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liminalpsych-in-teyvat · 1 year

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I have just read the closest description to how my brain / heart function in relationships that I have ever found. And it’s in an erotic Kavetham fanfic. (forms of love, by acynthe)

Fandom and fanfiction is so surreal that way. It’s often seen and treated as trivial, but it can also be incredibly artistic, and it can have representation that’s otherwise hard to find.

Before this, the closest I had found was BBC Sherlock fanfic, and those didn’t quite hit the mark.

This one does.

(I describe this thing that happens in my brain as… keeping file folders on people I find interesting. All the observations I collect on that person goes into their mental file. And eventually those observations and data points click together to form a pattern, an interconnected picture of why the person acts the way they do, and of what’s going on beneath the surface. And new data points get added to the pattern/model of that person to flesh out a more complete understanding of them.)

(“interesting” can mean “infuriating, I don’t know why you act the way you do and so I’m annoyed by you, if I can figure out the why then I can more easily shrug off the irritating behavior”)

(and “interesting” can mean “I like you and am intrigued in a positive way, I am drawn to you and wish to make a study of you”)

(I imagine that Kaveh started in the first category for Alhaitham and over time moved to the second)

I have to flail about it somewhere, and doing so to my girlfriend of 17 years (who doesn’t play Genshin yet) wasn’t enough, so… quotes that I especially relate to beneath the cut:

—

Alhaitham’s also studied the interstices of Kaveh’s elegant fingers and wondered how his own would fit between them—the same way he’s quietly taken in the details of Kaveh’s life and wondered whether there could ever be a place for himself to fit into it somehow, amidst all that passion and all that ambition.

He collects these observations like he’s compiling a dictionary of his own—one defining all there is to know and understand about this man, about Kaveh’s relationship with himself.

Learnings handled with the utmost care. Alhaitham documents all these things far more conscientiously than any of the information he’s ever managed as Scribe. Some things are simply far more precious, after all.

—

“You don’t need to be a student of Amurta to know that’s not quite how it works.” Amusement flickers across Alhaitham’s face. “But if you must rely on physical evidence for some form of reassurance,” he takes Kaveh’s hand, and guides the palm of it to rest over his own chest, “then I’d direct you to look for it here instead.”

Here?

It takes a few seconds for Alhaitham’s meaning to register, to fully sink in.

“...Oh,” Kaveh whispers, as the rhythm of Alhaitham’s heartbeat makes itself comfortable in the home of his hand. He closes his eyes, willing his own to fall in sync, finding the pace of Alhaitham’s pulse to run unexpectedly fast for someone so seemingly unswayed and stoic on the surface. How swift and steady this heart beats—

“...For me,” Kaveh murmurs, with a quiet sort of wonder.

—

And that’s the issue with Alhaitham, isn’t it? He says such things so simply, so bluntly, like it’s the most straightforward thing in the world to accept, like it’s simply another truth of existence—and somehow they still send Kaveh’s heart in somersaults nonetheless.

—

Alhaitham soothes a hand down the curves of Kaveh’s sides. Studies him as he slips fingers into himself, opening himself up, like there’s something about the process worth analysing.

“Like what you see?”

“On the contrary,” Alhaitham’s touch ghosts over the space between Kaveh’s ribs, “it’s rather regrettable that this is all there is to the view.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Kaveh narrows his eyes. “Pray tell what it is that you find so disappointing.”

Alhaitham’s gaze sweeps over him. “That this is all there is on the surface.” His fingertips ghost over shivering skin. “That there is much more to you that my eyes cannot possibly perceive.”

Kaveh closes his eyes, that blush deepening its reach down to the base of his shoulders. “So this is what you’ve chosen to use your Haravatat education for.” He huffs out a laugh. “Waxing poetry to fluster me?”

“Not poetry,” Alhaitham says, dismissive. “Such a subject isn’t in the curriculum at all. I was merely acknowledging something I found to be a pity.”

It’s difficult for him to see this as anything but that. For all the people who meet Kaveh, it’s common to get too distracted by the radiance at his surface to look deeper than his skin.

But Alhaitham has been around long enough to see through all of that. Perhaps because when it comes to Kaveh, he is always looking. And Kaveh has always been so much more than what exists of his corporeal form to be perceived—his body but a finite vessel for an infinite mind.

What a crime it would be, to reduce someone so brilliant to the simplicity of their physicality. Alhaitham has never wanted anything less than all of him.

—

This, like most endeavours, Alhaitham approaches methodically. Brow furrowed in concentration as he works his fingers inside Kaveh, initially in an exact imitation of how he’d observed Kaveh do it to himself—an exact replication of pace and angle and pressure.

Then he gets a bit more experimental, following his own intuition as he gets a better feel for the process. Throughout, he keeps his eyes on Kaveh’s face, watching his expression to assess his response to every touch, using that to guide his own adjustment of his efforts.

—

Alhaitham hums. “Let’s put it this way. I’m exempt from a certain sort of attraction,” he says, “but I’m certainly not blind.”

“...Oh.” Kaveh pauses, processing those words into something warm and hopeful. “And what do you like about what you see?”

“What I like?”

Alhaitham doesn’t even have to spare a second thinking about it—it’s like there’s a list already waiting for him in the back of his mind.

“The outline that the side of your face cuts against the sunset,” he says. “How your eyes are the colour of wine. Your hair could be an instrument of alchemy, with the way it catches daylight and transmutes it into gold. The shape your hand constructs when poised with a quill perched between your fingers. This arc between your shoulder and neck.” He traces the path gently, and the touch tingles like his fingers are stained in stardust. “I hope that answers your question.”

—

Alhaitham knows he may never be able to look at Kaveh the way he may wish to be seen sometimes, the way he may wish to be wanted. He can admire Kaveh for all his aesthetic appeal, certainly, but there are certain desires his mind simply does not have access to. And maybe that means he won’t be able to fulfill a need Kaveh may carry, one craving a certain sort of validation.

… “You’ve had other partners, I assume, who are able to properly appreciate a facet of your allure that is inaccessible to me.” Alhaitham pauses. “I can’t think of you like that. I don’t think I ever can.”

He wonders what he can do, wonders what he should promise in compensation. “I don’t know how it feels to think of you in that way,” Alhaitham continues, the space in his chest suddenly tight like it already knows the importance of what he’s going to express, “but I do know how it feels to be in love with you.”

—

“Maybe they will never be able to comprehend each other, not in their entireties. They are two pieces from different puzzles after all. But if what’s ahead of them is a lifetime of learning, there can be no other person more fascinating to figure out than someone so diametrically opposed to yourself.”

#Genshin impact #genshin fanfic #alhaitham #kaveh #kaveh x alhaitham #alhaitham x kaveh #kavetham #asexuality #ace spec #asexual #ace representation #sex positive ace #acynthe #Intp #haikaveh #fic rec #character analysis

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sm-writes-chaos · 7 months

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Yo what's goin on with case #72?

My attempt at writing a murder mystery in three days while I was at a girls camp. But I came up with some pretty interesting characters so although I never finished it, I hold it dear. —

Case File: #72

Detective On Duty: August S.

Time Period: June 13-15

Case Name: The Girl Who No-One Liked (Wip name!!)

***

A murder occurred on June 13th, the infamous Kelly J. was suddenly down on the ground in a pool of blood. Shortly after the tragedy her body went missing alongside any evidence.

A mystery was born, and everyone was a suspect.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, I should begin where all stories begin,(no not my birth), but three (3) day’s before the crime occurred.

— Here’s a snippet of all the characters: (our main character is August, a 12 year old girl who aspires to be a detective)

Sycamore Camp is run by my school, Sycamore School.

The founders of the school started it as a “fun activity that will inspire perseverance and survival skills for youth.” But that just meant you had to walk a lot.

The school buses could take us most of the way, but we had to hike the last three hours to a crook at the top of the Mount Reswald where the camp was located.

At this point in the story, er, file, I should point out a few oddballs in my school who will be important to this case.

First of all, S.S (Sycamore School) has kids from my age, all the way to high school seniors. Every age goes to this camp. In my class we have the most important to the case, Billy, Turnip, Mike, Ike, and Taffy.

Billy, who I call Search Browser Billy, (not that he ever bothered to give me a nickname), supplies me with additional information when necessary. A detective needs their sources after all. Sometimes he’ll answer whether I ask or not.

He wriggles himself into all different groups, ones his age or not, and collects secrets, confessions, details etc. Anything he can get his ears on.

Despite not giving me a nickname when I gave him one, he’s promised me to always be the first to know when new information is revealed.

Next is Turnip, not her birth name of course. Though I’ve never been able to actually confirm that. Billy knows nothing either seeing as she clams up whenever he walks by.

I once followed her to her parents car when they were picking her up one day, but they too call her Turnip.

She often reminds me of a mushroom. It might be because of her haircut though. Gloomy and glaring, I find her too intimidating to approach. I’ve only observed her from afar but that hasn’t gotten me anywhere.

Onto the twins, Mike and Ike. Contrary to their names however, they are anything but sweet. A twin rivalry has persisted ever since they were six. Billy tells me it’s because one Christmas one of their toys was slightly bigger than the other and he complained about it for days. Out of desperation their parents insisted that everything they do would be exactly the same. Same clothes, same food, same toys.

I suspect this has only made them more resentful, trying to prove one of them is better.

The last important figure in my class is Taffy. Short for Tiffany. The teachers are the only ones who call her Taffy, so she resents the rest of us. I’ve profiled her as a rebel. She gels her hair up in a mohawk, wears denim vests with cut sleeves, and large cowboy boots that when heard gives the impression of a giant walking down the halls.

She often crosses her arms, and I’m beginning to think they’re just glued that way. She spurs everyone during lunch to watch her jump off the highest things she can find before the teachers stop her. And challenges random unlucky people to spontaneous straw sword fights.

I’ve always thought of her as an ally. A detective needs a good distraction sometimes when investigating, so I always keep her favorite candy, green lollipops, on hand at all times.

Then there’s Colin’s class, the soon to be 12th graders.

First up is the infamous Kelly. J.

I say infamous because she’s the cookie cutter popular girl, except everyone hates her.

A scowl permanently on her face, rude, and only communicating in scoffs, the younger classes have taken to giving her an equally hateful scowl in return.

The only people who seem to tolerate her is her best friend Marge, and her boyfriend Brad.

Marge is really Margaret, but she insists it really says Marge on her birth certificate. Brad was a little different. Instead of tolerating her, he was more scared of her. Being treated more like a butler than a boyfriend, he listens to her every command, always giving her that same nervous smile.

—

I might as well tell you the ending because I don’t really plan on finishing it anytime soon. So Kelly J actually faked her death so she could leave her school that hates her and go to a new one. (Very dramatic) Her bf Brad was really suspicious throughout the story so August thought it was him, but in really he had had a fight with Kelly prior to her “death” and told her to “trip on a rock and die” so he thought it was his fault. They were fighting about how in kindergarten he should’ve won this race but he kept tripping (bcuz of Kelly). Anyways thanks for the ask!

#Ask #Case 72

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pinketine · 1 year

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Kiki my darling dear can you please explain to me the premise of. Whatever the fruity men with wild ass names is because I am going insane /silly lighthearted.

The premise of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure?

Oh boy

The explanation is going under this cut because of how long winded this will be

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure is an anime series focused on a family, and their bizarre adventures, shocker. There are 9 parts, each focusing on a different member of the family, all of whom can be referred to by the nickname of JoJo. Part 9, JoJolands, has very recently just released its first chapter.

JoJo is welll known for being over the top, especially in the anime with the constant colour palette changes, ridiculous character designs and poses. And yeah, it does end up being extremely gay. This is evident in the often homoerotic dynamics the JoJo has with their "JoBro"

There's also a LOT of musical references, especially with Part 4 onwards.

Parts 1-6 follow one universe, with part 6 being reset by its main villain, causing a new universe. CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, this new reset universe is not parts 7-9. They are 2 separate stories about two separate Joestar families. The first 6 parts are this:

Part 1, Phantom Blood, is Jonathan Joestar, a young man in early 1900s England, who is the adopted brother of Dio Brando. Dio is evil as shit as a child, seemingly mellows out, until the pair of them are both about 19 or so, when it's revealed that Dio is still a power and money hungry little shit. He turns into a vampire and the part then becomes about killing him.

Part 2, Battle Tendency, is Joseph Joestar, Jonathan's 19 year old Looney Toon character (not even a joke, he deadass quotes Looney Toons) grandson, and starts in 1940s America before moving to Italy. He and his friend/JoBro Caesar Zeppeli are tasked with having to fight ancient Aztec Gods, the Pillar Men (yes, really).

Part 3, Stardust Crusaders, is Jotaro Kujo, Joseph's 17 year old deliquent grandson, as he, Joseph, Noriaki Kakyoin (the JoBro!), Jean Pierre Polnareff and Muhammed Avdol go on a 50 day cross contiental trip to Egypt to fight Dio in the late 80s. Yes, the same Dio. He's a vampire, ya know?

Part 4, Diamond is Unbreakable, is Josuke Higashikata (the kanji for the suke in his name can also be read as jo), Joseph's illegtimate 16 year old son in the summer of 1999 in Japan. He and his friends track down their local town serial killer, Yoshikage Kira, 33 years old, lives in the North East section where all the villas are-

Part 5, Vento Aureo, is Giorno Giovanna (Yes it's pronounced JoJo), the illegtimate son of Dio and Jonathan Joestar (it's GENUINELY not what it sounds like.) in 2001 Italy. He and his band of friends all named after Italian foods go on an adventure to kill the leader of the Italian mafia, Diavolo/Doppio Vinegar, in order to stop drugs being sold to kids.

Part 6, Stone Ocean, is Jolyne Kujo, the 19 year old deliquent daughter of Jotaro, and takes place in 2011 Florida. She and her friends break out of prison, save Jotaro and stop Pucci, a priest and follower of Dio, YES THIS GUY AGAIN, from resetting the world.

Those are the first 6 parts, and the first 6 JoJos. We then leave this universe, and join a completely new one. Important side note: Stands are only introduce in Part 3, with Parts 1-2 having this type of magical breathing named Hamon!

Part 7, Steel Ball Run, is Johnny Joestar, who is this universe's Jonathan, in 1890s USA. In order to regain mobility, he partners up with JoBro Gyro Zeppeli in order to win the Steel Ball Run horse race to learn the Spin and collect the corpse parts of Jesus Christ. He ends up having to kill the US President, Funny Valentine.

Part 8, JoJolion, is Josuke Higashikata, nicknamed Gappy, who is clearly this universe's Josuke in 2011 Japan. I never read JoJolion, so I'm not too familiar with the plot, but I do know that Gappy is actually two men. Like. He's a Steven Universe fusion of Yoshikage Kira and Josefumi Kujo. I'm not shitting you.

And now, we have the newly released Part 9, JoJolion! This is 15 year old Jodio Joestar, and we don't know much of the plot yet due to us having only one chapter. He seems to be this universe's Giorno, but maybe not a son of Diego Brando was ran over by a train. Apparently, it's the story of how he got rich. Right now, he's a drug dealer who was born in New Jersey and now lives in Hawaii in the present day with his sister (IDON'TCAREWHATARAKISAYSSHEISATRANSWOMAN) Dragona Joestar and his mother.

