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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Open your eyes [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Title: Open your eyes Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female!Reader Word count: 5.8k Published: 23 May 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: My first Bucky fic, so go easy on me :D Warnings: Stabbing, shooting, injury, typical avengers stuff Summary: It’s been over two years since you met Bucky and slowly but steadily you grew closer to each other to the point where you started developing feelings for him. It seemed you were on the right path to maybe establish more than a friendship, but that was until he decided to push you away without an explanation.

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You were running across the metal bridge of the submarine, trying to get to the engine room when you caught sight of a Hydra agent. You could have left him; you could have shot him. Either way you could have just followed the order you have been given and head to the engine room. But it was boring and at times you found recklessness more fun than to just follow orders that didn't satisfy your playful needs. As though you were a cat, you jumped from the bridge lending on the lower level, barely causing any sound that would be out of the ordinary. A proud smile appeared on your face as you sneaked up behind the man and tapped his shoulder. He turned around in a quick movement, gun pointing right at your chest.

"Well, hello pretty boy," you smirked, your tone inviting and flirtatious, causing the man to smile at you as though he lost focus of his mission. "It's a shame that you have to leave so soon," you chuckled, a devilish tone to your voice. His eyes widened as you grabbed his gun, pointed it upwards and stabbed your knife into his flash, a silent scream escaping his lips, before his body landed on the floor.

"Is this really necessary," Bucky appeared on the deck above you, jumping down to your level as he rolled his eyes.

"Is the big Bucky Barnes jealous?" You snickered. You knew he would never admit it, but you were more than just a fellow colleague of some sort.

"No?" He replied, though it was more of a question than a stern statement. "I just don't think all these little games of yours are unnecessary," he added quickly, trying to change the subject as he always did.

"Come on, Barnes, let me have fun," you groaned. "I like to play with my toys," you offered him a mischievous smile as you stepped closer to him, your chest flush against his. You felt his heartbeat quicken, his breathing turning shallow as your lips grazed across his. His light blue eyes usually held kindness behind them, but as a darker shade took over, you could feel his lust surface. "You could be one of them if you didn't play hard to get," you bit on your bottom lip as you jabbed your knife under his arm right into the man's stomach behind him. "I would treat you better though," you chuckled as you stepped back, swiftly pulling your knife out of the man. Bucky looked over his shoulder, his attacker lying across the metal floor. "You're welcome," you winked at him as he shook his head and rolled his eyes, but you didn't miss the tiny smile in the corner of his lips and the barely visible pink tint spreading across his cheeks.

"You know you could do all this without being too dramatic, right?" He asked, heaving a heavy sigh.

"What would be the fun in that?" You laughed, leaving the man behind, and heading towards the engine room.

It took you a couple of bruises and scrapes to get through the heavily protected area, but with Bucky's help you finally found yourself surrounded by the submarine's engines. "We are here, what now?" Holding onto your earpiece, you waited for a reply from someone who understood physics more than you did.

"There are two wheels, one on each engine," you heard Tony's voice and you started looking for the objects, walking around the gigantic metal machines surrounding you. "They look like circles," he added, earning a loud groan from you.

"Just because I don't understand engines, it doesn't mean I'm stupid, old man," you huffed, a silent chuckle leaving Bucky's lungs. "Do you think something's funny?" Your head shot back around; a deadly gaze directed at the man.

"Considering you have walked past the wheels twice already—" he snickered without finishing his sentence as he watched your face turn confused before a sharp exhale left your lungs.

"I hate both of you," you groaned as you stomped back towards one of the wheels, whilst Bucky grabbed the other one. As hard as you tried, yours didn't even move an inch, and whilst Bucky had his vibranium arm, even he was struggling with the jammed object. "You can barely turn it with your god-like powers, how am I supposed to move it?" You huffed as you watched him struggle. "Can't we just blow it up?" You asked somewhat trying to joke around, but partially being serious.

"No!" You heard Rogers' panicked voice. "No smashing, no blowing, nothing that could cause bigger damage," he instructed you in a firm tone.

"Fine!" You huffed. "You are boring," whining, you finally concentrated back on the wheels, but it didn't want to budge.

"Move," Bucky said as he stepped beside you and peeled your hands off the wheel.

"What a gentleman," you snickered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There are a couple of other things in my room you could help out with," you chuckled as a loud, throaty groan left his lungs. It was a mystery if the sound was caused by your words, the hard work he was putting into moving the wheel or both for that matter. But either way, you loved riling him up.

"We are good," Bucky spoke in his earpiece as the submarine started moving again, causing you to unsteadily stumble back, before Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and caught you. His gaze fell on you, watching you intensely, almost as though he was studying you. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," you replied with an innocent expression. "As far as I'm concerned you are the one holding me," your gaze turned to his arm, still wrapped around you strongly. As much as you wished to smile, you had to stop your facial muscles from forming a smile and giving you away. He quickly let go of you and heaved a heavy sigh.

"There's always a double meaning to your sentences, always telling me suggestive things, always flirting with me," he exhaled sharply.

"I thought I made myself very obvious," you chuckled, trying to mask how awkward you felt having to say what you felt out loud. "I like you, Barnes," his eyes widened at your words, but he quickly composed himself, as though a part of him already knew it.

"You can't keep thinking about things like this when we are busy trying to just survive missions after missions," his tone was commanding as if he was telling you to stop your feelings at all costs, but his gaze seemed different. It was soft and caring, the complete opposite of his words.

"The world is always in a war, it's inevitable. And even if I tried, I would not be able to just put a stop to my feelings. You know damn well that's not how it works," you scoffed.

"Well, you have to learn then. I'm over 100 years old, I could be your grandfather," he argued, earning a deep frown from you.

"James Buchanan Barnes, are you trying to make up excuses?" You asked as you folded your arms in front of your chest. "Because it sounds like you are trying to convince yourself why you shouldn't have feelings for me."

"I don't have time for this little game of yours," he replied sternly as he started heading back to the control room. You pulled a face, grimacing at the man, sulking in a child-like manner. "Just because I don't see you, it doesn't mean I don't know about the faces you make," he let out a silent chuckle, earning a confused look from you.

"God, you freak me out sometimes," you huffed as you followed in his steps.

"Can you two please stop flirting and get back?" Stark spoke up in your earpiece, earning an annoyed huff from you. Silently, you both headed to the upper deck to meet the rest of the crew, finally getting rid of Hydra on the ship, and stopping them from taking over the submarine.

It took another 5 hours for you to get back to the compound, but when you finally did, you dropped down on the couch in the lounge, exhaling deeply, feeling your body relax on the soft sofa.

"Some space would be nice," Natasha spoke standing beside the couch with a small smile and a questioningly raised brow.

"Just so you see how generous I can be," you smirked proudly and sat up, offering her the other side of the sofa.

"Very much so," she chuckled, but it quickly died down as Tony asked for your attention.

As usual, he talked about the efficiency and effectiveness of the mission and team performance and by the time he finished you were about to take a nap on Natasha's shoulder, drifting into a short slumber. But you couldn't sleep just yet as you felt her shoulder move, silently shaking you awake. You offered her a deadly gaze, before you realised everyone was already gone.

"Oh, we're done?" You asked as you looked around and stretched your back, standing up from the sofa. Natasha nodded in response and ushered you to head to your room, suggesting you didn't look too well which earned a grimace from you.

You attempted to rest and try to finally have a good night sleep, but unfortunately after hours of rolling and groaning you gave in. However you tried, you just couldn't get yourself to sleep and it left you frustrated. You wished to be able to control your mind and forget about certain things whenever you wanted, but unfortunately you couldn't do that, and it always left you with one particular person on your mind.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You were wary of him at the beginning, he was the Winter soldier after all, and you have heard and seen what he was capable of. But the trust Steve put in his friend pushed you to give him a chance too and you never regretted it. When you finally got closer to him and he opened up to you, talking about his past, you couldn't possibly imagine how he could keep himself in one piece. The pain, the trauma, the memories that haunted him scared you, even though you weren't the one living them all over again.

But somewhere along the line, you fell for him. You tried to spend more time with him and at first, he seemed interested, you were there for each other whenever in need, but something has changed. That night played in your head over and over again, hoping to understand what went wrong, but you couldn't find the solution.

You were seated on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he placed his head on your lap. Caressing his hair gently, playing with his long locks always soothed his worries and you hoped he would feel better. Sometimes you weren't sure how to make him feel better, so you did what you always did, listened to him.

"I— I can just hear their screams, the last terrified look in their eyes, the realisation that— that they are about to die," his voice was shaking as he stumbled across his words. You ran your fingers across his hair, removing the escaped locks from his face. "All these memories are coming back, and I just— I just don't know what to do," a heavy sigh left his lungs, as though trying to get rid of all the horrible memories.

"It's not your fault, you are not responsible for it. You weren't in your right mind, Bucky, they were controlling you" you tried to sooth his worries, but it didn't seem to work. He shook his head, another throaty sigh escaping his lips.

"But it was me. Regardless of not being in control of my own mind and body, it was still me," he groaned as sat up, looking into your eyes. Placing a hand on his cheek, you caressed his stubbly face, hoping it would calm him down. He tilted his head into your palm, enjoying the feel of your warm touch, but then he turned away and abruptly stood up.

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked as you stood up from the bed and walked up behind him, placing your hands on each of his shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly.

"I think you should leave," he spoke, but his gaze didn't meet yours again. He avoided looking at you and even though you wanted to object, you understood he needed space.

However, that space was standing between you for the past 3 months. You were understanding and supportive, knowing of his past it was inevitable that he needed to think things through, but you were tired of waiting. It's been 2 years since you fell for the man and it didn't help that he was always close to you physically, but never enough to be able to touch him mentally. You knew he wasn't indifferent towards you, there was an invisible connection between the two of you, but he clearly avoided you and paused whatever was going on before he decided to keep his distance. You tried to keep your cool and act as though it didn't affect you, but as time passed, it started to become hard to put on a brave face.

Shaking your head, trying to get rid of your thoughts, you jumped out from your bed. Attempting to cool yourself down, you headed to the kitchen to grab something to drink, your throat feeling as though it was covered in cotton.

"Can't sleep?" Rogers' spoke as he stepped inside the kitchen, watching you take out a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Not really. I'm guessing you are struggling too," you raised a brow, earning a nod from the man.

"I'm glad we can't sleep. I meant to talk to you," he spoke as you took a quick chug of your water, a questioning expression painted across your face.

"What about?" You asked with a deep frown. It wasn't often that Steve and you had anything to talk about unless it was to do with a mission. "If you plan to scold me for my behaviour today, just save it," you added, already prepared for his nagging.

"Actually, it's not about that. It's more of a personal matter," he replied as he took a seat at the dining table, pulling out the chair beside him to offer you a place to sit. You furrowed at the subject matter; personal subjects weren't your thing after all.

"What did I do?" You asked cautiously, earning a silent chuckle from Steve.

"Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you about Bucky," he spoke as your eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not blind, none of us are and your little conversation today didn't go unnoticed," he pointed at his ear. You felt your cheeks warm up as you realised, they have all heard your confession. Scrunching your nose, you awkwardly cleared your throat and whispered an apology. "No, no, don't apologise, please, it's fine. But it made me want to talk to you even more."

"I know you are Bucky's best friend, but I don't think we should have this discussion," you chuckled awkwardly, uncertain of how to react.

"I agree and I don't want to go into details. He is a very good friend of mine and it's not my place to talk about him with you, but I thought it would be important to tell you that since you have been around, he has changed. I know he doesn't show it well, but he cares for you. He just needs time to understand himself and you and the situation you are in," he explained with a soft smile.

"Do you think I don't know? I see how he looks at me, I see how he behaves around me. The little things that he does whenever I'm in need of help. But I can't possibly do anything when your friend makes up the stupidest excuses to suppress his feelings and pushes me away," you shook your head in response.

"Just give him time. He will come around. There's a limit to how long he can lie to himself," he attempted to encourage you.

"Look, I can't possibly understand what he has been through, but I can only hope he gets it together, because I'm running out of options," you pursed your lips in a humorous manner to lighten the mood as you stood up from your chair. "Two years, it's been two years, Cap," you chuckled darkly. "At this point, even a rejection is better than tiptoeing around our situation."

"Yes, I understand," he offered you a consoling smile. "Go, try to take some rest."

"Well, I wish I could," you smiled as you headed towards the exit. "Have a good night, Cap."

Another week passed and there was no progress in your situation. You caught Bucky's eyes on you, but each time your gaze met, he abruptly turned away. It felt as though you had tried everything to get close to him once again, but the man was stubborn and you were out of ideas. You were on the verge of giving up. Wanting to talk to him, you headed towards his room to tell him that you were done, and you understood that you were probably seeing things and maybe misinterpreting your situation, but before you could have reached his room, Stark stopped you.

"I need you," he said, grabbing your arm and fairly forcefully dragged you across the compound.

"You know, I could just follow you, right?" You asked with a deep frown as he finally let go of your arm and you continued in his steps, heading to the lounge.

As you arrived, Nat and Steve were already seated on a couch, whilst Barton sat at the table, waiting for Tony and you. Before you could even take a seat, Stark has already started explaining your mission against another Hydra hideout. According to his resources and F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s intel, it seemed it was only a small warehouse where they exchanged weapons and since the mission was a rather small one, not all Avengers were needed.

Within an hour you have already discussed the tactics and you were on your way to the warehouse not far from Texas. Taking an old S.H.I.E.L.D. jet that Tony tweaked up, you have arrived at the abandoned area within a couple of hours. Steve and Nat went straight for the entrance, whilst you and Barton used the backdoor, closing off any escape route according to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

But as you stepped inside the building, it became clear that the tactic you have discussed and the blueprint F.R.I.D.A.Y. showed has not been updated. "Is it just us or have you found yourself in a completely different part of the building too?" You asked Steve and Natasha through the earpiece as you looked around, realising nothing was even remotely similar to your expectations.

"Same here," Natasha replied with a heavy tone.

"Oh well, we like a good improvisation," you chuckled silently. "Let's get the party started."

"Stay aware," Rogers warned you, knowing how reckless you were at times.

"Pfft, yes boss," you replied with a grin and even though you couldn't see it, he shook his head.

Barton and you separated, each of you inspecting a different area of the building with all kinds of metal boxes hiding thousands of weapons in them. As you headed towards the back of the building, you heard gunshots from not far away and you started running in the direction of the noise.

"Which one of you was that?" You asked, but for a second no reply came.

"It was me, but it's all good now. Easy targets," Barton replied in a smug tone.

"Don't get cocky," Steve replied as you headed back in your direction.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled silently. You shook your head at the conversation, their bickering always making your mood a little lighter, a little happier.

As you continued to a segregated area, you heard the rumbling sound of a machine. Walking through the room, you held your gun up, ready to fire, but there wasn't a soul around, only a dozen desks. Arriving next to the computer on top of a desk connected to a large, old looking machine, you touched the seat in front of it, it's leather still radiating heat. It was enough information for you to know that someone was close by.

You didn't need more time to find out you weren't alone as the sound of a gunshot shook the room, the bullet grazing your face. You immediately ducked and jumped behind another desk as your opponents started shouting at you vigorously. Beside the table you peaked out to look at the size of your enemy as you caught 3 men, each hiding behind a table just like you did. Adjusting the gun in your hand, you turned it toward your first target, shooting him on the chest as he fell back with a loud scream.

Your next target was farther, but it didn't stop you from shooting him on the shoulder and his stomach. However, the third man was relentlessly shooting at you and all around the room not even trying to spare his bullets, so you hid back behind the table.

"Maniac," you whispered.

"Are you alright?" You heard Natasha's voice through your ear.

"Yep, I just have a mental-case on my hand," you replied as you started shooting back, hitting him right across the chest as he fell back, gasping for air. When everything turned silent, you could only hear the rumbling of the machines again. Standing up from behind the table you headed to the 3 men, gun in hand, ready to shoot if any of them were alive, but they were laying on the floor, limbs spread out in all kinds of directions, no sign of survival. You didn't think twice before you headed back to the computer and took out a USB stick to copy the files. However, as you waited for the process to finish, you heard a loud groan. Turning around in a swift movement you saw one of the men raising his gun at you, so you shot. But before your bullet could reach him, he fired his weapon, burning a whole straight in your abdomen, the pain forcing you on your knees as a silent cry left your lungs.

"Fuck," you swore as you held onto the side of the desk to assist you in standing up, whilst your other hand was trying to apply pressure on the wound, stopping you from bleeding out.

"That didn't sound good," you heard Steve's voice.

"No way, captain obvious," you groaned as you pulled out the USB stick, shoving it into your pocket and grabbed your gun, throwing its strap over your shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked, ignoring your previous comment.

"Been worse," you replied, attempting to hide the pain in your voice.

Trying to balance yourself against the wall, you headed towards the exit, but each step seemed heavier, more difficult to take. Another room and another room followed, and it felt as though the exit was running away from you. Stopping in one of the rooms, you slid down on the wall and took a seat on the floor, feeling like you didn't have energy anymore, not even to take another step further.

The pain was unbearable, worse than any other injuries you've ever experienced before. You've been shot before, but it was always somewhat numbing when you sat down to take a breather, but as you stayed still leaning against the wall, the pain just increased. Closing your eyes, you tried to think of happy thoughts. The first time you met the Avengers, feeling as though you found a new family, the first time you met Bucky, his child-like smile painted across his face as he introduced himself, though you've heard of him already. There were many happy thoughts running through your head as you slipped in and out of consciousness. You could hear someone's voice, but you weren't sure if it was through your earpiece or if someone was beside you, but it didn't matter anymore. It was tiresome to stay awake, so regardless of the voices telling you to open your eyes, you shifted into a deep slumber.

"You know, I wouldn't mind if you woke up already," you heard a voice, but you couldn't identify it nor could you see the person. It remained dark and somewhat scary where you were. It wasn't often that you felt terrified, but all your efforts to open your eyes seemed fruitless. The steady beeping of a machine beside you and the voice you heard seemed familiar, a cold feeling around your hand sending shivers through your body. You could hear your own groan, but it felt as though the voice didn't belong to you.

"You're safe! Come on, open those beautiful eyes," the voice tried to encourage you. "You can do it, I know you can. Just open them."

Another loud groan left your lungs as you fought hard against the darkness, before your eyes fluttered open, the bright lights above you burning your vision. As if your visitor could sense your discomfort, they dimmed the light as you felt the cold sensation disappear from your hand.

"Do me a favour and open those pretty eyes, okay?" He pleaded with you, his voice sounding familiar, his tone holding a great deal of worry. It took you a good few moments to adjust your vision to your surroundings, before you could force yourself to look around. Without a second glance you recognised the hospital wing of the compound, before your gaze fell on Bucky's scruffy face, clearly avoiding his razors lately.

"Hey," you wanted to greet him, but your voice was barely a whisper, your throat burning from the dry sensation.

"Wait, here," he stood up to offer you a glass of water and he gave you the end of the straw. Chucking it down, trying to regain moisture in your throat, you almost choked on the liquid. "Careful," he warned you as he took the glass from you. Luckily coughing up the liquid seemed to do the trick and within seconds you felt better.

"Thank you," you tried to smile, but it quickly disappeared as you attempted to sit up and a horrible pain shot through your stomach, making you cry out in pain. Bucky placed an arm behind your back and helped you into a seated position, watching as you squeezed your teeth tight, not to let out a sound. He shook his head disapprovingly and that's when you realised the dark circles under his eyes, the deep frown between his brows as if they were permanently stuck there and his lips chapped from dehydration. "You look awful," you snickered, but the pain in your stomach quickly put an end to it.

"Not worse than you," he replied with a soft smile, the wrinkles between his brows started to slowly flatten.

"That I believe," you nodded, feeling as bad as you possibly looked. "How did I end up here? Last time I checked I was in the warehouse," you asked with a humorous tone, but Bucky's face quickly turned concerned.

"It's not funny. They found you unconscious and they brought you back. You've been out for days. You were covered in blood, in and out of consciousness. How could you be so reckless to get shot?" He scolded you and for once you felt guilty.

"I know, I could have jeopardised the mission," you added with a heavy sigh.

"What?" He asked with a stunned expression, furrowing at your words. "Who cares about the mission? You could have gotten yourself killed," he raised his voice, filled with concern and anger. You've never seen so many emotions from him nor has he ever raised his voice with you.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, another rush of guilt taking over you as you let your head fall forward. It wasn't your intention to get shot after all, it just happened, because once again you were reckless and didn't pay attention to the details.

"I'm just glad you are okay," he added as he sat down beside you.

"Oh, were you worried about me?" You chuckled, trying to lift his tense mood.

"Yes, I was," he stated firmly, concern clearly painted across his face.

"Is it a friendly worry," you asked with a mischievous smile, "or it's an 'I almost lost the love of my life' worry?" You snickered playfully.

"It's an 'I'm going to murder you next time if you try something like this' kind of worry," he huffed, earning a heartfelt laughter from you, but it quickly disappeared as the pain shot through your stomach, as though someone stabbed you. "Stop playing around, can't you just be serious once?" He groaned, your recklessness playing with his nerves.

"You made me laugh, so don't nag me," you pulled a face, an annoyed grimace which earned a disapproving look from the man as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of his chest. "If I knew I needed to get myself almost killed to get your attention, I would have done it earlier," you replied with a humorous tone, but with a straight face, trying to lift the mood once again. Of course, you knew it could have gotten you killed, and you were glad that you were alive and fairly well, but it was easier to joke around than to stay serious.

Bucky shot up from his chair and started walking up and down in front of your bed. "You know it could have ended worse, right?" He asked with a stern look and you nodded in response, this time stopping yourself from trying to joke around. "You could have died," you weren't sure where he was going with it, but from the grave and solemn emotions across his face, you knew he was very serious. "What if you died, huh? You wouldn't be joking around now; you would be six feet under the ground. Would that be funny?" He asked, almost as though he was demanding an answer.

"No, it wouldn't, and I don't want to die obviously. I just didn't want to see you so worried so I thought it would be better if I joked around and you would be less— I don't even know, tense I guess," you huffed as you played with your fingers in your lap nervously. Bucky heaved a heavy sigh as he sat down in the chair beside you and placed his elbows on the edge of your bed, watching you intently. He lifted your hand and leaned his forehead against your knuckles as he closed his eyes, a comforting silence falling between the two of you. "I'm sorry," you apologised again, this time sincerely. You never wanted to make him so worried, let alone see him this concerned. He shook his head, but he didn't open his eyes.

"I was worried because you were dying, but that wasn't the only reason," a heavy sigh left his lungs as he lifted his head and kissed your knuckles, his words leaving you in confusion. His gaze fell on you, watching and studying you as though he was trying to read you. "I was worried because I thought I would lose you before I could have even told you how I felt. I was worried because all this time I have been pushing you away instead of giving us a chance and I thought I would never be able to tell you this. I honestly thought I was about to lose you and it was eating me up from the inside," you took your hand from his and placed it on his cheek, caressing his stubble as he placed his hand on yours, leaning into your touch. "When I heard your voice and watched you fighting to wake up, it felt like I got a second chance with you."

"And what about all your excuses? You are older, you are broken, your mind is not there. What about all of those excuses?" You raised a questioning brow, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile in the corner of your lips.

"I still think I'm older than you," he replied with a wider grin this time.

"And here we go, James Barnes is back with excuses," you huffed shaking your head as you rolled your eyes.

"I will always think like that, but it doesn't mean I love you any less," your eyes grew wide at his sudden confession, a shocked expression taking over your facial muscles.

"Lo— love me?" You asked, stumbling through your words, feeling like you were dreaming, like you were in an alternate universe, an unfamiliar scenario playing.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, a soft smile spreading across face. "Yes, I do love you."

His words once again shocked you, but as he repeated them, they started to feel more real. "Does— does that mean that– that you would like to give us a chance?" You stuttered, your own confidence betraying you.

