#which is fine for papers where everyone's an expert and understands but a lot of them use it in day-to-day just to seem smart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years ago

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Machine learning's crumbling foundations

Technological debt is insidious, a kind of socio-infrastructural subprime crisis that’s unfolding around us in slow motion. Our digital infrastructure is built atop layers and layers and layers of code that’s insecure due to a combination of bad practices and bad frameworks.

Even people who write secure code import insecure libraries, or plug it into insecure authorization systems or databases. Like asbestos in the walls, this cruft has been fragmenting, drifting into our air a crumb at a time.

We ignored these, treating them as containable, little breaches and now the walls are rupturing and choking clouds of toxic waste are everywhere.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/27/gas-on-the-fire/#a-safe-place-for-dangerous-ideas

The infosec apocalypse was decades in the making. The machine learning apocalypse, on the other hand…

ML has serious, institutional problems, the kind of thing you’d expect in a nascent discipline, which you’d hope would be worked out before it went into wide deployment.

ML is rife with all forms of statistical malpractice — AND it’s being used for high-speed, high-stakes automated classification and decision-making, as if it was a proven science whose professional ethos had the sober gravitas you’d expect from, say, civil engineering.

Civil engineers spend a lot of time making sure the buildings and bridges they design don’t kill the people who use them. Machine learning?

Hundreds of ML teams built models to automate covid detection, and every single one was useless or worse.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/02/autoquack/#gigo

The ML models failed due to failure to observe basic statistical rigor. One common failure mode?

Treating data that was known to be of poor quality as if it was reliable because good data was not available.

Obtaining good data and/or cleaning up bad data is tedious, repetitive grunt-work. It’s unglamorous, time-consuming, and low-waged. Cleaning data is the equivalent of sterilizing surgical implements — vital, high-skilled, and invisible unless someone fails to do it.

It’s work performed by anonymous, low-waged adjuncts to the surgeon, who is the star of the show and who gets credit for the success of the operation.

The title of a Google Research team (Nithya Sambasivan et al) paper published in ACM CHI beautifully summarizes how this is playing out in ML: “Everyone wants to do the model work, not the data work: Data Cascades in High-Stakes AI,”

https://storage.googleapis.com/pub-tools-public-publication-data/pdf/0d556e45afc54afeb2eb6b51a9bc1827b9961ff4.pdf

The paper analyzes ML failures from a cross-section of high-stakes projects (health diagnostics, anti-poaching, etc) in East Africa, West Africa and India. They trace the failures of these projects to data-quality, and drill into the factors that caused the data problems.

The failures stem from a variety of causes. First, data-gathering and cleaning are low-waged, invisible, and thankless work. Front-line workers who produce the data — like medical professionals who have to do extra data-entry — are not compensated for extra work.

Often, no one even bothers to explain what the work is for. Some of the data-cleaning workers are atomized pieceworkers, such as those who work for Amazon’s Mechanical Turk, who lack both the context in which the data was gathered and the context for how it will be used.

This data is passed to model-builders, who lack related domain expertise. The hastily labeled X-ray of a broken bone, annotated by an unregarded and overworked radiologist, is passed onto a data-scientist who knows nothing about broken bones and can’t assess the labels.

This is an age-old problem in automation, pre-dating computer science and even computers. The “scientific management” craze that started in the 1880s saw technicians observing skilled workers with stopwatches and clipboards, then restructuring the workers’ jobs by fiat.

Rather than engaging in the anthropological work that Clifford Geertz called “thick description,” the management “scientists” discarded workers’ qualitative experience, then treated their own assessments as quantitative and thus empirical.

http://hypergeertz.jku.at/GeertzTexts/Thick_Description.htm

How long a task takes is empirical, but what you call a “task” is subjective. Computer scientists take quantitative measurements, but decide what to measure on the basis of subjective judgment. This empiricism-washing sleight of hand is endemic to ML’s claims of neutrality.

In the early 2000s, there was a movement to produce tools and training that would let domain experts produce their own tools — rather than delivering “requirements” to a programmer, a bookstore clerk or nurse or librarian could just make their own tools using Visual Basic.

This was the radical humanist version of “learn to code” — a call to seize the means of computation and program, rather than being programmed. Over time, it was watered down, and today it lives on as a weak call for domain experts to be included in production.

The disdain for the qualitative expertise of domain experts who produce data is a well-understood guilty secret within ML circles, embodied in Frederick Jelinek’s ironic talk, “Every time I fire a linguist, the performance of the speech recognizer goes up.”

But a thick understanding of context is vital to improving data-quality. Take the American “voting wars,” where GOP-affiliated vendors are brought in to purge voting rolls of duplicate entries — people who are registered to vote in more than one place.

These tools have a 99% false-positive rate.

Ninety. Nine. Percent.

To understand how they go so terribly wrong, you need a thick understanding of the context in which the data they analyze is produced.

https://5harad.com/papers/1p1v.pdf

The core assumption of these tools is that two people with the same name and date of birth are probably the same person.

But guess what month people named “June” are likely to be born in? Guess what birthday is shared by many people named “Noel” or “Carol”?

Many states represent unknown birthdays as “January 1,” or “January 1, 1901.” If you find someone on a voter roll whose birthday is represented as 1/1, you have no idea what their birthday is, and they almost certainly don’t share a birthday with other 1/1s.

But false positives aren’t evenly distributed. Ethnic groups whose surnames were assigned in recent history for tax-collection purposes (Ashkenazi Jews, Han Chinese, Koreans, etc) have a relatively small pool of surnames and a slightly larger pool of first names.

This is likewise true of the descendants of colonized and enslaved people, whose surnames were assigned to them for administrative purposes and see a high degree of overlap. When you see two voter rolls with a Juan Gomez born on Jan 1, you need to apply thick analysis.

Unless, of course, you don’t care about purging the people who are most likely to face structural impediments to voter registration (such as no local DMV office) and who are also likely to be racialized (for example, migrants whose names were changed at Ellis Island).

ML practitioners don’t merely use poor quality data when good quality data isn’t available — they also use the poor quality data to assess the resulting models. When you train an ML model, you hold back some of the training data for assessment purposes.

So maybe you start with 10,000 eye scans labeled for the presence of eye disease. You train your model with 9,000 scans and then ask the model to assess the remaining 1,000 scans to see whether it can make accurate classifications.

But if the data is no good, the assessment is also no good. As the paper’s authors put it, it’s important to “catch[] data errors using mechanisms specific to data validation, instead of using model performance as a proxy for data quality.”

ML practitioners studied for the paper — practitioners engaged in “high-stakes” model building reported that they had to gather their own data for their models through field partners, “a task which many admitted to being unprepared for.”

High-stakes ML work has inherited a host of sloppy practices from ad-tech, where ML saw its first boom. Ad-tech aims for “70–75% accuracy.”

That may be fine if you’re deciding whether to show someone an ad, but it’s a very different matter if you’re deciding whether someone needs treatment for an eye-disease that, untreated, will result in irreversible total blindness.

Even when models are useful at classifying input produced under present-day lab conditions, those conditions are subject to several kinds of “drift.”

For example, “hardware drift,” where models trained on images from pristine new cameras are asked to assess images produced by cameras from field clinics, where lenses are impossible to keep clean (see also “environmental drift” and “human drift”).

Bad data makes bad models. Bad models instruct people to make ineffective or harmful interventions. Those bad interventions produce more bad data, which is fed into more bad models — it’s a “data-cascade.”

GIGO — Garbage In, Garbage Out — was already a bedrock of statistical practice before the term was coined in 1957. Statistical analysis and inference cannot proceed from bad data.

Producing good data and validating data-sets are the kind of unsexy, undercompensated maintenance work that all infrastructure requires — and, as with other kinds of infrastructure, it is undervalued by journals, academic departments, funders, corporations and governments.

But all technological debts accrue punitive interest. The decision to operate on bad data because good data is in short supply isn’t like looking for your car-keys under the lamp-post — it’s like driving with untrustworthy brakes and a dirty windscreen.

Image: Seydelmann (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpg

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic

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owo-shenanigans · 3 years ago

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Can I request Kyoko, Sonia, and Sayaka with a male s/o that can move metal with his mind like Magneto

PLEASE read my blacklist, y'all (the request originally included Miu as well). Gender ambitious reader, per usual. No idea what Magneto's powers cover so I went with exactly what you said. I think Sayaka's is my favorite one. [ CWs; very brief mention of cults in Sayakas’]

Kyoko, Sonia, and Sayaka with an S/O who can move metal with their mind.

KYOKO KIRIGIRI

Oh, so you're an experiment?

You probably met when she was busting a crime organization- she usually solves murders, but recently she had been tracking a serial killer back to their hideout, where she discovered much more than she bargained for.

But, when all was said and done, you were pulled from your prison cell and landed at Hope's Peak, as Kyoko had volunteered to help you out.

The first time you were in the classroom, you threw a desk at the teacher coming in, the sudden noise startling you.

Everyone in the class stared at you, which is understandable, considering that you hadn't used your limbs to do so.

This… was going to be harder than she thought.

Kyoko works with you to help you control your powers, getting them down from using them on instinct to only using them when there's danger. Plus, your overall control goes up, which is always nice!

This is useful for when someone shoots at her with a rifle- she had sent their partner to jail, and they were furious. You stopped the bullet in midair, shooting it back at the person.

Kyoko, for her part, was extremely impressed. In fact… You've impressed her, a lot. You're smart, and have a positive outlook…

While she wishes you hadn't been experimented on, she's a small bit glad for it- it meant that the two of you met, after all.

SONIA NEVERMIND

You were actually lab created to be her personal bodyguard. The princess of a war focused country could never be too safe, after all!

Of course, four months after the two of you were born her country signed a peace treaty. So… you were kind of useless.

But you were kept around to be her playmate! And, well, turns out not everyone agreed with the peace treaty. As shown by the five knives hidden in her new nannies skirts.

So you're basically a bodyguard playmate. And your relationship just evolved into a relationship.

One day, she kissed you. And you kissed back. And now you hold hands. Also, you two use each other for practice- she practices her sharpshooting at you, and you practice your precision metal manipulation!

When you met Kazuichi, he was crushed that Sonia was taken, but because he's not an awful guy he got over it fine. Though the Inventor girl two years below looks like she wants to jump your bones for your DNA.

Honestly, you like doing party tricks with your powers. Though you don't take your classmates metal items for pranks- not anymore.

No, you learned your lesson with Peko. Never again.

SAYAKA MAIZONO

You were raised by cultists!

It's not relevant. But, you were accepted to Hope's Peak Academy for being the Ultimate Sewer. Your parents weren't the best at making their own robes.

You and Sayaka started talking when you stopped her from eating some chocolates sent by a fan.

"Hey, uh, not that I'm a chocolate expert, but I think that has a ball of iron in the middle."

She cut it open to humor you, but lo and behold, there was a small iron ball covered in sharp spikes. Her mouth would have been shredded if she ate it.

She screamed when she saw it. Reasonable response.

Unfortunately, they couldn't find out who sent it. This had the affect of her eating lunch with you every day, asking you to check her lunch for any dangerous items. And eventually she began to make you lunch as well, because if you're eating lunch together every day then she may as well thank you for saving her all those weeks ago!

After she got sent a knife in the mail, you started checking her mail for metal as well- you never opened it, merely made sure there was only paper.

After a few more months of this, they finally caught the person doing this- a boy from a rival group who was pissed that she'd been accepted to Hope's Peak instead of him.

When she learned he was behind bars, she cried tears of relief in your arms.

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa imagines #sonia nevermind x reader #kyoko kirigiri x reader #sayaka maizono x reader #sonia x reader #kyoko x reader #sayaka x reader

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miguel-manbemel · 3 years ago

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Roman’s Brightest Idea

It’s been ages since I wrote a story. But today I had an idea for a story full of angst, and then while I was writing it, I couldn’t help filling it with platonic logince, so here you have this short story and I hope you enjoy it.

INDEX POST

Roman was writing in his room, with his finest golden fountain pen. It had all started, as usual, from a little spark, but Roman saw from the beginning that this spark had potential and he decided to develop it into an idea for a story, and finally he stamped his seal on the last page, then put all the papers in a red velvet folder.

“I did it! This time I did it! This is the best work I’ve ever made in my life! This is my brightest creation!”

Roman started bopping and giggling, like he always did when he finished a work he was proud of, which tended to be the majority of works he finished. It was like, for a minute or so, he returned to his five year old self, who reacted the same way when he finished his first ever fairy tale.

“I can’t wait to show it to Thomas! He’s gonna love it!”

And so, Roman grabbed the red folder and sank out to the outer world, looking for Thomas. He found him in the bathroom, having a shower. It was noon and he had just woken up.

“Hi, Thomas!” Roman yelled

“Jeez!” Thomas screamed, startled “Oh, goodness gracious, Roman, don’t do that, you scared the heck out of me!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself, I’m overexcited!”

“Oh, is that so?” Thomas said while he turned the shower off, then grabbed a towel and got out.

“Yes, because, you see, I’ve got great news, I’ve got a new idea for a story that you…”

“Yes, that’s great and all, but could you talk to me about that later? It’s getting late and I’m still naked, and I still haven’t got my breakfast, then I gotta go to the office fast, I’ve got a meeting today.”

“But this story…” Roman said, his smile had left his face.

“Later, Roman, I promise. I’ve got a long day ahead of me, please try to cooperate with me, okay?”

With that, Thomas put his bathrobe on and headed to the bedroom to get dressed. Roman was left behind in the bathroom.

“Okay, Thomas, if you’re busy I won’t bother you now… I’ll try later.”

Roman sank down and returned to his room. He looked at the red velvet folder.

“Perhaps it’s not that good?” Roman pondered. “Maybe I need to give it some more time before I bother Thomas? He seemed pretty busy… But no, Roman, you gotta trust yourself a little bit. It was a real masterpiece and when Thomas sees it, he’ll agree too!”

Roman waited a few hours.

“I’m tired of waiting. Perhaps Thomas has finished his meeting already. Yep, I think it’s the time to show him my work. Let’s go.”

Roman sank down and he raised up… standing in the middle of the table right on Thomas’ meeting. Nobody seemed to see him except Thomas, who showed a face of horror.

“Whoops…” Roman said. “I guess it wasn’t over yet…”

“Are you okay, Thomas?” one of his team members said “You look concerned.”

“I… I have a little pain on my tummy, that’s all. I didn’t want to say anything to let him finish his exposition, but truth is I could use a little recess to use the bathroom, if it’s okay with you.”

“No, it’s totally fine, I think we all need a break, this meeting has gotten longer than expected.”

“Then it will be 15 minutes. See ya later guys.”

All the meeting members went out of the room.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, I thought…”

“Don’t ever do that again, Roman!” Thomas said with a voice of anger

“But I’ve been waiting all day and I wanted to show you this idea. I warrant you that it’s the best work you could…”

“It’s not the time for that, Roman! You can’t just pop up whenever you want without permission!”

“But this is…”

“Nothing warrants you the right to do that, Roman! If you continue like this, I’m gonna start to think that you’re not so different from Remus after all!”

“Wha…?” Roman face went ajar, his eyes immediately filled with tears.

“Now, go away, and don’t bother me for the rest of the day until I tell you you can come, is that clear? I wanna hear it from you.”

“It’s… it’s clear, Thomas…” a little sob interrupted the sentence but he managed to pronounce it with all the dignity he had left in him. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Good, now go. I have to go to the bathroom so that the others don’t suspect. Look what you’ve made me do, now the meeting’s gonna last forever. Go now!”

Roman sank down, then returned to his room. Now the tears were falling down his cheeks. He looked at the red velvet folder. He opened it in an explosion of anger, grabbed the pages and tore them to pieces while he yelled like a wounded beast, then he threw the pieces of paper to the floor and started crying on the table, sobbing so loudly that he caught Logan’s attention from his own room. Logan was repelled by feelings of that kind but still, he couldn’t help but worry about his friend and decided to check on him.

“Roman? What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“What… what do you want?” Roman said mid sobbing “Don’t you see it’s not the moment to bother me, Teach? Leave me alone!”

“I would, Roman, but logic tells me that if I did, that only would be bad for you. I may not be an expert of feelings, and I don’t know a lot of things in that field, but I know that you are my friend. You know you can count on me for anything you want, and I’d be glad to help you if I can.”

Roman looked at Logan, his eyes all red and his makeup all ruined. His face showed then a grimace of hurt as he opened his arms, inviting him to hold him in a hug. Logan hesitated for a second as he didn’t like that sort of affection, but Roman’s devastated face made him realize Roman needed it, so he just went next to Roman and held him tight. Logan could feel Roman’s tears soaking his shirt and the humid warmth of Roman’s breath after each sob muffled on his chest right on his necktie. It was an unpleasant sensation for him, more for the emotional charge that it had that communicated to him how broken Roman was, something he didn’t like to see at all, something that would have hurt him if, he thought, he had feelings like the others. He didn’t know why he had the need to do so, but Logan started petting Roman’s hair while Roman went on crying a river on him.

After a few minutes like this, Roman’s crying slowly started weakening and he finally calmed down. Still, he stood hugged to Roman for a few minutes more in silence, Logan still petting his hair. It was finally Logan who broke the silence.

“Are you okay now, Roman?”

Roman just nodded in silence, still reluctant to let go off Logan.

“Take all the time you need, then tell me what happened.”

Roman still stood hugged to Logan for five minutes. Then he finally let go.

“Thank you, Logan… oh, I’m so sorry, your shirt and necktie are soaking wet.”

“That’s not important, but it tells me that you have lost a lot of hydration, so here…” Logan invoked a bottle of water and gave it to Roman “drink some water, you need it and it will make you feel better.”

Roman started drinking. He really was thirsty as he finished the whole 24 ounces of water in no time.

“Want some more?”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, Logan.”

“Now tell me calmly and slowly everything that happened, Roman.”

Roman proceeded to tell him how the day was for him. Logan listened to the whole story without interrupting him, focusing all his attention on Roman.

“...and then you arrived” said Roman, finishing the story.

“I see…” Logan said pensively “I can understand Thomas’ reaction to some extent, but I’m sure he didn’t mean to be so nasty to you, Roman. I’d say that you startled him so bad he acted out of instinct, in fear. It was just bad luck and bad timing, that’s all.

“I’m not so sure… Thomas hates me, especially after my appearance in the meeting.”

“I strongly disagree, I don’t think Thomas hates you, Roman. I’m sure under other circumstances, he would have loved to see your story. Thomas has always loved those worlds of fiction you invented for him. Even if I never fully understood them, I knew they made him happy and that was enough for me to approve your labor. You just caught him busy and stressed out, that’s all. And we all say things when we’re angry we regret later.”

“Have you ever been angry in your life, Logan? I thought…”

“Who hasn’t been angry at some point in his life, Roman? No matter if it’s for something that happened to us or something that happened to others or in the world, everyone experiences anger from time to time, it’s as natural as breathing. But anger always calms down and allows us to judge things more calmly. I’m sure Thomas will have that time to ponder what happened and he’ll come to you.”

“Do you think so?” Roman said, then he noticed the floor all full of pieces of papers “Oh, look at what I’ve done… my story idea is all ruined. Now Thomas will never see it…”

“Can’t you rewrite it all again?”

“No, I don’t think so. Once I put an idea into paper, it’s like waking up from a dream, I forget most of it. I could try to rebuild it from the pieces, but it would never be the same.”

“I can help you pick up the papers and maybe from the little pieces…”

“I don’t know, it would take forever and Thomas cannot stay that long without a story idea.”

Thomas rises up in Roman’s room.

“There you are, Roman!” Thomas said.

“Thomas? What… what are you doing here?”

“I’m so sorry, Roman. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I treated you all day during and after the meeting. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It’s okay, Thomas. It was my fault for appearing so suddenly. I thought you had finished the meeting but I was wrong. I apologize too.”

“Well, now I’m totally free for you and I can see that bright creation of yours, if you still want me to.”

“If I still want you to? Nothing would have made me happier, Thomas. Unfortunately, it’s too late…”

“Why, where is it?”

“You’re standing over it.”

Thomas looked at his feet, saw all the pieces of paper and understood.

“Oh, Roman, I’m so sorry… But maybe we can fix it.”

“We could try, but it would take forever and it would never look the same as it was when I first created it. I don’t know if it’s worth the time to try.”

“Yes, it probably would never look the same… but it could look even better than before. Let’s pick up the pieces and get everything we can from them. You are Creativity, you’re not gonna get scared by a little hard work, do you?”

“Of course I won’t. I’ll do my best to reconstruct the idea if you want me to, Thomas.”

“And we’ll recruit the help from everyone, that way we’ll finish it faster, and maybe everyone could give their contributions. It can be a fun task for the rest of the day, okay?”

“Okay, Thomas. I’ll do my best.”

Thomas gave Roman a short but very tight hug that pleased Roman, then called the others. It took a few hours, but everyone together managed to pick up all the pieces, reorder everything they could and, filling the gaps with everyone’s ideas, they managed to create a story that would eventually become one of Thomas’ most viewed and acclaimed videos ever, something Roman would always be proud of, especially because he had the chance to create it with the help of all his friends and that made that his most cherished creation of all.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #character thomas sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #logince #platonic logince #angst

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

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Out Of Time ~ 107

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,300ish

Summary: The team figures out the monolith and tries to save Simmons

“Do something!”

“Fitz,” Y/N got up and hurried to him. She was afraid to portal, scared of what the monolith might do. “Come on.” She grabbed his arm but he tore it away. “We have to get out of here!”

“Leave me alone!”

He turned and decked Y/N in the face, causing her to tumble down the steps and to the ground. Y/N gently touched her face, pulling her hand back to see blood.

“Fitz! Y/N!” Mack shouted, rushing to grab Fitz from the container.

“Fitz, get out of there!” Hunter yelled, getting the door.

“Are you crazy?”

“Close it!” Bobbi yelled. “Close it!”

“Y/N!” Daisy rushed over. “Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding.”

As soon as Bobbi and Hunter closed the container, the monolith turned into liquid. Everyone was panting.

“Damn it, Fitz,” Coulson murmured, coming into the room.

“I had to know,” Fitz panted. “Had to— had to know—“

“I already lost Simmons to that thing. I cannot afford to lose you or Y/N, too.”

