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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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@chubbykatsudon allowed me to ramble on a little about reverse A/B/O when Omegas are the ones who rules society while Alphas are locked away because they're too dangerous, too violent to hold a responsible role in life. Thank you for making me feel so welcome in your inbox at all times. <3

As the first Omega child of Lettenhove's ruling family, there were expectations on Jaskier. He would wed another Omega of equal rank and, together, they would find an Alpha that was already broken in and as tame as their money could buy. Lettenhove came with some reinforced rooms fot to hold an Alpha. Allegedly Jaskier's sire had been one of the more gentle Alphas, content to sate heats and never asking for more than given.

Naturally, Jaskier had to defy all expectations and he hit the road like some common Beta. Even worse, he found himself not just an Alpha, but a whole pack of them. To make matters even more humiliating, they were Witchers. Sterile, useless Alphas who were not good for anything other than throwing at brutish monsters that terrorised the good folks of the Continent. Despite predictions, gossip and even ill-wishers, Jaskier had never been happier. He gladly gave his status and name to any Alpha Witcher who needed it. Even offered his collar to make their travels easier as he couldn't be beside them all at the same time. Though Jaskier never wanted to play favourites, he most often travelled with his first Alpha, Geralt. He was always so gentle when Jaskier's heat came, reverent at being allowed to help when he'd been raised to believe that no Omega would even look at him with anything but disdain.

There was a contract near a village, the description was rather hit and miss, leaving Geralt unable to determine just what kind of creature they were dealing with. All they knew what that it stole livestock, broke into houses and scared a Beta maid almost lifeless. She had sworn up and down that, whatever it was, it was large, black, stinking worse than anything she'd encountered before and shrieked at being seen before fleeing. It left Geralt stumped but he dutifully set out to track the creature. Thrilled at the prospect of a new creature giving inspiration for new ballads, Jaskier tagged along.

"Could it be a demon? Or an imp?" He asked, trailing after Geralt with a skip in his step. "Or maybe a cursed creature? Just imagine! You could break the curse and it would make for such a romantic ditty!"

"Hush!" Geralt growled and Jaskier giggled. He'd never found the growls of his Alphas to be intimidating and time did nothing to change his view. However, he did fall silent, scenting the air and finding it acrid with something he'd never really smelled before.

They emerged in a clearing, one that quite obviously was home to something. There was a paltry shelter covered with a stolen sheet, a firepit and the remains of a goat. Jaskier couldn't help but be grateful that it wasn't Eskel with him on this particular contract.

"Hello?" Geralt called out, peering towards the shelter. What Jaskier didn't know what that he could hear the rapid heartbeat of someone in there, combined with the sour smell of fear. "We just want to talk."

It was quite obvious whoever had made a home there was the one responsible for the village's woes. Jaskier nodded towards the tent in question and Geralt nodded. Even mouthed "Alpha" at Jaskier, quite certain that whatever it was, it was or at least once had been, human.

"Can we help you?" Jaskier asked softly, moving towards the tent. He crouched down to peer in and, with no warning, a figure burst out, sending Jaskier sprawling before trying to dash past. Unfortunately Geralt was in the way and the man bounced off him, landing in an ungraceful heap on the ground.

Winded, Jaskier sat up and watched as the man cowered before Geralt. When he stood up it got so much worse and, three steps closer, Geralt actually stepped between Jaskier and the man, warning him off.

"You poor thing," Jaskier sighed. "We mean no harm."

Such words fell on deaf ears and each time Jaskier tried to approach, trying to calm the Alpha with his scent, it had to opposite effect. At least with Geralt the man was submissive, allowing himself to be pulled upright and scented even if he trembled so bad, Jaskier was scared he'd fall down.

"Nilfgaard," Gerlat declared. His eyes landed on the Alpha's neck and a growl built in his chest. A violent bonding bite had left the skin heavily scarred and where the collar had sat was rubbed raw. "Force bonded. Where's your Omega?"

It was unheard of for a bonded Alpha to be far from their Omega. Usually, if they were allowed out, it was on a leash in Nilfgaard.

"Dead."

Which explained a lot yet nothing at all. If an Alpha's bonded died, they usually died too. Or were put down because the loss of their bonded drove them beyond saving. Maybe Nilfgaard didn't want to get their hands dirty and deal with yet another body. Their bloody and violent war had left many behind already. It was much easier to cut an Alpha loose and let others deal with the consequences of a grief maddened Alpha in their midst.

"You're far from Nilfgaard."

"Even further from Vicovaro." At least the Alpha could speak beyond single words. "I don't want to go back."

Sensing it was an opportunity, Jaskier smiled and stepped closer, saying, "Then you don't have to. It's as easy as that."

All his good intentions were misread and the Alpha hunched his shoulders, head dipped as if expecting a strike to come. He didn't relax, muscles tight with terror.

"Jaskier, give him some space." Geralt easily slipped between them again, unable to figure out just why the Alpha was so petrified of an Omega. Then again, looking at his neck, Geralt didn't have to imagine. "You've been causing the villagers a lot of problems, you know that, right?"

A mute, shamed nod was his answer.

"I've been hired to take care of the problem." Submission had many forms and Geralt had seen them all over the course of his long life. He never wished for anyone to be so scared of him that they pissed themselves but there he was. The Alpha before him looked ready to fall down and bare his throat and belly, any kind of domination had been probably beaten out of him. It made Geralt's job that little bit harder. "I don't kill without sense. Will you let us help you?"

Jaskier couldn't hold back anymore, he walked closer. "Please, Alpha. Let us offer you what we can."

The Alpha went crashing to his knees as Jaskier got closer, head back and throat bared even if the whites of his eyes were showing in fear and breaths came in short, harsh puffs. Immediately Jaskier backed away, hands up. "We won't hurt you. I won't touch you without your permission."

His words didn't seem to make a difference and Geralt made shooing motions at Jaskier. "Go back to Roach. We'll follow shortly."

Pouting only a little, Jaskier turned, trusting Geralt to know what was best. The only kinds of Alphas Jaskier had encountered were ones that were touch starved and desperate for any scrap of attention and kindness. An Alpha who shied from an Omega's presence was a new challenge and one that Jaskier wanted to very badly to take on. His pack couldn't bond, healed too quick for any such bite to take. It would be no hardship to take an Alpha who had alrady been claimed and cast aside. Bonding, while a romanticised dream, wasn't the be all and end all of pack relationships.

Soon enough Geralt approached with the other Alpha a few steps behind him, nervously clutching at a bag.

"Omega, may I present Cahir for your polite inspection?" He turned to Cahir. "Cahir, I present my Omega, Jaskier. He won't approach without your say so."

Message received, Jaskier waved from where he stood and tried to send a reassuring smile. "Welcome, Cahir. My Alpha brings me the most delighful companions to meet. Share our travels and camp for as long as you find comfort in it." The paltry amount of belongings in the bag couldn't have been much more than a change of clothes, probably stolen from the washing lines. "What's ours is yours."

"Thank you, Omega."

The honorific was nothing more than a trembling whisper and Jaskier nodded. "Just Jaskier. We don't abide by the demands of society."

Clearing his throat, Geralt drew attention back to himself. "I was thinking to head to Kaer Morhen a little earlier this year. If the Pack so wills it, Cahir will join us for the season as a visitor."

Mind already racing ahead, Jaskier nodded. He could see Cahir benefitting from Eskel's gentle approach. And perhaps even Lambert's brutal honesty might help bring Cahir out of his shell a little. Grinning, he agreed readily. "A fine idea. It would be nice to welcome the rest of the Pack home this time. I like the idea of greeting them with the same affection and readiness they usually have for us."

There was no doubt about it, winter was going to be an interesting one.

#geraskier #witchersexual jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #reverse a/b/o #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha cahir #tldr: alphas are hated by society

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nim-lock · 3 years

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Art Career Tips, 2021 Edition

Here’s an edited version of my 2019 answered ask, because... this feels relevant.

It is a problem of capitalism that folks equate their income as a judgement of their value as people; and let me preface. You are worth so much. You have inherent value in this world. Your income is not a judgement on who you are (plenty of billionaires are actively making the world worse). LARPing self-confidence will go a long way to helping you get paid more for your work, because clients will believe that you know what you are doing, and are a professional.

& real quick—my own background is that I’ve been living off my art since 2018. I went to art school (Pratt Institute). I work in a publishing/educational materials sphere, and a quarter of my income is my shop. Not all of this information may apply to you, so it is up to you to look through everything with a critical eye, and spot pick what is relevant.

So there are multiple ways of getting income as an artist;

Working freelance or full-time on projects

Selling your stuff on a shop

Licensing (charging other companies to use your designs)

This post primarily covers the freelance part; if you’re interested in the other bits there is absolutely info out there on the internet.

IF you are just starting (skip to next section if not applicable) dream big, draw often (practice helps you get better/more efficient), do your best to take "a bad piece” lightly. You’re gonna RNG this shit. At some point your rate of “good” works will get higher. Watch tutorial videos & read books. A base understanding of “the rules”; anatomy, perspective, composition, color helps you know what the rules are to break them. This adds sophistication to your work. One way you can learn this stuff is by doing “studies”—you’re picking apart things from life, or things other people have done, to see what works, and how it works.

Trying to turn your interests into a viable career means that you are now a SMALL BUSINESS; it really helps to learn some basic marketing, graphic design, figure out how to write polite customer service emails; etc. You can learn some of this by looking it up, or taking skillshare (not sponsored) classes by qualified folks. Eventually some people may get agents to take care of this for them—however, I do recommend y’all get a basic understanding of what it takes to do it on your own, just so you can know if your agent is doing a good job.

Making sure your portfolio fits the work you want to get

Here is a beginner portfolio post.

Research the field you’d like to get into. The amount people work, the time commitment, the process of making the thing, the companies & people who work for them.

Create work that could fit in to the industry you’re breaking into. For example, if you want to do book cover illustration, you draw a bunch of mockup book covers, that can either be stuff you make up, or redesigns of existing books. If you’re not 100% sure what sort of work is needed for the industry, loop back into the portfolios of artists in a similar line of work as whatever you’re interested in, and analyze the things they have in common. If something looks to be a common project (like a sequence of action images for storyboard artists), then it’s probably something useful for the job.

CLIENTS HIRE BASED ON HOW WELL THEY THINK YOUR WORK FITS WHAT THEY WANT. If they’re hiring for picture books, they’re gonna want to see picture book art in your portfolio, otherwise they may not want to risk hiring you. Doesn’t have to be 100% the project, but stuff similar enough. If you aren’t hired, it doesn’t mean your work is bad, it just wasn’t the right fit for that specific client.

If you have many interests, make a different section of your portfolio for each!

Making sure you’re relevant

Have a social media that’s a little more public-facing, and follow people in the career field you’re interested in. Fellow artists, art directors, editors, social media managers; whoever. Post on your own schedule.

Interact with their posts every so often, in a non-creepy way.

If you’ve made any contacts, great! Email these artists, art directors, editors, former professors, etc occasional updates on your work to stay in touch AND make sure that they think about you every so often.

Show up to general art events every once in a while! If you keep showing up to ones in your area (when... not dying from a sneeze is a thing), folks will eventually start to remember you.

Industry events & conferences can be pricey, so attend/save up for what makes sense for you. Industry meetups are important for networking in person! In addition to meeting people with hiring power, you also connect with your peers in the community. Always bring a portfolio & hand out business cards like candy.

Active job hunting

Apply to job postings online.

If interested in working with specific people at specific companies, you could send an email “I’d love to work with you, here’s my portfolio/relevant experience”, even if they aren’t actively looking for new hires. Be concise, and include a link to your work AND attached images so the person reading the email can get a quick preview before clicking for more.

Twitter job postings can be pretty underpaid! Get a copy of the Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines to know your rate. I once had a twitter post job listing email me back saying that other illustrators were charging less, and I quote, “primarily because they’re less experienced and looking for their first commission”. This was not okay! For reference, this was a 64-illustration book. The industry rate of a children’s book (~36 pages) is $10k+, and this company’s budget was apparently $1k. For all of it.

Congrats you got a job! Now what?

Ask for like, 10% more than they initially offer and see if they say yes. If they do, great! If not, and the price is still OK, great! Often company budgets are slightly higher than they first tell you, and if you get this extra secret money, all the better for you.

Make sure you sign a contract and the terms aren’t terrible (re: GO GET THE Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines)

Be pleasant and easy to work with (Think ‘do no harm but take no shit’)

Communicate with them as much as needed! If something’s going to be late, tell them as soon as you know so they aren’t left wondering or worse, reaching out to ask what’s up.

And if all goes well, they’ll contact you about more jobs down the line, or refer you to other folks who may need an artist, etc.

Quick note about online shops/licensing and why they’re so good

It’s work that you do once, that you continuously make money off of. Different products do well in different situations (conventions vs. online, and then further, based on how you market/the specific groups you are marketing to), so products that may not do well initially may get a surge later on.

Start with things that have low minimum order quantity and are relatively cheap to produce, like prints and stickers.

If you are not breaking even, go back to some of the earlier portions of this and think about how you could tweak things as a small business. Ease of access is also very important with this; for example, if you only take orders through direct messages, that immediately shuts off all customers who don’t like talking to strangers.

Quick resource that you could look through; it’s the spreadsheet of project organizing that I made a while back

Licensing is when people pay you for the right to use your work on stuff they need to make, like textbooks or greeting cards. This is generally work you’ve already made that they are paying the right to use for a specified time or limited run of products. This is great because you’ve already done the work. I am not the expert on this. Go find someone else’s info.

“I am not physically capable of working much”/ “I need to pay the bills”

Guess who got a hand injury Sept 2020 that messed me up that entire month! I had a couple jobs going at the time that I was terrified of losing, but they were quite understanding when I told them I needed to heal. So: Express your needs as early as you know you need them. Also do lots of stretches and rest your hands whenever you feel anything off; this will save your health later. Like, the potential of a couple months of no income was preferable over losing use of my hands for the rest of my life.

This continues to apply if you have any other life situation. Ask for extra time. Ask for clarification. If you tell people ahead of time, folks are often quite understanding. Know how much you are capable of working and do your best not to overdo it. (I am.. bad at this)

Do what MAKES SENSE for your situation. If doing art currently earns you less money than organizing spreadsheets, then do that for now, and whenever you have the energy, break down some of the tips above into actionable tiny chunks, and slowly work at em.

The original ask I got in 2019 mentioned ‘knowing you’re not good enough yet’. Most artists experience imposter syndrome & self-doubt—the important thing is to do your best, and if anything, attempt to channel the confidence of a mediocre white man. If he can apply to this job/charge hella money for Not Much, then so can you!

Check out this Art Director tumblr for more advice!

Danichuatico’s Literary Agent guide

Kikidoodle’s Shop Shipping Tutorial

Best of luck!

–

Once again disclaimer this post is just the ramblings of a man procrastinating on other things that need to be done. I’ve Long Posted my own post so that it turns into mush in my brain if I try to read it, but I wrote this so I should know this content. If you got down here, congrats. Here’s a shrimp drawing.

Yee Ha.

My reference post tag My tip jar

#reference #artist information #UHHHHH I don't know man

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toughaqua777 · 3 years

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An Angsty Idea About Bug Fables + Hollow Knight

So it starts off with Team Snakemouth somehow coming across Hallownest, or perhaps some folk from there came across Bugaria instead. Regardless, eventually more folks from Hallownest show up, and things are going alright for a bit.

Until the Infection shows up out-of-nowhere and sends Bugaria into mass panic.

Of course, the source is different this time (haven’t really thought about this yet), but when it starts the Hallownesters are like not again we just cleaned up this mess--

The physical effects are the same (apart from bugs groaning in pain from the changes early on), so at first it’s treated it like the original Infection. But that doesn’t last, because it’s the mental effects that change.

Here’s the thing: Bugs in Bug Fables gained sentience/sapience seemingly out-of-nowhere during what I believe was an mass extinction effect for humans, while bugs in Hallownest gained it from a known individual (The Pale King). Due to this, the mental effects changed a little bit. Why? Who knows?

The Infection toys with their minds, not just with false hopes and desires like before, but also their fears and regrets, making the bug dream of them or even hallucinate them in every which way. It’s trying to drive the bug mad and enslave them through whatever means possible, whether it be through paranoia, despair, rage, or obsession.

This madness can take on multiple forms, depending on the most used method and on the bug themselves. It can revert them to primal instincts like the original, but not always. One can go nuts with the possibilities. I have a few examples down below:

Some of them are still intelligent and may even retain some of what’s left of themselves, but have gone mad with fulfilling their desires and obsessing over them.

Back to the primal instincts part, it could just be someone who’s too far gone in their fear and paranoia, led to believe everything and everyone is out to get them. It could also be one blinded by rage, seeing red everywhere and thinking everyone’s against them.

Those lost to despair end up desiring nothing more than their own destruction as they beg for the pain to end. The Infection makes sure that the chosen method for doing so will infect as many bugs as possible.

There’s good news at least: Bugarians are able to resist the physical and mental effects. Not enough to purge it from their system nor to stop the progress of the Infection completely, but slowing (and occasionally stopping on better days) is better than nothing. No matter how much it may hurt, physically or mentally.

Some bugs don’t want to resist the Infection, whether due to their slowly slipping sanity or simply their own conscious choice. These bugs are the most dangerous ones, believing it’ll bring power, which it sadly does by a huge amount (increased physical attributes all around). They end up almost worshipping the Infection, desiring to give other bugs their “gift” as an act of kindness. As for those who are resisting the Infection, they try to urge them to “give in” and are somehow able to play along with whatever’s going on in the victim’s head.

Last note: For particularly sickly bugs, they don’t go mad at all. They simply die as the Infection eats away at their body. In hindsight, this may be a mercy.

Now some of you may be wondering: Do our favorites get infected? Probably, but that’s up to whoever wants to keep going with this (although I think we all want at least one member of Team Snakemouth to get infected).

As for the cure and ultimate goal? I didn’t think that far ahead. RIP.

