#that specific animation involves one arm tracking the other somehow

[tearlessrain]

making sims 4 cc is a terrible hobby. I make a tail accessory for adults. it works perfectly. I make a tail for children using the same process and an edited version of the same mesh. it distorts the movement of one arm in exactly one CAS animation, but not if the sim is also wearing one specific base game bracelet, in which case it works normally.

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[themissingmarvel]

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 8]

(I am going to prompt this with first, an apology for how long it’s been. I blame Animal Crossing as well as the apocalypse. That said, and this is a TW/CW there is a major death. So be advised.)

CATCH UP: [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Drabble] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Drabble 2] // [Part 5] // [Part 6] // [Part 7]

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language, descriptions of violence, major character death

They didn’t fall asleep right away. Which made sense on many levels. She was still shaken and he was still quite taken with the woman in his arms, who he had dreamed of namelessly for so long. She was already a dream. But that was dangerous, and he knew it.

She told him stories of training in the bureau, and what she had encountered. Being a woman and an agent was never easy. He told her stories about when he started off as a beat cop and his first time arresting someone back when he worked in Philadelphia. He talked about having seen so much and knowing what he did, he wanted to bring his work to an area that didn’t always get attention. That needed good cops. Conyers had been that place.

Her words were shaky when she discussed the loss of her sister, and that was what the CD had been in reference to. David had lost so much in his life so young he supposed he didn’t really understand that kind of pain the way he wanted to. He hadn’t ever loved something like that before. He had felt adrift, a ship without an anchor. Love was a memory to him and he dreamed of it sometimes so hard he could taste it. 

When they did finally fall asleep, David had buried himself against her and they had managed to look disgustingly adorable in a way neither would ever admit to, even in a court of law. Y/N had prided herself on her ability to keep work separate. It helped that at least once a month she’d spend a couple days out of town. Sometimes longer. Meant she had good excuses for staying settled. David had no such excuse save for his own emotional damage as a child and teen. 

Her phone was what stirred her from sleep, sleep that rarely came so deeply. The phone was by her bed, the issued FBI one she was sure was being tracked but didn’t much care. Breaking away from the warm embrace of the man who had no business being as wonderful as he was, she fumbled for it before answering, not registering the emergency ring, “Agent Y/L/N. Yes, that’s what I said. Wait, what?” 

Loki had stirred when she woke, though more so as he watched her suddenly sit up, pushing back her hair that had become quite a mess. He was almost hurt he didn’t get a chance to see her as she woke. A soft waking. Not this.

Already she was on her feet, “No. That’s incorrect. I’m still in New York, the drive was a nightmare so I decided to stay at a hotel and- it doesn’t matter. Check my phone records, I never-!”

She was silent, David sitting up as he watched her, a frantic look suddenly dissipating from her delicate features, her skin pale, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights. So far he had found that answering the phone was not ending well for either of them.

He was adjusting his own hair, standing and going for his shirt and belt, watching as she pulled the phone away to look at the screen. 

By now she had adjusted to this sort of new normal. Henry Best was not a shy man and she suspected that for a long time he had been killing people. For whatever reason, it had escalated the past few months and she was certain when they looked at patterns statewide, they would find a broader, less direct pattern. No roses, but perhaps notes. Ones discarded. A disappearance and a body found days or weeks later would be easily dismissed by an overworked department. 

Closing her eyes tightly, she took a breath before lifting the phone back to her ear, “When was he found? Yeah, check the hotel records I don’t give a fuck. You think I seriously killed my own coworker?! Tell Kendrick to call me himself, then!” She pulled the phone back and hung it up.

It was six in the morning, and she supposed the few hours of sleep they had gotten was a blessing, but one she would regret. She would speak at the funeral later and try not to loudly blame herself, but it would be hard not to. She hadn’t pulled the trigger but she had left a loaded gun on the table just the same. She had let David in and in turn let other parts of herself go.

David was quiet before he spoke, “What happened?”

What a stupid question. It was met by a look of anger he didn’t recognize immediately but knew as rage. It was a powerful kind of rage that clouded judgment and made people do stupid things. He hoped it was the kind of rage Y/N could reign in and use as fuel but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know enough. He knew fragments and pieces and he hoped she could keep herself together. Keller Dover had let that rage nearly destroy him and almost got himself killed. It was personal.

“Adrian is dead. They found his body in the parking lot of an empty office building, two shots to the chest. They found texts on his phone from me, though we both know it wasn’t. It was ‘me’, asking to meet him with important information I was ‘too scared’ to speak over the phone. Adrian died alone, bleeding to death in a parking lot because of me.” 

Her face was stoic, eyes cold and echoing of something akin to heartbreak. She didn’t love Adrian. Not really. But she liked him. She liked how he flirted and made her feel cute, how he called her ‘ladybug’ and would grin even through the phone. Even when he was such a fucking asshole, blowing off her requests for meeting up or talking about his dates… she knew. He wasn’t a bad man, he was kind of a dick, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve to die. But she had killed him, hadn’t she? Maybe she didn’t pull the trigger but she left the gun on the table.

When her sister died, long ago, rage had taken the place of sadness and grief. She had felt anger like no other that the world would have reached out and taken her sister from her. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Sadness was so hard to manage but rage and anger was always so much more reasonable, in an odd way. Sadness you had to cope with but rage you could channel elsewhere. It also made you stupid as hell. 

Loki was walking to where Y/N was, reaching for her arm before she snatched it away, “Hey, this isn’t your fault, we both know-”

“But it is!” She stared at him, eyes wide and deadly cool, “It is my fault, David. I thought that this,” she gestured between the two of them, “was a good idea. And it wasn’t. Henry got my phone credentials somehow and he got to Adrian.”

David stepped back, absorbing the blow that hit him right in the chest. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but when a wounded cat is cornered and injured it will always lash out, even at what it loves the most. She was defending herself. Somewhere he knew that, in the same way he knew he would be doing the same, were he in her position. But he allowed it to sink, instead stepping away and getting himself dressed.

He was cautious as he watched her solemnly get dressed, do her hair as best she could before silently stepping into the bathroom to use the crappy-but-acceptable toothbrush and toothpaste provided. Her brain was trying to process what just happened, but so was David’s. He was reeling from the pain of being told he was a mistake, and because he knew that she didn’t mean it. He hoped she didn’t. He felt responsible as well, that he had distracted her from the case. Perhaps, he thought, it might give him clarity to have the step back that she didn’t. 

If Henry had reached out to Adrian, it was because he knew a few things. First, he knew that Adrian provided Y/N with information frequently enough that he had access to quite a bit of data. He probably knew more than he even realized he knew, and he was a risk. Also, Henry knew that Adrian trusted Y/N completely. Enough that he’d simply drive in the middle of the night to meet up with her over a simple text. But doesn’t the FBI train better?

Suddenly it was David working like a profiler, and perhaps it was the brain of the woman he had slept next to that was rubbing off on him. 

It didn’t make sense that Adrian would just trust a text message from Y/N, did it? 

Looking down at his own phone, he scanned through a few missed calls and voicemails, a text or two from guys at the precinct. Opening his work mail, he noted a few important forensic items and tabbed them for later. One that stood out was the email that the PAM shots had come in.

When Y/N came out she was silent, her words feeling like pain, should she utter them. Instead, she grabbed her things, hardly looking at David as she felt the weight of the boulder she had decided to shoulder pressing down on her before breathing out the words, “Let’s go.”

___

The drive itself hadn’t taken long, all things considered. Y/N had insisted she drive her own car, the reliable car that felt reliably foreign, making her feel like an alien in a world she was supposed to be part of. Adrian didn’t deserve to die. Arguably, most folks didn’t, really. He was a good guy, though. He did the stuff you were supposed to do. Being an asshole wasn’t a reason to off someone and yet Henry (and she was sure it was Henry) had chosen him specifically. Whether or not it was because he ‘knew’ something, it was calculated. Gunshots, however, meant this was not as planned as he had wanted it to be. Something had been off. Emotions had been involved. This had been a crime of passion and not a single note was left behind. Not a single rose.

He wasn’t the pattern, though. So it made sense.

Pulling up to the precinct, she got out and made her way to the door, aware of Detective Loki only steps behind her, protective in a way he didn’t like, even for himself. Henry was bold, however. Further forensics on the phone had shown Y/N’s phone had been cloned, of course. She supposed handing the man her jacket in his office where he had defense level technology hadn’t been her smartest move. 

She had to play chess and make him think she was still playing checkers.

“Agent? This was delivered about an hour ago, one of the DC Agents dropped it himself. Credentials checked out. It’s for you.” A young man was behind the precinct desk, looking a little tired but otherwise unbothered, handing her a small package. She was curious, though not concerned this time, able to spot the small sticker on the bottom left of a glittering ladybug. 

Taking the box she glanced at David and nodded her head towards the long hallway that led towards the interrogation rooms. She was silent, moving like a whisper over the ugly rug in the dingy department that desperately needed an upgrade. Opening the door to the other side of the one-way mirror, she removed her jacket and her phone, David following suit. It was eerie, how silent she was, even her movements noiseless as she fiddled with the microphone settings and turned off all recording devices. She went so far as to power them off entirely, making the room dark. 

Shutting the door, the young woman gently opened the box and withdrew a sleek, silver Samsung Galaxy, definitely not government issue. Squinting, she pressed the power button and turned it on, the phone booting up with no problem, the background a picture of a ladybug. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smirk through the pain, “Subtle, as always.”

Sitting down, David took a seat by her, watching as the phone appeared to begin on its own, the woman taking the cue to prop it up and sit back, the two close by once more as they watched a video begin.

“I know. This isn’t subtle, right? I mean, if you’re watching it then it’s not supposed to be. After what Henry did, I didn’t want you getting another package and being scared again.” 

It was Adrian, his face, brown scruff over his handsome features, sharp jawline and broad shoulders visible, stunning hazel eyes that were arguably more green than hazel visible. His hair was dark brown as well, normally gelled down and styled, though a bit more tussled now. He was sitting in his apartment, what looked to be his apartment. Pictures of his family were behind him and he was sitting on his couch, beige… funny the things we choose to see.

“He texted me tonight. I mean, you did, from what police records will show, but it’s him. He’s gotta think I’m some next-level idiot, you know? He tried to get your tone down but he can’t get that icy exterior quite right,” he smirked, looking into the camera, Y/N’s eyes softened as she knew she was watching the final moments of a man’s life. You don’t turn away from something like that.

“It’s my fault… I’m sorry.” She whispered as she watched the video, her body caving in on itself as she felt herself tense.

“And before you apologize, don’t! Hey, for all I know, things turned out just fine and you’re gonna make fun of me for this video and I’ll get the credit for catching The Black Rose! I won’t let you live it down,” he smirked.

Tears burned at her eyes, holding a hand over her mouth to stop herself from speaking again, almost wounded by how eerie it was how well he knew her. It fucking hurt.

“I can’t call you on your phone because it’ll route to his. He has authority over it by now, so don’t trust it, whatever you read on it. It’s useless. I used this because I knew I could jailbreak it and install the firmware to keep him out. But yeah, this’ll be pretty useless too if he gets wind of it.

“Anyway. He wants to meet me. I figure if I can get some recordings of him in the parking lot, maybe clone his phone myself without him knowing, maybe I can get something off him for you. If not, if you’re watching this and feeling like shit… it means it’s a good thing I sent the phone. Because if you’re watching this, much like those tropes I know you hate, then I’m dead, Ladybug. And I’m sorry for that one. But it sure as hell isn’t your responsibility and you need to know I’m doing this because I chose to. You’ve always been the brave one, Y/N. I’ve watched you take hits from assholes, get threatened, travel across the country, work yourself through hell on earth… you’re brave. You’re good at your job. And you always deserved better than me. Doesn’t make much sense to tell you I always loved you, so I won’t. But I’m doing this not for you, but because of you. Catch the asshole.”

The video closed, another taking its place, this one far grainier and from within a spot on the dash of Adrian’s car. It was a shitty camera, one that would be found, quite obviously, and that was broadcasting a recording. Later they’d find out not even Henry could trace the broadcast, but Y/N knew. David knew. Both knew as they sat in the dark interview room in the Conyers precinct.

The audio was muffled and quiet, which made sense. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. But it showed Adrian getting out of the car, jacket on, walking over with his hands up. He was speaking, softly, and staying still as another man entered view.

Henry.

He had his hands in his pockets, though he was visible. His head. Face. Hair. Unmistakably Henry Best. It was like watching a horror movie, though, and she hadn’t even realized that David had wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled himself to her, ready to stop the video at any moment. 

Shouts were exchanged suddenly, Henry barking at Adrian who stepped back, his hands still up, shaking his head and looking almost quizzical as he tilted his head to the side, “-her…-?” It was barely audible, though Henry’s face contorted into anger, rage, pulling a gun out of his pocket suddenly and screaming, “You could never understand my love for her!”  

One shot. Two shots. Three shots. 

Each made Y/N jump, tears in her eyes as she watched her friend, one of her closest friends, the man she trusted, shot dead in front of her, the feed suddenly cutting out. 

The video closed, leaving only the phone with its basic desktop icons before them, Y/N reaching out and gently picking up the phone, “You fucking idiot, Adrian.” Tears were falling down her cheeks, not that she cared. And even Adrian’s promise that his death was not on her was not enough. The guilt was tremendous and suddenly she felt like she was the one speeding down the highway and popping a tire. She felt everything spinning out of control and she wondered if this was the same kind of end her sister had met. Chaos. Loss. Helplessness. Blame. 

It was the icon in the bottom of the screen, however, that snapped her back, looking down at the icon that was only black but was titled all she needed:

“EVIDENCE”. 

His last gift was not a video of his death, but rather, Adrian had ensured, was a gift of life and a promise of revenge against the man who had done so much. And, perhaps, a warning of something more sinister.

(Tagging: @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @is-it-madness​ @detecellie​ @doritosandavocados​ @oscarflysaac​ @peccobagnaia​ @miss-missing-patd​ @hockeyandheroes​ )

[lokislittlesigyn]

sigyn’s unofficial guide to her dreams

i may have to update this as time goes on lol

So, I want to share more dreams here, since people seem interested and I like talking. I’ll probably just share the lighthearted Loki-related ones, as we all know he’s the highlight here. Truly brilliant, that god of mischief.

But because these dreams are, usually, from my perspective, it seems fit to explain some of the general rules and such to you! None of you are me (or are there sigyn variants out there...? dm if you’re a variant, i’d like to know), and the most you know of me is whatever is put onto this silly blog site, so you need more context before I infodump about that one time Loki and I went to a waterpark.

yes, that dream will be shared. ;)

1. I will probably tell dreams as if they happened. Hence the, Loki and I went to a waterpark. Obviously it’s all a dream! But it’s simpler to state that and not. “well in the dream we did this but it was a dream so it didn’t happen-” no. None of that. Too confusing.

2. I am Sigyn in my dreams. Sigyn is me. Probably not hard to grasp since that’s, basically what y’all know me as, but I just wanted to be clear!

3. As I am Sigyn, or tend to be, I have the abilities that I imagine Sigyn would have. Seiðr, specifically, the same sort of magic Loki uses. I can/have:

Shapeshift. Usually into animals. I have rarely changed my appearance in a humanoid way, though. The most common animals are horse, cat, sometimes a dragon (this has become far more rare recently) and, once, a fox.

Cast illusions. This is the most common form of magic in my dreams. I don’t know if illusion projection is a possibility, but illusions to hide myself (or, simply, the handy invisibility cloak Sigyn has in my OG timeline) are common. These illusions only hide me visually, they do nothing for sound muffling/etc.

Some general magic blasts/etc. I am usually running, hiding, and the like so defending myself is less common, but it may happen.

Call the Bifrost. This can only be done if I’m outside/under an open sky. Not technically specific to Asgardians, this, but it may be mentioned.

General Asgardian endurance and speed. I am still rather delicate, though, just like irl, so I’ll get roughed up from time to time.

And on that note, I may have healing magic, can’t recall. If I do, it’s a much rarer occurrence. 

4. Loki and I are married in these dreams. It’s an established, understood relationship. Well... Usually. See, with so many timelines, variants, and lives to keep track of, sometimes we’ll meet out of order or I won’t know if we’re together yet in a given dream. We tend to be at least interested in the other, but sometimes it takes him riding down the rainbow bridge and giving a lovely kiss to establish that he’s definitely interested. (that dream will also be shared.)

5. Many of my dreams have intense themes. I will try to keep them as simple and tame as possible, but sometimes my personal issues and fears seep into them. After all, this is all going on in my head, and my brain has to process things somehow. Because of this, many of them involve suspenseful/stressful situations, being attacked, being chased, being trapped, etc. Almost all of my dreams involve running away and trying to escape something. I will likely not share too many dreams that are suspenseful, though. We want this to be fun! It’s just, sometimes even the fun dreams can have upsetting elements.

6. Some dreams reflect more insecurities and wishful thinking - other dreams reflect more imaginative, overarching stories that loosely fit together. I may mention some sad things that have happened irl to give context, many of which I am okay with now. Some dreams may take place in actual, irl places. On the flipside, there are certain places in my dreams that seem to exist as if they were real, and as I’ve visited them multiple times in dreams, they have changed as though time has passed in the dream-world too. I may mention that a specific place is familiar, was in another dream, etc!

7. The Norns are in charge. Sometimes I’ll want things to go a certain way, and they’ll make it go another. Other times I’ll get wise to their schemes, but have to play along anyway because they think it’s about time I focus on something other than Loki. (they were wrong btw)

8. Oftentimes I am lucid! This can vary from simply knowing I’m dreaming to being able to “pull myself out of a dream” and wake up. Waking up is often more difficult in certain dreams, but I have honed the ability over the years. As such, some reactions may seem meta, as I often know I’m dreaming and am more exploring a world than experiencing an honest situation - sort of like playing a video game, but it also feels real on a certain level?

9. Loki is the end goal. After all the running, all the fighting, all the nonsense and mayhem and magic - my only wish is to curl up in Loki’s arms and never let go. In fact, I am usually trying to reach him!!! Because of this, dream themes may seem repetitive but I hope as.. presumable loki fans.. You understand Why I’d want this!

10. Although my dreams do usually follow a sort of central theme or canon - Sometimes nothing makes sense and you have to roll with it. This may be redundant when it comes to dreams, but.. Look, a very specific dream of mine requires some embracing of the absurd. It’s worth it, I promise. That dream will probably be my favorite forever. And, again, it will be shared. ;D

that’s it for now maybe i’ll share some more dreams soon

[phantom-le6]

Episode Reviews - Star Trek The Next Generation Season 1 (3 of 6)

As we draw close to crossing the first month of 2021 off the calendar to make room for February, which in my view is only of use for Pancake Day and nothing more, I’m back with yet more reviews from the first season of Star Trek: TNG.  Will these episodes prove any better than those of the first two rounds, or are we looking at more lemons with warp engines?  Let’s find out…

Episode 10: Hide and Q

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise is en route to Quadra Sigma to aid colonists caught in a methane explosion when Q re-appears and demands that they abandon their mission to compete in a game. He teleports Commander Riker and the bridge crew, with the exception of Captain Picard, to a barren landscape and appears in front of them wearing a uniform of a Napoleonic era French marshal. He explains the rule of the game is to stay alive, and after Lt. Yar refuses to compete, he transports her back to the bridge of the Enterprise in a "penalty box".

 Q returns to the bridge too, to talk Picard into setting a wager. He explains that the Q Continuum is testing Commander Riker to see if he is worthy of being granted their powers. Picard, having the utmost faith in his First Officer, takes the bet, as winning it would mean Q would get off their backs. Meanwhile, Riker and his team are attacked by what Lt. Worf reports as "vicious animal things" wearing French soldier uniforms from the Napoleonic era and armed with muskets that fire energy bolts instead of the classic projectiles. Q returns to Riker and tells him that he has granted him the powers of the Continuum, and Riker promptly returns his crew mates to the ship but remains behind with Q to ultimately reject the powers. Q brings the crew back to the landscape, this time without their phasers and with Picard. The crew are attacked once more by the aliens, and both Worf and Wesley Crusher are killed. Riker uses the powers of the Q to return the crew again and bring both Worf and Wesley back to life.

 Riker makes a promise to Picard never to use the powers again and the ship arrives at Quadra Sigma. A rescue team beams down and discovers a young girl who has died. Riker is tempted to save her, but in the end, he refuses to do so out of respect for his promise. However, he quickly shows signs of regret at this decision, which he expresses to the captain. Tension between Picard and his first officer grows as Riker now seems to be embracing his powers, and his behaviour toward the crew begins to change. At Q's suggestion, and with Picard's blessing, Riker uses his powers to give his friends what he believes they want, turning Wesley into an adult, giving La Forge normal sight in place of his visor, and creating a Klingon female companion for Worf. All the recipients reject their gifts, however, with Data even anticipating and declining Riker's attempt to make him human. Picard declares that Q has failed, and when Q attempts to go back on his word, he is forcibly recalled to the Continuum. Picard is pleased to see Q gone, and praises Riker for confirming his trust in his "Number One". 

Review:

There are two main reasons to enjoy this episode; Q and Picard.  This is the first time since the pilot that we’ve seen Q and Picard interact, and it’s much better this time because both the actors are a bit more at grips with their characters.  The scene in the Captain’s ready room between the pair where they both quote Shakespeare is one of the real highlights of the first season, a veritable miniature diamond in a season-long run of rough.  In some respects, it’s almost a pity Picard-Q meet-ups aren’t more frequent, but ultimately, I think that they have to be done as little as possible to retain some impact in the later seasons.

 Unfortunately, the episode lacks sufficient subtlety in trying to convey a story about power corrupting.  The key reason why the Dark Phoenix story in the X-Men comics is a classic that no adaptation has ever effectively captured is because it involves Jean Grey being corrupted by power slowly, inch by inch, until circumstances push her over the edge.  When the Primarch Horus is turned to Chaos in the Horus Heresy novels that form part of Warhammer 40,000 lore, it’s not an overnight transformation from the noble being he was to the power-mad tyrant laying waste to Terra years later.  It’s a slow, gradual seduction by power, and a single episode of any TV show doesn’t give that.

 As a result, the idea of Riker’s shift in character and attitude seems too rapid and falls flat.  The only thing that doesn’t fall flat is how the rest of the cast reacts when Riker tries to act with benevolence.  It’s a testament to each of them how they resist being granted their supposedly fondest wishes.  I especially applaud Geordi and the autistic-like Data for their choices.  I never like stories that try to push the idea that characters who are somehow differently abled, either blatantly or through the metaphor of a genre-specific concept, should always want to eliminate that difference.  Maybe Geordi can’t see like everyone else, but considering all the different things he can see with his visor, it’s not like the vision he has is any better or worse. It’s just a pity his reason for saying no was more about not liking a Q-style Riker than about accepting himself and all the goodness inherent in that. 

Add in Troi not being around at a time when her character could be very annoying without much effort, and you’ve got an episode that has many saving graces propping up a poor execution of a decent core concept.  End score for this one, probably 7 out of 10.

 Episode 11: Haven

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise arrives at the planet Haven, where the ship's half-Betazoid Counsellor Deanna Troi has been summoned by her mother Lwaxana. Deanna had previously been set into an arranged marriage to the young human doctor, Wyatt Miller, and his parents have since tracked down Lwaxana to enforce the marriage. After Lwaxana and the Millers are welcomed aboard the Enterprise, the parents argue over whose cultural traditions will be honoured at the ceremony. Deanna and Wyatt attempt to get to know each other but find it difficult, as Deanna is still in love with Commander William Riker. Wyatt has had numerous dreams of another woman with whom he has fallen in love, and had initially believed her to be Deanna communicating telepathically with him.

 The Enterprise then learns of an unmarked vessel approaching Haven. Captain Picard recognizes it as Tarellian, a race they thought to have been wiped out by a highly lethal and contagious virus. When they contact the ship, they find a handful of Tarellian refugees who have been travelling at sub-light speeds to Haven in hopes of finding an isolated location to live out the rest of their lives in peace. Picard insists that they cannot go to the planet for fear of spreading the virus, and has the Tarellian vessel placed in a tractor beam. Wyatt discovers that one of the Tarellians, Ariana, is the woman from his dreams, and she too recognizes Wyatt. Wyatt tells Dr Crusher that he will transport some medical supplies to them, but transports himself along with the supplies. When the crew discovers this, Wyatt's parents demand that Picard bring Wyatt back to the Enterprise, but Denna insists that he cannot return, as Wyatt would now carry the Tarellian virus. Wyatt promises his parents, Deanna, and the rest of the crew that he knew that this would be his destiny, and is happy to try to help cure the Tarellian virus. Wyatt convinces the Tarellians to leave Haven and search for help elsewhere. Picard orders the tractor beam to be dropped and allows the vessel to depart the system. 