“Trying to get yourself killed?” Hunter wondered.

“Sorry,” Fitz said. “I won’t give up. I can’t give up.”

“None of us want to, Fitz, but…” Daisy tried to say.

“Fitz,” Bobbi knelt down in front of him, “you tried. Okay? You tried your hardest. Everybody knows that.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I missed something. I m… I missed something.” He wiped something off his face.

“What is that?”

“Proof.” Fitz got up and ran to the lab.

“Y/N,” Coulson said, the others turning to face her. She was still on the ground, breathing heavily. “Oh my…” There was a long cut down the right side of Y/N’s face. “Did he—“

“I’ll be fine…” She panted. “I’ll be fine…”

“Come on,” Daisy urged, helping Y/N up. “Let’s get that stitched up.”

Daisy took Y/N to Coulson’s office and Bobbi brought all the supplies to help patch up the cut.

“He didn’t mean to,” Bobbi said quietly.

“I know,” Y/N responded.

“He just misses Simmons so much.”

“I know.”

“It hurts—“

“I know, Bobbi! Just stop, okay?” Tears formed in Y/N’s eyes. “Out of everyone here, I think I understand the most… I lost Bucky… no one could find his body… I was torn. I acted out too. That’s how I’m here… So I understand. I get that now we know Bucky’s alive, but we didn’t then. And I didn’t think he would ever come back… Honestly, at least he has hope. That’s more than I ever had.”

~~~

Fitz showed up in the office not too long later. He had a tablet in hand and pulled up his findings.

“Sand,” he stated. “Not just sand. Impossible sand.”

“The monolith’s case is a clean room,” Mack said. “There’s nothing in there but that rock. Not even dust.”

“Unless you blast it open with a shotgun and contaminate everything,” Hunter retorted.

“That’s not what this is,” Bobbi shook her head.

“Okay, the sand itself, not unusual,” Fitz continued. “Mostly silicone-dioxide particles just like on Earth.”

“Wait, are you saying…” Y/N paused. “You’re saying this sand is not from Earth?”

“Carbon dating show that—“

“It predates the Earth by a billion years,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi.

“So you think the rock is a portal?” Daisy asked.

“No. No, I’m proving that it’s a portal. Okay, to another planet, a-a very old planet. A crack in space-time that carried Simmons away… and carried the sand back. Which means…”

“She’s out there,” Coulson stated. “But it’s been months.”

“Yeah?”

“She could be long gone from wherever this thing dropped her.”

“Yeah.”

“She could be dead.”

“Yes.”

“But we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” / “You’re damn right.” / “For sure.” / “Yeah.”

“Okay, Fitz, what do you need?” Y/N asked. “I can get Tony to bring some things as well.”

“Uh, uh, well, uh, more historical data. People have studied this thing for centuries. I need an expert on quantum mechanics and Einstein-Rosen Bridge theory. And a— a sandwich would be nice.”

“I might have an idea,” Coulson said, nodding, “about the other things.” He turned to Daisy and Mack. “You two, stay with our new inhuman guest. Be here for Dr. Garner’s assessment. Building that team is still the priority.”

“What did I say?” Daisy commented, her and Mack exiting.

“Bobbi—“

“I’m on this with Fitz,” Bobbi responded.

“Yeah, haven’t you been on this with Fitz the whole time? Hiding his trip to Morocco, covering for him on a constant basis?”

“Have I?” She smirked, walking out.

“And you know where you’re going,” Coulson said to Hunter. Hunter nodded and left.

“What about me?” Y/N asked. “I’m staying until Simmons is found. I’ve already texted Tony and he’s on stand-by if we need anything.”

“With me.”

~~~

Coulson explained that they were going to make a visit to a Professor Randolph. He was an Asgardian, hiding out on Earth. The team had a run in with him once when Y/N was on a break. Bobbi and Fitz joined them.

“I’m sorry,” Randolph said, reading a book inside of his cell. “I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Coulson questioned.

“Potato, puh-tah-toe.”

“And your reason?”

“The nightly news, cities flying into the atmosphere, government task forces, and now the public is freaking out about alien outbreaks. Pretty crappy time to be on Earth if you’re not a local, so I am staying low. And of course,” he chuckled, “there is my current situation.”

“Destruction of property, public drunkenness,” Bobbi clarified.

“And here I thought that Asgardians could hold their drinks?” Y/N retorted.

“Yes, well, Asgardians can generally hold their drink. It’s just, well, one night I tried to hold all the drinks.”

“Asgardians are also strong, right?” Bobbi questioned. “You could easily break out.”

“What? And miss dinner?” He chuckled. “Oh, no. Yes, norse prisons are surprisingly evolved—decent food, comfy bed, extensive library, and no attention being drawn to me. Come back in a few months, why don’t you? Maybe then I’ll be in the mood.”

“Can’t I just call in Thor?” Y/N muttered to Bobbi.

“We don’t have a few months,” Fitz stated.

“And neither do you,” Coulson said. “I don’t have to remind you that I saved your life. Though I did just mention it in case you forgot. But I’d still have no problems contacting those task forces you mentioned. I bet they’d go bonkers to have a real life Asgardian to dissect in their labs. I don’t know how comfy you’d be there.”

“Why, Agent Coulson…” Randolph said, standing up. “Are you threatening me?”

“I wouldn’t call it a… well, yeah, I guess I am. That’s absolutely a threat.”

“You’re different now. You know that?”

“One must accommodate the times or things get messy.”

“What’s with the hand?”

“Things got messy.”

“Well… you’ll have to cover my realize. And if there is a portal, which I will have to see to believe, you are diving into very dangerous waters here.”

“We live in the dangerous waters,” Y/N commented. “And have been for a while.”

Randolph exhaled sharply. “Alright. Well, it’s not like you’re giving me any choice.”

He quickly tore off the door and the alarm started blaring. He grabbed his coat and they began walking out. Guards rushed in.

“He did it,” Randolph said, pointed at Coulson.

Coulson gave a nervous chuckle and a smile.

~~~

After talking themselves out of it, they took Randolph to the base. He walked around, observing the monolith.

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but it looks like your regular, old—“ He stopped when the monolith turned to liquid then back into a rock. “Oh. How often does it do that?”

“It’s random,” Fitz answered.

“No. No, no, no, no. It may seem random. But… something is clearly triggering it.”

“I’ve checked it against tides, relation to the sun, rotation—“

“On this planet. So you have no idea how to control it. Why come to me? I’m no interstellar-travel expert. I’ve never even studied gravitational lensing or zero-point energy fields or quantum-harmonic oscillation theory.”

“Yet you know all those words you just said,” Bobbi retorted.

“And you’re scared of portals,” Coulson added. “You’re scared of being dragged back home through a portal. Y/N?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Y/N replied with a smirk.

She walked up to Randolph, opening a portal behind him and pushed him into it. Another portal opened on the other side of the room, causing him to exit from it.

“Impossible,” Randolph panted. “No human should be—“

“I’m connected with the Tesseract,” Y/N interrupted. “I can channel it. And I know it’s on Asgard and I’m pretty sure if I tried hard enough I could send you back there.”

“What I think, Randolph, is that in your drunken stumble through history, you’ve probably investigated every story involving a portal,” Coulson said.

“And I’ve seen you eyeing all of your exits,” Bobbi added. “My knee brace, wondering if you can get away with it. The only reason you came with us was to confirm its existence.”

“And destroy it,” Randolph confirmed.

“You’ll have to go through me,” Fitz stated.

“And I could. Literally. But, then, I don’t know what amazon woman and robot hand are capable of these days. And don’t get me started with the Avenger over there. So I will help you get her back. I’m not entirely heartless. But if I do, I want your word that we will demolish this portal and no one passes through it again.”

“I’ll sleep better at night,” Coulson confirmed.

“Good. Well, I’ve investigated a lot of these wormhole rumors. But that’s all they were, rumors. None have panned out. So we know nothing of its origin.”

“Kree, maybe.”

“And this parchment was found with it,” Bobbi said, grabbing the paper and handing it to Randolph.

“Well, hello,” Randolph said, studying the parchment through the bag it was in. “I’ve seen this.”

“It’s a common Hebrew word.”

“Yes. What else do we know, Mr. Fitz?”

“Uh, well, the monolith changed hands a lot,” Fitz explained. “Germanic tribes, spent the hundred years’ war in France. But before the Napoleon era, it was moved again. I lost track of it somewhere in—“

“England.”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

“Because I have seen this word carved into the walls of a castle in Gloucestershire, England, in 1853. To the plane!” Then Randolph started for the door, when no one followed he turned around. “W—am I allowed to say that?”

“Let’s all go to the plane, I guess,” Coulson agreed.

~~~

While on the flight over to England, Y/N was talking to Tony.

“Are you sure you guys don’t need my help?” Tony asked. “I could get there at the same time as you still.”

“I’m sure, Tony,” Y/N replied. “The lead we’re currently following seems solid.” Y/N sighed. “I just want to bring Simmons home so that I can come home.”

“You’ll find her. I know you will.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

From the doorway, Fitz cleared his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention to him. He looked guilty.

“I need to go, Tones,” Y/N said. “I love you.” She hung up, slipping her phone in her pocket. “You need something, Fitz?”

“Yeah, I, uh…” Fitz started, coming to sit beside Y/N. “I need to apologize… I shouldn’t have hit you back like I did. You were only trying to help… I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Fitz.” She rested a hand on his knee. “I completely understand… I was the same way when Bucky died. Or, I guess, when I thought he was dead… So I get it, Fitz. I think that’s why Coulson called me in.”

“Or cause he missed you. You and May left, he lost his hand and Simmons… I think he just wanted a little of the good old days back.”

“Sadly, after we find Simmons, I can’t stay… I need some more time. I’m doing much better than I was. But I don’t think I can ever go back to this life full time. I don’t think it’s in the cards anymore.”

~~~

Randolph led them into the castle. They looked around with their flashlights, searching for the carving.

“Yes. Yes, yes,” the Asgardian exclaimed. “I came here for a costume ball. That was the pretext, of course, ‘cause I had heard rumors of travel to the stars. Found it all to be nonsense. But it was a fun party.”

“The carvings?” Coulson questioned, trying to get back to the point.

“Oh, right, right. Of course. So I was here admiring the stone work, and…”

Randolph turned and shined his flashlight on the stones over the door. There was the word, carved in to one of the stones.

“The same as the scroll,” Fitz stated. “Death.”

“Maveth,” Randolph clarified. “Yeah, one of its translations is actually ‘death by punishment’.”

“Could mean no trespassing,” Coulson suggested.

“A Hebrew warning carved in an English castle struck me as odd. Out of place. Seems ancient.”

“But you stopped looking into it?” Y/N asked.

“A man dressed as an owl, of all things. I got him drunk enough to admit that no travel to other worlds was even occurring. Just ritualistic killings.” Everyone continued to look around as Randolph talked. “En, the whole thing stunk of half-baked satanism. Just some fabrications to entice new members. And, well, there were fire dancers. I got distracted.”

“Here’s another one,” Coulson called. “This is why I got rid of all the SHIELD logos on our vehicles. It’s like screaming for attention.”

“About time,” Y/N muttered.

“You know, there’s an ginormous eagle symbol on top of our jet,” Bobbi pointed out.

“Yeah,” Coulson agreed. “Sometime I can’t help myself with the cool.”

Coulson then pushed a stone in the wall, causing part of it to open up. Revealing a passage way.

“You certain about this?” Randolph asked. “It does say death by punishment.”

Fitz and Y/N went in, examining the walls. They made their way down the passage. Eventually it led to a round room, with old equipment in it.

“Okay, well, this wasn’t on the last tour,” Randolph said. “It’s an odd shoe for architecture this period. Definitely built after I was here.”

“Reminds me of the bunker under the Louvre,” Bobbi commented.

“What? There’s no bunker under the Louvre. That’s a joke, right? You messing with me.” Bobbi simply glanced his way and walked to the other side of the room and Y/N chuckled. “Alright, great. Now I’ll have to check.”

Fitz knocked on the metal he was studying. “It’s late 1800s,” he stated.

He pushed the lever up. Suddenly, electricity crackled and the room lit up.

“Still got some life to it,” Coulson commented.

“I hear water,” Bobbi added. “Could be a stream underground, maybe hydroelectric power.”

On the other side of the room, Fitz hit the control panel on the wall and Randolph pulled down another lever. Suddenly, a round floor panel, in the center of the room, disappeared. They all walked up to it, looking down.

“This looks a lot like it was made to hold—“

“The monolith,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi. “This machine was designed to control the portal, to open and close it at will.”

“Do you know that, or is that just what you hope it to be?” Coulson asked.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Sighing, Coulson pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Mack, I need you to load something onto Zephyr One and bring it to us.”

“What exactly am I bringing, sir?” Mack against on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah… you’re not gonna like it.”

~~~

It wasn’t long before Mack and Daisy arrived with Zephyr One and the monolith was being lowered into the hole. Fitz and Randolph were getting the systems working. Bobbi was guiding the container down, monitoring the monolith on the tablet she was holding.

“Zephyr One,” Bobbi called into the comms, “you’re clear to retract.”

“Wow. Room full of ancient gack,” Mack commented as him and Daisy entered the room. “Kind of reminds me of your office, director.”

“Realistically, what are the odds of this thing working?” Daisy asked.

“If we were realistic, we never would have gotten this far,” Coulson said.

“With anything,” Y/N added.

“Well, Andrew Garner thinks I need to be more so,” Daisy said. “He recommended three months observation and counseling before reassessment for Joey. Says I’m reckless.”

“Wonder what he thinks about me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Coulson said. “He probably just meant that—“

“He said you’re desperate,” Daisy added.

“What? He didn’t say that. Did he say that?”

“I can read minds, Phil,” Y/N said. “He definitely said that.”

“You can read minds, too?” Randolph pipped up. “Why is the Tesseract gifting you all these things?”

“Long story.”

“Let me guess,” Bobbi came up to them. “I’m struggling to come to terms with physical limitations and losing my sense of self instead of redefining it.”

“No,” Daisy said. “He didn’t mention you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, he did. That’s what he said.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yeah.”

“Mack,” Fitz called. “Mack, push that lever.” Mack turned to a lever. “No, the one— the one that’s— the one that’s down. The one— the one beside it. Push it.”

Mack did as directed while Fitz did the same thing on the other side of the room. The gears starting turning, the machine started working. The room began to tremble and the monolith turned to liquid.

“Fitz, it’s working!” Y/N exclaimed.

Fitz knelt down beside the whole, pointing a flashlight into it.

“It’s staying open,” he stated. “Light! I need more light!”

The trembling began to get to Daisy. Y/N watched with concern as she groaned and put her head in her hands. She went over.

“Daisy?” She quietly called. “Daisy, what’s happening?”

“We got a problem!” Mack shouted.

“I need some bloody light!” Fitz yelled.

“Fitz!” Coulson called, tossing him a flare gun.

Fitz shot it through the monolith. Daisy held her head as she began panting.

“The gears have locked!” Mack yelled. “Bobbi!”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she saw blood coming out of Daisy’s nose.

“Daisy!” She exclaimed. Y/N caught her as she fainted, slowly lowering her down.

“Skye?” Coulson called, coming up beside them. “Hey.” The trembling and machine stopped. “Skye, are you okay? Skye?”

“It’s Daisy,” Daisy replied softly.

“What?”

“It’s Daisy now,” Y/N responded.

“You’re really having a hard time with this, huh?” Bobbi wondered.

“Damn it,” Coulson muttered. “Yeah. Daisy, hey.” Daisy lifted her head up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Y/N helped her sit up. “I’m better. That pulsing sound was killing me.”

“What pulsing sound?”

“Are you serious? It was deafening.”

“The vibrations,” Y/N whispered.

“What?”

“The vibrations. You can sense them. And there was so many, that it was too much for you. It’s kind of like, how if you’re all thinking at once, especially about a similar think, I can sense it.”

“Maybe, Y/N’s on to something,” Bobbi agreed.

~~~

The team was currently trying to find a way to put the machine back together.

“It’ll just rattle apart again,” Fitz stated. “We have to reinforce the connections.”

“Reinf— look, most of the workings are under the ground,” Mack said. “We just can’t tear the castle down. And actually, we’re lucky the room is shaped this way, or the machine might have shaken it apart on top of us.” The two bent down to try and pick a piece of the machine up.

“Wait. Wait. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s the point. Quantum harmonic oscillation theory, like the professor said.”

“I know that look,” Bobbi commented.

“It’s a strange shape for this time period because it’s made to resonate, uh, to—to—to—uh— create a-a quantized field within the stone.”

“Fitz, you’re talking, but we’re not totally following,” Coulson said.

“The room is a speaker. The machine is an amplifier. Uh, a sub—subsonic frequency to resonate with the monolith.”

“You saying you figured out a way to fix the machine?” Mack asked.

“No. I’m saying I figured out that—“

“We don’t have to,” Daisy said, glancing at Y/N. “I can do it. I can open the portal myself.”

“Daisy, no,” Y/N said. “It’s too risky.”

“If I can open the portal and help save Simmons, then I’m doing it.”

~~~

The team added a frame with a lot of rope, to lower some into the portal and bring them back.

“Well, turns out we’re standing in the in the middle of the world’s largest subwoofer,” Randolph stated.

“Yeah,” Mack agreed.

“If the point of the machine was to resonate the room at a certain frequency,” Daisy said, “I can do that.”

“And you can replicate it?” Coulson asked.

“Kind of drilled into my brain.”

“And it could kill you,” Y/N stated, not at all happy with this plan.

“How long do you think you can hold it?” Coulson asked.

“Maybe a minute,” Daisy responded.

“If it’s too much, you pull back. I can’t lose you, too.”

“I got this.”

“Here we go,” Bobbi said, reentering the room with a machine. “Camera and data sensors are hard-lined back to us through a cable. No signal loss that way.” She clipped it onto a cable to be lowered into the portal. “If Daisy can hold it, we’ll get a visual of the other side.”

“That’s what we’re looking for,” Coulson said before turning to Daisy. “Alright, you listen to me. You take care of yourself. We lose that probe, nobody cares.”

“Uh, I’m confused,” Randolph spoke up. “What exactly is she planning to do here?”

Allowing her space, everyone moved as Daisy readied herself. She held both arms out to the sides, causing the parts of the old machine to tremble.

“Sorry,” she strained an apology. “Still tuning.”

After getting the right tune, she aimed at the monolith. Causing it to turn into liquid.

“Hold it open as long as you can,” Fitz stated.

Everyone turned to him. He had clipped himself onto the cable. He ran towards the liquid monolith.

“Fitz, no!” Coulson shouted.

But Fitz jumped into the monolith, disappearing.

“I’m going in after him!” Y/N yelled.

“No!” Coulson held her back. “I can’t lose you anymore than I already have.”

“But I’m the best chance to get back if Daisy can’t hold it long enough.”

“You don’t know if you can do that.”

“And you don’t know if I can’t.” They stared at each other. “If Daisy looks like she’s ready to give out, I’m going in. And no one can stop me.”

The trembling and the cable rope moving was causing the structure that was keeping it steady to lose up. Mack, Bobbi, and Y/N all quickly grabbed onto a different piece, trying to keep it steady.

“Damn it. Pull him back,” Coulson ordered, rushing around to where the cable was. “Get him back here.” He pulled the lever and the cable began spin back up.

“I can’t hold it!” Daisy shouted.

“Y/N, don’t! We can’t lose the both of you!”

Before Y/N could jump, Daisy stopped the trembles and the monolith burst into pieces. Every looked down in the hole, hoping, praying, for something to give. Suddenly, Fitz uncovered himself and pulled Simmons up. Daisy fell to the ground, Mack and Y/N rushing to her.

“You did good, tremors,” Mack said. “You did good.”

~~~

Y/N brought everyone onto Zephyr One quickly. Simmons needed to be checked out immediately and Fitz needed to be monitored in case of radiation. They laid Simmons in the containment module, hooked up to IV’s and allowed time to rest. Randolph and Y/N were standing outside as Coulson came to update them.

“They’re gonna be okay,” he informed. “No sign of radiation or infection. Fitz would never have found her, but she saw the flare. We brought a woman back from the dead today.”

“Yes,” Randolph agreed. “And, happily, you kept up your end of the bargain. The portal is destroyed.”

“Thank Daisy for that.”

“Yeah. Agent Coulson… what exactly is Daisy?”

“The call themselves inhumans.”

He looked surprised. “I have not heard that word in a very long time.”

“You know it?” Y/N questioned.

“I know more about them than I do you. You are something else… The Tesseract you said, that’s how you get your abilities?”

“Part of them.”

“Interesting.”

~~~

They were landing at the base when Y/N pulled Coulson aside.

“You’re leaving,” he stated.

“I am,” she replied.

“Anything that I could do to convince you to stay?”

