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fluffallamaful · 3 years

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🦙🦙🦙…

oh? what’s this? fluffallamaful is actually posting that darn prison fic?? my goodness!! and before dream actually gets broken out,??

Continued on from “Ticklish Dreams (and George’s)”

With concepts from “Crying Giggling Obsidian”

Summary: Betrayal is a sickly feeling, as is regret, as is loneliness. Dream is unfortunately feeling the pains of all three in his prison cell, after being abandoned by Technoblade. But what better way to deal with these demons than by having a god appear and tickle them out of you?? :D CRAZILY PLATONIC

Warnings: tickling, XD has 4 arms, prison angst, the 3 ugly feelings mentioned in the summary

he/him pronouns for Dream

he/they pronouns for DreamXD

Word Count: 5060

enjoy ☺️

🦙🦙🦙…

This fic is dedicated to @covenofwives , who has kept me completely sane while i’ve been trying my darnedest to write this. And has ultimately heard me talk about how i want to finish this fic for a months straight 😅

GO FOLLOW THEM IF YOU LOVE XD AND DREAM STUFF!!!!

🦙🦙🦙…

Cool obsidian pressed against Dream’s cheek, his eyes dull and hazed as he aimlessly traced the divots of the blackened magma in front of him - hot liquid frozen in time. He didn’t know how long he had been lying there for - pinned to his prison floor under a weighted blanket of misery - but it had been long enough that the unforgiving surface had begun to weld bruises into his hips, his heart resting well below the blocks of his cell, swaying along with the elder guardian’s mournful calls.

He had been left behind.

And honestly, while his past self might’ve been ablaze with fury and malice right now, the only feeling that his brain could muster up, was one of pure regret. The type that twisted into his chest until his lungs had no space to breathe. That froze his body solid and numbed the muscles in his face, constantly whispering critiquing comments into his ears.

What had he expected? Had he really thought that Technoblade would sacrifice himself over him? That his now ex-cell mate would bring the cure to this nightmare? That his problems would just, magically disappear in the presence of another being? He had been a fool, a moron in fact. And the worst part about it all? He didn’t even blame Technoblade for a second. He only blamed himself.

Not only had he stupidly assumed that his pathetic little friendship with the piglin-hybrid would somehow break them out of prison, but he had also assumed that they’d do it together. And he had been so wrong.

But thankfully he still had the hole in the toilet that he could continue digging through right? He still had a chance to escape on his own… right?? No. He was a fool for that too, carelessly hiding from the blaring sirens in the exact location that he was trying to hide from his warden.

He slammed his fist into the obsidian, frustrated tears gathering in his eyes when the blow did nothing to chase away the anger that should be there, but instead just hurt… really bad. He hated it. He hated it all so much. He hated how the gurgling lava that kept him imprisoned laughed at his shame, he hated how the smell of his own prisonwear taunted him with the memory of the hole that was no longer there. But most of all, he hated how vulnerable he had become. His thoughts were practically eating him away, feeding him a strict diet of his past mistakes on loop, and then plummeting him into a well of self pity.

In fact, he had become so entangled in his own intrusive thoughts, that he had not even registered that he was no longer alone in his cell. It was not until the familiar low voice echoed out from behind him that he realised.

“Dream.” Dream’s eyes widened for a moment, his body flinching at the sudden company.

“E-ex Dee?” He murmured, voice tentative and barely more audible that a whisper. He lifted his head to rest his other cheek onto the hard floor instead, eyes being met with the sea of green fabric that now flooded his cell. DreamXD stood crouched before him, white porcelain mask lifted to reveal a comforting smile, and head dipped to avoid hitting his ceiling.

Dream could not deny the warmth that suddenly bloomed in his chest upon seeing the deity, however it was quickly chased away by the bitterness of betrayal that still laced his body. He was helpfully reminded that the god - just like Technoblade - was not the solution to his problems, nor did they care about his problems, they were simply here to satisfy their own motivates. He turned his head back away again.

“Did George send you again?” He asked, albeit a little more sourly than intended. But honestly if George really cared then he’d just come see him himself, instead of making XD do all the work.

“No.”

Dream blinked. His question had mainly been rhetorical, and yet XD had provided him with an answer that not only caught him off guard, but also managed to threaten the constructs of his miserable narrative. He frowned, flicking at his formidable floor, and watching as tiny fragments of it pinged across his cell.

“But- but I didn’t summon you...” He confirmed, turning back to face the deity again. His mind screamed at him to not let his guard down so easily, but he managed to wrestle the warnings aside, the curiosity that DreamXD always seemed to evoke taking its place instead. He propped himself up on his elbows, grimacing at the extra pressure it put on his hips, but looking up to the god regardless.

“No. I came on my own.” XD explained, his voice even and smooth, cloak shifting with them as they moved.

Dream braced himself, half expecting to be bundled up and whisked out of his cell like in XD’s other visits. However much to his surprise, the deity simply took a step back, seating himself down against the prison’s obsidian wall. He watched as they made themselves comfortable, the sound of familiar shuffling fabric muffling out the taunting gurgles of the lava fall, silencing any of Dream’s leftover tantalising thoughts and allowing for the bloom of warmth to reappear in his chest.

“You seemed sad.” XD elaborated. Dream quickly hung his head, reaching for his previously discarded mask and placing it over his face. Of course the god had witnessed him in such a vulnerable moment… Though he was undoubtably touched by their concern.

“H-how much did you see..?” He asked, tentatively lifting his head to address them again. He was met by two outstretched arms, the gesture - along with the deity’s warm smile - being a clear offering for a seat beside him against the blackened wall. A smile flickered across his lips, gingerly peeling himself off the floor to accept.

“I saw enough.” XD confirmed. Dream huffed at his honesty, but shuffled himself across the floor towards the guiding arms regardless. As soon as he reached them he was pulled into the deity’s side, warm arms wrapping protectively around him as he melted into their deep green cloak. It was a substantially different feeling to the cold obsidian floor.

“Sam will be back you know.” He warned, fiddling with his mask to allow for him to nuzzle further into the comforting fabric. XD hummed his understanding.

“Mm, I’ve dealt with him.” Dream frowned at his response.

“You’ve dealt with him?”

“He’s alive.” They shrugged, arms tightening reassuringly around him. “Not for you to worry about. You’ve got more important matters.”

Dream followed their pointed gesture, surprised to find a purplish blemish forming across the edge of his palm, a sudden reminder of his previous frustrations.

“Oh.” He muttered sheepishly, pulling the bruised hand to his chest, however XD gently guided it out again, examining it with down turned lips.

“You need to be more careful.”

“What are you my mother?”

XD let out an unimpressed hum, but his lips turned up from his frown, flattening out Dream’s hand with his own. “I can fix it if you’d like.”

Dream looked up at him in surprise, a small head nod following his interest. He was not aware that the god possessed healing abilities, but he supposed that if they could give literal dreams, then a little healing spell would be nothing.

He watched as they began to rub a thumb gently over the bruised area, wincing a little initially, but quickly discovering that the gesture did not hurt in the slightest. In fact he melted to the touch, a smile pulling at his lips when a tingly sensation - that oddly resembled that of the fizzes and flickers from his crying obsidian walls - began to trail each swipe, assuming it to be the healing aspect.

“Does it feel nice?” XD’s gentle voice rumbled. Dream felt his cheeks warm, realising that he had practically disappeared into the deity’s soft green garments. He reshuffled himself, clearing his throat and muttering out a small ‘yes’ to the question. DreamXD chuckled, running a reassuring clawed hand through the blonde’s tangled hair.

“Good.” He crooned. Dream’s sheepish smile melted into a fond one at the deity’s usual pride. He allowed for his eyes to flutter shut, a content sigh leaving his mouth as he was lulled into relaxation by the god’s simple affection. However with his mind now free of trouble, it opened up space for curiosity, the tingling over his palm prompting a burning question to swell in the back of his mind.

Would DreamXD be sensitive to the crying obsidian like he was? Could a god like him be ticklish?

He lifted his head, eyes flickering over to his cell walls. Royal purple sparks danced over its surface, other flakes spiralling down from his ceiling, and the gentle hum that the blocks emitted adding to the ambiance of the prison. He knew all too well how it felt to touch the wall, and a shudder travelling up his spine would remind him of how it felt to have one of its occasion bolts coursing through him, but would the sensation be the same for XD?

“Do you have any other bruises?” Said deity’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Uh… y-yeah, on my hips...” Dream answered, his voice wavering and distant as he attempted to form the best possible phrasing for his question. “W-when- when was the last time you touched crying obsidian?”

The god’s tracing stopped, their lips remaining still and emotionless, and his head titling up in apparent thought. Dream found himself holding his breath as he watched their reactions play out.

“Why..?” XD finally spoke, mask meeting that of the smaller’s, but only before Dream quickly averted his gaze. He readjusted his mask, a blush creeping up his cheeks as his mind fumbled to come up with a coherent excuse for wanting to know the specific information.

“I j-just wanted to know what it felt like for you..?” He managed, though his tone tilted up at the end. He winced as XD’s lips slowly formed into a cheeky grin.

“You want to know if I’m ticklish.”

Dream felt his stomach drop, his eyes widening and voice disappearing in his throat for a moment at the deity’s unbelievable accuracy.

“N-nO! No! No, it’s not that I-”

“You were going to make me touch one of the walls.”

“n-nO!! No I wasn’t! I wahasn’t!!” He assured, although his thumping heart pointed out that that was in fact exactly what he was going to do. He felt XD’s arms shuffle around him, gasping when he was lifted from his obsidian flooring, and grasping at the shifting sleeves for support.

“You’re a liar~” The god sang, his sudden playfulness causing a nervous smile to twitch over Dream’s lips. It was easy to forget how cheeky the deity could be, a giddiness forming in his gut as he was pulled in close to their chest bridal style.

“Stahp!! I’m n-not!!” He argued, pushing at them lightly while simultaneously pressing his mask firmly to his face. “What are you doing??”

DreamXD only hummed, however Dream’s question was graciously answered in the form of deja vu once he was gently lowered into their lap, the position sparking a wave of familiarity to twist inside him.

“Waihiit nOHo!!!” He yelped, the sudden protest being peppered with eidetic giggles, curtesy to XD’s last visits. His hands instinctively grasped at XD’s as clawed fingers began to pinch at the hem of his prison shirt, wide, mirthful eyes shooting up to the deity’s mask. “Whahat are youhu dohoing?!”

“You said you had bruises on your hips yes?” XD’s tone was now innocent, but a contradicting, mischievous smirk was curling beneath his mask. Dream gasped as they gently lifted up the worn fabric of his prison wear, revealing his bruised skin to the dense air of his cell. “Ah yes! Here they are.”

“NOho!! Ehehex dehehe dohon’t!!” Dream pleaded, squirming in the deity’s lap as large fingers fluttered over his hip bones. His smile was quick to widen, seeping out either side of his cracked mask as the giddiness in his gut expanded to intertwine with the warmth still lining his chest.

“Relax Dreamie I’m only healing them.” XD smiled, their warm tone matching that of the lava fall perfectly. Dream whined, flushing at the nickname and squirming more when the deity’s thumbs began to slowly graze over his bruised skin, their touch light and feather-like. He immediately puffed out his cheeks when the healing aspect from before began to trail the their fingers again, finding the feeling comparatively more maddening to how it felt over his palm.

“Did you think that I was going to tickle you?” Dream gasped, spluttered giggles erupting into the back of his mask at the deity’s teasy question.

“s-stahap!!” He squeaked. XD smiled proudly at the response, the mortal’s sensitivity to the word never growing old.

“You thought that I’d tickle you for trying to tickle me?”

“E-ehex Dehehe!!”

“Mmm, well I suppose that it would serve you right… You did lie to me after all… Perhaps I’ll have to follow through once these are done.” The deity hummed, smirking down as Dream kicked out in his lap, admiring the red hue that dusted his cheeks. Both of the mortal’s hands were wrapped around his own, the smaller fingers coiling uselessly around them in attempt to gain some sort of control.

“Although it already seems to tickle quite a lot. Is this another bad spot of yours?”

“nOHoho!!” Dream denied, squeezing the fingers harder, and shaking his head in attempt to chase away his ever-growing fluster. However instead of easing the colouring in his cheeks, he merely dislodged that of his own protective mask, letting out a gasp as it toppled down to the prison floor behind him. “Wahahihit Ehehex-”

“Was that another lie~?”

“No!! Nohoho mihihy-”

“Oh it was! Look at that smile! You have ticklish hips!”

“STAHAP!! Ehex dehehe mihihy mask!!” Dream desperately explained, his now visible cheeks darkening to a cherry red, and the corners of his lips wobbling as he attempted to fight away his wide smile. While he would be unable to deny that he had looked forward to these moments with XD nearly daily, the idea of it showing so clearly on his face was not something that the mask-wearer was so thrilled about.

“And you’ve been so kind to allow me to see it!”

“nOHo!! Ehex Dehe cahan yOHuhu get ihit baHAck plehehease?!” Dream whined, briefly gesturing towards his runaway mask, before planting his head firmly into XD’s green garments. The god chuckled.

“Mmm, no I think I’m enjoying seeing your pretty smile.” They crooned, scratching either side of Dream’s hips with one set of arms, while spidering another set gently over the back and sides of the boy’s neck in attempt to coax him out of hiding. “It suits you much better than the frown you were wearing earlier.”

Dream squawked, sweet bubbly giggles following closely behind as he buried himself further into the deity’s cloak, scrunching his neck up to block out the skittering fingers. If possible his smile grew even wider, driven by the giddy warmth that now surfaced from his chest from the the deity’s words, its overflow wrapping him in a cocoon of pure bliss.

“Nahahaha ihit- Cahahan- Ehehex Dehehe wahahihit- cahahan ihihi- mihihihy mahahask…”

“You can get your mask back by yourself! I’m not stopping you.” XD pointed out gently, smiling fondly at the blonde’s disjointed, slurred speech.