Review:

When it comes to Majel Barrett in the era of the TNG-DS9-Voyager shows, her best work as a guest star is her voice work as the voice of any given Starfleet computer.  Her worst work is when she’s guest-starring as Deanna Troi’s mother. Her whole character is the very definition of nails on a chalk board, and it’s very rare if ever that an episode featuring her can be anything good.  That said, her presence does help to improve Deanna’s character just because it means Deanna’s suddenly no longer the most likely to irk you with her characterisation.  Basically, anytime Deanna’s on the screen at this early stage in the show, all I can think is “please don’t have her go all over-sensitive like she did in the pilot.”

 Leaving the Troi family aside, the episode isn’t much to get excited about.  Just a run-of-the-mill b-plot about a plague ship that interconnects with the main plot nicely to save us from the Trek equivalent of a shotgun wedding. Frankly, I’d have preferred it if they’d done a plot exploring the arranged marriage idea and casting it down as the terrible idea it is, but then I suppose it wouldn’t be politic to do that with a culture that is part-and-parcel of the Federation instead of being the guest-race-of-the-week.  I’d give this one about 3 out of 10.

 Episode 12: The Big Goodbye

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise heads to Torona IV to open negotiations with the Jarada, an insect-like race that are unusually strict in matters of protocol. After practicing the complex greeting the Jarada require to open negotiations, Captain Jean-Luc Picard decides to relax with a Dixon Hill story in the holodeck. Playing Detective Hill in the holo-program, Picard takes up the case of Jessica Bradley, who believes that Cyrus Redblock is trying to kill her. Picard decides to continue the program later and leaves the holodeck to affirm their estimated arrival at Torona IV. He invites Dr Beverly Crusher and historian crewmember Whalen to join him in the holodeck. While Crusher is still preparing, Picard and Whalen are ready to enter the holodeck when Lt. Commander Data arrives, having overheard Picard's invitation. Entering the holodeck, the three discover that Jessica has been murdered in Picard's absence. As Picard explains that he saw Jessica at his office the day before, Lt. Bell brings Picard into the police station for questioning as a suspect in her murder. Meanwhile, the Enterprise is scanned from a distance by the Jarada, causing a power surge in the holodeck external controls. Dr Crusher later enters the holodeck, first experiencing a momentary glitch with the holodeck doors, and joins her friends at the police station.

 The Jarada demand their greeting earlier than the agreed time and are insulted at having to talk to anyone other than the Captain. The crew tries to communicate with Picard in the holodeck but finds it impossible; the Jarada signal has affected the holodeck's functions, preventing the doors from opening or allowing communication with the crew inside. Lt. Geordi La Forge and Wesley Crusher attempt to repair the holodeck systems. While inside the holodeck, the group returns to Dixon's office. Mr. Leech appears, having waited for Picard, demanding he turn over an object he believes Jessica gave him. When Picard fails to understand, Leech shoots Dr. Whalen with a gun, and the crew discovers that the safety protocols have been disabled, as Whalen is severely wounded. As Dr Crusher cares for his wound, Picard and Data discover that the holodeck is malfunctioning, and they are unable to exit the program. Mr. Leech is joined by Redblock, who continues to demand the object. Lt. McNary arrives and becomes involved in the standoff. Picard tries to explain the nature of the holodeck, but Redblock refuses to believe him. 

Outside, Wesley finds the glitch; however, he cannot simply turn off the system for fear of losing everyone inside. Instead, Wesley resets the simulation, briefly placing Picard and the others in the middle of a snowstorm before finding themselves back in Dixon's office. With the reset successfully clearing the malfunction, the exit doors finally appear. Despite Picard's warnings, Redblock and Leech exit the holodeck, but dissipate as they move beyond the range of its holo-emitters. As they leave the holodeck, Picard thanks McNary, who now suspects that his world is artificial and asks whether Picard's departure is "the big goodbye", to which Picard replies that he simply doesn't know. Picard reaches the bridge in time to give the proper greeting to the Jarada. The Jarada accept the greeting, heralding the start of successful negotiations.

 Review:

The Big Goodbye has a special place in the era of holodeck era of Trek as the first example of a “holodeck-gone-wrong” episode.  Later episodes of this series and the spin-off shows Deep Space Nine and Voyager would return to the premise of holodeck malfunctions time and again as either minor or major plot points.  Unfortunately, the holodeck is already going wrong as a plot device in the show just from a technical realisation standpoint.

 The basic idea of the holodeck is that it creates 3D images that resemble whatever is programmed into the computer, with some kind of force-fields giving the images substance while other aspects of the technology fill in the proverbial blanks (e.g. special programming to create interactive characters, localised environmental controls, etc.)  However, everything that exists within the holodeck can only exist within the range of the room’s tech; if anything created by the holodeck moves beyond its walls, it should instantly cease to be.  However, in the Farpoint pilot, Wesley Crusher fell into water on the holodeck, and when he walked out into the corridor, he remained wet and dripping when all the holographic water should have disappeared the instance he walked through the exit. 

Likewise, in this episode Picard picks up a lipstick mark when he first tries the holodeck’s new upgrades, and that should have disappeared when he later briefs the crew in the observation lounge. Instead, Dr Crusher has to wipe the lipstick off for the captain, despite the fact it should have disappeared from Picard’s face long ago.  It’s an annoying issue, and one that could have been easily fixed even back in the 1980’s when this show was made; evidently, this was just another example of how bad the show was at this stage.  If TNG ever gets the kind of reboot the original series did, I sincerely hope any use of the holodecks pays attention to and rectifies this error in the application of the holodeck concept. 

Otherwise, this episode doesn’t do much more than give Brent Spiner a bit more to do with Data by having him impersonate a 40’s-style gangers and give Patrick Stewart someone else to be besides the captain of the latest version of the Enterprise.  It’s a fairly well-made episode for season 1 of this show, and it really sells the illusion of the holodeck program for the most part.  The people who made the show just needed to learn that anything that gets made in the holodeck stays in the holodeck.  I’d give it about 5 out of 10. 

Episode 13: Datalore

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

While on the way to Starbase Armus IX for computer maintenance, the Enterprise arrives at the planet Omicron Theta, the site of a vanished colony where the starship Tripoli originally found the android Data. An away team travels to the surface and finds that what had been farmland is now barren with no trace of life in the soil. The team also finds a lab which they discover is where Dr. Noonien Soong, a formerly prominent but now discredited robotics designer, built Data. The team also find a disassembled android nearly identical to Data and return with it to the ship. As the course to the Starbase is resumed, the crew reassemble and reactivate Data's "brother" in sickbay. He refers to himself as Lore, and explains that Data was built first and he himself is the more perfect model. He feigns naiveté to the crew, but shows signs of being more intelligent than he is letting on. Later, in private, he tells Data that they were actually created in the opposite order, as the colonists became envious of his own perfection. He also explains that a crystalline space entity capable of stripping away all life force from a world was responsible for the colony's demise.

 Lore then incapacitates Data, revealing that he plans to offer the ship's crew to the entity. When a signal transmission is detected from Data's quarters, Wesley Crusher arrives to investigate. He finds Lore, now impersonating Data, who explains that he had to incapacitate his brother after being attacked. Wesley is doubtful, but pretends to accept the explanation. Soon after, the same crystalline entity that had attacked the colony approaches the ship. Lore, still pretending to be Data, enters the bridge as the object hovers before the Enterprise and explains that he incapacitated his brother by turning him off, causing Doctor Beverly Crusher to be suspicious, since Data had previously treated the existence of such a feature as a closely guarded secret. Lore then explains that he can communicate with the crystalline entity and suggests to Captain Jean-Luc Picard that he should show a demonstration of force by beaming an object toward the entity and then destroying it with the ship's phasers.

 Lore's attempts to imitate Data are imperfect, though initially only Wesley is suspicious, and his efforts to voice these concerns only draw rude rebukes from Picard and his mother. However, Picard does ultimately become suspicious, especially when Lore does not recognize Picard's usual command to "make it so". Although Picard sends a security detachment to tail him, Lore overpowers Lt. Worf and evades pursuit. Meanwhile, the suspicious Dr Crusher and Wesley reactivate the unconscious Data, and the three of them race to the cargo hold to find Lore plotting with the entity to defeat the Enterprise. When Lore discovers them, he threatens Wesley with a phaser and orders Dr Crusher to leave. Data quickly rushes Lore and a brawl ensues. Data manages to knock Lore onto the transporter platform, and Wesley activates it, beaming Lore into space. With its conspirator no longer aboard, the crystalline entity departs, and the Enterprise resumes its journey to the starbase.

 Review:

This episode very heavily relies on answering the mystery of Data’s origin and giving him a villainous brother in a manner similar to the Thor-Loki dynamic of Marvel superhero lore (pardon the inadvertent pun) to make it worth watching, because goodness knows it falls down everywhere else.  Spiner is remarkable playing the treacherous Lore alongside his regular character of Data, and it’s fun to see him make the best of what ultimately becomes a poor episode on other fronts. 

I know some reviewers have stated they don’t understand Lore’s motives for allying with the Crystalline Entity, but as a Marvel fan, it’s actually fairly easy to deduce.  Much like Loki in Marvel’s Thor franchise, Lore is a bit of a trickster, an android Q but without the pseudo-godhood or ultimately benign motives of Q.  Also like Loki, Lore is the unfavoured son, one who was basically cast aside in favour of something supposedly better, so he’s turned against the humanity his brother admires and emulates out of jealousy and the pain of rejection.  It’s not a hard motive to grasp, but with Lore not explicitly saying it, you need that knowledge of another fictional reference to make the deduction.  Given that Marvel lore was largely overlooked by the adult world until superheroes were made into a legitimate cinematic genre at the turn of the century, it’s unlikely many original reviewers would have made the link. 

However, as I’ve noted, the episode falls apart in other respects.  The crew’s haste to reassemble Data’s brother mid-flight is very risky behaviour more akin to the cowboy antics of Kirk’s crew from the original series than Picard’s more measured approach, and they are remarkably stupid in failing to catch onto Lore’s threat.  Only Wesley shows the requisite insight and intelligence, but expresses it poorly because at this time no one on the show could write Wesley with any kind of competence. As a result, Picard ends up looking like a total git for his outburst at Wesley, Wesley’s mother comes off almost as bad, and when it turns out that, as ever, Wesley was right, there’s no apology from Picard at all.  On balance, this episode rates about 5 out of 10, which can be taken as the anti-Wesley acting having a severely detrimental impact on a great Spiner performance, or a great Spiner performance saving the episode by some horrid Wesley-bashing. 

Episode 14: Angel One

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise arrives at the planet Angel One, which is ruled by an oligarchy of women. The ship is looking for survivors from the shipwrecked freighter Odin, over seven years after having been evacuated. The freighter was missing three escape pods and the only planet in range was Angel One. An away team consisting of Commander William Riker, Lt. Commander Data, Lt. Tasha Yar, and Counsellor Deanna Troi beam down to the surface. They attempt to negotiate with Mistress Beata, the "Elected One" of the native inhabitants, to let them search for the survivors. Time is of the essence however, as the Enterprise must travel to a Federation outpost near the Romulan Neutral Zone (where a group of Romulan Battlecruisers has been detected) as soon as they resolve their investigation into the Odin survivors.

 Beata reveals that they are aware of four male survivors of the Odin who have caused disruption in their society, and are considered fugitives. Beata requests Riker stay with her (and later requests that he order Troi, Data, and Yar to track down the survivors' camp and their leader Ramsey, while staying and dining with her). After some back and forth, Data concludes Ramsey and the survivors of the Odin would have platinum with them, and Angel One is naturally devoid of platinum, allowing the Enterprise to easily detect them. Meanwhile, Riker dresses in the garb given to him for his dinner with Beata, Troi and Yar tease him for dressing in clothes that sexualize him and, in some ways, demean him. He responds by saying he is honouring the local customs, and acknowledges Beata's beauty, and that the garb is rather comfortable.

 The Enterprise searches while in orbit around Angel One. Doctor Beverly Crusher relieves Captain Jean-Luc Picard of duty after he and most of the crew have fallen ill to a random virus on board. The Captain leaves Lieutenant Geordi La Forge in command (Geordi's first time in acting command of a starship). Shortly after, they find Ramsey and transmit his location to the Away Team, who beam directly to there. 

When confronted by Data, Yar, and Troi, Ramsey and his men, having taken wives and started families during the seven years, refuse to leave. Data points out that as the Odin was not a star fleet vessel, its crew is not bound by the Prime Directive and the Enterprise cannot remove them against their will. Geordi informs Yar of the medical situation on board, and that more Romulan ships have been detected near the Neutral Zone. Riker gets close to Beata as they compare how gender roles differ between Angel One and the Federation. On the Enterprise, systems are becoming harder to maintain with more crew succumbing to the virus. Geordi (after a friendly reminder from a sniffling Worf) remembers that in command, he must delegate tasks so he can stay on the bridge. Dr Crusher finds that the virus is an airborne organism that produces a sweet smell, to encourage inhalation, after which it becomes viral inside the body. 

Riker gets up to date with the situation, and decides that while Ramsey and his group are at large and refusing to leave the planet, there is little they can do. Before leaving they find that one of Beata's fellow mitstresses, Ariel, has married Ramsey, and was followed by Beata's guards to their camp, where they arrested the survivors and their families. The Away Team attempt to explain to Beata the reason for Ramsey's refusal to leave. Beata and her council reject his reasoning, and threatens to execute them the following day. After failing to convince Ramsey and his group to leave with them, Riker contacts the Enterprise in hopes of transporting Ramsey and his group without their consent (despite it being a violation of the Prime Directive, and almost certainly an end to his career).  However, Dr Crusher (while treating an incapacitated Geordi in the Captain's chair) refuses to allow anyone to beam aboard for fear of them being infected, but allows Data, an android, to return. Riker orders Data to take command and get the Enterprise to the Neutral Zone before it's too late.

 The following morning the Away Team is invited to witness the execution of Ramsey and his followers. Moments after Riker rejects their invitation Data makes contact and informs them that there is a 48-minute window in which Dr Crusher has to find a cure, and Riker must defuse the situation on the planet before the ship must leave for the Neutral Zone. On the planet, Ramsey and his men are prepared to be executed by disintegration despite Ariel's pleas, while Dr Crusher discovers a cure for the virus. Riker is prepared to have the away team and the Odin survivors beamed to the Enterprise, but makes a plea that execution will do Angel One’s society little good. He contends that Ramsey and his men have simply become a symbol for pre-existing dissatisfaction with the current society on Angel One, an evolutionary change that execution may only accelerate by turning Ramsey’s group into martyrs.

After deliberating with her fellow mistresses, Beata announces that she will stay the execution and banish Ramsey, his men, their families, and any others that support them to the far side of the planet. She explains that their banishment will not stop the fall of the oligarchy, but will slow it down enough that Beata will not be around to see its end. The away team return to the ship and Picard, already recovering from the virus but hardly having a voice, orders the ship to the Neutral Zone at high warp. 

Review:

Apparently, the idea of this episode was look at South Africa’s apartheid system, but using a gender-based schism in a female-dominated society to explore the concept along gender lines rather than being more direct and using anything akin to a racial divide.  As a result, the intention is lost behind some very horrendously sexist rubbish that makes the show seem more like a bad parody of feminism.  The episode also has a lousy b-plot of a virus story that adds nothing to the episode, and again showcases how badly the holodeck concept was being handled at this time.  A snowball from a holodeck skiing program should not be able to go through the holodeck doors to hit Picard and Worf in the corridor.  2 out of 10 is all this episode deserves.

[nekoabiwrites]

Of Princes and Potions 2 - Chapter 7

This is just some soft Logince before jumping back into the plot. It is also something I’ve wanted to write since the beginning, since it was just cute as hell. (This is also my 100th post on my writing blog so yay!)

AU: Royal/Fantasy Pairing: Logince Words: 2826 Warnings: Deceit is here as Demitri. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Roman fulfils his promise to take Logan out to a very special place since he has been discharged from the infirmary.

--

A breeze ruffled the grass under the mage’s feet as he took the most direct path towards the castle’s stables, causing him to pull his robe tighter around himself as a shield against the chill. Logan silently cursed himself for giving in to Roman’s idea at such a time of year when the weather was turning cold. Hopefully what Roman wanted to show him wouldn’t involve being out for long.

Minutes passed as Logan stood at the stable doors, waiting for the crown prince. He watched the clouds slowly roll past in the sky, their edges tinted with oranges and pinks of the early evening sky. Logan wasn’t one for such frivolities as art or the like, but he did admit to himself that sights such as this one and the clear night sky did sometimes give him a yearning to capture the image on canvas. Logan was well aware he had very little skill in such areas, so he would just have to leave those kinds of things to his partner. Roman had invited Logan to visit his art room once. The pure chaos that was inside made Logan vow to never set foot in there again.

“Apologies for making you wait, Logan. I should have expected you to be so punctual.” Roman spoke softly as he seemed to appear next to the mage in the blink of an eye.

Logan started and turned sharply to face his partner. After the shock had subsided, his cheeks began to flush with embarrassment at being caught admiring the scenery, “I hope you endeavour to follow my example in the future, Roman. Were you not taught that being late to your own plans is quite rude?”

“I was most certainly not late.” Roman’s hands landed on his hips defensively, “I was here at the exact time I intended to be. You were just early.”

“Oh, so you are not aware of the phrase ‘Early is on time. On time is late.’? I would have thought someone of your theatrical interests would have known such a thing…” Logan side-eyed the prince, doing his best to hold in his smile as Roman puffed his chest up before retorting.

“If you have heard of such a phrase, you should be aware that it only applies to very specific circumstances, such as a place of work! It has no bearing here.” Roman said definitively, as if he’d somehow made the winning argument.

Logan snorted softly and went to respond, but a third voice cut in.

“I just love hearing you two bicker out here. Would you mind being louder? I’m not sure if the residents at the other end of town could quite catch those last few words.” Demitri stood in the doorway, staring directly at the couple.

Roman was quick to apologise to the animal handler, who made a noise that seemed to be acknowledgement before slipping back inside the building. The prince then turned his attention back to his partner. “How about we go in and I tell you my plan as we prepare?”

“Prepare what exactly?”

“Allegria, of course. Come.” Roman offered no further information before he turned and entered the stable, leaving Logan to catch up. As the mage entered the building, he saw just how many horses the royal family owned. He could easily spot Virgil’s horse, as well as the king’s, as he had seen them both riding them many times as they returned from business outside of the palace. Before Logan could ponder the idea of who owned which anonymous horse in the rest of the spaces, Roman called him over.

Logan approached, a little wary of what he was about to encounter. He had heard about Roman’s steed many times from Demitri, who had so eloquently described her as ‘a brat’ and ‘the most spoiled animal he’d ever had the displeasure of caring for’. However, the mage was not ready to come upon her space and see the pure white sheen of her coat nor the two folded wings sitting atop her sides. “Ah… so this is Allegria… the pegasus…” Logan muttered in a moment of realisation.

“Correct.” Roman responded, running his hand down the pegasus’ neck. “She’s going to take us to a very special place.”

Allegria seemed to understand immediately that it was not just Roman who she was going to be carrying this evening. In response, she looked directly in Logan’s eyes and seemed to.. scowl? Logan convinced himself he was seeing things.

“Where is this ‘special place’, Roman? Are you going to enlighten me as to your plan?” The mage asked, standing out of the way as Roman worked to fit Allegria with her riding gear.

“I did consider it, but I think that it will be far better to surprise you, my love.” The crown prince grinned as the mage’s eyes rolled on instinct at the pet name. “I will give you my word that it is something I am sure you will enjoy.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not sure if you are the authority on such matters… but I suppose I have nothing else to do but place my trust in you this time.”

“This time?!” Roman cried out, stopping dead in the middle of attaching the saddle.

“Must I ask again?” Demitri sighed, walking towards the couple. An odd quiet answered him, as both Logan and Roman avoided his gaze. He stopped next to Logan and looked between the two men expectantly, “Well? Must I?”

“No, you don’t.” Roman reluctantly responded sounding all-together like a petulant child being scolded. He began putting all of his focus into ensuring Allegria was properly fitted. It was most definitely for safety reasons and not because Demitri’s gaze was boring directly into his soul.

“Apologies, Demitri. I believe we’ll be leaving soon.” Logan added quickly.

The prince hurried along with his prep before leading Allegria out into the fresh air. She impatiently ruffled her wings and huffed as Roman helped Logan up onto her back, situating the mage properly before clambering up himself. He guided Logan’s arms to wrap around his waist, throwing a smile back at the man behind him, “Hold on tight. It might be a bit bumpy at first.”

Logan did as he was told, gripping onto Roman tightly. He thanked every deity he could name that Roman warned him as Allegria sped away at a full gallop almost immediately. Logan, overcome by some kind of overwhelming fear as the pegasus’ wings opened, buried his face into the crown prince’s back as they began to ascend into the sky. He mentally counted through a pattern, attempting to keep his breathing steady and his shaking body under control.

In front, Roman couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. He was experiencing so many of his favourite things; soaring up into the sky at a high speed, the beating of Allegria’s wings against his legs, the feeling of Logan’s arms wrapped tightly around him as though he were his only lifeline. The intermittent shaking of his partner and the face being pressed deeply into his back was putting a shred of worry into Roman’s mind, but he didn’t want to embarrass the mage by asking. At least, not until they were done climbing higher into the air.

They levelled out after a minute or two, though it did feel like an age to Logan. Shakily, he pulled his head back and glanced around. He wished he hadn’t the moment his gaze tracked downwards. Logan’s grip tightened and he instinctively shuffled forward to press himself against Roman.

“Everything alright?” Roman asked casually, as if he hadn’t noticed Logan’s sudden shift.

“We… we are extremely high up.” Logan stated, the wavering of his voice giving him away as much as his tight grip.

Roman smiled warmly, “Yes, we are, indeed. It’s precisely as high as we need to be, right?” Roman gently patted at Allegria’s neck, which prompted a responding noise. Logan twitched violently at the sound. Roman could hear an intake of breath, which meant Logan was about to apologise. He cut him off, “Do you trust me, Logan?”

That had the mage pausing for a moment. “Of course I do, Roman.”

“Then believe me, and trust me, when I say that you are safe with me, Logan. I trust Allegria with my life. I would not even entertain the thought of bringing you along with me if I did not.”

He would later tell Roman that it was the high altitude, but still Logan found himself almost unable to breathe at the sincerity of the prince’s words. He was sure that if Roman had been able to face him, his expression would have made Logan’s heart skip a beat – as impossible as that was. A few moments later, Logan’s grip relaxed a little and he was simply resting against Roman’s back, “Alright, Roman. I will… endeavour to remember that.”

Roman’s smile widened to a grin. He wanted to say something back, but he bit his lip to stop himself from ruining the moment.

They flew in a comfortable silence towards their destination. Logan began to stare at the passing clouds, watching them in fascination. He also observed the sky he’d been admiring previously slowly change shades; the pinks and oranges fading away to tones of reds and blues. The bright stars began to seemingly pop into existence in the sky and he had a full view of it all. Logan was enraptured by it all. So much so, that he missed when Roman alerted him to their descent. All of a sudden, Allegria headed towards the ground and Logan yelped in surprise. His grip tightened so harshly that Roman could feel the air being pushed out of him, as though he’d just been knocked back in training yet again. It was over in a matter of seconds, as the pegasus’ hooves landed gently upon the white snow.

Carefully, Roman pried Logan’s grip off and he dismounted. He helped the shaken mage down to solid ground before turning his attention to his animal companion, “Thank you, my sweet. Take a nice rest.” Allegria tossed her head slightly but allowed Roman to pet her softly before she wandered off to a patch nearby to take a rest.

