppy and her father still mourn her loss and Poppy often turns to Bea for comfort, for her companionship could provide the means of making her forget the empty presence of her mother that was left behind.

They’d known each other since they were 7, when Bea used to live in the very same neighbourhood after the Min Sinclair’s moved into the neighbourhood, and they spent almost every waking hour together, attached by the hip. They were the best of friends and almost nothing could get in their way. Emphasis on the ‘almost’.

When Bea’s father left Bea’s mother, Isabella when Bea was 8 and her sister Aria was 2, after finding out that Aria wasn’t his child as a result of a one night stand Isabella had, Bea’s family struggled to afford to live in the neighborhood especially since Bea’s father was the breadwinner of the house and their main source of income. After a series of bad decisions resulting in Bea’s mother losing her job as a banker, the 3 girls were forced to move to the south of Greensburg since it was the only thing they could afford.

Bea and Poppy were still inseparable at this point, either Bea would take 2 buses to go to Poppy’s house or Poppy would call the family’s driver so she could go over the Bea’s. The breaking point for their friendship was the day when Bea’s mother once took the girls to the park when they were 11 and after she had gotten so intoxicated to the point she threw up in front of all the children, and Poppy’s father prohibited Poppy from seeing Bea again.

“That girl and her family will bring shame to our family’s name, imagine what your mother would say” Poppy can still hear her father’s words ringing in her head from time to time, but everytime she looks at Bea, all her expectations would disappear and she would just simply be happy.

They began dating when they were 14, after Poppy had managed to scrounge up all her courage to kiss Bea on valentine’s day, after the two girls had snuck away to a diner to hang out like they would usually do. Poppy looked as if she was going to pass out from embarrassment when Bea didn’t reciprocate the kiss at first, however in Bea’s defence she was more startled than anything else. When Poppy was about to apologise Bea moved in and gave Poppy a sweet and chaste kiss on the lips and from then they decided they would be together. Bea couldn’t believe her luck when she was able to call Poppy hers, she felt like she didn’t have much to offer Poppy as she had yet to have earned the scholarship to Belvoire, the same school that Poppy had been attending. As well as coming from a troubled family life she didn’t want to implicate Poppy in any way but staying away from her had proven to be too difficult.

The consequences of their forbidden love was much harder on her than it was on Poppy, still nevertheless she would do anything for Poppy, which was proven time and time again when they have to act like strangers at school. In spite of that, the stolen glances, the stolen moments, the stolen kisses, it made it all worth it.

“Are you ready for school tomorrow” Poppy’s soft voice vibrated against Bea’s chest.

Bea lets out a soft chuckle, “What do you think Pops? I’m the school’s lonely girl”

Bea’s reputation at Belvoire could not be worse, in a school filled with entitled brats, it was difficult for her to make any friends considering her economic background. She also couldn’t rely on Poppy and her popularity since she couldn’t be within any vicinity of the girl she loves. Bea and Poppy’s friends had a history of not getting along, and since Poppy couldn’t allow the true nature of her relationship with Bea to come to light, Bea had to deal with all sorts of harassment and bullying from them. Bea often had to remind herself that she was only a target because with money comes a lot of entitlement, especially from snobby teenagers. Moreover, the consequences of her mother’s actions also didn’t help Bea as the stories followed her everywhere, causing all sorts of rumours to spread like wildfire.

Poppy lifted her head slightly to look into Bea’s eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant it’s the last year of highschool, that means one last chance for us to win nationals and for you to come on top for volleyball.”

As mentioned beforehand, the extra curricular Bea chose to partake in was volleyball, not only did being part of a winning sports team look good on a college application, it also helped Bea with releasing her pent up anger and dominating her competition. Her favourite thing in particular was the smaller group of cheerleaders, including Poppy, who were at every game after Poppy made a compelling argument to the principle about the importance of raising school spirit in all sport related inquiries. Bea would often steal a glimpse at Poppy, who always came up with extra dance moves and cheers, sending secret messages that she was rooting for her girlfriend.

“One more year of highschool, do you know what that means Pops?” Bea smiled devilishly at Poppy who returned the smile and leaned her face in, lips ghosting around Bea’s.

“Why don’t you remind me?”

Bea grabbed the blonde’s waist and stole a quick kiss, “One more year means that next year we’ll both be in New York, and we can finally be together for real”.

“I can’t wait to live off campus with you, we should start looking at places now so we can get ahead and find a good place sin-” Bea cuts her off with a kiss while Poppy smiles, “I hate when you interrupt me with kisses”

“No you don’t”

“You’re right I don’t, but you better not slack this year Bea Hughes otherwise I’ll beat your ass if you don’t get into Columbia”

“I would never, I’m literally a better student than you babe. I would say you shouldn’t slack either but we all know daddy’s going to help you get into NYU.”

Poppy playfully slaps Bea on the arm who just laughs, “hey, no way in hell am I going to use the Min Sinclair name like that, when” (she made sure to put extra emphasis as she spoke) “I get into NYU it will be because of how amazing and talented I am”

“Not to mention damn right gorgeous and smart and incredibly flexible”

Poppy moves to straddle Bea, hands on either side of her head and she leans in, “hmm, you think the admission office will be looking at those particular things?” her tone teasing and inviting.

Bea attempts to move her head up only for Poppy to quickly place her perfectly manicured hand around her neck and push her down, Bea’s eyes flash as her voice pulsates with desire, “well I’ll definitely be looking, for educational reasons of course”

Poppy breaks out into a wide grin as the girls share a passionate kiss, tongues tangled together as they fight for dominance, Bea tries to envelop Poppy’s entire mouth with her kiss but Poppy’s unrelenting perseverance pushes through as she tightens the grip around Bea’s neck, pushing her deeper into the mattress. Bea succumbs to Poppy’s kisses and allows the blonde’s tongue to explore the inside of her mouth, getting lost in the wave of pleasure that emanates from Poppy’s lips.

After a few more kisses, Bea looks at the digital clock sitting on top of Poppy’s dresser, “damn it’s getting late I should go”

“Wha- it’s barely 10 o’clock”, Poppy pouts as her eyebrows furrow slightly.

“I know” Bea places a hand on Poppy’s face gently brushing against her cheekbone, “but you need your 8 hours of sleep and I gotta make sure everything is ready for Aria tomorrow”.

Poppy sighs defeatedly as she knows how important Bea’s half sister is to her, she’s practically an older sister to Aria and is also incredibly protective of her too. “Well tell Aria I said hi”

Bea moves to stand and Poppy grabs her hand, “wait, you didn’t tell me, how’s your mom?”

Bea nonchalantly shrugged and gazed at the floor, “same old, same old, she drinks herself into oblivion not giving a shit about the rest of us”

Poppy rubbed comforting circles on Bea’s hand, “don’t worry Bea one day it will get better”

Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “I’ve been saying that for almost 10 years”

She stalks over to the window and lets half of her body hang out ready to reach out to the tree, Poppy moves over and gives Bea one last lingering kiss, “You know you can use the front door, my dad’s not here”

“Yeah I know but it’s always so awkward when I run into Rita at this time because she knows that I’m screwing you”, Bea smiles while Poppy raises an eyebrow

“Screwing me?”

“Sorry I meant making love to you” she gives Poppy a quick kiss

“Much better, and anyways Rita doesn’t care, she’s been rooting for us this entire time”

“It’s okay, don’t worry P, I’ve been climbing in and out of these windows and over that gate for years, how else do you think I got these muscles”, she flexes her toned arms while Poppy runs a hand over them, “I love you”

“I love you too”, Poppy watches as Bea moves out of the window, gripping the tree and making her descent, “wait” she shouts down, “where did you leave your bike?”

Bea smiles up at her, “I parked it a couple of blocks away from here it’s fine, I’ll text you when I get home” she blows a kiss to Poppy and begins making her way over the gate and into the street which shone bright from the lampposts. Poppy sighs and closes her window and begins getting ready for bed until a knock at her door catches her attention. Rita, her nanny and keeper enters the room and looks at Poppy with a knowing glance, ‘Bea didn’t want to stay for dinner?’

Poppy laughs slightly and shakes her head, “no she had to get home to make sure her sister is okay”

Rita leaves a plate with a few cucumber and cheese sandwiches on the dresser, “don’t stay up too late Miss Min Sinclair,” and with that she gives a little wave and leaves the room closing the door behind her. After eating half of her sandwich and going through her extensive nighttime routine, she receives a text from Bea

💖 B

Just got home now

Love you and goodnight my love

Poppy smiles at her phone and then sets her phone on her dresser, not before putting it on charge, and drifts off to sleep.

Bea on the other hand was wide awake. When she safely parked her motorbike near her house and texted Poppy as she entered the house. She looked up from her phone into the dark room to see the tv quietly playing while her mother was passed out on the couch with a half drunk bottle of vodka on the table. She moved towards the couch covering her mom with a blanket and then went into her bedroom to check on her sister who was soundly sleeping in her bed. Bea headed into the kitchen took some cold pizza from the fridge and did some last minutes checks to make sure both her and her sister were equipped and ready for school tomorrow. She settled in her bed, her mind racing with thoughts about school and how challenging the first day back will be.

read part 2:

#playchoices #queen b #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair

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roemerschanze · 3 years

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I wrote a thing!

or rather it just fell out of my hand, beginning to end in one sitting... read on AO3 THE FREEDOM OF DECEIT - Qui/Obi Fic

PART I Obi-Wan woke on a hard daybed in what seemed to be the living area of a small starship. Confused.

He blinked, waiting for his vision to properly focus so he could hopefully see a sign of whether this was a republican ship or not.

It must be, why else would he not be restrained and locked up in the brigg ...or dead for that matter…

His muscles hurt. He was exhausted. But uninjured he realised as he rubbed the back of his head. With a groan he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the daybed.

The fight still sat deep in his bones.

It had gone on for what felt like hours and his angry attacks had drained all the energy from him until finally his former Master had made use of his slowing reaction to forceknock him into the wall.

He remembered the breath being pressed from his chest, then nothing.

Had his Master shown mercy for the sake of their joint past?

In fact Qui-Gon had only defended himself, never attacked ...until his first and final blow.

So his ability was still hopelessly inferior to that of his Master who had blocked his every strike withcalm concentration… efficient … graceful … showing no sign of exertion … or emotion … giving the impression of utter tranquillity even when he evaded Obi-Wan’s lightsaber at high speed. His face expressionlessand only his blue eyes always vigilant… He had felt naked under this piercing gaze, as if Qui-Gon knew his every thought, anticipated his every move…

His fists dug into the thin mattress.

It made him so angry! He had felt, no, still felt like a foolish Padawan attacking and attacking even though he never stood a chance!

… completely at his Master’s mercy…

His fist hit the table next to him as he briskly rose.

Enough of these useless thoughts! He was a Jedi! It wouldn’t bother him to lose to Masters Yoda or Windu, so why should it bother him to lose to Qui-Gon?

Obi-Wan took a deep breath to release his anger to the force.

Focus now.

He scanned the room for his lightsaber but it was nowhere in sight. Also no other hint on whose ship this might be.

He started towards one of the doors to go and find his presumed rescuer, who must have found him after Qui-Gon had left, as the door hissed open in front of him. Obi-Wan stopped dead in his tracks.

“You’re awake.”

The tall figure stayed in the passage to the bridge. A concerned look on his usually calm features.

“How do you feel?” He finally asked.

BETRAYED! Obi-Wan wanted to scream ...but he only gritted his teeth and stared at the man he had trusted so deeply for so many years, who hestill continuously and involuntarily called Master in his head.

Ire burned in his guts, seeing the Master he had always admired for his unshakeable integrity just standing there. As if nothing ever happened!! As if he had not betrayed everyone he knew and most of all himself! Infuriating!

Qui-Gon slowly entered and closed the door behind him. Paused.

Obi-Wan still stood there as rigid as a stone. Trying to reign in his wrath.

“You’re mad at me… and you have every reason to be...” Qui-Gon said quietly.

Obi-Wan’s fury cooled as fast as it had come and his stomach dropped. He felt as if a bucket of cold water had been emptied over his head.

Why did his Master suddenly look so weary?

“I missed you, Obi-Wan.”

The man’s voice was low, almost a whisper. No hint of tranquility anymore. Instead he looked slightly nervous, an inner turmoil clearly visible in his eyes and his posture giving the impression of a heavy weight pressing him down.

Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to run to his Master and throw his arms around him to offer comfort.

Never trust a Sith.

Nothing good could come of that.

He steeled himself.

“Why?” he asked, voice firm.

It was not a ‘why did you miss me?’

Qui-Gon understood.

He walked to one of the chairs at the table and sat down. Collapsed, more accurately.

“Sit with me, Obi-Wan. I’ll tell you.” He sounded exhausted.

Warily Obi-Wan went back to the daybed.

Don’t let him fool you, Kenobi, he’s a Sith now. Not the man you knew.

He sat down still staring mistrustfully at the Master who had meant so much to him for so long.

Not your Master! See through this mummery!

“No mummery, Obi-Wan.”

Qui-Gon must have read his mind… but their bond was cut! ...or wasn’t it?

“...not right now at least...”

He tried to read his Master’s face. Could he play this exhaustion? Had he always been such a good liar or had he only learned it as a Sith?

“Dooku is not he Sith we’re looking for. I’m sure you know that. He’s only the apprentice.”

Qui-Gons voice took him back to the present.

“Wha-” He hadn’t known. And what did he mean by ‘we’?

“But YOU’re the apprentice!” He blurted. “There can only be two!”

Qui-Gon smiled at him warmly. Foolish Padawan, it meant.

Obi-Wan clenched his fists again. Yeah, foolish he was, sitting here, listening to what was most probably a blatant lie.

“Eventually there will be only two. But a Sith does not wait until their Master dies of old age to try for power.”

‘…,my Padawan.’ Obi-Wan added in his mind, memory of many such cryptic explanations washing over him.

But the warm smile soon enough vanished from Qui-Gon’s face and gave way for a more serious expression as the tall man pulled back his broad shoulders and straightened in his chair, bracing.

“The council sent me to find the Master.”

The firm statement hit Obi-Wan like a brick. He had expected this lie, yet hearing the words from his Master’s lips knocked all the doubt from him.

“They sent me to join Dooku, to become his apprentice again and to ultimately find his Master and destroy them both.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, his mouth open.

“But Dooku is no fool. After all this time … he still hasn’t brought me anywhere near the identity of the Dark Lord.”

Qui-Gon exhaled, his broad frame collapsing in the chair again, while exhaustion returned to his voice.

“I suspect he keeps me mostly hidden to eventually try and kill the Master with my help. But who knows how long it will be before he sees his chance...”

Silence fell over the both of them, with Obi-Wan unable to decide whether he was hearing truth or lie.

“All the Jedi you killed...” he finally murmured.

“It was part of the assignment, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon sounded as if he needed to convince himself.

“And I should have killed you, too, indiscriminate...” His voice broke and his gaze fell to his hands in his lap.

He swallowed.

“I was not supposed to tell anyone about the mission, not even you, Obi-Wan. And I was to make it convincing...”

Was that desperation now?

“But when it was you I had to fight… I just couldn’t do it any longer.”

Qui-Gon’s gaze rose to meet his eyes again. A silent plea for forgiveness.

Obi-Wan remained still, fighting to not let any of the feelings he had buried deep inside himself so long ago come to the surface.

“I needed to tell you. ...To make you understand…” his voice trailed off, eyes roaming around, searching for the words he couldn’t seem to find until his gaze came to rest on Obi-Wan again.

“I love you, Obi-Wan.” he said simply.

“NO!”

Obi- Wan jumped up, screaming.

“NO!”

Qui-Gon rose as well, reaching out in a soothing gesture but Obi-Wan quickly stepped out of reach.

“You cant just throw that at me! After all these years! After all the….”

He had yelled but then the anger flowed from him as if a drain had been opened and gave way to the same exhaustion he had seen in Qui-Gon before.

“...the heartbreak your betrayal caused me… “ his voice broke and he had to stifle a sob.

This time he didn’t evade Qui-Gon’s touch as the tall man drew him into his arms and buried his face in the soft red hair.

PART II

For a short while he let his Master hold him and leaned his head against the broad shoulder while he tried to restore order to his thoughts and untie the knot in his chest. He reached for the force and let it calm him avoiding the warm presence that was his Master’s body and force signature but instead reaching further into the cool calm of space surrounding the small ship.

Finally he freed himself from Qui-Gon’s embrace and firmly looked the man in the eye.

“So what did you plan on doing now?” he asked down to business.

Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and took a step back to give him some space.

“I told Dooku you got the better of me and escaped.” He said after collecting himself for a moment. “Your fighter is in the loading bay.” He reached under his robe. “Here’s your lightsaber.”

“...You can leave anytime...”, he added hesitantly as if saying it would make Obi-Wan do it.

Obi-Wan took the lightsaber from Qui-Gon’s extended hand and started towards the door he supposed would lead to the loading bay.

“Good, I’ll better be on my way then before you’re caught in your lie.” He stated coldly. “I wouldn’t want to make your efforts to be in vain.”

Qui-Gon looked shattered as he watched Obi-Wan turn away offering nothing but brutal sarcasm.

“Obi-Wan wait!” He finally called out as the door slid open.

“No!” Obi-Wan said firmly without turning. “meditate it away or whatever it is you do these days. There’s no point in expanding this any further.” His voice never faltered as he dismissed Qui-Gon yet he felt his determination wane as he spoke. He turned around not wanting to be cruel.

His Master stood there stooped like a beaten dog.

“There is no point.” he continued softly. “All we could gain from this before your return to the temple is more heartbreak.”

It hurt him to see his Master defeated like this but it needed to be said. They were both Jedi, they both knew what it took.

“And even after your hopefully safe return...” He tried to swallow the big lump in his throat but to no avail. “There is really no room for attachments like this.”