Anyway, there’s my idea. If you want to expand upon it or even make something about/based on it, feel free! All I ask is to be tagged, I’d love to see!

#bug fables #hollow knight #hollow fables #angst #should i tag a trigger here?#spoilers #maybe #idea

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thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

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Style

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 3

"Her heart belonged to someone who couldn't stay"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the Stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 5,300

Warnings: mild angst, violence, badly written missions(I'm sorry), fluff

A/N: this song is so fun, and as always with this series I suggest listening to the song of the chapter. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

A/N: a big thank you for @chrissquares for making these amazing dividers! And thank you @nacho-bucky for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and on YouTube

"Hydra is moving fast and advancing, tomorrow they are going to make a move on a not so secret lab in Germany which works on energy cores, we do not know the exact thing that they are after but we are going to stop them from getting it. Reindeer games you are quite familiar with Germany so try not to take over it this time." Tony projected then the layout of the place. You didn't dare look at Loki, you already knew the scowl he had on his face, barely distinct but you knew it was there.

"Why can't we just warn them today and ambush Hydra?" Clint asked from the end of the table. But you didn't look at him.

You strategically chose your sit, no temptation to look at Loki, not returning the looks that you knew he would send you. No memory of just earlier today. Hell, you still felt the ghost of his lips on yours.

"We suspect that with the knowledge, they might try to strike a deal with Hydra and in exchange of money, they will give them the supply they want. It's safer for us if they start on bad terms and we step in to make sure it all ends."

"We only got a handful of the weapons they created, so be aware of that and stay safe. That lab is intricate and big. Bucky and Clint will be on guard outside, take out any Hydra agents that may lurk guarding outside. The rest of us will spread out to protect and evacuate the relatively innocent folks, and the others take out the Hydra super guilty folks. Point Break, Horny Head," you bit back a laugh. "Try to see if there is anything Asgardian in the Hydra weapons."

You were the first out of the door after it ended. You were not going to wait to see what will happen. You almost felt like a prey, his prey, and he was about to catch you any second now.

"Y/N, are you not going to stay?" Steve asked when you were about to head out making you turn to face him, your eyes couldn't help but momentarily wander who Loki who thankfully had his eyes lowered. "We were going to review the mission details."

"Oh no, I'm feeling a little tired today," you tried to hold Steve's eyes but you knew he knew you better than anyone here, well almost. "Just fill me in tomorrow."

You did not see the look Steve gave the raven haired god when he watched you leave.

How could Loki not stare?

Just a couple of days ago his life was empty of you, and then you entered it again knocking the breath out of him just like the first time he saw you.

And just a couple of hours ago you were in his arms and he was kissing you like he did that one time he came home to you after a hard day with his father, and hel, you kissed him like you did that time he came back from a long fight after a week of being absent from your touch. Your kisses always reminded him what he was fighting for, despite the treatment from his family, he fought through to get to his solace, to get to you.

And now he is back to nothing.

And you are back in an empty room where his presence still lingered. Just like the night he left.

•

Out on the hanger, you were on the open quinjet ready to go when you felt a presence behind you.

"What exactly can you do?" you turned to him after you tightened the dagger strap on your leg.

"Why does it matter?" you went further inside the quinjet, at the very least you didn't want wondering eyes on you.

"I want to know what happened to you." The question made you look back at him. You couldn't figure him out now, he was just as different as you were but that's not it- he left you, no explanation, and now he is here kissing you and wondering about you as if he actually cares. But then again, why would he leave if he cared?

"I don't know what happened, I started to feel bad and I thought it was just a virus or something, but then I started seeing things… and then I just had these powers." You sighed, there were too many incidents before you understood what was happening.

"Nothing prompted it?" he pressed. He was almost towering over you now as you stood against the wall.

"No, not that I know of at least."

"What are they?"

"I can manipulate people's vision and emotions. I alter their reality as I like and control what they'll feel." You looked down then. "That's what I did to you."

"You put me in the invasion in New York, making me scared." You only nodded to him, you didn't like using your powers but sometimes they are needed. As if he read your mind. "You know that it's-"

You saw Natasha and Tony walk into the quinjet then, followed by the two supersoldiers who found you in the corner. You saw the strange look on their faces.

"I know exactly what it is Loki, now we need to focus on the mission." You walked around him and went away, sitting in the co pilot seat next to Natasha.

"Anything interesting happened today?"

"No Nat, nothing. Let's just get to that lab." You helped her start everything, ignoring the look she gave you at the answer.

"Thor?" Steve called to the god as the two went aside to talk out of earshot.

•

It was colder than you thought. Now you could only pray to any god out there, maybe Greek just strictly out of spite, that the lab will be much warmer.

"At this point, I think we lost the element of surprise boys." Natasha said through the comms as you drove towards the lab, snow covering the ground mostly white but as you got closer and more agents appeared it started to look red.

Bucky and Clint were on top of the trucks, shooting the guys that were securing the lab building from a distance.

With Thor and Loki taking down the guards on the tower, blasts came from besides you.

"Bucky, on our right, take them out." You yelled to Bucky who turned and blasted the vehicle and the agents in it.

"They're out, now could you just try to keep us steady? I don't want to fall off of this thing." He complained as you made another twisted turn, avoiding getting wrecked into a tree or a guard tower.

"You're a goddamn supersoldier, I'm sure you'll manage. Plus, it seems like we will have to leave the vehicle behind soon." You looked at the blockade just before you and Natasha.

"In three?" she asked and you nodded to her, pulling out your guns and shooting the men in front of you.

Then the blockade hit the cars. Bucky, Clint, Natasha, and you jumped out of it and over the blockade, knocking some of the guards.

You looked up and saw Loki fight. You've never seen him fight before.

He brought down yet another tower, pulling out knives out of nowhere and then disappearing behind the guards and he knocked the tower to the ground, its wooden form breaking down in pieces.

"Y/N look out!" you heard Steve calling out to you, he came in with his motorcycle, knocking out a Hydra agent who was about to attack you.

"Thanks Steve!" you called him and went to move away and fight.

"No, hop on, I need coverage." You nodded to him despite his bowl of crap. Hopping on the motorcycle behind him, you shot whoever was in sight. You got closer to the lab and in front of you a new rush of agents lined up. "Thor, we need you here."

"Oh no," you groaned. "You're going to do something really stupid, aren't you?"

"No."

"He always does something stupid, Y/N you should know him better." Bucky retorted and you laughed.

Thor came up besides the two of you. Getting down behind some rocks you guarded them.

"It seems like they are lining up for us."

"How kind of them" Thor raised his hammer and Steve his shield and it pounded as they hit each other, the energy sending the guards and the tank flying, obstructing them and their weapons.

Almost at the lab, a tall man stood in front of you, he had a weird shaped weapon in his hand, before you could advance and use your powers on him, the sky suddenly turned dark, you saw lightning and then his pointed weapon shot lightning energy towards you. It was too fast but you were whisked away before it could hit you. One of Loki's hands covered your head while the other snaked around your middle.

He pulled a long spear and was about to shoot it forward when he saw the man had disappeared.

"Brother have you seen that?" Loki called to Thor who ran next to the two of you. Loki still held you, but you pushed him away with a small thank you, looking at Thor instead and taking a few steps backwards.

"What was that?" he looked at his brother.

"It can't be, I destroyed it long ago." Thor shook his head.

"You saw what happened, it had to be it. Nothing else could do it." The blue eyes turned to you. "Are you okay darling?"

"I'm just fine, I can take care of myself." Pulling out your own knives, you saw Natasha and Pietro up ahead. "And don't call me that."

After you left Thor came up to his brother.

"What are you doing? What is going on with her? Loki were you-"

"That is not your business, stay focused on the fight. We need to find that weapon they used."

•

The inside of the lab was quieter than outside. Tony and F.R.I.D.A.Y detected the German scientists and you split up to look for them, and hopefully take whatever energy core Hydra was here for.

Jumping a story down, it was weirdly quiet.

"Hey guys, I'm in the east wing, something feels wrong." You waited but nothing came back but static, "Guys? Fuck."

Turning around you saw Hydra agents coming out of a door you hadn't seen before, they started to shoot at you, coming from both of your side, you used one guy for coverage, making them shoot at each other. Locking eyes with one of them, he soon fell with a scream, eyes foggy. You slit the throat of the guy you used and focused on him instead. In a field of enemies, he got up and shot everyone he saw around him. Once satisfied you let him fall down alongside all the others he shot.

You saw other agents coming your way but there he was again, Loki pulled you behind him and shot daggers forward and duplicating himself. You saw a couple running away to what you only assumed was another secret door but you lost them as you turned a corner.

"Guys, there's nothing here." The captain voiced through the comms.

"The comms are working again, great." You sighed.

"What do you mean there's nothing here?"

"I'm saying that this was a trap, there wasn't anything special that these scientists were working on, this is not what we thought it was."

"How could we have been wrong here?"

"I don't know but we have to go now, I don't like this."

Soon enough on the quinjet you tended to Clint's wound, he took a nasty shot. And your wounds weren't near as bad.

"Could they have had something that seemed insignificant to them but Hydra needed it for something?" you heard Tony talk to Steve.

"No, they weren't working on anything right now. The lab was for research, not for weapons."

You picked up on another conversation then.

"We have to tell father what we saw, Loki."

"No, I searched the building, and I didn't see the guy nor his weapon. Father will just send an army here when we don't even know what it is we are searching for." Loki reasoned.

You just tried to clear your mind and focus on helping your friend.

•

The sunset painted the rooms a lovely shade of orange from the windows. It was quiet as people were either resting, or in the infirmary. You walked through the hallway leading to the Avengers elevator to take you to your room.

He came in front of you from the corner.

"Y/N,"

"Hi." You didn't know what to say now, he saved your life twice today.

"Are your wounds alright?" you let him inspect your hands and arms. This was new to him too, seeing you fighting like this.

"Don't worry, they'll heal." He still didn't take his eyes off of you, his delicate petal out here fighting and risking her life.

"Let me heal them." You leaned on one wall as he stood in front of you, covering your wounds with his hand. You heard him mumble a chant and your skin tingled. You told yourself it was from the spell.

Then he looked up at you, and the look in his eyes was one straight out of your daydreams.

"I should just tell you to leave but-" your breath shuddered, your mind trying to make peace with your heart's will.

"I never stopped thinking about you and I." He admitted, you put your hands on his chest and slowly they slipped up to his shoulders.

"I heard that you have some other girl now, I heard they'll be a wedding soon." The pain in your voice did not go unnoticed.

"It's true, but I never thought I'd find you again. That was arranged, nothing happened yet and nothing will happen."

"I never stopped thinking about you too." You bit your lip and pulled him closer to you. "We know exactly where this leads, why go in circles?"

"My love, we can just call it even. We can't ignore this forever." His hand caressed your cheek now, you leaned into him.

"We're always going to come back, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear." Your lips finally met, and you let every worry and fear go away, kissing him back with just as much passion and love.

And there it was again.

The first kiss.

"Will you stop messing it up?" you laughed at Loki as he tried to get the music player to work until he finally gave up and let you do it.

"That thing is just stupid midgardian technology, there is no use to it!" he complained as you magically managed to get it to work, a soft melody fell upon the room.

"I finally got you to agree to teach me, this is far from useless!" you laughed as you came up to him, playing with your dress as you twirled in it. You moved the furniture so you could dance in your living room.

"I don't understand why you even want to learn it, no one on Midgard knows it and it is not like you have balls around here anymore." It was quite barbaric to his taste.

"Yes but I want to learn this dance, I bet it is super pretty and elegant," just like you, you thought but didn't speak up. "I bet the balls there are amazing."

Loki showed you the right position and took your hand. He brought you close and prayed that you won't be able to hear his heartbeat.

"They are. Maybe one day I'll take you to see it," you had a bright smile on your face then. "You know, just so that these lessons won't be for nothing."

"Of course, whatever you say." You held onto him tighter as you almost fell. "I expect a nice dress too, I can't come to Asgard with a human earth dress."

He laughed at you, but it turned into a groan when you stepped on his feet, supposedly it was accidental.

"While you look beautiful in this dress, I bet you'll look just as beautiful in an Asgardian dress," you looked up at him surprised, you forgot how close you were, hel you forgot completely about the dance as you just stood there and swayed back and forth. "Like a true Asgardian goddess."

Loki didn't mean to say that but once it left his lips he couldn't even feel embarrassed about it, no he didn't even feel vulnerable when he saw the way you looked back at him. You moved your stare between his lips and his eyes.

"Do you really think that?" you whispered, scared to break whatever it is you have built in this room, in this moment.

"Absolutely." He closed the small distance and he already knew that he was a goner, you took his heart and mended it with your own. He could feel your passion in it, in your first kiss. He'll be damned if it will be your last. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him ever so closer, deepening the kiss. He smiled then before you pulled away just a bit, a huge smile graced your face and you lit up the room. Your red lipstick was smeared a bit, your bottom lip was swollen, and he wondered if he ever told you how much he liked it when you put this lipstick on.

"This was inevitable, wasn't it?" the smile never left your face and he didn't know what he did to deserve you.

"I'm afraid so." You couldn't keep in the giggle that escaped you, this man will be the death of you, you were sure of it.

He had never felt as loved as he did in that moment.

The kiss after a bad meeting.

Loki got to your home as soon as he could, he couldn't wait to be in your arms. His father was- well, his father as usual. He just needed some peace right now, and that was you.

He walked into your apartment, he saw your computer open on your desk with various papers all around it but he didn't see you.

"Darling?" Loki called you and you pocked your head out of the kitchen. You immediately took off the apron and went to him, he smiled at you even though he knew you'd see right through it- you always did.

When you reached him, you gave him a tight hug, playing with his hair until you felt him relax under you.

Then you pulled back and kissed him so delicately but it was all he needed. Your kisses surely had some magic laced in them, because you somehow made him feel completely content.

"I love you." He whispered to you.

"You what?" you must've heard wrong. You told him you loved him months ago, but you understood that he needed more time, it was harder for him to open up like that. But while he didn't say it, he surely made sure you felt it that night. Sleeping was not included in that.

"I love you." He repeated and you smiled, going to say it back, "Do I smell smoke?"

The kiss after he came back from war after a week of not seeing you.

The moment you saw the green shimmer from the living room, you got out of your bed and all but jumped on your boyfriend as he took off his armor. He managed to balance himself and you, but then you pulled away from the hug and attacked him with a bruising kiss, you gave him easy access to your tongue and tried to pull him closer by his hair.

"I missed you so much." You leaned your head against his forehead, you both panted heavily. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

He could see the moment the light bulb in your head lit up and he chuckled, he shook his head but he let you see for yourself, he knew it would calm you down.

You lifted his shirt up and saw the small cuts on his stomach.

"You're not okay! Loki come on, I need to clean these cuts." You dragged him to the bathroom and pulled out your first aid kit.

"Darling, I'm a god, these small cuts don't affect me." He rubbed your back but you didn't listen to him.

"And I'm your girlfriend so shut up and sit down. Maybe you got hit by a poisoned spear or something that is like- I don't know what's up there but I don’t care!" he saw how worried you were, eyes bloodshot, he hated to leave you. So he nodded and let you take care of him, his hand raked through your hair calming you down. He had never felt more cared for, or loved.

You swore at him all kinds of curses, telling him to stay safe and be more cautious.

He swore he was going to marry you someday.

•

Asgard felt different now. After you went back to your room, with a smile that you tried to hide but he caught, he and Thor went back to Asgard- they needed to check some stuff to make sense of what they saw. It was night now so luckily most of the people were sleeping. Most but not all.

As the princes walked through the corridors, lady Iyllir was there with her maids, which she quickly pushed away when she saw them.

"My princes, I am so glad to see you back in Asgard, it's almost midnight now how come you are still with your armor?" she frowned at the cuts and light bruises she saw in the dim light.

"We just got back, and we are both very tired so we are going-" Thor put a hand, keeping Loki in place.

"It is really late, I'm sure my brother will be happy to escort you back to your chambers?"

"Oh that would be great, thank you my prince, have a good night!" she bowed to Thor and took Loki's outstretched arm. He sent a nasty glare at his brother but walked with Iyllir towards her chambers.

"I hope you are okay, your cuts still haven't healed." She took his hand, gently examining the cuts.

"I assure you I am fine, these cuts will be healed soon. Midgardian weapons cannot wound me badly." He gave her a smile and she only nodded.

"I miss our time together, you are great company. I hope you are staying longer this time."

"We will be staying for a couple of days I assume."

"Oh, great, so tomorrow we can go to that nice garden that you said you will take me to!" she gave him a kiss on the cheek quickly before turning around and walking into her room. "Goodnight, my prince."

He groaned to himself, he did promise to take her there. He pondered about it as he went back to his room. The lady and he had quite a good time- that was before you came back into his life. He walked the long way around to his room.

•

"This place really is beautiful like you said." The redhead looked around at the flowers that were around them and the tall bushes that created a barrier from the outside of the garden.

"They have been using magic to grow the bushes around the entire ground, making them into walls of this place." He remembered what his mother told him about this place.

"Thank you for bringing me here, I never knew this place existed." She smiled at him and sat on the ground next to him.

"It's my pleasure," and for a moment those barriers made him go back to a couple of months ago, when he would wander around in thought about the lovely lady his father brought for him to meet, soon to arrange a marriage. "Did you manage to finish the book I gave you?"

"I did, it was really interesting. I find history fascinating so the book was splendid to read."

They talked like this for a few more hours, talking about books and exchanging stories.

Before he knew it, Iyllir got closer and closer to him, sitting right beside him. The silver tongued prince went silent when he saw her lean in, all the while smirking at the look on his face before returning her gaze to his lips.

He considered his options. You were his only love, perhaps you always will be, but will you stay after all that is over? Can he still come back to you? He remembered the reason he left, the moment was scorched in his mind but now things were different. Maybe this time he will be able to stay, would you let him? After all, all you agreed about was temporary, just for old times' sake.

