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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 years

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I'll Show You “Uptight” (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Adult!Bakugou x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which a very pissed and very emotionally frustrated Bakugou decides he’s not going to let you get away with your lip that easily and pays you a visit one girls’ night to prove to you that he is, indeed, able to be “looser” after you make a drunk comment about his introverted and uptight personality to your mutual friends and Kirishima “accidentally” spills the beans.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut (MINORS DON’T READ), 18+, AgedUp!Bakugou (he’s 25 years old), Swearing, Grinding, Public Displays of Affection, Mentions of & Consumption of Alcohol, Consensual Sex w/ Verbalization, Foreplay, Public Kink, Manhandling, Mild Degradation, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Spit Play, 69ing, Facefucking, Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Edge Play, Spanking, Mild Choking, MULTIPLE Positions, MULTIPLE Orgasms for Reader, Aftercare, Reader is black-coded but anyone can read this

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Was throwing my hips & ass around to some dancehall while writing this. Listen to "Girls Dem Sugar" by Beenie Man ft. Mya if you want to visualize this chapter. Or listen to this playlist here and imagine getting railed by Bakugou to it like I did :) AND GO TOUCH SOME GRASS -Jazz

Ao3 link here!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

**********

Chapter Four

To have felt as joyful and as free as you did dancing with your friends should have been illegal.

You felt that nothing could touch you, even as you bent over and popped your ass, bringing out all of the tricks you kept in your dance bag. The girls were beyond impressed, smacking your ass and hyping you up. “Daaaamn, Y/N!” Mina shouted. “Your ass is just too much! I’m so jealous!”

“Right?” Toru agreed as Uraraka nodded, flushed in the face from the alcohol and the dancing. “Can you teach me your ways?” You had giggled, feeling warm from your friends’ appraisal and words of encouragement.

“Maybe you can teach me too?” another voice came, this one unfamiliar to you and obviously male. You turned around to find a stranger standing behind you. He wasn’t bad-looking, but his energy made you nervous. He stood a little too close and his smile was anything other than kind. Mina, Uraraka, and Toru immediately ceased their dance moves and moved a little closer to you, looking at the guy with unease.

“Oh!” you replied, startled by his presence. “Uh…” You didn’t know whether to say yes or no, the alcohol clouding your senses and making you a bit slow. Before you could politely refuse, someone else, someone very unexpected, did it for you.

“Back off,” he growled, anger bubbling beneath the surface of his tone. “She’s mine.”

The stranger’s tone was enough to make the guy stop in his tracks. When you turned around, you found that the stranger was not a stranger at all. In fact, you knew him very well. “K-Katsuki?!” you stuttered out.

If it weren’t for the arms sinewy with muscle and tatts, that pierced earring that always got you going, blonde undercut with the buzzed sides, and vermillion eyes glaring daggers at the guy, you would not have known it was Dynamight himself. He looked so different out of his hero uniform, especially in casual clothes. The red V-neck he wore hugged his upper torso nicely, snug against his abs and pecs, and his jeans seemed to beckon your eyes downward where it was forbidden.

Damn, he looked good!

“And who are you?” the guy asked, squinting at Bakugou challengingly. Either he was too drunk or stupid to realize he was talking to a pro or he was just being an ass.

Either way, Bakugou wasn’t having it. He practically moved you aside as he got up in the guy’s face, his death stare never faltering. “Same guy who’s gonna make you see God early if you don’t get out the way,” he growled in a dangerously-low tone. “You really wanna try me tonight, bitch?” He lifted one hand in a warning, sparks crackling in his glistening palm. “I dare you.”

The guy wasn’t up for fucking around and finding out, so he dipped, quickly leaving the dance floor. Bakugou lowered his hand and glanced at you, his eyes softening somewhat but that unreadable look still on his handsome face. You’re too stunned by his presence to even speak.

“Well,” Mina giggled, a hand on her hip. “look who decided to come outside finally.”

“And crash our girls’ night!” Toru scoffed teasingly. “So rude!”

Bakugou barely spared them a glance, his eyes still on you. “The guys are here if you extras wanna tear into them too,” he asked, jutting a chin at the bar where, in fact, Kiri, Denki, and Sero were busy harassing Momo, Tsuyu, and Jirou with their dance moves and tipsy antics.

Mina paused for a moment, her eyes switching between Bakugou and you like two gold ping-pong balls. Finally, she smirked. “We just might,” she purred. “Come on, girls. Let’s give them some privacy.” She gave you a wink before hooking her arm with Uraraka and Toru.

“Wait!” you weakly said, but they were already leaving you…alone…with Bakugou in the middle of a club dance floor. The alcohol seemed to make his presence that much more intimidating as he stood before you, close enough to touch you but also giving you enough space to not feel boxed in.

He stared down at you, giving you an amused smirk. “What’s up, ma?” he asked curiously. “You good? You seem scared.”

The nickname he used for you made your clit jump embarrassingly in your panties. He’s never used that one on you before. Shit, he’s barely even spoken to you like this! “What are you doing here?” you asked, finally finding the courage to speak.

Bakugou stepped closer to you, making your heart go into hyperdrive. “I’m here for you,” he said boldly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You were dumbfounded, words dying in your throat. He quirked a brow at you, scoffing incredulously. “What? Don’t have anything to see after talking shit to my friends?”

You blinked, still taken aback by his closeness and his making conversation with you. “W-What are you—?”

He cut you off by stepping a bit closer, nearly closing the gap between you. As he did, you were aware that the song switched to one of your favorites–“Girls Dem Sugar” by Beenie Man with Mya’s sweet, soft voice floating over the track as the DJ dipped into his 90s dancehall bag. Bakugou bent down to whisper in your ear, his lips nearly at your cheek.

“So I’m uptight, right?” he whispered. “You really think that about me?”

Your eyes widened. Shit. You were caught. You knew you never should’ve said shit at that dinner. Damn those tequila shots and Kiri’s big, fat mouth!

You licked your dry lips, barely looking at Bakugou. “Katsuki, I…” You wanted to apologize for offending him or making him feel some type of way, but the words couldn’t formulate correctly.

Fortunately for you, Bakugou never gave you the chance. In an instant, he was wrapping an arm around you and snatching you toward him. You let out a squeak of surprise as you were suddenly flush against him, his face like a full moon to you. “I’ll show you uptight,” he growled lowly.

Before you could ask what he meant or even ponder the thought, he was throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer to him before proceeding to bend his knees slightly and grind his hips slowly against yours. Your eyes widened, shocked by what was happening. Katsuki Bakugou dancing with you? Grinding against you? Were you dead and in heaven?

Noticing your shocked expression, his eyes softened more. “Okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

That eased the tension you felt surrounding you and your body. You relaxed into his touch, into his arms. “Y-Yeah,” you answered, swallowing hard. Bakugou chuckled at you. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he cooed, making you flush under the lights. “Now you know how you make me feel every single time I see you.”

Whoa. Wait. There’s no way.

You couldn’t process his words through your alcohol-fogged brain for long before he was rolling his hips again, wedging his thigh between your legs for better access. “Dance with me,” he whispered to you, eyes on you and you alone.

His pleading, heated gaze seemed to awaken something in you because you found yourself grinding against him too, your hands moving to run over his broad chest. He moved one hand to rest above your ass, never going lower without your permission. That only turned you on more. Feeling daring, you took his hand and slid it down to your ass, letting him cop a feel as you rolled your body against his, the two of you feeding off each others’ energy.

It felt good, being like this with him. It felt like it was only the two of you on the floor, in the building, in the whole fucking world. You held onto him tightly, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and breathing him in as you continued to grind against his hard body, both hands on your ass now. God, you never wanted this moment to end.

“Turn around,” he suddenly growled to you. You looked up at him and blinked dumbly at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” His eyes darkened, gaze firm yet molten with heat. “Turn the fuck around.” With a bit of hesitation, you did as he said and gasped quietly when he pushed his hips into your ass. There, you felt the obvious outline of his hardened dick against your lower back.

You tried to protest, your mind telling you this was wrong, but Bakugou gently shushed you, pressing a finger to your hips. “Uh-uh, gorgeous,” he purred into your ear. “You’re gonna show me exactly what you meant by saying all that. According to Kiri, you want somebody who’s loose.”

He took both of his hands, gripping your hips and making you sway them against him. “So how loose do you want me to be?”

He pressed himself farther against you so his front was flush against your back. And so understanding what you were doing to him was undeniable: you were turning him on. Realizing he asked you a question, you tried in vain to search for a response. “I…”

Bakugou took your hips and began to roll himself into your ass, moving to the beat. “Show me,” he urged.

And so you did. Bending your knees, you winded your ass back into him, going from fast to slow depending on the song’s tempo. You don’t know how long your dancing on him lasted, but it felt like forever. You could feel him watching you intently, eyes drinking in your every movement. It egged you on along with his tiny whispers of “Shit” and “Fuck” as your ass bounced against his crotch.

As the song picked up a faster speed suddenly, you went to turn around to get a look at his face, but he never gave you a chance. In a flash, he was wedging a foot between yours and forcing you to bend over. You squealed, suddenly touching your toes, and you could barely believe it when you felt Bakugou’s hips begin to slam into you from behind in precision with the beat.

‘Oh, my God???!!!’ you thought, your mind racing as Bakugou gripped your hips mercilessly, his fingers caressing up your mini skirt to your thighs.

“Get it, Katsuki!” you heard Mina scream from the bar. “Fuck her up!”

You were so sure the man was gonna force you to go lower, but luckily, that didn’t happen. He finally let you come up and turned you around to face him. “That loose enough for you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You couldn’t speak for a moment, too winded by what just happened between you two. You didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. Your heart was racing a million beats a second, your mind hazy, and your panties soaked. All you could think about was how Bakugou could move in the sheets other than the dance floor with moves like that.

“Katsuki,” you breathlessly giggled, giddy, and turned on beyond belief…but his unsmiling expression took the smile right off your face. You suddenly remembered your hurtful words toward him and felt embarrassed.

“I didn’t…” you began, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Katsuki. But I’m really glad you’re here.”

You stared down at your feet, trembling. You were sweating now, but now from pure humiliation. What if he really hated you now? What if he was just here to teach you a lesson, and gave you that hot ass dance and said all that flirty shit to play with you?

But all of that went out the window when Bakugou lifted your chin with his thumb, forcing you to look at him. His gaze, heated and sensual, put your thoughts on pause.

“Come with me,” he rasped and was practically dragging you off the dance floor before you could give him a yes.

#bakugou x black reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #black coded reader #my fic shit #my works #smutty smut #i’ll show you uptight #suki baby #18+ fic #black fanfic writer

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dragon-queen21 · 1 year

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agere regressor usopp who hid it from his crew members but it's revealed after yet another scary fight with another pirate crew [ i imagine he regresses for stress/ fear relief ] ? like he hid in his room / workshop and luffy came to find him but was either confused on his behavior so he called chopper as he thought usopp was injured or played along with him ! oh, and on that note, maybe agere luffy regressor hcs too please, if that's not too much <3

I really like your idea! First thing I thought of (and what this post is mostly talking about because I got hooked on the idea :P ) is him trying to tell his crewmates about his regression before they find out on their own and make very wrong assumptions about it, but always getting to nervous to outright tell anyone.

So he settles on trying to teach his crew about what age regression is by making up stories that may or may not have a subtle persuasive points. For example the stories protagonist getting hit with a magical spell that leaves him physically the size of a child.

Casually asking Chopper questions about what it might mean if say, perhaps, someone, not him, no definitely not, starts to feel small and acting childish. Even though he knows exactly what age regression is it seems like a harmless enough way to figure out what the doctor does or doesn’t know. “I don’t know. Probably means the person is at peace.” Which he agrees is half true.

Once he got brave enough to simply ask Robin if she’d ever read anything about age regression, playing it off as though he just heard about it himself while they were stopped at an island.

That was enough for Robin to actually take the time to start looking into it and putting the pieces together on her own. “So about these stories, any chance they’re based off real experiences?” Which only throws Usopp into a state of ‘code red: abort mission’ because they were not supposed to find out that easily.

A part of me feels like Luffy would already know what agere is and be very confused as to why Usopp was hiding a part of himself from the crew. Especially when he’s seems to regress after nearly any scary encounter and clearly needs comfort.

Another part of me thinks that he would just be kind of oblivious, yet so willing to help either way because he’s curious and doesn’t want his nakama to feel alone.

#mayliz rambles #one piece agere #sfw agere #age regression #age regression headcanons #fandom agere #anime agere #little usopp

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dragongirl642 · 3 years

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If you are taking requests may I request some Heisenberg with a mute SO (maybe from an injury? Or trauma?) who, initially when they first met he thought they were too afraid of him to speak to him but eventually realised that no, they just CANT speak. Maybe they communicate through sign language instead?

Hi there 😎 To confirm, asks are open for head canons and mashups.

Thank you for the ask, I am thriving of this Heisenberg fix 😘

Discalimer: I am not mute and have never written a mute character before, I apologise for any inconsistencies or stereotypes that arise.

Here are some sfw headcanons for Heisenberg with a mute S/o (including their first meeting).

How he reacts to a first meeting depends on the situation.

If he meets you while doing his job as a Lord, e.g., kidnapping, after the lycan attack, or catching you somewhere you shouldn't be:

Heisenberg isn't surprised when you don't say anything upon meeting him. He knows the effect an unknown man wielding a giant hammer and levitating metal has on an unsuspecting person and can't help but grin at your shocked gasp and wide eyes.

However, he does want a reaction. You know how he just casually stands there and waits for a reaction from Ethan? That.

So he starts to get annoyed when you don't say anything.

No pleas for freedom? Sarcastic comebacks? Witty banter? This man thrives off of whatever communication he can get from anyone who isn't part of his 'family', so he gets angsty.

He will amp up the dramatics for a reaction - think flinging metal past you or holding shards to your neck with his abilities, "Well, are you not going to say anything?" "Cat got your tongue?"

But when you gesture frantically to your throat and mouth and sign at him, he freezes.

At the moment, using his voice is one of the only ways he can actually rebel against his 'family', so he immediately feels pity for you.

Depending on his mood, and whether any of the other Lords or Miranda has a spy nearby, he may shoo you away/point to an exit. But most likely he will either kidnap you to his factory, telling himself that he'll let you go later, or take you to the others anyway.

If he meets you before the incident, while taking one of his coveted jaunts to pub or walk through woods:

Just like in the other situation, he craves communication and reactions.

He is momentarily shocked when you reveal that you can't verbally communicate with him, but then tries to immediately show-off the little Romanian sign language he knows. (During his initial kidnapping and experimentation by Mother Miranda, he met and learned a few phrases from one of the other children and a maid). However, he quickly realises that it's not enough to have a full conversation; also, you might/probably sign in a different language/non-compatible variant (BSL, Auslan, ASL, SSl, etc...).

If you respond with enthusiasm to his attempts, he will be encouraged to seek out other means of holding a conversation, writing on a napkin, playing yes-or-no, and charades.

Will make a lot of jokes and innuendos about a common language that doesn't require talking. (Wink wink 😉😱 if you know what I mean)

He's surprised by how much fun he has talking to you and playing yes-no/charades. He doesn't want to leave but he will.

Will most likely hint that you should leave the area, believing you'll be safer away form the village. (Anyone would be).

Whilst in a relationship

As mentioned before, Heisenberg is very insecure and requires reassurance from his s/o that they want to stay with him. Establishing communication with his s/o is of paramount importance.

All the paper he owns always ends up oil-stained, ripped, or charred, but he somehow immediately finds a clean notepad and gifts it to you with a gilded quill. He may forget to provide ink at first, but he soon realises.

Alao, if you're used to modern conveniences, you may have to deal with a quill for awhile - Pens, what pens, all of his are chewed to oblivion and empty, same for his pencils, chewed and shattered. He searches for three hours across the whole factory before he realises he doesn't have a single working pen left and will go out to find more (or buy some of the duke).

He learns the sign language you use. Even though he's a fast learner, It's a slow process since the only material he has to learn with is a few scraps of paper from an outdated sign book, in the wrong language, and you.

When signing, his accent is a bit lazy (especially if he's working) and, if you teach him, he uses a lot of slang, for speed. Basically the signed equivalent of a stereotypical movie cowboy drawl.

Although he's adverse to physical affection anyway, especially at the start of the relationship, he gradually gets more needy with hand-holding and kisses.

Everytime you squeeze his hand in response to a question/statement, he raises your hand and kisses the palm. It makes conversations ten times as long but he won't stop no matter what.

Kisses your neck...a lot!

Definitely knows morse code. Builds a receiver set so you can message him anywhere in the factory. If you know it too, he's happy to respond to you tapping messages, and sometimes making cheeky jokes and innuendos from around a corner where you cant see him. If you don't, he'll teach you.

Also, morse code arguments...that almost always end in laughter if one of you taps out "don't yell at me".

Will try and build an arm-mounted typewriter for you...It doesn't go well.

One day when he's tinkering around making more headgear for a hauler he has an idea and excitedly rushes to find you. Just like how the headgear simulates brain activity, he offers to try and build a neural implant that will transmit your thoughts to a speaker.

He will mope around/sulk if you reject him, and start building it in secret. If you give in to his puppy eyes and agree he will throw himself into building it, but once he realises how intrusive/dangerous it will be for you, he stops and congratulates himself on keeping you safe (even though it was his idea in the first place).

If you're mute due to an injury, he will sometimes entertain the thought of building mechanical vocal chords.