Something interesting to note is that the 7-9 JoJos are very much unlike their counterparts. Jonathan is a gentlemen, Johnny is a pretty selfish cold blooded killer. Josuke is a sweet kid, Gappy kills without remorse. Giorno resents drug dealers, Jodio is one.

So that's the premise for each part! I could go even more indepth, but I think this gets the point across. JoJo's premise is that it's a bunch of bizarre stories 2 families go through.

Anyways, part 3 is my favourite and my favourite character is Kakyoin ^-^ but my favourite JoJo is Johnny

#YOU ASKED FOR IT #winterly!!!#505 radio #also fun fact!#kika is my actual nickname #but i thought it'd be too hard to say right for english speakers #and i was inspired by jojo to anglicise it to kiki!#jjba

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acacia-may · 2 years

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It’s A Future Problem

Black Bulls Family Fluff Fic

In trying to decide which of my stories to put up on my Tumblr blog first, this is the one that came to mind. It’s an older one, but it’s one of my favourite things I’ve ever written. I just love Black Bulls family fluff & shenanigans! Thank you for reading!!

Description: Random items are appearing and disappearing through spatial portals throughout the Black Bulls' hideout causing more chaos among the squad than usual. Finral swears his innocence despite an overwhelming amount of evidence to the contrary and is bewildered by his own collection of treasures that keep inexplicably turning up on his desk. However, when the squad teams up to set a trap to catch the mysterious mischief-maker, they get much more than they bargained for. Perhaps there are some mysteries that are better left unsolved...

Rating: T (for some language but mostly just fluffy & fun)

Fandom: Black Clover [**This story takes place early in the series before the arc in the Sea/Underwater Temple but includes some jokes that are dependent on knowledge of things that happen later in the series (so vague(?) spoilers through Ch. 124/Ep. 120/mid-season 3)**]

Genre: Black Bulls Family Fluff & Shenanigans

Characters: Finral Roulacase, Noelle Silva, Vanessa Enoteca, Yami Sukehiro, Asta, Magna Swing, Luck Voltia, Charmy Pappitson, & OC [Kalon].��

Word Count: 4,229

No clear/explicitly stated pairings. (Please do with this information what you will)

Link to original post on AO3.

Story #1 in the “Future Problems” Series

Link to “A Mixer Mix-Up” Story #2

Link to “Little Wonders” Story #3 (Stand-Alone Side Story which does not need to be read in order)

Story Under the Cut:

It started with a rock—a mishappen but particularly shiny stone that appeared almost randomly on the desk where Finral wrote his mission reports. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time assuming one of his squad mates had put it there, either randomly or for some reason he didn’t understand. But then there was the feather, several acorns, a thimble, some leaves, a handful of buttons, and a few pieces of candy—all of which inexplicably appeared on the same corner of the desk over the course of a week. Finral began to suspect that these random items were being left there intentionally, but he wasn’t entirely sure by whom until a small bouquet of flowers appeared one afternoon and he decided to take a wild guess.

“Um…Vanessa?” Finral asked as he walked up to her with the lilacs that had been waiting for him on the desk.

Vanessa tilted her head at the purple blossoms. “It’s been awhile since you’ve given me flowers,” she laughed. “I don’t even recognize these ones.”

“I wasn’t…” Finral stumbled in confusion. “Didn’t you leave these for me?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No.”

“On the desk upstairs—like you left the rock and the feather and buttons and candy…” his voice trailed as he tried to remember all the random items that had been appearing recently. Vanessa’s brow furrowed.

“I didn’t leave anything for you, but I was thinking about it ever since you gave me those limes.” Her face brightened. “They’re so fresh. They’ll be great for cocktails later!”

“Limes?” interrupted Finral—his brow furrowing. “I didn’t give you any limes.”

Vanessa chuckled. “If you want your presents to be anonymous you probably shouldn’t portal them into my room while I’m sitting right there.” She frowned. “Speaking of, how did you even get past my traps to get in, in the first place?”

“Wha…what?” Finral choked, his cheeks growing warm. If he was being perfectly honest, he had considered and theorized about how someone could or would get past those traps—his face flushed at the thought—but he had never actually tried it and was fairly certain he would fail if he did.

“Come on, Finral,” said Vanessa tilting her head. “I know you can’t make portals to places you haven’t been before.”

“But I…I haven’t…I didn’t...I’ve never even been to the girls’ side of the hideout,” he stammered. “There’s no way I could’ve made a portal into your room.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as they met his. He swallowed hard. “I saw it,” she said. “You can’t lie to me.”

“Vanessa, I swear…I didn’t…” he choked. “Are you sure you saw…?”

“Yes,” she cut him off with a huff. “There was this small, shiny spatial portal, two limes fell through it, and then it disappeared.”

“You gave Vanessa limes?” huffed Noelle, stomping into the hideout’s common room. Finral tilted his head. She was far more upset about this than he would have expected but maybe it was more at the implication that he could somehow make portals into the girls’ side of the hideout.

He held up both of his hands. “I didn’t…” he began to protest, but Noelle cut him off irritably.

“You give Vanessa limes, but you gave me a disgusting piece of candy that got stuck in my hair.” Noelle seethed and motioned to the brightly colored taffy that was currently stuck in one of her pigtails. Finral’s mouth flew open in shock and confusion. Noelle scrunched up her face furiously. “It won’t come out. Everything I’ve tried has just made it worse.”

“Finral!” Vanessa scolded, and she walked over to inspect the sticky substance in Noelle’s hair as Finral began to ramble.

“I don’t…I don’t even have any taffy, and even if I did I wouldn’t just…” he stopped abruptly. “Why do you think I’m responsible for…?”

“Because I saw your portal!” Noelle insisted irritably. “This gross, sticky gunk just flew out of it right into my hair.”

“What?” Finral shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any…”

“That’s nothing—you should see what he did to Magna!” interjected Luck. Laughing, he bounded through the doorway followed by a drenched and irate flame mage.

“What the heck, man?” Magna snapped as he pushed his sopping, deflated hair out of his face.

Luck clearly found this hilarious as he erupted into laughter. “He’s soaking wet!”

“It’s not funny.” Magna glared at him, then at Finral. “What is wrong with you? Asta, Luck, and I were just out training when suddenly you decide to open a portal and pour milk all over me.”

“It was great! Do it again!” Luck beamed at Finral with a giant grin, but the rest of their companions were clearly incensed with him. Finral rubbed his hand across his forehead. He was so confused—his head was starting to spin.

“But I didn’t…I don’t understand…I’m sorry that all this happened, but I…” He stopped as he was interrupted by Gordon shoving two hands full of buttons into his face and mumbling something Finral couldn’t understand. “I don’t…”

“Hey Finral,” exclaimed Asta with a wave and smile. Finral sighed in relief, at least there was one person who wasn’t mad at him. “Thanks for the cool rock!” he added excited, holding up a jagged grey stone. What?

“Yeah and you hit Asta on the head with that rock!” added the already irritated Magna.

“Why didn’t you throw anything at me?” pouted Luck.

Before Finral could even begin to formulate a response, Charmy rushed in pointing an accusatory finger at him as fury seemingly billowed off of her tiny body in waves.

“There you are, cupcake stealer!”

Finral held up his hands. “Charmy, I promise I didn’t…” he tried to explain helplessly, but Charmy scowled.

“I was making those cupcakes for dessert after dinner, and I sat them down on the counter for just a second before they disappeared through a spatial portal and these were left in their place.” She forcefully shoved a handful of acorns at him. “You think acorns make up for running off with those yummy, delicious treats—? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Finral opened his mouth but could barely choke out any sounds let alone any words. Had he hit his head earlier? Were they all playing some kind of joke on him? None of this made any sense at all—he felt like he was in some sort of alternate reality.

“And even worse you knocked over my sculpture of Marie,” interjected Gauche. Finral didn’t even know when he had gotten there.

“Listen, everybody, I don’t know what’s going on, but I promise I haven’t been sending any of this…”—he waved his hands around, trying to think of the proper word—“stuff through any portals.”

“Finral!” bellowed the loud, booming voice of an irate Captain Yami. It reverberated through the room from wherever he was in the hideout—probably the bathroom, Finral guessed. “You better bring that last roll of toilet paper back in here right now or I swear…”

Finral threw up his hands. “I didn’t take it! I’ve been right here the whole time!” he cried—desperately defending his innocence. “All of this stuff—I didn’t do it. You guys have to believe me!”

“If you didn’t do it, who did? It’s not like there are any other spatial mages who can open portals in our hideout,” argued Noelle.

“I don’t know, but there has to be some other explanation. I’ve been finding weird things recently, too.” He hadn’t actually seen any portals, but he felt he didn’t need to add that part.

“Yeah, we can’t just accuse Finral without any proof like this,” interjected Asta, and Finral’s eyes grew a bit misty as he smiled gratefully at him. What a kind boy—he was so glad Captain Yami had brought him onto their squad as their new rookie.

“We should set a trap!” suggested Luck.

Charmy grinned in agreement. “Yes, let’s catch that nom napper in the act!”

“I’ll go get some wine for the stakeout,” Vanessa chuckled as she headed out of the hideout to visit the market followed by Gordon who was generally responsible for the squad’s money.

“Someone had better bring that toilet paper, damn it!” boomed Captain Yami’s voice over the excited planning and chattering of the squad. Finral sighed and portal-ed away quickly to attend to the Captain’s “emergency” leaving his squad behind to plan their trap for that mysterious spatial magic mischief-maker.

___________________________________________________________

When Finral returned to the hideout’s common room with Captain Yami, he found his squad mates—besides Vanessa and Gordon who were still at the market buying wine and Gauche who had probably lost interest since this plan had nothing to do with Marie—hiding rather obviously behind furniture, watching a conspicuous plate of cupcakes on the table. Finral rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but whoever was causing all this trouble would have to be completely stupid to fall for such a basic, obvious…

Suddenly, a small portal appeared in front of the table, and a hand reached out to take one of the cupcakes. Finral rolled his eyes again. He supposed he had spoken—or rather thought—too soon.

Luck bolted out from behind the couch and grabbed the hand by the wrist. “Gotcha!” he cried triumphantly as the rest of squad jumped up from their hiding places.

“I told you guys it wasn’t me,” huffed Finral, making sure they all saw that as he was clearly standing in the room with them, there was no way he was on the other side of that portal.

Captain Yami walked over to Luck and helped him pull the hand—and the perpetrator—through the portal. “Alright, ya little hooligan, how the hell did you—?” He stopped, and Noelle and Charmy gasped almost in unison as they all gazed upon the face of the troublemaker. He couldn’t have been older than seven or eight and stared back at them with wide, confused eyes. With a full head of messy, thick hair that clearly wouldn’t lay flat and a familiar bright smile that spread across his small, rosy cheeks—Finral nearly choked—the kid looked just like…

“Why is Finral so tiny?” asked Asta tilting his head in confusion.

“That’s not, Finral, knucklehead,” Captain Yami grunted.

“How do you know?” questioned Magna, and the Captain huffed narrowing his eyes at him.

“Look at him—he’s a pipsqueak, and his eyes are a different color, dum…”—the Captain paused, meeting the eyes of the kid in question and seemingly censoring himself—“moron.”

The kid’s smile brightened. “Oh hi, Uncle Yami!” he said as he stared up at the Captain in enthusiastic recognition.

The Captain raised an eyebrow at him. “And who exactly are you, kid?”

The boy giggled with a somewhat unnervingly familiar laugh, “You know who I am, silly?”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed, but the boy seemed either not to notice or not to care. “What’s your name?”

“Kalon,” he replied with a smile, but his eyes widened as he looked around the room. “Oh wow! Uncle Luck and Uncle Magna are here, too. And Uncle Asta and Aunt Noelle” —his face lit up—“Aunt Noelle you look different but really pretty!”

“Ah…ah…uh…” Noelle sputtered as she looked from Kalon to Finral who was stunned speechless. Finral could only blink at her. He felt like he had been hit on the back of the head and could scarcely put a coherent thought together.

“Hey Kalon, how’s it goin’?” asked Asta with a smile. The rest of squad gaped at him.

“You know this kid?” questioned the Captain, but Asta shrugged.

“No, but he said I was his uncle…”

“Wait, are we really his uncles?” asked Luck. “If I’m his uncle, that means we can fight, right?”

“I’m not allowed to fight you until I get my grimoire, Uncle Luck,” Kalon replied with a chuckle. “Dad said.”

“Who exactly is your dad, kid?” asked Captain Yami.

Charmy took a deep breath and began, “You don’t actually think—”

“Aunt Charmy!” Kalon exclaimed with wide, excited eyes. “Thanks for the cupcakes!”

Charmy’s mouth twitched just barely in the corners, but she frowned. “You stole those. They were for dinner.”

“And you poured milk on me,” Magna huffed as he began to count on his fingers—“stole toilet paper, hit Asta with a rock, and stuck candy in Noelle’s hair”

Kalon’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m still learning how to work my magic. I didn’t know where the portals were going.”

“So you just sent random things through to who knows where?” questioned Noelle with a pointed glare.

Kalon shrugged. “I sent other things too—good things, like my favorite rock, a cool feather I found, some limes…Ooh! And some pretty flowers too. I could sense my dad’s mana so I thought it was okay…”

Yami narrowed his eyes at the kid. “Your dad…is that Finral?”

Finral nearly choked as Yami motioned to him, and Noelle groaned in disgust.

“You…you can’t just…ask…” Finral stammered. He was dreaming right? This was a dream—it had to be.

Kalon tilted his head and glanced over at Finral in confusion. “Dad? Is that you…?” His little brow furrowed like he was thinking, another look that was all too familiar. This was starting to get very—Finral wasn’t sure there was a word for it so he decided on—weird.

“Oh my…” Noelle exclaimed seemingly too horrified to even finish her thought. She shook her head muttering, “Gross…”

“I think it’s great!” exclaimed Asta. “I love kids! Congratulations, Finral.”

“But…but uh…um…” he choked—his mouth growing suddenly dry and the words getting caught in the back of his throat. The whole room felt like it was spinning, and his head was throbbing.

“I don’t want to live in a world where Finral has…”—Noelle’s face contorted into a grimace, and she wrinkled her nose in appalled disgust—“reproduced…”

Finral was so shocked by the whole situation that he couldn’t find the words to protest—he couldn’t even find it in him to glare at Noelle. All he could do was blink at her dumbstruck until the Captain glowered at him, gritting his teeth.

“Finral, what’s the one rule we have on this squad?”

“The…the ‘one rule’…?” he stammered in reply but stopped abruptly at Yami’s icy, admonishing glare. He swallowed hard and answered quietly, “‘No babies on the squad,’ Sir.”

Finral fidgeted uncomfortably as Yami glanced at Kalon and narrowed his eyes. “And what am I looking at right now?”