Their lips touched now.

"I can't." Loki said, before leaning back from the offended girl in front of him.

"Why not? Our parents brought us together to marry."

"Perhaps yes, but while you are great company I am not ready for this yet. We should go back, I have a meeting to attend to soon."

When they got up, she refused to take his hand. It was a silent walk back.

•

"Thor, are you sure you checked it all?"

"I did Loki, the vaults were lacking multiple weapons. They were old ones. Do you think you could tell exactly what is missing?"

"I'll do my best." The vaults closed behind them and Loki started to scour the items present, while trying to find the missing.

"I saw you were taking a walk with lady Iyllir today."

"What about it?" Loki went deeper into the place, looking at the empty stands and mentally taking note of all the items that should be there.

"I also saw you were around Lady Y/N a lot. You still haven't told me how you know her." Thor studied his brother, following him to the big closet.

"I was on earth and I happened to meet her, I did tell you."

"I'm not as big of a fool as you think I am, I can see the way you look at her. And the way she looks at you."

Loki didn't know if he was relieved or frightened as he found a way out of this conversation when he opened the doors.

"My wand, Thor my wand is gone!" Loki's eyes went wide alongside Thor when they saw the other weapon that was missing.

•

"This is ridiculous, why is he throwing a party in the middle of this mess? We can't waste time Thor, we need to tell them what those Hydra mortals have." Loki scowled as he got through the people dancing in the crowded room.

"Will you keep it down Loki? These mortals don't know a thing. I'm sure Tony will listen to us when we find him.

Looking around the room, he saw several other faces he recognized, and then he saw you- grinning and laughing with a guy he did not recognize. One of the mutants- was her name Wanda? She came up to you with a hug, and joined in on the conversation. Maybe it wasn't like what he thought. He hoped so, when you looked straight at him. In the daze, he looked at the tight little skirt you wore, his mind was lost and didn't notice when you reached him. The crowd seemingly closing around you, a barrier that let you be alone without watching eyes.

"See something you like?" you smiled at him, he couldn't help but return it, not ashamed of looking at every inch of your body before answering you.

"Yes, very much" he put his hands on your waist, bringing you closer. You put your arms on his shoulders, keeping him close.

"We said we will start anew, right?"

"Yes." You leaned your head on his chest, and the two of you started swaying not along to the music but to your own heartbeats.

"I missed this, Loki. I missed us." You confessed to him, he didn't have to answer, you knew.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love that red lipstick of yours?" you chuckled and lightly kissed the side of his. He sighed at the contact and your heart fluttered at the red mark your lipstick left on him.

He brought your chin up with his hands and didn't spare a second before attaching his lips to yours. He didn't know how he survived without your kisses, without your touch. He actually did know, it was hel. He would go sleepless at night, conjuring up figures of you beside him but that could only help so much. When he missed you most, he would go to Heimdall and ask about you. He was the only one that knew after all, he was the only one who knew about his only weakness. But then so many things have happened, some distracted him from the loss of you until he got used to it, and some… some he had to keep you in his mind just to survive through the very worst things that were inflicted upon him.

But now that you were in his arms again, he knew it will be even harder to let go of you if you asked him to leave afterwards. And he made sure to show you how much he still loved you in the kiss until you parted and looked at him, your eyes begging.

"Take me home, Loki. Take me away."

With the temptation, it was something he couldn't deny the both of you.

The minute he teleported the two of you to your room, your lips were back on his, pulling him with you until you hit the bed.

You made quick work on taking off the white shirt he wore, as he unzipped your skirt, letting it fall to the ground before he picked you up and laid you beneath him on the bed.

You looked up at him, feeling whole again remembering all those other times you were just like this, he always had the same James Dean type daydream look in his eyes, right before he made sure you remembered who your heart belonged to.

He promised himself to show you how much he missed you, and make up for all those years apart.

You spent the next few hours devoting yourself to each other, you were sure everyone could hear you scream his name in pleasure. But you didn't find it in yourself to care when he made you feel this good.

•

"What do you mean you didn't get the weapon?" the agent backed away, scared.

"We didn't expect it, and besides- he was there!" begging for his life, he hoped he will get out of these woods alive, the weapon in front of him was powerful enough.

"Who was?"

"There were more of them than usual, we didn't expect him to be there- we couldn't get the weapon!"

"You will be given one last chance to do this right, if you fail I will make sure you pay the price for it."

He was then handed the weapon, wrapped in a cloth.

"Do you remember how to use it?" the agent considered it, before he grabbed it in its hilt.

"And this stone heals it, right?"

"Exactly, use it when I'm gone."

He did just that, pulling out the sword, examining the weight of its powers, looking at the gem stone, then turning back and stabbing the other agent behind him. He let him bleed, before finally taking out the stone, and he watched in wonder and the wound healed. This will be fun.

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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winter prompt fill 5, indruck, nsfw?

5: your car slid into a snowbank and i’m the mechanic that comes to tow you

Two hours.

Two fucking hours, that’s how far this guy is from town. But because he’s three hours from the one to the west, it’s Duck’s company that got the call from AAA for a tow. On night three of what's forecasted as a week-long snowstorm. And because it’s that kind of job, the call came in at 4:45 pm. At least he’ll get overtime for this.

Being out of Kepler means the radio has real stations, half of them playing blocks of pop hits and the other half blaring Christmas carols. Duck doesn’t mind either, settles on listening to crooning about sleigh bells and winter wonderlands as he tries to keep the truck from sliding into snow piles.

He’s all prepared to be aggravated at whoever was clueless enough to get themselves stranded and stick him with the four hour round-trip, but the closer he gets to his destination the more he sympathizes. Because this is a rural two-lane highway and not a major through-road, the maintenance is spotty at best. Couple that with the still-falling snow and he’s just glad the guy was in the kind of accident where he could still make a call after it.

The last half-hour he’s down to thirty miles an hour, lets out a groan of relief when the dead taillights of a car reflect back at him. Once he positions the truck and hops out, he rolls his eyes; the sedan doesn’t have snow tires or chains on, something even a person with a Nevada license plate should have known to carry north.

Duck wonders if being unprepared is a habit when the driver steps out in far too light a coat for the weather, shuddering and stuttering out an “Th-thank g-goodness.”

“Guessin you’re Mr. Wilde?”

Pale hair falls over red glasses as the man nods. With his hood up, he looks owlish, guarded. He’s all limbs and edges, and Duck can’t help but think of a stray cat that needs a warm bed and some food.

“Go ahead and get up into the passenger seat. Heat ain’t runnin, but it’s sure as heck warmer than out here. I’ll get her hitched up and we can get going.”

Another nod, the man hunching forward as he scurries into the truck. This is the easy part, getting the damaged car hooked to the truck and freeing it from the snow. The hard part comes when they turn towards town, two hours of darkness and icy roads ahead of them.

“I’m so sorry you had to come all this way. I, ah, did not intend to crash, nor to do so this far from help.”

“Hey, it’s what we’re here for. Gonna be slow goin on the way back, since it’ll be real fuckin embarassin to call a tow truck for a tow truck.”

A snicker, “I picture them as growing exponentially larger, like nesting dolls. A tow truck towing a tow truck towing a tow truck towing a car would be the size of a semi.”

Duck chuckles, “Yeah, it’d be a sight. And a fuckin nightmare for anyone who got behind it.”

The cab is warming nicely, so his passenger pulls back his hood. In the darkness he can tell the pale hair is metallic silver, and there’s a hell of a bruise blooming on his forehead. Duck’s never seen anyone quite like him, and if their survival didn’t depend on his concentration, he’d spend the next hour studying him.

“Damn, got banged up in the crash huh.”

“Yes.” The man gingerly touches the bruise, sighs, “It’s my own fault for being careless.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, nearly spun out on the way to get you from the damn black ice.”

“I wish I could say that was the sole cause, but I was also asleep.”

Duck bites back the urge to scold him; he wants him to be comfortable around him and besides, even if Duck is having a crappy night, this guy is having an even worse one.

“Wouldn’t be the first person who thought they could make it one more town before stoppin for the night and was wrong.”

“True. It’s just that, ah, I’ve been driving three days straight without sleep.”

“Jesus Christ, you on the lamb or somethin?”

In his periphery, he swears the taller man flinches.

“No. Just having bad luck with a chaser of poor choices.”

“Gotcha.” Duck drums on the wheel, “so, uh, Mr. Wilde, what do you do when you ain’t stuck in the snow?”

“I draw. And Indrid is fine…” he peers awkwardly at Duck’s name tag, “Duck.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Ah. Are you a mechanic as well as a driver?”

“Yep. Do it part-time when I’m not workin at the national forest. Friend of mine, Ned, runs the garage attached to the Cryptonomica.”

“I recall seeing that when I drove through. Quite the Jacks of all trades, you two,”

“Most of Kepler’s got more’n one job. It’s the kind of place that’s always losin fundin or people, just barely stayin afloat.”

“One sympathizes. Do you like your jobs?”

“Trained in forestry, so it’s always what I’ve wanted to do. The mechanic stuff,” Duck shrugs, ��nice workin with my hands and beein able to help folks out. And I ain’t half bad at it.”

“I certainly appreciate your efforts. I--wait, hold on, I’m sorry but I need to…” he turns up the radio, playing what Duck assumed was Santa Baby from the melody.

“He is saying ‘buddy.’ What in the world? Why would you change it?”

“Can’t have the fella in the red velvet suit thinkin you’re gay.” Duck jokes.

“Heaven forbid.” Indrid smiles, and Duck likes the expression so much he decides to see if he can get him to do it again.

“You wanna hear a slightly inappropriate joke?”

“Absolutely.”

“How come Santa don’t have any kids?”

“How come?”

“Because he only comes once a year and it’s down a chimney.”

There’s a beat and then Indrid guffaws, covering his face with his hands as his whole body shakes with amusement, “that was horrible, do you have any more?”

Thank god he’s got a wealth of bad jokes tucked in his brain. When he exhausts those he and Indrid trade brainteasers, stopping now and then to talk about their lives. The taller man asks Duck about his jobs, about the woods, and the town, and offers a few anecdotes in exchange. Duck senses they’re about they’re set in a time in his life that’s further away than Indrid would like.

Indrid also readily shares the snacks from his small backpack. Duck eats what he can while still safely piloting the car. Then nearly takes them across the yellow line when Indrid unwraps a Starburst with his tongue, and prays the man will stay in Kepler long enough for Duck to take him to dinner.

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

Given he was expecting a painfully awkward trip at best, Duck’s friendliness is a welcome surprise. Now that they’ve been stuck in the car together for close to two hours, Indrid is confident saying this is most fun he’s had talking to someone in a long time, even before things went all to hell.

It helps that Duck is the picture you’d get if you googled “Indrid Cold’s type”; sturdy, handsome in an unassuming way, undoubtedly pleasant to cuddle, with muscles that Indrid is positive could hold him up against a wall for at least a few minutes. In another life, one that’s so far away he fears he imagined it, he’d wait until they were done with the business portion of this evening, then slip Duck a card with his name in silver letters and his hotel room number on the back. The man is so genuine in his kindness too, Indrid feeling safer in the dark with him than he’s felt in years.

Which makes him feel even worse about what he’s going to do.

“Not too far now.” Duck turns the windshield wipers up a notch, “thank fuck for that.”

Indrid curls forward, holding his stomach, “I, ah, I really hate to say this, but I’m afraid my gas station lunch is coming back up.”

“Shit, okay, lemme pull over.” Duck guides the truck onto the side of the road, “do what you gotta do.”

His hands are on his lap, keys still dangling from the ignition. Indrid lunges over, grabbing them and trying to shove Duck into the door in one go. The mechanic is too fast, yanking the keys to his chest.

“What the fuck man!?”

“I’m so sorry about this!”

“Then fuckin stop!” Duck kicks, misses, and Indrid knees him in the stomach as gently as he can.

“I can’t, I need the truck.”

“Are you fuckin car-jackin me right now?”

“It’s not personal.” He gets the keys away, only for the world to flip ninety degrees as Duck tackles him backwards.

“It sure feels like it is!”

Indrid hoped that his survival instincts would kick in hard enough to make up for the exhaustion and that coupled with the element of surprise would bring him success. Instead, his limbs have no power behind them, and all he can do is curse when the driver flips him onto his stomach, trapping his hands behind his back and pinning him with his body weight.

“Fuck.” It’s a pathetic noise for a pathetic man.

“Explain. Now.” Duck growls.

“I, I, you were right when asked if I was on the lamb.”

“....fuckin what?”

“It was a set up, and I finally, finally got free, and, and I will not go back, I can’t, but if I’m out a car I need a replacement and-”

“And you almost stole a truck that’s got a goddamn tracker in it.”

“Oh.” He presses his face to the seat in shame.

“Somethin tells me you ain’t a seasoned crook.”

“I’m not a criminal at all! I have no idea what I’m doing. I was just going to drive and drive until I hit the coast, I hadn’t even decided what to do after. I, I’m sorry, I waited until we got close to town so you wouldn’t be too far away to walk home safely. I, ah, I wasn’t prepared for having to do this to someone I like.”

Duck shifts above him, mutters, “what the fuck do I do now” to himself, and tightens his hold on Indrid’s wrists.

Indrid whimpers, realizing with horror that his body responded to the mechanics of the fight but not it’s context.

Duck freezes at the noise, and when Indrid hazards a peek the mechanic is staring down in disbelief.

“Are you fuckin hard from this?”

There’s no use in lying, he’s faced worse humiliation than this, “Some. Not on purpose. I, ah, I enjoy rough treatment.”

Duck’s face fills with bitter amusement, “And I like givin it. But not to fellas who nearly steal my truck. Fuckin figures the first guy to flirt with me is doin it for some other reason.”

“That’s not true, my plan involved no flirting.” Indrid huffs, “I was flirting because I think you’re handsome.”

More pressure on his back as Duck leans down to whisper in his ear, grinding against his ass, “Yeah? Were you hopin I’d fuck you in here? Or over the hood when we got back?”

“Maybe.” He manages a smirk.

“Hopin I’ll fuck you now?”

Indrid nods, but Duck doesn’t notice. The mechanic sits all the way back, releasing his hands, “too damn bad, because unlike you, I only take things with permission.”

“C-consider it granted.”

The hand finds his back again, but instead of shoving or grabbing it strokes up and down, “Indrid, I’m serious. I ain’t doin anythin if the only reason you’re offerin is because you think I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

“I’m not. I want this, Duck, I want to be with you.” He’s going back to jail one way or another after this, unwilling to consider the thought of hurting Duck to get the keys. He’d rather go back with one happy memory and a few minutes of fun freshly stored in his mind.

There’s silence, Duck’s hand still as he thinks. Then it comes down hard on Indrid’s ass, “Okay sugar, happy to oblige you. Besides, seems to me you owe me an apology for that sorry excuse for a car theft.”

Indrid moans loudly when Duck hauls onto his elbows and knees, though it’s the pet name that hits deeper than any of the much-welcome pain. The waistband of his dollar store sweatpants hits his thighs, there’s a pop of something plastic, and then a slick finger is teasing between his asscheeks.

“Vaseline. Great for keepin your skin from cracking in the cold.”

The finger disappears and he whines, pushing his ass back and getting it slapped so hard he yelps.

“Nice try. But this ain’t for you, it’s for me. Don’t got a condom and only got a tiny bit of this left and it ain’t enough to fuck you full on.”

“It’s alright, I like the pain, you could use spit or-”

“Nope” another slap, “that turns into the bad kinda pain real quick. Now open your fuckin legs.”

Indrid does so, gasps happily when Duck slides his lubed-up cock between his thighs.

“Close ‘em and keep ‘em closed. Good, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” The thrusts are already fast, Ducks hands holding his hips in place, “fuck, tell you what sugar, you may be a shitty crook but you’re a damn good lay.”

“Yes.” Indrid moans, scrabbling for a hold on the upholstery.

“Shit, you do like it rough. Like it when I talk like that?” One hand comes down, petting Indrid’s head and brushing his hair away from where it’s stuck over his eyes.

“So much, Duck, please, please, more, I want more AHgod!” Tears slip past his glasses as Duck hits the right side of his ass over and over again. He’s been treated like a criminal mastermind, made miserable because of it, so being nothing more than an eager piece of ass is a welcome change.

“Then I oughta tell you this is what you get for tryin to get one over on me. Think you can throw my ass out in the cold? Gonna turn yours so red you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

He’s so hard it isn’t even funny, and beneath the wonderful cycle of pain-relief-pain-relief his mind chants safesafesafesafe.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m so fuckin lucky you tried that stunt on me, can’t wait to cum all over that cute little ass, ohyeah, fuck, fuckyeah.” He pulls out, cum spurting onto Indrid’s ass and legs and Indrid hears his own voice saying “thank you” as he does.

As he’s contemplating what form of begging will earn him an orgasm, he’s flipped onto his back, one calloused hand pressing him down by the shoulder while the other jerks him off. He squeaks and squirms, one palm thwacking into the door as his right leg catches the steering wheel.

“Sensitive, sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you bent over for me.”

“TechnicallyAH, you, you’re the one who bent me over.”

Duck jerks him extra hard in reply, grinning. The sight of him is just the right balance of menacing and protective that Indrid only needs two more bucks of his hips before he’s cumming. The mechanic works him through it, squeezing him roughly just to hear him whimper (Indrid’s certain of it).

He sits back and starts putting his clothes in order as Indrid lays there, panting from exertion and the weight of reality on his chest.

“I don’t suppose you have something I can, ah, wipe off with before you take me to the station?” He asks softly.

“I’m not taking you to the police, Indrid.”

“What? Why?” He bolts up, his mind screaming that he shouldn’t ask too many questions lest it make Duck change his mind.

“I’m not sure what kinda guy fucks someone and then hands them over to the cops, but I’m damn sure I don’t wanna be one.”

“You’d do that without even knowing the full truth?”

“Wouldn’t mind if you told me.” Duck starts the car, adds “seatbelt” as he pulls back onto the road.

