#hearing my grief and not giving me any shit whatsoever about taking two days
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The education system may be busted as all hell...
but man do I have an admin who gives a fuck about her staff.
#Shoutout to my principal for bein' a mom figure and checking on me this morning#reassuring me i did the right thing as a dog mom#hearing my grief and not giving me any shit whatsoever about taking two days#she loves her poodle and doodle too
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Another Love
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader
Summary: You meet Wanda at a grief group, as she’s struggling to heal after Vision’s death. Will you help her heal? Will your friendship grow into something more?
Word count: 2.8k
Warnings: grief
Theme: Angst, Fluff
A/N: I have been working on this one all day, and I think it’s alright! It’s my first oneshot on this account, so please go easy on me! I hope you enjoy!
(Shoutout to @theloveclub-18 for the idea! I super appreciate it!)
“Thank you all for being so open this evening. I hope to see you all next week. Let the healing continue.”
As various people mumbled back “let the healing continue,” Wanda fought the urge to roll her eyes.
It had been six months since Vision’s death, and four months since she had started attending a grief group recommended by Bucky. She had tried to insist to him that it was useless but he begged her to try it out. Now, here she was, four months later, still feeling as broken as she had the day she watched the love of her life be killed. Twice. One might ask why she continued to attend the sessions weekly when she felt she hadn’t made any progress. Why had she spent 16 of her Wednesday nights at a grief group when she felt it was pointless? The answer is simple: the food.
The session always had a table full of freshly baked goods from Sugar, Butter, Flour, a bakery just down the road from the community center holding the sessions. Every week, Wanda would sit through listening to people talk about their heartbreak, and, when pushed to confront her own trauma, reluctantly share just enough to satisfy the facilitator. And she did it all just to have a few moments of sheer joy, letting whatever delicious creation the bakery had provided that week wash over her taste buds and temporarily take her away from this cruel world that had ripped her love from her.
Wanda grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the table full of goodies. She had been running late today, so she didn’t get a chance to grab anything before the session, leaving her options limited. There was only one cookie left, but as she reached for it, her hand brushed against someone else’s, causing her to pull her hand back quickly.
“I’m sorry-”
“No it’s fine, I shouldn’t have-”
“Please it’s all yours-”
You cleared your throat and shot her a sheepish smile before extending your hand to her.
“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”
Wanda looks at your hand skeptically and you awkwardly retract it when you realize she won’t be shaking it.
“I’m Wanda,” she says hesitantly, her eyes flashing to the cookie, and then the exit.
You tried again. “So you like the cookies here too?”
She meets your Y/E/C eyes impatiently before sighing.
“Yeah, I’ll just grab one next week, though, I really gotta go,” she says, starting towards the exit.
You watch her leave, intrigued by the girl, before you snap back to reality.
*****************************************************************************************************
Wanda is almost to her car when she hears footsteps behind her and quickly turns around, her eyes glowing red.
You stare at her, wide-eyed, the remaining cookie in your hand.
“Shit, Wanda, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to give you this.”
Wanda sighs, her eyes returning to their normal color. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Remorse fills her face. Her grief had caused her to be angrier than usual, leading to her powers flaring up accidentally. And now she had frightened this woman who was just trying to give her a damn cookie.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. Thank you for the cookie. I promise I’m not always scary I just, I-”
You stopped her. “Hey, it’s fine. If I heard someone running at me in a parking lot in the middle of the night, I would be on edge too. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. Plus, you’re...well...here,” you paused, gesturing to the community center the two of you had just come from, before continuing, “so I think it’s safe to assume you aren’t having the best time. I get it. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know.”
Wanda was at a loss for words. She had nearly struck you with her powers and here you were, looking at her with a gentle smile and no fear on your face whatsoever.
After a few minutes of silence, you awkwardly placed the napkin-wrapped cookie on the hood of her car, before stepping back and smiling at her yet again.
“I’ll see you next week, Wanda. Have a good night,” you say, waving at her before you walk out of the parking lot and down the block.
*****************************************************************************************************
Only, you didn’t see her in Group the following week.
After leaving the community center, you were about to head down the block when you noticed her car in the parking lot, with her in it. You gently approached her car, tapping on the window quietly in an attempt to not startle her.
She looked up at you with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, before rolling down her window.
“May I help you?”
Her tone was much harsher than she intended, and she winced at it, but you merely smiled at her, unaffected, before digging through your bag and pulling out a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.
“They had leftovers tonight, you want some?”
And you had shocked Wanda yet again.
“Sure.”
You reached forward to hand the cookies to her through the window when Wanda decided to take a leap of faith.
“You can come sit in here and share them with me, I wouldn’t mind some company,” She says quietly before adding, “I’ll warn you, though, I’m a bit of a trainwreck right now.”
You laughed softly before opening the door to the passenger side of her car and sliding in. You looked at her with soft eyes.
“Trainwrecks unite.”
*****************************************************************************************************
Wanda told you everything that night. She told you about Vision, about her love for him, and his for her. About how he was the first since her brother died to look at her like a person, and not a monster. She told you all about the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the desperate need for it to end.
And you listened. You watched her intently the whole time. You held her hand comfortingly as her body wracked with sobs. You were there. And that night, you didn’t know why, but you made a promise to always be there for the beautiful redhead with the lost hope.
That night was the first time since Vision’s death that Wanda slept soundly through the night. No nightmares. No suffering.
It had been three months since that night. Since then, it became a habit for the two of you to spend Wednesday nights following group sessions in her car, chatting about anything and everything. And Wanda had to admit, she was okay. For the first time since Vision’s death, she didn’t wish she could join him. She didn’t want to stay isolated in her room. She wanted to live. She wanted to show people the kindness you’d shown her. She woke every Wednesday with a smile, and you on her mind.
*****************************************************************************************************
This Wednesday, you appeared nervous as you got into the passenger side of Wanda’s car.
Wanda noticed this right off the bat.
“Y/N, are you okay?”
You start fidgeting with your fingers and look down at your lap as you respond.
“Yeah, I just...I have to tell you something. Promise you won’t get mad.”
Wanda looks at you with a gentle smile.
“Y/N, you’re my best friend, I could never get mad at you. What is it?”
You took a deep breath and looked up at Wanda, before asking the question.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Wanda’s eyes widened and she froze.
You tried to dig yourself out of the hole.
“Nevermind, forget I said anything, I never should’ve-”
“No.” Wanda said quietly.
“What?”
“No. I can’t. God, I could never love you.”
You felt your heart shatter in your chest.
Wanda quickly realized the weight of her words, and tried to fix them, “Y/N, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I-”
“It’s fine, Wanda. I have to go.”
With that, you scrambled out of the car and walked out of the parking lot and down the block, with tears streaming down your face, and your heart broken.
*****************************************************************************************************
Wanda couldn’t believe she had said that. The truth is, she didn’t know if she had room in her heart for more than one love. She had loved Vision. He was everything to her. Could she also love you?
For the rest of the week, Wanda was beyond conflicted. She knew she had to apologize to you, but she didn’t want to do so until she had sorted out her own feelings. You deserved a solid answer.
It was Tuesday night. She would see you again tomorrow. And she still didn’t know. She tossed and turned that night for hours before she finally fell asleep, you and Vision occupying her mind, per usual.
She was in a field of flowers. It was beautiful. She thought about how she might like to show it to you. And then she heard someone. Someone she thought she would never hear from or see again.
“Wanda, darling.”
“Vision?” She spun around, and there he was, smiling at her.
“It’s okay, you know,” He said. Wanda was confused. He continued, “The feelings that you’re feeling. For her. It’s okay.”
She laughed, “You always did know me better than I knew myself.”
Vision smiled softly at her.
“Vision, I love you. I love you so much. I can’t let you go.”
“Wanda, no one is asking you to. You can move on without letting my memory slip away from you.”
Wanda nods softly, thinking intently about what he said.
“Tell me about her,” he encourages.
Wanda smiles.
“She’s so gentle. And so stubborn. I almost hurt her when we first met but she didn’t cower. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t look at me like a monster. She made me laugh for the first time since you...you know. She fidgets with her fingers when she’s nervous. She does this adorable head tilt when she’s listening intently. She’s patient. She’s kind. She’s...she’s everything,” Wanda realizes, awestruck.
Vision approaches her.
“You love her.”
She looks at him, concerned. “Is that okay?”
He merely smiles. “Darling, of course it’s okay. She sounds wonderful. You deserve her. You deserve love, even if it isn’t with me. You deserve happiness.”
Wanda grabs his hands. “Thank you, Vision. For your love. I think it will always be a part of me. But I’m ready to move on. I love her. I’m ready.”
Vision squeezes her hands gently. “That you are, Wanda. I’ll always love you. Now go. Go to her.”
*****************************************************************************************************
Wanda shot up, breathing deeply. This time, she only had one person on her mind: you. “I love her,” she whispers softly to herself. She smiles, but it quickly fades when she remembers the words she said to you last week. She had to make this right.
*****************************************************************************************************
She arrived at Group early, noticing with a frown that the snack table was empty. She knew she would need some baked goods to give her the courage to approach you, so she approached the facilitator, Mindy, and cleared her throat to get Mindy’s attention.
“Um, hello, ma’am, I was just wondering where the goodies are? They’re usually here by now,” she said.
Mindy smiled at the girl. “I’m sorry, dear, but there won’t be any baked goods today. Y/N called me earlier, and told me she wouldn’t be able to make it.”
“Y/N? What does she have to do with-” Wanda pauses. Holy shit. You were the owner of Sugar, Butter, Flour. You had been the one making the goodies that fueled her to keep attending the group. You had been the provider of her temporary escape from the world. You did that. It truly was always you. She had to find you.
“Are you alright, dear?” Mindy asked.
Wanda shook her head. “No, there’s something I need to do. Thank you for your help, ma’am.” And with that, she sprinted out the door, got into her car, and pulled out of the parking lot.
*****************************************************************************************************
Wanda didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to find you. And then it started raining. No, not just raining. Pouring. This made it incredibly hard for Wanda to see where she was going, but she was determined.
As she drove, she realized something. She had told you everything about herself. You had listened, asked questions. But she never once asked about you. Hell, she didn’t even know you baked for a living until 15 minutes ago. She didn’t even know why you attended the grief group.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize she had driven all the way to the park at the edge of town, until she saw you. You were sitting on a bench, in the pouring rain, sobbing and shaking. Her heart broke at the sight. She quietly got out of her car.
“Y/N?” She called your name softly, approaching you with caution.
Your head snapped up.
“Wanda?”
She smiled weakly at you, and suddenly your eyes filled with more tears as you began to shake again.
“I tried to go to Group and act like everything was normal, I really tried, Wanda, but I just couldn’t, I’m sorry, I’m so-”
Wanda rushed over to you, engulfing you in a hug, holding you tightly as you sobbed.
“It’s okay, malyshka, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. Breathe, sweet girl. I’m here. I’m right here, I promise.”
She continued to hold you and speak comforting words to you for what felt like hours, until your sobs eventually died down, and you pulled away, sniffling. You looked up at the sky as if just remembering it was pouring, before standing up from the bench.
“Sorry about that. We should probably go inside, it’s pouring, and I don’t want you to-”
“I love you,” Wanda blurted out, leaving you speechless. She stood up and took your hands, mentally breathing a sigh of relief when you don't pull away. “I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry for not admitting it to myself, or you, sooner. Me saying that I could never love you? That was the grief speaking. I shouldn’t have let it control me like that. And I’m done. I’m done letting it control me. The truth is, anyone would be lucky to love you. And I do. I love you. I love your smile, I love your kind heart. I love your baked treats, which, by the way, I just learned were yours about an hour ago,” She says, and you let out a wet laugh. “I shouldn’t have said those things,” She continued, “It was wrong. I’m in love with you. And I understand if you don’t want to give me a second chance, because-”
You cut her off by smashing your lips against hers, and without hesitation, she kissed back, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. The two of you only pulled away when you let out a violent shiver because of the rain. She looked at you concerned, but you merely laughed, pulling her in for another kiss.