"I would like nothing more," he smiled softly as he squeezed your hand. You watched his blue eyes, trying to understand if it was indeed reality or if you were in some sort of dream, but the genuine, loving expression across his face, his eyes holding your gaze endearingly gave you all the answers you needed.

"It took you long enough to open your eyes," you scolded him, but you couldn't mask your happiness. "So, how is it going to be? Do I have to wait for the first kiss until our first date? Sorry, I only dated people my age," you snickered playfully. He shook his head with a wide grin across his face as he stood up and leaned closer to you, hinting a small kiss on your forehead.

"There's your kiss," he chuckled as you pouted, his actions making you feel soft as though you were more than just an agent, but a woman once again.

"What about on the lips?" You asked with an awkward smile.

"You really are impatient," he replied with a scolding tone, but a cheeky smile in the corner of his lips and he did as you wished and connected his lips with yours, kissing you softly, filled with love and care. As he pulled away, he sat back in his seat, both of you beaming happily. A warm sensation rushed through your body when he held onto your hand again, leaning his face against your knuckles, his happy, worriless smile making you mirror his expression. In that moment, you were just plain happy and no one could take that away from you.

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

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Thing 1 and Thing 2

MASTERLIST

This was a requested fic of Garvez meeting Spencer’s twins for the first time and oh MAN did this fic make me want to incoporate Garvez more in future Spencer fics. I hope this incredibly fluffy, daddy Spencer fic will brighten your Monday. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 2,420

“Out of my way, I’ve got babies to see!”

You laughed, hearing the outburst of your friend Penelope Garcia coming from the living room.

You grabbed the dirty diaper you’d just changed and threw it out, picking up the cooing, wriggling baby off the changing table.

Two weeks ago, you and your husband Spencer welcomed two little bundles of joy into your lives. A set of fraternal twins, fondly known to his work family as the Reid Twins, had come into the world in the middle of the night.

Thankfully, with no complications you had been fortunate to avoid a cesarean and were able to deliver both vaginally.

At 3:33 a.m. Spencer Alexander Reid—Alex for short—had come into the world with a powerful cry. All 5 pounds 8 ounces of him was perfect.

Eight minutes later, his sister Abrielle Jade Reid—Abbie for short—followed. She was the quieter one, taking a few moments to begin to cry and with less volume than her brother. She was 5 pounds 3 ounces of perfection, as well.

Spencer’s coworkers had been dying to meet the babies, Penelope Garcia being the most eager. Spencer had refused you any visitors for at least two weeks. Labor had been rough, even though it wasn’t a C-Section, you’d had a lot of pain and newborn twins were definitely a challenge. Finally though, Spencer gave the green light for visitors and of course Garcia had to be the first.

You walked out to the living room, carrying Alex in your arms. There on the couch was Penelope and her boyfriend, another coworker of hers and Spencer’s, Luke Alvez.

It was no surprise that she’d already snatched Abbie from Spencer. You chuckled, greeting them.

“Hey guys.”

Penelope looked up, hearts in her eyes. You could tell that from across the room.

“Is that Alex? Let me have him too.”

You laughed, handing Alex to her as well.

“It’s like double the love! Double the cuteness!”

“She may have a brain aneurysm over all the cute,” Luke laughed.

“Y/N, you make the most beautiful babies,” she said, in awe as she stared down at them.

“Hey!” Spencer protested from across the room, “I helped too.”

“Yes but you’re already a pretty boy, your kids were gonna be beautiful regardless. Besides, Y/N carried them for the last eight months. I’m giving her some much needed credit.”

Spencer held his hands up in surrender, smiling. It would do no good to argue with Garcia.

“Keep an eye on her, she might try to slip one out with her when we leave,” Luke joked.

“I would if I could,” she beamed, “I claim babysitting rights.”

Garcia looked at you knowingly and you grinned.

“You will always be our first choice of babysitter,” you chuckled.

“I want to hold one of them, if that’s okay,” Luke said.

“Yeah, of course,” you nodded, picking up Alex out of Penelope’s arms.

“Do you even know how to hold a baby?” Garcia asked, brow quirked.

“No, but it can’t be that hard, can it?”

“It’s really not,” you assured, “But just don’t be afraid to hold onto them tightly because they squirm.”

You placed Alex in Luke’s arms and he held him awkwardly.

“Don’t be nervous. They can sense when you’re nervous and uncomfortable,” you said.

“Support his head!” Penelope said, “You’re squishing him.”

“No I’m not, look. He’s happy,” Luke grinned.

Alex’s hands were curled into tiny fists, resting on either sides of his face as he gave a big yawn.

“They’re a little milk drunk right now,” you laughed, “I made sure to feed them before you came over so they wouldn’t be as cranky.”

Alex’s eyes opened, staring at Luke, his brows creased as if confused.

“Yeah you don’t know that face, do you?” Penelope cooed to him, “That’s uncle Luke and I’m auntie Penelope.”

She tickled one of his feet with her free hand.

“These kids are going to be so spoiled by you alone, Garcia,” Spencer said.

“Of course! It comes with the territory of being an auntie,” she scoffed.

Abbie stretched and wriggled in Garcia’s arms, beginning to fuss.

“Oh I’m sorry, sweetie,” she cooed, repositioning Abbie in her arms, “I wasn’t paying any attention to you and that’s not cool, is it?”

“Dude, how the heck did you manage twins?” Luke asked, incredulously.

“Actually,” Spencer began, but you interrupted him.

“Don’t get him started. I asked him the same thing a few months ago and ended up learning more about sperm than I ever thought I’d know.”

“Hey, you asked,” Spencer shrugged.

Alex gurgled in Luke’s arms and he looked up, wide eyed.

“What’s wrong? Is he okay?”

“Relax,” Garcia side eyed him, “He’s just making baby noises.”

“What is it with men and panicking at their every sound?” you asked, flabbergasted.

“I feel like there’s a story behind this,” Garcia looked just as amused as she sounded.

“Oh, there is.”

You sat down in one of the arm chairs across from them, ready to tell your story. Spencer already looked sheepish before you even opened your mouth.

“A couple of weeks ago, when they were only a day or two old, I had finally gotten them to sleep and had just gotten to sleep myself when apparently one of them made some sort of noise. Spencer practically pounces on me, afraid something is wrong with one of them. They were literally just sleeping.”

Penelope cackled, Luke looked amused and Spencer looked even more sheepish, if that was possible.

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“Well in my defense, I was sleep deprived, sore as hell from childbirth and cranky so I told him that they were sleeping and to go back to bed before I knocked him out with my fist.”

This time both Luke and Garcia died laughing.

“Hey, so I was worried! They’re my first kids. It’s not like they come with instructions,” Spencer protested.

“Ah man, that’s hilarious,” Luke grinned.

“Hey Spence, remember when you were so terrified to hold Henry when he was born?” Garcia asked.

“No way. Really?” You looked from Garcia to Spencer, curious.

You hadn’t met Spencer until five years ago. After dating for two years, you got married. So most of his early days at the BAU were stories to be told to you.

You loved Jennifer Jareau’s sons, Michael and Henry. Spencer, of course, was their godfather. He was amazing with them and loved those kids like they were his own, so you knew he’d be an amazing dad. It was just hard to believe there’d been a time when he was actually afraid to hold a baby.

You and Spencer had been dating about a year when JJ’s second born, Michael, had arrived. You clearly remembered Spencer holding him with no issue. Apparently, he’d come a long way.

“Oh yeah, JJ put him in Spence’s arms and he looked like a fish out of water, he didn’t know what to do. Ironically, he was a natural and Henry was such a laid back baby,” she answered.

“Dude, I’m telling you, your genes are strong,” Luke commented, looking back and forth between the twins, “They look exactly like you.”

“Unfortunate, isn’t it?” Spencer teased.

You hit his stomach lightly.

“They’re adorable, hush.”

“Never said they weren’t,” Spencer beamed.

“How do you guys tell them apart?” Luke questioned.

Garcia stared at him blankly before turning to look at you.

“You see what I have to deal with?”

You couldn’t help it, that made you laugh. You were still partially giggling as you tried to answer him.

“Alvez, they’re fraternal twins. Besides, one’s a boy and one’s a girl?”

“Yes, I realize that, but right now they both have short, fuzzy hair, wrinkles and squirm. They look exactly alike. If it wasn’t for the pink and blue clothes, I wouldn’t know who was who without taking their diaper off.”

“Don’t worry,” Garcia assured you, “When I babysit them, he’s not touching them.”

“I’m just saying! Spence, help me out here,” Luke pleaded.

“You’re on your own for this one,” he smirked, “Besides, when they’re your own kids, you can tell who is who. There’s actually plenty of accounts of mothers who have said they can tell their identical twins apart from as early as the day they were born.”

“So in hindsight, let’s just hope you don’t have twins when you two have kids,” you said.

“Oh no. No kids for a long time. Between Henry, Michael, Roxy and now these two, we’ve got our hands full,” replied Luke.

“I’m definitely going to be getting my allotted baby snuggles and cuteness in for a while with these two,” Penelope grinned, playing with Abbie’s hand.

“Oh my goodness,” she suddenly looked up at you, “We’ve been talking all about the babies and I haven’t even had the chance to ask about you. How are you, mommy?”

You grinned, appreciating Garcia’s concern for you.

“Sleep deprived. Ice packs are a wonder right now.”

Garcia nodded, “That was JJ’s recommendation, I remember that.”

“All in all, pretty good. They’re quite laid back. But man, when they’re hungry they’re little terrors. They want food now.”

“Sounds like dad,” Luke quipped with a smirk.

“What? I’m not like that!” Spencer protested.

“Spence, you get hangry. You kinda are,” Garcia nodded.

Just then, Abbie started to wail.

“Well that’s my cue,” you said, moving to stand up.

“No ma’am. You rest,” Garcia ordered, “It feels like she needs a diaper change. I got this. You. Stay.”

She pointed her finger at you like an owner teaching its dog to stay.

“Yes ma’am,” you grinned, sitting back.

“We’ll be back,” she said, Abbie’s cries fading as they disappeared down the hallway.

“Would you like a beer, Luke?” you asked.

“I thought you didn’t drink?” Luke glanced at Spencer questionly.

“I don’t,” he confirmed, “Doesn’t mean I don’t keep stock for our guests though.”

You were aiming to get one from the kitchen, when this time it was Spencer who ordered you to sit.

“Okay, okay I get the picture guys,” you shook your head, amused, but grateful.

“You need to rest anyway. Your body is healing, Y/N, let it.”

Spencer kissed your cheek.

“Just relax. You’ve got help right now anyway, take advantage of it.”

You nodded and settled back as you watched the two men—plus Alex, still in Luke’s arms—disappear into the kitchen.

•

Spencer opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of beer for Luke. It was one of his buddy’s favorite brands.

Luke noticed and grinned big.

“You know me well.”

Before he could hand the drink to Luke, Alex started fussing.

“Oh. Nope, nope. Once they start crying, they go straight back to mommy or daddy,” Luke said, passing him back to Spencer.

Spencer smiled, settling Alex against his chest. Alex’s tiny fist laid against Spencer’s throat, his head comfortably nestled on his chest. With the other hand, he handed the beer to Luke. He took it with an appreciative thank you.

“So, wow. You’re a dad now. I mean I knew you’d make a great dad, it’s just weird, now that they’re here.”

“I know,” Spencer smiled, looking down at Alex, almost asleep on his chest.

He ran a hand over the baby soft tufts of deep brown hair that he’d been born with and kissed him on the head. There really was nothing like the feel and the smell of a new baby. It was a slight mixture of formula—or breast milk, depending on the situation—baby soap and baby powder wrapped up with the smell of sunshine. Spencer realized how crazy that sounded, but maybe it was just the overwhelming happiness and probably exhaustion that made him think of that.

His newborn twins had the softest skin too. Their tiny hands and feet still slightly wrinkled and pink from birth, something that was slowly turning normal the more they were out of the womb and in the world. Their cheeks were so smooth and it always amazed him when he ran a finger over them, stroking them as they slept or as they looked up at him. Their heads, more normal shaped than coned now, due to birth, had the downy soft hair that only adults could wish for. It was the perfect place to kiss them repeatedly, whether it was in comforting them or just to express his love for them.

“It’s so different when they’re still hiding behind layers of skin, fat and muscle. Still hiding from the world, even if their presence is known,” Spencer chuckled.

“Are you doing good then? Adapting okay?” Luke asked.

“It’s a change, especially with two, but I love it. I’m telling you, you and Garcia should at least have one someday. It’s such an amazing feeling watching your child, or in my case, kids,” he paused, grinning, “Come into the world. Then having them peer up at you when they finally open their eyes long enough to check things out. Their little hands wrapped around your finger so tightly as if they’re afraid you’re gonna go somewhere.”

Luke smiled.

“Yeah, you’ve definitely embraced the whole thing, I can tell.”

“Watch out, by next week I’ll be in a daddy and me group,” Spencer joked.

“Touché,” Luke raised his bottle, taking another swing of beer, “You know the team is gonna be all over these little ones when they meet them.”

“Well, at least there’s a lot of helping hands,” Spencer said, moving towards the swinging door.

“You got that right.”

Spencer and Luke left the kitchen, heading towards the living room when they were stopped by Garcia.

She shushed them.

“If you dare wake her up, I’ll come after both of you,” she threatened.

Spencer peered over Penelope’s head and saw Y/N sprawled across the arm chair, head in her hand, fast asleep.

“Here, let me take him too. I was going to take them to the nursery and hang out with them there so she can sleep. Come on, Luke,” Garcia motioned first him to follow her.

“I’ll be right there,” Spencer said.

He waited until they walked off before tiptoeing into the living room, grabbing a blanket. He gently laid it over her before kissing her head.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

He silently left his wife sleeping and headed to the nursery, back to his friends and his two little bundles of joy.

It was then he couldn’t help but think just how lucky he really was.

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jadekitty777 · 5 years

Text

Fall For You

*Runs in screaming and slams this down with forty minutes left to go*

I will not lie that this one is not my best. Time crunch got to me and I kind of rushed this one. Um, but... I finished? 8D

Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read, reblog,or comment on my stories this week! Your support has been greatly appreciated and encouraging. Another thank you goes out to the many of you who inspired me to write some of these stories; they wouldn’t exist if not for you. Finally, a thank you to all the other participants who made such great fics and art this week; you all are awesome!!

Day 7: AU

Dedicated to: @tama-negis (I formally apologize though; you deserve something so much better than this)

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 2.7k

Ao3 Link: Fall For You

Summary: To Qrow, there was no greater feeling in the world than the sensation of flying through the air, nothing but the bar and Clover to rely on.

That's why the fall was so devastating. [Circus AU]

“Net check!”

Qrow rolled his eyes as Clover fell backwards off the trapeze platform, saluting as he went. He looked over the edge just to make sure his partner hadn’t died, before shouting down at him, “You know, after two years, that’s decidedly less impressive.”

“Don’t lie. You love it just as much as you love me.” He was too far to actually see if he was winking, but Qrow knew he definitely was.

Rather than respond, he just continued on with the safety check. He gripped at the bar, pulling on it. No give, no worrisome noises. Rigging seemed secure. He took another step back, before doing a running leap off, holding on tight as he traveled over the net until he came to a stop at the center of their stage.

He twisted his body upwards, landing on the top of the bar and swung back and forth lazily, listening carefully to everything above him. During a performance, over the roaring crowd and blasting music, it was impossible to hear any of the small, subtle sounds of the cabling above. So, any out of place screech or worrisome clonk that could imply something was about to give would go completely unheard. But in the near silence of the empty Big Top, he could hear even the tiniest creak of the frame as it bore his weight.

Nothing out of place.

He slipped his feet off the bar, freefalling for a fraction of a second before his arms caught it. Everything held. Just as it had the last two times they’d done the check throughout the day. He thought it was a little excessive, but James was a stickler for routine, and after taking partial ownership of the circus, had immediately enacted the three-check rule.

There were a lot of those kinds of changes the performers of the former “Marvelous Circus of Oz” had to put up with when they officially became partners with James’ “Fabled Ace Ops”. Higher demands on performance training, complete restructuring of acts and teammates, stricter guidelines on fashion. Qrow wasn’t even allowed to wear nail polish anymore.

“You got to be fucking kidding me!” He remembered shouting at his new boss. “What do you think’ll happen Jimmy? Is my polish gonna eat through the bar?”

Ozpin had to pull him aside after that one, practically pleading for him to cooperate. It was hard to continue being pissed off when he had to face his old friend’s weary, desperate eyes. He knew this was a shitty situation, for all of them. But it was either this or all of them be out of a job. So, Qrow let it go and tried his best to play nice.

Though, he supposed as he turned around on the bar to face the platform Clover was once again standing on, not everything that had resulted in the merger was terrible. Sure, he’d been downright hostile when James had first reassigned Raven with Summer’s act and appointed his own star trapeze artist to him – but it didn’t take long for Qrow to warm up to the other man. Clover was like a magnet of good qualities: friendly, confidant, encouraging, honest.

He was also ridiculously attractive, so that was a plus.

Qrow rocked his body, gaining momentum until he could swing himself back over to the platform, securing the bar down. “Alright, we’re good.”

“No, you missed something.” Clover spoke up.

“What?” He looked around, doing a mental catalogue of his checklist. “No, I didn’t. Wha-ah!”

Strong arms wound around his waist, pulling him in and a big, wet sloppy kiss was planted right on his cheek. “You forgot the kiss for good luck.”

Qrow snorted. He didn’t believe in superstition, especially with names like theirs. He had to of gotten every good luck-bad luck comment probably known to the universe. Didn’t mean he wasn’t above teasing about it. “You’re disgusting and a heathen.”

Clover gasped loudly, before whirling them around, letting him go. “Oh Qrow, my love! How could you wound me this way?” He backed up the two steps it took to get back to the edge, hands crossing over the center of his chest. “The pain, it’s just too much to bear! Goodbye cruel world.”

And with another wink, he went back over.

Qrow tried, he really did, but even biting down on his lip didn’t stop the guffaws that escaped as he looked down again. “You’re an idiot!”

“Joke’s on you,” He hollered back triumphantly, “I’m yours!”

Even with the distance between them, he was sure Clover knew he was smiling.

The night was going spectacularly well. The audience was receptive and easily emotive. They’d gotten loud cheers for Summer and Raven’s silk dance and wows for Elm and Vine’s high-wire act. It had been a while since they’d had a crowd this good and the rest of the crew was feeling it too, all of them buzzing to get on stage and feed into the energy.

“Alright, Marrow and the kids are finishing up. Qrow and Clover you’re up. Robyn and Tai, get ready to follow.” Oz called as he snaked his way between the teams, popping his top hat back on his head as he went.

“Ah, what a shame that your act will be completely overshadowed by ours.” Robyn taunted. Though she lacked malice, her pride wasn’t unwarranted.

When people thought of circuses, they thought of all the typical acts: animal taming, clowns, trapeze work. No one really thought of fire arrows. It was the only act of its kind in the world, and one that had happened by complete mistake.

Robyn, from James’ crew, was an extremely precise archer – able to split her own arrows and even bounce them off other obstacles and still hit a target’s bull’s-eye. Tai, from their circus, was their fire performer, his talents ranging from being able to spin and juggle batons that were ablaze on either end to swallowing lit torches and breathing plumes of fire upwards like a dragon. Early on into the merger, the two just happened to be practicing by one another, showboating and trying to one up each other on their skills. One thing led to another, and Tai ended up challenging Robyn to shoot through his flames and still hit her target.

It was when she pulled it off, that the idea to combine their acts was born.

Qrow wouldn’t deny it made for a hell of a sight – but that didn’t mean he’d let her get away with her ribbing without giving back a bit of his own, “Please. Ours will be so good, they won’t be able to get it off their minds long enough to pay attention to yours.”

“Hah, you wish!”

Clover, smug as can be, threw an arm over his shoulders as he added, “Now Robyn, you know wishes are for stars, of which Qrow and I happen to be.”

“And they say I blow a lot of smoke.” Tai intervened with a wave of his hand, “Get on outta here you two before you end up holding up the whole show.”

Anything more that they might have said was interrupted by the sound of laughter floating in with Marrow, Ruby and Yang as they returned backstage. The three were propped up on each other’s shoulders like a human Leaning Tower of Pisa. Qrow and Clover were quick to assist the younger man bearing their combined weight, helping the younger girls down on their feet.

He didn’t have a lot of time, but Qrow still took a second to ruffle Ruby’s hair. “Good job kiddo.”

The eight-year old gave him a tooth-gaped smile, saying, “Break a leg Uncle Qrow!”

“In thirteen places.” He promised, before following his trapeze partner out into the darkness of the stage.

“And now, it’s the moment you all knew was coming. Introducing our Flying Aces, Qrow Branwen and Clover Ebi!” Ozpin’s voice boomed from where he stood in the center of the stage.

Qrow linked his arm with Clover’s just as the spotlight moved to capture them, both of them raising up their free hands up high as if catching the applause from the audience. So close, it was obvious how similar their clothing was – himself in a black leotard that blended into red and Clover in a complementary white to green one. Though turned from the crowd, on their backs was a design choice Qrow himself had insisted upon: Wings to follow the color gradient.

They were the Flying Aces after all.

Oz continued with his announcement, but having heard it so many times before, he mostly tuned it out as he and Clover split from one another, each of them climbing up the ladders to the platforms opposite each other. As the final words from their ringleader faded, the lights below went out, bringing all the attention skyward.

Qrow unhooked the bar that he’d secured only hours ago. The music started to roll, but the moment he went swinging off the platform, it was as if everything else faded. There was nothing except him, the bar and the sensation of wind and weightlessness as he turned his body around, hooking his knees around the edges and hanging down free. As his movement slowed, he eased his grip, gravity bringing him down into a short drop before his ankles caught onto the edge instead. After another few moments, he unhooked his left, all of his weight now on just the right leg as he let his free limbs spread out wide like a taxidermist’s greatest prize.

Mostly he was a distraction, performing small tricks while Clover got into place, throwing himself off his own platform to gain momentum so he could prepare to catch him. He knew his partner was ready when he signaled him with a salute. Qrow pulled himself up so his legs could dangle once again, pushing himself into motion once more. At the apex of their swings, he let go, Clover gripping his wrists easily. They flew together briefly, before he returned him to the bar, Qrow doing an easy spin midair to catch it.

It was his second leap that earned them applause, this time somersaulting twice in midair before being captured. Even over all the white noise in his ears, he could make out Clover’s exhilarated chuckles and a breathless laugh left him as well. This was something they shared: The excitement of the flight, the adrenalin born from hanging freely nearly thirty feet in the air, the thrill brought on with each completed trick as their routine built together.

The joy of doing it all with someone he loved.

Without question, it was that last one that made him do what he did next.

Qrow’s hands clasped onto the bar as he was thrown back to it, swinging his legs up and fitting them between his grip so he could hang upside down again, this time prepared to grab the other man so they could move into the second part of their act. Clover took his turn to fly over, doing a flip of his own.

But Qrow didn’t move into position for the catch.

Hours later, when asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone precisely what it was that warned him – maybe he heard something snap. Maybe he noticed a change in his balance. Or maybe it was just a feeling in his gut. But somehow, he knew.

So, for the first time since they’d perfected the move, Qrow missed.

Clover went flying one way.

As the rigging broke above him, Qrow went the other way, further and out of control.

The freefall sensation wasn’t unfamiliar to him – he’d dropped thousands of times before. On those rare cases it was unintentional, he was usually even talented enough to make it look like part of the act.

The white-hot agony that laced through him as something impacted his side with the force of a bullet was new though, unexpected in its ferocity.

It was all his mind could grasp at until he was bouncing off the edge of the net and the ground rushed up to meet him.

Incessant beeping roused him.

His first thought was he immediately wanted to go back to bed. Whatever the hell he had been doing must have been brutal, because his body ached all over, particularly centralized in his shoulder and hip and his stomach was especially throbbing.

Qrow made a noise in the back of his throat, trying to raise his arm to shut off the alarm, only to find it oddly weighted. His head flopped to the left and he grumbled, “C’ver, ‘larm.”