Indrid gets his pants up and buckles in, huddling in on himself, “As you probably guessed, my name isn’t Wilde. It’s Indrid Cold. Wilde was the man I stole that car from, who also had a very nice AAA plan it seems. I am, or was, an architect. Quite talented, if I do say so myself. And many other people said so, once upon a time. My firm got a contract with a certain large city to design and help build a bridge. I was head of design, and I was certain this would be the project that made my name. It did. Just not how I hoped.”

Duck slows down as they reach the edge of Kepler.

“Have you ever heard of the Silverlake Bridge?”

“Ain’t that the one that collapsed a few years agooh, oh shit was that your bridge?”

“Yes. Halfway through the project, I became concerned that certain elements of the design would not be as stable as they needed to be and might collapse without warning. The higher ups said it would require a larger budget to do the new, far safer design, but gave me the go ahead to finish my proposal of the securer model. They accepted that design, and I thought that was the end of it. Turns out, they funneled the money needed for the better bridge into their own pockets, both my bosses and the representatives from the city. Unbeknownst to me, they built the weaker bridge. When it collapsed I” he takes a deep breath, the memories surfacing in a tidal wave, “I was shocked, and prepared to accept responsibility, as I could not understand how the design failed. It was only when the investigation revealed how it failed that I understood my warnings had been ignored and I was being set up as a fall guy. Not only for the collapse, but for the missing funds, my bosses swearing up one side and down the other that they’d given the money to me to manage. They’d had this planned for months, and so had built our communication in such a way that I had no proof the money hadn’t come to me. Thus I was blamed, tried, and convicted, and in the minds of many I am responsible for the death of 67 people.”

The engine shuts off and he looks up to see them in an auto garage. Duck is turned to him, face so sad and sympathetic that Indrid could almost believe..

“You think I’m telling the truth.”

“I know you are. Not sure how, but even though I ain’t much of a liar myself, I can usually tell when someone is bullshittin me.”

“I don’t want to go back to prison.”

“You won’t.”

“Duck I, I can’t ask you to hide me, that could put you in danger of arrest.”

“There’s all of four cops in Kepler, and I’d bet my life no one here could pick you out of a line-up as a ‘disgraced architect Indrid Cold.’ And if we need a cover story, Ned’s got a knack for ‘em.”

“We?”

Duck cups his cheek and Indrid leans into it, “You and me. Indrid, I think fate is a load of bullshit, but I can’t shake the feelin me pickin you up tonight was meant to be. Lemme help you, please.”

Indrid sets his hand on Duck’s own, “Okay. Ah, where do I stay? I have fifty dollars left.”

“Could stay with me if you want. No strings attached.”

“Is that your way of letting me down gently?”

“My way of saying you don’t gotta fuck me to have a place to live. If you wanna fuck me just because, say the word and I’ll rail you into next week.”

“I’d like both those things so very much. Though right now all I want is to sleep.”

Duck leans forward, kissing him so chastely that the following lovebite is all the more thrilling.

“In that case, sugar, let’s get you home.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #mechanic au #on the run

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

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You Can STAY- Part Two

F/M Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (side pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: language

Summary: Y/N has settled into her position as the Castle’s royal mage. She’s also getting to know the King’s sons, even if that means dealing with Seungmin’s challenging comments and Felix’s brooding nature.

Tag List: @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @staycarat0801 @jjabbur @pinkchcn @smolchild-lol @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @choisaemi @dru-shadow @skzooyeet

A/N: I’ve completely revamped this series. If you look at the masterlist, there are now only 12 parts instead of 20. For a while, I had writer’s block on this series, but I realized that it was because I was super intimidated by my own outline. I think I’ve figured out how to make it more manageable! Hopefully, this means updates once or twice a month (this will also be the shortest part).

Part Two The fresh herbs sold at the Clè Kingdom’s marketplace were incredibly valuable. They were also of the utmost quality, and I had been spending most of the day occupied by choosing the best selection for my private stores at the castle. But I could easily spend most of my time here, surrounded by the things that I loved to create, and my mind was thinking about all of the combination possibilities.

“How about this one, miss?” a vendor asked, holding up a fresh batch of chamomile for my inspection.

“I’ll take it,” I said, offering her payment in exchange for the chamomile. The smell was delicious, and I inhaled deeply before proceeding on my path through the surrounding patrons.

It was a beautiful day; the kind of day that managed to maintain my cheerful smile. The air was warm and welcoming, and I was beginning to think that I was feeling truly happy despite my isolated existence ever since I had first arrived at the castle.

However, up ahead in the distance, I wavered at a booth selling tulips when a passing group of village girls let out obnoxious giggles. “Did you see the fourth prince? He was so handsome!”

“I can’t believe they’re traveling so far away from the Castle!”

“Look! There they are!”

I followed their gazes, frowning at the sight of the King’s youngest sons walking in our direction. I attempted to ignore them, turning my attention to another vendor, but I startled when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The contact was unexpected, and I spun around in surprise to see four of the King’s sons standing in the middle of the market. “Oh!” I said, adjusting my hold on the basket. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

They were all polite smiles, and I recognized them as Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin from our previous introductions during the choosing ceremony. “We haven’t had a chance to be properly acquainted,” Jisung said, bowing low at the waist before standing taller. “We thought you could join us while we visited the town.”

“I don’t know...” I hesitated, wondering what the appropriate response should be considering my status and the eyes of the village watching us with obvious interest.

“It’s alright if you’re concerned,” Hyunjin said with a pleasant smile. “But I always like to have an audience when I play my music.”

“Music?” I questioned, noticing, for the first time, the simple guitar wrapped around Hyunjin’s shoulders.

“I’ve been playing since I was young,” Hyunjin explained. “Of course, my father doesn’t appreciate my music, but I always come to the village to play for whoever wants to listen.”

“He’s pretty good,” Jisung joked, nudging his brother playfully. “It makes for a good use of your time.”

I studied their brotherly banter for a moment before nodding. “I would love to listen.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jisung declared, reaching out to tuck my arm against his. “Let’s go before we lose more daylight!”

My face warmed at the unexpected contact between myself and Jisung, but I chose not to say anything as I allowed the brothers to escort me through the village. From behind us, Seungmin and Jeongin had yet to speak a single word, but I chose to ignore their cold auras. Because Seungmin had already proven himself to be less than desirable.

However, it was easy to disregard Seungmin’s dismissive attitude when I finally heard Hyunjin play for the very first time. It was nothing short of magical, and I should know that better than anyone. In fact, the soft melody of his guitar complimented his raspy vocals, singing an unfamiliar tune that attracted a large crowd of village onlookers who expressed their appreciation for his efforts.

Jisung was the first to start clapping when Hyunjin finished his song, and the other villagers joined along. “Bravo, brother,” Jisung said, clapping Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Another masterpiece.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seungmin muttered. “Can’t we do something else?”

Hyunjin scoffed while Jisung simply chuckled. “Of course! I know we came out here to have fun.”

I glared in Seungmin’s direction, wondering if he was this rude to everyone, before I reached down to grab my basket. “I suppose I should return to my shopping-”

“Hey, mage,” Seungmin interrupted, shoving aside his brothers when he pushed his way to the front. I tried not to roll my eyes at the younger prince, especially considering the way that he held his head high like he was excessively proud of his interruption. He reached into my basket to study one of the fresh apples. “You think you’re too good for us?”

I frowned. “I never insinuated such things.” Seungmin flinched when I held out my hand to summon the apple back from him with a simple command. “And I don’t think you want to challenge me,” I added before taking a bite of the delicious fruit.

Jisung raised a brow, clearly impressed. “My brother would appreciate a challenge! We’re planning to practice archery in the forest.”

Seungmin pouted as he eyed the apple in my hand. “She doesn’t look like she could handle it.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked him. “My father taught me archery when I was younger, and I was the best in our village.”

The comment was intended to act as a challenged, and as I expected, Seungmin didn’t take well to my tone, rolling back his shoulders as he glared at me. “I challenge you to an archery competition,” Seungmin said. “No magic.”

“Okay,” I said with a grin. “But I hope you can accept the results.”

“As long as you’re willing to play fair,” Seungmin huffed, tossing his robes behind him as he started in the direction of the Castle with Jeongin faithfully by his side.

Meanwhile, Jisung looked at me with a wicked smile. “I hope you kick my brother’s ass.”

Hyunjin snickered, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulders as they led the way to the royal archery courts.

Seungmin watched me from afar as I busied myself with scanning the available offerings of archery bows that had been delivered by the Castle servants. As someone who considered herself to be of smaller stature, I needed something light-weight and flexible. Thankfully, Hyunjin was more than willing to assist me, and we tried out a variety of bows before settling on an offering that felt like it had been born to serve me.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I said lazily, enjoying the look of frustration written across Seungmin’s countenance at my nonchalant attitude.

He stepped forward with determination, raising his bow and notching the first arrow before he focused all of his attention on the target board waiting in the low coverage of the trees. I held my breath, admiring his perfect form and the light bead of sweat dotting his brow from his intense concentration. Eventually, he pulled back and released the arrow, and we all watched as it soared through the air in a perfect arch before landing close to the middle.

There was a smattering of applause from his siblings, and Seungmin turned around and bowed before smirking. “Try and beat that, mage,” he said, cocking one brow in derision while he joined Jeongin on the sidelines.

I sighed at his tone, taking my position and adjusting my posture. It took me longer to prepare my bow and arrow, but I had not touched the weapon in many years. Still, it was annoying to hear Seungmin snickering at my obvious lack of experience, and I swallowed hard as I tried to remember my lessons. I rolled my eyes as I notched my arrow, holding the bow between my hands as I focused on the target. I released a shaky exhale as I held up my bow and sent the first arrow flying through the air.

With a dull CLINK! it made contact with the very center of the target, and Jisung started laughing and dancing around the field like he was thoroughly entertained by my success. Even Hyunjin planted a hand over his mouth to stiffle his obvious amusement. But Seungmin was positively enraged.

“You’re cheating!” Seungmin exclaimed. “She’s using magic.”

“I told you to accept the results,” I said. “It seems that you can’t admit defeat.”

“Do you expect me to believe that a common mage managed to hit the middle of the target on your first attempt!” Seungmin growled.

“I didn’t use magic,” I retorted sharply, shoving the bow at Jisung. “That is all I have to say on the subject. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to that won’t leave me on the receiving end of a ridiculous prince’s ridicule!”

“How dare you!” Seungmin shouted to my retreating figure, but I payed him no attention as I picked up my basket from the forest floor. He was nothing but a pest who wasn’t used to the common folk challenging his authority. Seungmin was a silly child, and I should’ve anticipated that he wouldn’t let me simply walk away. Still, the impact was jarring, and I fell to the ground with Seungmin on top, fighting for control over my attacking hands which I refused to allow him. In the meantime, his brothers stood off to the side, laughing at our skirmish.

“Seungmin, this is embarrassing,” Jisung said.

“Father would be so disappointed,” Hyunjin added, and neither brother made any attempt to stop our foolish fight. But no matter how many times I tried to throw off Seungmin’s lanky form, he kept up the assault, trying to pin my hands next to my head.

“You’re immature,” I spat at him.

“Well, you’re a cheater!” Seungmin retorted, squealing when I raked my nails down his arms.

“HEY!”

The two of us immediately froze at the sound of a strikingly familiar command, and I glanced over Seungmin’s shoulder and frowned at the approaching figure. “What’s going on here?” Felix demanded, and I shivered at his deep voice.

“N-Nothing,” Seungmin stuttered, and I was fascinated by his abrupt change in demeanor. He rolled off to the side, struggling to stand on his own two feet, while I propped myself up into a sitting position.

Felix glanced between us with narrowed green eyes, and his hair looked like it was practically on fire underneath the influence of the sun. Finally, his gaze settled on me. “Did my father bring you here to play around all day, mage?”

I bristled at his words. “You misunderstand, your majesty.”

There was venom behind my tone, but Felix didn’t appear any less intimidated. “You’re going to be trouble for us, aren’t you?”

I shook my head, returning to a standing position as I confronted the Prince. “Your brother was the one who requested my presence. I won’t have these unnecessary slights against my character.”

“Is that so?” Felix asked, and there was a slight upturn to his upper lip that relaxed some of his earlier tension. “I think you’re awfully proud of yourself, mage, considering that you’re in a position of servitude.”

“One that I agreed to, your highness,” I remarked. “This position is desired amongst my people, and I was able to secure it for myself. Do you really think that after all my hard work, I’d willingly sabotage that which I have earned?”

“I suppose not,” Felix allowed, lowering his gaze. “Forgive me.”

“Perhaps when such forgiveness is justified,” I said, and before Felix could offer another sharp retort, the arrival of a new presence seemed to relinquish the authority to de-escalate the situation even further.

“This is a surprising meeting,” Prince Chan declared upon his entrance, and his smile was wide when he continued in our direction. “Is there a problem?”

“Not anymore,” Felix said, and he had the audacity to smile at me like we were suddenly friends despite his earlier words.

“My apologies, your highness,” I said, offering Felix’s apology to Chan, and I was pleased to see Felix’s smile disappear. “I was invited here by your brothers.”

“All of them?” Chan asked, stopping next to us as he gave Felix a meaningful look. “Father told you to stay inside the castle, did he not?”

Felix sneered, giving me one last lingering look before promptly walking off in the direction of the Castle’s main entrance. In the meantime, Chan looked around at his younger brothers. “I think we’re done here.”

Jisung and Hyunjin bowed in compliance while Seungmin rejoined Jeongin with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest in a petulant manner. “As you wish,” I said, nodding politely before reaching down for my basket.

“Walk with me,” Chan requested, reaching out for my wandering hand, and I was more than happy to oblige.

Chan was quiet during our walk back to the Castle. But conversation didn’t seem necessary, especially when his entire persona evoked a sense of calming. It was peaceful between us, and I continued to sneak glances at his handsome profile, wondering about the person beyond the golden-blonde hair and angelic blue eyes.

“You’re curious,” Chan remarked, pausing outside of the castle’s doors. “It only seem natural considering your circumstances.”

“I suppose,” I said, connecting my hands behind my back. “But it really isn’t any of my business.”

“On the contrary,” Chan said, opening the door for me like some kind of otherworldly gentleman. “I think you should ask questions about the people you wish to serve.”

I nodded my head, but didn’t say anything else as I followed him inside. I wasn’t certain of Chan’s intentions, but he seemed to be taking me somewhere, and I was polite enough to respect him. Of all the brothers I had met so far, with the exception of Felix, Chan intrigued me the most. But at least my curiosity for Chan was genuine while my study of Felix was rooted in suspicion for the young Prince who clearly did not belong here.

“My quarters,” Chan said, pausing outside of a room at the end of the hallway. “I hope you don’t mind, but my wife has asked to meet you.”

I blinked in surprise. “Oh, of course not, your highness.”

Chan smiled, encouraging me to enter the sparsely furnished room where I noticed a beautiful young woman waiting for me on the impressive bed that sat beneath an overhanging window. “Hello,” the woman greeted me politely.

I bowed once, looking back at Chan who observed the two of us without a hint of emotion. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, hesitating only briefly before I walked further inside the room. I swallowed hard when I noticed the raised bumps decorating the skin of her arms.

“The castle’s new mage,” she said. “I’m glad that you could make time for me.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I cannot lie and say that I wasn’t curious when I first learned of your identity.”

“Well, your handmaidens likely only told you about the poor woman who is dying,” she said, and I could see Chan wince from the corner of my eye. “My name is Ella, and I promise that I’m more than that.”

“Oh,” I said, struggling for the right words. “I hope that you don’t think that I’ve thought less of you.”

“Of course not,” Ella said. “However, I know what most of the people here think about me.”

Chan cleared his throat, and he appeared uncomfortable with the conversation. “Darling, I think we can try to visit the gardens tonight, if you’d like.”

Ella nodded, and her eyes glimmered with the promise of such a seemingly innocuous occasion. “I would love that,” she said, before looking back at me. “Chan tells me that you’ve already left a strong impression on his siblings and the King. I hear that you’re the strongest magic user to ever serve the Castle.”

“Well, I’ll certainly have to prove myself worthy of such a title,” I said. “I’ve been practicing magic since before I can even remember.”

“What a beautiful gift,” Ella remarked. “I’m sure you’ve done a lot of good with your abilities.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “I love to help the people in this kingdom.”

“I’m sure you’re also adept at healing,” she continued. “Wouldn't you say?”

I widened my eyes in surprise when I caught the implicit meaning behind her comment. “I have a talent for it,” I said, keeping my remarks vague because I never expected to hear this fragile young woman, during our very first meeting, request that I restore her health.

“Interesting,” she said, giving me a knowing look that I chose to store away until I could process the implications. “I know you have other responsibilities,” Ella said. “Thank you for seeing me.”

I bowed again to demonstrate my respect before I followed Chan back out into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” Chan said, refusing to look at me. “I know it was shameful of her to ask for your help.”

“It caught me off-guard,” I said. “But I don’t like to see anyone suffering. What sort of disease does she have?”

“It’s a very rare disease,” Chan explained to me, and there was a stunning amount of emotion behind his tone. “I don’t know much about it, but I know that they cannot cure her.”

“I see.”

“Y/N.” Chan sighed, and there was a raw vulnerability in his gorgeous blue eyes that exposed his desperation. “Ella hasn’t been herself since her diagnosis. I can barely recognize the woman that I married.”

“Your highness,” I said. “If you allow me, then I’d like to do my best to help Ella. In the best way that I can.”

“Really?” Chan asked, and his eyes glistened at their corners. “I would be forever in your debt.”

“The King’s sons owe me nothing,” I said. “I have no right to ask of anything in return for my services.”

“But?” Chan questioned.