As Roman was busy, Logan took a moment to place himself in his surroundings. It was clearly somewhere high, as they had taken far less time to come to solid ground that they had coming up from the castle courtyard. It was far colder than it had been on ground level, and the snow was but one indicator of such. He peered off around, trying to see what was nearby in the darkness, but could only make out vague shapes. He wracked his brain, thinking of a place that held all the characteristics that he had noticed.

“So, Logan, have you-” Roman began a dramatic-sounding speech, his arms held wide as he faced away towards the distance.

“The peak…”

“What?” Roman stopped mid-sentence, sharply turning around.

“You’ve taken us to the peak of the mountains. Carlecona’s Peak, to be exact, if I am not mistaken.”

Roman pouted, “You weren’t supposed to know where we are until I told you. Now my whole speech is ruined.”

Logan snorted softly and approached the prince, reaching out to rest a still slightly shaking hand upon his arm, “Many apologies for having functioning eyes.”

The prince scowled at his partner for a moment before sighing dramatically, “I suppose I can forgive you, as this was only the start of the surprise. Come.” Roman began trekking through the snow up a small incline. Logan followed as best he could, doing everything to not fall down and make a fool of himself. Once at the top, Logan’s mouth fell open.

The view was absolutely stunning from the mountain’s peak. Somehow, this one specific spot had just a perfectly clear look across the kingdom, all the way to the sea in fact. Clusters of dim lights illuminated the darkness, giving Logan a way to place himself as he noted which town would be which. Even through the darkness, he could see the farmland and forests, the ruins and the houses. It was all so… beautiful. And then, Roman gently tilted his head upwards towards the sky. The stars were all alight, all in their places, with the full moon bright and round. It was everything Logan had already been looking at back at his tower, but there was so much more for him to see here. He could turn and look in all directions and still be surrounded by the fascinating night sky.

As the mage looked awestruck at the view, Roman was content to stand beside and watch. The excitement and surprise in Logan’s eyes were as clear as the stars in the sky above and Roman couldn’t help but smile. He rarely saw this side of the stoic man, as he preferred to keep everything close to himself, but seeing him with his guard down just did something to Roman’s heart. The prince wanted to see Logan like this more. He took a seat in a rather well-worn nook of a boulder nearby and turned his gaze out towards the kingdom, “No one else has been up here, you know.”

“What?” Logan ripped his gaze away from the sky to look towards his pensive partner.

“Up here, on the peak.” Roman reemphasised, “At least, I have never brought anyone with me.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Logan took a seat beside Roman, looking out upon the same view.

“Because… I’ve never trusted anyone to know about this place.”

“What do you mean? Many know of it; it is the peak of the mountain. The fabled one that is said to be cursed if man stepped foot on it once more, lest they be haunted by the ghost of the hero who won the battle singlehandedly right here, or so the legends say.” Logan recalled with an underlying tone of distaste for the rumours.

Roman shook his head with a soft chuckle, “That is not what I meant. I mean, that I’ve never trusted anyone with the knowledge that I come here. It’s where I come to… escape whenever things become too much.”

“Ah… I see.”

The couple sat looking out towards the horizon for a moment before Logan suddenly realised the implications of Roman’s words.

“W-wait a moment, Roman. You said you have never brought anyone up here?”

“Yes.”

“No one, at all?”

“At all.”

Logan’s face bloomed red and he settled back into his spot, trying not to alert Roman too much to his sudden comprehension, “Well… I feel somewhat… honoured that you trust me with such… things…” The mage cringed as he couldn’t quite find the words he was looking for. It didn’t seem to matter much as the warmth of Roman’s hand covering his own had him turning to see such a loving gaze turned towards him. The view was forgotten as they stared into each other’s eyes for moments on end, almost daring each other to take the plunge.

When Roman finally did move forward to capture Logan’s lips, the mage was overwhelmed with the sensation. It was far different from all the other kisses they’d shared previously somehow. He thought he’d experienced them all, but Roman always managed to find a way to prove him wrong. It was utterly indescribable, the way it made him feel. The only thing Logan could think of doing to explain was to return the kiss with the intention of letting Roman know all of it through said action.

They parted soon after, as breathless as they normally were after far more involved kisses. Neither said a word, Roman simply turned his gaze back to the view and Logan instinctively rested his head against the prince’s shoulder and also stared.

“Why did you bring me out here?” Logan asked softly, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Roman smiled down at the man resting upon his shoulder, “After you mentioned wanting to see the stars, I remembered how many I could see out here at night. I thought you would enjoy seeing it. Also… I wanted to bring you here, to show you how much you mean to me.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed yet again, and he turned to bury his face into the prince’s firm chest, “How dare you?”

A gentle laugh pulsed through Roman’s body in response as his arms came up to hold Logan close, “I will not apologise.”

Logan’s lip twitched up into a smile. He was content to sit here in Roman’s arms just a while longer, before they had to return to their regular schedule. “I think I understand now…”

“Hmm?”

“Why you come here.”

“You do?”

“Yes. May I make a request?”

“Of course, you may. You know I can never turn you down.”

“Bring me along next time as well?”

---

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[brookelynnsanders]

Anti Cool Girl - The last fall

A/N: here we go - @arin-schreave​ and Brooke’s first date. Thank you anna for this ridiculous rp and thank you @evalinkatrineberg​ elise for being an amazing beta. Also the title is a reference to dodie’s song cool girl - enjoy!

Cold water trickles down Brooke Lynn’s lean frame, washing off the accumulated sweat sticking to her heated skin. The aching in her thighs spreads towards the hollow of her knee - the water unable to soothe the sting. Luckily it cools down her boiling thoughts. She takes in a moment of silence just for herself. No wary eyes, no protocols to follow, and no time to kill. So she just keeps on breathing and counts each droplet gracing her skin. Delaying the inevitable moment of having to leave her little chamber behind. Not ready to face her upcoming date. 

“Lady Brooke, did you fell asleep in the shower again?”

The blonde automatically groans at the sound of her maid’s nagging voice. Can’t I have a quiet second for once?

“No, I just don’t moan when I pleasure myself in the shower”, the woman shouts while stepping out of the shower. Her calm interior is now completely destroyed - her defense mechanism filling its space. At least her comeback urged Brita to fall silent. Giving the blonde some last few moments of peace.

So Brooke quietly wraps herself in a fluffy towel and tries to shoot herself an encouraging smile in the mirror, which ends up being a hopeless grimace. Her stomach slowly ties itself into a knot at the prospect of the upcoming hours. So she focuses on drying off her body instead, watching each droplet either moisten the towel in her hand or glaze over the floor. Afterward, she squirts some pomegranate scented body lotion into her palms and carefully slicks up her limbs before wrapping herself into a baby blue silk robe. With a deep breath, still very wet hair, and a polite smile on her lips, she steps outside into the arms of her personal headache.

 Sandra, one of the mute maids, grabs the blonde’s arm tightly and leads her towards the vanity - seemingly in a hurry to get the woman ready. Once Brooke Lynn's bum touches the chair, all of her maids are already over her. Prepping her skin, teasing her hair, and painting her face for the big event. 

The speed of her maids awakes an unsettling feeling in the blonde who's heart starts to beat a bit faster. Her palms glitz with sweat as Brita keeps on muttering about Brooke's unmanageable hair. Blue eyes stare back at a strange figure, surrounded by buzzing bees, as she attempts to keep her calm. A deep breath in and a deep breath out.  

Yet once Brooke is shown the outfit prepared for her, she just knows. This will be her downfall. 

Brooke Lynn walks up to the front steps 10 minutes early for her date. The note she had received two days ago is held in her left fist. Opening and closing around the royal paper, fidgeting to calm her mind. Already imagining each worst-case scenario she can think of. Yet still unable to stay in her room any longer - the hustle wrecking her nerves. So she lets her gaze wander around and lets out a deep breath - relieved that no one is present. Her fingers scratch her light brown breeches, attempting to get used to the tight fit of them.

"Lady Brooke." 

A slight shiver runs down the woman’s back at the voice onset of her date. Not mentally prepared to meet the Prince so suddenly but within a blink of an eye, she spins around and puts her crumbled invitation into her vest’s jacket. Her face sporting a very neutral look. "Your royal highness." Luckily she remembers her manners. 

"Shall we?" Prince Arin asks with a slightly forced smile while he motions in the direction of the stables. Dressed in equally flattering clothes as Brooke Lynn. 

Brooke Lynn's blue orbs widen at the reference, having hoped she could delay their departure to the stables a bit. But sadly that isn't the case, so she just clicks her tongue and side-eyes the prince while mumbling "We shall." Her confidence not quite yet at the forefront.

 "So... How have you been?" 

Awful, thanks for asking. 

Brooke settles with, "I am not dead yet, so can't complain, "  and a subtle wink. 

"Well, I'm glad we set the bar really low here at the palace," he counters with an ever so slight eyebrow raise. Not as amused by her comment as she is. 

"No offense, but my bar for this entire experience is very low." A little giggle colors her voice. "I didn't even personally sign up so I have zero expectations."

After a brief pause of awkward silence, she realizes that her prior statement might have sounded a bit rude. Even though it's just a factual truth. "But that only means I am pleasantly surprised all the time," the blonde hurriedly adds, not wanting to ruin the date before it has even properly begun. 

“At least you can find some positive things in this whole situation.” The two keep on walking in silence, each a prisoner of their own thoughts. Yet once the stables are in their sights, the Prince speaks up again. “Do you like horses?”

“I am actually terrified,” Brooke answers honestly for once. The woman attempts to keep her cool though, not wanting to look like a scared 3-year-old, but her shaking hand betrays her.

 The prince slows down his walking and looks at her. “Oh, I’m sorry... I didn’t know.”

Brooke Lynn stops for a second and closes her eyes, before plastering a forced smile on her face. The foundation of her walls now fully replaced.  “It's fine. I'll manage - somehow. But if that horse kills me, I'll haunt you until eternity,” she teases him with a cheeky wink.

“You're not really selling it,” he glances over his shoulder, “We can go back.”

“Aren't you the one who is supposed to show me that deep down I've always wanted to be a horse girl?” Brooke side-eyes him with a smirk, trying her best to keep the conversation light. “But seriously, you chose this activity for a reason... So I might as well give it a shot.”

He just shakes his head. “It wasn't actually my idea, sorry.” 

“So you got a little matchmaker advisor who tells you how to find a wife or what?” Another teasing smile graces her lips while she throws her carefully crafted side braid behind her back.  Yet once her glance lands on the horses she can now clearly see, the knot in her stomach tightens.

“No... I have a mother who involved herself and a friend who helped her.”

“So you are a mommy boy?” Brooke asks in a teasing tone and scrunches her nose in amusement.

“Well considering I have two I don’t know else I’d be,” Arin replies with a slow blink.

The blonde can’t help but snort at his response and tries her very hardest to suppress her giggles. “You've got a fair point.”

“Well, at least I can make you laugh.”

“Maybe a giggle or two will come out of those pretty lips when the horse throws me into the mud.” An awkward smile graces the woman’s lips as she peeks into the stables. “Why do they gotta be so Goddamn tall,” Brooke mumbles to herself. Still very intimidated by those animals.

“They ate their fruits and vegetables.” Apparently, she wasn’t too quiet.

“And so did I,” Brooke replies as she looks up at towards the prince, “still I am not that tall.” Her waving hand motions an attempt to highlight her point. 

“Well, you're not a horse....” 

Who would have guessed?

Brooke Lynn rolls her eyes and decides that now is the moment to face her fears and just walks inside the stable. “Let's get this over with.”

“We don't have to do this. It won't hurt my feelings if we don't.” 

He really sounds like a little kid not wanting to go shopping with his mum.

On the tip of her toes, Brooke Lynn turns around and fixates him with termination carved into her irises. “No matter if you came up with this idea or someone else - enough effort went into this and I am very sure my maids would be upset if they see this outfit wasn't but to use.” And she isn’t prepared to get into another fight with her maids. Once the two are truly inside, the blonde looks around, very lost. “So wanna show me what I've missed in my life without horse riding?”

Prince Arin just looks at her and blinks in surprise, and if Brooke isn’t wrong she actually hears him chuckle. “You're asking the wrong person. Horses aren't really my thing.” He mentions casually while he walks towards a stall, already greeting one of the horses.

Brooke Lynn stops in her tracks, slightly regretting having pushed him. “Great precondition,” she mumbles to no one in particular.

“There's still time to back out.”

She has him pushed him so far that there is no way to back down now.

“And not watch you crash and burn with me?” Her left eyebrow raised in suspicion as she turns towards the stall gate, taking in the horse nearest to her.

Arin leads the way inside so Brooke Lynn just cautiously follows him trying her best not to use any sudden movements so she won’t scare the horses. At least that’s what she tells herself. Cautiously she rolls her shoulders and straightens her back - not wanting to look too intimidated.

The gate is being pulled open by the prince who then gently tugs on the reins of a tall light brown horse that walks out. “You ready?” Raised eyebrows clearly worried about the woman’s reaction. 

The overly nervous woman inhales a deep breath and gifts the man her best smile, refusing to give up on this rocky date already. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

Brooke Lynn’s words are the kickoff to officially start the date. Arin walks around the stable, pulling saddles from left and right and carefully prepares the two royal horses for their ride. As the awkward silence starts to grow, Brooke starts to sort through her brain, pulling out possible small talk topics. 

“So if you are not a horse kind of guy - any other animals and hobbies you prefer?”

“I like fish, I guess. And some other things yeah,” Arin mentions as he walks over to his horse.

“Fish?” That’s specific.”Wanna indulge in me that?”

“I have a fish.” The prince concentrates on closing the belts of the saddle. “And they’re a good source of protein.”

“What's their na-”; Brooke Lynn stops in her tracks as the second part of his statement reaches her consciousness. Within a second her polite smile falls from her face. Replaced by a heavy heart as disappointment oozes out of her being

“Her name is Gillian.” No remorse only confusion plastered on his face.

“That's a nice name,” Brooke Lynn replies with an awkward smile, trying her best to not judge him. But she does.”But like how can you have a pet fish that you cared enough to name... And still, eat fish.” Her brows are furrowed as hurt and confusion mixes in the sea within her eyes as  Arin finishes up the last details of preparing the horses.

“Fish can be friends and food?” He glances over at her as his statement comes out more than a question.

Yet Brooke Lynn’s mouth only falls open in shock. “How can you say that?”

“I um... like fish?”

Brooke Lynn takes a deep breath so she can collect her thoughts and arguments so she won’t lash out at him. 

“But how can you say you like fish as living beings and then still eat them? Like the fish industry is exploiting our oceans and seas while endangering so many species.” With each spoken word she feels a bit sicker as her shoulders and the corner of her mouth hang low.

“I... I'm sorry?” 

How am I supposed to see this man as a potential partner?

“No need to apologize - at least not to me but maybe you wanna look into the issues surrounding the consumption of animals and animal products.” With a deep sigh, Brooke lets the topic go. “Speaking of animals,” her eyes glance towards the regal horse by her side, “how is this supposed to go down?”

“Um... now we just mount.”

“Just mount?” A slight waver in her reveals her helplessness. She hasn’t felt that small in a while.

After being told they need to bring the horses outside first, Brook cautiously takes her horse's reins and waits for Arin to lead the way outside, cautiously looking over his shoulder at her as they go. Which prompts an apologetic smile by Brooke. Once the two get to the pasture he circles around with the horse to face her. “Are you ready?”

“I guess we'll see.”

Arin makes it look so easy the way he mounts his horse so regally and then just looks down at her from his horse. “You can do it.”

With a deep breath, Brooke collects all her strength and puts her right foot into her horse's stirrup and swings herself onto the horse. A victorious smile already presents itself on her glossy lips but soon falters as she realizes that she ended up on the horse facing the butt. Fucking great. 

"Do you need help?" 

"Unless this is the preferred way to ride a horse I guess yeah." Brooke attempts to be very nonchalant, yet a quiet giggle escapes her lips. Too amused by the ridiculousness of the situation. 

And like her knight in bright armor, the prince dismounts his horse and walks over to Brooke. "What can I do for you?"

"Whatever the fuck -" Manners. "Whatever the freak is needed to be done." Her nose scrunches an attempt to hide her embarrassment. 

Arin slightly hesitates before offering his hand to the blonde as he carefully puts one hand on her waist. "Ready?" 

Brooke's vocal cords are suddenly unable to form any words so she just nods and attempts to turn herself around. Yet somehow she miscalculates the curvature of the horse’s back and so she loses her balance. As the blonde realized her mistake it was already too late. Brooke tightly closes her eyes as she tumbles off the horse - fully prepared to hit the ground. But somehow strong arms are able to half catch her in time. After a brief second - which feels like an eternity - Brooke opens her eyes again and stares up at her savior. 

Within a moment his arms are gone and Brooke is back on her feet. "Are you okay?" A hint of concern colors his voice as gives Brooke a quick one over. 

"Yeah, just wanted to test the reflexes of our soon to be King," the blonde adds with a wink, bringing out her usual cocky self. She smiles a bit to herself, glad Arin had been so quick on his feet, before looking back to the horse and taking a deep breath - not ready to give up. "No, seriously thank you," she adds with a look behind her shoulder as she prepares to finally get this right. With a determined nod she mounts her right foot onto the stirrup again and is about to push herself of. However, she freezes for a moment - realizing the mistake she has made switches her Foot. With her corrected position she manages to mount her horse in a swift motion and ends up correct in her saddle. "Not too bad." 

Arin gives her a smile for her victory before adding: "I’m glad you’re okay."

The blonde returns his smile as she watches him go back to his own horse, satisfied with the outcome so far. Until she realizes this is only the first step to actual horseback riding. "Got a coin to start the engine? 

He chuckles at her remark. He actually chuckles at her remark." No, you just nudge her with your foot a little and say - let’s go."

"Okay," the blonde replies very focused on the tasks at the head but still manages to offer a small nod and smile as she nudges her horse. A "let's go" escapes her lips as the regal animal suddenly picks up its pace. 

"Are you okay?" The prince's voice barely reaching the girl's pina as his horse trails behind. 

"So far," Brooke Lynn shouts back as she keeps her gaze ahead - trying her best not to fall off this wobbly ride. Her thoughts suddenly swirling around how the horse could possibly understand her directions. 

"You're still alive, see." An encouraging smile suddenly by her side. 

"That's a plus." Her first genuine laughter escapes her throat. 

"We can be done if you want." 

Brooke doesn't have to look over to see the concern plastered onto his face. Slightly wondering if he even wants to be around her, not really buying his sudden concern. 

"You really sound like you don't wanna be here, but I am finally on a horse - there is no stopping now." With a click of her tongue and a feisty nudge to her horse's rips, she spurts it on to go faster and faster. Craving serotonin to fill her blood. 

"Horses aren’t really my thing." The prince's call nearly lost in the woods. 

Ocean eyes roll at the reveal of his dark secret. "Oh who would have guessed." 

As the trees enclosing her vision move past her and the stark wind cools all her limbs she wonders if that's what true freedom feels like. 

"Not you," Airn voices once he manages to catch up to. "You’re a lot better at this than I am." 

Ohh okay? Maybe we can forget this fish situation. 

“Seems like I have natural talent then,” the girl confidentially exclaims with a big grin.

“Maybe you do.” His voice suddenly getting closer and closer until Brooke can see the other surpass them.

“Are you trying to win a racehorse boy?” She shouts at him, urging her horse to go faster - trying to catch up.

“Boy?”

“You gotta earn the horseman title,” she challenges him with a wink as she is at an eye level with him again.

“Last between the two trees gotta bake the other a cake.” 

Within a whirlwind, she passes him and encourages her horse to go even faster, determined to win the race. Her laughter halls through the cool air as the wind plays with her baby hairs. Brooke refuses to look back and she just focuses on the horizon. Her heart and head feel a bit lighter with each added mile between her and the palace. If she just closed her eyes she could pretend she is in her own adventure - not prince who doesn’t want to get to know her trailing along.

The blonde doesn't look back and just takes in the serotonin buzzing through her bloodstream as she comes to the finished line closer and closer. Her head is free of constant overthinking once she reaches the finish line. Yet all of a sudden her horse’s fuse blows and within a second she already greets the grass as her horse attempts to circle the fox in its way. Brooke Lynn’s left foot is still caught in the stirrup once her horse calms down, so she tumbles to the floor and just rests on her back. Kinda in shock, yet glad for her verst as bubbly laughter escapes her chest, patiently waiting for Arin to arrive.

Once his horse stops alongside hers, he carefully gets down and rushes over to her. Clearly worried. Not that he should worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, cause I won,” Brooke cheers with her fist raised high, “so this is a wonderful position to cloud watch. You should join me.”

“Alright, Van Grunsven, let's go.” Arin immediately leans down to untangle her from the saddle, wasting no time.

The blonde says a small ‘thank you’ as she scrunches her nose and smiles at him. She completely lays on her back now as she is freed from the saddle and nocks onto the grass next to her. A silent invitation for Arin to join her. The need to share the beautiful sight in the sky with him immense.

However, Brooke Lynn can only feel an expecting look on her skin. Not sure what he wants from her.

“You're free,” he adds after a moment of awkward silence and raises his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah. Thank you,” She repeats confused, petting the grass next to her again while scrutinizing him. “Please don't tell me you also hate cloud watching.”

“I don’t... I just don’t really want to lay in the ground.” He nonchalantly replies with and outstretched arm. Brooke only rolls her eyes and mouths the word wimp but takes his hand anyway. 

In a smooth motion, he pulls her up.  “I’m guessing we’re done with horses for the day?”

With a nod, the girl confirms his suspicions. So she grabs her horse’s reins, ready to walk her way back to the palace, but pets her horse on the head slightly. Still a bit scared of the majestic creature, yet still having found a place in her heart for it. “Thanks for not killing me,” she mumbles lovingly.

Arin shoots her an amused look at the interaction. “Not so bad, huh?”

“Yep,” the girl pops the p and nods, “especially since you owe me a cake now.” Actually really excited at the prospect of a cake just for her. Unable to let it go that she actually won.

“I think you’ll be disappointed,” he says not very convincing, leading the horse towards the stables. The evening sun highlighting a light sweat patch on his horse’s back and neck.

“We'll see - maybe you'll discover your sudden love for baking.” The blonde shoots him an amused look as she walks beside him, unable to really look him in the day due to the blinding sun rays hitting her iris.

“Or burning the palace down,” Arin mutters as a response.  

“That will definitely make it into the history books.”

The prince blinks surprised, seemingly having hoped Brooke wouldn’t hear him. “I’d hope not.”

“It's in your hands,” she replies with a coy smirk before letting her gaze shift towards the closer inching palace. Her smile slightly drops at its sight, not ready to be a prisoner of her golden cage again.

“What’s wrong?”

Shit.

Hurridly the blonde morphs her phase into a neutral expression, relaxing her furrowed brows and clenches jaw. “Ohhh it's just that I enjoyed the company - I am not really looking forward to being alone again.“ The woman exhales deeply and bites her bottom lip trying to find the balance between being honest and still keeping her walls intact. Not trusting the stranger opposite her yet.

“I'm sure there are lots of people in the Women's Room.”

A polite smile stretches across her lips, not really wanting to share her lack of social contact in this place. Not even remembering the last time she had visited the Women’s Room. Luckily the Prince immediately leads his horse into the stable once they neared the palace. He politely waits until she's inside behind him before he starts to take the saddle off.

Brooke Lynn, on the other hand, simply watches him in silence caught up with her own thoughts but keeps a polite smile on her face. Torn between labeling this date a total disaster and progress in the right direction. Because she didn’t really hate it. But maybe he did?

A ‘Can I’ catches her a bit off guard. It takes her a second before she realizes that he wants her to hand him her horse’s reigns.

“Will you take Skippy back to his stall?” He asks, nodding towards his horse while he approaches hers.

“Skippy?” A bright smile shining on her lips. “Your brilliant idea or did someone else name him?” The girl walks towards Arin’shorse and slowly approaches him before carefully taking his reigns in her hands. She walks him into his stable, careful not to step into horse shit.

“Uh... my mom came up with it.”

“It's actually a really adorable name,” she says, mostly directed at the horse that manages to elicit a small smile from her as well. He also receives a light pet from her before carefully closing the gate and walking back towards Arin.

”Will you take Lou, too?”

Brooke Lynn nods as a response and walks Lou to her stall and gives her a fake evil look before silently cracking up. “Thanks for not killing me Lou,” she mumbles with a smirk.

“So, what's the verdict?”