If you're a selective mute, due to trauma, the first time he hears you speak (if you do), he starts crying. Definitely recorded you for playback later.

I think he is the Lord most likely to use the fact that you're mute against you in an argument. Either as an insult, or to gain the upper hand by tearing away whatever you're using for communication to silence you, e.g., taking away your paper, pinning your hands to the wall so you cant sign, etc...

He always regrets it though, and will try to apologise by being extra accommodating and making you gifts.

If he is in a tantrum, after coming back from a 'family' meeting, and there is metal flying everywhere, It will be even harder to get his attention than normal.

The first time this happened, he didn't realise you were there until a shard of metal sliced open your arm and you fell into some boxes stacked in the corner. Thr clatter, your tears, and the pained sound you made, brought him back to the moment and sent him straight into panic mode, he fussed over you for five hours with tears in his eyes; patching your arm, worrying over blood loss, holding your hand and refusing to let go.

He made a loud jangly bracelet or belt covered in bells and asked you to wear them. It took a while of steady convincing for him to realise this is going overboard.

However, despite your refusal, he knows the factory is a dangerous place and is terrified that you may one day be in danger and he wouldn't realise. (Even more so that he will be the one to hurt you).

He finds an airhorn, and also makes a panic button that will set off the factory's alarms, for you. Should you ever find yourself in danger, e.g., cornered by a lycan or soldat, there's an intruder, or you need to snap him out of an episode, you can just blow the horn/start the alarms and he'll come running.

He will sulk until you accept the panic button and try and hide it in your clothes, either with his powers or through 'surprise hugs' (which is instantly suspicious, because he's not the one to initiate hugs most of the time).

(I feel like he would make a panic button for a non-mute s/o too. Losing you is this man's biggest fear).

Whew...all done. 😅 Thank you again for the ask, it was eye-opening researching different types of sign language.

#re8 #re8 village #re8 headcanons #re headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil heisenberg #karl heisenberg x mute reader #re8 karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x you

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insaneoldme · 3 years

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Can you rec buddie fics? Pretty please?

OMG it's my time to shine, bitches!!!

Sorry if I went a little nuts, but this fandom has some of the best writers I've ever seen. I have 186 Buddie fics bookmarked in my AO3,

I'll link here if you are interested in taking a look cause if I put them all here it would be too long. Also, I tried to show here some fics I very rarely see recced, and a little bit o the classics. This fandom has some very underrated authors, everyone in my bookmarks is worth taking a look really.

Please take a look at the warnings before reading, enjoy!!!

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies (Rated E )

Buck and Eddie had always been unconventional. Neither of them gave it much thought – they were just them. Buck and Eddie - partners, best friends, co-parents – just as entangled in each other’s lives as any actual couple in the 118.

Or, the story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

My Heart's Been Borrowed by ElvenSorceress (Rated E)

aka the one where Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and uncovers far more than either of them expected, forcing him to confront his long held feelings for Eddie

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by HMSLusitania (Rated E)

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) (Rated E)

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

Keep It On by R_E_R6 (Rated E)

When Eddie walks in on Buck, bent over in nothing but a hoodie, their plans for the night immediately change. Buck's outfit though? Well, Eddie requests that it stays the same...for reasons.

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by ElvenSorceress (Rated T)

Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart

hungry for your love by evcndiaz (Rated G)

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"

or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests (Rated M)

A glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

when things fall into place by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Eddie asks Buck to move in with them during lockdown to help look after Christopher, which leads to certain unresolved feelings being resolved.

Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

Evan "Buck" Buckley has made a name for himself as the independent bad boy of archaeology. At least, until Professor Eddie Diaz shows up with his fedora and good looks and starts beating Buck to the punch more often than not.

Buck hates his stupid six-pack covered guts.

Except for how... he might not.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates (Rated E)

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.

But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back.

He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

ripples all the way down by iriswests (Rated M)

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings (Rated M)

Evan Buckley is lost.

It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door.

Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name.

Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

fireflies where my caution should be by littlesnowpea (Rated M)

“You never talk about your parents,” Eddie says, which is not even remotely what Buck expects Eddie to say. He frowns, tilts his head, but it isn’t a question, as evidenced by Eddie charging on. “I never asked because I figured it was your business, but the look on your face any time they’re brought up tells me you don’t get along.”

Buck swallows hard, against a lump in his throat. His parents? Eddie’s right, he never talks about them, for good reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what he’s even going to say.

Eddie takes it as the answer Buck is trying to make it out to be. He squeezes Buck’s wrist again, takes a deep breath, like he’s on a call with someone who’s panicking. Buck finds his breathing slowing to match Eddie’s, and Eddie nods as Buck gets it under control.

“There are people on the porch,” Eddie says, voice even. “Saying they want to meet their grandchild.”

Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Memorable by JessicaMDawn (Rated T)

Six times Buck got recognized by people he saved during the tsunami, and how his team realized he was a hero.

All Bets are Off by NobodyKnows_U (Not Rated)

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

fire on fire by extasiswings (Rated T)

Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.

Better Together by Randomfandombloggs09 (Not Rated)

5 times Eddie sees Buck wearing his last name and 1 time its not just his

Daddy and Pops by EdithBlake (Rated M)

When Christopher calls Buck 'Pops' things get a bit confusing. Buck and Eddie have a talk with Christopher that ends up with both of them being even more confused by how right it sounds.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (Rated E)

unknown sender: Hi!

unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run.

unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way.

sent: hey um

sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but

sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

vienna waits for you by mottainai (Not Rated)

Eddie doesn't deserve a soulmate.

Work Husband by hideeho (Rated T)

“What...what have you done with Buck?” Eddie is going to kill him for messing with his phone. No, that’s too extreme. He’s going to maim him. Just a little.

“Check under H,” Chim offers helpfully, shooting a look over to Hen with a smirk.

Why the hell would he be under—

Then he sees it.

Husband.

Bad Neighbors by firstdegreefangirl (Rated E)

Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.

Cross the Line by Sirencalls (Rated E)

Eddie laughs, short and quiet and almost to himself. “No. If you want to learn, then I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”

Buck is pretty sure his brain stops working. “What? Why?”

Eddie turns to look at him and steps closer, their chests only a few inches apart. “Because there are people out there who will take advantage of how naïve you are. They’ll hurt you, and I won’t.” Eddie’s eyes are so intense that Buck doesn’t have any choice but to believe him. “If you want someone to do this for you, to—to dominate you, it has to be me. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

pretty in pink by dykeevans (Rated E)

Buck forgets that he and Eddie made plans to hang out until Eddie shows up and Buck's in the middle of laundry day.

His laundry day outfit consists of a small pink crop top and grey sweatpants.

Eddie loses his damn mind. Me too, though, me too.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Rated G)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Something Old, Something New by dumbhuman (Rated E)

“Damn, I love weddings!” Buck’s face lit up as he closed the door.

If asked later, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to explain what came over him in that moment to make him ask the question. Or, at least, he wouldn’t have wanted to explain. The exhaustion was an easy excuse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t a real one.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn (Rated G)

five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu (Rated T)

“Why is everybody taking my relationship status so personally? Can’t I be fine with being single?” Buck said.

“Hey, you don’t have to say yes, be sad and alone if that’s what you want,” Josh replied. “But, I’m just saying. I’ve seen photos and this guy is volcanic levels of hot. Also, single dad, super cute kid. Saves lives for a living like you. I think you should give it a go.”

(the one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there)

Keeping It In The Family by Wolves_of_Innistrad (Rated T)

A young man shows up at the firehouse looking for Buck. Turns out Javier was a Bartender with Buck in Mexico. He’s back in LA, looking to reconnect and very flirty. Cue Eddie realizing Buck is not as straight as he thought.

kiss me (like your ex is in the room) by rebeccaofsbfarm (Rated E)

Eddie Diaz gets drunk and protective and signs up for a fake double date to get back at his friend's ex.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania (Rated M)

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home

All my Buddie AO3 bookmarks

As I said this fandom has some very talented people, some of my favorite Authors's Tumblrs below, I recommend all the things they wrote and their blogs are very good.

@elvensorceress, @hmslusitania, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @extasiswings

For gifs:

@arrenemris, @skylessnights (very lovely AU gifsets)

@from-nova(good gifs & content)

For Podfics: @mistmarauder everything she ever read is amazing, her podfics are high quality and she has a very lovely voice and her presence calms me down lol I recommend it

I'm sorry there are a lot more people but I'm kinda in a rush haha most of the people I follow are amazing, but the ones I mentioned here are enough to get you started or entertained for a while.

Buddie fics are amazing, this pairing has spoiled me so much, everyone I met because of it is nice and so active and talented.

Sorry mutuals if I forgot someone!

I hope I helped Anon, have fun!

(Tell me if any link is wrong please, thanks)

#buddie #buddie recs #recs #fic recs #911 on fox #911fox #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ao3

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

Tracing Time

Monday, 15:18

Song: The Neighbourhood - Reflections

The clock at the front of the lecture hall is too far away for Sander to actually hear its ticking, but it feels like it’s louder than the tapping of his pen where he’s drumming it against his notebook. This is propped open with only a few lines of actual notes and a lot of doodles, with a quick, ragged sketch of Robbe on the bottom half of the page. Sander sighs quietly to himself as he fails his futile attempt to listen to the professor, and goes back to the drawing to add on some extra shading and more careful detail.

This is so much easier to get caught up in. Time disappears when it comes to art or Robbe, so combining the two is similar to falling into a black hole. The gravity of it is so strong, making it impossible for Sander to escape as time stops and everything else ceases to exist. He gets eaten up in it, lost until the point where everything whites out but the scratch of pen on paper and the familiar shape of Robbe’s eyes. There is no talking or ticking to make him want to peel his skin off (or at least fidget about in his chair).

It’s not the best plan, however, because he zones out a little too completely. He doesn’t realise that the class has ended until a girl clears her throat next to him, standing in the aisle and waiting to get past. Sander whips his gaze around and notices his other classmates already filing out of the room.

He flushes, muttering an apology as he quickly gets to his feet and presses back to let the girl and her friend slip past him. She glances down at his notebook as she passes and her lips quirk in a knowing smile, but she merely says, “Cute. Nice work on the lips.”

Sander’s blush deepens, but he returns her smile and manages to thank her quietly before she slips away. Her friend raises her brows and smirks at him, but doesn’t say anything as she follows. He lets out a breath and slumps back against his now folded-up chair, taking a moment to collect himself. He snatches up his bag and hastily stows away his belongings, only taking time to carefully close the notebook and tuck it in between the others in his bag. He trots down the steps and almost makes it to the door without any further embarrassment, and then the professor is calling his name.

Lars Coomans isn’t Sander’s favourite professor, only because he teaches art theory rather than anything practical. Sander doesn’t mind learning about history when he finds the subject interesting, but that only happens about twelve percent of the time. (Again, this isn’t Lars’ fault.) The man is not his favourite professor, but he might be one of his favourite people. He’s a tall man in his late forties with a tiny bald patch on the right side of his head and a soft voice. He’s relatively laid back and certainly kind.

For this reason, Sander doesn’t even feel the need to groan as he hangs back, even while the last stragglers shoot him curious looks on the way out. Lars waits until they’ve left to smile at Sander and lean back against his desk, head tilted as he considers his student.

Now, Sander begins to feel a bit nervous.

“How are you, Sander?”

The question is kind, careful, and it baffles him. He knows that all of his professors are aware of his illness, but none of them make a habit of checking up on him. They’re aware, from when he misses a week or two of classes or, on the rare occasion, needs to ask for an extension on an assignment. They’re aware, but beyond that, it doesn’t come up. No one makes a fuss about it and he’s grateful. And maybe Lars isn’t, either, maybe it’s just his kindness sprouting in the start of the conversation, nothing more than a mere courtesy. But the searching way he’s looking at Sander makes him hesitant, and he clasps his right hand around his left wrist and shifts on his feet before clearing his throat. He decides to take the casual route. “I’m fine, how are you?”

Lars seems to relax, lips quirking further for a moment before he shakes his head and waves a hand. “Oh, good, good, thank you. No, I’m not trying to be nosy, I just ask because you didn’t submit your assignment before noon today.”

Sander blinks. “Sorry?”

“The papers that were due this morning?” Lars blinks back, tilting his head. When Sander continues to stare at him blankly, he offers, “On the renaissance?”

Oh. Sander’s mouth opens and closes for a moment before he finds his voice. “But that’s not due until Friday evening?” It comes out as a question as his brow furrows in confusion. He’s sure the two assignments weren’t due in one day, and he frequently checks his calendar. He’s lost, and he’s beginning to panic slightly.

“No, it was due today,” Lars says softly, searching again as he crosses his legs at the ankles and taps the edge of his desk. “Daems has an assignment due on Friday, I believe, you have him, don’t you?”

Realisation hits abruptly. “Fuck,” he breathes, raising a hand to cover his face. “Shit, sorry. I don’t know—I must have mixed the dates, put the classes in wrong.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But Lars just nods, his whole posture softening in understanding. “Alright,” he sighs. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, it’s an easy mistake. Can you get it to me by the end of the day?”

Sander swallows. “I haven’t started it,” he admits. He’d started doing the research, but he didn’t even have enough of that yet. He would be lucky to finish that by the end of the day, never mind the paper itself.

“Okay, well, you thought you had until Friday.” Lars rubs a hand over his chin and finally just shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll put you down for an extension until the time you thought it was due. And at least you don’t have the other one to worry about now, since I’m assuming that means you submitted it this morning.”

Relief flows through Sander in streams, but the banks are prickled. He purses his lips tightly and squeezes his wrist. “Lars, I just fucked up. I don’t have a good excuse, I don't want any pity.”

“No,” Lars immediately protests, pushing away from his desk to stand closer to Sander. “It’s nothing of the sort. No pity, or special treatment. You explained you made a mistake and I’ve no reason not to trust you.” He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re one of the best students here, Sander. I know because I pass that work of yours on the street every day. Even someone that good has to slip up sometimes, hm?”

Sander can only stare at him, feeling his cheeks warm again. He ducks his head, embarrassed at the compliment and the thought of his professor seeing the magnitude of his sappy love on a regular basis.

Lars only chuckles, bumping Sander’s shoulder. “I know I’m teasing, but I mean it. You’ve never even asked me for an extension before. I know you weren’t just slacking off. It feels bad, I know, but it’s not a big deal, kid. Just brush it off and then get it done, alright?”

Sander considers him. Then with a deep breath, he nods and murmurs, “Thank you.”

“Don’t stress.” Lars squeezes his shoulder, then waves him away. “Come find me or email me if you have any questions, okay? Now go on, no need to hang around an old man any longer.”

Sander huffs, but offers him one last nod and grateful smile before making his way out. As soon as he’s passed through the door, he falters in his step and his eyes close, anger towards himself returning with a vengeance. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? How has it taken this long for that to happen?

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment, willing the frustration away. It doesn’t work entirely, but he manages a few slow breaths and collects himself enough to leave. He doesn’t think too much about where he’s going, just follows the feeling and lets his feet carry him to his bike, then pedal automatically through the streets.

The garage comes into view, and Sander tucks his bike away before rapping his knuckles against the door, not having to think about the familiar knock beyond muscle memory. His feet are tapping on the ground, and he does his best to shake the nerves out of his skin as he waits.

He’s not in full panic mode yet, not really. The only thoughts he can conjure are more swears and variations of stupid, stupid, stupid. He needs something distracting enough to quiet these rants down, but mindless enough that he can attempt to sort his thoughts out.

This is part of the reason he can’t go to Robbe, no matter how much he wants to. Robbe will be too kind. Too soothing. He’s the only one ever able to fully drown out Sander’s thoughts enough so that he stops being unkind to himself.

He doesn’t want that, at the moment. He thinks he deserves this more.

This being the frustration that leads him to bang the rhythmic code on the door once more when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Woah,” a familiar voice interrupts. “You’re not usually the kind who breaks in by knocking the place down.”

Sander turns slowly on his heel to face Adi. The man (as Sander considers him, because he is actually three years older and holds genuine wisdom on occasion) is staring him down in amusement. Quite literally staring down, as he has a good few inches on Sander, but he often leans back and slouches his shoulders to make up for it. He’s only about as tall as Jens, really, but he’s broader and looks overall bigger and more intimidating.

Robbe might be tiny next to him, and Sander might find it adorable, but Robbe is also completely unfazed because of long-time exposure to Jens.

Which is only mildly disappointing. (Robbe is extra adorable when he’s both dwarfed and flustered.)

“Sorry,” Sander says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t think that there might not be anyone here. I should’ve texted you first.”

Adi just huffs and moves to open the door, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, that would’ve been easier on your hands.” His own light-brown hand is slender and quick as he unlocks the door, movements as automatically familiar as Sander’s when he’s drawing.

They don’t speak even as they make it inside. Adi traipses around quietly to turn on lights and check up on everything, weaving between trucks, and Sander moves through to the back of the room to the piece he’s been working on. He throws his bag down and immediately crouches to examine his paint cans, eyes flickering between them and his work as he debates where to pick up again. Adi joins him after a moment, but still hangs back, leaning against the wall behind Sander silently.

Sander thinks this is probably why Adi might actually be his best friend, because he has known Adi even longer than his group from the Academy and Adi understands him just as well as Lucas.

“I fucked up,” Sander says eventually, so quietly he’s unsure if Adi hears him over the spray of the can. He’s ready to repeat himself in the responding silence, but then Adi is standing at his side.