I took a deep breath, searching the perimeter to ensure that we were truly alone before I leaned in closer. “Tell me everything you know about Prince Felix.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids fantasy au #skz fantasy au #you can stay #y/n x lee felix #lee felix fanfic #felix fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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melaboveall · 3 years

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Cancel Culture is Toxic

The moment you people will realize how toxic the cancel culture community is the moment your lives will be so much more peaceful. Cancel culture is so toxic and inconsistent. These are not people who you should be reaching out to online for help and guidance. These are also people you don’t need as your friends too unless they get their shits together mentally and gain peace within themselves becuase all I ever see them do to you is spread hate. They are like High School or Elementary school kids in adults bodies but even worse. You see cancel culture it was nice at first, I admit, when it was about calling out homophobes, rapists, sexually assaults, racists, abusers, murderers, rape apologists, those type of things but then it got out of control. The wrong people y’all looked up too became the voices for yall because they refuse to even hold themselves accountable and lash out at others for their current wrongdoings. Sometimes cancel culture is so toxic that what the person did wasn’t even bad. The problem is "cancelling" someone now has become an excuse for bullying someone online you don't like. Also to be mean to others because of their ego has these toxic fanbases liek them knowing they’re going to defend their trash behaviors.

You really bully someone into apologizing and then have the nerve to tell them their apology isn’t genuine. It's kind of like "I don't like something that you said, so now I will proceed to ruin your life so that no one else can see the content which you produce".

Are you really using cancel culture to really hold people accountable? But then in the back of my mind, the questions I need to ask now do you want them to change, be dead, get fired, or show you dislike someone? My heart is different, I don’t want those to die, I do want them to change if the mistake wasn’t that bad but I’ve seen most of y’all really wished death on people even for something so small and when people can learn better from that and that’s really a big problem. Y'all didnt grow up to hold people accountable or become woke like y’all think yall did and this shows. If you want to hold people accountable look at yourself in the mirror because the way your energy has been showing it isn’t it. You’re using cancel culture as an scapegoat to hide it behind your hurt and hatred to take out on others. So you have lived your like being this perfect person with no wrongdoings or mistakes? That’s what it sounds like. Look at how you’re acting now. You’re not woke, you’re hurting. You’re not woke, you got deep rooted anger within you. You’re not woke, you’re bitter. You’re not woke, you became toxic. But why is it time to say you’re wrong you get sp upset to take shots at others? So it’s okay for you to call out others to hold them accountable but the moment it’s time for you its wrong? Check your egos.

People of the cancel culture will do anything to ruin a person’s name even if it means digging deep into their past to look for one single bad decision they made. Cancel culture implies that human beings don't have the ability to change or grow from their mistakes. People can get cancelled over something they did multiple years ago, which isn’t always a true reflection of the person they are today. People grow and change. Nobody is the same as they were when they were younger. You can get cancelled for doing the smallest little thing wrong. It’s ridiculous. And the moment people try do do some good you have to reminds others of the bad. Maybe you don’t want them to change to become a better person for yall own guilts that maybe you’re hiding to make you feel better about yourselves. Get you some therapy please instead of creating a toxic platform on the internet and teaming up with internet friends you dont know personally but can relate to your mentality to bully and humilate others. You probably was that loner in school, now you’re taking whatever you went throught out on others growing up and teaming up with internet folks relating like yourselves “calling out” folks. I promise yall will feel better about yourselves if you stop emulating your high school bullies and trauma bonding with other adults who haven't grown since either.

You put on blast, constantly dragging someone while tagging your internet friends 24/7 threatening to unfriend them if they don’t unfriend that person themselves because you have a problem with them or they’re whatever they are to you or pick at everything that doesn't align with your views and your experience. And when you don’t feel like unfriending you’re apparently caping for that person or “allowing them into your space.” You need to get off the internet and get a life if you really think that. I mean go ahead and unfriend and block me then because you fail to realize how draining that gets to constantly being told to unfriend or block whoever you have a problem with. It’s all drama from you at this point.

If were being honest, at this rate everyone in this world will be cancelled at some point because everyone has done something they have better themselves in. Everyone has made some mistake or a bad choice once in their lives. As long as it’s not rape or murder or being a pedophile who cares?

I’ve seen people forgive others for THEMSELVES and still be cancelled only just because you yourselves want to hold that grudge and not forgive. It’s scary to think you’re not allowed to forgive the so called problematic anymore. It should be called bully culture instead of cancel culture.

The other big issue with cancel culture is that it doesn't really tackle the issues it is against. Silencing people with views, opinions, ideas you don't like doesn't challenge or make those go away. It just builds resentment and increases the distance between people. Now I feel y’all caused people scared to voice their own opinions because you’re going to get others to drag that person and put on blast. Talking and listening to people brings us together. We say “mental health is so important”, then we wreck peoples’ mental health by “cancelling” their existence and voice.

If you’re really this type of person I really don’t want you into my space. You fanbases of these type of people are dangerous too. Get you some help instead of being on the internet trying to drag people all the time. The problem is you more than you think of others you’re trying to drag and cancel.

#diary

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buttercup-of-kaer-morhen · 4 years

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Of Thorns and Buttercups

~Ch 1/?~ (Beauty and the Beast AU, Kiiiinda. It has definite elements of the original story cause I’m a sap for Fairytale AUs. I hope you enjoy. Also shout out to @sophiakuso1 for being my beta.) Warnings: Brief mention of violence, blood, and there’s a death scene... so there’s that, also, non-sentient animated furniture violence? I don’t know if that will bother anyone but they will kinda act like living things when they show up in the story, so... Primary Tags: Beast! Geralt, Belle! Jaskier, Memory Alteration Via Curse, It really only affects Jaskier right now Also on AO3!

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The roads down from the mountain had been quiet aside from the sounds of the woods and its inhabitants, although those too seemed muted and subdued now. The witcher had thought that once he was left alone, his life would just go back to the way it was before. That everything up until then wouldn’t make a difference, he’d walk the path alone and he’d be fine...But the absence of the bard hung heavily around him, like an albatross hanging from his neck. He finally had the blissful peace and quiet he had longed for but it wasn’t as blissful as he thought it would be. It only left him uneasy, looking over his shoulder and straining to hear even the softest of humming or the strum of a lute. More than just the noise that no longer followed him, the comforting warm presence of Jaskier was no longer at his side. And for the first time in his long life of making mistakes, he couldn’t push away the deep feeling of regret that tailed him like a hungry hound.

At first, during his descent down the mountain, Geralt had a moment of realization that his-- the bard could have easily gotten hurt--or worse, killed--heading down on his own without the witcher’s protection. He watched and listened for any indication that Jaskier had been injured as he walked on. As time went by, the wolf resigned himself to the fact that Jaskier was long gone, whether that meant alive or dead he did not know. It left a soft taste in his mouth and the feeling of bile in the back of his throat. The night he reached the base and set up camp, he briefly felt the urge to run and track down his lost friend, wherever he may be, but he held fast and let the urge pass. It was better this way. Jaskier deserved better. At least better than a wolf that only knew how to bite the kind hand he extended. If the bard wasn’t at his side then he was safer as well. No longer being put in danger by the monsters and battles that followed Geralt no matter where he went. He was undoubtedly happier too. He would find someone who knew how to actually give a compliment or a proper critique of his songs. It had to be true because that was the only thought that kept the witcher content as he laid awake through the evening. Geralt didn’t know why his parting with Jaskier haunted him more than his one with Yennafer but it did. Maybe because their bond wasn’t forged mostly by magic. Maybe it was because the bard seemed like such a permanent fixture in his life now. He pondered it until dawn but when the sun rose, he still had not found an answer. The following morning, he set off on the path in search of his next contract. He had no place specific in mind so he pulled Roach in the direction of the sea and let the siren call of it pull him towards his next job.

After a few weeks of traveling, he came upon a small town not too far off from the ocean that seemingly fell on hard times, although most villages seemed to have suffered the same fate nowadays. He was met with suspicion and distrust, not that he was unused to it, but this town in particular felt very quiet and reserved for it’s immodest size. People lurked in their homes instead of out on the streets or in their gardens and shuttered their windows and barred their doors as he passed. He could tell that poverty plagued the area and the sour smell of starvation was practically suffocating. He had made to go to the inn to check if there were any contracts posted, doubtful although something was so obviously wrong here, but a movement caught his attention. Looking in the subject that caught his eye, he spotted an elderly hag waving for him to follow before promptly disappearing down an alley. Wary of the situation, Geralt hesitantly followed with his hand ready at his sword. The woman kept ahead, only glancing back occasionally to make sure he followed, as she led him to a hut at the edge of the town. The door was left open behind her in invitation for him to follow but caution had him pausing just outside the hovel.

“Scared Witcher?” The bemused voice of the hag called out when he neglected to follow.

He grunted in response and crossed the threshold. Staying near the door, he crossed his arms as he waited to hear what the woman had to say.

“Not very talkative I see.” She spoke again as she settled atop an old stool in front of a decrepit hearth. He hummed with a frown, which only seemed to amuse her more before she continued on. “No work lies in the town for you Witcher, nor does a warm welcome. Poverty has cast a dark shadow on the folk of this place and they do not take kindly to strangers nor are they willing to pay them since they already have so little to spare. But I have a contract for you, which I am willing to pay greatly for if you are able to complete it fully.”

Geralt mulled over the words, doubtful of her promises due to her current state but curiosity won. He wondered what kind of job demanded such a steep price and so he nodded for her to continue. The hag grinned softly, a deep sadness in her eyes shown as she spoke. “There is a keep hidden deep in the forest. Within lies a curse that stretches out and brings ruin to the village. None can get close though, for a beast lurks in the stone halls of the old ruin. My magic has gone and been taken from me when the calamity hit. I was left with nothing but to grow old in this town, being the only one to remember the curse and the keep’s existence. If you can end the curse, I will be able to reward you with whatever you may desire once I have my magic back.”

Geralt thought over the offer but something was off. There was something still missing from her story. “If the misfortune only reaches the town, why not just leave? It wouldn’t have a hold over you then.”

“Ah yes… Sadly I must remain because all those who were in the town at the time of the curse are now held prisoner by it. We cannot escape even if we wanted to. Usually this place is forgotten and hidden by the spell from travelers but it seems you may have been destined to come here.” She clarified with a cheeky smile, the glint in her eye making him uncomfortable.

“What is the creature? It’s type?” He asked brusquely, wanting more details then the scraps she gave before he headed out. If he could, he would like to prepare for a potential battle or at the very least know what to expect when he arrived.

“None like any that you have heard of to be sure.” She responded lightly before awaiting his decision quietly.

A part of him told him to leave and not look back but a very small traitorous voice in the back of his mind pointed out that this was a way to get his--the bard back, if only to make sure he hadn’t died on the mountain. So he found himself nodding in acceptance and being directed on how to get to the keep.

As he made his way deeper into the forest, the sun slowly disappeared behind the thicket of trees, which seemed magical in nature due to the fact that the leaves on the trees wane more and more as though winter was setting in. He also had to be mindful of the underbrush for Roach’s sake. The nearer they drew, the more bramble bushes and winding tangles of thorny vines appeared. By the time he exited the forest onto the grounds of the keep, the air had chilled and snow fell blanketing the world in silence. No sound of birds or foraging animals penetrated the suffocating silence. “Yeah, definitely cursed…” He huffed quietly to Roach.

The witcher slowly made his way through the gardens which, although covered in thick blankets of snow, had hundreds of roses blooming all around. He found a small stable to shelter Roach in while he dealt with whatever beast laid in the keep and the curse. Making his way through the hold proved easy, too easy. No traps or surprises waited around every corner. That made him worry all the more though. If the source of the magic that imprisoned the town was here unguarded, then that meant whoever cast it was certain their beast could dispose of any threat that may come. Another peculiar fact that Geralt took notice of was that there were no signs of previous battles in the halls. Only beautifully crafted and luxurious objects fit for royalty with all their gilding and detail lay about along with vines of roses which crept through the cracks, taking home amongst the decorative stone carvings. He ignored the warm well lit rooms, obvious traps with their enticing music and delicious smelling foods. Instead, he made his way further in. When it came to a divide in the two wings, he went to the west which lay in disrepair compared to the other. The welcoming cheer disappeared as he passed broken furniture and ripped portraits. Even in all the wreckage, there was still no sign of blood, and dust invaded his senses, keeping him from scenting out what creature may be lurking. Down the vast walkways, staircases, and passages, all the rooms were worn and barely accessible. With every passing second, Geralt’s anticipation grew, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he expected an attack and yet still none came.

The final room he came to seemed to be the master bedroom which he cautiously crept into. The bed was a mass of tatters and heaps of cloth, not that unlike a nest, and the rest of the furniture had been reduced to splintered piles of wood and metal. The object that caught his eye though was a faintly glowing bell dome that looked frosted over in ice as it sat on a small lone table in front of the windows. It felt like he was being pulled towards it. That was it, it had to be, the source of this curse. A creeping anxiety filled him as he crept closer to the object. This was all too easy and still no sign of the monster. When he was right in front of the delicate glass, he paused briefly to take in the wilted rose, if you could call it that, that only had a singular petal still attached to the stem. A sense of loss and mourning filled him as he reached out.

Before his hand could touch the glass however, a growl snapped him back to the room around him. He turned quickly, unsheathing his sword and striking the creature that had leapt at him from its hiding place near the bed. His sword thrust with a meaty thunk into the center of the monster’s chest. Decades of hunting and swiftly taking down monsters meant his aim was true and there was no saving the beast now. It was only as the beast crumpled to the floor did Geralt notice it’s claws had been retracted, showing it had had no real intention to harm. If it had wanted to, it could have easily snuck up on him while he was enthralled by the dome and gotten in at least one good hit. “Fuck…” He swore under his breath, realizing his mistake and stooping low to get a better look at the creature. It’s body was like that of a lion but it had swirling horns that curled back over it’s mane and it’s pelt was as black as the charcoal left from a forest fire. It struggled to turn onto it’s back, wheezing wetly, until Geralt took pity on it and helped. Lichen grew in patches along the horns and across its face and pelt, one eye almost completely covered. It blinked blearily up at him as it coughed up the blood that was starting to pool in it’s lungs. He didn’t know what to do, the beast did not seem crazed or ferocious. When he looked it in the eye, all that showed was mournful regret.

The creature breathed deeply to collect itself before it opened it’s jaws and the voice of a man came out. “I am finally free-- ” It paused to cough before continuing. “You have saved… me from my torment--” Another coughing fit came and went. “But I fear the curse is yet undone… You--” The creature’s breath stuttered and a large claw fisted in Geralt’s shirt, pulling him down so he could hear it’s final whisper. “--You will be the making of your own curse… break it before the last petal falls.” As it’s voice petters out, the beast goes limp as it’s life falls away.

Geralt barely had time to process the words before a burning in his chest bloomed and rapidly made its way out to his limbs. He felt like he was burning alive just before his vision went black. When he came to, he felt heavy. Heavier than normal and his body ached as though he had just burned through one of his potions. He slowly ambled to his feet, feeling his armor shift in odd ways but the heavy weight of his medallion was missing. Before he could truly go into a frenzy searching for the silver piece, the small table caught his eyes. Instead of the frosted bell glass, a bird cage now stood in its place, the frost mingling with the silver that made up the twisting and curving bars that reminded him of the twisted thorn vines from the forest. As he stepped closer he saw the wilted flower was no more, instead replaced by a small bouquet of… Buttercups? Where the door of the cage should have been, the shape and design of his medallion sat. Upon seeing this, the witcher felt something heavy lower in his chest. He scrambled for any kind of reflective surface, noting his hands were now large white furred claws, thankfully still with opposable thumbs. Grabbing a shard of mirror from beside the bed, Geralt stared at the monster who looked back. The large yellow eye shown out from the thick white fur, dark horns curved back over his head, and large sharp teeth shown through when he grimaced. The mirror slipped from his hands as he stumbled and sat down heavily on the bed frame which groaned in response. He thought over the beast’s last words as the cold crept in around him.

The anguished howl echoed throughout the seemingly enchanted woods. All the animals quieted in fear while a young man hastened in the direction of the cry. The curiosity called out to him and drew him closer to a castle he had not noticed before. He needed shelter for the night from the sudden cold storm that had brewed and the blue and yellow flowers nestled in the snowy gardens were enchanting. He wondered what he would find inside as he came upon the darkened doors as night settled in around him. The snow now fell steadily and he wondered what destiny had in store for him.

#geraskier #Witcher #the witcher #witcher netflix #fanfic #geralt x jaskier #gerlion #Beauty and the Beast AU #beast!geralt #Buttercup's Writings

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alleiradayne · 4 years

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Long Jacket A Destiel-ish Series

Over the last few years, I’ve seen some of the craziest shit hunting with the Winchesters and their angel, Castiel. But this story right here? This isn’t about monsters. This isn’t about the battle between good and evil, heaven and hell. I understand all that.

It’s people I don’t get. People are crazy. And we do crazy things when we’re in love.

PART III - BOOTS

Summary: More awkwardness follows us to the station where we meet Dean’s contact, Detective Andrea Williams. Warnings/Tags: Awkward flirting, mentions of people going missing Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader, minor OFC (Detective Andrea Williams) Word Count: 1,095

Uncomfortable silence accompanied us on the ride to the precinct. When Dean had asked Sam to sit in front again, Sam protested. He had taken to riding in the backseat with me over the last year. Why, for a five-minute ride, would it make such a difference who rode shotgun?

I knew why. But I kept my mouth shut.

After a glare that threatened death, Sam sheepishly slipped into the front seat, and Castiel slid in beside me in the back. Despite the quick drive, Dean frequently cast casual glances in his rearview mirror. I didn’t bother asking after that, either. I’d only get some fib. Just checking his surroundings. Safe driver. Double-checking his outs. The usual.

No, the reason I did not ask him a damn thing was that I knew, without a doubt, he intended to sneak glances at Castiel. And I couldn’t blame him. Castiel admittedly looked dapper in his trim, gray suit.

A block shy of the station, Dean wrenched the mirror down to the floor. He squinted in the mirror as the Impala slowed. And then he looked over the back of the bench seat to scrutinize Castiel’s feet.

