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thran-duils · 3 years

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My Perfect Pet

Title: My Perfect Pet Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Boss Tony Stark. Reader disobeys Mr. Stark’s order to work in his office and learns her lesson for disobeying when he tells her to do something. Words: 2,303 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dom/sub, fingering, shameless smut, boss/employee relationship, punishment, office sex Author’s Note: I had a dream, alright? I got distracted from the other fics because of it.

Masterpost (mobile)

You walked into one of the old filing rooms where one of the old assistants was already working to scan old documents in. A whole archive had been discovered recently and they needed all of the papers uploaded onto the Stark database.

Aeisha looked up when you walked in and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I thought Abby was going to be down here with me.”

“She really wanted to be around and in Mr. Stark’s office.”

When you had arrived this morning, the head security told you where you were supposed to be. Mr. Stark gave orders at the beginning of the day where all of you were supposed to be and he had wanted you assisting him today. But Abby had complained to you, pouting. You figured it was not a big deal and told her you would take her job down in the filing room instead. She had been ecstatic.

The other girl snorted and said, “Of course she does. She’s been trying to get him to fuck her for months.”

You stammered, “W-what?”

“He has his favorites. She wants to be one of them.” She held up her phone, the newest version, and smirked, “He gives good gifts to keep us away from HR. Not that I would ever consider that.”

“You… have sex with him?”

Aeisha shrugged, “When he wants. It’s not often. In between the ladies at his parties and some other girls in the building, there’s time in between.” She saw the look on your face and gave a hearty laugh. “He’s good in bed. Don’t worry. When I said I wouldn’t consider going to HR, I mean it. That man knows how to work my pussy.”

‘That’s not what I’m worried about,” you muttered, opening one of the boxes. ‘I didn’t know I was gonna have to potentially fuck my boss if he ever gets a wild hair. Wasn’t in the job description. Sure, he’s extremely attractive – sexy – but, Jesus. That’s asking for issues if you ever wanna be in a relationship with someone and he’s still expecting it. Maybe I should be thanking Abby for taking his office today.”

Aeisha closed the scanner and shot you a curious look. “Wait… did you clear that switch with him?”

You shook your head and she rose her eyebrows, looking concerned.

“What?”’ you asked worriedly. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. We are both gonna do the same thing no matter where we are at.”

“He wanted to see you in there, Y/N. He’s very specific about his instructions.”

Your stomach did a flip flop and you asked worriedly, “Am I going to get in trouble?”

Aeisha shrugged, “Who knows? If he hasn’t sent Abby back down here in the next twenty minutes, maybe it’ll just slide.”

You did not want to lose this job; it was well paying, especially for NYC.

“I guess I’ll just… go up there if she gets put back down here,” you said slowly, thumbing through the files.

You picked some of the papers up and asked Aeisha where she was filing the paperwork before going to your own scanner. You kept tensing whenever you heard someone walk by, thinking it was Abby coming down to fetch you and make you go upstairs where Mr. Stark wanted to see you. It was customary for you to wear pencil line skirts and low-cut shirts with heels, something that had been encouraged by the hiring manager. And you learned quickly it was just the norm with all of the assistants. Thankfully, you had already had a good enough collection started with going out wear that was easily masked as office wear. Such as the bodycon dress you were wearing today, the long zipper up the back that you had had to have your roommate help you with. But now you wondered if maybe you should cut back on it a little bit, knowing what you did now.

Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts of your mind, focusing on your work.

<><><>

It was almost 9:00pm when you were walking back from the filing room. You told your immediate supervisor that you would take a few more hours today to be able to get off early tomorrow for your appointment tomorrow afternoon a few weeks ago.

You stopped though outside Mr. Stark’s office, hearing noises coming from within. You furrowed your brow confused considering how late it was. You put your hand on the door, your ear coming closer. Someone yelped loudly inside and you threw the door open in alarm, thinking someone was getting hurt.

Upon seeing Mr. Stark being straddled by a naked woman and another kissing him beside them on the couch, you almost vomited in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I thought—goodnight!” you stammered, closing the door clumsily and rushing off.

<><><>

You were not surprised in the slightest when you arrived the next morning that Mr. Stark wanted you in his office. Reluctantly, you walked to the door and knocked. He called from inside and you took a deep breath, your heart hammering. All you could see was them on the couch last night and feel your mortification that had kept you up half the night.

He was working off to the side of his desk with a hologram table, his back to you. He was wearing a three-piece suit as usual, sans the jacket, all black.

You did not know what to say – if you should say anything too – so you just stood there awkwardly until he sensed the awkwardness too and turned around. You did not miss the slight smirk that graced his lips at the sight of you.

“Mhm, Y/N. Good morning,” he greeted you, closing the hologram and turning around to stride back to his desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” you managed to say.

He sat on the edge of the desk, running his eyes over you. You had chosen a mid-thigh dress, still showing leg but the top was long sleeved, no cleavage.

You blurted becoming uncomfortable with the silence, “I really am sorry.”

“For?” he questioned.

That caught you off guard and you stammered, “U-uh. Last night?”

“Oh, that,” Tony chuckled. “I didn’t know anyone was still on the floor. Quite a surprise to see you. Did throw the vibe off a bit, took me out of my element, really.” He cleared his throat and said, “As a matter of fact, thank you for apologizing because the sex really wasn’t as great as it was going to be if I hadn’t of seen you. Because it just reminded me of earlier in the day when I was expecting to see you when I came in the morning and I was severely annoyed when it wasn’t you. So, I was just a little irked during the whole threesome.”

He snickered seeing you at loss for words. “Well, I figure you can make it up to me. We can break in the couch. Just you and me.”

A strangled noise left your throat. “What?”

“Did I stammer? You disobeyed what I asked yesterday. I was gonna let it slide and give you a chance to make it right next time – aka this morning when I requested you again to be in here. I like my assistants in the building to follow directions specifically how I ask them. But then, you came in and interrupted when I was about to plow two of the hottest models on the market right now and threw off my vibe.”

That sounded so ridiculous, you said before you could stop yourself, “You still had sex with them.”

His eyes crinkled with his dangerous smile. “That’s cheeky. You are very determined to get me even more riled up, aren’t you? I didn’t mark you as bratty. Everyone’s got their surprises though...”

He stood up from the desk and you fought to stand your ground, your hands still folded in front of you. His eyes were searching hungrily, eyeing you up like a piece of meat.

“You’re definitely not a top rider like Vivian or Aeisha. They love sitting in my lap… reverse cowgirl…” Heat came to your cheeks as he ran his eyes over you again, lingering on your legs. A wicked smirk came to his face as he met your gaze again. “No. That’s not you. Not at all. You’re a perfect candidate for training.”

Training…?

“In fact, we can have your first lesson now. Lock the door.”

“Mr. Stark—”

He sat on the couch and said, “Do you remember me just saying that I like my assistants to listen? And follow directions just as they’re told? This is your chance to do that. So, impress me, sweetheart. Or leave the building and don’t come back. I’ll have someone mail your check or direct deposit. Whatever the hell you have set up.”

You stared at him in bewilderment, and he was staring back, a hard look in his eyes. He was not messing around. Swallowing sharply, you turned on your heel and went to the door, sliding the lock into place. You turned around, your heart thumping.

“Take your dress off. Put this blindfold on,” he ordered, reaching for the piece of cloth on the table. You had failed to notice it sitting there before; he had already had this on his mind before you had come in apparently. “And get over my knee.”

Mortified, you took a step back towards the door and his eyes flashed at the movement.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”

You had a choice, really you did. You could find other work, but you did not want to. Sucking down a deep breath, you walked over towards him. He reached forward again and grabbed a small remote, clicking it. The large TV turned on at the end of the office and he turned on a random show, turning the volume up.

Your dress fell to your ankles and you stepped out of it. There was a fire sparked seeing the way he was looking at you, drinking you in. But it made you extremely nervous too; what if this went sideways and you lost the job anyway?

The blindfold was waiting on his thigh and you reached for it, putting it on and laid across his lap. You could feel his length through his dress pants, causing heat to come to your core already as well. You squirmed with the anticipation.

He smacked your ass hard and you gasped loudly with the sting. His hand caressed at your ass, squeezing. “Look at that nice jiggle you had just there. You’re gonna tell me you’re sorry when this is all done and take this like an obedient girl. Right?”

“Right.”

“’Right, sir’,” Tony corrected you.

“Right, sir,” you squeaked in repeat back to him.

He hummed in approval before he smacked you again, harder this time. He yanked your underwear down and ordered you to kick them off. He helped getting them around your heels and you felt him toss them. His hand was back on your ass, squeezing and admiring. Another smack landed and then another, drawing a low groan from you.

Tony’s fingers delved past your wet folds, running up and down your sex. A finger slipped in as his thumb massaged your clit, causing you to pant in need.

“Look at you, you little wanton harlot,” Tony husked, adding another finger.

He pulled his hand away and laid another hard smack across your cheeks, leaving wetness from you.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

You did what he told you and you squealed when he slapped your pussy, instinctively clenching and driving your hips forward.

“Keep them open!”

Hesitantly, you did what he said, and you cried out softly when he smacked your pussy again, repeatedly. The contact was reverberating, stimulating. He was driving you insane, loving the contact on your clit from each hit. You heard him spit and his other hand came to rub at your tight ring, wet from his spit, while the other found your nub again, circling faster now. He was working you too well, it was too much pressure. You did not want to come all over him, and you clenched again, trying to stop him from touching you.

He laid a rough smack across your ass and growled, “I told you to keep your legs open!”

Whimpering, you opened your legs again to him and he praised, “Good girl. Now, are you, sorry, pet?” You nodded and he squeezed at your nub causing you to whine sharply. “Tell me!”

“I’m sorry, sir!”

“Mhm, you’re a fast learner. Such a good girl. But what are you sorry for?” he asked, his fingers picking up speed.

“Not listening to you! For interrupting you!” you panted, gripping at the couch fabric.

“Yeah, that was really naughty of you,” Tony agreed, his knuckles brushing your sex as he hit your g spot. “Very naughty.” Your breath was quick and short, and he cooed, “Sweetheart, do you need to come?”

“Yes, sir! Please!” you begged, embarrassed simultaneously how easily you had come unraveled. How easy it was for you to fall into this role.

Tony hit your spot again and you moaned pathetically. “You can let go. Come for me.”

You cried out, shaking, coming undone around his fingers. His other hand came to your throat, holding tight as he continued to stroke you, slower now as you shook with your release. He squeezed in slightly and that only added a cherry on top to your orgasm.

Empty of him, you heard him salaciously sucking on his fingers, his other hand still flexing gently on your throat, and he hummed in approval again. “I think with some more lessons, you can shape up to my perfect pet.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

#tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark marvel fic #my shit

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biaswreckme · 3 years

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turn back time | ot7

Summary: "5-year-old Jungkook or 5 Jungkooks?"

Pairing: none

Members: Jungkook, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung

Length: 1.7k words

Genre: fluff, fantasy, crack, magic!au maybe?

Rating: PG-13

Project: @btscreatorscorner 's June workshop with the theme BTS

Triggers/Warnings: unexplained magic, age regression/de-aging

You can also read this on: AO3

A/N: A huge thanks to @birbdae for beta-reading it ♥ and to @casuallyimagining for making this lobely banner ♥

“5-year-old Jungkook vs 5 Jungkooks?”

Looking back on it now, it had seemed an innocent enough question. They were starting to get questions like these in their V Live, so it didn’t really come as a surprise when someone asked in their group stream during the promotion of Be Essential. After it ended, they all decided to stay at the dorms and spend some time together, just enjoying some rare free time. They laughed about the questions and talked more about the insane idea of having five of a member or a baby version of them, imagining what it would be like. They could never imagine what was about to come.

Namjoon was a naturally early riser these days, so he was already awake that fatidic morning. The covers were warm and the comfort of the bed kept him from getting up immediately, choosing instead to pick up the book he left on his bedside table. But he had to put it down immediately when he heard some noise coming from the kitchen and guessed Yoongi was already up making some coffee, and he would wait until the smell permeated the place. His idea of staying in bed was cut short, however, by the unfamiliar scream that sounded through the apartment.

He did not hesitate and ran out of the bedroom, finding Yoongi and Seokjin opening the door to Jungkook’s door. And there, in the middle of the bed, sat a tiny person almost drowning in a baggy black t-shirt. A tiny person that looked exactly like a much younger maknae, from what Namjoon had seen in pictures before.

“J… Jungkook?”

The small boy’s lower lip trembled and came into a pout, his doe eyes filling with unshed tears.

“H-hyung?” He said and his arms reached for the leader, his small fingers opening and closing in a grabbing motion.

Namjoon sat on the bed and picked the boy up, the black t-shirt too big on the maknae’s new - old? - mini body.

“What on…” Jin started, shocked, but Jungkook interrupted.

“I had a dream… there was a voice and a strange laugh, Jin-hyung.” He paused to sniffle, his pouting lips trembling again as he tried not to cry.

“What did the voice say? Kook? Do you remember? I know it’s scary, but we’re here.” Yoongi sat on the other side of the bed, making some space as the other members who were awakened by the scream gathered on the threshold, worry painted across their faces.

“The… the voice said you chose 5-year-old so that’s what you would get? And something about a d-day I th-think? But what if… if it lied?”

And Namjoon remembered the Vlive, that question that had been going around for them to choose 5 of a member of the 5-year-old version, but they had been asked that question before and nothing had happened. This had to be a dream right, he was still fast asleep in his bed? And so Namjoon sat up, letting Jungkook snuggle into Yoongi’s arms and tried pinching himself hard on the arm, exclaiming in pain.

“Namjoon?”

“I thought I might still be asleep. How does this just happen? That’s not real life.” He said exasperated while moving his arms, trying to get a grasp of the situation.

The door opened again, this time Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok entering the room, Jimin still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“What is… What happened? Who is that?” Hoseok asked, with shock on his face.

“Ok, but let’s not scare Jungkook even more, please,” Jin pleaded, tilting his head in the direction of the maknae who looked even more about to cry.

“I’m sorry, Jungkookie,” Namjoon said, sitting down again. “I’m just trying to understand what is happening. So apparently you remember everything, right? You’re not a child child on the inside?”

“I’m still me, just… Jiminie sized.”

They all laughed, except for Jimin, whose natural reaction was to slap Jungkook’s arm, but he held himself back; Junkook was too small for that kind of playing at the moment.

Taehyung still could barely believe the situation, his eyes wide in shock as he spoke. “We should have some breakfast and discuss what to do. We had some choreo practice today but that was it… and Jungkook needs clothes, right?”

It was decided that after cooking breakfast, Seokjin and Hoseok would go shopping for clothes for the tiny member, heavily disguised with the help of one of the managers; they decided to tell the least number of people possible so as not to spread out what had happened while they hoped it would not last long.

And so while the two members went out, Namjoon was planning the rest of the day, considering the best and most logical options. “It’s too risky to go to the studio to practice. We know the routine well at this point… maybe we can do it in the living room? Push back the sofas and open up the space. I don’t want to risk going out and Dispatch creating a scandal about one of us having fathered a secret child or something.”

Namjoon was serious, already going to one of the sofas to move it. With some help they managed to clear out what was needed and create a decent space in their dorm living room so they could practice. Mostly, they not-so-secretly wanted to see mini Jungkook doing their routines, and he wouldn’t need much space for that.

As soon as Seokjin and Hoseok got back with some clothes - maybe they went a little overboard, but everything was so cute and seeing grown Jungkook’s style in mini Jungkook was exciting. The child looked stylish with an all-black ensemble very similar to what he wore on a day to day basis. And so they decided to start with Dynamite, their latest single out and the one they needed to perform the most.

They all watched as the small boy’s face was furrowed in concentration, a clear imitation of the expression the 23-year-old man sported when focusing solely on the practice. The members all watched as the tiny maknae started the song, his small limbs moving to the rhythm and choreography perfectly, proving he was still the adult Jungkook on the inside. It was, however, a much more adorable sight. They were supposed to be rehearsing together, however, it was much more fun watching Jungkook doing it; they attempted once and the tiny member’s legs were not big nor fast enough to get him to the positions in the formations, so they opted for just watching.

Hoseok played Mic Drop next and demanded Jungkook do the version with the full dance break, and he couldn’t stop himself from clapping and giggling loudly watching Jungkook do everything. At one point after a couple of songs the young boy complained and they gave him a break, giving him some tiny sized snacks. While they were out, Seokjin also got the maknae some coloring books, and while at first the youngest member pouted and said he was not really a child, as he started drinking some juice, his small fingers went for the coloring pencils and one of the books, mindlessly starting to color. No one said anything so as not to disturb the peaceful image, letting the boy just be for a while, resting, no adult or idol pressures on his shoulders.

The rest of the day went by smoothly, with one of the members every once in a while trying to get Jungkook to do just one more dance routine for them - and he indulged his hyungs. They could feel the tension starting to spike up again around dinner time, when they were all eating together and in silence, which was not usual, all thinking about the same thing.

It was Jimin who broke the silence first, worried about Jungkook. “So, what is going to happen tonight? Will he go back to being himself?”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Taehyung complemented, looking fondly at the youngest, missing his friend.

“The voice…” Jungkook started, pausing to have a sip of water, taking down big gulps. “The voice said one day… I should be back, right?”

Namjoon was quick to answer, “We’ll worry about it if it doesn’t happen.” But they all knew their leader well enough to know he was already thinking of a fall-back plan in case it did not. Yoongi could see the lines of stress almost permanently marked on Namjoon’s forehead at the end of the day, worrying for the mental health of his oldest friend. “We’ll get through it together, like we always do.”

All members nodded, and Yoongi patted his friend on the back reassuringly. And for as much as Jungkook claimed that on the inside he was the 23-year-old man, as the day progressed, he started acting more and more like a 5-year-old, which did not go unnoticed by Namjoon and Seokjin, their eyes meeting whenever Jungkook said or did something, not really wanting to imagine what would happen if this not end tonight.

But apparently whatever - or whomever - had put this sort of spell on the maknae told the truth. They put Jungkook to sleep on his bed surrounded by pillows to make him more comfortable with the big space. They talked and decided the best course of action would be for Jungkook to sleep without clothes, because if he woke up swimming in his own clothes before, what would happen if his body got bigger in such tiny clothes? They decided not to risk it and warmed him up enough with the covers. And when he woke up, the world did not seem as small as the day before; his limbs and torso were the right size, fitting into his own clothes and definitely taller than Jimin again - what a relief.

The event had been mentioned again in private jokes and shared looks, but they never found out the reason as to why it had happened. Until, that is, Jungkook was on V Live again, eating his salad and chatting with ARMY, going through the comments on the chat when the seemingly innocent question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself from reading it.

“5-year-old Tae or 5 Taes?”

Oh no.