“No… Look, I’m sorry, Phil, that I left and May left. But sometimes you need to tap out. SHIELD can’t be everything in anyone’s life… Even yours.” Y/N pulled him in for a hug. “If you need anything like this again, I’ll be there.” She pushed herself away, walking back towards the portal she opened. “Just don’t go opening anymore portals to other planets any time soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Phil.”

~~~

“But she’s safe? There’s nothing wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” Y/N shook her head.

“Wow,” Tony leaned back. “That’s… that’s—“

“A miracle. An absolute miracle.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to join the team again?” Tony pulled Y/N in-between his legs. “You didn’t miss it at all?”

“I missed them. But not SHIELD. Plus,” she gave him a kiss, “I wouldn’t get to do that as much as I would like.”

Tony hummed. “Good. Can you do it again?”

next chapter >

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willow-salix · 3 years ago

Text

How about I throw out a new chapter?

That'll be nice for a Saturday, right?

Meh, have one anyway.

Here's a snippet:

Selene grabbed a slice of pizza from the box on the table and dropped down onto the couch next to Gordon, uncaring as to the fact that he was barely dressed. When you watched him dive in and out of the pool in his Olympic issue swimming speedos just because he felt like it, you were pretty much desistized to anything.

She took a bite and made a face, it wasn’t the best pizza she’d ever had, not that that would stop her, she started to chew. Tonight was definitely the time for comfort food and pizza, even when bad, is still pretty good.

“Why are you in my flat?” she asked around a mouthful. She chewed some more and swallowed quickly when she saw the look on his face. “Not that I mind you letting yourself in, you know you’re always welcome. But I thought you were with Penny for the whole weekend.”

Gordon shrugged casually, but his eyes flickered towards the discarded pile of clothes on the floor beside the couch. It looked like one of his new suits and really shouldn’t have been treated in such a way. The jacket was scrumpled in a ball and the pants left where they had fallen, the shirt lay tossed over the arm of the couch and the shoes had been kicked off haphazardly, one lying under the table while the other had flown clear across the room to land by the dresser.

“Didn’t feel like it once I got there, I left Penny to her networking and caught a cab back here as I wouldn't have been able to get into the manor.”

Selene scowled, that wasn't like him, he was one of the more social Tracys and, since he was still relatively young, he usually jumped at the chance to spend time off island if he could. A party or a dinner was usually greeted with great enthusiasm. She decided to ignore that for now, he'd tell her in his own time. Years ago she would have pushed him more, but now they all knew her well enough to know that she was there to listen whenever they needed her and would seek her out if they wanted to.

"How was the conference?" she asked instead, swiping his bottle of beer, one of John's he had obviously liberated from the fridge, and taking a sip. "You must have been so excited to be asked to speak."

Again he shrugged. "It was OK, I'm pretty sure they only asked me out of courtesy for Penny and because it looked good to have someone from International Rescue on the schedule. It was pretty boring really."

"Why did you say yes then? It's not like you don't have a good excuse to get out of anything you don't fancy."

"Penny said it would be good for me to start making a name for myself, she's right, I'm not getting any younger-"

Selene snorted at this, Gordon was only 26, he had his whole life ahead of him. Although, if anyone knew that your life could be changed or even snuffed out at any moment, it was Gordon, so she kept quiet.

"She said that I should start thinking about my long term plans. We can't be doing International Rescue full time forever and, while we do have enough money to never have to work, you know we'd all get bored. Everyone else seems to have a backup already, John does his remote lectures and writes his books, and you know that he's always being called on to consult or collaborate with someone for something or another. Virgil has that fancy engineering degree of his, he's always tinkering around with Brains and the things they invent together could keep them busy for years to come. Alan is all fresh and new, he's already making a name for himself online with his team ups with Brandon, and Scott could walk into a job with the air Force or the GDF without even pausing to ask, then there's me, no college education, no specialist subjects-"

"Bullshit," Selene cut in. "A college education isn't for everyone, just because you don't have a piece of paper doesn't mean you aren't smart or an expert in your field. Someone once told me that, because I didn't have that kind of higher education I wasn't as smart as them, that I wasn't capable of making decisions because I didn't have the same knowledge they did. But knowledge is subjective, babe."

Gordon snorted at that, he knew what it was like too, he knew how people would judge him as the dumb brother because he'd chosen a different path than the more academic one the others had taken.

"It's true," she insisted. "Look at John, as much as I adore that man, he's proof that all the book smarts in the world can't always compare to common sense or life experience. You can know all about astrophysics but if you don't know how to interact with people or how to survive in the world then you're fucked either way. You are amazing, you know science and biology and genetics or you wouldn't have made those beautiful fish or done so much for marine conservation and, no matter who you're dating, the Friends of the Ocean yearly conference would not have let you speak if you didn't know your shit."

"I know," he sighed, "but it doesn't always feel that way, you know?"

"Oh, believe me I know," she rolled her eyes and reached for another slice of pizza.

"I guess it's just hard to be surrounded by such high achieving brothers. I look at Penny and I think what is she doing with me? She would be much better suited to someone like Scott, or John, you know."

"I'm pretty sure that Cat and I would have something to say about that. Besides, look at me and John, it's not like anyone would put us two together. On paper we shouldn't work at all, we're far too different. Yet we do. You can't help who you fall in love with."

Gordon's eyes slid sideways to watch her, the tone in her voice telling him that she wasn't just talking about his brother at that moment. There was something there that spoke of past experiences that didn't hold good memories for her.

He frowned, a thought occurring to him, one that he just had to voice.

"Sel, why are you here? You don't have any clients booked, I know because you said that was why Scott had to drop me off, because you weren't heading back for at least a week."

Selene kept quiet, her eyes on her pizza slice. This wasn't like her, she usually needed to be prised off his brother and dragged away kicking and screaming. She liked to spend the majority of her time on the island with them even if John wasn't home.

"Did something happen?" Gordon's voice was quiet, comforting, not pushing her to speak but inviting her to confide in him if she wanted to.

"I just needed some space, some time alone," she finally admitted, still not looking at him as she fiddled with the crust of her pizza.

"Oh, do you need me to go? Sorry, I know I should have asked but I didn't know where else to go and I couldn't really face the questions back home." Trust him to burst in and make himself a nuisance when he wasn't welcome, it seemed to be the story of his life.

"No, you're fine," she assured him, patting his bare knee. "I get it. I don't need space from you, just your idiot brothers."

"Which ones, I have a lot," he grinned, relaxing a little now that they were back on more familiar territory.

"John and Scott."

His eyebrows rose at this. Scott he could understand, but she never needed time away from John, in fact she was always complaining that she didn't get enough.

"I walked out on my husband," she whispered, the slice of pizza hanging limply from her fingers. "He was upset and so was I but I left him, I walked out."

Gordon could not have been more shocked if she had suddenly grown a fishtail and whacked him in the crotch with it.

"Tell me what happened," he said, it wasn't a question, it was a silent demand, showing him to have the same authority that his father had, just in a more laid back package.

She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to drag it all up again now that she had finally calmed down from her breakdown at ten thousand feet. She didn't want to start thinking about it all again, but Gordon was there, all endearing face and big brown eyes that implored her to talk to him, to trust him. Maybe he wouldn't judge her too harshly, maybe he would understand. She risked a glance his way, seeing the firm set to his jaw, letting her know on no uncertain terms that he was not prepared to let this go.

"John punched my ex-fiance in the face and broke his nose," she answered, knowing she had no other choice.

OK, if he had thought her last statement was shocking this little revelation shot it into orbit.

"He…what? John? My brother John?"

"Yep, with the other dumbass tagging along for good measure apparently."

"OK, OK, give me a second to get my head around this, I need to process. My brother, the one that is usually so against violence of any kind, straight up punched your ex?"

Selene nodded.

"Come on, surely you aren't pissed off at him for that? He must have had a good reason for it!"

"Well, Nathaniel isn't a good guy at the best of times..."

"Nathaniel? I don't know about him."

Selene frowned, glancing his way again. Was he being honest with her right now, did he really not know? Surely if Penny knew then she would have told Gordon too?

“Penny didn’t tell you?” she asked, needing to clarify.

“One thing to remember about Penny is that she's very good at keeping secrets and knows how to keep things close to her chest. She only ever tells what she thinks you need to know,” he chuckled lightly but to Selene's ears it lacked his usual humour, sounding a little flat. “So, spill, I’m all ears. You know that a problem shared is, well maybe not a problem halved but at least you won’t be suffering on your own.”

Selene smiled softly, he really was the best boy. She'd admit that if she had to pick someone to open up to and talk to about her problems, Gordon probably wouldn’t be at the top of her list, but in times like these he reminded her of just how awesome he really was. It was easy to forget that he could be serious, it often got lost in the bad jokes and his general enthusiasm for life, but that didn't mean that he wasn't as dependable as the others.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time," he gestured down to his almost naked self and the half eaten pizza. "Not like I'm going anywhere."

Selene paused, did she really want to dredge it all up again? The answer was no, but, whatever Nathaniel did as retaliation, and there was no question that he would, was bound to spill over into all their lives. They would all find out sooner or later, hell, it seemed like half of them knew already, it would be better for it to come from her in her own words.

"We're gonna need more beer,” she sighed, tossing the half eaten pizza slice back in the box.

Read the rest here on Ao3 ➡

#gordon tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #selene tempest #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #paranormalromance #thunderbirdsarego #witch #chapter update

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

The Surrogate - Chapter 16

The Surrogate: A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 1714

Rating: E

Warnings: Pregnancy

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people. When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want. Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 16

Natasha and Clint had both been attending birthing classes with you. It made sense really, they both planned to be there and this was their baby you were growing, even if you had started to think with the word ‘our’ more now. The classes were a little scary. Having to watch birthing videos made you worry there would be some kind of complication. It was one thing for your body to stretch to let out the little girl growing inside you, but if they had to do a cesarean then you were pretty sure she was going to get stuck. There was no way your body would allow itself to go unhealed long enough to cut her out of you.

Still, even though the classes were a little stress-inducing, it was nice to see Clint and Natasha respond to them. They each had their specialties and weaknesses and seeing them working together, it was easy to understand how they worked so well as a team. While they both were fine watching the birthing videos, Clint watched on like it was a horror movie and he was waiting for the Xenomorph to punch its way out of the mother’s chest. Natasha was much calmer about it, like seeing a baby passing out the birthing canal was just another standard day for her. Clint was terrible at helping you with breathing exercises, he just couldn’t take them seriously and if you followed along you’d be prone to hyperventilating. Whereas, Natasha was nothing if not calm and serious about them. On the other hand, Natasha struggled to change a diaper on a doll, whereas Clint could do it blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back.

The classes were just held by the doctor who would be delivering your baby at the compound and a couple of the nurses too. Obstetrics wasn’t used a lot on-site, and while the doctor and one of the nurses were both experts, the rest of the staff were more versed at emergency patch-ups so they’d come along to brush up their knowledge before the big day. It was good to not have to worry about people treating you strangely because Natasha and Clint were celebrities or because there were three of you. Everyone at the compound was used to what the three of you had now.

As you left the class Clint was babbling about whether or not drugs would work for you for the pain. “I don’t see why the drugs wouldn’t work. I mean, my body would probably physically reject the needle if I got an epidural, but pethidine would be okay and they said they’d be me Nitrous Oxide if I want.”

“Can I use it?” Clint asked.

“No, you can’t, birdbrain,” Natasha teased. “Go get your illegal drugs elsewhere.”

“You can just squeeze Nat’s hand extra tight,” Clint said. “But not mine. I need them for my job.”

Natasha laughed. “And I don’t ever use my hands?”

“Not the way I do,” Clint argued.

You laughed and opened the door as you looked back at them. “You guys are such…”

“Surprise!!”

The shout of the group of people currently in the apartment made you jump and you spun around to see the room filled with people to almost breaking point. The place was decorated with pink streamers and matching pearlescent balloons. There was a banner along the wall that spelled out ‘Baby Shower’ in a gold script. Pink pieces of card cut into circles hung from various points of the ceiling with the words ‘Baby Shower’ repeated again and again in the same font. The dining table was laid out with fruit, finger sandwiches, dips, cheese, and crackers. At the center of it all, sitting on a raised cake stand was a round cake with pale pink frosting. A banner made out of sugar paste flags spelled out ‘BABY GIRL’ around the side and a sugar paste stork stood on the top holding a pink bundle.

The coffee table had been moved to the side and was stacked high with gifts, all wrapped in some combination of pink, white, silver, and gold.

At the front of the group was Kate Bishop and Wanda Maximoff stood holding out glasses of champagne with what looked like red flowers blooming in the bottom of the glass. “Happy baby shower, guys,” Kate said.

“You bad girls,” Natasha scolded, kissing each of them on the cheek and taking a glass. “I thought we were doing this in the function room.”

“Yeah, but a surprise is better,” Kate said. “Don’t you think?”

“I think you’re both lucky none of us were armed,” Clint said, taking a glass for himself. “I was ready to kick some ass.”

“Why do you think we chose immediately after your birthing class to do this?” Kate teased, handing a glass of champagne to Clint. “We know Doctor Harding doesn’t let you take weapons with you.”

“Here this one is for you,” Wanda said, handing you a glass. “Non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice. I know it’s not that exciting, but at least you can participate.”

“It’s lovely, thank you, Wanda,” you said. “What’s the flower at the bottom?”

“It’s a hibiscus,” she said. “Kate and I were looking up ideas, and it seemed nice and fitted with the theme.”

“Is the theme pink?” Natasha asked.

“I wanted to go purple,” Kate said. “But Wanda wouldn’t let me.”

“Damn it, Wanda,” Clint joked.

“It’s not just your baby, Clint,” Wanda huffed.

“Oh, Wanda,” Natasha soothed. “It’s lovely, you both did a great job.”

The three of you were practically dragged into the party and began to mingle. Kate and Wanda had done a great job with the guest list. All the Avengers were there, as were a lot of the other staff you, Clint, and Natasha were close to. There were also family and friends from your old life pre-avengers, though they looked very overwhelmed by the whole experience.

Unfortunately, the sheer number of people at the party meant the apartment was over capacity. There was barely any room to stand let alone sit. As you mingled shoulder to shoulder with your friends, you started to long for a comfortable seat.

There was a tapping of glass and you turned around to see Tony standing on the arm of a chair. “I think we all agree that surprising these three was a lot of fun, but this apartment is too small for this. So how about they open gifts and we all move it to the function room?”

There was a cheer and you, Nat, and Clint were shuffled to the couch where you were made to take a seat and open gifts.

There were a lot of gifts.

It wasn't long before you started losing track of everything among the cute little onesies and tiny shoes, the three-tiered cakes made of diapers and bottles, stuffed toys, rattles, teethers, and little wooden pull-toys. There were a few standouts. Kate had gotten a little onesie with a purple chevron that looked like the exact copy of the t-shirt Clint practically lived in. Carol brought an onesie that had I love my mommies and daddy on it with three big cartoon bunnies around a much smaller one. Tony, Pepper, and Morgan bought a stuffed giraffe that was so big his horns brushed the roof. Pepper made it clear it had nothing to do with her and all Tony and Morgan’s doing.

When all the gifts were unwrapped everyone started grabbing food and party games and carrying them over to the main building. It was amusing seeing the huge flock of people moving through the halls carrying plastic babies and plates of sandwiches.

When the group arrived it spread out like fluid, expanding to fit the function rooms’ much larger space. Food was laid out on the tables. Games were set up. People started helping themselves to drinks from the bar.

You grabbed yourself a drink and a selection of food and took a seat on the couch, putting your feet up.

“Is it wearing you out?” Steve Rogers asked, coming to sit beside you.

“Yeah, I’m always starting to wane by now, she’s really active in there,” you explained. “And with the birthing class as well.”

“Is she kicking now? Can I feel?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” you said, taking his hand and pressing it where she was currently kicking. It took a moment, but she soon shoved against his hand with what felt like all her might.

“Wow, she’s a strong one,” Steve said with a smile.

You chuckled. “Well look at who her parents are,” you agreed. “She’s going to be a fighter.”

“I guess she is,” Steve smiled. “It was very selfless of you to offer to do this for them. Especially given you must have had feelings for them when you did.”

“Well, the sparks, I guess,” you confirmed. “They were my best friends - are my best friends. This was their only chance to have kids, and you of all people should know what it feels like when there’s a good that can be done and it’s in your power to do it.”

Steve smiled affectionately at you. “I guess I do.”

“It’s moot now anyway, we’re all in it together,” you said.

“How do you feel about that?” Steve asked.

You smiled and nodded. “It’s a little scary. Didn’t exactly plan to be a parent. But I’m excited.”

“Well, good,” Steve said. “It’s not really conventional, and I’m not sure I totally get it, but I understand love, and Nat and Clint were never conventional. I think the three of you have got this.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said. “That’s always good to hear.”

“Attention everyone!” Kate called out, over the P.A. “I think it’s time to play some games, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to see which of the three future parents can change a diaper the quickest. So get up here you three. Anyone else, if you’d like to challenge them, we have plenty of dolls and diapers, and there’s a prize.”

Steve chuckled. “Sounds like you’re up.”

You laughed and shook your head as you pulled yourself to your feet. Today was going to be a long and very strange day.

// NEXT

#clint barton #natasha romanoff #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clintasha #clintasha x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #hawkeye #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #the surrogate

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echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

Lost In Transmission

Word Count: 1208

For: @ectorecs

Summary: There's a Ghost Expo happening at Casper High and Danny thinks it'll be fun to see all the incorrect ways people try to find ghosts. He learns the hard way that just because is old, doesn't mean it doesn't work.

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut.

Danny stared at the flyer in Sam’s hand and didn’t bother holding back his laugh. “Seriously? A Ghost Expo?”

“You’re not worried?” She asked, looking back over the flyer. “It sounds like there’s going to be a lot of people here.”

Danny waved her off with a light scoff, “Yeah, but from what they’ve listed there, they are using super old outdated stuff. I’m pretty sure my parents disproved most of those things as hoaxes years ago.”

“I think he has a point, one of these supposed ‘experts’ says they’re known for their salt ring tutorial videos. And judging by how many fries Danny’s eaten, I think that one is a dud.” Tucker added.

“Exactly.”

“You still want to go?” Sam asked as she folded the paper up and slipped it into her bag.

“Of course! It might even be fun!” Danny grinned, “Plus, going to the Expo means I don’t have to go to algebra.”

==============================================

The day of the Ghost Expo was finally upon them, and Danny was still a little surprised over just how many people were there to share their so-called expertise.

Sam made sure to remind him not to get too cocky and definitely don’t tell anyone here that all of their work might be just old wives' tales.

“I promise I won’t ruin these nice people’s careers.” He said with a hand raised, “But if my parents come in and do that, it’s not my fault.”

Sam agreed, “If anyone asks, you’re not a Fenton?”

“Precisely.”

==============================================

The setup of one of the booths reminded Danny of a science fair. They had the tri-fold display board and everything.

The attendant was in the middle of explaining what their wares supposedly did when the trio walked up.

“And this,” they picked up a small black box and flipped the switch on the side, “is a Spirit Box.”

Danny immediately covered his ears as the box emitted a loud static. It sounded like an untuned radio, which was bad enough, but it kept cycling through different out-of-range stations, and each time it switched it was worse than nails on a chalkboard.

Danny meant to ask if they could turn the thing down, or better yet, off.

He meant to.

The words never left his mouth.

But words were heard.

In between the clicks and rushes of static, a voice broke through the cacophony.

“Ĺ̸̛͇̹͕̥͎͙̲̺̣̝̲̙̖̠̮̑͊̃̂̓̀̕͝o̴͙̦̙̝̍͗̓̔̏̂̀̿ư̴̡͉̼̗̯̣͇̱̟̙̲̝̼̥̠̬̊̔̔̾̓̉͆͛͊̐̓̽͐̃͒͝d̵̛̖͍͖̜̱̻̝̟͓̲͇̰̙̣̖̊́̆̐͋́̋͛̿̅̋̾̿.̶̳̩͎̲̱̈́̄̓̉̄̋̒͝ ̸̯͙̳̥̤̯͚͉͒̇̇̔͋͋̽̊̎̅̔̽̐̀̂̀͠Ţ̶̡̨̤̺͈̠̜̈́͌̑̅̀̉̈́̀͋̎̈́͝͠ͅǭ̷͙͈̭̫̺̳̟̐̄͗̽̍͂̏͗̂̕̕͘͜͝o̵̢̻̤͔̦̤̜̻̺̲̠̒͒͂̓͛̇͑̂͊͛͜ ̸̠̬̀̃͛͋͒͒͜ḷ̸̳̲̑͌̾̌̄͆̎͗͒̄̈́́̀̈́̾͝o̶͖͇͔̩̊̋͠ͅŭ̴̧̨̡͕̦̰̣̦̰̙̓̓͒̍̅͛̈́͐͘d̵̛̞̞̭͙̟̯͎͇͈͒̑̾̓́͛́̃̀̌̑̓̈͜͝.̵̨̢̢̭̠͕̙̞̗͕̱̹̹̹͙̥̏̀̑̈̉̎̈͋͘͜͝͝͝ ̵̢̜̣͙͇̹͔̰͉̺͔̙̖͛̆͌̅́̀̂̓͝H̷̨̤̺̤̺͉̘̲̯̠̦̩͎̞̾́̆̌̀̆̈́́̍à̸̰͋̏̽͗͛̇͂̏̊̕t̵̳͍̅̓̔̊́̈́̾͐́͝ẽ̷̡̛̫͉͎͓͇̮̗͖̋̀̎͗̅́̌̐̏̿̂̐̔͑͜͝ͅ ̸̢͍̹͈͖͕͖̫̤͚͉͇͓̰̈ḯ̸̡̛͙̰͇̮̰̝̝̺̮̖͎̻͉̜͍͋̓͒̈́̔̆͜͠t̵̮̎̃͌̆̔̈́̕͘͘.̴̨̤̹͇̟̖̥̙͍͙̬̰̖̼̈́̌̋͂̃͌͜ ̴̧̳̠͓̯͖̗̯̅̉̀͗̔̎̃̆̈́̋̔̔̆͐̊͠H̷̩̐̍̊a̶̡̘͕͇̞͎̳̽́̓͜t̵̢̟̲̠͖͚̿̐͊̍̎͂̂̃͋̉͘e̷̡̨͍̞̤̙̣̜̩͍͈͗͆̐̓͒̓̂̄̋͛̈̊͘ ̶̡̰̹̬̬͍̣͙͇̫͈͍͚̮̓̋i̸̢͉̹͙̟͉̩̊͆̉̚͜ţ̷͙͓̞͉͚̠̙̲͈̳̬̾.̴̹̞̱͚̗͙̖̈́͐̈́͊͑̏̌́̑͒́́̋̇͊͠ ̸͍͚͎̪̖̣̻̖̺̞̩̭̖̓̀̈́͂͊̿̏́̐ͅĻ̵̡̧̟̪̱͎̼̖̱̬̘̲̺̘̑̒̈̀͐͒̓͋͂̋̀̓̚ǫ̵̤̞̣̼̩͙̥͈̊͗͋̽͂̔͗̐͝u̶̹͈̣̳͑̒̒͒͗̓̇͌̽̆̆͐̈̑͆͐͘d̶̳̥̱̣̟͇̘̩̈́̑̾̋̔̀̊͝!̵̣͛̂͒͂̃”

He stared at the device.