Speaking the words made him want to throw up. His chest felt tight and his hands were covered in cold sweat. Part of him wished Qui-Gon had never said the words. There was a reason Obi-Wan had never spoken up about his feelings even after the knighting.

Qui-Gon came up to him now a wide warm smile on his face that seemed to say ‘I’m so proud of you, Padawan’. Oh, how he wished they could go back to being Master and Padawan, when being close had been so easy.

He didn’t back away as Qui-Gon slipped an arm around his waist and brushed an errand strand of hair from his face.

“You’re right, Padawan.”

Qui-Gon’s soft rumble gave him goosebumps.

“There really is no room for this in the Temple. But maybe then this right here is our place in space and time. Maybe this assignment, as hard and horrible as it is, finally gives me the liberty to do and say what I wanted to for so long.”

Warmth radiated from Qui-Gon. And warm was the smile on his face though his eyes were glossy wet.

“If this moment is all we’ve got, I want to savour it.” He paused. “All of it. The joy and the pain.”

He cupped his former Padawan’s face with both hands and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Obi-Wan shut his eyes tightly to keep the tears from falling but it was no use. His fist curled into Qui-Gon’s tunic anger again boiling inside him. Why did his Master have to make him feel all these emotions that would be nothing but painful in the end?

Qui-Gon seemed to read his mind again as he kissed the tears from his face.

“Because every moment is precious with you, my Obi-Wan.”

#quiobi #fanfic #beware of the sap #drama #romance #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan kenobi #Roe_Writes #Roe_Draws

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sorcererinthestars · 4 years

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The Wolf Inside

In the hellstorm we are currently living, the RT Writers Discord called off their Secret Skeleton event. However, I was almost done with my piece and I thought, since it has nothing to do with The Offender, I would still share it. Maybe we need to be revitalized in our work, in our love of those who we still have. Trigger Warning: Suicide Mention. This is sort of dark/angsty, but no major character death. It’s for spooky season, after all!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994361

Michael is a werewolf. Gavin begs to see that part of his life, and nearly pays the ultimate price. (Ragehappy/Mavin.)

As he presses himself farther into his closet and shoves his fist in his mouth to stop the gasping whimpers that are ripping themselves out of his chest, he knows this is the end. It’s curious, knowing when you were going to meet your death. He had hoped he would go out in bed, surrounded by family, but no.

He was going to meet his death hidden in a closet behind a load of clothes, a balled fist in his mouth to stifle the sobs and a bent metal coat hanger in his hand to use as a weapon.

The noises outside were muffled, but easily heard when he was straining to locate them. A scuffle, the sound of a chair moving and hot, labored breathing. A small whine and then — crash! — the sound of something glass shattering.

It was Gavin’s idea. He had pressed for this, he had said it was okay. He had honestly begged, wanting to know what happened when the transformation came. It was always a secret between them, a gap. It was something Michael never wanted to talk about, always kept hidden. Once a month, he would leave their home, disappear somewhere for a few days.

Gavin never knew if the other was safe. He could never know for certain if this would be the time that Michael would never return to him, would be gone forever and he would be left waiting alone at home, checking his phone for a call that would never come.

So he had begged. Take me with you, he pleaded. We can rent a cabin. I can stay inside, safe. You go do what you need to do, but at least I’ll be near if you need me.

Michael had protested and as Gavin shrinks farther back against the wood of the closet, trying to hide himself and his scent under moldering blankets, he finally fucking understands the reason for that protest. Michael was dangerous. He guesses he must have not fully comprehended that, not really. Yes, Michael was a dangerous creature who transformed once a month, but he was also his fiancé. Almost his goddamn husband. And the fact that Michael tried to keep a part of himself so integral to his being away from him made Gavin upset.

As the sounds came up the stairs and the snuffling grew louder, along with the panting and the growls and sound of sharp claws ripping its way through the wood, Gavin knew he should learn to leave some things the fuck alone. If he had time after tonight to worry about anything.

Michael had got bit as a child, he had admitted to Gavin over a year into dating. He had been playing in the woods under the light of the full moon and he had gone to the wrong place at the wrong time. Thankfully, he had managed to get away. Most people who got bit didn’t have to worry about the transformation. They were eaten first.

Gavin couldn’t help but think of the scenes Michael had described to him. Of bodies ripped to shreds, of nothing left of people but pieces of their clothes. The thing that Michael became was not him. He had pleaded with Gavin to understand that. He had little to no control over the beast. It overwhelmed him, terrorized him, and when he came back, he had a full belly, a raging headache, and only sensations and fear where there should be memories.

But Gavin had insisted he wanted to be with Michael during this months’ transformation. He had done the stupid puppy dog eyes that Michael pretends to hate, pouting lower lip and all, and had threatened to follow him if he went alone. So Michael had taken him. They’d rented a cabin deep out in the woods, far away from any civilization. It had been almost an hour drive on empty dirt roads to get out here to this hunters’ cabin.

The man who had rented it to them had scoffed. Warned them of what lurked out there this time of the month. A creature, he had said. Something bigger than anything ought to be. Something that disappeared, something they couldn’t catch.

Michael had just shifted awkwardly. As they sat side by side in their Jeep, he had turned to Gavin and turned a bit red, as if he was trying to fight back his anger. Again, he had tried to get Gavin to go. He had pressed his credit card into Gavin’s hand, asked him to get a hotel room back in the city. He would pay and he would join Gavin there as soon as he could. It was dangerous, he had insisted, among other choice words.

Gavin always knew his stubbornness and blind loyalty was likely going to get him hurt or killed, but didn’t realize how literal that was going to be. Now, as he stared at the ceiling of the closet in order to try not to cry, he kind of wanted to throw himself off the roof to stop the guilt. If something did happen and Michael came back and realized…

It was funny, how the mind fixated on the lesser of two problems in a bad situation. Here he was, about to die at the hands of a creature from a fucking fairy tale or a bad dream, and he was worried about how Michael was going to take it.

The first night at the cabin had been fine. Michael seemed tense, but they had set up safeguards around the front and back of the home. They made dinner, just pasta over a hot plate, and watched the stars. The moon was almost but not completely full. Gavin had learned that Michael knew a great deal about the night sky. Maybe he even fell a bit more in love. There wasn’t any electricity for video games. Turned out they didn’t need any.

There were times when they were sitting and chatting that Michael would go quiet and stiff. A breeze would come by and distract him, or he would shift and grunt like he was uncomfortable. It was the beginning of the shift, Gavin theorized, but Michael wouldn’t talk about it and Gavin knew better than to press him. He was lucky to even be allowed to be here, to share this with him. He wouldn’t ruin it by getting in the way.

He would share more than the experience with Michael now. The creature — the thing — was nearing the second floor now. The bedroom wasn’t even a bedroom, really. More like a walled-off loft. And he was sitting in the back, trapped. Like a rat in a cage. Ready for the cat.

When the howl came, Gavin almost wets himself, cowering even farther back. It sounded close, but it also sounded anguished. Like he could hear the pain of the creature, the rage and frustration by being able to smell its prey, but not chase it.

Michael had been nearly certain that when transformed, he would leave the cabin and get distracted by deer and bear and whatever the hell else was out here at night. But he couldn’t be certain, so as the day started turning dusky, he had taken the truck out into the woods. No argument could be made here. Michael was adamant that this was as far as Gavin would go. And as much as Gavin wanted to see the beast with his own two eyes, he had agreed to keep the peace.

They hadn’t counted on the senses of the Creature to be able to smell Gavin’s scent from miles away. Michael had only been gone a couple hours before Gavin started hearing the sounds of something heavy in the woods. The moonlight was like liquid silver as it washed across the clearing. Something was out there.

Gavin had at first wanted to see it. Maybe Michael had changed his mind, maybe he had come back to share this part of himself entirely with Gavin. But as the Wolf, in all its glory, smashed out of the clearing, Gavin’s bowels nearly failed as he stared down at the animal.

Michael’s werewolf form was eight feet long and at least five feet tall. It was thick and furry, with sharp teeth and yellow eyes. When it snarled, all razor rows of teeth were shown. This thing was a predator, plain and simple. There was nothing of Michael left.

Now, sitting in the closet and waiting to be torn to shreds by the man he loved, Gavin considers his options. They were slim to none. He could try to stab the eye of the beast when it broke in, but that would potentially hurt Michael as well. Maybe even blind him. Could he live with that? It would certainly be better than the alternative — death — but what if it didn’t even stop the Wolf?

He could try to run, but the idea of that thing chasing him when it was faster, could see better, and was stronger than him was less than appealing. He shivers from fear and shrinks down even deeper into a ball.

Why the fuck had he decided to go? Why had Michael let him?

Because, a stupid voice in his head had whispered, becuase he wanted to be loved and accepted for all of him as much as you wanted to know all of him. You’re both idiots.

Love made you do stupid things, but this had to be among the stupidest.

But he didn’t have time to think anymore as the door to the room was shoved inwards with a harsh slam that shook the house. The Wolf roars and Gavin bites through the skin of his finger to keep himself from crying out, blood hot and iron and red against his lips.

That was his last mistake. Like an arrow loosed from the bow, the Wolf whips around and hyperfocuses on the hot scent of fresh blood in the closet. And without another moment of hesitation, the door rips open and there the Wolf is.

Gavin forgets to breathe. For a moment they sit there, staring, the giant Wolf’s breast heaving with every garbled breath, saliva dripping out of his mouth. And Gavin, small, human, and breakable, staring back with wide eyes.

Then Michael roars, a loud agonizing sound that reveals rows and rows of sharp teeth, and Gavin knows this was where he dies.

A paw whips out faster than can be seen and clobbers Gavin in the shoulder. His arm supernovas into pain before immediately going numb, causing him to shriek and fly forward into the room and out of his shelter. Claws rake across the skin of his back in the process, blood immediately wetting his t-shirt. If anything, it was like a shark, enraging the beast further, who snarls and paces as it surrounds him.

Panic driving him to lengths he never would have considered, Gavin tries to stab with the coat hanger and all he manages to do is glance the flimsy piece of metal off of Michael’s iron hide. This refocuses the beast, which Gavin notices seems to be… pacing?

It stalks around him, snarling and spitting, but … not attacking. Like some invisible forcefield was keeping the beast away. Gavin risks trying to move.

Bad idea. The Wolf lunges, capturing Gavin’s ankle in his jaws. He yanks and Gavin slams unceremoniously down on the ground, dragged a few feet away from the closet until he’s exposed in the middle of the room. Blood drips from the teeth marks in his legs, but Gavin almost doesn’t notice as the Wolf hovers over him and teeth, saliva, and bright yellow eyes become all he can see.

His breath is ragged. What do you do when you see your death? Gavin’s lower lip starts quivering and he tries to bite it as tears well in his eyes. “M-Michael,” he gasps. “P-please don’t.”

And the Wolf… doesn’t.

A beat of silence between them, the heaving hulking form pinning Gavin to the ground, blood pooling under the man from the cuts and scratches along his back, one arm limp and obviously dislocated. He could rip his throat out, but he… doesn’t.

Michael.

Michael is inside the Wolf. With a gasp, Gavin realizes. Somewhere inside this beast is his boyfriend, his fiancé, and despite claiming he had no control, something is stopping the beast from killing him. Gavin can almost laugh with relief, but — the Wolf isn’t moving. And sooner or later, Michael is going to lose to the Will of the Beast.

“Michael,” Gavin whispers. “Michael, if you’re in there, please. It’s me. It’s Gavin, your boyfriend. I love you, please….”

The Wolf actually whines. It’s a terrifying sound, but its the sound of confusion and not rage. Progress. He just needed to keep talking. “Michael, baby, please. You’re in control. Just… get it to go. Turn around and go catch deer. P-please, god, no…” The Wolf lowers his head and takes a big sniff of Gavin’s face, the teeth agonizingly close, the saliva smearing across his cheek. Gavin doesn’t dare to move, as if the slightest extra sound or movement would break this spell that they are weaving together over this rabid animal.

Then, every millisecond drawn out to the longest amount of time possible, the Wolf rears back and steps off of Gavin. It looks at him and roars again furiously, shaking the house, and Gavin screws his eyes shut. He fucked up, this is it…

But then he hears the sound of claws on wood and the large form of a Wolf shoving its way through the cabin and then blissful, complete silence.

Laying on the floor, bleeding and in pain, Gavin finally allows himself to weep. Not in fear, but in relief. In love — Michael knew him. Michael wouldn’t allow that demon to kill him, no matter how little control he claimed to have. Tomorrow they would talk, tomorrow they would atone for their many many sins that came about that night, but tonight…

Tonight he would lay here and cry until the sun warms the trees and his fiancé comes back to him.

Some things are better left a mystery, after all.

#secret skeleton fic #supernatural au #werewolf au #ah #my writing

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mansionofmuses · 3 years

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Alright fuck it I figured it's time to put my nuts in the ring when it comes to writing up rwde reviews about shiddy writing.

I already made a post about how closure doesn't exist in rwby, so that SHOULD trim this a bit. Hopefully.

These last two of seasons of rwby have been ASS and idk even know where to start. So lemme do some character progressions instead of jumping all over the place. Let's start with my fav: Neo. And I'll be as unbiased as possible.

Starting from v6, she came back and teamed up with Cinder. Cool? Cool. Fair enough. V7 onwards she's been treated like a BITCH by Cinder and has visibly shown her disdain for that on screen. And yet she still chooses to hang with her? Why? Like... Genuinely why? Is Neo not like the stealth queen? And the driver of a thousand vehicles? Why does she even need Cinder? Could she not have just jacked an airship herself, flown to Atlas after getting the info from Cinder, and began her hunt there? Instead she's just some minion to her now? Okay fine so let's say their team up makes sense in some odd world. Why the fuck would Neo agree to go to Cinder in the Satan Whale? Why? Why the fuck is she there? After being denied multiple times to get to Ruby and even being treated like shit with visible disdain, she should have absolutely left with a middle finger to Cinder. But nope. We get to see her be visibly uncomfortable in this cult and clearly wants out. Which she does, so good shit. She snatches the lamp and heads out. Fair enough, I guess? I don't know why the fuck she trusts Cinder to go back to her after being treated like shit. After Cinder's doodoo attitude towards her, Neo should be like "wow maybe she's lying to me about roman lemme check with this genie bitch" but no. And don't say "oh well she can't talk so jinn wouldn't be able to answer her." Fuck that. 1. I should hope that the password wouldn't be so ableist against mute people. 2. Neo's resourceful as hell. Text to speech and boom. There ya go. Instead she goes back to Cinder like a lost puppy after being shown multiple times how much she hates her. Why the fuck does she need Cinder to get to Ruby? I have no fucking idea! And then everyone's favorite scene. I know I know she killed Blake's hip atta-- I mean character devel-- I mean Yang. That scene. Was doodoo. And I'll get into more intricacies about it much later. But for now, why the hell was Neo so sloppy in that assassination? Like gurl you revealed yourself so early from, apparently so far away? Pretend to be a passerby with everything disguised (I saw that lamp) impale her and boom. Done. Not sure why she went for a slash either when a thrusting weapons like that would be best for a quicker impale. It would have made any on screen death so much more confirmed instead of up in the air bullshit.

Next we have Ironwood. Oh James. How far you've fallen. I don't really understand what the hell they're doing with this character any more. Like... At all. I fully expect him to turn into the joker and join salem at this point lmfao. At first he was complex, but cool, right? Ok a stern leader who still wants to help people and see team rwby in beacon grow and be successful. Fair enough. Then came v4 and he was like "hey yang. Heard about the arm. Here ya go homie." That was pretty cool to give to a young veteran. Fair enough. But good god once v7 hit, everything just went haywire. He started making the dumbest decisions. Kind of. I understand how he's like "aite let's sack mantle to ensure atlas lives cause otherwise both parties will be dead." except idk why he didn't just make a plan to evacuate everyone to mantle first but whatever. I mean team rwby did it like... In a day? Shouldn't have been hard. Then he started losing his fucking mind. There was an entire thing about trust issues and plans (ngl I didn't care enough to pay much attention) and he ends up wanting to arrest the kids more than actually stopping Salem. Like homie. Why. You have a gang of strong ass hunters on your side, don't just throw that away. They could say "acab fuck the police anarchy reigns" and you should still keep them just to fight literal satan on your doorstep. But he fucking drops everything and resources and materials on arresting them. Like why???? And then he just shoots a child just because? And he goes around full fascist mode and his character is just gone at that point. He literally actively wants to kill the people of Mantle now instead of stopping Salem and I don't fucking get it. He could literally plot with salem about how to nuke mantle and I'd be like "shoulda seen it coming". And then when he gets outta jail he kills Jacques... Just cause? Like why? I understand Jacques let Salem's forces in and eventually led to this shit show, but like... Atlas was falling. Just leave. I don't understand. But I guess it's to show how hateful he is towards those who oppose him, so whatever. Idk I'm so done with him. This man is just so boring I just can't wait for him to get killed off so we can be done with him. I'm sure I missed a fuckload of intricacies about Ironwood but I really don't care at all about this schmuck.

Next on the shitlist is the entirety of team rwby. Just to compact it all into one. Ruby has been getting on my nerves SO much. She is so holier than thou and always right. If she had just openly talked with Ironwood about all these secrets and shit, none of this would be happening. Yeah there would be panic, but homie what's the alternative? Fight in secrecy against the police and Salem?

"hey Ruby I noticed that lamp you keep hanging around. What is that?"

"oh uhhhh definitely not a grimm magnet HAHAHAHAH"

Like no shit everyone's gonna be pissed when you lie to them and keep these secrets. Also these plans are dogshit. "We gotta get a message out." To who??? The rest of the world is gonna see some lil kid be like "hey Ironwood's gone crazy and some evil witch bitch is here tryna kill us all." Like who are they gonna believe? A random girl or the fact that ironwood is the head of the largest military state in the world? For all they know it's just some prank and it's totally unbelievable.