Fin

#bts #bts fluff #bts crack #bts fantasy #bts fanfic #btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #bangtaninn #blackswannet #52hertz #bangtan ot7 #ot7 #ot7 fic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #my work

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letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years

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Too Much || Ariana & Chloe

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @chloeinbetween & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana checks in on Chloe and they have a bit of a disagreement. CONTENT: Lydia plot CW, gun use mentions, domestic abuse mentions, sibling death mentioned

More time than she would have liked had come and gone since they got everyone out of Lydia’s home albeit not everyone made it out alive. Ariana had meant to check in sooner, but life had been more hectic than she would have liked and she wasn’t even sure Chloe would stay. Her only memories made here were those in Lydia’s prison of a home which were decidedly not pleasant ones. Since she had decided to stay, Ariana knew she could still help and make sure she gets properly acquainted with the town. She walked up to Chloe’s new place with gingerbread cookies in hand and a little hand drawn map in her bag to give Chloe a good run down of the town and where to avoid. She knocked on the door and waved when it opened. “Hey,” she said with a small smile, “Cookies as pr- expected? Not sure that works any better, but hey, cookies!”

Chloe had braided her hair so that it sat over her shoulder, tickling her collar bone. Agatha’s place was nice, and when she was at the office the peace and space it offered was a treasure. Lydia’s home had always been too perfect, their living areas impersonal and without trinkets. Whereas Agatha’s felt like a home should, like Agatha herself. Even the couch was soft and comfortable. It wasn’t permanent, but it felt safe, and after four years of sleeping in the same room with other people, being someplace completely by herself felt… wiggy. Which sucked, Chloe could admit to herself, but it was also true. Her foot bounced as she waited for Ariana to arrive, and still startled at the knock on the door. Her first instinct, still, was to hide to avoid the burning retribution of a fae promise broken, but Chloe forced herself to unlock her knees and stand up, walking over to the door and swinging it open. “Hey. Cookies sounds great. Come on in.” She hoped Ariana couldn’t hear her nervous heart trying to escape her chest.

Ariana was coming far too familiar with the fact there was no true fix for grief or trauma. Not only was it so different for everyone, but they were also both things that had to be felt through. Subdued with whatever little scrap of solace or hope you could find. It left her all too lost on how to help Chloe in moving forward. Being out of that horror house was a step in the right direction, but she was not naive enough to think it could all be that simple. She could hear the way Chloe’s heart rattled nervously in her chest as she came inside. “Thanks,” she said with a small smile as she walked in. This place was much cozier than Lydia’s home that felt all too cold in all it’s luxury, or maybe that was just because she knew how cold a woman Lydia was. She set the cookies down on the coffee table and gestured for Chloe to try one before fishing a map out of her bag. “So, I made this for you. It’s a little map of town with big red X’s over all the sketchy places… given like half those sketchy places are mime places.” She cracked a smile toward the end. Somehow the mimes managed to be scary and comical all in one.

Chloe stepped back stiltedly, revealed her nerves as she gave Ariana a wide berth to pass her by. There were two pictures of Ariana in her mind. There was the blue haired girl under the trees whose dimples sometimes caught the moonlight, flitting around with bats in her hands. That was the image that Sammy had painted for her. Then, there was the other, the monster with fangs and a horrifying maw, that had bitten awfully into Sammy’s thigh. Had done something so visceral to him that sweet, soft Sammy had become frightening to Lydia. Werewolf. Fundamentally dangerous. Chloe couldn’t quite shake that thought, nor make it align with the tiny, young girl in front of her. “You made-” Chloe cut herself off, clutching the back of a chair with a tight grip before lowering herself into it, taking one of the cookies and nibbling at the edge. “That’s… very thoughtful.” Chloe said. There were so many red lines on the sheet of paper. “Mime places, huh? That’s not a phrase you hear everywhere.”

The day at Lydia’s, Chloe had said her name in a questioning way. It made Ariana wonder how much Sammy had been able to tell her. What harsh words Lydia had likely said about her. She had the feeling Chloe didn’t hold too much stock in Lydia’s opinion. Or maybe she did. Sammy had before he died. The thought made her stomach turn and she opted out of having one of the cookies for now. “For sure,” she said easily, “There’s been a lot of trial and error on that, but I’m pretty durable.” She laughed a bit at the mime part. Somehow, the mimes managed to be a more chilling aspect of the town, especially since they’d even tainted the town’s soccer ball supply. Or football as Kaden would downright insist. “Didn’t you know? White Crest has the most mime per capita of any town in the world.” Her faux enthusiasm faded and she added, “But trust me, I know. I’ve lived a lot of places and most of them don’t have mime establishments.” She looked around the place. It had that distinctly home-y vibe to it. She could see a coffee mug on the counter that had likely been used earlier that day. She was pretty sure she spotted some games on the shelves, too. “How are you adjusting though? It seems nice here,” she asked more seriously now.

Chloe looked over the map, her chest squeezing. Sammy should have had this. Sammy had nearly had this. If he’d crept out and stayed out until he was something Lydia had been forced to respect, maybe. If he’d been more careful, if she’d been less cunning. Chloe looked at Ariana without being able to hide how wary she was, wondering if whatever change he’d been offered would really be better. “I keep hearing about that. People talk about their mime hatred online. If I didn’t know- well, it would be pretty funny, if it really was just regular humans dressed up and doing work as regular mimes. Just not… whatever these mimes are.” Chloe shuddered, imagining mimes as just another type of fae, perhaps even more dangerous in their trickery because they never spoke and only listened, so would hear more of the mistakes she knew they could use. “I’m… adjusting. It’s… it’s hard, remembering that I can make choices. Staying with Agatha has been good while I find my feet a little. She’s very… understanding, and very kind.” She looked around, squeezing her hands into her thighs as if that might hide the trembling.

Despite the fact she’d experienced a fair amount of pain, Ariana couldn’t even begin to imagine what Chloe was going through. Just that one instance of her free will being taken from her had been damaging and left her filled with dread. That had to be so much worse for Chloe and she wished she could take it all away. But that wasn’t how pain or trauma worked and she hated how easily she could understand that. Focusing on mimes was easier even if they were frightening in their own way. “It would be much funnier if they were just people who were way too enthusiastic about their craft. Since they’re not, better to avoid them… or anything black and white. The soccer balls at the rec center once turned into a bunch of those mini mime monsters which was a big old yikes.” She leaned into the back of the couch and listened as Chloe spoke. All of this sounded incredibly difficult, but she was glad she had a safe place now. “It must be. If it helps to talk about it you can. I know I go back and forth on whether talking feels helpful, but like-- Here if you ever want to and all. I’m glad Agatha has been good. It definitely seems cozy here.”

“The soccer balls did what?” Chloe repeated faintly, sitting down by the kitchen table. She traced her finger over the most dangerous zones on the map, watching her fingers tremble. Today, her joints were painful and stiff, it would hurt to hold a pencil to add anything more. When Ariana spoke, Chloe nodded, but when she answered only spoke about Agatha. How could she tell Ariana that the young werewolf made her as nervous as anything else, that the tremors in her hands were because she kept thinking about the bloody stains on Sammy’s clothes even before Lydia had killed him? “It is cosy. I’ve been looking at a couple places so that I don’t overstay my welcome, and because I currently sleep in her office, and I’ve seen some potential places too. Next step is just working out the income, but turns out the unemployment rate around town is very small. People keep going missing, apparently, so there are a decent number of vacancies,.”

“There’s a mime monster that hangs outside of Yours, Mime, and Ours. I’ve avoided it, but the soccer balls turned into like, mini versions of that. Melted into the same black goo. Wouldn’t recommend,” Ariana said with a shudder. With Lydia gone, the mimes had returned to their rightful place as the most unnerving thing in town. She noticed the slight tremor in Chloe’s hands and frowned for a moment. She wondered how much Sammy had told Chloe about her. Or if maybe Lydia had painted her to be this frightening thing. She shifted and looked around the room. “It is,” she said easily now, “I kind of lucked out with the pricing on my place, but I’m sure there’s other affordable options with… well, vacancies like the jobs. Were you looking for a certain type of job?” It wasn’t what she really wanted to ask. There were so many questions, but she knew how difficult it was for Sammy. The lighting outage in her building and the conversations they had through Blanche were indication enough of that. She bit her tongue and opted to listen instead. Maybe she’d open the floor for questions or whatever it was normal people did, but she still felt so unsure of how to help Chloe. She couldn’t help but wish Sammy was there with them. His awkward rambles to fill the quiet were much preferred to her own inner turmoil around the way things shook out.

“A mime m-” Chloe gulped, trying not to envision the paler version of herself that had wrapped her striped fingers around Chloe’s neck, promising an easier escape than the one she’d been granted. “Um, okay. Avoid the mime zones. I won’t forget!” She said, folding up the map to go into her purse, so that she wouldn’t have to look at it any longer.

“Yeah, I think I’ll find somewhere soon enough. I have some savings that did okay after not being touched for several years, which I guess is a plus in the being kidnapped column, I kind of feel like I’m intruding.” Chloe could feel herself rambling a little, talking too fast and too high for her lungs. She forced herself to lean back in her chair and take a deep breath, but could not imagine it made her look more relaxed.

“I- I don’t know. I used to teach elementary students music, but… that has lost its appeal in pretty much every possible way. Even if it hadn’t…. I’m not exactly a desirable hire for working around kids, even in this town. But there are lots of possible jobs, so just applying as they make sense to apply to.” She wrung her hands, idly tracing over the ridges of her swollen knuckles. “What… What do you do? Are you a college student or something like that?”

It was only natural for the mime stuff to make Chloe uneasy. Hell, most days it made Ariana uneasy and she had a lot more going her way when it came to self-defense. Even so, they were creepy fuckers and she would rather not deal with them if possible. “Good, glad I don’t have to convince you to stay away from them. Some people think it’s a joke.” She let out a nervous laugh. This all still felt strange and being around Chloe brought up some guilty feelings she wasn’t quite sure how to process, so she shook them off.

She made herself a bit more comfortable on the couch and listened as Chloe spoke. The small benefit definitely didn’t outweigh the trauma or what she’d been through, but it was good to know she had that small thing going for her. “That’s a good thing to have. Probably one of very few pluses, but you know, still glad it’s there to help you get back on your feet. And I’m sure Detective Keen wouldn’t have offered if she minded. People can be… surprising like that sometimes. My apartment also has a pull out couch if you ever wanted to crash, too. My girlfriend and Sammy’s ghost are both there a lot so uh, full house and all, but you know.”

“That makes sense. I can’t imagine there’s much joy left in the whole music thing… which fucking sucks, but it’s kind of one of those things that is what it is. There’s definitely always a lot of job openings so I’m sure you’ll find something soon enough.” Part of all those openings was how often people went “missing”, but it seemed a little bleak to say considering how bleak both of their lives had been. She found herself holding one of the pillows on the couch a little tighter as she tried to shake away that thought. “Trade school student, actually, but I coach kids’ soccer and I have an Etsy shop for my woodworking so I keep pretty busy. Managed to find a steal of an apartment, too.”

Chloe smiled with her lips closed, tugging at the fraying end of her sleeve end. “Detective Keen is a good woman,” Chloe agreed quietly, and opened her mouth to politely refuse the teenager’s offer when Ariana mentioned Sammy. Her mouth clicked shut, stunned, even as Ariana kept talking. Chloe knew better than most that young adults responded terribly to dire circumstances, and that this kind of black humour was to be expected but… Chloe had watched Sammy’s brains spatter the walls like goddamn confetti. His ghost wasn’t here, it was haunting the back of her eyelids every time she blinked. He shared the scope of her nightmares in equal measure with Anneliese and Todd and everyone else who had died in that palace if horrors.

She nodded along to whatever Ariana said, barely taking it in. She could barely hear it over the ringing in her ears, the grief rising in her chest like a tidal wave. It was as if the conversation had continued without Ariana waiting for Chloe to laugh at her joke, like she’d just slipped it into her conversation like a quiet barb. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed how much Chloe was revealing. “An etsy shop? That’s cool,” Chloe echoed emptily. She squared her jaw. “You shouldn’t joke about Sammy like that.”

Ariana could feel Chloe disconnecting from the moment as she spoke. Maybe mentioning Sammy had been a bad idea, but his ghost was still hanging around, a fact she needed to speak to Blanche about. While she had regularly visited him for rooftop chats, it had to still feel isolating that he couldn’t respond with one of his signature rambles. It dawned on her how she’d give just about anything to hear one of them again. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” she said as she fumbled with her hands, not sure how to address the last part of that. “I wasn’t joking,” she stated albeit somewhat nervously, “My best friend and neighbor is a medium. We’re uh… well, we’re trying to help him move on. Find peace and all that. A little easier said than done considering. I know he’s relieved you’re out of there though.”

“Don’t,” Chloe insisted, Ariana’s flat suddenly shrinking around her. The softly decorated walls no longer felt inviting but suffocating, like the curtains might themselves wrap themselves around her throught. “Don’t,” Chloe insisted again. “I know you knew him and that he mattered to you, but you don’t just get to assign feelings to him. He’s dead, Ariana, you can’t just pretend he’s hanging around here like this. You don’t-” A lump in her throat promised to choke her, so Chloe stopped talking, looking at her swollen knuckles. “This isn’t healthy, Ariana. I think you should probably leave for now.”

“Okay,” Ariana said quietly as she decided against pushing this. Part of her felt frustrated, she hoped maybe helping Chloe would help Sammy move on, but ghosts were too hard to believe in a world filled with fae and werewolves. She didn’t have the energy for this fight, the energy to push that this wasn’t just grief. It’s not like she was seeing Todd or Celeste, not that she saw Sammy, but she trusted Blanche did and there was no way she could have known about him otherwise. “That’s not what I’m-” She started to defend herself before slumping her shoulders and simply nodding. “Yeah, I should go. Just- I don’t know, let me know if you need anything.” And she walked away somehow feeling even more lost than when she arrived. Was it too much to hope that for once her efforts to help would actually be helpful?

#wickedswriting #lydiaplot cw #gun use tw #domestic abuse tw #mentions for both #chloe #too much #sibling death tw #also a mention

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toothpastecanyon · 4 years

Text

Mauvana, Chapter 10

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

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It was a cramped little space, this escape pod. Cramped with memories - maybe Mauvana should’ve mentioned this before she let Yly drop her off here.

“Me n’ the family’ll be just upstairs if you need anything, okay?” She’d said, and then smiled. “Hopefully this’ll give you some space to think.”

Family. Family. This felt like a family. She could feel so many different people here, people who’d used this place to store old clothes, children who’d played hide and seek, a young woman who liked to come down here and watch the stars go by in peace… all using it for an escape, in some way.

Escape. Mauvana found it hard to focus on what she was drawing, but she found herself drawing something nonetheless. Up above her, she could hear the sounds of music, of laughter; she could still feel their thoughts pressing down on her, but a little distance took the edge off.

They were happy thoughts. They were smiling, and she smiled too.

She smiled. She smiled. Mauvana was… free, finally, from all of this. And she could see the stars. And she knew exactly what she wanted to do, now.

A thought. A mind. Not her mind, and not Yly’s either.

There were footsteps coming down the ladder, quiet ones. Mauvana looked up, and frowned when a lady peeked her head through.

“Oh,” she said, surprised that Mauvana was already staring at her. “Uh, hi.”

“Uh, hi.”

“You remember me, right?” She tilted her head. “I’m-”

“Viana.”

It was Viana. Mauvana had been her thoughts for a time, had felt her years of crushing loneliness, had ran for her and kissed her in front of the family shop for so long it felt like eternity. It was Viana, and Viana nodded.

“Yeah. And you’re Mauvana, right?”

“Mauvana Seep.” She put down her pencil. “Intern with modest skill in writing and drawing… though I guess I’m not anymore? I think I’m a pirate.”

A shiver passed through Viana’s mind at that. Before she had a chance to respond:

“You don’t like pirates?”

“What? Heh… it’s just, it’s maybe not a great thing to call yourself around these parts.” A nervous chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think I’d see you without Yly.”

“Yeah, she says you have a problem with crowds? She offered to come with, but I didn’t want you to be stressed out.”

Stressed out? That probably wasn’t the best way to explain it, but Mauvana let it go.

“I just wanted to… to say something to you.” Viana made like she wanted to hold her hands, but stopped short. “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you, Mauvana. Thank you so much.”

The lump in Viana’s throat matched the lump in her thoughts, filled with so many emotions she could hardly put into words. Mauvana felt herself tear up.

“Yly… told me what happened, h-how long she spent… trying to get back… and h-how you, you finally got her out of there and I just…” She covered her mouth; her words came out now as a croak. “I-I d-don’t know how I-I can ever th-thank you enough.”

Gratitude. The sheer amount of gratitude in her thoughts was overwhelming, like a whole crowd on its own. She could hardly see the page in front of her, but she felt herself drawing as she tried to recompose herself.

“I just… I… s-sorry, heh.” A shaky laugh. “T-told myself I-I wouldn’t cr-ry, b-but look at me.” A deep, deep breath: in, and out. “I just wanted… wanted to say that if you need anything, anything at all, I’m in your debt. Our whole family’s in your debt for… f-for bringing her home, just… just let us know what we can do.”

A sniff. She wiped her eyes, and frowned.

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to-”

“make you cry. It’s okay.”

“Wh- what?”

“She means a lot to me. Yly.” Mauvana frowned. “Or you. I don’t know.”

Confused thoughts - they were less intense than before. Mauvana - she was Mauvana - stared past her, to the very back of the escape pod.

“I remember how many nights I used to spend down here.” She stared out, out into the sea of stars past that little window. “I used to come down here even before Yly went missing, when I couldn’t bear being with her family - they were lovely, but… they weren’t mine. I liked to think they were somewhere out there, somewhere far away. At least that’d mean they’d escaped the fucking UL.”

Viana recoiled somewhat at her words. “What…?”

“And then after Yly-” Mauvana swallowed hard. “The first week after she was meant to come back, I was watching for her ship. I didn’t move, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t stop staring out of th-this window; her mother had to bring me food. I couldn’t… couldn’t leave. Not while I still thought she’d come back to me.”

Mauvana looked down. Brought her legs up to her chest, and buried her head in them.

“A-and… I’m sorry, Yly. I’m so sorry I stopped coming down here. I’m sorry I stopped waiting for you.” She spoke, quietly. “I’m sorry I moved on.”

And it was silent. Dead silent. Viana had gone clammy white; her mouth was opened wide, wordless. After a few moments, she stammered out,

“Wh-what the hell are you?”

“I’m not you.” Mauvana frowned. “No, I’m not you. I’m a pirate.”

“How did you do that? Wha- how did… what?”

“Head in the clouds.” She stared at Viana’s shocked face, scared thoughts, and made a face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be you.” A pause. “I have a problem with crowds.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” Viana managed, weakly. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just… that was…”

“Personal.”

“That’s a… yeah.” She sighed, and glanced out of the window. “Yeah… how did you know that?”

“Head in the clouds.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “That’s what Jargon always said. I’m his intern - was his intern.”

“Internship, huh?” Viana laughed, but her thoughts didn’t laugh with her. “I’m surprised there’s still jobs at all on that hunk of rock.”

“There are in the military! I drew up tons of posters about enlisting.”

“Oh, joy. You worked for the propaganda guys?”

“Yeah! It was fun!” Mauvana gave a crooked smile. “Then I got shot. But then I met Yly! So it wasn’t all bad.”

Viana chuckled. “Well, uh, glad you had fun… how long did you have that job?”

“They said five years.”

“And what did you do before that?”

