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dreamgrlarchive · 4 years

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Self Care 101 🦋

In this post I’ll be outlining my current routines as they relate to self care. I’ll cover everything from head to toe making sure not to skip your spirit. You cannot be a girl of ANYONE’S dreams if you aren’t taking care of the most important person in your world: you.

mornings:

wash face with gentle cleanser from curology, tone with organic Mamonde rose water and finish with rich moisturizer and spf30

brush teeth with activated charcoal toothpaste by Crest and baking soda for whitening and gum clarity

take vitamins : woman’s one a day, hair skin nails, biotin, vitamin c

drink glass of water then a cup of tea

black tea, raw cane sugar, a lemon slice, ginger

good for energy, immune function, and detox

showers:

this may sound so extra (😅), but depending on my hairstyle, I sometimes like to let the shower run for about five minutes with the door closed to create a sauna effect. this is especially if I have a mask on my hair.

my showers usually are about 20-30 minutes

I have a back brush, pink exfoliating gloves, a loofah, and tree hut body scrubs and I use them ALL.

I wash first with my dove beauty bar to assure clean skin before washing with EITHER my OGX Shea So Soft body wash or Dove Renewing Peony and Rose Oil body wash to add scent or silkiness to my skin.

hair removal:

I haven’t yet mastered the art of waxing myself so I’m still riding the shave wave. *when I do I’ll make a post 4 that*

I exfoliate throughly before AND after shaving

I shave my entire body using Tree Hut Shaving Oil and a nice conditioner I’m not using. This leaves my skin super soft and silky and helps the razor to glide without skipping. I use Gillette Venus. no less than five blades, anything less is ASKING for nicks and a hard time.

when I don’t feel like shaving, I use Nair. use at your own risk. yes, I Nair my ENTIRE BODY. only leaving it on for about 7 minutes I rinse in WARM (not hot) water and exfoliate afterwards. it is imperative to moisturize after to avoid irritation. however, Nair is much easier to do than shaving and seems to last an inkling longer.

after shaving, once a month, I pull out my KENZZI. it’s an IPL device and it has helped to slow the growth of my hair. it’s noticeable for us long, thick haired chicks. I use the second to lowest setting as a melanated babe, as the higher settings could burn me.

I know many endorse the hair on women movement and I can understand it. But I personally love my skin silky, hairless, and smooth.

nights:

after eating dinner, I wash my face and apply the tiniest bit of glycolic serum and my curology night cream. my skin has been the best it’s been in a few years. then I brush my teeth and rinse with peroxide.

every four days I give myself a facial

my favorite face masks:

The Ordinary Salicylic Acid mask

The Ordinary AHA + BHA mask

all Tony Moly sheet masks *luvvvvv those*

GLAMGLOW SUPERMUD clearing treatment *fav*

Peter Thomas Roth Pumpkin Enzyme mask

Peter Thomas Roth Cucumber Gel mask

Peter Thomas Roth Irish Moor Mud mask

Peter Thomas Roth Rose Stem Cell Bio-Repair Gel mask

ORIGINS Clear Improvement mask

An at home honey and aloe mask

I apply a rich facial moisturizer and get to bed.

I then write in my planner my new plans and what I did that day if I hadn’t already. then after that I script and make mood boards in my diary. then I read a little. currently reading: Making Faces by Kevyn Aucoin, and Live Like a hot Chick by Jodi Lipper.

emotions:

I talk to my grandmother about my feelings, she helps me sort things out. please try to find one person you trust to talk to, my messages are always open. 💓 I often overthink. I suffer from anxiety and clinical depression. sometimes these things make me FEEL limited. these experiences wax and wane. I remind myself that the darkness is temporary.

I write in my diary what I feel and track my emotions for potential patterns. I don’t manufacture or sugar coat my feelings, I just talk.

sometimes you need a good cry. let it out. clean your slate. you’ll always feel better, sometimes great after a hard, deep sobbing cry.

I try to get out of the house and get some sunlight. it helps brighten my mood sometimes.

baths:

LOVE taking baths I don’t care what the status quo is about dirt. just rinse off. I love wrapping my hair up and soaking in warm-hot water.

first I run the water. as it’s running I add my bubble bath, then body wash, then my Shea Moisture fragrant coconut oil. it smells soooo good, literally yummy. then I inevitably scream from dipping my toe in the hot water. finally I get in, scrub down my body, emphasis on feet. then I wash, and just relax. I’ve even fallen asleep in the tub once, I was so zen.

careful not to soak too long or overdo it with your products. synthetic materials lingering in your lady bits for too long cause cause infections like bv or uti

some women add tea tree oil, acv, or even Aztec clay to their baths for wellness purposes. I love adding essential oils to my baths to relax and the natural scent is just great 🥺

when I get out I always put something that feels lush and soft on. *invest in super soft, comfy bath towels, they’ll make you feel so luxurious and soft after a nice relaxing bath*

flower:

the yoni is something sensitive that needs to be taken care of thoroughly, and differently than the rest of your body. it’s not recommended to use soaps down there, it can unbalance things and make you itch. also make you prone to infection. this is why I use clear warm water to clean. if I use soap it’s a sensitive, gentle formula. don’t ever try to clean the cavity. she’s a self cleaning vessel.

to shave, I trim my hair down as close as possible and use a FIVE BLADE razor with conditioner and take my time. making sure not to pass a spot twice, I apply moderate pressure and move slowly. when finished I rinse and scrub gently. I PAT not rub dry. to finish off I apply TendSkin, and salicylic acid to avoid ingrowns. once that’s soaked in I apply shea butter. very soft and pretty 🌸

⚠️ DO NOT PUT ON TIGHT PANTIES OR RIGHT PANTS AFTER SHAVING. it restricts the hairs and causes irritation and ingrowns. throw on some comfy loose shorts for a while, let it breathe

dietary needs:

drink plenty of water

cranberry juice

vitamin c

minimal red meat

probiotics

at home vagacial for the high maintenance girlies:

*make any necessary extractions with pointed and slanted tweezers *

scrub:

brown sugar, tea tree oil, a little shea butter

exfoliating and anti inflammatory

mask:

baking soda, fresh lemon juice, vitamin e oil, papaya juice, gelatin

fixes discoloration and brightens the skin while softening

moisturize:

aloe vera gel, rose hip seed oil

smelling sweet:

ah yes, my favorite part. I love fragrance so much. I love to smell like you could literally break off a piece of me and eat it.

I find that using fragrant washes and oils make your scent more strong and help it linger. I already mentioned the body washes I use. the tree hut scrubs I use smell amazing also. I alike to add essential oils and man made scents like strawberry and chocolate to my Shea Moisture oil (so yummy).

I also use a fragrant lotion, eau de parfum, and fragrance mist.

here’s a list of some of my favorites:

perfumes:

jimmy choo fever

coach floral blush

yves saint laurent mon paris

victoria’s secret bombshell

victoria’s secret scandalous

valentino

fragrance mists:

victoria’s secret velvet petals, pure seduction, warm and cozy

bath and body works a thousand wishes, fiji pineapple palm, warm vanilla sugar, black raspberry vanilla

oils:

coconut

sweet almond

peppermint

chocolate scented essential oil

strawberry scented essential oil

orange

grapefruit

eucalyptus

sweetest combo ever:

vanilla extract, coconut oil, shea butter, and your favorite perfume. you’ll be smelling like a warm cupcake with extra sprinkles and icing 🧁

layering:

oil, lotion, eau de parfum, mist

pulse points:

inside elbows and knees, in between thighs, inner arms, behind ears, back of neck, ankles

hair:

it’s super important to keep your hair moisturized. quenched tresses move, grow, shine and bounce. dry hair is limp, lackluster, and extremely fragile

my fav diy deep conditioner:

a banana, half an avocado, three spoons of honey, an egg, a spoonful of mayo, a spoonful of coconut, olive, and castor oil each

strength from egg, avocado, mayo and olive oil

moisture from avocado and honey

cover damp CLEAN hair and scalp in mixture and cover with a plastic bag, then towel for an hour, rinse thoroughly, and seal in moisture

fav hair products:

castor oil

fusionplex conditioner and mask

Aussie conditioner

wella goji berry mask

coconut oil

style booster edge control

helpful tips:

when shampooing, concentrate on the scalp and wash thoroughly twice, as the suds will naturally cleanse your stands without drying and stripping them

rinse hair with apple cider vinegar every now and then. it restores your ph balance, smooths the cuticle, clarifies the strands, and adds shine

always add oil and leave ins to DAMP hair, never dry; this will ensure you’re sealing in moisture

try to use smooth fabrics to dry your hair, bath towels encourage frizz and breakage

hands and feet:

and last but not least, let’s cover manicuring and pedicuring.

it’s super important to make sure your nails are either DONE or filed, shaped, and smooth. at home maintenance is super easy. make a point to scrub your hands and feet well when bathing. make sure to stay on top of your cuticles by trimming or pushing them back. I like the look that pushing them gives. I use an orangewood stick, metal pusher and cuticle softener to make the process super easy and safe. after I’m done I add my pineapple scented cuticle oil. I do this on my fingers and toes.

invest in a rasp and pumice stone for your feet and use these gently every two weeks after soaking them in warm foot salts. rough usage can cause cuts and irritation. in between treatments keep your feet soft by slathering them in a moisturizing foot cream, cocoa/shea butter then oil to seal it all in. buy some soft thick aloe infused socks and wear them to sleep. you’ll thank me 😉

for info on how I do my nails click this

well, that’s all I’ve got. I truly hope you enjoyed my post! it’s always fun sharing my advice with you all. any feedback is appreciated and question is welcomed ♡

#my posts #self care #high maintenance #the prissy girl agenda #dream girl journey

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

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Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first” date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room.

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but.

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human.

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it.

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously.

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me."

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin.

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind.

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too.

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right.

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest. Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder.

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky.

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him.

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself.

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much.

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty.

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic.

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go.

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide.

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye.

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze.

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…"

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong.

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations.

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below.

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls.

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding.

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.”

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.”

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself.

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there.

In his arms.

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

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

Tag 🏷 list: @jamespotterthefirst @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @mrs-ramsey @maurine07 @gryffindordaughterofathena @mercury84choices @lovingramsey @qrkowna @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @lisha1valecha @oldminniemcg @iemcpbchoices @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @levinsdowneyy @brooks-eden @poudredevie @queencarb @caseyvalentineramsey @lucy-268 @tenaciousdeputydreamfriend @alwaysmychoices-sideblog @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @lem-20 @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @liaromancewriter @ohchoices @archxxronrookie

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #dr ethan ramsey #play choices #open heart #open heart fic #cfwc silly love stories #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #ethan ramsey

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valkyrieofsmut · 3 years

Note

In terms of my list I think Mutt Axe Classic Blue Red( if you ask) Stretch(if you ask) Black In terms of those who seem sexual and Black is only on the bottom because of what I saw from the Mutt one-shot you wrote it seems like he only likes to watch and is more ok with that or atleast in that one shot (I basically just admitted to reading almost everything you wrote if not once than twice )

This has been sitting in my inbox for quite a while (it came in with the soft vs rough answer!)- and I knew there was a reason I kept it! I was laughing about Black being at the bottom, and a bit ago this scene idea came to me, and after figuring I couldn't use it in anything I had planned, I figured I'd use it to straighten it out... Also, I’m flattered that you’ve read my stuff more than once!!

Warning- severely NSFW below! And! Important! (Y/n) is 100% fine with everything that happens in here...

Sans shot a look at (Y/n), taking her hand from his femur where it had been slowly moving higher, massaging circles into it.

It was the fifth time since they'd sat at the table for this stupid dinner with the royal guard, It wasn't even anything special; even Mutt was there, and not because he'd driven them.

He leaned close and murmured in her ear, "You're Going To Get It When We Get Home."

She just gave him a grin.

As soon as (Y/n) was through the door Sans was right behind her, kicking the door shut and pushing her against the wall.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN TEASE ME THROUGH A WORK FUNCTION AND HAVE NO CONSEQUENCES?" He demanded, his hands going to pull her against him, groping her ass through her bottoms, feeling nothing underneath them. He glared and pressed her closer to the wall. "And No Underwear? Such A Bad Little Toy I Have," he growled through clenched teeth. He furiously worked at her bottoms until he had access to her. "You're Already Almost Dripping," he commented as he unbuckled, buttoned, and zipped his pants, taking (Y/n)'s thighs in his hands and lifting her, lining up and thrusting in with a rough grunt.

"Ungh- You're So Needy, Aren't You? Hnn! So Wet- I Bet Everyone At The Dinner- Could Smell How Hungry- This Tight Little- Pussy- Of Yours Was," he growled, his voice pausing with every thrust.

(Y/n)'s head was thrown back, each breath coming in a pant, a cry of ecstatic relief as the exit.

She brought her hands up dragging them over his chest, but his hand flew up, flicking and sending them to the wall behind her.

"No. Toys Don't Play- With Their Owners- Owners Play With- Their Toys."

(Y/n) was gasping for breath, each hard thrust making an amazing feeling deep inside her grow. There was a noise at the door as it started to open and she cried out in dismay. "Sans- the door- ahh! S-Sans! Someone's going to s- ahh- s- see!"

"Isn't That What You Wanted?" He growled. "You Wanted The Sense Of Danger- The Possibility That Someone Might Walk In And See? Trying To Tease Me- Rile Me Up So I'd Shove You Against The Wall And Take You Right There."

Mutt walked in from parkin the car and tossed the door closed, letting out a "nyeh" of laughter.

He walked over to the furniture set up of the living room and moved a chair, turning it and positioning it so that it was in the perfect place to view the two, then dropped into it and kicked back with another chuckle.

"There, Now- Isn't This What You Wanted?" Sans growled in her ear. "Someone To Watch As I Pinned You And Pounded You To Oblivion?"

She let out a whine as her body tried to arch to him.

"I Bet, That If I Had Used Your Body At The Dinner, You Would Have Just Left My Cum Dripping Down Your Thighs- That You Would Have Loved Sitting There At The Table Knowing That They Could All Smell That You Were Mine-"

She whimpered, her mouth dropping open into a needy whine. "Please-!"

"Please What, Toy? Please Give You My Dick?"

"Yes," she gasped.

"Please Let You Come?"

"Yes..."

"Please- Make You Lose Your Mind?"

"Yes!"

"Then Do, Little Toy, So We Can Play The Next Game."

(Y/n) came with a cry, her hips bucking as she squeezed around him.

Sans pulled out and put her feet on the ground, stepping back, his burgundy cock slick and glistening from their juices. “REMOVE YOUR CLOTHING.”

(Y/n) could barely stand with how much her knees were shaking, but she managed to strip herself.

Sans took her arm and pulled her over to the chair Mutt was sitting in, sitting her on the arm and pushing her to lay back over his lap.

“NOW MY BROTHER’S GOING TO GET A REALLY GOOD SHOW OF ME FUCKING YOU,” he told her as he took her legs and hooked her ankles over his shoulders. “SAY THANK YOU,” he told her, but she could only squeak as he shoved his way back into her. “THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED, ISN’T IT?” He demanded.

(Y/n) moaned as Mutt started tugging at her nipples, a bit of a chuckle in his throat. She tried to squirm away, but Sans could feel the way she was squeezing around him with each tug.

“HOLD HER HANDS, MUTT,” he ordered, and his brother obeyed, one hand wrapping around both wrists and holding them over her head.

“NOW, SAY THANK YOU,” he demanded again as his pelvis crashed against her ass. “I DON’T HAVE MUCH PATIENCE FOR DISOBEDIANT PETS, OR TOYS THAT DON’T DO WHAT THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO.”

“Thhh-aank- yo-ooou- ahh!”

Sans’ hands tightened on her hips, his eyelights focused on her face as it contorted in pleasure. “GOOD GIRL. NOW I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU SCREAM FOR ME.”

He nodded to Mutt, who reached his free hand up to his teeth, his tongue stretching out to lick his phalanges, but Sans caught them first, bringing them to his own teeth and licking them, giving his brother a glare.

As his hand moved lower and teased over her lower lips, (Y/n) could feel the bulge pressing against her side, and saw the glow coming from Mutt’s jeans. She twisted to rub against him, but stopped when Sans slapped her ass.

“NO. NO TOUCHING. THIS IS AS MUCH AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION AS YOU’LL BE GETTING.”

Mutt chuckled, smirking down at her. “’s too bad, too, darlin’, ‘cause ya look real tasty.”

Mutt’s phalanges started rubbing over her clit as Sans started slamming into her, growling as her sounds got louder.

Soon, she was crying out, whimpers and gasps spilling from her lips, tears starting to build in her eyes from all the pleasure. “Plea- Saa- gah- nnn! S- S- fu-uck-!” is all she could babble out before coming with a shriek of his name.

Mutt sped up his hand, making her body arch up as another loud cry left her, a growl starting to slip from Sans as she gripped tight to him, her muscles tightening more from the intensified and continued touch to her clit.

Sans slammed in one more time, as deep as he could, using his magic to keep her hips in the perfect place, leaning forward and taking her nipples between his phalanges and pinching, twisting and tugging roughly.

A squeal left (Y/n)’s throat, her head falling back limply and the tears that had been building escaping to roll down her cheeks as the resulting squeeze and pulsing pushed Sans over the edge, and he came with a veritable roar.

He huffed for breath for a moment over her, then straightened and pulled out, smacking Mutt’s hand away from her with a glare, though he only received a chuckle back.

He tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them, looking down at (Y/n)’s wrecked form laying across the chair and his brother’s lap, his cum oozing back out of her with each pulse or orgasm.

“COME, PET. I THINK YOU’VE GOTTEN ENOUGH OF A LESSON FOR TONIGHT,” he told her as he picked her up and cradled her close as he started toward their room. “NEXT TIME I’M SURE YOU’LL BE GOOD ENOUGH TO GET A REWARD.”