Team RWBY sippin team for v8 and doing nothing all volume? Nice. "But they needed to protect Nora." You mean to tell me Ruby, May, Blake, and Weiss all had to be there to protect someone. The Grimm attacked once and that was it. You guys have no medical history. At all. All you did was wrap her up and drink tea during the volume where there's a literal war happening outside. You don't just "wait for help" you ARE THE HELP you're hunters you fucks! Go out and get shit done. Have like one person stay behind just in case shit goes wrong. Preferably Weiss so she can have those meaningful conversations with her family members she never fucking had. But whatever. Ruby and Yang get into... A fight? That lasts for five seconds when they leave and then when they see each other again it just doesn't matter so I'm not sure why the fuck it was brought up at all. It had no impact whatsoever. And there's a ton more I'm sure I'm just burning out at this point. But let's just talk about the big shit. Yang's death. Everyone's saying she'll come back because plot armor but I'm in the "I genuinely think she's dead" group. She turned to Dust as she fell. I mean who knows maybe Deus Ex machina rears it's convenient head. I hate hate hate how that scene was done. That was such an unbelievable death. Weiss, Ruby, and even Blake all have ways of catching her. Easily. Weiss has like fifty ways of catching someone between summons and semblance. Ruby can teleport around the world. And Blake can just shadow clone jutsu her way there but WHATEVER. I guess everyone was too busy being nerfed and sucking ass. Again. And the reactions? Dog shit. Even when she sacrifices herself for Ruby, it's still all about the bees. It's so genuinely annoying. Ruby just whispers her sisters name and that's pretty much it aside from a >:( face here and there. Weiss doesn't even grieve she just comforts Blake who's losing her shit. And I don't know why Weiss doesn't grieve cause SHE WAS HER HOMIE TOO LIKE C'MON RT LET'S SEE SOME UGLY SOBBING DAMN so now everyone's gone feral (except Weiss who just doesn't give a shit about Yang apparently.) And despite Blake saying "yo let's not kill people aite Yang?" She's gonna say fuck that and have it out for Neo and Cinder out of revenge. Alright I guess. That's fair honestly. Challenging ones own morals based on emotions. Good enough. But god I just wished we could see more from Ruby and Weiss during that. Also I'm so sick of the "oh this character fell are they dead are they not?" Thing that rt keeps doing. Just have Neo impale her and go. Easy as that. On screen confirmation. I'm sure team RWBY has a fuckload more to crit but I'm done with this topic.

Winter. Bootlicking to the extreme that she casts aside her own sister and doesn't care if her friends die. Nice. No closure at all after she turns back to being a good guy I guess. I'm done with her. Not a whole lot to say.

The aceops are just so dumb. I'm done with them. Everytime they talk about genocide for the good of atlas I'm just rolling my eyes. Just say you're fascists and move on. And idk why the fuck harriet is gonna bomb an empty mantle. Atlas is already falling on it, you literally have no reason to do this. And this plot point is stupid as hell. Next.

Cinder. I'm not sure why they decided to randomly drop her background story into the mix. Like I don't think anyone gives a shit after all the crap she's done. I'm so sick of rt trying to make her some "uwu woe is me" woobie after doing so much shit and killing so many people. Her uwu crying moments are just stupid. Honestly watts is one of my fav characters just for telling her how crappy she is. Next

Hazel. Homie is dumb as hell. He hates Ozpin because his sister died in a mission. Fair enough. Why the fuck would you ever join Grimm Hitler when Grimm are what killed her in the first place??? Like??? Just hate him on your own time dude, jesus. And he is consistently hypocritical and it's so stupidly funny how bad this character is.

"HOW MANY MORE CHILDREN WILL YOU HURT OZPIN" as he beats the piss outta Nora, Ren, RWBY, Oscar, and probably some random five year old on the street while shouting OZPIIIIN to the skies. It also didn't take a whole lot to convince him how stupid he was thank god. His character was so cool in design and in theory but good god he got executed soooo fucking poorly. Kinda glad he's dead just so we don't have to deal with his stupidity. Next.

Emerald. This bitch. I can't. I LOVE how easily rwby just forgave her. It was so stupidly funny. "oh but yang was ready to fight her at first and snatched her weapons" yeah for five fucking minutes. Then came the part where she helped stabilize Penny and gave a half assed speech about switching sides. Meanwhile everyone's just magically forgiving of her like OH THAT EMERALD AHAHAH like she didn't help orchestrate the fall of Beacon, the death of many, including Penny, and all the terrible shit that's gone down. No resentment from RWBY except for my favorite line delivered this volume. It was Weiss's ever so beautiful "SHUT UP" LOL (I play Smite and I love how her VVGQ Quiet voice line sounds the same. So when I heard this line, I thought of Smite and immediately laughed. Kudos to you Weiss.)

Salem. The hound attacked Penny in the mansion... Why? You already established connection with Watts in jail. Did he not tell her "ay she cool with us." And in turn did she not tell him "ay she cool with us don't hit her"? I guess not? Cause the hound and penny shoulda bounced together the second they met up lmao. Other than that, salem's done nothing this volume except try to be scary and get her ass beat by hazel. She could easily just go out in the field with her grimm and blasts some people or SOMETHING GOD so far our main villain is just so boring and unimposing that literally every other villain, including her subordinates, feel more like threats than her.

Now I'll just talk about scenes.

The scene with ambrosius was COATED IN CONVENIENCE. Apparently Ozpin didn't tell the gang about the WinMore button they could just fucking walk to until now because??? Idk. I LOVE how team rwby just assumed that penny would be okay when they took her robot parts out. Realistically she should just be a floating husk of aura and nothingness. Like she never had organs. I don't understand how she's a real person now? Which, by the way, I'm pretty fucking insulted about how they handled that. Why make Penny human? She was already a real girl and accepted by her loved ones. Like shit, she was a character that a LOT of transgirls, myself included, could relate to on a personal level and we LOVED how Ruby handled it in v2. It was cute! It was sweet! She said she was a real girl back then and it made all of our collective kokoros go doki doki. Fun stuff!

But now? It feels like none of that was validated until she got an actual human body. Like damn I wish I could just get my ideal body within seconds. Shit. I've seen and heard a lot of upset from my fellow tgirls about how doodoo that scene was, because it's implying penny wasn't a real girl until after she got her human body and that's probably how most of the rwby fandom is gonna see it too. "oh wow penny's a real girl now!" And just forget Ruby's cute speech in v2. So annoying. Minor nitpick, if she's got the aura of a black man inside of her (her father), and her robot body is gone, why the fuck isn't she black? Like? Idk minor nitpick I guess. But anyways back to ambrosius scene. I love how rwby had the answers for everything within the hours worth of planning they were given by Ironwood's motive. Totes believable. And yet the "one way ticket to vacuo" thing was the simplest shit they could have avoided lmfao. Like THAT is what you trip up on? Not the portals you're trying to make or the assumption that penny lives without her robot parts? Insane. (side note: how did oscar have a flashback to that scene if he wasn't even there?)

And now everyone's favorite scene. Yangs death. Already covered it early I just wanted to add more on. This scene is insane. Like... If they actually go through with killing her (i don't see how she could have survived turning into dust) then roosterteeth is dumber than I gave them credit for. Like... They have to realize the shitstorm they're gonna receive right? First they kill off clover, an lgbt+ coded character. Next is Yang? A main character who is WIDELY loved by all. Apart of their most pandered ship in existence: bees. (Both the ship and the character make them so much money in merch btw so this was stupid from an objective standpoint.) You can't just kill a main character that is heavily lgbt+ coded in THE most popular ship in the show. Like... How dumb can they be? They're gonna lose so many fans at the very least. Sales? Down. Death threats? Way up. It would be astonishing if they weren't up to their necks in shit in backlash by that decision. Bury Your Gays trope strikes again folks. But this time with everyone's favorite! Like I just... Idk that decision was stupid and that scene hardly was given any real pomp or circumstance it deserved. She's a major title character and that scene lasted like a minute lmao. It's gonna be RWBY without the Y. RWB. As in rt is a bunch of rubes for making that decision. A cynical part of me thinks they did that just because they want an excuse to off Neo, another really loved character. (Well if everyone hates her now we can kill her off cause god knows we don't know what to do with her), but I'm not gonna make this about her. I honestly don't know how to feel about this death tbh. On one hand it's shitty and *points to essay above*. On another it lets Blake be her own character for once. We get to see who she is on our own. And we can finally shift gears from The Bees Show featuring Some Plot to RWBY without the Y. But again that scene was done horribly with doodoo writing already explained up above. They're gonna use this as some edgy excuse to have the heroes start killing again or grieve or whatever bullshit shock value.

(now that I think of it tho, Neo shoulda killed yang in v2. How the fuck did Raven know she was finna die again. Lmao)

Anyways, that's my two cents. I'm sure there's so much more I forgot. Love or hate my ramble idc these are just my thoughts. I'm sure I made doodoo arguments at some points so feel free to call me an idiot and point them out. Imma bounce. My fingers fucking hurt lmfao

#rwde #rwby spoilers

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ganglylimbs · 4 years

Text

Rain On Me

Fandom: RT/AH

Pairing: Jeremy/Ryan

Summary: After a successful heist, the FAHC crew split to lay low. Ryan and Jeremy waste no time getting down and dirty.

Tags: smut, trans! Ryan, bottom Ryan, top Jeremy, oral eating, creampie, afab terms used

Notes: Just wanted to write a quick pwp featuring oral sex with some creampie. Hope you enjoy.

Successful heists always leave the crew basking, smug in their knowledge that once again, they had outsmarted not only whatever target they had hit, but also the police.

There’s an air about them as they all split into groups, going to hide or tease the LSPD some more or spend the money they just took on frivolous things. They leave each other with large grins and knowing winks, ready to ride the high for as long as possible.

For Jeremy and Ryan, after that day’s particular heist, it also leaves them feeling horny.

They burst into the safehouse, mouths attached to each other, fingers clawing at clothes. They do nothing more than turn the lights on before they start slamming each other into walls. Plaster dusts their shoulders but neither cares.

They’re too busy trying to devour the other.

Jeremy yanks on Ryan’s hair, ruining the bun the taller man had it in, blond hair falling into waves around Jeremy’s hands. Ryan gasps, eyes fluttering, earning a wicked smirk from Jeremy. “You want me to wreck you?” He purrs, pushing close,, body lining up right against him.

He doesn’t reach higher than Ryan’s broad chest but it makes it all better as Ryan’s eyes flutter.

“Yes,” he moans, a sultry sound that sends a thrill down Jeremy’s spine and has his dick twitching.

That only makes Jeremy’s smirk widen. He shifts, pressing his leg in between Ryan’s leg, forcing him to spread. “What was that? I didn’t catch what you said.”

It’s clear that Ryan is trying to glare at him. But between the way his lower lip trembles and how dark his eyes are with want, it loses some of its viciousness.

“Now, now,” Jeremy coos and he jerks his leg up, grinding against Ryan. “Don’t be such a little brat.”

Ryan’s face goes red-er. He still has remnants of his face paint on, though it’s flakey and starting to peel. Jeremy has no doubt white decorates his lips.

“Yes,” Ryan says and it’s louder this time. “Yes, come on, Jeremy, you fuck.”

“Ohh, cursing already? Baby, we haven’t even started yet,” Jeremy drawls. His eyes drift down to where Ryan’s groin is grounding against his leg. He licks his lips. “Maybe I want to sit here and watch you ruin yourself. You make a beautiful picture.”

Ryan’s teeth flash and then Jeremy is being grabbed, flipped around, and pressed against the wall. Ryan’s mouth attacks his, biting lips until he’s bleeding and leaving him entirely breathless. Only when Jeremy slaps on his shoulders for air does Ryan finally pull back. Ryan grabs Jeremy’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “If you don’t get fucking me soon, I’m going to murder you.”

“As if you don’t threaten that every day,” Jeremy purrs back. He dances his fingers down Ryan’s back till he grabs his ass. He squeezes before pulling those thick cheeks apart, spreading him as much as he can.

Ryan groans, arching his back, pushing himself more into Jeremy’s hands. Jeremy uses the distraction to nip down Ryan’s throat. “I’ll fuck you, baby. Pinky promise. But one thing first.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asks, breathless and shivering.

“I want you to squirt on my face.”

Ryan stills. Then, a small whimper escapes him. “Fuck yes. What are we waiting for?”

They stumble their way back towards the bedrooms, ripping clothes off as they do so. Jeremy giggles as Ryan stumbles out of his pants and Ryan snorts when Jeremy has trouble getting out of his shirt.

When they’re both close to naked, Jeremy brings Ryan in for a short, heated kiss before spinning them and pushing him onto the bed. Ryan falls with a small oof, but immediately recovers, scooting himself backward till he sits in the middle of the bed, before spreading his legs.

His pink cunt winks back at Jeremy, little blond hairs covering the outer lips. Jeremy licks his lips, suddenly starving.

Ryan grins, reaching one hand down to use two fingers to spread himself open wider. “Well? Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to make good on your promise.”

‘Oh, I’m going to do better than that,” Jeremy warns with a growl, following Ryan onto the bed, crawling over him. He starts at the bigger man’s feet, kissing his way up those toned thighs. He hears Ryan giggle again and it makes Jeremy press a smile into his skin. Nipping at his Ryan’s belly, he noses his way back down.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ryan lean back, legs spreading even more so Jeremy could fit in between. Jeremy settles in, giving his cunt one long lick, enjoying the way Ryan shivers. He wraps his lips around Ryan’s clit, earning a moan.

“Come on,” Ryan says, even with his voice so breathless. “I thought you were going to make me squirt.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes. “So impatient,” he whispers.

Ryan knocks his thigh against Jeremy’s head. “Now who's being a brat.”

Jeremy flutters his eyes up at him. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you.” Before Ryan can retort, he spreads his cunt back open and spits inside him.

Ryan chokes and Jeremy grins, using two fingers to push the spit in deeper, slow and deep, loving the way the walls flutter around his fingers as the spit slides in deeper. Jeremy goes back to sucking on Ryan’s clit, continuing to thrust his fingers. The pace is slow, Jeremy not speeding up no matter how much Ryan begs.

Jeremy switches between sucking on his clit and licking his folds, lapping up slick, tongue slipping inside to fuck him.

Hands grip his head, pushing him down further and harder, begging for faster. Jeremy teases for just a second more before doing as he asks, speeding up his tongue and fingers, moaning and groaning. He pinches Ryan's clit, spits in him again, and adds a third finger.

He can feel Ryan’s hips grinding up against him, moving faster the longer Jeremy goes on. Jeremy closes his eyes and just feasts.

And then Ryan’s breath stutters, his pleas begin to break up, and his thighs squeeze Jeremy’s head.

And like Jeremy had promised, he squirts.

The lower half of his face is wet and slippery and Jeremy licks up as much as he can. His fingers don’t stop moving.

Ryan slaps at his shoulders. “Fucking- give me a second, asshole.”

“Why?” Jeremy teases, spreading his fingers just to hear Ryan whine. And to see his cunt flutter again. “Can’t handle it?”

“Wait until the next time I suck your dick,” Ryan grumbles.

Jeremy chuckles but relents, sliding his fingers out. He licks the slick from them, groaning at the taste to get Ryan to blush.

Ryan rolls his eyes, making grabby hands at him and Jeremy goes. Their bodies slot together, as perfectly as their lips do. Jeremy runs his hands through that soft hair.

Their foreheads touch and they take a second to just breathe.

“I want to cum inside that pretty cunt of yours.”

Ryan chokes, body shuddering with his laughter. “Well...way to ruin a mood.”

Jeremy leans back, grinning. “I couldn’t allow all that lovey-dovey crap to continue, are you kidding?” He pushes Ryan’s legs as wide as he can, rutting his cock against him, fire in his stomach burning brighter at the wet sound it makes. His cock pressed deeper for a second, squishing Ryan’s cunt open for a bit before Jeremy’s hips push up, slipping it past. He does this several more times, getting his cock wet and slippery.

The one thing he loves about their height difference is that as he continues to rut his cock, getting Ryan even more sticky with his precum, he can lean down to suck on Ryan’s chest.

“You and your fucking tit fascination,” Ryan mumbles, hips lifting up, trying to get Jeremy to just push in.

“You say it like you aren’t putting your hand on my head to get me to suck harder,” Jeremy says. But he follows the silent demand and sucks harder.

Distracted as he is, he doesn’t fight Ryan too hard when he moves in just the right way to allow his cock to slip in.

They both pause, moaning as the wet, hot heat engulfs him. It’s too much and Jeremy bucks his hips, slipping in more.

It’s a slow glide at first, the two moving in turn, Jeremy going from slobbering on Ryan’s chest to kissing the bastard. Then Jeremy gets lost in the sound of his balls slapping against Ryan’s ass, the wet sound of Ryan’s pussy sucking him in, the feeling of that soaking cunt wetting his dick. He starts to thrust faster, harder.

Ryan’s nails scratch down his back, arching into the thrusts. “Fucking...faster, asshole. Make it so I can’t walk tomorrow.”

That spurs Jeremy on, grunting as he goes as fast as he can, hands wrapped around Ryan’s thick waist, bringing him down onto his cock faster and faster.

“Going to...fucking cum,” Jeremy grits out between moans. He bites Ryan’s nipple, gasping as Ryan tightens around him.

That’s all it takes to have Jeremy on the edge. He can feel his balls drawing up. He holds onto Ryan tighter, fucks him harder for two more thrusts.

Then he throws his head back, hips stilling, cock as deep as he can go. He pumps cum into Ryan, load after load, dick twitching with every hot spurt.

With a sigh, Jeremy falls onto Ryan. the two breathing heavy. After a moment, Ryan speaks up. “Want to finger me?”

“Hell yeah,” Jeremy says.