“I…I...I have no idea…” Finral spluttered. “But there’s no way… I mean just do the math, Sir…there’s no way I could have a kid this old…”

“Hey kid, is Finral here your dad?” asked Yami bluntly as Finral let out an almost horrified choke.

Kalon frowned. “Those jokes are mean. Mom says…”

“Mom?” gasped several horrified voices—Finral’s not being one of them as his face was blushing beet red at the idea and he struggled to find his words.

“What kind of woman…?” began Noelle before she grimaced and shut her mouth as Kalon’s entire face seemed to light up.

“Mom is the best! She’s my favorite person besides Dad,” he paused glancing at Finral inquisitively. “What are you doing here, Dad? How can you be in two places at once?”

“Two…places at…once?” choked Finral—his brow furrowing. Kalon’s brow furrowed in much the same way before he partially ducked his head through his portal.

“Dad, how can you be in two places at once?” he called to the other side. After a pause he said, “No really, you’re on the other side of this portal too.” Pause. “It’s to Uncle Henry’s house.”

“Who is Henry?” questioned Magna as a strange look passed over Captain Yami’s face.

“Does he want to steal our hideout? I’ll fight him for it!” exclaimed Luck puffing out his chest a little.

“Shut up, knuckleheads,” grunted the Captain rolling his eyes.

Finral shook his head and tried to focus the best he could on the one-sided conversation Kalon seemed to be having—though he couldn’t seem to focus on much of anything. His brain was fried—his head was completely empty.

Kalon smiled brightly at him before he said to the other side of the portal, “It’s different—kinda floofy and it sticks up on the sides but not as much. It’s all in your face too...” He paused and tilted his head at Finral before he turned to the other side of the portal. “No, there isn’t any green in it.”

Finral’s eyes narrowed, and he just barely shook his head in confusion. What in the world was this kid talking about?

Kalon looked around the room before he said, “Uncle Yami, Uncle Magna, Uncle Luck, Aunt Charmy, Aunt Noelle, Uncle Asta, and…” He paused and smiled. “Oh hi, Aunt Secre! I didn’t see you before.” The Black Bulls looked around at each other in bewilderment.

“Who is that?” questioned Noelle.

Yami shrugged. “Even I don’t know that one.”

“Well maybe she’s around here somewhere,” said Asta, and he began looking almost frantically for this mysterious person while Nero flew off of his head and settled in on a windowsill instead, probably preferring a perch that wasn’t moving around so much.

“Do you want to play hide and seek?” asked Kalon to seemingly no one—or perhaps this mysterious ‘Aunt Secre’ whoever that was—before he turned his attention back to the other side of his portal. “Oh…” he looked around. “No, she isn’t. Uncle Gordon isn’t either and neither is Uncle Gauche. And…” Kalon frowned. “Aw man…Uncle Zora isn’t here either.”

“Now, he’s just making people up,” interrupted Magna with a shake of his head.

“Aunt Grey is missing too, but there’s somebody…I don’t know who they are…” Kalon’s eyes narrowed at Grey who he had just said was missing. Finral blinked rapidly. He couldn’t even begin to wonder what was going on.

“Oh yeah, he has both arms and they look okay to me!” Kalon said seemingly at random.

“Whose arms? Who is he talking about?” asked Charmy who was practically bouncing up and down in energetic confusion.

“You got a lotta explaining to do, kid,” Captain Yami interrupted him, giving his arm a gentle tug.

Kalon looked up into his face and smiled. “Have you been to the beach recently?”

Captain Yami blinked. He clearly had no idea how to respond to that.

“Clearly this kid inherited Finral’s scatterbrain,” huffed Noelle with a sigh.

“We went to the beach once. It was really fun. We got to build a sand castle and…” Kalon was jerked backwards as if whoever was on the other side of this portal was pulling his other arm.

“That sounds awesome,” interjected Asta enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach.”

“They haven’t been yet…” said Kalon turning his head. There was a long pause, and Kalon nodded solemnly. “Oh…okay…” He turned back to the bewildered Black Bulls. “My dad says I’m not allowed to talk to you anymore because I'm a time traveler and it might change the future,” he said with a cheerful nonchalance that did not fit at all with what he had said.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Captain Yami seemingly too shocked to remember to censor himself in front of the kid.

Kalon shrugged. “Dad said he thought this might happen, but he wasn’t sure. He says my portals can travel back in time instead of just to other places…” He paused and smiled at Finral who could only gape at him. His ‘supposedly’ future son could ‘supposedly’ time travel now? Could today get any crazier?

“I guess that means you’re my young dad then!” added Kalon with a smile that faded a little when he added, “Dad says I can’t play with you anymore because it might change things…but someday when I can use my magic better, I’m going to come back so we can all play together!” His face brightened. “You all seem like lots of fun when you’re young!”

“Are we not fun when we’re older?” gasped Luck in horror. “Did we all get…”—his volume dropped as if he didn’t want to say it aloud—“boring?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” said Kalon with a sympathetic smile. “I have to go now. Sorry for causing all that trouble…I’ll try to be more careful.” He looked down at the cupcake in his hand.

“Can I take this with me, Aunt Charmy?”

“Sure,” she shrugged a bit unsurely, but she smiled.

Kalon nodded and waved goodbye saying, “See you later! Have fun at the beach—especially you, Young Dad!”

“Wait!” exclaimed Finral—his body somehow moving on its own and gently grabbing onto Kalon’s arm before he disappeared through the portal. “Who is your mother?” he choked out almost desperately. Finral almost sighed with relief knowing he could’ve never forgiven himself if he had let his ‘supposedly’ future son disappear without asking. He shook his head at the thought. Honestly, this day…

Kalon laughed. “Dad said you would ask that, Young Dad.” He sighed. “But he says if I tell you, it might change the future and that would be bad because we’re all really happy.” His smile brightened, and Finral’s face softened, his mouth just barely twitching into a slight smile.

“I’m happy…?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “In the future…?”

“Very happy,” said Kalon with an affectionate smile and wide, loving eyes that overwhelmed Finral with a wave of emotion he couldn’t decipher or understand. He wiped his eyes as he sniffled, and Kalon sat down his cupcake on the table and patted Finral’s head gently with his hand. “You’re the best! That’s why I left you all those presents.”

Finral gasped, blinking his misty eyes. So all of those random little things…they were presents for him after all. He sniffled again but cleared his throat.

“Thank you for the gifts,” he managed with a slight smile. “Especially the flowers.” He held up the bouquet he had been gripping in his sweaty fist, and Kalon smiled brightly.

“I’m glad you liked them, and I’m glad I got to meet you when you were young!” he replied with cheery laugh. “And all of you too!” he added to the room at large. “Though I still don’t know who that is…” His brow furrowed towards Grey who exhaled.

“That’s Grey,” said Asta.

“Really? Wow! You look way different in the future,” laughed Kalon as he turned to disappear through the portal. “I hope I didn’t mess it up…” he added with a strikingly familiar, breathy laugh as he rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Captain Yami shook his head in disbelief, but Finral could only gape at him as he turned around one last time and said with a wink, “Dad says to hang in there, Young Dad!”

Finral smiled—he supposed—at his future, which wasn’t looking all that bad, after all, and he even managed to wave goodbye as Kalon disappeared through the portal. The Black Bulls watched the portal flicker and vanish with their jaws open in dumbfounded shock and confusion—their common room had never been so quiet with so many of them in there before.

As soon as all traces of Kalon’s portal had completely evaporated, Finral let out the breath he had been holding and finally choked out the words he had so desperately been wanting to say, “What the actual hell?”

___________________________________________________________

Epilogue:

When Vanessa and Gordon returned from the market, they found their entire squad essentially stunned speechless.

“What happened?” asked Vanessa in confusion.

“Don’t wanna talk about it…” Magna mumbled, shaking his head before stalking off.

“Okay…?” Vanessa tilted her head. “Did you figure out who was causing all that trouble with those portals?”

“Yeah,” answered Luck scrunching up his face. “He says I’m going to be boring! I’m not going to be boring! Magna fight me so I can prove I’m not boring!” he added running off after Magna.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed. “Who says? Luck? Wait! Who was it?”

“You know,” said Charmy shoving a whole cupcake in her mouth. “There are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“I wish I didn’t know…” Noelle huffed with an almost disgusted scowl.

“But then we would have never learned about time travel magic, and it’s so cool. It’s like the wizard king’s magic!” exclaimed Asta, and Finral who had been deep in thought in the corner practically jumped up.

“That’s it! I marry the Wizard King’s sister in the future!” he gasped excitedly. “Yeah, his super kind, super beautiful, and super amazing sister—that makes sense!”

“He doesn’t have a sister, dumbass,” Captain Yami huffed before he turned to Vanessa. “Oh, thank goodness. Please tell me you brought wine…”

“Yeah…I did…” her voice trailed as she held out the box of wine bottles to Captain Yami. He took one and picked up one of the corkscrews they had lying around. Once he had opened it, he drank straight from the bottle. Vanessa blinked at him—her jaw falling slightly slack. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

“I can,” grunted the Captain. “But you’re probably going to want to open another bottle of wine first…”

The End

#black clover fanfic #black clover fanfiction #black clover oc #the black bulls #finral roulacase #noelle silva #vanessa enoteca #yami sukehiro #asta black clover #magna swing #luck voltia #charmy pappitson #black bulls family #self indulgent #thanks for reading #warm and fuzzy #mystery solved

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 10 months

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multiples of 6

Thanks for the ask, Nonny! This'll be fun. Though I really hope I'm doing my math right, I'm challenging myself to answer this without looking up a chart. :P

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

Straight-up without, as often as I can get away with it. Always when I'm at home.

12. Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

Oh yeah, I did it a lot as a kid. After kid-dom: Does using tweezers to pluck nose hairs count? Or nasal allergy spray? Also, I can stick my tongue up my nose a little. I used to do that to freak people out.

18. Do you believe in karma?

Do we mean the bastardized Western "karma" or the actual Buddhist samsara-involved karma? Because I don't think the universe has any default rule for "if you're a jerk, bad things will happen to you in the very same life, just because you're a jerk", I've seen too much evidence to the contrary, but I do believe in reincarnation, and I believe that the way you act in previous lives affects how you experience this one.

I believe good and bad things happen to everyone regardless of how kind or selfish you are, life can be hard or easy for anyone if they make it so, and it's really more about how you spin it. Attitude, gratitude, and all that.

24. Do you have a collection of anything?

See prior ask! (tl;dr Many things: CDs, Evanescence stuff, Pokemon stuff, Teen Titans stuff, rocks/etc., bird feathers/bones, and books.)

30. Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Right arm: Misdreavus plushie. c: Left arm: My everyday messenger bag.

36. Define Art.

Something that can be practiced and turned into something else, or otherwise change something because of the way one thinks, feels, and expresses it beyond their own mind. I see language as an art. I see cleaning as an art. I see thinking as artistic.

(Cut because there are Many and it got Long!)

42. Do you like the smell of gasoline?

I actually used to like it a lot more. I loved the smell as a kid. Now it smells kind of overwhelming.

48. What’s your sexual orientation?

Do you want the easy answer, or the in-depth technicality-ridden microlabels?

Easy answer: asexual

Technical microlabels: Demi-gray-pansexual. (Demi because I absolutely can not feel any sort of sexual attraction without an emotional bond first, gray because even when that criteria is met it's exceedingly RARE for me to feel any sexual attraction, and pansexual almost as an afterthought because gender doesn't even factor into it for me. I have the capacity to be attracted to any and all genders.)

54. What’s the last thing you purchased?

I bought groceries yesterday. A lot of groceries. Specifically: Mostly fresh fruit and veggies, some salad fix-ins, gluten-free bread, a couple different drinks, and a perhaps ridiculous amount of different candies. Also bought some folders for tax purposes and some scissors/glue for household purposes, as well as knee-high nylons because the ones I have are all breaking, and hairties and a new brush because the ones I got from Walmart were simply Not working.)

60. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

Uhhh... The aforementioned Misdreavus plushie has pink on the ends? There's a Mismagius one too, also with pink ends! Some deflated balloons from the birthday "party" Mom and qpp and my niece decorated our place with. (It was months ago but it made my heart so happy, you have no idea!) Also some candy packages, raspberry-lemonade kombucha drink cans, and the memory foam pillow that came with an obnoxiously hot pink cover that I'm probably going to put another case on. Also some Mother's Day gift baskets I still haven't given people.......

66. What is your heritage?

Mostly English and German, some Scottish, and various Lakota tribes with more Cherokee than all the Lakota bits combined. I don't really "claim" any of it, though. It's my ancestry, but I wasn't really raised with any ideals or customs that are unique to these cultures.

There are more aspects to this that involve past lives that I consider a part of My Heritage, but I'm not comfortable delving into that on a public blog with 800+ followers.

72. You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

Well, I'd write up a will, for one. I'd handle the practical stuff first: Telling people my desired funeral arrangements (dear god do NOT pump my physical vessel full of formaldehyde). Make sure my pets have a good home lined up (probably my ex-roommates in Massillon or Nana tbh, wouldn't be terribly hard). Probably give my collectibles away to people who I know would cherish them.

I would tell people, yes, because I'd want them to know what's happening, and why I'm about to disappear. I'd only tell my job (because I'd be quitting), and my dearest loved ones. Anyone else who cares to ask what happened to me can hear about it from someone else.

I'd spend the rest of my time saying goodbyes, probably sending letters to creators that had the most impact on my life, and wildly and recklessly trying to post as much content from my stories as possible! No way in hell would I be able to write everything up completely, but I'd probably... put it all in a dA st.ash collection or something, and put links absolutely EVERYWHERE so anyone who wants to Know What Happens to my OCs can read their stories, even if they're not narrated as prettily as I'd like.

And no, I wouldn't be afraid. I've never been afraid of death. It's an inevitability I've accepted, and really, I see both necessary cruelty and awe-inspiring beauty in it.

78. Can insanity bring on more creativity?

Anything can, if you're creative enough! In my experience though, it's harder to create things coherently when you lose your grip on reality. Now, colloquial "insanity", as separate from the clinical definition, i.e. doing things most people won't do, gives you inspiration most people won't have. It gives you more to draw from. But you don't need to have "insane" experiences to have an "insane" imagination!

84. What is a saying you say a lot?

"If it works, it works." (If it's effective, it works for me. / It's doing the thing I want it to do, so that's good enough for me.)

90. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

It's about to get mystical.

The first thing I'll do is try to "feel out" if they're sentient or mindless drones. If they'll let me, I'll touch them to get a better read on it. I'll also try to see if I can "feel out" any individualism in them, any remnants of who they were in life.

Once I know it's okay: Probably cackle because Past Life Nexus Nonsense.

And then maybe see if I can get them to answer any questions, whether that's verbally or via divination. I can't speak ancient Egyptian, but maybe I can work out a communication method.

Worst case scenario, they're mindless and aimless and I call a museum to say "Hey can someone come identify these guys?"

96. Do you have any relatives in jail?

Yeah. I'm not sure they'd want me sharing their story though. Let's just say I'm kinda used to it.