“Before… what? Before my internship?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Things, I guess, but… I don’t remember anything before my internship.” She shrugged. “I was just… so many people for a long time, it was a big city. I have a problem with crowds - they, they get in my head, you know? And then I don’t know who I am, I’m just… other people, and their thoughts.”

“I see.” Viana’s thoughts were slow, apprehensive, full of growing dread. “You… really don’t remember anything but the last five years?”

“No. Nothing.” She looked up at the window. She could see the stars, but she could also see her own reflection. Her own face, and the wrinkles in it, the whiteness of her hair, the age. “I… I missed a lot of my life. I’m old, aren’t I? Older than you.”

She didn’t have to see Viana’s solemn nod to know her answer.

“Yeah, that… that’s not good. That’s a right pickle.” A pause. “I know you want to hug me. You can do that.”

Viana hesitated. She reached out, touched Mauvana’s shoulders, and then pulled her into a quiet hug. She squeezed tightly, and Mauvana noted the strange shirt she was wearing. It wasn’t a uniform; it was thicker, brighter, softer, warmer. She poked at it.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Mauvana.”

“I like your shirt.”

“I- oh, thank you. I knitted it myself.”

“Knitted?”

“I made it myself.” Viana drew back a little, and smiled. “I can make you something too, if you like. Get you out of those UL rags.”

“I’d like that a lot.” Mauvana kept feeling her sleeve. “And… you don’t have to feel bad for me. I missed a lot, but I know who I am now. Or, at least, I can find out. You can help me with that, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then… could you tell me who Alcor the Dreambender is?”

“Alcor the- the demon?” Viana let out a startled laugh. “Sure, I know a bit… why?”

“Because he’s with the Dread Pirate Mizar. And they’re important, I think. To me. I don’t know why, I want to know why.”

“Ah, you’re talking about the - what’s it called - the Alcor-Mizar connection, right?” She nodded. “I’ve heard about that. Apparently it’s some big mystery in the field of demonology.”

“Saulji. Yly said her aunt is a demonologist. Can I talk to her?” Mauvana felt her mood drop at that. “Oh, you’re sad now. Did I say something wrong?”

Viana shook her head. “No, no, don’t- don’t worry about it, Yly didn’t know, but… she passed away three years ago. Accident at work.”

There was a lot left unsaid in those words; Mauvana grimaced at the details popping up in her mind. “I’m sorry. That’s not good.”

“No, it’s… a dangerous business, you know? I’m sure, heh, she’d’ve loved to talk your head off about this subject, but… yeah.” Viana paused for a moment, nodding to herself. “Yeah… I think I know where you could find your answers, though.”

“Where?”

“It’s on an ex-UL planet called Kepler 22-b. Called the, uh, Stanley Pines Memorial Library, it’s a hub for a lot of demonology research - Saul used to go there for conferences. You heard of it?”

“No. Can I go there?” Mauvana gave a crooked smile. “I think I’m banned from the UL.”

“It’s ex-UL, don’t worry. They broke away a long time ago, there’s no sympathisers there.”

“That’s good. I want to go there now.”

“Then I promise, we’ll take you there.” Viana smiled. “Give us a few days to get Yly settled in, but after that, we’ll go right there, and find you your answers. Does that sound good?”

“That sounds good. Thank you, Viana.”

“Thank you. Really.” She put a hand on Mauvana’s shoulder, and then chuckled. “I won’t, I’ll try not to get all teary again, I know you didn’t like that. Do you want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“I’d want that. I have a problem with crowds.”

“Okay.” She squeezed her shoulder once, and then stood up. “I’ll leave you be, then. Yly’ll probably be down here in a bit to check up on you, and then…” She smiled. “I could come down here too, if you want. Hey, I could teach you a bit about how to knit.”

“Oh, that’d be great! I love your shirt!”

“Hah, yeah, we’ll do that then!” She grinned, and her aura felt warm. “It was really, really great to meet you, Mauvana. I’ll see you soon - good luck on your drawing!”

“Thank you! I’ll see you soon too!”

Viana waved as she stepped out. Mauvana could feel her footsteps down the corridor, up the ladder, her mind returning to the crowd upstairs like a drop to the ocean. If she concentrated, she could track her washing over to another mind that might be Yly… but she should stop, it was already making her head hurt.

She looked down instead, down to the drawing in her hands.

It was still… frustratingly rough. The lines were shaky; she could make out what it was, but it annoyed her nonetheless. It was of the view outside, of the moon and the planet, the sun and the stars, the stars so far beyond, full of answers and just waiting for her to come.

Kepler 22-b. Mauvana looked from the drawing to the real thing, and knew that somewhere in that darkness, it was there, and she could go there.

She could go there.

Her reflection smiled back at her.

It was good to be free. Even if it had taken a long time, it was good to be free.

#transcendence au #mauvana #Mauvana Seep #space #toothwrites

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

A Work of Art

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: @mandowhorian posted a prompt that came across my dash and goddamn it, I had to write it. Why does my brain do this to me when I got another fic to finish?

Also @amarvelousmandalorian wrote a ditty that gave me the jump I needed. Won’t ever be as good as some people’s but whatever, I had to get it out on paper, so to speak.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale

---***---

When she heard footsteps coming up the walkway, she rose from her chair to open the door. She had just finished setting the table up for a meal, wondering if the man coming to her was going to enjoy her baked goods. At least the house smelled of warm sugar rather than the bitterness of oil paint that usually permeated the space.

“Mandalorian!” She called, waving at him with a large smile on her face. She made a small note that his arms were empty of the little green being he had taken under his wing. “I didn’t think you’d reach me by sundown, the rains have made the forest roads a little treacherous. Come in, the tea is almost ready!”

He stopped in his tracks, confusion radiating off him and she laughed. She was his bounty and she was inviting him in for tea? As he began to walk again, his steps were less certain as if he expected her to ambush him. He kept his hand near his blaster and continued up the stone pathway.

When he entered, the room seemed to shrink to half its size and for a moment, the Mandalorian felt awkward and unsure. He mentally berated himself for letting these odd thoughts invade his mind. She was the damn bounty and who cares if he was practically a bull in a china shop in her home? She was coming with him and it wouldn’t be hers for much longer.

“Where is the little one? I hope you haven’t left him on the ship unattended. I thought you’d have learned not to do that. No matter, we can make up a basket for you to take back. I’m sure you hardly have anything homemade in your storehouse.” She busied herself preparing plates of food and motioned for him to sit as she poured tea into heavy cups made of local wood. He didn’t move, completely unnerved by her comments. In the blink of an eye, he drew his blaster and pointed it at her. She merely smiled and his irritation grew.

“How do you know about the kid?” He growled at her, the hairs on his neck standing on end. What the hell was going on? Nothing about this seemed right to him.

“Exactly how I know about you, Din. And why you’re here. Please sit. I know you won’t eat with me around, but we can at least chat a bit.” When he didn’t move, she looked at him pointedly. “You sat on this job for four days even though you knew it could be done in twenty minutes. Sit down.”

She had him there. He sat down with a large thump and she worried he would break the wooden chair, sending himself sprawling into the stone wall behind him. She giggled a bit at the image, wondering if he’d knock himself senseless in that helmet of his. He pointed the blaster at her again.

“Talk, bounty.”

“I am Force sensitive, much like your little one and I know the Empire wishes to use us to regain power in the galaxy. That’s why you were sent after us.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t tell me how you know me or my name.” He still sounded hard, but he wasn’t growling at he any longer. Only a select few knew his name and no one since Mandalore had fallen had spoken it directly to him until Moff Gideon said it on Nevarro. And now this woman was speaking his name as sure as if they had been paired all their lives.

“I’ve always known you.” Behind the mask, Din’s jaw dropped and his hold on the blaster wobbled a bit.

“How?”

“The Force. Come with me.” When she rose, she skirted the table and laid a hand on his shoulder. Even through the layers of cloth and beskar, he could feel her warmth. He angled his helmet to look at her before standing up. He towered over her, his suit of armor crowding her out. She turned and walked through a small door and motioned for him to come in.

When entered he stopped and in his state of shock, the blaster fell from his hand. He was surrounded by. . . himself. The walls covered in images of his face in different mediums – oil, chalk, crayon, pastels, acrylics, ink, and even embroidery. No two pictures were the same and he slowly began to walk around the studio, taking it all in.

He saw his face as a child before it went under the helmet and there in a pencil drawing was his face after a night out with Ran’s crew. He looked up and saw a small portrait of himself holding the kid with the mudhorn insignia behind them. All around him his face – his history – was charted on these walls. Goosebumps broke out on his skin as he turned, seeking answers.

“When was I was ten, the Force began to grant me visions and sight. By the time I was fourteen, I saw your face for the first time. I was so in tune with your essence that I begun to draw you, to try and figure out who you were to me.”

“What did you discover?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Your what?!” He barked out a laugh, utterly shocked at her words. Soulmate? People really believed that tripe? He shook his head.

“How else to do you explain any of this?” He shrugged until she pointed to a picture on the mantle. He walked over and his breath hitched in his throat. It was his face on Nevarro, right before he nearly died. It was a harsh painting, dark with heavy blots of paint. The image was almost grainy, and he could feel pain radiating from it, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it were his or hers. He shuttered as he turned away.

“I watched you nearly die, Din. I felt it in my very core as your life force leaked from you and a part of me was taken with it.” She walked up to him and raised her hand. She tapped the back of his helmet, right over where the scar was. “Here. Right here is where my life nearly ended had it not been for a droid.”

There was no way for her to have known what transpired on Nevarro nor where his scar was. And yet, she did and when she touched his helmet, it was as if there was no metal between them. He could almost feel her soft fingertips along his skin.

“I do not know why the Force thought a Mandalorian would be good for me. But it did. And I have been haunted for years as you were reckless with Ran. I watched with pride as you became the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy. My heart clenched when you showed what a good man you are Din Djarin when you went back for that little one and saved his life. And I know you have thought about me.”

“What? I’ve never seen you before in my life and certainly I haven’t felt anything like you’re describing.” His goosebumps were turning to shivers that he tried to ignore – little fissures of truth coming out of the darkness to shame him. This was too weird, and he shook his head as if to clear everything. A simple bounty, that was all this was supposed to be.

“Give me your hand.” She looked at him and he looked down at her. When he didn’t move, she asked again. This time he complied and held it out to her. She looked at him while removing his glove, exposing his calloused hand to her. She laid her own soft hand on his and closed her eyes. Din stood rock still as he could feel her in his mind, in his soul. Her voice sounded in his brain.

“Din. Remember.” His eyes closed and suddenly a rush of memories came to him. Gut-wrenching tears as he laid dying. A smile that rang with laughter that he heard on the wind after receiving his sigil. A horrified gasp as he shot IG-11. A small caress filled with warmth as he laid in the Razor Crest while tracking a bounty on Hoth. A voice telling him to go the other way as he got lost in the jungles of Byss. A pair of eyes staring at him with love as he renounced Ran’s crew and left. Even further back to days on Mandalore when a girl made eyes at him that he didn’t return because the specter of a face in his mind told him to wait for her.

He gasped loudly as these broken images formed together into her. His bounty. She had always been there and yet she hadn’t. He opened his eyes to watch her staring at him with a calm look on her face. Those eyes, her voice, that face. He knew something about her bounty puck photo seemed familiar to him and yet he couldn’t ever place it. Now he knew why.

“How is it that you see me fully, but I couldn’t see you?” His voice was quiet, and he curled his hand around hers. Her smiled returned.

“You’re not Force sensitive to tune into the connection. But it was there for you, and it showed itself when it could or when your guard was down enough for you to feel.” She stopped smiling, brows knitting in concern. “Are you going to turn me in?”

“Hell no.” She let out a laugh.

“So, you’re just going to go around collecting Force-sensitive beings and protect us all from the Empire, then?” He stood there and dropped his head back, groaning. Oh Maker, he was in it now.

“Yeah, sounds like it.” He pulled his head forward to look at her. “I don’t know what this is between us, but I need more answers.”

“It’s a lot information, though, Din. It’ll take some time.”

“Come with me. We’ll make the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He knew that despite the helmet that she could see his grin. He knew because her smile looked just like his.

#the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic

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billyboymiki · 4 years

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5 Works Tag Game

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and post or link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I got tagged by @tippenfunkaport and @caramelaire for this tag game!!

I’m not one to compliment myself on anything honestly. Recently I remember thinking about how I barely drew anything this year. There was a part of my brain nagging at me to check how much I had drawn last year. So, I uh did. Turns out I drew basically nothing?! I triple checked this in fact. My DeviantART, Tumblr AND my camera roll. Nothing . . . I drew 5 very basic pinback button designs and that was it. I couldn’t believe it; but, it made be feel so much better about what I did this year. Basically my whole instagram is all artwork from this year, since I am actually really new to IG. I got super close to 40 works this year!

Now onto the works! They are in order of when I drew them 😊

Glimmer Inspired Patterns

I wanted to teach myself how to make patterns on Clip Studio so bad! I watched a couple of YT tutorials, and I can’t even remember why I decided to make She-ra ones specifically; I’m glad I did though! The Glimmer one means so much to me. Just looking at makes me so happy! The fact that so many people have now called it ‘aesthetically pleasing’ makes me feel as though I actually created a work that others could relate to. That was enough praise for me; to create something for myself that everyone else loved as well 💖

Glimbow Cuddle

This was my first real She-ra artwork. When I saw there was a Glimbow Week again I knew I had to join this one. I don’t know if anyone knows this; but, drawings take me forever to make. I used to be strictly a traditional artist and still prefer to draw rough drafts on paper. I couldn’t decide if I wanted them on Glimmer’s window seat or in Bow’s dads’ library. I was afraid of doing backgrounds; so, both sounded absolutely terrifying. I decided to go for the fireplace even if it meant fancy lighting on top of the background aspect. I think I actually spent more time on the lighting that’s hitting Bow than on anything else in this picture. It was worth it though. I studied how the show did backgrounds and lighting for a while. I tried so many different attempts at how I wanted it to look and ultimately went with this one! I love it so much 🥺

Bow’s list with doodles

Ah, yes the drawings I did for Tippen’s birthday!! I knew I wanted to draw a scene from ‘Tuna Cans’, but I was worried to try something like this. You see, I’m somebody that likes to stay in a comfort zone and only uploaded fully rendered perfect artworks. This year was the first time that I let the ‘fun’ aspect overrule my perfectionism. I’m so happy that I stepped out of my comfort zone for this, because I love Chibi styles so much. I can’t even explain the absolute joy I had drawing these. I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to, so it was just me laughing at myself for being an absolute goofball. The end result and everyone’s reactions were more than I could have ever expected. I’ve decided I’m going to revive this style soon as well so please look forwards to it!!

Space Suit Squad

Okay, so I cheated a little with this one! I couldn’t just pick ONE of the squad. Honestly though, I drew these with the thought of making them into prints in the back of my mind. I taught myself how to draw a space background and I’m really proud of it! So much in fact that the one in the final pictures is the first and last one I ended up doing! If I had to pick my favorites I think I’d have to pick Glimmer, Bow and then Catra. I LOVE the way I draw Catra I don’t know why? Maybe the eyebrows I’m not sure 🤔 It took me a while to decide on expressions and poses; although, I figured these were the ones because I could look at them and go ‘yep that’s them.’

Winter Glimbow

This one took me soooo long; I actually had to tell myself that I should put my pen down because it was done and I should stop touching it!!! I was sketching pictures in my sketchbook to make more patterns for my Redbubble account, and of course I’m like 100% Glimbow brainrot. My brain went, oooo you know what would be cute? If this skate was actually Bow’s and not just generic. So, I ended up sketching Glimmer’s as well. The heart that their skates make is like the cherry on the top for me, it had to be done! I’m not sure I did the background justice on this one? It doesn’t matter to me though because the concept was worth the effort. It was snowing here and I needed this picture like I needed air, even if it wasn’t even December at the time I posted it 🤣 I liked this one so much that I have similar ideas for the other seasons sketched out as well 👀

I’m sorry that I ramble so often. I’m like this quiet person; yet, it’s hard for me to get out everything I want to say? I’m horrible at it actually my brain runs at a hundred miles a minute and I’m not good with words most of the time. This turned out as more of a thought process than my actual feelings on each one I suppose. SO, in conclusion. I drew A LOT, I stepped out of my comfort zone, taught myself digital art and patterns. I let myself come to terms with the fact that not every piece of art has to be ‘perfect’. I drew at least 5 FULL backgrounds and I never used to draw them! I’ve also always been one for simple shading and lighting, and I do think there’s a time for that type of style, while other times sometimes a more difficult one might be appropriate. I’m glad that I did both because now I know I can do both, and they each give a characteristic that I adore 🥰 Thank you to everyone that has followed me through this journey, or just anyone who read my rambling! I have an honorable mention under the cut and some originals for anyone that made it this far! 💖

I’m not going to tag anyone; but, if you want to do this PLEASE do it. It was so great to reflect on what I did this year, it really surprised me and I think what you have done will surprise you as well! It’s been a rough year, and in the end we have been here supporting each other and that’s one of the most rewarding parts of being in a fandom! 💜

Glimmer screencap redraw

Another picture where I really tested myself on drawing a background! I love it even if it killed my hand!! The background definitely took the longest on this one too. My sister literally said ‘Wait, you did the background? I thought you just drew her?!’ And that was the only validation I needed!! I ended up thinning out Glimmer’s outline so she matched the background better. If you use the vectors on Clip please use this feature! You can do the opposite as well, it’s super useful!

Oh hi! Remember when I said I couldn’t decide between the two locations? Truth is, I also couldn’t decide if I was going to make it traditional or digital. I ended up getting really mad at the traditional version unfortunately. I haven’t gotten the hang of traditional backgrounds. In the end, I should have also done it in Copic and not cheap pencil crayons 😫

Just some space friends! There is something so rewarding about traditional art. Yes, I can see the mistakes and the proportions are most likely off; yet, it doesn’t bother me? I wanted to also show these bonus drawings because nobody is perfect and I thought some of you might like to see some of my process. Being able to hold it in my hands is something I will never tire of, in a way it��s super rewarding. I keep all my art actually and sometimes I like the rough drafts more than the finished work 👀 Outlining artwork can actually ruin the charm every so often 😔 I do really love the final versions of these though!

Annnnnd the last bonus!! As you can tell the final version stayed pretty true to my sketches! I almost went with a more realistic look and made the symbols ‘stitched’ onto the skates. In the end it felt like it didn’t fit the rest of the drawing unless I wanted to add extra details to the clothing as well. The wings on Glimmer’s skates turned into ‘Shwings’ PLEASE tell me other people know what that is? I had a pair a few years ago and misplaced them. I was doing the rough draft and it popped into brain and I treated it as a joke at first, until I gave it a proper chance XD In the end I fell in love with it!!!

#she-ra #spop #fanart #tag game #billyboymiki #Miki speaks #long post #sorry #my art #I actually cried a little writing all of this 😱#the only thing I wanted to do really bad this year was make an spop amv #I might juggle art and making one so I can get one out at some point

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lavalampelfchild · 4 years

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Lava’s Art Masterpost

Hey, all! Welcome to my art masterpost! I have no idea if this is a thing that is done typically for art, but oh well, I like organizing things, so here we are! What you’ll find here is mostly Dragon Age, with a few non-DA pieces in there, and there’s a range of styles I like to use, depending on my mood. But a lot of what you’ll see will most likely combine lineart with some other form of coloring/shading.