“N̶̡̛̜̮̻̪̒́̓́͛̓̈́̾̈̌͆̚̕͘̚͠ö̵͚̺͍̝́͌̋͜.̴̧̛̣̩̣̯̯͔͇̻̠̣̺̤̪̯͆̿̓͋̋̅̔͋̚” it said, “S̵̥͚̓t̶̹͊̅̿̚ơ̶̻̫̫̥̜̘̠͐̐̐̆̅̒͆͝ͅp̵̢̛͉͇̠̲̯̙͔͙̖̩͚͍͙̽̉͊̈́̎̄̍̈́͐́͑̀̃̚̕͝.̴̧̛͕͓̞̟͉̠̳͗̄́̅͂̚͠ ̸̡̙͙̝̝̠̤̙̠̱͔̈̍̓̔̚͠S̷͍̩̫͔̭̘̣͔͕̓̓̕ț̶̨̠̝́̈͗̄̅̓̐o̶͛̇̃̓̀͑̀��̡̛͇̜̪̰̹̥̜͎p̸̣̐́̅̏͛͘͝ ̴̢̢̧̨̪̤̳̗̝̮̳̠̝̼̻̎̂̈́̈̿į̸̪̏̍͌͊̀̋͝t̸̛̟̬̯̩̳̹̱̘̯͖̗͈̟̯̳̠͂̈́̓͋̊̊̓̔͘̕ͅ!̶̨̡̢̣̮̯̺̹̘͚̤̪̞͓̱̭̱̽͋̚ ̵̢̡̢͓͙̯̠͚̦͓͉͓͍̣̣͊̊̀͐̂̃́͒͊̿͋̀͂̕ͅN̸̡̧̛͖̬̦̗̼̦͙̮̝̎̓Ö̵̭̟̦̹̓͒̓̊͑̈͋̓̂̐̊̈́̀̕̚͠͝ͅ!̴̛̼̟̺̝͇̈́̑̉̐̿́̍͒͜͠ͅͅ ̵͉̍͆͐́̔̕͠G̸̞̖̎̓̂͛̈́̀͑̊͒͌̀͘͜͝͠į̶̣͎͕͎͚͈͓̾̀̈́͐͜͜v̴͙̗̳̦̔̋̆͋̈͊è̸̡̧̡̛̗̰̪̮̜̟͙̞̠͕͂̒̅̋̄̎̄͒͌̾͋͜͜ͅ ̵̧̪̼̰̣̦̩̍̋͂̑̊͆̓̓͋̉̇͒̚͠͝ͅm̶̦̗̣̙̹͕̲̄̏̑̾̄ê̴̫̍̌̓͗̾̈́͛̀̅̎̉̎̍̄̚ ̶̢̧̖̪̫̱̹̜͕͕̺͍̝̘̍́̇̐́̃͝b̶̡͍̯̳̖̻̦̯̤̤͍̟̤̭͇͙̺̓̈̽͌̉̔͐̊̌̐̋͘͝ͅȃ̵̧̧͚͕̻̺̗͈̬͇̣̼̩̻͖̳͍͒̊̓̾̔̇̀̒̈́̚͠c̶̯̬̣̦̀̌́̒͝k̸͚̹̺͔̤̣͚̲̥͓̬̜̂͝ ̷̤̜̳̭̖͇͚̖͙͔̣̝̭͓͂͒͐͂̕͜͝m̷̼͉̦͖͎͌̀̄̿̉͌ͅy̸̨̧͓͚̤̞̭͈̪̮̜͖̺̥̳͆͂̀͆̆͊͠͠ ̵̡͍̬̹̯͔̏́̈́̾̍̇̑̑͊v̴͔̟̱̓̓̂̃o̸̡̢̟͍̟̺͕̱̪̪̹͉̖͕̊́̍͛͜i̴͖͇̋͐̐̊̒͗̓́͠c̶̨̨̭̯͍͍̘̩̝̣̅̄e̶̞̬̳̙̞̗̻̼̪̱͔̝͌̍̀̐̈́̾̒̎̈̍̅̃̓̕̕͝͠ͅͅ!̴̡̛̩̺͙̬̩̱̯͕͈̹̜̜͕̣̠̼̱̎͗̀̒̍̀”

Everyone had to be staring at him. How could they not be?

The device clicked off.

He took a shuddering breath.

A nervous laugh escaped his lips.

Finally, his voice was back in his mouth, where it was supposed to be.

He slowly dropped his hands from his ears and looked to the table’s attendant.

They were staring right at him that was for sure.

“Are you okay?” they asked as they slowly set the box down.

“Yeah, fine. It was just too loud. Like it said. Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

And he speed-walked out of there as fast as he could.

Sam and Tucker stopped him before he entered the nearest bathroom and pulled him into an empty classroom instead.

“What the heck was that?” Tucker asked.

“I don’t know. I only meant to ask if they could turn the thing down.”

“Wait, that was you?”

Danny nodded sheepishly. “Every time I tried to say something the spirit box acted up.” he sighed, “But the really weird part is it wasn’t saying what I wanted to say. At least not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

“It was like every thought I had came out instead of just the things I was planning on saying.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better it was kind of hard to understand what was being said.”

“Really?” Danny tilted his head in confusion, “What did you guys hear?”

“I only caught a few words here and there. Sounded like someone was angry and shouting but from really far away.”

“Yeah, I think I heard the words, ‘loud’ and ‘stop’. But I’m honestly not even sure that’s what it was. Or what you were saying, I guess?”

“So you’re telling me that when I told the person that the box was too loud, ‘like it said’, I sounded like a crazy person?”

Both Tucker and Sam shrugged and had matching grimaces, “Kind of?”

Danny sighed in defeat. “How many of our classmates saw it?”

“At the time? Not many.”

Danny just raised an eyebrow and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“But Wes was scrambling to record you so…” Tucker trailed off not needing to explain further.

“Well hopefully they’ll just think I’m a weirdo and this isn’t the thing that finally makes people listen to him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sam chuckled.

“Pun intended?” Danny asked with a grin feeling better already.

She groaned and slid her hand down her face, “No,” she whined knowing it was already too late.

“You should know better than to say things like that when he’s around,” Tucker teased.

Sam playfully batted him away, “Oh shut up.”

There was a click and the static returned.

Danny clapped his hands over his ears desperate to keep the sound out.

“Ņ̴̪̫͔̫̖̍̀̽̕͝͠ǫ̷̡̤͚͎̝̱̯̰͈͍̫̈́̓̑͜ͅţ̵̡̨̛̞̱̖̬̯͙̘͉̤̑̔̌̇̒̒͒̕̚͝͝ͅ ̷̨̝̻̞̖̝̙͛́͗͑̋̊̐̆̇̓̄͘̕͝͝͝͝a̷̙̭͓̗͈͕͒̐͗̀͛̎g̸̝͙̘̠̳̪̳͎͕̼̪̥̊̌̆̇̆̾̊̓̇̍̾̊͗̕͘͝͠a̸̧̢̧̻͈͖͉̝̗̩̪͈͍̎̈́̑̃̉͛͜ͅͅḯ̷̡̡̧͉̱͔̗͇͖̠͎̠͚̪̪̯̳̈́ñ̷̨̢̥̮͈̲͑̒͂͑̄́̽̕͝.̸̢̨͇̦̺̳̳̦̞̤͙͍̤̳͕͊̽̿̈́̏͝ ̶̧͓̺̟̹͈͋͊̃̆͒Ṉ̶̩̤̺̜̫̠̘̪͑̓̚͜ö̴̢͔̫̩͇̙̞́̓̃̃͆̇̔̎̀̔̓.̶̢̣͓̣̙̥̮̺̯̣̭̬̗̿͐͊̏̂̇̊͒̾̕͘̚͜͠ ̷̧̢̦̦̎̒̈́͋̄̕͘Ñ̴̠̜̱̟̋́̈̀̓͆̐͊̐̚͝Ơ̷͇̪̝͍̦̳͖͍̄̀́̊̄̕̚͠͝!̸̛͚̱͉̥̲̺̮̹̞͍̖̋̀́̕ ̵͇̙̮̥̰̰̍̍͆͂H̷̨̱̱̱̝̗̠̠̥̯̒̈̃͗͛̐̓͗̄̋̓͘͝ͅå̶̡̛̘̩̦̭̮͉̻̺̖̟͉͒́̔͠ţ̵̡̡͍̝͉͚̻̯͎̟͕̫̯͉̭͌̔͌̅̓̈́̈́̃̾é̶̮͓̤̙͙͎̎͑̍̓̀ ̴̧̢̣͈̘̠͍̙͆̍͐̔̂̋͆̋́̕̕̚̚͠ì̷̠̪̺͙̖̼͍̙̩͉̝̘̮̱̹̓̍͂̃͠͝ţ̷̲͙͖͚͎̒̅͌̄̿́͗̈́̊̕͝ ̶̳̣̞̯͈̗̪̮̌̍̏̄̈́́̈͌H̵̢̰͓͈͍̀̌͂̍̃͒̍̑́̀́͗͋̕̕͠a̵̡̤̪͈̭̙͈̬̼͛͆́͐̿́̈͗͐ͅṱ̸̨̦̟͍̜̓̆̽̌̏e̷̢̡̹̲͈̳̠̙͉̳͊̄̽̊̍́́͋̉̽̒͜!̵̛̛͔̻̞̲̠̫̤̝̱͌̽̒̀̍̏̾̚͝͝͠” the voice from the static screamed in protest.

His voice.

“Ṯ̸̤̦͔͗͂̀̃̊r̶̡̡̬͕̬͕̗̮̳̱̳̹̤̲͉̓̍̏͒̉͊̔͆͘a̸̛͉̙̭̪̲̠̪̫̱͕͚̣͚̤̋̈́͂͋͌̚̕͠ͅp̷̛͚̪̪̜̝̩͍̩̣̺̂̀͐̋̿͛̋̆̊͒͑̿̚͝͠͝.̴̧̢͕̹̥̮̳̬̞͆̏͊́̒͒̀̊͂̔̅̌́ ̴̡̳͙̯͖̋̿̆̉̒̀̏́̆̒S̸̻̩̯̖͇̜̯͙͑̒̃̌͘t̸͔̣̹̝͎̦̤̺̼̳͎͋̓͑̍̑́̆̏͋̓̏̚̚͠͠ͅo̵̱̫̺̖̐̊̑̑͝p̴̧̰͎̬̗͕̯͓͎̝̟̘̽́̄̾̎͗̽́̄̏͆̃̚͜ͅ.̷̧͎̉ ̵̧̮͚̖̩̟̠̰͕̞̝̞̻̺̙̂̅͌ͅḢ̴̯̰̮͔̥̙̠͚̳̘̻̝͎̿͒̓͆͒̀̕̚͜͜ę̷̡̛̲̗̻̺͚̇͆̄̾͊̇̈́̑̾͝͠ͅļ̵̢̧͙͍̙̱͈̹̮̣̙̈́̐ͅp̶͙̼̝͔̩͙̯̳͔̉̈̏͠͝ͅ ̸̨̟̳̯̦̤̟͈̙̹͉̟͓̹͕̖̾͆̈́̏̉͆m̷̨̫̯̗̹̰̩̈́͋̔̏͜͝ě̴̡̡̨̬̣͎̱̖͚̘͚͇͔̹̘̓̀͑̄͛̃̈́̆͌́̈͒̊͘͝.̵̡̩̮̱͕̞̹̱̫̺̦̄̌̽͒͊̌̐͆̆̎̕”

He looked up and saw none other than Wes standing in the doorway brandishing the Spirit Box like it was a weapon. Although, in this case, maybe it was.

“Wes come on, turn that stupid thing off!” Tucker said trying to swipe it from him but missing when the taller redhead just pulled it up out of reach.

“Not a chance!” he turned to look out the doorway and spoke to someone just outside, “Quick get in here! It’s already working.”

Another boy came in holding a small handheld camera and aimed it into the room, “What is this supposed to prove again?” he asked looking from Wes’s manic grin to Danny’s obvious discomfort.

“It proves that Wes has no boundaries,” Sam said standing in front of Danny so he was blocked out of the shot. “Now just put that down and go back to the Expo. I’m sure the person you stole that from is going to want it back.”

“Ľ̵̢̤̖̯̂̈́̊̈́͑͋̌͋̒̚͝ę̸̧̢̦̼̣͓̳͕̼̳͍̱̞̝̟̎a̸͖̜̗̱̻͙̻͎̲͈͕̙̫̩̼͖̓́̒̄̀̄̔̏̏̓̆̉̄̓̀v̴̛͈͉̈́́̋̇̌̈́͌̅͊̀͊͂̊͝͝ę̷̣̙̖̺̦̽̓͂̈́́̈̔͌̄̌̕̚̚͝ͅ.̷̖͖̌͛͛͛̊̅̏̿̕͜͝ ̷̧̛̻̝̬̥̙͕̩̖̫̟̻̇̅̔͛͂̓̓͝G̸̨͍̜̫͕̱͔̯͎̜̘̖̝͕̯͋̏͋͗̇̓̌̀̅͆̇̈̑̑̆̓ͅͅẻ̵̢̡̢͕̦̰͙̺̣̬͕͖̟̺͚̤̥̕t̵̞̣͔̻̤̣̓̾͐͗ ̸̢̧͓̠̗̹̻̮͓̭̱͔̰̬̒͗͐͌̃̾͜͝o̷̙̦̾͋̈̿̃̽͗̇͛̃̌̄͑̊̕̕ͅư̶̢͔͎̜̝̜̺̟̺̟̤̲̦̿̒̆͋̈̎̐̌̌͌̓͌̉͘ͅt̷̛̖͓̞̺͖̀̌̓̆̒͂̿̎̄̅͠.̸͓̻͕̹̘͓̱͕̉̚ ̴̱͕͔͓̗̘͍̣̖͍̲͚͕͉̀͗̍͘Ĝ̴̳̳͓̬̘̙͚͇͋̉̈́͊̋̊͐̄̈́̓̕͘͜͜͠͠ȯ̸̡̢̝͔͔̘̘̻͐̎̾͋̆̀̽̔̓̽͘̚͝ ̶͓̥̳̬̣̦͓̳̖̗͈̭̪͈̔͛ͅâ̵̛̛͈̼̪̫̩͙̳͎̍̑̌̓̑̈́̈̀̈́̀̚͘͝w̵̡̛̫̮̯͙̥̤͈̲̰̿̆̎͂ä̷̗͓͛͋y̷̢̡͍̞̤̱̦̤̙̮̱̥̬̟͉͑̏̀̏͊̾̑̓̄̑̚̚͝.̸̢͍̤̱̻͖̲̟̞̪̹͌̈͛̅́”

“Oh please, Manson. Just get out of the way so I can finally have the proof I need.” Wes argued as he clutched onto the spirit box protectively.

“Come on Wes, let’s just go. I think there’s enough here.” the other boy said as he flipped the small view screen closed to stop the recording.

“What?” Wes turned to his unwilling accomplice.

Taking the chance Sam snatched the box and turned it off.

“Alright, shows over.” Tucker placed a hand on both boys and pushed them out of the room.

Danny sighed. “Today was supposed to be fun. Why can’t I just have a fun day?”

Sam patted him on the shoulder, “Sorry buddy. No such luck.”

===============================================

Zalgo/corrupted text translations: “Loud. Too loud. Hate it. Hate it. Loud!” “No.” it said, “Stop. Stop it! NO! Give me back my voice!” “Not again. No. NO! Hate it Hate!” “Trap. Stop. Help me.” “Leave. Get out. Go away.”

#phic phight #phic phight 21 #Danny Phantom #ectorecs #zalgo text

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unholyobsessions · 4 years ago

Text

snapped in two (it’s actually a torus fracture)

Description: Luke did not expect to be awoken on a Saturday morning because his girlfriend's little brother broke his arm, but that's what happens and he doesn't hesitate to help him.

Requested: Yes

a/n: don’t know if i actually fullfilled the request but i like this (also posted on ao3 under unholy_obsessions)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

Luke’s phone is ringing. He grumbles at the loud noise that wakes him from his afternoon nap and rolls out of his unmade bed. He’s confused on who would be calling because Julie is camping with Flynn and has no service, Alex is on a date with Willie, Bobby has the morning shift at the record store, and Reggie refuses to wake up before three pm on Saturdays.

For a minute he considers not answering the phone, thinking it will most likely be a spam call that will leave him in a sour mood for the rest of the day but he eventually decides against it and walks to the other side of the room where his phone is charging on his shelf.

He doesn’t recognize the number but it’s an LA area code so he swiftly slides his thumb over the screen and presses the device to his ear.

“Hello?” He grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“Mr. Patterson? This is Henry, I coach Carlos’ baseball team.” That wakes him up. Luke’s posture straightens and his eyes narrow in confusion. Why is his girlfriend’s little brother’s coach calling him? As if the man could read his mind, he continues to speak. “I’m calling because it seems like Carlos has had an accident and he insisted that I call you.”

Luke doesn’t even have to think before answering. “I’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone, shoves his feet into his sneakers, snatches his keys and runs out the door. He doesn’t even bother to turn on the car’s air conditioning before he backs out of the driveway and speeds all the way to the baseball field where he knows Carlos always has his games, which is thankfully not far from his home.

Parking the car haphazardly in the first available space he sees, he rushes to the fence, having to stop the urge from jumping over it before getting to the open gate. He freezes when he sees Carlos sitting on the bench with various teammates surrounding him and silent tears streaming down his face. He is holding his arm and Luke can only guess that it’s probably broken, considering the pain clearly displayed in his eyes.

Luke approaches cautiously, making eye contact with the coach and laying a hand on Carlos’ shoulder. “Hey little man,” Carlos takes one look at him and buries his head in Luke’s chest and Luke doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around him. Coach Henry gets his attention, asking if he should call an ambulance. Luke grimaces, knowing that the team will in no way cover the expenses of having the ambulance travel to the field and it will be much faster to just take Carlos himself. Luke tells the coach as such and helps Carlos stand up, basically carrying him to his car, that once he sees, notices just how awful his parking skills are.

Not wanting to waste any time, he opens Carlos’ door and rushes to the driver’s side, starting the car and pulling out before even putting his seatbelt on. The ride to the hospital is silent, the only noise being Carlos’ quiet sniffles of pain. Luke grimaces at the sound, wishing that he could be of more comfort to the boy. The silence however gives him time to think. Why did Carlos call him? Sure he has known him since the kid was eight, having known Julie since eighth grade and dating her since sophomore year, but he has never been the person people call when they’re in need of help. He loves Carlos as his own brother and would quite literally put his life down for him but he didn’t think the kid though that much of him.

He also kicks himself because he always makes an effort to go to Carlos’ games, especially when Ray can’t. But then again, he always goes with Julie and she wasn’t home to tell him about it.

At a red light a block away from the hospital, Luke spares a glance at Carlos, who is staring out the window and taking long, deep breaths. He’s about to say something but the light turns green and he turns back on the road before accelerating, flipping his turn signal on and pulling into the parking lot.

He guides Carlos into the building with a hand on his shoulder and he is thankful that the pediatrics ward is mostly empty, meaning that it won’t take long to get them checked in.

After about fifteen minutes of sitting in the waiting room, Luke having filled in all the forms, not even having to ask Carlos for the information, they call them in. It takes about two hours of looking Carlos over, performing an x-ray and getting his arm in a cast after determining that it is indeed broken. In that time, Luke has called Ray who said he would be back immediately. Luke reassured him that it was fine and that he didn’t mind staying with Carlos for the rest of the weekend. After getting a very reluctant Ray to finish his photography conference, Luke signed the discharge papers, picked up the prescription pain killers, and took Carlos home.

The car ride back is much less stressful, with Carlos dozing off in the passenger seat and Luke turning on the radio to play some soft music. He keeps glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, trying his best to decipher how the kid is feeling.

Once the car is parked in front of the Molina household, Carlos is suddenly hit with a burst of energy as he runs inside and immediately dials his best friend’s phone number.

Luke rushes after him but is not fast enough because he has to get the stuff from the car. He walks through the door and catches the end of Carlos’ sentence.

“Yeah dude broken. Like snapped in two,” he says it way more excited than someone with a broken arm should be.

“It’s not snapped in two, you have a Torus fracture.” Luke mumbles with a roll of his eyes and a fond smile on his lips. Carlos obviously ignores him and goes on to tell his friend that he can sign his cast on Monday.

After hanging up, Luke guided Carlos to the kitchen where Ray had told him there were left overs in the fridge for them to eat. Carlos eyes the spaghetti in the tupperware and Luke has a feeling that this is not the first time that he has had spaghetti this week. Placing the lid back on top of the container, Luke turns to Carlos ready to negotiate.

“Tell you what, we’ll order pizza if you don’t tell your dad.” Carlos grinned and nodded his head, running out of the kitchen to bring the phone to Luke.

. . .

“You know when I first started dating Julie I thought you didn’t like me,” Luke states, glancing down at the boy pressed against him on the couch. After stuffing themselves with way too much pizza, Luke and Carlos retired to the living room to watch whatever movie was playing on cable.

“Huh?” Carlos questions, narrowing his eyes in confusion, the movie playing on the tv fully forgotten now. “Why would you think that?”

Luke shrugs. “You didn’t talk much and you always preferred to hang out with Reggie when we all came over.” He tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting Carlos to think that he is jealous (he used to be, not anymore).

“I did like you, I actually really look up to you.” Carlos turns back to the TV, letting his eyes rake over the action sequence.

Now it is Luke’s turn to be confused. “Really?”

“Yeah I mean, you’re so cool! You play guitar, everyone likes you, and you make Julie happy.”

“Then why…” he trails off.

“You were always making music, locked yourselves in the studio. I didn’t want to be a bother.” Carlos’ voice turns sad, and Luke shifts in order to be able to look at him properly.

“You’re never a bother Carlos. You could have joined us and learned a thing or two.” Carlos picks on the edges of his cast, avoiding eye contact.

“Music was always mom and Julie’s thing and she always said she would teach me one day, but then,” Carlos stops and takes a deep breath. “And I couldn’t ask Julie and then she joined the band so it felt like I would be intruding, somehow.”

Luke thinks back to all the times Carlos has stayed during soundcheck for their shows, completely fascinated by them. He always thought he was looking on with pride at his sister, but now he understands that it was much more than that. He felt left out, Julie played music to connect with her mom, in order to feel her watching over. Carlos couldn’t share that connection.

“I could teach you,” Luke says after a second. Carlos’ head snaps up, eyes disbelieving.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m not really an expert on the piano but I can teach you how to play guitar.” Carlos’ eyes lit up with something Luke couldn’t quite describe. In a flurry of movement, Carlos throws himself on top of Luke, who is quick to reach out and avoid falling off and further injuring the young boy.

“Thank you,” Carlos whispers.

After a few minutes of hugging, Luke stands up and pulls a notebook out of his backpack. It looks old, with pages falling off the seams and others taped together from loose sheets of paper. It was his first music journal that he carries everywhere even though he has no purpose for it, already knowing all of the cords scribbled down like the back of his hand. He hands it to Carlos who eyes it warily.

“Well, I can’t teach you how to play right now so while you are recovering you can learn the cords, proper placement, all that jazz. And once you get that cast off I’ll teach you how to play,” Luke gestured down and Carlos hesitantly opened the notebook and started examining the pages.

“You really do have horrible handwriting,” he comments. Luke gapes at him for a second then starts laughing, pushing his shoulder. Carlos smiles then starts laughing as well and then they both laugh for about twenty minutes, forgetting what actually caused them to laugh in the first place.

#luke patterson #carlos molina #julie molina #Julie and Luke #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #luke patterson fic #luke patterson fanfiction #jatp fanfic #jatp #jatp fanfiction #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones

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cerastes · 4 years ago

Note

Okay dreamer, since you seem to be the local expert on v-tubers, here's a question for you that came up in my chat today. What does shipping V-Tubers avatars count as? Is it real people? Is it fictional characters? Some nebulous realm between them? From my understanding I get that V-tubers are somewhat like, idol characters that play an exaggerated part but are obviously to a degree still the actors streaming. But they have invented backstories and what not? Truly, the idols of the new era...

Ok this is aiming a rifle at the elephant in the room, but I’m glad we got it in our iron sights because I myself have had thoughts about this. I’m going to preface all of this by saying that this is my opinion and how I see things.

Basically, it’s a very nebulous area where you have to proceed on a case to case basis, if you ask me, because it’s shipping real people, which normally makes me uncomfortable, but when it comes to vtubers, not really because they tend to be ok with it. Allow me to elaborate: It’s less that vtubers are characters or exaggerated “personas” as much as they are, simply enough, paper dolls that serve as faces for what very much amount to otherwise regular streamers. Vtubers tend to have backstories, but these are often simply character settings that the streamers use for quick jokes when interacting with a new streamer for the first time in a collab and are otherwise at complete liberty of ignoring it altogether. For example, Tsukino Mito (Nijisanji 1st Gen) is supposed to be a very diligent, prim and proper Student Council President. Mito is, in practice, a really funny and spontaneous streamer who once said “man, if your friend shits their pants in class, then you go and shit your own damn pants, too, you gotta shoulder that together, that builds attitude, it’s what friends are supposed to do”, once regaled us with her fascination with the movie “The Human Centipede”, and makes thumbnails like this:

Usada Pekora (Hololive 3rd Gen) is a similar example: Her backstory is that she’s a very shy and pure bunny girl from a magical land called Pekoland. In practice, Pekora is known among vtubers and fans alike for being an explosive brute that loves to prank others and tends to be very crass and loud, often screaming “ORA TEME, KUSOGAKI DA!” (roughly and in essence “Take that, you bastard, you shitty brat!”) and the like when playing games with others and mocking them when she gets the upper hand.

So, basically, the backstories of Vtubers are just a little flavor that otherwise has a minimal impact in anything. In fact, the entirety of Pekora’s generation, the Hololive 3rd Generation, also known as Hololive Fantasy, is themed after Fantasy elements: Bunnygirl Pekora, Half-elf Flare, Pirate Marine, Necromancer Rushia, and Knight Noel, but fans just affectionately call them “Cosplay Girls”, as in, just five girls who are cosplaying different fantasy characters, because, well, they are just streamers in the end and the Fantasy aspect plays so little into everything that it’s more like an afterthought after all.

So! Where does that lead regarding your question? Well, basically, Vtubers are pretty much themselves, end of the day, not a made up character. Some vtubers play up some aspects of themselves as part of a character they want to show to fans for the sake of entertainment, but for the most part, let’s say a vtuber is 15-20% acting and 80-85% the real person behind the character. The relational part of the vtuber is always real: It’s hard to collab with someone you don’t like or mesh with and put out a good, fun product, let alone have fun yourself; this is particularly important because an unwritten rule for vtubers and just streamers in general is that they have to have fun for real and be with people they actually like, because otherwise this results in a worse product the fans won’t enjoy and that the streamers themselves won’t enjoy, so everyone loses.

Now, finally, with that to contextualize, shipping vtubers: As I said, you are very much shipping real people when you ship vtubers, but this is a bit different than the usual “shipping two actors”, for example: Vtubers are part of the lifestyle. They tend to be nerds, otaku, gamers, etc, they pretty much are the demographic they target, so in general, they don’t mind. Of course, a lot of the ships in the vtuber hole happen because of interactions between the vtubers, not just out of nowhere as with a lot of fiction, so there’s precedent, so to speak, and as long as you’re respectful and aren’t a weirdo about it, it’s seen as fine. Now, what do I when I say “they are ok with it”? Well, for example, Shirogane Noel (Hololive 3rd Gen) has made it absolutely clear, explicit, and obvious she’s in love with Shiranui Flare (Hololive 3rd Gen), who reciprocates. Clear as in “I buy clothes I think Flare will look hot in whenever she comes sleep over” and “I want Flare to move in with me”. So, like, in this case? Yeah it’s fine because, y’know, they more or less are an item. On the Nijisanji end of things, to diversify, there’s Mirei Gundou (Nijisanji After) and Kanda Shoichi (Nijisanji SEEDs) are very very close friends, to the point that fans and even other Nijisanji vtubers ship them (Hoshikawa Sara and Shiina Yuika openly say they love them together because they give a real couple feel), jokes they are completely ok with. Yashiro Kizuku (Nijisanji SEEDs) and Dola (Nijisanji SEEDs) are often jokingly shipped together because they are part of a quartet that pretends to be a family for collabs (as the father and mother respectively) and because other members note that they feel like a married couple (they are not actually dating but they are good friends of the same age and very casual with each other), and they are cool with that. Last example I’ll give (because there’s MANY) is perhaps the most famous example, Inugami Korone (Hololive Gamers) and Nekomata Okayu (Hololive Gamers), who have been friends from well before they were in Hololive, and who have a pretty physical relationship that they don’t mind sharing with the world, are also ok with this and Korone even encourages people to ship them.

SO! Basically, you are indeed shipping people, which normally would be suspect, but, they all tend to be ok with this, so this is an exceptional case. As long as no one is weird about it, they are pretty much fine with it, and again, they are part of the lifestyle, so many times in stream it has happened that, for example, Marine said to Inuyama Tamaki (independent) that she found a cool doujin that ships them together, and that she’s gonna send her the link after the stream, to which Tamaki just had a laugh and said “aight don’t forget to send the link”, they tend to take it with humor.

I hope that answers your question!

#vanquishedvaliant #apologies for the WALL OF TEXT but since it's real people we're dealing with here I wanted to be as nuances as possible with the context

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dex-xe · 4 years ago

Note

How would u explain what is a airplane is to ghosts older than Fanny?

Okay this is a great question and something I (as a history student) think about a lot,, not specifically about Ghosts but I genuinely think about the backwards construction of history a hell of a lot!!

Here we go, Max overanalysing a sitcom again cause of course they are,, when is he fucking not lets be honest??

So, explaining mechanical things to people through history is incredibly difficult.

The Wright Brothers flew in 1903 but commercial flight wasn’t common until the 1950s and not available to the masses until a little later. The first ghost to have flown would have been Pat (who definitely went to the Costa del Sol with his family a few times, and him and Daley got way too into the MiniDisco - idk if they had MiniDisco in the 80s but as a true working class 2000s kid they were the highlight of my year!!) and then obviously Julian would’ve jetted off to god only knows where every week.

The Captain probably wouldn’t have flown, and Fanny definitely didn’t so yeah. They would’ve known about flight (Fanny not very much, the Captain very much more so) but not have flown.

The Montgolfier Brothers flew the first manned hot air balloon in 1793 which means Thomas would definitely have known about that, and perhaps Kitty as well (cause we don’t know when she died). Anyone before that would have no idea about flight.

So after that brief introduction to the history of flight, how would I explain it?? (Bear in mind that Im not an engineer, I do not understand science, I have no fucking idea how planes work but fuck it lets talkabout planes.

I’d start with a paper airplane, fold it up and throw it. See how it flies. Air goes under the wings and keeps it in the air (that’s how I think planes work, I genuinely have no fucking idea???). I’d then show the ghosts photos of the Wright Brothers plane and be like look how this is like the paper plane, its the same idea.