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howelljenkins · 3 years

Note

oh btw if u have any thoughts on like. i suppose small celebs but even like “popular” blogs on tumblr being treated as just channels for people to throw their thoughts at rather than people to engage with, id love to hear!! it’s a weird niche thing i’ve been thinking about a lot but i have no idea how to articulate it and i like how u word things

omg i was literally thinking about this yesterday and mourning all the people who were genuinely interesting and funny and got bogged down by the flood that comes with notoriety where you’re forced to become a one dimensional caricature of yourself. i had typed out a bunch of stuff but it turned into a big block that was hard to understand so like here are my initial thoughts broken into categories and this is not even close to scratching the surface of what i think but. here it is

1. the sheer amount of attention they get. i just know it’s exhausting to even think about posting something. it gets to the point to where every single post comes with the added burden of having to think about every possible response to the post because it’s inevitable that it’ll be taken the wrong way or twisted or misunderstood and you have to decide if it’s even worth it. there’s no way to continue facilitating small discussions at a certain point because you’re bound to have antagonistic viewers or ppl who don’t genuinely want to talk to you and just exist to derail everything so at that point they have to just become like. the most pared down version of themselves possible and be too exhausted to post anything outside of what their audience happily consumes because they can’t deal with the flood that it comes with.

2. the inbox thing!! people do not have boundaries and tend to remove the humanity away from the influencer/blogger (dms and those ask functions on insta stories in terms of influencers in place of asks). like you don’t really view them as a person any more. one thing i’ve noticed on here is a lot of people use popular users’s inboxes as a way to filter their own content and find out what’s “good” or use it as a way to get their own joke/headcanon/whatever into circulation because they don’t get notes. this isn’t when bloggers are talking about something and ppl continue the conversation in asks but like getting asks out of the blue that are literally obviously a tumblr post draft that someone wants to get your approval of is weird and it makes the blogger feel removed from their own sense of humanity as well because they realize they’re sort of being immortalized or turned into a landmark.

3. also continuing on the askbox thing. with both this point and the point i made previously i find myself constantly having to reiterate my boundaries and remind ppl of what is and isnt appropriate to send in an askbox and it is so hard to do without being branded as mean or bitchy. I just remembered I made a post about it here but basically what i said is a lot of ppl use popular bloggers as a stand in therapist or diary and trauma dump while simultaneously guilt tripping ppl into replying. u can read the post i linked for like more thoughts about that.

4. constantly being watched!! i alr kind of said this but being constantly watched is so overwhelming and kind of trapping in a way, especially with the knowledge that people are looking for any reason to start an argument with you or throw accusations at you.

5. they can get to the point if they’re not careful where their own self image is so warped by it that they buy into the idea that they are like this prominent famous figure. which they might be like thats cool if you are! but you’ve already lost your humanity in the public’s eye and you start to lose your own humanity and morph yourself into the caricature you’ve been presenting because why wouldn’t you! i’ve seen it happen to ppl who gain a little instagram notoriety where they begin to view themselves as a provider or better than others and enter the mindset where people are lucky to be around them and it genuinely deteriorates their ability to keep meaningful relationships bc they lose the ability to separate their persona

ok this was very messy and very surface level and so scattered i wish i had the time to flesh everything out lol but like those r some of the things that came to mind

tl;dr popularity and notoriety strip people of their perceived humanity, exhaust them into becoming caricatures of their former selves, and remove their access to creative outlets or past hobbies because they are constantly being watched and lifted onto a pedestal they never asked to be on

#anonymous #answered #long post #kind of #bsi

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Blue Eyes Epilogue

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

“Alf?”

“You alright, love? I heard you getting a bit heated over the phone.” Alfie was at the sink, gently washing the sand off Ezra’s feet. Father and son had been out on the beach that morning watching the waves and the sea birds overhead.

“I was on the phone with Tommy.” Ella set Sofia down so she could go to Alfie.

“I figured that much.” He replied sympathetically.

She walked around to stand by the sink. Ezra gave her a gummy smile, squirming a bit because of the cold water on his toes. Ella grabbed a towel to give to Alfie so he could dry Ezra off. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

“About what, love?” He asked, shutting off the sink and taking the towel from his wife.

“Just…everything. Tommy was going on and on about how things used to be. I mean-I understand where he’s coming from. He spent all that time looking toward the future, looking at what he could have instead of appreciating what he did have. Now he regrets it because look at everything that’s happened. We’ve lost so many people. But…I like what I have now. I can’t look to the past anymore.”

“I hate to say it, but your brother’s gone and dug his own grave, hasn’t he? He wanted power and this is what it gave him. The man doesn’t know when to quit.” Alfie wiped off Ezra’s feet even though the toddler gave him a bit of a hard time, kicking his legs and giggling like mad.

“But we know when to step away, right?” Ella asked quietly.

Alfie set Ezra down so he could dry his hands off. “What’s the matter, love? Talk to me.”

Ella wrapped her arms around herself, thoroughly shaken by the world around her. When once she had been so fearless, she was becoming aware of how chaotic things could become. “I’m scared that we’re going to lose everything we’ve worked for.”

“We’re not gonna lose anything. What are you afraid of losing?” Alfie wasn’t looking to ridicule his wife, he saw the fear in her eyes, and in turn, it worried him. One of his primary jobs was to comfort her.

“I’m afraid of losing you, I’m afraid of losing the twins, I-I’m afraid of losing my sanity, Alfie.” Her voice broke. “I never expected any of this to happen. Th-this has all gone too far and I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’s alright love.” He embraced her, pulling her to his chest.

“It’s not alright, Alfie. I’m not going to give you up because of the things Tommy does. But there are things in this world that I can’t stop.”

Alfie was starting to pick up on the root of her worry. After all, Mosley was just one man. They could deal with individuals, gangs even. But when there was some sort of movement, with an unknown amount of people following? Well, they couldn’t exactly fight off the world, could they? Even if Tommy Shelby liked to think he could. “The world we’re living in, s’not ideal, is it? But there are more people who are willing to fight this than are willing to stay quiet.”

“How do you know that?” She asked.

“Because I fought in a bloody war for the sake of this country.” He reminded her. “I don’t doubt that we’d do it again if we’re threatened again.”

“But they’re here, Alfie. There are people in Britain who would rather see you hung than fight for you.”

There were things that Alfie could brush off. He could brush off her brother’s disdain for him. He could brush off the slurs that Darby was so fond of calling him. He could even brush off that he was shot in the eye. But he couldn’t brush off his wife’s concern for him. “What would you suggest we do then, love?” He asked softly, gently petting her hair.

“I think we should just go somewhere else.” She whispered. “We can go to America, we can put this behind us.”

“There are fascists in America, El. There ain’t a place on this Earth that’s pure.” He told her truthfully. “America might be further away, but it ain’t much different.”

Ella couldn’t argue with that. She knew that it didn’t matter how far she went. It didn’t matter if she changed her last name from Shelby. She would always be involved in Tommy’s game. It was her birthright. Something would always bring her back.

“Mumma.”

Ella drew away from Alfie so she could scoop Ezra up. “I won’t lose them.” She whispered. It had been painful enough to lose her twins before they were even born. But to lose Ezra and Sofia after she had bonded with them? Ella knew she would never be able to come back from that.

Alfie nodded. “Well, we’ve got more than enough money to retire. We can sell the bakery, sell the flat in Camden. We can stay here for the rest of our lives.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. It’s a scary world, but you know we can make it work. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few years, Ella lived her life very removed from her family. That wasn’t to say she never saw them. She made a habit to keep in touch but wouldn’t involve herself in any business matters. She was vocal about Tommy’s mental state but there wasn’t anything anyone could do. It was all in his hands. And he continued on as the soldier he was.

Lizzie and Polly confided in Ella often, if only to make sure they weren’t going crazy because of Tommy’s behavior. But they also respected that Ella was raising her own family and had more than enough good reasons to keep her distance.

For the most part, she and Alfie remained at Margate with the children. Retired and happy to be retired, Alfie was content staying by the ocean. They returned to Camden for special occasions or to see friends and family. But Ella felt much more comfortable at Margate. Going back to London was just another reminder of the trouble brewing. There was unrest, not just in the city, and not just in the country. It was across the continent and Ella felt like everyone was just holding their breath, waiting for the powder keg to explode again.

Outside of the city, however, she felt much more removed from it all. She could truly enjoy her life as being a wife and mother. She had gained the peace she had always looked forward to.

As the twins grew, their personalities started to blossom and it was such a lovely thing to see.

Sofia was a rambunctious little girl who loved the outdoors. One of her favorite things was to trawl the shoreline with Alfie by her side so she could find little sea critters in tide pools. Or sometimes she’d crouch in the garden, hunting for bugs and earthworms. A day without getting her clothes stained with dirt or covered in sand was not a day well spent in Sofia’s eyes.

Ezra was on the shyer side. He became very bashful when talking to people he didn’t know well and would cling to Ella when they were visiting others in Camden. But he was curious in his own way. Often times, he would have long discussions with his father, simply asking endless questions about how things worked. Where the sun went at night, how did clocks know the time, how did the record player work, why did Cyril have a tail and he didn’t, how come birds fly, how big is the moon. Any little thing would pique his curiosity and he would rush to Alfie for information.

Trouble was, Alfie wasn’t too sure how to answer his questions most of the time. There were some things he could explain, but most of Ezra’s questions were beyond his expertise. It was a blessing, then, that Ezra learned to read at a very young age. He absorbed books like a sponge and it was hard to get him to stop reading and go to bed.

Their differing personalities positively enchanted Ella. Despite how difficult motherhood was, she was so happy to take the journey. Every day, her children surprised her and gave her another reminder of how blessed she was.

It was a difficult balance, trying to keep her children safe while still allowing them to have a relationship with their kin. It was easier to have them around the people from Camden. They grew up with the other children of Ella’s friends and came to know the people they would consider like aunts and uncles.

But with Birmingham, Ella was very cautious. She understood how easy it was to be swept up into the Shelby Company Limited. Her cousin Michael was a great example. Although raised outside of the family, once he was back in, there was no going back. Ella refused to allow her children to be roped in. Perhaps she was being over-skeptical of her own family. But she was willing to be over-cautious rather than let her guard down.