Feel free to browse at your leisure, and I hope anyone who stumbles upon this enjoys what they find! :D And thank you to anyone who sees this and likes, or reblogs, or even just stops by to peruse a bit!

All that said, away we go!

Digital Portraits:

1. Portrait of Nameless Woman, 2020 - This one is just an experiment with a watercolor brush that I did. It’s not anatomically perfect, but I enjoyed playing around with shading.

2. Sketch of Aja Amell, 2020 - This one is basically sketch practice with my Amell~ Not really the most expressive pictures, but it’s a start toward drawing her more expressively. Full disclosure: Aja is one of those OCs of mine that I have had trouble with deciding on a definitive appearance for several pictures, and I really want to work on upping my level of consistency when drawing her.

3. Long-Haired Fenris, 2020 - Exactly what it sounds like; this was for practice drawing Fenris’s features (I love how distinct they are), but with long hair because I am weak for it. This one was a fun piece to shade, and mixing the stylized lineart that I normally use with a greyscale shading spectrum was really enjoyable.

4. Portrait of Ilorin Lavellan, 2016 - This is an oldie. Basically practicing expressions, and it is technically a WIP, but I’m still very happy with how the shading turned out, especially because this is actually (aside from the unfinished hair) one of the more minimal pieces I’ve done in terms of lineart It’s still there, and it still shapes the flow of the picture in some ways, but it also ends up flowing with the shading instead of standing out next to it, which I like. (Both styles are good, though, and I love seeing other artists try both too.)

5. Old Portrait of Aja Amell, 2016 - Much older picture I did of Aja; she... honestly looks very little like the newer one, I think, and that consistency is something I’m still working on, but this one was the first picture of Aja with that particular hairstyle I drew. What I like about this picture is how young she looks; it fits with her image as a fresh and sheltered Circle mage who’s only about 20 years old at the time of DAO.

6. Old Portrait of Trilyn, 2016 - They very first piece of art I posted to tumblr~ It’s not exactly how I envision Trilyn anymore, but it was still very fun to draw, and helped me get a feel for drawing him in the future.

Dynamic Movement Pictures/”Moment’s in Time”:

1. Tabris in Arl’s Estate, 2020 - TW: blood. I am super proud of this one. My ultimate goal is to draw all of my Warden DAO OCs, and I could not believe I’ve never drawn my Tabris, and so here she is. This was, in large part, practicing expressions because I absolutely love art that depicts characters in motion, or capturing some kind of expression.

2. Velyn in the Rain, 2017 - This one was actually based on some art that I saw in a Teen Wolf fic! It was an experiment with a more expressive style (and one of the first pieces I did without lineart left in the finished version) and it was a huge step out of my comfort zone. But overall, I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

3. Jem Nocking an Arrow, 2016 - And here is the lineart version. This was entirely an excuse to draw my DAI baby, Jem, and to do a cool archer pose because archers are my fav, and I love characters in motion.

4. Solas Teaching Trilyn Fade Magic, 2016 - This one was a painterly picture that was also (like the Velyn picture) something which I tried to keep lineart out of. Overall, I am proud of a lot of parts of the pic, but I think I would definitely go back over it and change a few things now if I had the patience.

5. Trilyn Closeup WIP, 2016 - TW: injury, blood, mention of abuse in the author’s note. A lot of early pictures I have are of my OC, Trilyn, and this is one of my absolute favorites. His entire upper body is technically in the picture, but I hadn’t finished rendering it yet, so this was what I posted. And it was an experiment with a cross-hatching style with the pencil tool for some texture, with air brush shading and a blurring tool. It’s a style I had fun playing around with!

6. Trilyn Blood Ritual, 2016 - TW: blood, injury (the slight cut used to supply the ritual with blood). This one was definitely a sort of “captured moment” from a backstory I gave Trilyn, and I think what I was really going for was an atmospheric piece that could fit with any potential fic I wanted to write for Trilyn. And then it ended up being practice for extreme lighting/shading techniques, and drawing the blood and the gross mass of demon ichor (or whatever the heck that is) turned out to be highlights of making the piece for me.

Art + Text:

1. Freedom and Control, 2020 - TW: scars, but very difficult to see. This one was ambitious for me! It started originally just as Solas and my Tal-Vashoth OC, Saara, facing each other, because I love the dynamic I’ve built for them in my head, but then it turned into an attempt at a tarot-esque background, and just sorta grew from there... Overall, I’m happy with how it turned out, especially with how Solas and Saara themselves turned out. The version you can actually see a larger view is here.

2. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 1, 2020 - I love writing my own codex entries, first off, and I love combining art with text to create a (hopefully) seamless work. This work was an attempt to flesh out these OCs of mine with both art (because unique facial structures are hard for me to get down, but so important regardless) and text (because writing~). I think it turned out well overall, but there are elements of the portraits that I might at some point touch up a bit.

3. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 2, 2020 - Part 2, with what I refer to as a “DAI Outfit Change” because I have always loved seeing fans show their own OCs as they look in DAO, DA2, and then finally DAI. So I absolutely wanted to jump on that bandwagon myself. The skin tones are a little off (and I’m sorry about that!) because I was playing with the watercolor brush at that point, and it dilutes the colors I use. Still working to figure that out, but I was very happy with the overall lineart and structures of the faces.

4. Alistair/Aja Amell Picture with a Blurb, 2017 - Ooooold, old, old, old, OLD! I still love the art, and I’m soooo happy with how the interaction between Alistair and Aja turned out (drawing kisses is extremely difficult for me; I always end up creating a distorted weird lip-creature, instead of realistically puckered lips...). I’m not as happy with the blurb that went with it? At that point, I was still very much figuring out my own DAO worldstate, and the characterization for everyone, so, eh. Take it with a grain of salt!

Unfinished Costume Designs:

1. Ancient Elvhen Armor with Dwarven Influence, 2018 - People who do costume design work are amazing and mystical beings, and I wish I could do what they do. This was an attempt at merging the Keeper robes from DAI with a more dwarven armor aesthetic, solely because I created an ancient elvhen character, Ceda, who was taken in by the Cad’halash dwarves mentioned in the Witch Hunt dlc, and I wanted this character to have a mix of the elven style of armor and the dwarven style. I’m overall decently happy with it, but there’s still that persistent level of self-criticism present.

2. Herald of Andraste Outfit WIP, 2016 - This was a very old picture, not one I showed around a lot, but the idea for this was entirely born of my intense interest in how fashion and outfit designs could be used to create a symbolic image for the Herald of Andraste. In general, I love the combination of ceremonial armor with long and flowing cloth, so that was what I went for here. I’m still actually very proud of how this came out, and headcanon something similar for my Herald in my canon DAI worldstate.

Pencil Sketches:

1. Quick Saara Sketch, 2019 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. Exactly what it says; very quick sketch of Saara I did in a small notebook I carry around with me. This was basically a test for myself to see if I could manage to draw Saara with the features and facial structure I envisioned for her without needing to use a lot of references.

2. Mass Effect Character Sketch; Jesse, 2018 - Similar reason for drawing this one as the above Saara sketch! With these characters, I love sometimes the way they can turn out with the specific character creator used for them, and when I draw them, I enjoy trying to create a definitive look for them using what I get from the CC, and my own knowledge of Hooman Faces.

3. Saara Sketch, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. A more detailed sketch of Saara than the one above, and one I definitely put more time into overall. It’s currently the profile picture I’m using for ao3, and is the definitive go-to reference picture I use whenever imagining Saara in a fic, or for other Saara pics I make. I am extremely proud of this picture, and feel like I should work in graphite more often. It’s such fun, and the texture is so nice to look at.

4. Sketch of Nameless Alamarri Woman, 2017 - This was a sketch I did of what I envisioned some Alamarri tribes to look like; I used artistic depictions of Gaul tribes and hairstyles for inspiration, and have used this as a go-to reference for my version of Alamarri tribes. Nothing super notable about this one, but I really liked the way the shape of her face turned out.

Events and Gifts:

1. Another Scar, 2020 - TW: blood, injuries, gore. The most recent piece of art on the list, and a gift for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold; featuring sisterly love between Rica and fem!Brosca, which was her requested prompt. This was a tough piece for me because of the difficulty with the lighting I dealt with. For some reason, that one particular element of it gave me so much trouble. Overall, I’m very happy with how it turned out, though, especially the skin tones of the sisters; Brosca I always sort of like as having this greyish, more gaunt look to her, while Rica I like seeing with a darker, richer, and warmer tone to her.

2. A Very Cousland Christmas!, 2019 - This was for a holiday exchange for a server, and I drew a friend’s Cousland (Elissa, the girl on the left) with my Cousland (Gazza, the girl on the right). I love kid-fic, and I love kid-art, and so I decided... baby Cousland art! Drawing kid proportions was the toughest part, I recall, and I thiiiink it turned out well, and I’m still quite proud of it overall. Elissa’s design came entirely from my friend, but I added the holly~

3. Exchange Gift with Dis Brosca and Mabari, 2018 - This was an exchange gift for @fanfoolishness, using her lovely Dis Brosca, and was my first real attempt at backgrounds... I struggled with the coherence of the foreground and background a bit, but I’m still very proud of how it turned out, especially with the colors I had to work with. What I also really enjoyed working with was the lighting and the expression on Dis’s face. Backlit subjects are always fun to play around with!

4. Inktober Picture, “Deep”, 2017 - TW: scars, injury, mentions of abuse in the author’s note/attached dialogue snippets. This was for an Inktober prompt (the only one I’ve ever done, sadly... because I am bad with deadlines...), and again features Trilyn. Trilyn’s backstory has him a former slave in Tevinter, and a lot of the early works I do for him are sort of deep-dives into his life there. It’s all meant to be an exploration of the things he endures, and then those moments when he overcomes it all and takes back his own autonomy and self. This art is definitely provocative, and I can understand if not everyone likes it, but to me, I just wanted to show just what he faces (without glorifying it) before showing the moment of his own triumph.

5. Christmas Holiday Picture with my Brosca and a Friend’s Amell, 2017 - This was a piece of art drawn first by a friend of mine, @nanahuatli~ She drew the Amell, the background, the mistletoe, etc. All I did was add my Brosca to the mix to finish the image. It was a lot of fun to do, 1) because it was fun trying to match her style so that the picture looked cohesive, 2) because I love doing collabs with friends, and 3) because it was just such a fun thing to imagine my surly short Brosca, looking at this weird plant/fungus/thing dangling over some puckering human! It was an absolute joy to do this collab with her!

6. OC Kiss Week Pic of Jem and Saara, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. A spur-of-the-moment thing meant to demonstrate just what kind of dynamic my OC, Jem, has with my other OC, Saara (both of whom are members of Leliana’s network in DAI). This was a very quick picture (deadlines...) and was mostly just to have fun drawing these two characters interacting, and to see if I could make them look like themselves. I think I did a decent job with it overall, especially with Jem’s kissy-face! (Again... drawing kisses are the bane of my existence, although hands and feet take a close second.)

#lavalampelfchild's art #masterpost #dragon age #some not DA stuff

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peachyteabuck · 5 years

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study buddy, part iv

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: for the first time in her life, natasha romanoff freaks out about a test grade. luckily, you’re there to coach her through it.

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,253

trigger warnings: talk of past drug abuse, mention of sexual assault, heavy smut, fluff, unhappy childhood mention

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

part one, part two, part three

You’re already soaking when Nat teased the head of the toy at your entrance, your arousal evident by the sounds of the silicon as it rubbed against your slick, smooth folds. With each drag a whine escaped you, each second that passed by met with another flood of heat across your skin. “Ple-ease,” you sniffled as fat tears welled up in your eyes and your voice broke from overuse. “Please, Mommy, please”

Natasha just let out a hearty laugh, moving the strap away and replacing it with her fingers. As she spoke, she just barely dipped them inside of you. “Oh, c’mon baby girl. Was that not enough for you? Do want Mommy to give you more? Huh? Are you such a greedy little slut you can’t appreciate what your Mommy gives you?”

You nodded furiously, your “yesyesyesyesyes”s just above a low whisper as you rolled your hips. Your words slowly but surely turned to babble. “yes mommy yes please I’m your little slut I want more please give me more.”

Natasha laughed again as she leaned forward to invade your line of sight once more.

“Mm, might have to be careful and fuck you nice and slow,” she mumbled into your collarbone, the bruises still deep purple. The thin layer of sweat that had formed there made her smile. “Don’t want to break this perfect little thing I’ve been gifted.”

You shook your head violently, grabbing at the sheets so hard your fingers went cold and where each bone met the next ached. “No, no no please, please fuck me Mommy please please touch me please fuck me please.”

Natasha remained unconvinced by your whining. “You poor little thing. I just neglect you so much. Don’t I?” You struggled to speak as she moved to straddle your waist. The heavy toy moved as she did so, occasionally hitting your stomach as she sat upon you. “Hm. Maybe you should get yourself off if you don’t want to answer me, is that a fair punishment?”

You still didn’t respond with the words Natasha wanted, mind too fucked out to sob properly, let alone speak. Still, the fear of disappointing her cut through the fog, and you nodded weakly.

The woman above you smiled, the eponymous image of something wicked that wanted to make you come in whatever way she saw fit. Beside you, placed expertly by Natasha with equal distance between each toy, rested at least four different vibrators of varying strength and shape. If you were lucky enough to get off at your own hand, it’s unlikely Natasha would allow you to choose which weapon will lead to your destruction. Somehow, that thought is worse than anything else she could do to you; forced to bring yourself to the edge (or deny yourself such release) without the dignity of choice but ultimate control over choice of action seems like stories of ole, when disgraced knights caught in their desertion were forced to sacrifice themselves in front of large crowds with the weapon chosen by their ruler.

Empty promises of autonomy, spiritless last chances at reclaiming pride…that’s what they all were.

But you still can’t find it in yourself to complain when Natasha slipped the most powerful of the set into your hands – a battery powered Hitachi colored a matte black – and told you to edge yourself. Your throat burned by then, each breathy moan felt like it’d been ripped out of you with acrylic lesbian porno nails. That sure as Hell didn’t stop you, though, from moaning with each roll of your hips as the woman above you flipped it on.

It didn’t stop Natasha, either, as she cradled your tear-stained face with her pussy-wet hands and told you not to stop until she said so.

“C’mon, baby,” she cooed. Her lips grazed across your cheek as she did so. “Do what you’re told, lemme watch you. Show me how cute you are when you get yourself off.”

It’s so much so quick, every sensation making your whole body shake violently. Natasha mocked you as it became too much, sneering when she pulled the toy away from your center and you screamed in protest. “Can the little slut not take it, hm? Does Mommy not letting you cum make you sad?”

You didn’t say anything, terrified of worse punishment.

Natasha slapped your chest, leaving your breasts angry and hot. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” You cried. “Yes Mommy I want to cum, please let me cum!”

Natasha just rolled her eyes. “What you need doesn’t matter. And keep whining like that…” she paused to pinch one of your nipples and ignored your wails. “I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

This continued three, four, five more times (how many you still can’t exactly be sure), each worse than the last. You’d get there, right at the peak, right at the edge of the mountain, right before one jumped into an ocean, and then-

“Stop. Now. You’re done.”

And then you’d cry and whine high in your throat and thrash around. Somewhere between your lip starting to bleed from you biting it and your drool forming a pool on the sweat-slick pillow she started to fuck you, a horrible and terrifying slow pace that was steady and painful and holy shit you didn’t even know they made fake cocks that big.

Natasha laughed as a particularly poignant thrust almost made you lose feeling in your hands and feet, your strangled weeps sounds that only encouraged her. “There we go,” she murmured, reaching over to grab a bullet vibrator before she turned it on and slipped it under the strap on. She only got more feral, fucking you harder as the vibrations gave her more pleasure than she expected, more pleasure than she ever could’ve dreamed of.

It was almost too much, the feeling of your body under hers and the sounds of your moaning and begging mixed with the soreness in her muscles of her abdomen and the tightness just beneath that, the sweet vibrations on her clit and the sight of you – all stretched out with your knees pressed to your heated ears and jaw slack and eyes scrunched shut and hair wild against the pillow and something, something incoherent but still so beautiful falling from your swollen lips.

Some words, not most, but some, she could decipher. “Mommy, mommy, please please don’t stop I’m gonna cum please make me cum.”

And oh, did she make you cum.

It didn’t feel the same as the last time, doesn’t feel as sudden. Deeper almost, earth-shatteringly so.

Natasha’s wearing the same shit-eating grin, though her eyes are much more hazy and tears prick the corners of them as well as your own.

“You keep soaking my sheets like this, babygirl, Mommy’s gonna have to make you pick up the tab,” she chuckles as she pulls out of you.

For a moment you just laid there, twitching and gasping as the aftershocks rolled through you, as your pussy clenched around nothing and as your eyes cried without any tears. You couldn’t speak – each time you tried the words fell away from your brain before they could be said.

“You good, baby?” she cooed, rubbing her thumb over your chin and bottom lip.

All you could do is mmm as the world slowly rebuilds itself around you. Natasha chuckles at that, laughed as she pulled the strap-on off and tossed it in the bathroom to be cleaned later. At that moment, she simply grabbed what she needed for aftercare – including the special lotion she had bought for you when Sam had dragged her to Bed, Bath, and Beyond a few days prior.

She cleaned between your legs with a washcloth dampened with cool water – something that normally made you flinch and hiss, but then did nothing as you laid there and panted with your eyes firmly shut.

“You’re always so good for me, baby,” she cooed once she was done. You were too tired to do anything except give a soft smile in response. “You want to take a nap before we gotta leave?”

You were asleep before Natasha could finish her question. She chuckled nonetheless, and kissed your temple before throwing the cloth in her dirty laundry bin (one that you bought her when you had discovered – horrified beyond what you thought was possible – that she just piled all of her dirty clothes into one corner “like some sort of thirteen year old boy at summer camp,” as you had said). She curled up under the thick, heavy blankets with her legs around your waist and arms around your chest.

It was nice, the silence. Natasha welcomed the sleep that pulled at her eyelids, and soon the two of you were asleep just as the rest of the world roared to life.

The alarm – one of several you had in your phone that go off at oddly specific times – woke the both of you with some loud jingling that may or may not be the music box version of some hit emo song that was popular around the time Natasha and you would’ve been in middle school.

It’s almost an hour after that when you finally regained control over your body, heart returning to a normal pace and legs not aching (too badly) every time you tried to walk. As you slipped on the easiest clothes possible (see: a hood of Natasha’s and some old sleep shorts of yours), you finally noticed Natasha offering you your phone.

“Let me walk you to class?” she more suggested than asked.

It was sweet, and you grinned widely at her and nodded wordlessly as you reached for your phone before you grabbed your backpack and she grabbed her own. It was an interesting juxtaposition, to see your powder blue Jansport artfully stuffed to brim with colored pens, notebooks, sticky notes, highlighters, and your laptop with exactly one (1) sticker (of a cat trying to climb an adorable small cactus) verses Nat’s beat-up backpack that only held one five-subject notebook, a pencil case with five (5) black ballpoint pens, two Mountain Dews, three Monsters, and a half-drank carton of orange juice. Maybe it was dorky to giggle as Nat’s thumb rubbed circles onto the back of your hand, but you didn’t really care. Little butterflies populated your stomach and limbs, but they aren’t nervous. They were too excited to be nervous, preoccupied with the intimidating pretty girl who had accepted you into her tight personal bubble.