About what? Ohh the horses, Brooke mentally facepalms.

“I am still alive, so this couldn't have gone better!” The girl exclaims with a smirk and her left hand against her hip. Not deadly terrified of horses anymore, but still in need of a 21-year long break of horseback riding.

“Well, staying alive in a date is always a good standard to have.”

“And if the standard couldn't have been upheld - I couldn't be disappointed cause I'd be dead,” the girl laughs a bit morbid. Either because Brooke stopped caring about looking perfect or because she has gained a concussion over the past few days. Not quite sure yet.

Nervous laughter by her side makes Brooke only crack up more.

“Just kidding. You are too easy to spook.”

“Am I?” He motions for her to follow him as he walks back towards their meet up spot.

“Seems like it at least,” the girl calmly replies, solely focussed on the steps leading towards a side entrance of the great hall.

“Interesting observation,” are his last words before he falls silent, accompanying her. 

Brooke Lynn slowly drags her feet across the path, an attempt to delay the end of this evening. Yet once the two reach the top of the stairs the prince and the girl say their goodbye’s with polite smiles resting on their faces. Both left alone with their thoughts from now on.

Not sure if they’ll see each other again.

[lostjonscave]

Oooh for the prompts thing....Jon, contentment, and a pen? The object is kind of random but I feel like we need some happy content for the archives crew lol. Or at least I do because it seems like we’re headed towards something Really Not Good and I’m mildly terrified!

well, i took this in a very AU direction, and then it got away from me a bit, but here you go! jon/martin, jon + contentment + pen, 2009 words. 

-:- 

“We’re going to need,” Gertrude says with all her usual bone-dry calm, “someone from artifacts storage to come down and assist with collecting this.” 

Jon can’t tell if the effect of her tone is ruined or enhanced by the fact that she is currently bandaging up a nasty bite on the side of her hand. There is still a low, rumbling growl emanating from the bright pink handbag on her desk, a far deeper and more resonant pitch than Jon has ever heard from an animal that might reasonably fit inside a handbag. He eyes it cautiously. “I suppose that’s for the best… They have the industrial gloves up there, don’t they. One moment and I’ll call someone down.” 

“Did someone already see Miss Petersen out?” 

He glances over his shoulder, out into the Archives; they are empty. “I… think so yes, a few minutes ago.” 

“Good. She ought to be getting along to her mother in the hospital. Judging by the injuries she described, I have a rather bleak idea of how much time the woman may have left.” Gertrude finishes bandaging her hand with a crisp application of medical tape. Jon would have offered to help, but he knows far better by now. “... Anything else?” He asks. 

“No, thank you Jonathan, that will be all.” Waving a dismissive hand at him, Gertrude draws a long metal ruler from one of her desk drawers, peering at the handbag’s darkened opening with interest. 

“Right.” He’s given up on reminding her that just ‘Jon’ is fine. Apparently her instinct towards propriety is simply too strong to override, which reminds him of his own grandmother at times, although Gertrude is several years younger. He shuts the door to the archivist’s office quietly behind himself and crosses the Archives for the assistants’ area. Sasha’s voice rings clear across the stuffy space. When he approaches, she holds up a finger in front of her lips, and he nods. 

“Oh, is that so?” She says into the department phone, putting on her most sugary, wheedling voice. “Yes, that would be beyond helpful. Thanks ever so much... Hmm. Could you repeat that for me, please?” Sasha gestures quickly at Jon across the desk, and he quickly slides a pen and scrap paper over to her. After copying down what looks like an address and a few further details, Sasha says, “Well, you’ve been a wonderful help. I’m sure I’ll have no more trouble getting in touch with her. Oh, and the same to you, sir!” Then she hangs up the phone with a determined crack of the receiver. “God, what a bloody creep.” 

Jon tilts his head towards Sasha sympathetically. “And who were you today?” 

“Someone’s estranged niece,” she explains. “Trying to track down her aunt in order to make amends with her after the unexpected death of both parents, it’s all very television drama. Lots of people go for that, though!” 

Jon perches on the empty chair next to Sasha. “Lots of people actually live for that, from what I gather, although I cannot begin to imagine.” He gestures to the department phone. “Are you finished with that, or…?” 

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” She rolls her chair backwards so that he can move in to access it. “What’s the errand this time?” 

“I’m just calling down Artifacts Storage to assist with some kind of carnivorous handbag.” 

Sasha gives him a significant look. “Artifacts Storage, hum?” she asks with very feigned innocence. 

Jon squints at her. “Yes, Artifacts Storage. Unless you think there’s a better place for-” 

She flaps a hand. “No, no, go on.” 

He does, pressing the button for short dial. It only rings twice before a buoyant, familiar voice chimes in from the other end of the line. “Hello, artifacts curation office?” 

“I- Oh. Hello, Martin,” Jon says, working very hard to sound professional while Sasha has turned eyes on him like a bird of prey. “We just need, er, some assistance with, well, there’s. Obviously there’s an artifact. Which, is, why I have rung your department.” 

Somehow Martin’s smile is audible even over the phone. “I see. That’d be in the Archives, then?” 

With some effort Jon refrains from cringing. “Yes, of course, I should have- It’s in the Archives, yes. You’ll  want to send someone down with proper equipment to handle, ah, very sharp teeth. It’s aggressive.” 

“Ooh, okay, righto.” There is a muffled clatter on the other end of the line. “Hang tight and I’ll be there in two seconds, let me… just... “ 

“Take your time,” Jon says, for lack of anything better, and then has to wait on the line while Martin bangs around in the background and Sasha sits there looking inappropriately smug. He considers taking off his glasses so that he doesn’t have to see her, but Martin is back before it really becomes necessary. “Right, so I’ll see you in a moment?” 

Jon almost nods awkwardly before he remembers they’re on the phone. “...I’m not going anywhere?” 

“Cheers.” With a click, Martin hangs up, presumably to trek down here with whatever containment equipment they reserve for the artifacts with more animalistic attributes. Jon puts the phone down as well, staunchly avoiding eye contact to try and stall whatever Sasha is about to gleefully ask him, but this is another one of those scenarios where his attempts are generally fruitless no matter what.

“So! Martin is headed down, did I hear that correctly?” Sasha rests her chin on her folded hands like a psychiatrist about to grill him. 

“You did, in fact,” Jon says with deliberate nonchalance. He won’t let her get to him that easily. “Is that significant?” 

“You tell me,” Sasha counters smoothly. “Didn’t you just see him?” 

Jon raises an eyebrow at her. “To when are you referring?” 

She huffs and shoves the arm of Jon’s desk chair so that it jostles him. “Oh, come off it. Basira told us at the canteen, all right? We know you two went on a date last night, so how did it go?” 

“You’d never expect her to be the gossip, and yet,” Jon grumbles, folding his arms crossly and shrinking back into his chair. He may have been caught out, but he’s not about to go quietly along. “Must you insist on involving yourself in my private affairs? It’s downright obnoxious.” 

Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s not obnoxious, you clown, it’s called having friends. Occasionally, you talk about things that happen in your life. Anyway you were in a positively sunny mood this morning, at least for you. I could just guess how it went, but I’m being friendly.” 

Jon glowers at her. “You’re being insufferable, actually.” 

“Oh, so are we to expect to see you in wedded bliss within the year, or-” 

“Fine, all right, it was- It was actually bloody awful, on a quality scale of dates I’ve been on, if you must know,” he snaps irritably, and there is a small, ugly satisfaction in the way her face falls. 

“Oh. Are you serious? But- You seemed so pleased this morning.” 

Jon glances over at her again and immediately feels guilty. “I- Well. The first hour really was terrible, and I might even have left if he wasn’t my ride. But he did manage to, shall we say, pull a comeback in the second half.” 

Sasha raises an eyebrow. “Well, go on then.” 

Sighing, Jon folds his hands in his lap and stares at them intently. “He took me to a… Poetry reading. Sort of? One of those loud, microphoned businesses. They all seemed to have it memorized.” “Oh! Slam poetry,” Sasha supplies helpfully. “That actually sounds interesting, I didn’t know Martin was a fan of that sort of thing!” Jon glances up at her, clears his throat. “Apparently he’s… Performed there before. Not- not last night, though, although- “ He makes a small, irritable gesture. “The problem was that we sat so far up, we were right next to one of the speakers and I could hardly breathe, it was so loud. Like someone shouting in your face for twenty minutes at a clip.” Sasha cringes sympathetically. “Okay, yeah, that’s not great. Can’t exactly have any good conversation that way.” 

“If he said anything to me while we were in there I certainly didn’t notice.” Jon snorts. “And the food- Good lord, you wouldn’t believe. One of those co-op cafés, at some point a bit of stale bread showed up on the table with some disgusting sort of, pickled, salmon paste?” The memory makes him shudder, even over twelve hours later. 

Sasha sits up straighter in her chair, hands on her knees, and exhales softly with a quiet whoof. “Right. Well, I see what you mean. But he pulled it back?” 

“I- I think he must have noticed, at some point, I had pretty much, er, shut down.” Jon coughs again. “So we went outside, and he said I looked a little green- I wanted to walk a bit, so we did, and then, well, there was a- You know that secondhand bookshop up near Stockwell?” Sasha brightens. “Sure, I’ve canvassed it before. You went there?” “For, um, a couple of hours,” Jon admits quietly, fiddling with one of the pens on the desk to avoid looking at her. “A couple of hours!” Sasha spins her chair towards him, pointing triumphantly. “I knew there was- What did you do for a couple of hours? What did you do after that?” 

Jon puffs up his chest a bit, opens his mouth to tell her… Something, either that it’s none of her business, or that they’d actually talked the whole time, that Jon had walked him up to his door, that he’d ridden the tube home at 2AM in some kind of infatuated stupor, but before he can start he is interrupted by the man of the hour himself parading into the Archives, decked out in some jerry-rigged version of riot gear. Jon startles so hard at seeing him he nearly falls out of his chair. Martin beams at the both of them and waves before jogging over. 

“Hey guys! Er, I’m here for the thing with the teeth? You weren’t much more specific than that,” he explains bashfully, gesturing to his outfit, which looks like it could probably sustain an attack by several dogs at once. “So, I figured I had better be more safe than sorry.” 

“That’s not- Not a bad call,” Jon says, wildly avoiding his eyes. It does not stop the blush intent on creeping up from under his collar. “Gertrude is, ah, examining it, in her office, but she might be finished by now.” 

“It’s a handbag,” Sasha supplies, doing a decent but not exemplary job of hiding her amusement. “Pink and frilly. You’ll probably have to muzzle it somehow.” Martin blinks. “Oh, well, I’ve got the equipment for that upstairs. In the meantime I’ll see if I can’t get it to bite down real good on my arm pad and transport it that way. D’you know if it can move around?” “I haven’t recorded or observed any mobile capabilities, no,” Jon replies, straining to sound proper. “More of a, er, Venus Fly Trap sort of situation.” 

Martin salutes cheerily. “Brilliant, that makes my job all the more simple. Suppose I ought to head in before Gertrude tries to feed it something, ey?” 

Sasha grins. “You’d better.” 

“Okay. Well, then I’ll see you at noon, Jon?” 

“What? Oh- Yes, er, yeah, yes, of course,” Jon mutters, this time steadily avoiding Sasha’s extremely significant stare. “Don’t lose any fingers in there.” 

Martin flashes him a warm smile. “And miss lunch with you? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He heads off towards Gertrude’s office, tightening the straps of the pad on his arm and whistling tunelessly. 

“You’re having lunch with him?” Sasha mouths, incredulous, before Martin has even had time to knock on Gertrude’s door. “You went out last night and now you’re having lunch with him?!” Jon glances toward the office, checking the coast is clear. Then he chucks a pen at her. 

-:- 

send me more prompts if you like! 

[nouru-vi]

Here’s the WIP first chapter of an Allods fic I started working on today - WIP because it lacks a proper intro that I may or may not add later. The fic will star my characters Istharnax (pictured) and Talsa, and will deal with a custom storyline that tells how these two characters met for the first time, as well as loosely tying into the whole canon dealio with the Architects. SCP-flavoured fantasy Sovietpunk horror ahead (though there are not many specifics in this chapter yet).

"This installation is clearly experiencing major and highly concerning issues. Why have you not informed your superiors immediately?" the woman inclined her head slightly to the side, which reminded the nervous supervisor of a predatory animal. It made him even more nervous, and thus it took him just a bit longer to respond than expected.

"We have ran into some unforeseen difficulties during the experiments, and it took all our manpower to... to identify a solution. These difficulties have also caused disturbances in the Astral around us, so we could not even send messages. I was going to file a report as soon as the situation was sta- dealt with! There was no need to send an inspector after us immediately." He managed to work himself up into sounding proper indignant, and he emphasized the word inspector with perceptible distaste. One of the guards standing behind the Arisen woman made a face, shifting his gaze to the side. His expression said, "You're in for it now, buddy." The supervisor caught it, and at long last and way too late, began slowly questioning his life choices.

Istharnax's head returned slowly to its default position from its little incline. There was silence for several seconds as the piercing green points of her gaze tracked the beads of sweat beginning to run down the supervisor's forehead. When she spoke next, it wasn't in her usual way – the words entered the man's brain directly instead.

Her mental voice was in very deep contrast to the reverberating, metallic tone of her vocabulator. It was a voice that, under other circumstances, would have turned this man's legs to jelly. It was a voice that, by sheer virtue of its pitch and timbre, promised to give one the time of their life and then some, making the hearer promptly forget any and all potential concerns about this voice belonging, in fact, to a six foot tall cybernetic undead. However, what this voice now actually said only achieved the effect of burning shame and pants-wetting terror on the supervisor.

"Listen here, you pompous, insolent halfwit. I am an Occultist. I am tuned into the emotions and thoughts of those around me at all times. The amount of raw terror billowing through this installation and unceasingly echoing off the walls is making my skin crawl. I know that something horrendous has transpired, and I know that the personnel have been stumbling over themselves to muster any sort of effective response to it, let alone an appropriate one. And you, my friend, have, for some reason, been more terrified of delivering news of this disaster that transpired under your command, than of what the event may have unleashed. I would like to suggest that you relay to me, in your own words, what has been happening, before I wring it out of your monocellular brain myself like one squeezes the juice out of a fresh, ripe orange."

Through her monologue, the supervisor gradually pursed his lips, his eyes going wide as saucers as he stared at her, transfixed. He was growing aware that the faint, fixed smile of Istharnax's mask and the light of the pair of green photoreceptors drilling right into the core of his guilty soul would most definitely haunt his nightmares. Provided he lives long enough to have any, his treacherous brain added. The Arisen had not moved at all while she spoke, but now she crossed her arms and started drumming her fingers – fingers with such sharp and painful-looking claws, the supervisor noticed – on her elbow joint, the metal on metal going clickity-click-click.

The supervisor leaned back, unable to endure Istharnax's gaze any further and shifting his own to the surface of his desk. One of his hands grabbed onto the other in his lap to stop their shaking, as he slowly began to speak. "I... as you have likely been briefed, our task here is to... explore the possibilities presented by a new avenue of magitechnology... exponential mana splicing. We have determined that it has great potential for energy generation, as well as for weaponisation – it makes for a spectacularly powerful operating principle for weapons of mass destruction, in particular. That is... that was the research team's consensus for months. We have been running experiments in order to measure its exact capabilities, to refine the related technologies... it had all gone wonderfully smoothly, as you surely also know from previous reports that I had been sending very diligently." At this, he lifted his eyes again for a moment to meet the inspector's gaze, clearly hoping to see whether she considered this a mitigating circumstance. If she did, she wasn't showing it, silent and motionless again with her arms still crossed. The man sighed and continued.

"Everything was fine until nine days ago. The experiment we ran that day... suddenly reached critical mass. The system was shut down immediately, we did all we could, but... there was no stopping, and no way to prepare for, what would happen. There was a massive implosion, immediately obliterating everything within the experimental chamber. An anomaly was created. Before we could study it or assess the situation, it started slowly expanding. It consumes everything it touches, and within a few minutes, before we could realise the fact that it expands, it extended to the wall of the observation room for the chamber. The researchers present were sucked into the anomaly."

He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. To his surprise and utter bewilderment, an impulse entered his mind, which could only have been sent, judging by process of elimination, by Istharnax. It featured no words – instead, it felt like suddenly standing in a patch of warm spring sunlight, reassuring him and calming him down. He gave the inspector an astonished look, but the woman still did not move or say anything. Eventually, he spoke again, pushing the words out with great effort.

"Those it swallowed did not die, or disappear... we saw them again soon, once the growing anomaly had eaten through the walls into a corridor. They did not die, but... they came out broken. Wrong. In the worst sense you can imagine. Actually, imagine the worst thing you can. Got it? Okay, now put that on a factor of 10."

He leaned forward slightly with an expression of wild horror, digging his nails into the edge of his desk. "This... thing, is a hole in reality. A bottomless hole, where even the most essential rules of our world break down. Imagine the effects of that on people. Most matter gets destroyed by this anomaly, but not living things, for some reason. It's not a pretty sight." He was talking fast now, as if to get all of this out of his system as quickly as possible. "And you know what's even worse? These.. things that these people have become... Once they get a hold of a normal living being, can spread this condition to it. They do it purposely. Our only saving grace is that they don't seem to possess much strength or other ability to affect normal space, so they can only roam as far as we let them... until the anomaly eats its way through our walls and defenses, that is."

He went silent, and his face looked so gray that Istharnax prepared to jump out of the way in case he throws up all over the desk. She observed him silently, and eventually spoke again, with her vocabulator, in a quiet, almost kindly tone. "Why did you not send a messenger as soon as possible?"

"I... I don't... I wasn't thinking straight, none of us were. And I was terrified, okay? That this would be blamed on me, all on me... I... I realise saying this will likely get me into even worse trouble, but at this point, what does it matter? So, you know what? It would not be the first time! Not the first time that the City Council has to place blame, so it makes an example of the most readily available hapless sod involved!" He cut off, breathing heavily, and somehow his face managed to turn even more gray from horror at what he had just said, and to whom. Both guards standing across from him gave him looks one would give to a soldier who's just been shot through the lung.

But the inspector, for the first time, stopped looking at him. Her head tilted downwards slightly as her gaze wandered to the desk, and she stayed motionless and silent for at least half a minute. Then she let out a long sigh, a very strange sound coming from someone who does not actually breathe and speaks via vocabulator.

"I... see." Her eyes met the supervisor's again, and, astonishingly, he felt that the faint but ever-present menace was now gone from them. "Guards. Take him into custody, but do not send him back to Nezebgrad until I say so... or until it's your last opportunity to do so." She stood up, unfolding her long metallic limbs in a way that reminded the supervisor of a strange, bipedal, metallic harvestman. "Do not worry," she addressed him again, "I will make sure you are treated fairly. And I don't mean the usual 'fair trial' bullshit." The swearword was so out of left field and so strange to hear from the mouth of this terrifying, looming undead beanpole that the supervisor almost laughed. "You will receive punishment for the grave error of sending no message, but I will not let the Council put the blame on you for all of this. You could not have known this would happen. I have yet to find out if any surviving specialist staff members could have known, but I doubt it."

With that, she turned and strode out of the room, the supervisor still sitting motionless and staring after her even as one of the guards approached to handcuff him. He only snapped out of his bewilderment once the guard started nudging him to make him stand up, and had to shout "T-thank you, Inspector! Thank you!" to make sure the woman can still hear him, the metallic clangs of her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

[elphenfan]

Grooming (Good Omens) 1/7

Sequel to 'Nesting'

As new nestmates, there's a few things that need to be navigated for Crowley and Aziraphale, even though so many things are the same. One of them is the ritual of grooming that is done between nestmates.

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Nothing had changed. Well, obviously, things had changed, quite significantly, even; they were now nestmates, honest-to-goodness nestmates, and there was no changing that. They’d promised themselves and each other that. No matter what happened, they would not give up on each other.

That being said, neither of them could help feeling apprehensive, to put it incredibly mildly. This wasn’t a case of a pair of teenagers disobeying their parents by being together. Well, perhaps there was an element of that, what with the role of Heaven and Hell and everything, but the penalty was rather more severe. It was like comparing a lighter to a star. Technically, they were both burning, but beyond that, there wasn’t much to compare with.

But as the days became weeks, and there still wasn’t so much as an increase in assignments or the amount of paperwork they had to deal with, Crowley couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief – while simultaneously feeling even more tense.

This couldn’t be right. They had to know. Somehow, they would have to know, so why wasn’t anything happening?

Another part of his brain argued that well, they’d kept their Arrangement a secret for almost a thousand years by this point, without either side suspecting a single thing. If they had, neither of them would’ve been able to carry on as they had, they knew that.

Why then, knowing that, did he suddenly bestow the powers above, or below, the accolade of observatory skills they had never yet exhibited? When they could be fobbed off with a well-placed memo why did he then think that they would instantly suss out that Aziraphale and he had become nestmates?

Unfortunately, he could answer his own question, at least to some extent. To the extent that explained why he was afraid, anyway.

What they had managed to…well, yes, fool them with was about what they did. The jobs they’d been sent to do, which none of the other angels or demons really had much track with. Not in the way that Aziraphale and Crowley had, in any case, nor to the extent. It was always easier to lie to someone who only had the vaguest idea at best of what the truth actually were.

When it came to something like this, however…this was about what they were, not what they did, and he couldn’t help the tendril of fear that on something like that, at the very least Heaven would be much more on the ball. It did, after all, split the focus of the angels that were involved in the nesting, on who and what they should love. In theory, anyway, as angels tended to fail to live up to their own brief, as it was.

Which in turn brought him back to the thought, the question of why the Almighty had created Her servants with such a handicap as that, in the sense of their intended, purported purpose.

He brought it up to Aziraphale, more than once and increasingly animated each time he mentioned it. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the angel didn’t seem as worried about the whole thing, despite the fact of…well, everything, really. He listened but didn’t make any comments or even any plans as to how they could deal.

At long last, after he’d asked flat out why he wasn’t worried, Aziraphale sighed heavily, put down the books that he’d been cataloguing – why he bothered when everything was neatly organised, even if it was to a system that only he knew and understood, was beyond the ginger – and pulled Crowley close.

“I am worried,” he said, quietly. “Very much so.”

“Then why the bleeding blazes have you been acting as though it doesn’t matter, or you aren’t bothered by it?” Crowley demanded, his arm waving animatedly in its gesticulation.

Aziraphale, surprisingly in the demon’s opinion, didn’t pause or falter. “Because I would be helping neither of us, but especially not you, if I were also to panic.”

“Panicking? Who says I’m panicking?” Crowley’s gesticulation was almost flailing at this point, mainly hampered by their closeness. “I’m not panicking, that’s absurd!”

“Of course not.”

“Why would I be panicking?”

“Because you’re understandably terrified of what they will do if they ever find out what we have done.”

“They will not merely send rude notes, that’s for bloody sure.”

“Destruction by rude note, that will certainly be novel.”

Aziraphale!”

The angel gave a small smile, which was warm but showing hints of both genuine worry and fear but also that inner core of steel. “I know how you’re feeling, dear. Honestly, I do. Don’t mistake me. But tell me…what other precautions can we take than what we are taking right now?”

He brought a hand up to caress a defined cheek gently, then cup the side of the jaw, thumb continuing to brush across the cheek. Crowley instinctively leaned into the contact, savouring it as he continued to look at his angel. He didn’t answer, though, because he had no answer to give. That was one of the problems, wasn’t it?

Silence reigned for a few long moments.

Then, very quietly “Would you want us to…divorce, for instance? Cease being nestmates?”

The words, the very suggestion that they would possibly stop being nestmates made Crowley snap for breath hard, his heart feeling as though it had just suffered an actual, physical punch. He would’ve shouted ‘no’ instantly and at the top of his lungs, if only he’d had the breath for it.

Aziraphale seemed to have been ready for the reaction, in a sense at least, as he made sure to steady his demon when his knees buckled a little.

Long-fingered hands came up to grasp hold of softened shoulders, hard and almost digging, as if that would somehow prevent him from leaving.

“No, I didn’t think so, either. Nor do I. As we’ve discussed before, I would never want to lose you as a nestmate. Apart from the option of returning to how we were, however – and even that is not a guarantee they won’t detect either of us are…divorced, as it were – I quite honestly cannot see what we can do about it.”