Suddenly the weight lifted, still there but entirely focused on his wrist. Oh, it was a hand.

“Qrow? Hey babe, you awake?” Clover’s voice coming from above him rather than beside him was what finally got him to open his eyes.

Immediately he realized he wasn’t home in the trailer when instead of just more bed and a window, there was a machine next to him and a wall a few feet away. The machine was the thing making the noise. His gaze rolled around, taking in the IV stand next and gathered a pretty good guess on where he was.

A shift made him look towards the figure hovering over him. His partner looked like a wreck, expression pale and drawn. Dark circles were laden under sleepless eyes.

“Hey.” Soft as his voice, Clover’s hand brushed through his hair, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Qrow replied, swallowing around his tongue which felt oddly swollen. “Heavy.”

“Yeah that’s probably the anesthesia wearing off.”

“Anesthesia?” That didn’t sound promising.

His partner took a moment to pull the chair behind him closer, sitting down right at his bedside. The hand still holding his squeezed lightly. “Do you remember what happened?”

Shifting through his own head, vague memories of spotlights and soaring through the air came back to him – as well as a stomach-dropping sensation that wasn’t meant to be there. “I fell.”

Clover’s voice shook a little, “Yeah, you did.”

There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but the most important one came out first, “How bad am I?”

“You’re gonna be okay. You, have a few fractures but, nothing major broke.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Your stomach’s a mess though. When the cabling gave out, part of it snapped back and hit you. It ripped right into your intestines. You were in surgery for six hours.”

Qrow took that in sluggishly, focusing mostly on the first part. It meant he could still perform. The rest of it could wait for more thought another day.

So, he moved on. “What ‘bout you?”

“Hm?”

“Where were you when I fell?”

“I, uh,” Clover’s laughed, but it sounded a bit wrong. “Down on the net. I was uh, flying over to you and you just didn’t catch me. I think you knew something was wrong, ‘cause Summer said you never even reached for me.”

The significance of that hit him instantly. There were a few universal rules any trapeze worker knew – the topmost being just how vital it was for the flyer to swing after a catch. The human skeleton was a surprisingly delicate thing, and the arc of motion that followed alleviated all of the pressure the body underwent from the flight and drop. But, if the flow of motion was hindered or stopped all together, say by a snapping cable line, all that pressure suddenly didn’t have anywhere go and instead the force would compact onto the body.

At best, the sudden whiplash would have injured Clover’s spine, maybe bruised an organ or two.

At worst, it would have broken his neck.

His partner lifted his hand, lips pressing against the back of his skin as he whispered reverently, “You saved my life.”

Qrow let out a slow breath, mouth pulling up in a smirk. “Nah. I just took falling for you real literally.”

This time, when Clover laughed, it was much more genuine, even as tears finally flowed from his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

His reply was a victory: “Joke’s on you. I’m yours.”

With no distance between them, neither of them could miss the other’s smile.

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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italian-sides · 5 years

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“Ombre e Bastoni”, ch. 3

Hello again! As usual, thank you so much to @misslilidelaney for writing this and @watcher-from-the-heights for being my awesome beta all the time. I also tag @ts-italian-gang, because I can and I want to. If you want, you can support the fic on AO3 too! Imma post the third chapter as soon as I finish posting it here on Tumblr. Anyway, enjoy! Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, all heads turned. Even if he lived in Bologna on a permanent basis for three years by now, he didn't know why everybody there, especially the usual people, laid eyes on him as they didn't for other customers. And yet he wasn’t that flashy or even fashionable. Sure, he was tall, he had fine features and an enjoyable physique, but he wasn't that special. He was just a nice guy, with his passion for colorful ties and pastel cardigans. Of course, he knew very well that he had been in the sights of a couple of them for a long time: he well remembered Romolo's ruthless flirting and Virgil's stuttering when he asked him to be his tutor on the subjects that he himself studied before opening his own therapy office in Bologna. And no one, not even his roommate Remo, knew how he opened Luca's eyes to his cousin Patrizio, whom Emilio loved with all his heart. All three boys were undoubtedly beautiful, charismatic and, in their own way, interesting. Yet he couldn't accept their court. Because 30-year-old Emilio Picani hadn’t decided to come out yet. Partially due to his parents, fervent Catholics unlike him, but mostly because surprise surprise... Emilio Picani was shy. And before the bar, the usual places where he felt at home were his office and his room, where he surrounded himself with memorabilia from cartoons and anime, things that fascinated him since adolescence. In short his shyness, mixed with the stereotype of the glittery, feather-filled homosexuals he was accustomed to by his parents, always kept him away from the whole LGBT world, which the psychologist didn't feel a part of. He envied his little Emilian cousin when he came out as pansexual, and he knew very well that sooner or later, hanging out with Patrizio's clique, he had to decide, too, to get out of the closet. So he declined Romolo's declaration for that very reason. Although it wasn’t the only reason. The second reason was... slightly taller than him. His shoulders were wide, although he often slouched, making himself about ten centimetres shorter in height. He had bright green eyes, almost to an unnatural extent. He had his hair shaved on the sides but with a thick quiff on top, which he held back with a yellow headband, clearly his favorite color. He rarely laughed, but when he did, it was a low, deep laugh, able to literally shake the Veronese's stomach. And he was from Veneto, like him. His second piece of home, after Patrizio. Emilio Picani, thirty years old, a therapist and still in the closet. But completely gay for Giuda Schiavon. He was convinced of that by now. He tried to deny it, to say that it was just his imagination. Everyone at the bar loved him, they laughed with him, they confided in him, sometimes for sentimental nonsense, sometimes for more serious consultations. Tommaso became one of his patients from the first day that he finally opened his office, and the two were now pretty close, almost like brothers. He was the first to whom Emilio confessed his sexual orientation. Tommaso embraced him and murmured: "Don’t worry, nobody figured it out." They laughed, and the Veronese immediately called his cousin, who promised not to say anything, for the time being, to anyone, not even his significant other, Luca. Unfortunately, not even Tommaso could dispel Emilio’s doubts. Those doubts that by now became certainties, in those three years, and devastated the psychologist. Giuda, his beautiful, silent, mysterious and fascinating Giuda, couldn't even bear the sight of the Veronese. He never treated him badly, but Emilio couldn't help but notice how he changed his attitude whenever he walked in.

He often looked at him from the bar's window. He looked at him for a long time, laughing and joking with everyone, even with Virgilio, and by now he could read his expressions without hearing him speak, just by observing him. So he knew that the coldness he showed him was real. As his eyes became slits, as his words became cold hisses, rarely addressed to Emilio. Never openly unsympathetic, but incredibly icy. And apparently, whatever he had to do in the kitchen, he always had to do it when he walked in. But no one knew about his crush, except for Patrizio, who after all read him like an open book. And not even Patrizio could understand the change of mood of the Venetian, in the presence of his cousin. The young Bolognese tried to convince his cousin to surrender, or at least to talk to him, and this was precisely the reason why Emilio pushed himself, thanks to a nice glass of Millesimato di Conegliano, to speak, perhaps for the third time in three years, to Giuda in the bar. And that made the dishwasher guy so nervous that he dropped the glasses' tray in his hand. "You're welcome.", the Venetian hissed, looking at him, for the first time in three years, in the eyes.

A rush ran through Emilio’s body. An electric shock like he never experienced before. Joined by an endless lump in his throat for what just happened. As soon as Giuda wandered off to take the broom to sweep up the floor, followed by Remo, Emilio stood up and tried to go around the counter to pick up the glass pieces but Tommas ostopped him right away. "You're gonna hurt yourself. You get paper cuts all the time, can you imagine what would happen with glass?"

"But... Giuda..." Tommaso sighed and perhaps understood: "Giuda will be fine. It's not the first time he’s spilled glasses. Maybe he should calm down a bit; if he hadn't been so tense he wouldn’t have dropped them. Don’t even think it’s your fault." Emilio sighed, taking off his glasses and shaking his head: "But it is my fault." Patrizio approached him, and put his hand on his shoulder again. Luca was behind them and suggested, matter-of-factly: "Emilio, do you want to get some air?" The Veronese nodded carelessly and they went outside. Despite Patrizio's dirty look, the Veronese automatically extracted his pack of cigarillos and lit one. As he blew out the smoke from the miniature cigar, he kept looking inside the bar. And he saw Giuda, with his yellow gloves, going up on the counter and looking around. He'd been... crying? His eyes, particularly the left one, were tremendously red. The sigh, undoubtedly of relief, emitted by the young Venetian followed by the hand on Remo’s shoulder, definitely devastated the 30-year-old. Patrizio was watching the scene next to him, and he murmured: "He acts like he’s the victim when he actually did it all by himself. What a two-faced snake..." "Patrizio, please...", begged the Veronese. "Please what? He dropped the glasses, not you. You just thanked him, Emi. I don’t know how you can like someone like t..." Patrizio opened his eyes wide and shut his mouth with one hand. But the damage had been already done. Luca was looking at both of them with his eyes wide open like a deer in front of headlights. He looked at them both with shock, Emilio who by now had given up and begun to silently cry, pulling from the cigarillo like a madman, and Patrizio who continued to whisper his apologies. And he cleared his voice pretty nicely before asking, with kindness, despite the hard accent typical of his region: "Do you want to come to our house for some hot tea? I’m sure we can raid some of Romolo's nicest cookies." Emilio nodded, and his cousin’s boyfriend took them both under his arm, taking them away from the Dolce&Remì. The boy giggled when, while stepping into the living room, they surprised Virgilio and Romolo sitting on the couch and hugging each other, watching Mulan on Blu-ray, claiming to have fallen asleep, not noticing the compromising position. He silently watched Luca hugging Patrizio from behind, whispering something in his ear while the young Emilian was preparing tea for all of them. And he widened his eyes in terror when both the Molisan and the Roman confessed that they had noticed his crush on Giuda probably before Emilio admitted it to himself. The evening passed quickly, almost too quickly, between the teasing towards Emilio for his questionable choice - Romolo was still so mad at him, for obvious reasons - and when it was time to go home, Emilio thought of staying in his cousin’s apartment with his three lovely roommates. But he knew that in that same building, his roommate Remo was coming home. So he kissed his cousin on the forehead and hugged the other three, and took the elevator home. Once the door was open, he found Remo looking at something on the computer, in the dark of the dining room: "Oh, hey, Emì. You ran off to your cousin? Giuda wanted to apologize for treating you so badly." Right. He had such a sorry face. "Actually, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I made him destroy the glasses and I ran away. Holy crap, I've been a jerk. I hope he doesn’t throw a chair at me the next time I walk into the bar." "C'moooon. Giuda smashes glasses, and not only those, more than he could ever admit!", laughed the Roman, before yawning loudly and getting out of the chair: "Listen... I wanted to do something nice at the bar... Something that can involve young people but traditional at the same time. If we had a briscola tournament [1], would you like to play?" "Holy crap! Are you seriously asking me? I love briscola!" "Alright, bruh. C'mon then, I’ll talk to Tommy tomorrow and see what we can do about it. If you don’t come to play, I’ll never talk to you again!" Emilio nodded and Remo went to his room, a little diabolical smile on his face.

[1]: according to Wikipedia, "Briscola is one of Italy's most popular games, a Mediterranean trick-taking, Ace-Ten card game for two to six players played with a standard Italian 40-card deck. With three or six players, twos are removed from the deck to ensure the number of cards in the deck is a multiple of the number of players; a single two for three players and all four twos for six players. The four- and six-player versions of the game are played as a partnership game of two teams, with players seated such that every player is adjacent to two opponents."

1 - 2 - 3 - ?

hope you enjoyed, ciao!

Quando Emilio Picani entrava al Dolce&Remì, tutte le teste si giravano. Anche se ormai viveva a Bologna in pianta stabile da 3 anni e poco più, non sapeva perché tutti i presenti, specialmente i soliti noti, posavano lo sguardo su di lui come non facevano per gli altri clienti del bar. Eppure non era così appariscente o alla moda. Certo, era alto, aveva dei bei lineamenti ed un bel fisico, ma non era così speciale. Era semplicemente un bel ragazzo, con la sua passione per le cravatte colorate ed i cardigan color pastello. Certo, sapeva benissimo di essere stato nelle mire di un paio di loro per un lungo periodo, ricordava bene la corte spietata di Romolo e il balbettare di Virgilio quando gli aveva proposto di dargli ripetizioni sulle materie che lui stesso aveva studiato prima di aprire il suo studio a Bologna. E nessuno, nemmeno il suo coinquilino Remo, sapeva di come avesse aperto, con le cattive, gli occhi di Luca nei confronti di suo cugino Patrizio, che Emilio adorava con tutto il cuore. Tutti e tre i ragazzi erano indubbiamente bellissimi, carismatici e comunque, a loro modo, interessanti. Eppure non poteva accettare la loro corte. Perché Emilio Picani, trent'anni, ancora non si era deciso a fare coming out. Un po' per i genitori, ferventi cattolici al contrario di lui, ma soprattutto perché sorpresa sorpresa... Emilio Picani era timido. E prima del bar, i soli posti dove si sentiva a casa erano il suo studio e la sua camera, dove si circondava di memorabilia a tema cartoon ed anime, cose che lo appassionavano sin dall'adolescenza. Ed insomma, la sua timidezza, mista allo stereotipo degli omosessuali glitterati e pieni di piume a cui lo avevano abituato, lo avevano sempre tenuto in disparte da tutto il mondo legato ai gay, del quale lo psicologo non si sentiva parte. Aveva invidiato il suo piccolo cuginetto emiliano quando aveva ammesso di essere pansessuale, e sapeva benissimo che prima o poi, frequentando la compagnia di Patrizio, si sarebbe dovuto decidere anche lui, ad uscire dall'armadio. Quindi aveva declinato la dichiarazione di Romolo, proprio per quel motivo. Anche se non era proprio l'unico. Il secondo motivo era... poco più alto di lui. Aveva le spalle larghe, anche se spesso le teneva ricurve, togliendosi una decina di centimetri buoni. Aveva gli occhi di un verde intenso, quasi innaturale. Aveva i capelli rasati attorno alla testa ma un folto ciuffo al di sopra, che teneva indietro con un cerchietto giallo, palesemente il suo colore preferito. Rideva raramente, ma quando lo faceva, era una risata bassa, profonda, capace di scuotere lo stomaco del veronese.

Ed era veneto, come lui. Il suo secondo pezzo di casa, dopo Patrizio.

Emilio Picani, trent'anni, psicologo, omosessuale ancora nell'armadio. Ma completamente gay per Giuda Schiavon.

Ormai ne era convinto. Aveva cercato di negarlo, di dirsi che era solo una sua impressione, la sua immaginazione. Tutti, in quel bar, lo adoravano, ridevano con lui, si confidavano con lui, a volte per sciocchezze sentimentali, a volte per dei consulti più seri. Tommaso era suo paziente dal primo giorno che aveva aperto, finalmente, il suo studio, ed i due erano ormai uniti come fratelli. Era stato il primo a cui Emilio aveva confessato il suo orientamento sessuale. Tommaso lo aveva abbracciato e aveva mormorato: "Tranquillo che non lo ha capito nessuno." Avevano riso, ed il veronese aveva chiamato subito il cugino, che aveva promesso di non dirlo, per il momento, neanche alla sua dolce metà, Luca. Sfortunatamente, nemmeno Tommaso era riuscito a dissipare i dubbi di Emilio. Quei dubbi che ormai erano diventati certezze, in quei tre anni, ed avevano devastato lo psicologo. Giuda, il suo bellissimo, silenzioso, misterioso ed affascinante Giuda, non riusciva nemmeno a sopportare la vista del veronese. Non lo aveva mai trattato male, ma Emilio non poteva non notare come cambiava atteggiamento quando lui arrivava. Spesso lo guardava dalla vetrata del bar. Lo guardava per un bel pezzo, ridere e scherzare con tutti, persino con Virgilio, ed ormai riusciva a leggerne l'espressione senza sentirlo parlare, solo osservandolo. Quindi sapeva bene che era vera, la freddezza che dimostrava nei suoi confronti. Come i suoi occhi diventavano fessure, come le parole diventavano freddi sibili, raramente rivolti ad Emilio. Mai apertamente antipatico, ma incredibilmente glaciale. Ed a quanto pare, qualsiasi cosa dovesse fare in cucina, doveva sempre farla quando arrivava lui. Nessuno però sapeva di questa sua cotta, ad esclusione di Patrizio, che dopotutto lo leggeva come un libro aperto. E nemmeno Patrizio riusciva a comprendere il cambio di umore del veneziano, in presenza del cugino. Il giovane bolognese aveva cercato di convincere il cugino ad arrendersi, o almeno a parlare con lui, ed era proprio questo il motivo aveva spinto Emilio a ringraziare, complice un bicchiere di buon Millesimato di Conegliano, a parlare, forse per la terza volta in tre anni, Giuda ad alta voce nel bar. E questo aveva snervato talmente tanto il lavapiatti, che aveva fatto cadere il vassoio di bicchieri che aveva tra le mani. "Prego." Aveva sibilato il veneziano guardandolo, per la prima volta in tre anni, negli occhi. Ed un brivido aveva percorso il corpo di Emilio. Una scarica elettrica come non ne aveva mai provate prima. Accompagnata da un magone infinito per quanto era successo. Appena Giuda si era allontanato per prendere la scopa per spazzare, seguito a ruota da Remo, Emilio si era alzato in piedi ed aveva cercato di aggirare il bancone per tirare su i cocci, ma Tommaso lo aveva fermato. "Ti farai male. Ti tagli anche con la carta, cosa vuoi fare coi bicchieri?" "Ma... Giuda..." Tommaso aveva sospirato, e forse aveva compreso: "Giuda se la caverà. Non è mica la prima volta che fa piovere bicchieri. Forse dovrebbe calmarsi un po', non fosse stato così teso non li avrebbe fatti cadere. Non provarci nemmeno a pensare che sia colpa tua." Emilio aveva sospirato, togliendosi gli occhiali e scuotendo la testa. "Ma è colpa mia." Patrizio si era avvicinato, e gli aveva messo di nuovo la mano sulla spalla. Luca era dietro di loro, ed aveva proposto, pragmatico. "Emilio, vuoi uscire a prendere un po' d'aria?" Il veronese aveva annuito distrattamente, ed erano usciti. Nonostante l'occhiataccia di Patrizio, il veronese aveva in automatico estratto il suo pacchetto di cigarilli, e se ne era acceso uno. Mentre tirava dal sigaro in miniatura, aveva continuato a guardare dentro il bar. Ed aveva viso Giuda coi suoi guanti gialli, salire sul bancone e guardarsi attorno. Aveva... pianto? I suoi occhi, in particolare quello sinistro, erano tremendamente rossi. Il sospiro, indubbiamente di sollievo, emesso dal giovane veneziano seguito dalla mano sulla spalla di Remo, aveva devastato definitivamente il trentenne. Patrizio stava guardando la scena accanto a lui, ed aveva mormorato: "Sembra quasi che sia lui la vittima. Quando invece ha fatto tutto da solo. Che razza di falso..." "Patrizio, per favore...", aveva implorato il veronese. "Per favore cosa? È lui che ha fatto cadere i bicchieri, non tu. Tu lo hai solo ringraziato, Emi. Non capisco come fa a piacerti uno c...." Patrizio aveva spalancato gli occhi e si era tappato la bocca con una mano. Ma ormai il danno era fatto. Luca stava guardando entrambi con gli occhi spalancati come un cervo davanti a dei fari. Aveva guardato entrambi con fare sconvolto, Emilio che ormai si era arreso ed aveva iniziato a piangere silenziosamente, tirando dal cigarillo come un ossesso, Patrizio che continuava a sussurrare le sue scuse.

E si era schiarito ben bene la voce prima di chiedere, gentilmente nonostante l'accento duro tipico della sua regione: "Vuoi venire a casa nostra a bere un thè? Sono sicuro che riusciamo a saccheggiarne di quelli buoni di Romolo." Emilio aveva annuito, ed il ragazzo del cugino aveva preso entrambi sottobraccio, portandoli via dal Dolce&Remì. Il ragazzo aveva ridacchiato quando entrando, avevano sorpreso Virgilio e Romolo seduti sul divano uno addosso all'altro, a guardare Mulan in Bluray, asserendo di essersi addormentati e di non essersi accorti della posizione compromettente. Aveva osservato in silenzio Luca abbracciare Patrizio alle spalle, sussurrandogli qualcosa mentre il giovane emiliano preparava il thè per tutti. Ed aveva spalancato gli occhi terrorizzato quando sia il molisano che il romano, avevano confessato che si erano accorti della sua cotta per Giuda da probabilmente prima di quando Emilio lo aveva ammesso a sé stesso. La serata era passata in fretta, troppo in fretta, tra prese per i fondelli ad Emilio per la sua scelta discutibile (Romolo ce l'aveva particolarmente a morte, per ovvi motivi), e quando era stato il momento di tornare a casa, Emilio aveva pensato di restare a dormire nell'appartamento del cugino e dei suoi tre adorabili coinquilini. Ma sapeva bene che, in quello stesso palazzo, il suo coinquilino Remo stava rientrando. Quindi aveva baciato sulla fronte il cugino ed abbracciato forte gli altri tre, ed aveva preso l'ascensore per tornare a casa. Una volta aperta la porta, aveva trovato Remo guardare qualcosa al pc, al buio della sala da pranzo. "A Emì. Te ne sei scappato da tuo cugino? Giuda se voleva scusà per avette trattato come l'ultimo deji stronzi." Come no. Aveva proprio la faccia dispiaciuta. "Ma mi dovrei scusare io. Gli ho fatto distruggere i bicchieri e sono scappato. Porco can, mi sono comportato di merda. Spero non mi tiri addosso una sedia la prima volta che entro in bar." "Ma vaaaa. Giuda spacca i bicchieri, e non solo, più di quanto potrebbe mai ammettere!", aveva riso il romano, prima di sbadigliare rumorosamente ed alzarsi dalla sedia. "Ascolta... Volevo fare un qualcosa di carino al bar... Qualcosa che possa coinvolgere sia i giovani ma sia qualcosa di tipico. Se facessi un torneo di briscola, tu giocheresti?" "Porco can! Ma me lo chiedi? Adoro la briscola!" "Bella zì. Allora dai, che domani parlo con Tommy e vediamo il da farci. Guarda che se nun vieni a giocà te tolgo er saluto!" Emilio aveva annuito e Remo si era diretto in camera, un sorrisetto diabolico in faccia.

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runningwolf62 · 5 years

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@wardencommanderrodimiss, @pachelbelsheadcanon Oh my god I hate case fics, have the first half of Turnabout Ablaze.

At first, it’s a pretty simple routine. Get up. Get dressed. Walk the dog. Go back to Edgey’s apartment. Apply for jobs. Write fic. Rinse and repeat.

The chapter is less of a mess than Larry had originally thought and while his readers love it, they have questions and Larry wishes he had answers. WolfDragon offers what support he can, apparently he’s got something coming up with work, his coworker, who he compares to being “frighteningly like Viper from your fic” has something for him that’s gonna keep him busy for the foreseeable future but Larry already misses him. Like, he’s not gonna sit around waiting for him to get back, but he finds that WolfDragon’s really become part of his life and he’s gonna miss being able to chat with him quite as much.

Pess is good company though as he binges his way through Edgey’s collection of Steel Samurai, occasionally he texts him a picture of the TV with some caption as he reacts to whatever is happening in the episode. Edgeworth seems largely amused by Larry’s reactions though occasionally he asks his opinion on a plot twist or writing choice, but given his focus is on visiting his family in Germany he doesn’t have too much time to talk.

But then, a few days into Edgeworth’s vacation, something pops up on Larry’s radar. Namely because he’d been searching “Steel Samurai” in an attempt to find a reference for some art to draw Edgeworth, partially as a joke, partially as a thank you. But this is the answer to Larry’s prayers. Sort of.