#rhs answered an ask #anonymous #answers list

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thorntonkrell-blog-blog · 1 year

Text

Ya can't believe everything you hear even if it's something that you've read. For many years, I believed that Elizabeth Custer at one time owned one of the most priceless bits of American furniture. I also believed that Paul was dead but that's another story.

I continued to spread both rumors until they became silly. Let me make two things clear, Paul is alive and Elizabeth Custer never got near the furniture in question despite a wacky legend.

There is a persistent legend that George Armstrong Custer's wife, Elizabeth Bacon Custer, owned the table on which the surrender document was signed at Appomattox Court House. However, there is no evidence to support this claim.

Elizabeth Custer did own a table that was used by her husband during his military career, but it was not the same table used at Appomattox. In fact, there is no evidence to suggest that the Custers had any connection to the surrender table.

It is possible that the legend arose because Elizabeth Custer was a well-known figure in the late 19th century and was often associated with her husband's military exploits. However, there is no historical basis for the claim that she owned the Appomattox surrender table.

While Custer did own a table that he used during his military career, it is a different table from the one on which the surrender document was signed. Custer's table was a camp table that he used during his campaigns in the West, and it is now in the collection of the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument in Montana.

Also on "display" at Little Big Horn is the unmarked grave of my Uncle Phil who was among the massacred and mutilated. No doubt, Phil is dead but that's yet another story.

Now back to the furniture itself.

We're talking a table.

Appomattox Court House is the location where Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Union General Ulysses S. Grant on April 9, 1865, effectively ending the American Civil War. The surrender occurred after a series of battles and skirmishes between the Union and Confederate armies in Virginia, culminating in Lee's army being surrounded and cut off from supplies.

Grant offered Lee generous terms of surrender, allowing Lee's soldiers to return home without being prosecuted for treason, and permitting them to keep their horses and personal belongings. The terms of surrender were intended to promote reconciliation between the North and South and to begin the process of restoring peace and unity to the United States after the devastating Civil War.

Of course THAT didn't work especially after Lincoln got shot and his vice president, a drunk from Tennesee bent over backwards to apease the South until he was impeached and replaced by, of all people another drunk US Grant this time from the North who ultimately decided that he best place for Custer would be out West manifest destinying until Custer manifested his own desting and that of my Uncle Phil when Crazy Horse got his momentary revenge befoe eventaully becoming a good indian by getting murdered a few years later.

The surrender at Appomattox Court House is widely seen as a symbolic moment in American history, marking the end of a bloody conflict that had torn the country apart and resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. The surrender helped to pave the way for Reconstruction, the period of American history that followed the Civil War and aimed to rebuild and reunify the country.

Contrary to what many people believe, there were actually no major battles fought after the surrender of General Lee at Appomattox Court House on April 9, 1865. The Civil War effectively ended with Lee's surrender, although some minor skirmishes and engagements did occur in various parts of the South in the weeks and months following the surrender.

Overall, however, there were no major battles fought after Appomattox, and the surrender of General Lee effectively marked the end of the Civil War.

Weirdly enough, one of the battles fought after the surrender involved General George Custer who eleven years later would take his table to war against the native Americans. His wife claimed that this was the Appomottax table upon which some sort of treaty had been agreed to between Custer and Crazy Horse shortly before Custer had his balls chopped off.

Which of course was bullshit, the table part not the balls chopped off part which may be bullshit.

Which of course, I believed for too long.

It is possible that the rumor was perpetuated by those who sought to enhance the Custers' reputation and legacy in the years after their deaths. Regardless of its origins, the story of Elizabeth Custer obtaining the surrender table remains a popular legend associated with the end of the Civil War.

Once again, it's Bullshit.

The table on which the document was signed at Appomattox Court House is known as the "surrender table" and it has become an iconic artifact of the Civil War. The table was a plain, wooden table that was borrowed from the home of Wilmer McLean, who had previously lived near the site of the first Battle of Bull Run (the first major battle of the Civil War) in Manassas, Virginia. McLean had moved to Appomattox Court House to escape the war, but ironically, his home ended up being the site of the end of the war.

After the signing of the surrender document, the table remained in McLean's possession until he sold it in 1867 to Major General Edward Ord, a Union officer who had served in the Civil War. The table then passed through several other owners over the years, and it eventually ended up in the collection of the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C.

Today, the surrender table is one of the most popular artifacts in the museum's collection, and it is on permanent display in the center of the museum's main hall. The table is considered an important historical artifact that symbolizes the end of the Civil War and the beginning of a new era in American history.

As far as tables go, however, the surrneder table is only one of a few that nobody except maybe Elon Musk will ever have the money to buy.

Here are a few of them;

The Treaty of Paris Table - This table was used by Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and John Jay to negotiate the Treaty of Paris in 1783, which ended the American Revolutionary War. The table is now part of the collections of the Diplomatic Reception Rooms at the U.S. Department of State in Washington, D.C.

The Lincoln Assassination Box - This box is not a table per se, but it was placed on a table at Ford's Theatre on the night of April 14, 1865, when President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated. The box is now on display at the Ford's Theatre Museum in Washington, D.C.

The Oval Office Desk - The Resolute Desk mentioned earlier is also a famous table due to its association with the U.S. presidency. The desk was made from the timbers of the HMS Resolute and was given to the United States as a gift from Queen Victoria of England in 1880. The Resolute has lost value in recent years having been used by Donald Trump and John Kennedy two infamous womanizers

The Paul Revere-Samuel Adams Table - This table is a historic artifact associated with the American Revolution. According to legend, Paul Revere used the table to plan the Boston Tea Party with Samuel Adams and other revolutionaries. The table is now part of the collections of the Bostonian Society and is on display at the Old State House in Boston.

Finally, Paul is alive...Uncle Phil is dead along with Custer and his wife who never owned the surrender desk. The United Staes is closer to Civil War or the Battle to Make America Great again since Appomattox.

If you wanna believe what you hear and read.

According to some accounts, after the war, Elizabeth Custer visited Appomattox Court House and asked General Sheridan to give her the table as a souvenir. However, Sheridan reportedly declined her request, saying that the table belonged to the U.S. government.Despite this, rumors persisted that Elizabeth Custer had somehow acquired the table and kept it in her possession. However, there is no evidence to support this claim, and it is widely believed to be a myth.

[email protected] What existant furniture from historic USA would be considered aming the most pricelss There are several pieces of furniture from historic USA that are considered among the most priceless due to their historical significance and rarity. Some examples include:

The Resolute Desk - This desk is located in the Oval Office of the White House and has been used by several U.S. presidents, including John F. Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, and Barack Obama. The desk was a gift from Queen Victoria of England to President Rutherford B. Hayes in 1880 and is made from the timbers of the HMS Resolute, a British ship that was rescued by American sailors in the Arctic in 1856.

The Chippendale Monticello Armchair - This armchair was designed by Thomas Jefferson and is one of only three known examples of this particular design. The chair was made for the Monticello home of Jefferson, and is now located in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

The Mahogany Tall Case Clock - This clock was made by Thomas Voigt, a renowned clockmaker in Philadelphia, in 1754. The clock features intricate carving and brass work and is considered one of the most important examples of American-made clocks from the colonial period.

The Massachusetts Governor's Chair - This chair was used by the governors of Massachusetts from 1790 until 1899 and is considered a symbol of the state's early history. The chair is made of mahogany and features intricate carving and gilding.

The Newport Chippendale Armchair - This armchair was made in Newport, Rhode Island, in the mid-18th century and is considered one of the most significant examples of American-made Chippendale furniture. The chair features elaborate carving and is made from mahogany.

These are just a few examples of the priceless furniture that exists in historic USA. Other notable pieces include the desk on which the U.S. Constitution was signed, the chairs used in the U.S. Senate, and the bed used by George Washington.

[email protected] how about famous tables There are also several famous tables in historic USA that are considered priceless due to their historical significance and rarity. Here are some examples:

The Nathaniel Gould Pembroke Table - This table is considered one of the most important examples of American furniture made during the Federal period. The table was made in Salem, Massachusetts, in the late 18th century and features intricate inlay work and distinctive "bellflower" carving.

These are just a few examples of famous tables in historic USA. Each of these tables is considered priceless due to its association with important events and people in American history.

did the table ever belong to Custer

There is no evidence to suggest that the table on which the surrender document was signed at Appomattox Court House ever belonged to General George Armstrong Custer, who was a Union officer in the Civil War and later became famous for his role in the Indian Wars in the western United States.

The surrender table, on the other hand, was borrowed from Wilmer McLean's home for the signing of the surrender document and was subsequently sold to Major General Edward Ord after the war. There is no evidence to suggest that Custer ever owned or used this table.

How about Custer's wife. I read that she had possession of the table

after Ord...who else owned the table

After Major General Edward Ord, the table on which the surrender document was signed at Appomattox Court House changed hands several times. In 1905, the table was acquired by Charles F. Gunther, a wealthy Chicago candy maker and collector of historical artifacts. Gunther displayed the table in his private museum in Chicago until his death in 1920.

Following Gunther's death, the table was sold at auction to Francis G. Lloyd, a New York banker and collector of historical artifacts. Lloyd kept the table in his private collection until 1949, when he sold it to the U.S. government for $5,000. The government then transferred the table to the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History, where it has been on display ever since.

Today, the surrender table is one of the most significant artifacts in the museum's collection, and it is widely regarded as one of the most important historical artifacts in the United States. It remains on permanent display in the museum's main hall and is a popular attraction for visitors from all over the world.

What is the plot for Plan Nine from Outer Space?

"Plan 9 from Outer Space" is a science fiction movie directed by Ed Wood and released in 1959. The plot of the movie revolves around a group of aliens who have come to Earth to stop humans from developing a doomsday weapon that would destroy the entire universe. The aliens' plan is to resurrect the dead on Earth using a device called "Plan 9," and to use the reanimated corpses to create chaos and distract humanity from its destructive plans.

The movie follows the attempts of a small group of humans, including a police officer and a pilot, to stop the aliens' plan and save the planet from destruction. Along the way, they encounter zombies, flying saucers, and other bizarre phenomena as they try to prevent the aliens from carrying out their deadly mission.

Despite its low-budget production values and many technical flaws, "Plan 9 from Outer Space" has become a cult classic and is often cited as one of the worst movies ever made. However, it has also been praised for its unintentional humor, imaginative plot, and enduring popularity among fans of science fiction and B-movies.

What was Bela Lugosi's involvement in Plan 9

Bela Lugosi was a Hungarian-American actor who appeared in many horror movies, including the iconic role of Count Dracula in the 1931 film "Dracula." Lugosi's involvement in "Plan 9 from Outer Space" was limited, as he died before the film was completed. However, he did film some footage for the movie before his death.

Lugosi was originally cast to play the role of the alien leader in "Plan 9 from Outer Space," but his declining health and drug addiction made it difficult for him to work on the movie. Lugosi only appeared in a few scenes, which were shot in a single day, and he was unable to complete all of his scenes before he passed away.

In order to complete Lugosi's role, director Ed Wood used a body double and some footage that had been shot previously for another movie. The result was a somewhat disjointed performance that did not fully capture Lugosi's talent and charisma.

Despite Lugosi's limited involvement, "Plan 9 from Outer Space" has become closely associated with him, and the movie is often included in lists of Lugosi's most memorable roles. His image and persona have also become synonymous with the horror genre and have helped to define the classic Hollywood image of Dracula and other iconic monsters.

How long did Lugosi live after Plan 9

Bela Lugosi died just a few months after filming his scenes for "Plan 9 from Outer Space." He passed away on August 16, 1956, at the age of 73.

Lugosi had a long and storied career in Hollywood, but he struggled with drug addiction and financial problems later in life. Despite these challenges, he remained committed to his craft and continued to work on a variety of movies and stage productions throughout his career.

Today, Lugosi is remembered as one of the most iconic actors of the horror genre, and his portrayal of Count Dracula in the 1931 film "Dracula" is still regarded as one of the most memorable performances in movie history. While his involvement in "Plan 9 from Outer Space" was limited, the movie has become a cult classic and has helped to cement Lugosi's legacy as a beloved figure in the world of horror cinema.

who was Vampira and what was her role in the movie

Vampira, also known as Maila Nurmi, was an actress and television personality who gained fame in the 1950s for her horror-themed show "The Vampira Show." In "Plan 9 from Outer Space," Vampira played the character of "Vampira," a gothic, vampiric woman who is one of the alien invaders trying to stop humans from creating a doomsday weapon.

Vampira's role in the movie was largely a supporting one, but she made a memorable impression with her distinctive look and performance. She wore a tight-fitting black dress, had long black hair, and heavily applied white makeup with dark, exaggerated eyebrows. Her mannerisms and movements were also highly stylized and theatrical, adding to the eerie and otherworldly atmosphere of the movie.

Although "Plan 9 from Outer Space" was not a critical or commercial success when it was released, Vampira's performance has become one of the movie's most enduring and memorable elements. Her image and persona have also become synonymous with the horror genre, and she is widely regarded as one of the most iconic and influential figures of the 1950s horror scene.

How about Tor Johnson

Tor Johnson was a professional wrestler and character actor who appeared in a number of B-movies in the 1950s and 1960s, including "Plan 9 from Outer Space." In the movie, Johnson played the role of Inspector Daniel Clay, a police officer who investigates the strange events that are taking place in the town.

Johnson's performance in "Plan 9 from Outer Space" is notable for his imposing physical presence and deep, distinctive voice. He delivers many of his lines with a deadpan seriousness that adds to the unintentional humor of the movie. Johnson's character also engages in several fights with the reanimated corpses that the aliens have brought back to life, making for some of the movie's most memorable scenes.

While "Plan 9 from Outer Space" is widely regarded as one of the worst movies ever made, Johnson's performance has become a beloved and enduring part of the movie's legacy. He has also become a cult figure in his own right, and his performances in other B-movies, such as "The Beast of Yucca Flats," have also gained a following among fans of the genre.

what is the opening mono;ogue in Plan 9

The opening monologue in "Plan 9 from Outer Space" is a famous and oft-quoted passage that sets the stage for the movie's outlandish plot. The monologue is delivered by a character called Criswell, who was a real-life psychic and television personality at the time the movie was made.

Here is the text of the opening monologue:

"Greetings, my friends. We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember my friends, future events such as these will affect you in the future. You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, the unexplainable. That is why you are here. And now, for the first time, we are bringing to you the full story of what happened on that fateful day. We are giving you all the evidence, based only on the secret testimony of the miserable souls who survived this terrifying ordeal. The incidents, the places, my friends, we cannot keep this a secret any longer. Let us punish the guilty, let us reward the innocent. My friends, can your heart stand the shocking facts about grave robbers from outer space?"

This monologue has become famous for its over-the-top melodrama and its promise of "shocking facts" and "miserable souls." It is also indicative of the movie's low-budget, B-movie style, which often relied on sensationalist storytelling and overwrought dialogue to create a sense of tension and excitement.

who delivered the monologue

The opening monologue in "Plan 9 from Outer Space" was delivered by Criswell, who was a real-life psychic and television personality. Criswell was known for his flamboyant and theatrical style, and he often made predictions and claims that were seen as outlandish or controversial. In "Plan 9 from Outer Space," Criswell's dramatic delivery of the monologue has become one of the most famous and memorable elements of the movie.

what predictions did Criswell make in real life

Criswell, whose real name was Jeron Criswell Konig, was a well-known psychic and astrologer who made many predictions throughout his career. Some of his most famous predictions include:

In 1956, Criswell predicted that Denver, Colorado would be destroyed by a giant flood on May 10 of that year. The prediction did not come true.