*****************************************************************************************************
“Detka, I’m home!” Wanda called out, wondering where you were. Her questions were answered when a delicious smell hit her. She walked into the kitchen and smiled adoringly at you. You were moving around the kitchen, flour in your hair, and batter all over your clothes, completely in your own little world.
“Detka,” Wanda tries again, and you spin around, holding a spatula out in front of you as a form of defense.
“Shit, Wanda, sorry, you scared me!” You said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“My how the tables have turned,” she says teasingly, before removing the spatula from your hand and licking it.
“Wanda,” you pouted, “I was using that! Now I have to wash it!”
Wanda kissed the pout off of your face, before smiling at you triumphantly at doing so.
“Or, you could stop baking for the night and come cuddle with me and watch Bewitched,” she suggested, giving you those adorable puppy dog eyes.
You rolled your eyes playfully. “You know I can’t resist that face. Okay. Give me 10 minutes to get showered and then I’ll join you on the couch.”
“I’ll be counting!” She called as you made your way to the bathroom.
It had been 5 years since that night in the rain, and as she sat down on the couch, gazing down at the wedding band that adorned her left hand, she still couldn’t believe how she had gotten so lucky to find another love. You were beautiful, kind, and patient, and she loved you with every ounce of her heart.
“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?” You asked with a smile, before settling down next to her on the couch and curling into her side.
“You. It’s always you,” she replied, kissing your temple.
You smile lovingly at her. “I love you, Wanda.”
“And I love you, beautiful girl.”
And as the two of you sat there, snuggled up, and watched Bewitched, both of you were so grateful that Wanda had made room for another love.
#wanda maximoff x fem reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x reader#marvel imagine#marvel one shot#wanda maximoff#wanda#wanda x reader#wanda x y/n#wanda imagine#marvel#wandavision#angst#fluff#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff angst
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— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.
WARNINGS: light angst & swearing.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: he's one of my ultimate favorite snk characters, and i needed to cleanse my page of the heavy ass warrior content djjfjf.
"you're either a blessing, or you're a lesson. either or, you and i met for a reason."
with all of the gore and the misfortune that comes with your livelihood, it's connie that gets you through it.
as expected, you first fell in love with him for his humor. not for the humor itself, but for how it shed the smallest flicker of joy upon a heaping tower of despair— as soldiers, you needed that. fortunately, he was the one that brought it to the table. even during your days as cadets, connie lived to make you laugh. hearing a chuckle flutter from your core served as a form of therapy for him, and with time, he grew addicted.
with that being said, he does the stupidest shit in order to get your attention. even when you're together, he'll do what needs to be done. for example, one time, he tried to impress you by doing a trick while saddled up on his horse. in an attempt to twirl like a jackass ballerina, the horse decided that it deserved better, and kicked him clean off its back. at the sight of his 5'2 ass being hoisted eight feet into the air, you nearly choked.
prepare yourself, he's a cuddler. after a particularly hard day's worth of work, connie finds solace in bedding up with you, knowing that you're safe, and with him. he asks that you don't tell anybody, but he actually really enjoys cuddling as the little spoon. to have his head pressed against your chest, his ear to your heartbeat, brings him comfort. of course, he'll never detest to being your big spoon, either. he absolutely loves the feeling of you buried within his touch.
^ if you ever want to go an evening without cuddling, he'll be immediately offended. never, ever, ever will the two of you fall asleep back to back. he simply won't have it, it makes him feel as if something's wrong. and if that is the case, nobody's falling asleep until you've talked about it and successfully sorted it out.
at the beginning of your guys' relationship, everyone worried for you. did he coerce you, y/n? are you being forced? has he threatened you, has he threatened your family? nobody could grasp the fact that connie motherfuckin' springer had managed to pull you.
if there's any sort of sour talk regarding you, no matter how little it is, this man will leap to your defense. one time, jean called your bedhead ugly, and connie propelled a moldy roll of bread into his forehead. in the end, a massive food fight erupted, and you were just standing there with your bedhead like 🧍♀️
HOWEVER, there was an instance that actually led to a genuine, real fight between you two as a couple. you'd managed to scuff up your leg during the battle with kenny the ripper and his associates, and when it came down to who was and who wasn't going to tag along for the eren & historia rescue mission, connie belittled you to the team behind your back. not because he actually felt that way, but because he'd do anything to maintain your safety— even if it meant hurting your feelings. telling captain levi that your abilities were inadequate for that particular mission hurt him, but he did what he felt was necessary.
in the end, though, levi saw through the charade. to connie's dismay, you came with to save eren and historia. and during the entire journey, you didn't even utter a word to him. of course, though, during the battle, you put your frustrations aside. once you saw your lover's head nearly get kicked in during combat, you understood his intentions, and you forgave him. as expected, he replied to your forgiveness with humor,, his go-to coping mechanism.
"considering how sexy i looked on the battlefield, i knew you wouldn't be able to resist."
whenever his hair starts to grow out, you're the one that gets to cut it back down! he's able to do it himself, but he really likes it when you do it. you're typically propped up in his lap, sitting face to face as you file down his edges. he always loops his arms around your waist, intently staring you in the face— seeing you so concentrated on his hair, he can't help it.
you wouldn't expect this from connie whatsoever, but he likes it when you read to him. pick a literature of your choice and let him kick back and rest his head onto your lap, pleasE. he'll close his eyes, and for the first time in forever, stay still. the only time he and books ever coexist is when you're reading one to him. he'll also make fun of you whenever you stumble over a sentence,, so get ready.
the day you realize that this motherfucker is nearing six feet tall, you're ready for the holy spirit to whisk you away. literally, you measure his height on the weekly once you realize he just keeps gaining inches. that, and when he starts growing more into his face? lawd, take you now.
"connie, you're getting seXY-"
"what the hell does thaT mE A N-"
many, many proposals. none are meant to be taken seriously, which the both of you know. still, there are far too many proposals between the two of you. one time, you killed a fly midair, and he thought you were the baddest bitch on the block.
"marry me."
another time, he swooped you into the air with his maneuvering gear, and as you held onto him for dear life, you looked him dead in the face: "marry me, you baldheaded bastard."
it can be a reel, how many times the two of you say that bullshit. somehow, it's cute.
he doesn't really take basic boundaries into consideration. like, one time, you caught him using your toothbrush because he couldn't find his. it wasn't fun, you had to give him a serious talking to.
he is, without a doubt, constantly prepared to lay down his life for you on the battlefield. during his time as a soldier, he's grown significantly strong— and once he fell in love with you, he's felt even stronger. not only do you give him drive, but you lend him strength. with that being said, you're somebody he'd die for without even an ounce of hesitation. and knowing him, he's probably made that more than obvious.
when connie's village was destroyed and it was discovered that his entire family was turned into titans, you were one of the only ones to actually comfort him. you were absolutely enraged at how nonchalantly your lover's loss was set aside, and although he'd tried his hardest to conquer the grief alone, it was you who sat at his bedside at night, cradling him in your arms as he wept. never in your life had you seen him so distraught. after that period of time, your relationship with him only deepened in its seriousness. 
as expected, you and sasha spend quite a bit of time together! after all, that's your boyfriend's best friend. given her easygoing nature, it didn't take long for sasha to absolutely adore you. naturally, she wonders how the hell you manage to operate with a boyfriend like that, but she tries not to ask questions.
speaking of the wonder twins, they love getting you in trouble. whenever the two of them think up an astonishingly moronic shenanigan, there's a solid 50/50 chance that you'll be looped into it, too. one time, they purposefully dulled jean's razor, and when he went to shave, it only ended in him splitting his face open due to placing too much pressure. as a joke, those two jackasses carved your initials into the handle. when jean decided that he'd murder you, connie tried playing the hero, lEapiNg to your defense. it was stupid, and it didn't work. you still laugh about it, though.
there have been several jokes regarding starting a family and growing old together— secretly, though, connie doesn't want them to just be jokes.
he stole a stray cat for you. yup, yes he did. the two of you were walking about the city, and you saw a gray-haired sleeping beside a trash bin behind a local vendor. you compared its fur to the color of his hair, calling it cute. out of impulse, connie went back to that exact same vendor later on that day, trapped the cat in a box, and brought it to your doorstep.
his forearms and fingertips were covered in claw marks, but to see your face light up the way that it did, any amount of pain was immediately worth it.
after the nickname that shadis had given connie on the first day of cadet training, you named the kitty q-ball. 🥺
during the season four era, the two of you share a house. at first, captain levi argued against it— "put a pair of horny teenagers in a home together, what do you think is gonna happen?"
y'all said fuck it, and lived together anyways. it's you, him, and your lovely child, q-ball. occasionally jean, too. some nights, he doesn't want to be alone.
eskimo kisses. during the prepping of every single mission, you'll get eskimo kisses. it's a small, loving gesture the two of you do before heading into the battlefield. as a sign of your love, you'll press your foreheads together and rub noses, weapons holstered and ready for combat. it's a serious tradition, and it'll never be ignored.
and after a mission, connie has this habit of pinching your cheeks immediately after rushing towards you. it isn't to be cute, either. it's so that he can scan you, and check you for any harm. basically, it's him squeezing the life out of your face while bombarding you with questions.
expect supremely cheesy pet names! bae, biscuit, buttercup, baby thing, sexy bitch, and so on. if it were anyone else, he would 100% make fun of them. but it's him, therefore adorable.
#attack on titan#aot#shingeki no kyojin#snk#aot scenarios#aot headcanons#connie springer#connie springer x reader#aot x reader#connie springer headcanons
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— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson
word count: 3.1k+
warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism
series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.
a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution
Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.
However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.
For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.
For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.
“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”
Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.
“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.
So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.
“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”
Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.
“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.
In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.
“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.
“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”
You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.
“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”
“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.
“Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.
You seriously needed to get your shit together.
“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.
Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.
“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.
You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.
“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.
* * *
It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.
Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.
Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.
Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.
It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?
"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.
And then he said hi and it all went south from there.
Sarah was obviously pissed.
She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.
Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.
"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.
When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.
"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."
Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.
Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.
Beautiful eyes.
Well shit.
"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.
Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.
But, thankfully, he didn't have to.
"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.
* * *
Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.
It made you want to commit a crime.
His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.
Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.
It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.
In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.
The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.
"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.
"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.
Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.
"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"
It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.
You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.
"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.
Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.
So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.
"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."
He can't be serious.
"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.
Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.
* * *
mini-series taglist – let me know if you want to be added
@softieyn
@mahvericks
@amirahiddleston
@fireghost-x
@samuelthomaswillson
@itsnottilly
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mcu taglist – join here
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#sam wilson#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson imagine#sam wilson headcanon#the falcon#the falcon x reader#captain america#captain america x reader#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws#tfatws imagine#mcu#mcu imagine#mcu mini series#mcu reader insert#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel reader insert#sarah wilson
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Silent Words - Chapter 2
Warnings: cursing, death, angst.
Word count: 1890 words
A/N: hi guys! Here’s another chapter, my fingers were itching to write and post a new chapter despite having posted yesterday. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter and if you have any feedback, don’t hesitate to tell me!!
She had been waiting for two days before she got the message to come pick up her father’s will. As soon as she got the message, she went to her father’s lawyer to pick it up. She arrived at the building he worked at, parked her car and walked straight to where she could always find him; his office.
She knocked four times. “Come in.” She heard him say. She went in and closed the door behind her, she didn’t want any other people up in her business. “Hello, uncle Jacques.” She said. “I’m here to pick up my father’s will.” He looked at her and gave her a tired smile. “Come sit, my dear. Would you like a drink?” He asked while pointing to a comfortable looking leather chair. She went to sit down. “Just a glass of water please.” She was in no mood to be drinking, she had to stay focused. He handed her a glass of water and she quietly thanked him before she took a sip. He placed an envelope the size of a paper on his table. “Here’s your father’s will. Would you like me to read it out loud, like in the movies? Or would you prefer to take it home and read it on your own?” She smiled at the joke about the movies. She and uncle Jacques used to watch loads of classics together when she was younger whenever her father was absent for some business. “I’d rather take it home and read it on my own if you don’t mind.” She said, smile still on her face. “Of course, my dear. How are you holding up?” He asked, concern visible in his eyes. She sighed. “Still processing I suppose. He passed way too soon. But he’s with Sarah and Mom now, making up for lost time. I can’t wait to join them, we will be complete at last.” Her smile faltered. “Don’t say that, Y/N. You have so much to live for, even if it seems like that might not be the case at this very moment; you really do. You were born to fulfill great things, you’re a Roux after all. Don’t let yourself go to waste.” He said firmly. This man was always good at telling her off when she was messed up. She exhaled firmly, straightening her back. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Got a little bit too caught up in grief.” She said apologetically. “Don’t worry about it.” He said as he handed her the will, waiting for her to take it. This time, she took it without hesitation. She got up. “Thank you, uncle Jacques.” She took a good look at the man, she was thankful for him. “Stay safe and good luck. And you know it, if you need anything-” “I know how to find you.” With a nod, she walked out of the building and back to her car.