Still, she allowed her children to attend parties and holidays with the Shelby family. It was tense, at least in Ella’s shoes. She watched her brothers like a hawk whenever they were around the twins.

~~~~~~~~~~

One bright summer afternoon, while celebrating Finn’s birthday at Arrow House, Tommy came over to his sister.

She was sitting in the shade, watching her children play with their cousins on the lawn. Cyril and Anthea were running around with them, just as happy. Alfie was talking with Polly a bits away. The two had grown a well-formed relationship of respect. Polly liked that he had taken care of Ella all those years and Alfie appreciated Polly’s sanity.

Tommy took a seat beside his sister and pulled out a cigarette. He coughed a bit as he lit it.

“Y’know, some people are saying smoking is bad for you.” She said. “Maybe you should cut down.”

“Lots of things in life are bad for you.” He replied and took a drag from the cigarette anyways.

“Charlie looks so much like Grace now.” Ella did everything in her power to avoid arguments at family functions. She knew there was no point, nothing she could do would change anyone’s minds especially Tommy’s.

Charlie was kicking a football back and forth with Karl, trying to keep the ball from Anthea. He was so grown from the little toddler that he once was. He was nearly a teenager, had grown like a weed, and indeed was nearly the spitting image of his mother.

“He’s been asking about her,” Tommy told Ella. “He knows Lizzie isn’t his biological mother, so he’s been asking about Grace.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That we lost her before he was old enough to remember her. I gave him all the photographs I had of her. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I don’t think there’s much else you can do.” Ella shrugged.

The siblings went quiet for a moment. Tommy smoking and Ella watching the children play.

“Do you trust me, El?” He asked out of nowhere.

“Trust you?”

“Yeah.”

She glanced over at him to gauge whether he was trying to get a rise out of her or not. But he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because it seems like anytime I’m near Ezra or Sofia, you’re looking at me like I’m about to kidnap them or feed ‘em to a lion.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even say that.”

“So, you completely trust me, then? I’m just overthinking things, aye?” He challenged.

Ella crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

“You’re kin, Ella. They’re kin. Fuck it, even Alfie is kin by now. You really think I’m going to bring them harm?”

“I trust that you want what’s best for everyone. I trust that all those years ago, you made a conscious decision to help this family. I trust that maybe you didn’t anticipate all of this, and if you had known maybe you never would’ve done any of it. I know you’re a good man, Tommy. I know the person you were growing up. I just…I wish you would quit this. I thought so many times that this would be the one thing that would make you stop. But every time, no matter what happened, you kept at it. I know that if you don’t stop, you’ll be killed. And if that’s something you accept then…there’s nothing else I can do.” She sighed heavily. “But I have to protect my children from that fate. I know you don’t want this for our kids. You said so many times that if we had children, they would never grow up the same way we did. We were supposed to be the ones to stop the cycle, Tom.”

“I know.” He said in a rare tone of assent.

“I’m scared,” Ella admitted, trying to keep her composure for the sake of the party. “I’m so fucking scared of everything in this world now, Tommy.”

Tommy had always known his sister to be fearless. Now it seemed that motherhood had brought up new fears in her. Maybe because she knew what it was like to grow up poor in a dangerous neighborhood. She was familiar with guns before she even went to school. She’d seen death and violence at an early age. It was only a natural instinct to want better for her children. But it didn’t mean she had to have such a crippling fear of everything. “Things are gonna be alright, El.”

“That’s what Alfie says, that’s what everyone says but I’m not blind!” She exclaimed. “I know that it’s only a matter of time ‘fore…”

“Before what?” He asked gently.

Ella shook her head. “It’s a cycle, Tommy, it’s always a cycle. Do you know what I prayed for every night while you and Arthur and John were in France?”

Tommy could only imagine. She was so young back then. “I don’t-tell me.”

“I prayed that you three would all come back home safe. And when you did, I prayed that you’d all find nice women and settle down. I prayed that you would all have good lives and be at peace. But then I saw you at the train station and I knew that would never happen. The things you saw over there, the things that happened…I know why you three changed, I get it. But I never anticipated what would happen after that.”

“I know.”

Ella looked down at her hands, almost too tired to continue going around in circles with him. Facts were facts and the past was the past. “Do you think we’re going to go to war?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

She swallowed and chewed on her lip. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

What else could he say? His nightmares were growing more severe, the shovels were getting louder.

“It terrifies me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

After Finn’s birthday party, Ella felt a little more forgiving toward her family. Maybe if they understood her anxiety, she could trust them a bit more. She also knew that there was no use arguing with Tommy. Both of them understood what it felt like for their sanity to slowly trickle away. They understood what it felt to have the world on their shoulders. They were too alike to blame one another.

One night, back in Margate, Ella was coming in from bringing Cyril and Anthea out. She shrugged off her coat and hung up the dog leashes. Anthea bolted to Ezra’s bedroom while Cyril hobbled down the hall. The bullmastiff was getting up in age but still had the same docile demeanor he had when she had met him for the first time in London as a pup.

Ella gave the old dog a pat. “Good boy.” She said softly and followed him into Ezra’s room where Alfie was reading a bedtime story to the twins.

“My armor is like tenfold…”

“No, Smaug is still talking so you’ve gotta do the voice!” Ezra protested.

Alfie chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He cleared his throat and began to rumble in a deep, menacing voice. “My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail is a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath…death!” He read from The Hobbit dramatically.

Sofia and Ezra laughed, delighted by all the voices their father did for every book he read them. It was commonplace. Alfie always read to them even if he struggled with the strain on his one good eye and often got headaches.

The eight-year-old twins were always insistent that he read to them, and Alfie wasn’t exactly complaining. He loved their rapt expressions as he read. Sofia often laid on the bed, petting Cyril or Anthea as she imagined the scene her father was describing. Ezra cuddled up close to Alfie in the crook of his arm so he could try and read along with his father. Sometimes he’d stop Alfie and point to a word he didn’t understand, asking for the definition.

Sometimes, Ella would sit in just to spend those last few moments of the day with her family. But that night, it had grown too late.

“It’s late, my loves.” She interrupted.

Sofia looked up and pulled a pout. “Nooooo, mummy it’s not that late!”

“It’s summer!” Ezra chimed in.

“It is quite late.” Ella walked into the room.

“Mum’s right.” Alfie dog-eared the page in the book and began to untangle himself from the children, Ezra on his arm and Sofia sprawled over his legs.

“But dad hasn’t finished the chapter,” Ezra whined.

“S’a long chapter, mate.” His father stood and helped him under the covers. “We’ll pick up on the rest of it tomorrow.” He promised. “Not much left of this book anyhow, don’t want to go storming through the rest. Best we take our time ‘n savor it, aye?” He scooped Sofia up so he could bring her to her bedroom.

Ella tucked Ezra in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight my love.”

Cyril took his place in his bed on the floor of Ezra’s room. It was remarkable because the old dog liked sleeping in the little boy’s room. Ella guessed it was because Ezra spent so much time inside reading with Cyril snoozing beside him on the sofa. Meanwhile, Anthea chose to sleep in Sofia’s room. She was very fond of the little girl who always took her out for adventures outside.

So, Anthea followed them as they brought Sofia across the hall. She hopped up on the bed and curled up by Sofia’s feet.

Alfie and Ella kissed her goodnight before retiring to their own bedroom.

Ella sank into bed as Alfie got ready for the night.

“Y’know, I like the voices you do too.” She commented.

“Aye?” He chuckled.

“Your dragon voice is very nice.”

“Nice?” He grinned and tossed his shirt to the side. Striding over, he grabbed his wife’s ankles to tug her down the bed.

She stifled a squeal and giggled. “Alfie!”

“Hush now. Don’t go waking up the whole house.” He murmured in a low voice and began to creep up her body until they were face to face.

“Or what? You’ll eat me up?” She teased; her heart started to flutter in her chest. After years of being together, Alfie still never failed to make her swoon. It felt like every night she fell in love with him all over again. Whether they made love or she simply just fell asleep in his arms.

He laughed and captured her lips with his. One hand pressed into the bed while the other lightly grazed down her side before resting on her thigh.

When he drew back, she wove her fingers into his hair and pecked his lips a few more times. “I love you, Alfie Solomons.” She murmured.

“And I love you too, Ella Solomons.” He replied, looking down at her with so much adoration in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 1940, the Solomons family traveled out to Small Heath. The twins’ birthday had been a few days earlier but they were now going to celebrate with Ella’s side of the family.

It was a strange time to be celebrating anything. The continent was at war yet again. It had been almost a year since Britain declared war and started to mobilize. Ella got horrifying flashbacks off the time her brothers had been at war. It was so difficult to fathom that they would live through a repeat of the Great War. But this time, eyes were turned to the next generation. The generation that had been too young to fight, now they were ready.

Ella urged Polly to do everything she could to keep the Peaky boys off the front lines. But it was futile, not with how headstrong they all were, and not with the draft initiated.

Now they could all only hope this war wouldn’t last as long as the first one did. They could only hope it wouldn’t be as gruesome and wouldn’t claim as many lives.

“Erdington then Castle Bromwich,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he stood by the kitchen counter, drink in hand.

“They’re trying to get a better target.” Tommy agreed with a grim look.

“Enough.” Polly shushed the men, pointing a cake knife at them. “No talk of the war, not tonight. Let the children be children.”

“Sorry, Pol,” Arthur mumbled.

Of course, the war was on all of their minds. It was nearly impossible to ignore it.

Polly brought the two cakes over to set in front of Sofia and Ezra. As she lit the candles, the family gathered around the table and began to sing Happy Birthday.

Ella was ready with her camera to take a picture of them as Alfie stood behind them, with a proud look on his face.

But the moment didn’t last long.

A loud explosion rocked the very ground and was almost immediately followed by a high pitched siren that had become so common to hear in the cities.

The men who fought reacted the quickest. Alfie grabbed Sofia and Ezra by the hand and hurried them to the cellar doors. Polly gathered the rest of the children as Arthur hurried them all along. Ella set her camera down on the table and blew out the birthday candles so they wouldn’t catch anything on fire. Tommy shut the lights off in the house, making sure everything was off upstairs as well.

Once dark, he glanced out the window.

“Tommy, c’mon.” Ella urged and grabbed her brother by the arm.

The two headed downstairs where the rest of the family was hiding out from the air raid.

They knew it was a possibility it was a false alarm. There had been dozens. But there was no telling either way.

“Mummy!” Sofia wailed.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Ella hushed her softly and gathered her into her arms. Alfie held her and the twins close, gently soothing them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t a false alarm. Bombs shook the city with such intensity that everyone in the cellar was praying silently or out loud. It felt like they were down there for days when it was mere hours.

No one could sleep that night. In the morning, Ella left the house, she couldn’t listen to the radio anymore. She walked down to the Bullring and found it in ruins. The buildings had been gutted and ash was covering the ground.

It was nearly impossible to fully comprehend. People around her stood and stared at the scene in shock as well. Some were crying, others were too lost to react.

Ella was in such a state that she didn’t notice Tommy standing next to her for a good while. When she did, she glanced up at him.

He saw the same scared little girl who asked her older brothers not to go to France. She was too afraid they wouldn’t come back. She was still there, the scared girl who was afraid of what war would bring her family.

“I’ve got a few leads on houses in the countryside. Plenty of space for you and the kids.” Tommy said quietly.

“We have Margate.”

“Alfie wants to stay away from any city or town. Anything that might become a target. The country is the best option.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Last night.”

Ella’s stomach was in knots. “Okay.”

He nodded. “Stay in Margate until then.”

“We will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfie was still at the flat with the rest of the family when Ella returned. He was sitting by the radio with Arthur, both of them silent. Ezra was laying on the carpet, drawing while Sofia sat on Alfie’s lap.

Arthur turned the volume down a bit when his sister came in. “Alright, El?”

“Yeah, I think we’re going to go back to Margate.” She said quietly.

Alfie nodded. “Sof and Ez go get your things, yeah?”

The kids got up to gather their things as Alfie stood up from the armchair. “Did Tommy talk to you about our plan?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

“That’s okay?”

“We need to keep them safe.” She concluded. “Anyway, we can.”

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead and rubbed her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long before Tommy bought the Solomons a place in the countryside. A lovely little home with a sprawling garden and plenty of space for the twins and the dogs.

He saw them off at the train station. Most likely, it would be some time before they saw one another again. Knowing Ella, she would keep her children in the safest possible place until they were guaranteed safety in the outside world. Tommy knew he had to respect that.

“Bye Uncle Tommy.” Ezra and Sofia chimed off, each giving him a big hug.

“Be good for mum and dad, aye?” He said gently. “Make sure you give everyone a call once and a while, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Tom.” Alfie gave his brother-in-law a hearty handshake. “Thanks, mate.”

“Of course.”

Ella swallowed her tears as she hugged Tommy next. “Thank you.”

“I should’ve done this for you when you asked all those years ago. When you wanted to be free and safe.”

“I never would’ve met Alfie if you did.” She pointed out with a tearful smile.

“I guess so.” He chuckled and let go of her.

“Right, ready then?” Alfie helped the kids up into the car of the train then held a hand out to his wife.

She nodded. “Ready.”

-The end

//Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this long! It was so hard to end this but I leave the rest up to season 6 and see how things go from there. Huge thanks to my tag lists. If you’re interested my masterlist of all my oneshots and series are pinned to the top of my blog and my requests are open.I’m currently working on a new Alfie series so stay tuned. In the mean time I have a lot of Alfie one shots with more on the way as well as plenty of Tommy content.

Thank you again!

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye @octaviareina @mylovelykelsifer @doubletriplepowerbomb @ramblingbaby @fuseburner @kaetastic

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timep3tals · 4 years

Note

A prompt for you - Peter's at college and Tony's come up to visit for the day (I'm so excited whenever my mom visits, I imagine Peter is ecstatic)

Yess! I love this prompt. I took a little liberty and gave him a week not too dissimilar to the one I just had myself. I hope you enjoy!

To sum everything up: Peter had a long week.

While it was neither midterms, nor finals — which he learned last semester was hell incarnate, studying for seven different finals of varying degrees of difficulty while still being expected to exist as a normal, functioning human being — his professors had all collectively decided to give him one big fuck you. There had been two quizzes, three tests, and an essay due, all within three days.When he hadn’t been frantically studying or writing, Peter was fast asleep, out cold in his private dorm room (funded by one Tony Stark), or stuffing his face with questionable cafeteria food. Food which only tasted good because Peter was too cheap to spend his dining dollars at the on-campus restaurants, so his body tried to trick him into enjoying his only source of food.

And it’s not as if Peter doesn’t enjoy college. He does! MIT was amazing, and he was learning more here than he ever did at Midtown. Sure, he knows a great deal of the material from working with Tony in the workshop, but there was still a thrill of new knowledge and new application.

But sometimes it really kicks him in the ass.

The distance, for one, was killer. Peter was never one for travel. He scarcely left the familiar borders of New York City, and even then when he did, it was for other people. Like going to Germany for Tony, Pepper wanting to take a vacation in Spain, or May wanting to show him her mother’s hometown in Italy. Not to mention he was a bit clingy. Peter had taken for granted all those years of having his family within arms reach, because now he was stripped of daily face-to-face contact with all of them, and he wasn’t coping well.

He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d cried himself during to sleep in the fall semester. Even now, in the spring, he was still struggling to deal with the distance. Peter called his family every night, but it was never enough.

After a week like the one he’d just had, the loss was even more painful.

After his last test on Friday, Peter slogged through his exhaustion and dragged his body back to his dorm room on the opposite side of campus. The cup of coffee, now cold, chilled his fingers more than the frosty mid-afternoon air. February was still too cold for his tastes, but thankfully over Christmas break, Tony had given him a new undersuit with built-in heaters.

At the very least, it kept Peter from losing an appendage.

When he got back to his dorm room, Peter opened the door and slid in. He hardly even realized the door was unlocked (he always kept it locked, of course he did, he’s paranoid and his pseudo-dad was even more so and had installed extra security measures against the school’s wishes), too glad to be back to his bed to notice.

Peter was just setting his backpack down next to his desk when he realized there was another person in the room.

Tony was standing next to his bed, a fond smile on his lips. Over the years Peter had known Tony, the man had softened up at every edge. Even his belly was softer, now he wasn’t constantly working out or flying around in metal suits. Peter loved it, because Tony was happier, healthier, grey streaking lines of joy through his hair and goatee.

It was weird to see him in Peter’s dorm. The last time he was here, Tony had been glaring at the room as though it had personally offended him. Three separate times he’d tried to convince Peter, while moving his things in, that eighteen was far too young to go to college, and he really ought to come back home with them. Peter, sometimes, wished he had agreed, but he was at his dream school, Tony’s old school, and as much as he hated distance, he wasn’t leaving.

Still, seeing Tony in the dorm room was offsetting. Peter must’ve stared a moment too long, blinking stupidly as he tried to process the sight before him, because Tony’s smile only grew.

“Do you need a picture?” he teased. “Something that’ll last you longer? I don’t wanna stand here all day while my kid needs a hug.”

Tony’s voice was as warm as his hugs. Peter’s heart soared as he took the first step — he’s here, he’s here, he’s here, dad’s here — and all at once rushed closer to Tony. Those familiar, strong arms circled his shoulders the second Peter was in reach, and Tony’s calloused fingers braided into his hair. Tears burned and escaped his eyes before he could take his first, shaky breath since he’d seen Tony waiting for him.

“Tony,” Peter whined. “Tony.”

“Hey,” Tony said, softer than before, softer than the kiss dropped on the crown of Peter’s head. “Hey, baby. I’m here. I got you.”

He’s here, he’s here, dad’s here.

“I missed you,” Peter warbled. “So much.”

A quiet laugh rumbled against Peter’s ear. “I missed you, too, baby.” Another kiss, feathered along his hairline. “More than anything in the world.”

Embarrassingly, the tears didn’t stop for a while. Tony slowly relocated them onto Peter’s bed (with a stupidly nice mattress pad, because Tony had taken one look at the thin, box-spring mattresses and decided those weren’t good enough) and let Peter koala himself around his dad. Tony played with his hair in the way he always did when trying to put Peter to sleep after a nightmare, and Peter wanted to protest, but:

“I’ll be here for as long as you need, bambino. Get some rest, then we can do whatever you want. Just rest.”

And who was he to protest? Peter was overjoyed Tony was here, ecstatic and exhausted and still shaking from a mixture of caffeine and stress, but finally, for the first time in two weeks, he felt like it was going to be okay.

“I love you, Peter.”

Tag List:

@keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @riseuplikeglitterandgold @just-the-daydreamer @roaringgay @serendipity--goddess @tony-wheres-my-supersuit @baloobird @spider-beep @swagfictonreadingnerd @tcny-stcrks @josywbu (Let me know if you wanted to be added or removed

#college is hard #tony stark #iron man #peter parker #spiderman #my writing #marvel #mcu #tony stark and peter parker #tony stark & peter parker #iron dad #iron dad and spider son #iron dad spider son #spider son #spiderson #drabble

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

Text

It Belongs in a Museum

CHAPTER 5

A/N: So hints at some sexy times, but nothing descriptive. I may or may not have added another universe to this world. I have a few more parts left for this. The dress I was thinking of is the 12th one found here.

Everything Tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pedro Pascal tag: @m-123 @fioccodineveautunnale @artsymaddie @blo0dangel @mcrmarvelloki