The embassies are hiring, of all things, someone to perform in a stage play of Steel Samurai. Larry figures fuck it, and throws his hat in the ring. It can’t hurt to try and plus he’s still working on getting published.

Something that hurts to even think about, because he misses sitting with Elise and talking about plot ideas, just the camaraderie of having someone to sit with and work with. He misses having a mentor and it guts him still to think about writing serious work.

He knows he needs to though. He needs to strike while the iron’s hot, but he’s made a deal with himself. Find a new place, find a new job to pay the bills, and then he goes back. He’ll give himself that much time, that should be enough time to mourn.

What he doesn’t expect, is that he hears back almost immediately. Like later that day immediately.

But Larry’s not one to turn down a chance at work, however brief this will be. So, he says yes.

He waits to tell Edgeworth though because he wants to see his face.

Oh, he sees Edgeworth’s face alright. Larry prides himself on everything Nick taught him in college and then stuff he picked up in his time working here that he doesn’t break character when Miles Edgeworth himself asks for his autograph. He really cannot wait to see his face now. He might have to film it. He tries to wink at him as he hands over the autograph, but he doesn’t think Edgeworth sees it. He doesn’t recognize the young girl with him either, she reminds him of Maya though, something about her eyes, bright chirping voice and dark hair.

Edgy and Nick were just adopting kids all over the place huh?

He remembers what he’s here to do though. This is a big moment, a big goodwill thing, no pressure Larry. No pressure. Just shaking a guy’s hand.

Thankfully that ends without incident, Larry feels like he’s riding some kind of high. He’s not only impressed Edgeworth, admittedly not that Edgeworth knew that, but he’s done a massively impressive thing without fucking it up! Though now that it’s over, he did just kind of shake a guy’s hand. Like, yeah, the gesture was important, but it was just an everyday thing really. He tells himself that in the hopes his heart rate will go back down to normal.

Well, honestly, getting out of his costume and getting some fresh air might help. He takes a secret staircase up and out during the Jammin’ Ninja thing to go sit on the roof and take his helmet off and just cool down.

He does let out a fist pump and a cheer though. Larry Butz, Turnabout Champion in his own right after all.

He takes the time to relax, rehydrate, and admire the chimney, it’s got some interesting architecture though he’s not sure why anyone would have a fire going now. It’s LA in March it’s not that cold, it shouldn’t be smoking. He gets so lost in studying the chimney that he kind of forgets he’s supposed to head down to his room and then to the speech.

Until the police arrive, to find him still admiring architecture.

And he’s accused of murder.

Again.

Larry decides at this point the universe is against him this year.

He lets himself be dragged back downstairs, holy shit there’s an actual dead body, he feels his breath stop in his throat, memories of Elise, er, Misty, and the memory of Cindy haunting him as he stares at the body.

He steps back as this very aggressive - did he actually just snarl at him – Interpol agent steps towards him, he wants to be back on the roof, away from her, away from the body and the accusations, just long enough to clear his head and think.

He backs away and right into something solid that grunts as Larry crashes into them. The pitch suggests male. The whip that makes his head spin, literally as his mask spins around him, suggests someone else.

“What do you think you're doing to my subordinate!?” Yeah, he knows that voice and whip. He quickly pulls his helmet off so that he can see her, “uh hi aga- Edgy?”

Edgeworth’s eyes about leap out of his skull, and Von Karma spares him a glance, long enough to ask, “who is this fruitcake!?” Okay now that felt harsh.

“I am Larry of the House of Butz: Married Man of Neo Olde Tokyo, m’ ma’am!” He would not say m’lady he had not sunk that low, he had not. His head was still kind of spinning though, and given he’d smashed his name together with the Steel Samurai’s introduction he might also have some kind of heat exhaustion.

“Now I remember. This... person is one of your childhood friends, isn't he, Miles?”

Edgeworth softens slightly as he seems to take in Larry’s frantic state, “yes… he is.”

Larry laughs a bit nervously, “Hey! It’s good to see ya, I’m in a bit of a bind.” He also hadn’t realized Edgeworth was back in town, had they missed each other? He’s been walking Pess, even with his now hectic schedule, the show coming up had caused the past week to be a bit of a blur.

Edgeworth’s eyes narrow and Larry fights the urge to shift around nervously, “what sort of "bind" are we talking about here...?”

Larry glances over his shoulder at the agent behind him, who also had narrowed eyes and a cruel, sharp, sneer, “the suspect kind! I accidentally became a suspect in a murder!”

“I see. That is quite the bind.” Edgeworth sounds calm though as he took in the room so maybe things will be okay. Maybe.

Von Karma arches an eyebrow and tugs on her whip, “...Not that we're in the least bit surprised.”

Edgeworth makes a noise in his throat while Larry feels himself deflate like a balloon. Namely like the one he launched into Gourd lake. Sounds like a good idea right now. Not just ‘cause he felt like shit, but he was also sweating in the costume.

“Franziska, he has been making quite the effort to improve himself,” Edgeworth speaks quietly but firmly, “I assure you; he’s only improved.”

Larry gives him a grateful look while Franziska eyes him critically, Larry hates how he feels himself coming up short as she sizes him up. But the she nods.

“Well then, fools of a feather flock together.”

Edgeworth nods and then seems to take in Larry’s outfit, “wait!”

Larry grins at him tiredly, “surprise? I hope you liked the autograph?” he really hopes Edgeworth did, he hopes that had made him happy in some way.

Edgeworth is gawking at him again, “you were the… On stage…”

“Yeah?”

“Not to interrupt,” the voice that cuts in is one clearly delighted to interrupt and Larry about jumps out of the suit when the hand comes down on his shoulder.

Edgeworth’s eyes harden to flint as he takes in the man next to Larry. “Aha. So, this is the incident you mentioned earlier.”

The Agent grins and Larry feels like the big bad wolf is hanging off his shoulder, “Mr. Prosecutor, this man... this childhood friend of yours... is our prime suspect. Of what, you ask? Of the murder of a man who had snuck into this embassy, Mask☆DeMasque II!”

“There was a second one?” Larry looks at him in surprise, he almost feels himself throw up, he doesn’t need a reminder of that god awful week, and this time without WolfDragon and Nick to help pull him out of it, he doesn’t need to remember the break up, the fight, the foolish, stupid-

“useless looking young man”

He bites back bile and has barely zoned back in when he hears Edgeworth ask someone, a different detective? Where had he come from?

“Why exactly was that man placed under arrest, Detective?”

The detective glances at him curiously, “that... samurai?”

Edgeworth grins slightly, “he was born looking suspicious, but not for the reasons you suspect, I assure you. As you can plainly see, he is completely harmless.” Larry gives him a dirty look, now is not the time for jokes but Edgeworth doesn’t seem to mean anything by it other than light ribbing.

The detective looks at him and hesitates, “well, it was just a random guess... It's not like he's actually under arrest...”

What? Larry spins to look at the agent, who had certainly made it sound like he was being arrested before he decides that is not a man he wants to fight. Samurai sword or no.

“Tonight, here, at the Allebahstian Embassy Ambassador Alba was to give a commemorative speech. And that's when... the Yatagarasu showed. But keep in mind... the Yatagarasu isn't who I'm talking about right now.”

Larry tries to catch Edgeworth’s eyes, the whomst? But Edgeworth’s focus is on the detective as he continues.

“Those seats for the guests who had been called to sit in them were empty.””

Edgeworth glances at Larry out of the corner of his eye, “a no-show...? Who was it that failed to take their seat?”

“Me,” Larry muttered miserably, “I was up on the roof.” And had completely forgotten.

The detective, Larry leans to see the name Badd – is that a joke?!? – pinned on his shirt. “The Steel Samurai. Until the speech was to begin, each member of the entire Steel Samurai family was to wait in a separate room, However, for some weird reason that man was spotted in a different location than his assigned room at that time.”

“On the roof,” Edgeworth finishes, and glances at Larry, “and what, were you doing up there?”

Larry tugs on his collar, “After the show, I left the pushcart in the Rose Garden, and came into the embassy. Then, they took a picture of me shaking hands with the ambassador. After that, and until my next appearance, I had some free time, so I wandered around, and I was overheating so I thought I’d go outside and cool off. Celebrate a little.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. “That's when I spotted the chimney. A chimney like that is a rare thing, you know.” He bites back his excitement, “and I was busy admiring the architecture and missed my cue and that’s when they found me on the roof.”

“You were just up there cooling off?” Edgeworth repeats, as though there’s doubt. Larry shrugs his shoulders.

“Did a little people watching too and that sort of thing but mostly yeah.” He pauses, “I was also wondering why smoke was pouring out of it, given it’s March. In LA. You know, not the time to cuddle up in front of a fire.”

He folds his arms and tilts his head to think, “which is really weird ‘cause I think that’s Mindy’s room and she was taken away on a stretcher so I don’t know why she’d want to overheat.”

Edgeworth and Von Karma startle at that and he realizes he’s probably handed them some evidence they’ll need to make sense of. He gives them a chance to prowl around the room and investigate, doing his best to stay out of the way while keeping Edgeworth between him and the wolf guy. He has a very intense stare as he watches Larry from across the room, he certainly knows his aesthetic and lives up to it.

"I must again ask why we are helping this foolish fool," Von Karma asks with a glance over at Larry, who grins sheepishly.

Edgeworth glances at his sister, "that man helped me when I was at my lowest point and believed that I could return. I would like to offer Larry the same chance."

"Thanks, Edgy- wait that man? Do you mean-"

"Can someone please get the Pink Princess so we can ask her some questions?" Edgeworth smoothly steamrolls over Larry's confusion. That man really.

The wolf man huffs, eyes narrowing as he watches them, Larry feels very much like a rabbit might under the gaze of a wolf. Edgeworth’s attention turns to him now and the investigator shifts to address him.

“You did some investigating over in the Babahlese Embassy, too, right?”

Edgeworth nods once, “I did. Is there a problem?” It’s like a tennis match, though Larry thinks Edgeworth prefers when his partner on the court (hah) is Nick.

“Lang Zi says: ‘A wolf who aims to hunt for two rabbits at once...’” he rumbles, almost a warning and Larry kinda wishes he could be that intimidating.

Edgeworth keeps his cool though, and Larry is very impressed. “I believe the idiom you require is, ‘He who runs after two hares will catch neither.’”

The agent scoffs openly at that, “A real wolf can catch both.”

Edgeworth smirks just slightly and Larry knows he’s got him. “I see. So, what are you trying to say, seeing as how I am currently handling two cases?”

The agent pauses before he snorts again, “suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you.” Larry isn’t sure he even did that in the entire conversation but he’s having the horrifying realization of why the agent’s way of talking sounds familiar. He talks like WolfDragon. But like WolfDragon if he was a rampant asshole.

Edgeworth turns to Larry now, “I have some questions for you.”

“I’ve got some for you as well,” Larry folds his arms over his chest, the costume clanging slightly as he does, “what’s with you and that man” he rolls his eyes at the term, “and adopting kids? Like you turn your back and he’s got another one and now you’ve got one hanging off you. Where is she by the way?”

“She couldn’t get- she is not my- I am not adopting anyone,” Edgeworth flusters and the agent lifts his eyebrow.

“Maybe you two could be childhood friends.” He mused out loud, Larry gives him a dirty look before he can think better of it.

The pink princess arriving keeps Larry’s foot out of his mouth for the moment. “Hey!” He greets her cheerfully; he likes Mindy and thinks she likes him. Thinks she liked him a lot more when he mentioned off handedly that he wasn’t dating right now because he was focusing on getting himself and his life back in order. “Feeling any better?”

There’s no response and Larry finds that a bit unsettling. “Umm.”

Edgeworth and Von Karma glance at her and then begin musing over the fireplace, Larry has no idea how the fireplaces could be connected; his only experience with architecture was drawing it. He could admire it, but he didn’t know the mechanics.

But it’s important to the two of them obviously. Larry’s not sure how he feels watching them interact. It’s like they almost get along but can’t help sabotaging their own relationship.

Edgeworth turns from his sister and the fireplace to Mindy, “Ms. Pink Princess. I have a few questions I'd like to ask you.”

Once more she doesn’t answer, and Larry and Edgeworth share a concerned look. The agent shifts his weight slightly, Larry realizes in that moment if something has happened to Mindy at least he’ll be on their side in this.

Edgeworth took a step forward, calmly, “Ms. Pink Princess! If you would please answer...” as he spoke, she began to remove her helmet and Edgeworth’s voice definitely shot up an octave on “me!”

Edgeworth makes a noise like a computer finding an error and Larry was given vivid flashes of that one cursed job, his past has all come back to haunt him today hasn’t it?

“Wh-what the--!? A-Aren't you Ms. Oldbag!?” Larry stammers out, barely managing to not curse, mostly out of fear Von Karma will strike him.

Edgeworth whirls on him, “why are you so surprised!?”

Oldbag looks surprised to see him, “Ah, so you're the one they got to play the Steel Samurai. It's too bad I didn't realize that until now.”

“You are acquaintances with Larry...?” Bit stronger of a relationship than Larry would say they have but he’ll gladly let Edgeworth talk to her.

Oldbag laughs and waves her hand like she’s trying to reassure a jealous lover, “why, yes! We worked at the same company for a little while, you know. That's why it's OK, my Edgey-poo! You don't need to be jealous!”

Edgeworth makes a strangled noise and Larry does not blame him in the slightest.

Oldbag continues, “I was in the next room, you know, trying to get in some beauty sleep. But it was so noisy here that I couldn't fall asleep. So, I came over to complain! So, imagine my shock when I saw my precious Edgey-poo waiting here for me! I mean, who could've imagined that you would ever come to a show like this! I guess I've misjudged you, Edgey-poo!”

Von Karma and Larry both shift closer to Edgeworth as though he might need them for support. Von Karma pulls on her coiled whip and asked slowly, “you ‘misjudged’ him...?”

“I thought he was trying to avoid me, you know!” She laughs but Larry can see by Edgeworth’s face that was exactly what he was doing. “But it looks like the winds have shifted and he's now willing to be chased after! I'm simply overwhelmed! Don't you worry, Edgey-poo! I'd chase you for forever! To the ends of the Earth!”

Von Karma looks ready to jump in front of her brother and buy him time to run but instead says, “Isn't that just peachy?”

Oldbag explains that she used to work for the studio, and they’d called her last minute as understudy for Mindy. That certainly did explain why “Mindy” had missed so many cues and fumbled in so many places. Larry had done his best to cover for his co-star when he’d needed to. Which he’d had.

“How did you get the role,” Edgeworth asks Larry absently as they watch her hand the paper proving it to Von Karma.

“Guy they wanted for the role got a bigger acting offer. Some movie that’s gonna have John Marsh in it or something.” Edgeworth nods and Larry adds, "I also thought I was applying for the crew."

"That... does make more sense."

"Yeah, I'm good with my hands and arts and building stuff, so I figured stage and tech couldn't be that hard, helped once with one of Nick's things in college but I guess I clicked the wrong link or something 'cause I got called in for an audition."

Edgeworth’s soft laugh is fond, “that does seem your kind of luck.”

Larry grins at him and shrugs, a feeling of warmth uncurling in his chest. If he wasn’t accused of murder this would be downright heartwarming.

The sound of a dog barking makes them start, Larry turns his head, since when did police departments use Shibas?

The Agent immediately begins to praise him, Larry settles next to Edgeworth to watch the unfold. After a moment he leans over and asks, “what his name anyway? The guy who like tried to arrest me.”

“Agent Lang, he’s with Interpol.” Edgeworth replies and Larry tries to suppress a shudder at just how much trouble he’s gotten himself into.

Larry watches Edgeworth debate and reason exactly how Larry isn’t the killer and connect various pieces of evidence with a speed that Larry has to admire. “You’re a real Sherlock Holmes Edgy,” he comments with a grin as he watches Edgeworth display his wit.

Agent Lang huffs and curls his lip in a smirk and Larry’s eyes widen, was this guy an actual werewolf why were his teeth like that?!?

He jerks back as Agent Lang speaks, “well done Mr. Prosecutor.” He glances between the two of them, “although, I still find it a bit unbelievable that the two of you are friends.”

Edgeworth and Larry are silent, they’ve proved how well they know each other, if that’s not enough for him Larry doesn’t know what will be. Especially if he’s gonna be like this about it.

Lang’s eyes glint with a bit of excitement, “but the suspicion on that guy over there-” head jerk at Larry, “isn't completely resolved yet, so don't get any funny ideas about running off, OK?” This time he smirks at Larry and he steps back.

“Uh Edgy, what does Wolfman mean when he says I’m not off the hook?” He thinks Lang twitches at the Wolfman name. He knows he does, it slipped out by accident, but Agent Lang is like WolfDragon’s evil twin or something.

Edgeworth sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, “he means the murder weapon. Larry, did you forget? There are two layers of suspicion hanging over your head.”

Lang smirks like the wolf who has caught the first scent of blood, “That's exactly what I mean. We can't only rely on the words of the suspect, after all. We may have figured out where he was and what he was doing all night… but the blood-stained Samurai Sword that was left at the crime scene- As long as there is no satisfactory explanation for that then this wolf will refuse to ease up on his bite!”

Larry thinks he snapped his teeth at the end of his sentence, “Jesus, Edgy, He looks like he's seriously about to take a bite out of me!”

Edgeworth glares at Lang, “he probably will.” He draws himself up and steps up to debate, Larry’s beginning to realize that with his luck it’s a damn good thing his two childhood friends became lawyers.

He chimes in when he can, confirming that the spear and the sword are made of the same stuff and bend easily, he’s pretty sure not even Lang could kill a man with one. It would be rather like killing a man with a carboard tube.

And then Franziska and Edgeworth finally get to what has been lingering underneath the surface of their exchanges.

Her father.

Larry hates that man more than he could ever put into words. He remembers Greggory Edgeworth faintly, more a kind feeling, a warmth and an aching loss. He knows exactly what he did to Edgeworth though and for that he will never forgive him. He bites his words back though; this is between the siblings.

And you know it’s serious when your sibling calls you by your last name, “Ms. von Karma, as you know, unlike your father, I am not a genius prosecutor. Plus, I doubt his record of a 40-year win streak will ever be broken.” Edgeworth raises his head proudly, “but perhaps, it is for the best if it remains unbroken. For no one should've conceived of the notion to ‘convict all defendants’ in the first place!”

“Atta a boy Edgy,” Larry’s muttered praise fills the silence as Franziska stares at her brother. Her whip strikes over his armor and he yelps.

“What a foolishly foolish statement from a foolish fool who hates to lose!” Franziska steps towards her brother which is hardly intimidating in Larry’s opinion when Edgeworth is that much taller, “it's the job of a prosecutor to make sure that all defendants are found guilty in court. There is nothing more important in this world than a perfect victory!”

Edgeworth shakes his head sadly at her, “That may be your opinion, however, I don't believe that's all we are.”

Lang makes a startled noise, Larry smirks at him now, like he told WolfDragon, Edgy is the best of the prosecution, not for his record but for his beliefs.

“As a prosecutor, what I pursue is not the perfect victory, but the perfect truth. And if that means that the bridge, I must cross will crumble beneath my feet... ...then let it crumble as I walk on towards the truth!” Larry itches to write that down, or clap, or something. He just grins at Edgeworth with pride, and he catches a hint of gratitude from Edgeworth. Edgeworth has come a long way from his ‘Demon Prosecutor’ days and Larry’s so happy to see him get here.

Lang is quite a moment longer, perhaps aware of the moment they are sharing before he grins and cuts in, “you're good at keeping me entertained, Mr. Prosecutor!” He looks actually pleased, not the cocky arrogance Larry’s begun to associate with him, but it shifts back into the challenging smirk and he and Edgeworth start going again.

The verbal sparring is much louder when Larry is standing right next to everyone yelling “Hold it!” and “Objection!” and “Not so fast!” His head spins but Edgeworth proves that the murder weapon wasn’t even the sword. Or would’ve if they’d be allowed to examine it.

Larry feels a pang of guilt as Edgeworth agrees to take the responsibility for any repercussions from examining the statue, this is his fault. If he’d been more careful, if he’d been where he was supposed to be Edgeworth wouldn’t be risking everything for him.

Except that this evidence they find is literally game changing. He’s off the hook and everyone looks too busy to explain what is happening, so he heads off back to his room.

Once there he realizes that his ‘son’ is missing. Great. The last thing he needs is to get in trouble for having lost a prop. Nothing for it. He’ll just have to check everywhere that isn’t a crime scene. Actually, that might be a good idea. Keep him out of the way and out of trouble. But first he needs to get out of this costume before he sweats to death.

#Ace Attorney #Larry Writes Warrior Cats

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crqstalite · 5 years

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15* day swtor challenge.

*didn’t take fifteen days. not even five.

the challenge <<<

anyways, decided to finally get around to this bad boy that i reblogged like a week ago or smth. our toon of choice for this one is our darling darth tri’ama amarillis-quinn.

1. PROLOGUE. Where was your OC before the class story? How’d they end up on the starter planet?

Tri’ama was born pure Kaasian (or so she assumes) to two unknown humans. There’s evidence there was another child born to her parents, making Tri’ama a twin to someone but she isn’t aware who. Adopted by two Sith Pureblood Lords, Raegia and Yusaits Amarillis, Tri’ama was raised rather well at the height of power. She had always been destined for Korriban, and routinely trained with her parents.

2. FAMILY. Is your OC’s family a large part of their story? Why or why not? Are they on good terms? Are any of your characters related?

Tri’ama’s parents have always been her biggest supporters, but were always very withdrawn with their loving. Often their childrearing would be considered extremely odd, from the violent training and the fact they’d continually push her past her physical boundaries. However, Raegia and Yusaits were careful to allow her to grow close to them, so they’re always on good terms. Tri’ama is aware that she has a twin, but assumes they were stillborn or abandoned, so doesn’t care much for it. They don’t appear much in story yet, but they will soon.

3. NAME. How did you come up with their name? What is it in-game? What do people call them? What do *you* call them?

Tri’ama was because I was beginning to realize ‘holy crap you can use apostrophes?!!!!’ hence why at least a 1/3 of my characters have an apostrophe somewhere in their name. It’s the same in-game, Tri’ama Amarillis (though I don’t have money for my legacy name). Sometimes Vette calls her ‘sis’ when they’re alone (which she LIVES for), Malavai refers to her as ‘my lord’, ‘my love’ when he’s feeling particularily adventerous, and her name when they’re alone, Jaesa refers to her as Master, Pierce is always ‘my lord’ or ‘my greatness therefore our one and only savior’ if he’s feeling like being annoying (thankfully he has a so-so friendship with her, so he’s in no danger of dying), and half the time she can’t figure what Broonmark is saying. I, call her bitch boy because she’s an asshole to literally everyone else.

4. COMBAT. What’s your character like in a fight? Is there anything you wish they could do in-game that isn’t an option? Favorite in-game moves? How did you decide their specialization?

Tri’ama is chaos and mayhem on wheels, but organized. Everyone has their position and what they have to do, and when things go according to plan, things are wonderful. I think force leap is my favorite thing for Sith Warrior’s and Jedi Knights to do because I love just leaping towards enemies and going to town. I decided her specialization because I really, really like double sabers and the abilities that come with them.

5. WARDROBE. How many outfit slots are filled? Did their look change over the course of the game, or stay consistent?

1. Literally one because I can’t afford to buy anymore. Also because I do more functionality than looks, so it depended on the planet. Whatever a Warrior on Hoth wore, she wore on Hoth. However, fic wise she did, going from having her hair short and slicked back, to having her hair long and around her shoulders during the endgame.

6. HOME. Where is home? A place? A person?

Home is Dromound Kaas, in her old family home. Home is with her parents, with the smell of good food and the quiet nights as the rain patters against the windows and she falls asleep.

7. PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS. Who are their closest friends? Do they have a lot, or a few? Do they trust easily, or does it take time?