Y/N decided to have breakfast at her favorite place instead of going home. She didn’t really leave the house after her father’s passing, so she felt like she deserved to treat herself. She parked her car, grabbed the envelope and entered the small café. She smiled and kindly nodded to the waitress behind the counter and took place at the window booth in the corner of the place. “Hello darling, long time no see. You have grown into such a beautiful woman. How are you?” The elder French lady who came to take her order cupped her check, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “Hello Judith, I’ve missed you. I’m doing good, how about you?” Y/N replied. “Oh, you know darling, the usual. I’m not getting any younger.” Judith said jokingly. “But you are getting more beautiful, look at you glowing!” Y/N said, still smiling. “Oh stop it, you little charming lady! I’ll have your usual for you in a bit.” Judith giggled and blushed. “Thank you, Judith.” She looked at the woman as she walked away. This has been Y/N’s favorite spot since she was 14.
One day, when she was walking home from school, she stumbled across this place. She decided to go in since it looked very cosy, and she was pretty cold. “Hello dear, take a seat wherever you’d like. I’ll be with you shortly.” The middle-aged woman said. She decided to sit in the window booth in the corner of the place. She texted her father, saying she’d be home later. Then she heard a man yelling. She quickly turned to the sound and saw a man in his thirties yelling at the kind woman. Before she realized it, her legs transported her to the counter where the man stood. He was yelling about a wrong coffee order. She saw the woman flinch. “HEY! Why don’t you take your coffee and shove it up your ass? Were you not taught any manners?” It was a funny sight, a fourteen-year-old yelling at a man in his thirties. “You little shit, don’t you know who I am? You’re in so much trouble. What’s your name?” He sneered, taking a step towards her. “I don’t know who you are, and quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck either. You’re talking to a Roux. Now get out of here before I show you real trouble.” She yelled. He visibly tensed when hearing her last name. He scrambled his belongings together and quickly took off. “I’m so sorry for his behavior, are you okay?” She took a step towards the shaken up woman. “Thank you dear, but you really didn’t have to do that.” The woman said, still lightly shaken up. “Don’t worry miss, he won’t be a bother anymore.” Y/N said and went back to her spot. A few moments later, the woman came up to her with a slice of cake and steaming cup of tea. “Oh, I didn’t order that miss. I think you have the wrong table.” She told the woman and smiled. “No dear, this one is on the house. I wanted to thank you for standing up for me. You can call me Judith.” The woman put the slice and cup down and put out her hand. “I’m Y/N.” She shook the woman’s hand.
“Here you go sweetheart, enjoy.” Judith put down the order and sat down across of her. She took the young woman’s hand and smiled apologetically. Y/N looked at the envelope and sighed. “I heard about your father, I’m sorry darling. He was a great man.” Then she looked up confused. “You knew my father?” She did not expect that. Judith smiled. “How couldn’t I? That day you stood up to that man, you granted me protection in the name of the Rouxes. I offered my compliance to your father to express my gratitude.” Judith giggled again. Y/N’s mouth fell open, wide eyes looking at the elderly and innocent looking woman who just confessed she worked for a notorious weapon dealer. “Judith! You worked for my father?” She started laughing out of shock and disbelief. “Yes, I did. He was a polite young man and very generous too.“ Judith smiled, remembering him. “I’ll leave you to your business now.” Judith nodded to the envelope, got up and cupped Y/N’s cheek once again before going back to the counter. She finished her slice of cake and looked at the envelope. She opened it, took the paper out and started reading.
I, Nour Roux, an adult residing at 41 Place de la Madeleine in Paris, being of sound mind, declare this to be my last will and testament. I hereby revoke, annul and cancel all wills and codicils previously made by me, either jointly or severally. This last will expresses my wishes without undue influence or duress. I hereby nominate, constitute and appoint Jacques Fontaine as Executor. If this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint Judith Marie Boucher as alternate Executor.
Y/N smiled, looking up at Judith who was busy preparing an order. Then, she continued reading.
I hereby declare that I give to Y/N Roux absolutely all real and personal property whatsoever and wheresoever.
She then scanned the text to see that it was about uncle Jacques executing posthumous financial matters for her father and lastly some autographs of her father and some witnesses making the will valid. Then, she turned the paper around and took a look at the first silent wish.
To my daughter, Y/N Roux, I request she grants some simple familial wishes.
My first wish is that I want you to visit Elias Van Dyck sometimes and give him a serious headache for me. I can’t let him forget about me.
She smiled, thinking about the time her dad taught her this silent word.
“I have a serious headache, as if someone shot me through the head” He said, sitting next to her in the dentist waiting area, without breaking eye contact. A way to let Y/N know that what he just said was very important. And she was taught to always remember her dad’s important things. So she nodded four times, to let her father know she understood.
It’s time to fulfill Dad’s wishes. She thought. She finished her tea, walked up to the counter and paid for her order. “Good luck, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Judith smiled sweetly. With a nod and a smile, Y/N exited the café and got into her car. She went home and dived into her father’s office, looking for any information about this Elias Van Dyck. She found out that he was the owner of several clubs and also part of a human trafficking ring. Being unsatisfied with the amount of information she found, Y/N took to her laptop and searched up his name. Several articles about his clubs came up. Then, an article about him that addressed his fatal heart attack. Confused, she put her laptop away. How do I kill a man that’s already dead? She thought. Unless he died after Dad wrote his will. She looked at the article which revealed the date in which he died. March 13th 2017. She frowned. She thought that her father’s will was signed in 2018. She checked, it was indeed signed a year after Elias’ death. She inhaled sharply and dialed Jacques’ number. The phone rang. “Hello?” She heard his voice say. “Hi uncle Jacques. Could you help me out please?” She said. “Of course dear, what do you need help with?” He replied. “I need information on a guy named Elias Van Dyck. Could you tell me something about him?” She asked him. “One second.” She heard him put the phone down and then some rustling in the background. “Elias Van Dyck, born in Antwerp, Belgium on July 14th 1971, died in Vienna in March 13th 2017. Club owner, human trafficker. Do you need more information?” He said. She sighed. “No, that is all. Thank you very much uncle Jacques.” She replied. “No problem dear.” To which he hung up. Putting her phone next to her on her bed she looked around, feeling hopeless. It didn’t make sense that he had died a year before her father had signed his will. Her gut feeling told her that something was wrong. And if uncle Jacques couldn’t help her, then no one really could.
Except for him.
Reluctantly, she got up to collect her stuff. She grabbed her handbag and put in her belongings. She then grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with clothes.
She didn’t want to see him, but if she wanted to make her father proud, she would need his help.
Taglist (if you wanna be included, send me a message!):
@saiyanprincessswanie @disasterbii @zaynzierulez @kingbuckyx
#bucky barnes x you#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x criminal!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#Bucky Barnes x y/n
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It’s the End of the World as We Know It - Chapter 2
summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?
Link on AO3!
words: 3,341
rating: M - Mature
genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert
warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing
a/n: this one’s a little short, but please enjoy nonetheless!
- Can I Crash Here? -
It’s raining outside. You sit on a mattress that’s been grouped together haphazardly with a number of other mattresses in the dark, cold gym. Akaashi has been sitting next to you quietly this whole time, and you’re appreciative of the silent comfort. Indie lays at your feet, heaving a great sigh every now and then.
When you’d shown up at the gym, you were relieved beyond words to see some familiar faces-- even though you hardly knew these boys at all, they were still alive. You remember falling to your knees and screwing your eyes shut as the grief and fear from the past few weeks came pouring out of you in shaking sobs. Akaashi had been the one to awkwardly pat your shoulder, while Indie sniffed and licked at you nervously.
Somehow in your hysteria, you had been ushered to sit on a mattress while you sobbed into your knees. After a few minutes, you hesitantly looked up to find Akaashi next to you, and Bokuto and Kuroo kneeling in front of you with distress and hesitation-- of course they wouldn’t know what to do in this situation, as you hardly knew yourself.
Akaashi had gently asked you what happened, but you shook your head, unwilling to think of what you had just been through. You remember when a fresh wave of panic overcame you, and you had gasped, which only worried the boys even more.
“M-my car!” You ran your hand through your tangled hair. “I parked it outside the school-- shit, I’m sorry, I-- I didn’t even think-- oh, fuck, they’re gonna find me--”
“Hang on.” Kuroo asserted, placing a firm hand on your shoulder as he hooked you with a steely, calm gaze. You remembered how his bright eyes grounded you somehow, how they brought you back to the present. “We can drive your car over here and hide it. Here, gimme the keys. Akaashi, wait with her-- Bokuto, come with me.”
“Huh? Why do I have to come?” Bokuto exclaimed.
“In case I run into whatever’s got her so scared, I don’t wanna be alone.” Kuroo shrugged as he stood, your car keys having somehow made it into his palm.
“Ohhh, scared, are ya?” Bokuto teased.
“Yeah.” Kuroo said, and that definitely sobered up his spiky-haired friend as the gravity of the situation settled uncomfortably around you four. Bokuto had cleared his throat, and then he had patted your head awkwardly.
“Don’t worry! We’ll fix everything for ya.” He had beamed at you, but you could only stare blankly back. Bokuto shifted awkwardly, then gave Indie a few pats. “Good dog! Okay, we’ll be back. Take care of her, Akaashi!”
The two boys had left about ten minutes ago, and here you were, now sitting in the spacious, cold gymnasium of your high school next to a boy you barely knew who gave you poptarts only a day before. Was it a day? It feels like weeks ago.
You look up at the high ceiling as the rain pitter patters against it soothingly, and you can feel Akaashi’s gaze land on you at your movement. You lick your dry lips, and glance at him.
“A-are none of them awake?” You whisper, and you’re referring, of course, to the number of other sleeping humans surrounding you and Akaashi. The sleeping lumps are unidentifiable, as far as you’re concerned-- you’re surprised there are so many people grouped together in one place. There’s some snores here and there, but no one besides you and Akaashi are awake.
Akaashi shakes his head. “These guys can sleep through a fucking typhoon.”
You laugh a little, and Akaashi’s chest warms up a bit. It’s nicer to see you smile instead of cry. He clears his throat.
“So, what happened?” He asks quietly.
You bite the inside of your cheek and glance at him. He seems to always have the same calm, apathetic expression on his handsome features, but his voice is comforting and tinged with worry. The two of you have been sitting in the quiet for some time now, and you’re sure you gave him quite a scare upon your sudden arrival, so you suppose he deserves an explanation.
“Well, I… went home, unloaded some of my groceries.” You clear your throat. “Then, um, I tried to text my friend Callie, but it wouldn’t send, so I fell asleep. And then I woke up around 3:30 and heard some guys in my house…” Biting your lip, you remember being grabbed by the red-head, and subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Akaashi. “Um, so then I ran out and drove here.”
Akaashi hums and studies you for a moment. He can tell you’re troubled, so he doesn’t want to press the subject. But he doesn’t want you to stay troubled.
“What’s his name?” He asks, petting Indie behind her ear.
“Indiana, Indie for short.” You smile sideways at him. “And she’s a girl.”
“My bad.” Akaashi returns your smile, glad to see you relax just a bit. “She’s trained really well.”
“Yeah, she tackled one of the guys back there.” You say proudly, but after you think about it for a second, you hope she didn’t kill him. Indie looks up at you, panting happily, and you give her a pat on the head.