In the 1960s, Criswell predicted that a cure for cancer would be discovered by 1967. The prediction did not come true.

In 1967, Criswell predicted that World War III would begin on July 4, 1985, and that it would be fought between the United States and the Soviet Union. The prediction did not come true.

Criswell also made many other predictions throughout his career, many of which were vague or general in nature. He was known for his dramatic and flamboyant style, and many of his predictions were seen as entertainment rather than serious predictions of the future. Despite this, Criswell remained a popular figure in the world of psychics and astrology, and his legacy has endured in popular culture, particularly through his role in "Plan 9 from Outer Space."

Regenerate response

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 3 years

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Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

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heyitssmiller · 3 years

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Clandestine: Chapter Six

We’re baaaaaack!

Thank y’all for being so patient! I’m really excited for you to read this one <3

Characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove

@donttouchmycarrots is forever my hero for proofreading, dealing with way too much of my own self-doubt, and being the best friend anyone could ask for. My dude, my pal, my babe! I love you more than words can say. <3

Clandestine Masterlist

Previously:

Logan was still biting back a smile when someone slid into the seat next to him. His smile faded instantly. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, not right now. And especially not a Snake. The night only got worse when he looked over to the newcomer to face eerie, yellow eyes. He froze, unsure whether to stand his ground or run as fast as he possibly could.

“Enjoying the party?” Riddle asked coolly, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand.

Logan couldn’t decide if the better plan of action was to hold his ground or to run. He stared into creepy, soulless eyes, frozen in place. The voices over his comms and the music of the band faded out to white noise, leaving him to face down Riddle alone.

“Mr. Riddle.” He finally managed to say, keeping his voice even and taking a sip of his drink. “This is a nice party you’ve got here.”

“Thank you. It’s been a long time coming.” Detached, sunken-in eyes regarded him coolly. “I don’t think I've seen you around before.”

“I’m a reporter,” Logan relayed their cover story without hesitation. “Just here getting information for an article I’m writing.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.” Riddle said. There was nothing inherently dangerous about his words. His posture was completely relaxed, his tone even and calm. If Logan didn’t already know his face, he wouldn’t think twice about him if he passed him on the street or saw him in a store. It was eerie how someone with so much blood on their hands could act so… normal. As if he’d done nothing wrong.

Logan itched to take him down. His concealed gun seemed to burn a hole into his dress shirt. He could do it. One quick, well-placed shot and he could end this. He wouldn’t make it out the door and countless gang members would get away, but Riddle was right in front of him. It would be so easy.

“Now, what kind of reporter do you take me for?” He asked instead, pushing the thoughts down. They could get him later when he had an actual plan and backup. As much as he wanted to, this wasn’t the time or place.

Riddle hummed in thought. “You know, I’m not really sure. An unprepared one, I suppose. I don’t see you writing anything down.”

Logan, although his blood had just turned to ice in his veins, had just opened his mouth to lie about a recording device in his pocket when a new voice cut in.

“There you are!”

Logan’s shoulders tensed at the all-too-familiar accent and he turned, his heart plummeting like a stone in his chest, to see Leo standing there. Tall and bright and too precious to be staring danger in the face like this.

“I should’ve known you’d be here.” Leo teased, looking over at Riddle and brazenly greeting him with a fake smile. “Riddle.”

Riddle glanced between the two of them, as unflappable as ever. “Your boyfriend?”

“Coworker.” Logan quickly corrected, ignoring the way his stomach flipped at the misconstruction and sending Leo a warning look. “A coworker who won’t leave me alone tonight, apparently.”

Please take the hint, Nutty. He silently begged. Get the fuck out of here.

Leo shrugged, absolutely remorseless, that little shit. “Well, I’ve got some questions for you. You know this is my first big article and I want to make sure I’ve got all the information I need.”

Oh. Now Logan understood. Leo wasn’t vying for a way to get the flash drive he knew Riddle kept on him, he was trying to get Logan out of there. Before this moment, Logan had never thought of Leo as an intimidating person. Sure, he was big, but he was also soft and gentle and kind. Looking at him now, though, there was this glint in his eyes, this undercurrent of danger that Logan quickly recognized as protectiveness. And frankly, it was a little terrifying.

Was that how people viewed Logan on a regular basis?

Not having time to think too hard on that, Logan nodded. “Sure, I’ll help you out.” He set his unfinished drink on the counter and nodded at Riddle. “Enjoy the rest of your party, and congratulations on the twenty-five years of your organization.”

Riddle seemed to intuitively know something was going on, but he also didn’t particularly seem to care. He was well aware that no one could touch him, especially not at this party. And not without a substantial amount of evidence, which they still didn’t have. Not yet, at least. But Logan couldn’t wait for the day when he got what was coming for him.

He followed Leo across the ballroom without another word to one of the side doors – their planned meeting spot in case things went south – where Finn was waiting, shuffling on his feet and looking a little like he was going to be sick. The tension he was carrying in his posture seemed to ease when he caught sight of them and there wasn’t even a split-second of hesitation before he was herding them out the door, down the lavishly decorated entryway, and towards one of the taxis waiting out front. Logan noticed the way his hands shook as he opened the car door for the two of them, glancing over his shoulder before ducking into the back seat with his partners. Logan wanted nothing more than to reach over and grab hold, to settle those tremors with his own steady hands, but they still weren’t safe yet. Who knew who could be listening in at that moment.

The ride back to the hotel was stilted and hushed and more than a little shell-shocked as they processed the events of the night. They’d been in a den of vipers that were capable of horrific things and they’d somehow managed to get out unscathed, plus they had one more flash drive to add to their growing collection. It almost didn’t feel real.

However, the longer Logan sat in that taxi, the angrier he got. And that definitely felt real. What the hell was Leo thinking, running headfirst into danger like that? Of all the people on this mission, Logan was the most capable of taking care of himself in tense situations like that. Leo had been brash and thoughtless and risky - acting like a true rookie - but Logan couldn’t exactly chew him out in the back of a taxi, so he sat there and fumed. He was sure it was written all over his face for anyone to see, but he no longer cared.

The taxi parked outside their hotel. They paid the driver in silence. They got out in silence. They rode the elevator up to the third floor in silence. They unlocked their door in silence.

And then the dam broke and a tidal wave crashed over it, loud and roaring and livid.

Logan whirled on Leo, not even caring that their door was still open. “Don’t you ever pull something like that again. I had it covered.” He hissed, yanking his earpiece out with one hand and jabbing Leo in the chest with his finger. He hoped the single point of contact it bruised from the force he put behind the motion.

Leo wasn’t backing down easily, though. He stood to his full height and loomed over Logan, anger radiating off him in waves. Apparently he’d been seething in the taxi, as well. “You’d do the same thing if it were me. Why is it ok for you to do it but wrong when the roles are reversed?” He demanded, letting the door slam behind him. Logan saw Finn flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s me, I’m just a grunt. We lose you, we lose our chance to take down the Snakes.” He said the words plainly, cut-and-dry. He knew his place on this mission, and it wasn’t the most critical. He could live with that fact. What he couldn’t live with was losing either of them.

This was exactly why he’d wanted to get off this mission and take another job. If this was what the rest of the op was going to be like, constantly stressing over the two of them but still having to painfully distance himself, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

All the fight seemed to leave Leo in an instant at Logan’s words. He stared down at him with a furrowed brow and wide, sad eyes. “You can’t believe that.”

Logan was left reeling by the sudden change of pace, the rough waves flattening out to a calm sea in the blink of an eye. He just shrugged as he tried to formulate any kind of response. He wasn’t sure what Leo wanted him to say so he just stood there and stared at him, completely at a loss.

Finn cut Leo off as he started to speak, looking firmly between the two as he loosened his tie – still crooked, even after all this time. “Enough. Both of you. Leo, you were out of line. Logan had it handled. I know you meant well, but you know the code word if we need help, so let him do his job instead of prematurely rushing in to be the hero. Logan, if I hear you talk about yourself like that again – well, I’m not actually sure what I’ll do. But it won’t be pretty.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up in the closet, haphazardly kicking his shoes off and pushing them with his foot until they were snug against the wall and out of the way.

“We need to talk about tomorrow.” He continued curtly as he rapidly started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“What’s tomorrow?” Leo asked from his perch on the bed as he toyed with the laces of one shoe. Logan followed their lead and started getting ready for bed. His head shot up at Finn’s next words, though.

“My date with June.”

“Who?” He asked, although he knew full-well who she was. He just wanted to be contrary. He knew he wasn’t a good enough actor to pretend to be indifferent to the idea of Finn going on a date with a near stranger, so this was his next best option.

Finn took it in stride, though, not even blinking an eye as he headed for the bathroom. Logan could hear the sink running a second later. “She’s the one setting up my meeting with Lestrange. We’re going to a coffee shop down the street in the morning.”

Leo, clad in the most ridiculous pair of Cookie Monster pajama pants that were too short for him, crawled into bed and shimmied over to be in the middle. Logan felt any residual anger dissipate at the sight. What a dork.

“Do Loops and Sirius know about this?” Leo asked as he fought back a yawn.

Finn poked his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth and managed to get out a garbled ‘yeah’ before disappearing again. Water could be heard running again, then the light flicked off. The redhead checked to make sure both partners were in bed before turning off the main lights and blindly stumbling his way towards the bed.

“Sirius heard everything, gave me the all clear. Loops was…” Finn trailed off into silence, dampening the mood again as they thought of their coworker.

“Yeah.” Leo said quietly, shifting from his back to his side to give Finn more room. Logan could just barely make out his face through the shadows, illuminated faintly in yellow by the lights of the parking lot outside their window.

“We’ll come with you.” Logan was saying before he realized just what that entailed. “Neither of us met her at the gala, so we can hide out in the corner of the shop or something and keep an eye on you.”

Finn snorted half-heartedly. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“We’re not taking any chances with these guys, and you know it.” Logan rebutted, leaving no room for argument. “You’ve got an alarm set?”

“Mmmhmm.” Came the sleepy, mumbled reply. Logan smiled, not bothering to hide the affection on his face. The shadows did that for him. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Get some sleep, then. We can go over details in the morning.”

The only response he got was slow, even breathing.

***

Remus felt one of the couch cushions sag next to him as Sirius sat down, the old wooden supports creaking a little under their combined weight. He turned his distracted gaze from the miraculously revived plant on the windowsill to the man beside him when he felt a gentle nudge against his arm. There Sirius sat, gray eyes calm and free of pity – thank god. Remus wasn’t sure he could deal with people being sorry for him anymore. In his hands was a cup of tea, steam swirling over the brim and disappearing into the air. Remus huffed out a faint laugh, all he could muster at the moment, and gave Sirius a dubious look.

“I only added, like, a spoonful of honey this time. That’s it.” Sirius vowed, holding the cup farther out for Remus to take. He grabbed it, warmth finally reaching poorly-circulated fingers, and took in the faint smell of apple.

“Thanks.” He murmured before taking a cautious sip. The tea hadn’t been steeped for long enough, but at least this one was drinkable. Sirius, who was eagerly awaiting his verdict, seemed to glean all the information he needed from Remus’ face. He smiled and relaxed back into the couch, looking extremely proud of himself.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Remus said as he took another sip. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about brewing tea.”

“Well, I've got a good teacher.” The combination of the words and the tea infused Remus with warmth, and he finally smiled for the first time that night. Sirius seemed to slump further into the cushions, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Remus peered over the top of his teacup at wild black curls and just a hint of a five-o-clock shadow dusting across pale skin and figured he should get rid of the elephant in the room. He hated to ruin the peacefulness of the moment and there was nothing he wanted less than to bring up this conversation, but he felt like it had to be said.

“So about earlier-”

Sirius was quick to cut him off, which grated on Remus’ nerves. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I just wanted to apologize. And to say thank you.” He looked down at the cup in his hands and forced himself to continue. “As a handler, I’m supposed to be able to keep my emotions in check and focus on the job. But every single time someone brings him up…” Remus shrugged, fingers itching to reach up and clutch at his shoulder as feral eyes and a gnarled smile haunted his mind’s eye. He gripped his tea tighter instead, hoping it would hide the tremors in his hands. “Seeing him in pictures is one thing. Hearing his voice in real time and knowing he’s right there, I just – I freaked out.”

“I can’t say I blame you.” Sirius said, then winced. “Sorry. I, uh, I read the report. And judging by your face you don’t want to talk about it, which is fine.” He rushed to say and then sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Wow, I’m bad at this. I’m just – I’m here for you, ok? In whatever way you need.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile at his awkward attempt at comfort. He wasn’t exactly good with words, but Remus would give just about anything for one of those hugs right then. He took a sip of tea instead. “Right back at you.”

Sirius flashed a warm, albeit surprised smile in return. They sat like that in companionable silence for a while, Remus drinking his tea and Sirius sprawled out on the couch, kicking one foot in a varying rhythm. It was odd for Remus to think about, even though Sirius had shown up months ago. He technically had a criminal living with him. He never thought he’d be happy about that fact. But here he was, wanting nothing more than to cuddle up next to him and get to know every different facet of this ex-Snake. What made him tick, what kept him up at night, what he dreamed about when he finally went to sleep.

But at the end of the day, what difference would that make? Sirius had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t sticking around when this mission was over. Remus wasn’t about to go and get more attached when the outcome wasn’t going to change. Remus would be left alone, again, dropped right back into his old life as if nothing had ever happened. Back to his small apartment with his dying houseplant, scrambling around in the mornings to get a cup of tea before work, sitting on the ratty couch and suffocating in the silence and loneliness. Sirius entered his life like a fog rolling in on a dark night, and he would leave the same way – without a trace.

***

Logan was drumming his fingers on the tabletop as Leo sat down across from him, cups of coffee in hand. The line of impatient customers inside the coffee shop was long due to the morning rush, but most of the tables were deserted. Logan had his back to the wall and full view of the rest of the shop, ready to keep an eye on Finn and his new friend as soon as they got there.

He tried his hardest to ignore the jealousy that coursed through his veins at the thought. This wasn’t going to be fun.

A hand covered his on the table, stopping his frantic drumming. Logan looked up into a steady blue gaze with depths that seemed to know exactly how he was feeling. He almost seemed to empathize with Logan, and that made him pause. He thought back to the very beginning of all this and focused on his partners’ interactions – cinnamon muffins and fingers brushing as Finn handed one to Leo, Leo sprawled out in the backseat after his first heist with Finn smiling back at him from the passenger’s seat, Leo worriedly staring at the bruise blooming across Finn’s cheek, the looks on their faces as they danced to a slow song.

Oh.