#ragehappy #jeremwood #smuttish

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padawanprotege · 4 years

Text

Hi everyone. After stumbling upon a beautifully chaotic Jedi Oc I became inspired to write a fic about my own Oc making a new friend. After many early morning and late night discussions, I finally came up with a little something on how Jedi Knight Ayelet Ebele and Master Tiin Orat first met.

Tiin Orat belongs solely to the lovely @queenofbeskar, and this fic is dedicated to them for inspiring me.

Into the Forests of Arorua

Arorua was an inconsequential planet in the Sertar Sector. Being a back-water world in the Outer Rim regions, meant that the Galactic republic often overlooked the lone planet. However recent reports of regular separatist movement on the forest-covered world had sparked immediate action. Upon investigation, a small stealth team confirmed the presence of separatist battle droids, along with the location of a new droid factory still under construction.

Once the news had reached the Jedi council, the members of the High Council wasted no time and immediately summoned the 822nd Battalion General, Jedi Master Tiin Orat along with the Young Jedi Knight Ayelet Ebele.

“Scouts have confirmed the presence of a separatist base on Arorua. We can waste no time in dealing with this threat. If the separatists are given the chance to complete the construction of their new droid factory, they could easily seize control of the surrounding systems.” Mace Windu announced, comfortably slouched back in his chair as he addressed the two Jedi standing before him. Around him sat many empty chairs, some filled with the blue projection of a hologram but most lay dormant. A telling sign of the growing demands of the war.

“Suit you well this mission will, Master Orat.” Master Yoda chimed in, pointing to the Zabrak hybrid with the end of his gimer stick before turning it back down towards the floor and returning to silence. His cryptic words revealing no clear answer for Tiin to decipher.

Returning the conversation back to himself, Mace continued “Master Tiin, your battalion will be deployed immediately to Arorua to regain control of the system. Knight Ebele, you are to accompany the 822nd with your own battalion and aid them in any way. The destruction of this factory is vital for our successful occupation in the outer rim.”

Turning his attention away from the tall Jedi Master that stood in the centre of the high council chambers to the smaller figure standing slight behind Tiin's right shoulder, Mace's gaze focused on Ayelet. “This is your first mission since being knighted Ebele, we will be watching your performance closely.”

“Watch and listen you must, learn much from Master Orat you will, young one.” Yoda chimed in once again, his eyes also focusing on the young knight, however, the hint of a smile on the old masters face reassured Ayelet that although she was young and less experienced than the Jedi that surrounded her, she was prepared to face whatever this battle would bring.

At the conclusion of the debriefing, both Tiin and Ayelet bowed deeply to few Jedi Masters present in the council chambers before walking out into one of the adjoined hallways. “Arorua. I haven’t had the chance to visit it yet. It’s quiet far out in the outer-rim regions. Very beautiful from what I’ve researched. Do you know anything of it Knight Ebele?” Master Orat asked as they walked in sync past the large windows of the corridor, her distinct man’doa accent lacing her words in a tone that Ayelet was so used to hearing from the clones that she was slightly taken aback by the sound of it in Tiin’s voice.

Ayelet took a moment to consider her answer, as a padawan she'd spent much of her time studying lost languages and forgotten civilisations with her Master so knew much about the ancient planet. She decided to keep her answer short and not allow her excitement about travelling to the remote forest world turn into a history lesson.

“It’s a world covered in a dense forest. Centuries ago, there were cities and temples scattered across the planet, but over time the woodlands consumed them in their roots and drove most of the population to neighbouring systems.” Ayelet couldn't help the small smile that grew on her face as she spoke of the forest-covered world. Nature had always been her biggest strength in the force. As a youngling, she would often venture away from her crèche mates to spend time in the temple gardens, and once she was taken on as a padawan and encouraged by her master to pursue her interest in botany, she found her true passion.

Ayelet often thought of what her life would be like when she completed her trials of knighthood and could peruse her passions. She dreamed that she would travel to exotic worlds, studying the different flora that inhabited the far reaches of space and tending to the gardens in the Jedi Temple whenever she wasn't on leave. At no point in her apprenticeship had she expected her knighthood to result in her becoming a soldier in a war she didn't understand.

Ayelet's attention was brought back to the present at the sound of Tiin's naturally loud voice. “A jungle adventure? Sounds like something out of a holo-film." Master Orat jested as she grinned cheerfully down at the young right beside her. Although Ayelet couldn't see her eyes behind the mask the Zabrak wore, she could tell that Tiin was also smiling with her eyes.

'Perhaps this mission won't be so difficult without Master Aziza’s help if I've got Master Tiin to keep me company.' Ayelet silently mused while craning her neck back to match Tiin's eye-line before replying with a humoured smile on her lips, “Yes, I suppose it does sound like that.”

As they continued down the hallway to the nearby hanger bay, the two Jedi continued speaking, the conversation slowly turning into one reminiscent of old friends as they began to grow more comfortable in each other’s company.

'Yes. I think this mission will go quite well.' Ayelet silent thought to herself as she followed Master Orat into a waiting speeder. She couldn't deny that she missed her master's familiar and comforting presence, but Ayelet could sense a similar nurturing presence residing within Tiin, and hoped that during their time spent together on this campaign a new friendship could be formed.

----------

Ayelet would normally delight at the opportunity to immerse herself in the natural world if it weren’t for the suffocating darkness that consumed the forest of Arorua.

After stepping off the gunship and into the forest she felt herself lose one sense while her others heightened in the unfamiliar environment. It was disorientating to be almost blinded but given the ears of a wolf. Even the soft susurration of the branches felt heavy in her ears. The blackness surrounding them nurtured a sense of claustrophobia even though the woodland stretched unbroken for miles.

As her clone troopers unloaded the gunships and prepared themselves for the battle ahead, Ayelet took the moment to stow away amongst the thick woodlands. Wandering a few steps away from the temporary camp they had established, Ayelet found herself staring upon the massive truck of an aphor tree. The young knight could feel the spirit of the old tree and the wisdom that it carried.

Approaching tree, Ayelet reached out a gloved hand and placed it softly upon the trunk. Sparing a glance back towards the now fully lit campsite the clones had constructed, Ayelet convinced herself she’d have enough time to meditate before General Orat arrived to discuss the assault plan.

Gently, Ayelet boosted herself up to one of the high branches on the old aphor tree to stare out into the dark woodlands ahead. The forest was ancient. The trees thick and old. It might once have been filled with bird-song and animals that roamed. But now long centuries had pasted since its former glory.

Ayelet felt her expression soften into a small smile at the familiar sensation of sunlight dancing across her face through the leaves above. Settling herself on the branch, Ayelet crossed her legs and placed both hands on the sturdy limb beneath her. Taking slow and deep breaths Ayelet allowed herself to open up to the natural world around her, letting her own spirit intertwine with the ancient spirit of the forest. Listening closely, Ayelet could hear the spirits of the forest whispering around her, their hushed words of wisdom barely reaching her ears.

A sudden disturbance in the force shock Ayelet from her tranquil state, shaking her physically back to the real world. She felt the force ripple through the tree beneath her. No, that wasn’t the force shaking. It was the tree she was in shaking. She’d become so entwined with ancient trees lifeforce that she had felt the strike to the tree as though it was to her own body.

However, Ayelet came to her senses to slowly, noticing too late that the world around her was slowly slipping upwards as her body sluggishly tipped backwards off the branch. Suddenly aware of her compromised balance, Ayelet tried to quickly pull herself back up onto the strong tree limb, but the reaction came too late. Ayelet felt her fingers lose their loose grip on the branch, causing a sense of panic to flood her as she frantically looking around her.

Perhaps there was another lower branch she could cling to to break her fall or a hanging vine nearby that she could latch onto. All Ayelet achieved as she fell gracelessly out of the tree was flailing her arms around frantically as though she would grow wings to stop her crashing into the rapidly approaching forest floor.

At the last possible moment, Ayelet called upon the force for help, wrapping its loyal embrace around her. Although she hadn’t experienced the full damage of the fall, her body ached as she made contact with the rough terrain. She laid there, completely motionless for a moment, focusing on inhaling serenity and exhaling her discomfort.

Slowly lifting her head to see what had caused the tree to shake, she had expected to see one of the AT-RT’s clumsily crashed into the trunk. To her surprise, all that greeted her was the sight of a tall figure carefully prying their large pink horns from the trunk of the tree, then proceed to gingerly rub the area atop her head. Ayelet tried to convince herself that perhaps she had hit her head harder than she’d originally thought and was simply hallucinating, that would explain the scene before her.

Sealing her eyes shut tightly and shaking her head, Ayelet slowly raising herself to sit on her knees, not fully trusting her legs to support her weight so soon after falling. Ayelet took a moment to steady her thoughts and bridle her emotions before reopening her eyes. To her disbelief, the horned figure was still there and was closing the space between them.

“Ayelet, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Tiin’s voice was loud enough to have started the young knight in the quiet of the forest if not for the man’doa accent and the nurturing tone in the voice. Ayelet felt herself begin to smile as she watched the Zabrak hybrid kneel before her. Even when the Master knelt down to match Ayelet’s height, she still had to crane her neck back to view the Jedi Master’s face.

“That was quite a fall, must have hurt like a shabuir.” Tiin continued as she gently placed a hand under Ayelet’s jaw and moved her head around to assess the damage, pausing for a moment when she saw the slit on the knight’s chin. Ayelet didn’t fully understand what Tiin had said but recognised the tone to know she was implying that the fall must have hurt a lot in a very colourful way.

Without warning Tiin wrapping one of her large arms behind Ayelet’s back and helped her to her feet, holding her close to her large frame in a half embrace to help support her. The sudden contact unsettled Ayelet, the feeling of someone, particularly someone that she had only spent a few days with, so close to her made her slightly tense in surprise.

But she never uttered a word in protest as the Zabrak guided her back towards the encampment. Ayelet could sense the nurturing care radiating off Tiin as they walked, like a crèche master tending to one of her charges, and began to relax into the Master's gentle hold around her.

As they slowly crossed the camp, Ayelet could hardly hear the sound of herself moving, Tiin’s loud footsteps drowning out the sound of her own light footsteps beside her. Ayelet recognised the familiar sight of the medic tent, under normal circumstances, Ayelet would be the one guiding one of her troopers into the make-shift hospital.

“Perhaps you should stay with me. Get your head checked out. You hit that tree pretty hard.” Ayelet proposed as they made their way into the shelter of the tent, a playful smile present on her lips as she continued while pointing to the top of her head. “You’ve probably left a few holes in that tree.”

Ayelet hadn’t prepared herself for Tiin’s reply as she listened to the Jedi Master laugh in response to her words. The laugh was loud, like her voice, and quickly drew the eyes of everyone inside the tent onto them, but Ayelet could feel that the laugh was genuine, so simply smiled along as the medics stared across at the two Jedi.

#clone wars #star wars the clone wars #clone wars oc #clone ocs #clone troopers #star wars #clone oc #star wars oc #swtcw #jedi oc #cwacrossthestars #jedi knight

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luckyspike · 5 years

Text

Eleventh Hour Admission - A Good Omens fanfiction

Hey guys remember when I talked about writing a hospital AU

i did it but no one is a doctor they’re all nurses

title refers to literally getting an admission during the eleventh hour of your shift, possibly a fate worse than death

CW: hospitals, medical procedures, automobile accidents, the joint commission

this will never be continued (probably) or posted to AO3, so enjoy it

Ari Fell liked it his job. That wasn’t sarcasm. He really, truly liked his job: he liked helping other people, he liked watching the sickest of the sick get well again and, when he couldn’t do that, he liked being there for them, trying to help them peacefully and painlessly move on. He liked meeting the families of his patients, he liked getting to know his patients when they could talk, and he liked that every day was a new day, something different and unknown and rife with opportunity to learn something new, or to help someone.

He liked his job, but he didn’t like 6am admissions.

Which, he had a feeling, was precisely why his ASCOM phone was going off at 5:55am. The caller ID informed him that it was Gabriel, the charge for tonight. He winced and the other nurse working the east pod with him tonight, Tracy, nodded sympathetically. He picked up the phone, and answered the call.

“Ari!” Yes. Yes, that was Gabriel. By the sound of it, he was in the cafeteria, likely having coffee with the other charges during their morning “bed meeting”. Ari had long since suspected that “bed meeting” was an excuse to get coffee and kvetch for the last hour of their shift, but he’d never really had the opportunity to find out, after he’d refused the offered charge position last year.

“Gabe.” He stared gloomily at the empty room before him. It had been empty all night, after he’d packed the last patient off to IMC to make room for a possible admit. He had known it was too good to be true, known with a sort of icy certainty that a quiet night would never last, and soon enough there would be some kind of admit rolling up. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be an hour before shift change but, well …

Maybe it would be an intubated pneumonia. Sedated, even. That would be nice.

“Got an ED trainwreck coming up. You heard them call that level 1 trauma, yeah?”

His heart dropped into his stomach, which dropped all the way to his Danskos. “Yes.”

“MVA, lady was flying and ran off the road into the orchard. Hit like three of the apple trees, Bee told me. Anyway, she’s a hot mess. I told them they could call report and bring her up any time.”

“I’ll need to stock the room -”

Gabriel ignored him. “I’d love to help get her settled but we’re gonna be in bed meeting until 6:30 and then I have to do the board for day shift, but I’m sure you and Tracy’ll have it in hand. Holler if you need anything!” The line went dead.

“What do you need?” Tracy asked, already half out of the pod, aimed toward the supply room. The supply room, Ari knew, where the housekeeper usually hung around this time of the morning, surreptitiously drinking instant-brew coffee behind the Pyxis.

Ari sighed. “A whole set-up. I don’t have report yet, but it’s a trauma. Probably need suction and the whole nine yards.” The ASCOM chirped again. “That’ll be report.”

“I’ll get some culture bottles and extra red tops as well.” He nodded to her as she vanished around the corner, and picked up the phone. “Ari Fell, ICU 4 East.”

“Ari!” He might have groaned. “It’s AJ!”

“Great. You’re calling report, I assume?”

“Well, yeah, but also I was just thinking I’m off for two days after this, and I don’t have any plans after my shift, was thinking about kegs and eggs at the place across the street. Care to join?”

“Somehow,” Ari said with rather more chill to his tone than usual, “I think I’ll be getting off my shift late.”

AJ laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’m bringing up the hot mess express.”

“Oh, boy.” He half-sighed, half-groaned. “I’m ready.”

“Right, patient’s still a Jane Doe but ID in her purse said Eve Smith, 22 years old, just waiting on family to confirm. Chaplain called her parents but no answer yet. Anyway, adult female, unrestrained driver in car-versus-tree MVA, GCS of 3 at the scene, flown here, went into SVT on the way but we’ve got her on amio now at 0.5mg/hr, pan-scan showed a left-sided pneumo -”

He rattled on, Ari jotting down notes as AJ moved through the systems. At least there was that: report from AJ was, usually, good, although he did like to linger on the gory details a little longer than necessary sometimes. If he was going to get a 6am admit, at least he’d have a good report to hand off to the next shift when he inevitably presented them with this hot disaster.

Tracy was back from the supply room, a suspicious damp spot on her scrub top. The navy blue shade hid the color of the spot, but if Ari had to guess, it would be the color of Svanka instant coffee. “Enough?” she asked, holding up two bags of supplies and a handful of lab tubes. He cupped a hand over the phone.

“Two straight poles and an IV pole,” he whispered. “And an EVD hookup for the monitor.”

“Gotcha.”

“Anyway,” AJ was saying, “she’s got a Foley, so you don’t have to worry about that, and, ah … Hm. Multiple lacerations and abrasions spread out all over, but no pressure wounds or anything otherwise. Right. Anything else you need?”

“Ah …” He looked at the report sheet, the notes about infusions and lines and testing left un-done, and shrugged. “You’re coming up with her, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t crump on the way up. I’ll probably be bagging her when we get there.”

He grimaced. “Wonderful. I’ll have RT ready. Otherwise, uh … no, I think I should be alright. Whenever you’re ready, we’ve got the room stocked.”

“Okay.” A little distantly, as if he’d moved away from the receiver somewhat, he heard AJ call, “Hey, you ready Erica? Time to move!” And then, back into the phone. “See you in ten.”

Ari ended the call, placed a quick SOS to respiratory for a vent delivery, and tossed the ASCOM onto the desk. One last chance to check his other patient - a post-op heart cath they’d sent for access site observation overnight before planned discharge in the morning - and then he headed into the empty room, fussing around with the lines and waiting. The vent was there, already pre-programmed with the settings, blue screen glowing in the dark room as it waited. Tracy returned with the required equipment, and rolled a pole across the room, around the end of the bed, toward Ari.

“Disaster?”

“Complete train wreck.”

She patted his shoulder. “My two are primped and propped and ready for seven. I can help all you like, dear.” She was always nice like that, calling him ‘dear’. He supposed it made sense, given that Tracy was old enough to be his mother, but he had noticed she never used the term for anybody else. He’d never asked her about it, though, mostly because he was sort of afraid that if he pointed it out, she would stop.

“I think we just wait, now.”

“Fresh meat coming?” The gruff voice of the custodian drew their attention to the doorway. “I’m off duty at 6:30, so if you think I’ll be coming in here to clean up whatever mess you and those hideous interns make -”

“I’m sure your relief will have it well in-hand, Mr. S.” Tracy fluttered her eyelashes, and leaned across the bedside table, the front of her V-neck scrub top gaping open just enough to draw the housekeeper’s eyes. “You know, I was thinking of getting breakfast and coffee at The Pantry across the street after shift … been craving their waffles.” It was a statement, but it hung open like a question. Mr. S blushed a little.

“I … I’m a little hungry myself. Could go for a nice thick pat of scrapple.” He cleared his throat. At the far corner of the ICU, Ari heard the elevator - the direct-from-the-ED elevator - ding open, and the distant sound of alarms suffused through the early-morning bustle of the unit.