Adi tilts his head. “Not with Robbe.”

“No,” Sander agrees, and finds some relief in it. At least it isn’t Robbe.

“Another friend?”

“School.”

“Oh. Bad?”

Sander lets his hand fall to his side and sighs. Adi is calm and curious but not comforting, nothing more than a steady presence next to him. It allows Sander to reorder his thoughts into something he can actually articulate. “No, it’s not even a problem, really. I just made a mistake and it’s pissing me off.”

“But it’s not a disaster?” Adi tilts his head further.

“Probably not.” When Adi only continues to stand and look, he heaves another sigh. “I mixed up the dates for two assignments and submitted the wrong one today, meaning I missed the actual deadline for the other. But he’s just giving me that time as an extension, because apparently I’m a good student. Can you fucking believe that?”

Adi’s lips finally quirk, his amusement returning at Sander’s incredulous, exasperated exclamation. “No, I can’t, actually. But then again you’re kinda art obsessed, so maybe.”

This time Sander blows out a breath that can’t really be considered a sigh, with the farting noise that accidentally accompanies it. He wipes a hand over his mouth as if it will erase the sound while Adi barks a laugh.

“So you’re just pissed because your brain did you dirty,” Adi summarises.

Sander grimaces, but nods. “And wondering how it’s taken this long for me to fuck up like that.”

“Maybe because you’re not a fuck-up.” Adi raises a brow pointedly, but Sander simply waves him off. The sentiment is kind, but it doesn’t change the fact that he fucked up. Then Adi adds, “And anyone can get their wires crossed like that. You’re not that unique.”

It draws a snort out of Sander against his will. It doesn’t matter that he knows what Adi is really trying to say, hears the reassurance and reminder tucked within the words; the blatant dry tone it comes out in startles him enough to set it off. Adi’s forming grin doesn’t match it and makes it easier for Sander to see through him, but he’ll let him away with it this once.

He knocks his paint can against Adi’s shoulder. “Thanks.” It’s much more clearly genuine than Adi had been, and more than Sander expected himself to give, but he does feel better and he appreciates it. It doesn’t matter that ‘thanks’ is as difficult as ‘sorry’; that just means Adi will know he means it.

Sander is sure of it when Adi simply nods in response, turning to examine Sander’s artwork rather than put pressure on him to figure out his expression. He watches on as Sander gets back to work, and eventually shifts to lean back against the wall. “Things are good with Robbe, then?”

“Yeah, always.” Sander smiles, unbidden, at the simple mention. He doesn’t feel the need to be embarrassed about it, even when Adi huffs.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” he notes, and Sander pauses. “Any special plans?”

Sander stays still for a moment, and then shrugs, putting his arm into motion again. He hasn’t thought about it. He might have been avoiding thinking about it. “Unless it’s a surprise. I know I’ll see Robbe, but that’s it. I do that everyday.”

“You not hanging out with all of them? What about Gilles and his gang, and Lucas and whoever?”

Sander’s mouth twitches, but he quickly schools it away. “I’ll see the guys at uni and maybe Lucas if we go to the flat or I pick Robbe up at school.”

He can just see Adi in his peripheral, and catches his thoughtful nod and careful bite of the lip. “Right, right. You ever planning on bringing him here again?”

“Robbe?” Sander asks, just to be a little shit.

“Fuck, no. I love him, I do, but he’s hardly an artist. Nah, Lucas.”

Sander brings Lucas at least twice a month, and Adi knows it. “They’re all busy with school. Final year and all that.”

“Yeah, but he’s applying to the Academy right? So, technically, this is like studying.”

“Do you want to see Lucas again, Adi?” Sander asks, mustering as much mock-astonishment into his tone as he can.

He receives a scoff for his efforts. “You know it’s not like that, you fucking asshole.”

“Good, because you know, he has a boyfriend, Adi.”

“Who happens to be Robbe’s best friend and your kind-of friend, yeah, yeah, I know. I also happen to be straight, dickhead.” He cocks his head at Sander and his lips slip into a smirk. “While you also have a boyfriend, and you’re whipped as hell for him, and yet look who you still came running to to kiss your boo-boos.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sander says this time, tossing the now-empty spray can at him. Adi dodges with a startled noise followed by his low, booming laughter, and Sander just shakes his head and marvels at his quiet mind.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sobbe #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time

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softpadawan · 3 years

Note

How would Ezra react to meeting de-aged Kanan? Especially if Caleb wouldn't remember anything from his live as Kanan?

I think Ezra would be heartbroken. Devastated. His Master, the man he loves and admires and respects—the father figure he so desperately needs at this critical time in his life—has no idea who Ezra is anymore. He is now one of Ezra’s peers. Which isn’t bad, but that’s not the kind of relationship Ezra needs right now. Kanan is a more effective teacher being older than Ezra rather than being the same age as him, I believe.

How did this de-ageing happen? That’s a good question. Maybe Kanan had a hyperspace accident or got sucked into a wormhole and spat back out 14 years younger with no memory of his life post-Order 66.

Once the shock and grief wears off, I can see Caleb and Ezra getting along. Caleb had friends growing up in the Jedi Temple (see Kanan: The Last Padawan comic series), so he’s no stranger to social interactions with people his own age, but I found it odd in the comics that he never wondered about them after Order 66. Maybe he was just following the Jedi Code of not getting attached, but he didn’t even mourn their losses. Which is either lazy convenient writing or they were all just casual acquaintances and not really close. We’ll go with the latter theory in this case.

So Caleb suddenly finds himself way out in the Outer Rim with this street rat looking Force-sensitive kid from Lothal who keeps calling him Kanan and acts like they used to be best friends or something. Caleb has never had a best friend before, and he’s probably a little weirded out at first, but he likes Ezra for some reason even if he can’t remember him. And it feels pretty neat to be thought of as a “Master”. It makes him feel better about his future. (A future where he won’t lose his way or abandon the Force—what turned him into Kanan Jarrus, basically.)

I can see Caleb agreeing to keep training Ezra, teaching him all that he knows. Maybe soon Caleb finds himself forgetting the Jedi Code and getting attached to Ezra, who is funny and nice and actually pretty smart. They make a good team. They fight side by side now, get into trouble together (oh, poor Hera, now she’s got two teenage boys on her ship), save the day together, and goof off together. Maybe Caleb and Ezra and Sabine form a teen trio (because every Star Wars production needs that two-men-and-a-woman dynamic) and they have the times of their lives sticking it to the Empire.

...until Caleb encounters that time phenomenon again and is reverted back to his original self with no memories of being Ezra’s fellow teenager and BFF. (Because that’s how this angsty time storm works. Or something. Idk.) And now Ezra is heartbroken all over again, jeez, can’t this kid catch a break? But he’s dealt with emotional trauma before; he can deal with this easily enough. At least Caleb/Kanan isn’t dead. Stars, that would be way worse. Eventually Ezra’s melancholy over losing his friend Caleb fades into happy memories, and he’s glad to have Kanan back again.

Most of the time. Definitely not when Ezra skips Jedi practice and Kanan makes him scrub the Ghost from top to bottom.

#de-aged kanan #kanan jarrus #caleb dume #ezra bridger #meta #star wars rebels #kanan: the last padawan #kanan comic #this was a great ask #thank you!#hjbedit #star wars #gen #for once #ask bender #softpad answers

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telli1206 · 3 years

Text

The Only Time I Feel Alive Is When I Find Something I Would Die For (Part 3)

Mal’s plots turn personal when she cooks up a plan for her big brother, Jay, and Evie’s brother, Carlos.

Part 1

Part 2

“Fuck, do you think he bailed?!”

Mal glares at her brother from her spot on her bed. Jay’s hasty, frantic pacing to her door and back hasn’t stopped for over ten minutes now. His once perfectly combed hair is already in tangles from persistent tugging, and his lips are chewed red and swollen. Even his clothes are starting to crumple under his constant movements, and nerve-wracking sweat stains are pooling under his arms.

Gross. Mal can only hope Carlos is into good-looking trainwrecks.

“Will you just relax??” She groans and props herself up on her elbows. One glance to her phone and she’s rolling her eyes. “Oh. My. God. It’s only 3:27. They...I bet he’ll be here in 3 minutes! He’s not even late yet. Evil, just...get yourself together!”

But Jay continues his movements like he didn’t hear her, and Mal can’t tell if he’s ignoring her because of his nerves, or if he’s just being his usual asshole self. Either way, her annoyance level is reaching it’s breaking point.

She slides off the bed so she can stand right in front of Jay, blocking his path. He stops short with a huff right in front of Mal, eyeing her with growing disdain when she refuses to move. His attempt to step around her only earns him a harsh shove to his chest.

“Hey! Watch it!” Jay bursts, stumbling backwards with a flail of his arms. “You almost knocked me on my ass!”

Jay’s face reddens, and he steadies himself so he can stare down menacingly at Mal. Normally, Jay is undeterred by Mal’s physical attempts to stop him, so she’s actually startled by his awkward stumbling. Maybe he’s more anxious about his study “date” than she thought.

She sighs at the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. There’s no way this smitten doofus of a boy will be able to keep up with their usual banter. As much as she wants to continue her clapbacks when he’s being this irritating, he just looks, too...pathetic. Maybe now would be a good time to practice being a...supportive sister? Like Evie is. With Carlos.

She can try it, at least. If Evie does it, then maybe it’s not so bad.

“Look, Evie already texted me that they’re on their way, ok?” Mal does her best to soften her tone and reaches out to grab Jay’s shoulder, trying to rub it reassuringly. “She wouldn’t lie to me. Carlos. IS. Coming.”

“Right. Ok.” Jay winces, pinching his eyes shut. “Right. I’m being a fucking idiot.”

Mal chuckles and grabs his other shoulder to guide him out of the room. “No more than usual,” she teases as she gives him a light push into the hall bathroom. “Now, clean up. There’s no way you want Carlos seeing you like that. You ruined all MY hard work with that little freak out of yours.”

Jay turns to glare, but catches his reflection in the mirror instead, his eyes widening as he takes in his flustered, messy state, touching the frizz of his hair gingerly and leaning in close to examine his lips.

Mal chokes back a snicker, fighting the urge to further comment on Jay’s obvious distress. If she wants things to go well, he needs to keep a handle on whatever self-confidence he can muster before Carlos arrives. And she does want this to go well. For both of them.

A gentle knock at the door catches her attention, followed by her phone buzzing in her pocket. She smiles to herself, not even bothering to check the text.

“Alright Jay, make yourself presentable and get your ass downstairs. You’ve got 5 minutes,” Mal quips, sliding back into the hallway.

He nods, and a stuttered squeak escapes his lips. He goes back to brushing his hair, picking up speed to try to sort himself out. Mal leans back in to cast a short glance over Jay’s shoulder and into the mirror, giving her purple locks a quick fluff before retreating downstairs. She can’t stop a smilefrom curling on her lips as she nears the door.

“Well well, this is a surprise!” she teases as she’s pulling the door open.

But the rest of her joking is silenced by Evie’s bright smile and shining brown eyes. Mal is frozen, just for a moment, on the pretty girl at her door, not even aware yet of the boy at her side. Not that this is new, really. Mal feels herself weirdly gawking at her best friend no less than a dozen times whenever they’re together. But that must just be something that comes along with being friends with someone as stunning as Evie.

The pretty bluenette purses her lips into a tight smile, her hand grabbing for Carlos to pull him in beside her. “Ha ha. Nice one Mal,” she snarks, dragging Carlos past Mal and into the house.

“Please, come in, won’t you?” Mal mutters, closing the door behind them. She spins around to face them, flashing a toothy grin. “Carlos!” she chirps, finally focusing on the curly-haired boy at Evie’s side. “Welcome! It’s good to see you.”

Carlos breaks into a smile, wide and bright. It’s almost as pretty as Evie’s.

“Thanks Mal.”

She tries not to stare, but it’s as hard to look away from Carlos’ smile as it is Evie’s. He’s...absurdly attractive, just like his sister.

Carlos watches Mal for a moment, chewing on his lip. His eyes dart around the room, clearly looking for something. Or someone.

Um, Jay will be right down,” she spurts out quickly. “He had to gather the...study?...materials, that you need. I think that’s what he s-”

“Here! I’m here!”

All eyes dart to Jay, who’s jogging hurriedly down the stairs. He stops in front of Carlos, smiling happily but also panting breathlessly, his chest heaving to suck in some much-needed air.

Mal smirks at the two boys standing still and silent, with eyes locked and mirroring the same goofy grin. Evie slips back carefully, releasing her grip from Carlos to step up next to Mal, sneaking a subtle wink her way as she does so. Mal grabs at her arm and pulls her away to ease some space between them.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to study then!” Mal shrills, shocking Carlos and Jay out of their momentary trance. “Jay. Just don’t forget your...pencil. Ok?”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, thanks sis,” he murmurs. He lifts his arm, pausing mid-air, before finally slinging it casually across Carlos’ shoulders.

“Um. This way, Carlos,” Jay offers softly, steering the freckled boy towards the backyard sliding doors. “I-I set us up outside. To study. I thought...the sunshine, would be nice.”

Carlos nods quietly, walking beside Jay with a pleased smile as he leads them outside.

Mal’s eyes follow them and she bites back a grin. “Come on,” she insists to Evie, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her along. “I guess, we should study too, right?”

When they get to Mal’s room, Mal immediately flops back down onto her bed while Evie stands and stares in the doorway, her brows furrowed.

“What?” Mal asks when she notices Evie’s befuddled look.

Evie giggles, taking a few steps closer to the bed. “Don’t forget your pencil?” She perks a brow at Mal, letting her fingers toy with a silky blue curl on her shoulder. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t code for something. I know you too well, Mal.”

Mal smirks proudly, patting the spot next to her. She watches happily as Evie follows her silent command, breathing deep when Evie drops down beside her so she can inhale the sweet waft of her perfume.

“Believe me, I had no doubt you’d catch that, Princess,” Mal coos, throwing Evie a wink. “Nothing gets past you.”

Mal delights in the soft pink blush that’s warming on Evie’s cheeks. For a second she’s tempted to reach for them, to feel the warmth under her fingers. But she resists, for now. She’s way too excited to share her plan that’s currently underway with her pseudo partner in crime.

She grabs for Evie’s arm, pulling her close. They’re almost chest to chest, and Mal and can feel the hitch in Evie’s breath as she leans in even closer. “I’m not gonna tell you though...”

And Evie’s eyes suddenly flash a look of concern. She searches Mal’s face, her features only relaxing when Mal breaks into a wide grin. She scoots herself to the window near her bed, dragging Evie with her.

“...I’m gonna show you. Get over here and look.”

Evie smiles and inches closer, carefully resting her arm on the windowsill that Mal is already propped on. Mal puts a finger to her lips, quietly pointing down for Evie’s eyes to follow.

Just below them, Jay and Carlos sit at a table in the backyard. Both boys are currently pouring over their own materials, barely looking up and not even acknowledging each other.

Evie can’t help frowning at what she sees. She was definitely hoping for more of a connection for Carlos, especially with Jay’s obvious interest in her sweetly shy brother. She braves a glance back at Mal, hoping to read her expression, and finds herself suppressing a giggle. Mal is...pouting? At least, that’s what it looks like, with her brows knitted together and nose scrunched tightly. She bites hard on her lip, still staring at Mal and trying her best not to smile. But her normally snarky friend is just...adorable.

“Ugh, this is NOT what I was expecting,” Mal grumbles, fisting her hands. She glares down at Jay, eyes boring through the top of his head with angered determination. “He fucking better do what I told him. That down there is the most G-rated shit I’ve ever seen. He could have a study date like that with...with...our grandma!”

Evie tilts her head, eyes wide with renewed interest. “Oh, so you told Jay what to do with my brother? Is this some long, elaborate scheme to seduce Carlos or something?”

Mal lets the hint of a smile slip, her eyes still focused on the boys below. “Maybe,” she teases, letting her gaze shift to Evie. “Or maybe, I’m just teaching my clueless brother how to flirt.”

“Flirt??” Evie exclaims, brows raised in mock surprise. “He...needs your help? With that? Does Jay really think his pre-teen sister knows how to flirt better than he does?”

“No,” Mal snaps, her smile fading for a moment. “But I do.”

Mal lays a hand on Evie’s shoulder and turns her to face the window. But Evie’s too distracted by the touch to really realize what she’s doing. It feels almost...electric, prickling at her skin and sending a shiver down her arm. She can only hope Mal doesn’t notice, that she can’t feel the sudden racing of Evie’s heart, as if it just thudded to life under their skin-to-skin contact.

But Mal’s now sporting a smug grin and looking down at her brother, seemingly unaware of Evie’s inward struggle. “I guarantee you Jay’s going to do what I told him.” Mal muses, her eyes still trained on him. “My advice was way too good to ignore. Just watch.”

Evie exhales and leans into Mal’s touch, watching Carlos and Jay along with her in silence for what seems like, forever. But it soon becomes painfully obvious that...nothing is happening. Both boys are buried in their own books, occassionally letting their eyes drift to the other, but neither is saying a word. It’s...boring. Not that Mal and Evie have much experience with dating, but they might just keep it that way if all dates are like...this.

Mal drums her fingers nervously on Evie’s shoulder, speeding up their pace with each passing minute. Evie chuckles at how frantic they are now, the thrumming of them is practically ringing in her ears. She places her hand over Mal’s to calm her, giving a comforting look into bright green eyes.