Logan had just opened his mouth to ask Leo about it when the bell on the shop door sounded, signaling the arrival of new customers. He looked up from his caramel mocha and his gaze flickered. “They’re here.”

Sure enough, Finn and June were making their way to the counter, deep in conversation. June said something to make Finn laugh, and Leo’s shoulders tensed at the sound. He took a calm, measured drink of his coffee and didn’t look over his shoulder at their partner. Logan was looking similarly miserable across the table from him, swirling the contents of his cup dejectedly.

“We’re really bad at this.” Leo stated plainly. Logan’s eyes shot up to meet his and he let out a surprised laugh, shifting in his seat.

“Yeah, we are.” Logan responded, eyes flitting from the partner directly in front of him to the one still in line, then back again. Leo seemed to belong in coffee shops, all golden and warm and comfortable. Sunlight from the large front windows illuminated him from the back, making him seem to glow like some mystical faerie. Normally, Logan wasn’t a fan of mornings but if this – not the spying, per se, but the sleepy jokes over coffee cups and the soft smiles and the calm assuredness that always seemed to surround Leo – was the result of getting up early, he’d get up at the crack of dawn for the rest of his life.

A glint of dark copper caught his eye and he looked over Leo’s shoulder to see Finn sit down at one of the empty tables, pushing a coffee cup over to June. She smiled and wrapped both hands around it, looking up at Finn with a smile.

Logan had been shot before. Multiple times. And stabbed, and punched more times than he could count. There was once an incident involving barbed wire (don’t ask). But watching Finn with this girl he’d just met last night, smiling and flirting and seeming to be over the moon, was a new kind of torture. And all Logan could do was sit there and watch.

His eyes snapped back to Leo, who was already watching him with a steady, pensive look. “Need a distraction?” He asked simply. Logan appreciated that. He wasn’t forcing Logan to face his thoughts or – god forbid – talk about them. He let Logan have his space to decide how he wanted to move forward, to process these overwhelming feelings in his own time.

“Please.” Logan managed to get out, pushing his unfinished coffee away from him. So Leo talked. He told stories about his childhood, how he grew up, how he got into pick-pocketing and how he got caught doing it by his Mama. Logan kept a watchful eye on Finn, making sure he was safe, and let Leo’s stories wash over him, calm and steadying. It was a bit of a strange juxtaposition, the soft voice warring with the potential of being in danger, but it soothed him all the same.

Finn was enjoying himself. June was awesome, and she had a lot of insight on Lestrange and the Snakes, although it was clear she despised them. He wasn’t sure how she got tangled up in this mess, but he hoped he could get her out of there when they finally took the gang down. But as fantastic as June was, he couldn’t keep himself from bouncing his leg under the table or sneaking surreptitious glances at the far corner of the room, where a blond and a brunet were leaning towards each other across the table. Logan smiled at something Leo said, nose scrunching as Leo gesticulated wildly about whatever he was saying. Finn so desperately wanted to be there with them, to tease Leo for the story he was telling and to kiss the laugh on Logan’s lips. He looked away quickly when green eyes met his and tried his best to refocus on June.

She gave him a knowing look, then glanced at his partners. “You’re in love with someone else, aren’t you?”

Finn froze, trying to come up with some sort of excuse, then sighed and gave up. This was June. And they’d only just met the night before, but Finn knew how to read people. It was literally his job. She wasn’t going to tell anyone. “Something like that. It’s complicated.”

She smiled. “Does it need to be complicated, or are you just making it that way?”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, a hint of hysteria sprinkled in. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“But you want that.” She said, jerking her head towards Logan and Leo. For a split-second, Finn thought she knew that he wanted them in particular, but then she continued. “Being able to be with the person you love, out in the open, with no obstacles in your way.”

If only she knew how spot-on that statement was.

“Yeah,” Finn said quietly, wistfully. “I really do.”

He watched as Logan grabbed one of Leo’s moving hands, narrowly keeping him from spilling one of the mugs on their table. Logan’s posture showed exasperation, but his eyes... his eyes told a completely different story.

Finn spoke again, more to himself than to June. It was a vow, a hope, a rose-tinted dream of the future. “Maybe someday.”

***

Logan wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after what felt like way too long – who stayed at a coffee shop this long, anyways? – Finn and June seemed to be wrapping things up. They returned their mugs to the front counter and headed towards the door, but not without Finn glancing over his shoulder at his partners, an indecipherable expression on his face as he stepped out into the sun.

“They’re headed out now.” Logan stated, looking back to Leo. “Want to get back to the hotel?”

Leo gathered their mugs and got to his feet. “How about a walk first? We could be tourists for a while, see the sights.”

“It’s a big city, Nut. They all look the same.” Logan flashed a smile of thanks at the barista working the counter as Leo passed over their mugs. They stepped outside into the cool morning air and got hit by the sound of traffic echoing from the streets to the tall buildings around them. Logan sent Leo an ‘I told you so’ look, but still followed after him as he walked in the opposite direction of the hotel.

They ended up wandering around the streets of downtown Slytherin for about an hour, getting very lost (“don’t tell Finn”), and giving up. Even then, it was fun. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no ticking clock, no pressure, no imminent danger. It was simple, it was easy. Their own little adventure without the stress. Logan eventually had to fish out his phone to pull up directions back to the hotel, doing a full one-eighty in order to start going the right direction. The app led them through several back alleys and side roads, which made Logan a little uneasy. Leo didn’t seem to mind.

“I wonder if the Chopped marathon is still on TV.” Leo mused absentmindedly as he dodged a trashcan obscuring the alleyway. Logan laughed and bump his shoulder into Leo’s as they walked side by side.

“You’re something else, Nutty.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Leo said, unconsciously slowing to a stop. Logan followed suit, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes drifting from Leo’s eyes to his lips, then back again. “It is.”

Leo met his steady green gaze, much closer than he was used to. This was normally where Leo would hesitate. There would be a moment, a flicker of interest, and Leo would freeze. There were usually so many things racing through his mind and he would overthink everything and then the moment would be over.

He didn’t give himself the chance to do that this time.

Leo stepped forward to stand toe-to-toe with Logan, his thumb gently tracing those lips that had plagued his thoughts so many times before until he couldn’t help but swoop down to finally kiss him decisively, leaving no room for uncertainty or backtracking. He was done hesitating – he was going after what he wanted for once. And oh, how he wanted this. Judging from the way Logan pulled him that much closer so that Leo could feel his chest pressed against his and how he tilted his chin up to kiss him back, he wanted this, too. A hand reached up to tangle in Leo’s hair and tugged slightly to pull Leo down more, closer to Logan’s level. He smiled into the kiss, racing thoughts being replaced by the taste of caramel, the feel of slightly-chapped lips against his, and the little unknown intricacies that made up kissing Logan – the way his breath hitched and the consequential sigh after the fact, the soft sounds he made as if he simply couldn’t get enough. Kissing Logan wasn’t anything like he thought it would be; it wasn’t showstopping, or earth-shattering, or mind-melting. But it was warm. And everyone knew Leo was always cold.

“Leo,” Logan mumbled an undiscernible amount of time later, barely pausing between one kiss and the next. Not Nutty, or Nut, or any other variation of his nickname. Leo. There was something so personal, so intimate about the way Logan said his name, the way it rumbled in his chest and got muffled against Leo’s lips. Leo shivered.

“Hmm?” He asked, refusing to move away until Logan did. Even then he chased after him for a split second… until he saw the look on Logan’s face. Brow furrowed, face closed off. Leo was used to seeing that expression when Logan was avoiding his feelings for Finn, but he’d never really seen that look directed at him.

“We shouldn’t.” Logan’s voice was quiet and full of regret, and that only made Leo’s heart drop more.

Leo looked down at his own hands, still fisted in Logan’s jacket. He couldn’t bring himself to move them, ingraining the closeness and warmth to his memory. “I get that the timing is bad – like really bad, oh my god. But I’m not imagining this, right? I know I’m new to the whole espionage thing, but there’s no way I’m making this up.”

Please tell me I’m not making this up. He thought desperately.

“No,” Logan said forcefully, reaching up to tilt Leo’s chin up to meet his eyes again. “No, you aren’t making this up. But we are in the middle of a mission. And then there’s-” He stopped short with a grimace. And if Leo thought it was complicated already, he was worried that this was where it would get even more intricate.

“Finn.” Leo finished for him, watching his eyes widen. He took several steps backward, forcing Leo to finally relinquish his hold.

“You know?” His voice wavered, but his eyes were intense. He reached for Leo again, grabbing his cold hand and gripping it tightly, as if trying to instill his conviction through the touch alone. “That doesn’t mean I care about you any less, Leo, you’ve got to understand that. It’s just-”

“I know.” Leo took a deep breath, squeezed Logan’s hand, then pressed on. “Me too. I like Finn, too.” He laughed a little at the grin that blossomed across the brunet’s face. “I thought I was being so obvious about it.”

Logan stepped closer again, eyes alight with unbridled excitement. “Are you kidding? I literally wanted to kiss him so badly that I used it as a means to get us arrested.”

Leo groaned, but was smiling all the same. There was something so cathartic about finally being able to talk about this after keeping it all bottled up for months. And Logan felt the same way? Leo was giddy with the realization. “You have no idea what that did to me.”

Logan grinned, looking lighter than he had in a long time. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who cuddled with him all night last night.”

“Unintentional,” Leo said with a shrug as he gently combed through brown hair, watching fondly as Logan eagerly leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. He was like an over-grown cat, and Leo couldn’t get enough of it. “But definitely a highlight of this trip.”

The grin dimmed a little. “What are we going to tell him?”

Leo paused, mulling it over. “The truth? The timing is still bad, but we’re spies.” Leo looked down at their joined hands and traced a thin, silvery scar on the back of Logan’s hand. He wondered what it was from. “Will there ever be a good time?”

Logan hummed, but stayed silent. It was like he knew Leo had more to say, but was still thinking of the right way to phrase it. Leo felt himself fall just a little bit more. It wasn’t love – not yet – but damn if it wasn’t close.

“I’m tired of waiting, aren’t you?” Leo finally asked, meeting green eyes again. “Just sitting there with all those feelings and not being able to act on them. If he feels the same way, that’s great! And if he doesn’t, then yeah it’ll hurt and it might be a little awkward, but at least we can move on. I don’t think that’ll be the case, though.” Leo ruffled that thick brown hair. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Leo, he’s a conman. One of his main jobs is to act.”

“Sweetheart, there is no universe where the way he kissed you could be an act.”

Logan smiled faintly, seeming a little lost in thought. Leo was pretty sure he knew what he was thinking about. He tugged on Logan’s hand, finally getting them to start walking through the alley again; he’d kind of forgotten they were still standing there. His vision had narrowed down to the spy walking by his side and nothing else.

“He likes you too, you know.” Logan said after a few minutes, swinging their joined hands as they walked. It was unfairly adorable. “I think we should at least wait until after we get the drive from Lestrange to talk to him, though. We all need to be on our A game for that.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah, that’s going to be a nightmare.” Even the thought of dealing with the Snake made Leo’s skin prickle.

“We’ll be fine.” Logan reassured as they reached the hotel, getting blasted by welcome warmth as they entered the lobby. “We’ve come this far.”

And I have a feeling the worst is yet to come. Leo thought, but kept his mouth shut and followed Logan to the stairwell, choosing instead to say, “I’m surprised you’re willingly taking the stairs-” he stopped short with a laugh as Logan forcibly backed him up against the wall, staring into the depths of those green eyes.

“Not as many people take the stairs.” Logan mumbled, tilting his head to place a kiss to the hollow of Leo’s throat, then another, then another. Leo arched his neck to give the brunet better access and smiled up at the flight of stairs ascending over their heads. He felt like he was floating right along beside them.

“Including you.”

“I can’t believe you’re teasing me when all I want to do is make out with you.” Logan grumbled in between kisses, punctuating his complaint with a nip at Leo’s pulse point. The blond hummed happily, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“I’m willing to negotiate.” He said, running a hand through Logan’s hair again and getting the same response as before. Leo mulled it over for a few seconds then tugged experimentally, causing Logan to groan and lean back to meet Leo’s eyes, pupils blown wide.

“Persuade me.” Leo stated simply, a wicked glint to his sweet smile.

And Logan, after a long string of inarticulate French, did.

***

Later that night, after calling Loops and relaying the details of their meet-up with June and their plans for Lestrange, Finn heard the gentle clicking noise of a lock being picked from beside him and smiled at the nature documentary playing on the cheap hotel TV. It was a cute habit. The clicking used to drive Finn up a wall, but now he found it strangely reassuring. It meant Leo was nearby. It meant calm, it meant steadiness.

He turned the volume on the TV down and turned to face the blond, watching the light bounce off of blond hair and a sweet profile. Leo seemed to notice eyes on him and looked up from the small lock in his hands, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

“Can you teach me?” Finn asked, motioning to the lock.

Leo stopped fiddling his fingers. “To pick a lock?”

“Why not? Seems like a good trick to learn.” Finn held his hand out and wiggled his fingers at Leo, who shrugged and handed the lock over.

“He’s going to be so bad at this.” Logan predicted, not taking his eyes off the TV. Finn scoffed and punched him in the arm.

“Rude.” Finn groused as he spun the dial on the lock and looked back to Leo. “Teach away, Nutter Butter!”

Leo scooted over on the bed to get closer to Finn, thighs brushing and a warm weight against Finn’s shoulder. He looked over at Leo as he spoke, getting hit with a sudden flare of wistfulness. He wanted this for the rest of his life.

“Ok. So this lock has a possible of 64,000 different combinations-”

“Holy shit.” Logan whistled lowly with a quick look over at them. His posture was completely relaxed - unusual for the fighter. His normally sharp, attentive gaze was sleepy and calm. It absolutely melted Finn's heart. He wanted this for the rest of his life, too.

“It’s not too bad once you’ve got the basics down.” Leo reassured, tapping on the curved handle at the top. “This right here is the shackle. You’re going to apply pressure to it while you turn the dial counterclockwise – no,” Leo laughed and put a hand over Finn’s as he turned the dial, slowing down the redhead’s movement. “Slowly. You’ve got to be able to feel the sticking points.”

“Sticking points?” Finn asked, hyperaware of the feeling of gentle fingers against his. He was far more interested in watching he blond as he demonstrated instead of actually paying attention to what he was doing.

“There’s going to be points where the dial jams and you won’t be able to freely rotate it anymore.” Leo explained, watching as Finn moved the dial at a much slower pace. “Sometimes the sticking point is between two numbers and then you have a sticking range, which complicates things.”

“It gets more complicated?”

Leo just laughed, stretching his long legs out on the bed and relaxing back against the headboard. “Just wait until we get to the math.”

“There’s math?”

Logan watched the two of them with a smile, picturing day after day of moments just like this – enough to make up an entire lifetime. He knew their lives would always be complicated; the three of them had found themselves intertwined in an elaborate tangle of threads that bound them all together, and Logan wasn’t sure they could separate themselves even if they tried. That was fine with him. It was messy and difficult and convoluted, but so many of the good things in life always were.