The walk to campus wasn’t far, cliques of freshman with lanyards around their necks and frat boys wearing Supreme became more frequent as you neared the on-campus housing area.

When you breach the official campus it’s another ten minutes until you make your way into the hall where your class is being held. Just as the two of you sit down in your seats way in the back, the professor comes in, calmly places his light brown leather briefcase on the table at the front of the class, and then coolly announces that the class will be having a “surprise assessment.”

“You’ll get forty-five minutes once you hear the sound of the timer starting, any unfinished assessments will receive a failing grade,” the professor said with some paradoxical mix of apathy and malice. With each passing second, the lecture hall becomes more and more ablaze with increasing heart beats and sweaty palms.

Immediately, you could feel Natasha tense next to you. As the TA helped pass the quizzes out, you tried to take a moment to grasp her shaking hand. As you wrap your fingers around hers, you tried to reassure her. “It’ll be okay,” you mouthed. “I promise.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, just sucks in a deep breath and clicks the (your) mechanical pencil to push the lead forward before writing down her name and the date onto the misleadingly thin stack of perfectly stapled paper.

The TA is a dick, even you’d admit that. But she sure does know how to perfect mundane tasks.

As you start on your own quiz, you realize that this isn’t that hard. It’s a few multiple-choice questions, a short essay about Lacan’s influence on Butler. Most of the short-answers questions focus on Baudrillard’s theory about the Gulf War – specifically the role of the media. You’d studied for this, you’ve studied with Natasha for this. Sure, the question on Zizek’s death drive might be a bit tricky, but you’re sure she can figure them out – she’s smart, you’ve explained this to her several times.

With that final thought, you began.

The finished “assessments” were dropped off on the long oak desk set in the center front of the lecture hall, the messy collection of hand-written essays balanced precariously on top of each other – not unlike a late-stage Jenga game with a $1500 an hour fee.

Your walk home with Natasha was just as tense as expected, just as silent and robotic as you’d think she would be.

“For what it’s worth,” you said as she opened the door to her homestead. “I think you probably did well.”

Natasha, in all her dismalness, said nothing.

It didn’t take long for her to rid herself of her pants and position herself on her side of the bed with her laptop opened on her stomach and bottle of alcohol opened in her hand.

She furiously refreshed her grade portal exactly once every 10.76 seconds - just long enough for the page to load, her to log back in, see the lack of grade, sigh, take a swig of dessert wine, grimace at the cheap taste of said dessert wine, and refresh the page again once more.

You were sitting next to her on her bed, trying to proofread and edit the day’s biostatistics notes. Mostly you were putting formulas in their proper formatting, redoing graphs, and color-coding headers and vocab – something you did all the time.

Though, now this relatively-easy study technique had become much harder to do than normal because you were doing it one-handed, your non-dominate one resting under the soft, white t-shirt of the anxious redhead – trapped between the heat of her skin and the fabric adorning her body. Occasionally, you’d run your thumb over the knobs of her spine as an act of comfort, but you’re not sure how helpful the gesture is.

Eventually, you tried to reason with her.

“You know the prof said he’d have them by 8:30 tonight and it’s…” you checked the small clock in the corner of her laptop screen. “Five. Fifteen. And fifteen, sixteen…why do you have the seconds showing on your clock?”

Natasha sighed before taking a particularly long drink of the overly sweet alcohol. “I just…” she shrugged. “I’m just super worried about this, okay? I don’t want to do poorly on this assessment. It’s just important to me.”

You nodded silently before you closed your designated biostatistics notebook, placed it under the nightstand, and curled up into your lover’s side. You were wearing a light pink sweater with a matching headband, black cotton panties, and fuzzy white socks. Natasha placed her face into your shoulder and inhaled the complementary, flowery scents of your deodorant and body wash, pressing her skin into the comforting fabric.

“I get it,” you told her. “You want to do well. Do you want a distraction, or…?”

Natasha sighed, shut her laptop, and pushed it to the carpeted floor. “I don’t even know. I feel like if I don’t think about it then I don’t care and then I’m gonna fail because the magical almighty karma I’ve delicately balanced will tumble on top of me like a Jenga tower.”

For a moment you didn’t speak, unable to find the precise verbal response to such a poetic string of words.

“I just meant ‘do you want some head’ but,” Natasha moved to laugh into your shoulder as you tried to finish your thought through your own giggles. “Yeah, that works, too.”

As you both barked laughter into each other’s skin, all the worries that had surrounded her halo of deep red hair seemed to have vanished, dispersed to bother some other college student with a lifetime worth of debt on their shoulders. With the corners of her lips and the thick of her cheeks sore from the sudden happiness, Natasha curled herself into your side with her chin where your arms met the rest of your body. As easy as pre-algebra, your hand found its way through her stress-mused hair and your fingers worked out some of the knots that have found themselves a home atop Natasha’s head.

It’s silent, the only sound in Natasha’s ears the lazy thump, thump, thump of your heart and the occasional rustle of covers as your legs became entangled like the complicated French braids you’d put in other girl’s hair on the rare occasions your mother let you sleep over at a friend’s house. One of the rare childhood memories you don’t need a therapist’s house to reconcile, a smile spred across your face as you remember how your thin, nimble fingers became worth more than gold to the group of long-haired twelve year-olds who couldn’t quite emulate the fanciful hairstyles they found in American Girl magazine.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” Natasha asked as she ran her fingers over the seam of your sweater.

You shrugged – carefully, as not to displace her head. You said nothing.

Natasha prodded. Whether it was to take her mind off the impending doom of the surprise grade or because she was curious, you didn’t care. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything, right? Just tell me what you were laughing at!”

Again, you shrugged. “I don’t know, middle school I guess.”

She grimaced, you could feel her scrunched nose even through the thick fabric. “Ugh, middle school. What’s so funny about the worst three years of your life?”

“I had worse years,” you told her honestly. “Had a few good times, is all. Was thinking about the dumb shit I liked and did.”

Natasha immediately pushed herself up, wide eyes bearing into yours. “You, the sweetest and most innocent and wonderful nerd this university has ever known did dumb shit?”

Before you could respond she was pushing into you, bouncing you against the pillows under your back with reckless abandon.

“Tell me!” She nearly screamed. “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tellmetellmetellmetellme!”

You were laughing much too hard to fight her off, simply pushed at her with weak hands ad you hoped the much stronger woman would let up. “Give me as second to breathe and I’ll tell you!”

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, face hurting from such pure happiness.

“My mother was super overprotective and overbearing, but every once and awhile she’d let me go to a sleepover. And I figured out if I could do intricate braids all the girls would want to be my friend, and some of them turned out to be super nice,” you tried to calm your mouse-like heartbeat with deep breathes to no avail. “I was just thinking of those good times.”

“That was a lot more tender than I expected,” Natasha admitted with a huff before she fell onto your chest once more. “I thought you were gonna tell me you like, did drugs or something, like sneaking out at night or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, your hand resuming its position in her hair. “Nah, I’ve been this way my whole life.”

A beat passed after Natasha released a small humpf and resigned herself to cuddling with someone she would barely hesitate to call “boring.”

You’re the one to fill the silence, hoping to bridge the space between the versions of you Natasha does and does not have the (dis)pleasure of knowing. “You know, you’ve never told me about what you were like before college.”

Natasha shrugged, as she knew what to say but not how to say it. “I don’t know. I wasn’t like, cool or anything. Just super depressed and spent a lot of time doing drugs and coding.”

In a move incredibly unexpected, you touched the pad of your first finger to her nose. Natasha, struck by the sudden intimate contact and your undeniable cuteness, did not know what to do.

“It sounds like you were as boring as me,” you giggled. “Just a lot less sober.”

Natasha let out a small laugh, pushing your hand away. “Boring is a good word,” she mumbles. She’s staring off into space now, thinking about how much that time in her life sucked. Once she skipped school for three days straight to take Adderal and snort coke and hack into a nearby tech startup, a CEO of which had groped a friend of hers at a party a few weeks prior. A few years older and she might have been a member of Anonymous, but instead she was stuck in the basement of her house wishing whatever upper she’d bought from that sketchy kid down the street would kill her.

“Babe,” you said with a low voice. It cut through the thick of her thoughts but didn’t free her from their deathly grasp. “You okay? You need anything?”

Nat visibly snapped out of it, turning back to you with a small smile. “Yeah, I’m,” she exhales deeply. “I’m fine.

She flicked your bottom lip with her thumb and stared at your face with focus you’ve only seen painting her features when she’s typing code or working out the kinks of a program or whatever the fuck it is she does. You’re normally too distracted staring at her to fully process her long-winded explanation of what she does for her internship and classes and job.

She’s too pretty, you couldn’t help it.

“You have the softest lips I’ve ever felt,” Natasha mumbled. Her eyes skipped between your glassy eyes and shallow breaths. “Somehow, every day I find myself more and more enamored by you.”

A lump – in the time Natasha had spoken those first and last words – had formed and lodged itself in your throat. Still, you attempt to find your post-verbal footing in your shared affections.

“That’s the sweetest and most sexually charged thing anyone has ever said to me.”

The pair of you immediately fall into a fit of giggles that has both of your bellies and cheeks aching with pure joy that comes from such a statement. Soon your fit of laughter dies down and a quiet settles over you, one that comforts rather than urks you. It’s a canyon’s worth of time later that Natasha moves back up so your faces are nearly touching.

The kiss she gives you is tender, much more so than any other touch she’d graced you with. It’s not so much a surprise – it’s not as if you had never kissed before – but it is…different.

Your hands are still tangled in Natasha’s shirt, and hers have found themselves on either side of your face.

“This,” she only speaks when you pull away to breathe. “Is an excellent distraction, by the way.”

Again, you release a small giggle that is soon silenced with kisses that soon turn deep and desperate as she pushes you down further into the shitty mattress with her now-displaced hands.

But, as your kisses get keeps and her hands travel South, Natasha takes a moment to come up lay small pecks on your cheeks and nose.

A few moments pass with the pair of you gazing into each other’s eyes as if there were complicated algorithms behind them.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” she asks – whispering low as if you’re some feral cat she’s trying to trap…or maybe something less morbid. You should probably stop thinking any person trying to give you affection is doing it to ensnare you in a complicated plot for more views on their Snapchat story. Still, as Natasha pushes herself up to kiss you – you can hear the guffaws of the popular senior girls from beyond the bathroom stall you cried in.

“Baby,” Natasha’s voice cut through the memory in jagged motions, enough so that your eyes aren’t screwed shut but your hand still feel the cold of the stall door’s nearly-broken lock that keeps said door closed – the only barrier between you and your tormentors.

“Baby, are you okay?” her voice was genuinely concerned – and the lack of ulterior motive had you sobbing. “C’mon,” Natasha held you close, pressed to her and her soft shirt. “Baby, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

It’s hard to do anything but cry – loudly – as she pets your hair and peppers your face with kisses. Her smooth voice is calming, almost enough to stop the tears from soaking your cheeks – but each trauma from elementary to high school still cut into your blurry vision.

You don’t know exactly when you’re able to stop the flow of tears, but it seems to culminate with your eyelids fluttering shut and body slumping against the woman who holds you so tight.

This, Natasha thought to herself, is heaven.

The woman stayed awake for a little longer, wanting to savor the sweet moment a little longer.

Still, the darkness with your steady breathing and blissfully warm skin soon coaxed her into falling into a sleep deeper and calmer than anything she’d ever experienced before. Somehow, she didn’t even shoot awake when her laptop PINGed when her grade updated. But, then again, how could anything like that matter when she had you?

@stuckys-whore

#study buddy #lukis writes stuff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #avengers imagine #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff lemons #black widow lemons

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awesomesusiebstuff · 4 years

Text

Time Together Changes Everything

This was written for @idreamofplaid Thanks For The Memories Challenge. It was inspired by scenes form Supernatural Season 13 episodes Patience and The Big Empty and by my love for the relationship between Sam and Jack.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Jack Kline, Dean Winchester

Words: 2,113

Warnings: None that I could think of. Pure fluff.

A/N Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for reading and encouraging and to @thoughtslikeaminefield for beta read and suggestions for improvement.

Summary: Dean is angry. Jack is afraid of Dean and of his own powers. Sam is trying to keep himself and everyone else together. Someone has to be the adult in the bunker. Who knew trying to raise a Nephilim would be so difficult?

With Cas dead and Mary gone, life in the bunker was very uncomfortable. Truth be told, uncomfortable was too small a word to describe the atmosphere. Charged, hostile, despairing. Those were more accurate descriptions. Everyone who remained had been sent reeling. The world had spun off its axis and no one had time to adjust to the new trajectory.

Dean was mourning his best friend, and his mother, and was caught up in blaming the bunker’s newest resident for his loss. Jack was feeling alone and frightened. Everything was new and terrifying to him, including his own powers. And Sam, Sam was just trying to keep it together.

He had lost his friend and mother -- and, God, it hurt! But he was convinced that Jack was not a monster and knew that someone had to look after him. So, in one of the greatest ironies of all time, Sam chose to step up and protect the son of Lucifer, which included helping Jack learn how to control his powers and use them for good.

Training was not going well. Jack had been trying his hardest to please Sam by making a pencil levitate. Sam had been trying his best to be patient and not pressure Jack. He knew Jack was scared. Sam was frustrated though, and felt he was doing everything wrong. He had no real experience with kids. And, even though Sam knew he did the best he could, his own father was not exactly a role model. Sam was worried he would not be an adequate parent for any child, let alone for a Nephilim. Just the thought of it was overwhelming.

Sam wished he could get Dean on board for some much needed help, but Dean was convinced Jack was evil and would turn on them as soon as he had the opportunity. Dean had gone so far as to tell Jack he would be the one to kill him if he went dark side. Sam understood that his brother’s first response to any strong, uncomfortable emotion was anger. He knew this was part of Dean’s grieving process, but his brooding and glaring at Jack was not helping the situation.

The day everything changed was the day Jack blew up at Sam and fled to his room. Sam found him sitting in the corner in tears. Sam knew what it was to feel like a disappointment. He was mortified to be the cause of Jack’s tears.

Sam sat next to Jack on the floor and bumped his shoulder to get the boy’s attention. In the gentlest voice possible, Sam said “I’m sorry for pushing so hard, Jack. I forget that you’re just a kid. I want you to know that whether you get a handle on your powers or not, you are not a disappointment. Your mom believed in you. Cas believed in you. And I believe in you.”

By this time, Jack had turned so he could look at Sam, his face so open and hopeful that Sam found himself close to tears. “OK,” Jack said.” I’m ready to try again.” “Great!” Sam replied. “But let’s have a little fun first, take a break.”

Sam wasn’t really sure what would be fun for a Nephilim. Truth be told, he wasn’t certain what would be fun for a child. Sam thought about things he had liked to do as a child. He remembered that most of his favorite things involved fantasy of some kind. He didn’t think he should resort to playing Batman and Robin or soldiers with Jack. He decided to start introducing Jack to the world of Star Wars, figuring that would at least be interesting for him.

He left Jack in his room with a laptop and Clone Wars. When he checked back a few hours later, he saw that Jack had not moved off his bed and was still working his way through the episodes. Sam asked, ”Hey, how’s it going?” Jack looked up and replied, “Good. I’m enjoying it. I’m not too fond of Anakin, though.” Sam laughed when he heard this. He was taking this as an indication that Jack was not going to go all Darth Vader on the world. At Jack’s questioning look, Sam smiled and said, “I’ll explain it to you another time.” Jack just nodded and went back to his viewing.

Sam left to make Jack something to eat and ran into Dean in the kitchen. He was still smiling when he said, “So get this. Jack doesn’t like Anakin Skywalker. Dude, that’s a good thing, right?” Dean didn’t really answer but he actually smiled. Sam chose to see this as another good sign. Maybe the ice around Dean was starting to thaw and he would begin to warm up to Jack.

Jack really seemed to enjoy the animated series so Sam downloaded the movies for him, starting, of course, with the original one featuring Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. While Jack watched, Sam returned to the library to do more research on Nephilim.

Thinking about Star Wars and his own childhood had triggered some not so great memories, like how much he disliked being left alone to entertain himself when Dean and his father went on hunts. Those memories made him realize he was doing the same thing to Jack. Sam might not know the best way to teach Jack to use his powers, but he could spend time with him and show Jack what it was like to be human.

From that day on, Sam made a point of spending time with Jack and introducing him to what he called “the human experience.” He listed what he considered essentials and set himself the goal of checking at least one thing off the list every day.

Sam was aware that Jack was too small to wear any of Dean’s clothes. And his own clothes certainly would not fit him. So clothes shopping moved to the top of the list.

Sam never paid much attention to clothes but he found that he actually enjoyed helping Jack find things to wear that he would like and that would feel comfortable. One of their most successful shopping excursions netted Jack a new “favorite” hoodie and a pair of sneakers with Velcro, both of which quickly became part of his daily wardrobe.

Grocery shopping was not quite as successful. Jack discovered he liked candy, sugary cereal, and just about anything sweet. Sam tried to introduce him to all sorts of fruits and vegetables. Jack would try everything but nothing beat nougat and Sam would always catch him trying to sneak sweets into the grocery cart.

Sam was aware that Jack’s grocery preferences contributed to Dean’s warming up to him. Dean would never take Jack shopping, but whenever Dean went on a supply run, Sam saw that a handful of candy bars and a couple boxes of sugary cereal mysteriously made it into the bunker.

Dean couldn’t help noticing that Jack looked up to Sam and that Sam looked happier when he was doing things with Jack. One day he commented, “Dude, I’m glad to see you looking like less of a sad sack.” Sam gave Dean the patented eye roll and said, “Yeah, I think things are getting better.” Sam knew better than to push Dean so he just smiled to himself and let it drop.

Hunting was the family business, so, of course, Sam taught Jack about monsters and the lore. He took Jack out to walk around a cemetery and explained how EMF worked. He let Jack read his hunting journal and some of the notes he kept about monsters he and Dean had encountered.

Sam stayed away from the topic of Lucifer as much as possible. He knew Jack had questions. Jack finally came out and asked, “Is my father a monster?” Sam answered honestly, ”Yes, Jack, he is. And someday I’ll tell you more about him and why I know he is evil. But Jack, that does not mean you will be evil. You have a choice and I believe you will make the right one.”

After that, Sam was always very careful to make sure Jack knew he and Dean did not see him as a monster. He believed that Jack trusted that Sam saw him as a real person and not just some “cosmic entity” with potentially useful powers. He knew Jack was still unsure about Dean, especially after Dean’s “cosmic can opener” crack. Sometimes Jack had bad dreams and he would go to find Sam. He would always ask, “Is Dean going to kill me?’ And Sam always replied, “No. I won’t let that happen.”