“Damn. Guess we shouldn’t mess with you, then.” Akaashi sits back, and you suddenly notice how close the two of you are sitting. Maybe it’s the extreme lack of human contact you’ve had recently, or the fact that Akaashi is insanely cute, but you feel a blush creep up your neck despite yourself. It’s also stupidly late. And you’re tired.
You glance away from him as you hear footsteps outside the gym, and the doors open to reveal Kuroo and Bokuto, the latter twirling your car keys on his finger.
“We have hidden your car!” Bokuto announces triumphantly, and you shush him, only to find that he hasn’t actually disturbed any of the sleeping people behind you. Akaashi was right, you think as you glance at him again.
“Getting cozy while we were gone?” Kuroo grins, looking between you and Akaashi as the two close the doors behind them and walk up to you. You stand abruptly-- it’s the goddamn apocalypse, you don’t need a crush. Still, yet another blush creeps up your cheeks. Akaashi rolls his eyes as he stands up beside you.
“Where did you hide it?” Akaashi asks.
“Behind a tree.” Bokuto gives you your keys back.
“I should add, we also put some leaves over your car for added security.” Kuroo says, and you nod appreciatively.
“Just so long as you parked it near the gym, it should be out of sight from the street.” Akaashi yawns. You feel a wash of guilt at your realization that you’ve kept these guys up really late, after they’ve done who-knows-what kind of hard work during the day. Not everyone has your fucked up sleep schedule.
“Thank you so much-- um, I’m really sorry for keeping you guys up.” You say sheepishly.
“Don’t apologize!” Bokuto exclaims. “We were up when you got here anyways. Hey, here’s a question-- if your leg gets cut off--”
“We should get some sleep.” Kuroo cuts in. “As much as I’d love to hear her input on that topic, it can wait until the morning.”
Bokuto sighs in resignation, but rubs his eyes tiredly. He wanders over to his mattress and flops down, burrowing himself into his pile of blankets. Kuroo stretches, then stops abruptly as he whips around to look at you.
“Oh shit, where are you gonna sleep?” He asks you, then looks to Akaashi, who frowns.
“Oh, I can just sleep on the floor.” You wave your hand dismissively-- you really don’t want to put them out of any comfort.
“No.” The two boys say at once, and you’re a bit surprised at their severity. Bokuto is already snoring, much to your surprise.
“I’ll sleep on the floor-- you can sleep in my bed.” Akaashi offers, already pulling a blanket off of his mattress.
“Please, you can sleep in my bed.” Kuroo asserts, peeling off one of his own blankets. The two boys look at each other, and you could swear they were glaring.
“No!” You exclaim. “You guys already helped me enough-- plus, it’s cold as hell in here and sleeping on this cold floor is bound to make you sick, and you can’t get sick during the apocalypse-- do you know how easy it is to die from the common cold, especially when there’s no doctors around?!”
The two boys are a little taken aback by your exclamation, and so are you-- this is the most emotion you’ve shown in quite a while. You bite the inside of your cheek and frown, crossing your arms. “None of us are gonna sleep on the floor.” You assert, and Kuroo tosses his blanket back onto his bed.
“What do you suggest, then?” He asks, crossing his arms right back.
“You could sleep with one of us.” Akaashi says quietly, like that has zero implications whatsoever. Your eyes widen, and you’re so glad it’s dark in the gym because you’re sure that your face is as red as a tomato. Kuroo snickers.
“I’m down if you’re down.” He says teasingly, and raises his eyebrows at you.
“Up to you.” Akaashi adds quietly. Clearly, this decision is in your hands-- and you don’t want them to sleep on the floor, and you certainly don’t want to sleep on the floor yourself, and sharing a bed with one of them couldn’t possibly be that terrible, could it?
You gulp, and glance at the floor. Kuroo is hot, you’re not gonna lie-- you’re sure he pulled all the girls in school. He also seems like he’d be really nice to curl up against, since he’s much bigger than you are. And Akaashi, he already makes you feel safe. Plus, his broad shoulders and undeniably fit body cross your mind as you imagine how it’d feel to tuck your head under his chin...
You shake your head. Even though you are touch starved, you will not make things worse for yourself by imagining how it would feel to cuddle with any of these boys.
You clear your throat, aware of how long you’ve been silent.
“Um, I’ll sleep with Akaashi-- if, if that’s okay.” You mumble, hoping to any higher power that they can’t sense your immense embarrassment. Akaashi nods, though you don’t miss the almost triumphant look he tosses Kuroo’s way. The latter only shrugs, flopping down on his own mattress a couple beds over.
You bite your lip, unsure of where to look as you slip off your shoes, then begin to peel off your outer layers. Akaashi undoes his belt, and you look at him alarmingly. He looks confused for a second, then seems to realize what that might look like.
“U-um, I’m gonna keep my pants on.” He says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him sound nervous. You nod quickly.
“Yeah, me too.” You hate sleeping in pants, especially jeans-- usually it’s a huge tee shirt and undies for you, but you are not about to strip down to only that with a boy you’ve only just met, no matter how cute he is. You slip off your socks, then sit on the mattress with your back to Akaashi. You feel the mattress dip as he sits down too, and you take a deep breath before laying down on your side, facing away from the boy next to you. He does the same, and you can feel the warmth of his backside against yours as the two of you are just inches apart.
The rain falls steadily above your heads, and after a moment, you feel Akaashi shift behind you, and a blanket suddenly finds itself draped over your body. You roll over onto your back just as Akaashi begins to pull away, and he shrugs.
“You said yourself we can’t afford to be cold.”
“Thanks… You have a blanket too, right?” You whisper. Akaashi doesn’t answer, but that in itself is an indication that he doesn’t. You pause, then toss a portion of it over him, only to find it’s just a bit too small to cover the both of you.
...Unless you scoot closer together. The two of you lock eyes with that realization, and you know that he has to be blushing as much as you are. You quickly face away, and he does the same, as the two of you scoot closer together so that your backs are pressing against each other. You take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as the warmth from Akaashi begins to spread throughout your whole body. You feel his breaths, which even out rather quickly. He must have been really tired.
You, on the other hand, are wide awake. Your heart won’t stop racing, which is super annoying. Still, you screw your eyes shut in the hopes that you’ll at least get some sleep tonight.
The rain continues falling, and eventually, you are lulled to sleep.
[-]
The first thing you register is a pleasant warmth and an even pleasanter smell. You instinctively nuzzle your face closer to it, and in response you feel whatever sensation that’s wrapped around you tighten its hold. You’re properly wrapped up, though you don’t know what’s around you or where you are. All you know is you’re extremely comfortable and happy.
As consciousness slowly seeps in, memories trickle in one by one: running down your stairs, frantically gripping your steering wheel, wandering around your abandoned high school, dropping your hammer on the concrete outside the gym while staring at--
You furrow your brows, and your eyes flutter open against your will-- you haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but you can’t stop waking up as you take in your surroundings.
Your face is currently burrowed into Akaashi’s chest, your head tucked under his chin. Your hands are actually curled into his white shirt, and as you let go of it bashfully, you find that his arms are wrapped around you-- one laid flat on the mattress beneath you, and the other resting over your waist.
A blush once again lights up your face as Akaashi shifts in his sleep, unconsciously pulling you closer. He lets out a contented sigh, and you feel a foreign tingle spread throughout your whole body. You bite your lip-- as sunlight slowly filters into the gym, you’re sure that no one else is awake yet, otherwise you would’ve been woken up to the sound of Kuroo teasing you and Akaashi to no end.
You can’t let the other guys see you and Akaashi like this-- you can’t handle the embarrassment. As much as you don’t want to wake Akaashi up, you have to. Biting your lip, you move to pull away from him, but almost instantly, he tightens his hold on you, and with a grunt, he rolls over onto his back, pulling you with him. You suck in a breath, trying to stay silent as you now rest on top of his chest, one of your legs between his.
You bury your face in his chest, completely unsure of what to do. He was so exhausted last night-- you don’t want to wake him up! Just as your mind begins to race for a flawless escape strategy, Akaashi groans and rubs one eye open.
“Mnf….” He says your name groggily, and you ignore how his gravelly voice sends tingles up your spine.
You decide to play dumb, and turn your head to the side with a big yawn.
“Hmm?” You answer quietly, and relax your body as much as you can. You feel Akaashi freeze in place beneath you, and he quickly removes his other hand from the small of your back.
“U-um… you’re… on top of me…” He mumbles, and you groggily lift your head to face him, making sure to keep your eyes lidded so that you can play this off effectively.
“Huh?” You furrow your brows as you meet Akaashi’s gaze, whose face is now bright red as the sun slowly illuminates the gym. You catch the subtle, perhaps accidental, glance he takes towards your chest, and realization hits you then.
You’re just in your undershirt… a tank top… and your chest is pressed against his… You can imagine exactly what kind of view he had just then as you quickly roll off of him, your arms crossing over your chest quickly.
You both stay very quiet, unsure of what to say to each other. You ignore how nice it felt to be held by him, and how much you didn’t really want to leave his embrace. God, how childish of you-- it’s just the fact that you’re starved for human interaction, that’s why you’re feeling like this.
Somebody yawns really obnoxiously a few beds over, and you look up just as someone hurls a pillow towards the offensive yawner.
“Can it, Shitty-kawa.” Somebody grumbles.
“I can’t even wake up without getting scolded, can I?” The yawner answers.
The gym slowly starts to stir as the sun grows brighter through the high, square windows. You sit up at the same time as Akaashi, and you both can’t help but glance back at one another bashfully. Reaching down, you pull your flannel over your now cold shoulders, and Indie gives your hand a good morning lick.
“Morning,” Kuroo yawns, and grins over at you and Akaashi. “Sleep well?”
You blush, and only mutter a “good morning,” back.
“Huh? Who’s that?” The yawner exclaimes, and you turn towards the sea of mattresses to spot a boy around your age-- also insanely cute, with somehow perfectly styled hair-- sit up and openly stare at you. “Hmm, nice one, guys. She’s pretty cute.” He grins, and you’re not quite sure how to respond to that.
“We’re just ignoring the social distancing rule now, huh?” The guy who threw the pillow sighs and sits up to look at you, as well. You feel like a deer in the headlights, so you look for any possible way to escape this conversation.
You shoot to your feet, and turn to Akaashi. “Where’s the bathroom?” You mumble, but Kuroo answers for him.
“Down that hallway, to the left. No-- sorry, right. That’s where the girls bathroom is. And the plumbing still works!” Kuroo grins, and you nod quickly, turning to rush off to the bathroom. Indie follows behind you loyally, and you hear the boys begin to talk about you openly as you run off.
“Yeah, we met her yesterday…”
“...showed up in tears…”
“...Call her cute again, see what happens, Shitty-kawa…”
You’re in the school bathroom before you know it, and you laugh wryly to yourself as the familiarity of it makes you almost feel like you’re back in school. Small groups of the dirty tiles are arranged in your school colors, and there’s still a very old flier hanging on one of the stall doors, advertising a school play that never happened.
You rush to the sinks, and turn on the cold faucet water. You grip the sides of the sink with ferocity, and dare to look at your reflection.
There was no way you looked cute in this moment. That guy was either extremely thirsty or a cruel liar-- your hair was matted, eyes drooped and tired. You’re sure that your dark circles never looked darker. A wave of embarrassment overcomes you at the realization that you slept next to cute Akaashi looking like this...
You shake yourself of those thoughts, and look at yourself with hardened resolve. You splash your face with cold water, and that wakes you up a bit. Deep breath in, deep breath out. This is only temporary, just until you can gather your thoughts, enough supplies, and enough courage to travel to Ohio alone. This is only temporary…
But it’s your life now.
#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyu fanfiction#haikyuu x reader#kuroo x reader#akaashi x reader#iwaizumi x reader#oikawa x reader#reader insert
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|Ch. 12: Thunderstorms| Her Forgotten Past //Attack on Titan Fanfic//
"What’s happening?" I asked. My voice was surprisingly delicate and high. Not to mention terrified.
We were in a... house? No, a loft. It was dim, poor, and bare with little to no furniture.
Violent threats were being shouted from outside. The door trembled from all the pounds it was receiving.
"Open the door!"
"Daddy, I'm scared!" I said, tears rushing down my cheeks.