Logan was never one to back down from a challenge, anyways.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine

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sammoonwatcher · 3 years

Text

A fic for

@dbh-found-family event

Despair... ---> Hope

Sorry I still don't know how to do the cut off in mobile. So angst beyond this point.

Despair

It wasn't exactly unfamiliar to the old Lieutenant. It was a presence as familiar to him as his own scent of sweat and reeking, burning alchohol. It rarely left his side. Until he had something else taking up its place. An annoyance for sure. That android who never left him alone. Who kept repeating himself like the glorified answering machine he was. Never obeying an order like...

Well. He appreciated the annoyance over the despair. Annoyance was grating, it made life difficult. Despair on the other hand was crushing, and made life at times unbearable. Day by day the annoyance became less grating. Though the old Lieutenant would never admit it. He was starting to find himself just a little less hostile to the damn evidence locker with legs. Hell, he was even starting to get along with it. He didn't even realize when in his mind that It became He and Tincan became Connor.

But he could pin point the exact damn second he became son.

As much as he'd like to forget it.

He didn't think of much while at the tower. Other than that an awful lot of mess had been made to broadcast a single message. Thank whoever there was to thank there were no casualties. (At the time he believed it to be sheer luck rather than the grace of the deviant leader). He was still swaying on his feet from the night before and he was more than content to find a corner to sulk in and let the forensics roomba do his own damn job. Though he found himself trying to match the coin tricks that the annoying thing could always pull out of no where. He was collecting witness testimony from the swat team when Connor rounded the corner Thirium was dripping from a weird circle in his lower chest and his normally tidy suit had been torn.

"It's a deviant stop it!"

Hank turned his head to the android that had just been called out only to see it steal the fully automatic arms of a swat officer.

Out of all the times in his life to feel despair... he didn't even particularly feel it then as the barrel was lowered at him.

The Lieutenant knew the sound of gunshots but at first he couldn't figure how he was on the ground. Something was leaking all over him. It was too cold and sticky to be blood. He opened his eyes against the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway. Connor's face hovered above him. He pushed the android off of him, taking in the destruction around him. The deviant must've taken out at least 3 people, itself not included.

"Goddamn..." The Lieutenant swore. "Good thing you were there Con-"

He froze as he looked back and saw the android, his partner... in a puddle of blue blood. It had the consistency something like motor oil. It stained his hands and his clothes as he pulled the android into his arms. The bullets had shut him down instantly. His led had no life. The bullets were nestled safely in his chassis. Bullets that were meant for a human. Bullets that were meant for Anderson himself. The blue coated his hands. A crushing wave of despair washed over him, something he didn't even know he had left in him.

God he still had nightmares about that. Every time he'd wake up in a cold sweat and have to enter Cole's... no, now Connor's room, and see that slow blue spinning led light. Just remind himself that Connor was okay. That Connor was safe, and not throwing his life away for some stupid old alcoholic... god it made his heart stop aching.

Androids slept so weirdly. Connor always said he never had any dreams. Even the Lieutenant could see that wasn't true. The way the kid snored sounded like an old style laptop's cooling fan. Every now again a word or two would slip out, like just listening to the android was like listen to a radio with randomly changing frequencies. But sometimes a whimper would come through. Or the led would turn red. The worst of times was when he kept whispering a name.

Amanda.

Hank didn't know who this Amanda was. But he was sure if he ever met her he'd have to remove his reservations against hitting women. After all that name was never whispered like the other words. It was filled... seething with so much goddamn Despair.

It sounded so much like a human... no. So much like Hank himself. He couldn't stand it. He found that, it was enough to tuck the kid in, make sure his pillow wasn't too hot to put the led back to blue.

It always made Hank so tired in the morning. He knew it wasn't normal behavior but he didn't have a normal kid damnit. Connor was clearly going through something he couldn't ever grasp. And he wasn't a normal parent. He had Connor die in arms three times too many. And another son pass as well. But this time if Connor died... without the cyberlife network to back him up, he'd simply cease to exist. He would die. Hank would be alone... until the rest of his miserable human days.

"Hank..." Connor said one day. "... I've noticed you've been monitoring my sleep patterns."

Hank sighed, at least he wasn't calling him Lieutenant anymore.

"It was that obvious?" He said sarcastically.

"Well I first noticed on nights when I achieved a high quality sleep, you were always exhausted." Connor explained. "Then one morning I woke up and you were still there by my bed... sleeping. So yes... it was obvious."

Hank didn't expect to find himself reacting the way he did.

"... sorry kiddo. I didn't make you feel uncomfortable did I?"

"On the contrary... you aided my sleep cycle... I'm just confused why you felt the need to do so."

"... well you're my son. Every father protects their kid from nightmares... give them hope and safety."

"Hope..." Connor said softly. The Lieutenant could just see the kids eyes glaze over and he gained the 100 yard stare. The revolution. The torment. The suppression of will. The deaths he died for someone else. The lives he stole for someone else. Hank could practically just see the kid get swallowed up by it. It broke his heart.

The Lieutenant wrapped his arms around his son, snapping him out of the trance. Connor slowly moved to return the embrace, sobbing.

"Shit kid... I didn't mean to make you cry again."

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry .. I just... I wasn't made like this. I wasn't made deserving attention and support."

"Connor..." Hank muttered sadly, once again wishing he could personally 'interview' each and every goddamn cyberlife employee. How much of that worthlessness crap had they drilled into his head?

"... I wasn't built to be loved..." Connor whined. His voice just dripped with despair and pain. It just rang true for Hank.

"But you are loved Connor..." He said. "... now chin up. You're gonna help me find a new suit for you."

Connor pulled away, a bit confused, and his tie slightly off kilter.

"... why... why are we going shopping for new clothes?" Connor said.

"Because." Hank said, fixing the kid's tie. "You deserve it..."

The android's led slowly turned blue again as they walked to the car.

"... Hank?"

"Yeah kid?"

"... can we find new dog toys for Sumo after this?"

" 'course kid."

That night in new striped pajamas Hank tucked Connor in. Reading him a few things.

"... hey kid. Do you know what hope is?"

"Hope is the human concept that... well everything will be okay?"

"Something like that. There's a lot of bs about there about what people think hope is. Something with feathers. Something with wings."

"... that's not possible hope is not a physical object. How can it have wings?"

"I dunno."

"... what about you Lieutenant..?"

"... Me?"

"What do you think hope is?"

"... hope... hope is a strange... hard to understand thing. But you know that no matter what happens, you need to keep it by your side. Sometimes hope can be wrong. But alotta time's it's right... basically what I'm saying is... to me... hope... is an android sent by cyberlife."

He watched the realization slowly dawn on Connor's face.

"You consider me your hope Lieutenant?"

"It's hank and I do..."

Connor laid there a while. Not sure how to respond.

"... Hank... dad... I think you're my hope too. I love you."

"I love you too son."

#hope #despair #fic #it was a ficlet once #now big #dbh #dbh found family #connor anderson #hank anderson

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onrainynights · 3 years

Text

why you can't compare buddie to destiel (from someone who ships both)

this is kind of addressing the recent negativity in the buddie tag, but it's also a collection of my thoughts and reasoning for being buddie-positive despite my experiences with destiel and spn in general. the text of 911 is not really discussed at all, and this is relatively spoiler-free, so if you're thinking of watching 911 I encourage you to read it. if you haven't seen both shows it probably won't make perfect sense, but I wrote this with spn fans who haven't seen 911 in mind, since that's most of my followers (and also seems to be where much of the negativity was coming from) pretty long post under the cut to save your dash

I just want to prepare y'all for the fact that buddie could be the slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance we've been waiting for practically forever.

at this point it's not fair to call it queerbait because where their relationship is now fits the characters and their development. this is not like destiel, where there were many moments over the years that could've ended with them getting together and it would've made sense with the story. buddie right now is in this sweet, wholesome pre-relationship kind of place, which on its own is a compelling dynamic and so fun and good to see. a resolution of it right now would feel out of character—they both still have some development to do before that would feel natural. and so, I don't think we can really call it queerbaiting unless the characters get to that point and there is still no resolution.

also I'd like to point out the overall positivity from the cast when it comes to buddie. both Eddie's and Buck's actors have said (I'm paraphrasing cast statements in this post unless they are in quotations) positive things about the pairing, and Buck's actor has said that he likes the interpretation of Buck as queer, and he would be happy if the writers took his character in that direction. also Eddie's actor with "that's what they all say" when buddie was referred to as a "bromance". Jennifer Love Hewitt, who plays Buck's sister (another main character), is very supportive of buddie, saying she's "rooting for it", that it would be "amazing", she doesn't "see how it couldn't happen one day". this was in response to hearing that a fan insists Buck and Eddie will be a couple. She flat-out said "I think so, too." She jokes about buddie with Buck's and Eddie's actors all the time. Also, my favorite bit from the video of her saying all this, "Let's manifest it together!"

It's safe to say this is a VERY different environment to spn. I don't think I've ever seen a cast this positive about a show's main non-canon queer ship before. NEVER. I think it's safe to say that if/when buddie is canonized, the cast will be just as excited as the fans—at least JLH will be! Add into the fact that the show's PR seems to be leaning into bi buck and buddie right now, it's a VERY different vibe than spn had, definitely. There's no gaslighting of the fans here, at least not that I've seen. also, although 911 has a large casual viewership, I think it's safe to say the GA would not be upset by buddie—there are only 3 serious, long-term romantic relationships involving main characters in this show, and one of them is a lesbian marriage with two children. And yes, the characters are shown being lesbians, it's not just a stated fact; the audience is privy to their relationship (and their interactions with their adorable kids). I think it's safe to say that buddie would go over well with the fans, even the casual viewers (of which there are many). buddie doesn't seem to be a huge divider in fandom like destiel is, either. reactions generally seem to be either "I ship it" or "I don't care either way."

Also I'd like to point out that while yes, it's possible that buddie is only bait (which would be disappointing), there's a reason queerbaiting works. people WANT to be queerbaited, because it's nearly indistinguishable from a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance. queerbaiting allows fans to make theories, create fan content (including fic), and keeps them engaged with the dynamic and the show. fans who are vulnerable to queerbaiting want a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance, which is currently an almost completely untapped market. spn could've tapped it, but despite the huge fandom they did not. there are SO MANY people outside of spn fandom who want a slow burn mlm romance, one that keeps the audience guessing, one that's will they/won't they, one that is not guaranteed, and that is why queerbaiting works so well. the audience doesn't just want the payoff, they also want the build-up. the longer the build-up, the higher the payoff, and the suspense of the build-up is gone if you know from the start that the payoff is definitely coming. that's part of why malec from shadowhunters didn't fully tap this market—there was no question of if, only the question of when (which wasn't really a question either, given there was an episode in season 1 literally titled "malec" when they got together.) the characters were always queer, the show being an adaptation of a book series where they were in a relationship and eventually had children together.

this was why November 5th was such a big deal—fans were so far past the will they/won't they aspect of destiel, firmly believing that destiel would always end as a "won't they" and not a "will they" that when cas confessed his romantic love for dean, destiel trended on Twitter over the US election. you all know that story, but maybe not everyone reading this knows that after Nov. 5 there was a case of hundreds if not thousands of spn fans experiencing love sickness because of the confession scene. the payoff of making destiel fully canon (and reciprocated, in English) would've been huge. fans would've been throwing their money at the c/w.

which leads me to the possibility (this is not at all me saying that I think this happened or even is likely, just that it's one possibility that /could/ have happened) that buddie started as bait, that the writers never intended for them to be a couple, but saw fan reactions to buddie during season 2 and started to lean into it in season 3 (and 4 so far, but it just started so I don't want to make any generalized statements about it) possibly still as bait or maybe not deciding yet if they'll go anywhere with it. and then maybe they saw destiel trending on November 5th, realized just how BIG the market for a slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance is, and said "hey, we already have the foundations for one of those. why not go for it and draw in all those viewers who clearly want one so badly?"

if buddie goes canon, because the cast and PR have been so positive about it, unlike spn, and because of the text of the show itself, the show's creatives could VERY EASILY claim that they were never baiting, that it was all an intentional slow burn will they/won't they romance from the beginning, and most people would believe them; there isn't really any evidence to the contrary, although I am sure there would be at least a few fans convinced it started as queerbaiting, and there might not be any evidence to refute that, either.

the point is that 911 is currently sitting on a gold mine. if they play their cards right, and execute buddie well, they will monopolize this market that old straight white men serving as network executives have failed so far to really tap into. they queerbait without the payoff, which gives the show a reputation among those in the market who haven't seen it, guaranteeing they will never watch it. shows in this vein: sherlock (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like) and spn (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like). spn got so, so close with cas's confession but then continued to gaslight its fans, and PR did not lean into destiel AT ALL. if 911 did buddie? the PR team would be all over it. it would be a moneymaker, big time, and Fox knows it. if buddie, or even just bi buck, went canon, tumblr would be all over it. viewership for the show, which is already impressive, would skyrocket. 911 would monopolize this market, because fans wary of queerbaiting would watch it with the knowledge that the payoff is there, and there really wouldn't be a competitor until other shows saw the success of buddie and followed suit with their own pairings, and given the fact that the market specifically wants /slow burn/ queer romances, that might take a couple years. that puts 911 in a really good position, where suddenly the fandom of the show, not just the GA, is very large and likely very dedicated to the show. the success of canon buddie might just change the landscape of TV in the coming years, showing execs that while queerbaiting does work, actually going through with it is really where the money is. 911 would not just monopolize the market for a while; it would pioneer it.

if buddie never goes canon, I would probably be a bit disappointed at the wasted potential, but unless the characters get to that point where canon buddie seems like the most logical outcome and they /don't/ go for it, I won't be truly upset because I don't think it's fair to claim its queerbaiting until then. I can't tell you how likely it is that buddie will be canon at some point, but it seems FAR more likely than destiel /ever/ did, and we ended up getting cas's confession in the end. I have hope, despite being hurt so badly by spn. 911 is a genuinely great show with some fantastic writing, and they don't leave chekov's gun unfired, unlike spn.

really, it comes down to this: if Jennifer Love Hewitt is allowed to clown for buddie, then so am I, and I'll enjoy this show—which is amazing even without canon buddie—while I apply my clown makeup.

#9-1-1 #spn #buddie #tagging as #destiel #so anyone with that tag blacklisted can avoid this post #unfortunately I have seen w/ncest shippers in the buddie tag so that's just a precaution so I don't get attacked #posts for puck #I might add more to this later who knows but I think this is a pretty good collection of my thoughts #buddie positivity #911natural

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blueburds-but-swtor · 3 years

Text

The Path Ahead; part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Finally giving Altrethir and Ashara more well-deserved time together! I had fun with this chapter and spent a little extra time tweaking it. Hope yall like it <3

“I sense your uneasiness, Altrethir,” said Ashara, breaking the silence of their meditation. As he gave her no immediate reply, she took the opportunity to pry further. “You didn’t just ask me to join you for meditation.”

“You are correct,” Altrethir murmured as his eyes slowly opened. “This was our only means to get away from the base without drawing suspicion.”

Ashara’s brows furrowed, “Suspicion?”