Jack’s nightmares became less frequent. One morning he came to Sam and said ”I don’t think Dean plans to kill me anytime soon.” Sam recognized this as real progress and decided to plan a Lord of The Rings movie marathon to celebrate. However, before the marathon could begin, Sam decided Jack needed one more lesson. Sam wanted to show Jack the failsafe weapon to be deployed when trying to get Dean to do anything. Sam left Jack practicing his puppy dog eyes in the mirror and went to find Dean. Sam used his own puppy dog eyes on his brother and Dean agreed to join them in watching the first movie.

Midway through the movie, Jack asked ,“Aren’t people supposed to have snacks when they’re watching a movie?” and Sam watched Jack unleash his version of the pleading eyes on Dean. Sam smirked as he watched Dean jump up to go to the kitchen, saying “I’m on it. Popcorn and nachos coming right up. Anybody need another drink?” By the time the credits rolled on the last film, all three were devouring a Dean made “hobbit second breakfast” of waffles, bacon, and a veggie omelet for Sam.

The next day, Jack proudly announced, “I found a case for you.” Dean surprised Sam by inviting Jack to come with them on the hunt. It turned out to be a simple salt-and-burn and didn’t require any use of special powers. Jack showed he was able to listen and followed Sam’s every direction. And Sam knew Jack’s willingness to do the grave digging won him points with Dean.

Jack’s full acceptance into the Winchester family became apparent to Sam the day after they returned to the bunker. Sam noticed that Dean had begun calling Jack “kid” and he immediately recognized what that meant. Any lingering doubt Sam may have had disappeared when Dean began teasing Jack about his hair.

Dean said “Hey, kid. You’re getting a little shaggy. Which is ok if you want Wookie hair but…” and then gave Sam a pointed look.

Jack looked at Sam for guidance, unsure of how to respond. Sam just laughed and directed a “jerk” at Dean.

Sam said, “Jack, it’s your hair and you decide how you want it to look.”

After giving it some thought, Jack said, “I guess I don’t want to look like a Wookie. Can I get a haircut?”

Dean volunteered to cut Jack’s hair but Sam just chuckled and shook his head. Sam decided he would make an appointment with the girl who cut his own hair and take Jack into town for his haircut.

The next day, Sam and Jack drove into town. Sandra, Sam’s usual stylist, greeted them with a smile and innocently asked Sam, “And who is this?” referring to Jack.

Giving one of his awkward waves, Jack shyly said, “I’m Jack.”

Sam was taken aback because he hadn’t thoroughly thought this thing through. Of course, Sandra knew Sam and would be curious about Jack. By that time, Jack was nervously staring at the floor. And Sam was hit by the realization that that this was Jack’s first haircut and it was a big deal for him.

Not giving himself time to think, Sam blurted out, “He’s my son.” When he saw the biggest smile he had ever seen on Jack’s face, he knew it was the right thing to say. More than that, he knew it was the truth.

He felt himself smiling just as big when Jack answered, “Yes, that’s my Dad.”

He might not have been prepared to be a parent. But at that moment, if anyone had asked Sam Winchester if he was happy to be a father, his answer would be a resounding “Yes!”

Tagging Interested Parties: @idreamofplaid @fangirlxwritesx67 @thoughtslikeaminefield @kickingitwithkirk @klaatu51 @aeo10fan

#my own stuff #plaid and the memories #sam winchester #sam is jack's father

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simpcircus · 5 years

Text

Shadows

Pairing: Satan x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warning (s): None

A/N: Enjoy a short Satan fic!

The soft sound of pencil strokes filled in the air; a nice addition to the comforting silence between you and your boyfriend, Satan.

He was there, sitting quietly with his book in comfort. His posture was relaxed and his eyes were focused on the page he was currently reading - aware at the fact that you were sketching him.

It was during these private moments with Satan that you could truly admire the details of his facial features. You love the way his soft, fluffy golden hair sway lightly in the soft, chilly breeze that had entered his room through the window. The hue of his beautiful emerald eyes reminds you of the trees in a forest and some rare, priceless gemstones.

Your gaze slowly made its way to his lips, the memory of your first kiss with Satan appeared in your head. You remember how incredibly soft his lips were and the thought of wanting another kiss from him right now had caused a slight blush to appear on your cheeks.

"Alright- Hey wait, no, you have to stay still-" your blush intensified as you moved your head slightly to the side, dodging his sudden kiss.

"Satan!" you keep dodging before holding your sketchbook in between his face and yours to block his attempts, but he still managed to land his lips on your right cheek. It wasn't long until he pulled away and let out a chuckle leave his lips.

It was rare to see him acting all playful like how he was at the moment but when it happens, you deeply cherish it.

Your lips stretched into a smile before you cracked into soft laughter. "Would you please be kind enough to not kiss me while I was trying to focus on my sketch? I can't believe you've done this."

Satan wasn't fazed by your words at all. In fact, he started smirking at the sight of your reddened face. "Don't think I didn't notice the way you looked at my lips." There was a visible spark of amusement in his eyes as he spoke, the book he was holding in his hand was now long ignored.

His words earned himself a playful eye roll from you as your hand scrabble for an eraser to fix a stray pencil stroke on your sketch. "Well I was trying to focus and capture your details. You agreed to let me sketch you, so you have to stay still."

You had to admit; you were quite surprised that Satan would even agree to let you sketch him. He could've just decline your request but here he was, teasing you instead of staying still in his seat with his book.

"You did a great job at sketching me though. Are you some kind of artist back in the human world?" Satan had set his book to the side before resting his chin in his palm, leaning forwards to eye your sketch of him.

"I wouldn't really call myself one. It's just a hobby." the soft smile on your lips was still evident and you had no idea how in love he was with it. "But I guess I'm flattered that you find my sketch pretty." Your eyes darted up from your sketch to look at him.

The comforting silence was now once again surrounding the two of you as you stared into each other's eyes. Being with the demon was never awkward, no matter the situation - unless one of you are in a foul mood.

"Satan" His name left your lips, gaining a soft hum from him a response. "How does it really feels like? To be under someone else's shadow?"

Your question caught him off guard as he scanned the look on your face. Why so sudden? Where did the question even came from? You were no longer sketching as your focus was now directed fully on your lover, who was now sitting in tense.

"Unpleasant." His answer was short, yet so strong. You can almost feel his wrath slowly radiating off the avatar of wrath himself.

By all means, you weren't trying to anger him by asking such question, but lately, you've been feeling the same thing as him. Being under someone's shadow.. being under Lilith's shadow has made the other brothers see differently of you. It's like they have forgotten about who you really are. They see you as a replacement for Lilith, and that thought alone hurts your soul.

Now of course you didn't hate Lilith for this. She wasn't at fault. If anything, you were upset with the demon brothers. You noticed how quick they were to change their treatment towards you as soon as Lord Diavolo and Barbatos declared you as Lilith's distant descendant.

Satan wasn't exceptional from this as well, but as time had passed, he was the first brother who had seen you for you. He was the only brother who actually understood the feeling of being under someone else's shadow.

He understood you, just as how you understood him.

"What's wrong (y/n)? Did any of my brothers upset you?" Oh you have no idea how Satan was going to kill whoever it is who had made you upset. The Avatar of Wrath is definitely not a demon you want to mess with. He is known as one of the strongest demons in hell for a reason.

His question caused you to shake your head with a small smile breaking into your face. You love how caring and protective your boyfriend is towards your safety and wellbeing.

"They did nothing to me, but I have to say that they were being too kind to the point where I got scared for myself." Satan carefully listened to you, his face showing concern. "What if they'll forever see me as someone else?" At this point, you have set down your sketchbook on his desk and reached out to hold his hands.

His hands were warm and they gave you the comforting feeling you needed at the moment. Satan wasn't planning on pulling his hands away from yours anytime soon. Why would he anyway?

"We can't control what they think of us, unfortunately." His voice was soft as he spoke, his grip on your hands tightened before he brought them up to his lips. "But do remember that I really love you for you, (y/n). You're amazing just the way you are and I couldn't ask for more." You love this affectionate side of Satan. While he wasn't too big on PDAs, Satan has always been really intimate with you when you were alone.

"Would you be interested in joining me for a midnight stroll?"

You took a quick glance outside of the window before agreeing to go on for a stroll with your boyfriend. It might be a little cold outside but it would be worth it, considering how magnificent the stars illuminating Devildom's sky are. Besides, a little bit of cold shouldn't bother you that much.

Or so you thought.

Your figure was shivering despite your efforts to conserve body warmth as you walked side by side with Satan. He had long noticed your discomfort with the low temperature of Devildom's night time today and has been trying to convince you to go back inside. However, you were simply too stubborn for that.

"I hate to repeat myself, but I think it's best if we go back (y/n). Tonight is clearly too cold for you and you could get sick if we stay out any longer." A frown was visible on his face as he slid his dark blue outerwear off from his body, only to drape it around your shoulders. He was aware that it wouldn't do much since the material of the clothing piece wasn't really heat retaining, but it's better than nothing.

You weren't paying too much attention to him since you were already gawking at the stars above you. They light the almost tenebrous sky like snowflakes in the night, yet appear still, like an old photograph. The twinkling of the stars were enchanting, making the view look more brilliant than it already was in the first place. The silver moon was huge and bright as it hung on the sky, complimenting the scenery.

The stars hit different in Devildom to be compared to the human world, you thought to yourself.

While you were too busy skygazing, Satan was silently staring at you to admire your breathtaking features. He captured the way your eyes sparkled and how your lips tugged upwards just by looking at a simple scenery. The thought of you existing in his life has made him think; how lucky was he to have you as his lover.

You are basically the embodiment of perfection for Satan - your flaws and all. He never knew he could truly love a human with all of his heart until he met you.

"You do know that staring at someone is rude, right?" Your tone was playful as you spoke, your lips stretched into a grin to see a light blush on his cheeks when he realized that he got caught. Without any warning, you surprised your lover with a peck on the lips and Satan didn't take too long to decipher the situation as he leaned in and kissed you sweetly.

You were still hugging yourself to stop the shivers, but it looks like the weather wasn't being too nice to you today. You were quick to pull away as soon as you could feel a sneeze coming up after a slightly stronger wind blew at the both of you. Satan was once again frowning, seeing that now you were actually getting sick.

"That's it. We're going back (y/n)" The way he spoke with his serious facial expression has left you with no room to argue. The next thing you know, he was already dragging you away with him to return to his room. While he wouldn't outrightly admit it, the demon himself was starting to get affected by the lack of warmth outside.

While you were being dragged away by your lover, a smile appeared on your lips. You have never thought that there will come a day where someone would deeply love and care for you. The man of your dreams have finally showed up in your life after years of waiting and you couldn't feel more than grateful for it. Satan is definitely a true blessing.

That was until something hits you hard; you are currently in a different timeline.

The Satan you first fell in love with was a different Satan in a different timeline. Of course, you have another version of him who really loves you and even declares you as his lover, but would it be the same with the 'original' Satan? The one who truly held the key to your heart?

Does he even feel the same way towards you?

"Anything's bothering you?" His voice entered your ears, pulling you back to reality from your trail of thoughts. You were quick to shake your head and dismiss his worry.

Maybe it's best if you enjoy the moments you have left with this version of Satan. At least you were able to get a taste of how being loved by him feels like, even if your feelings are unrequited once you return to your original timeline.

#swd obey me #obey me satan #satan x reader

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 45

“How about a collage, you like making collages, it could distract you.”

“I have made collages.” Mal replied as you came up to the Acorn tattoo parlor, “I doubt I could find enough collages to distract me.”

“Have you picked your clothes yet?” That snapped her eyes open wider and you said, “I found the major snag didn’t I?”

“I haven’t picked my clothes!”

“Please don’t freak out, just go simple, pants, blouse or a nice sweater. You could wear those heels you’ve been dying to wear with the bows on the top those look pretty professional. Just please don’t freak out.”

“I have that pink blouse and that tie up cardigan, I have some black skinny jeans, all my trousers are torn or missing buttons. My skirts are all a bit too, frisky, I have that pencil one but it’s got that zipper in the back that tends to scoot up and I wouldn’t want to flash anything.”

“You know you could use a safety pin to stop that, or a broach facing in.” She blinked looking at you and you said, “Tip for another time. I agree, not the best choice for now. You will be wonderful.”

When you parked she huffed and said, “I got to go tear through my closet. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Try to sleep too.” You called out as she darted out of the car and into the shop making you shake your head and look to your mirrors for a good time to turn around. Once you did however your mind instantly switched to how Thorin and Dwalin were taking to your gift. “Hope the Cuddle Monster wasn’t too much…” You murmured to yourself turning into the lot where you parked in the spot designated for you glancing out at the slowly breaking storm.

Parked and hurrying inside you barely got damp on your trot inside through the propped open door. Expecting to hear some excitement only to find Dwalin grinning at you like crazy, “Meal and tea is waiting for you.” Gesturing you inside the office lit by lanterns, hurrying off he went to join Balin in spectating as you saw Thorin starting to grin wider on his way to join you.

Stepping inside you brushed your bangs behind your ear setting your bag down to shrug out of your coat that was draped over the back of the chair and turned to realize you were in your matching sweaters. “Show went well, what I heard of it. Faded in and out a bit.”

��Yes, the twins have a hard copy to upload for the show, Mal said it wasn’t as bad as I assume dialog usually is taken. You look happy, good shift?”

Closing the distance once the door was shut he replied, “Very good shift, got your delivery.” Now he was smiling, “I can’t wait for our date on Saturday.” Cupping your cheek his lips planted on your other cheek and he lowered his hand to claim yours smiling brightly again, “Booked a table at Dushin-Mizim for after,”

“I doubt I could have even gotten a job there, let alone a table.”

“They would have been lucky to have hired you, for now I wanted the best for our first date, and we have a driver so we can just relax and focus on having a great time. What even had you thinking of Clustered Anchors? Have you seen it?”

“Well, I heard you and Dwalin talking about it, that you haven’t seen it. I’ve seen the film, which everyone says is nothing like the play. You really want to go with me? I know you said you wanted Dwalin to take you.”

“No!” he said and your brow inched up, “I want to go with you! I would love to go with you, Dwalin is merely my show buddy. Never liked going to films or anything alone really, part of our clan tradition, always partner up. Since courting Bilbo my partner has been spotty. But this is a fantastic idea for a date I do hope you enjoy it, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner, it’s a perfect idea.” He wet his lips and said, “Come, eat, warm up storm is pretty bad.”

“It was worse.” You said to his thumb stroking across the back of your hand guiding you to the couch. Releasing your hand he watched you snap a picture of the tea as he unpacked the lunch trays, “I checked in with the greenhouse, Roac and Dot are on another round.”

“How is Darling doing?”

“Good, great really, she gave me permission to come close to her dwelling, let me weigh her. By my math at least four eggs, and she let me check her feet.”

“That’s incredible, glad the bonding is going well.”

“Also found out from Roac it was my place to tell her about his flock sending tokens,”

Thorin nodded as you took a sip of your tea, “Yes, those should be sent over by this weekend,” his hand settling on your leg. The conversation bled into more on what shows you had both seen with his focus shifting to taking hold of both your hands when the food was through to hear about Elven shows you had seen growing up. Cuddled up close he couldn’t take his eyes off you listening to all you could share until you said in your last few minutes, “So, I think I broke Ori and Shari.”

He smirked, humming back, “Compliments?”

You nodded, “Compliments.”

“Yes, they are two of the least susceptible to compliments out of their clans. Should be fine tomorrow. They are getting better with it.”

“I can relate to that.”

Your alarm went off and he said, “I will let you get to work, Dwalin has decided to help me find a suit for the night.” Again he was kissing your cheek and he helped you to your feet and into your jacket, showing you to the door as you shouldered your bag. Releasing your hand only at the back door, “Drive safe. Don’t worry about a thing our date is going to be fantastic.”

After a nod without being able to finding anything else to say you replied, “You drive safe too.” He nodded and you turned to head back to the car at the groaning of the women watching from over the counter who got to asking questions for the little bit of time him and his cousins waited for the next shift to arrive then piled together to go take Thorin suit shopping.

With a pair of suits in his hand Thorin said, “She thought I might want to take Dwalin instead.”

The brothers asked, “What?”

Thorin, “She heard us yesterday,”

Dwalin shook his head, “No, I can text her if you like.”

Thorin shook his head, “No, I clarified we go out in partners and that I have been adjusting to you having Bilbo now. I assured that I wanted it to be our date and that we have a driver and a nice table. In fact she made a comment she didn’t even think she could get hired there let alone eat there.”

Balin, “Surely things have changed, quite a reputation on her own already. Any thoughts on what you wanted?”

Thorin sighed, “I have a few suits already but those are more business related and I didn’t just want to pull something off the hanger. Or just another blue suit.”

Balin, “Silver perhaps? Have you stolen a glimpse in her closet? To have a clue of what to wear?”

Thorin replied, “No dresses beyond the one from the festival and a couple summery ones. All pastel, might choose something similar. I would want to match, but not match.”

Dwalin, “Complimentary,”

Thorin, “Yes.”

Balin, “Perhaps charcoal then? Maybe pinstripes?”

Thorin, “Maybe checkered? She likes flannel.”

Dwalin, “Yes, Bilbo likes my checkered suit. They go over well when done subtly.”

Balin turned to another rack, “Aha, a contender,” causing the pair to watch him pull off a suit from the rack they put down their options to come inspect.

On your way in sight of Tili and Vili together with wide grins had you flashing one in return passing the glass conference room they were in matching the one that Dis gave you through another hallway on her way to an office. Turning forward you mentally muttered, ‘Definitely up to something.’ Once changed you got to work and nothing seemed to be amiss until you were exiting your last room hearing the freshly arrived kids being nestled into the bed you had just turned down for them by their parents with Dis on the other side of it. Grinning up at her you said, “Hi.”

Her smile split wider and she replied, “Hello, you are early again.”

“Yes, I tend to do that when I get distracted, somehow.” Making her chuckle and join you back to the workers lift, “Busy day?”

“Your comment a while back on the growling light up lion key chains we actually have found a company able to make them for us for a fair price and I think they are quite adorable.”

“Oh, that’s, cool.”

She chuckled saying, “I know you are fighting not to say we didn’t have to but it really is a great idea we had completely overlooked. We have the spinning logo ones but these are adorable for children especially.”

“I am trying to not say that people don’t have to. I am working on that.”

“You are doing wonderful so far, and,” once the doors closed she added, “I do have to say I cannot wait to read your book. Gorgo says it’s over halfway through printing enough to sell, and we listened to the recording of your show since it was spotty-,”

“I know, usually it’s fine in the storms.”

Dis, “We did hear they were working on lines near the radio towers, irritating but at least it was recorded as well. Ori and Shari shared you are onto dialog already for the commercial?”

“Yes, we don’t have the details to fill in the banner for when it’s to be put out yet, I am waiting on that, but at least we can send that over to play for them showing them a hint of what was playing in my mind for possible promotion. I know books aren’t really hyped up this way but I figure online it could just blow up and reach so many more people.”

“Absolutely, which is something that with a pen name publishing could change everything since there wouldn’t be book tours. And it could be easier as you could have a collection to sign then send out to people instead. We would do what we could to ensure that your privacy would be protected as long as possible. Plus with our clan alone already buzzing about the radio show there will be thousands minimum interested in reading it. Anything with Founding Fathers sells like hot cakes, good or bad, especially with Dwarves and the banter on the show appeals to Hobbits greatly.” She paused a moment asking, “Would you be needing time off if they would want an audio book version of it?”