“Are… those my boots?” he asked as he turned his attention back to the road and parked the car along the curb.

Castiel exited the car first, then turned to Dean. “They have been sitting in the garage for months. I asked you about them, remember?”

“Yeah, and what did I say?” Dean replied as he rounded the front of the Impala.

Eager to hear the story unfold, I scrambled from the car and raced to catch up. Behind me, Sam slowed from his gallop, a crooked grin on his face as he, too, listened closely.

“That they were yours, but they were uncomfortable, so you were probably going to take them back,” Castiel explained. “I was going to give you—”

Dean held up a hand to silence him. “It’s fine, Cas. Keep ‘em.”

“But you spent—”

“I said you can keep them,” Dean hissed as we neared the building, for our contact stood outside and greeted us at the door. With his typical charm, Dean introduced her to us as one Detective Andrea Williams. Her bubbly greeting, bright smile, and perfectly blonde coiffure belied her towering and imposingly buff frame. And as Dean introduced us to her, the two appeared quite familiar with one another. Once he passed the pleasantries, he wasted no further time and got straight to business.

“So, four missing men, then?”

Detective Williams motioned them into the station with a nod of her head and then pointed to the hall on the lobby’s far side. “We’ll talk in my office.”

Empty interview rooms with open doors drifted past as Detective Williams rounded the corner for her office. As soon as the door shut, Castiel asked, “Is it always this quiet?”

Dean tossed a glare over his shoulder, only to blush again the second his eyes landed on him. It was almost as if he had forgotten; Dean eyed him from head to toe before averting his stare.

Detective Williams cleared her throat as she said, “It is, Agent Deacon.”

“No suspects?” Sam asked.

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. And there are actually five men missing now. Another report was filed last night.”

“Same profile?” I asked.

“Six-two, slender build, dark hair, Caucasian. Yes,” Detective Williams described. “In fact, they’re all the same age, too. Twenty-seven, with birthdays only weeks apart.” She flipped through a thin stack of papers on her desk. “But as far as we can tell, they don’t know each other. Different employers, families, friends. It’s… strange.”

Sam pointed to the stack of papers and asked, “Can I make copies? We’ll need to start interviewing folks right away.”

“Absolutely,” she said as she handed the stack over. “Copier’s right around the corner.”

When Sam turned on his heel to leave, Dean continued to question the detective. It was then that I saw an opportunity that I might not find again that weekend. I rounded on the door and slipped through before it closed, quick to follow Sam to the copier.

He spotted me over his shoulder, a subtle double-take that furrowed his brow. “What’s up?”

“Did you…” I paused as we arrived at the copier, and Sam opened it. “What’s going on with Cas?”

From furrowed to arched, Sam’s brow raised near to his hairline. “I have no idea. You’re talking about the suit, right?”

“And the sweatpants yesterday,” I added.

Sam chuckled as he started the copier with a forceful stab of his index finger. “Christ, I forgot about that already.”

“The suit was pretty distracting,” I admitted. “But why? And why does it have Dean all flustered?”

When the first page finished, Sam flipped to the next. “I… that’s a brilliant question.”

I took the copies from the machine as they jumped into the tray. “I’m going to keep an eye on them.”

“Me, too,” Sam said. “Speaking of keeping an eye on things, do you have any thoughts on these missing guys?”

The pages of their profiles flipped under my thumb as I continued to add sheets Sam copied to it. “No. Nothing suggests any sort of thread between them. You know…”

When I trailed off, my thoughts buried in the papers I held, Sam hunched a little closer. “Y/N? You okay?”

I shook my head. “Yeah. I don’t think there’s a case here. I think Dean just wanted to get laid.”

Sam’s grimace paired with his typical eye roll. “I kinda thought that, too. But, just to be safe, we should still interview some folks.”

He handed me the last photocopy as I spoke. “Agreed.”

Before Sam could speak again, Detective Williams’ office opened, and Castiel stepped through first, followed by Dean and the detective. She held her card out to Castiel, and as we approached, handed duplicates to Sam and I.

“Call me the minute you find anything,” she said. “Whoever or whatever it is, we want to handle it.”

More red flags. Castiel ground his jaw as Dean smiled and said, “You got it.”

Detective Williams smiled in return and retreated into her office. With a soft snict, the door clicked shut, and Dean turned to head down the hall for the lobby. Castiel followed with slumped shoulders and his head hanging between them. Ahead of me, Sam strode, his face buried in the dossier. Then I took up the rear, lagging, slowed by my completely befuddled thoughts.

And it was only going to get worse.

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

LONG JACKET MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

#alleiradayne writes #destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #castiel fanfic #castiel

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 3 years

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The Journals Of Derek Grady Part 1

This is a story set within my Bioshock Rebirth AU. A reimaging/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/626141727587270656/bioshock-rebirth-timeline-this-is-a-timeline-of-an Just as a heads up if anyone is wondering about the context. I’ve had some stories in my drafts for a long time now and I’m finally publicly sharing them.

I made a post talking about this. There is this character named Derek that was in one of my pilot stories for this AU. But I felt strangely ashamed of how I wrote him. But I’d feel it’s best to use him in better context. In something very intriguing. Mainly the point of view of the Rapture Civil War from someone who fought in it.

There is this silly theme of certain characters being named Derek in some AU’s of mine. Usual they are men that seem well intentioned, but their mind isn’t always in the best place. I’m just gonna make this because this is something I wanna make.

This was first started/made on December 23rd 2020. I’m not gonna have this beta read. It’s time I just upload this shit. I got the two tags done with. But I would like to mention I was heavily or so inspired by the Star Wars Battlefront 2 Classic story. Especially with the first journal from this character being inspired by the, “Knightfall” level. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lgG2ENW5Ac Spoilers ahead.

12/31/2001. The attack on the Kashmir restuarant.

I was a young kid when I first arrived in Rapture. I was naïve like many others. Many of used to believe in Andrew Ryan’s so called, “Great Chain”, until things started to fall apart. Especially after the death of scumbag Frank Fontaine. I find it funny he tried to put on a nice guy act whenever he met someone new or when he was in public, but I’ve heard the stories. The stories of the type of man he was.

But after Ryan nationalized Fontaine Futuristics in January 1999, a lot of people weren’t happy. It was surprising how long it took something to happen. So much dividing of social classes, so much shit that had happened during those years. What was gonna happen tonight would change everything forever...

I’ve been on Atlas’s crew of bandits since July. I felt joining Atlas was the best decision I made in my entire life. Because I felt I fighting for the right thing, a good cause. But what Atlas had planned sounded to me almost like terrorism.

Yet when I thought about it, I really thought hard to myself. After everything we’ve suffered, how Ryan started to push everyone away, how he tried keep himself in power. Even though Rapture was supposed to be the perfect paradise...Andrew Ryan, Brigid Tenenbaum, Augustus Sinclair, Sander Cohen, Yi Suchong, Sofia Lamb, and so many others...how they treated us.

First it was just riots, but now it was time for Ryan and everyone who supported him knew what we were. What we stood for. They were gonna find out we weren’t some bandits who kidnapped some rich assholes to get payback or robin hood archetypes helping poor folks.

There was no more talk for peace. Because Ryan never gave a damn...he never did.

1/31/2002. The Civil War starting. Apollo Square. Atlas and crew.

It’s been a month since we launched an attack on Kashmir. Things started to really change because the war for this city finally had truly begun. I have never been in war, but with the skills I’ve learned from Atlas and Daisy. I’d felt I was ready, because I needed to be. Not many of us were actual soldiers. But that didn’t matter to us. We knew what had to be done.

But we didn’t knew that Ryan would try to make Apollo Square a prison camp. Yet that didn’t matter, when those so called security officers first started to set people ablaze when they tried escaping. We shot any who would tried to do such things again. When they were hanging people, we fought back because we got tired of their bullshit. We didn’t fuck around. I felt proud when I shot one of those damn officers in the head.

Apollo Square was practically our paradise. Sure Ryan’s army kept trying to get in, yet we always defended it. Yet even without Ryan, we still had others to worry about.

I feel pretty damn grateful a lot of our weapons were smuggled from the surface. We kept some of the weapons Ryan’s men had as well.

But I think what I felt more grateful was our leaders. Daisy Fitzroy was practically Atlas’s 2nd in command. She was a tough woman, she didn’t take shit. Considering she worked for that weird kinky lady known as Ava Tate, I can’t blame her becoming that. She’s one of the bravest and smartest women I’ve fought with. I’m surprised she didn’t form our rebellion first.

Bill was lucky enough to be convinced by Atlas to join us after he resigned from the council. But Bill was like us. Even though he believed in Rapture, he was just an old man who wanted the best for people. I found that admirable of him. I also think he’s grateful we hid his ass after he left Ryan. Considering how Ryan gets upset with whoever betrays him, he’d rather want them dead...yet that might of been different considering he was best friends with Ryan himself.

Diane was new, she was a hostage once with Julie Langford. But when Ryan never paid her ransom and practically didn’t care for her. But I do think she noticed those Jasmine Jolene posters throughout the city, making Ryan’s betrayal seemingly more worse. She originally came to Apollo Square to yell at us of how we possibly ruined her life. But when she saw the shit we were going through, she soon understood even more of the situation. Especially when we heard it wasn’t made better when hearing Ryan’s thoughts on people like us.

She joined us rather quickly, she was like Bill in a way. Diane was honestly a kind woman, it always felt nice to have more supporters. I do find it surprising from what I’ve seen that her and Daisy seemed to have developed a thing. Yet I found it surprisingly adorable...mainly because it was so strange to see Daisy seem soft to another person. But I think it gave the ladies more of a reason to keep fighting on.

But Atlas...he was something else. There was a reason people followed him. I followed him for plenty of good reasons. He seemed like a action hero you see out of those films from Hollywood. But I have never met a man so kind, yet so humble. He was the best of us...or that’s what I thought. You can have a good laugh with him too while having a drink. The man had a family, but he didn’t spoke of them much to keep them safe. I also remember hearing he was a captain in the Irish army. Which gave us an advantage in some ways over Ryan’s men.

He was the perfect anti-thesis to Andrew Ryan. Atlas was someone many genuinely respected and loved. Men wanted to be him, women loved him. To me and others. He wasn’t just a friend. Atlas was sometimes like a brother, or even a father.

Sure he wasn’t perfect and did some questionable things. But we knew it was for the best. Atlas is our best shot at winning this war. And I’m proud to fighting side by side with him, no matter what.

2/1/2002. Johnny Topside.

I never met the man, but Atlas knew him only for a year. The way he talked about Johnny. I’ve heard stories of him, well that’s because Atlas didn’t want his memory to die. Atlas said Johnny Topside was a diver who had discovered Rapture years ago and for sometime was forced to live in Rapture until he finally had enough.

Johnny Topside was the start of our rebellion. He was the one that planted the seeds. Johnny was the first to stand up to Ryan, but it resulted in tragedy. No one knows fully what happened to him. But Atlas said Ryan had tried to erase Johnny’s memory from history, and that it was very likely he may of been turned into...a Big Daddy...the idea of that horrifies me.

When Atlas spoke of him, he spoke of him so highly. Saying that Johnny was like a younger brother to him. You could of even seen at times Atlas nearly choked up when talking about him. I can’t blame him, losing someone that was like a brother to him. I’ve would of been nearly tearing up.

The story of Johnny Topside was something that kept us going, it inspired us. Hell, it even inspired me. Atlas didn’t want his memory to die, because what he was doing wasn’t just for everyone. But it was also justice for Johnny...justice for everyone that had enough of Ryan.

My only disappointment is that I never got to meet Johnny...because when Atlas says he’d would rather had him lead us...that says a helluva lot about Topside.

2/3/2002. Booker Dewitt and Ryan’s personal guard.

I’ve heard the stories of Dewitt...he merely sounded like a ghost. But he wasn’t. This was the man that shot down Fontaine, and most likely helped captured Johnny Topside.

Captain Dewitt was known to the citizens as, “The Grim Reaper Of Rapture” and he damn well earned it. But he was also Ryan’s new best friend after Bill left. Dewitt kept Ryan’s enemies in check. Whether by killing them when no one was looking, or capturing them.

Security was fine, but Ryan’s personal guard and when Dewitt was leading them...that was scary. I think what scared us rebels was whenever he showed up. He always wore that mask...which gave him more of a reason to call him a grim reaper...because he damn sure was.

Ryan’s personal guard weren’t just police officers enforcing Ryan’s rule, they were literal soldiers. They were formed when Johnny Topside had discovered Rapture. The guard was basically a better version of security.

They were made up of men who either genuinely believed in the, “Great Chain” or just were looking to be paid by Ryan. Some of them were ex soldiers, mercenaries, and they were all just horrible people.

The guard weren’t pushovers, they had years of experience or training by Dewitt. They were merciless, brutal, and effective. The fact Ryan had now decided to use them even more now showcased he truly wasn’t fucking around anymore. He wanted to win this war. But we weren’t gonna let that happen.

I think we were just thankful they didn’t really use Plasmids...if they did...then I felt this war may be over already. But it also gives us a easier chance to kill them all.

2/15/2002. Splicers.

Over the years since ADAM was discovered. Splicers became thing. Poor folks who used too spliced too much...they were once people...but they were sadly monsters now. I think what surprised us is how some of them were on our side...but not many. Unless they controlled themselves.

The Splicers of many types were a pain in the ass for Ryan and Atlas. Killing the rebels or Ryan’s personal guard. They had no allegiance...all they wanted was ADAM...they were basically drug addicts. I remember seeing one time a woman shanking a man for his ADAM, we had to put her down.

I didn’t really use Plasmids much, or some of the others like Atlas, Daisy, Diane, and Bill. It seemed good for Atlas that some of the rebels didn’t try to splice up. Which meant we can deal with less people turning into those...things.

There was one time I had to put down one of them. The man was just 21, but he had spliced up so much that he had gone insane. He tried attacking Daisy and Diane, but me and Daisy took him down shot him in the chest. But he was still breathing.

...I shot him in the head...I hesitated at first for about five seconds...he was younger than me. I wanted to make his death as quick and painless...it gave me a haunting reminder of why we were still fighting. All this pain and suffering...it started with the discover of that damn thing called ADAM...

I’m surprised I haven’t spoken about Tenenbaum yet...I feel like she was 2nd in place for me to kill after Ryan.

3/15/2002. Big Daddies, Little Sisters, and Brigid Tenenbaum.

I think the other thing that haunts me a lot and so many others is these two...I’ve seen them countless times and I have fought them when I joined Atlas.

Big Daddies are practically these...monsters that used to be people...slaves to protect what were once literal children...

These monsters looked like literal giant diving suits at times...some had drills, some had guns. They were tough sons of bitches. These things could kill a man easily, or even a group of a men if you weren’t careful.

But it’s the Little Sisters that horrify me and other rebels...not because they are dangerous or that they are killers. It’s the fact of what they are. They were children...or possibly still are...forced to collect ADAM because they were implanted with some...damn sea slug Tenenbaum discovered...

There is no known cure for them. I think many of us want a cure. But the only way to help these girls is something horrific...harvesting them. Atlas said it was to put them out of their misery. They had ADAM in them.

From what I’ve seen, some rebels harvested them, some didn’t. Daisy didn’t do it. Neither did Diane or Bill. I remember seeing Atlas making the most sickened face after harvesting one, he didn’t enjoy it at all.

I think it may of bothered Atlas some didn’t harvest them...but it’s understandable why some wouldn’t. Because I remember seeing one 37 year old man, after he had harvested just one Little Sister. The man about 5 minutes later literally put a pistol under his jaw and killed himself.

We all understood why he even did that. Because after you witness a child being horrified by you about to harvest them...it’s a sight you’re never going to forget.

I can still hear those girls screaming. Daisy and Diane do too...it’s in our nightmares. For some reason...the harvesting of a Little Sister scars me than seeing a Splicer or whatever else...I don’t know why...I think it’s because all that innocence was lost...or actually taken. Because there was no other way to help them.

It was all because of one woman, Brigid Tenenbaum. I heard she worked with Frank Fontaine to help make those girls into what they are. I’ve heard she’s had a hard life, but that doesn’t excuse what I find one of the most horrific crimes I’ve ever seen. She’s been in hiding for 4 years after being exposed for what she did.

If we ever find Tenenbaum...I want to put my foot on her throat...whatever what we want to do to her. To be honest, I think I want to kill her more than Ryan...because I don’t know how you can be forgiven for doing that to a child.

God forgives, and whenever I have to put down a fellow rebel because they spliced up too much, I make it quick and painless as possible...but Tenenbaum...quick and painless is not gonna mean anything if we ever find her.

6/3/2002. SOS and Archie Wynand.

After six months of war with Ryan’s personal guard and the Splicers. Whether some were controlled or not...things were going south for us. We fought hard, we planned as best as we could. But nothing was working, because Ryan was nearly winning.

There was panic among us, we were fearing that all of this could be for nothing. But Atlas revealed something, which he said was a risk in case. He somehow gave an SOS message to the surface to whoever would get it. Because he knew we weren’t gonna win this on our own anymore. We needed help, we needed the surface to discover Rapture. But also, we needed someone to help us take down Ryan. It was on Sunday Atlas gave out the message for help. We prayed someone would answer it. Luckily for us, someone did answer it.

Despite his aircraft was shot down by Ryan, and being the only survivor of his squad. Someone had arrived. That someone was a young man named Sergeant Archie Wynand. An Army Ranger sent by the US Government to discover where the SOS came from.

To be honest, I was worried by the fact only one man had survived. I’d feared we still didn’t stand a chance. But after I saw that man enter combat and killed so many Splicers, I have never seen a man fought hard like that. He was still young like me, but he was like a commando in his way. It was as if someone like Atlas again had come to save us.

Me and him never really talked, but from what I’ve seen. That man is the bravest soul I’ve ever seen. He’s loyal to a fault and unbreakable, it was like seeing a warrior unlike any other. I will admit, I felt a bit jealous when Atlas has giving him a lot more attention than me.