Then I’d show a commercial plane and explain that air goes throw the turbines of the engines and then under the wings to make it go faster and also higher. You see this is where it gets difficult because I’d also have to explain how a jet engine works and the idea of fuel, kerosene, etc which is slightly more difficult - not just because they’re more complicated concepts to understand but also because I don’t really understand it myself.

That’s how I’d explain it which is kinda my answer to your question but I wanna make two more points. 1) How the ghosts would come to understand what I’m saying etc and 2) what it means for the concept of Ghosts and who they are as people.

So Pat and Julian we’ve discussed are fine with it. Then the Captain would understand very quickly, he’s obviously clever, got a scientific-ish mind (as shown by his work in Operation William), and obviously he would’ve known about planes already in the context of the war.

Fanny woud also catch on very quickly as well. She’s clearly very very clever and would pick up on it super quickly and then become a bit of an expert trying to explain it to the others. She’s also shown great willingness to develop from her preconceived time set notions (read her growth away from homophobia, difficult at first but then she came around).

Thomas however I don’t think would get it very quickly. He doesn’t seem to comprehend modern notions so quickly, he’s also a self-proclaimed creative who’s mind probably doesn’t meld with scientific concepts that well.

Kitty wouldn’t entirely understand but she’d become very excited about the concept of flying and talk about how fun it would be. Mary, however, big up Mary - she’d get it. She clearly has a great interest in the technical future etc (read her asking Pat to explain the film process to her, and then becoming an expert in the art very quickly) She’d have her own unique way of explaining it like the camera equipment but she would get it - aviator extrodinare!!

Humphrey wouldn’t really understand at first but he’d figure it out, smart boy. As for robin we all know he’d be invested in theories of ch*mtrails already so boy he knows how a plane works but also definitely in no way understands at all XD

Finally, I think ideas such as this are really indicative of how difficult it must be to be a ghost and watch the world pass you by. At least I, who has absolutely no idea how a plane works, has some kind of knowledge about the concept of flying but imagine being thrown into a world you know nothing about. It’s kinda like being an alien, you know. All this tech and ideas and societal stuff that just don’t make sense but everyone around you understands. Must be scary you know.

Anyway, that’s my over analysis so yeah enjoy my slightly deranged ramblings!! Thank ya for the ask (the mutuals are gonna love this one, love yall)

#max's ghost post #bbc ghosts

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relatablegenzwriter · 5 years ago

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30-Day Writing Challenge (for novelists)

this challenge is intended for novel writers who have had a strong novel idea for a while and know their story fairly well, or who have already made a little progress on a novel, and are stuck on it. i’m not an expert so i don’t know how much this is actually going to help you get out of that rut, but the hope is that you’ll spend a month immersing yourself in the world of your story and you’ll get some motivation out of it. i’d suggest taking about 30 minutes (at least) to do each activity, and to do everything completely distraction-free, with your phone in another room and your computer on do not disturb (if you’re writing on a computer). enjoy you nerds.

1. Write out your entire plot, even if you’ve already done it. This will re-familiarize you with your project.

2. Get the basic information on your main character. Write their backstory up until the point where your novel begins, make note of characteristics, and get their basic appearance down. Got multiple main characters? Great! You get to write more. (That’s what you get.) For all characters, make sure you know:

your character’s wants

your character’s values

at least five character flaws

the role your character will play in the story

how you want them to change over the course of the story

optional but recommended: cultural aspects like race or religion, which will help you develop their background and values a lot better.

3. Do some basic worldbuilding: what year is this novel set? Country? Planet? What are some traditions or norms? Is there magic or new technology? What’s up with the government? If your novel is set in our current world, work out the specifics of the characters’ neighborhood, home, city, etc.

4. Without allowing yourself to see any previous versions that may exist, write the opening scene.

5. Do what you did on day 2, except for your antagonist. No clear-cut antagonist? Pick whoever’s closest, or do the prompts for a supporting or minor character.

6. Research day: go through what you’ve already written and highlight everything you wanted to look up later, then spend some time researching it. You’ll probably find out more things that you’ll want to add to the plot.

7. Character day: you’ll have four of these, so divide up your characters accordingly. Do some of the character work you did for your main and antagonist for however many . You can go into less detail if they’re less important, but make sure you still know the six main points that you got to know about the more featured characters.

8. Pick a few parts of your worldbuilding exercise that you want to go more in-depth into (i.e. political systems, technology, cultural traditions) and spend about thirty minutes writing, brainstorming, and researching things to flesh them out. There will be three worldbuilding days, so make sure to save some material for the others!

9. Look through the plot you wrote out and see if you can find any plotholes, concepts you want to flesh out more, or parts that are unclear or missing. Really take some time to understand what the problems are, and come up with some possible solutions. It’s great if you figure out what you want to do, but if you don’t, that’s fine! You still made progress.

10. Without allowing yourself to see any previous versions that may exist, write the ending scene. Spoiler alert: this is going to be really hard. You can try writing a couple contenders, or even outlining a scene if you’re not quite sure where to go. Don’t worry about trying to make it pretty, because it’s not gonna be pretty: you don’t have all the details that you would if you were writing in chronological order.

11. Character day

12. Write your favorite scene. If you have a strong story idea in your head, you most likely know the one: you daydream about it when you wish you were doing something else, it plays like a movie in your head, it’s probably located somewhere around the middle of the book, and you probably haven’t let yourself write it because you “haven’t gotten there yet”. Today’s the day. Go nuts.

13. Rewrite the opening scene from a different character’s perspective. I know this sounds really cliche, but even if it doesn’t give you more insight on the story, it’s fun to do.

14. Worldbuilding day

15. Research day: research new stuff that you hadn’t written last time, plus anything over from the first research day. Not sure what to research? Characters’ cultures, the history of your setting (if in our world), famous fictional worlds, language development… if you sit and think for a little, you’ll figure out something you want to know.

16. Pick a few of your favorite character relationships: romantic, platonic, familial, whatever you want, and spend some time sketching them out. Think about their arcs, how they met (if they’re not related), what they think about each other, how they interact… basically anything you want, as long as you come away knowing more about the relationships between your characters. Also, please make only half (or less) of these romantic! It’s super important to develop the other relationships in the story.

17. Pick up from where you left off in your opening scene and write the next scene. Again, don’t look at any previously existing drafts.

18. Character day

19. Emotion break! Make a list of everything you don’t like about your book. Get all your insecurities out onto the paper, then refute everything you don’t like. If it’s specifics like “I don’t like that x happens”, figure out how to make x not happen. If it’s general doubts like “This has been done before and I’m unoriginal,” refute that too! Everyone doubts their work all the time and I can guarantee that we are all more critical of our own work than others will be. Finish today’s unconventional activity off by writing a list of everything you love about your book.

20. Pick any scene you’ve written for this book, whether it be from this challenge or something you had before, and rewrite it in some form of AU. Change the genre, time period, location, context… you are a god.

21. Worldbuilding day

22. You know those books that are stories told entirely in poems? You heard me. (Start anywhere you want to, write at least five or however many you can get done in 30 minutes. No one will ever read them, so don’t complain that you’re not a poet.)

23. Find a list of dialogue prompts and pick a few to do with your characters. Want a challenge? Choose two characters at random. (I mean using a generator or drawing names out of a hat. COMPLETELY random.)

24. Pick up from day 16 and write the next scene.

25. Last character day :(

26. Write, or at least, begin, a very short story in your world. Try to include no characters from your actual story. If your novel takes place in our world, focus in on the characters’ neighborhood, time period, workplace, school, etc. This exercise will help you get to know your world through a different perspective. Don’t stress too much about this! It doesn’t have to be very long or even to be finished.

27. Fun day! Pick three of these activities to do with your novel:

Make a playlist about the novel as a whole, or make some character playlists

Design the cover

Cast actors in the film/TV version

Draw: character portraits, scenes, maps, landscapes…

Put together a moodboard for the novel or a character

Write that completely unrealistic scene you love so much but can’t put in the novel for plot reasons

Make memes about your characters

Sit and daydream for a solid 10 minutes about the Vibe of the novel

Anything that falls into a similar category

This is a callout activity for all you ””””””””writers”””””””” who spend more time daydreaming about novel ideas than actually writing. (this is 100% a joke because this is 100% me)

28. Rewrite your opening scene from a different narrator. If you wrote in first person, use third. If you wrote in third, use first. You can also mess with second person if you feel like you have an artist superiority complex and aren’t like other girls.

29. Pick your favorite activity from so far and do it again.

30. List everything that you need to do before you can jump right into the first draft. Then do it.

#writing #writers #writing tips #writing prompts #writing challenge #imma do this too yall #hopefully it actually works oops #my advice posts

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

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the dragon’s appearance - veninder chap. 4

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: somewhat crack, a little angst, fluff (FLUFF in caps); eventual best friends to lovers

word count: 7.1k

warnings: slight language

a/n: i’m back on my bullshit and also making y/n’s background way more specific than it has to be but it's about the ~storybuilding~. also i am running out of lyrics to summarise the chapters with :(( recycling?

hun er gal, hun er syg, den pige - that girl’s crazy, she’s sick

mingi didn’t even need to ask who this was, the way she spoke up telling him all he needed to know. and if there had been any doubt, feeling you tense up next to him immediately after hearing her voice was confirmation that it was one of the girls that had dared to call themselves your friends despite how they treated you. he was, in all honesty, fuming at her audacity, but this wasn’t about him, it was about you and resolving the situation as quickly and easily as possible. so instead of giving in to his emotions he replied, voice raised just enough to guarantee the professor would hear him: “oh i’m so sorry, i didn’t know there was fixed seating! i just don’t know anyone but y/n, so i thought it’d be okay, sorry again!”

now it was the girl’s turn to fume, and even though you still refused to look up from your papers you could imagine how the steam was shooting out of her ears when the professor told him that it was okay, that seating was free and that he could stay right where he was. she left, sending him a look that could kill, but he didn’t care. this wasn’t his issue - he’d be able to deal with whatever she’d have planned for him. he was just worried about you, because even though she’d left to sit at the other end of the class by now you were still tense, staring at your desk as if you weren’t even really there. the redhead placed a hand on your knee, squeezing gently to comfort you and let you know he was there, that you’d be okay as long as he was there, but before he could say some reassuring words the professor started speaking, and he knew he had to be on his best behaviour because he wasn’t actually enrolled in this class. so he just squeezed again before listening intently to whatever was going on right now. he didn’t actually understand much, but when he saw that you still seemed so taken aback that you didn’t even seem to have realised that class already started he began writing down every single word the professor said, sometimes having to guess just what exactly the word was when it was some scientific term, but trying his best.

it took you a little while to snap out of the state of shock your ex-friend had caused you, and when you did you realised you had no idea what was even going on. your eyes turned to mingi, who was taking notes as if his life depended on it, and who, when he noticed you’d returned to the here and now, moved his arm slightly so you could see what he’d written down and hopefully catch up enough with the topic to participate from now on. your eyes widened when you realised he’d taken your notes for you and was still doing so right now until he could be sure you’d actually be able to decently concentrate, and now it was you who squeezed his knee, an act of thankfulness, before you shuffled a little closer to get at least a rough overview of the topic of this class.

his notes were taken meticulously; you were certain he’d written down every single word the professor said simply because he couldn’t tell whether or not something was important or not. and these notes managed to get you back on track after maybe a minute or two of reading through them and listening to what was going on right now, and another minute later you were able to be your usual, question-filled self. mingi still didn’t exactly understand much of what you were discussing, but he felt like you had a much more straightforward way to talk about concepts, which didn’t make your points any less valid, though. you weren’t dumbing down anything, you just left out the unnecessarily elitist terms that he knew were so common in academia, so even he felt like he got a rough grasp of what was going on. it didn’t take much to see that you were a teacher’s favourite, and rightfully so - you brought up a lot of concerns, different points of view on what had just been talked about, and even to him, someone that had no idea about the topic, it was clear that you had a very diverse way of looking at the problem or topic and actually thought a lot about what you learned rather than just learning it by heart to pass the course. you seemed excited, interested, fully immersed in the topic, and it was through these discussions that he found out that you spoke at least three languages well enough to offer a different perspective on sociolinguistics based on their cultures and how the cultural norms found realisation in the respective language. he wasn’t sure if this was the average for this course, though, and he was the only odd one out, or if you were actually extraordinarily skilled in the language department. though it didn’t matter much to him, because either way he felt like you were a genius and he was a mere peasant watching two experts talk. not that he minded - this wasn’t his major, so of course he wouldn’t be able to engage in the same kinds of discussions as students who’d studied this for roughly a year already. he was just very impressed.

before you knew it (and before he knew it, which was maybe more surprising) class was over, and the redhead gave you the notes he’d taken for you earlier since he wouldn’t need them anyway.

“thank you so much for that”, you told him, smiling shyly because you were still kind of embarrassed that he’d had to take notes for you.

“i just hope they help” was all he replied, because it wasn’t a big deal to him at all. when you packed your things he noticed that the girl from earlier was staring at you, and to prevent you from looking around to see if she was he put his arm around you, guiding you out of the classroom like that while distracting you by asking just how many languages you even spoke.

“depends on how you see it?” not the reply he’d expected - you could speak a language but not speak it by matter of definition? it was probably a language major thing.

“give me the biggest number you can with a definition that makes you happy”, he told you, because he wanted to be impressed. not that three languages wasn’t already impressive, but you’d made it sound like there was more, and he was curious to find out more about that.

“if we count just being conversational, and we also count classical languages… like, eight? though my parents are immigrants so that doesn’t really count, because two of those eight i didn’t really have to learn, we speak them at home. three, actually, now that i think about it. i was the only kid in first grade that barely even spoke korean.” you laughed at the memory, but mingi looked at you wide-eyed.

“which ones do you speak?”

“finnish and swedish from home - my father is finnish, we moved here because he got a job at the embassy. and my mother is finnish as well, but with swedish as her first language, and she made it a hobby to annoy my father by speaking swedish with me when she was plotting something. then english, korean, i took japanese in high school but i think everyone did? some classical chinese because there was no way i’d be able to figure out hanja without that, latin from my mother because she thought it was important for whatever reason, and german just for fun. how about you?” and even though he was a little embarrassed about his in comparison depressingly low amount of languages spoken he told you, because you seemed excited to know, because he could tell languages were a big passion of yours.

“korean, obviously, and english, and i took some chinese in high school but wasn’t the best, so i’m pretty sure i forgot most of it.”

“is there any you’d really like to learn?”

he furrowed his brows at that question. was there? it wasn’t something he’d thought about, and now he was desperately searching his brain for any language he’d ever been interested in even when it wasn’t mandatory. you noticed his expression, though, and chuckled a little.

“it’s fine if there isn’t, you don’t have to make one up.”

“sorry. how about you?”

“there’s too many”, you laughed, “i’d learn all of them if i could, and i’m trying my best to actually at least start with that. but if i have to pick just one… maybe russian? or arabic? i’ve been interested in french, too. and spanish. this is too hard!” you were whining, unable to pick just one, and mingi thought it was adorable. he was grinning like some kind of idiot because he’d managed to distract you, to seemingly entirely remove the fear from your mind at least for now. you were either smiling or pouting, your eyes wide and excited, and he felt like he’d gotten to know you a lot better just through this conversation already.

when you arrived at the table the other boys were already sitting at for lunch you were still talking about languages, rambling on about your childhood and how weird it was to realise that on top of the three languages you were already frequently speaking with your parents there was a whole other language that everyone else spoke and that, while you could understand it, you had no idea how to speak. he was just listening, sometimes humming in acknowledgment, sometimes commenting or asking about a story, but mainly happy to hear about your experiences, and you were so immersed in the conversation that you didn’t want to stop, because he actually seemed to care about what you were saying.

“hey!” was the only acknowledgment anyone that wasn’t mingi got before you resumed your story.

“when they taught us about hanja, i thought i was going to die. hangeul was already so hard to write because everything is so small and then the new characters were even smaller!” the boy nodded in either acknowledgment or agreement, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter all too much to you, anyway.

“how is hangeul small?”, jongho asked; your comment had apparently piqued his interest.

“you put so many sounds into where a single letter goes in latin script!” you sounded so exasperated, but the others didn’t have the context of you not having grown up with korean as your first language yet, so they didn’t understand where the problem was. to them, hangeul was the regular character size and it seemed like it didn’t even occur to them that it might have caused problems for you.

“she speaks eight languages!”, the giant next to you offered as an explanation, and while it didn’t exactly clear up your distress about the korean script it did make it a little more understandable, considering how most languages (that they knew of) did offer a little more space for their sounds or letters.

“my mother read to me in swedish, and my parents taught me how to read and write swedish and finnish before i ever even realised that there’s more than one alphabet”, you clarified further, and now it seemed like a lightbulb had been lit above the boys’ heads.

“you’re not korean?”

“technically i am? i have dual citizenship. but my parents aren’t born here, if that’s what you meant.” the faces around you all bore the same expression of surprise at the information they just got, six ‘o’ shaped mouths and six pairs of wide eyes looking at you.

“say something funny!”

“jokin hassu. or något roligt, in swedish.” their eyes got even wider and san asked you what you’d just said.

“something funny?”

“yeah, but what does it mean?” it seemed like he was impatient, not realising that ‘something funny’ was in fact the translation of what you’d said.

“it means ‘something funny’. that’s the translation”, you grinned. “i didn’t know what else to say, so i just translated it.”

now oohs and aahs could be heard from around you, and they soon gave you sentence after sentence to translate, watching you as if you were an interactive tv programme.

seonghwa put an end to the fun when he reminded them that you hadn’t even started eating yet, and everyone started apologising immediately, but you just waved it off. it was nice to get to speak the languages you grew up with again, because you certainly didn’t do so with your parents, with whom you barely had any contact anymore at all. but now you should probably eat, if the growl in your stomach was a sign to go by - you could always do this again later.

“how was class?”, hongjoong asked with a slight hint of worry in his voice while you were eating, but he was surprised when you smiled at him without even the slightest hint of any negative emotion.

“it was good! though mingi really saved my butt.” you sounded a little embarrassed, and reasonably so - everyone was once more looking at you wide-eyed.

“you went to class with her?” it seemed like it was impossible for wooyoung to control his volume when he was excited or surprised, so he was near yelling the question at mingi, who by now seemed equally embarrassed as you.

“yeah. it was kinda fun, actually.” now the number of surprised eyes staring at him increased by another pair, because you hadn’t expected him to actually like your class when he didn’t even understand the topic.

“she’s a teachers’ favourite”, he then informed the others teasingly, and you playfully hit his arm.

“i’m not!” you genuinely didn’t think you were. you just asked questions when you wanted an elaboration, and participated in discussions when the professor started them. but you weren’t trying to make the teacher like you by acting a certain way; you were just genuinely interested in the topic, and it was hard for you to shut up when you got so invested in something.

“she is”, the redhead said in an exaggeratedly conspiratorial way, “and she’s a genius, too.”

now you yelped out his name - you didn’t like it when people praised you like this, because you didn’t feel like you deserved it and because it made you a little uncomfortable, made you feel like you were now expected to live up to the impression others had of you even when you couldn’t. but those feelings quickly subsided at his next words, being replaced with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“do you think you could teach me the basics so i could take that class as extra credits?”