A man hurriedly picked me up in his arms. His face was blurry... I couldn't distinguish any features whatsoever. All I could pinpoint was the deep, gravelly voice that issued from him as he held me tight to his chest. We rushed towards the only window in the loft.
"You're going to be okay. I promise. Dadda promises." He said, positioning himself on the edge of the open window. The street below was a landing we could never survive. "Now, hold on tight!"
Crash! The door broke down.
"There he is! Kill him!"
We jumped out the window.
I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the ceiling of my bedroom. My heart thumped like I had received a burst of adrenaline, even though I knew full well that I had been in bed sleeping this whole time.
Did I have that dream again? It must've been the same one as always. There were many similarities. Except, in greater detail.
I rolled over in bed. I hugged the pillow, not really awake but not really asleep either. I kept thinking about the dream.
'Daddy, I'm scared...' I remembered with a pang.
Dad? In the dream, I said that? Was that man my father?
What if this dream... this dream that's haunted my sleep for years... what if it's not a dream at all? What if it's a memory?
This whole time... has my subconscious been showing me my past?
BANG! The door to my room flew open.
"Wake up!"
I was already sitting up, rubbing the tiredness out of my eyes. "What is it? What's going on?"
Petra stood by the door, her face ashen and her eyes frantic. "Come quickly."
I didn't even bother putting on my uniform. All I knew was that something terrible had happened. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. Petra led me down the many corridors of the castle headquarters, going down several staircases until we arrived at the first floor. I kept looking this way and that way, trying to find any disturbance. But there was none. That's when I noticed she was leading me outside to the courtyard. Huh... isn't this where Hanji runs her experiments?
The problem was big. Big enough for anyone to see.
It was Titan-sized.
I joined the accumulating crowd. Through the steam, we all watched as Hanji made a complete meltdown of herself, screaming and crying in front of two Titan carcasses. All that was left were the large bones, and those were disintegrating also.
I spotted Eren and approached him.
"It's too early for this shit." I sighed, rubbing my arms due to the early morning cold. I was still in my pajamas.
A tender look donned Eren's face. He chuckled softly. "Here," he took off his cloak and held it out for me.
I looked at it up and down. Was he serious? "Gee... thanks." I smiled appreciatively. A warm sensation flooded my cheeks, and I hoped to hell that I wasn't blushing. Lately that's all I ever do when he's around.... it's stupid and I didn't understand it, but it had to stop.
I mean... it's not like I....
'Impossible, Johanna', I shook the theory away.
I immediately felt warmer the second I threw on the cloak. Without meaning to, I noticed it smelled... nice. Like boy. But good, clean-smelling boy.
Smells are hard to register, okay?
'I must be out of my fucking mind to be thinking of stupid shit like this... Get a grip!' I berated myself.
"So, what happened here?" I asked, trying to occupy my thoughts with something else.
"Those were her Titan subjects, Sawney and Bean. She talked to me about them endlessly last night. I didn't get a wink of sleep." Eren said, stifling a yawn. He held a troubled gaze as he watched Hanji continue to wail. "But they were like her children... and whoever killed them didn't exactly benefit humanity. Sure, maybe they had a craving for vengeance after what happened in Trost. But now all of Hanji's research has gone down the drain. Not to mention, it'll probably be years until the Survey Corps can replace them. They're not easily captured."
What he said enlightened me. It's certainly not what I expected to hear from him. I looked at the barely-there, steaming carcasses. "Hm... You're right. I guess I never thought of it that way." I then smirked. "She really did a number on you, didn't she?"
He sighed tiredly. "She wouldn't shut up. It's good to see things from her point of view, though. But, fascinating species or not, I still hate these bastards." He glared at nothing in particular.
"Same here." I said softly. Soldiers were now trying to calm Hanji, to no avail.
Who could've done this? Who could've deliberately punched the Survey Corps in the gut like this? Well, whoever the culprit is... it was a dirty move on their part. And I have a feeling an act like this won't go unpunished.
A hand gripped my shoulder and I jumped. It was Commander Erwin, the last person I expected to see. He was leaning between us, and I saw he had his other hand on Eren's shoulder too, creating a huddle.
"Take a look around..." he said lowly. "Who do you think the real enemy is?"
My pupils sharpened at such a staggering question. What the hell did he mean? Erwin Smith, commander of the Survey Corps, the brilliant mind always working to fight the titans, and he was asking us... who the real enemy is?
There was something unsettling about the way he said it. It made me uneasy. But most importantly, it made me question my worldview. It was such a ridiculous and obvious question. But maybe... that's the point.
Could he be implying that after all these years, we were wrong? The Titans aren't the real enemy? If so, then who is?
"My bad. Loaded question." He muttered, and with that, he walked off.
But Eren and I shared equally suspicious looks. We both knew the Commander was being perfectly intentional.
* * *
The rest of the day was spent learning the formation for the 57th expedition. It was a shock to everyone when Erwin announced that it would be very soon. Tomorrow, to be exact. Everyone was nervous, including me. I wasn't necessarily wary for myself, but instead other people. Seeing a couple deaths was a guarantee. There was no such thing as an expedition without casualties.
I needed to mentally prepare myself for the gore. Especially since I was placed in one of the most dangerous flanks. I would be seeing a lot slobbery, glassy-eyed titans. But I believe in my skills, so I should be fine. If worse comes, I'll defend the other soldiers too.
I was on my way to meet Eren at the stables when Hanji approached me out of nowhere.
"Hey!" She said cheerfully.
"Oh, hi. Sorry about your loss." I told her, although she didn't look mournful in the least. Not anymore. But then again, people have different methods of dealing with grief. So who am I to judge?
"Yeah, pretty tough. But I'll always carry their memory right in here..." She patted her chest wistfully, right over her heart. "Ah... I'm gonna miss seeing Sawney's foaming smile every morning as I sip my coffee. But anyways!" She suddenly exclaimed, making me jump. "I'm here because I need something from you."
That can't be good. I narrowed my eyes. "What do you need?"
"A blood sample, of course!" She took a needle and a small vial out of her pocket.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, don't worry too much about it. It's just for your registration file. I had to take a sample of Eren's blood, too!" She said. "Now, give me your hand."
I hesitated, but figured the quicker I get this over with, the quicker I get to meet Eren to do stable work. I extended my hand and she pricked my index finger with the sharp needle. It barely hurt, surprisingly. She collected a red drop or two inside the vial and hurried off, practically running back inside HQ without saying so much as a goodbye. I shook my head and didn't think much of it.
"Hey," I greeted Eren in the stables. "Thanks for helping me. Just make sure Corporal Levi doesn't find out, or he'll be pissed."
"It's no problem. A whole month of stable work is too much for one person to handle." He said, shoveling manure into a trash bag.
I began replacing the old, weather-beaten hay in the stalls with new fresh loads for the horses to eat. These were the faithful animals that would be taking us on the expedition tomorrow. They needed to be well nurtured. As I worked diligently, I soon became lost in thought. Mainly about the dream- or memory- from this morning. It was still a mystery to me. And I don't like mysteries.
"Hey, Eren... this might seem weird and personal." I said, "but... what do you know about your Dad?"
He tilted his head, puzzled, and shoveled more manure. "You mean, what do I remember? Well, he was always very private. But besides the fact that he hid the secret to saving humanity in our basement, he was a good father. Most of the time he was on the road curing sick patients. He was the best doctor in Shiganshina, after all. But I was always happy when he came home. In those private moments, he wasn't Doctor Jaeger anymore... to me he was just Dad." He wore a sad smile. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. It- It was a dumb question..." I shook my head lightly and focused on the work at hand. I've only ever talked about the dreams with Jean. I don't know if I'm ready to share them with another person.
"It's okay, you can tell me."
"I'm fine, I prom-"
"Johanna." He said pointedly. I could already sense the concern building up inside him, so strong that it made him frustrated when people didn't explain themselves right on the spot. I've seen it happen with Mikasa and I was seeing it happen now with me. It was a unique mix of emotions that only Eren could possess. But I knew it was cause he cared.
I sighed and gave in. "Well, you know I can't remember much of my past. Or anything at all, actually. The first memory I have is from when I was... nine years old, I think? I woke up under a bridge in Trost not knowing who I was or who my parents were, or what the hell I was doing there. I was mindless. The only thing I owned was a blanket with my name on it and the clothes I was wearing at that time. It was a dark period in my life. I was very lonely..." I petted a spotted, caramel horse's mane. "Then Jean found me and he took care of me. If it wasn't for him, I don't know what would've become of me..." my gaze hardened. "But I've always had this dream. It comes to me at random, usually when I'm in a deep sleep. And in the dream... there's this man. And he's promising me that everything will be okay. Then there's shouting and all sorts of noise, and people trying to break into our home- but the point is, Eren... I think that man is my father. And I think this so-called dream is actually a memory."
He seemed genuinely interested. "Do you ever see the man's face? The man you think is your father?"
I smacked my lips, irritated with myself. All the frustration and hopelessness that I've accumulated for years suddenly came back. "No. The memory is always too blurry. Dammit, if I could just remember!" Without thinking, I kicked over an empty bucket.
"Woah, woah! Relax. Hey... it's okay." Eren assured me, gently placing his hands on my shoulders. "Stuff like this has happened before. There have been many cases where people suffer an accident, hit their heads, and wake up with amnesia. Then there's also me... when I Titan shift and lose control I can't really remember- but anyways, we know you're not a Titan. You don't steam up when you get physically hurt." He let out an embarrassed chuckle, but quickly returned to being serious. "What I'm trying to say is... the fact that you're remembering fragments of memory in your sleep is good. That's progress. So don't beat yourself up about it. And if you ever need someone to talk to... I-I know we haven't been friends that long. But I'm always here if you need someone to listen."
Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows, but Eren's irises seemed even more breathtaking than usual. Anyone who's met Eren knows that a wildfire inhabits him, forever burning anything and anyone that comes within sight. But what everyone doesn't know is that whenever he looks at me, that fire seems to cool down significantly. Almost like he doesn't want to burn me.
Like he sees me differently from the rest.
I noticed it the time he hugged me on top of the wall. I noticed it when he caught me in his arms yesterday. And I noticed it this morning when he gave me his cloak.
And now, as we stood face-to-face, completely alone except for the horses, it was happening again.
Perhaps it was just my imagination... but Eren's face appeared to be getting closer to mine with each passing second...
"WOOO! GET SOME, EREN!"
I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Connie." But quickly realized... "Wait, Connie?!"
Apparently, we weren't completely alone. We turned and saw, to my surprise and mild embarrassment, our 104th comrades standing at the entrance to the stables. What were they doing here? I vaguely remember the Commander mentioning that new recruits would be joining today, but never in a million years did I think this many would show up...
Eren and I hurried to greet everyone.
"Reiner!" I gave the tall and buff blonde a hug. Then I hugged Bertholdt. Or more like his stomach. Geez, the man seemed to only be getting taller and taller... "I thought you two were joining the MPs? What happened?"
Reiner took the lead and answered, as usual. "The MPs are overrated. A true soldier does his best to help humanity, right Bert?" He nudged his friend in the ribs.
Bertholdt shrunk a little, rubbing his side as though it hurt more than intended. Once again, Reiner had underestimated his own strength. "Y-Yeah," He sounded rather unsure, "a soldier..."
Its probably just anxiety... this is the Survey Corps, after all. Its not exactly a fun-fest... I thought. "So... Annie left, I suppose?"
Reiner nodded a little sadly. "Yeah... there's no convincing her. She's been a lone-wolf ever since day one. Always doing her own thing."
Of course. I was stupid for thinking she could've had a change of heart. Annie's one and only wish was to join the MPs. I'm not disappointed... or at least, I'm trying not to be. We could still write and send each other letters. But I would definitely miss her. That emotionless bitch... who knew I'd grow so attached to her?
I guess its just Reiner, Bert, and me now.
"Hey, um..." Reiner said lowly. His expression suddenly darkened. "What were you and Eren doing here together?"
I took a quick glance over at Eren, currently talking to Mikasa and Armin. "I got into trouble so I was assigned stable work. Eren was nice enough to help me." I said casually.
He watched Eren intensely. "Really? Funny, it seems he was trying to clean your face more than anything else."