“Think they might have two seats at the breakfast bar?”

“Maybe.” He smiled a little, and then remembered himself and glowered. “If an educated woman’ll deign to eat with me, that is.”

“Mm, I think I might be able to bring myself to slum it this morning.” She waved a hand. “Here she comes, move over, there’s a love.”

And come she did, in a wail of alarms and machines and, Ari was both relieved and exasperated to see, AJ, who had, as long as Ari had known him, struggled with the concept of ‘reserved’. “Heyo, told you so!” AJ was, as promised, bagging the patient, his arm snaked between various lines and tubes, the critically-ill human attached to them almost so covered as to be invisible. “Ari.”

Ari looked at the lines, horrified, and then to AJ. “What happened?”

“Huh? Oh. She came back from radiology like this. Didn’t have time to untangle everything.”

“Nothing’s even labeled!” He waved his hands at the mess. “You’ve got fluids and pressors and is that blood? What’s going where?”

“Ah. All in the subclavian, I’d imagine.” The redhead added, with scathing sarcasm, “Pretty sure I didn’t hook anything up to the EVD. Got a slide board?”

Tracy had, and she and Ari tucked it under the unconscious young woman as AJ and Erica rolled her to the side. “Hang on, let me check her back while she’s there.” There were abrasions, and lacerations, too many to count or list as part of a specific area, and then, between her shoulder blades, was an apple blossom. He plucked it off. “Really, you couldn’t clean that off?”

“Had bigger fish to fry. You done?” AJ raised an eyebrow at him, visible of the rims of his dark-tinted glasses, and Ari nodded. AJ and Erica let the woman down. “On three -” She was light enough, and with four of them they had her slid into the ICU bed in one smooth motion, still piled with a tangled mess of lines and tubes.

“You really had to bring this mess up,” Ari griped, trying to decide where to start first. His eyes widened. “You left the EVD lying under her pillow!”

“It’s clamped!” AJ replied with an exasperated groan, gratefully flicking on the vent and plugging it into the ET tube.

Erica rolled her eyes. “You done here? I’ve got to get back to the department.”

“Be right behind you,” AJ said, waving the other nurse off. “I’m gonna help whiny here get organized.” He pulled the EVD from under the pillow, carefully threading the buritrol back through the other lines until the tubing lay neatly over the rest of the tangled mess. Carefully, he hung it on the straight pole, leveled it, and opened the clamp. Pink-tinged spinal fluid started to drip out. “Come on, hand me the cable, I’ll even hook it up for you.”

“How charitable,” Ari grumbled, tossing the cable behind the headboard and bouncing it off AJ’s shoulder. “Bastard.”

“Now, boys,” Tracy admonished from the foot of the bed, where she was busying herself with untangling the Foley and the SCDs*. “Let’s not argue.”

[* Are SCDs really that important in a fragile immediately post-trauma patient, you may ask. To which the answer is: only if the Joint Commission is there.]

“Oh, we’re just having a good time.” AJ was tracing the IV tubing containing the fluids down through the sheets. “Alright, so this is going to the peripheral, just untangle this -”

“You know,” Ari said, as he fiddled with the monitor and the arterial line, trying to check for level in spite of the level being, as always, conspicuously absent. “I’m sure you have patients back down in the department. You don’t have to help. I was just giving you a hard time.” He ended up seizing a length of blood pressure cuff tubing and eyeballing the line between the transducer and the phlebostatic axis.

“Well, what if I want to?” He snorted. “My only other patient down there is a kid with a head lac, and he’s on ice until the LET kicks in and we can do staples anyway. Which will be, fortunately, after shift change. He looks like a screamer.” He smirked at Ari, and passed the IV pump with all of the various central line tubing across the bed to him. “Never let it be said I’m not occasionally nice.”

“You’re not.”

“Hey.”

At the foot of the bed, Tracy shook her head, tapping in the vital signs as she did. “Did anyone page the fellow to let them know she’s arrived?”

“Not yet,” they replied, in unison. And then exchanged a look, very briefly, before Ari looked away to busy himself with setting the monitor alarm parameters and AJ became absorbed in scribbling labels for the IV tubing.

“I’ll do it, then.”

It was quiet for a minute while they worked, but after a time, Ari realized the white sheet atop the woman was clear, the lines were meticulously untangled and laid properly, with messily-written but legible labels. It would have done the Joint Commission proud.

“Think she still needed cultures,” AJ muttered, grabbing the bottles off of the counter. “Where do you keep the tourniquets up here?”

“Here.” He set to checking orders, with the black-clad invader from the ED pulled the first set of cultures on the first stick. Ari frowned, impressed. “Nice one.”

“Eh, you get good at ‘em when you have to get a line in anything.”

“Seriously,” Ari said, more quietly now, noting that for the most part, all of the ED orders had been cleaned up, taken care of, and signed off before the patient had arrived, “you can go. Really, I’m grateful, but I can handle it and you don’t have to -”

“I know. But this is really selfish for me.” He tore the tip of the index finger off the fresh pair of gloves he’d donned, the better to palpate a vein in the opposite arm, where the splint would allow. “Don’t wanna eat breakfast alone.”

Ari stared at him for a minute. Blinked. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah,” AJ replied, tone flippant. “I think it counts as alcoholism if you drink alone too much. Have to keep up the facade of being a normal, healthy, functional adult.” He winked at Ari over the rim of his glasses. “You know how it goes, choir-boy.”

“I -” he glanced into the hallway, where Tracy and Mr. S were chatting. Mr. S had clocked out - was it past 6:30 already? And Tracy had her ASCOM in hand, although by the looks of it she hadn’t yet called. If she waited much longer, the fellow wouldn’t arrive with new orders until after shift change. He could have laughed. What an angel. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. You want to get a pitcher?”

Aj laughed, although he was watching intently as the second bottle filled. “You know, I have two days off coming up - what the hell? Let’s do it.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #human au #crowley #aziraphale #hospital au #i did it i did the thing #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much

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psycho-slytherin · 5 years

Text

Strangers ch. 33

You and Yoongi make a choice about your relationship.

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count:

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“No.”

“Mr. Min, it’s the only way–”

“No. I won’t do that to y/n. The fans would kill her.”

Blood roars in your ears, and your knees turn weak, the ache in your left leg feeling far more prominent with the memory of last night.

“I need to sit down,” you say faintly, and Yoongi turns to you, alarmed.

“Are you going to pass out again? Do you need water?” He returns his gaze to Bang PD and Avery. “Y/n shouldn’t even be here after she collapsed yesterday!”

You lower yourself into your chair, grateful for the weight off your injured leg. “Don’t worry about me, Yoongs. I’m not going to faint. I just...”

“If you were... dating.”

“My fans would kill her.”

“Y/n, honey...” Avery approaches you, her eyes full of empathy and... something else. “I know I’m not your manager, but I think it would be in your best interest to go with this idea. If you and Mr. Min pretend to date, it would explain why you were together yesterday, and it would boost Moon Over the Sea’s publicity.” She sits down in Yoongi’s chair and rests her hand on your leg. The proximity of her touch to your injury forces you to swallow a whimper of pain. “It would be temporary– you could ‘break up’ whenever you needed to, as long as the show’s promotions were over.”

“Surely you know of BTS’s fame,” Bang PD adds. “To be seen with Yoongi would do wonders for your public image. Millions of people would give anything to be in your place.”

“Stop trying to convince her!” Yoongi says, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “We’re just friends.”

“Of course you are– I know you’d never actually date y/n. But everyone loves onscreen/offscreen couples. And think about it, Yoongi.” Bang PD’s voice lowers, and you barely catch his words. “If you don’t do this, everyone goes down. You. Me. Y/n. The other members. Yoongi, it’s your only option. Besides...” Bang PD leans in and whispers something. Yoongi goes very pale at the executive’s words, shooting a glance at you before sighing.

“Ugh. Well– let me talk to her alone,” he asks his producer, his tone gentler, softer now.

“Take as much time as you need to come to the right decision. Miss Lee?” Bang PD leads Avery outside to an adjoining office in the BigHit Entertainment building.

As soon as they’re gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. ��We fucked up.”

“Did we?”

You stare at your friend in disbelief. “Gee, Sherlock, you tell me– we got fucking photographed at our spot, and now your boss and our director and my best friend and everyone else on the fucking planet knows that we know each other out of work, and a thousand percent of them think we’re dating, and now we’re being told that guess what? We have to pretend to date to keep my job, and yours, and the jobs of the other members!”

Your breath is getting shorter, your leg hurts, and you feel cold, so cold. “I fucked up. I fucked up. Yoongi, it’s my fault, I ruined it, I ruined you, I fucked up–”

“Hey. Hey! Y/n, shh...” Yoongi pulls his chair closer to yours and wraps an arm around you. “Deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re strong. And personally? I don’t think we fucked up.”

“How can you possibly think that?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I hated lying. Now I can meet your friends, and introduce you to other idols. Now I can talk about you during interviews– it’s so hard not bringing up some dumb thing we’ve done during our Truth or Dare or Drink games. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Dingus, did you forget the fake-dating part?”

Yoongi presses his lips together. “Right, that...”

“Whatever. I don’t really need this job– I can go back to working in the cafe. I’ll delete my Twitter and change my hair.” If you drop off the face of the Earth, ARMYs will forget about you, and Yoongi and the other members of BTS will bounce back from That Photo quickly. It’s best for them that everything returns to normal as soon as possible.

Yoongi freezes before leaning back and folding his arms with a sigh. “Fine. If you don’t want to be an actress, leave. If this role isn’t worth fighting for, leave. If our friendship isn’t strong enough to get through this, leave. If you think the best way to fix this is to give up, leave– because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

“W-what?”

“Come on, y/n. I know you like I know my own mind. You think if you make some heroic sacrifice, it’ll be worth it because I’ll keep my reputation, right? You don’t want to go through with dating, because you know I’ll lose fans.”

“It was my fault,” you mutter, abashed. “The photo. I heard footsteps, but... I just wanted to see you.”

“And I wanted to see you, y/n. I was so scared last night, I thought that you were– well, whatever. But what’s done is done, and we should make the best of it.” Yoongi shrugs. “I’m okay with the fake-dating, if you are– you’re the better liar anyways.”

Did he speak, or merely stab you in the chest? For a second, you can’t rightly tell.

“Lisa would be so angry,” you croak, panicking. “If she thinks I’ve lied to her again, she might hate me for real.”

“Lisa’s your friend, she’d understand.”

“And the fans?”

Yoongi hesitates, biting his lip. “It’ll be fine.”

“You said they’d kill me.” They’ve already tried.

“They can’t really touch you, and they’ll love you soon enough.” Yoongi flashes you a small smile, but you only shiver, the memory of the redhead’s hands on your chest feeling real, far too real.

Yoongi notices. “Are you cold? Where’s...” his eyes darken. “Y/n, where’s your coat?”

In the river.

With my phone.

And my blood.

And nearly the rest of me, too.

“I left it at home.”

Yoongi stares at you silently, his eyes posing questions you can’t answer. You’re about to say something else, explain why you haven’t responded to any of the texts he’s surely sent you, but there’s a knock at the door and Bang Si-Hyuk and Avery reappear. You automatically shift away from Yoongi– the authority figures can’t think you actually like him.

“So?” Bang PD asks. “Have you come to a decision?”

“Up to you,” Yoongi murmurs quietly, and you blink hard.

Your ARMY self is screaming, dying, rolling on the floor and thanking every deity you can think of. Dating Min Yoongi– even as a lie– is all your dreams come true.

Some other part of you, barely a whisper in your mind, is saying not like this.

You don’t want to force Yoongi’s hand. But you’re scared, so scared of the consequences of agreeing. Still, if it’s the only way... and Yoongi’s right; his friendship is worth it.

You swallow, the singular action taking with it your doubts, fears, and a little bit of you.