Dream groaned, lifting his head from his burrow to assess his situation. XD’s large hands were crowded around his seemingly small frame, each finger tip still leaving behind tiny sparks of healing, and his own coiled fingers doing very little to dampen their effects. The sight alone was already flustering enough, and the idea of abandoning his albeit, poor defences just seemed undoubtedly far-fetched.

“I cahahan’t!!” He pouted, dropping his head back with a defeated whine, and curling his fingers tighter around XD’s. His giddy smile was quick to return as the god’s other set of fingers fluttered under his chin, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid the doting smile that rested below the larger’s pushed up mask.

“Ohh yes you can~ It will only take a few seconds Dreamie, what are you worried about?” XD teased softly, smiling when Dream nuzzled back into his cloak with another whine.

“sTAHAhap!! Stohohop cAhAHalling mehehe thAHAht!!”

“What, Dreamie?? But that’s what Georgie calls you!” He defended, unable to hide his slow-curling smirk as the boy’s blush bled out to his ears, flustered cackles pouring into his fabric burrow.

“STAHAP nohoho he dohoesn’t!!” Dream detested, uncoiling a set of fingers from XD’s to help soothe the uncovered side of his burning face. Only his arm almost immediately came crashing back down once long nails were felt skittering up his bare side, the god apparently making the most of his freedom.

“NOHO DOHON’T!!” Dream yelped, his hand flying down to wrangle up the rogue fingers. XD allowed him the satisfaction of his defence, slowing his skittering down to light scratching, and chuckling at the soft bubbly giggles that spluttered out of the boy.

“That was too easy~” They cooed, smiling as the muscles on Dream’s sides twitched under each scritch. “All I had to do was mention George and you let go! Might as well just grab your mask Dreamie~”

“nOHOhoho!!” Dream giggled, kicking his legs out to counter the heat in his cheeks, a fleet of butterflies carving out a pit in his gut at the deity’s accusation. He hated that they could read him so easily. “Juhuhust gehehet ihit fOHOhor mehehe!!”

“Because you’re just sooo easy to fluster so it’s bound to happen again!”

“sTAhAhap!!”

“Just look at those blushy cheeks!!”

“nOHO!! XD STAHAP THEY’RE NOHOHOT!!” Dream argued, his hands twitching as he fought down the urge to cover his cheeks again, rolling himself towards the concealing safety of his burrow. Although despite his valiant efforts in hiding his flushed cheeks, XD still managed to find a way to trace over the blotchy red skin, evoking muffled sniggers from beneath the fabric.

“All on display for DreamXD to see.”

“s-StaHAhap gehet ahahawahehey!!” Dream demanded, instinctively batting at the hands that now tapped over his cheeks, settling the hand over his face as a makeshift mask. However just as before, as soon as XD’s remaining, healing fingers were left unattended, they too scuttled up his side, producing a surprised squeal from the mortal.

“NAHAHA EHEX DEHE!!” Dream screeched, immediately latching onto the scuttling hand, but squealing again when instead of slowing down like before, the hand sped up, squeezing sporadically up and down his side. “NOHO STAHAHAP!!”

“Should’ve got your mask Dreamie~ What was stopping you?!” The deity critiqued playfully, allowing for the healing affect to fade away. He watched in delight as the mortal boy revealed himself from his garment den, admiring his deep blush in its entirety.

“Y-YOUHU!! YoUhuHu’rE StOhohoPping MeHE!!” Dream accused, cackling when XD’s thumbs kneading into a particularly sensitive spot just above his hips.

“How am I stopping you? All you have to do is let go of my hands and reach up there!” Dream shook his head, the god’s nonchalance evoking a frustrated growl from him, although it came out as more of a whine.

“Youhu’re gohonna mohove!!”

“Ohh I see...” DreamXD hummed, bringing a finger up to his chin to ponder over the boy’s proclaiming statement. “Yes with your arms above your head I would be able to get to your ticklish ribs and armpits.”

Dream gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and tugging vainly at the deity’s fingers. He could feel the warmth in his cheeks returning again at their purposeful choice of words. “dOHOn’T SAY ThAHAt!!”

“Oh! But I could also go to your ticklish tummy!! The decisions!!”

“sTAhAHap!! EHEX DEHE DoHon’t dOHo EiHiThER!!” Dream cried, slamming his face back into XD’s cloak. He let out another squeal when the hands on his sides slowed to tracing, soft giggles being engulfed by green fabric.

“Just be quick and I won’t be able to~” XD’s sing song voice chorused from above, matching the volume of the blonde’s softer laughter. Dream only giggled more, weighing up his options from the safety of the cloak.

He attempted to tame his giggles, managing to reduce them to only the occasional wheezy huff - once it became clear that the deity’s hands weren’t going to move from his sides so long as he kept his hands on them. Then with a final deep breath, he craned his neck up to eyeball the mask. It was most definitely in reach, all he had to do was reach up and grab it before the deity’s hands could move. That was all.

And so, in one swift motion, his hold on the XD’s fingers was released, outstretched hands shooting towards the white battered mask, before abruptly being pulled back to his middle with a shriek, as fluttering fingers were felt over his stomach.

“NOHO EHEHX DEHEHE!!” Dream screamed, his face immediately heating to a temperature close the lava fall, and squeaky giggles tumbling out of him as XD traced shapes into his lower belly.

“You were so close!!” The god praised, wrapping an affectionate arm around Dream’s body to pull him in close, migrating his scratches in circles around his belly.

“Nahahah Ehehex DEHEhe miHihiHy mahask!!” Dream whined, desperately clawing at the tracing hands, before throwing his head back in flustered cackles. His legs kicked out briefly, but were quick to go limp once the rest of his body melted back into XD’s, writhing left and right as he attempted to escape the torturous tracing fingers. “Ihihihi cAhAHan’T!!!”

“Would you like my help?” The deity offered, a dangerous smirk flickering over his lips briefly, but him quickly managing to swallow it down. Dream nodded his head gratefully, XD’s ingenuity going unnoticed as a result of his eyes being squeezed shut tight. Though they were immediately pried open by the wave of panic that washed over him once a warm hand wrapped around his wrists, tugging gently at his defences.

“w-wAHAhHihit nOhOho!!”

“We’re going to get your mask together, are you ready Dreamie?” XD crooned, voice dripping with delight at the boy’s giggly panic.

“NAHA!! XD tHaHAt’s nOHot what I meant!!” Dream wailed, a swarm of anticipatory butterflies flooding his gut as the god’s plan became clear, trailing XD’s fingers from his insides as they still traced around the surface of his bare stomach. He gasped again when XD’s began to lift his hands. “NAHA E-EHEX DeHe!!”

“You wanted my help!!” The deity teased, countering the boy’s sudden panicked struggles easily, and tearing away the coiled fingers from their respective hands. “And without these in the way I have your ticklish stomach alll to myself!!” He grinned, upping the pace of his scratching as the boy’s hands were slowly lifted away from his body.

“NAHAhO NOHO!!” Dream screamed, ducking behind his slow moving arms as his blush drained down to his ears, breathy panicked giggles leaping out of him.

“There, look at that! We’re already over a third of the way there!!” XD praised, pushing up the rest of Dream’s rippled prison tshirt to access the top of his stomach. It would never fail to amaze him how adorable humans could be once you found the right spot to tickle them in, and Dream’s belly had proven multiple times to be one of these spots. He was just grateful now that he could enjoy the reactions without the pesky fingers getting in the way.

Dream squawked as the deity laid their nails over the surface of his stomach, sucking it in to the best of his ability, but falling back into flustered cackles once they started scratching again.

“HURRY UHUP!!” He demanded, tugging at his arms once he realised the excruciatingly slow pace that they were approaching his mask. XD’s grin doubled in width.

“Of course Dreamie.” He stated deviously, fulfilling the boy’s request by quickening the pace of his scratching, skittering and pinching along he tensed muscles of his belly.

“NAHAA-!!” Dream yelped, voice disappearing into a wheeze, before returning in panicked cackles. “NOHOHO NO!! I DIHIHIDN’t mEheaN- EHEHex dEhEhe I cAHAhan’t!!!” He cried, desperately attempting to lunge for the mask, but the XD’s strong grip prevented it.

“Yes you can look! You’re so close!!” The god encouraged, running a hand through crazed blonde hair in attempt to calm the boy’s panicked flailing.

“Nohohoho!!” Dream whined, visibly melting to the touch, allowing for his cackles to flow out more freely, and a sense of pride to radiate through XD. Despite his obvious embarrassment, Dream had made no real attempts at escaping from the deity. In fact his smile had never been wider, complimenting the fiery hue over his neck and cheeks.

“You love this.” XD cooed softly, continuing his petting, but slowing down his tracing to give the boy a breather. Dream shook his head, hiding behind his raised arms.

“nOho Ihihi dohohon’t!!”

“Ohh yes you do! You’ve melted in my lap little Dreamie~”

“dohohohon’t!!”

XD hummed fondly, allowing one set of fingers to start subtly circling the blonde’s belly button. Though Dream caught on almost immediately.

“NAHAhOho nOHo!! EhEhex DeHehe nohohot thehehere!!!” Dream pleaded, kicking a leg out and prying weakly at his arms that were still being pulled slowly toward his mask. XD’s devious grin returned, humming again but this time in mocked concern, sending a shiver down Dream’s spine.

“Mm, I wonder if we’re going to reach your mask in time…” He pondered, gesturing to his circling with a few quickened scratches. “Wouldn’t that be a shame if you didn’t..?” Dream gasped as XD presented him with an extremely cheeky grin, craning his neck down to gage how much time he had until the swirling finger reached his middle. However as soon as he caught a glimpse of the finger over his stomach he immediately squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head back as more flustered giggles tumbled out of him.

“nOHoho I cAhAhn’t!!” His arms were over half way to the mask now, elbows pulled in tightly together to protect his armpits that were slowly being exposed. If he was thinking more clearly he’d be able to determine whether or not the god would be as cruel as he was letting on or not, however his mind was nothing but a foggy flustered heap.

“You can’t what? Reach your mask? Or stand your tummy tickles?” The deity teased, adding to the flustered state of Dream’s mind.

“nAHAHOHO DOHONT!!” He screeched, wriggling as the twirling finger began to close in. His stomach quivered and jumped beneath the touch, each circle unloading another wave of sporadic giggles into his smoke scented cell.

“So flustered!! You blend right in with the lava!!” XD announced gleefully, cooing as Dream’s blush spread down to his neck. “I’m gonna get Dreamie’s ticklish giggle button~!”

“NOHO STAHAHAP!!!” Dream cried, the sudden tease kicking his struggling up a notch, shaking his head as tears of mirth pricked in his eyes “PLEHEHEASE I CAHAHANT!!”

He gasped as something hard was suddenly felt in his palm, only needed to briefly fiddle with it before recognising it completely as his lost mask. He immediately slammed it over his face the minute his hands were released, gratefully allowing the cool porcelain to soothe his burning cheeks, but wheezing hard when XD suddenly began kneading into his belly.

“EHEHEHEX DEHEHE!!!!!” He wailed once his voice returned, thrashing and kicking as another finger wiggled into his belly button.

“You did it!!” XD praised, wrapping a set of supportive arms around the flailing mortal, lifting him up while his other set of arms focused on kneading and wiggling.

Dream wheezed again, arching is back out of his previous melted state, but quickly falling back into the deity’s arms as loud cackles boomed out of him. XD watched over him carefully, monitoring the boys enjoyment and safety, and pulling him in close whenever his flailing became too wild.

He stopped once his laughter disappeared altogether, admiring the loopy smilie and pink cheeks that peaked out from beneath the retrieved mask. Dream breathed deep, residual giggles still tumbling out of him, but another gentle head pat from XD served as a silent lullaby, easily pulling him into a giddy sleep.

His cold obsidian flooring felt much more forgiving once he woke. In fact Dream barely felt the usual pains of pressured bones once he turned onto his side, the flooring’s usual cool bite feeling oddly cozy. He had a moments thought that he had been left, suspended in his lava fall, it’s oddly soothing gurgles seeming so close that he was sure that he was surrounded by it.

Only once he woke further, and managed to pry open his sleep filled eyes, he realised that he wasn’t on the ground at all. He was still in the arms of DreamXD, their gentle purrs now being clearly distinguishable from the distant gurgles from the lava fall. He gasped lightly, it was unlike the deity to stay this long, he was usually lulled into sleep and then abandoned. He could say that he hated it though.

He didn’t even bother fighting away his crawling smile, automatically timing his breathing along with the deity’s slow breaths. The gurgles from the lava intertwined with XD’s purrs, now building on the glowing warmth in his chest instead of competing with it.

“You’re awake.” The deity’s voice was rough and low, Dream wondered if they had slept too. He couldn’t help the pang of sadness that struck him, knowing that now that he was awake that they would be leaving soon.

“Y-yeah.” He murmured, unable to hide the wobble of misery in his voice. XD laid a hand over his head, smoothening through his hair with his thumb. Dream leant into the touch.

“I’ll stay.”

Dream felt his chest lift, his lips gliding over his teeth as his smile widened.

“For a bit.” They elaborated. The blonde’s grip tightened happily around their sleeves, noticing the absence of the coloured skin in his palm.

Perhaps the company of another being could solve a few of his problems after all.

🦙🦙🦙…

i cannot actually believe this is out before dream was broken out 😵

hope you enjoyed!!! another long one sorry 😅

#ler!dreamXD #lee!dream #ticklish!dream #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #ler!XD #fluffallamaful fics

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rayeverydangday · 2 years

Text

Get it with a Kirby Back, Guarantee! Chapter 4

Notes: Okay, one more than I’ll do the rest in the morning. I’m very sleepy :P

It was being held. It hadn’t been out of its containment since it couldn’t remember. And even then it was still in a prison.

But it still had power. And this penguin had a desire. One to be strong, to be feared, to have fun. It liked this. It could work with this. The so-called king had locked himself away from everyone. Perfect.

It meant its power was working.

“Oh dear.” Kirby’s eyes opened at the voice. Their head hurt as they got up from where they laid. They were on the beach and the snail had followed them along. His eyes shifted cautiously towards the salty sea. Kirby rubbed their eyes, “Why did Dedede hit me?” They thought the two were on good terms now. Was it because they ate his peach daifuku?