"What do you-"
I felt a tap on my shoulder, interrupting me. I turned to meet the person and almost gasped. "Jean!"
It felt like ages since I last saw him. In reality, that wasn't the case. But still, it felt wonderful to hug him tightly again.
Except something was wrong.
Call it intuition or whatever... but the hug was lacking something. Yes, he was here. But something was troubling him. I just knew it.
I parted- practically pushed him away. I stared at him and waited for him to explain himself. Where was Jean? The overweening, bláse Jean that I knew wasn't the one hugging me back. No... That look he had on his face... was frighteningly mournful.
"What is it? What's wrong?" I was already one step ahead of him. It had to be bad news. Nothing could convince me otherwise.
"Oh, hey Jean." A voice came from behind me. It was Eren, and he was walking up to us. "So you joined too, huh?"
But Jean cut right to the chase. "Marco's dead."
Those two words grabbed everyone's attention. But I had a feeling they all had received the news already, and Eren and I were the only ones shocked at the moment.
Marco... his kind, freckled face popped into my mind, and it was hard to believe none of us would witness his gentle-hearted smile again.
"I'm so sorry, Jean." I said solemnly. "You knew him better than any of us, I can't imagine the pain you-"
"What are you saying? Marco's not dead..." Eren said rather harshly. That's when I saw the denial spreading across his face.
I sighed. "Eren-"
"You're just kidding around. Its just a sick joke, right?"
"I wish I could tell you he died heroically or nobely. But the truth is, we don't know how he went out. Nobody was there to see it." Jean said. "But how about you, Eren? I heard that when you Titan-shifted, you tried to kill Mikasa. Do you mind telling us what that's all about?"
"You're wrong!" Mikasa stepped in. "He was swatting away a fly, nothing ha-"
"I wasn't asking you." Jean said as gently as he could. But clearly, there was a grudge building up inside of him.
Eren lowered his head, disgraced. "Apparently, its true. I tried to kill Mikasa." He admitted.
"Apparently?" Jean said indignantly. "As in, you don't remember? So what you're telling me is you can transform into a fifteen-meter Titan at will, but when you do, you don't actually have full control over it?"
I expected Eren to stand up for himself, but it seemed he planned to take the criticism without argument. "Thats right." He said honestly.
Jean sighed through his nose, the vein in his forehead bulging. He then turned towards everyone else. "You see that, guys? What a fine situation this is. Our lives and the fate of all mankind rests on his shoulders. I'm guessing we'll probably end up like Marco, dead before Eren even knows it."
"Stop it. Whats the point in chastising him now? Just give it a rest." Mikasa piped up again..
Jean eased a little. It appeared he was growing tired of hearing the same old story coming from her. "Listen, Mikasa... Unlike you, the rest of us aren't willing to throw our lives away for him on a whim. We need a reason. The truth. We need to know what we're laying our lives down for. What we want is a guarantee from Eren. Show us what you're worth. Prove it to us. We're asking you to make us believe you're worth dying for." He turned to Eren sharply. For a moment there I could've sworn he was going to throw a punch, but I was pleasantly surprised to see him putting his hands on his shoulders, gripping them firmly. "Do you think you can do that? If you can, then we're with you. All the way."
Ah... there it was again. The courageous fire blazing in Eren's eyes was enough of an answer.
* * *
Later that night
Funny how nature's loud, booming sound can put a person on edge.
Another bolt of lighting struck down, its white light flashing against my bedroom curtains. I turned over in bed, quickly pressing my pillow against one ear, and awaited the thunder.
BOOM!
I trembled a little. I wish I could say it was from cold, but its better to face facts and admit... the weather has got me quite shaken.
It was midnight, and the thunderstorm didn't look like it would be stopping soon. I wondered how anyone else could sleep through this. Especially when it so closely resembled...
'No, don't think that way... thats just your mind playing tricks on you.' I sighed and turned onto my back again, staring up at the ceiling. I clutched the blanket I've had since childhood, the one with my name knitted beautifully in purple. I still sleep with it at night out of habit. But tonight, I doubt I would ever get some sleep.
'I guess it wouldn't hurt to explore...' I thought, knowing full well that this wouldn't help my case at all. There's an expedition tomorrow in which my life and other's might hang on the balance, and yet, I already knew the possibility of sleep was nonexistent. Not in this weather.
I got out of bed and took the blanket with me, leaving my room behind as I stepped out into the dark hallways, going nowhere in particular, simply where my feet would take me. Speaking of feet... I was barefoot. The floorboards were cold and hard against my every step. Strangely enough, the feeling of being barefoot was nostalgic. Which didn't make sense, since I don't know from where or what time. Perhaps it was just another one of those vague deja-vu's buried in the untapped parts of my brain, deep where the memories of my past struggle to surface...
I'm sick of living this way. I feel like I barely know myself. My true self. But I also don't see anything I can do about it. Maybe it'll get easier as I age. That is... if I don't die at the hands of a Titan first.
I stopped in the middle of a staircase heading down, and I looked around. Thunder continued rumbling outside, and lightning flashed against the nearest window. It seemed to be getting louder and more violent. Another crack of thunder echoed throughout the castle and I jumped. Crap... Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should've stayed in bed after all.
Dammit... where am I? I couldn't recognize my surroundings. Wonderful. Thats what I get for being too immersed in my thoughts... now I'm lost. Oh well, when in doubt, keep going down?
I arrived at the first floor, but not any area that I recognized. Was I in the east wing, or the north wing? Or maybe the south wing... I truly had no idea. I wandered the open space, the chilly draft raising goosebumps on my arms, and after what seemed like hours, I finally encountered a door.
About time... I thought exasperatedly. But when I opened it, all I felt was disappointment as a set of spiraling stairs heading downwards was revealed. Ugh, great... more stairs. Just what I needed. I descended two steps, but not before I realized something critical. Wait a minute... does this lead to the basement? Isn't that where Eren sleeps?
Ten minutes later...
I must be crazy. I must out of my damn mind... I thought once I reached the last step, finally standing on flat ground again. The hallway ahead of me was straight and narrow. There were also, to my misfortune, many doors. Maybe he's just as chicken as I am and he can't sleep either... I looked for Eren's room, which was technically a dungeon. This proved to be easier than I originally thought. I came to a stop at an oak-wood door. It had a tiny, medieval look-through window, the perfect size for a pair of eyes to peer through. And inside, I could see the faint glow of candlelight.
I leaned into the door too much. It creaked open and I jumped back. What, no lock?
I debated going in or not. He's the only person I know well enough to talk to. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here in the first place. Besides... this was Eren. Why was I so fidgety?
The floor was even colder now when I entered. I tiptoed around the dark. The candle burning in the corner struggled to keep its flame alive, barely allowing me to see where I was going. Worst comes to worst, I'd ram straight into his bed and fall on top of him. And then... Well, then I would have some serious explaining to do.
I stubbed my toe on something and felt a sharp pain. "FUCK!"
"Wha- Who's there?" Eren's alert voice called out into the darkness.
Seconds of awkwardness, which I'm sure must’ve been full of confusion and fright for him, settled between us as he struggled to light a new candle. When the wick blazed with a bright, newborn flame, the room was still dimly lit. But good enough to see.
Eren was in his bed, disheveled and wearing a set of plain white pajamas. "Johanna?" He said, beyond surprised. He watched as I hopped around on one foot, grimacing. "What are- What time- I have so many questions..."
"Sorry, sorry. I know this is stupid. I didn't mean to wake you," I sighed and shook my head. "Don't get the wrong idea. I never meant to- You know what? I should just go." I turned towards the door, clutching my blanket in my hands tighter than ever now.
"Wait! Are you having trouble sleeping? Is that why you're here?" He asked.
I stopped defeatedly. I'm already in too deep... why lie myself out of this one? I didn't see the point anymore.
"Yeah." I admitted, and turning slowly, I stood at the end of his bed. I kept my eyes focused on everything in the room except him, embarrassed. "The thunder kept me awake. It, um... It sounded too much like titan footsteps. But down here is nicer, I guess. Its not as loud." I finished just as another boom of thunder announced itself. It crackled and echoed, but the sound was slightly muffled now, thanks to the depth of the basement. And yet... it still scared me anyway.
He rubbed his bloodshot eyes sleepily, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "Well, you can always sleep with me, if that'll make you feel be- Wait, no! Sorry let me rephrase that..." He laughed nervously. "You can sleep next to me. There's space here. Anyway, given how small you are, I'm sure this'll be enough room..." He shifted to the side.
Despite that last part, I raised a brow interestedly. "Really?"
"Sure, why not?"
Hesitant, I approached the side of the bed and sat down. Stupidly, I felt as if I were testing rough waters. I carefully laid down and turned onto my side facing him, getting comfortable. He threw the sheets over both of us and laid down.
Another rupture of thunder. I flinched a little.
"Hey, its okay." His voice was smooth as silk. "I'm here."
My head sunk into the pillow and all the tension in my muscles relaxed. Weirdly enough, the thunder didn't seem so scary anymore.
"Hey, Eren?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
* * *
.
.
.
.
"Congratulations. Its a match."
End of chapter 12
#Eren Jaeger#eren yeager#eren x oc#levi ackerman#levi heichou#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#snk#aot#anime#herforgottenpast#aot fanfiction
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[Eng sub/translation of Buster Bros!!! Drama Track 1]
Ichiro: What the hell, so much noise...and I’ve waited so long to read this new light novel.
Jiro: Niichan, are you making a new team? Please, let me join!
Saburo: Ichinii, sorry to bother you! If you let an idiot like Jiro into your team, you’ll ruin your reputation; so please, let me join no matter what! I’ll make your name great!
Jiro: Saburo! Who’re you calling an idiot? Say it one more time, I dare you.
Saburo: I’ll say it as many times as it takes to get it through your thick skull: you’re an idiot. So much so that you’ll even grab my collar while I’m still talking, like an idiot would.
Jiro: You twisted little shit—let me teach you some manners for Ichinii’s sake.
Saburo: (sigh) Good grief...Ichinii, a moment, please? Seems like this idiot only matures in his body, not his head.
Ichiro: Oh, shut up. Aren’t I always telling you that brothers should get along? Anyhow, I’m not letting you guys join my team.
Jiro & Saburo: : Eh? Why not?!
Ichiro: Hypnosis Mic battles aren’t as easy as you might think.
Jiro: But, if we were together— // Saburo: E-Even so...
[Phone rings]
Ichiro:(sigh) I’m gonna answer that. Be quiet.
Ichiro (on the phone): Hello? ...Oh it’s been a while, Ramuda, How’re you doing? Haha, same as ever, I see. So? What can I do for you?
Jiro (whisper): A runt like you couldn’t help Niichan even if you tried. He’s only rejecting us because of you! Niichan is so kind—he’s worried about a brat like you.
Saburo: (sigh) Oh, dear...your idiocy can’t be helped. I can only pity you. Ichinii is kind, indeed, because he’s worried about someone as useless as you.
Ichiro(on the phone): See ya.
Ichiro: You’re fighting again just right after I told you not to. Listen to what I say, can you?
Jiro: Well, Niichan, that’s ‘cuz—
Saburo: B-but, Ichinii…
Ichiro: Jiro. Saburo. Don’t “cuz” and “but” me like a wimp.
Jiro & Saburo: (Shook)
Ichiro: You guys are always—
[Phone rings]
Ichiro: (sigh) Hello? There’s a whole bunch of rare callers today, huh...oh, no! It’s nothing! Just talking to myself. Long time no see, Jakurai-san. What’s up?
Ichiro(in the background): yep ,yep
Saburo: (whispering) It’s your fault Ichinii is upset. You better apologize to him.
Jiro: What the hell—why am I the one who has to apologize? It’s your fault, Saburo!
Saburo: (whispering) Be quiet! Ichinii is on the phone! Really, idiots just don’t know when to shut up.
Jiro: Is that the only word you know? I better not hear any complaints when I beat your ass!
Saburo: Ha! You only ever talk like a second-rate mook. I can’t help but laugh at how pathetic you are!
Jiro: I’ll send you flying!
Saburo: Come at me!
[Both got hit]
Ichiro:Cut the fucking crap already!