“It’s ok, Mal. You did your best. Maybe Jay has his own moves he wants to try. Eventually.”

Mal scoffs and looks away. “Please. He wouldn’t have even gotten this far with Carlos without my help. He’s hopeless without me telling him what to do.”

Evie just shakes her head and starts to move away, ready to urge Mal to get to work on their own project. But Mal tightens her grip on Evie’s hand all of a sudden, yanking it down and squeezing tightly.

“Shit! Fuck yes, look!”

Evie’s eyes dart to Jay, who’s finally looking Carlos’ way. He’s leaning across the table, moving so slowly that Evie’s eyes can hardly register the motion. His hand is extended toward Carlos, and it looks like he’s going for...his notebook?

“W-what, is he doing?” Evie asks, stealing confused glances back to Mal. But the smirk on her face is evidence enough that this was part of her idea.

Jay’s hand stops just short of Carlos, but is close enough to catch the boy’s eye. He looks up from his writing, eyes narrowed on Jay’s hand, then up to meet his gaze.

“Hey Carlos?” Jay smiles softly, and Carlos relaxes, letting himself smile back. “I can’t find my pencil. Can I, borrow yours, just for a second?”

As he speaks, Jay’s hand slides forward again. His fingers raise just enough to cover Carlos’ hand with his own, his fingers curling to grasp up to Carlos’ wrist.

Carlos’ eyes drop down immediately at the touch, his brows raised in surprise as he watches Jay’s hand encompass his. When Jay finally withdraws, he makes a show of lightly scraping his fingers down Carlos’ knuckles. The sensation is soft and almost teasing, and Carlos finds himself swallowing sharply to avoid making any pleased sounds from something as simple as touching hands. When Jay reachs the pencil resting in the crook of Carlos’ hand he closes his fingers around it, pulling it along with them and slipping it out of Carlos’ grasp.

“Thanks,” Jay whispers, his eyes still on Carlos. “I’ll give it right back, I swear.”

Evie’s attention is diverted just as Jay starts writing, feeling another tight squeeze to her hand. She had almost forgotten Mal was still holding onto it. Mal is looking at her, teeth clenched into a broad, catlike grin, and she squeezes Evie’s hand again.

“Yessss! This is going to be gold,” she squeals, looking intently at the paper Jay is writing on.

Jay looks up and grins toothily at Carlos as he finishes his note, and pushes the the pencil back across the table. He follows it with the paper, giliding it across the table to stop right in front of his freckled crush.

Carlos perks a brow, examining both Jay and the paper with a growing curiousity. Jay nods his reassurance and slides the note further towards Carlos, resting it just under his Carlos’ fingertips.

“Go ahead,” he urges. “It’s for you.”

Carlos inches the notes towards him with his fingertips, finally dropping it into his lap and snatching it up quickly. His lips twitch eagerly as he reads along.

“Carlos,

I hope this note makes you smile, because you have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I’ve liked you for a long time. Will you go out with me?

~ Jay”

Jay beams as he listens to his request read aloud, his eyes sparkling with hope when Carlos finally looks into them.

“Well, what do you say, Carlos? Will you let me take you out on a date? A real one, not for studying,” he clarifies with a chuckle.

Carlos bites his lip through his smile and starts to nod eagerly. His whole action is so vigorous even his slight body is shaking along with the movement.

“Eee-!”

Evie’s excited shriek is silenced by Mal’s hand clamping down on her, muffling the sound.

“Shhhhh, there’s more,” Mal rasps, pressing her face close to Evie’s. “We haven’t even seen the best part.” She drops her hand from Evie’s mouth and directs the girl’s chin back down with one finger to keep her watching.

Jay walks around the table to stand behind Carlos, who twists his head back to watch, confusion setting deep in his eyes. Without a warning, Jay pulls out Carlos’ chair, causing him startle and yelp. Jay then slides himself between Carlos and the table in front of him, crouching down to eye level so he can flash his most disarming smile, the one that Mal assured him will make anyone absolutely melt like ice cream on a summer day.

“I had, just one more question, Carlos,”

Jay slips a hand under Carlos’ palm, rubbing circles into it with is thumb. “I just...I’m wondering. If it’s not too much. If there’s one more thing you might let me do?”

“Uh, yes?” Carlos chews on his lip while trying to look Jay in the eye, but his thoughts keep drifting back to the hand now holding his. “Of course. What are you asking to do, exa-”

He’s cut off by lips on his own, Jay’s hands cupping Carlos’ cheeks and pushing their mouths together. Jay keeps the kiss soft and gentle, letting his lips slide over Carlos’ lightly, stopping only to suck a bottom lip between his teeth, and giving it one delicate tug before pulling away and sitting back upright.

Carlos sits stunned for a moment, his eyes still closed, before opening them to meet Jay’s unsure stare.

“Um. I hope that’s, ok?” Jay’s voice sounds surprisingly meek given his bold move, and he rubs a shaky hand at the back of his neck.

His uncertainty fades, though, as soon as Carlos breaks into a grin and lunges towards him, fisting his shirt and pressing their lips back together. Jay can’t stop from smiling into the kiss, and grabbing at Carlos’ waist to push their bodies in closer.

“Well,” Jay muses, still holding Carlos tightly when they part. “I hope this a good sign for how our date’s going to go.”

Carlos smirks, and without a word dives back in and kisses Jay firmly. “Just shut up and kiss me,” he mumbles, their lips still connected. “You made me wait long enough, don’t you think?”

Jay chuckles and places a hand at Carlos’ neck, anchoring him in to deepen their kiss. “Whatever you want, babe.”

Evie giggles from her vantage point above, watching Jay and Carlos’ kiss unfold with glowing elation.

“Oh! That’s so sweet. I’m so happy for them,” she coos, clasping her hands together.

Mal chuckles and scoots away from the window. “You’re welcome,” she says matter-of-factly, leaning against the wall to face Evie.

“Someone seems pretty sure of herself,” Evie muses, with an edge of mocking in her tone. “Do you really think Jay would’ve struck out with my brother without your flirting tips?”

“Oh, I know it,” Mal answers smugly. “He’s lucky he’s got a sister that’s so good at it.”

“Mal,” Evie sighs, shaking her head. “You’re twelve. How could you already be a master flirt?”

“I’m so glad you asked that, Eves.”

Mal stays focused on Evie as she drops down on all fours and starts to crawl across the bed. Evie sits, frozen, her eyes following Mal’s every movement. She wants to speak, to ask Mal what she’s talking about. To ask, to dare, and see if it might be what she’s...hoping for. But her tongue is too thick, too dry at the sight of Mal hovering ever closer, and she has to force a labored swallow before Mal is upon her and she completely loses her ability to talk.

“So, you should know, that Jay is not the reason I’ve worked on my flirting.” Mal confesses. She’s close to Evie now, so close she can feel Mal’s breath ghosting her face.

Shit, Evie needs to say something. She swallows again, and this time it seems easier. She can feel her tongue, at least.

“O-Ooh. Really?” She squeaks out. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why, then?”

Mal grins. “Because, there’s someone I’m interested in, too.”

Mal’s eyes drift briefly to Evie’s lips and back, so quickly it’s easy enough to miss. But she catches it, and in that same instant Evie’s heart jumps into her throat.

“Is it. Someone I know?”

“You might.” Mal replies cheekily, her grin growing toothier as she now, very clearly, looks Evie up and down. “She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

“Ah.” Evie’s confidence is growing, but she still ducks her head to hide her blush. “Are you...close, with this girl?”

“The closest,” Mal whispers, inching closer. Their noses are touching, and Evie can’t bring herself to even blink. “Especially right now.”

Evie tries to giggle, but it’s breathy and awkward and dies in her throat.

“Evie, I was wondering...if there’s something you would let me do?”

Mal’s boldness falters for just a moment, and Evie recognizes the hopefulness in her eyes. She’d seen it today already, only a few minutes ago.

But instead of answering, Evie surges forward, meeting Mal’s lips and kissing her intensely. She revels in the muffled moan of surprise, vibrating from Mal’s mouth through her own parted lips. When she pulls away, it’s Mal that’s flushed, her mouth puffy and red and eyes wide with surprise.

“Yes, Mal. Of course,”

Evie leans back in for another light peck, smirking proudly. “Unless, I already answered your question?”

Ahhhh! I finally finished this one! This is meant as a big “welcome back” to @bunny-lou, and also as big hugs for @hersilentlanguage and @fuck-you-i-am-spiderman. Hope you like it! 😘💖😘💖😘💖

#mal bertha #evie grimhilde #jay son of jafar #Carlos De Vil #malvie #jaylos #mal and jay are siblings #carlos and evie are siblings #young mal #young evie #young malvie #descendants

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mintyfrosty · 4 years

Text

Simple Melodies (A Medieval AU Fanfic)

Melody echoed through the abandoned avenues of the garden pathways, a small, deep humming following along and hypnotising whoever heard it with its minor notes. It wasn't often that particular individual placed his lute. But there was always a time for anything, and tonight was one of those times. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. Well, other than lie his bed thinking about the same thing over and over and over again.

"Thank you, Right--!"

The sensation was still on his hand from the prince placing a small kiss there, even if it had been a couple of hours ago now.

It wasn't as if it a bad thing. At least, the peasant didn't seem to think so. It was a comforting sort of feeling. The prince was one of the big things in the castle that kept Right from losing his mind. Heh, sometimes the royal brought a fuzzy feeling in Right's stomach. Reginald always tried to make time for him; powered through his work to talk to him. It, well, made him feel valued. Special, perhaps. People didn't give a damn about him, generally - unless you wronged him and had a cold plate of revenge on the way. However, for some reason, those small moments with the prince touched him. And after today's events? Heh-- oh man. A blush blotched over his face, fingers drifting over the instrument.

But... sigh

There were so many factors at play. Reginald was a prince, a prince, for God-sakes. A prince who happen to talk to him and ask about his day and...

...

It was probably for the best that he came out to the garden to play his lute. More for his sake to get his mind off of the prince. Right was a commoner; he had to remember that.

Stupid royal code.

Granted, it had only been able four or five days since he got 'assigned' this job. Yet he already found himself growing close with the brunette, even when he shouldn't. Well, 'close' was a stretch. It was more so comfortable acquaintances. The prince was a mystery; no one should be 'close' with him, even if he wanted to.

There were rules.

And who was he to opposed them?

He was simply a peasant with dreadfully bad luck.

Amid his thoughts, his caramel eyes caught sight of a shadow moving behind a tree in the near distance. Curious, the guard turned his head slightly, only to see the shadow completely conceal themselves at his gaze. Odd. Someone was watching him. And judging by its reaction, it was either someone scared of him or scared of being caught. Or both. Maybe he'd be able to catch them in the act, his mind thought, cheeks beginning to brighten with a smirk.

And so, the guard returned to his song, looking back forward, yet making sure the corner of his eye could still catch sight of the tree. Casually, of course, even adding a small whistle to the melody. That bundle of shadows proved to be way too curious, sneaking forward out from the tree's protection to see the music come off the instrument. A small grin met the guard's face, now tapping his foot to appear to be lost in his music, trying to lure in the unexpected audience. He waited, kept strumming the strings of the lute until the person had come out enough for their face to be visible. Right quickly snapped his head in the direction, slamming the music to a holt with his hands.

Ah.

The prince.

Said prince made a small 'eep' at being spotted, quickly slinking behind the tree as though he wanted to stay hidden, even if he wanted to watch. A small sense of curiosity filled Right's soul, putting the instrument down onto the bench he was setting out, gesturing a hand to himself.

"Aye, it's a'right! I ain't gonna report ya."

...it seemed to have work, as the brunette slowly pushed himself into the light. It was much more casual attire the commoner had ever seen the prince wear. It was a simple combination of a baggy, long shirt and pants for nightwear with a fluffy robe over his shoulders. Big azure eyes of the young royal filled with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. The commoner caught sight of it, lips curling up in a bright smile and waving over the prince with a friendly wave of his hand. It message got to the prince, Reginald taking a small seat next to him with a tight posture and stressed muscles.

"I apologise--" Began the prince immediately, fumbling with the gloves on his hands.

"I just-- heard it from my room and wanted to hear it better--"

Mm...

Nervousness covered the prince's posture, gloved hands reaching up to grab the edges of his robe sleeves and looking down. There was a small dash of crimson that painted over the young royal's face, a shy look in his eyes. In a way, the guard found himself to be surprised. The prince, the prince, coming down from his room, fully dressed to be asleep, to watch him play his music. The commoner plucked an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat and propping a leg up against the other, his right ankle rested against his left knee. There was a mixture of pride and satisfaction that filled his spirit, even when he intended to play music without an audience. Heh, almost ironic. In his efforts to get his mind off the prince, he only lured him out of his room.

"Izat so?" Murmured the guard, picking up his lute again and letting it rest in his hands. The hue on the prince's face deepened. To hide his embarrassment the royal buried his face into the fur, nodding slowly to answer his question.

Uh...hm.

Right never considered himself to be good with his words, but the prince looked so embarrassed that he felt the need to say something. But nothing came to surface, brown eyes drifting down to the instrument. It was a rickety old thing. Some of the wood was peeled off and the engraves had lone since eroded.

"Well..." Began the commoner, turning toward the smaller male with a grin. "Might as well giv' ya a front-row seat t'en." The commoner kicked up his song again, careful fingers strumming along with the notes. The emptiness within the garden evaporated immediately, now replaced with its minor notes. Despite the melancholy tone, there was a brightness that filled the space. It was obvious with how the prince slowly began to uncurl from his tight posture, eyes glued to the stringed instrument. As if a burden had lifted off of his exhausted shoulders. A grin of giddiness grew to Right's face, voice beginning to hum lowly in sync with the string's song, creating somewhat of gentle harmony.

"So, ye like music, eh?" Commented the guard, glancing over to the prince with one eye whilst his fingers still danced across the strings. Reginald gazed his eyes up to meet the commoner's, a hand falling to the back of his neck and rubbing it.

"I, erm..." There was a hesitation in his voice. "I do-- I haven't heard it in such a long time--"

...what?

The music slowed down the smallest bit, the commoner caught off by the comment. Never heard music for a long time? How much was a long time? Ah-- maybe that was a bad question. Skewing his lips in thought, the commoner turned his head completely toward the prince, who now looked down with shyness.

"W'y not?"

God-- he didn't even think about the implications of a question like that. It spewed out without a second thought, unlike the first question. Goddammit Right. The commoner facepalmed in his head. It was probably sensitive--

"Oh, uhm--" Surprisingly, the prince answered, gaze still refusing to look up. "I, uhm, just don't know how to play anything-- th-that's all..."

Don't...know how to play?

Well, that was NOT the answer he was expecting or anything along those lines. Didn't the royal have endless entertainers to play for him if he wanted to hear it? People would do anything for a royal. Royals were above everyone. Everyone. The prince had that power, didn't he?

The music had come to a stop at that point, Right putting the instrument to the side and turning toward the royal to make the conversation more one on one. "Can ya not...I dunno, ask someone to play f' ye?"

Whether it was because of Right turning to him or the prince acting on his own according, Right wasn't sure, but the royal turned his eyes up to meet those caramel ones that belonged to him. The crimson still lingered on his face, even more, a few shades darker. After a visible swallow, the prince's voice came to surface. “I...I don't like...asking people. Everyone's always, erm, busy with something--"

...

Ah.

Never in Right's whole life did he think he'd meet a noble such as Reginald. A royal that had all the power to command people but far too humble to use it. Even though his heart cried to hear music, he didn't want to disturb anyone. A pity formed into the guard's heart grin long gone and replaced by a deep frown. Right himself got the idea that the prince was hesitant to do a lot of things, but not to hear music?

That was upsetting.

"Aye, well..." The commoner wiped his mouth. "We ain't busy now; 'ow's 'bout I teach ya?"

The prince's reaction was immediate, blinking his eyes that went wide. There were probably a million thoughts going through the young royal's head, the prince probably needed a second to digest the thought. Right needed that moment too if he was being honest. The words tumbled out again (he found that happened a lot when he talked to the prince), and he just offered to teach him music. It was a mixture of a mystical feeling and a flustered one, heart pounding hard in his ears when his mind caught up with him.

Heh, maybe it was a bit dumb but it was worth a shot.

A small shot to see that amazement in the prince's eyes when he first saw the commoner playing.

Until eventually, very eventually, the prince found his voice again.

"R-Really--?"

It was giddy, filled to the brim with excitement. The frown that once rested on Right's face curled up into a smile. He didn't see the prince giddy often, since he was usually so busy with the ridiculous amount of work he had. But now there weren't any deadlines or paperwork. Just a simple offer to teach the prince something.

Heh. That'd be a first.

With a nod, the commoner felt a grin grow to his face, picking up the instrument again. "'course. Now, c'm'here. 'll show ye the basics."

XxX

Minty: I got in a fluff mood so have a smol fanfic :D

#medieval au #medieval fanfic #mintyfrosty au #mintyfrosty's au #mintyfrosty #princey #medieval!Regianld #medieval!Right #fluff #fanfic #thsc au #thsc #the henry stickmin collection #the henry stickmin collection au #reginald copperbottom #right hand man #rhm #long post

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aggressive-positivity-network · 4 years

Note

Your demo in a relationship headcanons were simply aaaaaaahhhh!*chef kiss* could we maybe have some for everyone's favorite aussie stringbean?