“you’re joking.” you absolutely would not believe that he meant it, no way. he had no reason to mean it. sitting in a class where he didn’t have any idea about what’s going on while you all but ignored him in order to talk with the professor couldn’t possibly have been nice enough for him to want to do that weekly.

“it’s your choice, obviously, but i think it’d be fun.” a smile accompanied his words, a smile that wiped out any doubt you’d had.

“i can try? no promises that i’m a good teacher, though.” and while you appreciated the bright grin you got in response the boy appreciated his friends’ reactions a lot less.

he felt his phone buzz and saw it was a message in their private group chat, from yunho.

[saint bernard]: someones WHIPPED

and everyone was quick to agree, which awakened the carnal urge to commit a crime in mingi, a crime that would reduce the amount of people in ‘hyung hate club’ to him and you only. he stopped himself before any blood was flowing, though, both because crimes are illegal and because he didn’t want you to witness that. but no promises could be made for when they were home alone, no one there to witness and frame him.

“put your phones away, it’s rude”, he ordered in a desperate attempt to get them to stop grinning at each other the way they were now before you’d notice anything, and because his attempt was a success he considered maybe leaving them alive. maybe.

the rest of lunch break was spent joking around and teasing each other, and ended with mingi asking you to text him the room where you’d have your last class so he could pick you up. and even though you were still anxious about being in class by yourself, with the people that obviously wanted to ruin your life, the fact that your first class had gone so well reassured you a little, making you feel like maybe it’d be okay for the rest of the day as well.

and it was, surprisingly. you were shot angry glares and had insults whispered at you in passing, but nothing bigger than that happened, maybe owed to mingi’s obvious protective attitude earlier. while they knew they’d easily be able to take on you, the giant was a whole other question. he hadn’t seemed intimidated at all, calm and collected, so they couldn’t even turn his reaction around on him. and the new situation required a new approach, which meant that they’d have to cut you some slack until that new approach had been developed. you knew this, too, knew that the current somewhat peaceful situation was a mere side effect of them having to adjust to the change in circumstances, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted. you were very aware of the fact that this could all too soon be over again.

still, you managed to enjoy the rest of your classes as well, and when you left the room after the last one had ended and saw a certain redhead waiting for you, as he’d promised, you smiled at him, and first when you saw his shoulders drop a little did you notice that he’d been nervous as well. but at least for now there was no need to, you were okay and nothing had happened. you still wanted to get away from the girls as soon as possible, though, so as soon as you’d said hi to him you took off, him following you quietly until you’d left the building.

“you’re okay?” it had seemed like you were when you came out of class, but your quick exit had sparked some worry in him again.

“a little anxious”, you let him know, “but nothing happened. it’s more being scared that something will happen.”

he nodded in understanding, wrapping his arm around you without thinking much about it and once more somewhat embarrassed when he noticed what he’d just done, but you just moved a step closer to him so it’d be more comfortable for him. then, you sighed, but he decided to ignore it, not sure if you wanted to talk about whatever had caused that sigh. when you sighed a second and a third time, however, each time louder than the last, he decided to ask.

“what’s up?” the way it sounded like the worry had sneaked its way back into his voice had you feeling a little guilty, seeing how there wasn’t actually anything up. you just wanted to tease him.

“you’re just so unfairly tall, i feel like i’m your arm rest.”

since this wasn’t at all the reply he’d expected it took him a moment to fully realise what you’d said, but when he did he started laughing before walking on with his knees somewhat bent, reducing not only his height but also his speed. now you were laughing as well, enjoying his awkward crouching walk more than you maybe should.

“i really hope you appreciate this”, he interrupted your laughter, “because this does kind of hurt my thighs.” you didn’t stop laughing at this, but you crouched down a little as well now, readjusting his arm on your shoulders before pulling him up with you when you stood up straight again.

“maybe i’ll just have to start wearing platforms again instead”, you thought out loud, your laughing faded into a grin now. then, changing the topic entirely, you asked: "do you actually want to join my class? you'd have to catch up with a lot."

“if you’re willing to waste all your time helping me try to catch up?”

“if you’re ready for me to never shut up ever?” this wasn’t an exaggeration; you’d annoyed the girls more than once by studying with them and being way more immersed in the topic than them, even though you all shared similar majors and the class was relevant to all of you. so you couldn’t help being scared that he’d get annoyed with you as well, seeing how this class wasn’t even relevant to him, and you tried to test the waters by joking like this. but he grinned at you, saying that worst case he’d just feed you fruit loops to buy him a few seconds of silence.

“no but the more you talk the more i learn, that’s how it works, right?”

“mm, maybe? i haven’t tried teaching anyone yet, so we’ll have to see”, you admitted a little anxiously. you’d be happy if you managed to help him catch up enough to join the class, but you weren’t exactly confident in your teaching abilities.

“wanna start today?” mingi’d noticed that you were almost at the train station now, so if he wanted to spend the evening studying with you he’d have to ask before you got in your trains going opposite directions.

“i can’t offer you any decent dinner, though. i forgot to get groceries this week so the options are limited to toast, fruit loops, and instant ramen. in case that makes you change your mind.” you wanted to tell him now before he got disappointed by how little you had to offer even as a host, and because if you told him now it’d be less embarrassing to reveal your pathetically empty cupboards when you were at your place.

and he could tell that you were a little embarrassed about the apparent lack of food choices, so he tried to cheer you up.

“is it even a study session without instant ramen?” he genuinely meant it, too - studying and instant food kind of belonged together, the instant food being an important part of what made a study session feel like a real study session. it was about the vibes, not the nutrition.

“okay”, you laughed, then added: “next time we can go somewhere else, too, i just obviously don’t have all my materials with me right now.”

“your place is fine”, he was quick to reassure you. if anything, he was worried that you might feel awkward about having him there again. it wasn’t exactly like you were close, though it sometimes felt that way to him and he had to remind himself that you’d only met half a week ago.

you were once more being prevented from paying for your own ticket by mingi, who’d already paid when you just got your wallet out, and you scoffed at him playfully.

“you know i can pay for myself, right?”

“but i’m being a gentleman.” and with that, he considered this discussion done.

severe buzzing from your phone startled you when you were sitting next to the redhead on the train, because you’d forgotten you’d just muted the girl chat for 24 hours rather than fully leaving it, and your 24 hours were up now. it was as active as ever, and though it seemed like the current topic was unrelated to you just the thought of still being in this kind of space with them made you feel sick with anxiety. but you were too scared to leave the chat, so instead you just stared at your screen.

“it’s them again?” of course he noticed. you just nodded, leaning against him in exhaustion with him gently rubbing your arm.

“we have a group chat and i want to leave, but i can’t.” it was absolutely stupid to feel this way, you knew it was, because what was scaring you wasn’t no longer being in the group chat, it was the act of pressing the little ‘leave group’ button with your own finger.

“you can’t leave or you can’t not be in it?” he surprised you with how he actually seemed to understand your struggle, the very important distinction between the conscious act of leaving and the passive state of not being in the chat.

“i can’t leave. this is our stop.”

he didn’t reply when you left the train, but once you’d started walking towards your dorm he asked you: “do you think i could leave for you? would that work?” you told him you didn’t know, because you really didn’t and you also didn’t really want to think about this at all right now. you wanted to be home, in your bed, with instant ramen and focusing on nothing but how to make mingi understand, remember and internalise the basics of sociolinguistics. it was an act of escapism, definitely, but sometimes you just needed to pretend your problems didn’t exist until you were ready to deal with them.

the rest of the walk was spent in silence, though not uncomfortably so. you both seemed to be in your own thoughts, arms brushing against each other every now and then as if to remind each other that you were still there, even when you weren’t talking. it was nice to know that you didn’t have to talk when you were spending time with mingi, that just being near each other was already enough sometimes.

and just this being silent with each other was what managed to in a way comfort you enough for you to be able to fully concentrate on your materials once you’d reached your place, asking him whether he wanted to eat first or study first as you unlocked the door.

“let’s start with studying, and when i feel like my head’s exploding we’ll eat?”

“deal. make yourself comfortable, i’ll hunt for all my notes.” and with that said you proceeded to ignore the giant that had now settled on your bed in favour of groaning and sighing while you tried to gather all the relevant material from the last year, a task made more difficult because he most likely didn’t have any linguistic background, so you also went through your notes from other courses to find those that had the basic linguistic terms explained on them, because there was no use telling him about phoneme variations if he didn’t know what a phoneme was, and you wanted to be sure to give a 100% right definition.

once you’d found everything you needed you sat down next to him, now trying to divide the notes by topic so you’d have a better overview over what you had to teach him and how much it’d be. he whined quietly next to you at the sheer amount of paper you’d spread on the bed - how was he going to learn all of that?

“we’ll start easy”, you laughed out at his desperate expression. “you can pick the topic that seems most interesting to you, and we’ll start with that.”

then you listed the topics available, along with a short summary or explanation of just what was hidden behind a term like chronolect, which he decided to go with because he thought that might be easiest to a total beginner, because he obviously knew how people of different ages talked, right?

not right. he soon found everything to be much more complicated than it sounded, but he was determined to learn, and you really appreciated how hard he was trying. you knew it had to be hard for him, but he didn’t seem to want to even take a break until he understood, and it was actually you who told him it was time to eat.

“i didn’t think it would be so hard when we’ve barely even started yet”, he groaned while you were waiting for the food to be done, and before you could stop yourself a ‘that’s what she said’ escaped your lips, which made mingi look at you in shock before he burst out laughing.

“i didn’t know that’s what you were thinking about while i was trying to learn!”, he said in feigned indignation, and you hit his arm playfully as you pretended to be equally as scandalised by his implication as he was by yours.

“i don’t know if my memory is giving up on me here, but wasn’t it you who asked me to spend the night together? twice?”

you heard him gasp loudly in reply and grinned at his expression.

“i didn’t know you’d use that against me!” there was a mixture of shock and hurt in his voice, though very obviously playful, and you immediately started apologising in an exaggerated manner, pleading him to please forgive you for your careless words. and even though he tried to stay serious the pout on your face and the fact that you looked like the pleading face emoji made that impossible, stern expression turning into a small smile turning into a grin turning into laughing with his mouth wide open and head thrown back in a matter of seconds. and then you were lost, too, joining in and laughing until your stomach hurt and the instant ramen demanded your attention.

when you found him looking through the notes you’d used for studying by himself it surprised you, though in a positive way. you were glad to see that he at least seemed to have caught a genuine interest for the subject now, glad to see that he was eager to learn. still, you asked him to please move the notes away so you could eat without the risk of them getting dirty and, consequently, unusable. he did as requested and you sat down next to him as soon as you’d handed him his plate - past experience had taught you that shuffling to comfortably sit on the bed when you had an open container in both hands was a very bad idea.

the two of you ate in silence and went back to studying right after, and it was first when you heard thundering outside that you realised how much time had passed. it was fully dark now, heavy rain hitting the window and lightning lighting up the sky every now and then. neither of you looked pleased at the weather, though mingi a lot less so, considering he was the one that somehow had to get home. and it really didn’t seem like the rain would stop anytime soon.

“i’m gonna be so soaked when i get home”, he whined out, making you feel sorry for him because he was right, not even a minute outside in this weather would have him drenched to the bones.

“you can stay over if it’s still like this in an hour”, you offered, not thinking much about it, your main thought being less about him staying with you specifically and more about him not having to go out when it would most likely result in him getting sick. you came to regret your offer when he looked at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, though.

“so now you’re asking me to stay the night? when you called me out for having improper thoughts earlier because i’d offered you the same?”

you rolled your eyes in reply, grabbing his wrist and attempting to drag him out of your bed.

“you know what, forget it, if you get pneumonia that’s not my problem.” at your threat the redhead did a 180 on his behaviour, now begging you the way a little child begged for an extension on their bedtime, except he was begging you to not send him out into the cruel, unrelenting, cold harsh wind. and even though you pretended to be considering doing so you knew that if he actually wanted to he could most definitely spend the night. it was just fun to tease him back.

“fine”, you finally gave in, “you can stay. but behave!”

he sighed in relief (as if there’d ever been any doubt about that), promising you he’d be on his best behaviour, and, as if to prove it, went to do the dishes for you. you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop him because he was at least half a head taller than you and without a doubt much stronger, but it was still worth a try. you should have known it’d barely even bother him, though, pulling on his shirt and trying to drag him back towards the bed, to no avail. he walked on as if he couldn’t even tell that you were trying to move him with every ounce of strength you had in your body, but the grin on his face told you that he knew, and that he was enjoying this too much for your liking. you decided to let him get away with it either way, this once, because truth be told you hated doing the dishes, hated the sensory hell it proved itself to be, time and time again.

you watched him ‘be on his best behaviour’, trying to come up with a way to prevent the situation from turning awkward should the weather not magically turn around, but the only thing your brain could come up with was watching a movie; that’d have to do then. he didn’t seem displeased with the suggestion, finishing washing up quickly and once again sprinkling some water onto your face.

“‘best behaviour’ my ass”, you huffed under your breath, but of course mingi heard you, sending you a smile that with a lot of benevolence could be interpreted as apologetic, but if you were feeling unrelenting might also be a teasing one. he was on your bed and patting the space next to him as is this were his place, though, before you had a chance to threaten him with kicking him out again, and, even though you would deny it if anyone were to claim it, the way he looked so comfortable and somewhat domestic made you a little soft. not very, but just enough to let his teasing slip as you settled next to him.

that position was soon neglected in favour of you sitting between his legs as you found that that was more comfortable for watching a movie. one of you had been complaining no matter where you’d placed the laptop before, because it always gave the one that wasn’t currently complaining a better view. but when you were sitting like this you could just place it right in front of you, and because your friend was so tall he could easily rest his chin on your shoulder without it being uncomfortable at all, and now you both were able to decently see.

you hadn’t decided on a movie yet, though, scrolling the ‘popular right now’ section to get any kind of idea. there was one that seemed interesting enough, kind of dramatic (which was needed because you were not about to watch a romcom with the unfairly attractive redhead pressed against your back like that), and you clicked on it to see the preview since it had sparked your curiosity. as soon as you saw the description you noticed it was a horror movie, though, trying to exit out before anything scary would actually appear on screen.

you succeeded, but your frantic clicking had confused the boy behind you - your netflix was set to finnish, so he didn’t actually understand the caption, but when you told him you’d accidentally chosen a horror movie’s preview rather than a regular dramatic movie he sighed out in relief.

“thank fuck you closed that.”

“not a fan of horror movies either, hm?” you weren’t trying to tease him, and the question sounded like more of an observation. you absolutely hated horror movies, with every fibre of your being, hated the jumpscares and the gore and how you wouldn’t be able to sleep without light for at least a week after. so you found yourself relieved when he told you that he’d have to have his eyes pried open forcefully if someone wanted him to watch one, because at least this way you could be sure he’d never suggest watching one, nor would he make fun of you for being scared.

your thoughts were momentarily guided in a whole other direction though when your partner in being a coward leaned forward, chest pressed even closer to your back and also forcing you to basically fold yourself in the middle underneath his weight as he pointed towards a section title he would in no way be able to pronounce.

“choose from that one.” it was the kids’ movies section, but you had no objections. it was neither a romcom nor a horror movie, the only two genres that were a hard no for you right now. still, you found it hard to do as asked because the way he was leaning forward had your chest almost pressed against your legs and greatly limited your arms’ moving range.

“it’d be easier if you weren’t crushing me”, you whined out, trying to get him to lean back by pressing against him with your back, and with a surprised ‘oh!’ he did lean back, finally giving you room to move again.

“let’s see”, you hummed out, now scrolling the kids’ movies section. you didn’t really know which one to pick, though - kids’ movies weren’t really your usual kind of movie, so it wasn’t like you had a go-to favourite. it seemed like mingi noticed, because he decided to interrupt your aimless scrolling by speaking up, surprising you with his question.

“is there anything you watched as a child? something that’s not korean.”

you didn’t need to think long about this - the moomins immediately shot to your mind, something you’d watched up and down as a child.

“i’m not sure if they’ve ever been dubbed to korean, though”, you informed him, “but i can see?” and without waiting for his reply you abandoned netflix in favour of google, where you hoped that your phonetic interpretation of how moomin would be spelled using hangeul was at least close enough for the search engine to do the rest for you.

you were both glad and somewhat astonished when you did actually get results for your search, clicking on the first video that seemed about as long as you remembered the movie to be and leaning back against the taller one’s chest as you felt nostalgia wash over you. and it was the actual movie, though not dubbed - someone had added korean subtitles, and the finnish speech only made your nostalgia stronger. you were comfortable, head leaning against mingi and his arms around your waist because that was the least awkward place for them to be, underneath your blanket in the dim light coming from your laptop, warm and cosy and, before you knew it, lulled to sleep by the comfortingly familiar sounds of your childhood.

the red-haired male didn’t even notice that you’d fallen asleep, thinking that you were simply just as immersed in the movie as he was, until he tried to tell you that he needed the bathroom and you didn’t reply. peeking over to your face he saw that your eyes were closed and your mouth slightly ajar, and a fond smile made its way onto his face. still, his bladder wouldn’t let him not wake you up, and he felt incredibly guilty when he had to disturb your slumber.

“sorry, but i got big girl business to do”, he told you quietly, and even though you were slightly annoyed at being woken up you laughed at the memory of how that was the first thing you’d heard from him, that his business was big girl business. you paused the movie and shuffled to let him get up, but before he went to the bathroom he asked: “do you want to go to sleep now or finish the movie?”

your heart said movie but your other heart, the one that regularly had you give in to your body’s wicked desires (such as an entire bag of crisps in a single second) said sleep, and once more that heart won. you mumbled out a sleep and he smiled at you, telling you to get ready while he was in the bathroom, then.

getting into your pyjamas was an act in and of itself, because you absolutely did not want to move at all. you did it, though, forcing yourself into the admittedly much softer fabric before plopping right back onto your bed.

when the boy returned (once more shirtless, and you weren’t sure if that was to your dismay or your delight) he would’ve guessed you hadn’t even moved, had it not been for the fact you were wearing something else than when he’d left you. the laptop was closed now, though, placed in the empty space underneath your bed so stepping on it would be avoided even if someone had to get up during the night in a half-awake state.

you shuffled to make room for him as he made his way towards the bed slowly, room lit only by the street lamps outside now. he laid down next to you, looking at you for a moment before the drowsiness-induced desire for cuddles and warmth won over the embarrassment that would have securely prevented a less tired mingi from saying what he said next.

“can i hug you?”

and because you were at least equally sleepy and in need of a warm embrace you just ‘mhm’ed in confirmation, resulting in both a long arm and an even longer leg wrapped around you immediately after. you turned to your back because it was slightly uncomfortable like this, laying on your side facing him, and he didn’t waste a single second before he placed his head on your shoulder, the arm on that side holding on to him now, too. you felt warm and cosy (and soft at the thought of the giant cuddled up to your much smaller frame like this) and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again, once more unnoticed by mingi, who had almost immediately fallen asleep as well.

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missingartist · 4 years ago

Text

The Witcher’s Mate- Chapter 20