But Archie was important. Atlas sent him commands and he followed through. But I think what confused me the most was something Atlas had revealed earlier. Which resulted in ordering Archie to go to a certain building, a tower in the middle of Rapture.

6/4/2002. Elizabeth.

A day before Archie had arrived. There was this strange new information Atlas had discovered. That there was some girl in this tower in Rapture. Her name was Elizabeth. Atlas had discovered it when raiding a building near that tower.

We were so confused on why Ryan had a girl in this tower. In fact? Why was she there? Who was she really? Even Atlas was confused, but she seemed important.

But I feel our questions were answered when Archie saved her. I didn’t get to talk to her personally, but I have seen her in action with my own eyes. Along with some footage.

Somehow, this young girl had some powers of an unknown source. She was able to summon old sentries, and other things. It felt unnatural. Sure the Plasmids and other discoveries in Rapture were very special...but what this girl could do...it made us question even more who the hell she was and why Ryan had her locked away.

Gonna admit though, she was honestly adorable.

6/5/2002. Elizabeth’s purpose, and what the Hell is Archie? What the Hell is going on?

I think it horrified me and the rebels of what Elizabeth was supposed to be. Why she was kept secret from Rapture. What Atlas had discovered more is that she was secretly a weapon Ryan would use in case against someone like us. A sleeper agent that would of slipped through our ranks or anyone else...almost like a female fatale Ryan wanted to make personally...it confused me because from what I’ve seen, she’s nothing like that.

But I think we surprised us more is that she had been in Rapture since 1983. For about 19 years, Ryan had her in there, with hardly anyone knowing. I think it sickened me a bit more hearing Ryan was gonna use a young woman as a secret weapon in case someone like Atlas came along. It was almost like what happened with the Little Sisters.

Yet the other thing that’s been on my mind is Archie. I’ve talked about how much of a warrior he was. Ever since he rescued Elizabeth, she’s been by his side ever since. I haven’t seen such a effective team. It was like they were perfect for each other.

But again, it’s Archie that has me thinking. Sure he’s a soldier...but compared to any of us...and even compared to Ryan’s personal guard. I have never seen a man be so efficient in what he does. This was a young man, yet he fought like he was like some sort of super soldier. Hell, I don’t even think Atlas and Daisy are that efficient. He’s fast and strong.

He was also using so many Plasmids without mutating. I couldn’t get it? He wasn’t becoming spliced up. I couldn’t believe it? I had lost count of how many times he injected a Eve Hypo into his wrists.

I think the scary part is how many Big Daddies he’s killed...how can one man kill so many. I didn’t understand it? But from what I’ve seen from footage is...him curing the Little Sisters...I couldn’t believe it.

Where were he and Elizabeth staying at? I heard Atlas yesterday say they were at Tenenbaum’s...I couldn’t understand...I’m confused...

6/5/2002 A bigger Big Daddy.

I didn’t understand nor could I comprehend what I had witnessed. Ever since Archie arrived...things were changing. What made me think this way was when I saw...something I didn’t think was possible.

Out of all the Big Daddies we’ve killed. I had never seen one so big. He was about 12 feet tell...he looked older than any of the Big Daddies. He looked similar to the Alpha series Big Daddies...I couldn’t understand. I was lucky to have lived, but I witness it killed so many rebels, Splicers, and Ryan’s army. This Big Daddy was vicious. It seemed like he was on a mission. As if he was tracking down Elizabeth.

I’m just in disbelief...I don’t understand.

I was a witness also to see Elizabeth teleport it somewhere...I think it’s dead...I’m not sure.

6/6/2002. The war soon coming to an end.

To be honest, I was fearing we may never win. But somehow we made it. Captain Dewitt was beaten yesterday, and now Ryan is soon to be dealt with.

I’ve learned from Atlas that Tenenbaum had created a cure for the Little Sisters...I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. I asked him again if he was telling the truth, and he was. That’s why Archie and Elizabeth were staying with Tenenbaum somewhere.

It still sounded so crazy. But the next piece of news is that these three would be coming to Atlas’s headquarters, our base of operations. I couldn’t believe I was seeing Tenenbaum...I had...weird feelings.

The plans were while Archie and others went to Ryan’s office to finally take him down. There was hardly anyone left to defend him. While Elizabeth and Dr. Tenenbaum stayed at Atlas’s headquarters. It...an experience meeting this young girl...even after everything she’d been through, but so kind.

But I wasn’t gonna be staying for long either like Archie. Atlas sent me and some men to take over Fort Folic considering Archie and Elizabeth’s recent visit there. As if the freak that was Sander Cohen had finally left somewhere. It was no longer locked up.

I felt genuine hope for the first time. As if this whole nightmare will finally end. But I will admit, I wanted to kill Ryan as much as anybody else. I had my orders, and I listened. Besides, taking back Fort Folic was a huge win

I do recall Ryan playing golf at times. Hopefully when Archie gets to his office, he’ll beat the Walt Disney lookalike of a fuckhead with his own golf club. It’s what Ryan deserved...it’s what many of us wanted.

6/7/2002. Atlas...and the end...

...I don’t even know what to say...the war is over...it’s actually over...

But it didn’t end with Ryan dying or getting captured...

Atlas...our leader...my hero...my best friend...the anti-thesis to Ryan...was Frank Fontaine.

He’s dead...he was brutally hung...by Archie...his corpse is hanging for everyone to see...he...looks like half of a monster.

Everything we’ve done...everything we stood for...I feel betrayed, but I feel relived. I think others are feeling a similar way...I need no I want answers...

6/8/2002. The birth of the Vox Populi. Tenenbaum discovering these journals.

I think what happened on Thursday and Friday...changed so many of us...even myself...I thank Daisy and Diane for explaining it to me.

There was a huge meeting with the remaining rebels. Archie, Elizabeth, and Dr. Tenenbaum joined in as well. So many discussions were had. Rapture was finally ours...

While Splicers were still a thing, and some rich assholes were still around. Considering half of the city was still going, but we came together to formulate a plan.

There won’t be another Andrew Ryan, or even another Frank Fontaine. The end of the Rapture Civil War was only the beginning of something much better.

We weren’t just called rebels anymore, we were officially given a name now. The Vox Populi. It was Daisy’s idea for the name. We were basically the reformed version of Atlas’s rebellion. But now, we had genuine people who actually gave a damn. Who wouldn’t use us as puppets. That we will strive for a better tomorrow.

For peace, a better community. So we can help out every Little Sister we can find out there, and help whoever else is in Rapture. We’re gonna make this shithole of a city a better living place. No more tyrants, no more conmen, no more rulers, just people wanting to make this place a better place for everyone.

Justice, peace, and all that...I think many of us are still getting over what happened with Atlas...I’m still getting used to it...I’m just grateful it’s over.

But before this the huge meeting, Dr. Tenenbaum discovered my journals...she read what I wrote about her...our struggles. I apologized to her, but she said it’s okay. She said she doesn’t blame me for being angry. I think what surprised me more was the one person that her the most was herself...

For some odd reason, I forgave her...she just stared at me with surprise. She gave me a small smile...and then I said I think I could forgive her after everything she’s tried doing to fix her mistakes. Because I told her trying to fix your mistakes is better than doing nothing.

#bioshock rebirth #derek grady

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fandomn00blr · 4 years

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I tagged a bunch of folks in on my last WIP post, and I don’t want to harass anyone two days in a row, but seriously, and I know I say it every time, because I really do mean it...WHOEVER WANTS TO THROW SOMETHING TO THE VOID TODAY (or any day...) SHOULD DO SO AND TAG ME AND I WILL LAUGH AND/OR CRY AND/OR BLUSH IN EMBARRASSMENT WITH YOU!

Seeing all this excellent fenders content showing up on my dash recently (IDK what I did to make this happen, but well done, tumblrverse) put me in a MOOD to go back and find some glowey smut from the discard pile...which then apparently turned into fluffy angst (or angsty fluff?) and hand-holding (if you squint...it’s there at the end, I swear).

This one doesn’t really fit into any of my current WIP world states (I mean, I definitely straight up stole some of this from my earlier self for later fenhanders relationship dynamics), and it’s from back when I was clearly still getting to know these characters (still am, tbh), so we’ll go ahead and yeet it into the Void this week, where it belongs:

(Under a cut, cuz it’s 1900+ words long, a whole ficlet, I guess, and there are mentions of the amazing sex these two apparently just had...before Anders had to go and make it awkward...)

“You -- Fenris…” Anders gasps, when Fenris finally pulls away from the kiss long enough to give him a chance to breathe. “I haven’t had sex like that since…”

Fenris’ eyebrows furrow together and he abruptly lets go of him. The last thing he wants is to be compared to any of his past lovers.

“Well, since Hawke and Isabela paid for that night for me at the Blooming Rose for my birthday a few years ago!”

Judging by his frown, this is definitely not the kind of thing Fenris was looking to hear from him.

Anders remembers now, through the idiotic haze of his post-coital bliss, that Fenris had been extra broody then, apparently perturbed that he, or, more specifically, Justice, would want to go through with what the two women had arranged for him, and also probably a little bit annoyed that he wouldn’t shut up about it afterwards. Granted, this was back before he would have ever admitted he had any feelings for the mage. And there is a distinct possibility that Anders had been trying to make him jealous, to provoke him, something Justice seems to want to remind him of now...

“I...remind you of a prostitute?” Fenris doesn’t sound angry or offended. He just sounds sad, a bit disappointed.

“No!” Anders shakes his head, trying to catch his breath and take it back. Not that that should be a bad thing, he wants to say. Fenris knows about his past work in Denerim. Knows how he feels about sex work in general. But he also understands why this association might be a problem for Fenris, sees the hurt there, and has no idea why he decided to bring it up now. “Not at all!”

How does he always manage to mess everything up with him so quickly? He used to be quite good at making charming conversation after sex, priding himself on making sure that everyone had said their piece, that needs and expectations had all been met. And his bedside manner as a healer is highly-regarded by everyone here in Kirkwall.

But Fenris isn’t exactly a client or his patient at the moment. And he supposes he hasn’t had much practice at this sort of thing for a very long time.

“Because it’s you. And no one is being paid…and shit!” He feels Justice trying to take control to save him from his clumsy rambling, but what does the spirit know about pillow talk?

Fenris has somehow already gotten dressed and now he’s reaching for his sword, propped up carefully by the moth-eaten curtain Anders deemed adequate for granting them privacy in the little cubbyhole he calls his “bedroom” carved into the back of his clinic.

“And Justice approves!” Anders declares, growing desperate in his attempts to try and salvage this. “Of this. Of us. Of you!”

Fenris turns back and shoots him the darkest look he’s given him yet through this exchange. “Do not use the spirit’s feelings to try and spare mine.”

Anders is trying. He truly is. But this isn’t fair, because Fenris has just fucked him senseless, and all he really wants is to curl up next to him and fall asleep. It would be good sleep, too. The kind he hasn’t had in...he can’t really remember, doesn’t really want to. And anyway, it’s looking less and less like that’s going to happen now.

“What does that even mean?” he asks, waving his arms frantically in the air.

“Ask him.”

“You know I can’t! Unless you want me to let him take over?” Anders offers, half-seriously at first, but then he gets a curious look in his eyes. “Is that what you want? Because I totally can...” His eyes begin to glow a little, and light begins to shine through cracks in his skin.

Without even acknowledging this, Fenris ducks under the curtain, and begins making his way through the clinic toward the exit.

“Wait!” Anders calls after him, banishing Justice back to his subconscience for now.

But Fenris marches on, with Anders trailing behind him all the way through Darktown. It’s a wonder that he just can’t seem to catch up. He’s nearly a foot taller than the elf, after all, though Anders is perpetually out of shape due to his own self-neglect, and Fenris is...decidedly not that. But as far as he can tell, Fenris isn’t using any of his lyrium-enhanced abilities to completely lose him, though he certainly could if he really wanted to. Which is actually a little bit encouraging.

As they enter Lowtown, he slows down just enough that Anders is able to reach out to him. There was a time when he would’ve feared the consequences of grabbing the standoffish elf’s arm to try and get his attention. Part of him still does, he supposes, but not enough to risk losing him like this again tonight without at least trying to make things right.

As soon as he touches him, Fenris whips his head around and glares at him. “I am going home.”

“Fine. You can do that. I just…” He wheezes, leaning forward, trying to catch his breath. He truly is out of shape. “Can I apologize?”

“For what?”

“For being an idiot?” he huffs.

“You have never apologized for that before.”

Anders is so relieved to see the little smirk on his face that he could kiss him. But he doesn’t. Because he’s already pressing his luck with him further than he’s ever dared to before and he’s determined not to fuck it all the way up if he can help it.

“For...for...all the wrong things I said in my...compromised state back there.”

“Compromised?”

“Fenris, please just work with me here?”

His eyes narrow on him, but he is silent for what feels like an eternity to Anders. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and mutters, “You have nothing to apologize for.” He looks down into the empty space between them. “I should not have assumed this was anything more than sex.”

Anders shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong. It is! And you know that.”

“But you…”

“You do know that, right?”

“I...”

“For three years I’d like to think that we’ve been building something more than just...well, whatever that was the first time this almost happened.”

He is pacing now, and Fenris is watching his hands as they move wildly back and forth with him, mesmerizing physical manifestations of the mage’s fretting over him and his feelings. His body language says more to Fenris than whatever words he is muttering as he frantically stumbles through another unnecessary apology.

“Fenris!” he snaps, drawing his attention sharply away from his hands. “Do you even remember that? You knew I wanted you back then. But not if you were going to regret it. If it was just about the sex…”

“I suppose you have proven yourself to be more than just a depraved abomination,” he drawls, with more than just a hint of that irresistible smirk. Justice seems even more pleased than Anders to see it this time. “But I am still going home tonight. To a real bed.”

Anders grabs his arm again as he turns to leave, and Fenris’ markings flare up bright and blinding this time, the sudden burst of activated lyrium burnishing itself into all six of Anders’ senses.

He knows he’s pushed him too far. But if Anders is going to die tonight, after what has just happened between them, well...he supposes it’s better than if he had died yesterday. And Justice seems to agree, because he doesn’t even try to take control in order to save him.

Instead of ripping his heart out through his chest as Anders braces himself for the inevitable, Fenris reaches up, gathering the mage’s collar in his hands, and yanks him down into a kiss.

Maybe Anders is dead. He certainly can’t breathe, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him at the moment. Between the lyrium and the kiss and his body still humming from all the dopamine he’s been inundated with in the past couple of hours...

Fenris releases him with a quiet sigh and just stares at him as his markings recede. He’s expecting something. Words, perhaps? But Anders hasn’t been doing very well with those tonight.

He swallows hard, and tries anyway, because he can feel Justice growing impatient with his inaction. “You were…” he hesitates.

“Going home.” Fenris nods.

“To the mansion?”

“Yes.”

“Fine…” Anders rocks back onto his heels trying not to look completely dejected. “Yeah, fine…okay.”

Fenris rolls his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. “Would you like to join me?” he offers on the exhale.

Anders looks stunned for a moment as he simply stares back at him. Then slowly, a dopey grin begins to spread across his face. “Are you sure?” Anders beams down at him. He honestly can’t help but show every emotion clear as day across his entire countenance and to Fenris, it’s one of the most embarrassing and endearing things about him.

“Hmmm…” Fenris starts to turn away from him again before his own smile can reveal itself. He certainly wouldn’t want to encourage this behavior.

“Okay!” Anders cries out, tightening the hand he’s forgotten is still wrapped around Fenris’ arm. When Fenris doesn’t even flinch, he thinks for sure he’s either dead or dreaming. “Okay...yes! Yes I would very much like to join you.”

Fenris shrugs him off without another word, and is already marching toward Hightown before the mage can say anything else to make him reconsider the invitation.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust him. Anders is terrible at hiding his intentions, his feelings, anything from him, really, and he supposes, after what he’s said to him tonight, that this is no accident. He trusts Fenris, as well, foolish as it seems for either of them.

But Fenris knows that once this happens, once Anders embeds himself into his home -- which, up to this point, hasn’t felt much like a home at all, and that has been on purpose, too -- more than all the tension between them the past three years, more than the half-drunken moments stolen from each other in dark corners of the Hanged Man, or in the alley behind it, or in the back of the clinic, where he could still tell himself it was just a phase or meaningless beyond the relief of pent-up frustration it afforded both of them, there can be no turning back. No more pretending he isn’t completely smitten with the ridiculous mage once he’s taken him into his own bed and let down his guard enough to actually just...sleep with him.

At some point, he reaches behind him with a small huff, a puff of gently glowing white in the unseasonal coolness of the night betraying his feelings. He grabs Anders’ hand, pulling him along with him, and Anders feels like he’s practically floating on that little cloud the rest of the way to Hightown.

#dragon age #throwaway thursday #anders #fenris #fenders #anders is love-drunk #not like in a magical love potion/sex pollen way #just in the 'this was better than I thought it could be and I've been thinking about it for a very long time' kinda way #anyway...#long post

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arthurmorganuniverse · 5 years

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A Place For Us

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Word Count: 4,434

Summary: Arthur has let you tag along on his latest hunting trip. Only you’re now caught in a snowstorm and need a way to keep warm. (AKA the ole’ sharing a bed trope)

Warnings: Poorly written smut ahead my friends. Tread carefully. Also, I twist property law to suit my purposes. Law aficionados, look away.

Notes: Might make this a series of drabbles or something for this particular pair. Like, one about when they go hunt the bison. Might have Arthur get her the white Arabian. Maybe when they get back to the main camp they keep buying stuff to take back to “their” cabin, etc. Let me know if I should!

You and Arthur had been on the road for several days now hunting down something he called a “Ghost Bison.” While you were excited that he’d asked you to come along, you hadn’t ever traveled this far on horseback before. Your ass felt permanently glued to the saddle and you were exhausted. Not to mention that the skies were looking rather ominous today, dark clouds signaling a storm on the way.