The snail shifted a little. “Well his majesty has been sort of on edge since NME got destroyed. “ He shook his head, and mumbled, “Always… just…” he sighed.

Kirby was confused. “What’s NME? Never more eat?” They asked, worried.

“What… ? Don’t you remember?”

“No, why is everything different? Why are the Waddle Dees odd? Why are we by the sea? And who are you?” They felt little tears prick at their eyes.

The snail seemed nervous, “Well, I’m… Escargoon. And I don’t think you're Kirby. At least not ours.”

“Huh?”

Escargoon thought for a bit, then said, “Maybe we should ask Meta Knight! He’ll know what’s going on.”

Kirby smiled at the mention of a familiar name. “Yeah, let's go.” They did a somersault and followed Escargoon towards the castle.

Bandanna Waddle Dee did not like how similar all the Waddle Dees looked. They looked almost robotic. He remembered when the waddle dee clones had been made from the copy machine and filled Dedede’s castle with life and help. Here they seemed to be just helping, as alive they were not. He would try to talk to a few but they would just give him blank stares.

He stopped trying and just called for Kirby. The boy named Tuff had a million questions for him, as here it was not every day a waddle dee talked.

“Do all the Waddle Dees talk? What’s your Dreamland like? Are we there? What's your universe’s Cappy Town like?”

“Well, uh…” he stuttered not knowing where to begin.

“Who else is in your world?”

“Oh, uh, well there Chef Kawasaki-

“Hey he’s here too!”

“Oh how lucky! His cooking is some of the best in Dreamland.”

“Really? It kinda sucks here!”

Before Waddle Dee could reply, Tiff piped up and said, “Oh that reminds me! Maybe-” A flash whooshed past her and headed straight towards Meta Knight.

The Knight pulled out his trusted sword, Galaxia, only for it to be met with a blade similar to his own. He looked up and came face to face with his own dimensional double, whose eyes glowed green.

“Meta Knight! Wait!” Tiff shouted. The Green eyed Meta Knight broke away from the stalemate, and backed up in front of Tiff and the other kids. He was soon joined by two other knights, who Bandanna Dee recognized as Sword and Blade.

“What tricks are you trying to play, demon beast?” The other Meta Knight said. He had a thick Spanish accent as he spoke.

“Demon beast? I am no such thing.” Their Meta Knight said.

“Then why have you come here?”

“For our Kirby.”

“Your Kirby?!”

“Wait! I meant-“

Bandanna Dee chirped up, “Hang on!” Everyone turned to him. “We’re here because our friend is somewhere in your dimension and we’re trying to find him!”

“Yeah! Is everyone in this dimension rude?” Dedede asked, crossing his arms. The other Meta Knight turned to Tiff.

“It’s true. They brought our Kirby back safe and sound.”

“Poyo!” Kirby did a somersault and patted his chest reassuring the knight. Meta Knight turned to the group and sighed. “Very well. We shall help you in your search and make sure you are not lying”

Sword and Blade grunted in agreement.

Waddle Dee saw Meta Knight simply nod. Knowing he would do the same if some doubles just randomly appeared.

“Great, now that that’s settled… Can we meet my double?” Dedede said. The group got very quiet and turned towards the king.

“What!? It’s only fair after we met Kirby’s and Meta Knight’s.”

Dedede had been staring at the little black box for hours but it felt like minutes. He didn’t know why he liked it so much but there was just something about it-

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “What is it?” He yelled harshly.

“Your Majesty, you have guests…” Waddle Doo’s rough voice pierced the silence in the air.

“Tell them to get out!”

“But your majesty I think-“

“I SAID NO!” He didn’t know why his temper flared but it made him punch a nearby wall. A wall that was almost entirely made out of hard concrete.

He looked at the damage he’d done, a crater like hole, and then at his fist. It didn’t even hurt. But it looked a bit more gray than usual.

Waddle Doo must have heard how his temper had flared suddenly as he said, “R… Right… I‘ll t-tell them.”

The sound of little feet running away could be heard. But Dedede didn’t care about that. All he cared about was testing out his new strength.

previous / next

#Get it with a Kirby back guarantee #kirby #Bandana Waddle Dee #King Dedede #Meta Knight #kirby tiff #kirby tuff #kirby light novel #kirby light novels #my writing #my fic

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citytwinkmac · 3 years

Text

Four excuses for Dennis to touch Mac:

The first time he was 15, maybe 16, and the spring formal had just ended, or more it had ended two hours ago and Frank, as always, was late. By some miracle Dee had managed to find an acne ridden kid who would run off with her and all his 'friends' had left... hours ago. But Mac was here, of course Mac was still here just like he always was, as they crouched on the curbside as the only people left in the carpark. Everything about this exhausted Dennis, but that was something he was used to. He found himself starting to drift off in the haze of the evening, and Mac's shoulder just happened to be right there. He made a quip about how finally Mac found some use as a pillow, how he would move if he wasn't so exhausted from all the 'fun'. Mac just leant his head against Dennis' and he was sure he felt him smile. But finally Dennis felt safe, until Frank arrived.

They were in their 20s this time, and Dennis needed to look his best, he was a ladies man, a business man, someone important with standing. So naturally he had skipped a few meals, maybe a few days worth, but that wasn't important because his cheekbones were finally begining to pop. Although, it was starting to take its toll on him, he felt like Mac had noticed as he put on a second film for movie night, meaning Dennis didn't have to expend any energy that he didn't have. Again he began to lean into Mac's shoulder, although his movement was almost completely out of his control, I need to conserve energy, he muttered. Mac nodded and pulled him in closer wordlessly. The next day Dennis ate three full meals.

Now they were 30-something and times had moved on. They were mid scheme and Dennis felt as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice. He was alone, isolated, a problem, furious, everything he could possibly feel and more; being stood in a room with all closest friends felt like being alone in a stone prison cell and he just wanted to scream. He was looking down into stormy seas and he didn't know how to take a step back. But Mac had just let an angry outburst slip from his lips. Dennis instantly moved in, pulling him down gently by his shoulders and whispering calming thoughts. His arm slung around his neck, a hand firmly on his shoulder. Dennis did have use, he was helpful, he was in the room, he was calm. He went the rest of the scheme avoiding a breakdown, holding onto the feeling of his arms around Mac like a weighted blanket.

Dennis was 40. Everything was different, everything was worse. Mac was still there next to him but everything had changed. He couldn't even find it in him to scream because it wasn't any use, the luxury of just exploding wasn't offered to him any longer. But Mac was still there. They passed eachother in the doorway and Dennis forced past Mac, bumping harshly into his side, looking back with distain and hoping beyond hope that Mac would look back the same... like he used to. He wanted to be 30, 20, 16 again, he would give anything. Mac smiled softly at him and Dennis felt the sting of contact on his ribs, the pain of feeling in his chest. But the touch had reminded him he was still alive.

#welcome to a quick bit of my writing because i havent finished any of my macden fics #i like to write sad im sorry #macdennis #my writing

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bloo-the-dragon · 3 years

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📃 and 💎 For nights into dreams? (And or balanworld?)

📃 what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc?

*cracks knuckles* Right then lets begin!

I’m gonna have to put a read more here because yeah there’s a lot to unpack here LOL prepare yourself-

I’ll start with NiGHTS into Dreams! It’s a game made by the original Sonic Team back in 1996 (with a follow up game that is either a sequel or a reboot i don’t think anyone really knows tbh called NiGHTS Journey of Dreams which was released in 2007)

The plot of NiGHTS into Dreams is... well.. it’s not exactly easy to describe without first knowing about the lore of the world it takes place in because there is literally no dialogue ingame to explain it (not counting Journey of Dreams but that’s a whole other story) so i’ll start with that!

So in the game, there is a dream world people can visit in their sleep where there exists two realms: Nightopia and Nightmare. Nightopia is where you get the good dreams and Nightmare speaks for itself LOL

Nightopia itself has no distinct shape or form in and of itself from what we know (aside from the Dream Gate which appears in Journey of Dreams but not Into Dreams) and it takes form based on the pieces of individual persons heart which takes form as these 5 different coloured crystal things called Ideya (ih-dee-yah), which represent Intelligence (blue), Wisdom/Growth (green), Hope (yellow), Purity (white) and Courage (red), Courage being the rarest Ideya. It is also inhabited by little fairy things called Nightopians who don’t really do anything other than play, have fun and lay eggs (yeah i’m not kidding)

Nightmare is inhabited by Nightmarens, creatures created by a guy called Wizeas- sorry Wizeman a once human turned self proclaimed god of Nightmare who seeks to take over the waking world by using his Nightmarens to harvest the ideya of sleeping people in order to increase his power.

There are three types of Nightmaren - Third levels (the lowest rank, small, reletively weak, like to eat Nightopians), Second Levels (bigger scarier often take forms based on peoples worst fears like clowns, spiders, deep sea fish etc) and First Levels, the strongest of all the Nightmaren with the appearences of jesters and the only ones capable of stealing the rare Red Ideya of Courage.

There are only two First Level Nightmarens (as they are very hard to make apparently) them being NiGHTS and Reala.

And now we can finally get to the plot LOL sorry for the info dump to get us here xD

(Side note: I will be referring to NiGHTS as ‘male’ but they are genderless and like Frisk from undertale, people are free to interpret NiGHTS however they want be it he she or they it’s whatever you prefer. Just thought i’d throw that out there!)

So anyways - NiGHTS and Reala were the top two generals of Wizemans Nightmaren army, until one day NiGHTS decided he didn’t agree with what Wizeman was doing and decided to rebel. Wizeman didn’t like that, and sent Reala (NiGHTS twin or counterpart) to bring him back. Reala failed in his mission, and so Wizeman intervened himself and had both NiGHTS and Reala imprisoned in these tiny prisons called ‘Ideya Palaces’ which can only be destroyed by someone with all five of their Ideya.

So the game starts with two 15 year old characters, Elliot and Claris - both have issues going on, Claris has an audition coming up and has worries about stage fright and losing her voice and Elliot has self doubt over whether or not he’s a good enough basketball player.

Both these kids have all five of their Ideya including the Ideya of Courage. When you start the game, depending on who you choose to play as, they will have their ideya stolen by the third level Nightmarens in the Nightopia you start in, except the Ideya of Courage.

Using that Ideya you can temporarily free NiGHTS from his cage and then you fly around and to get your ideya back. The gameplay itself has a high score system thing which i won’t bother explaining HFJKD

So at the end of each level, you fight a Second Level Nightmaren boss before moving onto the next level. (If you play as Elliot you get a unique boss battle with Reala instead of a second level which is pretty cool)

The final level which i thiiiink is the fifth one is where you face off against Wizeas- sorry WIZEMAN (can you tell i don’t like the guy?) and kick his butt and beat the game.

Aaaand thats it... thats basically the plot LOL

Journey of Dreams follows a similar thread, though it tries to add more of a plot with character dialogues and interactions all that fun stuff (though its not perfect and they did fudge some stuff up here and there but it’s still pretty good!Also fun fact it’s also the game that caused the biggest controvesy on NiGHTS’ gender because he’s referred to ingame as male but has a female voice actor LOL yeah probably would have been best to leave him mute tbh)

Also i just realised this now right before moving onto Balan Wonderworld that there is this one post that sums up NiGHTS Into/Journey of Dreams in a much simpler and funnier way than i could LOL here’s the link to it (like really please look at it it’s hilarious FDHFGD)

SO WITH THAT OUTTA THE WAY LETS MOVE ONTO BALAN WONDERWORLD OH BOY-

Oh boy indeed where do i even begin...

So i won’t be surprised if you’ve already heard about the controversy and terrible reviews people have been giving this game (or not idk) but i’m gonna be the one to say that it is a SERIOUSLY UNDERRATED GAME

Yeah the plot is far from perfect, and it didn’t live up to expectations but its got stunning visuals, gorgeous music and above all charm and thats what matters!

..What was i talking about again? OH RIGHT THE ACTUAL PLOT-

So Balan Wonderworld was made by Yuji Naka one of the original Sonic Team members (who also helped create NiGHTS into Dreams so there is a lot of similarities between the two)

The Wonderworld itself is run by Balan the Maestro of Positivity and Lance the Maestro of Negativity (the latter of which has gone rogue but we’ll get to that) and is a place people are brought to who need to have their hearts healed.

To enter the Wonderworld, there is a magical Theatre which will pop up at random in various locations and adorable little bird ceatures called Tims (also known as Positi) will appear to those who need healing and lead them to the theatre where they can meet Balan.

Like NiGHTS into Dreams, the plot of Balan Wonderworld is... vague at best. Not counting the cutscenes at the start and the end (and Balan bouts but not sure if they count) there is practically no dialogue that tells you whats going on.

The plot is admittedly tricky to explain but there is a novel though which i’ll be using for reference to explain the plot best i can hah... :’D

So the game starts with two kids aged 14 called Emma and Leo who got some issues (sound familiar?) Emma is a rich girl who has trust issues and Leo is a street dancer who's having a hard time making friends or something i’m not 100% sure actually...

Anyways these kids are lured to the Wonderworld where they meet Balan who - in a nutshell - does a big fancy show for em before tossing them into Wonderworld.

So theres this big issue currently going on in the Wonderworld where Lance has gone rogue because he couldn’t bear to see the people who come to Wonderworld suffering so he takes away their memories of the thing that is causing them pain and lets them live in mini worlds or ‘stages’ as they are called of their own making within the Wonderworld.

Balan chose Emma and Leo specifically so they could help him stop Lance and free the inhabitants and heal their hearts who have been turned into Negati by Lance (Negati being the physical manifestation of ‘Negativity’ in contrast to the Tims who are the manifestation of ‘Positivity) in an attempt to keep them from leaving, whilst also healing Emma and Leo’s own hearts in the process (two birds one stone and all that)

There are 12 stages in total to clear before fighting Lance at the end. These stages are accessed from the Isle of Tims (homeplace of the lil Tim Tims cute lil things i love them)

Once you free all the inhabitants from their Negati forms and had a lil dance with em you fight Lance beat his butt until he turns into a big eff off dragon and then an elven kitty princess after you beat him again before he falls into the void never to be seen again.