Crowley, still trying to get his breath back and stop the panic that had exploded inside, didn’t answer. He just moved somehow even closer and bent his neck so that he could rest his forehead against the angel’s shoulder, between his hand and where shoulder became neck.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the shape of his nestmate, as if to further ensure he wouldn’t go anywhere, no matter what happened.

“Please don’t leave,” Crowley said, his voice a little muffled from where his mouth was situated but nevertheless, it was insistent and Aziraphale heard him quite clearly.

“I won’t, dearest, I won’t. Never. I promise.” He turned his head and pressed his lips to the flaming red hair. “I hope you won’t, either.”

Crowley shook his head as though he was trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn wasp in his ear.

“In that light, I think all we can do is carry on as we always have and if things do turn south…then we’ll have to take it from there.”

Strictly speaking, they’d discussed that before as well but even so, it was a relief to the demon to have it confirmed.

Perhaps it was remnants of the unreality of it all, the sheer beauty and utter joy that went with their change in status and all that that had entailed for them, and the subsequent pure fear and dread that this was somehow indeed too good to be true. God could still be pulling the most massive prank on him.

What was it he’d read somewhere? “All this good fortune, all this fierce joy … it was wrong. Surely the universe could not allow this amount of happiness in one man, not without presenting a bill. Somewhere a big wave was cresting, and when it broke over his head it would wash everything away”?

Something along those lines, and didn’t it feel incredibly apt in the circumstances, even if he was a demon rather than a man?

Wait, hang on. Why could he remember something he’d read? When the heaven had he actually read, anyway? Maybe Aziraphale had read it aloud to him, as he sometimes did with books he truly loved and wanted to share. Crowley would never have his love of books, not even close to it, but he did enjoy the audiobook experience when it was tailored specifically to him by a very specific narrator.

So maybe it had come from there, a quiet evening where they just got to enjoy the other’s company.

Wherever it had come from, though, it had stuck and he couldn’t help but feel its aptness, perfectly summing up how he was feeling, even in the midst of his Paradise-on-Earth – which was infinitely better than the original, in his opinion, whose only benefit had been a fortunate meeting.

He tried not to let it take over his thoughts and, more importantly, not to let it show. Seeing as it tied into not only his fears and worries about the potential punishment from their headquarters but to all the negative and self-deprecating thoughts which he’d had prior to the two of them becoming nestmates about the impossibility of just that thing, it became a significantly more difficult prospect, even as he felt the relief from Aziraphale’s words.

The fact that he had his face hidden from view wasn’t much of a comfort.

But Aziraphale only held him tighter, turning his head to plant kisses on every part of Crowley’s head that he could reach, gently, lovingly. Being the anchor that he needed without saying a word.

Eventually, though he wouldn’t have thought he would, Crowley began to feel calmer. Not entirely so, the thoughts were still present, but in that silent interlude, he managed to…not so much push it into the background as pen it in and quieten it to a low murmur. Corral it into something manageable rather than outright banish it, helped by the words that Aziraphale had spoken and the reassuring calm that exuded from his body.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he straightened up. He didn’t try to otherwise put distance between them, though, and Aziraphale didn’t make him.

“No need to apologise. It’s a very legitimate fear to harbour.”

Crowley paused then came to a quick conclusion as he looked at the other’s face. “And you’re putting on a brave face for my sake.”

“I am not.”

“You are. That’s why you’re that calm about it.”

“I told you, I am not, neither that calm or putting on a brave face for you. I would not lie to you like that, dear.”

“You would.” It was an accusation, but it lacked any bite, the void of that filled with concern. “You would if you thought you were protecting me by doing it.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, presumably to protest, then closed it.

“Yes, I suppose that is a very valid point,” he said after a few but long moments of silence, voice quiet. “But I promise you that that was not my intention. I won’t hide from you, Crowley. Not anymore, not on purpose. I cannot control everything, but I will try and won’t put protection over honesty. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” That he could believe, that he could lean against to face things, to rely on as his rock. Well, as part of the rock that was his angel, really, when it came down to it. Softness, love and chub concealing a steel core. “Sorry about – “

He was silenced by a kiss. “Shush now. No need for that. Not now nor ever. I understand.”

Crowley regarded Aziraphale for a moment. Then, his heart full of warmth now, the murmur of his fears very low indeed, he said, earnest and heartfelt, looking into the warm green eyes, “I love you, angel. I love you.”

The beam he got from saying that out loud was one that beat every other iteration of Aziraphale’s arsenal of smiles, all of which were wonderful on their own, and still did a number on his heart in the best possible way. He hoped that would never ever change.

“I love you, too, my dearest,” Aziraphale returned. “Nothing will ever change that.”

Crowley touched their foreheads together after stealing another kiss, saying ‘thank you’ without speaking the words. It seemed to get through to the other just fine.

They stayed like that for quite some time and then Crowley decided that it was time for bed.

Aziraphale protested that it was far too early to go to bed, quite apart from the fact that neither of them needed to sleep. Crowley ignored him.

Sleeping was one of his favourite things in the world and now that he had the option to do so with his angel – and his fears about what Heaven and Hell was going to do to them had been soothed enough that he wasn’t a nervous ball too tense to fall asleep anymore – he wasn’t going to pass it up.

Well, he had up until now, in a sense, he would have to admit. But there’d been other things for him, for them, to do and to explore with their changed circumstances, apart from the worry about whole being found out business.

Six millennia is a long time to wait and, for Crowley’s part pine, and even if Aziraphale had only become aware of his feelings very recently, comparatively speaking, he’d assured the demon more than once that it was more a case of realising what had been there for a very long time, it crystallising inside his mind in that moment rather than being born.

Given that, this change was new and fragile and oh so precious to them both and they were handling it delicately in terms of what they’d done since, as though it would shatter if they charged ahead.

Perhaps that was what he’d meant when he’d thought that nothing had changed. They’d thrust themselves into this whole other plane, as it were, of being nestmates rather than ‘only’ friends all at once. That was enough of a change to settle into, especially for being who could well regard a century ago as recent. There was no need for a radical change in behaviour or routines on top of that, not straight away, and so it felt safer, perhaps, to take it slowly.

There might be someone who’d point out that a lot of what they’d done, how they’d interacted for the last millennia or so, at least, could qualify on their own as dating and so it would only make sense that things might not feel that different, if different at all.

Nesting and consequently becoming nestmates were on quite another level compared to human dating, however, even if it wasn’t immediately visible by the standards that humans set for themselves. But Aziraphale and Crowley knew that it was there, and it resonated between them like the echoes of…well, the harp that the angels didn’t play.

Not to mention, of course, the little things, such as the touches, including kisses, and the general closeness and openness they now enjoyed. Being more explicit about the little gestures and tokens of love that they had hid from each other before.

And there were the feathers. In the bookshop, yes, on display but hidden so that they wouldn’t be inadvertently snatched by some customer Aziraphale somehow hadn’t managed to keep out of the shop, which would just be…no, that didn’t bear thinking about, either.

But there were also the ones that they carried with them. Which ought to be beyond stupid to do if they wanted to remain hidden if not for the fact that other angels, fallen or otherwise, would be able to detect the bond, for lack of a better term, they now had regardless.

And it was wonderful, Crowley had to admit, to be able to be parted from Aziraphale – and they were not joined at the hip, thank someone for that, and they never would be, however much they cherished the other’s company – and still carry a physical reminder of him that was part of him. It certainly beat what humans came up with, such as jewellery out of teeth and hair. Just…why?

Now, though…now he couldn’t help the want, the need for a bit of sleep and to have Aziraphale be there with him. Not for anything intimate or the like, just…being there.

The angel kept protesting all the way up the stairs to the small…well, to call it a flat was a tad overly generous, really, seeing as it was actually just a small set of rooms that had come with the building back when Aziraphale had bought it. What they had been intended for wasn’t clear, but it had been used for extra storage by the blond. That was, until Crowley had seen it one day after, well, and had miracled a bed up there.

Aziraphale had protested then, too, that there was no need for it, and it would only be in the way and where on earth did all his books go, really, Crowley, you can’t just –

And he’d shut up when the demon had pointed upwards to see the books neatly stacked all the way around the wall and underneath the ceiling. That he’d have to employ a bit of, well, trickery, to make more room than there actually was, it was certainly worth it.

He’d used it once or twice on his own since then, the smell of old books practically part of his nasal make-up at that point, but now he got to experience it with Aziraphale there.

The angel protested one more time when they made it up the stairs, though Crowley noted that he hadn’t made any proper attempts to pull out of his grasp or just stop.

“Crowley, this is ridiculous,” he tried, sounding only slightly exasperated. “We cannot go to bed at this hour, there are things I need to do. I’m not going to waste time – “

The demon looked at him, then, and his expression shut the angel up.

“I’m not asking you to stay for a long time or anything,” Crowley said, voice quiet. “I just want you to be there while I fall asleep, that’s all. I’d like to know what it feels like.” He couldn’t deny that ‘waste time’ had hurt, just a little, even though he knew Aziraphale hadn’t meant it like that.

The guilty expression had already started to form as he closed his mouth and realised what he’d said, but now it took over the soft face. “Oh. When you put it like that, then…”

He hesitated, then bit his lip. “Oh, good lord, I am an arse, aren’t I? I didn’t even think of that and I should’ve known – of course I’ll stay with you, dear.”

Crowley frowned. “You’re not an arse.” It was hardly his fault Crowley hadn’t made himself clear or that it hurt to hear him phrase it like he had, done entirely unintentionally.

“I’m afraid I am. I should’ve known better, in both regards, and I do apologise.” He squeezed the hand gripping his. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

Part of Crowley wanted to say, ‘there’s nothing to make up for’, while another wanted to ask how he would, and a third, albeit small part, wanted to make a smart-arse comment.

Instead, for once, his brain and body were clever enough to make him purely give a nod.

The apologetic but grateful smile from Aziraphale started to melt what little hurt was left.

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I had forgotten I hadn’t uploaded this, sorry.

[knybits]

- ̗̀ peonies, white roses and camellias ̖́-

HERES PART TWO!! hope you guys enjoy!!

Part One || Part Two

Akiko is pissed that Giyuu stole her spot. 

“Hey. Move. I want to look out the window,” Akiko glares up at Giyuu, but he remains unbothered. 

So she looks at his eyes, then follows to where he’s looking at. 

And now she’s glued to the store window by Giyuu’s side. 

“What the hell’re you guys starin at this time,” Sanemi snaps at his idiotic co-workers. 

“Art.” 

“Fuck that supposed to mean.” 

“Art.” 

Chiyo wipes some sweat off her brow, huffing with slight exhaustion as she sets the box down. Miyuki looks over with a smile. 

“Kidding! Move the box to the right again?” 

“I’ve had to move this box six times already, so what the hell are you aiming at?” 

Miyuki looks across the window to see the three tattoo artists staring at Chiyo. Or, more specifically, her arms. 

The three nod to themselves, finally finding something to agree on. 

“Art.” 

--- 

Akiko’s heart goes into overdrive at least three times a week. 

Why? 

Tanjirou walks in just to say ‘hi’ to her. 

The bell chimes and Akiko quickly looks up with bright eyes, only to see that Sanemi has come back from the flower shop with another small batch of flowers in his hands. 

“Oh. It’s just you.” 

“Y’know? You really piss me the fuck off sometimes,” he growls out, swapping the flowers out from the counter and disposing of the old flowers. 

Akiko looks back down at her client, resuming her work before piping up, “So? How was your weekly visit? Have you hit on that girl yet?” 

Sanemi begins to sputter out protests, but he doesn’t yell at Akiko like she expects he would. So she smiles down at her work. 

“You’re so whipped already…” 

“I HEARD THAT!” 

Nevermind, he’s back to yelling.

---

 “I’m gonna do it.” 

“Do what?” 

“Science.” 

Miyuki looks at Chiyo oddly, wiping her hands on her apron as Chiyo looks at the new shipment of roses. 

It takes a second to click in Miyuki’s head, but once it does she stares wide eyed at Chiyo. 

“Are you gonna cross breed them?” 

She doesn’t get an answer, Chiyo’s mind tunnel visioning on the roses that she’s gathered into her arms and brings to the front of the store, a few roses left behind. 

“You know, you can always just text Giyuu to go out for some coffee!” Miyuki calls out, waving her phone into the air. Chiyo stops in her tracks. 

“How the hell am I supposed to slide into his DM’s?” 

“Just… Just ask him for his number…” 

There’s silence, and Chiyo breaks it with a loud laugh. 

“Ask for his number- what year were you even born?” 

“HEY! We’re the same age!!” 

Miyuki’s phone suddenly goes off, and she glances down at the text before smiling. 

“Cool! Giyuu and I are hangin out after work!” 

“HAND ME THE PHONE OR DIE!” 

--- 

Tanjirou’s daily way of life consists of working at the flower shop and staring at Akiko from the store’s big windows. Her workstation is right in front of the window like some sort of high school anime protagonist, but it allows for Tanjirou to see her work diligently. 

And she dazes off from her spot by the window too, often times looking up at the clouds or scrolling through her phone. And whenever she catches him staring at her, he quickly turns back to over watering the flowers. 

Even Chiyo and Miyuki have caught him a number of occasions, and they now tease him relentlessly for it. 

“I’ll be taking my break now!” Tanjirou says, hanging his apron on a spare hook before quickly trying to escape through the front entrance. 

“Are you going over to the tattoo parlor?” Chiyo wonders aloud, and Tanjirou freezes in his tracks. 

“N- No? I’m uhh… Getting a coffee!!” 

He runs out, barely hearing Miyuki call out, “Make sure you get Akiko one too!” 

The two girls laugh when they see Tanjirou’s red ears and they get back to work when new customers walk in. 

The next time the bell chimes, Akiko is happy to see that it isn’t Sanemi or Giyuu, but rather Tanjirou. She finds herself smiling giddily, then quickly directs her attention back down to her client while attempting to hide her happiness. 

“Hey kid,” Sanemi calls out, and Tanjirou jumps a bit. 

“You need something?” 

Tanjirou stares at the cup in his hand before setting it down on the counter, “Ah, if Akiko is too busy, just give this to her later if you can.” He smiles, and he’s about to zoom out of the door in fear of Sanemi, but he stops himself. 

Then, with all the courage in his soul, he turns around and shuffles close to Sanemi, beckoning him closer to whisper his question. 

“Do you… Do you know Akiko’s favorite type of flowers?” 

Sanemi cocks a brow, “How the hell am I supposed to know that-” 

“Camellias.” 

Two heads whip to Giyuu, who has just finished up with his client. He probably overheard them when he turned his tattoo gun off, and he peels his plastic gloves off. 

“She likes camellias.” 

Tanjirou smiles as bright as the sun, overwhelmed with joy, and he speaks up to say, “Chiyo likes peonies and Miyuki likes white flowers!” And with that quick bit of information, Tanjirou skips out of the store and back to the flower shop. 

--- 

“Just to let you know… purple roses mean love at first sight and true love.” 

Giyuu looks over at Miyuki, the two oddly close as friends. She’s laying on her bed and he sits on the floor, the two scrolling through their phones and enjoying each other’s presence. 

“Why do I need to know that?” 

Miyuki rolls over onto her stomach, flashing Giyuu a cheeky smile, “Just cuz!” 

He sighs at her odd behavior, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose once again before turning back down to his phone. When he doesn’t hear Miyuki move or say anything, he turns back around, in no way used to her silent nature. 

Giyuu finds her staring at his right ear, and he tilts his head in confusion. 

“What?” 

“You have a piercing.” 

He reaches up to touch the helix piercing, fiddling with the ring and reminded that he does in fact have a piercing. 

“Oh my god, Chiyo will eat that shit up!” 

Giyuu sputters in embarrassment, face turning red before he shoots back, “Sanemi has one too.” 

Now it’s Miyuki’s turn to burst into a fit of red, and the two end their conversation there. 

--- 

“Oh, this?” Akiko touches her helix ring before taking another sip of the coffee Tanjirou has brought her. 

She tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, showing the piercing off for the world to see before shrugging. 

“Giyuu, Sanemi and I have matching piercings,” she says nonchalantly, but Tanjirou’s jaw drops. 

“But don’t you guys hate each other?” 

“We were drunk.” 

“Makes sense- wait how old are you?” 

Akiko hums under her breath, taking another quick sip before saying, “Nineteen?” 

Tanjirou is happy to know that they’re the same age, but he backtracks and frowns at her answer. 

“Aren’t you underage then?” 

“Yeah, but we were celebrating Giyuu’s 21st birthday. Sanemi bullied him into buying alcohol for us.” 

Tanjirou continues to frown at which Akiko smiles teasingly, claiming that that occasion was the only time she’s ever had alcohol, and that she hasn’t had any since then. Tanjirou can only sigh, gently taking her hand into his and asking her to promise that she won’t drink till she’s legal. 

Somehow, despite being a stuttering mess, she promises, and the two keep their fingers intertwined for the rest of the time Tanjirou stays. 

--- 

“Today?” 

“Today.” 

Miyuki and Chiyo look at the purple roses with pride, and Chiyo wipes some imaginary sweat off her brow. 

Lo and behold, Chiyo has achieved the perfect crossbreed of purple flowers. They’re finally in full bloom, and Chiyo has just wrapped them up nicely in some wrapping paper. There’s an elaborate bow she’s tied on too, something she’s especially good at. 

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Chiyo mutters, suddenly growing worried. Giyuu isn’t one to show his emotions, and Chiyo barely catches his rare blushes. She can only hope that her first batch of crossbred roses will be to his liking. 

Tanjirou pops into the room, a smile on his face, “I’m sure he’ll love it!” 

That’s when the two girls notice the small batch of camellias in his hand, differently assorted with pinks and white and reds, and some white with pink or red tips. 

“Are you-” 

“Confessing to Akiko?” Miyuki finishes for Chiyo, and Tanjirou blushes before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. 

“Uh, yeah! We just got the new shipment of camellias, so I thought now would be the best time…” 

Chiyo’s eye twitches. 

“Tanjirou, no offense, but it’s my day to shine. I poured my blood sweat and tears into this shit,” Chiyo points at her purple roses, and Miyuki runs off into the store. 

“Can’t we both give them flowers?” 

“Not to be petty but I want to be first.” 

“Not if I’m first!” Miyuki pops up with some white roses, and Chiyo nearly slams her face through the wall. 

“Miyu, those are your favorite flowers!” 

“LET ME FEEL INVOLVED, OKAY?!” 

“Wait where’s Tanjirou.” 

The two girls snap their heads to the front door, where Tanjirou is quietly trying to sneak out. When he sees that he’s been caught, he tries to make a break for it, and all of a sudden he sees two pairs of glowing red eyes zoom towards him. 

Akiko, Giyuu and Sanemi stop ignoring each other to glance up from their phones, wondering where the screaming and yelling is coming from. That’s when their door is broken down, and the three florists from across the street fall in. 

“SANEMI THESE AR-” 

“WAIT ME FIRST GOD DAMMIT-” 

“You guys I can’t breath-” 

“Time out!” Akiko yells loud enough for everyone to stop. She lets out a tired sigh, hand on her forehead.

“Can this be solved by rock paper scissors?” The youngest of all six asks, and the three fighting on the floor slowly nod their heads. 

So they comply to the resident baby, gathering their flowers and hiding them behind their backs (thought it’s no surprise anymore.) 

“Rock, paper scissor-” 

“Wait do we shoot on shoot or scissors.” 

“Shoot.” 

“Alright cool. No cheating.” 

“I don’t need to cheat to win.” 

“That’s not how rock paper scissor works.” 

“JUST PLAY THE DAMN GAME!” 

The three jump in fright before quickly yelling ‘rock paper scissor shoot!’ and dealing out whatever is on their minds. Akiko releases another sigh when Chiyo yells in victory, extremely pleased over her simple win. 

Tanjirou gives Akiko an apologetic smile when he loses again, and Miyuki is willing to accept second. 

All of a sudden, Chiyo doesn’t really want to go first. She’s gripping her purple roses from behind her back and she can feel her hands sweat a bit. But for all Giyuu knows or cares, she’s just giving him a bouquet of flowers. 

So she shoves the flowers into his arms, a blush on her face as she says, “I crossbred these for you!!” 

Giyuu stares blankly at the flowers in his hands. They’re fragrant, more so than the flowers that are normally left on the counter, but he can’t even bring himself to take a quick whiff out of curiosity. 

How should I say this. 

Giyuu.exe has stopped working. 

Chiyo stares at his blank expression and dread slowly begins to fill up within her, a pressure wrapping itself around her throat tight enough to make her feel like she’s being choked by vines. 

“You good…? Do you not like my flowers…?” 

“Does Chiyo know?” Miyuki whispers to Tanjirou. 

“She doesn’t know.” 

Giyuu blinks once. 

Purple roses mean love at first sight and first love. 

As if reliving the day he first met Chiyo, his face bursts into a fit of red. 

He’s fallen in love all over again.

Sanemi rolls his eyes at the two awkward, possibly new, couple(?) before he makes a move to split the two up. But Akiko yanks him by the back of his collar, effectively choking him, and she turns her hard ass co-worker into Miyuki’s direction. 

“Take it away, Miyuki,” Akiko gestures, and Miyuki’s already pink dusted nose deepens in shade. 

Akiko can see both Miyuki and Sanemi look nervous. She doesn’t know why Sanemi is in any way nervous, considering Miyuki is the one that’s about to do all the leg work here. 

“So… What flowers did you get me,” he demands an answer, and the bouquet of white roses is chucked into his face. 

Akiko sighs at the two as they quickly start to bicker, Sanemi spitting out a rose petal and asking why the hell she threw the bouquet for, and Miyuki yelling at him to be a bit nicer. 

“AND WHAT’S WITH THE WHITE ROSES?! AREN’T THESE YOUR FAVORITE FLOWERS?!” 

“YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO CALL ME OUT ON MY BULLSHIT!” 

Miyuki blinks, reeling at some sudden information before holding an incredulous look on her face. 

“How and why do you know that?” She interrogates him, and he’s fuming, suddenly grabbing her shoulders and yelling: 

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU!!” 

God he’s so whipped for her. 

Now no one is talking. 

Sanemi is panting from yelling so much but Miyuki looks like she’s not breathing at all. Akiko almost calls the ambulance out of pure fear (that, and she doesn’t want a lawsuit on her hands). 

He knocks on her forehead with the back of his hand, “Hey, you still alive in there? Y’know I just confessed my shitty feelings for yo- OMF!” 

Miyuki jumps into his arms, the roses flying everywhere and scattering onto the floor. 

“HeY- GET OFF! YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO TOUCH MY ABS!” 

“SO WHAT IF I AM?!” 

The two revert back to their bickering, going back and forth between each other but this time with Sanemi wrapping his arms around Miyuki’s waist, a light blush dusting their cheeks. 

“Is… Is it my turn?” Tanjirou continues to stares at the other adults in the room. Two of which just,,, aren’t talking. And the other two of which are talking a bit too much. 

He decides to start, blushing before producing a small batch of camellias from behind his back. Akiko blinks in surprise at the display, thrown off from her usual level headed demeanor and quickly sporting a blush of her own. 

“Anyway, these are for you! Giyuu told me your favorites are camellias.” Akiko carefully takes the batch into her hands, handling them like she would a newborn. She faces down, attempting to cover the blush on her face with her bangs as she quickly mutters her thanks. 

He then plucks a flower from the small bouquet, only to carefully tuck it behind Akiko’s ear for the world to see her helix. 

“There! Now I can see your face a lot better!” 

Tanjirou, as per usual, smiles as brightly as the sun, and Akiko’s eyes reflect his soft rays. 

just to make this very clear, PLEASE DONT DRINK UNDER AGE!! shit guys sorry akiko is such a bad influence rip 

but if youve read this far,,, THANKS FOR READING SUCH A LONG AU!! it took me a while to write, so i really appreciate it! 

writing this was fun and thats mainly thanks to the fact that we would come up with so many stupid ideas for these fools, and it fed me to actually complete this behemoth of an au 

so anyways, akiko is my oc, chiyo is @thunderandrainclouds‘s oc, and miyuki is @kny-writings‘s oc!! check out their solid content!!! youll definitely have a fun time :)

[robot-unicorn-attack]

alicia’s plotting ideas/notes??