As the weeks passed on, they continued to grow closer together. Soon enough, their research was done, and it was time to move onto the next location: Venezuela. Vixen had packed up her stuff and had her stuff in the Jeep, waiting with Veracruz as the others finished up. Professor Jones had already paid him for his work.

“So, what are you going to do next?” Vixen asked as she leaned against a tree.

“Have a couple jobs lined up. You have another 9 months before graduating, yeah?” He asked her, looking over at her.

She nodded, and asked teasingly, “Do you want me to send you an invitation?”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “No. Just wondering when I can come steal you away.”

She smiled softly at that, looking down at the ground.

He tilted her chin back up and said, “Come back to our bar once you’ve graduated. I’ll be there, waiting. Then I’ll whisk you away, my darling.”

“Are you actually going to be there? Cause if I make the trip all the way back here, just for you to have ghost me, I will find you and kill you,” She warned him, half joking, half serious.

He chuckled at that, “I would pay to see that my dear.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips in farewell, before rejoining his men and departing minutes later.

She joined her group as they finished loading up the jeep. The four of them spoke of their small discoveries and was excited for the next location.

The next 9 months went by in a blur and soon enough they were wrapping up their internships. At the end of the year, they were heading back to the university for graduation.

A good week after graduation, found Vixen back in Colombia, at the cheap bar where she first met Veracruz.

She looked around, not seeing him at first. She took a spot at the bar and ordered the same drink she did last time.

She quietly sipped at her drink, looking through the texts with Veracruz. Despite being separated, they texted and called each other often. Every now and again, they would send each other saucy pictures or find a quiet place to call one another and have salacious conversations.

She was smirking at some of their conversations, when she felt a hand resting on her back. She turned to yell at whoever but was pleasantly surprised when she saw a familiar face.

“Hello Comandante. What brings you to these parts?” She asked him teasingly.

“Hmm. Oh, you know simply meeting a beautiful woman. Wicked smart. Attracts trouble wherever she goes. Sound familiar?” He asked jokingly.

She smiled brightly at him, leaning up to kiss him. He kissed her back, cupping her face with one hand.

“Let’s go,” He whispered against her lips.

He took her hand, tossing some pesos down to pay for her drink, before leading her outside to his truck. The two of them got in, and he drove off, far away from the city. The road he turned down on eventually, was mostly dirt and one way.

The truck eventually pulled up to a large home, that was hidden behind trees and shrubs.

“This is your home?” She questioned him as he parked in front of it.

He simply shrugged, “One of them, yes.”

She stared at him suspiciously, looking between him and the house.

“How rich are you?” She asked him incredulous.

“I’ll never tell, lovely. Now, shall we go inside, or do you want to spend our first night together in 9 months in my car?” He questioned his eyes roving over her form.

She hopped out of the truck, walking toward the front door. He joined her a moment later, unlocking the door, and welcoming her inside. She had sent her bags ahead to him, and she spotted them off to the side.

He led her upstairs, to his bedroom, that was colored in dark greys and blues. The two of them had long since abandoned their shoes, as she made her way to the bed. She plopped down on it, sitting with her hands folded in her lap and her ankles crossed.

He smirked as he gazed at her. He slowly stalked toward her, a predatory gaze in his eyes.

He stood before her and told her to strip. She stood back up, noting how there was maybe an inch of space between them.

She stripped slowly without breaking eye contact. Once she was naked, he nodded his head toward the bed, and she crawled backwards onto it.

He slowly removed his clothes, walking around the bed to the side. He sat down, his hands running up and down her chest.

She watched his arm move for a moment, before grabbing ahold of his hand, and pressing a kiss to the back of it as she brought it closer to her face. She brushed her cheek against his hand, enjoying the roughness against her skin.

He watched her, somewhat softly, before his hand moved past her face into her hair. As it buried itself into her hair, his hand firmly grasped a chunk and gave a short tug on it.

She gasped not necessarily out of pain but more out of surprise, and he took full advantage of that as his lips captured hers into deep kiss.

His lips were devouring her own as the kiss grew more intense. He broke away suddenly, attacking her neck with harsh bites that caused breathy moans.

His biting kisses worked further down to her chest, paying close attention to her breasts when he got there.

“I hope you had no plans for tomorrow, because you are not leaving this bed for quite some time,” He teased as he moved further down.

“Hm. Was planning to go get a new boyfriend but I guess you’ll do,” She threw back at him.

“Oh? Shall I remind you what a good boyfriend I can be?” He glared up at her playfully.

“I feel like you should, especially since you couldn’t be bothered to come to my graduation,” She said with only slight annoyance.

He rolled his eyes and simply returned his attention to the task at hand. He moved himself down to between her legs muttering vaguely in Spanish.

Before Vixen could call him out on his muttering, she gasped as she felt a finger tease her clit before it slipped inside her.

True to his word, he made sure she couldn’t leave the bed for hours at a time. When they finally emerged from his bedroom, it was around 1pm the next day.

It took a good hour for her legs to function properly, while he gave her a tour of his home.

“I have an event tomorrow night. Black tie affair. I want you to come with me,” Veracruz informed her.

“Oh? Like a date?” She further teased him.

One thing she learned early on with Veracruz, words like ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ and ‘dating’ did not mean much to him. He saw it as simply ‘being with his woman.’

He rolled his eyes, pulling her into his arms.

“Yes. Like a date if you must label it. I just want to show off my beautiful and brilliant woman to my high society friends. Plus, if I have to endure one more party alone, I will murder them,” He said with a groan.

She giggled at that, “What am I supposed to wear? I don’t really own anything fancy.”

“Oh, but you do… if you look in our closet, I’m sure you’ll find something suitable,” He told her with a smirk.

They spent the rest of the day, simply enjoying one another’s presence and slept soundly that night.

When she woke up, Veracruz was already up. She tossed on a robe and wandered toward his office, figuring that’s where he would be. He was on the phone talking rapidly in Spanish. She admired him as he spoke.

He wasn’t dressed completely, simply wearing a pair of sweats. His hair wasn’t jelled yet, and she could see small curls forming as the humidity began to rise.

He noticed her standing there after a moment and raised an eyebrow.

She strolled forward, leaning over his desk to kiss his cheek. He smirked at her, shaking his head.

He hung up a minute later, and questioned, “May I ask why you were watching me?”

“Hm. Not watching. Admiring. Didn’t realize you have curls,” She stated as she looked at him.

“Heh. Yes, my mother was thrilled that I had curls. She took many photos of me,” He said twinging his nose in annoyance.

“Aww. I bet you were super cute. It’s almost unfair though. How handsome you are. I get the feeling I’m going to have scare off many a woman tonight,” Vixen said with a smile.

He shook his head and walked around his desk.

“Let’s go shower, and then have breakfast,” He proposed as he wrapped an arm around her.

They walked back upstairs to his room and showered together. They didn’t do anything to frisky other than a thorough make out session. When they had finished, and stepped out, Veracruz began his morning routine. She watched him for a moment before doing her own things such as brushing her teeth and fixing her hair.

The two of them threw on some light clothing and made their way downstairs to the kitchen. She watched him make French toast and eggs. He filled two cups with coffee, setting creamer and sugar down close to her.

She fixed her coffee how she wanted it and waited for him to finish up. He tossed some strawberries on top, dusting powdered sugar as well.

He placed a plate in front of her, with a fork and sat down across from her. The two of them dug into their meals.

She was pleasantly surprised by how amazing it tasted and complimented him, “This taste wonderful. Do you… do you cook often?”

“Yeah. My mother made sure I knew how. I was her only child, and she had declared that I would learn one way or another. Though, she still thinks I under season meals,” He commented with a roll of his eyes.

Vixen chuckled at that, “Sounds like you and your mother are pretty close?”

“Hm. Not as close as we once were. Work has definitely been a large contributor to that,” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“I have 2 older siblings. My parents considered them to be the pride and joy of the family since one is a doctor and the other a lawyer. They see me as being an archaeologist as being a weaker degree. One that is not worthy of mention. So, I don’t spend much time with them” Vixen admitted as she stabbed at her eggs randomly.

“You get to make fantastic discoveries and uncover new societies and they are not proud of that?” He questioned in disbelief.

She shrugged halfheartedly not really knowing what to say. She finished up her breakfast in silence.

Veracruz stared at her for a moment before finishing as well.

She spent the next few hours exploring the closet and found a dress that she felt would drive Veracruz wild. She shaved and moisturized her skin and pulled her hair into an updo. She kept her makeup minimum, a pink gloss, and eyeliner to make her eyes standout.

When it got closer time to leave, she put on the dress and matching shoes. She stepped out when she heard Veracruz enter the room.

She stared at him in surprised as she took in the tuxedo he wore. He looked damn good.

Veracruz’s eyes drank in her form as smirk grew on his face.

“You look good enough to eat darling. Though… I feel like you are missing something,” Veracruz grinned as he presented a velvet box that he was holding behind his back.

He handed it to her, and she opened it to reveal a delicate necklace that had a square cut emerald. She smiled softly at it. She gently picked it up and he took it from her and helped her put it on. He kissed the back of her neck once it was secured.

She turned around, grabbing her clutch, and walking with him downstairs. He led her to a very nice sportscar, a Lamborghini as she soon discovered.

The drive was to rather large estate, that had valet and many other nice fancy cars pulling in. They gave the keys to the valet and strode inside, arms looped around one another.

The party was in full swing, and he was greeted several times when he first entered. There were several other high-ranking officers and political figures as she found out. She was introduced to several before eventually being left with several wives.

She made polite chatter with them, somewhat annoyed he abandoned her with women who were a little snobbish.

After an hour of plastering a fake smile on her face, she finally spotted Veracruz again and excused herself. She made her way over to him, her smile still on her face.

She lightly cleared her throat to interrupt the conversation he was having.

“Ahem. My apologies but someone owes me a dance,” She interrupted grasping his arm.

“Oh? Please, I wouldn’t want him to upset his lovely wife,” The man said excusing himself.

She tugged Veracruz to the dancefloor, taking position to slow dance. Her smile dropped quickly as she looked at him.

“You said you wanted me to distract people conversing with you. Not that you were going to abandon me with hoity toity women, who think that because they have money, they can treat people like they are less than,” She complained.

He cleared his throat to stop the laugh that tried to escape him.

“It’s not funny. I will strangle someone if you leave me with them again,” She warned him, unamused.

“I’m sorry. I had to schmooze with my bosses for a time. That is done, and now you can just stay by my side all evening,” He placated kissing her once.

“You owe me so much more than just that pathetic kiss,” She grumbled.

“Oh, my sweet. I will make it up to you this evening I promise,” He promised her, in a mocking tone.

She glared at him and rolled her eyes.

“There is actually someone I want you to meet, and they just walked in,” He informed her pulling her off the dance floor.

He led her over to a handsome, brown-haired gentleman that was in his 30s, with a woman who had curly dark hair and extremely beautiful.

“Hello, Rick, how are you doing this evening? And Evie, looking beautiful as ever,” Veracruz greeted them with a charming smile.

Evie smiled somewhat shyly at the compliment and Rick held his hand out to shake Veracruz’s.

“Doing great, how’s the freelance been going for you?” Rick asked with a smirk.

“Business is booming. This is my girlfriend,” He introduced her. “She goes by Vixen, however. She just graduated with her masters in archaeology.”

Evie gasped excitedly, “What was your area of focus for your final year?”

“Ancient Aztec and Mayan cultures. That’s actually how I met Veracruz, we wound up having to hire him and his team as protection from mercenaries,” Vixen explained, excitement growing within her as well.

“We are actually in a few weeks about to return Egypt, and have a few digs lined up. Would you like to join us? I could always use another set of eyes and hands when uncovering the past,” Evie offered, bouncing slightly.

“I would love to join you! I wanted to do my internship in Egypt to be honest, but the professor filled those spots within 5 minutes of opening it. I was a minute too late,” She admitted biting her lip.

“We will send Felix all the info you’ll need, and will see you in a couple of weeks,” Rick interjected knowing that they were both 2 seconds away from going on long tangents about ancient history.

Rick didn’t want to interrupt but he could see the President of Colombia waving them over and looking somewhat impatient. He could see in Vixen’s eyes, a similar look he often found in Evie’s eyes, the pure joy in finding a kindred spirit. The two of them would have plenty of time to talk all they want during their adventure. For now, they had business attend to in securing funds for a dig here in Colombia in 6 months’ time.

Vixen was saddened to see them walk away, and even Evie looked disappointed for a moment.

“They have to talk to the President and he’s a stickler about “appointments.” Otherwise, I am sure we would’ve lost the two of you in your conversation over ancient worlds,” Veracruz explained quietly.

“That’s okay. We will talk lots in a few weeks. Wait…” Some thing registered in her mind. “Is your name… Felix?”

His face went blank, as he closed his eyes, sighing softly.

“It is!” She gasped triumphantly.

“Yes. Damn it Rick. Forgot he was one of the few who knew,” He acknowledged.

“I like it. I’m guessing you’d prefer if I still called you Veracruz though?” She guessed, biting her lip as she took in his expression.

“Yes. I would,” He stated simply.

She nodded, somewhat disappointed.

They spent another hour at the party, before finally heading to his home. She wasn’t very talkative during that last hour and he noticed.

When they arrived at his place, she simply walked upstairs to the bedroom, not really saying anything. She tossed off her shoes, and washed off her makeup, before gently removing the necklace and placing it on the vanity.

Veracruz walked in, bowtie undone, shirt unbuttoned. He quietly undressed, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She slipped off the dress, revealing the very simple lace bra and underwear she had on underneath.

He sucked in a breath, taking in her curves.

“If I had known you were wearing that, I would’ve taken you home sooner,” He flirted lightly.

She smiled softly at that, taking off the bra, and slipping on a silk nightgown. She slid under the covers and curled up on the bed.

Veracruz finished undressing and stepped into the bathroom to spend some time rinsing out the gel in his hair before going to bed. The process took about 15 minutes to do, and he simply ran a towel over his hair to dry it.

When he stepped back out, she was still awake but only barely. Veracruz, in just a pair of boxers, got in bed, and pulled her in close to him. She curled herself around him, tangling her limbs with his.

He sighed after a moment, “You can call me Felix, in private. In public, I would prefer you used Veracruz.”

He knew she was upset by his earlier reaction; he wasn’t trying to be short with her. He just wasn’t prepared for that piece of information to be revealed.

“If it bothers you, why offer that? You clearly weren’t happy for me to learn that… though we’ve been together for almost a year now, find it odd that I am only just now learning your first name,” She muttered somewhat angrily.

“It bothers me because I wanted to be the one to tell you. Was actually planning on telling you this weekend, when I take you around the city. Was going to make it very romantic and everything,” He said with an exaggerated pout.

She rolled her eyes at that, and while the thought sounded nice, she was well in-tuned to when Veracruz was lying. His tone often took a slight mocking cheerfulness when he lied but she didn’t want to start an argument. She simply nodded her head and said nothing in response.

Veracruz tilted her head up so their eyes met. He could clearly see in her eyes that she didn’t believe him.

“Huh. It appears you are one of the few people who see through my lies. May I amend my previous statement?” He asked her, waiting for her nod. “I had planned to tell you. I just didn’t know how or when.”

That had sounded more truthful but even still, she wasn’t sure if she was going to use his first name often, if at all.

She simply pressed a kiss to his lips in response, appreciating the more truthful answer. She yawned, relaxing in his arms, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Veracruz looked down at her sleeping form and wondered, ‘How is it possible for this woman to read me like an open book?’

There were very few people who could see through his bullshit, his mother and Rick just to name the top two. He was somewhat amazed that she could pick up on it, when most women he dated before never did. He knew was thing was certain: she was going to keep him on his toes.

#comandante veracruz #comandante veracruz x reader #indiana jones crossover #but also...#a new crossover has arrived

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believerindaydreams · 3 years

Text

Like the last one but with more Benny/Arcade fucking :) Arcade POV.

You have to admit, Benny Gecko's greed rubs off.

Before the Legion camp, before the courier, you wouldn't have dreamed of anything like this home for yourself. Pushing forty and still helping out at the Mormon Fort, when most doctors stay a few years before fleeing back to the security of the NCR, their conviction ebbed away in the face of frontier realities.

You'd stayed, because you hadn't had anywhere else to go; and because you thought you hadn't deserved better.

Marilyn had certainly done her best to prove that one.

But saving another life meant saving your own; and Benny is securely self-confident in ways that defy belief, smart enough to upend the Mojave, too stupid to be afraid of you. Somehow. For everything that you are, or could be.

Right now he's snoring with his head against your breastbone, as though he dreams you're safe.

"Benny, wake up. It isn't getting any warmer out here."

He keeps right on sleeping, and you shiver some in the twilight- no way of telling how late it is, even in North Vegas the light of the Strip will drown out the stars all night. There's a moon, but vague childhood memory doesn't help much there.

(Orion tried to drill that info into you, in case you ever needed it. Judah had been the one to catch the leather belt, leaving you afraid but untouched.)

You hug your lover closer, and the memory trickles away again.

It's not so bad being out here, at that. Cold makes your lover all the sweeter to hold, and the deprivation of hunger is muted by the knowledge that there's more than enough if you wanted, inside. Indulging in sentiment is a wildly different beast than real deprivation. The lab coat you wear so proudly will cover two, applied properly-

"Mmfth? Arcade, where the hell are we?"

"Besides your new swimming pool."

Benny grunts, stands up to stretch a kink out of his back. "Ugh. Wake me up next time, willya? Cool cats may sleep in alleys, but I'll settle for a bed."

So you go inside, where the rocket stove has built up a delicious warmth, going straight to the bone marrow; and that's good too.

Benny heads straight for the liquor cabinet, chuckles at the selection, settles for a beer- maybe that means something, maybe in forty years time you'll know all the tells like that. Desire quivering in your blood like drunkenness. The prospect of having a future to grow old in.

"I'll stock that up. The upstairs bartender at the Gomorrah keeps a few bottles of pre-war wines to grease the skids."

"Are they really?"

"I mean, I wouldn't lay money on that. But it isn't your average NCR two-buck rotgut at least."

He grins and twists the bottle cap off with practiced delicacy, pockets it and drinks while looking around with sharp practiced eyes. Assessing, appreciating, but something more mellow there too, a look that hasn't been his since the Tops turned into New Vegas' bureaucratic ground zero. He's spent too long protecting it, imaging ways it could be taken away, for him to be entirely comfortable there again.

You take an ice-cold Nuka from the fridge, and a rum, and start downing a sweet mixer. Here, maybe, it'll be different. Outside it's just Fiend territory, and the two of you know how to handle those. Even without the power armor left fragmented in the Divide.

Thoughts fragmenting a little, the liquor hitting fast. If you'd come to rely on that armor, believed in it as part of your identity, maybe the loss would have come harder; but you're not the same as your tools. It kept you safe when it mattered.

Benny is still hunting around the place, quick avid eyes hunting for secrets- he switches lights on and off, opens all the cupboard doors, chortles at the secret passage to the cellar workshop. "Finally, a place with enough storage space. Not bad."

He raises the beer to his lips, drinks; you succumb to temptation and kiss foam off his lips extemporaneously.

Lovers make poor confidants, you can hear yourself saying to the courier. This is harder than it looks. It's like playacting a romance, a performance soap bubble guaranteed to vanish with the sunrise.

And people are so very fragile in the Mojave. You press against the thin fabric of that ridiculous lucky suit, hoping that physical evidence will assuage you where sense and sensibility haven't.

"If you're going to be like that," Benny says, between applications of the bottle. "Let's find the bed. A place like this, I imagine it's a good one."

"Up the stairs to the left." Too much practice in disaster, to lose your tongue just because of a firm fondle around your rear.

Benny laughs again, and guides you up the stairs as if he's the one who knows the place.