Aaaand after that everyone is free to leave pretty much! Theres a happy cutscene of everyone saying their thanks to Balan and stuff and the kids give him a hug which moves him to tears (and me as well) before OH SHOOT PLOT TWIST HE WAS N FINAL FANTASY ANIME BOY ALL ALONG WHAT

Yeah so.. if NiGHTS gender was the big controversy in the NiGHTS fandom, Balan’s face reveal is definately the big one for its fandom HFUSDHF

But that aside, yeah thats pretty much the plot of Balan Wonderworld! I don’t know how well i explained it buuut hopefully well enough? Honestly i think it - and NiGHTS into Dreams by extension - are best experienced by playing them yourself tbh.

However i will share two videos here and here where the ‘story’ or ’lore’ of the Balan Wonderworld game by itself (minus the novel) is explained and done so very well, so i’d recommend checking those out if you wish!

Aaaand now lets get to the second question xD

💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

I sure do! I’ll do it in bullet points this time though ~

NiGHTS into/Journey of Dreams:

- NiGHTS into Dreams has a bunch of really fun holiday themed events that activate during said holidays!

- On Halloween (like now) NiGHTS and the kids get unique Halloween themed costumes for the month!

- On April Fools day, when you play as Claris instead of dualising with NiGHTS you dualise with Reala instead who takes NiGHTS place while NiGHTS himself takes Reala’s place as a boss battle. In the fandom this became known as ‘Reala’s Day’

- NiGHTS into Dreams has it’s own Christmas themed DLC with an actual narrated storyline which i think is the only game in existence to have done, and done so well too (NiGHTS and the kids get Christmas outfits and even the boss has a Christmas getup, you got jingle bells playing in the equally snowy Christmas themed level surrounded by little santa dressed Nightopians its heckin beautiful)

- There are many other little easter eggs and details that happen at certain dates and times (some of which happen super late at night though so they are easy to miss) For a game that lacks story dialogue, NiGHTS into Dreams does have a lot of fun little details that give it so much more charm.

-In Journey of Dreams you get a ‘garden’ of sorts where you can keep Nightopians, Mepians (hybrids of Nightopians and Nightmarens) and even Third Level Nightmarens basically as pets. (Though the Nightmarens will still try to eat the formers) to get them there you must ‘paraloop’ them which basically teleports them. In NiGHTS into Dreams though paralooping them kills them and i learned that the hard way LOL

- NiGHTS is canonically 4ft 11. Tiny.

- Reala refers to NiGHTS as his ‘sibling’ in Journey of Dreams and many in the fandom (myself included) view them as twins. (There are those who don’t see them as related though usually for shipping reasons which i ain’t gonna touch on LOL)

- There does exist a graphic novel series from the late 1990′s of NiGHTS into Dreams by Archie Comics which is well known for its terrible story and cursed art style. And yet it’s hilarious HFDUGF

- In Journey of Dreams theres a hidden final boss fight with Reala just before facing off against Wizeman that’s supposed to be the final big fight between him and NiGHTS and yet afterwards he falls into the void and never appears again. (I can see where they got the inspiration for the end of Lance’s boss fight)

Balan Wonderworld:

- Balan is 3000 years old according to the novel. And yet he acts like he’s 12 most the time. Lance is even older than that though his exact age no one knows.

- Lance created Balan to succeed him as the main Maestro of the Wonderworld. But despite this their relationship is often viewed as brotherly instead of parent/child.

- In the original concept art, anime boy Balan didn’t exist and Lance looked like a teenage emo elf (some of the concept art of Balan is a little cursed though HFDJF he went through some phases thats for sure)

- It’s believed that the Balan costume plus the Balan Bouts hints there may have been plans to originally play as Balan himself or perhaps even have the kids merge/dualise with him (like in NiGHTS into Dreams) which would have made sense given the context of the game and Balan being the titular character and all. A shame we never got it in the game, but even so i personally just pretend i am playing Balan when i wear the costume LOL

- The Tims like to eat your tears. Yeah. They eat your unhappiness. Literally. They cannot be stopped.

- There is a hard mode that can be achieved in the game granted you don’t take any damage. Not as easy as you think FHDJFG

(I played the final stage on hard mode and let me tell you it was the most stressful thing i ever did in this game never again LOL)

Aaaaand thats about it! Good lord i am sorry for the massive info dump here LOL i hope i managed to explain things well enough xD

NiGHTS into Dreams was definitely easier to explain (it’s a little bit less of a mess afterall LOL) but both games are very good imo. Are they perfect? Nope. But i love em both regardless, they got charm, lovely characters, stunning visuals and music that slaps and that’s pretty much all i can ask for at this point. Cheers!

#questions and answers #familyofpaladins #balan wonderworld #nights into dreams #ask game #Thanks for the asks!#i love these games and i love talking about them any chance i get LOL #thanks for indulging me xD #and do be sure to check out those links #again i think they do far better than me at explaining these games FDHJS

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ohmygodtheywereparabatai · 3 years

Text

Lu Ten is Zhao; Zhao is Lu Ten

No, not in a gay way. I mean that literally.

What? Slander! The fandom cries, as I’m tied to a wooden stake and burned like an innocent woman in the Salem witch trials. Not on my good Christian Confucian(?) Minecraft Fire Nation server soldier!

Hear me out! 😩 This week broke me, but at least one good thing came out of it. I’m going to try to share my thinking process head-on, since there’s no possible way to render it in neat sections. But first:

WHOOPS: The theory is a bust if the AtLA timeline, crusher of hopes and dreams, is factored in. I realized little to none of the following matches up chronologically after I finished typing up the WHOLE thing, so... screw you, Jeong Jeong. Just sit back and enjoy it conceptually, yeah? Maybe I’ll get to crack open canon like a piñata another time. Anyways.

Or is it... UPDATE: I may have an additional explanation. Please keep reading! I saved it for the very end.

The spark was this: what if Lu Ten had never died, but was captured? Taken as a prisoner of war by the Dai Li, never to see daylight again, until he clawed his way out of their clutches and re-emerged from Ba Sing Se a deserted, cold, and detached man?

I pieced more of the story together as I thought of it from other angles, so that’s what I’ll do here. That’s right - I soldiered on like a doofus, digging around canon for feasibility.

From that spark, I remembered Zhao telling Iroh,

“I was a young lieutenant serving under General Xu in the Earth Kingdom.”

Which is apparently a phonetical playground, because aside from the Xu/Shu question, the first part of the sentence could also sound like,

“I was a young Lu Ten and serving under General Xu in the Earth Kingdom.”

Zhao clearly pursues a naval career, as his ranks ascend (backwards, but still sea-wise) from captain, to commander, to admiral of the Fire Navy. So it’s a bit of a head-scratcher to wonder how or why he served under a general, a distinctly land army title, in the Earth Kingdom near the Si Wong Desert - far from the coast, doubly far from water. Don’t throw his pheasant-squirrels quote at me just yet! A little head-scratcher goes a long way.

The Mother of Faces is singlehandedly the backbone of this theory. Her ability to alter identities and memories (keep in mind for later) is a pretty sound explanation for the Fire Nation failing to recognize their own revenant prince, chief among them his own father. And Zhao is regarded, in essence, as one of the only two Fire Nation men with decent spiritual knowledge. (You saw this coming from a mile away, but like father like son? 😉)

Another peculiarity is Zhao’s noticeable shift from suave and calculating in his first appearance to the rash, off-the-cuff hothead in... most episodes after “The Southern Air Temple”. Now pair this with Jet’s behavior after coming to the realization that something was very wrong after his soirée with the Dai Li, more or less aware his world was a tampered truth.

Panicked, angered, distrustful - a sharp change from the friendly tagalong helping the Gaang find Appa.

And speaking of sharp changes, these men side by side may barely resemble each other - hence the handy Mother of Faces card - but what if there’s a deeper study to Zhao’s sunken eyes, the hard lines around his mouth? As if he’s seen the kind of things you don’t retain all of yourself from... as if his features were once strained for prolonged periods of time, forced to hold a wide, Joo Dee PR smile?

(Be mindful of the wear and tear of trauma age!)

I should have peppered in disclaimers that I wasn’t high when I drummed this up... too late, I guess! 🤠

Drifting into speculations that hyped up this theory’s potential, consider the following:

Does this tie into the rate at which he’s promoted? Would that imply Ozai was aware of his nephew’s status, or that Lu Ten retained his charisma? This is rather important because it makes Zhao’s exact age difficult to determine, meaning he’s anywhere in the ballpark of Lu Ten’s generation to Ozai’s. Between those eyebags and those quick promotions, it’s free real estate.

Is the trauma dealt to him the reason he has an obsession with destroying one of the nations - out of vengeance? A desperate need to be remembered?

Does it offer an explanation for his immediate animosity towards Zuko, as if he thinks Iroh wasted no time replacing him?

Is it why Zhao is the only character on-screen who brews tea that Iroh doesn’t immediately reject? (Again, like father like son 😉)

Is it why he keeps knocking at Iroh’s door, trying to recruit him to serve at his general? Does he just want his frickin’ dad back? (Ow...)

Is that why Zhao listens to him at the North Pole when ordered to release the moon spirit, rather than the popular belief that Iroh scared him shitless? To be fair, could be both.

Is it why he snaps when he leans over the pond - a fairly-assumed magical pond, that is - like he’s seen his reflection in the spirit waters? His true face, as the deserted son?

Speaking of true faces... what about Noriko and the Blue Spirit? Did their encounters with the Mother of Faces coincide, or did Ursa’s come a few years after Lu Ten’s? She’s fond of theater, and the “Blue Spirit” in that context is the Water Spirit that battles the protagonist. Identifying Zuko’s mask for what it accurately was might have accelerated the search for him - was Zhao unable to disrespect it that way?

Last but not least. The introduction of Koh, the son of the Mother of Faces, in the same episode as Zhao’s last appearance. Maybe another hint Aang could have received was related to the admiral’s real identity? Canon is in its infancy here, so Roku’s failure to remember the Mother of Faces (hell, lion turtles too) when pointing Aang to a spirit “old enough to remember” is shaky grounds to theorize on. But still. It’d be very Koh-like for his mother’s efforts to slip his mind, or for him to intentionally wish Zhao dead.

One last interesting bit of canon: spirit doggos! The Mother of Faces only helps those chosen by her wolf companion, such as when Ikem found it (or it found Ikem) drinking from a pool in Forgetful Valley. Sure enough, lupine creatures also exist in Wan Shi Tong’s library: Knowledge Seekers which keep him up to date on the mortal world.

They’re not too similar in appearance, but a lightbulb should go off... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Cousins twice-removed?

Extra Lenny face since I’m feelin’ like it: the Mother of Faces has a pretty clear plant-based structure, which the spirit library (admittedly only shown in LoK) seems to echo in its design. Maybe a leftover trace of her presence? She is a major spirit, credited with the beginnings of the world; easy to imagine the forest of Forgetful Valley itself rose in her footsteps’ wake. Plus, hardly any vine-like formations should crop up in the harsh climate of the Si Wong Desert.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So, ALL of that leads me to the complete narrative, a rough sketch of what became of Lu Ten as it exists in my head:

—

The prince is presumed slain at the six-hundred day siege of Ba Sing Se. His remains are never found. Iroh would almost prefer it that way, prays his ashes are carried away by the winds, and solemnly returns home.

Home is what Lu Ten dreams of for the next excruciating few years. Maybe it’s longer than he thinks, or even shorter - each moment stretched out to a thousand. It’s cold and miserable under Lake Laogai, and a city’s secret police force doesn’t take kindly to a two-year long siege. None is spared when the general’s own son is dragged into the endless maze of dark, winding corridors.

He hears his friends die. Sometimes he watches. Lu Ten always hears of it, one way or another. He can recall few days in the searing sunlight: another bumbling citizen, loyal servant to the Earth King, a guard who never marches out of rhythm.

When he crawls out into daylight, bloodied and irreparably scarred, he runs without looking back, with such aimless direction that the search for him is abandoned. He should turn up dead soon enough, and his memories are nonexistent - why bother?*

But if his years in captivity amount to anything, Lu Ten was a survivor. He races across the Earth Kingdom, keeping to the shadows, into the treacherous heat of the Si Wong - finally guided to the spirits. If his father’s journey into the spirit world in search of him had any role, the prince never finds out. He collapses after a much-needed drink, and witnesses a blurred, blue wolf carry him to refuge, where the Mother of Faces and the great owl greet him.

She tries her best to fashion a new face and mind, though the Dai Li’s scars are preserved in both: tired lines and blinding thoughts. Wan Shi Tong opens the library’s doors, pitying the years of knowledge stripped from him. The soldier leaves after recovering, repurposed from royalty into a man with no worth to his name except the scroll in his fist - Zhao.

Able to bend, and a cold shell of himself, content with that much of both. He leaves a wing of the library in flames. Prince Lu Ten had drowned in Lake Laogai, roamed the above world until another victim could take his place - the half-existence of the Shuî Guî. Now it was his turn to hunt.

In the years he struggles to rebuild, old scars resurface. General Xu’s troops find him a rambling madman, patch him up in the short time he serves on land, then ship him off to better uses in the navy. Zhao’s obscure story begins and ends with the scroll, and the man himself is repulsive, so he’s left to his devices. Deserted within a roiling mind, as dark and endless as the Dai Li’s fortress.

By the year the Firelord’s brother and son arrive at his harbor, he remembers enough to choose to take the truth with him to the grave. Zhao grows to hate their faces; when Iroh grows to hate him, too, he’s convinced it’s too late.

Fate is unkind, in the end. Instead of drowning the Water Tribe civilization, he’s dragged under the freezing current. The cycle folds in on itself, a Shuî Guî doomed to wander the Fog of Lost Souls. One day, a familiar face appears... regards him with sad, aged eyes... and turns away with a shake of his head.