SNOW (MARIVANA)

ideas & stuff!! feel free to message me either here or on urstyle or wherever else u have me, or comment directly on this post, to plot! ill put finalized notes w/ rest of snow’s info once we have it down :)

Sky - so since seraphina’s a newer racer, she and marivana don’t know each other super well? but they’re almost complete opposites, in terms of like racing specialties, and marivana doesn’t feel threatened by seraphina in any way. she probably keeps her distance whenever they aren’t doing things their agency has sent them on? 

It would be kind of fun to say that maybe, as a publicity stunt, twilight’s official statement is that snow has been mentoring sky behind the scenes? 

and they have to pretend that’s true, even though it’s not lol

LOL but it would be funny if one day marivana showed up at the track while seraphina was doing stuff and was just like, “so twilight wants me to teach you something that makes it look like i’ve actually been helping u. u free atm?”

but overall I don’t think marivana has too many strong opinions about seraphina, unless we want to create some kind of drama?

Ice - premade; tbd

Supernova - Marivana is…pretty indifferent? when it comes to Supernova. She knows who she is and what she’s done, of course-who doesn’t?-but if you think that she’d be starstruck and/or falling over herself when Supernova’s around her…well, you’d be wrong. Marivana’s had multiple trusted parties tell her that she’s just as good as Supernova was, at her peak, so she knows that she’s not a threat-for now, at least. Marivana’s a bit wary of the other racer, but also a bit curious to see as to where this comeback will lead.

So, depending on how much of the wedding and divorce was public....Marivana def would remember 1) the wedding, and 2) not giving a shit about it

The 2 of them have raced together, right at the very beginning of Marivana’s career? like 10+ years ago? and if As even remembers all that girly snow princess stuff, she could be like “lmao so twilight really pulled a 180 on her”

AHHHH so I know I never made this explicitly clear because I suck as a human being but - the deal with unicorns is that agencies/manufacturers/etc say that they’re just robots? agencies probably actually believe it, but in terms of the manufacturers they might be vaguely aware of otherwise but also don’t want to jeopardize any profits so they keep that shit on the DL

but obviously for ppl like Mari/As who have been riding for p much their entire life, they can tell when horses are distressed, happy/content, etc?

and robot unicorns are basically horses in terms of how sentient they are? 

so i have no fucking idea when this would happen, but the 2 of them mutually acknowledging that RUR is pretty fucked up for the unicorns?

also like....IT WOULD BE SO CUTE if the two of them sort of rolled their eyes at the same time about some kind of story regarding another rando racer who quit maybe a lil after As did (so the newer racers aren’t familiar with her)? and then they realize that they both rolled their eyes at the same time LOL

honestly just being Tired Grandmas together

anyway. @interluxetumbra LMK what u think!!!

Sunbeam -  tbd

Flower - Marivana knows exactly what 𝑅 𝐼 𝒮 𝐸 is pulling with Flower (her own agency did the same thing to her, after all), and she is not fooled at all. She’s not stupid; in the robot unicorn racing industry, nobody is completely, utterly unknown when they debut unless they had no prior experience with robot horses/unicorns in the past. Marivana knows that Flower probably had to work her butt off to stay with 𝑅 𝐼 𝒮 𝐸, and she would bet her right hand that the image that Flower puts out to the public is just that - an image.

*chanting* AURIVANA AURIVANA AURIVANA

is the lil club plot we have how they meet/1st time they actually talk 2 ea other????

speaking of which - how do we want to write that? collab in a gdoc???

& then they just keep coincidentally running into ea other randomly????

aura saying something super Flower-esque and marivana just rolling her eyes and being like, “ok great now tell me what you really think about __” ??? lol

aura somehow discovering that marivana is into BOTANY, of all things????

maybe this is when she makes some sort of dry remark about the bio for Flower on the RISE website? “[Flower] grew up in a lush green meadow, hidden away from prying eyes by miles and miles of ice. How Flower managed to get the ice to melt for long enough to plant flowers and trees will always be a mystery.” and marivana’s like “lol magic my ass there’s literally no fucking way”

she explains it with a good amount of scientific jargon thrown in and aura’s just like watttttttttttttt :0000

literally hit me up ANYTIME i already adore them

also - their aesthetics as racers? put together? a+++++++++

OMG THIS IS LIKE WAY IN THE FUTURE BUT LIKE, we should say that their secret relationship somehow ends up going public for the ~drama~??? and instead of being super freaking pissed off, both of their agencies are just like “lmao okay ice queen x fairy princess? best ship” and use it for publicity?????

Flame - Marivana knows about 1) the image that she projects, and 2) that this image is pretty true to who Flame really is, for the most part. Her verdict? Flame could prove to be annoying, if she gets relevant while Marivana is still in the industry as a racer. Marivana doesn’t know what life not racing would be like, but she’s well-aware that she’s the oldest racer out there (well, besides Supernova, who doesn’t count. She’s making a comeback, after all), and that retirement is probably not too far out in her future. So, if Flame is still around within the next 5-10 years, then Marivana might start worrying about her. For now, she’s just the irritating racer with ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ who won’t ever stop causing a scene.

So they haven’t really interacted much yet, do we wanna say? 

they’re wary of each other because both their unicorns specialize in high power/strength so they’re like, more directly in competition?

are they going to engage in the RUA equivalent of a twitter fight??? in a publicity stunt that both of their agencies are putting on?

maybe snow has once insulted kehlani in an interview??? though it was fake/staged/scripted by her agency so she doesn’t actaully feel that way but ya know. doin it for the vine

and kehlani responds in kind, maybe at the behest of lazer, maybe not?. and it just keeps going???

but ya, marivana prob finds her personality kinda annoying so would generally avoid her unless kehlani approached first

Nyx - so like, snow probably thinks sol is way too flashy and all over the place, & does not engage her ever? she knows of the rumors of foul play, ofc, b/c who doesn’t, but she assumes that the rumors are super blown out of proportion (as rumors tend to be)?? and snow knows that if sol ever tries to target her/other ice world racers specifically, twilight will literally strong-arm lazer into dropping her. so she’s not that worried about that stuff????

definitely thinks her razor-sharp precision with U-800 is something to be admired, though, even if it’s not the flashiest skill like dressage or speed

OMG LOL spoiler alert but the 2nd event is a race on lava world, so they’re all on the main LW training/practice facilities in the days leading up to the race???? and we TOTALLY need to have them do that weirdly super aggressive staredown/pre-game smack talk sesh that they do in super extra sports anime LOL

Widowmaker - snow’s heard of her, knows of her, has competed against her, but since they both tend to keep to themselves they haven’t really talked? it could be potentially cool if eleni guessed about/found out about what actually happened with marivana’s 1st unicorn?? OMG DRAMA but what if she actually knew of the armed thief? who was on ice world for whatever reason lmfao we can hand-wave it. bonus points if she’s pissed that 1st unicorn killed the person?????????? lol

and it could be POTENTIALLY FUN to write a scene with them where eleni basically calls her out on the fact that, yeah marivana fucking hates twilight for deactivating the first unicorn so why tf does she still race for them/earn them so much money???

also marivana has literally no retirement plans atm so.....i have NO FREAKING IDEA if this would ever be possible or not, but if she somehow?? gets involved? with the people who wanna fuck up TEF govt for not giving a single shit about black hole ??? ? ??? ?? thru eleni????????//

idk dude feel free to just be like “lmao alicia that would never happen” if it feels too OOC!!! it’s also like 4 am & i’m only half coherent so ;D

but i literally have no idea in what context the calling out would be in!!! maybe if marivana saw some top sekrit info that eleni might have access to and was like “i won’t tell anyone at TWILIGHT if you tell me why you have this”? and eleni is like *eyeroll* “not like u have any reason to like ur agency”

Taglist: @ayzrules @bebemoon @jay-swagsby @filthysoulls @shiftyprincess @kzombi3 @now-on-elissastillstands

[chromium7sky]

Damirae week day 2: fake relationship | I'm a sucker (for you)

"You suck, like seriously. "

Jason told Damian as soon as Damian explain the situation that become tangible. Oh how he did wish to turn back time and said NO but... This time,  he said yes. Especially to a girl who seems to come out of nowhere.

But seriously,  he involved in deep shit and know it seems all the media and reporter are trying to smell some scandal from the Wayne Family, especially from him,  the blood son of Bruce Wayne.

"That all you have to say? " Damian raised his brow.

"Well, there's much more of that, Dimwit but I was wondering. Why her?  Just because she has an animal and to specific,  a bird name, you fall head over heels for her? " Jason smirked as he teased the young heir while smoking at the open window.

Damian,  annoyed as always, took the cigarette from Jason's hand and put out it by pressing the lit against the window panel. "Where did you get that stupendous theory?" he sneered at the white streak lad.

"Come on,  Damian. The Bat and co. knows it. Tim,  Barbara, Cass, not to mention Dick and Steph keep screaming when they see both of you together. " Jason shrugged idly with annoying face as he remember the noise Dick and Steph made during their 'Stake out' for the young man.

"It wasn't even a real date!" Damian exclaimed.

"Well by the look of your face at that time, you seems enjoy it. " the red hood huffed as he show the picture where taken.

"You... Dare! " Damian were about to snatched but with Jason quick reflexes he quickly store in his jacket inner pocket.

"So tell me, little D. What is it? "

"It has nothing to do with you. " Damian grumbled as he sending death glare to Jason which the older brother seems to immune with it.

"Yes it does because I would really like to meet a girl who could make a brat fall head over heels for her. " Jason smirked and what he's really impressed is this haughty assassin prince seems to act gentlemen towards her like it was almost natural.

"So,  care to talk? " Jason played the good cop.

Damian sneered at him and lost in the end. "Fine. We talk at the balcony." as he quickly paced towards the area followed by Jason Todd.

As Damian sit at the chair in the middle of the balcony, he put his hands together and close his eyes as he tried to retrieved some information store in big brain of his.

"It was about a criminal I was after, rather a peculiar one. His name is Eric Forrester. I've been trying to track him for months after serial incident happen at rural area nearby Jump city. " As Damian explained.

"And? " Jason with his armed crossed as he listen his story.

"I've found the exact same pattern case nearby. Until.. "

"Until you met Raven? "

Damian silence for a while as the flashback playing on his mind like it was happen yesterday.

####flash back####

"Help me! "

"What?! " Damian were kinda busy at time when a girl suddenly appear as he walked down the street with coffee and bagel on his hands.

"Something happening to my roommate. " The girl mumbled and shivers. She pull his arm and ran towards a flight of stairs and God knows, the girl is really terrified.

As soon as they reached her apartment,  the door were wide open. Damian pulled the girl's wrist behind him incase something bad happen. As they slowly pacing in, they saw the girl's roomates,  blonde with attractive build now facing down and with bluish color skin.

Both of them were horrid and Damian quickly call 911.

*********

"I'm sorry about your friend. " said Damian as he stood besides the girl who is now, hand shaking while holding a cup of tea and space out.

After the interrogation session it seems that the dead girl were died but unnaturally. There's no trauma or force that apply on the corpse.

"Caroline...she has a bright future.  But why... " she cried as she used her sleeves wiping her tears.

"What happen actually?" as the young man sip his coffee, to warm his body in this cold weather.

"I was just gone back from art exhibition party at my college and as soon as I reached my floor. The door were wide open!  I thought,  it was burglary!! But nothing was taken,  and I found my roommate lying on the living room." as the scene still freshly painted in her mind.

Damian sighed as he sip down the black coffee. Well,  he tried to bite down his curiousity,  questioning her alibi and finding evidence because this, this is exactly the same case happen at the Jump city where the woman found dead unexplained in their home.

"I was hoping if you know more about what happen, i mean,  is there anyone your roommate met recently like colleague,  friends?" Damian stared at the blue haired girl.

She took a couple of sip and as if something came up on her mind. "Well,  there is someone she's kinda close in her workplace. I think that was her boss. " the girl rubbing her chin as she refreshed her memories.

"I did  stumbled some flower gift outside of our apartment. " she paused. "and its say from a guy name Forrester. I bet that's his name. "

Damian jolted as soon as he heard the named quickly turn to her. "Forrester?"

"Yeah. Probably a well-known playboy somewhere. His name kind of familiar. " she mumbled.

Damian has found his lead for the case. Quickly he finished his coffee and throw the cup into the paper recycle bin.

"Well,  I hope after this you need to move away from the apartment. I think you might in danger. " Damian turn to her as he advice her.

"I can't. This is the only apartment i could afford. " she cluthes her cup.

"Still,  your life is on the line,  miss." as his stared at her.

"I know. I'll just becareful. " she sighed and throw her empty cup to the recycle bin. "Anyway,  thank you for helping me. " she give out her faint smile.

"By the way,  I'm sorry to be rude for not introducing myself. I'm Damian. " as he held out his hand towards her.

"Raven Roth.  But you can call me Rav-" as she grab his hand she jolted and so as Damian. It was like a surge flowing between them.

What he sees in his mind is something sinister,  a clue,  ANOTHER murder. Quickly he pull of the hands and both of them gasping for air.

"What the hell was THAT?! " he spit out. What he felt is new and mystical, also prophetic.

"You,  felt it too? " her indigo eyes went large as if it was new to her.

"What do you mean you felt it too? " As Damian furrowed his eyebrows wanting some explanation about what happen.

"I--"

"Who the hell are you? " Damian start to feel hostile. His suspicious grew towards this girl name Raven.

"Please do understand me. I didn't cause any harm to anyone." Raven kept her cool face as she held both of her hands as the sign to pacify the current situation.

"I've seen horrible image in mind. Are you -" before he finished his sentence Raven snapped out as she knew what he going to say.

"I'm not what you think it IS! "

Both of them took time to breath in and out calming down themselves.

"What? " Damian still puzzled.

"I had a forecast about what happen to Caroline and rush towards the apartment. " her shaky hands at her sides. "I fail to save her. " again her tears rolled down.

Damian sees her vulnerable and somehow it reminds of him when he tried to save the children from Dr. Pyg in his old case. It's frustrating and guilt.

"Why didn't you tell to the police about that? " he was curious with her ability, this forecast thing.

Raven scoffed as she heard that. "They probably put me in asylum,  Mr. Damian."

"Just call me Damian."

"Damian... " as she corrected her last sentence. "But you saw what I saw just now..." her lips formed a solemn smile. "Its more than enough to prove that I'm not crazy. "

Damian silence as he heard her.

###flash back ends###

"Wait,  wait!"

Damian sneered at Jason.

"I haven't finish yet,  Todd. " Damian grind his teeth in annoyance.

"So,  both of you had the Zap thing and you guys dating each other because of that?! " as Jason try to understand the chronological of the event.

" We are not even dating! Its just a cover!  For her!" Damian sighed as he ruffled his hair.

"You're saying she's not your type? "

"Bullshit!  It was for her safety.  There's a maniac keep harrasing her in the college!"

"So you do like her! "

Damian just can't get with Jason who always on his nerve.

"By the way,  how about the maniac that makes THIS happen? "

"Already take care of it. " Damian crossed his arm.

"You kill him? "

"No. "

"Send him to authority? "

"Worse. "

"A 20 years sentences? "

"I ensured it. "

Jason pursed his lip in approval and nod slightly as he heard it. Don't mess with little D's girl.

A standard ringtone  breaking the silent atmosphere and Damian quickly pull out his phone. He glanced at the scene and answer the phone.

" Any new Forecast?"

Oh, that question made Jason grew excited! Damian were talking to HER! Quickly on his impulse he grab the phone from his little brother.

Damian wanted to protest but Jason quickly put his hand on the angry boy's mouth as he speak to the mysterious girl on the phone.

"Hey,  Raven right? "

At first there's silence but then she saying yeah to confirm her identity.

"Well, this weekend Damian is kinda having dinner at his house, Don't you mind joining in? " Jason casually invited her through the phone. Damian's 'What? ' at the background can be heard the moment Jason said dinner at their house.

"Uh,  I don't know. Who am I speaking to?"

"His Father. " Jason lied. He could hear she gasp on the speaker.

"Sorry to disturb you discussion between you and your son,  Mr..."

"Mr.  Wayne. "

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Yes. " Jason heard the conversation been cut off in a sudden. Jason then seen the screen shows call ended. "She hang up?"

"What did you do?! " Damian quickly snatch his phone back and saw the screen. Then he set his infamous death glare at Todd. "You scared her!! "

Jason amused with his reaction, the spawn of satan really like this girl.

The phone ring again, quickly Damian answer it. "Look, I can explain." Todd quickly at the other side trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Sorry to make you worry,  i was shocked that I dropped my phone. Did I annoyed your father for sudden hang up? " Raven's voice faintly heard.

"That fine.  He just need to go somewhere minding his own business. " Damian sneered at Jason then gesturing his hand to buzz off. "Anyway,  about the Forecast,  i got one about 1 hour earlier. And I could make out the name of the place,  Jackal's Sanctuary."

Damian pull out a pen and write on his palm Jackal's Sanctuary name. "Great. We'll met there within one hour. "

"On it! " Both Raven and Todd answer it. Damian then looked at Todd who has walked toward the door while holding the his phone. He sneered deducing that his brother is up to something.

"Damian,  is your father still there? "

"No...no. He went somewhere else. "  as Damian continue to glare at Jason who has gone inside.

Meanwhile,  Jason text on his phone about Damian meeting the girl at Jackal's Sanctuary on a group chat call The soaring Birds that has Dick, Babs, Steph, Cass, Timbo as active member. Duke tries to stay out of it but of course, Dick won't let any Bat and Co. left behind and sometimes Duke follow their investigation about the girl who Damian said having "fake relationship".

The picture of the group made Jason cringe sometimes. It was a picture of Damian and Raven capture from a far,  with motto written in cursive neon coloured "Make it come true."

[muthary]

Photosyntheticfox’s Questionnaire // PART 2

31. What do they identify as?

Genderfluid.

32. Do they have any allergies?

Nope! Nothing worth noting, except for maybe a plain response to seasonal pollens native to Vesuvia. That fades the longer they spend in Vesuvia though. Side note: they never just sneeze once, and hold their sneezes in. So when they sneeze, it sounds like tiny squeaks and their whole body jumps.

33. Do they have any other medical problems?

Just that they wear glasses! Such light eyes aren’t fit for the Vesuvian sun. They magic themselves better vision most of the time, but they definitely own frames.

34. What about mental health issues?

They show signs of depression, but not much else. It’s light after their revival because a lot of their trauma was forgotten.

35. What’s that personal hygiene regimen like?

Baths in the nighttime, sometimes midday, always with herbs, oils, and salts. They enjoy soaking in hot water and always wash their hair pretty frequently. They do shave and pluck their eyebrows, but usually on days blocked out for general self-care. Their hair takes up a lot of their time because of the braiding, plaiting, and hair jewelry. They brush their teeth and toothbrushes get replaced pretty frequently because of their heavy hand and sort of sharp teeth. They make their own soaps and body oils!

36. Favorite rock or gemstone?

Probably clear quartz for is universal use. Rose quartz as a close second because it’s pretty and helps them calm down.

37. Favorite tree?

Alder!

38. Favorite type of weather?

Quiet, crisp, misty mornings. The quiet sort where the fog is sort of thick and is good to hide in. During that sort of weather, anyone would have a hard time tracking Diorbhail down, since they’ll be the first person out on a day like that. If they could have it their way, there would be whole days like this, and they’d be the only person around for miles.

39. Least favorite type of weather?

Violent snowstorms.

40. What is their favorite season? (remember winter is summer and spring is fall)

They hated getting used to Vesuvian seasons. To keep their head from spinning, they still maintain that their favorite season is autumn, or at least when the weather is more on the cold side than the hot side, when the leaves change color, and when it’s time for Samhain.

41. How many languages could they speak before the memory loss? How many do they currently speak?

For ease, before the memory loss, they could speak “common” (the language everyone in Vesuvia seems to speak), gaeilge, and old norse. Gaeilge is only really spoken by the aos sí these days. After the memory loss, they still speak “common”, and because Asra attempted to reteach them their native languages from old books they had in those languages (as someone who could not understand a lick of any of them), Diorbhail has shaky, but sort of instinctual grasp on those other two languages. They can’t carry a conversation like they used to, but they’ll still use runes.

42. Do they sing or play any instruments?

They have a very soft, tremulous sort of voice that they used to sing old songs from their home country. Poetic Edda and old folk songs are what they’re good at. They’ve got a good voice for lullabies! As for instruments, they play an ocarina and a fiddle. The talent for the ocarina sprouted from the time they spent playing with reed whistles in the forest. 

43. What do they tend to joke about?

Nothing much. Sarcasm tends to rely on other people to work. They do like to tell old folktales and laugh about them because who on Earth thought that putting on a hat backward would keep you from getting taken away by fairies!

44. After a stressful day how do they relax?

A bath, incense, and a nap until they wake up near midnight, get a snack or a drink, and fall right back asleep!

45. Guilty pleasures?

They collect bones-- Animals bones, that is. Sometimes they’ll buy them, sometimes they’ll find in the forest already cleaned, sometimes they’ll visit a rotting corpse until it’s done decomposing and they can clean the bones left behind. Their room holds their collection. They’re used to odd looks whenever it’s somehow brought up, so they don’t ever discuss it with anyone. A bit more acceptable but still something they don’t like sharing: they have stuffed animal parts they keep, like tails and a rabbit paw. For charm reasons. The coyote tail and pelt they have on their person are things they made.

46. idiosyncrasies?

They can wriggle their ears without using their hands or changing their facial expressions! They also seem to be a very disorganized person but in a mess of random stuff, they know where every single thing is, or at least it’s general location. They notice the smallest bug or animal no matter where it is, as if they can hear the little larvae beneath the dirt as they wriggle around. They have a habit of staring, sometimes at people, sometimes at barren corners, and they space out while doing this. Lastly, they’ve got no issue with gore. 

47. How do they act when they first meet someone new? How quickly do they warm up to them?

At first, they’re quiet, observant, and very careful. Since they tend to have impeccable instinct, they’ll decide whether they want to continue talking to someone within the first couple minutes of speaking to them. If they decide they sense something off or annoying about someone, they’ll become terribly passive-aggressive and prickly to drive them off. If they decide someone is worth keeping around, they’ll enjoy friendly conversation, but it’ll take months or a year before they’re comfortable with a hug. Of course, there are outliers, but this is the general pattern they go through. Once they’re close enough to someone, they’re a big proponent of physical affection.

48. In what order would they prioritize Love, fame, money, power, and knowledge?

Knowledge, love, power, money, fame.

49. List four or more things they love to do

Sleep, nature walk/explore, forage in the woods, sculpt, weave, and read.

50. List four or more things they hate to do

Go to crowded places (this includes parties), argue with people, speak or sing in front of a large group of people, or organize themself according to someone else’s standards.

51. List five or more things they have said that sum up who they are

“Julian, you’ve got three seconds to get off your sorry arse before I haul you up myself.”

“I’ve grown real sick and tired of running around for others all the damn time.”

“I’m fine. Stop asking.”

“You can always choose your family.”

“Of course he’s bitter. Who would like coming back as a shriveled, hideous old goat man who’s missing an arm? Although, I suppose it isn’t much different from how he was in life.”

“Keep staring at me like that and I’ll show you how savage I can be.”

52. How do they react to (both verbal and physical) conflict?

Verbal conflict they don’t care for. They’d rather avoid it because it’s always a lot of hot air flying about. Physical conflict they’ll avoid as well, but if they must be involved, they won’t lose. They’re a bundle of brute force and stubbornness.

53. What kind of bad habits to they have?

They mumble to themself when doing everyday things and bite their nails when they’re nervous or just idle.

54. What kind of character faults do they have?

They’re stubborn and unwilling to accept help, especially for things involving their personal life. They’re also self-sacrificial and can be very rude for the sake of ending a conversation immediately, or keeping someone from getting too invested in them. In very specific situations, when they begin to see red, they don’t listen to anyone and may even lash out at anyone who may stand in their way, even if they only intend to bring Diorbhail back down to earth before they can hurt themself.

55. What’s their best trait in their opinion?

That they aren’t dependent on others. This is a misperception of themself though, since they do sometimes need others so they don’t self-destruct.

56. What do they think of their appearance?

They think they’re the most drab thing out there. If you said they were cute, they’d instantly deny and change the subject. They don’t like talking about themself. They also get a little self-conscious about their scars when someone points them out.