“Oh, actually, I already recorded it,” the doors opened as her brows lifted up, “Before Mal I didn’t really have friends to do things with, so I stayed at home and worked. The first two are recorded already, I was working on the third, that’s why when the show started I could just jump in. Just been practicing on it my own, building that whole way of sharing it. Because it isn’t from the same point of view, or even voice so it wouldn’t be so obvious who was doing it.”

Dis stepped out with you as you smiled at Tili waiting there who said, “Hello, I see Dis managed to find you first.”

Glancing between the pair you saw Dis say, “I merely shared the news on our key chains and that we listened to the recorded version of the show.”

Tili, “Oh good, then I haven’t missed the fun part.”

“Fun part?” You asked.

And Tili replied, “We were wondering if you had decided on Saturday yet.”

“Oh, I was, you’ve been to the theater before, no doubt you’ve heard from Thorin already about the tickets, but, what do you wear to that. Last time I went to a play I was a child and there is no chance of fitting into that dress.” Making them both chuckle.

The pair looked to one another and Tili said, “Tomorrow is no good,”

Dis nodded, “And we have that conference call Friday,”

Tili, “Saturday is good, morning?”

Dis nodded saying to you in the common tongue again, “Saturday morning we could get the gals together and help you shop.”

“That would be so helpful, because I got nothing. I mean I have one sequin mini, but I don’t think that would, fit the event.”

Tili, “We have been aching to have another get together with you, and it would be so good to help you get ready for the first official outing.”

Dis, “Are you nervous?”

“No, honestly I’m more nervous about tomorrow than anything,” their brows inched up and you said, “I don’t know if the boys told you that Mal has an interview for an internship this summer in Grey Havens and Lindon with a Shark Research Reserve and Rescue that turns out to be one my step dad’s twin brother runs.”

They both said, “Oh,”

And you nodded, “And she gave my address for the interview and I haven’t heard from my family because he likes to keep the process private, but it would be very good to see him again. And I don’t mean I’m not excited for Saturday-,”

They shook their heads and Tili said, “No we understand fully, your clan is so far away for so long. I schooled in the Blue Mountains so when my family came nearby I wasn’t able to keep on my seat for days beforehand, just buzzing.”

Walking with you they shared options of what they had worn to shows before and offering at a glance at your feet Dis said, “And do not worry we will ensure you have some incredible shoes for you.”

“I shouldn’t be trusted picking shoes.” You said parking the cart and facing them you said, “I have a pair from my friends who do my hair, this really nice black pair of glittery heels, worth about five months rent. Plus I have my heels from the festival still.”

Tili, “Well if you choose something not matching those we will find you a lovely pair of heels.”

“Thing is I don’t pick the lovely pair, the ones I usually want are crazy expensive.”

Dis chuckled saying in a side hug she claimed, “Don’t we all.”

Tili, “I know Mili bought a brand new car of a pair when she got cleared to make her own funds. Took her a step back for Adad, Amad however understood and helped her fix things when it turned out to be for her graduation and then loaned them to a cousin for their wedding, and four more after that.”

Making you giggle, “As long as you split it by wearers and their events it’s a fair deal.”

Tili, “Exactly.” Claiming a hug of her own.

Dis grinned saying, “We will let you change and contact the gals and text you the time. I will keep my ears peeled for word on the interview from the boys, that would be so incredible for her.”

“Yes, I think I calmed her down a tad and distracted her by reminding her she needed to pick her clothes for it, apparently like me for my first interview for my Masters degrees planned on going naked. So hopefully she won’t be panicked and end up almost going in a ball gown like me.”

Dis, “Even interviewing here, I almost went in a poofy gown myself.”

Tili asked, “You have Masters degrees?”

You nodded, “Five in engineering, there’s different divisions in Elven territories. But when I moved I chose to switch paths to not have to refer to those in my old name so they couldn’t be traced.”

Tili, “Do you miss it?”

“Um, not really. And it really isn’t unused qualifications because in the shows and stuff like that I actually know how to make things work for flying contraptions or gadgets. And I am very handy at home, even though I do prefer to hire builders just so other people won’t question stability and all that. It does stun people, I mean I work here and at the station but I don’t feel like I am settling or that being a maid is somehow beneath me, please don’t think I think that.”

Dis shook her head patting your arm, “Absolutely not, we were just wondering about it. Because we heard you were an engineer in the service and maybe assumed I guess that you had decided not to continue that after retiring.”

“That is part of it, plus with me this size no company for ships will hire someone my size for the jobs I was given in the service because there was shortages on qualified soldiers for the job. I mean I could work on designing toys or music boxes or something like that but it doesn’t pay very well or offer stability.”

Tili, “I get that, fully, several Durins were engineers and mechanics in the service, and I was a pilot but I doubt I would ever try to go commercial. It just got too heavy for me after I got out. No judgment on that at all, even miss explosives over here is way off her former task.”

You looked at Dis who grinned saying, “I am not at liberty to discuss my role, merely that it involved explosives.”

“Been there.”

Tili chuckled and said, “Let’s not hold you up, no doubt Thorin will be eager to have breakfast and discuss your plans some more.” She claimed Dis’ hand guiding her away and waved, “Goodnight.”

You giggled saying, “Goodnight.”

“Let’s go,” the ladies changing behind you all grouped up on their agreed path to get some late night meal at a diner nearby, wishing you well on their way out. With your leg propped up on the bench in front of you your fingers managed to tie your sneakers and up you stood shouldering your bag to head out to the garage.

Some more painting and repairs had you following the pathway mentioned in the afternoon meeting. Halfway lost to your thoughts the body stepping into your path was almost missed and in a step to your right to try and walk behind them had the Dwarf stepping back to block you. The move signaled a manager inside an office abandoning his meeting to try and diffuse the annoying game the man might be trying to play on you.

“Can I help you?” You asked shifting your hand on the strap of your bag.

“I just have a few questions,” in his palm you saw the notepad he read from, “I wanted to ask your show just got picked up by Bombadil Streaming Network, and the biggest question going around is why the hell it was cancelled in the first place. Now I’ve done some digging, and the only answer I can come up with is your family.”

“I have to go,” you said shifting on your feet only for his hand to extend.

“Look, my Lady,”

“I am not your Lady.”

“Listen, some may be fooled with your hair dye, name and career change but it’s there in black and white, not to mention purple. Lady Glawar Vingilótë Moe, daughter of now deceased Lord Luvailin Himring, Son of Mórilanta. Everyone’s read the story on those letters and some news outlets might not be so keen on holding that information to themselves and skip out on a juicy story.” He paused a moment and sighed, “The piece isn’t on them, it’s on the show and the gap between that and the Bunny Show.”

He said glancing at the approaching manager who said, “Sir, you��re going to have to leave.”

The reporter said, “Was your family behind the cancellations, can you tell me that? NDA’s dissolve after the other party is dead. You got the money, the property and ditched the name why not talk now? Tell your side. Do the Durins know at least?”

“I was sent to Ruun because of them. For 800 years since, anytime I had something profitable I would get a call with their clan demanding their 75% share. I would turn them down and the next day or even the next week, red tape galore. Luvailin sent my half brother to kill me, he got executed and I got drug through the press so he could make sure everyone knew my face. Since then one of my apartments was burned to the ground with me in it because of who my father was.” His lips parted, “The names in the tributes on that show are my neighbors hurt or dead from that fire. Yes, the Durins know, so do the Findis, they’ve been kind enough to name me by my Naneth’s clan. Each and every Dwarf company I applied to did a background search that got flagged from it. That name is poison, be careful when digging through my family tree, because I’m not the only bastard whose been attacked because of it.”

The Manager at your side now stepped between you saying, “Out, now,”

The reporter nodded saying to you with a pained look in his eye at your unrealized truth, “Thank you,” and walked with the manger leading him out of the guest entrance while you continued on catching him mouthing your words that surely he would write down making you shake your head once you rounded the corner. The manager however scolded him on bothering employees of the hotel and turned once a pair of guards finished escorting him out allowing the manager to head back to his meeting.

“You okay, Miss Pear?”

Turning around you nodded to another manager, “Ya, he’s just trying to figure out why my show on Bombadil got canceled. Not the best approach for it but it’s just about the show. A lot of people have been asking.”

“We can have security walk you out now if you like?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s okay, might just start up a social page or something for questions. Since this is one of the few places people know I’ll be. Maybe it would help.”

The manager smirks and nods, “I’ll let the people in the lobby know all the same for shift turnovers. Have to keep an eye out for our expecting Dams all the same.” You nodded and he said, “Good night. And we loved the show from this morning.”

Making you giggle and say, “Thank you. Goodnight.” Turning around as he did you walked the rest of the way to the garage hearing echoes of the radio calls from the security team who made another lap in the garage nodding to you passing you by along with the few others who rode the elevator with you.

Parked inside your garage you stood outside your car with your bag in hand simply sighing in a stroke of your hand over your forehead trying to think of what to do. You had your Bunny account but you supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have one for just you. Mafioso’s was on a picture app while Bunny’s mainly was for text, easily able to have a second there people could message you at. Inside an awkward squawking froze you in place a moment before you eased in removing your shoes left by the door you locked. Right to the kitchen you found Thorin who had music playing from his phone trying to distract himself from the noise coming from the greenhouse.

“That Roac and Dot?”

Turning around Thorin replied, “Yes. It’s not often, just, twice before bed.”

“Not often at all.”

Thorin wet his lips and said, “Got a message from Vili, about the hotel double checking security, something about a reporter?”

“Ya, it wasn’t bad. Just wanted to know why my show got cancelled.”

“That it?”

Your head tilted to the side, “He knew my old name. Asked if you all knew.” That had Thorin inhaling. “If he prints my name or not-,”

“We aren’t abandoning you. You aren’t them.”

“I know, I told them you gave me a chance by Naneth’s clan, not his. Gave him a good idea that they made it impossible to keep my name, or do anything to draw attention to myself and stay safe.” Moving closer his hand rested on your arm starting to smooth down it making you say, “If the full story gets out it does, if he buries it he buries it. I’m tired of hiding it. I just hope it won’t end badly for your family.”

Trying for a comforting smile he hummed back, “We are family, here to protect you. There are so many Durins and Findis here for you and your clan. And the Elders know, we won’t stand slander, not for you or any of your relatives.”

“I did have a thought, maybe having another social page people can send questions to, might keep people from ambushing me. Thought I’d run it by you if you thought it might work?”

Thorin, “Frerin tried that. It was a bit much, though we can send an email to our uncle, Fundin, Balin and Dwalin’s Adad, he started a web page, fan page really, that way it is more organized.”

You nodded saying, “Sounds better than having my phone blowing up nonstop.”

Thorin nodded, “I’ll message him tomorrow morning and get a list of what we might need for it. Might help with the letters as well, a duffel bag a week is a lot.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I have to put these in envelopes.” You said pulling out a stack of replies for schools, “I don’t think I have enough, I think I have three, maybe…”

He smirked saying, “I will get you more envelopes, and stamps, Gran heard about your letters and she sent a box of stamps. All coated in bunnies if you can believe it.” Making you giggle and join him at the table.

“How big a box we talking?”

“You could probably fit a head in it. I do mean sheets. It is absurdly heavy. I don’t know how much she spent-,”

“It sounds so expensive.”

“But apparently there’s a relative who designs the stamps and has a company and was hoping that if you used the stamps people might use their shop more.”

“Oh, so it’s like an endorsement?”

“In a way. There’s no contract, so far, if you were interested, merely, he had a twenty five pound box of bunny stamps he forwarded to you.” Again you giggled and he said, “But, it helps family.”

“What’s the company?” Thorin smirked seeing you pull out your phone opening your Bunny social page still racking up comments and notices of tags. Hitting the new post icon your notices seemed to freeze as people could see a triple dot icon by your username seeing that you were writing something.

“Gultalut Guises.” Leaning in he peered over your shoulder smirking at the message you drafted up.

‘Thanks to your lovely letters down at the station for me the Company and I, aloud I can admit I have never used this many stamps in my life. And quite eagerly can share I have a Stamp guy, Gultalut Guises, to add to my list of allies to keep you all up to date on the latest. Keep your eyes peeled, surprise, they have bunnies!’

Thorin chuckled as you nipped your lip and hit send starting a ricochet of responses saying they were looking them up now. “That is amazing, how many followers do you have?”

“1.5 million?” tapping the screen you found your info page and you said, “1.2, apparently my message on toast earlier did not go over well.”

“If they weren’t going to offer a contract they would be foolish not to now. One million potential customers.”

“Technically, I have stamps. An absurd amount of stamps I didn’t even ask for. I think we’re even.”

Thorin chuckled lowly saying, “I don’t think they will see it that way.”

“Well if they don’t like it, tough. What they get for sending me 25 pounds of stamps.”

Thorin hummed saying, “Who knows, maybe another relative has an envelope company.”

“You know, I have always wanted one of those wax stamp things. It is highly illogical with having to send out hundreds of letters,”

Thorin aimed a finger on the hand holding his fork, “That we can help with, Gloin’s Ada is a sculptor, he would jump at the chance, always replaces ours when we misplace them.”

“You have one?” You asked with a smirk.

“Yes, for official clan letters. It would also be used for our official engagement statement. In truth you would require one then anyways. We could get him on it early. He has been hinting at the tradition.”

“That would be very nice of him.”

Thorin chuckled, “More than nice, no longer a request but a demand on his part.”

A phone call parted you once dinner was cleared up, off to bed you went and curled up in bed once changed into a pair of shorts, keeping your sweater and socks on. Thorin however still in his sweats, shirtless took the call from Vili confirming you’d made it home and were well fed and off to bed, returning to his own when his freshly home brother in law and sister had hung up glad to be certain you weren’t upset.

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

Pt 46

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

Next Caller - @avaria-revallier

Thanks againt to c-s-stars for letting me use her oc Mal. There is more to come for your precious Malachite :D

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Tea Shop AU #OC Mal

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years

Text

Ectotherm - Conclusion

By extremely popular demand, I give you an actual happy conclusion to the story “Ectotherm.”

And because I can’t do anything halfway, it’s 1664 words, making it already about half the length of the original story (so you can see why I couldn’t just fold it into the conclusion chapter).

For those who have not read the original, follow the link above. The link to the AO3 version (which is expanded, with an additional scene plus a short almost-conclusion in Chapter 18) is in the notes there, and I’ll add it here since external links are sometimes iffy (PM or @ me if it doesn’t work).

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

The angel had spent the morning carving lines and curves deep into the wooden floor, until Crowley could feel every scratch and dip through the sensitive skin of his belly. Now the angel was trying to keep him at the center of the pattern, while he ran around the edge doing – something.

There was a heat lamp, but it was too far away. Why wasn’t he under it?

Crowley started sliding across the floor, coiling and uncoiling in the direction of that delicious, life-giving heat –

The angel suddenly loomed before him, hands flapping. “No, no! I told…the center…few more minutes.”

A few minutes? Crowley was cold now. He wound to the side, planning to dart around, but the angel’s feet suddenly shifted, coming down sharply in his path.

Startled, Crowley reared up, nearly as tall as the angel, to hisssss from his maximum height, head flattened, vision suddenly clear enough to see the angel’s face: eyes wide, jaw tight. Frightened. Crowley gave another hisssss, hoping that would be enough to scare the interloper away, clear a path to the heat.

But the angel merely raised his hands, moving more slowly this time. “…sorry, my…adjust the lamp…break the circle now…start all over…” The words were murky, distorted, most of them too low or soft to be perceived. “…explained…ten minutes ago…remember?”

Ten minutes? That was a long time.

No, no it wasn’t. The cold was just making his mind fuzzy again. He gave another longing look at the heat lamp, then at another, further away, tucked safely in a corner where he could bask and hide. He felt exposed, anxious, very much in danger. What if this was some kind of trap?

Then he looked again at the angel’s face. Not frightened. Worried. Sad. Tired.

Crowley trusted Aziraphale. He couldn’t remember precisely why, but it was undeniable – a deep, profound trust. If Aziraphale said he had to stay here, stay he would.

“Fasssssster,” Crowley grumbled, and twisted back to where he’d been before. A moment later, the light from the heat lamp grew a little warmer. Still not quite enough, but better.

Two more slow circuits around the marks on the floor, adjusting things and muttering, and finally the angel sat down, facing Crowley. He held out his arms, but Crowley was in no mood to be handled, pulling back into his coils.

“I need…preferably your face.” Crowley flicked his tongue, but otherwise didn’t move. “Please…”

Reluctantly, the black and red snake moved closer, lifted his head until the angel could cup his jaw with burning-hot hands. He didn’t like it and pulled away, fighting the urge to retreat.

Necessary, this is necessary. He tried to relax into the contact, tried to pretend it didn’t feel wrong.

The angel’s blue eyes fluttered shut; Crowley could just make out the tense wrinkles forming in his brow, but the stiffness in the fingers around the snake’s jaw was unmistakable. It wasn’t enough to be painful, but it was close. Crowley’s back half twisted and writhed as if ready to pull away, even while he focused his entire being on keeping his head still. Necessary. Trust him. It’s necessary.

Finally, the angel’s hands fell away, and he dropped back, breathing heavily. His eyes opened and he smiled. “…finished.”

Good.

Crowley turned and slithered under the heat lamp, stretching out for maximum comfort.

Just as he was settling in for a good late-morning nap, the angel appeared beside him again. “…you hear…finished...”

Now what? Perhaps he should go find one of the more secluded lamps, to avoid interruptions.

“…fixed you...”

Shrugging off the nap for the moment, Crowley raised his head just enough to tip it to the side. Fixed…?

The angel knelt at the edge of the heat lamp’s warmth, and spoke again, much louder. “…fixed…change back…”

Crowley tilted his head the other way. Change back…?

“Human! Crowley, human.”

It all came back in a rush. Arms. Legs. Hands. Drinking strange red water, watching birds swim, moving very fast in a large black box which made the angel very angry – human.

He reared up again.

Nothing changed.

“Hhhhhow?”

The angel shook his head, mouth working, but Crowley couldn’t hear a sound. He pushed closer, far closer than was comfortable, until the heat pits of his face were filled with the angel’s warmth, until he could see the tears gathering in blue eyes.

Crowley focused on those eyes, that shape, on every part of his life in human form that he could still make sense of.

Still no change.

Hissing with frustration, he abandoned the warmth of the heat lamp, shooting away to weave among the plants, drape himself across the sofa, even nudge his face at an open book.

No effect at all.

He couldn’t remember how to change back.

As he circled the shop again – feeling his energy sap away in the cold – he noticed the angel sitting once again at his desk. Crowley climbed up his leg, across his back, draped over his shoulders and around his chest. Felt the pure warmth, cleaner and sweeter than sunlight.

The angel wasn’t working now, of course; his chair was pointed away from the desk, as if to avoid even looking at the piles of paper. He clutched something in his hands, shoulders heaving, chest shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry…I tried…I tried so hard, but I couldn’t…I’m too late.” The voice was a little clearer now, rumbling through Crowley’s belly.