Jiro: It hurts, Niichan...
Saburo: Uu…! Ichinii, so mean…!
Ichiro: You really want to be in my team so bad?
Jiro & Saburo: Naturally!
Ichiro: Well then, let me give you a test.
Jiro & Saburo: We’ll do anything!
Ichiro:Good. I have here two new requests; get it done for me.
Saburo: What kind of “request” is it?
Jiro: No wonder you are a runt! Everything Niichan says is absolute. Don’t ask, just do everything you’re told and there won’t be a problem.
Ichiro:That’s enough, Jiro. I’m happy you trust me, but don’t trust me blindly. How many times do I have to tell you?
Jiro: Sorry, Niichan...
Saburo: Hahaha, stupid, you’re in trouble!
BB: Saburo, you too. How many times do I need to tell you before you learn how to respect your brother?
Saburo: S-Sorry, Ichinii...
Ichiro: (sigh) You two will be working for two of my ex-teammates: Amemura Ramuda and Jinguji Jakurai.
Jiro & Saburo : Former Dirty Dawg?!
Ichiro: That’s right. Jiro, you’ll be handling Jakurai-san’s case. His friend is worried about a stalker, so find this stalker girl and put an end to it. Here’s the info Jakurai-san knows about her. Start with these.
Jiro: Mhm! Roger that, Niichan!
Ichiro: I’m counting on you. Saburo, you’ll take care of Ramuda’s request. He wants more information on this guy Yumeno Gentaro, so dig up whatever dirt you can. Here’s his info.
Saburo: Ichinii, please leave it to me! I won’t disappoint you!
Ichiro: (laughs) Sure, I’m counting on you. If you can finish these requests, then maybe I’ll think about letting you two on the team.
Jiro & Saburo: (makes super happy and hopeful noise) I’m heading out!
Ichiro: Those guys’ cases are not easy to deal with at all. For sure they’ll come home crying unable to finish the job. It’d be nice if they’d give up just like that.
[some time later]
Jiro: Niichan, I found the stalker lady Jakurai-san was looking for.
Saburo: Ichinii, whatever Ramuda wants to know about Yumeno Gentarou, I got it.
Ichiro: Seriously? (unidentifiable noise)
Jiro: I was faster.
Saburo: I was faster.
Ichiro: I only sent you out today, and you’re already done?
Jiro & Saburo: MHM!
Ichiro: Well, let’s see what you got. You first, Jiro.
Jiro: That stalker woman he’s looking for is pretty dangerous. There have been reports of her going after several hosts in Kabuki-chou with a knife. The cops are after her, so she’s been hiding who-knows-where. It was difficult, but I got tipped that she’s staying in Room 1015 of some cheap motel on the outskirts of Shinjuku Division.
Ichiro: You found someone even the cops are still looking for?
Jiro: Of course! I’m Niichan’s little brother after all! Even though I don’t have as many friends as you, I worked really hard to network with people from other divisions just like you did. This gangster guy from Shinjuku Division actually helped me out with his information agency.
Ichiro: Hahaha! Jiro, that’s awesome.
(Jiro made happy noise, Saburo made jealous noise)
Saburo:Ichinii, may I report now?
Ichiro: Oh, yes please.
Saburo: I’ve organized all the information on Yumeno Gentaro here.
Ichiro: Holy shit! You gathered so much in just one day.
Saburo: It’s nothing, really! I just happened to find this stuff on the deep web. And, to be thorough, I met with one of Yumeno Gentaro’s acquaintances to factcheck. There’s no doubt about any of it!
Ichiro: Just by a glance I can already see all your main points sorted and organized clearly. It’s easy to read.
Saburo: Um, could you, pat my...er, thank you very much!
Ichiro:(patta patta) Saburo, good job.
Saburo: (satisfied noise)
Ichiro: Let me get these back to our clientele. Gimme a sec.
Jiro: Well, then. Since my assignment was harder, I win.
Saburo: You’re kidding, right? I’m the winner here. My report was clear and organized, when you only gave him an oral report. I even gave him a proper evaluation of all my findings. This was a job; I obviously deserve more praise.
Jiro: Ha, people who are less confident tend to speak more. Look at you, just chattering cuz you are afraid of losing to me.
Saburo: (slow clap) Hahaha, how imaginative. Kudos to that, Jiro. Have a round of applause.
Jiro: Hahaha, Saburo, what a runt. Trying so hard it’s incredible, I just have to compliment you.
[cynical laughter and slow clap]
Ichiro: Wow, that’s great! You guys are applauding for each other, that’s how brothers are supposed to be. (pat heads/hug them both) You guys are growing up so fast. That’s my little brothers!
Saburo: It’s such a honor to be praised like that! ...Though it could be obvious, who’s the winner? Me or Jiro?
Jiro: Niichan, of course it’s me!
Ichiro: Winner? I never said anything like that.
Jiro & Saburo : Eh?
Ichiro: I only said I was testing you, not that it was a competition or anything.
Jiro: Then, between us, who would you choose to join your team?
Ichiro: Oh, I see. I never thought of using these tasks to decide whatsoever. But well…
Saburo: But well…?
Ichiro: To be honest, I never expected that you two would be able to complete the mission. But you guys got it done with amazing speed.
(Blissful noises from Jiro and Saburo)
Ichiro:Therefore, I’m going to take you guys seriously. Take this.
Jiro: Um, Ichinii, what’s this mic for ?
Ichiro: Show me your skills.
[Hypmic on sfx]
Saburo: Gotcha. Ichinii, please let me go first.
[Music starts]
Saburo:
Who are you calling “runt”
It’s now or never
Don’t look down on the brat
My flow is the best
It’s true I am the youngest
But that’s just a matter of timing
Always looking up and up and up
To Big Bro, let me be your back up
Hey it’s not fallacy
It’s reasoning
With me here,
No troubles come near
[Music ends]
Ichiro: Good job. Those lyrics are just like you, Saburo.
Saburo: (gasp)
Jiro: Listen to mine next, Niichan!
[Music]
Jiro:
Anytime Big bro needs a hand,
Will be there soon as I can
I shall be your lance
Just gimme a chance
To prove to the world my stance
I know I am quite inexperienced I admit
But from now here, will make you proud in a bit
Check it, one-two-three-four (1)
I am Jiro the middle, the second son, the best son
[/Music]
Ichiro: Very powerful flow, and clean rhyme. I’m impressed.
Jiro: (happy noise)
Ichiro: It’s true you guys can rap, to some extent. However, Hypnosis Mic battles aren’t all fun and games. If you can withstand my own rap under the Hypnosis Mic, then I’ll let you on the team.
Jiro & Saburo : Yes!
[Hypmic sfx, music]
Ichiro:
Ai yo, what can’t be taken back (2)
That’s WORD
Spit it, the call of the soul
That’s WAR
Holding onto guns what can you change?
Taking whatever you want is good enough for you? You stupid? (3)
This is a new era in which
Believe in speech
And this mic to your eardrums it reach
Hypnotize
Change the future with this rhyme,
get the world
Everybody raise your voice
[/music]
Jiro & Saburo: (suffering noises)
Jiro: That’s just like Niichan...since it’s us, he didn’t go at it full power, but it’s still so oppressive.
Saburo: Ichinii is just as strong as I expected…! But, that’s exactly why I want to become a man like him!
[hypmic off sfx]
Ichiro: I knew you guys still weren’t ready.
Ichiro: (shocked)
Jiro I was almost a goner...
Saburo: I want to become a man like Ichinii.
Ichiro: hahahahahahaha
Jiro: T-This means...
Saburo: We can join the team?x
Ichiro:Nope, no way.
Jiro & Saburo: (shook)
Ichiro:As I said, if you can withstand it, I will be the one to invite you into the team.
Jiro & Saburo : (hopeful noises)
Ichiro: Jiro, Saburo. What do you think of making a team with me? Let’s change the world together.
Jiro & Saburo : Please take care of us!
One-two-three-four here in japanese is read as “Ichi-ni-no-san-shi” , which is a pun of Ichinii’s (big brother’s) praise/compliments
Og phrase is “吐いた唾は飲み込むな”, which literally translates to something like “you can’t drink what you spit”. Apparently it’s a line yakuza/delinquents use to diss opponents during fights. It a metaphor of how you can’t take back your words/actions, so be careful with what you say/do. Source:https://detail.chiebukuro.yahoo.co.jp/qa/question_detail/q1190821391
Those two lines are directed at Samatoki I think. In Samatoki’s solo there were sounds of guns and also he said that he “takes/seizes whatever as long as he likes it”
youtube
#hypnosis mic#hypnosis microphone#hypmic#buster bros!!!#yamada ichiro#yamada jiro#yamada saburo#t:drama
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Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapter 120
Only one chapter, because this was the kind of doozy that got a play-by-play and ended up being long enough to stand on its own.
Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twenty – The Spear That Would Not Break
Ooooo, yesss, 'Rough map of the Battle of Thaylen Field', good. I love having city maps like this to help us visualize.
Kaladin's even believing that he failed the windspren, now, the ones that gathered when he was close to speaking the Fourth Ideal. Oh Kal. For some reason I don't think you 'being down on yourself' is the reason you couldn't swear. You knew that you wouldn't mean it. You weren't ready for it, and that's all right. You can't- you can't push recovery, or coping, or ability to deal with an issue, not like that.
Kaladin vs Amaram – a fated face-off- oh shit Amaram just downed the smokestone. WELL THEN. One bonded Radiant versus one… human just about to- “bond”? host? an Unmade
---
Haaaaah, and there Adolin goes again, self-deprecating about the ill-fitting jacket he'd patched together to lighten Shallan's worries and appear steady despite how unstable he is on the inside. Oh man, but that 'Go. Save the city. Be Radiant, Shallan.” [CLUTCHES HEART] L o rd, but you can just hear the love and admiration that he's pouring into those words, each one of them honest to the core (except, of course, the “I'll be fine.” But that's on a different level entirely.)
There's another scene that I'd gladly pay to see done in good animation – Shallan raising an army of illusions, each glowing like a Radiant, and Pattern's fractals running ever-so-subtly over the shape of him-as-a-Blade.
'The illusory Adolin glowed with Stormlight and floated a few inches off the ground. She'd made him a Windrunner.' 'I… I can't take that.' [claps hands] Hello. Again. Self-worth. Issues. And this time combining his feelings of inadequacy with his memory of her looking at Kaladin – Windrunner, standing tall and heroic, windspren sweeping around him like sparkling starlight – when he breathed out slow and it felt like his hopes started to seep out along with that breath.
No scream from his sword – but he thanks her. Maybe, over in Shadesmar, she can even hear him. Maybe.
---
AIGHT TEAM AWESOMENESS TIME (lets use awesomeness rather than Friction for things like that because lbr it just kind of sounds Wrong otherwise)
Hearing Szeth refer to Dalinar as master just makes me shiver, it feels… not quite wrong, as he chose this person to follow, trusting their judgment, but it definitely feels weird
Nightblood, you definitely eat people. It's not the same method as humans eating thing, but it's the same sort of principle.
Szeth really, really needs some quiet, no-death time, but with people around. A place where he's at least accepted to be. And despite Nightblood being… Nightblood, the sword is good for him. Companionship. I can't wait to see what his bonded highspren has to say about that, though.
---
Right, so. Amaram can just fuck off already. As if he wasn't bad enough already, now he has the sheer gall to tell Kaladin to thank him? “I created you, spearman. I forged you.” Oh get down off your high horse for once in your goddamn life, Amaram. The world does not revolve around you! You are not the lynchpin on which the turning of time rests!
Look at this goddamn weeb with his dual-wielded Shardblades. Fuck up his day, Kal. Fuck up his life.
'One taken in bloodshed, at the cost of Kaladin's crew. The other, Oathbringer. A sword given to ransom Bridge Four.' And wielded by Amaram, who put Kaladin's brother on the front line and took Kaladin's freedom. Branderson's not even trying to hide the symbology here, he's outright stating it. (Kal you are such a Hufflepuff, istg, and I love it)
Yikes, and there starts the transformation. Amaram's probably going to look distorted and sprouting crystals by the time this fight ends.
---
“Hello, old friend.” GODDAMN, I DIE. Dalinar you'd better come out of this alive.