Bed is a luxurious queen size, done up in bedding that was washed this week and not last century, courtesy of the last functioning laundromat in Freeside. Abraxo's strong scent a trifle mollified, by the confounding mystery of an electric fireplace that tastes of woodsmoke.

"...sweet rads, Arcade, you really pulled out all the stops."

"There are shutters, if you want to see the Strip." Bulletproof security gives way to the neon splurge of distant light. Benny exclaims in pleasure, sticks his head out the window to drop cigarette ash onto a corrugated iron awning.

"Sorry. Dying for a smoke, I figure it's better now than interrupting us later."

"No worries." It still smells wrong, but after the Legion camp, soldiers glaring at Benny for defiling their measured sanctity with irreverent chems, it's the kind of wrong that brings comfort in its wake.

"Any ideas on how you want to- ah- christen the bed?"

"Take me down and roll me out, cupcake, I don't mind how this swings. Your picnic, baby, your show."

Wow, offers the part of your brain that's rapidly succumbing to the effect of alcohol on an empty stomach. What a remarkably unhelpful statement.

Benny has one foot poised on a priceless rifle cabinet and his greased hair is fluttering slightly from the window breeze, and the whole picture does things to your circulatory system that under normal circumstances would have you reaching for a stimpak. "In that case, I'll just...start by undressing."

"Oh, a stripping routine?" Benny puffs out effortlessly, classier than anyone with his attire and general disposition should be allowed to look. "Right on, sugarlips."

For the love of water, he's taking a simple mechanical prelude to the actual fucking as if it's the sexiest thing in the Wasteland.

Only, the way his eyes follow you as you strip off the familiar filthy coat and undo shirt cuffs suggests it is. Off with the belt and packs, away with the shirt-

He rests two fingers on your shoulder, so lightly you wouldn't feel him if it wasn't bare. "You sure this is something you want to do right now, cupcake? All that booze?"

"Get in bed and find out." In as close an imitation of his incomprehensible slang as you can manage. It's not very good.

He stubs the cigarette out against the shutter, falls dramatically against the bed. "Go ahead and strip me then."

It's part and parcel of being a doctor that you can't do this simply, without a radio station in your head tuned to medical evaluation even as you slide off jacket and trousers, every inch of that lucky suit laid neatly on a chair. Scars here, unexplained tattoo there, the marks of a hard life in the Mojave laid out in history made flesh. It is very susceptible and very beautiful at once, heart-wringing for the wounds scabbed over and soothing for its persistence. Sex is always the balance between the purifying and the ludicrous, your busy mind likes to sate itself on diagnostic while the rest of you is caught up in passion. Just the way you're built. It doesn't hurt any.

Benny's a goddamn pillow princess and lazy in bed, but he helps remove your trousers this time, the two of you stripping each other to bare skin. His hands find your cock, already growing interested; you find his and find it to be disappointingly inert.

"Something wrong?"

" Hell, I'm probably just done in after that batch in the garden. Tell you what, a little Buffout, a little juicer, I should be right with you."

"...not like that." You will, possibly, never be able to tell when he lies, but this doesn't stack up to prior experience. Experiences. "What's wrong? Am I rushing you?"

"No, I don't think- maybe," Benny admits, chagrin written over his face. "This house, everything- it's too much. Fuck, this'll take some getting used to. Seven years running the Tops and I still think of a place like this as a luxury for my betters, you dig?" He squeezes lightly with one hand, strokes along your ribcage with the other.

"You don't have any betters." Sensation be damned when there's a philosophical point to be made. Difficult as that may be in his practiced grasp. "You deserve this as much as- ah- any one in the Mojave-"

"Whoa, kitten, you'll be bad for my limitless ego. It's just a matter of getting used to it, okay? We have time, we'll get there. But meanwhile I have a bottlecap says you need a special delivery even if I don't."

It takes a moment to disentangle thoughts of Marilyn from standard Vegas slang, and then another to try to muster a functional argument, and then there aren't any more moments, because your chronic patience does not carry through to the bedchamber and Benny knows that, hurrying you along until you're blacking out to bliss-

how long it is before you're cognizant again, you aren't sure. Long enough that Benny has had time to clean you off, that's thoughtful.

"I can't possibly let that go unreciprocated."

"Don't worry about it, cupcake. Keeping score is for teenagers."

"...if you can't get it up in the house, why not outside?" That has to be the alcohol talking. Or Benny's boyfriend. Or both.

"You mean a rematch by the pool? Not a bad idea from the fertile delta of Arcade's idea garden, I'll drink to that."

...whatever that means. Too many stairs to negotiate going back down. "I mean right here. On the bedroom awning."

"The one made of cast iron? With a clear line of sight for anyone prancing down the street? Two feet across to a hard fall on concrete?"

"...um."

Benny grins, grabs a fluffy pillow. "Baby, you know how to activate my danger kink like nothing else. Lead on, Macbeth."

He means Macduff, but never mind, the thought's there.

Intellectual quibbling can take a back seat to some extremely serious fucking, for once in a way.

#fallout new vegas #orange

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.57

Cradling Lance against him, Keith couldn’t stop shaking. There was so much blood that a normal person would be dead. Coran had done something, then both Matt and Lance had freaked out, Matt attacking Lance who went full vampire protecting them. Curtis had collapsed on the spot, needing Shiro to support him. Rieva already running towards the tunnels exit

“Keith, we need to move. Get Lance”

Lifting his unconscious boyfriend, Keith was in shock. Matt had turned and Lance shielded him and Coran against the wolf... He couldn’t believe what had happened. Whatever Coran had done had stopped Matt, the man turning human in Coran’s hold as Coran lifted him. So caught up in the drama of what was happening and getting Lance out of the tunnels, Pidge barely registered on his radar as he strode through the dark, afraid that being cautious would cost Lance his life. This was bad. It was beyond bad. People were going to see. People were going to know... They’d fucked up. He’d fucked up. He never should have let Lance down here. He and Shiro should have accompanied Coran, not the whole group.

Between the tunnel exit and the car was a blur for the hunter. Rieva had turned, her large wolf form following Coran to Shiro’s car, scared for her mate and probably scared over whatever had made Matt turn in the first place. With Shiro able to drive, and function, Keith placed Lance in his bronco, before climbing up beside his boyfriend. The only thing he had to stop the bleeding was his shirt, stripping it off he pressed it hard against the scratches on Lance’s chest, Lance still completely unconscious. Throwing himself in the driver’s seat, his brother moved to fish Lance’s keys out his pocket

“Coran said to head straight for the house. Lance needs serious medical help. I want you to monitor him”

Shiro’s words felt distant. Like his brother was talking to him through a fog. All he could do was shake, surprised he wasn’t crying as he held Lance close to him. His heart was racing, he couldn’t calm down and this was his fault. His fault... Lance could die... permanently... because he didn’t follow his instincts... because he hadn’t followed Lance’s instincts. He should have spoken up. Why hadn’t he spoken up? Why hadn’t he told Lance “no”?

“I know you’re scared, kiddo, but he’ll be okay”

It wasn’t until halfway home that Keith remembered Pidge. Pidge was human. Pidge was human and she’d seen

“Pidge!”

“She’s following us... focus on Lance”

Lance was still bleeding. Keith didn’t know how make the wounds close faster. Tilting his boyfriend’s head back, Lance complexion was an ashen grey

“He’s dying... I don’t know what to do”

Keith’s voice trembled, holding Lance didn’t mean he was helping him

“Is his mouth clear? Can he breathe?”

Lance’s lips were bloodied, his fangs still extended. Wiping them with his hand didn’t do much of anything, Keith felt like he was only smearing his boyfriend’s blood around as he wiped his hand off on his stomach before moving his hand back to see if Lance was breathing. As they went over the ditch at Lance’s turn off, Lance’s teeth scraped across the one bit of his hand that was blood free. The action reminding him of how he’d stupidly thought he’d been turned. He never thought Lance could mean so much to him. Groaning weakly, his boyfriend scrunched his face up in pain. It was the most motion Lance had shown since collapsing

“Shiro, I think he’s waking up”

“It’s okay, we’re just about at the house. Lance, it’s Shiro. You’re going to okay. Keith, talk to him”

What was he meant to say? What would Lance say?

“I’m here. I’ve got you, babe. I’ve got you”

Lance mumbled softly, his words filled with exhaustion

“I think I got hit by a car”

Keith couldn’t even manage a smile

“Not quite a car”

“I feel like shit”

“You look like it”

“Love you too, babe”

Keith’s heart damn near stopped. Whatever strength his boyfriend had fade as he fell silent again. What kind of... who... who just said that and passed out like it was perfectly fine. Keith almost wanted to stab Lance. Was it a joke? He had to be joking? He wasn’t anything special. He was an emotionally compromised hunter who was now second guessing his every move because Lance was everything he’d never been taught or told. He’d never felt the things Lance made him feel. He’d never worried about anyone other than Shiro like this.

Shiro pulled up as close to the front steps as he could. Climbing out the car, Shiro jogged round to the passenger side, opening the door for him

“Climb out, then I’ll help you with Lance”

“I’ve got him”

“Keith...”

“I’ve got him!”

Snapping at his brother, Keith didn’t want Shiro touching Lance, even to help him. Wracked with guilt, he didn’t anyone else touching Lance. Climbing out the car, he pulled his boyfriend to the edge, before awkwardly sliding him out. It was so much easier to get Lance in than out, Keith stumbling under his weight. Had Shiro not moved to stand behind him, they probably both would have ended up on the ground.

Keith had all of two seconds to straighten himself up, before Coran was pulling up. Pidge slamming her breaks on so hard to avoid rear ending him as she jerked the wheel, that her car skidded, spraying gravel as she stopped just short of the grass. Out the car before Coran, Pidge was angry

“What the fuck happened to Lance?!”

In his arms, Lance stirred, wriggling so much that Keith had to stand him upright or risk near dropping him again. Meeting his boyfriend’s eyes, Lance bared his fangs, teeth sinking into Keith’s shoulder. Crying out in pain, Shiro pulled Lance off him, but the damage was done. As Keith felt the blood running down his shoulder, he turned to Pidge who was backing away

“Pidge, wait... I can explain...”

“No... no... stay away from me...”

When Matt climbed out the back of the car, bloodied from attacking Lance, Pidge’s eyes went wide. Matt didn’t look pretty, he could barely stand, eyes still yellowed from transforming

“Take Lance and get him in the house...”

That her brother was acting so calm drove Pidge over the edge. Letting out a cry, she rushed back to her car. Keith’s heart breaking for all of them. Pidge had always wanted to be part of this world, now she was seeing all her nightmares coming true. Matt started towards Pidge, but Pidge was already starting the car again. Moving to stand in front of her car, Pidge slammed it into reverse, kicking up gravel again, before taking off.

Finally climbing out the car, Coran sighed, maybe Matt, Rieva, or Curtis had explained during the drive

“Let’s get Lance inside. We’ll need towels and fresh blood. Number one, grab the first aid kit from Lance’s bathroom, Number two, we’ll use the kitchen table. Matt, clean up then see if you can get Miss Katie to return. Curtis, you’ll be my second set of hands. We have quite the mess on our hands”

Lance’s kitchen table was turned into a makeshift operating table. Coran had sent him to shower, Keith throwing a swing at his brother when Shiro tried to remove him from Lance’s side. Things were worse now Keith could see every wound clearly. Shaking hard enough he could barely stand, Shiro was finally able to lead him away. Operating on autopilot, his brother helped him wash. The red running down and swirling with the water in the bottom of the shower seemed never ending. He wasn’t shocked Lance had bitten him. He was, but he wasn’t, but he was. The bite stung, but he hadn’t torn the wound when he’d been pulled away. Lance had probably fainted all over again in fear of having bit him.

When his shower was done, Shiro helped him dress in borrowed clothes. From somewhere Shiro had found Kosmo, the little pup snuggling against his chest in a way that hurt. He felt like the worst boyfriend ever. He didn’t want to see Lance. Not when he was in so much pain, and felt shittier by the second for not being with him. Shiro kept trying to talk to him, but too shocked over what had happened, Keith couldn’t find words to reply. He felt so fucking sick he wanted to throw up. The only silver lining is that Pidge, Hunk, and Shay, hadn’t been there to deal with Lance and Matt freaking out... even though Pidge now knew something of the truth. God. The pain in her eyes. He got why Lance was so scared of her finding out. She’d looked... betrayed. Betrayed, broken, and shattered. All valid feelings. All feelings Lance was going to feel when he was coherent again.

Shiro led him back to the kitchen, where Keith’s stomach finally turned. Rushing to the sink, Kosmo whimpered as Keith threw up. His puppy wiggling against him, as those tears finally hit

“This is my fault”

The words came between heaves. Shiro kept his arm around Keith’s shoulders until there was nothing left to throw up

“This isn’t your fault. This isn’t. You did nothing wrong”

Shiro was trying to be soothing. Keith hated himself too much to listen. First he’d let Adam down, now he’d let Lance down

“You didn’t let Adam down. He loved you. He was proud of you. Lance loves you. He’s going to come back to you”

Keith hadn’t realised he’d vocalised his self blame. From over his shoulder, Coran’s voice came

“It’s not pretty, but he’ll recover. Shiro, why don’t you take Keith into the living room”

Now he was in the same room as Lance, he didn’t want to leave

“I’m staying”

“Keith...”

Shiro’s voice carrier a gentle plea

“I have to stay for him... I have to... I have to”

Lance would stay through all the shit if their roles were reversed

“Keith, you can see him when Coran is done”

That made it sound like Coran was fixing up Lance’s corpse for viewing

“I’m staying...”

“Okay. Let me fix your shoulder up. Come sit over here”

Shiro sat him near the doorway, chair facing the fridge. Kosmo nipped and sucked on Keith’s fingers, as Keith tried not look at Lance... tried and failed. Bloodied towels lay on the floor, Coran’s face set in concentration, stitching Lance as Curtis cleaned him up. He couldn’t take not known

“What happened down there? What happened to Lance and Matt?”

Coran hummed, Keith expected to be told to wait, instead the fae went on to reply

“Magic. Old magic bolstered by death. Designed so those not so human wouldn’t stay hidden beneath the earth. Did you see the magic?”

“Not really... but no one’s been down there for years”

“Magic is the manipulation of the quintessence all around us. It grows and changes with the times. This magic was designed to target those parts that aren’t human”

“Then why weren’t you effected?”

“I was born fae, my boy. No human side like our four friends”

Right. Four friends. He hadn’t even asked about Curtis, Matt, or Rieva

“Where are the others? I didn’t even ask you, Curtis...”

Keith looked to Curtis, bottom lip wobbling. That nub on his head now a twisted red horn of maybe 2 inches...

“I feel much better, still somewhat shaken. You did have other priorities. Lance was quite brave shielding both you and Coran. He never fails to amaze. He was quite shaken over his sister yesterday, yet today all he could think of was Coran’s visit”

“Matt and Rieva?”

Keith hissed as Shiro wiped the bite over with the antiseptic cream, his brother answering

“Rieva is patching up where Lance scratched Matt. Which reminds me, what was that you did to Matt, Coran?”

“A little quintessence manipulation. Matt never wanted to harm us. He simply couldn’t help himself. Never a dull moment around here”

Keith would take a dozen dull moments over today. A hundred dull stupid moments with his idiot boyfriend. They were supposed to come home and cuddle until Keith had to be responsible. He was going to ask Lance about his siblings, Lance would turn the conversation back to work. Keith would kind of break the rules and mention a little bit about under cover. Now this had happened and his patience was being tested waiting for Lance to wake back up.

When Lance was stitched up, Coran set up a blood bag. Some of his wounds finally starting to heal properly. With Lance laying on the table, Keith couldn’t cuddle his boyfriend, but Coran had covered Lance in a blanket and he was allowed to hold his hand. Cleaning himself up, Coran came back in, the man looking remarkably collected

“Never fear, number two. He’ll heal right up”

“Then what happens? Pidge knows something happened. She was scared”

“Ah, yes. Katie knowing does complicate things. Especially when she doesn’t know the full story. No doubt it was a nasty shock for her”

“Lance loves her like a sister. We never should have gone into those tunnels”

“I’m afraid I’m quite in agreement. I considered Garrison a rather safe place. You encountered no similar symptoms on your other trip to the tunnels, did you?”

“No. Not the first time in the coal mine”

“Excellent. I shall make a note of this. Now, young Matt hasn’t been able to contact Pidge. I have suggested for the time being we return to Platt. This does complicate things with Lotor, yet everybody is currently emotionally compromised. I suggest you come up with a cover story for what Pidge saw”

“What about the publican? What about the blood?”

“A little quintessence manipulation and he’ll soon forget”

Keith wasn’t happy. Putting distance between Lance and Pidge wouldn’t solve the issue... but he didn’t feel like picking a fight trying to protect his boyfriend and keep the existence of vampires and werewolves secret

“This feels like running away. She needs some kind of explanation, Lance is going to be heartbroken when he wakes up. Why was she even there?”

“From what I know, I assume she noticed Lance’s car. Lance had always been fond of mentioning that Pidge can be quite scary with her powers of observation”

“That’s true”

She figured out their feelings for each before they did. She probably already thought Lance had a medical condition he’d been hiding from them

“I know this is a distressing situation, but I’ve treated far worse cases than this. He’ll make a full recovery”

Keith had kind of lost his head. Lance was a vampire, werewolves cuts and bites heal faster... at least faster than a broken heart

“Is that you’re way of telling me I over reacted?”

“Perhaps a little. Though it is always harder when it’s the people we love. Might I impose on you to pack for Lance? A week’s worth of clothing should be enough. I’ll remain with him. I think he’d feel much better knowing you’re the one who packed for him. And we’ll take both Blue and Kosmo with us... and the box of death soil he keeps in his closet. We can’t leave him buried on the off chance Pidge or Hunk return. I’m afraid that’d only make the situation more complicated”

Keith didn’t know how things could possibly be more complicated than they were right now. Lance and Matt were both going to be beating themselves up for what happened, and both of them were going to be upset over Pidge. All she’d wanted to do was see her friends. Now she’d seen both Matt and Lance bloodied and bruised, and a damn werewolf climb into a car like it was normal. Keith wanted to reach out to her, but he had no idea where to even begin. This sucked.

I always kind of intended for Pidge to find out this way, but originally it was going to happen on the weekend without Coran, Curtis, and Shiro there... but then I was like I can’t do that to Hunk and Shay... I know you’re stressing, but Pidge will be back in a bit... she just needs to process

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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sortinghatchats · 4 years

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On Gryffindor Primaries

Gryffindors are marked by their steadfast intuitive morality. While Gryffindors are just as capable of looking at things logically and weighing the consequences of different courses of action, they will feel the most at peace with themselves when acting in accordance with their gut morality. Like all individual belief systems, Gryffindors’ vary widely in content and intensity, giving us a wide variety of systems (strong political stances, devotion to a particular religion, extreme commitment to a particular branch of rights) so different Gryffindors can look very different.

One of the Gryffindor Primary’s greatest strengths is their ability to make a decision, and then go out and do their damndest to make a difference. They are willing to sacrifice their safety, social harmony, and a certain amount of logic to do what they feel is right. They can create great change in the world because they are willing to make difficult decisions and then commit fully to that decision, even at the expense of things most other people would not be willing to sacrifice.

Gryffindor Primaries are the type to leave everything and travel halfway across the world if that’s what they feel is necessary. They are the type to work long days and into the night, even while conscious of the hit their relationships with family members and friends might take, because their work is important. It matters in a way that smaller things, even when those things seem important in the moment, don’t. They are one of the Houses most comfortable, as a whole, with being lone wolves, with finding meaning in martyrdom, and with defying even the people they love most, if something is important enough.

However, though a Gryffindor can and will work alone, there is a special strength brought out when they’re part of a team. They can be charismatic and passionate, dedicated and on task, excellent at reminding people what it is they are working towards and how important it is. Their drive can help breathe life into a group on the verge of burnout. Their enthusiasm and genuine belief in the goodness of their goals can unify a group of diverse people. There’s a reason that so many movies about rebellions feature Gryffindor protagonists. They are willing, passionately, to sacrifice and their certainty pulls others along behind them.