“Sssshhhhhh,” Crowley comforted as best he could, trying to nestle his head on the angel’s arms. It wasn’t a gesture he was comfortable with, but he could remember now that arms, hands, were important. Perhaps if he could get closer…

“If I hadn’t been so foolish…oh, my love…I failed you…”

But Crowley wasn’t listening. He was looking at what the angel held in his hands. He was looking at –

“Glassssssesss.”

“Wh – what?”

“Glassssess.” Crowley nudged at the angel’s hands until they parted, revealing a pair of black lenses held by silver frames. “Pleassse. Glassessss.”

It wasn’t easy to put a pair of sunglasses onto a snake’s head, even one so large as Crowley. They dangled rather uselessly down either side of his jaw, the lenses didn’t exactly cover his eyes, and where they did the world became a murky black soup he had no hope of seeing. But it felt…right.

He turned, trying to face the angel, but somehow lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.

“Crowley? Are you…Crowley?”

The voice was too crisp, too sharp, to rich. It was startling.

He shook his head and hissed, but it sounded strange. Thick. His tongue couldn’t get out because there were too many teeth.

Crowley blinked. Not because he had to, but because he suddenly realized he had eyelids.

A hand drifted over and adjusted the glasses, settling them correctly over the ears and across the nose – no that was his hand, his fingers.

His eyes drifted up and he was shocked at how clearly he could see the angel standing over him, looking more pale, more drawn, and just a bit thinner than he remembered, clothes a rumpled mess, eyes red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Crowley!”

Two arms suddenly around his shoulders, pulling him up onto legs he barely remembered how to use, wrapping around him, pulling him into the indescribable softness of Aziraphale’s embrace. It took him a moment to remember that he had arms of his own, that he could twist them, twine them, pull Aziraphale even closer.

He could still feel Aziraphale’s warmth pressing into his chest and stomach, but it no longer felt like a blazing fire, or the strange glow of life-giving heat. It was simply a body, pressed close to his. Two bodies trembling, shaking, shoulders heaving, breath ragged.

Aziraphale was still crying, still mumbling apologies into the demon’s shoulder.

Crowley was laughing.

They didn’t let each other go for a long, long time.

Crowley was warm.

No, Crowley was happy.

It wasn’t as easy to fit both bodies on the sofa in this form, but they managed – Aziraphale stretched out, Crowley, lying across his chest, legs in a tangle, head tucked against his throat, listening to the sigh of breath, the rumble of heartbeat.

They hadn’t talked about it. Aziraphale had finally admitted to being tired, and they just found themselves here as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I suppose I’ve gotten used to this,” murmured Aziraphale, who never used to lie on his own sofa, trembling fingers tracing through Crowley’s hair.

“I’m used to it, too,” he mumbled back, but used to it didn’t begin to describe it. This was right, this was home, and he knew it was more than a leftover serpentine instinct to bask that had brought him here, that would keep bringing him here for as long as Aziraphale would allow it.

Aziraphale’s right hand was still twined with Crowley’s left, resting on the angel’s chest. Crowely couldn’t stop studying it, turning it, running his thumb across fingers and knuckles and nails. He could feel more than just heat now, he could feel the softness, the rough callus on the side of one finger where Aziraphale rested his pencil as he wrote, the faint hard edges of papercuts. It was an entire world to explore, that hand, full of more wonder than Crowley had ever suspected.

“Might be more comfortable in a bed,” Aziraphale whispered, clearly already on the edge of sleep.

“I’ve got a bed,” Crowley said idly, still looking at the broken edges of Aziraphale’s nails. He’d never seen them like that before. Aziraphale had kept them perfectly manicured since the invention of manicures. “Lots of space, too. More than I can use. But then, all my plants are already here…” He trailed off, realizing what he was saying.

“Mmh,” was Aziraphale’s only reply. The fingers combing through Crowley’s hair were now almost still.

“S’alright, Angel. You rest. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Thank you for reading!

And thanks to the “demanded a happy ending crew”: @joyandotherstories @aknightofthe7kingdoms @witchingwhovian @ourpearls @ambular-d @sparkkeyper , @angel-and-serpent who has been sending me artwork of Grandma Poss (don’t ask), and my own mother who kept shouting “give your fans a happy ending” (she doesn’t read my fic but she has STRONG opinions).

Happy (late) National Serpent Day!

#ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #asexual ineffable husbands #snek crowley #protective aziraphale #my writing #crowley and aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale #crowley is a snek #hand holding #sleepy cuddles #happy ending #happy crowley #look i made it better #please don't hurt me #serpent day #advent calendar #31 days of ineffables

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

Baby Take a Bow - Chapter 2

Some time later Taako transmuted some of Magnus’s clothes to be child-sized and the crew gathered around to watch him with varying expressions of concern, confusion and awe at his adorableness. Magus was happily preoccupied with trying and failing to tie his shoelaces.

“So.” Davenport broke the silence. “Did you get a good look at the person who cursed him?”

“Just briefly,” Lucretia explained. “Lup agrees with me that it was an elf, but they were camouflaged. I didn’t see them at first and they gave me a fright. I don’t think they meant any harm though.”

“They seemed pretty frightened, actually,” Lup volunteered. “I think we scared them and they lashed out. I want to go out and look for them – if we can talk, they might be able to undo whatever spell they hit Magnus with. Plus, maybe they have a clue about where the light is. It’s worth a shot.”

“If this person is an elf, they might trust Taako and Lup the most.” Davenport suggested. “The rest of us should be okay here if you two want to go look for them.”

“Nuh uh!” Merle piped up. “I wanna see the plant elf thing! Plants are my speciality. I’m coming too.”

“Sure.” Davenport nodded, glancing around at the team. “Merle, Lup and Taako, you’re out looking for information. Lucretia, I’ll need your held checking the bond engine is working at full capacity. We took a couple hard hits from the Hunger in the last cycle. And someone’s gonna have to watch Magnus for a couple hours. Barry?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Barry did not look sure. In fact, he looked rather unsure, but he squared his shoulders. Davenport nodded.

“Good. We’ll reconvene at noon. Merle, Lup and Taako, keep your stones of farspeech on at all times and update us if you find anything.”

The group split to go off on their various assignments. Lup brushed Barry’s shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“No worries, Care-Bear, you’re gonna do great. Enjoy babysitting duty.”

Barry snorted. “I’ll try. Be careful out there, okay?”

“Sure thing babe.”

Lup jogged out to join her teammates.

Leaving Barry to stare at a rather confused-looking Magnus. The child glanced around before asking, “Where did everyone go?”

Magus was a kid now. They’d faced weirder stuff. And Barry and Magnus were friends, they hung out all the time. There was no reason this should be any different.

Barry hadn’t been around kids enough to know if he was good with them. Gods, he hoped he was good with them.

Magnus was still looking at him.

“They all had work to do, so it’s just us for a while.” Barry dropped down into a crouch because it felt weird to talk down to Magnus. “Looks like we have some time on our hands. What do you want to do?”

Magnus tipped his head, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Can… can we play?”

“Play, huh?” They didn’t exactly have any toys on the Starblaster, but Barry could improvise. There was all sorts of stuff lying around in his lab. “Sure, buddy, we can play. Do you wanna go see what toys we can find?”

Magnus brightened. “Yeah! I mean, um, yes please.”

Luckily Magnus was not a picky kid. He was happy to roam around Barry’s lab, ooing and aahing while Barry sifted through all his junk. Did a thousand-piece three-dimensional puzzle of the Starblaster count as a toy? Or was Magnus too young to not swallow the pieces? Probably better to be safe than sorry. He set it carefully in a drawer.

“What’s this?” Magnus called from across the room. Barry glanced around to see him puzzling at a chalk circle drawn on the ground.

“Oh, that’s a summoning circle. I can do all sorts of necromancy with that.”

“Cool!”

Maybe Magnus would enjoy looking at rock samples? Gods, Barry really should have asked someone what age Magnus seemed to be. And what things kids of that age liked doing.

He really had no idea what he was doing.

Magnus made a cooing sound. Barry glanced around to see him lifting a vial of colourful liquid. He shrugged and turned back to his drawers before it hit him.

Oh shit, that was the flesh-eating acid he’d gotten from cycle eight.

Barry lunged across the room and snatched the vial from Magnus’s hands before the kid could pop open the cork.

“No nonono, hey, kiddo, maybe we should do something else? Do you like drawing?”

Magnus, who had flinched at the sudden movement and shouting, paused to peer up Barry.

“Mm hmm.”

“Well,” Barry looked around desperately. Where were his pencils? Could kids at Magnus’s age draw things, or just colour? Did he even have coloured pencils???

Barry’s gaze landed on the set of paints he’d purchased during cycle nineteen, and then at his collection of various animal and humanoid skulls he used as paperweights.

“How do you feel about decorating?”

Magnus took to painting like a duck to water. Barry spread out a couple rags to catch the drips as they smeared paint on skulls and a particularly large femur they’d found under a table. They’d started with brushes but when an overly enthusiastic Magnus dunked his hands straight into the paint, Barry had shrugged and joined him in finger-painting. While decorating each skull they came up with fun stories for the original owners, who they’d been and how they died. Barry had an unreasonable amount of fun doing the voices.

And Lucretia had called his bone collection morbid. Barry chuckled as he watched Magnus happily painting a human skull in bright pinks and yellows. Magnus paused for a moment to consider his handiwork.

“That looks great, Magnus.” Barry encouraged. Magnus turned to him with a beaming smile. There was paint splattered across his face.

“Hey, Bare?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Where did this one come from?”

Hmm. Maybe the truth was a bit morbid for a kid? Barry really didn’t want to be responsible for traumatizing the little guy. But Magnus didn’t seem upset, so he spoke slowly and carefully, considering each word.

“Well, Magnus, do you know what happens on this ship every year? How everything resets and the people who are hurt get better?”

Magnus nodded.

“It’s like we get new bodies every year. This,” He gestured to the skull, “is a part of one of my old bodies.” He very carefully did not say that it was from the cycle where he’d fallen and impaled himself on a stalagmite, and his final words were asking if they could keep the skull because it’d be pretty fucking cool to have his own skull sitting on his desk. In his defense, it was so cool. The next time Lup died she’d asked to have hers kept too, so they’d have matching couples skulls. Of course, the pair of matching ones sat together on Barry’s desk, not thrown together with the rest. He wasn’t a heathen.

He just had a couple extra Barry skulls lying around in his bone paperweight collection, prime candidates for painting.

“So this is yours?” Magnus asked curiously. He didn’t look like he was about to burst into tears, so Barry nodded.

“Yup.”

“Oh.” Magnus frowned for a moment. “Well, cool.” His eyes widened excitedly. “Is one of mine here?”

“Why, do you want to paint it?”

“Uh huh!”

Hmm. Giving a kid a skull from a dead version of his future self to play with?

…

Yeah, seems fine.

“Sure, just let me find it, I’ve got one somewhere next to the seal bones. Hey, I think I’ve got some glitter back here too if you want it.”

“YES!”

#chapter 2 #taz #the adventure zone #balance #taz balance #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #btab

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skyerana · 4 years

Text

tagged by @ashipwreckcoast for a question thinger. I’m bored out of my skull and I like these questions so here you go. You should do it. Yes, you. Why? Because? I don’t have real reazons.

Putting this under a cut because its long and I don’t want to clog up your dash.\

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? Black, specifically Pilot G2 pens. But really? I like a good dark dark green. My dog ate my favorite pen and I haven’t been able to find one in that color since.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? I’ve sort of done both. I love living in a city, with all the vibrancy and life that it entails. There’s public transit, arts and culture, so many kinds of food, interesting people and always something going on. But for the last few years, I’ve been wanting to get back to something like where I went to school, where I lived for 7 months on a lake and the next closest people (besides us 9) were 5 miles away (the road up to the field station was 2 miles by itself and we got snowed in and flooded in on more than one occasion). I miss being close to deep nature and the peace that comes from being alone.

So which do I prefer? I don’t really know. I’ve been living back in a city for the past eight years but I’m feeling like its time for a change. I don’t think I’ll leave cities forever though. I like people and diversity too much.

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? For fun, I’d want to pick up leatherworking, blacksmithing, and/or woodworking. I’m currently not set up well to do any of them though. For practicality though, I’d want to learn general house maintenance.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Depends on the tea, but often yes. Coffee gets an obscene amount of hazelnut creamer because I hate coffee but I love caffeine.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? The Hobbit. My dad and step-dad both read it to me at different points of my childhood and my dad gave me his copy (The Hobbit or There and Back Again, 1977 Illustrated edition)

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers. Baths are well and good if you have a big enough one (which I don’t) and you don’t stay in so long it gets cold (I don’t).

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Upon reading this question, every single mythical creature that I’d ever read about immediately vanished from my memory. I’m going to have to come back to this one.

I came back to this one and I still don’t know. I like the idea of flying. But I don’t really want to be hunted out to extinction.

8. Paper or electronic books? I love paper books, but I read much better via ebook. I still haven’t read Gideon the Ninths because the pages are so soft I just sit and pet them instead of read.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? BOXERS! Or rather, boxer-briefs. I know this sounds weird but bear with me. For some reason, when I started transitioning, it did not occur to me to buy mens underwear. When I finally did, It Was Amazing. I looked great. I felt great. I finally understood why so many people had “fun” underwear that they liked. Before, I had like one or two that had patterns/stuff on them. Now? I’ve got Star Wars and Captain Marvel and Deadpool and mountains and mushrooms and one with boxers that makes me laugh because there’s boxers on boxers!! And I can wear them whenever the fuck I want! So I always have something fun on, even (especially) if other folks can’t see it. Switching to boxers was such a weirdly affirming thing for my gender and I love it.

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? This is complicated. I like my legal name, sure, but its not me, not really. I did get the spelling updated on it legally when I was 16 so I could actually get my driver’s license. I haven’t had a chance to change my legal name since transitioning (between the election and COVID, I don’t know that I’d get through all of the legal rigmarole in time to vote in November), but I really like my chosen name and an altered version of my legal name will be my new middle name.

11. Who is a mentor to you? I’ve had so many over the years. I learn so much from people, but I had so many great mentors when I worked at the museum. Timshel stands out. If I can be half the mentor she is to someone, I’ll have put some real solid good into the world.

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? No. Not in the everyone knows you sense. That’s not my jam. I wouldn’t mind having fame more in the sense of within a tiny field, being well known and respected.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? Yes... to the point where I’m seeing a sleep specialist in a month to sort it out.

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? Very much so. But there’s so many different ways to be romantic.

15. Which element best represents you? I hate these questions. I see bits of myself in all of the elements. People often associate me with air or water though.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? Distance wise, my family in California. I come from a bunch of very close knit families and so having folks on the other side of the country that I’m super close with is ihard.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? “Everyone. Being solitary by choice as opposed to demand is a big difference.” I’m just going to leave @ashipwreckcoast‘s response here because it fits. I’m very lucky that I am still working in a (relatively) safe environment, but we’re all missing out on things like throwing a housewarming party for one of my closest friends/coworkers. Even though we see each other almost daily, we’re still missing out on a lot that we’d normally do. That’s even worse for folks I’m not seeing at all because of COVID.

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I legit thought I was a wolf and would howl at the neighbors when mom packed me into the wagon to go do laundry at the laundromat. The neighbors, being good people, howled back.

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? There have been a few times where I wasn’t sure what I was eating. One was at a wedding with 10 or 12 courses (I lost count) and some of them were foods I’d never seen before. I know jellyfish was on that list but there was a bunch of other stuff that I don’t know what it was. The few times I’ve been out of the country, I ate stuff I couldn’t identify (often due to language barriers). The seafood soup at the one place was just whatever they caught that day and it had a lot in it. I remember being disappointed in my fellow grad students when some of them turned it down. You don’t turn down food when you’re a guest unless you have a medical reason for doing so. But the thing is, none of these are strange, except by the US standards. So if that’s true, then the deep fried dragonfly should also be on this list.

20. What are you most thankful for? Most? That’s so hard to quantify. If I really think about it, it’s things like having a loving partner and a home and food and the ability to pay my bills, I guess.

21. Do you like spicy food? I do not like capsaisin related spices but I love horseradish type spices. I do liked well spiced, but not necessarily spicy, foods.

22. Have you ever met someone famous? A few times. Sometimes at the museum (worked with some of them). Sometimes at special events, like attending lectures.

23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? Generally no. I do sometimes get the urge to write and reflect on stuff, so I’ll do that when the mood strikes.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? I’ve been trained to use pens for everything (I work in a chem lab). Pencils are fine, but you need the right kind for the satisfying scratchiness. I cannot abide scratchiness in my pens.

25. What is your star sign? Cancer. Why is this important?

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Not super soggy but not straight out of the box crunchy. Does that make sense?

27. What would you want your legacy to be? I want my legacy to be built on kindness and helping others. I know that’s cheesy and cliche, but I have so much privilege that I want to use to benefit others.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I love reading. I’m on book 30 for the year. The last one I finished was Starsight by Brandon Sanderson, which is book 2 of 3 of the Skyward series and HE HASN’T STARTED BOOK 3 YET!! I read Skyward and Starsight in four days total.

29. How do you show someone you love them? I often cook for them.

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Only for certain things. I don’t mind drinking most drinks at room temperature and ice waters stuff down. It’s good for iced tea though, but only if you need to cool it.

31. What are you afraid of? This isn’t a fair question. I’m afraid of being abandoned or fucking things up. I’m also afraid of spiders and the milk in my fridge expiring. I’m afraid of filling out forms (forms are really hard and make me extremely anxious). I’m afraid of phone calls, but I’m good at them. I’m afraid of public speaking, but you’d never know it unless I told you. I’m afraid of losing the people I love, of dying without having put some good into the world. I’m afraid for my neighbors, for my brothers and sister, for my niece. The world is overwhelmingly scary right now.

32. What is your favourite scent? Campfires, the smell of a fresh spring rain, leather, the weird musky scent of my kitten, of garlic and onions cooking low and slow. There’s too many.

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? Depends on who and in what context I know them.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I’d travel a lot more. I’d donate to a lot of things. Museums, arts, individuals. I’d love to just go on to gofundme and just straight up fund folks to their goals plus a bit extra. And then go figure out where the systematic failures were that lead to them not being able to afford it in the first place.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Ocean. Absolutely. But this is also lake and river erasure.

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? I guess exchange it for USD.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Yeah. They’re magical every time.

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? Be kind. To yourself and others.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I’ve got several I want. I was supposed to get an anchor with an octopus chilling on it on my inner forearm for my one year anniversary on testosterone but then COVID hit and well... who know when I‘ll get it.

40. What can you hear now? Mostly just the AC and the tack of the keys on the keyboard. Occasionally a particularly loud vehicle makes itself known.

41. Where do you feel the safest? Curled up with my partner and dog.

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? Probs my anxiety.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be?

44. What is your most used emoji? The crying laughing one. I survive on sending stupid memes and shit back and forth with too many people. After that, the heart.

45. Describe yourself using one word. Oof

46. What do you regret the most? Not trusting myself when I figured out I was trans back in undergrad. That whole decade of burying it all and internalizing a lot of transphobia really did a number on myself.

47. Last movie you saw? I think it was Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn

48. Last tv show you watched? Rewatching Avatar with my partner right now. We just finished She-Ra.

49. Invent a word and its meaning. I just... I don’t know. I’m a Webster. I just compile what other people say in a book.

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