I absolutely love Sniper...he’s one of those characters I can just fall back on. I also just like Australian accents, especially when he speaks in a low, intimidating voice. Gets me every time. Makes me either blush or happy stim whenever I hear it.

First Date:

You find Sniper on a dating app after a particularly bad break-up.

His profile picture is of him shirtless, holding a huge gun next to him. However, instead of looking sexily into the camera, he’s looking off camera with a bewildered look on his face.

His bio says, “My friends put me up to this. Don’t expect too much. If you go on one date with me maybe they’ll shut up. Who bloody knows?”

You get curious, and you decide to start a chat with him.

“Your friends put you up to this huh? 😏”

“yeah. what of it?”

“What, are you some lonely wolf type or what?”

“you could say that.”

He was texting back almost immediately. Even if he wasn’t a lovey-dovey person, he was certainly interested.

“How would you like to get those friends off your back?”

“i’m free wednesday.”

You make plans, which, despite only seeing this as a one-night stand, you gradually get more and more excited for.

You meet Sniper at a nicer restaurant, wearing a new black dress that you hadn’t worn yet.

When you finally see him at the lobby, you realize that the picture didn’t do him justice, even thought he now had a beige suit on.

His lankiness showed a bit more, but his arms were very strong despite his frame. He was wearing sunglasses, which added an air of cool refinement.

At first you thought he was British because of his texts, but when he spoke, you knew right away he was Australian. You are far from disappointed.

You are still waiting for your table when all of a sudden, Sniper takes out a huge knife. Before you can react, he quickly slices something out of your vision and then brings it before your eyes. You had forgotten to take the tag off your dress.

“I’m flattered. I didn’t think you’d get all shinied up for me.”

You breathe out shakily and rub your neck. Sniper’s eyes furrow.

“I didn’ nick ya, did I?”

“N-no...just s-scared me...”

You thought maybe you had met up with a psycho, and all your suspicions were not put to rest yet, but the close encounter seemed to awaken something in you.

The date continues as normal. Both of you are pretty awkward at first, especially since the knife incident. But before the main meal is brought to your table, you’ve started up a conversation.

Sniper told you he was in the military, but his base is very lax with dress code and schedule.

You start telling him about your job as a graphic designer when all of a sudden a scream interrupts you mid-sentence.

There’s a guy holding a gun about eight tables from you, pointing it at the many patrons. He doesn’t seem drunk, but just enraged.

“WHAT’S A GUY GOTTA DO TO GET SOME DAMN FRIES?!”

The manager tries to talk to him, but ends up getting shot, most likely dead.

The yelling continues for about fifteen minutes. You are very uncomfortable, not to mention terrified, but Sniper seems oddly nonchalant.

Suddenly, Sniper yells, “OI! THEY’RE BRINGIN’ OUT YOUR FRIES! RIGHT THERE, MATE!”

The guy follows Sniper’s finger, and all of a sudden there’s a gunshot. But it wasn’t from the madman’s gun...it was from Sniper’s.

The guy falls over on top of the bleeding manager, writhing in agony.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Sniper grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the restaurant.

“Dishes it out but can’t take it, eh luv? C’mon, we’ll go to my place. It’s real nice.”

You get into his van, which smells like a mixture of old leather, beef jerky, and...something else. However, your terror quickly trumps your logic.

“First Time”:

Despite your fiasco of a first date, you still decide to stay at Sniper’s until it’s all blown over.

His apartment is covered wall to wall with guns, memorabilia, and sticky notes, usually with names and dates written on them.

On the far wall was a cork board filled to the brim with pictures, yarn, and Xs made in thick red Sharpie.

“If I woulda known it would go this far, I woulda tidied up the place. Sorry about that, luv.”

You brush it off, and you both sit on an old leather couch with bits of stuffing sticking out of it.

You take this as a cue to get around to what this whole date had been about: some sweet, sweet rebound. It seems awkward now that you had gone through so much - besides, you hadn’t expected to connect with Sniper the way you have...

But you still manage to spit it out.

“Er...yeah. That’s what people usually do, right? Yeah? I dunno. I’ve been off the playin’ field awhile.”

Sniper puts his hands around your neck and let’s you begin to kiss him. But it was clear after a while he wasn’t into it, so you pull away and ask if he wanted to wait another time.

“Aw, no, shiela. Look at me, lyin’ ‘ere like a dead fish...I just...I’ll try ‘arder, luv, I promise.”

You pull away completely. This had trauma written all over it, and you weren’t about to force someone into it...you were better than your ex.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

You asked him what was wrong, and why he was being so passive about what was happening to him. Why didn’t he say anything? Do anything?

Sniper sighed, pulling his hat way down in front of his face.

“I like girls, don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that. But I never felt...that way about ‘em. Or anybody else, honestly. I tried it once in college...I just ended up feelin’ sick. Tried it with another girl, then another, then another. I even tried with my guy roommate. But I always ended up feelin’ like I was gonna puke. Sometimes I did. It just never felt right. It wasn’t magical, it was bloody disgusting.”

“But every girl I’ve ever been with expected it, and to keep ‘em, I ‘ad to do what they wanted. Sometimes I’d just lie there, tryin’ not to vomit, trying to at least move a little, act like I was into it. They said they’d change my mind, that this time would be different. At the end of the day, it never was, and I lost ‘em. And now I’m gonna lose you too, ‘n I’m gonna halfta tell the guys...they’ll never let this go...”

Back At The Base... :

Spy called the entire team into the security room to watch the entire date go down. He had placed a bug on Sniper’s suit while helping him adjust it, and now everyone was here to watch the show.

Everybody cheered when the guy was shot, though Spy made a mental note to call Miss Pauling in the morning.

The whole team, Scout especially, was excited to see some action when Sniper brought you to his apartment. Well, everyone except Medic. He stood their with his eyebrows creased. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

“Aw, c’mon Snipes, what’s the hold up?! She is so inta you!”

There wasn’t any sound, so no one exactly knew why Sniper paused for so long.

Finally, you two came back together again, but after about thirty minutes of just kissing, the other mercs got bored really fast.

Scout was especially disappointed.

“Man, this was whole thing was a bust!”

Spy shrugged. “Not quite a waste of time. Look at her. She’s smitten. I never thought I would say this, but gentlemen - we have found Sniper a suitable suitor!”

Medic, eyes wide, kept his Sniper’s medical history too himself - not for HIPAA, but for the drama of it all. He wanted to see how this would play out.

Love At First Shot:

On a casual date at his place, Sniper catches you admiring one of his weapons.

“That’s one’s a beaut, ain’ it? That’s one ‘a my oldest guns. She’s outta service, the old girl, but she don’t look a shot over thirty.”

He picks it up and cocks it, nodding approvingly.

“Got this offa real bloody fruit seller. The muzzle ‘ad stains all over it, rust in some places...the bloke obviously had no idea how to take care of it.”

You suddenly feel a pang in your chest.

“Oi, luv, not a fan ‘a guns?”

“No...I...it just made me remember something.”

Sniper puts down his weapon, sits on the sofa, and pats his leg.

“‘Ere. Tell me about it.”

You hesitate for a moment before shyly sitting on his knee. You’re on the smaller side, but you were still afraid you might hurt him.

“Aw, it’s alright. Put your full weight on. These babies can ‘old an Aussie an’ an AK-47.”

You giggle, letting yourself get a little more comfortable.

“Now, luv...what’s on your mind? What’s that pretty lil’ head a’ yours thinkin’?”

You sigh.

“My boyfriend...or, my ex-boyfriend...we broke up for a reason. Or, well, I dumped him. We had been dating for almost three years, and I didn’t see it coming.”

“Crazy train crashed inta the station, huh?”

“He almost did. He...he had hit me before. I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to get in trouble. But one night...it got really, really bad. He wasn’t even drunk. He was still in his work uniform. I stayed with a friend, and I told him it was over with a text - I was just so scared he’d find me. He knew my friends. He knew my address. And so I just wanted to find someone to protect me. It was more than just rebound...I just didn’t want to be alone. I wanted one person in my life he didn’t know so they could protect me.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you bit them back. You didn’t feel like sobbing in front of your new boyfriend. Sniper, though, started laying down, taking you with him.

Your head was now under his chin, and you were laying all along his body. The sudden show of affection caught you off guard. You started to cry, burying your face in his chest.

Sniper wrapped his arms around you, supporting your entire weight easily.

Neither of you spoke for a good fifteen minutes, except for Sniper saying an occasional, “Aw, sweetheart...”

Finally, you calmed down, feeling safe in your boyfriend’s embrace.

“Y’know, luv...”

Sniper hesitated.

“I...could teach ya how to shoot. If it’ll make ya feel safe.”

You sniffle and look up.

“I know ya probably want some big, strong man to protect ya, an’ I will. God, if anybody even touches a bloody ‘air on your ‘ead, I’ll kill ‘em. But I wan’ you to go to the movies, or the store, or just ‘ave a nice walk an’ not be lookin’ over your shoulder. I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

“I...I can’t shoot a gun...”

“Why not?”

“I can’t...aim or shoot...I don’t think I’ve even held a gun before...”

“Well, we can fix that! ‘Ere...”

Sniper leans over and picks up his old gun again, laying it in your hands. It’s a bit heavier than you expected.

You run your hands over the muzzle and barrel, not even daring to touch the trigger.

Sniper puts his hands over yours and guides them over the gun, giving you more confidence about handling the weapon.

“A gun is like...like a dog. You train it right, an’ you train yourself, you’ll be fine. You’re no kid, so you know ‘ow dangerous these can be. But fear doesn’t shoot the bullet. Fear doesn’ aim for ya.”

Every time you went to his apartment, he would do this. Sometimes you two would be talking, and he would nonchalantly hand you the gun, which, after a while, you took without thought.

Now it was time to take you to the range.

He gave you that old gun to use as practice, but promised a newer, more compact gun when you had gotten the hang of shooting.

Hands on your shoulders, hands over yours, he taught you how to target a person’s more sensitive areas.

Over the next few months, you grew better and better at hitting your mark. You weren’t perfect, but you could definitely defend yourself.

One night, Sniper went to go get you both Chinese food, and you were hanging out at your apartment.

You heard a knock on your window. You ignore it, thinking a bird had flown into it by accident. However, as the knocking grew louder and more insistent, you lift your head, startled.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

He was in a suit, but his face wasn’t nearly as neat. His eyes were red and wide, and his hair was messy.

He had walked up the fire escape to your balcony, and was leaning against the rail, relaxed.

You stayed inside, but you knew that the door was unlocked - he could come in any time he wanted. And he knew this.

He spoke, and you could hear him through the glass.

“Still single. Just like I thought.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I came back because I was worried. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...I thought maybe something had happened. You were so depressed when you left. I couldn’t help but think that maybe...well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and I am more than willing to be with you again. I think we both have cooled off, right? We’ve had some time apart, and now we’ve realized we’re madly in love with each other and can’t be apart for another minute...”

“I have a new boyfriend!”

You blurted it out so suddenly you even surprised yourself. But your ex was unmoved.

“Oh, right. Sure. How much are you paying him, this boyfriend of yours? Do you have to pay extra for sex, or do you have a pity discount?”

“He...he’ll come back...and...”

You looked beside you. Your gun was laying on the floor beside you. Sniper had just taken you to the range, and you hadn’t had enough time to put it away.

You remembered what he said...

“I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

You put your hand around the gun, grasping it tightly.

You swallow.

“Come back and what?” your ex jeered. “What’s your new boyfriend going to do? Beat me up?”

You are still trying to make your decision when you hear the glass door open.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, angel. I want to see your beautiful face.”

You whip around, the gun in your hand. Your ex immediately recoils, his hands flinging up.

“Woah woah woah...!”

“Please. Leave.”

Your voice is hoarse, but you try to sound as firm as possible.

“Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I would never get back with you. Ever. You...you made me feel so helpless, scared, alone...I can’t feel that way forever. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I want you to leave and never come back. Please. Just leave me alone.”

Your ex smirks, albeit shakily. “You can’t shoot that. You’ve never touched a gun in your life.”

“My boyfriend wanted me to be safe. He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to be able to deal with creeps like you.”

You get up, gun still in hand, and your ex backs away.

“He did more than you ever did.”

“What, so you’re just going to shoot me? End up on the six o’clock news?”

“No. I won’t. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to leave. For good.”

“I bet that thing isn’t even loaded.”

You show him a half-full magazine and point to the fire escape.

“Like you know how to -!”

You quickly turn to a picture of a seaside landscape, shakily aim, and manage to shoot it, shattering the frame to pieces.

“Get. Out.”

Your ex practically runs out, yelling that he was calling the police.

Sniper comes back a few minutes later, and when he asks you what the hell happened, you start telling him between trembling breaths what had occurred.

Sniper turned bright red and tipped his hat down.

“That bloody wanker...fruit sellin’...”

He starts to walk towards the fire escape, but you stop him.

“I scared him off, please don’t...he said he was going to call the police...”

Sniper took a few deep breaths, calming down.

“We’ve got th’ best lawyers in the country. I’d like to see ‘im try.”

The police was never called - you think it was probably a pride thing, since you had overpowered him so easily - but you weren’t sure you had seen the last of him.

But with your own experience and Sniper’s, you had some piece of mind.

However, you were soon going to find out that Sniper had more power on his side than you thought...

*****************

Long time, no headcanon! Well, good headcanons, anyway. I rushed my last post, so I tried to go all out with this one. I might write a second part when headcanons are open again, but I think I prefer leaving some things up to the imagination, hm?

Anyway, more headcanons on the way! Same bat time, same bat channel! The next one is about siblings, though I may post shorter headcanons before that, since it’s such a fun idea to write.

#tf2 #tf2 fandom #tf2 ask blog #tf2 headcanon #tf2 headcanons #sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper

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limitlessimagines · 3 years

Note

Hello there- I’m not sure whether I can send this in for next week? If not I can always resend it next week or smth. Could I request a romantic valorant matchup? I’m a 6’1 tall gay dude who’s extroverted but often have to deal with soxial anxiety which makes me kinda reserved sometimes. My Hogwarts house varies between hufflepuff and Slytherin depending on what mood I’m in. I’m rather new to FPS games and am still figuring stuff out (multiplayer anxiety is real) and I also code sometimes in my free time (which isn’t a lot lmao). I also own 2 ferrets called crash and Eddie. I do have some friends from different hobbies like cosplay, gaming and irl but I’d say that I’m always a bit detached from most of them because I don’t like too big attachments. I also hardly ever crush on someone because I’m very rational most of the time.

[No worries my dude. I just started playing fps half a year ago!! There’s a reason why multiplayer anxiety exists!! i hope you find a nice group of people, or solo queue with nice people when you play fps games. You deserve to enjoy your time with chill teammates!! Also my submission box is open if you wanna share photos of Crash and Eddie, which, by the way, are the best names for ferrets I’ve ever heard - cheesy]

Your romantic match up is with Cypher!

After losing his family, Cypher is in a long road of recovering from the loss. He’s currently having trouble staying with people, and keeping up with relationships. He gets scared at the idea of getting attached, then losing them. Rest assured, until either of you feel comfortable, your relationship will be a casual one!

Cypher may seem like the kind of person to say things like social anxiety are fake. However this couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s seen some shady things through his cameras, and the one thing that can always take down someone who is very strong, isn’t a big punch to the head, but their thoughts. Cypher understands the importance of doing things when one is ready, so he won’t be the type to pressure you into going outside, or to hang out with other people. The same goes for him. Unless he’s known them for a while, he won’t be out and about either.

Cypher is learning how to code too, so he’ll sit down next to you while you code every now and then. He’ll be quite curious, asking questions, even taking notes. It’s kind of sweet to see the Agent following along something with great focus, and not joking.

He’s more used to physical games, like running in parks, board games, or arcades. So teaching him to try and FPS game is like pushing someone who’s never swam, into a lake. It’s not a seamless transition, that’s for sure. But be patient. Though Cypher can get frustrated, don’t forget, he’s still human, and he will struggle! Actually, maybe it’s him that needs to remember, not you, haha!

Cypher loves your two ferrets. He prefers pets that aren’t usual picks, like cats or dogs. He is fong of Crash and Eddie, and even suggested other animals for you place, like a parrot. You didn’t entertain the idea, but at least he tried to ask.

Cypher didn’t know cosplay was a thing until you showed him your most recent one. He was very surprised and impressed by your handiwork. Though he doesn’t desire to cosplay himself, he does come to you whenever he thinks his Valorant outfit needs a change.

#Valorant #Valorant Cypher #Valorant x Reader #Valorant Cypher x Reader #Valorant hcs #Valorant headcanons #Valorant Cypher hcs #Valorant Cypher headcanons #limitlessimagines

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sshbpodcast · 3 years

Text

Tales from the Holodeck: DS9 Fanfic: Chris’s Story

Not only has A Star to Steer Her By wrapped all of Deep Space Nine, but your podcast hosts are also celebrating our fifth anniversary of bringing you through all of Star Trek! As a treat, we’ve concocted DS9-themed fanfic stories and teleplays in our much-celebrated “Tales from the Holodeck” series that you can listen to us cold read here (this one starts at 39:05). Read on for the transcript of Chris’s Weyoun-Ee’char story below, that might pilot a whole new series we’re all asking for!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Dude, Where’s My Ee’char?”

By Chris

Random picks: Weyoun, Ee’char

“Tea, earl grey, hot?”