“Yes. We’ll do it.”

~~~

You stare into Yoongi’s eyes. “I have to say, my life was much easier before you came along.”

Yoongi smiles mischievously. “But much less fun, I hope.”

“Cut! Nice going, guys– I think that’s our take!” Avery claps twice and you rise carefully from the beautiful period set. At Avery’s words, the room is once more filmed with the hustle and bustle of film.

“Okay, next we’re going to finish the countryside scenes– Yoongi, y/n, you’re done for the day. Good work. And,” Avery lowers her voice to a whisper, “make sure to leave together.”

You smile weakly and nod at your director. What else can you do? It’s been several weeks since your near-drowning, and since you and Yoongi began ‘dating’.

“Tell me this,” you grumble, catching up to Yoongi on his way out the door. “How are we supposed to leave together if we go in opposite directions?”

Your friend laughs, shrugs. “Beats me. On the bright side, the show is getting a lot more publicity.”

“That’s ‘cause of you, not us,” you reply, punching him in the arm.

“Y/n, haven’t you learned anything?” Yoongi asks, exasperated. “You are special, and people really like you.”

Not everyone. In the several weeks since your near-drowning, you got a new phone and, well... everything is back to normal.

@bangtan-news: Is love in the air? BTS’ #Suga spotted on a romantic evening walk with #MoonOverTheSea costar @yourname! @captainkookie21: @bangtan-news they’re faking they have to be @BTS_twt pls deny these awful rumors @jkthighs: @captainkookie21 are u still leading the anti @yourname movement lol I support u (^w^) @largebaguette: ugh why does @yourname have so many haters?? Just let BTS date who they want to they’re grown ass men

@queenyn: I love #YoongiAndYn honestly the best ship uwu I’m so happy they’re dating @jiminhasjams: rt if you’d pay money to slap @yourname for stealing yoongi

@captainkookie21: I think we should boycott @yourname until they agree to recast yoongi’s LI in #MoonOverTheSea tbh. #boycottyn let’s make it happen! Fighting!

You sigh, shaking your head to rid your mind of the daily flood of hatred. Ever since first being seen together with Yoongi in public, your social media mentions have increased a hundredfold.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yoongi asks, seeming to pick up on your mood.

“Oh, nothing." You say quickly. “The dating thing is just weird, you know?”

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s not like we have to kiss, or even hold hands. It’s the same as always, except, you know...” he gestures at the sun shining brightly overhead. “We get to see that.”

“That’s true. Hey,” you check your watch. “I have some time before my next job... do you want to get coffee at my place? I’d suggest a cafe, but I don’t want you to get swarmed.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have my driver take me there separately. If your address is still secret, you should keep it that way.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re brewing coffee in your thankfully upgraded coffeemaker. Yoongi sits at your small table, munching thoughtfully on a muffin.

“So how’s life?” he asks, and you snort.

“We’ve seen each other almost every day, Yoongs. Do you really need to ask?”

“I guess I’m just used to not knowing much about you,” he says, accepting your offered mug of coffee.

“Look who’s talking, Agust.”

“Oh god,” Yoongi groans, snickering. “I can’t believe I gave you that name.”

“I can’t believe you said you were an accountant.”

“Hey, I’d make a great accountant,” Yoongi replies.

You roll your eyes. “Your hair was blue and you’re twenty-something. Even if I didn’t know BTS, I’d think you were lying.”

A light breeze hits your back and your heart stops. Cold. Your breath quickens and your teeth begin chattering.

“Y-Y-Yoongi, could you c-close the w-window?” You thought it was closed, you haven’t opened it since that night, since you felt the cold so deep in your bones it felt like you might shatter into pieces.

“It’s... it’s not open,” Yoongi says, cocking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm. Just gotta grab a jacket.” You’re already wearing a sweater and a shirt underneath, but it’s not enough. You pad to your hall closet and grab your new coat.

“When’s your next job?” Yoongi calls, still sitting at the coffee table.

“At five. What time is it now?” You ask, pulling your arms through the sleeves. Your phone is on the table, so you can’t check yourself.

“Just past four–” Yoongi’s voice cuts off and an eerie silence fills your apartment.

“Yoongi? What’s wrong?” You reappear in the kitchen only to see Yoongi looking paler than you’ve ever seen him, staring openmouthed at his phone.

No... not his phone. Your phone. And your notifications.

“Y/n, what...” Yoongi’s voice cracks. “When were you going to tell me?”

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lexi-the-twilight-dragon · 5 years

Text

FATHER’S DAY

The Labyrinth can show you what you fear. Or it can show you what you thought you wanted. (Or, if Tucker’s Labyrinth experience had gone differently)

FANDOM: Red vs Blue. S17 spoilers. RATING: Angst/Alternate Version. WORDS: 1407 CHARACTERS: Tucker, Junior, Donut, Washington, OCs (mentioned)

~.~.~

He’s alone.

Could’ve sworn he was in a group of like a dozen earlier, but none of them are anywhere to be seen. Only his own boots can be heard clacking against the floor of this weirdly empty hallway.

“Hello?”

Empty hallways always seen to elicit that response for some reason, don’t they?

He walks for what feels like an hour before there’s any change in the hall at all, but when there is, boy howdy is there. After a couple of turns, it abruptly stops to view a straight-up, motherfucking black hole.

“Oh holy fuck.” It’s obviously kinda daunting that an instant-kill abyss is right there, but not gonna lie, it looks pretty fucking cool.

So fucking cool, in fact, that he’s completely taken by surprise by the sound of footsteps not far behind him. He hadn’t heard them come around the corner, but they’re not exactly quiet either, which instantly lets him know that whoever it is, they’re way bigger than the average human being.

And when he turns around, he’s right. Behind him is a Sangheili soldier, and a stocky one at that. He may be visibly young, but even a juvenile Sangheili easily towers over Tucker, and this one’s gotta be 6’9 at least. And while Tucker’s decent at understanding Sangheili rank and armor, he can’t tell what this greenish-blue one means.

Then Tucker sees his eyes. They’re not gold, like most Sangheili’s, or even the usual variants of orange or green. They’re a deep, chocolate brown. Tucker brown.

The greenish-blue armor? It’s aqua armor.

“Junior? What are you doing here?”

Junior cocks his head, slightly but sharply. It’s a lot more obvious when his neck is a foot long.

“Well, nice to see you too, Dad, after, what’s it been, seven years? Don’t I even warrant a ‘hello’?”

Tucker’s taken aback a second by the sass. The hostile sass.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, it’s good to see you too, ‘course it is. I just… wasn’t expecting it to be here, you know? There’s uh… kinda some dangerous shit going on right now? With a murderous god-thing running around?”

He barely finishes the sentence when Junior laughs. It’s not a good laugh. It’s halfway to being a scoff.

“Funny,” Junior says, fixing him with a gaze that, even in spite of his human eyes, has the full power of a reptilian Sangheili glare, “It’s almost like you’ve forgotten I’m a war mediator or something. You know, the job where you’re sent to the slap-bang middle of conflicts and hundreds if not thousands of lives rest on your every word? Not to mention your own, because both sides will happily kill you if you fuck up? You think that’s not ‘some dangerous shit’? Because that’s kinda where you left me, at age three no less.”

Whatever Tucker was about to say vanishes in an instant, but Junior is far from done.

“What, you thought I was safe working with the embassy? Don’t you have any idea what kind of shit-show Sanghelios turned into after the war? Holy fuck, Dad, I thought you’d at least have paid that much attention. Was I not on your radar at all? Or did you just assume I was dead after a couple months?”

“What? No!” Tucker’s voice reappears. “I… I was gonna contact you as soon as that Freelancer bullshit was over, like I promised, I just kept hitting obstacles.”

“You’d be referring to Chorus, right?” Junior’s tone drops to something chilling. “That I can understand. But if I got my dates right, that conflict ended two years ago. What were you doing after that?”

Tucker can’t answer.

“Church sent that message straight to my desktop computer from Chorus, why couldn’t you? It didn’t have to be much. ‘Hey Junior, good to know you’re still alive, great work you’ve been doing by yourself for all these years, sorry I missed your birthday seven times, and by the way, you now have three dozen little siblings, and none of them are going to see their father again either’!”

Junior’s started to approach him, slowly but very threateningly, and he backs up without even thinking. It’s only within a step’s breadth that he remembers there’s a black hole abyss behind him. This split-second distraction costs him, because the next thing he knows claws are lifting him off the ledge by his throat.

Junior holds him up so they’re face-to-face, and at this close a distance, it’s much easier to see the tears forming in those all-too-human eyes.

“Did you really not want me all this time?” he says, all the anger and volume gone from his tone, “Is that it? Am I really the abomination Church said I was, and you were just lying to me?”

“No.” It’s not even Junior’s claw that causes Tucker’s voice to drop to just over a whisper. “Junior, that’s not true, that was never true, I swear.”

“Wasn’t it?” Oh god, his voice was breaking now. And so is Tucker’s heart. “What was it you said the second I was born again? ‘It’s not mine’?”

His face, and voice, suddenly harden to scalpel-sharp steel. “Guess I shouldn’t have expected more from you, Tucker. You’ve never been one to think of consequences anyway.”

He straightens his arm, holding Tucker out further from the ledge.

“So what do you think are the consequences if I do this?”

“Junior!”

Junior snaps his head around, and Tucker can just see past him at the group that has appeared in the hall.

“Junior,” Donut repeats, “Put him down.”

Junior turns further around to face them, which puts Tucker back over solid ground, but not by much. If Junior drops him now, he’ll still fall.

“Hmph. Of course. It’s always gotta be about them first, doesn’t it? The Reds and Blues, going off on another adventure. Never mind the family you leave behind.”

“Killing him won’t change that, Junior,” Donut warns, “It only eliminates the chance that he will come back for you.”

“A chance he won’t take,” Junior growls, “He’s never taken it before.”

“That’s not true.”

It’s not Donut who’s speaking now.

“Hi Junior. You haven’t met me before. I’m Wash.” He steps forward from the group. “And it’s my fault your father hasn’t contacted you, not his.”

Junior stops, listens. Lowers his arm ever-so slightly. Tucker feels slightly safer, but slightly confused.

“I was stingy with the communications after Freelancer went down, because I… I was paranoid for the team’s safety. I should have allowed him to call you, but I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t try to reach out.

“Tucker,” he turns to the aloft soldier, “Show him the photo.”

“Wh-What?” Tucker’s mind pulls a blank.

“That photo you showed me,” he clarifies, “The one you show everyone so they know just how proud you are of your son.”

Tucker’s breath hitches. In amongst all this bullshit, he’d almost forgotten about the photo of his boy in his pocket.

He reaches back to grab it, slowly and carefully. If he drops it into a black hole of all things, he’ll never forgive himself. Junior looks back at him as he holds it up.

“This… this is the photo your school sent me, of you and your fifth-grade basketball team. Uhh… one of them was called Elliot, right? And Tyler? And… Quinn, was his name? He was the only one chill enough to smile properly.”

He almost wishes he didn’t have his helmet on, so Junior could see the raw emotion lining his face.

“Junior, I never forgot about you for a second. I failed to keep my promise, and for that, I am so sorry. But you will always be my first kid, and I am so fucking proud of you, and everyone I meet fucking knows it. Okay?”

Junior’s helmet doesn’t cover his face, so the emotion on his is as plain as day. He’s crying, but Tucker knows enough about Sangheili, and enough about his son, to recognize a smile.

He lowers Tucker onto safe, solid ground, and lets him go.

Wash comes up behind, and puts a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tucker. I shouldn’t have deprived you of the right to contact your family. But Junior’s safe. Safe enough to attend school, anyway. He’ll still be alive when you get to call him next.”

“Yeah,” Tucker replies quietly, “I know.”

Junior’s form glitches for a second, before it disappears.

~.~.~

A/N: Was going to do one of these for Grif, Tucker and Simmons, but Tucker’s is the only one that came out kinda decent. I need more Junior in my life. RT is good at editing across media now, can’t they cross over Junior animated in H2A?

(Also I couldn’t help referencing Chain of Memories, sorry)

#Red vs Blue #S17 spoilers #Omphalos/Theogeny #spelled it right this time #Lavernius Tucker #Junior #Franklin Delano Donut #Agent Washington #bringbackjunior2020

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writehardwhumpharder · 5 years

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Deadly Class Fic. because we need more Marcus whump

King’s Dominion - prison, school, slaughterhouse, and now home. Marcus just knew that it wasn’t the street and that’s all that mattered. The fact that he’s any safer here than on the street was highly debatable, but at the school he had regular meals and a clean, warm place to sleep every night. But old habits die hard, and he found himself stuck in survival mode. Sleeping with one eye open and a knife under your pillow was a very good idea in a place like this, but taking half-eaten lunches out of the trash and hoarding whatever he could get his hands on earned Marcus some strange looks. However, there was one major downside to his new living arrangement, the strict no drugs or alcohol on campus policy. Here he was, laughing with his new friends, eating fresh food, wearing clean clothes, it was everything he could have wanted. But still, as the days stretched into weeks, the itch under his skin, the need to get high, never went away.

The students weren’t locked in the school at all times, technically he should be able to go out and score any time he wasn’t in class, but the walls had eyes. Eyes that followed him out onto the street at night, eyes that kept him in line. But that was about to end. When Marcus and Saya received their assignment in AP Black Arts to successfully stalk someone — not kill, thank god — naturally he chose the best drug dealer he knew.

“What are we really doing here, Marcus?” Saya whispered from where they were crouched behind a building. “I thought you said this guy was some kind of rapist, but for the last three hours we’ve been trailing him, all we’ve seen is a couple drug deals.” She saw right through him. Marcus didn’t even know why he bothered to lie to her.

“He is.” Marcus continued with his story. “He just uses the drugs to lure the girls, or boys, into dark alleys where he can make his move on them.”

“You, can tell me, Marcus. Did this man touch you inappropriately?” Saya teased with fake sincerity.

“Oh shut up.” He snapped. In all fairness a few have tried, but Marcus learned to take care of himself a long time ago. They continued following him to an apartment complex on the edge of town.

“I think that’s where he lives.” Marcus said, pointing to a decrepit building. Sure enough the man hobbled up the steps and went inside. Saya took the lead, edging towards the door with silent footsteps. Marcus wasn’t nearly as graceful but with the crying babies and loud shouting coming from above, he doubted it would really matter. They stepped into the stairwell which reeked of piss and cigarette smoke, the front door was not only unlocked, but it didn’t even close all the way. Their assignment was to follow someone without being seen and to get some token of proof which the pair planned to take from his place. It was ambitious, but Marcus had his own reasons for wanting to get into that apartment. They slowly walked up the stairs to the door they saw him enter. The sound of a T.V. carried out into the hallway, nearly masking the light snoring but Saya caught it and took it as her cue to enter. The drug dealer was fast asleep in front of the T.V., he most likely drank himself into oblivion. How he did it in the few minutes after he got home, Marcus didn’t know. But it sure made stealing from him a lot easier.

“Look for something small to take and be quick.” Saya said before they split up. Saya silently rummaged through the junk on his table while Marcus headed for the bedroom. He knew just where to look — under the mattress, under the nightstand, the bottom drawer of the nightstand, the closet, and if all else fails, the medicine cabinet. He found the small tin almost immediately and slid it into his jacket pocket without checking the contents. On the dresser was a thin “gold” chain, if you can even call it that. The initials RT hung from the middle. The man would definitely notice it was gone but he’d probably think he just misplaced it so Marcus held onto it and tiptoed to where Saya was still looking. He held it up for her see then made for the door. Neither wanted to spend a second longer in that shithole than they had to. Once they were safely on the street, walking back to the school, Marcus handed her the necklace.

“It’ll definitely get us an A, right?” He said smugly. “It’s not exactly proof of how much of a dick he is but that’s a stalking job well done, my friend.” Saya still seemed skeptical of the whole thing but if she noticed what he took, she didn’t say anything. Marcus knew that all she really wanted to was to ace the assignment so when they got back to their dorms they went their separate ways.

Marcus’s closet of a bedroom was only temporary but he relished every second of having his own room. Once he got properly assigned any chance at privacy was long gone. He locked the door and emptied his pockets. Opening the container was a nice little surprise, after all, he’d take anything he could get. Weed, crack, acid, heroin… heroin. Not his first choice but it would do, and he had everything he needed right in front of him. Marcus wasted no time heating up the poison and tying his arm off. Luckily there was a clean needle in the container so he didn’t hesitate to inject the heroin into his bloodstream. The effects were almost immediate. He wanted to just give in and let the drugs take him away but he forced himself to put everything back in the container and hide it before he drifted off. After weeks of being clean, this was pure bliss. The numbness spread through his body like a warm, heavy blanket. Marcus closed his eyes, dead to the world.

He woke up a few hours later, still night. But something felt… strange. He flicked the light on, only to be assaulted by a blinding pain behind his eyes. Bad idea. He turned it back off. He’d been careful about how much he took, but now that Marcus thought about it, he had no idea what the stuff was cut with. If the heroin was as dirty as the dealer he was in big trouble. Marcus’s mind still swirled with the effects of the drug, and if not for the insistent itch in the crease of his arm, he probably would have let the darkness take him again. Pulling a hoodie on to cover his arms, Marcus slipped out of his room into the dark hallway. His limbs were fuzzy and difficult to move but he powered through. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the hallway that he realized he didn’t know where he was going. He needed help, but who the hell could he trust to help him? Marcus couldn’t think, didn’t want to, but the high from the heroin was fleeting and left in its wake the feeling of poison shifting through his veins. The dim hallways were a mercy to his aching head, although they did nothing to quill the growing sense of nausea. The kind of nausea where you don’t know up from down and everything spins too quickly to keep up with. His vision swam in front of him but he managed to keep himself upright as he made his slow trek to Willie’s room. It was the last place Marcus wanted to go right now but Willie owed him, making him Marcus’s only real option.

How he didn’t get caught before he got to Willie’s room was an absolute mystery but man he couldn’t have been happier to see his scowling face towering over him. It was clear he wanted to have nothing to do this. Marcus leaned heavily on the door frame, trying in vain to appear normal and not like a drugged out homeless kid cowering at his doorstep.

“The hell do you want, Marcus?” Willie growled. “Get lost.” It was the reaction Marcus expected.

“Remember… remember that one time, when I sav-“ Marcus started, playing the only card he had left. Willie had heard enough to know that this problem wasn’t going away that easily so he pulled Marcus into the room shutting the door quickly. Apparently Marcus wasn’t prepared for the sudden movement because once the doorframe was out from under him he found the floor rapidly approaching his face. Willie sighed, out of both annoyance and discomfort. He was out of his element.

“God damn it, Marcus. You wanna tell me why you’re stumbling into my room at 2am, coated in sweat and looking like actual death?” Willie demanded.

“That bad huh?” Marcus mumbled from his place on the floor. “I think I used some bad shit.”

“Bad what? What are you talking about?” Willie was getting more and more nervous by the second.

“Heroin, some bad heroin.” Marcus said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world while tugging at his left sleeve to inspect the inflamed puncture site. The sight of it almost made him gag. Willie didn’t say anything for a few minutes. In fact, Marcus was already starting to fall asleep when he felt strong hands lifting him onto something soft, a bed, he figured.

“Okay first we’re gonna clean that, and maybe get some water too.” Willie said, wetting a tissue with some vodka he pulled seemingly out of nowhere. “Look man, I don’t know how to deal with this shit. So you’re gonna hang here and try not to go into the light while I go get Saya and Maria.” Fire raced up Marcus’s arm as soon as the alcohol touched his skin. He hissed, suddenly much more alert.