“I came marching home...” He raises his voice across the fog, hoarse. “I searched, I fought, and I killed. For you!”

“... Then you are no son of mine.”

—

*I owe credit for the plot centered around one godawful Lake Laogai to the horror game I’m currently into. Outlast follows an investigative reporter as he records as much as he can of an insane asylum before making a break for it to expose to the world, so long as the asylum doesn’t swallow him up first. Truly gruesome. I put Lu Ten through the same :p

And, well, I wasn’t going to leave you hanging without tying the whole thing into the East-Asian mythos! Let me introduce the Shuî Guî, drowned ghosts that combine Zhao and Lu Ten’s fates into one symbolic shebang.

They begin as people who drowned without a proper burial, lurking around the body of water where it happened in search of a vessel. When a victim comes close enough, they’re dragged under themselves, and the spirit takes possession of their body - while the victim takes the place of the Shuî Guî. Rinse and repeat (ha).

Plugging in Lu Ten, the war prisoner who “drowns” under Lake Laogai, occupying Zhao’s form in spirit thanks to the Mother of Faces’ handiwork, there’s some great stuff to be done with it. Zhao’s ultimate fate at the hands of the ocean spirit doubles as a meaningful end to a soldier who chooses for himself, a last time. Maybe for the first time.

Don’t mind me freaking out over how many layers this adds to every Zhao interaction:

- “And General Iroh, great hero of our nation.” [Internally] ThisisforLuTenyoubigfatwhitenastysmellingfatbitchwhyyoutookmeoffthemotherfuckingschedule-

- “Do you have any ginseng tea? It’s my favorite.” Yeah, I remember, Pa. Unlike yOU

- Iroh: *flings him back twenty feet to protect Zuko* Zhao: X

- “So this is how the great Commander Zhao acts in defeat-” aT LEAST I DON’T ABANDON MY SON PA

- “Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious.” Zhao: X

- “I’ve heard rumors about your journey into the spirit world...” Too bad it wasn’t permanent, you geezer- wait you were trying to bring me back? O-oh... *sniffle*

- Zhao: But rest assured, this will be nothing like your legendary failure at Ba Sing Se. Iroh: I hope not, for your sake. Zhao: X

- [Internally, as his men are taken down at lightning-speed] OH GOD DAD’S MAD DAD’S MAD DAD DAD MAD RUN RUN RUN-

- “You’re the Blue Spirit, an enemy of the Fire Nation!” I’m just about fed up with your shit, cuz. Wait, where’d he go- AAAAAAH

- Zuko: Take my hand! Zhao: X

- ETC. TONS MORE. I can’t cover all of them in-depth 🥺

—

OKAY. NOW. THE TIMELINE.

Jeong Jeong is a little &@$;/! who couldn’t wait a few more years to desert but... whatever. I can fix the WHOOPS moment.

Lu Ten “dies” five years before the end of the Hundred Year War. Jeong Jeong deserts ten years before the end of the war. This twists the theory by having “Zhao” learn under Admiral Jeong Jeong almost eight years after the dude bailed.

So an area I planned to leave up to interpretation - whether the Mother of Faces assigned Lu Ten his new name, or for some reason, he chose “Zhao” himself - is one I’m going to snag for personal use.

Consider these three things, which I will then attempt to relate, slapping a big ol’ bandaid on this oopsie in the space-time continuum:

The tribe Jeong Jeong is seen residing with in “The Deserter” took him in after proclaiming he was a living god

Tu Shen, rabbit god of homosexuals

Sozin’s Law

🐇 Cool. Now check this:

Jeong Jeong never states his pupil’s name before Aang puts it together for himself and the audience. Lu Ten’s weakness could have easily been a lack of discipline, considering a) his father’s own tendency to joke about burning a city to the ground, b) a Fire Nation soldier’s drilled-in purpose to “spread greatness”, and c) “If only I could have helped you.”

It’s fitting that a name the prince would chose should do with war. While “Zhao” has no meaning I could find outside of a feudal state in the Warring States Period, the point stands. Warring’s in the name, maybe a chunk of AtLA history we aren’t privy to. Great! Onto the next thing: staying under the radar.

Sozin’s Law criminalizes same-sex relationships. This does not, by any means, dissuade a man like Jeong Jeong, and that’s a hill I’ll die on. I now declare AtLA’s version of Tu Shen, the Chinese deity who oversees queer affairs, to partly or wholly resemble the first deserter of the Fire Nation Army. The tribe in the northwestern Earth Kingdom are free-living gays who recognize their heavenly representative, and our buddy Chey is a very obvious simp. Tu Shen is also called the Rabbit God, which, if I had to draw two parallels off the top of my head between Jeong Jeong and the animal, would be a) fluffy white hair, and b) excellent at speeding out of sight.

Boom. Coincidental gay god of AtLA. Thank me later. Onto the last thing: Lu Ten is Hama but switch out the a’s with o’s.

He trains under Piandao just as Zuko did, followed by bending instruction under Piandao’s dear husband Jeong Jeong. The White Lotus has its connections, of course... ones Iroh might readily ping for teaching his son. When delicate, potentially incriminating matters threaten to come to light during Lu Ten’s unruly teenage years, Jeong Jeong urges them to switch to pseudonyms, resuming more anonymous instruction as the rumors lose traction. Works stupendously.

Lu Ten isn’t the first to find a safety net in using a separate identity: one among dozens accepted under Jeong Jeong’s wing, happy to continue their shadow lives like rabbits jumping to and fro out of the law’s sight! Zhao, he calls himself, proud of how it leaps off the tongue, daring as the slice of a sword. And when the Mother of Faces tells him to choose a new name, he knows exactly.

And Jeong Jeong, god of the gays, knows exactly who has returned from the dead to haunt them, knows exactly what to call that monster. Luckily, he also knows when secrets are better off as secrets. Seeing Zhao in the flesh only steels his belief that fire is destined to tear the bender apart.

Done!! Hopefully I... fixed it?

#i cannot believe this was such a wild ride #i almost became a jeong jeong hate blog #i don’t think the struggle to produce this in its entirety will ever be able to be described in words #it’s cheery then it’s sad then it’s a bump of cocaine then it just. ends.#oh my god #🌈🐇🌈#atla #atla theory #lu ten is zhao: i will not be saying sike at this time #zhao #admiral zhao #lu ten #luzhao #edit later we die like men

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

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Okay hi! Don’t mind me just jumping back onto my AU wagon with a Bodyguard!Jake fic inspired by The West Wing that absolutely nobody asked for but I couldn’t help but write ... 😎🚨 anyway it’s called let down your guard and you can find it on under the cut or on ao3!

let down your guard

chapter one: there’s so much that you just don’t see

There are a collection of nuclei in the temporal lobe of the brain known as the amygdala, that are best known for their role in sparking the fight or flight reaction in most people when met with emotions like fear. Amy had read about it once, in a medical journal that she’d found at Rosa’s house (it’s presence on her coffee table, to this day, remains unexplained). According to the article; once the amygdala sparks, your brain’s ability to retain memory increases, and in hindsight can make a patch of time feel as though it has stretched on forever.

As she stands in the world’s slowest elevator at Medstar Washington Hospital this evening, with her heart smashing against her ribcage and her toes tapping against the faded linoleum floor; Amy is certain that her amygdala has kicked into overdrive.

Panicking, her frantic mind keeps bouncing around between the urges to run like hell and stay until the bitter end, and it definitely isn’t like Amy because she’s never run away from a fight, but maybe there’s a part of her that already knows that what could happen next has the potential to change everything.

Her eyes remain glued to the squares inset along the top of the car, their white laminate long since turned a faded yellow; the number eleven scratched out almost to the point of non-existence. She counts, a slow progression in her head that tries it’s very best at blocking out the thoughts racing around - the thoughts that keep telling her that she might have just lost the greatest thing to happen to her before it could ever really happen - and she can’t bear to look at her watch right now, but she’s positive that three minutes pass before the dim light behind the number four decides to amble it’s way towards five.

“Shots were fired in a store on 14th Street,” was the message she’d received, a mere half an hour ago (also, approximately the time she’d gotten on this damn elevator). Boyle’s pale face, and a choked out number. “Room 9554.” The rest is muddled - she knows she started running; remembers hearing Terry call out to her departing figure, and she’s pretty sure her purse is somewhere back at the theatre lobby - but there was a force stronger than anything she can label that was pulling her to the hospital, and in that moment Amy had absolutely no intention of stopping.

The squares for six and seven remains mute yet eight comes to life, and the knots in her stomach begin to clench even tighter. There’s a mantra that’s been playing in the back of her mind - from the very moment she’d stepped into the lobby and saw Charles make a beeline in her direction - and it takes over any other rational thought as finally level nine lights up, and the doors to her metallic prison slide open. Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay.

I don’t know what I’ll do, if Jake is not okay.

The sterility of the ward burns her nostrils and the clack of her heels sound vaguely like the rattling snare drums at the last inauguration, interrupting the otherwise calm environment of the floor as the numbered plaques beside each room begin to blur. She dodges past nurses, doctors, and patients alike; and she can tell that they recognise her face (which means there’s a very good chance that this will be in the paper tomorrow), but it doesn’t matter that they know her, it doesn’t matter if the press find out about this - nothing else matters if he is not okay - and then finally, FINALLY, the numbers 9544 are before her.

Her fingers feel limp, but somehow she manages to grip the doorknob and turn - pushing her weight against the wood as though somehow it is the reason she hasn’t been able to get here earlier - and then suddenly the only sound Amy hears is the frenzied heaving of her own breath.

The room is empty, save for a bed in the middle - stripped clean and returned to it’s regular scrutiny from the harsh fluorescent buzzing above. A clipboard cleared of any history hangs lax from its base, and on the very edge of the mattress sits a leather jacket; the same jacket that had once hung on the back of her apartment door … and the same jacket that Amy’s fingers had gripped the edge of a mere three hours before.

She feels her stomach drop to her feet, glued to position as her mind moves into overdrive, eyes trained solely on the scene before her as the realisation hits.

Jake was not okay. And nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Five months earlier …

“On to other news. We can confirm that there has been a surge in counterfeit notes across the nation, with several states reporting projections of significant economic loss.”

Amy pauses as the small crowd in front of her transform into a cacophony of sound, pen-clenched fingers and miniature recorders thrusting towards the ceiling in desperate attempts to get her attention and break their version of the story. Blinking, she gives them her best I’m not done yet look, and after a few beats the reporters in front of her fall silent.

“President Holt has already been in discussion with the Secret Service, and are confident that the lead they are running on will come to fruition.”

From the back, Matthews from The Sun raises his hand, and Amy gives a quick nod. “You said there were several states reporting loss. Do we have an estimation?”

“Presently, the calculations are upwards of 3 million dollars, which - ” she emphasises, as the sea of hands raise once again, “is why there are teams working around the clock to stop the fraudulent currency from getting into circulation. In the meantime, The White House has released an image of the forged notes,” nodding to her left, Amy waits for the screen beside her to light up, “and the differences are clearly distinguishable.”

The room falls quiet as the reporters all turn their attention to the image, and Amy watches as they all slowly turn back to her with varying expressions of confusion. Suppressing a sigh, she uses the remote in her hand to zoom in on the imitation of the offical seal, the same one that is on every U.S. dollar bill, and undoubtedly in the pocket or purse of every single person here. Not a day goes by that she doesn’t wish that Latin would finally wake up from its long nap (or it’s conquiescamus, as it were). “Pluribus. There are two Rs.” She waits a beat, and continues in a dry tone. “There should only be one.”

To her right, Ginns from The Examiner clears his throat; glancing up at Amy to ensure he has her attention before flipping open his notebook. The Chicago-born columnist was unashamed in his opinion - as were his loyal followers - and his coverage of Holt’s campaign had leant towards unfavourable. With a tight smile, Amy swallows the urge to scream at whatever was about to come next. “Yeah, so - with regards to the Secret Service. After his inauguration, President Holt elected a new head of the Presidential Detail, a .. ” pausing, Ginns refers to his notes, creasing his brow. “Rosa Dye-az.”

Pushing her tongue against the back of her teeth, Amy wills herself not to interrupt and correct Ginns’ pronunciation, waiting for some kind of sign of potential redemption. Instead, he leans forward and continues.

“Apart from what has already been published, her history and previous credentials appear to be incredibly difficult to correlate. Given her obvious reluctance to divulge anything to the American public, and the fact that this role has never been held by a female prior to today, what reassurance can we the people have that Miss Dye-az was the best choice?”

Feeling her back teeth begin to grind together, Amy takes a measured breath before fixing Ginns with a steely gaze. Questions such as these have been a common denominator since Holt was sworn in over a month ago, particularly due to choosing Olivia Crawford as his VP; and while expected, the overwhelmingly misogynistic responses were beginning to wear thin.

“I can assure you, Mr Ginns, that President Holt’s vetting process for all roles was incredibly thorough - and Ms Dee-az,” she pauses, raising a singular brow, “remained incredibly co-operative throughout. We cannot bow to the curiosities of the general public on every request for detail, or we’d never stop. After all, the public continues to let you write for one of D.C’s most prolific news journals without knowing the details of your Christmas Card list, and somehow the world continues to spin.”

Ginns’ responding eye roll is poorly concealed, and Amy’s fingernails begin to dig into the edge of her podium. “Furthermore, I would suggest that despite Ms Diaz having a uterus, the bar set by her predecessors will continue to ascend. One could even argue that the lack of … other certain parts of the human anatomy will only assist in keeping a clear head in the most intense of situations.”

The reporter shifts uncomfortably in his seat, blessedly silent in his rebuttal, and Amy directs the end of her statement towards the rest of the crowd. “President Holt and his administration are aware that a small percentage of the public lack confidence in the roles he has filled. Criticism is necessary, and welcome. But unmerited accusations regarding a person’s ability based entirely on their sex is where he draws the line.” Slamming the file in front of her closed, Amy takes a step back before leaning closer to the microphone, delivering her final line. “That concludes the presidential briefing for today. Thank you.”