Miles O’Brien instinctively glanced up at those words. Surely not. Sure enough, a lanky Andorian walked up to the counter and accepted the drink that had been called out. Admiral Picard – well, not Admiral, anymore, but even thinking of him as “Jean-Luc” was bizarre to O’Brien – had less than no reason to be hanging around Starfleet Academy. Or Starfleet anything, for that matter.

“Not that I can entirely blame him,” he mused to himself, going back to the PADD containing last week’s warp field dynamics exam. “Nothing’s felt right since Romulus was destroyed. And then Mars…maybe Keiko’s right. Maybe it’s time to retire.”

He sighed and put down his stylus. Twenty years of teaching at Starfleet academy and even he could see how things were shifting. The students grew less and less enthused, dropout rates going up, those that did stay becoming so by-the-book when it came to everything that it was maddening.

“They’re just lacking in imagination,” he’d moaned to Keiko one day. “If I’d thought like them we’d’ve never got the Defiant working like she did. They think the deflector array is just for deflecting things.”

He had immediately realized how ridiculous and old-mannish it had sounded. But even his wife had been on Starfleet ships long enough to get it. Everything on a ship potentially had a purpose no one had ever dreamed of, and dreaming it up in that critical moment could be the difference between getting the ship home and a warp core breach.

“Professor O’Brien?” came a strangely-familiar voice from behind him. He turned and saw what he thought, at first, must have been a Romulan because they were smiling. And there was a sardonic edge to the tone that didn’t seem terribly Vulcan, either. But the fellow had that waxlike pallor that was unique to the latter, something their cousin species had evolved away over their centuries apart.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“No, but my employer believes he can help you.”

Well, this was shady. Was Section 31 out for belated revenge? Maybe someone had finally slipped in Starfleet Intelligence and the Orion syndicate found out he’d worked undercover against them? Could it be that some T’Lani was still cross about what he and Julian had revealed about their corruption? The grudge could’ve gone further back; someone related to the incident at Setlik III had tracked him down. Christ, for someone who’d only ever been an engineer he’d sure managed to pile up a list of old enemies that could come calling. Ought to at least make him an honorary Commander for that.

“And he would be?”

“An old friend.” The mystery man reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, red figurine. The coonskin cap was unmistakable. “He said this would explain. He remembers the hours you and the good Doctor spent on this.”

So it wasn’t Julian, but someone who knew how they’d passed their time in their DS9 days. Didn’t rule out Section 31, or necessarily a few others, but it did make him feel a little better. He realized the man was still holding out the figure to him, so he reached out and took it, putting it in the bag he’d been carrying his PADD and some miscellany in.

“My employer understands that you’re too cautious a man to just meet somewhere.” The man’s voice – what was it that was so familiar? – had dropped even further. “Be at your desk in twenty minutes. A signal will come in. Use the code on the bottom of the figure.”

The man turned without another word and strode off. O’Brien raised his eyebrows and watched him go. He’d have to tell Julian about this next time they talked; he’d be jealous. Goodness knows how long it had been since his old friend had been involved in any cloak-and-dagger shenanigans.

Despite everything O’Brien was a little surprised when, back at his desk, his computer began to chirp. The text on the screen read “incoming external transmission”. External transmissions were always supposed to go through central comms; only an Admiral could bypass that procedure, normally. He turned the little figure over and punched in the numbers he saw there.

“Ah, my dear Professor O’Brien!”

“Ga-” O’Brien stopped himself. For some reason he felt if he said the full name of the Cardassian now grinning at him from the screen it would just summon the whole of Starfleet security. Just behind him and to his left stood the mystery Vulcan/Romulan from the cafe.

“You look well, Professor,” Garak continued, not acknowledging whether or not he had caught the Engineer’s odd outburst.

“Having you call me that is a bit weird,” O’Brien admitted. “How about Chief? I think that’s still technically my rank.”

“Very well, Chief. I believe you know my associate?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” the man said, reaching up. “I still have the mask on.”

His hand slid down his face, and the telltale webbing of a holographic disguise flickered to life as the pallor, eyebrows, and eyes vanished. Instead there was a very different kind of pointed ear, skin like powder, and violently violet eyes.

“Weyoun…”

“Yes, it would seem there were, in fact, a few leftover despite what we had been told.” Garak smirked in that old, familiar, entirely unsettling way of his. “It seems they just meant their Alpha Quadrant supply.”

“Of course, I’m now the actual, final one,” Weyoun added. “Garak here found me right before I was…discarded. My predecessors had not been quite so lucky.”

“Is that where you’ve been the past two decades then?” O’Brien asked. “The Gamma Quadrant?”

“Mostly.” Garak raised his brow briefly. “Someone has to keep an eye on the Dominion. Starfleet Intelligence can hardly be trusted to do it on their own, the Romulans are too busy trying to keep their culture intact, and Klingons have never had a spy agency in their entire recorded history.”

“I see.”

“I came across a story that I thought might interest you.” He glanced down and pecked a few buttons just off-camera, and a ping sounded on the Chief’s computer. “Look particularly carefully at the upper left-hand corner of the screen. It was a pleasure to see you, Chief.”

“Wait…”

But Garak was already gone. O’Brien knew there’d be no point in asking for a trace. Should he report this? He was supposed to, certainly. But this was Garak. O’Brien…well, okay, to say he trusted Garak would be a staggering lie. But he certainly felt like both the Federation and he personally owed him enough that he could be allowed this little indulgence. At least once.

Decision made, O’Brien opened the message he’d been sent. He winced when he recognized rather quickly the world of Argratha. It had all the appearance of a news story of some kind. But the Universal Translator hadn’t caught up to the shift, so he started over and paused it.

Argratha. He’d been twice. The second time some fifteen years later, to testify at a public hearing about his experiences the first time. What his false-memory twenty year imprisonment had been like. There was talk at the time of abandoning the practice; it made the judicial process too casual, too many false guilty charges because, for those who’d never experienced it, what was really lost? The Chief and countless others had told them. How real the time felt, and how cruel the simulation was. He’d told the Special Envoy who’d arranged for him to go that he felt he deserved a medal for how calm he’d been during his testimony. The Envoy had chuckled until the Chief’s expression had told him he had very much meant it.

He started the story up again. When he’d not heard anything for months after his testimony he’d assumed the reforms had failed and the sick practice was still going on. But in fact it had simply taken a bit of extra time and work. The story was about the closing of the final facility that had run such incarcerations. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to weep or go celebrate. He was going to call Keiko straightaway, that much was…

The upper left hand corner.

“No.”

He had almost forgotten to look.

“No.”

Despite it being the entire reason Garak had dropped by.

“Fuck.”

Ee’char. His “imaginary” cellmate. Standing among the crowd of politicians and other self-congratulatory types formally shutting the program down. Almost identical to the twenty-year-older Ee’char from his memories, though one that had clearly lived a somewhat less wretched life. One who’d gotten proper meals and sleep and care, just like O’Brien had.

But did he have the false twenty years that still occasionally wafted into his nightmares and had him waking in a cold sweat? Did he still, on rare occasions, almost set aside a bit of his meal before realizing saving it wasn’t necessary?

“In short, friend,” the Chief said aloud. “Who the fuck are you?”

He was glad the stopover at DS9 to switch transports had been short. None of the old crew were there, anymore, but he was fairly certain he was at least vaguely acquainted with some of the Stafleet staff that still maintained a presence on the Bajoran station, and the last thing he wanted to be was some old man wandering around his old posting looking worn and nostalgic. Even Quark had shipped out for Freecloud. A part of him had been tempted to see if Morn was still at his usual seat in whatever the bar was called now, assuming it was even still a bar. But he had just stayed in the docking ring and then made his way to the next leg of his journey.

He spent the flight through the wormhole standing by a window with just about everyone else. He realized that he’d never gone through it after the War had ended, so it was his first time making the journey in ages that he wasn’t expecting to potentially die on the other end. It was so nice to just watch it, to get lost in its beauty, and vaguely wonder if Sisko was watching him just then.

O’Brien stood in the space between two homes, watching as a car slid noiselessly from the sky and halted in front of the house. Finding his old friend had been much easier than he’d expected; Garak had encoded everything he needed to find the man in the newsclip he’d sent. A door hissed open and the old Argrathan stepped out. He exchanged inaudible words with someone in the vehicle before the door shut and it lazily drifted back into the sky. O’Brien glanced around. No one else seemed to be coming. He watched as the other man walked towards the his home.

The Chief darted from the shadows and jogged across the street. If Ee’char heard him he showed no sign. O’Brien reached up, paused, and then gently tapped the other man on the shoulder. He gasped and spun.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I’m…ah…I’m Miles O’Brien.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, I remember watching your testimony.” He held out a hand “Ko’vax.”

“A pleasure,” the Chief replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

“But why did you come to see me?”

“We…well, we were cellmates, you see.”

“Were we?” He nodded slowly. “Well. Someone had quite the sense of humor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been arguing against our mental prisons for a very long time.” His lips went slender and he glanced off. “Please. Come in, have a warm drink.”

“I…sure, thank you.”

“I never had the misfortune of experiencing what you or so many others did,” Ko’vax explained, putting down what seemed effectively to be a mug in front of O’Brien. “But my father did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He picked up his own mug, almost took a drink, but didn’t and put it down. “His story was similar to so many others. To yours. Adjusting was so hard. Too hard. They don’t offer any kind of help to reintegrate to society. To help you deal with the fact that you’ve not actually lost any time but it still feels like a huge swathe of your life is gone. That might be worse than actually losing time. I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I’ve never had the real version.”

“He lasted…half a year. My brother found him.” Ko’vax paused and took a sip of his drink, and the Chief finally did automatically. Not that he took any note of the flavor. “I’d already started writing letters, but I got more active after that. Showed up at politician’s doorsteps. Showed up and shouted at meetings that had nothing to do with it. Became a real pain.”

“Must’ve been afraid they’d…well, you know.”

“Oh, sure. But I didn’t care. Let them. Let them put me in a fifty year dream, a century, I knew I’d be fine. I’d have my rage to see me through.” He sighed. “I was so angry for so long. I mean, I never stopped being angry, but you can’t be as constantly angry as I was at first. That would be impossible.”

“So what happened?”

“I lived my life. But I never stopped my campaigning. Whatever free moment I could scrounge up was spent talking with others who shared my goal. I guess someone thought it would be a good laugh to have a cellmate based on the man who hated them and their program so damn much.” He smiled. “But then I got to be there today. When it all ended. Thanks to so many people. Like you.”

“I…” The Chief paused. “I’m glad I could help.”

“So what made you come to see me?”

“I wasn’t sure who you were, to be honest. Outside of looking like Ee’char. That was his name.” He paused. “I guess a part of me was almost hoping you’d been part of it somehow. So I could let you have it. And feel less bad about…how things went between me and the other you.”

“We didn’t get along, eh?”

“We did, eventually. And then for a long time. But then, towards the end…”

“It gets particularly bad, yes. Everyone says that.”

“Well. Glad to know it wasn’t just me getting special treatment, I suppose.” O’Brien took another drink. Now that he was paying attention he realized it was very pleasant. He’d have to find out what it was and bring some home. “We fought. You…he…I killed him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. I killed you. Sort of.”

“I’m sorry on behalf of a government that will never properly apologize fo anyone affected by their sick little program because they think it’s just fine. They are giving it up with great reluctance you can be sure.” He paused. “And I’m sorry you were driven to that. I know we’ve barely met but you don’t seem the type. So it must have been truly awful to drive you that far.”

“I guess so. I hope so.” He paused. “I don’t know. I’d killed before. Served in one war already by then. But this was something else. Something that still comes up at me in the wee hours. Every time I’d killed before then I could justify it as having been for my survival. And that’s what I told myself it was that time, but I’d not actually proven that first. I told myself it must have been so I could.”

“I wish I could help. I’m almost sorry I’m not who you thought I was.” He shrugged. “If it helps, well…I didn’t go what you went through, but I saw firsthand what it does to people. I know how real it can seem, even to those who go in knowing it isn’t. You had no idea. I’m sorry they used my face as part of your torture. But, if it helps…well, I forgive you. On behalf of the false me. And I only wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, nodded. “That actually is nice to hear, somehow.”

The wormhole again. Its eddies and currents and majesty unchanged even as the twenty years around it had entirely altered O’Brien’s world. Why had the gone all the way to the Gamma Quadrant? What would he have done if Ko’vax had been involved somehow? Certainly not killed him. Shouted for a bit? What good would that have done? But what good had this done? No. Time to move on. Figure out what’s next. He’d been in neutral for far too long, and…

“Oh, I know that look,” came a voice to his side that he scarcely believed he was hearing. “That is the look of the Chief when everything seems against him. When things have stopped making sense.”

O’Brien turned. There, not looking a day older when he’d last seen him, still in the now very out-of-date uniform, stood Captain Sisko.

“Well, Chief. It’s time for things to start making sense again. And I’m going to need your help.”

The End

—

For more DS9 fanfic, check out Caitlin, Jake, and Ames’s stories from this round of Tales from the Holodeck! And be sure to keep listening to new episodes every Thursday on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and stay out of brain jail if you can. Jay-sus.

#star trek #star trek deep space 9 #ds9 #fanfic #star trek fanfiction #ds9 fanfiction #weyoun #ee'char #miles o'brien #garak #hard time

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

Text

Mystics Chapter 2.

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by strange shopkeeper Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- almost too well. In fact, Arch's life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as great as it seems....

Directory: [chapter one]

CW: bullying, deadname use (though never revealed), memory problems

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CHAPTER TWO: THE OLD WORLD

Earlier that day,

Their name rang down like an emergency alarm bell in their ears, breaking them from a state full of dreams that they wouldn’t remember by the time their feet had touched the floor. Despite the name not belonging to them any longer, Arch would still be forced to hear it until they could find their own place, their own life, their own bed -without their mother screaming down to them both figuratively and literally.

There it was, the damned name again, screaming down from the top of the stairs, and then the tired list of consequences for being lazy came down with it. You'll be late for the bus, you'll be failing class, you'll be working at McDonalds- which wasn’t fair- Arch knew of several kids in their grade making decent money through working at the one on the corner of twenty-sixth avenue and Carmichael Drive.

“Up! I’m up”-

“You have ten minutes, little lady!”

Arch shook off the comment as they found the shirt that they had worn the day previous laying on the carpet by their dresser. They tugged it on, and added some pants to perfect the outfit. Ruffling short bangs and tufting out the sides more evenly, Arch began to look almost like they had a full night of sleep. They hadn’t. Not with the carelessly loud insomniac who lived above them. Not with the dread of existence in this world to keep them up at night either.

Their mother was never a friendly stranger when it came to change, and after a year of begging her to stop buying dresses and skirts for them, their relationship came to an impasse. It was only a month ago that Arch was accused of heinous things like “being ungrateful for the body their Lord gave them”, and acting treacherously like a boy. At that point, Arch locked themselves in the bathroom with a pair of scissors, and didn't emerge until they had chopped their dark hair off just above the ears- leaving their mother crying on the main floor's hallway and praying to the Virgin Mary to save her daughter from the devil's grip.

Arch gave up going to mass after that too.

The truth was, that Arch was never once ashamed of their body or the way it was made- but they did have a keen sense on how they wanted to act, and apparently, it was too masculine for their mother’s comfort level. They weren’t created to be a boy or a girl, but maybe something slightly in between. The parts of their body didn’t matter nearly as much as who they defined themselves as- and as it was contemplated endlessly during sleepless nights, it was decided, by them and them alone that they were Arch.

In the morning rush up the stairs, Arch nearly stepped on the cat, instead of over it. Maleficent decided the near miss was an invitation to play, and dug her pin sharp claws into the denim at the top of their ankle. Arch kicked her off, unceremoniously and pulled their backpack over one shoulder. They were moving too fast to care whether the little beast had drawn blood this time. Skipping breakfast and any goodbyes, Arch was out the door just in time to watch their bus pass them across the street with the students inside, making obscene gestures with their fingers and tongues at them as it drove away.

Arch should have stayed in bed.

“Shit.” They sighed, taking the opportunity to walk through downtown. At the very least they could start looking for a job, a way out of the hellhole their mother called a home. And by the time they graduated, they would be out. They would be free. They would find this job, even if it took all freaking day.

Presently,

“That’s not what it says on your email or on your resume,” Lyrem noted casually, making a quick scrawl in the margins. “I’ll make certain that your name is respected here, but for governmental and tax purposes, I can’t use Arch until you’ve changed it properly.”

“That’s fine,” They responded. “I thought my chances on getting hired might have been better if I used my real name.”

Lyrem regarded them carefully over the cash desk.

“Arch is your real name. I’ll be looking forward to the day that it is recognized as such,” he advised sagely, “besides, it’s not like I haven’t changed mine a hundred times over. I know it can be a pain.”

Arch looked at them skeptically and stepped back.

“Dude, come on, are you fleeing the IRS? Involved with human trafficking”- Arch shook their head.

Lyrem couldn’t have been younger than fifty years of age, and it was very rare to find a man of that time so accepting of these modern values. He briefly glanced up from the generally unimpressive resume and smiled, almost robotically.

“I was only joking.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Arch inquired, “Your shop has been on this street for as long as I can remember; why do you need someone now? Why did the last part-timer leave?”

Lyrem placed the paper down. It was a fair question, reasonable for anyone to ask if they were being hired on so soon.

“I ran this shop with my wife for many years,” he answered honestly. “But… she is gone now…”

Arch raised their eyebrows, a look of sympathy crossing over their face until Lyrem finished their sentence.