Her closest friend is easily Vette, being the first person who began following her. They have a sisterly relationship, and always has a joke for her when they return to the ship. She’s one of the two people that can get her to laugh (the other being Malavai). She doesn’t have too many friends, being not only a Sith but also being Darth Amarillis. It takes a lot of time for her to trust someone, after being betrayed by not only Baras, but Malavai as well. But, it’s easy to see that those she does trust, are there for her life.

8. ROMANCES. A companion? An NPC? One of your OCs? Someone else’s? Nobody? Explain!

She’s married to Captain Malavai Quinn. Though it’s been a trying relationship (due to his betrayal and her inability to trust), Tri’ama loves him with her whole heart. They spend time together a little more sporadically than either would like, but what they do have, they treasure.

9. RIVALRIES. Who do they hate most? What’s the fastest way for someone to earn their dislike?

Mierrio. Hands down they despise each other mutually and don’t even try to fight their corresponding lovers on it. For a reason that still has yet to be revealed in-universe >:)

10. SLEEP. What are your OC’s sleeping habits like? Healthy? Terrible? With someone else?

Tri’ama actually sleeps rather well at night. She goes to bed when work is done, wakes up and then going back to work. In that way, she didn’t sleep with Malavai for nearly a year after his betrayal (she believes she’s most vulnerable while sleep), but now she can’t do so without him. Other than that, she’s the most well-rested Sith in the roster.

11. CANON DIVERGENCE. Are there parts of their story that don’t line up with in-game information? Why? Where?

Yes. When Baras asks the Sith Warrior whether they know the Sith Code, it’s assumed the PC has no idea what’s going on, and has been rushed into the Sith lifestyle. Tri’ama has been part of the Sith lifestyle since she was adopted by her parents, and of course would know the Sith Code, and what it means to be Sith. She wouldn’t have been rushed to Korriban either, though she was heavily advanced compared to other students and would’ve had no problem murdering Vemrin out of sight of the overseers without the assistance of Baras or Tremel. Other than that, no.

12. AUs. Do you have any alternate universes for them? What’s different? What’s the same?

One AU I have is the Faction Swap AU, where obviously, the characters switch their factions with the opposite class. Tri’ama became a Jedi Knight, which isn’t much different from her usual form, except that she murders less and doesn’t have an Imperial accent. Doc would’ve pissed her off, but she probably would’ve came around eventually, making it very clear that she was the one wearing pants in this relationship. The second AU I have is the Heritage AU, where she and Malavai have an unknown amount of children and...well it’s not written yet. Another AU is the lover swap AU (where I swap the companion lover and the PC’s roles), and Tri’ama would be the one stuck on Balmorra until Malavai arrives. She’s rather suave about how she enjoys her time spent with Baras’ apprentice and is extremely forward. Tri’ama, with her own trust issues, nearly refuses Baras before her life is threatened, and she purposely makes the robots much weaker than they should be.

13. ALIGNMENT. Light-dark, or D&D style, or both, whatever suits you. Did you plan for them to be the way they are, or did your ideas change as you played?

Dark side, mostly. Of course, I didn’t intend for her to be merciful to some characters, but it ended up that way because Malavai was partially light-sided as well and Tri’ama wanted to please him. Her D&D Alignment is Lawful Evil.

14. POST-OSSUS. How have they changed over the course of the thirteen years? How do they feel about their past self? How would their past self feel about them now?

Assuming we’re following my very fractured ‘Made of Star Dust’ universe, Tri’ama has changed because being seperated from the one person that promised to never leave her again, and the person that she trusted most in the whole galaxy snapped something inside her. Some call her the Melancholical Murderer, because she kills due to her own sadness and straining sanity. Things don’t go right back to normal after Malavai and Vette return, and she struggles to trust those in the Alliance as well. While Ezridivia has tried to reach out to her, along with Lana, surprisingly her remaining trust in the Barsen’thor (Naji) and Mierrio. Tri’ama sees her past self as weak, for not being able to deal the killing blow when she should’ve. Her past self would’ve seen this version as insane, and downright scary.

15. FREE DAY. Anything you’d like to talk about that wasn’t covered goes here. Fun facts? Not-fun facts? Go wild. I don’t own you.

Tri’ama loves, loves, LOVES, pets. She begged Malavai to adopt an akk dog (they didn’t, he made a remark that they already had Broonmark), and always checks out the wildlife on any planet that they land on. She also adores silk underclothes, and Malavai always complies. <3

@wolfboywarmachine !

#swtor15 #swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #swtor headcanons #malavai quinn #tri'ama amarillis-quinn

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mermaidsirennikita · 6 years

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July 2018 Book Roundup

This was a bit of a slump month for me in terms of reading. But wait! I read so many books! Yeah, but I savored very few of them. Some were mediocre, and several were bad. Very bad. Standouts included Riley Sager’s “spooky summer camp reinvented” thriller The Last Time I Lied and the very satisfying conclusion to Kiersten White’s super underrated Conqueror’s Saga, Bright We Burn. You win some months and lose some months--I hope the next one is better.

My Plain Jane by Cynthia Hand, Jodi Meadows, and Brodi Ashton. 2/5. A retelling of Jane Eyre, My Plain Jane sees Charlotte Bronte and Jane Eyre as friends at Lowood together, with Jane able to see ghosts and Charlotte desperate to get to the bottom of her secrets. As Jane takes a job at Thornfield Hall, she is pursued by Charlotte and intrepid paranormal investigator Alexander, in a tale full of ghosts, secret wives, and romance. I... really don’t want to say I hate this because it had its funny, cute moments that remind me of My Lady Jane, but... I kind of hated it? It’s partially my own fault, really, because the book was exactly what it described itself to be. But what worked when twisting history--My Lady Jane focused on Jane Grey--just doesn’t work when retelling a popular book. Charlotte was quirky girl’d to the point of being twee; she also seemed into Jane Austen, which bugged me because she wasn’t. And much of Jane’s side of things seemed like condescending fix it fic, in a way. Don’t you know that Jane only falls for Rochester because she’s a romantic young woman with no life experience (and an obsessed with Mr. Darcy because I guess)???? Maybe I just like the real Jane Eyre too much. Either way, I’m still going to read the next Jane book, but cannot recommend this one.

The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager. 5/5. Fifteen years ago, Emma Davis was the last person to see Vivian, Allison, and Natalie before they disappeared from Camp Nightingale--and the world--forever. She accused a boy she liked of doing something terrible; and she vanished into obscurity, reinventing herself as an up and coming artist. But she can’t seem to stop painting the girls, even as she covered them up afterwards. Upon the prompting of the camp’s owner--and dogged by guilt--Emma returns to teach at the reopened Camp Nightingale, given three new girls to mentor. Yet she still can’t seem to stop seeing the girls--especially the entrancing, manipulative Vivian. Riley Sager does something with his books that make me really happy: he keeps on taking a classic teen slasher trope and making a whole book about it. I loved the sexy-teens-in-a-cabin angle of Final Girls--and this book takes on the whole creepy camp thing, complete with a spooky lake and campfire legends. He also throws in--for good measure--toxic, intoxicating girl relationships! Because yes, Emma had a crush on a boy, but her world was really dominated by Vivian. At one point, I thought that this book would be a 4 out of 5 because as much as I love the tone and atmosphere and the overall story, I wasn’t a big fan of how Emma’s hallucinations worked and the ending seemed rather predictable. But that wasn’t the REAL ending. And the real ending? Just... yes. The present storyline in this book is good, but the past--mostly Vivian, let’s be real, that’s a girl after my own heart--is fantastic.

Bring Me Back by B.A. Paris. 1/5. While stopped at a gas station with her boyfriend FInn, Layla goes missing. Twelve years later--after enduring a period as the prime suspect in Layla’s murder, despite the fact that her body was never found--Finn is engaged to Layla’s sister Ellen. Out of nowhere, little signs begin appearing that lead Finn to wonder... could Layla still be out there? WHAT A DUMB BOOK. I didn’t realize that I’d read one of Paris’s books, the super underwhelming The Breakdown. If I had, I wouldn’t have tried it. God, this was fucking stupid. Literally every twist you would think of, every basic “surprise” is here. And then one that is so--but the real issue is Finn. I don’t take issue with flawed protagonists, but Finn was more than flawed. He was creepy (fine in certain cases) and stupid (never fine). And for that matter, everyone else was so one-dimensional that it was impossible to sweep aside his shortcomings. I skimmed this after a point, and I’m glad I didn’t waste any more time on it.

The List by Joanna Bolouri. 1/5. IT GOT WORSE!!! I won’t bother with a summary, because this is actually pretty fucking simple: a year (!!!!) after her ex cheated on her, thirty-year-old Phoebe still isn’t over it. In an effort to revitalize her sex life, she makes a list of sexual experiences she hasn’t tried and wants to, and sets off to check them off with her best guy friend, Oliver. Okay, admittedly, I should have known that this would be a diary book, which is a style I usually don’t like (with some notable exceptions). Phoebe has the most annoying voice I have ever read. It’s as if the author wants to mimic Bridget Jones, but doesn’t understand why people like Bridget and why she came off more as hapless but amusing, instead of just... a moron. Phoebe is a FUCKING MORON. She hates her job, she uses cutesy slang words (like, my least favorite cutesy slang words from the U.K.) and describes sex acts in the least appealing way possible. But it’s not as if the author wants the sex to feel real, because aside from a few mishaps, Phoebe overall has great sexual experiences, even when you imagine that if this is the first time she’s doing them, it’d probably be more awkward. Like... we’re supposed to buy that Phoebe LOOOOOVES anal after the first time she’s tried it, but she describes it as feeling like “she’s going to the bathroom, but good” basically. HOT STUFF. And she’s just a dipshit in general. She and all of her friends are. I knew this was definitely going to be 1/5 after Oliver made a joke about stereotypical “Native American” names (a joke that is somehow worse knowing that an author from the U.K. wrote it) but even before then, Phoebe is talking about her lack of sexual satisfaction with her friends all of whom are in their thirties and one of them... is like... humping a couch? I don’t know why authors who write “sexual” books think that this is normal behavior. I am in my 20s; I’ve been in weird situations; I know a lot of weird people. Never has some dry-humped a couch in front of me... as a joke.... or in general. Wow. Stupid.

Choose Your Own Disaster by Dana Schwartz. 3/5. Dana Schwartz’s memoir--detailing her struggles with eating disorders, mental illness in general, romantic travails, and finding herself as a millennial--is laid out in the style of a choose your own adventure novel. While it’s certainly well-written and takes advantage of its gimmick, I can’t say this was as enjoyable as My Lady’s Choosing. Obviously, they’re totally different genres, but... I don’t know. This wasn’t a fun read to me, even though I think it was important. Some parts hit too close to home, which isn’t Schwartz’s fault, while other parts seemed overwritten, which is. A mixed bag.

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell. 4/5. Shortly after marrying the wealthy and handsome Rupert, Elsie finds herself widowed and pregnant, sent away to the Bainbridge family’s country estate to wait for her baby to be born. She’s met with eerie villagers and angry servants, as well as Rupert’s awkward cousin, Sarah. All of that, however, she could deal with--what’s more unsettling are the violent events that begin occurring in the house, and strange painted “silent companions” that seem to pop up everywhere, their eyes appearing to follow Elsie around. Perhaps most disturbing of all is the diary Sarah finds, detailing the story of Rupert’s ancestress, Anne Bainbridge--and her mute daughter Hetta... This kicked off with a slow start; I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get through it. But about 50 pages in, things PICK UP. Especially when we get into Anne’s diary, which is where some of the really creepy stuff takes place. It’s a spooky, unsettling story that feels like it’s of another time. If you’re a fan of “The Others”--which I am--I’d highly recommend the novel.

Bright We Burn by Kiersten White. 4/5. The final book in The Conqueror’s Saga sees Radu finally forced to make a choice for his future, as Lada’s conflict with him and Mehmed--and all of her enemies, really--finally comes to a head. I can’t say much more than that, because... final book in the series, and all. I really can’t recommend this trilogy enough. Yes, a gender-flipped Vlad the Impaler story sounds weird. But Lada is a great character you so rarely see in YA--a truly horrible female lead. She’s awful. Not a monster, but not really redeemable either, especially after this installment. And I wouldn’t even say that Lada is the most complex character in the series--that goes to Radu, her brother who is a) gay b) a Muslim convert and c) in love with Mehmed, their childhood friend who is in love with Lada, who kind of loves Mehmed but kind of hates him because he’s about as horrible a she is. I loved this poisonous triangle of scheming and bad people--Radu is significantly less horrible than Lada and Mehmed, but has his moments--and the world and the supporting characters, and the only reason this book didn’t a full 5/5 is because I think there needed to be more. The conflict of the trio really petered out a bit for me, and it came down to Lada and Radu. And I love Lada and Radu, but Mehmed was the kind of antagonist that got their asses in gear, and the book needed that extra kick. Overall, however, this was a great conclusion--super satisfying, and quite bloody.

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones. 4/5. Celestial and Roy are upwardly mobile Atlanta residents--she a rising artist, he a young executive--and just over a year into their marriage when Roy is arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. Sentenced to twelve years in prison, Roy writes to Celestial as their marriage gradually disintegrates. When he’s exonerated and freed five years into his sentence, he returns to her. But Celestial has built up a relationship with Andre, her childhood friend and the best man at her and Roy’s wedding. The question isn’t just one of who Celestial belongs with--and whether she belongs with anyone--but of whether or not she and Roy ever would have worked out in the first place? This is a DEEP literary book, y’all. Not light reading. And I can’t say it was super enjoyable? I mean, this is one of those harshly realistic, love isn’t enough tearjerkers. But it was very well-written, and it examined themes and questions that I don’t think you’d necessarily expect from such a relatively simple premise. Of course, much of the novel does revolve around being a black man (or woman) in 21st century America--so I can’t critique that aspect. The only thing I really can say as a criticism is that the older characters in the novel--Celestial and Roy’s parents, primarily--do essentially repeat themselves a good bit. And again, I can’t say that I like everything every character did or said--but every action came from a very real place. It’s a harsh one.

Give Me Your Hand by Megan Abbott. 3/5. Kit is an ambitious scientist, hoping to gain a spot on a PMDD-related study led by her idol. She’s the only woman in the running, and considered a shoo-in the the “woman spot”--until Diane shows up. Diane and Kit knew each other when they were younger; and Diane told Kit a secret that derailed both of their lives. With the weight of Diane’s secret on her mind, Kit begins to slowly unravel, questioning how she should handle a secret that has gone from being another person’s problem, to hers as well. I’m not one of those people scared off by Abbott’s squicky, literary style of telling domestic thriller stories. I’m used to her obsession with the female body and feminine mysteries in general. I’m not sure why this one didn’t click with me. The writing was still there, and on paper the story is something I should have liked--so I’m saying it’s me, not her. It may be that the books of Abbott’s I’ve really liked have dealt more with the truly domestic sphere or something more mundane and universal than scientific studies? I just wasn’t attached to this story or the characters.

The Death of Mrs. Westaway by Ruth Ware. 3/5. Down on her luck tarot card reader Hal is shocked when she receives word that she is the possible recipient of an inheritance. Her grandmother has died, and Hal is summoned to her home to hear the will being read. The only issue is that to Hal’s knowledge, her grandmother was already dead--and with her mother gone, she has no way of knowing who this woman is. Desperate for money, she goes to the Westaway estate, only to find that the inheritance may not be worth the risk. This is a very standard mystery/thriller. Kind of predictable. I really don’t have much to say about it. The book wasn’t bad but it didn’t thrill me, so it might be another me/my slump thing.

Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren. 4/5. Macy hasn’t seen her childhood friend and first love Elliot for eleven years. When they run into each other in a coffee shop, he’s an aspiring novelist and she’s a resident on the brink of marriage. As the novel traces the story of Elliot and Macy’s past--and what he did to make her cut off contact with him the same night he confessed his love--Macy is confronted with a decision about her future, and owning up to who she is in the present. A slump-breaker! This is a really good romance, y’all. Elliot and Macy’s chemistry is palpable. You spend the whole novel worrying less about what drove them apart, and more about when they’re going to get together. That being said, the best part of the book was definitely the past. Their friendship felt genuine, which made the sexual tension buildup even better (speaking of: this is one of the few contemporary romances with legitimately good sex scenes). The stakes aren’t quite as high in the present--it seems painstakingly obvious from the beginning that Macy can fix her issues in a pretty simple way. And if she didn’t know that, I’d be a bit less annoyed, but she does. Not much happens in the present, really--that’s just the payoff for what started in the past. Still, this is a very sweet, sexy, and kind of heartwarming book that I would recommend to anyone who needs something that’s light without being TOO light.

Roomies by Christina Lauren. 3/5. Holland is obsessed with a guitarist on the subway, and has been for about six months. By a twist of fate, they finally meet, and through her connections she is able to get him a job opportunity. The only problem is that Calvin--an Irish immigrant who’s overstayed his student visa--is in the States illegally. So, out of the goodness of her heart and not at all because she wants to jump his bones, Holland offers to marry him so that he can get his green card. What could go wrong? Christina Lauren is, again, great at building up the sexual tension between her characters, and can actually write good sex scenes. This is a sweet, fluffy, silly book. I’d recommend it to romance fans. It’s just not as substantial as Love and Other Words and the plot could have been stronger; I basically skimmed over that stuff because it didn’t really grab me, and focused more on the romantic bits between Holland Calvin. A quick, nice read, but I’ve read better romance novels.

Lying in Wait by Liz Nugent. 2/5. Andrew and Lydia, a wealthy couple who’ve fallen on hard time, have buried the body of a young woman in their back yard. Though Lydia desperately tries to keep the secret from their son, Laurence, he discovers the truth before long. Meanwhile, their victim’s sister investigates Annie’s disappearance, struggling for answers. Ugh, this hasn’t been a great month for me + thrillers. This one sucked. In theory, there were good ideas, and moments of good voice, but the overall execution was very poor. The characters came off as caricatures, one of the worst things you can do in a thriller imo. And ooooh, there was so much emphasis on Laurence’s obesity, Annie’s lack of education--it seemed lurid and borderline exploitative at times. Hard pass.

#reading roundup #books #book recs #book roundup

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toranyx · 7 years

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The Store

So this is another thing for my grocery store reader fic again. PromptoxFem!Reader @wolfgoddess77 thanks again for the help! Small trigger warning for sexual harassment at work and mild stalking. ~~~~ Prompto couldn’t help but let out a small sigh for the upmteenth time. He missed you terribly. This was the fifth time their lunch date had to be cancelled, though this time it was you who cancelled on him. Work had picked up and you wouldn’t be able to get out just yet. But by the time you could get off, he would have to start making his way back to the Citadel for training. Noctis couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his friend. “Seriously, Prompto, that’s the fifth time in less than three minutes. Don’t you two live together anyway? You act like you never get to see her.” “We haven’t really had much time to spend together lately, though.” Prompto pouted. “She’s been having to go in late to help with closing, so she’s still asleep when I get up to go to the Citadel for training. Her store closes at ten p.m., and then she has other stuff to do so she doesn’t get to go home until eleven, and then I’m asleep by that time. I tried to stay up late to see her, but she started feeling bad since I started making mistakes at training…” He couldn’t help but let out another sigh. He knew you meant well, but he felt like you and he were growing apart and that made him upset. He loved you! He wanted to see you and hear you. Don’t get him wrong, he’s happy he can cuddle you at night, but… He missed seeing your smile, hearing your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you were happy, how they would just sparkle…and he let out another sigh. He missed you. Noct couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his friend, and flicked a french fry at him. “Then why don’t you just go visit her?” “With what wheels, dude?” Prompto asked as he stared at his friend. “You know I don’t have the car since I jog to the Citadel as my warm up. The bus won’t arrive for another hour, she’ll be gone by that point, and even if she wasn’t, I have to get back to training in about forty-five minutes.” Noctis let out a fake sigh as he stood up, placing some money down on the table. “I guess I have to do everything around here…c’mon, Prompto, let’s go visit your girl.” Prompto let out a cheer as he followed his best friend towards the door and to his best friend’s car. “Woohoo! You’re the best Noct!” “Yeah, I know.” “Though I’m getting the feeling some of this has to do with you buying a bunch of sweets this time since Iggy isn’t here.” “Here I am going out of my way to help you, and you doubt my selflessness?” “If the shoe fits.”