In his 350 years, he had thought he had seen it all. Vesemir the unofficial head Witcher had spent years traipsing up, and down the country, he knew every path and detail of any town worth knowing to a Witcher. However, in his lifetime he did not foresee having to deal with a Witcher’s mate. Barmin, his master had glossed over it in training, dismissing the idea of it being any use. In his training, he and other fledgeling Witchers had become intrigued with the concept, but the master had been dismissive enough to toss them a copy of The Witcher- A History. With a whole chapter dedicated to the Witcher’s Mate. Being privileged enough to witness the building of the Witcher home he knew every book placed in the library and this battered copy preserved the only mentions of soulbonds in the entire Witcher section of the library. Barmin had mentioned that it was a Witcher’s Curse to be bound to another who would wither and die or who would face dying of a broken heart as the life of a Witcher was a dangerous one before placing the book back on the shelf where it gathered dust for the past 300 years. Till now that was.

Making his way up the gritty staircase, books wedged underneath his arms, he let the soft glow of the candlestick light his way from the archive and through the winding halls. Mermaid literature held little room in the main library; Witchers had no dealing with Merfolk for 400 years, he himself only met two. The first was a stunning female, long green hair and pale olive skin, a tail of metallic blue scales, pulling the fresh Witcher from a stormy sea when drowners pinned him down in the murky depth. She had all the makings of the predator, savage and vicious yet in the cave which she dragged him, she had all the tenderness of a maiden. She was inquisitive and powerful, and to the newly made Witcher, she was direct in her wants, spending the night and day making very extensive use of his body. A smile stretched across his feature, and he remembers the dalliance of his youth. The other had been a Trition, the male of the species, while not a beautiful as the female he had been majestic in his airs. He had been just as predatory as the female but seemed to lack in power of the female, it did not have the sharp barbs of teeth, or the ability to walk on earth demanded help to free a water sprite from a tree curse. If indeed the Adva girl was a mermaid it would cause a lot of difficulties. Mermaids where predators plain and simple, with very complex social structures and even more complicated mating rituals, one that they kept closely guarded. This was going to be near impossible. Witcher bonding was going to be difficult enough to get their heads around it didn’t really need the extra stress of figuring how a mermaid bonded. He envisaged many nights slaving over a manuscript.

The library fire is dying. The low flame dominated the dwindling wood giving the room a soft light. He had, on being regaled with all the details excused himself to the archives, Barmin having moved all the Merfolk down there to add a room to the main collection. It had taken the best part of the afternoon to weedle through the mass of papers and books that had chaotically thrown into to achieve with no accord. Dropping the various scrolls and manuscripts, he settled himself into his leather-bound seat and placed the candlestick back in its holder—the soft flare of flame illuminating a slim figure perched on the window ledge.

‘Dove, I thought you would be in bed.’

‘Not sleepy…been an eventful day.’ Ciri rolled her shoulder, standing.

Moving from her perch, she fed the fire three thick blocks of wood, watching as the room was lit up with the roaring orange flame. The food she had gathered of dried meat, cheese and wine still sat untouched, Jaskier had tried to tempt Adva with the cheese and wine to no avail. Picking up the jug, she poured two generous helpings into the spare goblets and sat opposite the master Witcher.

‘I don’t think I would be able to sleep if I had seen Geralt finally put it to Yennefer. I would have properly celebrated so hard I would be drunk for a fortnight.’ The older man laughed picking up his goblet and throw back his contents, red droplets staining his white beard pink. ‘It would be Geralt that got mixed up with a soulmate who had to be a mermaid. He can’t live simply, even as…Has someone fixed the wall.’ Vesemir gawped at the wall by the window. The peeling stone wall had been replastered and the drafted that has previously whistled through the library on a cold night was no more. He had meant to repair it for the last fortnight, but the north-west staircase was in need of refurbishing, the barn needed to be mended, three chimneys needed sweeping and renovating and the long list of other restorations.

‘Adva and she reputtied the windows.’ the answer was tense and dry as she brought her cup to her lips and took a sip of the strong liquid.

‘She’s been her ten hours, and she replastered a wall and fixed a window? At least Geralt has the brains to pick a useful mate; I wonder if she does roofing.’ Vesemir gruffed, filling his goblet and downing it once again.

Ciri could feel annoyance rise within her, Vesemir was always dismissive and so distant from his emotions he couldn’t understand her concern. Since arriving, Adva had used the plaster in the hallway, despite their protest she spent most of the day fixing the wall and cleaning, Jaskier had tried to pull her away, but she looked near tears and battered their concerns away. Both Jaskier and Ciri sank back and watched Adva flit around the room, dusting, mopping and polishing. Ciri had never seen the library look so clean. In the space of ten hours, she had fixed the library and cleaned three full rooms before her eyelids began to droop, and Jaskier scooped her away before she could protest and tucked her tightly into a bed in one of the many rooms while Ciri searched through many garments that had cluttered up closets and chests from long forgot herbalists and Witchers that had come and gone to replace her outfit.

‘Vesemir! I am worried about Adva; a person doesn't start repairing buildings when they learn that they are a Mermaid and a Soulmate.’

‘And you know the extensive guide on how someone needs to react when they discover they are a Mermaid or a soulmate, was hardly worth me spending all day in the archives with such an expert already here.’ Vesemire scoffed, his eyes glancing against the bundle he had gathered with some concern. The few books that he found would have little in them to help with their… unique situation.

‘That not what I meant.’ the young woman sulked, pushing her bottom lip out as far as it could go.

‘Do you remember when you discovered your bloodline? It took us three weeks to stop you hacking the dummy to bits. People cope with things differently. If I had to meet Yennefer again, I probably devote myself to fixing the whole castle. You care a lot about Adva, don’t ya? Empathy is the downfall of a Witcher.’ Vesemire scolded. He didn’t know how many time he had tried to drum that into her and Geralt.

‘I…I do I see a lot of myself in her. Alone and confused, betrayed and powerful but scared about it.’ Ciri sighed.

It hurt to admit; it was traumatic. The early years of her life had been so lovely, but the last decade, wave after wave of people had tried to claim her for themselves. Kings seeking power, Witches seeking power, Cults seeking power. They were all the same, trying to imprisoner, impregnate or kill her. It left her feeling insecure and uncertain; she had been betrayed so many time she had lost count. That unlimited power made her a target for every crazed group that emerged from the shadows, but it also made her scared, the power within her had a fine line between chaos and control, and with that enormous pressure to remain in control. Her deepest fear was herself, and what she could do or become, she sensed that same fear in Adva.

‘You have only just met her, don’t get too attached. Yennefer will find a way to get rid of her if not that she’ll turn into a she-daemon knowing Geralt's taste in women.’ Vesemir scoffed dryly.

Geralt was the son he had never had, but his taste in a woman was shocking, there had been that redhead succubus who tried to eat him. The doomed princess in the tower, Renfri. Three herbalists, Triss and Yennefer. He should just stick to a whore like everyone else, it would save a lot of time and effort, and the damage Kaer Morhan would be minimal, the amount of time Yennefer had destroyed something because of a petty argument was unbelievable. Ciri stood abruptly and started to pace.

‘Dove, what troubles you?’

‘I…Yennefer has been….I dunno. She has been difficult…’

‘Yennefer difficult? Never?’ The laughedffff trickled from the witcher lips.

‘Before they…parted. Yennefer did something….horrid and tried to get Geralt to finish it… he refused, and Yennefer was vicious, and then the spell broke and….’

‘Went batshit?’

‘Batshit is an understatement…. I thought Geralt was wrong… that he should have but I dunno; I was so angry I was blinded.’ Ciri winced at her confession.

For the most part, she never admitted when she was wrong; she was too stubborn for that; her pride would not allow her the humiliation of accepting it. But there were times, time like these when things became a cluster fuck that she could admit it. Her love for her mother figure, her nurturer and teacher had blinded her to the sheer despicable nature of Yennefer plan, so much so it had made her hate Geralt. But with every passing day, she realised how stupid she had been. Looking back made her wince with shame as she recalled all the unpleasant thoughts that went through her mind and the things she said. Ciri felt ashamed of herself, more so now she was in the Witcher’s Fortress where the memories of their relationship[ resurfaced, all the times Geralt had protected her from the violent tongue lashing of Vesemir for wondering off and training on her own. The times when he gave her a silent hug because he knew what she needed.

‘Don’t blame yourself, Yennefer has a knack for playing on one's emotions.’ The master witcher soothed in his gruff voice.

Looking up, she felt herself smiling. For all his stubborn grumpiness Vesemir was the kindly grandfather figure she needed. The bias spectator, guiding her through Geralt and Yennefer many, many arguments with a scoff and an eye roll.

‘I worry about what she will do to Adva. She already seems resigned to being cast aside, and Yennefer will play on that.’

The confession was not something she needed to say out loud; all of them were worried about what Yennefer would do; even Adva could sense it. Yennefer was capable of being truly malicious especial again those who had wronged her,

‘Maybe that is for the best. A Witcher’s life is one fought with danger having a soul mate would be even more so.’

‘You should have seen the way Geralt was with her Vesemir. The way he looked at her was…’ Ciri paused for a moment in thought ‘it was worshipping…I don’t even know how to describe it and when she flinched away from him, I thought he could break down. When she went through the portal, I thought he was going to roar in after her. I love Yennefer, I always will, nothing and no one will change that, but at the minute I don’t even what to be near her.’

A dull pain began to throb in the corner of his left eye; there was not enough ale and wine in the whole of the castle to get him through the next couple of weeks. Damn Geralt. First, he had brought Yennefer, who destroyed every room she stayed in and threw furniture carved by their Witcher founders out the window. The elder had lost count of how many times in the past decade, Geralt had found himself at the end of a difficult situation. And this situation was the worse; soulmates were messy, and for Witcher, mates were rare and unpredictable. Geralt would be a muscle-bound mess of raging hormones, worse than when he first mutated and with Yennefer roaming around, lurking in every corner, he could feel the annoyance and irritation begin to build.

‘It will work out, for better or worse. But from what I know about soul bond, they are very powerful, and it would take more then Yennefer to do that….besides if she is that good at repairs, we need to keep her around.’

If he survived this, it would be a miracle.

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Kaer Mohen was beyond anything that she had ever believed. Nestled in the middle of a vast valley, built into a mighty mountain, the almighty structure was awe-inspiring. Surrounded in greenery and limpid pools as far as the eyes could see, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. Inside did not disappoint; it was elegant, chequered marble flooring, latticed woodwork, majestically carved furniture, and rugs that while worn and dusty were exquisite. However, it was sure that the castle had seen better days, gaping holes in the roof leaked into the rooms letting in the local wildlife. Plaster was coming off the wall in large chunks, and a sharp draft came whistling through the castle. Still, it the most amazing place that she had ever seen. The library included. The vast collection of books held in sturdy mahogany shelved held behind thick sheets of glass, it was an extensive collection, most in languish she had never seen before, and the desire to pull each one out and read was overwhelming. The library seemed sadly empty just one large table and one comfy chair perched in the middle, books and quills surrounding the work area.

Vesemir seemed to be making the most of her, giving her a list of chores in the morning and then after their midday meal they would group together and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in the library. In all honestly, that was fine with her, she didn’t want to think about soulbond or Geralt. A sickness bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Waking up in the bed in a musty room brought back that only the day before she woke in the warmth of the Witcher. At least the chore distracted her from the churn of emotion that built inside of her and the anxiety that came with letting her mind wander.

‘How can you read this.’ Ciri slipped down next to the women who was engrossed in a book that contained mostly scribbled lines and dots. Just looking at the page was enough to give the former princess a headache.

‘Lunch’ Vesemir called slamming what could only be loosely described as a strew on the table. Four clay bowl slide into the various place, as they stared down at the brown slop. ‘That is my famous stew.’

The elder Witcher glared at the bard who grimaced at the pot in front of him. The mixture was brown and gritty, whatever meat was unrecognisable, the smell of a mixture of fermented broth and fried meat, it was not unpleasant, but it was not particularly appetising especially with strange unknown bits floating on the top. Jaskier twisted his face in disgust as he poked at it with his wooden spoon.

‘Famous because it kills anyone who eats it?’ Jaskier question letting the food slide off his spoon with a spatter.

Vesemir stared daggers at the bard as he is inhaling another spoonful of stew, most of it coating his beard.

‘Don’t you have any more books on Merfolk Vesemir?’ Ciri asked, leafing through the pile of red books scattered over the bench.

‘Mermaid isn’t the sort of thing Witchers deal with.’

‘But aren’t they supernatural creature.’ Jaskier retorted his right eyebrow inching up his forehead.

‘Aye, bard they are but never given us cause. Merfolk sticks to deep water and out the way of humans and creature alike. Humans have tried to wage war on them in the early days, but it futile. You aren’t ever gonna win against a creature that can sink whole fleets of ships in one go.’ Another heaping spoonful of stew smeared across his mouth. ‘Time from the time they appear near land but never bother anyone; it does not like they would abandon one of their pod on land…especially a child. I will have enough look in the archive but the literature of the Merfolk in rare. Not many have ever got close enough. I know a while back Geralt helped some duke marry Sh'eenaz, a mermaid, but she became sad, and the couple went back to the sea kingdom.’

‘So we have no idea about anything.’ Ciri spoke, slowly eyes resting on the deflated other woman.

‘You are more than welcome to search down in the archive, but most merfolk literature is hoarded by private collectors.’

‘So we don’t know anything.’ Ciri bite out and throw a thick book across the room, pages fluttering across the marble floor.

Jaskier reached a hand across and took Adva’s giving her a reassuring squeeze. The brown-haired woman closed the book, shoulder sagging.

‘Adva If you promise to cook from now on I will go in the archives myself and battle the army of spiders in search of anything else.’

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Vesemir brought down the axe forcefully as he broke down the log and tossed it into the giant pile of firewood. From his place on the verge, he watched Adva.

Though, not the most skilful and hone in her technique Adva was accomplished. For a simple kitchen, she had a strong stance which made it hard for Ciri to break through her defence. There was no obvious contest between the two, Ciri was the more skilled and her magic more adaptive, there had been several points in which his young ward had the upper hand, but Adva managed to put on the defence, which she played well. The master Witcher didn’t see that predatory creature that he had met in his experience, just a determined young woman, strong and sweet. He found it hard to believe that she could be a mermaid. Her ability with water being the only real characteristic that they shared. There was no killer insisted, no savage passion within her, no flailing tail or hissing fangs, just a scared little girl that he now had to keep safe.

Slamming the axe down Vesemir took himself to the side to watch the pair closely. Ciri seemed to tire of being pushed back, stepped up her attack by using her blink power, teleporting her way around her. The gruff Witcher couldn’t help but smile, the little girl who would sneak off to practice on her own was no a skilled warrior. Adva’s movement became panicked and jilted as she dodged the attack, frustration ebbing in her every movement. Collecting his roofing tools, he made his way across the stall and once against back to the field to collect the ladder. This time Ciri seemed to be on the back foot. Adva’s attacks were precise and direct, one after the other. A water blast threw the young Witcher off her footing, causing her to stumble back, and whip of water then appeared out of nowhere lashing itself across her side and wrapped itself around her wrist slamming her into the dirt.

Vesemir stilled, his body is tensed his eye trained on the pair, grabbing for the axe he embedded in the tree stump. He saw it, the killer instancing, the way her eyes shone that little bit brighter. Ciri recovered well, shifting her body to the left in a blur of blue light escape the confines of the water vines before rolling up on her feet and brushing the dust off.

Adva blinked, several times swallowing heavily as she took a step back as she felt the adrenaline still racing through her vein.

‘Good attack. Never really seen anything like that.’ Ciri smiled, standing to her full height. ‘Next time I won't go so easy on you. I better go see how Jaskier is doing. The spiders have properly cornered him in archives. We will pick this up again tomorrow…but you are going down’ Ciri smirked, nodding at Vesesir before ascending the step of the balcony.

‘I see Ciri found you some clothing, more practical for doing maintenance. You can help me patch up the roof, get the tar and meet m by the ladder.’

Looking down, she pulled at the outfit she had been given from a large box of items left by the various people that passed through. The bottoms were a pair of duelling trousers made from a shammy leather material, making them soft and stretchy, that held her tight across the arse and allowed for free movement. They were at least 50 years old but kept pristine by the mothballs packed in the trunk of clothing. The deep red material suited her and at least didn’t show the dirt from the unkept castle. The top was an oversized tunic that fell to mid-thigh; it was thick enough to keep the chill that had started to cling in the air. A cracked old belt clinched tightly around her waist to keep the oversized garments from slipping off her body completely.

Pushing her way up the steep bank to the courtyard, Adva pulled the bubbling tar from its fire. The courtyard held the shed and the stables it was up at the top of a sharp incline; it leads all the way round to the training grounds which Ciri had been handing her ass to her for the best part of the day, a sense of pride swelled within her as she laid the foul-smelling tar into a bucket. She had managed to keep upright and had a few good hits, she was improving, and her powers had developed in the passing weeks with Triss. Training with Ciri proved that.

When the bucket was full, tentatively she pulled it up the ladder on top of what she thought was a storage shed beside the kitchen. Vesemir was already hard at work, hammering in think sleet slate into the missing patches. Wordlessly, the master witcher tossed her a tarring brush, a thin stick with a rag attached to it and nodded toward the slates. Between the old tiles was a thick layer of tar, filling any minute gaps in which the water to seep through and flood the room beneath. Adva swilled the brush into the thick liquid and plastered around the edges of the shingles.

The height was not her favourite, the mere thought of going any higher made her head spin. They worked in silence for the best part of an hour, as soon as he finished one, she would swoop in and slather the thick goop on the slabs. It was clear to see where Geralt got his mannerisms, the way they both puckered their brow when they were concentrating. The way their eyes shifted as they worked, head shifting at every noise. These features were not different that Geralt could not pass for his son, but Adva had made a deep study of Geralt, his features where sharper, more defined. Both men had strong physic, after years of training and monster hunting, but Geralt's frame seemed bulkier, shoulders broader and arms solid with muscle.

A deep wave of shame consumed her. She had promised herself she wouldn’t think of him, but he crept into her mind. A melancholy fell over her, it was a numbness, at gnawed at her core.

‘Next is the west staircase, I will teach you how to tack and shave down the boards.’ Vesemir grunted as he threw the hammer into the dirt as he made his way down the ladder. Holding out his hand to help Adva down, grabbing the bucket and brush and tossing it to the side.

Adva nodded, thankful for something to do.

‘Never thought a little girl would be much good a roofing you are a strange little thing.’

Adva laughed awkwardly, wiping her hands on her piny. ‘You know what brothel is like, all hand on deck. I cooked, cleaned, mediated, fix roofs, walls, beds.’

‘Not much of a life for a little girl.’ Vesemir stared down at her; it was an uncomfortable gaze, that pierced through her.

The master witcher looked at her, his medallion didn’t vibrate, but there was a warmth to it, just enough to heat the skin beneath the wolfs head. He wasn’t sure that she was a Mermaid, but there was something. Something strange. Something different that he could put his finger on. But now she looked like a scared little girl, a girl being dragged from one bad situation to the next. Tough and hard-working but most of all, frighten of that power within her. It bubbled under the surface, threatening to rear its head.

‘Last time I check I was a woman…well, Mermaid.’ Adva shot him a steely determined look. He wasn’t sure what she was determined about, but it made him give out a snort, it reminded him of Ciri when she first stumbled into his home.

‘Well, Mermaid…we better get back. I think Jaskier is dying for more of my cooking.’ The older man gave her a small smile as he guided them through the courtyard.

For once, he was as near as excited as a Witcher could be to see Yennefer again, as he could tell that sweet little maid was going to give her a run for her money. A deep smirk set into his features, if he had anything to do with it, Yennefer would definitely have a run for her money.

This was supposed to be out last weekend, but drama has got real. I work in a school, and it’s a mess. I have been trying to sort out all my evidence for a qualification I have been doing, which is draining, and family are having health issues. But I am happy to announce that smut is insight. I have been planning out future chapters, and they are looking good.

For those of you who are confused about Adva’s coping strategy, I sort of based it on me. When I get stressed or anxious I turn into a clean freak. Recently, I got so stressed I actually put up several shelves, despite not having anything to put on them. I thought it would make her a little more realist.

I am also having flashes of inspiration for a GeraltxOCxEskel story if anyone is interested. I love Eskel he is like a giant cuddly teddy bear! It properly won't be out till I finish The Witchers Mate, but I am also playing with a squeal which is just a series of one-shots.

Please let me know what you think!

@threepupsinapuddle @broco8 @introvertedmouse @luxyash @vikingsbifrost @pastelblogsposts @wastingmypotential @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png

#geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #Geralt #geralt imagine #the witcher #netflix the witcher #witcher netflix #geralt x oc #geralt x smut

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thatesqcrush · 5 years ago

Text

Soul Savin’, Pt. 3

Rafael Barba x Reader. AN: Taking a lot of liberties and using a lot of prompts and part of a challenge here, specifically: @madpanda75‘s “from your smutty prompt list, can you please do “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!” where Barba and the reader go to a bar, have some tequila, then do some body shots” as well as @delia26‘s “I turned out liking your a lot more than I originally planned.” Finally, using Jewel’s “Who Will Save Your Soul” as part of @thefanficfaerie‘s birthday challenge.