“- Drained my savings account without my knowledge and ran off to Cuba with some ugly bastard named Phillip.”

Oh.

“I just hope she can still find happiness.” Lyrem finished, trailing off.

Oh.

“Sorry I asked.”

Lyrem shrugged.

“You’d have found out eventually, I’m sure. I may rant to you from time to time, I hope that is not an issue.”

“No, never. I love a good rant.” Arch grinned slightly sideways.

“Dress code: simply look presentable, is all I ask- don’t smell like patchouli, I suppose, is another thing, and you can play music in the store as long as it’s tasteful. There’s a record player in the corner.”

Arch had gazed around, there was indeed, a record player in the corner, but an old one- one they had assumed was merely for display use only. The entire shop was set up like something out of a seventies television series. The shag rug in the corner held a couple deep orange velour wingback chairs with the record player nestled between them by the window. Did people just sit in here to hang out?

The hanging chandelier over the desk was stained with a foggy yellow glass, and the shelves of tarot decks and mystical books were perfectly arranged alphabetically by subject, then by author. Lyrem continued as Arch took in the layout of the store.

“There is some Holst, Tchaikovsky, John Denver, Earth, Wind, and Fire and even some Segovia”-

“Mm. What’s Segovia?” Arch asked, turning back to him.

Lyrem’s face fell into utter disappointment. “You heard it yesterday, at the coffee shop.”

Arch didn’t expect such an offended response but then their face twisted in confusion.

“The coffee place was playing City and Colour,” Arch responded, recounting their chance meeting with total clarity. “Everyone knows City and Colour.”

Lyrem suddenly looked quite shaky. Arch moved around the side of the counter as he paled. Unsure what to do, they helped Lyrem into the stool in nestled behind the register in the corner.

“Do you need some water or something? Medication?”

“No!” Lyrem stood upright, pushing Arch away as they crowded him. “No, I’m fine!”

With a raised eyebrow, Arch backed off, suddenly rethinking the opportunity here.

“Apologies, Arch.” Lyrem grounded himself. “I didn’t mean to get so worked up over that.”

Arch looked at him sideways, and changed the subject-

“It happens… Teach me how to use the till?”

Lyrem nodded, attempting to brush off the odd discovery as simply an accident of the aging mind.

The evening shift progressed without further flaw, and after a tour of the store and several small sales later, Arch was taught to close out the till, and to close the store. It was shortly after eight when they both stood outside, and Lyrem handed over a set of silver keys to them.

“There you are. Now, I will put together a proper schedule that will fit around your school hours and have it to you tomorrow when you come in.”

Arch nodded. “Four o’clock?”

“Precisely.”

Arch turned to the left, heading home to the condo toward the southeast. They turned, a thank you, was on the verge of leaving their lips when they realized that Lyrem had left already, and was no where to be seen. The sun was just dipping below the horizon as Arch returned to the street, assuming their employer turned down the alley already to retrieve their vehicle. Arch walked the way home with contented steps, feeling proud- unstoppable, even.

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santalsaburablog · 4 years

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Adventures of Santal. Chapter 9: Landa's Secret

Revealing the secret builds trust.

Quarrel! After meeting near the Jedi Temple, Santal and her aunt's paths diverge in opposite directions. In an attempt to resolve the conflict, the girl manages to help the oncoming woman Rana Martez, and then return to continue her studies at the Jedi Temple. The story continues.

Over the past week since that day, Santal got to know all the members of the clan better. Dasha, as an inborn empath, was able to feel emotions from childhood, at least basic ones. Nick is cheerful, constantly smiling and can amuse those who are sad. Grace loves to laugh. Landa is strict, obedient and obedient to her elders. Just like me, Santal thought.

Almost nothing can be said about the rest, because I rarely had contact. From conversations it became clear that many really do not remember practically anything. Because of this, the girl even felt sorry for her peers. Because they weren't as lucky as she was. She knows a lot about her parents now. Exactly! She can look for information about them in the library, or, as she managed to christen her, "The Main Branch of Paradise." Of course, she had many favorite places in the Temple, but the library is definitely in the first place.

Santal studied the schedule thoroughly. I also asked the curator about the youngling's life. Some facts she already knew, and some frightened.

So, Santal already knew that the morning began with a study of the Force, then the children went to classrooms for a lesson in politics, as well as the history of many worlds and cultures. After lunch, the clans began physical education, acquiring the necessary skills and reflexes. In addition to theory, the Younglings had to find time for five daily meditations. Each clan began their training with the study of the Jedi Code and three important disciplines: Strength, Knowledge, and Self-Control. It was these foundations that became the foundation for further development. In addition to the required course materials, each youngling received a copy of The Jedi Path: A Manual for Students of the Force. Students had to know the layout of the Temple by heart, as well as the names and history of the Jedi who had memorials in the Temple, so as not to forget their history and become better acquainted with the traditions and philosophy of the Order.

The children studied and practiced together, which made them very close and learned to trust. Younglings often helped each other and followed an example from a comrade. While comprehending the Force and its capabilities, they simultaneously learned self-control, which was an important step on the path to mastery. Before starting to comprehend the art of lightsaber fencing, children had to prove themselves in other areas, otherwise they will not progress in the possession of weapons. In the third discipline (self-control), younglings were taught for the first time more sophisticated meditation techniques that helped keep their minds under control during battle. After mastering the six levels of lightsaber combat, they were challenged. Refusal was not accepted. If the child did not pass the tests, then he could repeat them. Youngling was either making progress or abandoning the path of the Jedi.

The tests were scheduled when the younglings were undergoing initial training at the academy. They consisted of three main tests: demonstration of knowledge of the Code, meditation, mastery of the lightsaber, and control of the Force. All junior Jedi were required to pass the exam, but not all passed the test. If in the future the younglings were not taken as Padawans, then the Council assigned the child to one of the Service Corps, where he would perform the tasks of the Order, which did not require skills in using a lightsaber and the Force. There was a third option for the Younglings, which the High Council deemed unsuitable for the Jedi path. Such children could leave the Order and use their skills to find a good place in the galaxy.

The last girl, to put it mildly, scared. And it gave rise to many questions and thoughts. What if it doesn't work? No, though. There is an answer to this question. But it doesn't make it any easier. It turns out that if Santal fails, then Corpus or a return to her aunt is waiting for her. Neither the first nor the second perspective seduced her. The girl more or less imagined her fate in case of returning to Ryloth. But my aunt wanted to be away from her. Or maybe she was joking? Or maybe not? If not, what should she do? Become like the Evil Hat? Could she do that? Santal did not know the answer to the question, because she considered what he was doing, impossible for her, beyond understanding. Santal just didn't understand how one could be so cruel. And if you imagine that she was expelled from the Order, would she be able to find him? Ask to take to yourself? Make friends? Although the girl did not understand the meaning of the word "friendship" well. But maybe he will teach her something. Although no, I have already taught.

Then a strange thought occurred to the girl. And if this uncle is an inanimate creature? A droid who pulled on someone else's skin so as not to frighten others? Maybe. So Santal decided to find this blue. Anyway. Either for training or revenge. All the same, there is nowhere else to go.

Стоит отметить, что, despite good relations with the Younglings, Santal did not become very close to anyone. She politely communicated with everyone, if someone asked for help, tried to help, and the classmates themselves helped her out more than once and invited her to play. But Santal kept the other children at a distance. Adults, strangers, were still afraid like the plague. But with the Jedi it was just the opposite. Santal was always looking for the company of her elders and enjoyed communicating with them. So she once met the Twi'lek Jedi Anun Bondara. In principle, Santal liked to communicate more with Twi'leks, even more than with people. Because when she spoke to them, she felt at home.

Bondara was also happy and at the same time surprised to meet a human girl who was raised by representatives of his race. You don't see that every day. Therefore, two Jedi from the same home planet quickly found common topics of conversation. Santal talked about her past and learned a lot about a stranger. Her new acquaintance was born into the Dara clan, was admitted to the Order at a young age, and eventually attained the rank of Master, following the path of a Jedi Guardian. Most importantly, Santal was amazed when she learned that he was a sentinel in the Ryloth system! It turns out that he could find her! Wow!

- I really want to travel the world. I have already visited some of the planets, namely Tatooine, Corellia, Devarone, Naboo, ”Santal admitted with childish ease. And casually added: - Although my aunt told me: "Do not go to Tatooine, or the giant slugs will eat you."

The elder Jedi's face turned sad.

- Did I say something wrong? - Santal was frightened.

Twi'lek hurried to smile and answered:

- No, baby, it's okay. You just know, I also like to travel the Galaxy, I visit Hutt space with a feeling of awkwardness, seeing how many Twi'leks were slaves or servants of the Hutts. It upsets me that my clan members have become either poor or criminals, but as a Jedi, I must remain cool and impartial, even when negotiating with the Hutts.

- It turns out that we need to talk politely with everyone, even with those who we don't like and who don't like us?

- Yes. Unfortunately, yes, - answered Bondara honestly and directly.

- I understand you perfectly. My aunt was once a Hutt thing. She would have been her to this day if one Jedi had not saved her. Maybe I'll save someone. The man nodded approvingly. And then Santal plucked up courage and voiced her concerns:

- We will soon begin to master the sword. I'm afraid I can't do it. I heard that it is difficult. I will be among the laggards, and then they will expel me or ...

Bondara made a gesture so familiar to the girl, meaning that he would not tolerate such thoughts.

- But the majority, on the contrary, are looking forward to such a moment. They can wave their arms, imagining themselves to be great warriors. And I think we need to let the Force guide the sword, throw away all possible fears about the outcome of the fight. Get rid of your thoughts. Don't expect victory. Don't expect defeat. Don't expect anything. The lightsaber is not meant to defeat enemies or rivals. We must use it to destroy our own greed, anger and stupidity. The one who created the lightsaber and walks with it through life must live in such a way that he himself can be a weapon against everything that is directed against peace and justice. And most importantly, be honest in your feelings, this is the surest road to knowing yourself and the Force.

These words gave Santal a tiny bit of hope.

As the days passed, training became more difficult. Santal was in trouble. The first is acrobatics. The girl was afraid to perform various techniques. Everything seemed to her that she would fall or be crippled. Somersaults were especially difficult. More precisely, they were not given at all.

Second, the senior Jedi sounded the alarm because a month had passed since enrollment in the Order, and Santal had still not become close to anyone. Yoda even approached her and talked about this topic. Santal answered the truth. That she communicates normally with everyone, but does not feel the need for friendship. Then the master replied that if she did not try to open up, then she would never have friends.

Other children also tried to make friends with the girl, talked to her and invited her to play even more often than before.

- Well, how can you sit and read all the time? - Max was sincerely surprised, unlike Landa, who treated this daily routine with much more approval.

Although it was not true. Santal not only sat, but also walked wherever possible. I studied the new house, where everything is. She enjoyed the conversation, but she was in no hurry to sign up as friends. She considered her fellow clansmen to be exceptionally good friends with whom she could communicate. And friends, real friends in the full sense of the word, she simply did not need. She was used to being alone, she was so comfortable. When you sit alone, you don't have to give in to anyone, everything is only according to your own rules. Or you sit in the library, not bothering anyone. Nobody distracts. No, Santal loved to help, but sometimes she just needed to be alone and reflect. Think. And she began to think almost every second after the story with her uncle.

And then, after some time, unexpectedly for everyone, including herself, Santal found herself a friend, more precisely, a girlfriend. She was a girl only a year older than her and the Mrialan race. Her name was Barriss.

They met in the library. Then Santal wanted to know more about her parents and went there. At this time, Barriss was sitting at a long table and reading something. It was she who became interested in Santal, drawing attention to a girl with olive skin, black hair, very beautiful blue eyes (Santal admired, she could not even take her eyes off) and with a strange pattern on her face, like freckles.

First Santal sat on the opposite corner of the table, then a little closer. And then she took courage and sat down very close. Left.

“Hi,” the reader replied quietly. Santal was surprised, she thought she would have to take the first step. Well, okay. So even better.

- Hi.

- What is your name?

- I am Youngling Santal Sabura. And you?

- Barriss Offee. Also youngling. Mirialanka.

- Nice to meet you. Santal paused and added, “You don’t… don’t… mind if I sit with you?” Do you read?

- Yes. One text.

- So you like to read? So do I.

- Yeah. Barriss answered calmly, monotonously and reluctantly, as if the lesson was answering. Only at the last word she smiled.

- I'm also looking for information. About two Jedi.

Then Santal went to Jocasta, who had become her favorite librarian, and asked for a CD with information about Bastian and Adir Shan. And she provided what was needed without question. The girl returned to her seat, feeling her bursting with curiosity. Finally, she will make her dream come true. She finally finds out what her mother and father looked like. Suddenly she wanted to question Barriss.

“Barriss, were you, like everyone, found and taken to the Temple?

- Yes.

- And you don’t remember your parents either?”

- No. The girl shook her head. - I was born on board an unknown passenger liner and never knew my parents. However, my connection to the Force was quickly discovered and I was taken away.

Santal's pupils were dilated.

- Wow! - she exclaimed. - I was also born on a ship. - And mentally added: “But, unlike the others, I was lucky. I know who my parents are. And I can look at them right now. "

And now the long-awaited moment has come. Santal looked at the photo, and warmth spread throughout her body. As if wrapped in a soft blanket. How she looks like them! For everyone. Dad got the eyes. From mom - hair.

So the girl sat there, unable to tear herself away from the faces of her parents.

“What eyes they have! There is so much power in them! And smiles! Probably, when they were taking pictures, none of them suspected that they would have a girl, and something would happen to them. Well, I don't believe such talented Jedi would die. Surely they just got lost. Either they went on an expedition, wishing to discover or have already discovered many new plants, or animals, or even a new planet, system. Galaxy! But something went wrong and they got stuck. Or maybe this is what happened: my parents crashed on an unknown planet, saved its inhabitants, and they made them their rulers. King and queen Or the chancellor and the chancellor's wife. "

Dreaming, the girl did not notice how an hour had passed, although it seemed to her that it was less. And from the next day they began to take acrobatics. This is where the problems began. Santal was scared. Because in the classroom they had to do somersaults, jump, get up in different poses. The algorithm most often was this: you jump and move your arms and legs in the air. Left, right or something else. There was also such an exercise: you need to run up to the wall, push off from it with your feet and roll back, landing on your feet. This exercise in the Temple was considered one of the easiest. But Santal was afraid to do it. What if she falls, breaks her leg and ends up in the infirmary? No, she had a good relationship with Vokara, she just didn't like being sick.

For many of the clan members, most of the exercises worked. Yes, and the daughter of the Jedi herself, in principle, tried, it just did not work out most often because of fear. But in other subjects, things were much better. Just fine. On history, politics, she regularly crammed the material and answered questions more than once during the lesson. So her teachers were praised and considered the best in the clan in this matter.

Barriss and Santal became inseparable. Often they could be seen in the library communicating with each other, studying texts, discussing material. One explains one, and vice versa. Soul mates found each other.

And so a month passed. And soon Santal and her clan prepared a surprise. On that day, instead of the usual classes, they were expected to show Yoda's training duel with one of the masters. Of course, everyone was waiting for her with eagerly. Especially Max. Three days before the upcoming event, he was worn during the break. It will jump to the left to Adrian, then to the right to Dasha. When he jumped up to Landa, she scolded him:

- Behave yourself! A future Jedi after all! I hope you will sit still during the duel.

- Do not swear, teacher, - as always the boy answered with a joke. - But the rest, at least someone, tell me, are you burning with impatience? Adrian? Nick? Santal?

“A little, yes,” Santal replied, hoping that he would calm down a little.

Her words had little effect. At least he stopped jumping. But Landa did not surprise her at all. Santal was also not happy with Max's behavior, but, unlike the twilight, she was calmer about it. And if such active and sociable children as Grace or Max said that she and Landa studied longer together, but still did not understand what was wrong with her (she was like that almost from the first day), then Santal was not at all worried , because she herself is the same. But there was a difference. Sabura was never hard on others. And Landa sometimes loved to educate. Of course, Santal understood that this was not just that, but others from the beginning of their acquaintance almost immediately gave up. That's why they joked at times.

And Santal suddenly remembered that when Dasha began to talk about the twilight, she abruptly stopped the attempt. And the girl might just have forgotten about it, but it didn't work. Curiosity burned like acid. And for obvious reasons, Santal did not dare to ask, and she considered it tactless to climb into someone else's soul without asking. When Landa herself wants to share with someone, then she will find out. And if he doesn't want with anyone, nothing. Santal will not be offended. She herself has secrets. One is scarier than the other. Here's another reason not to intrude. You yourself will ask a secret, you will have to tell yours. And Santal with anyone, even peers, was afraid to share secrets. You never know what. Enough time passed, and I was still afraid of strangers like fire, only less. I was not afraid of children at all, but all the same. Suddenly they are someone's spies, sent by adults to find out more about her than she said. Oh Sila, she seems to have begun to understand that uncle. Maybe that's why he didn't believe? Thought Santal was a secret agent sent to spy on him or even kill him. Although ... it cannot, and it is so! He said something like that. Maybe he has secrets himself. And he was afraid that she would find out? But Strength, she's honest. And besides, a Jedi. And the Jedi try to keep their word.

The girl learned an important lesson. When speaking, try to understand what the other person is thinking. You should not easily trust those whom you see for the first time or whom you know little. When you meet someone, you have no idea if this is your future enemy or your friend. Anything can be. Therefore, you need to be on your guard.