You let out an annoyed sigh as you stacked potatoes for the third time that day. While you were happy that the store was making money, that meant money for you, it did get tedious and boring stacking sale potatoes over and over. Your back was to the entrance of the store and you heard a shutter click and you couldn’t help but grit your teeth together. The damn creep was back. And you had to be somewhat polite to this asshole. “I’m going to have to remind you, you are not allowed to take pictures of me, let alone of my ass-” You said as you turned around, trying to keep your annoyance out of your voice. But it wasn’t The Creep you saw, but your bewildered boyfriend and his best friend. Your face lit up as you saw him, quickly moving over to him, throwing your arms around him tightly. “Prom! I’m so sorry about lunch, but I’m so happy to see you!” Prompto frowned, placing his camera back on his hip in the holder, and he wrapped his arm around you in a tight hug. “Yeah, I’m happy to see you too. What were-” “And you too, Noctis!” You smiled towards Noctis, interrupting the question you knew Prompto wanted to ask. You had been hoping to keep what was going on at work from him, he already had so much on his plate, he didn’t need this either. “Yeah, you too.” Noctis frowned. He hadn’t miss that you were trying to dodge the question, and he was worried about you as well, for Prompto’s sake. “Who’s taking pictures of you?” You let out a small sigh. You should’ve known Noctis would’ve asked if you tried to dodge it. You glanced around, there were customers about, and you couldn’t talk about it here. Your boss was always pretty understanding about letting certain people in the back, especially family and friends. You nodded towards the personnel door, rolling your cart with you as they followed you past the swinging doors. You sighed as you went into the produce prep room, shivering slightly at the change in temperature and reached for the jacket Prompto had given you and slid it on. You had hoped Prompto would cheer up a bit, he did love seeing you in his clothes, but the frown was still on his freckled features. Not a good sign. Prompto stared at you, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s going on, babe? A guy is taking pictures of your ass?” You let out another sigh, your hand coming up to rub face. “For the record, I was hoping this would be resolved by now. But yeah, one of the soda venders has been taking pictures of my butt whenever I’m partially bent over or leaning to reach some of the shelves. I told my store manager, who said they’d take care of it. It went okay at first, but now he is being sneaky about it. This time I told my manager and the store manager. They’re going to talk to his boss or something, but they need proof and I’m getting really sick of it.” Prompto’s frown deepened, glancing over at Noct, who nodded. “You’ll know where to find me.” Noctis said as he slipped out the door and back to the store. You glanced over at Noctis as he spoke, watching him leave, and hoped to defuse the tension. “He’s going to buy more sweets, isn’t he? Ignis is going to find them, he always does.” You said with a forced grin. Prompto didn’t say anything as he studied you, looking down at his shoes for a moment, and back to you. “Why…why didn’t you tell me.” He asked softly, the hurt clear in his tone. You had been going through something, he didn’t know it, and you had been hurting because of it. That stung. But it stung as much as the thought that maybe you didn’t trust him with it, or that you thought he couldn’t handle it or help protect you. “Sweetheart…” You said softly, moving over to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “You’re so busy and you have so much on your plate, I didn’t want to add more to that. And it seemed like it was getting handled, I was going to tell you if it kept on, I promise.” “But I could’ve done something to help!” He cried out, his arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you closer to him. You snuggled your face into his chest and sighed. “Sweetheart, you need to focus on your training, I know how important it is to you-” “And you’re important to me too! The most important! We already don’t see each other unless we’re sleeping, we mostly communicate by text and that isn’t much at all because of our schedules. You’re going through something difficult, and I didn’t even know it!” He cried out again. He buried his face into your hair, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “We’re drifting apart already, and I don’t want that. “Prompto…” You said softly as tears welled in your eyes. You hadn’t known he felt, or was worried about that. Granted, you felt lonely sometimes being in your home and not seeing your sunshine, but you had tried to push that aside to be cheerful and supportive. The Crownsguard training he was going through was a big deal…you just didn’t know he was hurting too. “I’m so sorry, Prom…” You murmured as you continued to hold him, a little more tightly than before. “I don’t want you to feel this way…I love you, and I miss you too. How about I check my schedule for this week, and you get back to me about yours, and I’ll clear it with my boss so we can actually have lunch together? I’ll be firm about it too. And I have a few vacation days saved up…I was planning on using them for around your birthday weekend, but I do have to use them by a certain point. How does that sound? You can ask for time off too, and hopefully get it since it is early enough.” Prompto sniffled but you felt him nod against you. “That sounds good…I’d really like a few days with you too.” “Me too, sweetheart.” You told him as you glanced up at him with a loving smile. You stood up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips which he returned. Once the kiss was broken, you glanced up at the clock and let out a sigh. “You should probably go check on Noctis. He probably has the whole sweet aisle in a cart, and you both have to get back to the Citadel. I’ll see you this evening.” Prompto gave a stiff nod as he let you go, though it was clear he didn’t want to. “Yeah…will you get onto to me again if I wait up for you?” “Not this time.” You told him with a small smile. “Love you, sweetheart.” “Love you too, Chocobae.” He said as he returned the smile and walked out towards the store towards Noctis, who was indeed packing a cart full of sweets. “You two get it figured out?” Noctis asked his best friend as he tossed a container of chocolate into his cart. “Yeah, and I need a favor from you and the guys. I don’t want Y/N here alone and-” “You want us to come by and check on her. What do I get out of this?” Noctis asked though it was clear he was teasing. If Prompto didn’t bring it up, he would’ve insisted on it anyway. “Well, considering you have a cart full of sugar, I’ll make sure to not tell Iggy about it.” Prompto joked back as he nudged his friend. “It’s a deal.” Noctis said as he pushed his cart to the check out line. He glanced over at his best friend. “Don’t worry, Prompto. We’ll do what we can to help. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll do something.” Prompto knew that meant that Noctis would use his title to help you out. That meant a lot to him. Noctis never liked using it, especially if he had no choice, so the fact that Noct was willing to do that…meant a lot. “Thanks, buddy.” Prompto told his best friend, who just shrugged. “Like I said, don’t tell Specs.” You didn’t catch on at first. It was small things. Noctis popped by by himself, which wasn’t too surprising. If he felt like he was safe to show up at a store to buy treats and that you wouldn’t rat him out, you could see the appeal. Ignis showing up though later was surprising, but his excuse made sense. He had told you he thought Noctis was buying sweets under his nose and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t buying too much. Totally validated. Gladio showing up was strange, but not overly so. He was changing his jogging routine since he was tired of his old one and he was in the area and wanted to say hi. Made sense to you. The Shield did love exercising and changing things up. What you didn’t understand was some Glaives coming through and talking to you, and then there was the fact that Cor Cor the Immortal came by for shopping and asked you how you were. And then proceeded to tell you how Prompto was doing. That’s when it hit you. Prompto had asked them to check up on you on the days he couldn’t come in, which had started happening more frequently. Once you were in the safety of the prep room, you let out a small groan as you rubbed your face. Part of you felt a little embarrassed, but at the same time, you were so pleased that he really did care for you that much. But still, to get Glaives and the Marshal to check in on you was too much. You brought out your phone to check the time. Prompto had a small break in about fifteen minutes, you’d be able to call him then and ask him about it. “Hey there, Y/N.” You heard a familiar voice greet you. An unwelcome one. ‘The one time they aren’t here, this asshole shows up.’ you couldn’t help but think. And you were alone in the prep room, your boss was on the floor stocking peppers. You turned around, giving him a blank stare. “I’m a little busy, I don’t have time to chat.” Was all you said as you took some things off the pallet and onto your cart. There was no way in hell you were going into the cooler alone without someone there with you. “Aww, why so unfriendly?” The Creep asked as he walked into the prep room. Your instincts were screaming ‘red alert, red alert.’ He was being overly nice again. The first few times this had happened, he took pictures without your knowledge. You took a step back as he got closer, making sure your eyes were always on him. “I’m not being unfriendly, I just need to get stuff done so I can go to lunch at a certain time. My boyfriend-” you made sure to stress that word specifically. “And I are going to meet up.” A small lie but the two of you were going to video chat, at least. You two had spent time figuring out what you both could do to help make this work until either your schedule evened out, or until he was done with training. Still, you both were putting in more work to communicate besides text message, and that made you happy. And it made Prompto happy. “Aww,” The Creep cooed as he took another step closer. “I was hoping you and I could go to lunch together. Get to know each other a bit more.” You were so focussed on the creep that you didn’t notice the present behind him that had somehow snuck in. “Again. I’m going to meet my boyfriend.” “He doesn’t have to know!” The Creep grinned as he took a step forward, stopping abruptly as a hand gripped his shoulder. “And what if her boyfriend does know?” Prompto asked as he turned serious, a rare sighting of the Sunshine boy. “What if he does know that you are harassing his girlfriend, taking unwanted pictures, and now trying to get her alone at work to try and make her go out with you. What then.” You knew your Prompto well, or so you liked to think. Gladio had joked once that while Ignis was scary while angry, it wasn’t quite like Prompto. You were suddenly inclined to agree with him. Prompto’s cheerful demeanor was gone, his tone was sharp, low, and deadly. (Also a little sexy, some part of you chimed in.) His sparkling eyes were staring at the guy, almost as if he was taking him in so he could find his weakness. What had they been training him? “Hey, man, I was just being friendly. Not my fault your girl was-” He let out a small gasp as Prompto squeezed his shoulder harder. “We have very different definitions of being friendly. Being friendly isn’t taking pictures of a coworkers ass. Being friendly isn’t cornering someone to try and make them go out you when they made it clear they are taken. Being friendly isn’t suddenly blaming the girl for being nice to you. So I’ll make this clear. That’s my girlfriend, no, the love of my life. Don’t fucking take her picture, don’t take a picture of her ass. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want anything to do with you, that you bother her. So leave her alone.” “Or else what?” The Creep asked as he turned, sneering at Prompto. “Or else I’ll use my Crownsguard training to kick your ass.” Prompto hissed out.

The Creep stared at Prompto before shoving his hand off. “Jeez, get onto your girlfriend.” He hissed out before walking out the Produce Prep room door. You waited a moment before you threw your arms around Prompto. “Prompto! That was amazing!” You cried out. Your eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, and prompto wrapped his arms around your waist. He was clearly pleased with your reaction and that he was able to help you. “I’m just glad I was able to show up in time to help you.” Prompto murmured as he nuzzled you gently. You buried your face into his chest with a happy laugh. “Me too! I was gonna talk to you about asking every one coming in, but the moment he came in, I was thinking ‘Of course he shows up when Prompto never asked for someone to show up!’ “ Prompto pressed his lips to your head with a small laugh. “Well, I’m just glad Cor let me have the rest of the day off. Anyway you can get it too?” “Considering the Creep just cornered me, I may be able to” You told him as you pulled away, taking his hand in yours as you walked out onto the floor to tell your boss what happened. She asked you to stay for another thirty minutes and then you were free to go. “Wanna cuddle when we get home, babe?” Prompto asked as he helped you lift a couple of things onto the cart. “That sounds perfect, Prompto.” You told him with a loving smile. You were really looking forward to getting home and cuddling with him. And maybe you two would do a little more.

#prompto x reader #prompto argentum #final fantasy xv #ffxv #my writing #final fantasy 15 #ffxv fanfic

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astoldbyacertifiedunicorn · 7 years

Text

Ours by Taylor Swift

SONG 4

OKAY SO I WAS IN A SLIGHTLY DEPRESSED MOOD TODAY BECAUSE WELL, YOU KNOW, I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE FINALE AND THAT IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA. *sigh* BUT, then my friend Annick wrote this fic (https://japril12.tumblr.com/post/161501421514/this-is-part-two-of-this-story-i-wasnt-going-to) and I got my I was like that One Republic song, FEELING ALL THE FEELS ONCE MORE, so I managed to write this.

Elevator buttons and morning air

Strangers’ silence makes me wanna take the stairs

If you were here we’d laugh about their vacant stares

But right now my time is theirs

They decide not to go back to work on the same day. It’s suspicious enough that they both took a week off, right after running away together. It was already her honeymoon week, she just didn’t spend it with the man she was supposed to. Or maybe, April wonders, she spent it with the man she was supposed to all along. Regardless, they don’t want to add more fuel to the fire, so she decides to go into work 2 days earlier than he does.

She walks into a thankfully empty attending’s lounge. She opens the door to her locker, and out falls an invitation to her wedding, her other wedding. It was an extra one, possibly a sample she’d mistakenly brought into work, stuffed in the locker, and forgotten about. She wished she hadn’t. It reminds her of the wedding that was never completed. It’s not that she wanted it to be, she’s very happy with the other one, with the other man, but it reminds her of him. Mathew. He was excited, overjoyed. He couldn’t stop talking about it, actually. It hurt her that she’d hurt him. She had to, she didn’t have a choice, but it gave her no joy to hurt innocents. It’s true when they say that love is a battlefield, civilian fatalities and all.

She spends the day being gawked at. Word spreads fast around Seattle grace, and they’re the talk of the hospital, she supposes. She hated the quiet elevator rides, with people staring at her wide eyed, and then giving each other looks, assuming she can’t tell. It’s not like she’s unaware that the moment she leaves the lift, their going to talk.

Her friends aren’t so different. they go quiet the moment she walks by. They sound careful, as if they’re calculating their words so they don’t say anything offensive. They don’t want to come across as nosy, but they’re dying for the details. They just don’t know how to bring it up.It’s almost funny to her, how they skirt around the subject.

“How was your week?” Arizona asks.

“What a week, huh.” Meredith says.

“Do anything interesting, Kepner?"Alex smirks.

"Kepner, I just want you to know, that I’m no longer just a friend, I’m a f-” Crstina gets cut off, by Dr.Bailey kicking her under the table, and all goes silent.

She laughs, and mentally notes down all this conversations to go home and share with Jackson.

She smiles, tells them that she’s had a good, slow week. She has had a good, slow week,for the most part. The moving in, had been tiring but breaking in their new home,well new at least for her, was fun. The rest of it, the rest of the best week of her life was for the two of them only. At least for now. It was their secret. It was their forever after. It was their perfectly kept bubble, where they hid from the rest of the world, away from anything that could pop it.

They had finally gotten it right. She wanted to keep them there for as long as she could.

Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves

They’ll judge it like they know about me and you

And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do

The jury’s out, but my choice is you

She hears the judgment next, and she misses the awkward probing. She hears it in the whispers in the halls, when she passes by, or in the nurse’s desk when she’s updating the OR board. They’re his people. The paramedics and the nurses even band together for the annual Grey Sloan Football Game, so it is understandable that they hate her.

But some of the them, don’t know either of them, or even Mathew, but they judge. They talk. They say stupid things. They say she’s with Jackson for his money.

“She probably slept her way to the lodox.”

They say they were cheaters, in an affair. They were going at it behind their partners back, and now she was pregnant, and he had to be with her.

“So much for being a Christian.”

They say Jackson can’t make up his mind. He’s with her because he can’t ever decide between women. Maybe, he’s already playing her. Maybe she ran off with him, only to be left 2 days later.

“That’s what happens when you have daddy issues.”

They call her names, they call him some too. Horrible, crude, awful names. They say they won’t last, if they’re even together that is.

She tries her best not to cry. Not to wonder if the two of them are really as horrible as they are making them out to be.

But then she remembers his words, what he said at the wedding, about how much he loves her, wants her and the vows he made to her not 24 hours later. She remembers the way he looked at her with hopeful need, silently begging her to love him, the joyful exuberance when he promised her the rest of forever. The reverence in the way he touches her body, makes her his. He’s gentle, and kind and loving, and he’s hers. For now, forever. Their words drown out, and his voice fills her ears and his face fills her vision.

She doesn’t feel like crying after that

You never know what people have up their sleeves

Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me

Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles

But I don’t care ‘cause right now you’re mine

She sees Stephanie only on her 5th day back. She’s not sure how she went about avoiding her for so long, but she realizes that she’s not the only one who’s been hiding around corners when she’s seen the other girl.

It’s awkward. She sees the hurt in her face, when she looks at April. It makes her a little grateful that Mathew left Grey Sloan. She’s sad, and April feels horrible. She’s not the person to hurt anyone. She hates that she’s responsible, at least partially, for the way Stephanie feels. April’s aware, that deep down, even Stephanie knows there’s nothing that she could have done. She didn’t ask for him to interrupt her wedding, her other wedding. She didn’t ask for him to drag her along for so long. She didn’t ask him to pretend to like a girl while falling in love with another.

But, here’s what April knew about Jackson, he never had bad intentions. He did genuinely convince himself he didn’t love her. That he liked Stephanie instead. He hadn’t given her a reason that night, because he felt he couldn’t. He didn’t believe she’d actually want one. It’s hard to understand him sometimes, and she had a good feeling Stephanie had no idea how his head worked.

But she wanted to say sorry, anyway. Sorry they hadn’t figured it out earlier, sorry she was a side effect.

Leah seems angrier than even Stephanie, and she hears Jo defend her slightly. She’s not sure why, but she feels too guilty to appreciate it.

They scoff when she asks for something, but begrudgingly carry it out, because she’s still their superior. Leah calls her a bitch under her breath more than once, and April resists everything in her to tell her off.

They need to let this out, she thinks. She needs to let them let go. And if this is how Stephanie, or strangely Leah in support of her friend, wants to do it, they can.

Nothing changes the fact that it’s her who gets to go home to Jackson. For that, she’ll never be sorry.

'Cause I love the gap between your teeth

And I love the riddles that you speak

And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored

'Cause my heart is yours

It’s Sunday, so they don’t have to go to work. They sleep in, and then stay in bed. She loves that she doesn’t feel guilty anymore about loving him. He’s her husband, she can be with him however and whenever she wants to. It feels comfortable and safe, and when he tries to say he’s sorry he didn’t wait, she teases him.

“You couldn’t even wait until we got married the next day.”

He chuckles, manages to look sheepish, as his face pops up from underneath the sheet.

“Well, that’s your fault,” He drops his mouth to her stomach, running his lips across the soft skin, “You are kind of irresistible.”

She giggles, and he covers her mouth with his.

“I love this,” He says and kisses her lips repeatedly, “and this.” He moves his mouth to her neck and she sighs appreciatively. “I really love this."

She giggles, and pushes him away. He balances his weight in his arms. She smiles up at him. He’s so beautiful. She can’t help but marvel at how lucky she got. He’s got a beautiful soul, and that’s her favorite thing about him, but she’s not unaware of the chiseled cheekbones, the freckles across his nose, the strong hands, and the exquisite eyes.

"We’re going to have to call our parents soon.” She mumbles. She’s not ready to be honest. She knew they weren’t too thrilled about it. They knew that she was with Jackson, but that’s the most they knew. But they didn’t know that they were married. And Jackson’s mom? Well she knew nothing.

“What is it with you and talking about my mom during sex?” He grins, and shakes his head, dropping to the other side of the bed. He places his head on one arm and turns his body to face her.

“Shut up.” She swats his chest, and he grabs hold of her hand and kisses her palm.

“Your dad is going to kill me. I’m that asshole who stole his daughter from her wedding, and then married her in a makeshift wedding in Lake Tahoe they weren’t invited to.” Jackson groans and drops his head to her chest.

She rubs his head, running her hands across the soft bristles of the curls he shaved off that morning.

“He probably will.” She says, and he looks up at her laughing, and mercilessly tickles her.

“Stop, stop. I’m joking.” She yells, the laughter not dying down.

“Hm, try to sass me one more time.” He warns playfully, and she kisses his jaw.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” She tells him, as she climbs on to his lap, “It’s always been me and you, anyway.”

“Me and you.” He repeats, and flips her over.

Don’t you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

Life makes love look hard

But they can’t take what's ours

“Did you get the email from the board?” He asks her, while they’re safely inside their sleeping patient’s room.

“I did,” She nods, not looking up from the tab she’s pretending to look at. Sure, they got caught by Webber, and Alex and Jo, but the rest of the hospital didn’t know yet. Maybe it didn’t matter really, because she had a feeling that the email meant they’d find out soon enough.

“Hey,” He says, and she lets herself look up, “It’ll be okay.”

She nods, and sighs.

“They’ll hate us more when they find out what we did.” She mumbles.

“What we did, was get married to the loves of our lives,” He says, a little too sternly, and she can tell he’s a little angry, “We didn’t do anything wrong, April. Sure, we could’ve gone about a little better, but I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

“I don’t either, Jackson, of course I don’t, but-”

“Well then, that’s it. We love each other, and we love being married to each other. They can hate us all they want. They can call us selfish, and naive and idiots in love and none of that will matter,” He says, and walks up to her, “Know why?”

She shakes her head, slowly, and places her hands on his chest, after taking a peek at the patient to make sure she was still asleep.

“Because, you… are my wife. And that is the single best decision I have ever made in my entire life. Let them try to convince me otherwise.” He tells her, his eyes glinting with defiance and pride.

“You’re my husband,” She says, and he nods at her, almost confirming it. It’s still foreign on her tongue. Jackson Avery, her husband. The man she’d spent so long trying to figure out, so long loving without knowing she loved him and so long thinking he never loved her back. Her husband.

“So they can go…. screw themselves.” She whispers the last part.

He chuckles, because he knows she doesn’t curse, basically ever, and this is the best she’s got, “Unlike us.”

“Huh?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Because we can screw each other.” He laughs and she pushes him away.

“You’re disgusting.” She claims, but she’s laughs along, and they look back to see that their patient is stirring awake.

Later, when she sits inside the board room, telling their friends and colleagues about their elopement, she realizes this is just the beginning. This is nothing compared to all the trials they’ll go through together. But as she looks at him, calling her his wife as if he’s won the lottery, as if he wants to yell it from a rooftop, she’s not so scared anymore.

Come what will, they got this, because they got each other.

The stakes are high, the water’s rough

But this love is ours

#japril #japriet #japril fanfiction #april kepner #jackson avery

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maychorian · 7 years

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Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #28

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

Secret of the Blood by exclamation Words: 30,685 (WIP 13/?) Author’s Summary: AU version of season 2. When Keith and Shiro were thrown from the wormhole, they crashed by the Blade of Marmora headquarters and were captured. When the Blade reveal the secret of Keith's heritage, Keith must decide if he can trust these people... and if he can trust himself. My Comments: Really well-written canon-divergence AU. I love all the things that change because Keith meets the Blade of Marmora before he and Shiro can warm up to the idea of there being good Galra out there through Ulaz. It makes a HUGE difference, for them and for everyone else as well, and I love the way the idea is being explored.

The Color Of Our Planet From Far Far Away by LonelyGirlInSpace Words: 13,942 (WIP 3/?) Author’s Summary: A story in which Lance and the team has a lot of difficulties, because they don't sleep and sometimes make poor choices as a result and others are forced to suffer more than they deserve due to those poor choices. Or Lance gets hurt because the team didn't listen and everyone desperately wants to fix it. My Comments: Lance is a little too perfect and the rest of the team is a little too mean for my tastes, at least in the first chapter, but this is a well-written and poignant hurt/comfort fic, and it’s gen, and the third chapter almost made me cry, and I’m very, very hooked. Can’t wait for more.

with quiet words I'll lead you in by strikinglight for goukyorin (sashimisusie) Words: 5,216 Author’s Summary: “You were screaming,” Keith tells him. “I heard you through the wall. ”That wall, Lance wants to point out, is supposed to be soundproof. It shouldn’t let you hear anything, no matter how hard you listen. What he says instead is “I can’t breathe.” “Take it slow.” Keith’s voice is steady, but as Lance’s eyes struggle to focus his face is a blur. The image goes shaky and then comes clear, shaky then clear, like looking into water. “Pretend it’s low tide. Tell me about the ocean again.” My Comments: Klance, but reads platonic to me. Really lovely hurt/comfort fic about kids caught in a war far, far away from home.

Disappear Completely by Bandity Words: 7,053 Author’s Summary: Lance knew something was wrong with him. He thought it would pass on its own eventually, but as time went on, and the pain continued, he realized that something inside of him must be very broken. My Comments: Possibly my favorite fic this week. So far I’ve read it three times. Lance’s trauma is so awful and visceral, and the aftermath is realistic and carefully handled. There are no easy solutions, but things do get better, and everyone is doing their best to help.

Space Mall Take 2 by CondensationOnGlass Words: 3,618 Author’s Summary: Shiro won't stand for the Paladins looking like no-good troublemakers. And with the Galra Empire so spread out and with such a gripping hold, they may need more than what they have. And for some reason the mall seems like the place to get it. And it seems like a great place to have more trouble pop up. Aka: Where Shiro has to play the big brother and apologize for the others making a great big damn mess, and nearly has another one on his hands for picking today of all days to do it. My Comments: Equal parts comedy and hurt/comfort, and a joy to read throughout. Poor Lance.

Nomenclature by Awkwardly_social Words: 7,885 Author’s Summary: It took almost five months to find Lance after the wormhole. And when they finally do, they're stuck on the planet until the castle can come get them. Lance takes the opportunity to teach the team a little about the planet and a little bit about himself along the way. My Comments: Lance has had a rough time, and the gradual way the others find out is really well-handled. Plus the worldbuilding is just really neat. Also read the sequel for some great aftermath and Lance with PTSD.

It Is Enough by nadagio Words: 1,020 Author’s Summary: Nowhere near close to finding Shiro and uncertain what he should do now, Lance spends some quiet time with the Blue Lion. My Comments: Really sweet fic with Blue helping Lance deal with his grief and figure out what to do next.

mostly void, partially stars by dakhtar Words: 9,403 (WIP 3/?) Author’s Summary: “Werewolves can’t be astronauts,” Derek’s annoying voice had grumped. “Werewolves can’t be pilots. Werewolves can’t be fighter jet pilots, Lance, for God’s sake, Werewolves can’t pilot giant space robot cats that join together to become a giant space robot man and fight an evil purple bat-cat empire!” Well, he hadn’t said that last part, but Derek totally would’ve. (Alt title: seawolf) My Comments: Teen Wolf crossover, but I haven’t seen a single episode of that show and I’m enjoying this fic very much. The worldbuilding is really cool, and I love this take on Lance and the relationships he wants and needs and is trying to build.

Going Up! by Olive_theCat Words: 2,373 (WIP 1/?) Author’s Summary: When Sendak is chosen over Shiro to pilot the main engine test of the new Kerberos shuttle, he's got to take up an offer that Matt gives him: To be a camp counselor at the Galaxy Garrison summer program!Of course, herding five super-smart teenagers through some simulated astronaut training can't be all that bad, right? What could go wrong? Well, with the help of a malfunctioning little robot named Beezer towards the end of the summer...It turns out a lot can.SpaceCamp AU (movie and real life), constructive critisism is welcome! My Comments: Space Camp was one of those movies I watched over and over as a kid, and I can’t wait to see what my favorite space kids do in that setting. The author is having a lot of fun with it, and I am too.

Trust Fall by Pidgeon_Online Words: 2,869 Author’s Summary: Pidge usually dealt with her issues on her own. No one needed to be bothered with her problems when she could easily deal with them herself. Especially when it came to this. There was no way she would ask anyone for help with this. Because she was fine. She didn't need help.or Pidge definitely needs help before her body turns completely against her. My Comments: Poor Pidge, but I wish I had a whole team of adorable boys trying to help when I felt like this, so also not poor Pidge at all, I am jealous.

Uninvited Guest by YukiSkyes Words: 3,375 Author’s Summary: The most interesting stories about Glasycus Mountain, said to be the gateway between Earth and the Abyss, were the ones about the black dragon that guards it. There was no end to the people stupid enough to try to find Shiro and Keith would do anything to protect him and help hide his existence. One evening, Keith comes home to someone already inside. My Comments: This is the first of a series of nine stories so far, with the paladins in a fantasy AU, some of them not human anymore. It’s really fun, a lot of great worldbuilding, and some great character interactions. I’m really enjoying it, and I subscribed to the series.