Terry hovers by the doorway as Amy exits, his leather yoked suspenders proudly displaying the commemorative pin gifted to him upon being sworn in as the president’s Chief of Staff, and he cocks his head towards her as they move swiftly down the corridor towards Amy’s office. “Interesting briefing you held there, Santiago.”

“You mis-pronounced psychotic, Ter-bear,” interjects Gina as she passes them both, head already bowed down to her cellphone before either can respond.

Already feeling defensive, Amy shakes her head quickly, raising one hand to gesture at the room she’d just departed. “We’ve been fielding commentary like that since the early days of the campaign, Terry. At some point, we just need to point out the baselessness of their remarks, and remind them that there simply isn’t a place for it in modern society.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Terry shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong. Terry hates closed minded attitudes. As do the rest of the cabinet. I just find it fascinating to watch how close our new Press Secretary came to literally biting a reporter’s head off.”

“Ugh. I’m fairly certain it would just pop like a balloon. Full of hot air and not much else.”

Nodding, Terry points in the direction of Amy’s office. “You might be onto something there. Heads up, though - I saw Diaz making a beeline to your office just as you were wrapping things up.” He pauses, shoving his hands into his pockets while giving her the side-eye. “Terry wishes you luck.”

Smiling at an intern as they hand her an updated schedule, Amy casts a quick glance down the hallway and grimaces. “Well, at least she hasn’t gone straight to grinding her axe.”

“I didn’t see both hands, but let’s assume you’re right.”

Throwing Terry an exasperated glance, Amy bids him farewell before moving towards her office, deliberately taking on a confident stride as she squares her shoulders in preparation for confrontation.

With her jet black curly hair and the zero fucks aura surrounding her, most members of the team had learned on their own that Special Agent Rosa Diaz was not somebody to be trifled with. Not meeting until the last couple of months of Holt’s campaign, Amy had spent the first few weeks largely being ignored by Diaz - until one afternoon, when a particularly vocal protester tried to pull Amy in for a debate, only to be met by Rosa’s steely glare and the unspoken promise of worse to come. She’d muttered, on their way back to the car, that they needed to have each other backs; and over time their working relationship had grown into a something closer to friendship.

(A friend that occasionally intimidates you with their intensity, but a friend all the same.)

With her trademark leather jacket covering her like a second skin Rosa is easy to point out in the busy walkway, but it’s the two men standing with her that captures Amy’s attention as she draws near. One was tall with a distinctive profile; the other slightly shorter, and sporting a hairstyle that looked like it could survive a hurricane. Although the taller one wore shades, Amy could tell that both of them were casing their environment, taking in their surroundings with a stern exterior that gave away exactly who they were.

These men were Secret Service, and for some reason they were standing outside her office door.

Her curiosity overshadowing the possibility that she may need to eat a slice of humble pie, Amy thrusts the hand still holding the schedule towards the two men as she passes Rosa, giving them her best Suspicious Face.

“Who are those guys?”

“Good morning to you too, Santiago.” Rosa’s dark eyes follow Amy’s path around to her desk, tilting her chin upwards after a beat. “My uterus thanks you for it’s shout-out this morning.”

“Ugh, okay.” Returning her planner to it’s designated top-left-corner position, Amy feels her shoulders drop as she throws an apologetic look at the woman in front of her. “I know that wasn’t my best work. But the guy was being a jerk, and I was 100% done with the conversation.”

“No, really. It’s fine.” Rosa’s voice takes on no other inflection to demonstrate her approval, but Amy learned a long time ago not to read into her monotone. “My uterus is a bad-ass. Definitely tries to punch me from the inside out at least once a month.” She smirks, a sight familiar to only a select few, and raises one eyebrow. “Somehow, I still manage to keep the President and all his flunkies alive. It really is shocking.”

Without invitation, the mystery men have followed Amy into her office, hovering along the outskirts of the room while she checks her messages, listening with half an ear as Rosa continues to go into alarming detail on how she’d personally like to deal with reporters like Ginns. It’s as the taller of the two reaches out to investigate an award propped up on her well-stocked shelf that Amy finally looks up, dropping the slips of paper to the desk and throwing Rosa an exasperated look. “Seriously, who are these guys? And why are they in my office?”

“Oh, right. About that. Amy, this is Special Agent Peralta,” Rosa pauses, thrusting her thumb towards the taller guard in shades, “and this guy is Special Agent Boyle.” Clearing her throat, she fixes Amy with her typical Rosa’s Way Or The Highway look. “They’re going to be your new security detail.”

A grinning Agent Peralta throws a tiny wave in Amy’s direction, and she lets out a petulant huff, planting her hands on the empty section of her desk. “Rosa, we’ve talked about this. I’m a visible target. I go out there every other day and announce policies and updates and god knows what else. It’s inevitable that I end up with a few snarky emails every now and then. People need a face to complain to, and this guy’s obviously chosen me.”

“Sorry,” Rosa replies, in a tone that suggests that she’s not sorry at all. “President’s orders.”

Damn it. With her next refutation dying in her throat, Amy folds her arms over her chest, studying her friend’s expression carefully. There was a good chance that Rosa was just saying it was presidential orders, knowing that Amy would be unable to resist any directive that came from her superior. But there was equally enough chance that the request had come from higher up, and refusal of the service would most definitely land her in hot water.

In other words, Rosa had Amy exactly where she wanted her, and there was not a darn thing she could do about it.

“Just seems like a lot for a bunch of stupid emails,” Amy mutters, dropping down into her seat, defeated. With a furrowed brow, Agent Boyle looks over at Rosa; but before Amy can question it, Rosa perches herself along the edge of the couch.

“So, Peralta and Boyle will work on opposite shifts and shadow you on your day to day operations. Additional detail has already been arranged for your home address, and all correspondence will now be cleared through us.”

“I’m also going to need the contact information for any recent or previous relationships you may have had, ma’am,” pipes up Peralta from Amy’s left, breaking out into another grin when she looks over at him. “Gotta weed this creep out, and you’d be surprised how often they end up being much closer to home than expected."

Blinking, Amy turns back to Rosa, the extent of her security detail only now sinking in. “A constant shadow and surveillance on my apartment? Seriously, Rosa … this is all coming from Holt? Can’t I just change my email address or something?”

A silence falls quickly over her office, and Amy makes special effort this time to take note of the not-so-secret looks the two agents gave each other. A louder protest is bubbling up through her chest when Rosa stands, her sharply manicured fingers holding a document folder Amy hadn’t noticed until now, and walks towards her.

The heavy thud of Rosa’s booted footsteps come to a stop at the side of Amy’s desk and she places the file in front of her, leaning in slightly as the folder’s contents become clear.

Photographs. Stacks of photographs, all of Amy, and all from various parts of her very busy week. Her heart begins to climb its way up to the base of her throat as the images begin to blur, one shot after the other of an unaware woman as she lunches with friends, visits the gym, drives to her brother’s house and - oh god - even gets changed at home near what she’d always considered to be a relatively protective curtain.

Leaning in, Rosa’s voice drops to a whisper. “The boys haven’t seen those last ones, but they know they exist.” She straightens, returning to her regular volume. “All of these were on a USB that was delivered to us from an unconfirmed address, and arrived early this morning. Peralta and Boyle have been pulled in to oversee the operation, and I will monitor from afar. The detail starts from now, and ends once this Mr Anonymous is behind bars. Is everyone clear?”

Numb, Amy nods without really understanding, the cotton of her tailored blazer feeling inadequate underneath her fingernails as she pulls the two sides closer together. She feels foolish for disregarding the warning signs for so long, confused as to how out of all people, she is the one who’s become a target; terrified because if these photographs are anything to go by, she is being hunted … for god only knows what.

A knot begins to churn in her stomach, and there’s a very good chance that she’s about to be sick.

“Excuse me, Ms Diaz?” Ramirez, Terry’s secretary, pops his head around the doorframe, startling Amy out of her spiralling thoughts. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in the oval office.”

“Alright, I’ve gotta go, the Powers That Be have spoken.” Rosa mumbles, scooping up the photographs on Amy’s desk and holding onto the file with her vice-like grip. Noticing the look on Amy’s face, she stops short of her exit from the room, tipping her head towards the two men as they hover by the bookshelf. “Listen. I’ve put two of my best men on this case. Peralta especially, I’ve known since our days at the academy. They’re not going to rest until we’ve caught the bad guy, and neither will I. Got it?”

Amy gives her friend a tentative smile, taking her message to heart. If there was anybody that could shut this mess down, it was Rosa ‘I could kick your ass with my pinky finger’ Diaz.

With one final glance towards her two agents, Rosa swivels on her heel, leaving Amy’s office in silence. The sound of one of Amy’s favourite tchotchkes hits the floor, dropping out of Peralta’s fidgeting fingers, and he cringes. “Yikes. Sorry about that, it just looked like one that I -”

Jumping out from behind her desk, Amy snatches the item out of the agent’s hands, running the edge of her thumb along it’s familiar curves before carefully returning it to it’s original position. “Please don’t break my belongings, Peralta.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If I may, Ms Santiago … what Special Agent Diaz told you was correct. Peralta and I are here to keep you out of harm’s way, and it’s only going to be a matter of time before we catch him in the act.” Standing to her right, Amy finds herself surprised at the gentleness of Boyle’s tone, and she eyes him curiously before nodding.

Leaning his weight against one of the lower bookshelves, Peralta slides his sunglasses off, face turning slightly more somber, and Amy blinks in surprise. “You have our word.” His eyes were surprisingly warm, a kind of chocolatey brown that seemed to draw Amy in, and her arms fall away from their defensively crossed position across her chest.

“Alright. Thank you. This is just … a lot.” Her stomach twists again, and even though this time it feels less like she’s about to be sick, Amy really doesn’t want to take any chances. “If I leave this office, you two are going to follow me, aren’t you?”

“Just around the perimeters of the hallway, Ms Santiago. And only Peralta - I’m going to stick around and see if I can trace where these emails are coming from.”

“Consider me your shadow, ma’am.” Jake grins, and Amy feels an odd mixture of irritation and anticipation run through her. “And, look. I can already tell what you’re thinking.” Pushing his weight off of the bookshelves, he gestures vaguely with his hands. “You’re thinking this is going to be all longing glances and secret earpiece conversations … me carrying you in my arms as I race you away from the danger, you running out of planes at tarmacs to give me one last kiss goodbye … you know, all the standard bodyguard stuff.”

Rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, Amy feels a knot of tension leave her shoulders, but she’s not quite ready to laugh yet. “Yes. You’re right. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Knew it, nailed it. Well I’m sorry to disappoint you ma’am, but this stuff is nothing like the movies. It shouldn’t really be any more than a few weeks, just need to catch this weirdo out and let the law take care of the rest.” He pauses, glancing over at Agent Boyle before continuing. “Which … will be made all the more faster with your co-operation. Including the details of people who may have had closer access to you than others.”

Sighing, Amy presses the tip of her index finger against the middle of her brow, a nervous tick that has long since become habit. This guy really needed to stop calling her ma’am. “Fine. Teddy Wells was my last boyfriend, but we broke up several months ago. I highly doubt that he’s the one you’re looking for.”

“We really need to look into all avenues, Ms. Santiago,” Agent Boyle interjects, and for the first time Amy notices how the beige colour of his tie is almost a perfect match to his skin tone.

“Fine.” Leaning down, she scribbles Teddy’s phone number onto a new post-it, thrusting it in Agent Peralta’s direction. “See for yourself. Better yet, invite him out for a drink. He’s got some real interesting stories, especially about beer. One could almost say, he’s got ‘the cheers for the beers’, you know?”

(She knows that she’s setting Peralta up for a trap, all too familiar with endless nights listening to Tedford ‘Thrills for the Pils’ Wells. But there was much too much bravado seeping out of every pore of this guy, and he deserved to suffer - if only just a little.)

“Huh, a beer guy. Noice.”

Amy stifles her grin, tucking her pen back into the pocket of her blazer as she heads towards the doorway, ignoring the echo of Peralta’s footsteps behind hers. “Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen … I have a hundred or so meetings to attend.”

“Just one last thing, ma’am.” Agent Peralta interjects, and Amy turns in time to watch him drop one shoulder in an obvious attempt at Dramatic Effect.

The edge of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and the ridiculous sunglasses that have inexplicably returned to his face despite the sunlight pouring in through the surrounding windows (she thinks, perhaps, entirely for the purpose of his next move) slide down his prominent nose. “No matter what happens, you’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

The urge to roll her eyes again is almost unbearable, but she is a professional if nothing else, and so Amy puts on her best smile and nods at the suited man in front of her.

“Won’t be a problem.”

#my writing #b99 au #peraltiago au #soz to those that aren't au fans #can't help but love them #more to come if you guys are keen

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scotianostra · 4 years

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James Graham, 1st Marquess of Montrose was born on October 25th 1612.

It's a really empty day for anniversaries today, although if I followed blindly two of my usual sources tell me, Elvis landed at Prestwick on this day in 1960, he didn't it was in March of that year. Even with this post all is not clear..........

Most of the posts I have made about "The great Montrose" have covered his battles, and his capture and execution, today I shall put some meat on the bones and work through what made the man one of the most admired figures in Scottish history.

So here we are with my only major post today, the birth of James Graham, to be fair his birth date is unknown, it is thought he was born in mid to late October, a couple of sources give this date.

There's not much known about his childhood, James inherited the earldom of Montrose when his father died in 1626. Aged only 14, he was was placed under the guardianship of his uncle Lord Archibald Napier.

In 1627, Montrose enrolled as a student at the University of St. Andrews where he first became inspired by the classical ideal of military glory, as well as enjoying a wide range of sporting pursuits, including hawking, golf, chess and archery. In November 1629, Montrose married Magdalene Carnegie, daughter of Lord Carnegie of Kinnaird. After the birth of his first two sons, Montrose went to France and Italy to complete his education, which included a period at the French military academy at Angers.

He was back home by 1638 and became involved with The Covenanters after King Charles had attempted to impose an Anglican -oriented prayer book upon the reluctant Scots, resistance spread throughout the country, eventually leading to the Bishops' Wars .