But, despite this, Santal remained unconvinced. No, she was beginning to understand her uncle's fears, to guess what he was thinking. But his guilt in her eyes did not diminish. She's just a girl! Doesn't she deserve mercy? Why is it obligatory to take it somewhere? Or maybe he guessed she was Force sensitive? But this is not an argument. Is it her fault that she was born this way? And he could check that she was really a child? In a word, the uncle is inadequate. From whatever angle you look.

- Santal. - The voice pulled the girl out of prostration.

Santal stopped looking at the floor and raised her head. Landa was standing near the wall.

- Hi. Something happened?

- Nothing. I just want to talk, ”the twilight said mysteriously. “But not here. - Shall we go to me or to you?

- Let me think. Come on to me. It's somehow easier for me on my territory. Santal grew more and more terrifying with every word spoken. So what happened that Landa wants to talk in private? And this word is "easier." It smacks of something serious. It is now clear that a serious conversation awaits her, and not some girlish gossip.

Entering the room, Landa sank onto the bed. Legs together, eyes on hands. Santal pricked up her ears, prepared to listen.

- Everything, I'm ready. Santal sat down beside her. Not too close, not too far.

At first Landa could not get herself together, she looked at her fingers, flexing them. At first, the daughter of the Jedi waited patiently, but when several minutes had passed, she braced herself and said:

- If you don't know where to start, start from afar.

Landa thought for two more minutes and began:

- You know, I thought for a long time whether to say or not. Initially, even before you came here, I generally planned to keep to myself. I think you can understand why.

- Well, I understand. Each of us has secrets ...

- Right. Landa smiled without showing her teeth. Santal also smiled with emotion. - It's good that you understand that. So I made the right choice.

- About what?

- About what I will tell later. What you just said is good. It's true. But, unfortunately, not all are like that. For example, Daria and Maxim. They, if you noticed, often annoy me. One of the reasons is they are not like that. They love to share everything. Therefore, when I first came to this clan, I was "attacked by them." In the sense that they started asking personal questions. Well, you understand. How did I get to the Temple, who brought it. And Max in general climbed into the jungle, - the clan member complained.

- Well, I haven't been "attacked". As far as I remember.

- This experience of communicating with me taught them something. Lucky you. But I do not. I still remember that Max pestered the most with questions. - It's curiosity. - Santal tried to stand in the place of the boy. Try to understand what he would say.

“You know, you can die of curiosity,” the twilight replied sharply and very seriously, her eyes flashing.

Santal froze immediately. Landa said to the point. How you guessed!

- Hey, what are you? Santal, Santal, where are you? Did I say something wrong?

- Well no. Your last phrase ... right to the point. Should I not know about this.

- Come on! - Landa was shocked. From the next grimace, it became clear that she also wanted to know what had happened, but almost immediately faded away. - Although it’s me ... If you don’t want to talk, don’t. I understand perfectly well, I myself have never told anyone anything.

- So we are here only for this? - Santal was surprised.

- Yes. What? You thought ...

- No no no. I didn't think about anything. It's just that when you started, I thought there was some terrible secret awaiting me. But I also liked this frank conversation. That you generally agreed to this. You know me worse than the rest. And I understand you. I myself do not like those who cannot, without a large circle of friends, not share information, who constantly ask questions such as “what happened?”, “Please, can I help?”, And just harassment. For example, "where are you going?" Why do some people get involved in their own business? You know, before the Order, I enjoyed being alone. Fair. Communicated only with my uncle and aunt. Played most often in the backyard. That's why I want to spend time alone. True, a friend appeared recently. And that's enough for me. Everyone was perplexed that I often sit alone. And I'm so comfortable. Peers are not needed. Only if there are a lot of them. I don't know how else to explain.

- In my opinion, you explained clearly enough.

- OK, bye.

Santal turned around and was about to leave when she heard a soft whisper:

- I don't remember my parents at all. More precisely, I would like to forget them. If they loved me, they wouldn't sell me to some syndicate. Not rations, if you've thought about them. They made me serve. At first glance, nothing complicated. Bring trays of food and drinks. But in reality, everything is much worse. When you are pulled, pushed, kicked, spanked a hundred times a day. I could not stand it and wanted to run away. But it's hard to escape when a chip is put in you that explodes when you try to leave the territory. But I tried. At first I wore a collar with an electric leash. Hardly found a way to turn it off. But I was caught and this chip was planted. Then I was resold. I ran away on the way, transferring to another ship. But he was captured by pirates. So I changed five masters, until a Jedi accidentally found me and brought me here. - Landa spoke with difficulty. And it was clear from the intonation that the story was not complete. But even without that, it was terrifying.

Santal was shocked. For a short time I stopped hearing altogether. A veil covered his eyes. This is what she did not expect to hear. No, she had thoughts that there was something unpleasant in Selmura's life. But she didn't even think about it.

“Now it's clear why you ... I wouldn't tell anyone either. And yet you shared with me. It is with me. Why? The girl asked just as quietly.

- It is not that simple. See, you told me to start from afar. I started. Through the conversation, I realized that you and I are kindred spirits. This is how I learned that you can be trusted. And I entrusted you with the main terrible secret, without fear of what you will reveal. I know. No offense.

And Santal was not at all offended. Moreover, she was going to take this technique into service in the future. Thank you, Landa. What a fine fellow she is! Despite everything, she continued to live on! Probably Santal could not do that. Previously, she considered herself a sufferer, but now she learned that, it turns out, there are people who are unhappy than she.

- You know, I also want to tell the main terrible secret.

Santal told how she got to the Temple. About everything. To which Landa replied:

- Oh, you're still lucky. In general, I noticed long ago that you are very lucky. Was born in a shirt. And you know what else?

- What?

“I also chose you because you are from Ryloth.

- Yes. And there is. I was raised by Twi'leks. It's strange that I understand why I have no processes. I know that I am human. But I consider myself a semi-tweelek. It is clear why.

For the first time in the evening, and for the entire acquaintance, Landa laughed. But this laugh was light, quick, but memorable.

- And I still wondered why you try to hold on representatives of my race, not my own. I noticed that you feel more confident with twi'leks. Not every day you come across such a phenomenon.

- Yes, that is right. Probably. Okay, if you don't mind, I'll go now. If we've discussed everything.

- Of course. I don't hold you anymore. Until.

- Until.

Reaching her room, Santal fell on the bed, digesting the whole evening, after which she felt different. New. As if she was older. She had never before had such a serious conversation. Santal also felt that she was close to another girl. And it's great! Brought together on similar secrets and problems. Indeed, soul mates. The girl sincerely believed that Landa would not tell anyone her secret. As well as today's conversation.

The world for Santal Sabura began to lose its pink color. And she will carry the secret of Landa to the grave!

#Cad Bane #cad bane x oc

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brightwanderer · 5 years

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Untitled Stardew Omens Fic (19)

(Index)

Fall 11

Aziraphale is sitting by his window, watching the rain stream down the glass, sipping a mug of tea and toying with the pages of a book he hasn't actually been reading for the last hour or so.

Aziraphale is thinking about friendship.

He'd say he's someone who makes friends easily, and it's true, up to a point. He's certainly become very good at the casual, day-to-day sort of friendship, where he remembers everyone's name and people nod at him as he walks down the street. Even when he lived in the city, he knew all his neighbours, and they knew him.

(That ended up being part of why he had to move, of course.)

He's good at trivia, is the thing, and it's not so hard to train yourself to treat the minutiae of people's lives as trivia, as a quiz to be sprung on you at any moment, a challenge to surpass. It's an attitude he's discovered is best kept to himself. People tend to mix up trivia and trivial and get offended. Maybe they're right, Aziraphale thinks sometimes. His particular way of building and maintaining friendships does come off as awfully cold, if you break it down to its core parts. Like a set of instructions he's learned by heart over the years, a code he's figured out the key to, but will never read intuitively.

(It's not that he doesn't care. It's not that he's faking the warmth and the concern for his friends. It's that his mind has always run a thousand miles a minute somewhere up in the clouds, and he had to teach himself to pay attention to everything that was happening on the ground. It's that even now, after decades of practice, when most of it is automatic, he sometimes has to remind himself to ask, how are you, how's your family, did you ever take that holiday?)

He'd say he's someone who makes friends easily, and it's true, and he's won over everyone in Pelican Town by now, even the odd fellow who lives in the tower to the west. They like him, and he likes them. He's comfortable. He's settled into it like a warm bath. He's learned their stories and their rituals and he's made his best effort at matching their steps and it's enough to make him feel like this is a place he will stay.

It's not enough to make him feel at home.

Crowley does that, with a smile, with a few words, with gentle teasing. Crowley is easy to talk to and has nothing to say about the weather and if Aziraphale forgets to ask how his day was, he either doesn't care, or interrupts to tell him anyway. Crowley seems to understand people intuitively, respond instinctively to Shane's depression and Alex's self-image issues and Sebastian's sense of estrangement. And yet he's blunt and brusque and says whatever's in his head and rambles in odd directions and once loudly told Mayor Lewis to "find your own shorts" in the middle of a crowded pub, before storming out.

(And yet Lewis seems to like him very much indeed, openly hopes he'll stay in Pelican Town now, a far cry from those first uncertain weeks.)

Aziraphale hasn't loved very often in his life, not in the specific, demanding, breathtaking way that comes from finding that soul-deep spark of connection with another person. He thinks of it as rather a rare event for him, something to be approached cautiously lest it be scared away, something to be handled gently lest it break.

He doesn't want to scare Crowley away. He doesn't want to break this golden gleaming warmth between them, this precious gift of easy evenings in each other's company, of laughter, of trust, of honesty. He doesn't want to sacrifice friendship, real friendship, on the altar of asking for too much.

It doesn't mean he doesn't hope. It doesn't mean he doesn't flirt. It doesn't mean he doesn't count every time he catches Crowley's eyes on him, every time Crowley touches him, every time Crowley brings him flowers or chocolates or wine.

It just means there's a line he'll never cross, unless he's invited. And he thinks - he hopes - that there will come a time when Crowley issues that invitation. Maybe soon. He hopes soon. But he'll wait for later, if that's what it takes.

He has nowhere else to be, after all.

#untitled stardew omens fic #aziraphale #good omens #fanfic #au #fluff #romance #stardew omens

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dvp95 · 5 years

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step into the light

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: uni au, sort of? they're both in uni but this is not about uni, it's about two idiots meeting in the middle of the night at a corner shop where one of them works, and also heelies are involved, fluff, humour, meet-cute word count: 1.4k summary: Dan works the night shift at a corner store and Phil needs a sugar fix.

this was written for @cactilads in october, but i kept it on my back burner in case i wanted to come back to it and make it a whole Story. i've decided that i like it the way it is and i don’t want it on my shoulders like a gargoyle anymore. vivi drew GORGEOUS art for it already, which you can see and reblog here!

read on ao3 or here!

Dan doesn't mind the night shift. It's eons better than when he started his Asda shifts at five in the fucking morning - that was basically actual torture. Sure, it kind of sucks to go to classes at regular times throughout the week when his sleep schedule is swapped for work, but he'd be lying if he said he'd be asleep on Friday and Saturday nights anyway.

It's just boring, most of the time. The owner, a no-nonsense Indian woman a little older than Dan's parents, doesn't give a shit if Dan plays on his DS all night, as long as he doesn't nod off or let anyone break anything. He's been expressly forbidden from dealing with shoplifters in any way but to call the police, which works just fine for Dan. He wouldn't know what to do, anyway, always feels a little tongue-tied and awkward when he sees people shove candy bars and sodas into their jackets. He never calls the police, because, well, it's a fucking Mars bar.

There are a few moments of interest, usually in the form of drunk students livening up the place or exhausted parents stood in front of the baby food for so long that Dan worries they've fallen asleep, but for the most part his weekend shifts go by in quiet Pokémon battles and half-assed studying.

Tonight, though, Dan gets his favourite distraction. He's folded up on his chair in a way that increases his chances of tumbling off it and struggling not to fall asleep on his property law textbook.

Dan glances up as the door of his shoddy little corner shop dings. It's nearing three, which means he's either dealing with someone drunk, high, or very tired.

The guy who comes in is none of the three - at least, not obviously so. He gives Dan a jaunty, familiar sort of wave before he makes a beeline towards the slushie machine. Dan is sufficiently distracted, because this guy is the most bewildering part of his nights.

He doesn't come in every night that Dan's working, but it's often enough that Dan has developed a kind of fixation. Why does he always need an extra large slushie between the hours of two and four in the goddamn morning? Why does he mix all the flavours together and act like it's good (Dan has tried it, many times, and it's awful)? Nothing about him makes any sense at all.

Dan likes a good mystery, especially when it distracts him from property law, so he sits up a little straighter and lets his eyes follow the guy around the store.

And - okay. Okay. Maybe the guy is cute, in addition to being bemusing. He's always got glasses on and his dark hair shoved haphazardly off his forehead, a smile that reaches his sparkling eyes, long legs that always end up catching Dan's gaze.

He's looking at them now, actually, half wishing Hot Slushie Guy could be wearing his usual grey sweats, because the Star Wars pyjamas just aren't doing his thighs justice, when Dan notices the shoes at the end of the nice legs.

At first he just thinks, huh. Weird of a guy who looks uni age to be wearing light-up sneakers, but whatever. He's seen much, much weirder in this corner shop alone. Hell, he's seen weirder from this guy alone, since there was that one night that he'd come in wearing animal slippers of some kind or the other time he'd come with a beret on his head at 4:15 in the morning or the time - the point is, the sneakers themselves don't really give Dan any kind of pause.

Not until the guy goes to get a straw, and instead of walking like a regular person, he shifts onto his heels and glides over.

Dan is dumbfounded. Heelies still exist? What the fuck? He has not thought about them in literal years, not since people collectively decided they were mildly dangerous and very uncool.

This guy doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. He glides back over to his slushie and Dan has a moment of total certainty that he's about to eat shit before he does so, smashing into a rack of magazines with a small yelp and knocking it all to the floor. He manages to stay upright, but just barely.

Dan sighs. At least he didn't spill his stupid drink everywhere.

"Alright, mate?" Dan calls over, coming out from behind the counter. He knows that this doesn't count as letting someone break things, but he still wants to clean it up before Ms. Gujar magically appears behind his shoulder and scolds him.

"Uh," the guy says, his eyes wide and apologetic. He crouches down to start picking up the mess of magazines and Dan, not wanting to look like he's slacking off, joins him. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay," says Dan. He shrugs a bit, stacking the mags into neat piles. "I've had people do stupider shit."

The guy's voice is much brighter when he asks, "Really?"

He's just grabbing magazines at random. Dan has to reach out and take them from him before he puts the Good Housekeeping beside the Cosmo.

"Really," Dan assures him. "I have a spray bottle for breaking up chav fights."

The joke makes the guy grin at him, wide and sparkling and so contagious that Dan has to duck his head to hide his own.

"Well, it doesn't look like much of value was lost," the guy says, holding up a magazine by the corner with his finger and thumb like he doesn't want to touch it. Dan can't stop the embarrassing bark of a laugh that comes out of his mouth when he gets a good look at the cover.

"Bikinis don't really do it for you, huh?" he asks, taking the magazine and shoving it at the back where it belongs. He stands and, after a beat, thinks to offer his hand to help the guy up as well.

His hand is a little smaller than Dan's and soft, like he actually moisturizes. He squeezes Dan's hand before he stands up and again before he lets go. Dan wonders, a little ridiculously, if he's trying to communicate in Morse code or something.

"No, Dan, they don't," the guy laughs, reaching for his slushie like he hadn't almost broken his neck for it.

"How," Dan starts, and then looks down at himself as he remembers that he's got a name tag on. "Oh. Well, that's not very fair. I don't know your name."

The guy takes a long drink of his slushie and then winces. "Ugh, brain freeze. I know your name, but you know that girls in bikinis are boring to me," he laughs, "so I think we're even on the personal information front."

That's not fair. Dan wants to know, wants to stop calling him Hot Slushie Guy in his own mind, wants to find out what he's always doing here to get early morning sugar rushes. Dan feels his mouth twist into a sulk before he can think too much about how uncool that makes him look.

"Well," says Dan, putting his hands on his hips in a way he hopes looks casual and not awkward. "I'm not big on girls in bikinis, either."

He swears he sees those blue-green eyes sparkle. "No?"

"So now we're uneven," Dan says. "And you should tell me your name. Also, why you get a disgusting drink almost every weekend at a time most humans are asleep. Also, also, why you have heelies."

"Wow, that's a lot of questions," the guy says, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. He's still grinning. "You're gonna owe me some stuff, too, y'know. To even it back out. So why don't I pay for this, and I'll keep you company for a bit."

Alright. Dan can work with that.

"As long as you don't use those anymore," he says with a gesture down at the light-up sneakers. "I don't want you destroying the place."

"That's fair. I'm Phil, and I do tend to destroy places when left to my own devices." Now Dan just has to focus on actually calling him that and not just accidentally saying Hot Slushie Guy out loud.

"Nice to meet you, Phil," he says. "You should teach me how to make all the flavours taste good together."

Phil grins around his straw. "It's a science."

"We've got all night," says Dan, a little more hope in his voice than he really wants there to be. Phil grins even wider and grabs for an empty slushie cup.

#phanfiction #phanfic #dnp fic #words words words

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