The Once and Future Snore by hufflepirate Words: 980 Author’s Summary: Allura and Coran think about the past. Coran can't figure out how to tell Shiro he's as welcome to affection as all the younger paladins. Everybody ends up in the same nap pile anyway. (Note: Everybody (on the main team) is in this, but I only individually tagged the people who do something besides trap Coran in the middle of a nap pile while he's too asleep to know how they got there.) My Comments: Absolutely ADORABLE cuddle puddle fic focused around Coran. And can I note how wonderful it is that cuddle puddle fic is practically a genre in this fandom? Because it is.

The Home You Make by rednight16 for psyraah Words: 1,304 Author’s Summary: Sometimes the ones that end up close to you are the people that you least expect. My Comments: It’s so wonderful for Shiro to have friends who he is not responsible for, who can just talk to him as adults and have conversations that don’t have anything to do with saving the world. Yet another reason I would have been happy to have Thace and Ulaz stick around on the show.

shades of blue by behestha Words: 1,104 Author’s Summary: Eventually, Shiro's scales reach a tipping point. OR the one where Shiro has a panic attack and Lance gently helps him. My Comments: I love these two supporting each other in any situation, and this is lovely. Hinted Shance at the end, but reads as gen to me.

Trap by macShitFuck Words: 1,272 Author’s Summary: Alt title: Hell or High Water You don’t consider the amount of pain and panic an animal must go through when they’re caught in a leghold trap until you’re in one yourself. My Comments: Oh man, Hunk whump. This is brutal, but I love how he tries to calm Lance down even while he’s in horrible pain.

Turnabout is Fair Play by CondensationOnGlass for taylor_tut Words: 7,623 (WIP 2/?) Author’s Summary: Iconic pranks, blistering fevers, and fair play.Or, where some of the Paladins pull a joke and then get slammed with guilt about 8 hours later, and for others it is much more immediate.Based off a tumblr post by @taylor-tut. Might change the title. Multichapter, and in progress. I'm slow to update. My Comments: Probably my second favorite fic on this list, and yes, I read what’s available twice already. It’s a very indulgent kind of hurt/comfort that I adore, and I can’t wait for more. The prank the others pull on Lance really was harmless and cute more than anything, but he just happened to be in the middle of developing a terrifying and dangerous fever, so yeah. There’s some guilt there, poor babies.

Swallow the Sun by valkyriered Words: 1,934 Author’s Summary: Shiro has a panic attack. Kolivan tells him a story. Very background Shiro/Ulaz. My Comments: The worldbuilding here is freaking GORGEOUS, holy smokes. Just read it.

Defying the Odds by Mists Words: 13,562 (4/?) Author’s Summary: *Voltron Season 3 AU* Also known as: The Continuing Adventures of Space Dad Cat! Let's just say, a certain cockpit is not quite as empty as the paladins believe... "Highly improbable. Especially for this reality," he haughtily said with a self important air. "The odds of which being: one trillion, seven billion, eight hundred thousand, point three, two, eight, five-" SLAV! New chapter now up! The Voltron Paladins play "Dungeons and Dragons!" Poor Hunk tries to save his campaign from Lance and Pidge. While Keith and Shiro are helplessly along for the ride. Let the craziness begin! Deep character exploration. Friendship, Humor, Team as family! My Comments: Crack alert! This story is super fun, and I’m not just saying that because the most recent chapter has the kids playing DnD with Lance as a bard and Pidge as a rogue, nope, not at all.

The Pizza One by taylor_tut Words: 1,268 Author’s Summary: Like four people requested an AU where Lance is a pizza delivery man and delivers a pizza to the other paladins (modern, college AU) while running a very high fever. They make sure he gets taken care of. My Comments: This author just uploaded a whole CATALOGUE of Lance sickfics, so yeah, definitely check the author profile if you’re in the mood for a whole bunch of short fics featuring Lance injured, sick, feverish, or otherwise in need of care. I certainly enjoyed reading through the whole bunch. Picking this one out as my favorite for the way the others take in lonely, sick Lance who is just working way too hard and needs someone to look out for him. I love it.

Senmō by TheOtakuWithHazelEyes Words: 4,399 Author’s Summary: While under the effects of an alien fever, Shiro dreams of another time when he was sick. Confused and ill, he cries out for the only person he thinks can aid him- his mother. (A moment of Shiro bonding with the paladins stemming from him being sick, and a look into his thoughts.) My Comments: Really sweet hurt/comfort for Shiro, and some backstory that is poignant and lovely.

Day at the Beach by JackieNeedsMoreSleep Words: 1,804 Author’s Summary: The team takes the day off to go to the beach but Pidge has to deal with Lance and some other asshole's shit. My Comments: Really cute, fun teamfic.

Intrinsic by buttered_onions Words: 1,219 Author’s Summary: The first time Shiro felt the Force. My Comments: Miss Onions just writes the BEST AUs, gah. This is full of powerful moments. I’m so proud of wee Padawan Shiro.

Lost in the Fog by oldmythologies for melonbug Words: 2,395 Author’s Summary: Each one of them gives him something on his way back to them. My Comments: Great take on what happened to Shiro in the S2 finale and how the others get him back.

Allura's Twelve by windscryer Words: 2,217 Author’s Summary: The Paladins learn that while there are a great many differences between Earth and Altean culture, movie genres are not one of them. Some things are just universal. My Comments: Cute, fluffy teamy goodness. Just a pleasure to read.

Part of the Team by wingedflower Words: 3,785 Author’s Summary: After a training session gone terribly wrong, Lance finally reaches his breaking point. Luckily, Coran knows exactly what to say. My Comments: I just really really really love downhearted Lance and supportive Coran, gah, just give me all of it, just pour it over me, it’s SO GOOD.

Sweets at 7am by JackieNeedsMoreSleep Words: 1,223 Author’s Summary: Keith walks into the kitchen to find his friends baking. My Comments: Really cute, fluffy teamfic.

Emergency Lessons by Kalira Words: 3,210 Author’s Summary: Pidge, Lance, and Keith land in several 'emergencies' and pull each other through them. My Comments: Really lovely teamfic with a trio you don’t usually see put together. The second chapter was my favorite, but it’s all absolutely delightful.

Five Times: Keith and the Dads of Marmora by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 4,816 Author’s Summary: [Bonus, one time it literally saved his life and he really didn't have a choice but to roll with it]. So actually, this is a 'seven times' fic, but that doesn't quite have the same ring to it." 'If you want to rest more, I will stay. You are safe.' Keith wondered quietly how the person talking to him now was possibly the same leader he’d met at the Blade of Marmora." My Comments: I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Parts are funny and parts are poignant, but it’s all good start to finish. Favorite line: “Antok, listen. Listen, Antok. They are toddlers.”

and yet by achieving elysium (Ogygia) Words: 1,194 Author’s Summary: After the Castle of Lions is reclaimed from Sendak, Coran finds himself left alone to his thoughts— guilt and sorrow for children who do not belong in a war. written for voltron angst week on tumblr | day one: smile My Comments: Oh man, Coran angst always gets me in the throat. Really good stuff.

7 Times They Noticed by the_unoriginal_fox Words: 5,549 (WIP 5/7) Author’s Summary: Lance was alright. He was happy. He was fine. Except when he wasn't.“Listen. Are you alright?” “Uh…are you alright?” “Are you okay buddy?” “Are…are you in good health, paladin?" Are…are you okay, paladin?" "Hey. You okay?"His team mates, his second family - they noticed. My Comments: It’s a genfic with Lance being supported by his entire team. I love it.

The Great Escape by Eastofthemoon Words: 2,619 Author’s Summary: Keith did not like being cold, but he hated being chased by the Galra even more. My Comments: The latest installment in one of my favorite Voltron fanfic series. Read it all if you haven’t before.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

Love and Other Questions by squirenonny familiar by achieving elysium (Ogygia) When You Reach Me by writterings Shifting Sands by Cardigan_Quincy A Dream Away by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Here Stands a Man by awkwardCerberus A Song of Storm and Ice by BreakTheDawn Gate Keeper by MoonlitPaladin (MoonlitStardust) for cupcakelevi Masks by TiedyedTrickster As Color Fades Away by IcyPanther Must Surely Be Learning by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Someplace Like Home by squirenonny The Meadows of Asphodel by Genesister (papirini) (now complete) Taking One For The Team by ShiningRegalia Little Lions by MidnightCreator (now complete) Truce by kyanve This Is New by TheHomestuckWhovian The Garden of Heaven by Genesister (papirini) It's Getting Darker But I'll Carry On by CamsthiSky A Million Stars Apart by SerenePhenix Coming Undone by Emerald_Ashes

#voltron legendary defender #weekly voltron fic recs #guys i'm starting to realize that i read a lot of fic #like a lot a lot #i might have a problem #fic rec #vldgen

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wendynerdwrites · 7 years

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Recovered Jonsa Fic #16: Ya’Aburnee

Another fic repost!

The crypts seem warmer these days. In fact, they’re perhaps the warmest place in the castle now. At least, they are to Jon.

In his youngest days, he sought out cold and solitude to think and find comfort. But that changed when the two of them found one another again. It didn’t matter where they were. They could be lying naked next a roaring fire in the royal apartments. They could be huddled up in his war tent during one her surprise visits, a layer of canvas being all that lay between them and the roaring, icy winds outside. But when she was with him, things were warm, cozy, and clear. He could think better after having spent just a few precious moments with her after an absence.

Jon sighs as he descends the steps of the crypts, carrying his lantern past the various monuments of past Starks. The war. Gods. The first several times Sansa would steal away to the Wall and even beyond to see him, he’d scold her, beg her not to do it, not to risk her safety again. The third time, he even swore he’d not share her bed out of anger, hoping it would deter her. But he broke that vow of course. He’d been a fool, and desperate. Somehow, Sansa always seemed to show up when he was at the very end of his rope, at the brink of giving up. But she’d appear and things became clearer, he was reminded of what he was fighting for, and inspiration would come.

Most of his best ideas, battle plans, tactical maneuvers came to him either in the middle of the night or the morning after he lay with Sansa. Even his men picked up on this. It became a running joke among the army. The secrets to defeating the Others lay within the Queen in the North’s cunny.

The only time she didn’t come at a desperate point, she sent a letter to him, informing him that she would not be able to visit him for a long while, and bid him instead to journey back to Winterfell when he could. “I want you to meet your firstborn.”

It was all the inspiration he needed, really.

Jon gives a groan of relief as he reaches his destination in the crypts, bends his aching knees and sits upon the stone bench in front of the newest statue in the hall. Arya, bless her, had proposed the idea of installing it. It wasn’t customary, but his second-eldest had insisted. “So our Father can visit Mother for as long as he likes.”

A good thing, too. At three-and-seventy, Jon’s legs are not what they used to be. The wound in his leg that the wildlings gave him all those years ago began troubling him again around his fortieth year. His hips were good, but his knees ache easily. His left shoulder is often in agony. It’s why whenever he carries something--- at the moment, a writing board, parchment, quill, and ink--- it’s slung under his right arm.

He takes a few moments to adjust and wait for the strain on his joints to ease, then sets up his writing supplies. He looks up at the face of the marble statue. It did not depict his wife as he’d seen her last: grey-haired, with lines about her mouth, brows, and eyes. No, it showed Sansa at the height of her youth. Lyanna spared no expense in the commissioning of this monument, having the artist combined stone of different hues to match the burning auburn of her hair, the red of her lips. Even the eyes of the thing had gem studs of sapphire and onyx.

It was easily the most extravagant tomb in the crypts.

Not that she’d been particularly keen on an extravagant burial in life. The construction of her tomb began before her death, when Maester Torwyn tearfully informed her that despite the amputation, the growth which began on her breast had migrated to other parts they could not reach and she had no more than a year left.

Sansa, being Sansa, had responded by being the most composed in the room, and promptly began preparations. And, by preparations, preparations for a pseudo-abdication in Lyanna’s favor.

Lyanna had refused to let her mother abdicate fully, though she was more than ready to take on the responsibilities of queenship. “You should spend your last year without the burden of rule on your shoulders. And I am more than happy to assume that weight in full,” their brilliant, beautiful, resilient daughter informed her mother, “But if you are to die, I will not let you die as anything but a queen.”

Lyanna was Princess Regent for a year while the entire family devoted their matriarch’s final year in this world to making it the very best it could be. Jon and Sansa traveled, they hosted banquets and balls, they indulged themselves. Sansa didn’t involve herself in too many of the burial arrangements, allowing Jon and their children to take care of most of it. But when Lyanna informed Sansa of the lengths they were going to honor her, Sansa had protested about the expense.

“I don’t deserve a tomb any finer than Jon or Father,” she insisted. But this was one matter where her family did not let her have her way during that final year.

If anyone deserved a tomb like this, it was the queen who restored the North, House Stark, got it through the winter and wars, and revolutionized the structure of the kingdom. One of the best decisions Jon ever made was abdicating his rule in her favor. At the time, he’d done it out of a combination of guilt, his new knowledge regarding his origins, and the affection for her that eventually blossomed into the love they shared for fifty years. But under Sansa’s rule, House Stark and the North went from famine, poverty, and near-death to unprecedented prosperity. She is the reason her family can afford such a monument to her, and will likely be able to afford such things for generations to come.

He’d said as much. Jon can almost hear her now, replying that he’d done just as much, that he deserved just as much, if not more credit, for the North’s success as she did. “None of this would have been possible without you. As a queen, I’ve only ever been as great as my king.”

Jon wasn’t a king. He was prince consort. He’d insisted on that himself when they wed. Given Robb’s will and his title prior to abdication, he wanted no doubts placed on Sansa’s authority and position. But that didn’t stop Sansa from calling him her king in private. Though he’d certainly done his part in aiding her rule--- Jon had many accomplishments, before, during, and after the War for the Dawn, to be proud of--- Sansa overstated his contribution. She was the queen, and all he did for her, he did with her. And she did yet more. His greatest accomplishment, in his mind, was giving Sansa the support and inspiration she needed to discover her own greatness over the years. They’d done that for each other.

Not that the matter of whether he deserved just as fine a tomb as she was too great an issue. Sansa’s grave has an adjoining, half-finished chamber, specifically so that when the time comes, he shall lie beside her. She even went so far as to insist that, at the very least, when he died and his own statue was erected, that it would be constructed to hold the hand of hers.

Everyone agreed.

Jon looks at the partially-constructed tomb beside his wife’s resting place. He sighs again, dips a quill in the ink, and begins to write.

Sweetling,

I sit at the bench now, as I have now three-hundred-and-sixty-four times before. I look at the place set aside for me by your side, and there’s a selfish yearning there. The only thing that keeps me from willing myself to die is the thought of the pain it shall bring our family. I will not betray them by leaving them before I absolutely have to. But I want to, so badly. I miss you.

Robb’s son is still thriving. When he’s not draining his exhausted mother’s breasts, he’s asleep or howling like a beast. The lungs on that boy. I can already tell that a special bond is developing between Little Torrhen and his big sister. The moment Kitty gathers him into her chubby arms, he quiets. It’s adorable.

Alysanne and Brandon now come up to my waist. Alysanne wishes to leave the nursery room and get her own proper ladies’ chambers now. Not that she says so. She knows that Litsa is still too young to make it through the night without her big sister sleeping beside her. Alysanne is as considerate and thoughtful as she ever was. But I see it in her eyes. She’s growing up, and wants that acknowledged. And I expect she may finally broach the subject some time around Litsa’s fifth Name Day.

Gods, they’re all so beautiful. Litsa’s name is prophetic, since she looks just like you. She’s getting to the age, though, where she wants to be a “big girl” and is starting to rebel against her nickname. I’ve asked her to forgive me, but I cannot quite bring myself to call her “Sansa” just yet. But I appease her in other ways. If you told my young self that I’d spend many hours a day playing with dolls, I’d have laughed in your face. But I’m sure you’re laughing now, just as you laughed at me when Alysanne and Arya were young. Yes, I am once again spending many an hour sitting on a rug, dressing up and holding little wooden and porcelain people in dresses and acting out the stories of Jenny of Oldstones and Queen Rhaenyra. In fact, I’m doing it more than I did even when our daughters were girls.

Though I did resume many of my state duties after you left, I’m not performing as much as I used to. By choice, I assure you. I prefer to spend as much time as I can with the little ones. I don’t feel too guilty. We’ve trained our girl well. She doesn’t need me. I think she just pretends otherwise to humor me. She doesn’t need me to help with matters of state. I assume any need she or any of the others have for me is more emotional than political.

Not that I mind. My brain isn’t what it used to be. I mind that. Up until the very end, you gave me bursts of energy and inspiration. But with you gone, I don’t have them anymore. Coming down here, writing to you each day certainly helps, but it’s not the same.

Do you miss me, as I miss you? Or are you so busy, wherever you are, with Father and our brothers and your mother and Jeyne and Beth and all those we lost that you don’t have time to miss me the same way? If those Seven Southern Gods are right, you’re in one of those Heavens they speak of, and they say there is no unhappiness there. I don’t blame you for this. Especially since you can probably see and hear me in a way that I can’t see and hear you.

But I do hope you’re able to set aside a place for me beside you, wherever you are, for when we reunite, just as a place beside you has been set aside for me here.

What do you look like, wherever you are? You in your youth is how they depict you here in the crypt, of course. But I’m not sure that I hope that’s the case in the world beyond. Some aspects of your youth, I hope, are with you. That you have both of your breasts, that your ankles, back, and neck do not ail you anymore. And of course, you know how I always felt about that red hair of yours.

But I found your grey just as beautiful. Your lined faced just as lovely. I know you spent a good thirty years or so lamenting your “fading” beauty, but you were always as stunning to me, from the day we wed to our last night together.

Can you change how I shall see you when I join you? So I can see you as you were at any and all points in your life? Would you want me to do the same? Do you want me to greet you in the next life looking as I do now--- stooped, greying, balding, wrinkly--- or as I was in my prime?

What do you want me to say, when we meet each other again?

I miss you so much, Sansa. I have these letters. I have the children and grandchildren, and I see so much of you in them. But there’s no replacing you.

Sometimes I’m upset with you, Sansa, especially late at night, when I’m truly alone, and the cold envelopes me. When you made that request of me. Perhaps if you’d not done it, or not done it in the godswood, you’d be here now. I’m not a superstitious, even a pious man, but these days I wonder. You were so considerate most of your life, Sansa, but this was perhaps the most selfish thing you ever did. Did it ever occur to you that living without you would be as painful for me as it would be for you?

I don’t think about that day as often as one would expect, despite the significance of what happened that day in the godswood. Despite the joy I felt then, I think the reality of all that was said only really hit me the morning after, when I knew for sure that it wasn’t a dream, that you would really be mine. I remember that day more vividly, more often. I remember how proud I was to lead you on my arm through the Great Hall, the frightening issue of telling our siblings having been accomplished the prior evening. How excited I was for us to announce our joy to the court. The first day you were mine, officially, eternally, publicly, and I knew no one could take you from me or lay claim to you.

I didn’t consider the implications of the other thing you said. That little Valyrian request and all the things that making that promise to you meant. I wanted you so, so badly. And I never thought it would come to be, that I’d keep that promise. Or that you expected me to, that it was anything more than a passionate endearment on your part. We were fighting a war, after all. I was on the front lines. The only times I feared that it might happen back then was when you made your little visits. And you just had to whisper it to me beneath the furs. “Ya’aburnee”, “Ya’aburnee.”

With all that you did just to survive, you were ready to die if it meant not living without me.

So much love, so much beauty, but so much pain in that strange, foreign little phrase.

There were times it made me feel like I ruled the world. Gods, Sansa. No one, not one person had ever expressed such a thing to me. That I was just so needed, so wanted, so valued, so loved. Whenever I was needed, it was for whatever practical use I had for others. I was needed as a ready blade, a willing laborer, a spy, a leader for the army, sure. I was needed as countless other men were needed. I was needed as a political pawn to solidify the powers of others, as a supplier, as a defender.

At home, as much as you, Robb, Arya, Father, Bran, and Rickon loved me, I was far from needed. I was in many ways unwanted, and not just by your mother. If I were lost, surely you all would mourn, but you didn’t need me. It’s why it was so easy for me to join the Watch. As much as you loved me, none of you needed me. Not even Arya.

That I was one of many, needed thanks to a lack of options and men, but still disposable and unimportant ultimately, even as I was groomed for leadership, was impressed upon me. Even when I was Lord Commander, I was murdered and replaced.

As great a team as we were together even before we confessed our feelings to each other, I wasn’t sure then that you needed me. As often as you decried yourself as stupid and weak in those days, you were truly dazzling. It was bewildering for me to witness your own blindness in regards to all that you were. And as much as I did to try and build you up, I was sure that if I were lost, you’d find another to help you. You were the indispensable one, as far as I was concerned. Countless people needed you, to lead, to inspire, to save. Not me, despite what any prophecy might have implied.

But that day, in the godswood… “Of course I’ll marry you,” you’d said, snowflakes melting on your soft lips. “Under one condition.”

I remember expecting your condition to be of the same political precision you always conducted. You wanted me to understand that I’d be your prince consort, not a king. That I’d lost a crown for good the day I handed it to you. Or I expected that you’d ask that I not march to the front lines and stay behind, commanding the armies from the safety of Winterfell’s walls. That was the only condition I feared.

But still I asked, “What?”

“Ya’aburnee,” you replied. And, not having taken up an education in Valyrian dialects as you had, I of course had to ask for clarification.

“Bury me. Outlive me. So I never have to live without you.”

There was a part of me that wondered if this was your way of saying that you wouldn’t marry me if I returned to the battlefield, so I hesitated. And you reassured me.

And I never felt so loved, so needed, so ready to take on the world. You needed me, couldn’t fathom living without me. Me, as I was. Not as another man, who was willing to stay behind as armies fought for him, commanding from safety and comfort as other men were slaughtered on the field. You couldn’t ask me to do that, because you knew who I was, understood who I was, accepted it. Accepted me, and needed me.

Loved me as I’d never been loved before.

And somehow, whenever I was in the middle of the fray and ready to give up, sure we would all perish, wondering what the point was of continuing to try, you’d suddenly appear. It didn’t matter how many times I railed at you for endangering yourself. When I reached my lowest point, I’d return to my tent to find you there, reminding me not only of all I had to fight for, but all I had to live for. Whispering to me beneath the furs as I moved within you, “I love you. Ya’burnee. I love you. Ya’Aburnee.”

You never stopped saying it. Even the letter you sent, telling me that Alysanne was coming. “I love you. Ya’Aburnee.”

It’s not fair. You were younger, and healthier. Until that bloody, leeching canker appeared.

How could you ever be sure that you could not live without me, Sansa? I never thought I could, yet I am. And I don’t much care for it. And I’m not sure I can do it for much longer. The rest of the family is the only thing keeping me here, but it’s not complete without you. You’ve never met little Torrhen. And I fear Cat, Litsa, Neddie, and Jonny are too young to remember you when they get older. It anything, that makes me even more eager to leave. It doesn’t seem right for me to live longer enough to be remembered when you haven’t.

I need to stop with self-pity. It was a nasty habit that only you managed to completely break me of. But you’re gone now, Sansa. And as much as I want to do you proud, I need to be with you even more.

I… I need you more than they need me.

I’m glad you made sure that a tomb next to yours was started. I suppose you weren’t entirely selfish. Sure, you left me, but you started the hole, the resting place for me beside you. Ya’aburnee. Or something. I never did manage to master Valyrian, High or otherwise.

We bury each other.

This is the last letter to you, Sansa. I think I am ready to go. Everything else, I’ll say in person.

I love you, Ya’aburnee,

Jon.