Montrose joined the party of resistance, and was for some time one of its most energetic champions. He had nothing puritanical in his nature, but he shared in the ill-feeling aroused by the political authority King Charles had given to the bishops . He signed the National Covenant , and was sent to suppress the opposition which arose around Aberdeen and in the country of the Gordons. Three times Montrose entered Aberdeen, where he succeeded in his object, on the second occasion carrying off the head of the Gordons, the Marquess of Huntly..

Graham was a leader of the delegation who subsequently met at Muchalls Castle to parlay regarding the 1638 confrontation with the Bishop of Aberdeen . With the Earl Marischal he led a force of 9000 men across the Causey Mounth through the Portlethen Moss to attack Royalists at the Bridge of Dee . This set of events was an element of Charles I decision to grant sweeping reforms to the Covenanters . In July 1639, after the signature of the Treaty of Berwick , Montrose was one of the Covenanting leaders who visited Charles. The change of policy on his part, eventually leading to his support for the king, arose from his wish to get rid of the bishops without making presbyters masters of the state. His was essentially a layman's view of the situation. Taking no account of the real forces of the time, he aimed at an ideal form of society in which the clergy should confine themselves to their spiritual duties, and the king should maintain law and order. In the Scottish parliament which met in September, Montrose found himself in opposition to Archibald Campbell, 1st Marquess of Argyll , who had made himself the representative of the Presbyterian and national party, and of the middle classes. Montrose, on the other hand, wished to bring the king's authority to bear upon parliament to defeat Argyll, and offered the king the support of a great number of nobles. He failed, because Charles could not even then consent to abandon the bishops, and because no Scottish party of any weight could be formed unless Presbyterianism were established ecclesiastically. Rather than give way, Charles prepared in 1640 to invade Scotland. Montrose was to play something of a double part. In August 1640 he signed the Bond of Cumbernauld as a protest against the particular and direct practicing of a few, in other words, against the ambition of Argyll. But he took his place amongst the defenders of his country, and in the same month he displayed his gallantry in action at the forcing of the Tyne at Newburn . After the invasion had been crowned with success, Montrose still continued to cherish his now hopeless policy. On 27th May 1641 he was summoned before the Committee of Estates and charged with intrigues against Argyll, and on the 11th of June he was imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle . Charles visited Scotland to give his formal assent to the abolition of Episcopacy , and upon the king's return to England Montrose shared in the amnesty which was tacitly accorded to all Charles's partisans. Highlanders had never before been known to combine together, but Montrose knew that many of the West Highland clans, who were largely Catholic , detested Argyll and his Campbell clansmen, none more so than the MacDonalds who with many of the other clans rallied to his summons. The Royalist allied Irish Confederates sent 2000 disciplined Irish soldiers led by Alasdair MacColla across the sea to assist him. In two campaigns, distinguished by rapidity of movement, he met and defeated his opponents in six battles. At Tippermuir and Aberdeen he routed Covenanting levies; at Inverlochy he crushed the Campbells, at Auldearn , Alford and Kilsyth his victories were obtained over well-led and disciplined armies. The fiery enthusiasm of the Gordons and other clans often carried the day, but Montrose relied more upon the disciplined infantry from Ireland. His strategy at Inverlochy, his tactics at Aberdeen, Auldearn and Kilsyth furnished models of the military art, but above all his daring and constancy marked him out as one of the greatest soldiers of the war. His career of victory was crowned by the great Battle of Kilsyth on 15 August 1645 . Now Montrose found himself apparently master of Scotland. In the name of the king, who now appointed him lord lieutenant and captain-general of Scotland, he summoned a parliament to meet at Glasgow, in which he no doubt hoped to reconcile loyal obedience to the king with the establishment of a non-political Presbyterian clergy.

However that parliament never met. Charles I had been defeated at the Battle of Naseby on 14t June , and Montrose must come to his help if there was to be still a king to proclaim. David Leslie , the best of the Scottish generals, was promptly dispatched against Montrose to anticipate the invasion. On 12th September he came upon Montrose, deserted by his Highlanders and guarded only by a little group of followers, at Philiphaugh . He won an easy victory. Montrose cut his way through to the Highlands; but he failed to organize an army. In September 1646 he fled for Norway .

After Charles I execution Montrose was to appear once more on the stage of Scottish history. In June 1649, burning to revenge the death of the king, he was restored by the exiled Charles II to the now nominal lieutenancy of Scotland. The new king however hung Graham out to dry afterwards disavowing his noblest supporter in order to become a king on terms dictated by Argyll and Argyll's adherents.

In March 1650 Montrose landed in Orkney to take the command of a small force which he had sent on before him. Crossing to the mainland, he tried in vain to raise the clans, and on 27th April he was surprised and routed at the Battle of Carbisdale in Ross-shire . His forces were defeated in battle but he escaped. After wandering for some time he was betrayed by Neil MacLeod of Assynt at Ardvreck Castle , to whose protection, in ignorance of MacLeod's political enmity, he had entrusted himself. He was brought a prisoner to Edinburgh, denied a trial on 20th May he was sentenced to death by the parliament. He was hanged on the 21st, with Wishart's laudatory biography of him put round his neck. To the last he protested that he was a real Covenanter and a loyal subject.

Shortly after Montrose's death the Argyll Government switched sides and became Royalists too.

#Scotland #scottish #soldier #History

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thegreatobsesso · 2 years

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I LOVE CALLIE’S PRISON BREAK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GARBLE GERBLE YOU GUYS - I ~LOVE~ MY PRISON BREAK CHAPTER. I LOVE IT. I just finished editing it for draft two and you know what? Here it is. I have to share it. I must.

@diphthongsfordays: I want you to know I thought of you the whole time I was working on this because of how good your action scenes are. I tried to think, how would Diphthong do ?? Dedicating this bit to you because you inspire me.

✨ taglist ✨

@avrablake @adie-dee @dontjudgemeimawriter @ryorine @thelaughingstag @winterandwords

Comment to be added or removed :)

Callie POV

Hope was a bitch.

No, but she was, though. Because Callie’d finally gotten comfortable with how things were when hope swept in and started whispering lies: that things didn’t have to be this way. That they could be so, so different that Callie couldn’t even begin to imagine the glittering possibilities that still lay outside these walls, beyond the bird-shit-speckled steel.

It was easy here. She belonged here.

She made sense here.

But look at her now: fishing for her magic, poking the status quo with a stick, daring it to bite.

There was no point, before. So there was still some magic left in her - big whoop. The more she messed with it, the more they’d changed her meds. The more they changed her meds the worse she felt, and the more she got sick the weaker she appeared and that shit got you killed in here, so she left it alone. She let it go.

But she picked it back up, now. Beneath the blankets in the dead of night when no one and nothing else was awake but the sea, she reached for Peter’s magic.

Hello.

There it was again, just like back in the infirmary all those years ago. Magic didn’t talk, obviously, but that’s how it felt: a familiar little greeting. A tug at the edge of her clothes. She waited to see if anything turned yellow or red on her collar. Whether it made any warning noise.

It didn’t. So Callie sat still with Peter’s power and held it for just a moment. Admired it. Its vastness and depth, its utter undeniability.

Then she put it in a box. Taped it up. Buried the box in an unmarked grave and covered it with a shopping mall. Her own Eclectic abilities, as varied as they were weak in comparison. She grasped at them blindly, not using them, just pulling.

It hurt. She kept going, coiled up and trembling. Pulling different flavors of magic off the shelves and tossing them about. Breaking things. Remembering. The pale green light from her collar was an aurora borealis against the rippled grey sheets.

The next day at count, her readings were whack. The guard’s brow furrowed at the sight of the data displayed on her collar and the metal detector wand emitted beeps of distress.

The new meds made her muscles stiff and her tongue tingly. She kept it up. Dared to tug on her Eclectic abilities in plain sight, even. Invisible exercise. Magic Kegels.

They changed her meds again and again. Never speaking to her about it, no, prisoners didn’t get a say in their medicine but she didn’t have to be Riley to understand it: the more Eclectic she made herself, the more Eclectic the suppressants.

The entire system was built around one foundational truth as simple as it was wrong: that magic can only show in one way.

Speaking of Riley: she’d love this. The way Callie methodically tested her own hypothesis. Well, love was a strong word and she wasn’t sure Riley loved anything, but she’d be interested.

What would Riley do when she heard, anyway? When Callie was looking straight at her out of the TV and newspapers again? Would she be afraid?

What a gorgeous thought. Oh, if only there’d be time to pay her a visit.

Imagine: Riley coming home, turning on the light to find Callie in her armchair.

Or Callie turning on the light herself.

Evoking an involuntary gasp from Riley. Pure surprise! She’d rise from the chair and the other woman would be frozen in fear. Knowing there was no way she could overpower Callie.

How useless and sad, being a medium: to hear dead people running their dead mouths twenty-four seven and not be able to do one damn thing about it or anything else.

She found herself stifling a giggle about it as she went back to the shared cell after rec time and sat on her bed.

No. Not her bed.

To say it was her bed implied she’d be sleeping in it tonight, and she wouldn’t be.

Today was the day, she decided. There was no fantastic way to gage her own readiness. She’d do it today and it’d work, or it wouldn’t. Orblex or bust. Delaney or die. Better to go out spectacularly than grow old bored.

Six years of going to sleep in this pathetic excuse for a bed: cement mattress and pancake pillows. She really should just take a giant shit right on it. Hell, that would almost suffice. But she couldn’t afford any almosts - not today. This’d take something bigger.

“Hey, mousey,” she whispered, and curled her finger playfully when Veronica’s eyes snapped up from her book. “C’mere.”

The girl was still too soft for this place but she’d learned enough to be suspicious. She complied anyway, dutifully settling herself into the empty space Callie patted with her hand.

This place made everyone hard eventually, even the mouse. Callie was grateful for that. She’d shown up here with some squishy remnants that defied every prior climate and she was free of them now.

“Do you wanna help me with a project?” she asked. “It’ll take, like, one minute. Maybe less.”

Two of their other cellmates sat on the floor playing some dice game. One more, curled up with a book on the bunk above and the last, not yet returned from rec time. “What do you want me to do?” Ronnie said.

Callie grinned. Oh, God, it was exciting, though. “Not much except stay still. And it won’t matter if you freak out, but it’ll be easier if you don’t.”

One swift, simple motion to turn Ronnie and crush her back against Callie’s own chest. Another to bring the tiny metal shank from her inventory to the little mouse’s bare neck.

“Hey, check it out, everybody!” she shouted. “I’ve gone insane, and I’m gonna kill this girl for no reason unless Warden Prescott jumps out of a cake and gives me a lap dance!”

Not that anybody was listening; she could have sung the national anthem to the same effect. Any sudden violent move would’ve shattered the perpetually tenuous calm, and her cellmates’ screams set off a predictable chain reaction down the entire block.

She pulled Veronica to a standing position to make sure the guards had a clear view but even that was hardly necessary. They impressed her with the efficiency of their onslaught; the girl was pulled from her in seconds and Callie was on the ground before she knew it, crushed by their weight.

This was the simple part - all she had to do now, and all she really could do, was breathe. Her arms held securely behind her back, her head pushed down, they pulled her from the cell, over the floor and down the stairs to the tune of hundreds of restless prisoners screaming from their cells, relishing the excuse to lose their damn minds.

She understood. She really did. If she could’ve she’d have blown them all a big kiss.

They dragged her down the corroded metal stairs into the open air and lashing rain. The ocean surged around them, choppy and threatening. A rough hand pushed her head to the side and a device at her neck deactivated the chip. They began undoing the series of locks on the hatch that led down, down, down to the place in her nightmares.

A final moment of stillness where she was exactly where she wanted to be. A silent goodbye to her old future.

All the noise fell away as she closed her eyes and plunged deep inside herself.

Peter’s power was waiting there, unmarred by suppressants after days of gently, steadily, carefully nudging her own magic to the surface. She took hold of it and turned herself inside-out.

Her collar screamed. Pain like she’d never known tore through her body. Nerves coming back to life, air burning through starved lungs. Raw magic ripping through her like wildfire.

Only one thing to do: let it out.

The guards flew from her, flung helplessly into the churning waters. The blast left firefly swarms of embers clinging to the support beams. Cuffs off, she thought simply, and marveled that she’d ever struggled with this power as she stood here at the stable center of her own tornado. The metal on her wrists splintered and deafening sirens began to wail. The guards tried to scream, flailing to keep their mouths above water.

She reached out to the ocean and told it to hold them back, and it did. She reached to the back of her neck, where the little bump lived.

Out, she told it.

The chip tore itself from her skin. Warm blood trickled down her back. A small irritation compared to the pain she was already ignoring. She considered the tiny thing for a moment, Downing Bay’s last-ditch failsafe, before flicking it into the sea.

As if on cue, gunfire split the air. Rapid, explosive, ear-shattering noise from guards in black uniforms pouring out the bottoms of the surrounding blocks like ants. The bullets landed neatly in her shield, forming a pincushion of ammunition around where she stood, her arms stretched wide to welcome them.

Somebody realized what was happening when it was already too late. She knew it because she heard the call - hold fire. The shots tapered off, which was fine - she already had more than enough.

Bullets, she called alongside a practiced flick of her fingers: boats.

Downing Bay’s fleet blew to smithereens in an astonishing light show before being mostly swallowed by the ocean. A few chunks managed to stay afloat, dotting the sea in little bonfires.

Sulfur in the air; panicked shouts, wailing alarms, flashing lights, but no more gunfire.

Come to think of it, just for good measure: no more guns.

She didn’t have to see the things crunch themselves useless to know it worked; didn’t need to hear the guards cry out in alarm and drop the neutered weapons.

She wasn’t just using the power now, she was the power.

Even the thunderstorm that wracked the ocean felt small. She’d have loved, in the middle of the chaos, in front of the hundred-odd guards who were powerless to stop her, to turn her face to the sky and laugh at God.