“Wait, don’t… Saya ‘ll just… and Maria. Wh- Why?” The words jumbled in his mouth. Willie gave him a strange look and opened his mouth to say something but next thing Marcus knew he was gone. Naturally he tried to get up to go look for him. Only succeeding in turning over face down on the bed. The movement was just enough to send his nausea over the edge and vomit trickled down the wood frame of the bed, most of it ending up on the floor. He’s gonna kill me for this, Marcus thought as he drifted away again.

“Oh my god?! What the hell happened to him?” Maria whisper-shouted upon entering the room.

“I think I know.” Saya said. Her eyes trailed over Marcus’s limp form on Willie’s bed. He was deathly pale and visibly coated in a thin layer of sweat. What was most concerning was that he’d either fallen asleep or passed out with his hand left in his own vomit. “I knew I should have kept an eye on him when we were at that drug dealer’s apartment.”

“I’m sorry, when you were where?” Maria questioned as she strode over to the bed. She took a nearby water bottle and emptied it over Marcus’s head, gaining little reaction besides a slight stir. “This is bad.” Saya reluctantly placed a hand on the boy’s forehead, eyes widening in shock as she felt the heat radiating from him.

“Okay, new plan. Willie and I will take him to the showers, you can go sneak into the poisons classroom and get that stuff Mr. Denke keeps for emergencies.” She said to Maria.

“We didn’t have a first plan.” Maria pointed out as she quietly snuck out into the hallway. Now all Saya had to do was figure out how they were going to drag Marcus halfway across the school without being seen.

“I got it, just open the door.” Willie said, throwing the limp boy over his shoulder with ease. Saya went ahead of them, making sure the coast was clear every time they turned a corner. When they got to the showers Maria was already there waiting for them. They stripped his hoodie and socks off before leaning him against the tiled wall.

The cold water yanked Marcus back to reality in maybe the most unpleasant way possible. His first thought was that he was drowning, but his surroundings slowly came into focus. Shaking from the cold, Marcus fought to get out from under the stream of ice cold water but someone held him there. A second person started shoving some foul tasting sand into his mouth. Marcus swallowed some against his will before spitting the rest out as soon as the person, — no, Maria — let go of him. He still felt awful but whatever she had given him seemed to be working.

“What’s going on?” He said through chattering teeth. It wasn’t until he looked down at his exposed arms that he remembered what happened. Saya, mercifully, turned the water off.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, you stupid capullo.” Maria said, crossing her arms in annoyance. Saya and Willie had similar looks. Marcus stared down at the last of the water swirling down the drain, letting the shame and embarrassment sink in. He wouldn’t meet their eyes and instead brought his knees up to his chest, curling in on himself.

“Feel free to come clean up my room when you’re done sulking.” Willie said as he turned to leave, Maria right behind him. When Marcus looked up again it was just him and Saya left in the shower room.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked. Saya looked like she genuinely didn’t know. Part of her cared, the other part just felt obligated since she was the one that convinced him to join King’s Dominion. “I guess you were right.” Marcus said after a few long seconds.

“About what?”

“I’m not alone.” He said, his voice barely a whisper. Saya was caught off guard when he reminded her of their intimate moment on the tower.

“I’m always right.” She said, unable to agree or disagree, because either would require some expression of emotion. While tossing a dry towel at him something that looked dangerously close to a smile spread across her face. “Come on.” Marcus dried his soaking wet clothes as best he could and followed her out.

#deadlyclass #marcus lopez #saya kuroki #drug abuse #passed out #mostly physical but some emotional whump #whump #fanfic #i did this instead of homework

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bashfulmusician · 5 years

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“Untitled”

AN: So this is entirely out of my usual genre of writing. Not only is this angst, it’s basically a whump.

Warnings: mentions of an anxiety attack, mention of a needle, the character is a lab experiment with feelings, whump, uncontrollable shaking, please let me know if I need to add more warnings to this!

She doesn’t remember anything prior to herself. She doesn’t recall when the doctors entered her cell, saying that she was sick. They told her that she needed a medical exam.

They lied.

She faintly remembers when the needle entered her skin, injecting her with some clear serum. At that point she believed that she would be healed from whatever disease she had.

She was wrong.

She remembers the shaking.

The tremors started small, an uncomfortable twitch in her index finger. Easily brushed off as nervousness or sleep deprivation. A minor, harmless nerve spasm. She ignored it in favor of answering needless questions from the doctors.

It was when she dropped a glass of water that the shaking truly began.

As the scientists continued to monitor her, her arms began to twitch and jerk uncontrollably. Her legs began to quiver in time with the rest of her form.

Her breaths became shaky and shallow as the twitching grew worse, morphing into full-body shuddering. Even her teeth began to chatter as though the temperature had dropped.

Still, the scientists watched and asked questions.

She remembers the shaking, the uncomfortable ache that fell into her limbs as everything changed. Her arms wrapped around her quivering, quaking chest and she pried open teary eyes.

“Ple-ease…I’m sc-scared! Wh-hat’s hap-pen-ning?”

A more sympathetic researcher approached the subject, setting his clipboard off to the side. He told her that everything would be ok, that she needed to relax.

“It hur-rts….It hurts and…I can’t stop sh…sha-king! I want it…to stop!”

Twenty minutes following the injection, the spasms showed no sign of stopping. Moreover, the subject’s pain had increased.

“Please….it hurts…”

The scientists had stopped asking questions of the subject and had instead begun to discuss amongst themselves. She can remember some words that they whispered to each other: “successful…talons…genetic mutations…”

Words that she doesn’t know the meaning of now.

She remembers the agony when her canine tooth elongated, moving past her lips as she howled in pain. Still, the scientists discussed her as though she were merely a reaction in a test tube.

Save for one, who had taken pause at her anguished sobs.

The sympathetic researcher excused himself from the others, moving to kneel beside her writhing, quivering form.

She could scarcely see him through her tears, only able to make out a white-coated figure.

“Please,” she whimpered, “make it stop.”

He said nothing, silently offering his hand for her to squeeze.

Forty minutes following the injection, the lead researcher deemed that the subject could be returned to her cell for video observation. The sympathetic researcher moved to help her sit up on the hospital bed, but she shook her head and feebly clung to his arms.

“I can’t….I can’t walk.” While the convulsions had lessened to trembling, her form still quivered with weakness as she wheezed.

He nodded and left the room after the others had gone, returning moments later with a wheeled gurney.

The researcher took her to her cell and carefully helped her onto the bed. He couldn’t help but take note of her cold skin.

She immediately wrapped herself in her thin blankets and sheets, pressing her pillow to her chest.

“Plea-ease…’s cold.” He said nothing and immediately disappeared to retrieve more blankets from the closet.

When he set them on the bed, she set to work creating a nest and burrowing into it, like a snake may retreat into a den. The researcher watched as the entire pile shuddered along with the subject’s trembling. He felt helpless to do anything.

Then an idea struck him.

The sympathetic researcher took one of the blankets from the top of the mound. “Shh” he murmured at the whine he received. “I’ll give it back, hang on.”

He took the blanket to the laboratory dorms, placing it in the dryer and starting the machine. He glanced around nervously, searching for other researchers, as the blanket warmed.

When he returned to the cell, he gently patted the top of the mound. “Hey, come on out for just a minute.” She weakly lifted her head and carefully sat up on her knees. As the warm blanket fell around her shoulders, she sighed with satisfaction and ducked back into the linens, leaving her face exposed.

“Is there anything I can get you?” he asked. She shook her head and extracted a hand to wave at him, then froze.

“My…my hands…” Where nails had once been, talons had grown. “What happened to…my hands?!” Her breathing became erratic as she pulled the blankets tighter around herself, dark pupils narrowing to slits.

Today, she can’t remember exactly why she was so scared.

The researcher sat beside her, his voice lowering. “Shh, it’s ok. I know it’s scary, I know. Just breathe, ok?”

She desperately copied his breaths. Her anxiety continued regardless of his coaching, breaths ragged.

Finally, despite every instinct screaming for him to distance himself, he pulled her close.

Her breaths slowed to an almost normal rhythm, albeit still shaky with her body’s tremors.

He moved to stand up, but felt a hand clasp around his wrist. “No!”

Her tone was…childlike. Afraid.

“Can…you stay…please? I’m scared. I don’t wanna be alone…”

In the back of his mind, he knew that he could be harmed by the subject’s new form, despite her benevolent nature. He could be dismissed for interfering with an experiment.

…..Screw it.

He sat on the bed and stroked her head, mindful of the large, inhuman eyes staring at him.

“Can I do anything to help?”

She pondered the question, subconsciously nuzzling into his palm and allowing her pupils to relax back into round moons.

“Can…can you read….read me a story while…I fall asleep?” She pulled the blankets tighter, “I’m scared…I don’t know what’s…happening.”

He nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around her slightly quivering form.

His low, rumbling voice and gentle pats to her head were enough to send her into a semi-relaxed sleep.

She remembers it now as her first good memory.

The subject slept for twelve hours. Upon waking, she found herself alone in the cold room.

Her cries alerted the scientists, causing a few to hurry to her cell.

But she didn’t want them.

“Where’s…” she sniffled, doe eyes entrancing the researchers. “Where’s the one…” Her brow furrowed as she tried to think of the right words. “Where’s the one…guy?”

“He’s not…here…” mumbled one of the scientists, voice monotonous. He swayed on his feet, gaze fixated on her hypnotic eyes.

“Where is he?!” Her pupils narrowed once more into vertical slits. “I need him! Where is he?!?” She wept and screamed for him, desperate for some sense of familiarity. Desperate for kindness.

He received the radio call moments after she first woke up, but it wasn’t necessary. He could hear her wails from across the building. Dropping a stack of files, he dashed as fast as he could to her cell.

She stopped wailing as soon as she saw him, reaching for him as a child reaches for a parent. He sank onto the bed beside her and allowed her to cling to his lab coat.

“What happened? Why were you yelling?”

She said nothing, sobbing into his front and soaking his clothes with tears.

He glanced at the other scientists, only to find them just as shocked as he was.

“Can’t…”

He patted her head. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t…’member…”

“What can’t you remember?”

“…Who I am. Who am I?” She lifted questioning moon eyes to stare into his with childlike innocence.

“I’m…diff’rent.” She picked at her fang with long talons, pupils dark and imploring. “Not…the same…’nymore.” A pause. “Who was I?”

AN: So this is slightly rushed. It’s also entirely outside my usual genre of writing, so I apologize if it seems clumsy in parts. I don’t usually write angst, nor do I write any sort of ‘experimental’ (pun intended) stories.

If you have any ideas for what I should do with this, I’m open to suggestions!

#my writing #writers on tumblr #angst #my ocs #whump #nonfandom #non fandom #my ocs are my children #but i hurt them so much #i'm also taking name suggestions bc I can't think of anything fitting/right for her #juniper writes a thing with words

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nezanie · 6 years

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In your Arms - RWBY Fanfic

A/N: Keep in mind i’ve written this between (vol6) episode 5 and 6. I assumed whatever is attacking them, might affect the most stressed out among them, and it works slowly picking people one by one. Meaning some can sleep but not be the first affected, it targets. I could be wrong but it’s the premise I’m using to give monos some privacy. Another big change is that monos are currently flirting but haven’t asked each other out...yet...they’re unofficially girlfriends due to current circumstances.

P.S. RT you’ll have to pry ridiculously resistant to the cold Weiss from my cold, dead hands and when you do i will rise and say, “Nah, too bad buddy,”

Summary: requested by anonymous. When the going gets tough, Blake and Weiss try their best to be a comfort to each other. Set between vol 6’s ep 5 and 6.

Links: Patreon and Ao3. Please do give them a look. I’ll be releasing OC too! Links also on my blog!

Pairing: Monochrome, platonic Blake and Yang partner feels.

In your Arms

Blake followed Yang back to the living room with the fireplace finding Qrow by it’s door, he mumbled something about standing guard, Blake knew better than to question him. She eyed the bottles by the chair disdainfully, Yang’s shoulders tensed. They both knew he just wanted to avoid Oscar like the plague and the fact he couldn’t was starting to show. Yang wouldn’t look her in the eye and convinced her uncle to let her stay with him for the first watch. Head hanging, she didn’t have the strength to reach out and talk for fear of saying something even worse, she was perplexed by the whole situation. The urge the run stronger than ever, her one anchor came in a very strong thought, ‘I want to see Weiss,’

A waft of hot air enveloped her as soon as Blake walked into the room.The poor boy slept, or tried to at the very least, by the elderly woman’s side, they had made a makeshift bed with the couch and settled in with the blankets and pillows they found in the vacant rooms of the houses.Thankfully there were empty ones they could scrounge round some useful tools from. Ruby was snuggled at the foot of the couch already mumbling something even her heightened hearing could not quite catch. It seemed none of them was actually asleep even if they needed the rest, the shock still working its way through their veins. Ruby’s eyelids fluttered as she tried to keep watch on the door.

“Yang is keeping watch with your uncle,” Blake reported as she passed by the girl, placing her hand on her head, she couldn’t look at her and hope to be reassuring enough. She heard her mumble her thanks and she seemed to lose a little bit of tension, rigid posture relaxing a little as she held her legs to her chest a little less tightly.

Scanning the room her eyes, Blake glimpsed the person she needed to see the most and narrowed onto her. Weiss was peering out of the window, it was snowing pretty hard now, the white flakes rendering the visibility terrible. For Weiss it was a reminder that she was closer to what she should be calling her home. It made her stomach jump through hoops, the thought of what could happen when they arrived. The storms in Atlas were even more spectacular, she had always loved them, it meant nobody could leave the cosy walls of home, it had been a reminder of happier times that were no longer. When siblings would huddle together, young and naive and parents would close an eye on silly make believe play times. She tried to pull the blanket Blake had brought, a measly attempt to shield herself, suppress the memories and block out any intrusive thoughts.

Blake tapped her shoulder, she jerked hand moving for her rapier and stopped just in time remembering she laid it down. Blake smiled sympathetically, an apology forming on her lips as she offered Weiss the blanket in her hand. Weiss had to stop from gaping at the other, her timing impeccable. She wondered if Blake had known she was starting to feel lonely as her thoughts swarmed her. She smiled tenderly up to the taller girl, reaching up to rub her thumb gently along an eye, they were red. Had she been crying? ‘No, she holds back far too much,’

“I thought we could wrap up together, a warm burrito,” she joked weakly keeping her voice low. Weiss nodded, she preferred to keep their occasional rendezvous private, however this was not the time or place to seek some time alone. And frankly she didn’t care, she wanted to stick to Blake as much as possible tonight. This place was testing her nerves, and she was certain that Ruby was at her limits, Weiss didn’t need to become another burden on the younger girl’s mind. The events of the day broke through their resilience, the need for one another too strong.

They found a corner away from the others, the fireplace kept the whole room warm, the two felt like they were toasting if they got too close. Weiss was practically steaming after she had been huddled in front of it. Bundling up in the two blankets, and stuffing some pillows they found behind them, they managed to make a nice nest they could share in their secluded spot where they could easily see the others. They slumped against one another, trying to get some well deserved rest. Something egged them, a thought at the back of their minds and it prevented them from being lulled to sleep from their shared body heat.

Blake peered at Weiss mimicking her frown as she noticed how intently she had been glaring at their feet enveloped in their blankets. She seemed transfixed up until her eyes fluttered and she glanced up at Blake, they held each other’s gaze for a moment. Weiss’ furrowed brows loosened and she smiled causing Blake’s own lips to twitch, her hand pressed gently against Blake’s cheek thumb running carefully along the red, puffy looking eye again.

“What’s wrong?” she said keeping her voice low so not to disturb the others from sleeping.

Blake leaned into the touch, it felt warm against her cheek and she marveled at how quickly Weiss had recovered from the freezing weather. She’d been trying not to hold back the tears for awhile now but it must have shown on her face, “It’s not-.” Her dismissal was cut short by Weiss’ reproachful expression and with a deep breath Blake exhaled shakily feeling the ache in her throat relent for just a moment.

“I just...keep messing up,” she admitted whispering back, her eyes drifted to the door. Her head throbbed, a migraine threatening to make her night even more miserable. Weiss followed her gaze and pursed her lips, she moved to snake her arm around Blake’s waist, “I’m listening if you want to vent,”

Blake felt her eyes burn, relief flushing over her as she nodded, she pulled Weiss closer perhaps a little too eagerly and carefully tapped her head against hers. In the midst of the hushed retelling, their free hands entwined between their laps and Weiss rubbed soothing circles with her thumb, humming every now and then showing Blake had her attention. Blake was surprised how nobody had hushed them or perhaps she was being too paranoid, the crackling of the fire echoing across the room, their whispers the only other noise she could percieve.

“Is it that bad?” Blake asked nervously, noting how Weiss face had been all scrunched up by the end. She hoped it was because she was lost in thought.

Weiss faltered a little, approaching the subject as delicately as possible, “You know how Yang used to show off a bit when Ruby was involved?”

Blake nodded, listening intently. “Well, I say show off, but it was more like she kept an eye on her, and she did the same for us even before our team dynamic.... umm, let’s say, improved,” Weiss continued trying to see if her point was getting across. One of Blake’s faunus ears drooped as she concentrated on the meaning behind Weiss words. It looked like Blake was following, her expression soured. Weiss squeezed the hand in hers emphatically.

Weiss brought their hands towards her chest and followed it with a kiss on the back of the others hand. “I think you just used the wrong words, even if you were meaning well, and I’m positive you did, Yang might have reacted like she did because you hit the nail on the head,”

“I just wanted to tell her I’m all here,” she nuzzled into Weiss shoulder, feeling contempt for her own dumbassery. “That I’m not going to run anymore, I want everyone to count on me,”

Weiss remained silent, contemplative, for awhile. With a nod she spoke sternly, “Yang’s still trying to get back up on her feet, she’s hiding a lot from us, and she’s scared of being a burden, being told she’d be protected probably came as a shock,”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to mellow it down for me,” Blake mumbled pathetically kissing her shoulder appreciatively. Weiss leaned in to reciprocate, placing a kiss to anywhere she could reach really, right now it was her cheek. Blake wouldn’t look at her yet and Weiss squeezed her eyes shut trying to keep her cool. It always felt like Blake was able to slip away even when she was present.

“Okay then, that was pretty insensitive of you,” she muttered brazenly earning a small groan. “I’m not mellowing it down, just for the record,”

Blake moved away, her eyes seemed a little watery, “What should have I said then?”

“Maybe shouldn’t have let your guilt speak for you,” Blake visibly winced, Weiss really was going in for the kill now, “Blake, you should just try a little bit less hard, as strange as that sounds,” she suggested without mulling too much over it, it was a delicate situation and she had faith in their bonds nonetheless, “Yang is very capable of asking for help when needed, unlike others,”

Blake sucked in a breath at the jab looking guilty as charged, she had no excuse. Weiss was right, from the moment they had been partnered, she was used to seeing Yang on the front lines, she always had their backs on the battlefield and out. Just like Weiss, who went above and beyond in a different manner, she had come to know their quirks well. Blake always marveled at how observant Weiss was among her many other qualities. Ever since she’d come to terms with the intricate relationship of her family’s relationship with other people, especially Faunus, Weiss never stopped striving to improve. Blake wished she could share a little bit of that courage with her. It certainly inspired her.