CW: language, eventually it’ll be NSFW. Angst, continued slow-burning.

CW: for mentions of 9/11.

WC: 2500

***

You woke up the next day to pounding on your apartment door. You groaned as you shuffled out of your room. “Just a minute,” you called as you pulled on your fluffy purple robe. The banging on your door intensified. Irritated, you called out once more. “Coming!” You found a lone hair tie on the end table by your couch and you took it, pulling your hair into a low pony-tail. You opened the door and found no one there. Confused, you were about to close the door, when you noticed a package with a note. Your heart began to pound and you crouched down to get a closer look. You sighed in relief when you realized the lettering on the box was from the NorthFork donut company, a small artisinal shop that you were obsessed with. Your eyes darted past the box and there was a growler of coldbrew coffee, from your favorite local roaster, SailAway Coffee Company.

You took the package and growler and shut the door behind you. You could smell how fresh the donuts were from even outside of the box and your stomach growled. You made your way back to the kitchen and set the goodies on the island before going to get a glass for the coffee. You spooned some sugar into the glass and then opened the growler to pour the coffee in.

Carefully, you opened the donut box and instead of getting caught up in the delicious sight before you, your eyes settled on the note that was taped on the inside lid. Your name was scrawled in Rafael’s handwriting.

Y/N, I am sorry for last night. Mea culpa. I just really miss my friend and hope I didn’t fuck it up for good.

You sighed and pondered Rafael’s note. You wondered had you not had a thing for him, would you even be so forgiving. You grabbed a fancy looking chocolate donut and then went back to your room to grab your phone. You hopped onto a barstool and wrote Rafael back.

Thanks for the donuts and coffee. Didn’t take you for someone to be so cliched. Come over, help me finish the coffee. Can’t make any promises on the donuts.

Rafael texted he would be over within the hour. You were tempted to eat another donut, but instead chose to shower.

“Do they just let anyone on the roof?” Rafael asked in disbelief as he took in the view of the city before him from your rooftop.

“No, but sometimes being a cop has its perks,” you winked before taking a sip of your coffee. “I like to come up here in just when it gets a little too much for me down there, it's like...like my New York version of a mountaintop.”

The sun was beaming down brightly but there was a cool breeze, not making it overly warm. You brought over the donuts to the little table that you had set up. Rafael leaned against the railing, watching you as you set up the donuts.

“I’m sorry.”

You paused your actions and stood straight up, to face him. “I know. I got your note.” Rafael walked over to you. His hand rested on your forearms. You searched each other’s eyes. Part of you wanted to do nothing but smooth back some of his hair that had fallen out of place but you refrained from doing so. “Look Rafael – I don’t understand our relationship. Sometimes we’re friends… sometimes it feels like we’re strangers. You have to be honest with me.”

Rafael Barba, the silver-tongued prosecutor suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His mouth went dry and he swallowed hard. His stomach was in knots. Unable to look at you, he turned away, facing the skyline once more.

“It’s complicated.”

“Bullshit.”

You marched back up to Rafael and stood to face him. “Talk to me. What is it? Please.”

Rafael looked at you and he felt awful for being the reason your face was laced with worry and concern. He wished he could tell you how he felt about you – that all he wanted to do was to kiss you – and then some. You crossed your arms and bit your lip, anxious at his pending response. Something – you weren’t sure what – flashed across Rafael’s face and all you wanted to do was rush up to him and kiss him. You stepped closer to Rafael and he stepped closer to you.

“It’s work,” Rafael lied. “Just have been stressed. It’s the summer so a lot of people are off and I just bit off more than I can chew.”

You sighed. “Okay. If you say so.” Rafael did not miss the hint of disappointment in your voice. You walked back over to the table and grabbed a donut before sitting down on a wicker love seat. You chewed slowly as you looked up towards the sky. A pigeon flew overhead before settling on the ledge. The bird cooed at you as it eyed your donut. You tore off a piece of your donut and tossed it towards the bird.

“I don’t think donuts are part of a well-balanced diet for a pigeon.”

You snorted. “Are you some kind of pigeon expert? Is that your side-hustle Rafael Barba?”

Rafael guffawed as he sat down next to you. You reached over and handed him the donut box. Rafael chose a black and white donut – it was just like the cookie – but in donut form. You leaned your head on Rafael’s shoulder and the two of you sat there in silence, for what seemed like forever. The heat from the sun melted the glaze from the donuts and your fingers were sticky. You sucked the sugary coating off of your fingers slowly, not realizing Rafael’s gaze was hyper-focused on your movements. You closed your eyes and hummed and Rafael felt his desire shoot southward.

Rafael stood suddenly. “Anyway, I have to get going – I am glad we’re okay.”

You stood, brushing off invisible crumbs from your lap. “No – stay.”

Rafael pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly before pulling away to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you, Y/N.”

Strip clubs have reputations for being havens for drugs and sex trafficking for a reason. And that is was the scene of your next case – a stripper was brutally assaulted by a pimp there. Olivia had the idea of setting up a honeytrap with you going undercover. You showed up to the precinct all dolled up with a face full of heavy makeup and your hair in half-up and half-down in soft sexy curls.

“What are we working with?” Olivia asked, pointing to your trench coat. “I don’t think that is going to fly on the stage.”

You opened your trench coat revealing your actual outfit: you were outfitted in pure sin: a matching purple lame crop top, with a deep neckline, which accentuated your breasts and booty shorts with a ruched backing. Obscenely large hoop earrings hung off your lobes and your wrists were stacked with bangle bracelets. Finishing your outfit were shiny black patent five inch heels that accentuated your well defined calves.

At that moment Amanda came in with Rafael and Carisi on her heels. “We’re all set up to go… hey, hey, looking good, Y/N.”

“What is she… “ Rafael began but found himself at a loss for words as he took in the sight of you. All the blood in his body headed south. “Do I want to know why you're dressed like that? Wait a second… Y/N – you’re the mark for the honeytrap?” he asked in disbelief.

“Well who else would it be?” you asked. “Liv’s mug is all over the paper – Rollins is … you know…” you waved your hand over Amanda who was very clearly pregnant. “And Kat is on vacation visiting her mom in San Diego.”

“Liv, I don’t like this,” Rafael replied quietly. “This could get dangerous. I am worried about Y/N’s safety.”

“We don't need to get your approval. Besides, Y/N is tough – she can handle her own.” Olivia replied, giving Rafael an incredulous look. “Besides, we’ll have eyes and ears on the place. The first sign things are not going well, we’re moving in.”

“Hello? Hi – let’s not talk about me, in front of me,” you replied, waving your hand in between Rafael and Olivia. “Rafael – I got this,” you replied with an eye roll. “It’ll be fine.”

Rafael sat inside the stakeout van, cramped and uncomfortable. Inside the van was Olivia and Carisi. Olivia was feeding information to Fin who was inside the strip club, also undercover as a customer. Clipped in your earrings was a tiny camera recording every move.

Rafael watched as you were announced on the stage as “Sage Whisper.” You were nervous initially, especially as you knew Rafael was watching you. You chose to dance to “Lady Marmalade.”

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahHe sat in her boudoir while she freshened up Boy drank all that Magnolia wine On her black satin sheets' where he started to freak, yeah

As you swung your body around the pole, you allowed yourself to get lost to the song and got really into your performance. You bent down to touch your toes, in front of the audience giving everyone a view of your ass, the material of your shorts rising up, almost being eaten by your cheeks when you stood up. You sauntered back to the pole and gyrated your hips as you shimmied off your shorts, revealing your black G-string. Just as you were about to clip off the back of your top, you were requested to go to a private room by the pimp your team had eyes on.

Meanwhile in the van, sweat dripped off Rafael’s brow. He wasn’t sure if it was you, the closed quarters, or both. Judging by how tight his pants were growing, he was sure it was you. He shifted uncomfortably as he watched you saunter off the stage and head to a backroom. The pimp had his hand low on your back, before moving down to squeeze it.

Rafael wanted to throw up.

You played your bit to the pimp, egging him on and teasing. Finally, the pimp had enough and he had backed you into a corner, his hand gripping your hair tightly, cocking your head.

“Watch it bitch – or I’ll do to you what I did to the last slut who came in here.”

You raised your brow in defiance. “I’d like to see you try.”

What you didn’t expect was to be pistol whipped. You collapsed to the ground and groaned in pain as you were kicked in the ribs. Around you was a cacophony of sounds – you could hear Olivia and Fin in the background along with several other police backup entering the room with their guns raised.

You could barely hear your name as your ears continued to ring. Finally, a pair of hands pulled you up and helped you out of the room.

Back outside, you shivered as you sat in the back of an open van, your head still pounding. You wore Liv’s police jacket in a futile attempt to keep warm. “Y/N, you did good,” Olivia replied softly. “I have your change of clothes. I’ll bring them by while you get checked out.”

“I don’t need to be checked out; I am fine,” you protested. Olivia raised her hand and shook her head.

“You need to be checked out. You are probably concussed and you might have a bruised rib or even a broken one.”

You sighed. “Okay. I’ll come up to the station after to finish up my paperwork.”

“Nonsense – you can do that on Monday. Take the rest of the weekend.” You began to protest when Oliva held a hand up. “That’s an order detective.”

“Ay, ay Captain,” you muttered weakly. Olivia waived over an EMS worker and as you were checked out, Rafael rushed to the van.

“Y/N, are you okay? Jesus fucking Christ!”

“I’m fine, Rafael. I promise. Just some bruises. Nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days.”

“Olivia gave me your clothes.” You nodded and gave him a small smile of appreciation as you took the duffel bag. You climbed into the van and began to shut the doors. “Make sure no one drives off with me in it – I am going to change.”

A few minutes later you emerged in a ratty sweatshirt and your most comfortable, broken in jeans. Your appeared out of place with your heavy makeup and costume jewelry still on. You winced as you removed your fake eyelashes. Rafael felt horrible for what you went through. “Do you have to go back to the precinct?”

“No. Liv gave me the weekend off; told me to finish my paperwork Monday.”

“Come on – let me get us a cab. We’ll go get some food.”

You smiled brightly. “That sounds perfect.”

You winced slightly as you laughed as Rafael told you an embarrassing tale of him as a kid. You popped a French fry in your mouth, reveling in the hot, salty carb. You were both back at the bar in Midtown.

“So you never told me why you ever came to this bar in the first place. Those many weeks ago.” Rafael trailed off, taking a long sip from his beer bottle.

You plucked a fry from Rafael’s plate and chewed it slowly, mulling over your next words. “I went to high school in the city and I was a senior when 9/11 occurred. When my friends and I were let out, we could not find a subway out of the city. So we ended up holed in this bar – this very bar. The owners of the bar – fed us never ending fries and sodas until we were able to connect with our parents. A cop came to get us a few hours later and drove us home. I have been a frequent flyer since I turned of legal age – more or less,” you chuckled. “And then Sean – one of the owners - died a few years ago to ALS.” Your voice warbled at the last bit and a tear threatened to fall. You wiped your greasy hands on a napkin and then used the back of your hands to wipe your eyes.

Rafael reached over and took one of your hands into his and squeezed it. You gave him a small smile and took a deep breath and a look around. “Okay, lets have a shot for Sean and for this night being an overall success despite…” you trailed off, casting a hand over yourself.

Rafael signaled for the bartender. Six shot glasses were lined up. And then again. And again.

When you first got ready for the evening, you never thought it would end with you and Rafael doing body shots. As Rafael sucked a mark into your neck, you gasped, “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!”

“Then I guess we were never friends,” Rafael husked in your ear, before pulling away to toss the shot back.

TBC.

Tags: @melsquared79 @madpanda75 @youreverycolor @tropes-and-tales @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoollike @fanficfaeriesrafaelbarbalibrary @theenchantedgalleryofstories @thefanficfaerie @trekinthruthestarwars @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty -anyone else, just ask, xo

#rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba and reader #barba and reader #svu fanfiction #svu imagines

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 4 years ago

Text

a message.

This whole post is full of things I’ve wanted to say for a very long time. So yes, this is going to be very long.

Before I begin, I just wanted to say I’m sorry to the innocent people who had nothing to do with this. I’ve never ever been involved with online/fandom drama before, I hate being in this position so fucking much with all my heart and soul, and I never thought in my whole life that I’d be in this position, either.

Secondly, this is about the DEF LEPPARD FANDOM ON TUMBLR. If you’re not part of this fandom, kindly fuck off :^) This is not about you.

This post explains why I feel this way. And to those innocent people who aren’t involved with this, I’m sincerely sorry if any of this has changed your opinions of me.

I’m in a mood and a half, so I’ll do my best to effectively tell everything from my perspective. Read if you want, but this is just what I’m thinking.

I’ve been running this blog for almost three years now. When I first joined this fandom on tumblr at the beginning of 2018, there wasn’t really a ‘fandom’ per se; all the main blogs were dead, no one ever really posted, and there wasn’t much content. I decided to start a DL blog of my own to vent my love into it and not spam my main account.

Within a month, I could quickly see that some sort of renaissance was happening in this fandom; more blogs were popping up, more people were posting, and more people were just participating in general. There were memes now, there were conversations now- it was great! There was a real community; it was all about sharing information, spewing our love, getting creative, and interacting!

There was integrity, and there was respect for the band as well as one another.

I, as part of this community, wanted to do everything in my physical power to contribute in any way I could. I was insanely active and hyper-productive and could not be stopped. I still haven’t stopped, but I certainly have slowed down significantly (due to lack of new activity from the band and increased mental health issues I won’t get into). I don’t want to be self-centered and say that I was “running” this branch of the fandom for the past 2.7 years, but I was certainly a big player in it, and I feel everyone agreed (and some still agree) with that as well.

There were some times where disagreements happened. There were times where many of us knew that someone else was crossing a line in a post. We knew what qualified as “not okay” in terms of being perverted and such. We’d solve this by not blaming, not hounding, not sending anon hate, not calling out, but by presenting facts, talking maturely, and trying to right the wrongs as maturely as we could.

Yes, it was possible. Was.

I don’t think you guys realize just how much content I’ve contributed to this fandom. I have spent basically every single day of the past 3-ish years trying to spread information/content/photos/videos/links/etc. to everyone who follows me (and everyone who doesn’t). This fandom was (and I cannot stress this enough), literally my entire life for the past 3 odd years, and I really wanted to spend the rest of my life contributing to it the way I’ve been.

I don't think anyone on here realizes everything that I have done for this community. Because of me:

this fandom has access to Animal Instinct for free

this fandom has access to the rare picture disc interview

this fandom has numerous scans of photos that may have not ended up online otherwise (I also paid $70 to have access to some of these. You're welcome.)

we have Fabulist Icons content

we have a decent amount of fanfiction that doesn't only focus on the boys banging each other/sex in general (seriously, this simply didn’t exist on here before I started posting my shit)

we have a little more fan art

we have content from Phil's and Ross's books

we have hundreds (yes, literally, HUNDREDS) of edits/moodboards/memes/etc. that I made myself

we have gifsets of things that no one else would have made

we have achieved justice a lot of the time when content was stolen because I have defended everyone without question/rallied up armies the second I heard it happened

some of you have gotten updates on news/facts/history/details/etc. that you’ve never even heard of

probably a shit ton more things, but that’s all I can think of for now. You get the point.

But that’s only half the story. This band and fandom has given me so much to cherish over the past few years.

Because of this fandom and the people (that were once) in it, I have:

met Rick in person

met, quite honestly, my two best friends ever, @ballistic-lipstick-dream-machine (my true Terror Twin) and @paper-sxn (adopted little sister/cousin)

became in contact with Phil's guitar tech from the mid-80s (Mike)

gained creative ambition to play guitar, create art, write stories, make edits/gifs, travel, and basically just better myself

began a record collection that is now in the hundreds and gained a lot of knowledge from it

discovered a whole new genre of music

found a community/culture where, for the very very first time in my life, I felt like I BELONGED.

fallen in love with something and someone for the first time

felt like I actually mattered to people, like I was actually important (because people would always come to me for information or help if they needed it)

basically impacted every corner of my life

just about a million other things, too, but I will be here all night if I try to list them all.

To put it delicately: Def Leppard and this fandom on tumblr absolutely changed my life, and was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.

I have spread so much information around, you newer people wouldn't imagine. I have gathered and seen so much information, you wouldn't believe how much I know and how much I've learned. I have bounced back and forth between formats time after time again that I feel like I’m stuck in a time warp. I have edited so many things on non-professional programs that I am an MS paint expert. I have been here so long, that I’ve seen 98% of the people in this branch of the fandom rotate in and out at least two or three times.

That being said, all of the toxic people in this fandom will most likely be gone within the next 6 months.

Def Leppard has taught me so much, but a big thing was love and loyalty. It's clear that the majority of people in this fandom (read my lips- I am N O T saying anyone’s names. I mean that.) do not know the meanings of either of these words. I've been practically running this fandom on Tumblr for nearly three years now, you’ve seen all that I’ve done for you, and what have I gotten in return?

Slander, cyberbullying, disrespect, consistently stolen content, etc. That’s what I’ve gotten. I’ve never attacked anyone on here, and that is still something I won’t do.

Yes, I am against slash fic, and I can’t believe that THAT’S the only reason why I’m being torn down like this. Something so dumb and immature as that has torn my beloved community in half. I have never attacked ANYONE for writing slash fic, yet I’ve been getting attacked since August (it is November now) for simply believing it is wrong to openly admit you want the boys to fuck each other.

(I’d also like to point out that someone from the KISS fandom ((god knows why)) had the balls to call me “homophobic” for hating slashfic. I can’t even begin to explain how much I laughed at that.)

I just wanna say that these are REAL people you’re writing about, you know. Don’t you think THEY would be against it? I know I cannot stop anyone from writing slash (I’ve said that before, but no one seems to remember it). I don’t think any of you realize that there is a certain line you shouldn’t cross when it comes to the internet, and being perverted in such an explicit and disrespectful way is one of them. We always had integrity in this fandom, and slash was never part of something we stood for. We knew when to stop, and we kept the slash on rockfic.com (where it belongs imo. That’s like their element).

I was very confused when more slash fics started appearing on tumblr this year. Now, it seems like that’s all there is, and I’m disgusted.

Whenever something close to that happened in 2018, everyone would be totally against it, and we’d talk it out and explain. While we all had our fair share of horny (and maybe then some) in this fandom, but we always knew where to draw the line. That was the line. That line doesn’t exist anymore, apparently, and nobody knows how to be mature and respectful to the band, to each other, and just for fuck’s sake. Now, I’m being slammed that being perverted for them fucking their best friends is “just fandom, bitch” and “the norm” and that it’s done “out of respect”, which I will never understand. You can’t use “slash” and “respectful” in the same sentence, and you can’t change my mind, but I know I can’t change yours, either.

Slash is not, nor will it ever be, respectful. This fandom has become toxic.

Fanfiction is an outlet for creativity to be used for fun, not to be used as an excuse to project your sexually perverted sexuality headcannons/fetishes onto innocent, REAL, LIVE people. If all you write/read is them having sex with each other, then it really makes you wonder if it’s about “respect” anymore, doesn’t it?

In my opinion it’s fucked up that it’s “normal” and “just part of fandom” to create sexualities for- again- REAL, LIVE PEOPLE, and it’s everyone’s first instinct to argue that it’s fine, apparently? If you “respect” your idols so much like you claim you do, then why don’t you maybe respect their actual orientations instead of creating masturbation material for random 12 year olds and boomers, perhaps?

I don’t know what I did that was so fucking wrong in your eyes, as I’ve always tried to keep integrity in this area of tumblr.

I'm very deeply hurt, more than I've ever been by this. It physically hurts me to admit that this fandom has become as toxic as it currently is. I don’t feel welcome here anymore at all, despite practically running things on here for so long.

I don’t know how I could ever live without this fandom, but now it looks like I’m going to have to try, or at least try and rebuild it on my own (again). I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop posting about Def Leppard, and after all, I only started posting about them for myself to begin with.

We were supposed to be the good fandom, the happy fandom, the fandom with no drama. I am ashamed to be associated with you now. I tried to stop it as best as I could, and hoped people would back me up, but I’ve received nothing but hate for simply trying to preserve some dignity.

You guys have been immature to say the least, and I find it very hard to believe that some of you are legal adults (but let’s be honest; most of you toxic people are probably too young to even be behind a computer, anyway).

I’ve had to block some people that I really didn’t want to, but the deed is done. Keep your slash to yourself, tag it, do a read more, post it somewhere else, even- that’s how you co-exist. Just don’t come after me because I think it’s wrong. I never came after anyone specifically like that.

This isn’t goodbye, but I certainly am leaving for a while. I hope I got my point, my history, and my perspective across.

And I hope you’re fucking happy, because you’ve destroyed something I loved.

-Rachel

#also to helena_s_renn on rockfic: suck my dick bitch :3 #thank you to those who have messaged me and been kind #time to watch my follower count dwindle at the speed of sound #goodbye

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