You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, of course, since you didn’t want to mess this up and make it so he’d never invite you along again. The two of you had never really had much of an opportunity to spend time alone together before, and although you were terrified that you’d make a fool of yourself, it had been too good of a chance to waste.

Even so, despite you keeping your complaints to yourself, he still seemed to catch on easily by himself. He stopped and camped regularly enough, making sure you ate and drank plenty and got moments to stretch off of the giant Shire you’d grabbed on the way since it was the only one big enough to handle carting everything back.

Judging by Arthur’s frequent glances towards the sky, he also was beginning to share your worries about the storm. You were getting closer to where the bison was rumored to be, but finding shelter from the inevitable snowstorm was going to be difficult. Your meager tents were not going to get the job done.

Finally, after yet another full day in the saddle, and with the clouds looming above signaling the snowfall would hit at any moment, the two of you came across a decent looking cabin. To find anyone out this far into the mountains was a miracle, and you just hoped the folks living here would give you shelter without anyone resorting to violence. Hell, you’d even sleep in the small barn off to the side, no arguments. Anything was better than trying to risk the coming storm in the small tents you had.

Arthur silently signaled you to hold back while he walked towards the house. You did as you were told but brought your revolver out just in case.

“Hello? Anybody home?” Arthur called out as he raised his hands up. “Weapons are away. Just looking for a dry spot to sleep tonight!” The weapons were technically away, although the both of you had your fingers at the ready.

He rapped on the door, and after a few moments of silence tested the doorknob. It opened easily and he peeked inside, keeping his hand on his holster in case anyone was trying to get the jump on him. Finding nothing, he finally gestured to you to follow.

You hitch the horse to the porch and walk inside, surprised to find the place looking somewhat decent. It was a little dusty, but the overall appearance of the place was clean and well kept. After poking around in some cupboards, you see that the kitchen is fully stocked, which could be helpful if this wasn’t a trap. After further inspection, you also find a massive bed in one of the rooms, covered in at least four quilts and even some fluffy feather pillows. Both the living room and the bedroom boasted a good sized fireplace as well. All in all, this place seemed almost too good to be true. Where were the owners?

“You look like you’re thinkin’ what I am, so I’m gonna go take a look around outside, see if I can’t find our host,” Arthur stated as met up with you in the kitchen. “Stay around the cabin and keep your gun handy.”

“I will. Be careful.”

Arthur nods and squeezes your shoulder when he passes on his way to the door. He shuts it quietly behind him as you stare vacantly at the space he’d just left. You could still feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder, heavy and comforting. You blush at your stupidity, acting like a little girl just because some fella touched her innocently. Never mind that he’d never touched you before.

You shake it off and keep your hand on your holster as you wander around the house, taking stock of anything that might be valuable. There wasn’t much, as it seemed whoever lived here was more of a practical soul, even if the everyday things were made to be comfortable. There were no womanly touches to be found, but the person did enjoy plush linens and good sturdy furniture. You’d even found an enormous copper tub in the other room, along with a huge stash of sandalwood soap. You hoped you get a chance to use it, as you hadn’t had a proper wash in four days. There was only one bed in the house, leaving sharing the bed the only option so you would feel better about sleeping next to Arthur if you knew that you at least smelled okay.

You continue your search, rifling through a little writing desk until you find a series of letters.

“Well, well. Good to meet you, Elijah Foster,” you mumble as you read the address. You skim through the letters to find any hints of what kind of person lived here, hoping it was someone that Arthur wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with.

Based on the stack of letters, it was a single man with no family, as he often complained about having to live alone. He mostly wrote back and forth with some friend of his talking about the good ole days and swapping homestead advice. It sounded like he was just an old man.

You wander towards the back door and poke your head out, listening for anything suspicious. There was nothing more than the usual sounds of nature, which could be both good and bad. Still, you trusted that Arthur could handle himself, so you won’t too worried. Instead, you take note of the chicken coop and large garden that could prove to be handy soon, then head back into the relative safety of the cabin.

Moments later, Arthur comes in through the back door, blowing into his hands to warm them.

“Found an old fella out near the well. No wounds or nothin’. Was probably doin’ chores and his heart just gave out. I buried him not too far away.”

You nod and show him the papers you’d found. He quickly glances through them, coming to the same conclusion you did.

“I’ll go carve his name tomorrow. I want to head back out to this shed I saw on my way back right now. Looked like a smokehouse, so we might find something for supper.”

“Sounds good. If not, there are lots of things here in the kitchen too. Dear Elijah sure loved his food,” you chuckle, waving Arthur off as he heads back outside.

With the news that it seemed safe to stay, you let your guard down a little bit, peeling off your filthy jacket and hat. You set them off to the side, wondering if you could convince Arthur to stay long enough to do some laundry. You were sure he needed some clean clothes too.

Upon inspection, the wooden stove seems in perfect working order and already has a stack of kindling and wood ready to go next to it. You set the kindling inside and light it up, knowing it will take a while to get to a good temperature for even cooking. While the stove warms, you hum and go through the cupboards as you try to figure out what to make for supper. Arthur comes stomping back inside moments later, arms filled with goods and grinning happily.

“I was right about the meat. He had a whole root cellar going on underground. Found some ham, bacon, and some sort of sausages. The best part is the place was filled with home canned goods and even some fruits and vegetables. Got some peaches and apples, even found some eggs and butter. Figured we could do with a little treat.”

“We can make all kinds of stuff with that! I am starving right now, so we’ll make something quick. Maybe the sausages and a potato hash? Might have the stuff to make some fry bread with it. Then maybe a cobbler for dessert. We’ll save the bacon for breakfast and make some fried apples too.”

“If you say so,” Arthurs deadpans and settles all of his finds on the dining room table.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You still don’t believe that I can cook.”

“Didn’t say that, Miss. Just haven’t seen any evidence to support your claims.”

You should probably be offended, but a smiling and teasing Arthur was such a rare treat that you could only bring yourself to blush and smile back.

“I’ll show you. Out of my kitchen, mister. You should get both of the fireplaces going. The chill is really starting to hit this place.”

“Good idea. I’ll get the tub filled too. Try not to burn my food, woman.”

“So rude. Now, where did I put that poison?”

Arthur laughs as he heads outside. You focus on cooking while he comes in and out, carrying loads of firewood and huge buckets of water. The poor man was certainly getting a workout today. You were sure he was looking forward to a bath now.

Dinner was nearly done by the time he joins you in the kitchen, poking his head over your shoulder to look at the cobbler you were putting together.

“The man sure liked his comforts. That bed is big enough for four. I think the two of us will be plenty comfortable.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face, as the reminder of where you’d be sleeping tonight must have made you resemble a tomato. You stick the cobbler in the oven to avoid looking at him and begin to dish out the sausages, potatoes, and bread you’d put together for supper while Arthur continues looking through the cupboards.

“There must be forty pounds of beans here. Could feed an army. Would be good with some of that bacon.”

“I am not making you any beans if I’m supposed to be sharing a bed with you, Arthur Morgan.”

“That’s probably smart thinkin’,” he chuckles, sitting at the dining room table as you set the plates down, along with a pitcher of water he’d pumped earlier.

You roll your eyes as Arthur playfully makes a big show of sniffing his fork before he takes a bite. Your smile quickly turns smug as his eyes widen.

“Now why in the hell have I been eating Pearson’s slop if you can cook like this?”

You giggle and take a bit of your own food, pleased as he starts to dig in with relish.

“Pearson would never give up his job. Besides, this is pretty simple. Hard to mess up sausages and hash. The real test is my cobbler.”

Arthur grunts, shoving an entire half a sausage in his mouth as he chews happily. The meal soon became a quiet affair as your hunger caught up with you as well, and the two of you went to work devouring every bit quickly. The cobbler went by just as fast, with Arthur’s moan of delight being compliment enough.

Once your bellies were full with nary a crumb of leftovers in sight, the both of you leaned back into your chairs, sighing in contentment.

“Pearson can keep cooking for the rest of them, but I’ll only eat if you cook for me. You’re not gonna let me starve, right? You’ll cook for me again?” Arthur asked as he rubbed his belly, his soft smile sending your insides fluttering.

“You’re ridiculous. Yes. If we happen to be in camp at the same time and Pearson won’t kill me for using his supplies, I’ll cook for you again.”

Arthur helps you bring the dishes to the sink and even dries them while you wash. The easy way that the two of you work together makes you feel like you’ve done this millions of times.

When everything is clean, Arthur heads to the bedroom while you sit down on the sofa near the fire and begin pulling off your boots. They have a couple of new holes after this trip, making you cringe a bit. You’ll have to find a new pair before these fall apart completely. Arthur comes out a few moments later, carrying one of his union shirts. You were very familiar with those shirts, as they were usually fairly tight on him and highlighted his impressive back muscles.

“Thought you could use something to wear to bed. You can take the bath first.”

You accept the shirt, knowing the thing will probably reach nearly to your knees and cover you well enough.

“You sure? You’ve worked hard, so I don’t mind waiting.”

“Nah, it’s alright. The water will be dirtier for you if I go first. Little thing like you can’t hold much dirt.”

You snort over your shoulder as you head to the bathing room. “You’d be surprised.”

You strip quickly once you shut the door behind you, glad that you wouldn’t have to put any of those clothes back on when you were done. Everything you had was filthy. You didn’t even have a clean pair of bloomers to wear. The coals under the tub had kept the water nice and warm, and you sighed as you slid into the blessed comfort. Arthur had even set out a couple of washcloths and a bar of soap on the end table near the tub.

As you wash the days of grime away, you peer out of the window and see that the snow is finally coming down hard. It’s probably a pretty good guess that the two of you might be snowed in here for a couple days unless Arthur wants to tough it out. You really hope he doesn’t.

You quickly finish up in the tub, wanting to leave Arthur with plenty of warm water, and dry off, wringing your hair out as best you can. You slip on the shirt and take a little sniff, pleased that it smelled like Arthur. Looking around, you find an unopened container of tooth powder, so you wet a washcloth and do your best.

You take a deep breath and open the door to find Arthur lounging on the sofa, his boots and hat already off, and he was near to dozing off by the looks of it. He cracks open an eye as you step out, then slowly sits up straight, staring at you wide-eyed as you shyly stand there.

“It’s all ready for you,” you mumble, the cold air reminding you of just how exposed you are right now.

Arthur audibly swallows as his gaze travels from your hair drying wildly and loose, to your bare legs, glimpses of your thighs poking from underneath his shirt if you shifted.

Finally, he clears his throat and picks up the clothes he had handy, holding them in front of his lap as he hurries past you. The door closes behind him without another word. You quirk an eyebrow at the door, then shrug and bank the fire in the main room before heading to the bedroom.

The bedroom is sufficiently cozy, with the fire a gentle heat now and the windows weatherproofed. You slip under the covers on the right side, knowing Arthur will want to be on the left and closer to the door. After that it’s just a matter of trying to remember to breathe despite how nervous you were.

You lose track of time and the warmth seeps into your bones, making you drowsy, and you close your eyes for a few moments. Eventually, the gush a cold air hits your face as Arthur enters the room and quickly shuts the door behind him.

The room is suddenly filled with the scent of sandalwood as the freshly bathed man settles his things around. You can hear him putting his guns on the nightstand before the bed dips a little and the blanket is moved to allow him to slip underneath.

The bed is big enough that you aren’t touching each other, but you can feel the heat of his skin and he settles onto his back next to you.

“Night, Arthur.”

“Night.”

You nervously listen to his breathing, your heart going crazy being in such an intimate setting with a man and not being allowed to touch. Eventually, you heard him drift off, and allowed yourself to follow soon after.

You were so damn warm. Too warm. The air around you nearly stifling your ability to breathe. Your eyes flutter open and you sleepily look around. It’s barely morning, just a hint of light showing through the window.

There’s a heavy weight across your back and waist, so you peel the blanket back to peer under. Arthur has molded himself to you during the night, his legs tangled in yours and his arm across your waist. His skin is so unbelievably hot, and you guess that’s what woke you up. Your shirt had been ridden up a little too high for comfort, but at least you weren’t completely exposed.

This was nice, though. You knew the proper thing to do would be to sneakily climb out of his tangled limbs, but it was so good. It had been a long time since you’d felt this safe and secure.

Your plan was simply to fall back asleep like this and deal with the awkwardness in the morning. As you closed your eyes and began to let the heaviness of slumber take you over again, it seemed like a great plan.

Until he shifted in his sleep, pulling your hips closer to his lap and settling something hard and warm against your backside.

Suddenly all the blood in your body pooled downstairs, making you throb and dampen as you realize what that is and how close you are to it.

You slowly peer over your shoulder and see that Arthur is still fast asleep. And apparently having a great dream, judging by the twitching appendage that was being rocked against you ever so slightly.

You bite your lip and debate stopping him. Waking him up and acting like nothing was wrong was probably the polite thing. A good girl would even smack him and demand he apologize for acting like an animal even in sleep.

No one had ever said you were a good girl.

Your hips seemed to move of their own volition, pressing harder against his erection as his movements sped up. The massive hand that had been gripping onto your waist slowly slid up until it was cradling one of your breasts, somehow gentle with them in sleep. Arthur grunted and pressed his head into your neck, nipping at the skin lightly.

You couldn’t hold back the moan as Arthur suckled a little harder on your neck, and you felt the jolt as he woke up, stilling almost instantly.

“...Y/n?”

He was trying to pull his arm off of you, but you clutched it hard.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m just gonna...” Arthur tried to pull away again, but you tugged him closer, peering at him over your shoulder. His breath hitches and you know what he sees. Your lips chewed from trying to keep quiet, hair mussed and bite marks on your neck. Debauched.

“Arthur, please.”

He gulps and settles back, letting you bring his hand back up to your breast.

“You really want this? I don’t think I’ll be able to stop once I start.”

You hum and wiggle your butt against his erection, pleased to hear his whispered curse.

“I want this. Want you.”

You can feel him nod behind you, then he slides his hand slowly down your body, reaching underneath the shirt that was now bunched up to your waist.

“Easy girl, I got you,” Arthur mumbles as his hand reaches your core.

“Darlin’ you are soaking wet.”

His fingers part your folds, circling around to gather up your essence on them before slowing slipping one inside.

“Shit, you are so ready to go. Feel so good. Take one more for me.”

His hips are slowly grinding into you from behind, betraying how excited he is despite the calmness of his voice. He slowly slides another finger inside as his thumb circles your clit.

“There’s a good girl,” he groans against your neck.

You can’t help the little giggle that escapes.

Arthur props himself up to lean over and look at your face.

“What is so darn funny? Ain’t polite to laugh while a fellas trying to make you feel good.”

“I’m sorry, it feels amazing. Really. You’re just so adorable I couldn’t help it.”

“Adorable?” Arthur crinkles his nose like you’d just insulted him.

“You talk to me like I’m your horse,” you giggle again, unable to stop it.

He groans with embarrassment and presses his face back into your neck.

“Just have to make it so you can’t laugh then.”

He pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling horribly empty. You can feel him messing around with his own pants, trying to pull and kick them off under the covers. Then he picks up your leg and slings across his hip, his cock now laying heavy against your core.

He slides it around, coating it before settling it against your opening.

“Last chance to back out. You sure you want me?”

“Yes. Do it, please.”

Arthur slides in embarrassingly easy, grunting and tightening his hold on you as he fully sheathes himself.

“You are so tight. I’m worried I’m not going to last long,” he mutters as he starts to thrust.

You are pretty sure you’re not going to last either, because you’d barely started and you could feel your orgasm building up. You could hear how wet you were, every thrust creating an embarrassing squelching sound. He speeds up, his hips slamming into you, and the room is filled with the slaps of skin on skin. You can’t even think anymore, the only sounds you’re capable of making are whining and grunting his name. Arthur leans across your back to kiss and suck on your neck, one of his hands reaching under you to rub your clit.

“You feel so good, darlin’. You’re so tight and wet. And you sound so pretty. Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes! Please, I’m so close!” You moan loudly, thrusting your hips back to meet his.

“Oh god, sweetheart, I’m going to cum soon. I can’t hold off anymore. Cum with me.” He whispers in your ear, biting the lobe, and you let go, screaming his name into the pillow. He thrusts hard three more times and cums with a loud, guttural groan into your neck. You both stay like that, breathing heavily as you come down and he strokes your stomach. After a minute, he finally pulls out, leaving you cringing as you feel yourself spill onto the sheets.

It’s quiet as you both catch your breath. You can hear Arthur’s heartbeat slowing down as you lay on his chest. You wanted to know what this all meant. If this was just sex for him or if he was sweet on you. You had no idea how to go about asking him without sounding desperate.

“I can hear you overthinking.” He chuckles into your hair. He leans back and tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“So what’s it gonna be? This a one time thing, or is it more?”

“I’d like it to be more,” you answer shyly, and he seems pleased with your response as he pulls your closer to him and leans over to peck your lips.

“Alright. We can do whatever you wanna do. You call the shots here.”

“Well, I don’t know how smart it is giving me that much power, Arthur Morgan.”

He chuckles, grabbing a handful of your hair and playing with it.

“Don’t think I’d mind if it’s you.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments before the urge to find the outhouse became too great. After taking care of business and freshening up, you make breakfast while Arthur goes looking through all the papers in old Elijah’s desk.

“Here, look at this one.”

You wipe your hands off on the dish towel and hold the paper near the window, seeing that Arthur has found the deed to the property.

“You know,” Arthur says thoughtfully, rubbing his hand across his beard. “He didn’t have nobody else. It’d be easy as hell to write something up and say he sold it to us. Go to town and have ‘em file it up. It could be ours.”

You stare at him in wonder. “Really?”

“Not gonna leave the others in the dust, of course, but we could have a place out here for when we need it. Or to just get away sometimes. Just the two of us.”

You’re absolutely beaming with you throw yourself at him and he pulls you into a hug, placing a kiss onto the top of your head.

“A place for us.”

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #arthur x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #sharing a bed #au #lemon

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