Gryffindors do not know the definitions of good and evil any more accurately than any other House– more importantly, most Gryffindors know they don’t know any more than anyone else. But inherent fallibility doesn’t mean you should sit on your heels and not try the best you can (if the idea of inherent fallibility does drive you to existential despair and hopelessness, please take a look at Stripped Gryffindor, below). Gryffindor is not about knowing– it’s about knowing that the best way to know is to trust yourself and your gut. It’s the bravery to try and it’s knowing that trying matters. It’s about trusting yourself even if the whole world is against you. At the end of the day, the most important thing is staying true to this thing inside you and standing tall.

Even within a single belief system the intuitive nature of the Gryffindor morality means that it can often contradict itself–two important, felt beliefs can go to war even in the most certain Gryffindor, and each has to find their own way out of that conflict. Eventually, one of the core beliefs (ex. “sentient life has inherent value” v. “self defense is a right”; or “lying is wrong” v. “hurting people is bad, and the truth will hurt this person”) will win out. Alternatively, the conflict, sustained, might force a Gryffindor to “strip” (see below).

Relationship with the Secondary

Another facet of Gryffindor is that while they often have a gut response to what is right, what to do about it is a little harder. This of course ties into the Secondary– a Gryffindor/Gryffindor might feel obligated to act on their morality, if not immediately than at least fiercely. Sometimes hesitation is wise, but to the Gryffindor Secondary it still feels like it could be hiding cowardice, and they watch themselves carefully to make sure they aren’t shirking.

A Ravenclaw Secondary might feel they have a moral imperative to gather information and figure out risks before launching into something that might get someone hurt– the Gryffindor Secondary’s charge would feel irresponsible to the Ravenclaw Secondary.

A Puff Secondary might do their good through patience, service, or support; a Slytherin Secondary could reach out clever fingers and change the very world into something better, or throw themselves at problems to see what sticks.

In all of these, however, there is going to be doubt. Doing right and doing well is imperative to the Gryffindor Primary–but that certainty and that need to act doesn’t necessarily come with a how-to guide attached.

Many Gryffindors compulsively self-analyze and re-check what they are doing and believing, to make sure it still rings true– when this self-questioning turns to despairing self-doubt instead, this is called “stripping” (see below section). But even an unstripped Gryffindor has to check new circumstances, questions, and paths against what they feel. They can be as logical and meditative about it as some Ravenclaw Primary tackling a new facet of their morality; but at the end of the day a Gryffindor will trust their gut, once they manage to understand what it is saying. A Ravenclaw, on principle, won’t, and won’t feel comfortable until they strip open that base intuition.

It’s one of the places where Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, often good Idealist allies, come into conflict. When a Ravenclaw feels a need to point every belief with a pointed stick, a Gryffindor can see this as challenge, meanness, betrayal, amorality, or dangerous doubt.

What’s Inside is What Counts

Gryffindor Primaries are willing to stand up for what they believe in even if it means that they stand alone; but this is not to imply that Gryffindor Primaries don’t care about their friends and family– they are first and foremost loyal to their morals, but that can absolutely include people. If part of their system involves serving or protecting, or involves maintaining closeness and caring for their friends (or involves personal loyalty as a general concept), they will do it with great conviction. And this isn’t uncommon, as Gryffindors can often value people and fairness very highly, and can for this reason sometimes look like Hufflepuffs.

Just like the Gryffindor Primary’s intuitive morality can include people, looking like a Hufflepuff’s, it can also include things like Slytherin’s sense of self-preservation and value. On a negative extreme, this can give you Gryffindor Primaries like Jayne Cobb, the self-serving, guiltless mercenary of Firefly. But this same situation (a Gryffindor who intuits some of Slytherin’s “me first” morality) can also give you examples of heroes who remember to value their own mental and physical health, even when the world needs saving. Selflessness is not a requirement in the Gryffindor Primary; the core of Gryffindor is more accurately trusting yourself and your beliefs and doing your best to live by them. It about holding onto that faith in yourself and striving for the bravery to pursue those beliefs to hell and back, however mundane or ambitious those beliefs might be.

What defines a Gryffindor is not the contents of their system, but they way they form and interact with their system. Because of that, it’s possible to get systems that look nearly identical to the other Primary houses– just like a Ravenclaw Primary might build each of the other Primaries to live in, a Gryffindor might intuit, feel, or believe in those other moralities. Carlos, the scientist from Welcome to Night Vale, is a Gryffindor Primary believes unflinchingly in the power and righteousness of Science (capitalization intentional). Even presented with a world of absurdist horror-comedy where empirical logic and experimentation seem to be failing him, Carlos doesn’t tailspin into a fall or at least express frustration or edit his system the way a Ravenclaw Primary would be likely to. He believes in the power of Science despite being thrust into a reality where science, quite honestly, does not function as it should. And beautiful Carlos does it because Science is just right.

You could get similar effects with both Hufflepuff and Slytherin systems, like we discussed above. Modeling the Slytherin system could also give Gryffindors the intense sense of personal loyalty that drives the loyalist Slytherin Primary, as well as its particular brand of selfishness. People are a likely part of the content of moral systems because we live in a social world, but they are not intrinsic to the system of a Gryffindor like they are for Hufflepuff and Slytherin Primaries, our Loyalist houses. One way to tell a Hufflepuff or Slytherin apart from a Gryffindor who believes in Puff or Slytherin is to look at whether or not people could theoretically be removed from the system without “burning” or “petrifying.”

If you could convince a loyalist-seeming Gryffindor that doing the right thing for the people in their lives or in the world is not actually the greatest good, then would they be able to change that part of their system and still be happy with it? If something else is more right, would they feel justified in overriding the part of their system that values their people? The answer is probably ‘yes’ for a Gryffindor, but it would be ‘no’ for a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin. While even the Loyalists have their extreme situations where the world would take priority over their people, they would still feel, on some level, like they were doing the wrong thing for not putting their people first. Gryffindors would feel, on some level, wrong if they put their people over what was right.

No Room for Compromise?

For Gryffindors, especially the less jaded ones, in the things that they hold true there is very little (if any) gray area. There is right and there is wrong. Things are black and white. Shades of gray are places where people go to play games, twist the truth, and to be cowards. It’s difficult to change the mind of a Gryffindor when it comes to something they care about, because they often cannot see the in-between. To the Gryffindor, changing their mind would feel like a 180 degree shift, an about-face. It would mean deciding that their previously held views were absolutely and completely wrong, and now they have to go in the opposite direction.

And when a Gryffindor does change their mind on an issue they care about, while it may seem very sudden to an outside observer, it’s very likely that there was a steady build up of doubts or contradictions that eventually tipped the scales. In many cases, a change in belief can be somewhat traumatic for the Gryffindor (see: Stripped Gryffindor, below).

Gryffindors have great conviction, and the prominence of what they are passionate about in the world means they spend more time confronting it and learning to deal with it. Slytherins, for all their reputation as cold and ruthless, can find their judgement just as clouded as the most enraged Gryffindor when their people are threatened. It’s just a fairly rare thing in most people’s lives for their important people to be placed directly in harm’s way– so it doesn’t have as large an impact on how they present. But for a Gryffindor, threats of that severity, threats to the things most important to them, are commonplace.

This gives Gryffindor a reputation for volatility, much like the Slytherin reputation for ambition. All the Houses believe things strongly (just like all Houses have their ambitions), but with its broad, internal morality Gryffindor is most likely to have things they are passionate about thrown in their faces (just as Slytherin’s ambitions look least selfless and are therefore more generally maligned). Ravenclaw Primaries are more likely to chew over things first and to take outside input into their system, Hufflepuffs more likely to worry about hurting other people’s feelings, and Slytherins more likely not to care. You can have rampaging Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, or Slytherins easily, but Gryffindors are often most obvious when they stand fast and are indiscriminate about whose toes they step on if something is important enough.

Of course, the Gryffindor Primary system is just that– a system. The way we’re talking about it, Gryffindor is a way you care and a way your system works, and is not based on the contents of your system. Justice and bravery and courage are things that make up the moral backbone of a system that can contain just about anything. Gryffindors will disagree about what is just. Gryffindors will be on different sides of big moral issues and philosophical quandaries and political debates. What unites them is how they decide what’s right: they feel it in their gut, they value living in that rightness above all other things, and they trust themselves to lead them true (or at least lead them to do their very best).

So what happens when a Gryffindor loses faith in their ability to figure out what’s right?

Burned Gryffindors

Gryffindors do not do moderation when it comes to the truth. This, sometimes, can be what leads a Gryffindor Primary to become “burned.” Jostled from their steady footing, a Gryffindor can lose faith not in right and wrong, but in their ability to know what is right and wrong. Their internal compass, the basis for their understanding, sense of purpose, and even sense of worth, will feel broken and untrustworthy. But that uncertainty doesn’t make knowing and acting on what’s right and what’s wrong any less important.

From the outside, Burned Gryffindors often look more grounded, stable, and calm than your classic Gryffindor Primary. They’re more likely to let things they cannot fix just pass them by. If they charge, it is not often. (In fact, when you see a Burned Gryffindor encountering something so important that they are willing to charge for it–um, run. Run fast.)

But for the Gryffindor, Burning is not a steadying act, no matter how it seems to outward observers. Gryffindor is a house of certainty. Gryffindor is a house of right and wrong, and of those truths requiring action. When a Gryffindor is Burned, their sense of right and wrong is yanked out of their gut. They lose the certainty of their moral compass.

What makes Burning so horrifying to the Gryffindor is not that they lose their sense of the importance of right and wrong– it’s that they don’t lose that sense. A Burned Gryffindor is still certain that following their internal compass is important. They just can’t see it anymore; they don’t know if they’re heading north, but even now few things are more important than where north might be.

One response to stripping is for a Gryffindor to pick up another, external system. If they are bereft of their own internal morality, they can re-apply their fervency to an outward one. In this, Burned Gryffindors often look like Ravenclaw Primaries– but where it would take new evidence and careful debate to move a Ravenclaw Primary from a system they’ve chosen, a Gryffindor is more likely to move due to a sudden insight or gut intuition– an uncontrived emotional response; a return to trusting their own heart.

Whedon’s Firefly contains two Burned Gryffindor Primaries who latch onto outward systems–and (as is common with Burned Gryffs) both characters indeed seem to be some of the most settled, content characters on the show: Zoe Washburn and Sheppard Book. Zoe Burned sometime during the war; and Book sometime during his checkered past. Both have latched onto outward moralities: Book onto his religion, and Zoe onto her captain. She lets Mal make the calls because at this point she trusts his weary Hufflepuff more than her own self.

A Burned Gryffindor might try to construct themselves a functioning system (rather than picking up a pre-made one wholesale) from the actions and instincts that drove them before their traumas. They might also latch onto a community, or family, and then work under a loyalist-style morality of people-first. They might also curl up and close in on themselves. They might go out and keep fighting the good fight, keep going through the braveries and charges they used to intuit heart and soul, but now with a weary doubt that any of it will actually be right or worthwhile.

Kieren, the protagonist of In the Flesh, is a Burned Gryffindor– his compass cracked before being a zombie and then shattered completely during zombieism. Now, with his mind returned to him, he looks at his ruins and repeats what the rehab people tell him. He is adrift. Friends help to push him back together, but an unmoored uncertainty remains at the core of Kieren’s character.

Jaime, the supporting protagonist of Outlander, is a Gryffindor who Burned after various traumas. He does his best to act with kindness, and goes after bravery in a way that hinges on the smilingly self-destructive. However, interaction with fierce Ravenclaw Primary/Gryffindor Secondary protagonist Claire manages to inspire him enough that he begins pulling himself hand-by-hand out of being Burned in order to charge alongside her.

All of these ways of Burned can be functional. Being Burned is something you can survive, live with, and even thrive within. Burning can feel practical or necessary or it can feel forced; but at the core of being Burned is a sense of loss. Even if the Gryffindor is sure that the world is an inherently unjust place, unsaveable and destined to never be understood, they are still a Gryffindor. Some part of them is going to always prefer and miss a world where they knew what they were supposed to be doing.

tl;dr Gryffindor Primaries

Gryffindor is an Intuitive House, an Idealist House, and an Internal House.

As an Intuitive House, Gryffindors decide what is right based on their intuition, their gut, and their own moral compass. While they can be as intelligent and logical as any Ravenclaw (think Hermione Granger, a fierce Gryffindor Primary), they don’t play with words and concepts, trying to find loopholes, build things, or refute their instincts. Some things are just wrong, and you can’t talk your way out of it.

As an Idealist House, Gryffindors value what is right over personal loyalty. While they can love hard, Gryffindors would feel guilty if they stuck by their friends and family at the expense of doing what they believe in. Driven and dedicated, Gryffindors are some of the best at getting things done and pushing causes forward, even at great personal sacrifice.

As an Internal House, Gryffindors get their morality from inside of themselves-- from their moral compass and intuition. Caving to an outside pressure will always feel like an immoral choice, if it goes against what they feel is true.

#sorting hat chats #sortinghatchats #gryffindor

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chiclet-go-boom · 4 years

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point of impact 3

Later he tells himself it’s because he was exhausted. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen to him, he’s better than that. Outside of some really spectacular stunts, Varric Tethras simply doesn’t lose his footing for any reason short of something collapsing out underneath him - and even then it’s a dice roll he often wins.

And hadn’t he dodged every attack that Blight be damned giant had thrown? Every single one, including the first that none of them had even seen coming because he’s just that good. He’d rolled, unhooked, loaded Bianca, shot a complete salvo and all of it from zero to a dead run while the clearing they’d stepped into was rapidly being made wider with each swipe from a club the size of a tree because it was a tree. How the hell they’d managed to stumble over something that big without hearing it first defied comprehension.

And not once had he tripped on anything. Not roots, not rocks, nothing. Even with the ground quakes as the thing had tried to squash either the Seeker or the Herald the easy way, peering myopically at the quick moving targets under its feet, he hadn’t missed a beat. He’d been particularly proud of the tight cluster of bolts he’d managed to plant in the monster’s knee that had brought it to down to, if not eye level, at least less mountain-versus-completely-startled-ants.

So losing his balance backwards as a rock had shifted under his foot while climbing the bank of the shallow river ford, working their painful way back to last evening’s campsite was completely uncalled for. He’d windmilled but hadn’t been able to save himself.

And worse yet, the Inquisitor had burst out laughing.

He’d sat up spluttering and cursing, three quarters of the way to being actually angry only to be greeted by the sight of the Herald of Andraste nearly doubled over and clutching a spindling tree that was in no way equipped to deal with it. And the water was cold, damn it, up over his waist as he’d sprawled there on his ass glaring at her and the Herald was still laughing as if it was the funniest thing she’d seen since Maker knows when. Higher up the bank the Seeker was staring down at both of them with a faintly disapproving look, her shield arm pressed her to belly to keep it stable while they walked, her dark braid trailing miserably over her shoulder just like a snake trying to find a spot of warmth to curl up in and suddenly he was laughing too because the whole damned day was just that flavor of absurd.

The sound of Dorian sloshing up behind him muttering “If you people are quite done,” hadn’t helped either.

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

He tells himself it’s because he has to clean Bianca thoroughly that he’s taking his time stripping her apart. And it’s true, he’s not lying. Between the water and the mud and the hours that have passed since she took her bath, he needs to make sure everything is in good working order so he’s in no hurry to finish, peeling her down methodically, automatically.

Across the campfire, he’s watching the Inquisitor help the Seeker with her hair. It’s damn near domestic.

Wide legged on the sagging tree trunk that probably fell sometime during the last Age, the Inquisitor has the other warrior wedged below her, Cassandra’s back against the support as she gets the debris calmly picked out of her hair. Down to her padded tunic and leggings with her shield arm poulticed and bandaged to help with the bruises and strain, the Seeker might almost look relaxed if it wasn’t for the scowl still compressed between her eyebrows.

“Careful, Seeker,” he throws out. “Don’t want it to freeze that way.”

“If I want your opinion, Varric,” is the reply after a moment, “I will give it to you.”

The Inquisitor snorts before he can, pale fingers moving delicately through the black tufts. Catch, release. Catch, release. Varric puts another set of interlocked gears to the side and squints into the chambered groove left behind. He reaches without looking for the rag he has set aside.

He knows the Seeker is discomfited that she can’t do it herself, can’t lift her arm that far until the potion and the salve do their work and yet it’s still somewhat endearing to watch. The Herald is as blond as the Seeker is dark and the contrast is interesting in the twilight that will very quickly be true darkness. Everyone is tired and he can see it on their faces, drowsy with heat and the last remnants of ebbing fear. Dorian has already retired to a tent after having eaten his portion of stew, saying something about last watch, but they’d all seen his hands trembling. Nobody had been stupid enough to mention it. The mage had pulled a crap ton of fire out of seemingly nowhere in those first desperate seconds.

Cassandra sighs and tilts her head to the side, a small sound as the Herald starts to unwind her braid finally, dragging her fingers through it to remove the snags. A piece of wood chooses that moment to snap sharply.

“Maker, but that feels good,” she says. “Thank you for this.”

“It’s no problem. I spent a couple of weeks once with enough sand in my hair to build a small castle with.” The warrior’s voice is amused. “I would have tossed Dorian to the blood mages if somebody had promised me a comb and a bath.” The Inquisitor’s voice is low enough but Varric still looks over at the tents. There’s no answering rebuttal however so Dorian is probably already asleep.

“I know how you feel,” says Cassandra. “I keep my hair short for that reason but it is still a nuisance.”

“I gotta ask, Seeker,” he says without considering it first, his fingers busy along with, apparently, his mouth. “Why do you keep any of it long at all?” He waves at hand at nothing in particular, the rag suspended in it. “This has got to happen a bunch to you.”

The sound the Seeker makes isn’t exactly a growl but it’s hard to classify what it is, really, other than condescending. “It is functional.”

The Herald’s fingers have the braid half apart, fingers splitting the long length of it from tip to scalp. The dark trail reaches nearly to Cassandra’s breast with the kinked waves picking up the firelight in patches. Varric looks down at his crossbow and tries to remember where he was with it. Cassandra’s hair looks surprisingly tactile, it’s almost as if he can feel it running over his fingers instead. He wipes down the stock of the wood to push the sensation away.

“I have to say, I don’t see how,” he replies. Surprisingly it’s the Herald that answers.

“Padding.” She picks out a few more twigs, a small leaf, eyeing them critically before flicking them into the fire. “Helmets never fit right unless they’re specifically hammered to you - and even then they don’t fit right. Doesn’t matter what they’re lined with, or what you stuff ‘em with either, there’s always something that presses in the wrong spot. Wearing braids gives some extra cushion, distributes the weight around.”

“Huh,” he says. “Never thought of that.”

“Most don’t,” says Cassandra, “which is unfortunate since a bad fitting helmet is a trial. Braids should be more in fashion than they are.”

“Well,” Varric says, “we can always slip a note to the Orlesians for next season, there’s still time. Start a trend. Maybe rake in some royalties and pay off Big Nasty into an early retirement.”