But all she could see when she looked up was the rusty underbelly of Spindle Block, so she hoisted her middle finger to Downing Bay instead before taking a running jump into the violent sea.

From down here, the burning boats painted a gorgeous watercolor, orange-on-blue. She called to the cold water that surrounded her: carry me.

It did, faster than anyone could follow.

When her burning lungs finally forced her up for air, Downing Bay was a cluster of twinkling fires on the horizon, smoke curling up into the purple sky. Red lights swirled and flashed; alarms screamed uselessly into the rain.

She filled her lungs with sweet, delicious, free air, and disappeared again.

#oc: callie #tw: prison #tw: violence #tw: language #writing #writeblr #writing excerpt #my wip

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sasheenka · 3 years

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Sasheenka's book club 4/?

For the past 5 months I have read and/or listened to over 40 gay romance books and I keep adding more and more to my collection. I will use my tumblr to do short reviews of the titles I go through. Number of stars ★ to ★★★★★ denote my level of enjoyment throughout.

Wanted, a Gentleman by KJ Charles (★★★★★)

Theodore Swann runs the Matrimonial Advertiser, a paper where lonely hearts may seek one another for the cost of a shilling. For one young couple the paper also serves as a secret means of communication. Martin St. Vincent is a well-to-do merchant trying to stop a young lady from making a mistake. When the young lady in question runs away with her secret corespondent to get married in Scotland, where parental consent isn't required, Martin promises her parents that he will bring her back.With Theo's help he believes he has a good chance of catching up with the young couple. As they travel up north he and Theo find they have certain things in common, namely their sexual preference and a taste for trashy romance novels. However, everything is not as is seems and Theo is harbouring secrets that could ruin his budging relationship with Martin and the success of their mission.

A very cute story, with very little angst and a lovely romance. The resolution of the story is kinda predictable, but that in no way detracts from the enjoyment. If you want a light read with an engaging plot and good characters, I do recommend this!

Narrated by: Greg Patmore (Martin sounds very strange, he gave him a deep voice, but he sounds like he's out of breath at all times. Others were voiced well)

Length: 4 hrs and 40 min (on the shorter side, but appropriate to the story)

The Copper by Bonnie Dee (★★★)

Lord Avery Wickersham wakes from a night's debauchery at a bordello to police officers pounding on the bedroom door. During the raid, Constable Connor Tate is ready to arrest the lord and his two male sex partners when Avery's glib tongue earns a reprieve for his friends, if not for himself. Connor struggles between duty and desire and when his path crosses Avery's again they embark on a passionate affair. However, there is government corruption afoot and an evil man who brings torture and death to vulnerable men. The duo join forces to try to stop the killer.

When I started this one I thought “wow, a Bonnie Dee book I might actually enjoy!”. That thought didn't last all that long however and I only finished it because, well...I already invested a lot of time into the book. So, an interesting premise, a promising start, but afterwards it kinda fell apart in my opinion. And the plan to take down the bad guy was rather stupid.

Narrated by: Ruairi Carter (Bertram's voice was quite over the top, otherwise fine)

Length: 7 hrs and 14 mins

Kidnapped by the Pirate by Keira Andrews (★★★★)

Nathaniel Bainbridge is sailing to Primrose Isle, to join his father, who is in charge of the new colony, and to settle into a respectable marriage for his family’s financial gain. Then pirates strike and he’s kidnapped for ransom by the Sea Hawk, a legendary villain of the New World. Sea Hawk has has a score to settle with Nathaniel’s father—the very man whose treachery forced him into piracy. Yet as days pass in close quarters, Nathaniel’s feisty spirit and alluring innocence beguile and bewitch. Although Hawk knows he must keep his distance, the desire to teach Nathaniel the pleasure men can share grows uncontrollable. Nathaniel realizes the fearsome Sea Hawk’s reputation is largely invented and, as a pirate’s prisoner, he is finally free to be his true self. However, the crew has been promised the ransom Nathaniel will bring and danger mounts as Nathaniel's father wants to capture the pirate who dared to cross him.

I enjoyed this book. It had a few very funny scenes, some surprising moments and was generally well written ...my only critique was the way Sea Hawk went back and forth in his relationship with Nathaniel, that was a bit annoying, but other than that, I enjoyed it.

Narrated by: Cornell Collins (Wonderful narration, as usual!)

Length: 10 hrs and 6 mins

#book rec #book review #sasheenka's book club #kj charles #keira andrews #bonnie dee

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jungle321jungle · 4 years

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Run A Rig: Part Two

He wanted the title, and the Captain wanted to be anything but idle.

The Siren wanted the sea, and the liar wanted all to be free.

They wanted their brother back, but each journey is more perilous than the last.

The Serpent’s Song is a ship for many, and at the same time a ship for none. Because when everyone runs a rig, nothing true can be done.

Tagging: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie

Ao3 - Masterlist

~~~~

Part Two

“The naive one trusts you to the depths of the sea and back.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed at the siren as he sat in the lamplight, “He has no reason not to.”

The siren’s eyes shone with mirth as he leaned forward pulling against his chains, “Not yet.”

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

“Oh? The Captain has fallen for asking the lowly me for advice.”

“I don’t intend to ask ye for advice.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I simply ask that ye keep yer mouth shut to me crew about any and all things. Not a song nor a word, and if ye do I might reconsider selling ye.”

“If you don’t sell me... what will you do?”

“Keep ye. My foes would fall easy with a beast such as ye on my side.”

The Siren gave him a look of disbelief, “You want me to be one of your stupid crew?”

“I’m still not sure what I want right now,” Logan admitted leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “So in the meantime I suppose I’ll play the role of Captain. And that means building me legacy... Far beyond what me picaroon of a father ever could. And a siren for an officer would be a good way to do that.”

The siren was silent for a moment and Logan could feel the way his purple eyes watched him searching for answers that Logan truthfully didn’t have.

“And what if I chose to run?” He asked finally. “I join your crew then promptly jump ship?”

“Then I’d capture you and kill ye.”

“You think you could?” The siren challenged.

“I’m more capable than I look,” Logan replied leaning forward in his seat. ��If needed I will pierce that tail of yours and ye would never swim again. So tell me beast... Do ye have a name?”

The siren gave him a glare, “...Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Logan repeated, trying it out. “I’ll give ye some time to think over me offer. But we will be at the nearest port within week’s end.” He stood from his seat and picked up the lantern moving toward the door. “If ye choose to be silent until I return we can continue this conversation. Goodnight Virgil.”

~~~~

“Now yer looking like a Captain.”

Logan had to agree as he admired his new coat. It was long and a deep black, with blue details. And his hat on his head matched, it seemed all the coin he had paid had been worth it.

“Now that ye look like Captain yer gonna need to act like it,” Dee commented.

“Ye are the only one who seems to think I don’t act like one.”

Dee gave a shrug as he sat on Logan’s bed, “Perhaps it’s because I know ye best... To me yer always Logan first. And Captain second.”

“Break that habit,” Logan advised. “Would ye gather the crew? I’m going to fetch our pet.”

“Is it time to sell the beast?r” A deckhand asked as Logan approached pulling Virgil by the chains as he did.

“Switch forms beast,” said another. “You’ll go for more looking like the monster ye are.”

Virgil barred his teeth, but he didn’t say a word.

“Now now,” Logan chided with a smile. “Be nice, we’ve had a change of plans... we will not sell the Siren. Instead we will use him. I have already begun to tame him. And he will be the downfall of anyone who dares to face us.”

“Ye want to trust it?” Dee asked in surprise.

“I never said trust,” Logan corrected taking in the surprised faces of his crew. “I said use. I have no trust in him, which is why he is still chained. Also he will be contained in my Cabin so I can watch him. But he knows not to charm any here, unless he wishes for a taste of the cat.”

The elicited a murmur from the crew and Logan couldn’t help but smile. “We leave come morning. But until then I suggest a party on the newcomer’s behalf. For the Serpent's Song has become the first! And the only ship, to tame a Siren!”

“So this is what you humans always drink,” Virgil remarked scrunching his nose at the rum he had tasted. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s not for taste,” Logan replied.

“You don’t drink?” He guessed.

Logan shrugged, “Someone has to keep an eye on ye.”

He rolled those purple eyes of his before he stared down at the liquid in his mug. “Somehow I severely doubt that’s the reason.”

Logan looked away from him to where him men were making fools of themselves about the deck, “Let me ask something of ye Siren.”

“What is it you want, human?”

Logan’s eyes didn’t leave the crowd, “Which of them desires to kill me?”

“Humans have many desires.”

Logan gave a hum, “That many?”

“Aye.”

~~~~

As a child Logan had wanted many things.

At his youngest he had simply yearned for the day the father his mother had always spoken of would return from the sea for them.

When his mother had found out that his father had married another, he had still wanted to meet him and the younger brother he supposedly had.

When his mother’s drinking had lost them the little they had he had wanted to give his father a piece of his mind.

When his mother had moved them into the brothel he wanted to be anywhere but hiding in that closet. So he’d escape to his mind, and he’d wish to stand by his father’s side on the Serpent’s Song.

When the ship had come he had wanted so bad to speak to its Captain he had snuck on the ship. He had shouted and kicked at the deckhand who grabbed his arm until he got what he wanted and had been brought before the Captain.

Then when he had stood there watching the Captain smile at a boy younger than him, and he wanted that so bad he had shouted his mother’s name.

And when the Captain- his father had sent his wife and his young son away before he had regarded Logan with a hard expression. Logan had wanted him to embrace him, to smile at him, to call him his son.

So when his father had told him he could only remain on the ship as a nobody, as present to the boy who was his brother, he wanted it so badly that his child mind hadn’t considered the consequences.

And as the years passed and Logan found himself ignored while Dee got everything. Dee would get their father’s attention, Dee would get their father’s love, and all Logan received was being treated like property. In those moments of inequality there was only one thing he wanted: to be by his mother’s side. Because at least she had loved him.

But he as much as he wanted that, he knew he couldn’t have it. The Captain had given him as a present to Dee, and if Logan did not follow orders he knew where it would land him. And if he left, he knew he wouldn't live long enough to see his mother again.

“So did ye have a specific destination in mind?” Dee asked as they sat pouring the maps. “I know ye simply want to show off our little siren, but-”

“I am older than you,” Virgil cut in. “And I’m also bigger than you with my tail.”

Dee ignored him, “But are there any beats ye wish to hit? Do ye want to go home or something?”

Logan blinked in surprise, “Home?”

“Ye were a stowaway,” Dee shrugged but Logan could tell there was more to it. “But did ye have family?”

“A mother,” Logan nodded slowly. “But I doubt she’d be happy to see I’ve become a pirate... she's not exactly the biggest fan.”

“Was her ship attacked, or something?”

Logan shook his head, “No, she was just wronged by one. She’s one of many who have been.”

Dee gave a shrug, “Okay so not there then. Where?”

Logan paused before he pointed to a town on the map. “Tilia, the Merchant City.”

“That’s a major trading town. It’s full of soldiers,” Dee said in surprise. “We can’t get in there.”

“Virgil,” Logan asked after a moment. “How loud can you sing?”

The siren gave a smile, “Cover your ears and lets see.”

Logan nodded, “We've got many leagues to cover before we arrive in the City. We can test it out a few times first.”

~~~~

Logan glanced back at his crew to see them all watching apprehensively, and he could only hope their makeshift ways to block their ears would work.

He looked down into the water to where he could see Virgil’s scaled form swimming beside the ship. He gave the creature a nod and with that Virgil swam ahead in the fog to where the merchant ship could be seen.

Beside him the chain and rope which had been connected to Virgil began to fall into the water. He nervously readjusted the cloths he had used to cover his ears before he replaced his Captain’s hat.

And after a moment he heard it.

He couldn’t make out the words or anything, but he could hear a faint melody. It was soft and so far away, like a memory edging at his mind, but it didn’t go further than that as they approached the merchant ship.

By the time they had arrived beside the ship he could already see men jumping from the ship to the waters below. Logan gave a smile as he motioned for his men to board the ship.

“That went perfectly!” Dee praised as he ran his hand through the loot. “Wait until we get to the City. It will be the motherload!”

“Can I truly not eat him?” Virgil frowned at their prisoner.

“Did ye not eat enough?” Logan asked in surprise.

Virgil gave a shrug, “Your human food or fish are fine and all, but nothing is better than the taste of human flesh.”

“And that is precisely why ye are still chained.”

“Please,” The merchant begged from where he had been bound and left on the floor. Tears gathered behind his cracked glasses, and his expensive clothes were torn. “Please,” he whimpered again and Logan gave a sigh.

“Sniveling isn’t needed. I won’t kill ye. In fact I want ye help.”

“Anything,” he nodded quickly.

“We’re bound for the Merchant City,” Logan told him plainly. And yer going to help us get in.”

The merchant’s mouth opened and closed in surprise but finally he nodded, “O-okay...”

“Perfect. Ah where are me manners? I am captain of the Serpent's Song, Logan. This here is me first mate, Dante. And me Siren, Virgil.”

“It was you singing...”

Virgil gave a shrug, “Aye, I’m kind of forced to be here too. But at least I got a good meal today. Do you have a name merchant?”

The man gave a sniff to stifle his tears, “Patton.”

Logan nodded, “When we approach ye will board a small boat with a few of me crew and Virgil. Ye will take them to the center of the port without altering anyone. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yer missing something there,” Dee tossed in. “It’s aye Captain.”

“...Yes Captain.”

Logan gave a nod as he considered the merchant before he moved forward and drew his dagger. He saw as the man tensed but he paid it no mind as he cut the man’s rope bonds. “I trust I won’t need to replace them?”

He nodded quickly, “You won’t.”

“Well that was mildly entertaining,” Virgil drawled. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should divide the loot for me men,” Logan mused. “Before they begin to steal from it.”

“How much do I get?”

“Do ye sirens even have a need for money?” Dee asked him.

Logan watched as Virgil gave Dee a once over, “I’m living with you humans now... and I like pretty things.”

~~~~

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

#pirate au #siren!virgil #siren #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #run a rig #virgil sanders #anxceit #anxceit will come

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