57. How do they interact with people in a position of authority?

Very tentatively, but they never show belly. If they deem that this person is a moron and undeserving of their authority, they’ll quickly begin acting defiantly and coldly. They never follow someone’s orders blindly.

58. Who did they look up to as a kid?

A curious fellow named Buile Suibhne. He healed their wounds when they were a child, and taught them to hunt and steal and listen to the trees. 

59. How do they interact with kids?

They're quite motherly! Very patient and playful with children. They’ll tell stories and teach them new things, too, like weaving or writing or natural correspondences.

60. Do they want kids of their own someday?

They worry if they’d make a good parent, but one day they might like a child. Two at the most. They sort of flip flop between daydreaming of a distant future and being convinced they’d ruin their child so they should just die an old, lonely crone.

61. Are they religious? If so what god/goddess or gods/goddesses do they worship?

They’ve interacted personally with the entities they pay their respects too, so yes. A lot of their magic is done with specific correspondences to spirits and gods, and they celebrate sabbats in the name of their corresponding deity. They worship Celtic and Norse gods, and reference them plenty whenever they feel that those gods are near.

62. What do they think the meaning of life is?

Just to exist. There is no ultimate goal to life. It’s just to exist and be a part of nature as you would.

63. What would they want their last words to be?

“We’ll meet each other again. Take care of yourself.”

64. What do they want to do before they die?

Return home to the forest they grew up in.

65. What/how do they want to be remembered for after they die?

A kind friend. A free spirit. Aside from this, they wouldn’t mind being forgotten.

66. How do they express affection?

In small gifts, in taking others needs into account, or in physical affection like hugs and kisses to the cheek or forehead.

67. What do they normally eat for breakfast?

Nothing! But if anything, bread and juice. They like a good croissant in the morning.

68. Do they like spicy food?

Yeah! They put hot sauce over their rice. You couldn’t really get spicy food where they’re from, so Vesuvia really opened their eyes to spice. They’re immune to capsaicin now.

69. Favorite fruit and or vegetable?

Diorbhail’s favorite fruit is a banana! Again, they only got to try one after getting to Vesuvia. Their favorite vegetable is a carrot.

70. Do they like sweets?

Yeah! They’re sorta picky about what sweets they eat, though.

[tancong]

Gency Zine Piece

Two lovebirds find themselves in the countryside of Zurich, all alone to enjoy each other and the wonderful sounds of nature.

My piece for the Gency Zine! I was super, ultra blessed to get to collab with @usatherei who made a piece so beautiful that I had to stop writing to cry from happiness. Please go love her blog by clicking on her name or the picture!!!

Also big thank you to everyone involved in the fic and especially @squiddyart and @the-bored-bookworm for hosting the zine!!!! It's been a wonderful experience that could not have been complete without everyone.

Title: The Birds and the Bunns Word Count: 1949 Rating: G Summary: Two lovebirds find themselves in the countryside of Zurich, all alone to enjoy each other and the wonderful sounds of nature.

“What do they mean by ‘the lake was blue’? Is it some form of literary symbolism for the sadness the character felt?” inquired the curious young man.

“No, I think the lake was actually blue Genji. Not everything has to be so deep and filled with literary elements. Besides, wouldn’t he be happy to be there with his lover?”

Genji considered this point for a moment as his own lover paused in her reading to give him an inquisitive frown coupled with a raised eyebrow as if to highlight her annoyance over the fact his meddlesome question broke her immersion, but the amused smile playing at the edge of her lips told a different tale. His brows eventually raised up, as if conceding the fair point and smiled innocently over at Angela. With that, her frown disappeared as she couldn’t help but smile back, playfully sticking her tongue out at him.

That quickly changed as she retracted it, Genji kissing her gently on the lips soon after before pulling back with a sly smile on his expression. Angela frowned at him for the audacious attempt to stop her from sticking her tongue out at him. While she didn’t mind in other scenarios, they were supposed to be enjoying a nice time together in the quiet forest. Not trying to ruin the natural beauty and sounds of nature with their own.

“Genji, I thought we had planned on enjoying a quiet evening reading together. I even agreed to be the one doing the reading.”

Genji nodded, still smiling sweetly at her as if he was not at fault for anything at all. “We did. And you’re doing wonderfully my dear. Your voice is as sweet as ever and the story is lovely.”

She continued to gaze at him, trying to find a crack in that smile of his and to break his façade. When she could not, Angela let out a soft sigh and she sunk comfortably back into him with a smile of resignation, right into the crook of his arm that seemed to have been made to fit her perfectly inside.

Genji himself was rather fond of the position as well. The feeling of her soft shoulder against his chest, albeit separated by a single layer of cloth in the form of his shirt, felt heavenly and he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arm forever. On several occasion, he would run his hand through her hair, down her neatly tied pigtails before coming back to rest at her side once more. It was nothing more than an idle endearing touch but by now, it came naturally to him.

Without a single bit of discomfort, their sitting position placed him slightly above her head, allowing him to kiss her however he wished and enjoy the sweet fragrance of her hair while he was not too busy shuffling around to do so. In that moment, he didn’t want to move anywhere and for any reason. The birds around them continued to do their calls and there was a deer in the near distance, gazing at them as if to concede its position as the most serene sight in the forest.

“If you don’t keep it down, you’re going to scare all the animals away Genji. I’m rather fond of them you know. I know that having a dragon spirit attracts them but if you keep making such a ruckus …” She was reduced to a small indignant noise under his continual assault of small kisses against her forehead and cheek as she tried to lecture him, making her pout angrily at him.

Genji chuckled at the sight before patting her head with his left hand to bring her pout down to a soft frown as she pressed herself toward him. “Alright, alright. I promise to do my best to not scare the animals away. Not the deer, the Bastion peacefully bird-catching nearby, or the small army of bunnies that you’ve amassed with your adorable charm. Let’s keep going.”

Angela stuck her tongue out at him before quickly turning toward the open book in her lap once more. There were several bunnies of various sizes around them. Genji was petting one with his right hand as they had their exchange, only now resting it upon his knee once more. Angela had a few by her side as well, some nipping at her dress without any harm and one taking a nap on her foot. Bunnies were pensive creatures and often moved but for now, they all seemed to enjoy the area of Zurich that the two occupied and braved their presence to be there.

Perhaps it was because they sat in a serene area under the shade of a tree, surrounded by safe bushes that they can flee to in case of danger. Maybe the protective aura of the animalistic dragon spirit reassured them. In any case, they were a welcome audience to the couple’s time together, despite how much the small fluffy creatures enjoyed hopping around and distracting the lover’s hands from their respective spots on their partner or book. Either that or they were quite happily occupying the cozy locations under the couple’s legs.

Regardless of the reason, Angela resumed her reading to her audience. Genji gazed down at the book, though he wasn’t exactly focused on the words. He was quite fond of simply following along at her reading pace using his ears, opting instead to use his eyes for observing the patterns the words made on the page. His gaze inevitably found its way to her hand, already memorized by his own from how much he held them. He stopped himself from staring at her face for too long, despite how much he enjoyed seeing her soft expression as she read for him.

After a few dozen pages, Angela suddenly fell silent. Genji made a move to turn his head, only to feel her own rest against his shoulder gently. He smiled to himself and nuzzled his cheek against her hair, closing his own eyes in sync with her without a word as the pair enjoyed a brief moment of silence. Angela knew that it was probably just a moment though. While her dear lover was capable of several hours in meditation, he was not that way around her. He always avoided the question somehow, enough times to deter her from trying to understand why.

He was being rather tame actually, seeing as how long he allowed her to just lean against him in that silence. Angela smiled to herself, wondering just how long he would hold out for. The adorable ninja she loved couldn’t possibly go for more than 5 minutes without trying to tease his lover. That was a fact she knew for certain.

Despite his cybernetics not having clockwork installed, he acted as predicted when the time came. Angela could barely contain her giggle as he stirred next to her, feeling the movement of his body indicative of a gaze toward her before he moved once more to glance around, doubtlessly searching for something to annoy her with.

“Hey Angela, what’s that over there?”

She tried, she really did, to appear annoyed at her lover’s antics. However, that proved impossible as she smiled to herself and finally opened her eyes to look at him before following the direction that he was pointing.

“That would be a bird. A sparrow specifically. How quaint for one to visit you.”

Genji smiled at her and petted her head as if to reward her for her smart answer. She allowed it for now. After all, despite her insistence against receiving them at the risk of ruining her hair, she loved the feeling of his hand petting her so affectionately.

“What about that one over there?” came another inquisitive point of the finger.

“That’s actually still the same sparrow Genji. I’m sure you can keep track of one bird with those trained eyes of yours.”

Genji frowned as he looked around once more, his eyes lighting up as he spotted yet another subject of interest. “Ooh, what about that one over there?”

Angela looked over and made an expression of disbelief before sighing, closing her book all the way and setting it on her lap as she turned her head to frown at him. “Genji. That’s a squirrel.”

Genji squinted at it for a moment, pretending to not notice Angela’s intent stare before he smiled sheepishly at her. She pouted at him before being finding herself with a kiss to her forehead. Angela frowned some more, receiving yet another one, before pulling him in by the collar and kissing him on the lips. Satisfied with his pleasantly shocked expression afterward, she smiled at him once more. However, her lover was far from finished with her.

Without missing a beat, he pointed at yet another object in the near distance. “What about those over there Angela?”

Angela sighed softly and looked over, only to whip her head back and glare at Genji. He clearly knew what he was pointing at. He can clearly see what was happening. There was no way he was actually asking about what two birds were. In fact, they were still sparrows.

“Genji, you know fully well what they are and what they’re doing.”

Genji gave her an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow, though his eyes couldn’t hide their glint of mischief. “I’m not sure I follow you, doctor. Could you explain what they’re doing to me? Maybe show me an example in human terms and some hands-on training too.”

Angela’s cheeks flushed as she maintained her glare, turning herself free from the comfortable spot in his arm. “Genji Shimada! We are having a nice date under a tree peacefully reading a book. I thought we agreed that this would be the plan for today.”

Genji nodded, “Yes we did. However, we seemed to have finished and I have been entranced instead by your overwhelming beauty and adorable pout. Well, it’s a glare now, which, in my opinion, is unwarranted for such a harmless question.”

He knew just the right way to poke at her, didn’t he? At his praise and coy words, Angela was reduced to a pout as she could not find words to retaliate. So instead, Genji chuckled and leaned in to end his teasing with a gentle kiss to her lips. They stayed there, long past the moment when her expression fully softened and surrendered to her lover’s lips.

When they parted breathlessly, Genji gave her a soft smile. “Thank you for the wonderful story, my dear. We’ll finish it another day I promise. For now, shall we pack up the tent and keep exploring? Maybe find another field with more bunnies?”

Angela broke eye contact with him, her cheeks still flushed at his words and his proximity, though she nodded her affirmation. Genji smiled and picked her up in his arms, eliciting a yelp of protest and surprise from her before calming her down with a kiss to her forehead. With that, they went to work, packing up their camp in the depth of Zurich. With no one to disturb them and no one to see them, the two were free to love and make love to their heart’s content and in any way they deemed fit. Whether it was by a small pond or on a bountiful open field of flowers, nothing could come between them and their sincerest love for each other.

And so, their field of love blossomed into a beautiful forest. A forest full of bunnies, birds, and a Bastion. An unending forest that they could never fully express deep inside their heart.

[alchemistc]

how many hail mary’s

an: So I’m still very much not okay with what happened to twd and I’ve spent three weeks mulling this fic over in my head but there’s one specific line in here that made me start writing and then I couldn’t stop until I had the whole thing. 

bethyl fic, set in the fake season five in my head where beth and daryl never got separated and team family still found each other again, somehow. entirely maggie pov because that’s the way this wanted to be written

There’s not much Maggie finds truly beautiful in the world anymore. It’s, for the most part, hard and sad, fighting for your life more hours of the day than not, and the worst part is that’s before people are involved in the equation. People tend to be the worst part, most of the time. 

But today is a good day. Today is a good day because the group hasn’t run into a single walker since the sun rose, and the breeze settling over them is refreshing as the sun bears down on them, and Judith is quiet, tucked against Carol’s chest as they walk. 

The man they’d met the night before walks ahead of them, speaking to Michonne in a low voice Maggie can’t quite catch, but Michonne’s shoulders are relaxed, and she hasn’t reached for the hilt of her weapon in a few miles. She can’t help but feel hopeful. A place to live, a place to have a life, it all feels so distant, but she wants it. She wants to do more than just survive.

Maggie increases her pace to catch up with Michonne, finds something soothing in the way Aaron doesn’t waver as he continues speaking. 

“...out hunting. They’re very private, but I’ve never met better judges of character. They’ll like you, I think.”

“Fair,” he says, glancing behind at the group. They’ve been on the road too long - they look harried, and dirty, and probably like the kind of people you shouldn’t trust to waltz into a community, most of whom have been behind walls since the end of the damn world. Maggie can’t say for sure, but there’s a look in Rick’s eye she doesn’t particularly care for, one that tells her Aaron shouldn’t trust him as much as he seems to.

It could all be a ruse, of course. Aaron could be leading them to the slaughter, just another harbinger of death like those signs on the train tracks had been all those months ago. There are times when Maggie is so angry they’d never found Daryl, thinks that maybe Daryl is the only one who could get through to Rick, that maybe Daryl is the only one who’d be able to tell for sure what they were headed towards. 

It’s a beautiful day, and there’s hope in her heart, and maybe that tells her all she needs to know. 

Her muscles tighten at the tinny whistle that drifts from the woods on her right, and as Aaron’s head turns towards the treeline she can feel the group tense, reaching for their weapons as a unit. Hope and trust are hard, these days.

“That’ll be them,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that makes Maggie pause. It’s subtle, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the way he says it like it’s a sigh of relief. “Hopefully they got something other than squirrel. Everyone in Alexandria is too squeamish to eat it.”

Maggie’s heart squeezes, just a bit. They’d eaten worse than squirrel, in their time. It was practically a delicacy, those long months on the road before the prison, they’d licked bones clean and then chewed on them just to savor the taste, to fill their stomachs and their minds with something more than the gnawing starvation and the dismal future ahead of them.

The feeling in her chest doesn’t go away as the pair of hunters Aaron had been speaking of slide through the trees, their tread almost silent. If anything, the feeling steals her breath away, tightens even more at the sight of a head of blonde hair, ponytail bobbing out behind her, crossbow slung over her shoulder and a string of rabbits tied to her belt right next to a knife as long as her forearm.

“Beth.”

It comes out as a whisper, a prayer almost, and Maggie stumbles, loses her footing on the flat ground in front of her. Michonne catches her elbow, keeps her standing, but her grip on the katana at her back has fallen loose and she too stops in her tracks. The sounds of tread behind Maggie pause, too.

It’s like looking into a daydream - Daryl’s there, just behind Beth’s shoulder, and to look at him she’d be hard pressed to think of a time when she’s seen him look like that. 

Happy. 

There’s not a smile on his face, but there’s a crinkle around his eyes that has nothing to do with the sun on his face, a set to his shoulders Maggie’s never seen before, like he’s comfortable in his own skin for the first time in his life. 

“Took y’all long enough,” he says, like it’s a joke, like he’s just been waiting on them to catch up, but there’s a catch in his voice to match Maggie’s stumble, and Maggie lets out a strangled bark of laughter that’s swallowed up in Beth’s embrace a moment later. 

She doesn’t remember all of it. Looking back on it now she remembers the weight of Beth in her arms, the shock of how strong Beth’s own arms around her were, the way her hair tasted in Maggie’s mouth when she took in a ragged breath and half swallowed Beth’s ponytail. She remembers the vague echo of Rick’s soft exclamation somewhere behind her, and the way, once she’d finally let go of her sister, that Daryl and Beth had crowded around Carol - Daryl’s forehead tucked into Carol’s shoulder, Beth’s arm curled around Carols other side as Judith reached for a lock of Beth’s hair and tugged, the brilliant tinkle of laughter and the way Beth’s hand and Daryl’s both curled around Judy’s little head, palms stacked one over the other as their fingers slipped through the wisps of hair. 

She remembers the way Glenn had lifted Beth clean off her feet, grunting in surprise at the weight of her, as Maggie had made to greet Daryl with a nod and a smile and instead found herself, just for a moment, wrapped in his own embrace. 

Hope. She’d felt it, walking down the road, listening to Aaron’s voice, comforted by the set of his shoulders - and for once, the world hadn’t laughed in her face.

------

She can’t stop watching them. Daryl and Beth. She’s tried so damn hard to pay attention to these people that have invited them behind their walls, tried so damn hard to get a sense of who they are, but ever since she left Deanna’s strange little therapy session and found them tucked shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the fence post and speaking in quiet voices, heads tilted close together, she can’t stop watching them, in particular.

She gets it. In the small snippets of stories they’ve been able to tell in the mad rush since finding each other again, she knows they’d been on their own, stuck together without a way to even begin looking for the rest of the group. The guilt nearly swallows her whole, when she thinks on it - since the bus, she’d lost all hope of ever seeing Beth again and she hates herself for it, hates the fact that she’s mourned her sister the same as she had Daddy, but she’d never once stopped to consider that she might have made it. It hurt less, she supposes. To think that Beth was in a better place, to think she didn’t have to fight anymore.

Maggie’s not sure she ever even knew her sister, though. Not like she should have. Maggie still remembers the dead eyed look in Beth’s eye after she took mirror shards to her wrist, she still remembers the girl who cried the first time she watched an animal die on Daddy’s table. She hadn’t paid enough attention to the girl who’d survived the winter on the road, the girl who never complained, the girl who’d stabbed walkers through the fence same as everyone else. Who still sang, behind those prison walls, and still smiled and laughed and lived.

She hasn’t known her sister in a long time, but god, does she want to. She wants to know this woman who Deanna had spoken of with no small amount of respect, who Aaron had only been half kidding about when he told Michonne would be the first person he wanted at his back in a fight. 

She wants to know about the woman who survived the long trek to get here, how she did it, and what it cost her. Maybe what she gained, too.

Daryl and Beth don’t move from their spot tucked together against the fence post, even though she knows they can hear her tread down the surprisingly well maintained sidewalk - their heads turn as one to glance at her, and when she gets a good look at them she can see Beth’s eyes are a bit red. 

She hadn’t cried, earlier. Hadn’t shed a single tear even as Maggie sobbed in her ear, and Maggie hadn’t really noticed it, but she does now, as Daryl presses his shoulder into Beth’s and Beth drops her gaze for just a moment, pressing back.

“Don’t think Rick wants to stay,” Daryl intones, softly, his gaze dropping to the leaf she can tell by the debris at his feet he’s been shredding between his fingers. 

“Rick’s only one man,” she tells him, dropping to lean against the post next to Beth, and Daryl grunts, like he’s slightly surprised to hear that. She’s quiet, for a moment. She’d been the first to go in with Deanna, and everyone else is still tucked into the living room of her house, waiting. It strikes her that Daryl and Beth hadn’t gone in with them. “Why’d you stay?”

Daryl shrugs, the leaf in his hands twisting round and round until it’s nothing more than mulch. It’s Beth that squints across the street, who spans her gaze out at the row of tidy houses and opens her mouth to speak. “Didn’t want to, at first. When Aaron found us we were doin’ just fine, and these people are...” she pauses, bites her lip. “They’re soft. Most of em don’t know what it’s like, out there. Don’t know how to fight or shoot or hunt. Don’t know what it’s like to have to...” Beth takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and Maggie can see the way Daryl’s shoulders tense, and she can guess, what that means. Deanna’d asked them if she’d killed before, and now Maggie wonders whether or not Beth had told the truth, when she’d first spoken into the damn camera. “At first we were just gonna rest a day or two, keep going. Aaron talked us out of it, and then we said ‘another week and then we’re gone’ and then we just...kept sayin’ it for a while. Til we stopped sayin’ it.” She gets a sly grin on her face, glancing up at Maggie then. “’Sides, Daryl can’t get enough’a his showers. Likes to smell pretty.”

Daryl grunts, kicks at her boot where it’s dangling, one ankle crossed over the other. “Stop.”

There’s a joke there she’s missing, she’s sure of it, but Maggie barely pays it any mind because she’s completely focused on one word. She suddenly feels the grit and grime of months on the road tenfold, gets the urge to itch at her skin. “Shower?”

Beth nods, still playing a game of footsie with Daryl - knocking her boot back against his own as she fights down a grin. “Hot water too,” Daryl intones, dropping his mulched leaf now to flick a finger against Beth’s side, and they settle back in, a little closer than before now. 

“We live with Aaron and Eric,” Beth says, and for a moment Maggie’s sure her ears go a bit red. “Seemed a waste to have a place all to ourselves, but I bet you’ll get the house on the corner. There’s two of ‘em, right next to each other, probably have enough rooms so no one has to share.” Beth pauses. “‘less they want to.” 

Daryl does something weird with his face, blows out a huff of breath, and reaches back behind him to grab at the bush there, coming back with another handful of leaves to shred. 

“’f you don’t wanna wait, we could go now. Plenty of water to spare.” 

Maggie takes a glance back at the house, feels the pull to go back to them - safety in numbers, and all - but the desire to be clean and the knowledge that Beth and Daryl are comfortable here outweighs her fight or flight, and she’s a bit curious, now. About the house Beth shares, and the weight of her sisters gaze on Daryl’s hands as he destroys more foliage. She nods.

Beth pushes up off the fence, and there’s something startlingly familiar about the way she holds herself as she leans down to grab the crossbow at her feet - there’s a lithe grace about her that Maggie doesn’t remember, the way her muscles slide against her skin that tells Maggie her sister knows how to use every damn one of them, nothing of the old fawn-like Beth from before. 

“I’ll stay. Make sure everyone knows where ya went.”

Beth shoots him a soft smile, pulls the strap over her head, and curls her hand around Maggie’s elbow to lead her away. 

------

Beth’s house is neat and orderly. The living room has a couch and a loveseat, a little worn but still comfortable looking, and there are books on each end table - one has a bookmark tucked about halfway through, another is dogeared, the third is open on the table, binding stretched thin. She takes a moment to picture it - Aaron on the coach, tucking a stray piece of paper into his page before he goes to sleep, sighing at the mistreatment of his books as the as-yet unknown Eric leaves his propped open and Beth folds the corner of her page to mark her place. It had driven Maggie and Daddy crazy, the way Beth was so particular about everything else but could never read a single book she didn’t half-destroy.

There are pictures, on the walls - just a few, but they’re there, pictures of Aaron with his arms wrapped around the shoulders of a slight looking man, a picture of the other man by himself, giving a familiar ‘just take the damn picture’ look. There’s one of Beth, tucked into a simple frame close to the end of the hall, her shoulders hunched, neck tilted up like she’d been just glancing up - her hair down around her shoulders like Maggie hasn’t seen in years, soft and floating around her like a halo, a small smile curling her lip. 

None of Daryl, which wasn’t particularly surprising, til she gets to the very end of the hall, following Beth’s silent tread, and sees the last one. It’d been taken from behind, and likely without the knowledge of the pair. Tucked next to each other, out on the porch Maggie’d just passed, Beth looked slight compared to Daryl, with his broad back covered by the wings on his vest. 

It steals her breath away, and she has to stop in her tracks to take a closer look. They’re not doing anything much, Maggie can tell, but they’re lit from behind, like whoever had taken the picture had opened a door and let the light from inside bathe them. Close but not quite touching, Beth’s got her gaze on the stars, head tilted up, long neck extended, her arms wrapped around the porch rail, her legs dangling off the end. 

Daryl’s got his gaze fixed firmly on Beth. Head turned to his left and slightly down, he’s got a look on his face that Maggie doesn’t know how to name, and the fingers of his left hand are sifting through the ends of Beth’s hair. 

“That one’s my favorite,” Beth tells her, startling Maggie, and she smiles. “Took Eric three weeks to get a picture of him. ‘s a nice picture though.”

“Surprised Daryl didn’t rip it up, if he didn’t want his picture taken.”

Beth tilts her head, a finger sliding along the edge of the frame. “He didn’t mind so much, when he saw it.”

It’s a lot to take in. They’ve built a life since the prison, Daryl and Beth. They’ve done more than just survive. She wants to ask. She wants desperately to ask Beth what they are to each other, what kind of life it is they’ve made here, but it feels like too much to ask, a definition of the kind of partnership they must’ve had to make it so far on their own. For all she knows it’s nothing but that, but the look on Daryl’s face in that picture, the way she’d teased him earlier and the way he hadn’t curled in on himself and been reticent in the face of her joke...