A frown for his levity flashes across Cassandra’s face but the Herald simply laughs. “Ponytails are good too if they’re long enough to wind up top, if a bit more slippy. Or you know, you can just skip the helmet thing altogether and hope you’re fast.” She winks at Varric even as her rough fingers start to rebraid Cassandra’s hair, pulling gently.

Varric quells a flash of odd disappointment. With her hair down, the Seeker had looked different somehow, just that little bit less severe and he was kind of liking it. It doesn’t help that her temple is now resting on the Herald’s knee with her eyes half closed, exposing the long line of her neck.

“Also,” says Cassandra unexpectedly, “it is personal.”

Varric blinks. “Oh?”

The Seeker shifts, as if already regretting her words but her voice is measured across the fire. “When I was a little girl, my hair was entirely braids. It is - was - very Nevarran. I do not know if it is still in vogue. They were down to my waist and very heavy and I did not enjoy them. When I joined the Seekers I cut them all off as soon as I could. It was very freeing.”

And damn him, he can almost see it. Little Lady Cassandra rises in his mind’s eye, black glossy braids down her back, ribbons in them maybe. Red maybe, or sapphire - no, definitely cobalt blue, and probably satin. Did somebody ever pull her by them? He imagines a hand tugging on her hair, burying itself in the dark mass of it and he swallows dryly for no reason he can name.

But the Seeker thankfully isn’t privvy to what’s in his head, her own nose wrinkling softly at what is obviously a distant memory. “Yet I found that as I grew older, I thought of myself sometimes as I was then, when I was not always a Seeker or so deeply involved in Chantry politics or carrying out the will of Most Holy. So I grew out enough hair for a braid, to remind me of times when the worst I had to fear was being scolded for a muddy dress. It is...a comfort to remember that the world can still have those moments.”

“So functionally personal.” He clears his throat, staring down without really seeing anything, fingers lifting out another piece without his mind having to be involved in the process. “I gotta say Seeker, that’s very you.”

“It is, I suppose,” she agrees without discernible inflection. The fire pops again, settling and the Herald continues, bent over her fingers as the plait continues weaving itself.

It is the work of moments and the braid is finished and coiled on the Seeker’s head, back in its accustomed place and the Seeker is just the Seeker again, a woman with a scarred face and a weary expression.

“And on that note, I’m to bed,” says the Herald, groaning as she stands. She offers a forearm to Cassandra who accepts awkwardly on her good side, suffering herself to be hauled to her feet. “Cassandra?”

“I, also, if that is okay. Varric, you are good with first watch?”

He waves a broad hand. “Sleep well, ladies. I’ll keep the bears and giants and various bugs entertained awhile longer.”

He watches as they disappear into the tent they share, the flap falling behind them. He looks down at Bianca, cradled in his arms, half undressed as she is, her pieces gleaming.

“Just you and me now, sweetheart.” He bends to his work and tries really hard not to think about anything at all except where caked mud might still be wedged.

#cassarric #fanfiction #cassandra pentaghast #varric tethras #dragon age inquisition

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musicrunsthroughmysoul · 4 years

Text

Bloom From Nowhere

The town that contained them for 21 years had become too small for them. When they'd graduated high school, arms linked in promise, they told everyone they were getting out of this one-story town. They feared, after a few years of working and saving up as much as they could, that maybe they had been lying; really, they were just waiting for the perfect, hurried moment. Nothing was more motivating than procrastination. It was about time they moved on.

Rosenda packed in a flurry, excitement and anxiety beating wildly in her chest as she threw necessities into a positively ancient suitcase she found at the bottom of the hall closet. She carefully folded and packed her favorite shirts: a green and blue striped top that fell from her shoulders toward the center of her chest, a crimson rayon top with ruffles from the neck to the bottom of her bust and a keyhole opening that showed off her modest cleavage, as well as her beloved Lord of the Rings quote t-shirt and a modified tie-dye t-shirt she got from Forever 21 that read “California Dreamin'” in a stitched Coca-Cola-style font. She added her comfiest pairs of jeans (two – light wash and black), a pair of brown capris, and a pair of denim cut-offs. A dress made it in there, too – a flowy turquoise summer dress that she saw on sale last summer and had to resist wearing it every day – and some jewelry, makeup, socks and underwear and a pair of tan-colored flip flops. If she needed anything else, she figured, she'd ask her mother to send it along once she was settled somewhere – after her mother started speaking to her again, of course.

Only a few hours earlier they'd determined that they would leave, so with what little time was left, she drove straight to the bank and withdrew all of her savings. The weight of the cash in her wallet that would only fit in her back pocket seemed heavier than she’d been expecting as she walked to her car, her phone in hand. She seemed to be waiting for a call, but why, she couldn’t tell – her plans with Gal were made already and they agreed to pack separately and meet up later. As she got into her silver 2004 Honda Civic (a car that she inherited from her mother, and besides that felt history, would not miss) and dropped her phone into the empty passenger seat, she felt the semblance of safety fall away. Every familiar red light she met on her way home looked like the call she was inexplicably waiting for, but once she pulled into the driveway, the expectation seemed far away.

Back in her room, she picked through her desk drawers for things she thought she might miss – photobooth strips of her with Gal and a couple of her high school friends, a lucky blue mechanical pencil she lost in high school more times than she could count that always managed to find its way back to her, a few small journals, and a homemade deck of Lord of the Rings themed playing cards that her middle school friend Liza made her one year for Christmas. She packed them, along with electronics and appropriate chargers and wires, into an extra travel bag where she packed the last important pieces of her future: drawing utensils, her most-used box of oil pastels, a newer set of paints, and three pads of drawing paper. Then, sitting on the edge of her bed leaning over her nightstand, she scribbled a note to her mother.

It’s been time for a while, hasn’t it? Even though I know how much you worry about me, I know you just want me to be happy. Bueno, gracias por eso. But take care of yourself, sí? Tú también mereces la felicidad. I'll be with Galia (who else?), so try not to worry about me too much. I know you trust her even though you'd like her to think you don't. We know you do, though. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you when I get somewhere new and beautiful. You understand, ¿a que sí? Te quiero tanto — Rosenda

Once she smoothed down her blankets again, she propped the note up against her pillow and stared at it for a few minutes. The blank edges of the note gave her something to focus on beyond everything that she was leaving behind in her childhood bedroom. When her eyes accidentally flicked upward, her gaze fell upon the yellow and black flag hanging above her bed that she’d rested her post-high school dreams on. She quickly looked away and sighed. 'Perhaps hope only blooms from out of nowhere and doesn’t grow from whatever you hang on the wall,' she deduced as her phone lit up with a text from Gal. I’m outside. That was why she’d never hung any photos of her with Gal on the wall. She wanted the unknown future to stay unknown for as long as possible.

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

As soon as she throws her suitcase and bag into the trunk of the navy 2008 Subaru Outback and hops into the passenger seat, she looks over at Gal in the driver’s seat and finds herself staring.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” she finally says.

Gal scoffs.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She picks at the thin threads holding on at the edge of a hole in the left knee of her jeans. “I just thought…like, it’d be a bigger deal or something.”

“Oh, this isn’t a big enough deal for you? Want me to honk the horn as I drive down the street, make people come out and see what all the fuss is about as we wave at them like princesses?”

“No!” she cries, and then immediately laughs. “I just meant…I don’t know. Does it feel like a big deal to you?”

Gal shrugs.

“Sort of.” In Gal-speak, Rose knows that means, Yes, absolutely, and I’m terrified and I’m not going to talk about it.

She glances at the phone in Gal’s hand, the bright screen glowing in the dimming cab as the outside light swiftly grows darker.

“I made a road trip playlist before I left, though.”

“Oooooh,” Rose says with genuine interest.

“Fuck yeah. We’re ready, babe.”

As they pull away from the curb of her childhood home, she chews on her lip. Passing by the quiet houses that line her block, lingering on the illuminated outdoor lights hanging beside front doors, she tries not to think about how they will change, how neighbors will move away and be replaced by new ones that her mother will have to adjust to or try hard to ignore. She looks over at Gal whose pale face is cast in a garish orange glow by the overhead street lights and she wonders, but doesn’t want to know yet, how they will change.

After a few hours of idle chatting – nothing deeper than what they did earlier today – and singing along loudly to their playlist, they pull into a quiet AM-PM gas station. As she watches Gal, standing tall with her eyes forward but her gaze faraway, fill the gas tank, she suddenly realizes what would make this seem more important. She pops the trunk and scrambles out of the car. Gal looks at her with furrowed eyebrows but says nothing, and Rose offers no verbal explanation as she grabs her suitcase and opens it, sifting through the clothes she hastily packed. Finally, she finds what she thought was a random dress she’d stuffed into the slightly emptier side of the suitcase and places it carefully over her left arm. Closing the suitcase and then shutting the trunk door, she gives Gal a smile and tells her that she’s going to the bathroom and will be back in a minute. Gal raises an eyebrow at the garment slung over her arm but nods and goes back to the arduous task of pumping gas and sort-of-not-really paying attention to her surroundings – they’re alone in the station, but who knows for how long.

When she walks into the store, she offers the too-tired-or-too-awake white cashier a smile and asks for the bathroom key. The strawberry blond man who looks to be in his 30s sighs and picks the key up off a tack in the wall at the end of the counter and hands it to her, gesturing toward the back of the store. She marches through the side aisle and then down a small hallway that ends with the plain-looking hefty green bathroom door. Once she opens the door, she wrinkles her nose at the soapy smell that seems to be trying to mask the torrent of years-old scents of bodily functions. The brown tile floor looks clean enough, but the once-white walls seem suspiciously grey, and she tries to ignore anything that looks remotely like a stain smeared on the wall.

Closing the door and placing the key on the edge of the sink, she drapes the dress over her shoulders and slips off a boot to remove her jeans. She’s barefoot, but they should stop into a hotel at some point later so they can shower. Removing her other boot, she then shimmies out of her jeans, conscious of the sound of denim sliding together down her legs and bunching around her ankles. She pulls them off and folds them up, setting them on the edge of the sink. Next, she pulls her shirt off over head and folds it and places it on top of her jeans, then steps into the dress and pulls it up to her chest and shoves her arms into the straps. After adjusting her bra not to poke out so noticeably above the cups of the dress, she finally looks in the mirror and notices the way the bust of the dress seems to stretch and she raises her eyebrows – her boobs have grown since she last wore this dress. She half turns and notices the way the gown’s soft polyester material curves over her rear and cascades down past her calves – at least it seems to fit better than the last time she wore it. When she turns around again and looks at her reflection straight-on, she sighs and suddenly feels shy. She remembers she has to walk back to the front of the store and return the bathroom key to the cashier, and what if there are other customers wandering around, just waiting to judge the other oddballs stopping in at gas stations at 1 o’clock in the morning?

Suddenly, she hears Gal’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Hey Rose, can you hurry it up in there? I wanna get back on the road.”

She pauses, looking at herself anxiously in the mirror and makes sure her mascara hasn’t run to her knees, and then begins to gather up her clothes.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m done.” She grabs the key off the edge of the sink and opens the door quickly to see Gal standing in front of her, waiting. When Gal notices the change in attire, her eyes widen.

“Is this what you meant by ‘a big deal’?” she asks.

Rose blushes.

“I feel silly, actually.” She’s still standing on the ground in her bare feet and she just remembers to grab her boots as well.

“Well…you look-” Gal pauses, apparently searching for some grand adjective to describe the woman before her, of Rose’s tan skin flushing under her stare and limber body draped in a vermilion gown, “-amazing.”

The word isn’t enough, but Rose recognizes the breathless way Gal ends her sentence and knows what she means. She smiles and hands Gal the key and adjusts her clothes in her arms and carefully holds her boots between her fingers on one hand.

They stand there for a minute, Gal admiring her, before Rose clears her throat and shifts her feet.

“Ready?”

Gal shakes her head, as though shaking herself out of a trance, and nods. Before turning around to leave the store, she smiles at Rose who returns the gesture.

As the two walk together through the store, Rose feels all anxiety regarding the trip fall away. Even as she walks barefoot in an evening gown through a random AM-PM store at 1AM clutching her discarded outfit, the presence of Gal beside her makes her feel light. She smiles again at the cashier as Gal drops the key onto the counter and nods goodbye to him and they leave the store, walking across the gas station parking lot to the Subaru on the other side of the gas pumps.

Gal rushes over to the driver’s side of the car so she can unlock the door for them, and as soon as she presses the button on the inside of the door, Rose reaches the passenger side door and pulls it open, a faint smile still present at the corners of her lips. She throws her discarded outfit and boots into the backseat and steps into the car, the material of her dress gathered by hand and tucked under her thighs. Once she closes the door, she looks over at Gal who is staring at her.

“What?” she asks self-consciously.

Gal keeps staring for a few seconds before she looks away into her lap.

“Nothing.” When she looks up again at Rose who is now staring at her, she laughs and shakes her head, grinning.

“You’re just-”

“’Too much’?” Rose asks, quoting her from years of knowing each other.

Gal pauses and her smile slackens a little bit.

“No. You’re beautiful and I just feel too lucky to be here with you right now.”

Rose feels her blood thrum quicker in her veins and she glances at their surroundings for a second.

“In this gas station?”

Gal laughs, and she watches the way Gal’s roomy mouth opens wide at the corners and reveals all the gaps between her straight teeth. She remembers when Gal confided in her that she hated her teeth, though she recognized how privileged she was that her teeth were taken such good care of in the first place. They were too straight, according to Gal – ‘Totally unlike me,’ as she’d put it with a wry smile. Rose meant to bat her on the arm for saying that, but instead she’d grazed her skin with her fingertips and watched the goosebumps rise on Gal’s arm in their wake. She enjoyed that reaction as much as she enjoys Gal’s laugh, so she smiles even as Gal’s laughter fades.

“I love you,” Gal says after a few seconds of silence, wearing a matching smile.

Rose reaches over to tuck Gal’s short dark hair behind her ear.

“That’s why I’m here,” she says. They stare at each other for a minute, Gal blinking in gratitude or awe, and then Rose eventually seems to zone out, away from them as they sit there though her eyes remain glued to a small, unassuming mole resting on Gal’s chin.

Even once Gal finally looks away and turns the key in the ignition, Rose continues to stare, only now at Gal’s cheek where a few more small, inconspicuous brown dots adorn her skin. Perhaps there is nothing more she wants to know then what is already there. Still, as Gal guides the Subaru away from the gas station and back onto the road, they move on.

#my writing #creative writing #original characters #wlw #realistic fiction #short story #y'all might remember this story actually. I'm reuploading it because I got inspired to improve it a little #I think (hope) I improved the Spanglish this time around. LOL #also wanted to reupload it because out of self consciousness I changed Gal's name the first time I posted it #but Gal was always her name to me when I first wrote this so I wanted to retain that instead of change it #anyway I might work on this again and give it more of a purpose some time. who knows. (not me!)

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aire101 · 4 years

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Ferrum Chapter 2

Here’s chapter two, and my apologies for how closely part of it follows Episode 1 of SAO. After this the story probably won’t follow much of the shown canon at all, though I will probably bring in SAO characters for the boys to interact with eventually. But in SAO everyone has the same starting point. But with the world being as complex as it is, I doubt I’ll ever really need to follow episode events or dialogue this closely again. Though I might get the boys involved in the Level 1 boss battle, we’ll see.

Also, please excuse any incorrect computer/programming/gaming jargon. I’m doing the best I can. T_T

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Peter was a masochist. That was really the only explanation for his current situation. The person had even offered to go their own way before Peter had opened his big mouth and tied them together for the next few hours.

Peter knew it wasn’t really Mr. Stark, he did. But the avatar looked exactly like the Tony Stark that Peter remembered— before the space starvation and the new stress lines of living in a post-apocalyptic earth. And he sounded just like him. He had the same weird humor that fluctuated wildly between arrogance and self-deprecation. He got Peter’s stupid science jokes and the laugh he gave when Peter growled out “FINISH HIM” during a fight with a boar was painfully familiar. Several times he had to stop himself from calling out the wrong name, and each time left him feeling like he was repeatedly prodding a gaping chasm of a wound.

“You ok, Ki— uh, sorry… Tor?”

And then there was that. All in all, it was a perfect recipe for emotional disaster.

“Yeah, sorry… my mind wandered off a bit there.”

“In the middle of a pvp and monster spawn zone might not be the best place for that you know. How does this game even handle respawns?” asked Ferrum, striking down another boar with a swift horizontal strike. It taken a bit of trial and error for them to get the hang of activating the sword skills, but once it had clicked they had made quick work of the low level spawns in the area.

“You know, for someone who managed to snag a limited release of this game you know surprisingly little about it,” responded Peter.

“Yes, I known, I’m an enigma. Humor me and explain please.”

“We’re supposed to respawn in the nearest town I think. Given the bugs we’ve seen so far though I’m not sure I’d want to test that at the moment. Might be one way to initiate a logout though?” said Peter.

“I’d rather not risk it, and I’d suggest you do the same until we hear from an actual GM,” said Ferrum, sheathing his sword. “That being said, we’ve been out here several hours now, wanna head back into town and see if anyone has heard anything?”

“Sure,” said Peter, also putting away his weapon. They stood in the middle of a clearing with expansive views. Most of the beasts in this area hadn’t been ones to initiate conflict, and they would have plenty of forewarning if anything headed in their direction. So for a moment Peter allowed himself to just relax and take a proper look around the area, marveling at the beauty and complexity of the world Argus had built. Off in the distance he could see hills disappear into the haze of the the horizon and cities raised atop impossible pillars. In a field not too far from them there were a couple other players likewise looking out, taking in the beauty of the glistening waterfalls and towns painted in oranges and reds as sunset came over Aincrad.

“I have to give them credit. When I first heard about their plans for this game I was a bit dubious on whether they would actually be able to deliver on the promise. Concept art looks great, but actually being able to code a full sensory experience into an application? And create an entire open world with that data? I mean, I had thought about the concept before, but the technology needed to do it always made me a bit uneasy… It would be way to easy for someone to use it in ways it shouldn’t be,” said Ferrum.

“What changed your mind then? I mean, since you’re here now?” asked Peter.

“…I don’t know,” muttered Ferrum, sounding distinctly unsettled with the admission.

Peter opened his mouth with a joke on the tip of his tongue, something to lighten the suddenly uneasy mood—

When the deep toll of a bell rang out from the Town of Beginnings, rolling through the air with the tone of a death knell.

“Huh, wonder if they’re finally about to make an announcement?” said Peter. “I’m surprised it took so—”

Suddenly a white light enveloped him. In those seconds he felt nothing, completely stripped of sensory. Just as he felt himself starting to panic, the light released him and was gone as quickly as it had came. He found himself and Ferrum once again standing in the center of the plaza of the Town of Beginnings. All around them seemingly every one of the 10,000 players were similarly being teleported into the square.

“What the hell?” said Ferrum.

“I don’t know. Pretty sure they should be able to make announcements across the whole game regardless of player location. Maybe its an opening event? Would explain the theatrics of it,” said Peter.

The whole square was a buzz with nervous confusion as people tried to figure out what was going on, then Peter heard someone call out above the crowd, “Up there!”

Peter looked up, and above the square there flashed a single red polygon with the word WARNING.

The sky turned red as more and more polygons spawned proclaiming ‘WARNING’ and ‘SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT.’

Peter wanted to think that maybe they had found the bug. Maybe they were announcing a fix or instructions for the players…

But even without his spidey sense, something felt wrong.

Then the sky began to bleed.