Jon Stark Targaryen, Prince of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Prince Consort of the Three Realms of Winter, Hero of the Dawn, former King of the Three Realms of Winter, former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Lord Consort of Winterfell, Hand of the Queen, Council Advisor, Lord General of the Winter Armies, Husband and Consort to Sansa of House Stark, First of Her Name, Queen of the Three Realms of Winter, Lady of Winterfell, and Protector of the Realm, Father to Queen Alysanne I of the Three Realms of Winter, Prince Brandon of Winterfell, and Princess Arya of Winterfell and grandfather to the successive issue, died on the Day of the FIfth month, Year 356 after Aegon’s Landing, the night of the one year anniversary of his wife’s death.

Every day from her passing to his, even on the day of his death, Prince Jon wrote Queen Sansa letters, depositing them in a small hole built into the wall of tomb for that use. He was buried a week later beside his beloved wife, a statue of him at the height of his legendary military victories, erected atop his grave, joining hands with his wife’s monument per the instructions of their will. Though entry to the famous Winterfell crypts have been closed to the general public since their creation, the painting of their tomb by their great-great-great grandson, Prince Jon ‘the Dreamer’ of Winterfell, has gone down in history as one of the most romantic and well-beloved historical pieces of art in the North and all of Westeros, with prints and copies of the painting a popular, mass-produced piece. The letters which Prince Jon wrote to his wife were excavated from her grave a century later (and returned and preserved within their tomb shortly after once they were copied) and, along with the rest of the royal couple correspondence, have been published and become timelessly popular reading among each generation in the Three Realms and Beyond over the seven centuries since the royal couple’s death.

The romantic phrase of ‘Ya’Aburnee’, originally only a popular endearment in Eastern countries of native Valyrian speakers, has become a widespread expression of love within Westeros thanks to Sansa and Jon, with the phrase becoming a customary addition to wedding vows all over the world.

#Jonsa #Jon x Sansa #Jon Snow #Sansa Stark #fic repost project #long post

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hopeless-namjin · 7 years

Note

Hey hello yes hi Just a quick question for you to come back to if you feel like answering What is your approach to writing? How much of the story do you plan ahead? Do you have a concrete plan for every chapter or more of a general idea? Basically what do you do before writing?

Mystories always begin with either a character or a scene. I get an image clearas day inside my head, like I’m remembering a movie or a picture. That scene orcharacter is always what I build my stories around. With IBFY is was thehospital scene, Jungkook having already said his goodbyes and Tae realisingthat Jungkook is his soulmate, crawling up in the bed to kiss him. It was thewhole visual at that moment, the emotional torment Tae would feel that beganunravelling IBFY at first. With Affinity, it was the idea of Taehyung walkingin, mushrooms sprouting from where his soles touch the floor and Yoongi’s angerthat suddenly created the idea of the garden and the shop and all the othersthat followed seconds behind. In Seasons, it was a scene with Jungkook thatbegan the idea.

Secondcomes the characters. I know where they’ll end up or begin… but who are they?This is easy for me. I’ll come right out and admit that. Some find it really hardbut these characters just pop up in my head and I just need to sit down and getto know them. I write character-based stories so this is the most importantstep and I’ve even taken people out of stories inside my head and moved toother works simply because they didn’t fit. I always think you need to buildyour characters. Why are they as they are? Why do they do this? Why do they dothat? How can they do as they do? Build them up from scratch. It’s hard, but ifyou build an iron tight character you know really well you won’t suddenly writea story that feels wrong because your character is contradiction the wholebackstory. I bounce ideas with Nan. She is good at asking questions like ‘whydoesn’t he just do this?’ or ‘how come all these people know each other?’. Justthe other day she asked me how the all the characters in IBFY made money andbecause I know my characters so well, I didn’t even have to think about whatthey we’re doing. Namjoon’s parents payed the security deposit for their flat,Yoongi bought Hoseok a place and Hoseok persuaded Jimin to leave his shittyplace to come entertain Hoseok and like we know Tae lived in a goshiwon (tinyone-bedroom flat, to those who don’t know). It’s a answer that doesn’t matterin the story, but makes all the difference to how thay act.

Itseems silly at first to know imaginary people that well, but I feel it helpsout later. Often you will want to move the plot in one direction, but if youfeel your character gets awkward or suddenly feel like they sound off, you’llbe able to stop yourself from making that character unreliable. Like, I knewKookie was lying to himself, becoming a more and more unreliable narrator asthe story progressed; meaning that him putting himself down, making Tae soundmore uncaring than he was fitted his personality since he was ready to give up.I also know Tae lies to everyone, even me and himself and I knew I had to makehim talk in riddles always hiding half of what he actually wanted to say. Itmakes some of Tae’s dialog with himself muddled and kinda uncaring at times,but that’s how he is. Full of secrets and contradictions. The more you know aboutyour character the easier it is to write. You don’t have to know everything andsome things will come to you later, for example, I didn’t know why IBFY Yoongiknew CPR, I just knew that he could, but some days ago me and Nan were talkingand then the reason as to why Yoongi knows CPR just came up.

Almostas important as the characters: What do I want to say? What the heck is thepoint of this? Do you want to have a quick glimpse of someone’s life? Do youwant a story about love and friendship? In short, once you reader is done, whatdo you want them to walk away with?InIBFY I wanted friendship to be central and I wanted to make sure that nobodywalked away feeling like one member hadn’t had a role, I wanted to tell howplatonic love matters just as much as romantic love and how friendship isbeautiful. With that in mind it’s much easier to plan ahead and build thestory.

BeforeI begin writing anything I always find out where I want to start and where Iwant to end. In IBFY it was the introduction, the true start of Jungkook’s lifein Seoul and the beginning of it all and in that hospital bed. Since I knew thedirection I just needed to add plot to make that journey possible. I wanted toshow the friendship between the characters in IBFY - then I need to show theminteract so Kookie just won’t ditch them after being “ignored” by Tae and italso gives a reason why he feels pain about dying. I need Jungkook to fall inlove – then I Have to show what it is about Tae he loves. I need Tae to hurtKookie – well, how can I do that in a way that makes Kookie upset enough tofeel unloved. Not all of these things will come right away and sometimes thingslike dialogue or interactions can’t be planned too much ahead, but you just needa general idea to at least get you to these points of your story. You have tohave a beginning, you need to build up you story, shit needs to hit the fan andthings must come to a conclusion and an end. There are many models for this, findone that works for your story. In this case I feel it’s easier to think as areader; show what you’d like to read if it was you read the story instead ofwriting it.

I’llusually come up with most of my plot points before writing, just quickly addingideas on a page in word. Most of Affinity is currently a list like this;

Tae tries to flirt

***

Yoongi want to hit Namjoon over the head withan exploding yam

***

Jin is an underappreciated saint and he is wearingforget-me-nots in his hair

***

The Blood Oak has a tough life, fuck pruning

Doingthis I know what the key elements are that I need that scene to show. It makesit easier to keep the story flowing and to see where there is somethingmissing. Like here, why does a scene with Tae need to be followed by Namjoon;he must have done something above to make Yoongi upset, or whatever happensleads to what Jin is doing. Basically this is the easiest way to keep track ofthe plot progression (for me) and enable me to see what I’m going for in thenext scene as in writing the one above. It also makes it easier to see wherethe plot gets weak and needs to be backed up. Now I know what to do, if I finda weak spot, like why did Jungkook end up talking to Tae again after theirfirst fight in IBFY; I add scenes like the one with Jin in chapter 4 (that was Nan’sidea okay) or the take-away in Yoongi’s apartment (also Nan, she thought thechapter needed Yoonmin)….

In short get a Nan….

Jokesaside, keep it believable and keep all actions supported by characters traitsand behaviour and things will be alright.

Inthe comments of IBFY a lot of people was after me about why Jungkook keptrepeating the same thing over and over again, how he needed to keep silent, whyhe had to keep the secret, but he was convincing himself (and you as readers)that what he was doing was the only right choice. This was a way to shut thebiggest problem with IBFY; why didn’t Jungkook just tell Tae. I knew Jungkookwould want to tell him, but I also knew Jungkook wanted to avoid being a burdenand so the confession in chapter 10 came to be.That is how you need to think about everything when writing.

WithIBFY I wrote almost the whole story, went back an edited it…. And found outthat was a shit way to do it. I had rushed a lot of it, so while I had ageneral plan to follow all I really had - that I could use - was some dialogueand basic interaction. I also realized I needed to add a shit ton of extrascenes, and movement. Always freaking movement (Nan is meticulous about this,peeps, keep those people moving and keep them talking). Affinity is writtenchapter by chapter and with a much clearer direction. I’m a better writer nowso I don’t feel like I need to have a basic draft anymore. I had nothing to goon in chapter 16-17. That was all written after chapter 15. I ran out of mydraft around chapter 13 and had only partial scenes (like the realizationscene) in chapters 14-15. And tbh I think that I had a fresh mind made thosescenes better than if I had had a draft. This is a personal preference andchapter 1 of Affinity did go through an edit where I added a good 2k to some ofthe scenes because after writing the whole chapter I had a much better idea of whatI wanted.

Butthat is how first chapters are, confusing and usually they are the one I findneeds the most work.

Withthe above in mind me and Nan do edit several times, always adding and removing.This process makes us able to write like this. If you need a draft to edit,then do that. Writing is all about finding out how it works for you. It’susually why I say ‘to hell with authors advice’. Use what you can, everythingelse in the bin. I don’t care how many books people sell, they aren’t you andonly you can write like you do.

InIBFY the plot came mostly on its own, Affinity had a different kind of worldwhere it took a while (read: like 2 hours of 3am ramblings between me and Nan)to get the plot. Affinity Yoongi was harder to get to know, so the plot was moredifficult to spot and most of it wasn’t really clear until after we wrotechapter 1. With Seasons I just know where I need to end, everything in betweenis still being planned, but I know exactly what needs to happen (again keep tothose key points; beginning, build up, shit hits the fan and conclusion plusconsequences, gotta show that choices are hard. Rinse and repeat until storyfinishes) The only fic I have is that I really need to plan out in detail, isone I really wanna do but haven’t begun writing yet. I can’t say anything as itwon’t be written before next year and, yeah, life, so I can’t get into too muchdetail. But I have a mayor plot twist I want to pull off and it really needssome planning. It has like 6 separate documents and character profiles as ofnow. Other fics are just in a shared note on my computer, and we add ideas tothem (again often at 2-3am) and just go with it. The planning is all about howcomplicated the plot is or how detailed it needs to be.

Inshort; be true to your characters, show why they do as they do, know them andtreat them nicely, if the plot is good don’t force it and don’t be afraid of adetour if you need to shut a plot hole.

Nowyou have the idea, the characters and the plot… Now you just need to find the courageto write.

#this got longer than I planned....#i really hope it makes sense #if not...#whoops #i might have taken this a little to serious #but there you go #the mess that is my head and approach to writing #ask #Kerishet

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pyrorawr · 8 years

Text

Old Feelings

Planning to add a bit more to this, but a short fic that takes place shortly before they arrive at the Cerberus Headquarters in ME3. Kaidan's worries in regards to Shepard's previous affiliation with Cerberus resurface and confronts Shepard about it.

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10452159

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“I think it is best if you sit this one out Shepard..” Kaidan had said. His voice had rang low, as if he had partially hoped they would get lost in the constant humming of the Normandy’s engine. “What if this is what Cerebus really wanted and they have something in you wired to go rogue or something?”

They were standing in the middle of Observatory room. Kaidan’s gaze avoided Shepard’s as the infinite amount of stars, ranging in their size and distance, dimly lit their faces through the window.

Minutes before, Kaidan had called Shepard to speak to her about infiltrating Cerberus Headquarters. He believed that he had what he wanted to say all prepared, but the moment she walked in, his body shook with underlying nervousness. He took a deep breath before shuffling his hands deep into his pockets as he braced himself for what was to come.

Shepard had noticed something was up. She saw that he had ran his fingers through his hair at least a few dozen times, leaving it a disheveled, slight mess of his curls. It led her to think something had him in turmoil. He had stumbled his words, but managed to voice what seemed like his ongoing concern of Shepard’s affiliation with Cerebus.

It shocked Shepard that this topic was coming up again. They had talked about Cerebus. He had accepted her for who she was, regardless of her past. He believed in her. Or so she thought.

“Kaidan, what happened with Cerebus is in the past. Yes, they rebuilt me. But never in the time I ‘worked’” She air quoted the word, hoping he’d understand. “With them, did they ever have control of me.. I am myself. I will be fine. You know this.. You know me..” She pleaded.

His eyes flickered across the room. Confusion swirled in circles around in him, but regardless stuck to his probing. “But what if that’s what they want you to think??” He shook his head. “We simply can’t risk it..”

Unable to meet the gaze of the man whose words just pierced her heart, Shepard turned away. Tears began to swarm and burn at the corners of her eyes. She was never one to let her emotions show, in fact she was known for her resilience in dealing with tough calls and difficult decisions. But this was Kaidan.. The one person who has seen the ins and out of her. The deepest part of her being. And quite simply, the last person she would expect to hurt her.

She wasn’t sure of what to think anymore. He may well be the Major, and the second human Specter, but she was the Commander of the Normandy, and he still had to listen to her orders regardless. However, it deeply pained her that the man that she loved, the man that claimed loved her as well, was doing this to her.. Was saying these words. Talking as if she was about to turn into a monster.

She could feel the hurt begin to travel through her. Pain circling through her chest as she fought to contain her tears. She took a deep breath, before turning to face him once more.

“What else do you want me to say Kaidan..?” She felt her voice rise, taking her by surprise. “To make you believe that I am who I am?” A huff escaped her lips, her demeanor suddenly turned cold. “I mean I thought you believed me.. Shit I thought you loved me. ” Shepard then turned towards the door, her eyes fixated on the ground.

She stopped as soon as the sliding doors opened at her approach. Her eyes slowly losing the battle of keeping the tears she’s desperately tried to keep away.

“My mistake. Guess I was wrong..” She let her words hang in the vast room as she made her way towards the Normandy.

Shepard felt her heart drop into the empty abyss of her stomach as the door closed swiftly behind her. As soon as she was out of his sight, she felt her shoulders drop, and the burning of the incoming tears as they threaten to come loose. She was unsure of where to go from there, her body was gently shaking and stood frozen to the ground. But part of her wanted to just inch her way towards her cabin, where she could lose herself in the clawing emotions she thought she had shut tight.

But part of Shepard also craved for a shoulder to lean on. She sighed as she slowly urged her body towards the elevator. She knew her relationship with Kaidan had hit numerous obstacles before, some seemingly permanent than others, but after surpassing them, she had failed to think that something else could rock their core again. That could hint at the very possibility of an end to them. Her mind wandered to all those months she spent without him at her side. How each and everyday she ached for him, for his mesmerizing touch that left her with a sense of calamity, of feeling safe in his embrace. How each day without him felt like beyond hell, but that she had no other choice, if it meant assuring his safety. But this, Kaidan blantaly disbelieving her very existence, after all they had shared together, hurt her worse, and immensely deeper than all those times without him had.

The elevator opened at Shepard’s initial call, and as she dragged herself in. Without looking, she pressed her finger against one of the elevator's button and felt the kick as it begun to descend. It was only when the elevator came to a stop that she looked up and noticed she had picked to go to the Shuttle Bay. She silently hoped that James had left to do his routine workouts and that Steve was there, immersing himself in the Kodiak as her close friend often did. They had gotten closer shortly after Shepard had opened about her past, and her obstacles with Kaidan and the rest of the galaxy and when Steve revealed to her about how he lost his husband. They became someone they could each lean on for support, on good and on bad days. Whether on the battlefield, or in the mess hall joined with a couple of beers. He always knew what to say when she needed someone, and he wanted to be there for her, just as she had been for him.

“Ah, almost done fixing these kinetic barriers.” Said the familiar voice as Shepard stepped out. She couldn’t help herself but smile through her troubling emotions at his never ending enthusiasm when it came to the Kodiak. It wasn’t just something he loved to do, but it helped him stay focused, and kept him from replaying what had happened to his husband.

“Hey Steve.” “Shepard!” Steve wiped his hands on a small, scrunched up towel, threw it across his shoulder and turned to face her. “What brings you to my humble abode?” His joking expression instantly turned into concern as her examined her face. “Everything okay…?”

Shepard sighed as she leaned against the small console they used for ordering supply lines. “Frankly, I don’t know anymore…” She turned away from him as she attempted to fight off her tears that burned to be freed. “Kaiden… Doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“What do you mean? I thought things were going good with you two.”

Shepard rubbed her eye and crossed her arms. “I know, me too… But you know that Cerberus mission we’re on our way to?”

Steve nodded.

“Kaidan doesn’t think I should go. He thinks that I’ll… That I’ll go rogue…” Without realizing it, Shepard had begun to pace. “I’m fine. I tried to reassure him that I am myself and that nothing will happen.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “And he still didn’t believe you?”

She sighed. “No… He was still fixated on the fact that I could all of the sudden turn into a monster… Into one of them…” Shepard wanted to fight what her mind echoed throughout. But maybe it was right. “Maybe..” Her gaze landed on the ground as she voiced her thoughts.

“Maybe Kaidan never really got over what happened after Horizon..” Her eyes slowly rose back up to meet Steve’s. They were now a light shade of pink from the constant fighting back of her tears. “And it can quite be that he may never will… Maybe this is the end of us... As much as it pains me.. Especially after everything we’ve been through.. But maybe it’s for the best...”

~~~

Kaidan gently punched the window that overlooked the seemingly quiet galaxy. The conversation didn’t go the way he had hoped. He knew that it wouldn't been an easy conversation, but he didn’t expect Shepard to storm off. Or say what she said.

“My mistake. Guess I was wrong..”

Her voice kept playing over and over in his head as he tried to piece together what had happened.

“Couldn’t she see I was trying to protect her..?” His mind tried and tried to convince himself that he had done the right thing. However, each minute that passed without Shepard’s presence next to his own made him wonder that maybe he had done more harm than the good he intended. He had to admit. Her previous affiliation with Cerberus still made him feel nervous, but his mistake was that he let that fear take over him. He didn’t mean to make it seem that he didn’t trust her, it was them he didn’t trust. He just wanted to make sure they couldn’t take her away from him again.

He let out a tired sigh. “I guess I should’ve thought about a better way to bring this up...” He turned once more towards the galaxy, his gaze reflecting the billion of stars that stared straight back at him. It all looked peaceful. And the humming of the Normandy gave the view a serene feel to it. One wouldn’t think that there was a war in the midst of a view like this. Shaking his head, he turned toward the door. Kaidan knew he was pushing back the inevitable, but he was hoping that somewhere in the stars, laid an answer, the right words to apologize and convince Shepard that he still loved her, and that regardless of what happened, that he wanted to be by her side. That’s when he realized there’s nothing else and better to do, than just admit he was wrong, and pray that she believes him. He took a final, deep breath before rushing out in search for the woman his heart desperately ached for.

~~~

“Hey.. .Don’t think that..” Steve reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. “You said it yourself, you and Kaidan have gone through more obstacles than anyone could imagine. You guys always find a way. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it love. But that’s what makes you two the strongest couple I know.” He sighed. “I know it hurts right now.. And from what I know of Kaidan, he’d do absolutely everything possible to protect you. Maybe this is simply what this is. Maybe Kaidan was just afraid of something happening to you in the Cerberus mission, and he just didn’t know how to bring it up properly.”

Shepard sighed. “You...Think so...?” She couldn’t imagine what her life would be without Kaidan. Despite how pained she felt after their talk, she knew her heart laid with him. But she also knew there was only so much she could do, so much she could say to make him believe that she was none other than herself.

Steve offered Shepard his sincerest smile. “I’m sure that’s what it is.” And engulfed her in a warm embrace. “And if for the crazy chance that it isn’t, then he definitely doesn’t know that he’s missing.”

Shepard returned a small smile as her gaze shifted from his to the grey tiled floors below her. It was normal for her mind to be juggling a million things at once, but having Kaidan’s concerns added in made her head spin with conflicting emotions.

“Plus.” She barely heard Cortez as he broke up her thoughts. “There is always other people out there.” He added half-heartedly. It made Shepard wonder if he partially was telling that to himself just as much as he was telling her.

Shepard slowly nodded. “That’s true.” She wondered if she’d ever be able to find anyone who filled her soul with so much love and happiness as Kaidan does. She felt her heart began to crack in pieces at the mere thought. She gently shook her head in an attempt to steer the thought away and looked back at Steve.

“Well, I suppose I’ll know soon enough…” She sighed. “It’s only a matter of time before we bump into each other.”

“And just know, that when that happens, my door will always be open, should you need someone to lean on, eat ice cream with, or maybe, just maybe even drive the shuttle.”

Shepard managed to chuckle. “I’ll get you to let me drive it one of these days, Cortez.”

~~~

Kaidan made his way towards the elevator, and stuffed his hands deep inside his pockets as he tried to come up with what he’d say to her. He felt stupid for letting past conflictions get the better of him. For letting them get between what he and Shepard shared. He stepped inside as the doors opened before him, but realized he had no idea where in the ship she was. She could be in her cabin just as much as she could be anywhere else in the ship. He sighed as he pressed the button for her cabin. He felt his stomach churn as he anticipated what was to come. Would she forgive him? Had he crossed a line and that she now wanted nothing to do with him? He bit his lip. Shepard was everything to him. Especially after he lost her the first time around. It made him value her over anything else. It made him treasure each and every moment he had with her. From the nights he spent at her side, stroking her hair as she slept soundly in his arms, to the rushed kisses between missions,to the long, ever lasting ones. His thought broke apart at the beep of the elevator, alerting him that he was at his destination. He quietly stepped out, wondered if she was inside. “Shepard…?”

He heard something stir on the other side of the door and took a deep breath.

~~~

Shepard thanked Steve for letting her rant about Kaidan and felt somewhat better. She made her way back to the elevator and went up towards her cabin. She was glad she gotten her reports done early, for it now meant she could have a little down time. With nothing but her, her bed, and the lulling sounds of the Normandy. Maybe she could sleep her feelings away. However, she knew the moment she laid down, Kaiden’s faint familiar scent would appear on her pillow. She’d see his t-shirt she’s borrowed so many times, sprawled across her couch. Or stumble across his portrait that sat steadily on her desk, next to her laptop. She sighed as she urged herself inside, knowing that anywhere she went on the Normandy, she’d still feel Kaidan’s presence. She changed into her old N7 sweats and a tank top and was about to crawl into bed when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

Her body froze for a moment, unsure of what to think, or do. She knew they’d bump into each other at some point, but she didn’t think he’d come to her, especially this soon. She nervously tucked a hair strand behind her ear and inched towards her door.

“Coming.” She said softly.

Shepard opened the door to indeed see Kaidan standing on the other side. He looked nervous. His hair looked like he had ran over it with his fingers at least a dozen times and his hands kept shuffling in his pockets.

“Hey Shepard, can I come in?”

His voice was low, almost pleading. It made Shepard want to rush to his side and ask him what’s wrong, but their early conversation still danced around in her mind.

“Yeah of course, come on in.” She whispered.

“Thanks.”

Shepard nodded and followed Kaidan back into her room. He took a seat on her couch and motioned for her to sit next to him. Shepard hesitated for a second, she wanted to stay mad at him, to not let him get away with what he did. But she also craved to be next to him. She sighed, put her emotions aside and took her spot next to him.

“Shepard… Listen…” He slowly reached out for her hand and gently wrapped his fingers around hers. He could feel her familiar warmthness as it traveled through him. “I know I said things I shouldn’t have… I… I let my feelings and fears about Cerberus get to me and all it led to was me hurting the most important person in my life.” His lowered his gaze away from hers. “I thought I was protecting you, when in reality I was just alienating myself from you and I should’ve realized that.” He squeezed her hand and looked back up. “Shepard, you are enough. You’ve always been enough. I should’ve never doubted you and damn straight I will never do again. I love you Shepard…” Kaidan gave her a weak smile. “I love all of you sweetheart. I love who you are today, and who you were yesterday. Regardless of who you worked for.”

#shenko #Commander Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #major alenko #steve #cortez #mass effect #writing

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