Beth slides into the room at the far end of the hallway and Maggie leans into the doorway, eyes sliding over the neatly made bed and the dresser set against the wall - a table on either end of the bed, an empty water glass on each side. A bible on the left side of the bed with a journal propped on top of it, another book with a bookmark tucked into it on the right.

It’s a shared space, Maggie knows, can tell by the way Beth drifts through it, and there’s a part of her that wonders if she should be upset about it - worried, even, but even before the picture in the hall, even before she saw the way Beth and Daryl looked tucked against each other on that fence post, she doesn’t think she would have had the heart to judge her sister, or the man that seems to have taken a significant spot in her sisters life. And Beth doesn’t seem to notice or care that Maggie’s fitting the pieces of it together, humming softly under her breath as she digs through a drawer of clothes, a towel tucked under her arm as she sifts through boxers and panties alike in search of whatever it is she’s trying to find. 

“You still sing?”

Beth pauses in her search, glancing up at Maggie, and Maggie realizes it sounds a bit accusatory, like Maggie’s surprised there’s a reason to do such a thing in this world anymore.

“I didn’t mean --.”

Beth tilts her head and smiles, and there’s a secret meaning behind the look, something Maggie doesn’t know, maybe never will. “When I can. It’s...” Beth’s eyes land on something perched atop the dresser, a small silver spoon that Maggie thinks has some sort of inscription on it. “There’s still some beauty left in the world.”

Maggie shakes with sobs in the shower, the hot water scalding her skin, the water at her feet slowly going from brown to clear as she scrubs at herself. It hits her hard - the mourning she’s tried to put off, the fear she’d used to fight, the despair she’d felt at the world in general, all of it washed away for just a moment under the spray of the water and her sisters words. It’ll be back, Maggie knows - it has to come back, because without her anger and without her sorrow she doesn’t know anymore how to fight, but she thinks this time maybe she’ll borrow some of Beth’s courage, too, to see the world for what it is and still find something beautiful in it.

She hopes she can do the same.

------

There is laughter around the room. They’ve long since given up trying to pour the wine Aaron had offered them with a wink and a finger against his lips, like he was passing off contraband; they hand the two bottles back and forth between them all, even giving Carl a taste, and a look passes between Carol, Rick and Daryl when Carl makes a face at it - another look passing when he goes back in for a second swig.

Maggie feels warm and full - full of laughter, full of joy, full of wine and food and the reality that for a moment, their family is safe. Beth’d been right - they’d been offered two houses, just the ones she’d said, only a hop and a skip from Beth and Daryl, but they’d all hunkered down in the living room of the house Rick had claimed and Maggie didn’t imagine they’d leave the comfort of it, this first night.

Naturally, as the night gets heavier and they fill themselves with wine, there are lulls in the conversation, and they all sort of just stare at each other, at the roof over their heads and the pink of their cheeks from the showers and the alcohol, disbelieving and unsure. 

Glenn is tucked half-behind her, her back against his leg as she curls on the floor below his spot on the coach, one of his hands curled around the neck of the wine bottle and the other tapping out a rhythm against her shoulder. He hums when she curls a hand around his ankle, but his gaze is pulled across the room, same as hers, when Beth lets out a small laugh, bobbling the other bottle precariously between her fingers for a moment as Tara nearly drops it passing it to her. Beth’s all pink cheeks and smiles as she tries to keep it balanced, and she makes a small noise of protest when Daryl swoops in from behind her to grasp it. “Best not give her much more, she’ll try’n burn your house down.”

Her gasp is exaggerated, whether by the wine or spurned on by the half-grin Daryl is sporting. “One time, and suddenly I’m a pyro!”

Daryl takes a swig off the bottle and settles his gaze on her. “It was twice, and don’t think I didn’t notice you stole my lighter last week.” There’s something in his look that’s fond, reminds her almost of the way the group had looked at Beth around the fire, that first night at the prison as her voice wavered across an old song, but it’s different, too - unwary, unafraid of the world and what was in it now, none of the quiet judgement they’d all passed on the young girl none of them had thought would survive the winter. Something that makes her think he’s drawing strength from the soft edges of her smile. He mouths the word “pyro” around the room, eyebrow raised, and Beth huffs.

“The second time don’t count,” she tells him, a finger pointed in his direction. “It was a trap, and we were savin’ people from getting caught in it. And I’m just tryin’ to prevent you dyin’ ‘a cancer in the middle of the damn apocalypse.”

“Got matches that work just as good as a Zippo, woman.”

They’re all a little too drunk, warm and comfortable and happy to be in each others company, to spend much time noticing the way Beth smacks at his knee or the way he grabs at her hand and curls his fingers into hers. Michonne shares a significant look with Maggie, eyebrows raised, but Maggie shrugs her shoulders and that’s the last of that. She hasn’t got room to judge any of them for finding a sliver of happiness in this world. 

In fits and starts they tell stories about their time apart - just snippets of the real truth, details put aside for another time, too happy to dwell on the terror and the pain of those they’ve lost along the way. 

When Carl’s eyes start to droop they slowly go about cleaning up after themselves, sliding around each other to set dishes in the sink, setting up camp in the living room like they would if they’d cleared a house on the road. Daryl and Beth say soft goodnights and slide out the front door, and it’s strange, to be reunited with them only to have them leave, but Maggie forces herself to remember that they’re just down the street, that this isn’t the same as it was, that she’ll see them both tomorrow and maybe they’ll be hungover just the same as she is. 

She’ll have time. 

------

Glenn is giving his plate of eggs a mean glare, and Maggie’s downing water like she hasn’t had a drop in days, and the pounding headache behind her eyes seems to be getting worse. Michonne’s laughing at them across the room, bright eyed and looking like she’s never had a better sleep in her life, and Maggie thinks maybe she was the smart one, begging off the wine after half a glass of it, early in the night.

Beside her Glenn groans, and shakes his head like he’s clearing it. The rest of the house is quiet, this early in the morning with nowhere to go and nothing to do, and Maggie is thankful for it. The quiet is different than she’s used to, calm where before it was always so tense, and she tilts her head back, eyes closed to enjoy it for a while. Glenn breaks it a few minutes later, his words sounding like he’s had some sort of revelation.

“Beth and Daryl are doin’ it,” he mutters into his plate, and Maggie blinks her eyes open just in time to catch Michonne’s grin. “Like, I just wanna clear the air here, but we’re all agreed, right? Beth and Daryl are definitely doin’ it.”

Maggie nods her head - slow, barely any tilt to her neck as she tries to avoid rattling her brains around. “Probably.”

“Do I have to have a shovel talk with Daryl? I don’t think I’m prepared to do that. What do I tell him?”

Maggie pats his arm. “I think we’re well beyond that. C’mon, you really think it was Daryl’s idea?”

Michonne shares a look with her over Glenn’s head. “May not have been his idea, but he’s sure got idea’s now.”

“Gross,” Glenn mutters through a mouthful of toast. “It’s actually kinda cute, honestly, but gross.”

They settle in. Not without some convincing, but even Rick seems to settle once he realizes how entrenched in the community Daryl is. He’s gone a long time without having someone to ground him the way Daryl does, though Michonne does some of that work too. She catches them once, Rick and Daryl, having a quiet argument one night on the porch - she slinks into the shadows, tucks herself behind the corner of the house and listens to hushed whispers. It doesn’t take her long to figure out Daryl’s pissed.

“...been out there too fuckin’ long if you think you’re better off on the road. You got two kids and a family.”

“These people are weak, Daryl.”

“No shit. They also have food, and shelter, and a doctor. Could make somethin’ here. Be part of it. Go back to tendin’ fields ‘f you decide you’re not too high and mighty for it now. We ain’t leavin’. You wanna go, I can’t stop you, but you gotta know you’re gonna lose people if you do.”

“We could take it.”

There’s a long pause, and then a huff of breath. “You outta your goddamn mind? You wanna start that fight? Got enough walkers outside the walls, you want them in here too?”

“The walls won’t last, you know that. These people won’t make it, and they’ll just get in our way.”

“So we teach ‘em. Done it before.”

“And look how that turned out for us.”

“You gonna tell me you regret having Hershel around? Maggie? Think we’re better off without em?”

“Notice you didn’t mention Beth.”

The silence is deafening, and even around the corner, unable to see his face, Maggie half expects Daryl to hit something. Maybe Rick. After a while, though, Daryl’s voice drifts across the porch. “She kept me alive out there, Rick. Only damn reason I’m here talkin’ to you. I can’t tell you what to do. Probably can’t stop you from stagin’ a damn coup, if you wanted to.” The porch creaks, like one of them is moving. “’s’more to it than just surviving, here. You don’t want it yourself, at least want it for that baby girl.”

“It’s not safe here.”

“Ain’t safe anywhere. But it’s sure as shit better’n out there.” There’s a pause like Daryl’s gearing up to say something he’ll regret. “Sounding a hell of a lot like Shane. Don’t think you forgot what happened to him.”

Maggie sucks in a breath, holds it for a second. “Are you threatening me?”

“Fact you think I am just proves my point.”

She’s glad she can’t see their faces. It feels a bit like she’d have to choose a side, if they knew she was there, and even though she an Glenn have already decided, she doesn’t know for sure how Rick would take it. How any of them would take it, if Rick decides he’s leavin’.

Footsteps echo off the porch, and Maggie listens to the door open and close, listens to the sounds of hands rifling against fabric, the flick of a lighter going off. 

“Know you’re there.”

Maggie doesn’t bother to look bashful as she slinks around to the porch, nods at him as he takes a long pull off his cigarette. For a moment she has to fight the urge to ask if she can bum one off him. 

He’s got his back to the house, leaning against the riser at the top of the stairs, one leg bent out and the other curled up towards him, and Maggie plops down on the step above him. 

It weighs on her. She’d known Rick was restless here, unsure, but she hadn’t known how deep it went. How scared he was.

“See you got your lighter back,” she finally says, and his gaze glints in the moonlight as he turns to look at her. He flicks it open and closed a few times, the fidgeting familiar in a way that makes her desperately nostalgic. She remembers long nights in the tower, the metallic pinging against cold night air as he came to relieve her from watch, remembers him on the outskirts of their group, silently providing and then staying the hell away.

Remembers him having to take up the mantle when Rick dropped it, how he’d done it without complaint, ‘cause it had to be done. Remembers his voice mingling with her fathers, late nights with their heads bent together long after everyone else had gone to sleep.

“It bug you?” he asks, out of the blue, staring at the cigarette in his hands as the cherry burns closer and closer to the filter. He doesn’t take another drag. “Me ‘n Beth?”

Maggie tilts her head to look at him. He’s not gearing up for another fight - just curious, mostly, to know where he stands with the rest of the group. He seems to think he knows exactly where he stands with Rick.

“No,” she tells him, and reaches out a hand to pluck the cigarette from his fingers. He doesn’t flinch, which is a bit of a surprise, and she takes a long drag, tosses it to the ground to crush beneath her boot as she blows smoke through her nose, trying not to cough. 

Daryl hums, eyes squinting like he doesn’t quite believe her.

“Does it bug you that it doesn’t bug me?”

His gaze slides across the street, fingers curling around his knee to pick at the rip of his jeans. 

“Don’t make much sense, is all.” She opens her mouth, wanting him to clarify, but she’s not sure he knows exactly what he means either, so she fades into silence for a bit. “’S’why we stayed with Aaron.”

It takes her a second to catch his meaning - Aaron and Eric, the couple who lived by themselves, stayed out of everyone’s way and didn’t join in on the festivities, when they were had. She gets it. There’s a very clear age difference, a very distinct set of personalities, she can see why people might question it - might judge it. 

“It’s good you have each other,” she tells him, and she means it. Daryl grunts.

“Your daddy’d’a strung me up by my balls.”

She snorts out a laugh, nearly agrees with him, but it strikes her that he’s wrong. The prison seems far away - another life, really, but she remembers what they’d been building, the life they’d eked out, little by little.

Remembers Daddy’d let Beth go out on a run once, Beth straddling the bike behind Daryl, the wind in her hair as he took off, gun strapped to her hip. Beth had come back upset, mentioned offhand that she’d gotten distracted and done something stupid and she didn’t want anyone getting hurt because of her. And she’d never gone back out again, but Daddy never would’a trusted anyone but Daryl with that. 

She remembers nights she’d been wrapped up in Glenn, where Judy wouldn’t sleep for anything and Daddy and Daryl had been up talking about the fences, the water, the pigs, about Rick. How Daddy’d pat the seat beside him as Beth wandered by, how Daryl would silently take Judith for a bit while Beth leaned her head on Daddy’s shoulder, bone weary but happy to sing a song if Daddy asked.

Remembers the way Daddy’d pat his shoulder as Daryl shoved a second helping of dinner Beth’s way when she looked a little extra pale or tired. 

They’d shared something, just the three of them, like everyone had all shared different things between them when they had some semblance of home. 

“He’d’a been glad you two were looking out for each other,” she says softly, after a while, her throat tight and her eyes a little misty. “After he’d cleaned his shotgun in front of you a few times.”

He’s slightly in front of her, angled a little away, so it’s hard to see his expression but she thinks she hears a smile in his voice when he responds. “Damn man would’a known better’n that. He’d’ve thrown verses at me til I turned tail and ran.”

He turns to her at her startled laughter. She hasn’t talked about Daddy, hasn’t made the time until now, and it hurts, oh does it hurt, but it’s good. It’s the kind of hurt that makes you groan in joy, like pulling and stretching out muscles sore from a long days work. The kind that reminds you you’re alive.

“Don’t think you could run from Beth if you tried.”

He catches her gaze and holds it for a long moment before he ducks away. “Did try. Once.” His fingers twirl at a loose string at his knee. “Didn’t stick.”

She bites her lip to hide the smile, doesn’t want to ruin this moment or make him uncomfortable, but as the quiet continues he doesn’t squirm or close in on himself at the confession, and she can’t help but tease him at least a little. 

“Glenn thinks it’s cute.”

“Ain’t cute,” he murmurs, resentful, but there’s no fire behind it. He seems to want to say more, doesn’t know how to phrase it, so she lets him mull over it. “Ain’t like you and him.”

She knows what he means, even if maybe he doesn’t. In the week they’ve been here it’s not like there’s been much to go on, other than knowing Daryl well enough to understand the soft, casual touches he gives Beth, and the gruff way he lets her tease him are very much out of the ordinary. 

They don’t kiss goodbye, or hold hands just because, at least not while anyone’s watching - but when they go out beyond the walls Daryl doesn’t question who’s got his back, and Beth’s so damn good with that bow (the bow Maggie found out they’d nearly died for, some months back, out on the road by themselves) that there’s no way in hell she didn’t learn from the master himself. And maybe in the scheme of things that doesn’t seem like a lot, but Daryl smiles sometimes, when he thinks no ones looking, and that’s more than enough.

Eugene keeps calling them roommates, to Glenn’s absolute delight, and on more than one occasion has driven him to actual tears as he tries not to laugh, mouthing ‘roommates’ at anyone he can manage to hold direct eye contact with. 

They’re not Maggie and Glenn. But what they have is just as deep, just as solid, just as important, and she thinks maybe Daryl doesn’t quite know that, yet. 

He will though. If Maggie knows anything about Beth at all, he will - even if she’s got to smack him upside the head with it a few times.

------

She doesn’t mean to hear it. She doesn’t. 

It’s just after that run last week, when Beth and Daryl came back covered in walker guts and down a man, the two of them haven’t spoken a word to each other, and both of them have been ornery as all hell. Beth’s spent the last two nights on their couch, but from what Aaron’s said it wouldn’t matter, because he hasn’t seen Daryl enter the house in a week. 

All she wants to do is check in with Beth, make sure she’s alright after she tore out of the house lookin’ like she was gonna kill something. Maybe Daryl. 

She knocks on the door to the house but doesn’t get a response, and rounds to the side of it when she hears something clatter against the fence in the back yard. She ducks out of sight when something smashes to the ground, instantly on high alert, wondering how a walker got in, but instead she’s met with the sight of Beth throwing a glass against the pavement. From the look of the ground it’s not the first thing she’s thrown. 

“You wanna throw shit, fine! I’ll throw shit too! What the hell is your problem?”

Shit. This is absolutely the wrong place to be, but if Maggie moves a muscle one of them is gonna see her, and she really, truly does not want that to happen. 

“The hell is my problem? The hell is your problem, running around like you’re goddamn invincible? I ask you to stay outside for one damn second and you gotta come in guns blazing and get yourself this close to dead!”

“I saved your life, you ungrateful dick!”

This is a very serious argument, but Maggie has to bite back laughter. She doesn’t think there’s anyone else in the world who could yell at Daryl like that. Can’t believe it’s Beth who gets to.

“Saved my - saved my life, yeah! Saved my ungrateful ass and you almost got bit for it. Who asked you to save it anyway?”

“I did! I asked myself to do it, and I did it, ‘cause guess what, Daryl, I give two shits whether you live or die!”

He snarls, turns to kick at a potted plant that tips over and crashes to the ground. 

“What the hell is wrong with that, anyway?”

He doesn’t say a word, pacing like a caged animal, and there’s a part of Maggie that wants to interject, at this point, wants to slide in between them and stop this whole mess, but Daryl wouldn’t hurt her. Not Beth.

“You been shuttin’ me out all week, Daryl, so you better start talking or -.”

“Or what? Or what, Beth? Huh? What’re you gonna do? Go get nearly bit, again, ‘cause there ain’t nothin’ worse you could do to me, so have at it. Go!”

Beth blinks, realizes the same second as Maggie exactly what Daryl’s so torn up about. 

“Go on, girl, get! Last man standing, right?” He snarls it, right up in her face, arms waving and face contorted in a mix and anguish and rage. “Might as well get it over with, save me the hassle’a having to dig your damn grave myself! Got a whole family here to do it now, but you wait too long and they’ll all be gone too!”

“Daryl -.”

“Nah! Forget this shit! You wanna die so much, you don’t even gotta go back out - got a nice knife right there on your belt. Bet it cuts better than a glass fuckin’ shard.”

“Hey! You don’t get to throw shit in my face just ‘cause you’re afraid! And I ain’t gonna let you push me away either!”

“You think you got any say in what I do?”

“Yeah, dumbass, I think I do. I think I got every say, cause I love you and you owe me that!”

He deflates. Shoulders in, head low, he doesn’t fight it when Beth takes a step towards him and presses her forehead against his. “Ain’t gonna say it,” he tells her, voice soft enough that Maggie barely catches it. Beth shakes her head, presses her hand to his chest, right over his heart, and Maggie should leave, she should leave right now, but she’s frozen to the spot. 

She’s never seen either one of them like this, doesn’t know what to do with it, but she can’t look away either. She’d known they cared about each other, known they’d watched out for one another, known they trusted each other but...

But Daryl looks absolutely gutted by the mere thought of losing Beth, had lashed out because of it, tried to pull away, and she remembers the way he’d looked at her before he told her he’d tried to run away before. Didn’t stick, he’d said.

She gets why, now. Because Beth has lived a lot of her life on the sidelines, and this is so far from that she hardly recognizes her sister. 

“New deal,” Beth says, soft and low as she blinks her eyes open to catch Daryl’s gaze. He doesn’t back away from it. “You go first.”

He hums, like he doesn’t really understand.

“I’m not kiddin’, Daryl. I bury you, not the other way around. Got it?”

“Gonna take a lot ta outlive the last man standing.”

“Then we’ll both live forever.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say, it’s such a corny thing to say, but for a second she stares at them and she believes Beth. For a second Daryl does too, the last of the tension dropping out of his shoulders as he moves to wrap an arm around her waist. 

Maggie is definitely, for sure leaving, only Beth shoves at his shoulder, backs up half a step to hold out her hand. “Shake on it.”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?”

“You go first or we both live forever. Don’t make me spit in my hand, Daryl, I’ll do it.”

“This is the stupidest fuckin’ thing you ever done, Greene, and I’m including the time we almost died for peach snapps.”

“Shake my hand, Daryl Dixon.”

He does, is the thing. Rolls his eyes and grunts, but he reaches out and clasps her hand and pumps his arm twice before he drops it. “Happy now?”

“Kinda wanna burn something down, so I’d say yes.”

He gives her a wry little smile, reaches over to cuff her ear, drags her sideways to press a kiss into her hair. “You done?”

“I dunno. I can think of some other things you been doin’ lately to piss me off.”

“So nothin’ new, then.”

Beth laughs into his neck. “Eric’s gonna be so mad you kicked over his hydrangea.”

“It was lookin’ at me funny. ‘sides, it was you who threw his favorite mug against a wall.”

They’re half turned away from her, now, so Maggie backs away, trying to make as little noise as possible as she leaves them to figure the rest of their shit out, and she power walks the rest of the way home in hopes they don’t slide around the corner and see her. 

She doesn’t tell Glenn about it. Doesn’t tell anyone, and she’s not sure she could explain what she saw anyway, but it feels like a secret she has to keep for them. They all live in this world, they all know how unlikely it is they’ll all be around in a week, a month, a year. You lose people - it just happens, and you try to enjoy what time you have with them.

There’s only a few things people try not to promise each other, and Beth just slid right on over that line in the sand - kicked at it on her way through. They’re not Maggie and Glenn, that’s for damn sure. They’re something else entirely.  

Beth’s stronger than Maggie’s ever been, she thinks later that night, as she curls around Glenn and tries to convince herself she’d be okay outliving him.

------

“I know you saw us,” Beth tells her two days later, as they’re picking through moth eaten jackets in a corner store in town. Maggie rolls her jaw, tries to imagine what Beth’s face would look like if she said ‘saw who’.

Doesn’t bother with it, in the end. 

“He’s a mess, huh?”

Beth shoots her a small smile. “He told me you thought Daddy’d approve. Don’t think he meant to tell me, but... it meant a lot to him.”

They don’t say much more about it, too busy delighting in the stash of untouched tampons they find hidden in the backroom, stuffing boxes and boxes of them into their bags, and Beth raises a brow when Maggie leaves the condoms where they are. “They’re all expired anyway,” she tells Beth, and Beth’s ears go red. 

“I know that.”

But Maggie doesn’t leave them behind because they probably don’t work anymore. She tells Beth, later that night, tucked together on the couch, and Beth smiles and squeezes her hand, presses her face into Maggie’s shoulder and squeals, like they’re kids again. 

There’s so much about this world that makes Maggie sure happiness is a pipe dream, but then... Then there are other things, things that remind her that there’s life still to live. Life to give. She wants that. Needs it, though she can’t really say why, just. There’s so many reasons to lose hope, and she wants a reason to hold onto it.

Glenn catches her eye across the room, darts his gaze to Beth, questioning, and Maggie gives him a nod. They’ll tell everyone else. They’ll have to. But for this one moment she gets to share a secret with her sister again, and she wants to hold on to that feeling. 

There’s laughter ringing in her ears, and the soft light casts her wild family in a warm glow, and when Daryl nudges Beth’s knee with his foot, eyes still on the book he’s been reading all night - pristine condition with a small strip of paper marking his page (and is it Aaron or Eric who can’t take care of a damn book, she wonders? Maybe she’ll ask Daryl and he’ll go off about it like Daddy’d used to), and asks her to sing, Beth nudges Maggie’s shoulder with her own. 

Maggie raises a brow - Beth’d always had the better voice, and Maggie’d only ever done it to make Daddy smile, but Beth nudges her again. “Ain’t no jukebox,” she says, voice low like she’s mocking someone, and Daryl swats at her with the book, goes back to reading it. 

Maggie shrugs, finally, feels the build up to it as Beth runs through the catalog of songs in her head. She settles on one, finally hums out a few chords until Maggie catches the tune, and she smiles, her voice wobbling over the words as Beth sings beside her, bright and clear. 

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done? I’ve fallen in love with a man on the run Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please Don’t take that sinner from me Oh don’t take that sinner from me

By the time they’re done with the song, Glenn has gone from breathless laughter to mild awe that Daryl hasn’t stormed from the room, and when Daryl awkwardly clears his throat and stands to press a kiss on the crown of Beth’s head the whole room pretends to be very interested in the wallpaper. 

“Y’all can shut the hell up,” he mutters, but he curls back up on his chair next to them and turns his head back to his book all the same.