“I would like to hear your thoughts on a concerning matter.”

“If it’s whatever’s troubling you, then absolutely.”

Altrethir exhaled a deep sigh from his nose, shifting atop his knees. “The traitor within our ranks: I have them narrowed down to a small list of individuals.”

“You must have been working hard. It’s been less than a week since the whole incident on Iokath.”

“I have spent every free moment of my time investigating.” All things considered, it was quite obvious who this traitor was. Still Altrethir’s gut churned with every piece of evidence he collected.

“Who’ve you narrowed it down to?” Ashara asked.

“The only individuals who were directly involved with the superweapon scheme: Empress Acina, Lana, and Theron.”

“Acina has a history of being deceitful and manipulative. It’s got to be her.” Ashara then gestured to him, “Maybe Thexia isn’t the ally she preferred. Her loyalty to the Empire was put into question in the past, but yours never was.”

“You suggest that Thexia has grown to be too much of a wild card for Acina’s own comfort?”

“In a sense.”

“I do not believe loyalty is what concerns the Empress, rather, she seeks powerful allies. Allies who both benefit from a mutual goal, not particularly loyal to one another. Thexia and I both hold substantial amounts of power; physically and figuratively. Eliminating one of us would have no benefit to her, nor the Empire.” Altrethir glanced to his friend, her brows furrowed and lips pressed thinly in thought. “The reason for this incident,” he continued, “I believe goes beyond mere faction wars.

“You understand that this matter was only to be kept between Thexia, Lana and Theron, but Theron enlightened me of the situation regardless. Thus, I have only received his end of the story. He claimed to have been fixing a power cable in the eastern hallway at the time of the attack.”

Altrethir retrieved his holodevice and produced an image. Ashara looked to it, observing the angles as it slowly spun. “The power cable in question,” Altrethir elaborated, “claimed to have been damaged by the droids. It has been sliced through with a blade.”

“What type of weapons did the droids use?” Ashara said, catching on.

“Vibroknives, conveniently. But the width and depth of the cuts are what caught my attention.” Altrethir then opened his backpack and pulled out a vibroknife. “Taken from one of the droids in the control room. I inspected every one of their knives, concluding that they were all identical. The blades are long and thin,” he traced the blunt end of the knife with his finger for emphasis, “but the cuts are short and wider.”

Ashara observed the knife and the holo image. Granted, it was difficult to truly determine the damage from a mere image. “So one of the droids didn’t damage the cable. It was the assassin, then? They were trying to create a distraction to draw Theron out?”

“In some manner, yes. Contrary to Theron’s claims, the droids were not the ones who destroyed the cables. That much is true. I also investigated the superweapon’s systems—as much as I could, anyway. I had difficulty sifting through the fried circuits, but I digress.” Altrethir then pulled out his datapad and scrolled through his notes. “The coding the droids of Iokath use follow its own self-created programing. Thankfully, SCORPIO left enough of the coding within the Gravestone for me to begin understanding it.”

Coding and slicing were never his strong suits, but over the course of time he spent with Theron, he’d learned the basics and more. He understood where to start and what to look for between the lines.

“When the superweapon charges up, the room undergoes an intense lockdown protocol. Nothing may enter or exit. Only the GEMINI droids, even ARIES, could override the system.

“But there aren’t any GEMINI droids on Iokath?”

“No,” Altrethir muttered disdainfully. He briefly recalled the event in which Thexia cut down SCORPIO before she could merge into the planet’s system. Truthfully, he thought, that was the reason Iokath had become as chaotic as it was now: it lacked coordination, a sole voice to listen to. The droids ran without guidance or goals. While SCORPIO wasn’t one to be trusted, at least she could have kept the droids under control.

“Even if there was another way to override the programing, it was never tampered with. Here,” he gestured to a line of code that he highlighted in his notes. “There is never any implication that security protocols were lifted. Meaning our suspects are those who were already inside the control room when the assassin struck.”

“So the assassin was already waiting when they arrived,” Ashara said in slow understanding.

“Perhaps. In regard to the self-defense system, here,” Altrethir turned to another page of notes. “Six battle droids are to awaken and eliminate the threat of any tampering with the terminal. Meaning that when the control terminal is damaged or at risk of being harmed—or perhaps if it is already damaged—the droids engage. Theron said he was fighting droids while Thexia was already conversing with the superweapon.

“He did not mention fighting droids when they both entered the chambers, but I do not believe they did. I can recognize remnants of Thexia’s fighting in a heartbeat; not a single one of those droids were sliced in half, decapitated, or crushed by means of the Force. And thus, Theron’s claims contradict the programing of the superweapon.

“Our traitor is no one else than my dear Agent Shan.”

Ashara blinked. Her gut tightened, knowing what significant pain her friend must have felt. “I see why you’re so uneasy now,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Altrethir. Have you felt his guilt through the Force?”

“Not much. He’s masked his emotions well over the past few days, further drawing my suspicion. Coupled with the evidence, our traitor can be only him.” Altrethir leaned forward, bringing a hand to his mouth then drawing his fingers down his chin in thought. “But my involvement in everything was intentional. He brought the matter to my attention, after all. I fail to yet understand why.”

“The SIS had him on all sorts of undercover missions, right? Maybe he has to keep extra quiet about this one.”

“The SIS has not recruited him for such a mission.”

“How do you know?”

Altrethir hesitated. He glanced to Ashara but kept his head in place. “They already have an agent of the Republic working undercover for them. They wouldn’t require another, not one to do something as drastic as this.”

“What are you talking about?” She kept her voice low but there was eagerness in her tone.

“I allied myself with the Republic. I refuse to become a slave to the Empire again. My agreement in joining Acina was a ruse. But, for now, I work in absolute secrecy for the Republic. I trust you, Ashara, as I have for many years. You must not tell anyone else. Not even your own allies of the Republic, and especially no one else from our old crew.”

Her expression was one of pleasant surprise. A short huff of a laugh escaped her lips as if in disbelief. She gave a quick shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders, “You’re for real? I mean—stars, I’m relieved that you’re not returning to the Empire. But to join the Republic? How did you manage to convince them?”

“I shall tell you someday in a more secure setting. That is where I would like to drop the matter, please.”

“Of course. So, Theron,” her smile slowly faded. “He’s pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes but yours. What are you going to do about him?”

“I shall continue things as normal. Outing him directly as a traitor will not end well for anyone. I do not believe his intentions are malicious; his assassination attempt on Thexia was orchestrated to be non-lethal. The voltage the superweapon produced was created to short-circuit droids, not to kill humanoids. This was intentional.”

“He’s still on our side.”

“Yes. There is a deeper layer of this situation that I’ve yet to uncover. I shall remain ever observant. And I would like for you to as well, Ashara.”

#swtor #sith inquisitor #ashara zavros #oc: Altrethir Valran #fanfiction #my writing #Alt pulling out his detective hat for this chapter

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years

Note

The Collector finding and collecting his childhood friend because she was the only one who was kind to him as a kid.

The Collector x Reader- The memories that persist

Authors Note: Another Collector one? Well yes, because I have many requests with him, so gotta work on them.

Warning: Just some good ol’ kidnapping

Words: 1.8k

Asa had two moods that put people at distance, being socially awkward and having a stone-cold exterior were like protection, like a scorpions needle ready to pierce whatever got close to him. He never found the need to have friends or bond with another human being, for his opinion on humans and the society were that there are either predators or prey and he sure as hell wasn't the second.

The idea of someone being nice meant they wanted something, people don't do charity, there is always a secret reason for every action, be it good or bad.

He somehow had to thank his father for this unique education that he got until he was alone; it made him the man that he is today, untouchable.

Asa was waiting patiently in front of the coffee machine in the hallway of the university, he needed the caffeine after a night of no sleep and working on his collection; sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford, not when there was so much to do.

Usually, the hallways were filled with professors and students, chatting and discussing, but when he was near, people preferred to keep the distance and find another place for conversation. Maybe it was the way his black eyes would take glances at them and create an uncomfortable vibe without even trying.

Some of the more daring staffs of the university sometimes joked on Asa that he was close to forty and he should consider settling down, an aspect the Entomologist never thought about.

Now, he wasn't ugly or unappealing, perhaps on the contrary; he was tall, bulky, sandy brown hair and his eyes that at first, you might find intriguing, but once you meet his cold interior, his way of making anyone feel stupid using his superior intelligence, you would back away. None wanted to put up with him, none wanted to feel inferior next to him, so they all left him to be; alone.

He took the plastic cup from the machine, ready to head to his office, when someone called his name, making him turn around in the source of the voice.

Obsidian eyes looked at the person who called him; hair flowing down shoulders, eyes sparkling with knowledge and recognization, a big smile showing pearly whites.

"Asa? Is that you?" you asked, stopping in front of him.

His brows pulled into a furrow, confusion evident on his face.

"Do I know you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Does 'Bugaboo' ring a bell?" you asked with a mischievous smile.

One minute passed, then two, then his eyes widened as memories from so long ago crashed back onto him. He was looking at you like he'd seen a ghost, like he believed what he saw was just a hallucination.

"[Name]?" He tested the name on his lips and tongue, it felt so foreign.

Your lips pulled into a grin and you nodded.

"So, you did remember?" you asked, chuckling at his shocked expression, which you found cute.

It's been years since he said your name, memories of two little kids spending their time on the edge of the forest close to the town, basking into the beauty of nature.

If Asa had to recall a good memory it would be that his little hands holding a book as he read aloud, you leaning on his side, listening to his voice as he read paragraph after paragraph. It was probably the only time he felt not constricted by his fathers' rules, in your presence he felt peaceful, not afraid or uncomfortable.

You were the only one who had the time and patience with his awkwardness, the only one not to judge, and the only one who was genuinely nice to him, never expecting anything in return.

As a kid, Asa was very shy and his self-esteem was just dust, the only ability he was very sure of himself was his academics, but even that if it wasn't molded to perfection his father would destroy.

Perfection.

All his life resorted around it, be it in all kinds of aspects, but that's what Asa thrived on, quintessence.

"What are you doing here?" Asa found himself asking.

Before the massacre of his family, probably one or two weeks prior, you left, your family left; you pretty much disappeared, leaving him alone and he could recall his father's mean words.

'People are temporary, son. They come and go, none stays forever. They seek you until they found you unneeded.'

"I'm in my last engineering year and they transferred me here, but I'm glad they did. I didn't expect to see you here, but I'm very happy so." you genuinely said, making him gulp down, nervous.

Asa wasn't nervous.

"I work here." Asa simply stated.

"Ahhh...So your dream to be a successful entomologist finally happened. I knew you would make it." you said with a grin, pulling your backpack over your shoulder.

You took one some coins and put them into the coffee machine to get your own beverage.

Now that you were closer, his eyes inspected you. He recalled when you were kids you were both the same height, but now he pretty much towered over you. Your hair used to be shoulder length, but now it was past your middle back in loose curls, a loose red wine-colored sweater covered your upper body, the material a little past your hips, your legs hugged by black leggings and brown Uggs on your feet.

"I really need some hot coffee. Its cold outside and I think it won't take much to snow." you said, but Asa was more so comparing your actual form to that of your younger self.

As a kid you were cute, he remembers that, but now you were a woman, and what little warmness he had for you as a child now it came back, but in a much different shape. Both of you were adults, no longer children.

"I guess I will see you around, Bugaboo?" you asked with a raised eyebrow, using the childish nickname and making him look away, but alas nodding.

You gave him one last smile and marched away down the hallways, his eyes trained on you until you disappeared around the corner.

Asa couldn't believe what just happened, he still debated if everything was just a very realistic dream, but his confirmation was made when he saw you around the university, always flashing him a smile and waving at him.

Some staff members even teased him, asking if you were his girlfriend or so.

'Emory! I didn't know you had a woman. You sneaky bastard.'

'She sure is a pretty one. Wonder what she sees in you.'

He wished he could take a scalpel and cut the brown-nosing idiots from neck to groin, but he had more self-restraint than most.

What he really felt towards you wasn't just an attraction; yes, he was attracted to you, but there was also a catch. Everyone who fell as victims to the Collector knew that if Asa Emory was attracted to you, it meant a death sentence or a complete nightmare.

He was patient, he was a strategist and planned everything with the utmost precision, and that leads to you being chained to a bed, makeshift gag to prevent you from screaming, although Asa doubted that someone will actually hear you, probably only his guard dogs and the collected ones that were still alive.

The hotel was isolated outside the city and not even cars passed by to wonder what odious things were going inside.

You had tears running down your face, and the bonds on your wrists created uncomfortable bruises that you knew will be purple by the end of this nightmare. Your attention was pulled from trying to break free to the door of the room as it opened slowly, revealing a tall man dressed in all black. He closed the door, locking it and putting the keys on the utility belt around his waist.

Even in the dim-lit room, you could make out some sort of his appearance; he was white, very bulky, so fighting hand to hand against him will do you no good. As he came closer you could make out his eyes from behind black carapace-like a mask. Your eyebrows were pulled into a furrow, these eyes looked so familiar, that certain spark in them, it was then that your body froze in shock, like you were struck by a lightning.

Maybe it was only your imagination playing with you. As he stalked oh so slowly towards you, his gloved hand coming up to take your gag out of your mouth, making you take a deep breath and close your eyes as a whimper escape your lips.

"A-Asa?" You tried to say his name, wondering if it was really him, although you could never mistake his eyes for anyone else.

"Not Asa." he replied, his voice all too recognizable, but what did he mean that it wasn't him?

"W-What?" you choked out, only for his finger to press against your lips and you swore you could taste the blood.

He looked over you, calculating eyes taking you in, then you squeaked as he swiftly got on top of you, his nitrile covered hand coming to gently cup your chin, his eyes absorbing every little detail that made you a whole.

"P-Please...T-This is not you. This is wrong." you tried to kick some sense into him, not wanting to anger for God knows what he is capable of.

"No. Of course not." he whispered, his mask brushing against your cheek as his breath hit your ear, the close proximity between your bodies making you feel anxious.

Eyes widened when you saw the glint of a blade, his hand grasping the handle of the weapon as the steel trailed up and down your legs, then between your breasts and resting under your chin, making your gaze never turn away from his.

"Please don't kill me...." you begged, closing your eyes to let around a set of tears fall down your face.

He tilted his head to the side, curious at your desperate words. That was a habit of Asa, you remembered how cute it was when he tilted his head in pure genuine curiosity when he saw something that piqued his interest, but now, it was downright disturbing.

"I'm not gonna kill you." he answered your beggings, his mouth against your ear, and you had to fight the urge to kick your legs when his tongue came out to lick behind your ear.

"I'm gonna punish you for leaving....little pet." your eyes widened, heartbeat stopping at the dark suggestion of his sentence.

Next thing, your ears were meet with the ripping sound of your blouse, a scream tearing from your mouth, only to be silenced by a hand around your throat.

"A-Asa..." you choked out, his lips pulling into a sadistic smirk, obsidian eyes sparkling with lust.

"The Collector."

#the collector #the collector 2009 #the collection 2012 #the collector x reader #Asa Emory #Asa Emory x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies

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