“Alright, I’ll work to tone it down,” she conceded, her shoulders felt a tad lighter now that she had a plan of sorts. She was determined to listen to Yang instead of having her guilt move her actions. Her fear was nowhere near qualmed though. “Easier said than done,”

Weiss smacked her chest with their hands interlocked, and Blake cleared her throat, “I mean, I’ll do my best, promise,”

“Good, it’s how people stuff work when you do care,” Weiss looked a little bit full of herself, she dried Blake’s eyes gently dabbing her sleeve. Blake rolled her eyes quickly planting a kiss on her neck and snickering as she jerked at the contact. Weiss narrowed her eyes, her look reprimanding but didn’t stop her from pressing their lips together.

“Gosh, you can be so silly sometimes,” Weiss clicked her tongue trying to lighten the mood. Blake wasn’t wrong, forming a bond with another person was not easy let alone calling them partners. There was little she could do but encourage them and support them. She welcomed Blake’s affection, giving her as much leeway as possible.

“You’re not cold anymore are you?” Blake asked in between kisses. Fully aware about being coddled, she felt heartened by the way Weiss was pushing her. Maybe it was this place that was making them feel too vulnerable.

Weiss shook her head, “My aura’s recovered now, so it’s not a bother anymore,” The food and shelter from the harsh winds had made quick work of her expended aura, now she just felt abominably drowsy, her exhaustion another matter entirely. The cold on the other hand was a mere inconvenient memory.

“Yeah, your lips are really warm,” Blake’s own felt cold in comparison, “Guess you’ll have to warm mine up,” she giggled, cheeky grin causing Weiss to pout.

“I thought we were going to tone down the flirting,” Weiss puffed her reddened cheeks, the fire looking like a mightily interesting sight at the moment. Blake was immediately peeved by the remark, it was true they had decided to prioritise their mission and agreed to avoid acting like a lovestruck couple. They weren’t even officially dating yet, courtesy of Adam’s short visit to Beacon, and Weiss’ father flying her to another continent. It had seemed the world was out to seperate them just as Blake had garnered some courage to ask the fateful question.

Blake mock growled, perhaps slightly annoyed, questioning exasperatedly, “We’re stuck in an abandoned farmhouse, in the middle of a raging snowstorm with a setting that could give the most critically acclaimed horror movie a run for its money, and ...you’re bringing that up now?”

Weiss cleared her throat, bashful, “Then, I suppose, I’ll conveniently forget about it as well?”

Blake’s smile radiated joy, ears flickering in earnest, “Good, because it’s your turn to share,”

Weiss grimaced, taking a deep breath, “Am I that transparent?” Blake raised her brows, Weiss laughed weakly, shaking her head in resignation. Blake knew her too well.

“I’m not sure if I’ve already said so, I just really, really, really, don’t want to go back to Atlas,” she said trying to emphasize to the best of her abilities without raising her voice. Blake hummed encouragingly rubbing Weiss side in comfort. The ex-heiress had implied her distaste on their destination yet Blake couldn’t recall if she had ever mentioned that she didn’t want to go quite as fervently. Hopefully admitting it had helped her lose some tension, although Blake doubted that would solve everything.

“It’s exhausting just thinking about it,” Weiss whined, trying to swallow her frustration but the ball in her throat hurt even more, “My father might jeopardize this mission just to get at me, my gloating brother is a pain, and…Salem...” Her mind spun around all her insecurities. Had Winter caught news of her escape? Had she been able to track her after the crash? Had her father found out Klein assisted her escape. Would he hurt Klein? She was trying her best not to think about their reaction, consequences of her own actions. And then there was her mother, Weiss suppressed a dry chuckle, she wasn’t even sure if the woman remembered her in the haze of her drinking.

“I’m sure your sister’s alright,” Blake pulled her into a hug, almost forcing her on her lap, Weiss didn’t seem to mind and welcomed the closeness. They repositioned, hugging each other, and Weiss found herself listening intently to the beat of Blake’s heart which jumped a little at the contact. She felt a little smug knowing she had this effect on the usually quiet girl. Her head fit snugly in the crook of Blake’s shoulder.

Blake knew her words weren’t the best comfort, they didn’t know what was going on after Atlas shut itself off. They couldn’t solve each others problems by merely talking it out, it didn’t mean the support wasn’t needed, it spurred them and gave them hope that things would turn out just fine. Weiss stifled a yawn, humming appreciatively of their shared warmth, it was a different kind of lovely than merely not being cold. She felt Blake relax under her as she rubbed her arm lazily. Blake’s chest rumbled and she reciprocated massaging the knots from her back where she could reach.

“I hope you’re right,” she sniffled a little, admitting it had done her good, the itch in her throat seemed to be fading a bit at the very least.

“I’ll be with you all the way,” Blake promised, it almost felt like she needed to say it, to make it real. Weiss knew Blake’s biggest fear was disappointing them. Disappointing her most of all. “We all are, think about that, it’ll help,”

“Thank you,”

Weiss drew comfort from those words. Concentrating on the fact she had trusted friends this time around improved her mood. ‘I’m no longer alone,’ and that small thought seemed to dissipate some of her insecurities although her concerns about the group’s fate in Atlas i her presence still troubled her.

“We’ll just have to focus on meeting Ironwood,” Blake added, dodging the mention of Salem indirectly. “He might have a few ideas, he’s got all that innovative tech, maybe something that didn’t exist before he asked Jinn could do the trick,”

“Maybe we don't have to destroy her, we could talk to her, she seemed pretty normal...up to a point,” Weiss bit her lip uncertain, could Salem’s true self still be intact after having jumped into that black grimm pool? Even as she said it, she felt a bit foolish, however she needed to cling to hope no matter how small.

“That would be nice, if we could all talk it out,” Blake whispered, it was sweet of her to go along with her ramblings, her free hand patting the tears that managed to escape Weiss self control away, “Just like we did, sorta, I mean Salem’s got the white hair too,”

Weiss gave her a deadpan expression clearly unamused even if a smile tugging on her lips, peering up to a sheepish Blake, and squinting accusingly, “Haha, very funny, Sun’s atrocious sense of humor must have rubbed off on you,”

“Ouch,” Blake feigned hurt, nuzzling into Weiss and squeezing her into a bear hug. It was the least she could do, since she couldn’t offer advice, she’d give her as many hugs as she could spare for the night. Tonight, they could be girlfriends and tomorrow they’d turn back into huntresses.

“Ah, I’m all sore and worn out,” Weiss grumbled squirming into a more snug position in Blake’s arms. Blake helped her settle in wiggling into the pillows behind her and hoped they’d manage to get some sleep. Her mind was still whirling from all the events of the past few hours. Weiss on the other hand seemed pretty much at her limit, eyes already closed and her breathing steadily getting lighter. It was a little bit unfair of her to take advantage of the situation yet she felt the need to get it off her chest.

“Weiss?” she called, a grunt greeted her, “Thanks.” The sleepyhead could only murmur approvingly, words too incoherent for Blake to pick up. She tried again.

“Weiss?” this time there was no reply.

Blake watched her expressions for awhile, the stress of the day forgotten, shielded by the depths of her dream. It was a little greedy, by Blake hoped she was apart of them. Blake wet her lips feeling oddly nervous even as Weiss slumbered. Her voice might have cracked she wasn’t sure, her heart was pounding too loudly.

“I love you,”

It was the first time she’d said it out loud, Blake liked the sound of it and it felt good to word it even if the guilt of not being brave enough to say it when her significant other was awake stung. There and then, Blake made an oath, once this mess was over, she’d tell Weiss when they were both able to confront their feelings for on another. And she hoped against her fears that Weiss would greet her with the same words.

#monochrome #checkmating #rwby #rwby fanfic #weiss schnee #blake belladonna

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kiddiemom-blog · 5 years

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Onion Ring Dish|Buttermilk Onion Rings

When I look back at old family photos of me as a small child, I can’t help but notice that my family and I always appear to take all of our photos around the dining room table. Maybe it’s that there was always some type of cake, pastry, or junk food that lured us to the table, or it’s just that we all love our sweets… Whatever it was, everyone’s habits haven’t changed as our dining room tables have changed throughout the years. Family photos are still taken around the dining table, near some type of food.

After a few photos are taken of our family, we always dig-in. Within minutes. No- within seconds (that sounds about right), food disappears from the table. Right before anyone can say anything, someone rushes out of the kitchen right on time, ready to replenish the food that disappeared. It’s like a perfectly planned magic act that never goes wrong. My family loves food.

I wish I could say that my family had the same love for books as they did food. My mother and I are probably the only two people (out of the many people) from both sides of my family who appreciate great literature and great cookbooks.

When opening up a good cookbook, the photos bounce off the page, ingredients for recipes begin dancing around my face, and then the description of each thoroughly tested recipe pulls me in, and just compels me begs me to get into the kitchen.

I can say the same about newly released cookbook, . Before I opened the book, the photos on the cover popped and specifically told me that I would not be disappointed! WHAT? You don’t believe that the photos talked to me? They did, and guess what- if you don’t already have her book, you should get it to see if those photos talk to you, as well!

When opening the book, I skipped straight to the “Contents” page and made my way over to the “Meat, Poultry, and Seafood” section of the book (Don’t give me that look- I’m a dude! We like our burgers!) and immediately was smacked right in the face by three words that bounced off of the pages of the book to scream, “MAKE ME! Make me, NOW!”

I had to listen to the voices in the book, and boy- was I glad that I listened! These buttermilk onion rings are what you may now call your next go-to onion ring recipe. You’ll thank me for pointing you to the right recipe. You’ll thank Lorna for coming up with said recipe. You can go thank her over here…

After reading Lorna’s book (even if you are far away from being a newlywed, or have been married for years), you’ll be inspired to share great memories of food in your kitchen with your loved ones, and perhaps, you’ll even find yourself taking family photos around the dining room table, for decades to come!

Buttermilk Onion Rings Slightly tweaked from The Newlywed Kitchen

5.0 stars based on 38 reviews

Yes, this recipe requires some frying. I know what you’re thinking, and my response is- feel guilty. Yes, swim in that river of guilt, but keep one thing in mind- these things are amazing! The original recipe calls for a very thinly sliced onion (about 1/8-inch slices)- I like my onion rings a little bit on the thicker side (about 1/4-inch slices) because I like the onion-y flavor, but slice it to what you’d prefer the rings to be like. This recipe feeds 2-3 (you’re pushing it if you try to feed four people), but you can easily double it or triple it.

Ingredients: 2 tablespoons hot sauce 1 teaspoon garlic salt ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 2 cups buttermilk 1 large Vidalia onion, sliced (⅛-inch to ¼-inch slices)

2 cups all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon garlic salt 1 teaspoon sweet paprika ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 quart vegetable oil, canola oil, or peanut oil for frying

Preparation:

In a large mixing bowl, combine the hot sauce, 1 teaspoon garlic salt, ½ teaspoon ground black pepper, and the buttermilk. Submerge the onions.

Cover the bowl and refrigerate for two hours.

In a shallow bowl or large dish, combine the flour with 1 tablespoon garlic salt, 1 teaspoon paprika, and ½ teaspoon of ground black pepper. Dredge the onions in the seasoned flour evenly and shake off any excess.

Heat the oil In a large, deep pot until it registers 360ºF on a candy/deep-fat fry thermometer.

Fry the onions in three batches, turning them with a pair of tongs so they cook evenly and turn golden brown, about 3 minutes per batch. Remove the onion rings from the oil and drain on paper towels. Taste for seasoning and add a little extra salt, if desired. Serve with your favorite dip, and enjoy!

CC Recipe August 3, 2010 at 1:53 pm

These onion rings looks so good, I am such a huge fan of onion rings, I believe I would have to devour them all!

Reply Jordan August 3, 2010 at 1:30 pm

Wow! These look amazing! I love anything fried ;)

Reply Eliana August 3, 2010 at 1:34 pm

I can’t wait to start a family of my own to start developing these same traditions you point out here.

Oh, and there is no better feeling than getting drawn in by a good cookbook. I’m not much of a reader, but put a few good cookbooks in front of me and I’ll be good to go.

I can’t wait to start a family of my own to start developing these same traditions you point out here.

Oh, and there is no better feeling than getting drawn in by a good cookbook. I’m not much of a reader, but put a few good cookbooks in front of me and I’ll be good to go.

shweta j August 3, 2010 at 1:38 pm

yummy, reminds me of the onion bhajiya/pakoda we make it at home,but this looks so divine !

Reply Amy from She Wears Many Hats August 3, 2010 at 1:43 pm

Oh goodness Kam! These look yuuuuuuuum. They’d disappear quickly around our table, that’s for sure.

Loving your photography – just beautiful.

Oh goodness Kam! These look yuuuuuuuum. They’d disappear quickly around our table, that’s for sure.

Loving your photography – just beautiful.

Reply Lana @ Never Enough Thyme August 3, 2010 at 1:48 pm

Okay, I have to admit it. I love anything deep fried. Can’t help it, that’s the southern girl in me. And, man do these fried onion rings look fabulous! My mouth is literally watering for some right now.

Perla August 3, 2010 at 1:49 pm

Kam, this is amazing… im def gonna try these at home. I enjoyed reading the part about your family… they sure do love to eat! and I’ve loved joining them at the dinner table over the past few years!

Reply Jen @ My Kitchen Addiction August 3, 2010 at 1:52 pm

Yum… These look incredible! I want to make some for dinner tonight. Now I just have to go see if I have onions in the kitchen! :)

Reply Adrianna from A Cozy Kitchen August 3, 2010 at 1:55 pm

Oh my gosh! These look amazing! I think the size is perfect, too. I hate super thick onion rings. Super pretty photos!

[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Vivian Boroff, Kamran Siddiqi, Kamran Siddiqi, Jamie , Liz Lee and others. Liz Lee said: RT @wearsmanyhats: Can you say yum?> RT @ksiddiqi92: NEW POST! buttermilk onion rings http://bit.ly/bPjMxp […]

Reply DessertForTwo August 3, 2010 at 2:01 pm

Thanks for making a Lorna recipe! I have been considering getting her cookbook for a while now. You talked me into it :)

Reply Carol Egbert August 3, 2010 at 3:09 pm

Buttermilk seems to be popping up everywhere. What a great recipe, no guilt just lots of good taste. Thanks!

Reply kamran August 3, 2010 at 3:30 pm

shweta- you’re going to ruin the surprise of one of my upcoming posts (*whispers*- pakoras!) ;)

Reply Erica Lea August 3, 2010 at 4:38 pm

Oh, Kamran! They look crispy and delicious. Funny story about your family photos. Seems like many were taken around our table as well. And we CERTAINLY like food. I have never made onion rings. Your photos make me want to give them a try!

They look terrific, just the right amount of crispiness:)

Reply Helene August 3, 2010 at 5:07 pm

What a great review of the cookbook. I love reading cookbooks, they are like novels to me. This is a treat that I could not resist :)

Sounds like me as a child. These look sooooooooo good.

Reply Brooke August 4, 2010 at 2:20 am

Oh. I think I want to cry. Look at those simple little wonders. I love onion rings. I think I love photogenic onion rings even more.

Reply Gail August 4, 2010 at 6:28 am

Now you’ve made me want to see those pictures of your family celebrations through the years! Another beautiful post, Kamran!

Reply Tokyo Terrace August 4, 2010 at 8:24 am

I just bought this cookbook last week! We are yet again on the same wave-length, Kamran! The photos in this post are great. And are making me hungry…

Reply Barbara @ VinoLuciStyle August 4, 2010 at 8:53 am

They do look fabulous; I am a die hard onion ring fan; seldom finding ones prepared anywhere that are good enough to bother and seldom preparing at home because of the guilt of frying. But the buttermilk maybe have swayed me to take the plunge, again.

Reply Shannalee August 4, 2010 at 9:28 am

Beautifully done. I feel like I say this a lot, but seriously: every time I look at your site, I’m more impressed. These pictures are perfection.

Tiffany August 4, 2010 at 8:01 pm

I wonder if these could be modified to go into the oven? That “oiled” smell makes me queasy.

The onion rings I make are dipped in batter and rolled in panko, then baked. They come out incredibly crunchy! But the batter isn’t the best.

Great post!

I wonder if these could be modified to go into the oven? That “oiled” smell makes me queasy.

The onion rings I make are dipped in batter and rolled in panko, then baked. They come out incredibly crunchy! But the batter isn’t the best.

Great post!

Reply Sommer @ A Spicy Perspective August 4, 2010 at 10:35 pm

They sounds (and look) incredible! I rarely fry, but I might have to make an exception!

Reply Megan Gordon August 5, 2010 at 3:52 am

It’s almost 2 a.m. and I can’t sleep…figure I’ll open up the laptop and check in with a few of my favorite food blogs. And what do I find? A recipe I’m absolutely dying for…if I could ship you on over to make these for me right now I would. But there are all kinds of strategic issues with that :) So perhaps I’ll get over my fear of frying and give these a go. Great photos and recipe, Kam!

Reply Brie August 6, 2010 at 12:19 pm

mmm, i love onion rings. ones with a great crunch on the outside and soft, smokey onions on the inside. and having a tangy dipping sauce is the best. these look amazing to snack on.

Reply Joanne August 8, 2010 at 10:38 pm

Hey Kamran, it was great hanging out with you at BlogHer this past weekend, especially at our super exclusive food blogger meet-up. :P

I wish I could get my family to both read AND eat good food. But alas…I think they are lost causes. That’s okay, though. More buttermilk onion rings for me!

Hey Kamran, it was great hanging out with you at BlogHer this past weekend, especially at our super exclusive food blogger meet-up. :P

I wish I could get my family to both read AND eat good food. But alas…I think they are lost causes. That’s okay, though. More buttermilk onion rings for me!

Reply Lisa { AuthenticSuburbanGourmet } August 9, 2010 at 10:54 pm

I adore onion rings and the spicy addition along with the deep fry and buttermilk is pure heaven. Yummy!!!

Reply TheKitchenWitch August 10, 2010 at 9:22 am

My husband would love me forever if I made these. Onion rings are his Waterloo. They look amazing. It was great meeting you this weekend in New York!

Reply Nellie August 10, 2010 at 11:34 am

Good for you for only drinking ginger ale! I would have… not done that. But I suppose you were being watched. Beeeeeeautiful blog.

Reply The Bitch Stopped Cooking August 10, 2010 at 11:53 am

These look delicious! Thanks for sharing!

Reply kamran August 10, 2010 at 4:22 pm

Instead of frying questions– I have not tried baking them, but I am sure that panko coating them and spraying them with canola oil and baking them at 450ºF for about 20-25 minutes will probably work.

Reply Kell August 10, 2010 at 4:27 pm

Just discovered you via thepioneer woman and you definitely deserved a shoutout. I’m still trying to figure out what is in the jar though. It looks very creamy and delicious.

Reply kamran August 10, 2010 at 4:33 pm

Hey, Kell– The creamy and delicious thing in the small bowl is some homemade garlic aioli. I am thinking that a grilled tomato aioli dipping sauce would work well with this, too! :)

Reply Natasha August 10, 2010 at 8:03 pm

I found your blog through Pioneer Woman and so glad I did! Your recipes look amazing and I’m excited to try them!

Reply Elizabeth August 11, 2010 at 11:04 am

I keep hearing about this book and this recipe may have finally convinced me to buy it. I think even my husband will be convinced with this recipe too…REAL deep fried onion rings. Though we strive to live healthy lives, there are just some things that are not good baked, and onion rings fall in that category!

Gorgeous as always Kamran!!

Reply nisha August 13, 2010 at 4:13 am

This is the first time checkin out ur blog and I am already trying out a recipe! The onions are submerged and sitting in the fridge now but I doubt I can wait 2 hours!I am hoping that isn’t that important a step cos Im going to break my fast (it’s ramadhan!)in about fifty minutes! Hope it turns out well!

Reply Buttermilk Onion Rings « For the love of food August 25, 2010 at 12:15 am

[…] Recipe from The Sophisticated Gourmet Buttermilk Onion […]

Reply Dining Minx September 2, 2010 at 10:05 am

I have just stumbled across your blog, via another tweeter, and this recipe caught my eye straight. This is largely due to the fact I love anything deep-fried and crunchy! Thanks, will definitely try this one out.

Reply Ready Steady Cook! | C'est la Vie September 7, 2010 at 6:52 am

[…] (Adapted from The Sophisticated Gourmet) […]

Reply Shelvasha September 29, 2010 at 11:42 pm

I love this recipe, it looks scrumptious! Love the blog, it’s so beautiful! Keep up the amazing work!

Reply Barbecue Buttermilk Onion Rings — Joy the Baker October 19, 2010 at 12:26 am

[…] adapted from The Sophisticated Gourmet […]

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