“What is that?” asked a player to the side in horrified awe as the blood-like liquid began to coalesce into a more solid state. Within moments it formed into a hooded figure wearing familiar blood red robes with gold trim.

A Game Master— likely an a real one this time.

The crowd of players all began to mutter speculations about the figure or the possibility of an event.

“I have bad feeling about all this.”

Peter jumped. He had forgotten about Ferrum at his side. He looked over at the older looking man, taking in the tight lines around his mouth, his eyes darting around the area taking everything in, but not straying too long way from the god-like figure of the GM in front of them.

Peter wished he could reassure the man like he had earlier in the day, but Peter was suddenly very aware that in this world he was no different than anyone else. Just as vulnerable, just as powerless… What had originally been a main draw for him was now a very real weakness.

“It would be way to easy for someone to use it in ways it shouldn’t be…”

They were absolutely at the mercy of this monolithic system…

“Attention Players… Welcome to my world. My name is Kayaba Akihiko. As of this moment, I am the sole person who can control this world.”

And whoever controlled it.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Ferrum, a look of horror on his face.

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed that the logout button is missing from the main menu,” Kayaba continued. “But this is not a defect in the game.”

A shiver traveled up Peter’s spine. A stone of cold fear formed in his stomach. Surely not… surely someone along the way would have noticed something so horrendous in the code…

“I repeat— this is not a defect in the game. It is a feature of Sword Art Online.”

“But how… how can he keep us here? Surely someone on the outside can still get us out?” asked Peter.

“It’s the hardware, Kid. He’s fucked with the user client hardware that everyone’s brains are wired into,” growled Ferrum.

“You cannot log out of SAO yourselves. And no one on the outside can shut down or remove the NerveGear. Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the NerveGear will emit a powerful microwave, destroying your brain and thus ending your life,” said Kayaba.

Immediately Peter ran through all the specs on the hardware he was privy to during his time as Tony’s intern, and came to the same conclusion Ferrum already had— this mad man was not lying. He had disabled the safety mechanism that would keep certain powerful data bursts from frying someone’s brain.

Data bursts such as an autosave or a death respawn.

“Unfortunately, several players’ friends and families have ignored this warning, and have attempted to remove the NerveGear. As a result, two hundred and thirteen players are gone forever, from both Aincrad and the real world.”

“Two hundred and thirteen…”

Peter turned around to see Ferrum looking on with eyes wide, his right hand grasping his left wrist as his left hand gave small spasms.

That motion was intimately familiar. The similarity was uncanny…

“As you can see, news organizations across the world are reporting all of this, including the deaths.” Multiple program windows opened, most featuring various news channels running live, corroborating what Kayaba was explaining. “Thus, you can assume that the danger of a NerveGear being removed is now minimal. I hope you will relax and attempt to clear the game.

But I want you to remember this clearly. There is no longer any method to revive someone within the game. If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will be forever lost. And simultaneously, the NerveGear will destroy your brain.”

So he was right— it was both the autosave and respawn functions that had been weaponized in the headset. The more he thought about it, the more angry he became. The man had taken glorious innovations in technology—some of it pioneered by Mr. Stark himself—and twisted it into a personal hell for all these people, some of them undoubtedly children. As if the world hadn’t been dealing with enough tragedy over the last few years. He wanted nothing more than to punch Kayaba directly in the face with every pound of his spider strength.

But he couldn’t do that. In this world, he was just like everyone else.

With great power comes great responsibility… but without that power, was that responsibility still his?

“There is only one means of escape. To complete the game,” Kayaba said, bringing up a digital layout of the floors of Aincrad. “You are presently on the lowest floor of Aincrad, Floor 1. If you make your way through the dungeon and defeat the Floor Boss, you may advance to the next level. Defeat the final boss on Floor 100, and you will clear the game.”

The crowd, which up till now had been mostly muted in shock, finally began to shout and rumble in confusion and denial. And from the sound of things, this monologue was just about to wrap up. When it did, all hell was going to break loose.

He had some choices to make, and fast.

“Finally, I’ve added a present from me to your item storage. Please see for yourselves.”

Shit. What now?

Peter swiped down to access his storage, feeling distinctly as if he were walking into a trap. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ferrum doing so as well.

An item labeled ‘Mirror’ had been placed in his inventory.

“I’m guessing this mirror is the ‘gift,’ though now I’m wondering if he programmed the auto-drop or did it himself, and if he’s aware of my… status,” whispered Ferrum.

That’s right. Ferrum was a GM, however that had happened.

“Do you think you could—”

But he didn’t get to finish his question, as at that moment everyone in the plaza began to shout as they were all consumed once again by white light.

When it receded, everyone had changed.

Some looked younger, most looked older. Quite a few people around him looked to have changed genders completely. Peter glanced back down at the mirror in his to see his Thor-like appearance gone completely, and instead his true face reflected back at him.

So that was the purpose of the all too thorough calibration he and Ned had gone through.

“Kid,” said a shocked voice at his side.

Peter turned around towards Ferrum, wondering who had been behind the meticulous avatar of Mr. Stark…

Only to see that Ferrum was completely unchanged. Perhaps being a GM had made him impervious to the magic of the mirror?

“Underoos… what are you doing here, kid?!”

With those heartbroken words, Peter’s carefully constructed walls came crashing down.

. . . . .

Peter couldn’t think. He certainly couldn’t speak.

He could vaguely tell that Kayaba had continued with his closing speech, but he couldn’t tell you what he had said.

All he could process was Mr. Stark’s face in front of him, and the name that only he had ever uttered to him.

It was impossible. He had seen the body—the horrific scorching where the universal energies had burned through him, the life support system shutting off, the brightness leaving behind a cold husk in a metal suit—

Peter’s whole body flinched when he felt that familiar hand rest on his shoulder.

“Kid! Are you with me? We need to get out of here.”

In the time Peter had spaced out Kayaba had disappeared, and now the whole crowd was devolving into a panic. People were screaming in terror and rage, several had broken down into sobbing messes on the ground.

He wanted to do something— anything to make this better. Tell people that it was ok, they would figure this out.

But more than that, he wanted someone else to tell him that as well.

Finally he brought himself to focus on what Mr. Stark was saying.

“What do you mean we have to go— where else is there to go?” asked Peter. “We can’t leave the game, we’ve tried—”

“Not the game, we need to get out of town.”

“What— why—”

“We can talk more later, follow me,” Mr. Stark said before running down a nearby alley.

After a few minutes they stopped, and Mr. Stark started flicking through his user interface.

“This is a fantasy RPG… you can’t tell me there are no helmets…”

After scrolling for a while, he tapped an item on the list and spawned a basic metal helmet and quickly placed it on is head, before continuing to run out of town.

“Mr. Stark! Wait!” cried Peter.

“Don’t shout that kid, otherwise the helmet is pointless!” Mr. Stark called back.

“Ferrum… why are we heading out of town? Its about to be dark and the only safe zone we know is here!” shouted Peter.

“The people back there are panicking, Peter. It won’t be much longer before they start turning on each other, looking for someone to take it out on. Between my face and the fact that some saw me in GM robes earlier I don’t want to chance hanging around for someone to put the pieces together. Not to mention this area’s resources are going to be swamped before we know it. Resource management is built in to the Cardinal system to maintain balance and encourage player movement and activity. There won’t be enough to go around.”

“But if we die on the road the resources we need won’t really matter!” yelled Peter, pulling to a stop. “There’s only so much they can do to us in town, it’s a No PVP area. Lets just find an inn on the outskirts of town and spend the night. We need a better plan than just running out of the safe zone at twilight.”

Mr. Stark had pulled to a stop when Peter had, obviously unwilling to leave him behind. He looked down the alley, obviously wanting to continue on, but after a moment his shoulders dropped in an obvious show of concession.

“Fine, lets go to the outer ring and find a place,” said Mr. Stark.

As he turned and started walking away, Peter allowed himself a moment to take in the familiar gait, the way Mr. Stark always walked with his back straight and his head held high, as if he were always prepared to walk onto a red carpet, even in his most destroyed workshop clothes.

He could recognize every familiar mannerism from their hours pouring over suit tech and web formulas. In retrospect, perhaps that as much as his face was why he had latched onto the man to begin with.

But the billion dollar question still remained… how?

Hopefully once they found a room to bunk in, he could work out what the hell was going on… preferably before he had a complete emotional breakdown.

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havingwrittersblock · 5 years

Text

Falling Hard

Both Matteo and David have been driving each other crazy all day. First, it started as innocent flirting and mindlessly sitting close to each other as they sat and hung out at Matteo's flat with their friends. The first hint was when Jonas loudly exclaimed for them to 'get a room', in which Matteo buried his head into Davids' shoulder, his face turning crimson. The second hint was when David sat in Matteo's lap and scooted too close to his boyfriends growing problem in his pants; this also caused David face to turn a shade of red, giving questionable looks from their friends.

"Are you okay, Luigi?" Jonas asked as David shuffled a little out of lap Matteo's just enough for him to feel some relief but still close enough for their friends not to notice his boyfriends situation.

"Ahhh... yeah..." He shook his foggy head, trying to form words but just avoided Jonas' eyes on him. "Please, can you stop" He whispered into David's ear as his face was also trying to avoid any embarrassment himself.

David looks back at Matteo "look you're the one that can't control yourself, you're not helping the problem for me either" David was just as flustered.

Their friend still in their flat after 2 hours of talking about college and things to do over the summer break. Matteo has found a way to distract himself by talking to Jonas. David is now on the other side of the room, talking to Amira. This was safer for Matteo so he could control his urges that have been driving him no, both of the boys crazy for the entire day; this was until David makes eye contact with him and is giving him those eyes, right then and their Matteo knew he was done for. "I'm going to get a Beer, David, can you also help me get some food?" Matteo hastily made his way to the kitchen David following in toe.

"We need them to leave honestly" David made his announcement quite evident as he entered the kitchen. "I love you... truly I do, but fuck you've been frustrating me all day that I can't even think!"

Matteo was feeling that feeling again "Me being frustrating, you were eye-fucking me not 2 minutes ago!" Matteo agreed that his friends should leave but how his boyfriend is blaming him when he's as equally guilty.

Both boys stood in silence, trying to think of the right way to excuse their friends without making it visible. But they had to hurry before one; their friends start wondering how long it takes to get drinks and food or two; if they don't get rid of them sooner rather than later, there will be a very public display of Matteo completely ravishing his boyfriend in the kitchen.

"Hey... Matteo, David, we're going to head off somewhere for lunch, cause you don't have any food to offer considering it's taken you 10 minutes" Jonas stepped into the kitchen along with Abdi, Amira and Hanna. Matteo felt relief for not having to kick his friends out but also felt bad for being a bad host.

"Ah, sure we might just stay back and clean up before Hans gets home" Matteo tried his best not to look too excited, but everything fails as he sees his best friend linger in the archway and directed a wink to both him and David.

"He fucken knew it; I am not going to hear the end of this" Matteo was stood still as his friends were ushered out with the help from David. When David returned, he saw those eye from a moment earlier, but this time he wasn't trying to hide his expression. Matteo looked like a deer in headlights for a second and forgot how to function until David snapped his fingers

"Are you just going to stand there like a Gremlin or are you going to take me to your room!" David exclaimed and grabbed his almost dazed boyfriend by the hand and led him to his room.

When the boys entered the room, David pushed Matteo hard against the door using him as leverage to close it shut, Matteo fumbled with the lock in case Hans or Linn came home early. Matteo loved it when David showed his dominance. David started kissing Matteo messily on the mouth, and along his jawline, Matteo used his hands to push David closer grinding into him, at this point both knew that there were too many layers between them and began stripping off their shirts, shoes and unbuckled their pants.

Both boys were left with their underwear, kissing and leaving their marks; Matteo also screamed in ecstasy as David kissed and bit down just beside his nipple, leaving a mark to which he will not be able to go swimming this summer for a week. David knows Matteo's body, knowing all his pleasures and Matteo knows David's desires as well and with that smirk that David is giving him now he isn't afraid to make David weak at his touch as well.

Matteo forces David off of him pushing him towards the bed, as David hit the bed with the back of his knees; he plays with the hem of Matteo's pants cupping a hand over Matteo's erection, Matteo moans pushing him down to sit at the edge of the bed, he grabs David by the cheeks and begins to take control by making out with David, sliding his tongue across his bottom lip teasing him. David removes his hands from the front of his pants and sliding his hands to cup Matteo's ass slipping his boxers down till they drop to the floor.

Now Matteo is completely bare in front of his boyfriend looking at him like he's a meal, his eyes moving from Matteo's erection back up to Matteo's eyes; the blacks in his eye blown out entirely to only see a ring of blue! Matteo gives David the same look and kisses him firmly as permission to do magical things.

David takes Matteo's penis by his hands and licks the tip slowly in circles as Matteo throws his head back in complete delight, using David's shoulders as support. Matteo laces his fingers into David's hair, pulling slightly as pleasure washes over him when Matteo pulls David hums sending vibrations down his dick, and it was indeed something!

Matteo in full bliss quickly lifts David's chin before it becomes too much; David takes the queue and scoots back on to the bed Matteo climbing on top! David stops for a moment which gives Matteo a shock almost bumping his head against David's "what's wrong?"

"Oh.. sorry didn't mean to ruin the moment, just have to take off my binder" Matteo sat back and watched David turned away discarding his binder and putting on a T-shirt. He knew that David was ok with being fully exposed with Matteo, but usually, it's under the covers – but it's summer and way too hot to be having sex under the covers – or when they are showering together his covered either by Matteo's chest or facing away. Being intimate with the person you love is great but also feel exposed and more aware of your body can ruin the beautiful moment.

David lays himself back down, continuing where he left off by pulling Matteo down on top of him smothering him in wet kisses across his jaw and down his neck to his collar bone. Matteo sinks into the touch, moving his hands down to David's hips playing with his boxers. David wraps his leg around Matteo and flips him effortlessly to his back, grinding his hips down to give his boyfriend friction. Matteo yelps than moans into David's mouth "Want all of you, Matteo" David breaths seductively, Matteo can't think or speak and nods in response.

David straddling Matteo leans over to the bedside table to grab a condom and lube, Matteo cups David's ass exposing it by sliding his boxers down with his thumbs, David takes the hint and takes off his lower half and sinks back into Matteo's lap both boys let out a cry in pleasure at the contact of their naked flesh. David fiddles with the condom packet, his hands shaking and the little fucker slipping out of his hands and on to Matteo's chest, the boy giggles in response "needing assistance there" David gives his boyfriend a stern look as to say 'do you want me to fuck you or is it just going to be you and your hand tonight'; Matteo puts his hands up in defeat and glides his hand over David's thighs apologetically.

David finally gets the condom out of its packet and onto Matteo's dick, both boys preparing each other with lube, David squirms in pleasure as Matteo kept his promise of making David just as weak as he is with his touch, sticking his fingers inside his boyfriend preparing him. David pulled Matteo's hand away pinning his hands over his head and going back to his boyfriend's dick slowly lowering himself his head filled with so much satisfaction, as he watches Matteo's same reaction helping ease the pain.

David sits there feeling fulfilment and leans down to where Matteo's hands were laying above his head and interlaced his fingers into his. David moved his body with swift movements picking up his pace as he earned spits of pleasure from the boy below him. Matteo tried his best to match David, but every time David would slow down and press his body weight down keeping his dominance –competitive little shit– Matteo notes to himself.

Their breaths become heavier, and both boys feel their wet skin getting hotter and hotter ad David rides Matteo, letting out loud moans. "I want you behind me" David moans in his ear, Matteo twitches and his felt David's hot breathe down his neck. They shift positions, David, resting his hands on the wall has Matteo lines himself up behind him lifting the shirt – Matteo's shirt– David was wearing, David took the shirt off and made himself comfortable "I want you to fuck me harder, make me scream Teo."

Matteo was pounding into David, not fast but hard pulling out and slamming back inside earning ecstatic noises from David as he is begging for more. The bed was rocking along with their movements hitting the wall hard; Matteo was so close to orgasm and is sure David has hit his orgasm multiple times. Than David pushes Matteo off him, Matteo entirely out of it still on the verge of his high opens his eye to see David clutching his head books scattered on the bed and floor from where they were sitting on the bookshelf (well if a stick in the wall counts as a bookshelf). Matteo doesn't know what to do, all the sense in his brain was lost, and all the blood that would usually assist in Matteo's brain function was travelled down to his very erect and very sensitive dick. "Matteo!!" David shook him "Stop looking so dumbfounded and get me some ice, you dickhead."

"Ahhh" was all Matteo could muster looking down and his crotch and back at David still clutching his head, David shook him again "could you like... ahh give me a second, any type of sudden movements my dick might just fall off" Matteo was exaggerating, but if he tried to run with a boner he might fall in his face also needing an ice pack.

Matteo went over to check his head checking for any lump or bleeding, a significant bump and a little scratch that was on top of Davids' head, Matteo leant in to kiss David on his temple trying his best to console his injured boyfriend while trying to calm himself from his high – he was definitely going to have blue balls. "Sorry for yelling at you but please get me some ice and maybe some pain killers, it hurts" Matteo got up and put on some sweat pants and hurried to the door.

As he went to the kitchen and got the ice and other supplies David needed, he heard the lock on the door "fuck!" it was probably one of his roommates; quickly sprinted to his room and locked his door once again.

David was sitting up in bed now fully clothed rubbing his head, books still scattered everywhere; "you need to get a different bookcase baby" Matteo handed him the ice pack and medication, "thank you" Matteo cleaned up the mess on the bed and got dressed when a knock was at the door.

"Why did you just suspiciously just run into your room and not greet me, I said Hello, and you just run! Matteo!" it was Hans at his door, in all honesty, he didn't even hear Hands speak.

"Ahhh, I knocked over the books on my shelf, and they hit David, everything is okay don't worry" Matteo didn't want Hans to come in and see the very obvious position they were in a few moments ago. Thankfully he heard footsteps back away from his door. "I'm might need to take a shower... I... ahh hope it's okay?"

David nodded and placed his free hand on top of Matteo's "Sorry for ruining the moment, it felt amazing" David leaned in to kiss Matteo's lips softly "when you get back from your shower I'll give you a blowjob if that's enough to repay you" Matteo's eyes widened and looked into David very sexy smouldering eyes.

Matteo's shower was brisk and let the lukewarm water wash over his sweaty body, letting the water run over his face to cool him down, once he left the shower he dried himself off and left the bathroom coming face to face with Hans. "Is everything ok, you seem flustered-" realisation hit Hans and Matteo saw it appear on his face and felt mortified as Hans' face turned from concerned to smirking uncontrollably.

"Fucking drop it! Let me go back to David and if you talk about this to anyone I get to have every right to take your food from your shelf, and, not repay you" Matteo was quite bothered with Hans' response cause he knows that he can't control himself. He darted to his room to find a sleeping David; he felt disappointed that David fell asleep but was understandable the medication must have kicked in, but, Matteo noted to himself that David owed him a blowjob. He curled next to his sleeping boyfriend falling asleep peacefully waiting for the morning.

That morning the sun had risen, and so did something else. That morning was the best repayment Matteo has ever received.

#Druck #Davenzi #Fanfiction #Matteo Florenzi #David Schreibner

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