---
Yet another scene that I'd like to see justice done to via animation is this one of Shallan, light swirling around her and expanding from her feet as everyone she's ever drawn comes to life-through-light around her.
[winces] Of course her parents would trigger old trauma and start causing her to falter and retreat. But… her alternate personalities. As unhealthy as her coping mechanisms may be, these two do usually lend her a reprieve (not strength, no matter what she thinks – that is hers and hers alone, as the Real Person) when she needs to lean on them.
---
Adolin: [casually collects a squad of Thaylen soldiers]; Jasnah: [does not need any help whatsoever]; Adolin: ...okay then, next-
Once again we have mention of those “geometric shapes” that we saw with Dalinar when he jumped down the chasm to tap Venli out of the vision, and I still wonder if that's proto-Shardplate or not, especially since Dalinar was unhurt as he dug his fingers into stone to slow his descent and now Jasnah casually tosses a man through the air, nbd
[insert lots of quiet shrieking that will be followed up on in my Adolin Notes post] tldr: Horrors of war (he's gonna have nightmares about this) and so, so many self-worth issues.
Aww yisss, heirs teaming up to go get Navani and Fen out of being cornered, good, because I need both Navani and Fen to survive this battle and their strengths aren't in battle prowess
---
Hmmm, so is the Perpendicularity going to fade over time since Honor is still shattered? That's kind of the feel that I'm getting from what Ivory is saying here.
Jasnah can just wave her hand and a squad of soldiers is Soulcasted into smoke with hardly any effort. Oooof. Yeaaaah, I imagine even Jasnah, who did such in Kharbranth with no regrets, would feel rather horrified at the ease with which she just dispatched those men.
Ah, the Perpendicularity has closed – good to know. 'He had been the storm, and had somehow recharged the spheres – but like a storm, his effects were passing.' That tells us a little more about Dalinar's current state as well – because despite the Stormfather having a large fragment of Honor's power now, they are still 'just' a Bondsmith-pair (though I'm still thrown by and dancing around the whole I am Unity thing, because. goddamn.)
Ooooo, with the worlds this close and Soulcasting as easy as it is- you're gonna pull what we see on the cover and close the wall gap, aren't you, Jasnah?
---
Now Szeth and Lift are getting close to the Singers who aren't Fused – many of whom never wanted to fight in the first place. And you two know if your quarry headed this way or not?
It's an interesting split in the Skybreaker reasoning here – Nale sits out the battle, bowing to the Parshendi as the true keepers/rulers of the land, but Szeth maintains that since this 'law' is the 'product of the many', and his own experiences show how flawed that can be, that he cannot follow it. I'm… still very confused and torn over Skybreakers.
OOOP THERE'S THE ONE WITH THE RUBY they did know where they were going to find her
Okay Sanderson but now that you've put the thought in our heads, we need at least one chapter in a future book where Lift is sitting around with Nightblood and teaching it the filthiest, filthiest language she possibly can in all the languages she knows.
Once again, the greater power of the Radiants' Surgebindings prove to be a deciding factor over the Fused's Voidbindings – and Szeth has experience in the air. Which he's going to need, since now that he has that ruby he's got a target painted on the back of his head.
---
I'm thankful that it's Adolin who told Navani about Elhokar's death. Kaladin… Kaladin saw it happen, and he would have catapulted right back into the moment and into the self-blame and overwhelming grief if he'd had to be the one to tell Navani that her son – one of the people he'd sworn to protect – was dead on his watch. Adolin, on the other hand – they're family, and while Adolin doesn't blame himself to the level that Kaladin does, ever since Kholinar he's been in Grieve later mode. He hasn't given himself the time and slackening of self-shouldered responsibility to process the feelings over Elhokar's death, though he's been mulling over the consequences of what it means logically for the entirety of the Shadesmar journey.
I can't even imagine how this must be for Navani – the second time she's mourned the death of a child. Even if the first time, Jasnah eventually returned, that doesn't change the fact that Navani had to mourn both her children.
As soon as his shared moment of grief with his aunt is over, Adolin is assessing the situation and formulating strategy, taking charge without breaking stride and giving orders to the Thaylens – interrupted by Jasnah being goddamn amazing (hah, she DID Soulcast the wall whole again, and how) – and then changing strategies on the fly due to the new fortification. He's so very far from useless, and yet, this seems to do nothing to alleviate that insecurity.
...Adolin, you're damned good with a Shardblade, but that's a thunderclast. Y'know, the twin of the thing that crushed Lift's lower body earlier? You don't have Radiant healing powers! If that thing so much as clips you you're fucking toast. I know you probably want to help your brother, (you want to be useful,) but without Plate or stormlight healing, that's... very close to a deathwish.
---
Oooop, yeah, Amaram is going all crystalline on us. It's not having any apparent detriment on his physicality so far, though with him wearing Plate that could just be hard to tell. Gotta give him one thing, though: Amaram is really good with the Blade, and doubly so with that dual-wielding stance. It wasn't going to be easy for Kaladin in the first place, and now he's bonding with an Unmade.
Oh yeah and don't forget your job – whatever Dalinar's doing, he needs to focus on it and not get killed. That'd be great.
I can't remember – has Kaladin ever felt the Thrill that we've known of? I can't remember it happening even in an offhand reference as opposed to on-page.
When did Amaram get a Shardbow?! Is that Sadeas' old bow that he's shooting at Kaladin with? I… well, that's appropriate, but I'd rather not see Kaladin hit with a spear-sized arrow.
I wonder just how much the swallowed gem + Unmade bonding is going to change Amaram. Bonding with a spren doesn't change the Radiants so physically (yet), but we see here that Amaram's sprouting more crystals from his body – crystals that are piercing through his Plate from the inside out! - and considering what voidspren do to the Listeners/Singers, I wouldn't be surprised if Yelig-nar evicts his soul once it's done changing his form.
Okay, Plate or not, grabbing a Shard-lance is a ballsy move.
---
'Dalinar walked through the mist, and each step was a battle he relived.' After all this trauma relived, the only way you're going to sleep this night if you survive is by passing out from sheer exhaustion.
It's interesting to know that the Thrill isn't a drive to kill, per se, but just to fight – it simply takes that to the extreme end, keep on fighting even when you've won, keep on fighting until there's nothing left, even then keep on fighting there is only the fight
---
'Jasnah existed halfway in the Cognitive Realm.' As great as that must be for her to Soulcast powerfully and on the fly, it… probably isn't good, technically speaking. The 'normal' people who use Soulcasters seems to end up like this over time, and even if the physical effect wouldn't apply to a Radiant in the same way, it's probably still not safe, or even a good idea.
Still. Jasnah can just reach forth and command air to become stone. That is awesome.
'“Bad?” she asked Ivory. “It is,” he said from her collar.”' Uh oh. And saying that about Shallan going through the amount of stormlight that she has… we know that there are effects/repercussions to simply holding stormlight (increased impetuousness, a drive to act) do we know if there are any downsides to using too much stormlight? A sort of burnout, perhaps?
Just. Casually soulcasts a wall of pitch in the air and then sets the Fused that come through it on fire to bun and writhe and die horribly. No big deal. And then slices through the next with the Ivoryblade. Simple. Elegant. Effortless. Very terrifying.
Ah- that's fair, and not the 'bad thing' that I'd originally considered: Shallan's burning through enough stormlight that there won't be enough left for anyone else to do anything (as opposed to somehow having a negative effect on herself). Damn, I didn't realize that she was going though that much stormlight, if she's nearly cleared all the field of spheres around them of energy!
Fingers crossed that Jasnah can help Shallan, and that neither Renarin nor Adolin dies fighting the thunderclast.
---
Dun ruby? Did he or one of the other Radiants breathe all of the light from the King's Drop? I'd thought it was still infused!
'I think they would have flown like you instead of falling down, if they'd really wanted to be saved.' That. That's not how it works, Nightblood. Also you can't exactly be a 'noble sacrifice' when you're you. And on that train of thought – what would it take to destroy such an Invested, sentient object like Nightblood?
'He did not win by dying.' And you actually do understand that, in more ways than just related to the immediate battle at hand – you've faced death, more or less experienced it, and have seen and decided for yourself that it is not the answer that you'd once wished for.
I continue to love this trio's dynamic. Lift and Nightblood are far too quickly becoming friends for Vasher's future sanity, though.
What is 'deevy'. Is that Nalthian or something that Lift actually recognises, I can't tell
Yessss, time for Lift to show off those skills – not the Radiant ones, but those that she honed by stealing people's dinners.
---
'She'd made thousands of illusions. Each one… each one was her. A portion of her mind. A portion of her soul. … Each one of her illusions that died hit her with a little shock. A sliver of her dying.' Aaaaand you're another one that's not going to be sleeping tonight unless you just collapse into unconsciousness. The soldiers have at least had some experience with this sort of battle, but you… this is really your first battlefield of this kind, and you're not only fighting it all on your own, but in a very strange but intimate way, with parts of your very soul.
She's gotten a lot better at her illusions, though, perhaps partly though the sheer power that she's able to access to power these, but that combination of Lightweaving+Soulcasting backed by all that light feels a lot like Kaladin's airbending of the highstorm even as he drew light from it back during Part 1. I'd bet a handful of spheres that what she's doing here is one of the Lightweaver-unique Surge manifestations.
Veil and Radiant are supports, anchors for her mind, but Shallan is the one doing this, not hiding behind a false mask to do so.
Oh? What do you need Shallan's help for, Lift?
---
AMARAM. CAN. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.
[winces] A sword may be better for breaking Plate than a spear, but the problem is that you're much better with a spear than a sword, and there's a fair chance that Amaram might be better facing off against a sword, assuming that he's trained Blade-against-Blade. And I think you realize those problems too.
WHOA WAIT WHAT AMARAM'S PLATE IS SHATTERING- 'Beneath, his ripped sock revealed a foot overgrown with carapace and deep violet crystals.' Um. Well then. Carapace and crystal. He's growing his own armor, isn't he?
Oh shit and he has access to surges now. That first one looks like the Stoneward's use of Tension that we saw in Dalinar's initial flashback to Aharietiam in this book, but that second looks more like Friction! Unless it's a use of Cohesion or combined Cohesion-Tension that acts like Friction? It's possible that while the Voidbindings are analogous to the Surgebindings, the combination that a Fused may have is different from the Radiant combinations. And while he's not… technically a Fused? Ish? Sort of? (What do we call this sort of bond.) he's obviously obtained access to at least one if to two or even more Voidbindings or Surges.
And now it's two against one, and Kaladin still has to keep an eye on Dalinar to make sure that nothing's going after him. Greeeeaaaaaat. This is not going to turn out well.
---
Speaking of not turning out well, Adolin I know you want to be of use and help your brother but, uhhhhh you do know that that thunderclast only needs to get one hit on you without your Plate and you're smushed, right?
And you're alone, even better. Renarin was caught in the crowds, I believe I saw? Um. This is. Just about suicide and I think you know that and that's. Mmmmmmmmm- (Of all the things I wish these brothers never had to share...). It’s going to be half-miracle and half breaking the limits of his goddamn skill if he’s going to survive this for any length of time. Seeing a soldier get squished right in front of you isn't inspiring any confidence
………………
'“You want to fight it, don't you? It reminds you of when you were alive.” Something tickled his mind, very faint, like a sigh. A single word: Mayalaran. A… name?' Right, hearing a spren's voice – not out loud, but in your head, from a spren that shouldn't be able to do anything but scream.
….if that's not a proto-Bond of some kind then I will eat a goddamn mushroom. He hasn’t said any Words, but he’s definitely cracked enough for a bond. Even so, though, WoB is that it’s very, very difficult, nigh-impossible but not entirely so to revive one of the dead-by-broken-Oaths spren. If he’s even edging towards managing that... there’s no way that it’s going to come without consequences. With spren and human both broken - that wouldn’t be a normal Radiant Nahel bond; even if they manage a Bond there’s going to be something different about it. (....hah, another thing that the brothers would share, what is it with the Kholins and strange bonds?)
Oh, great, so even if you dodge, the sheer force of the thunderclast hitting the ground in an attempt to smash you can knock you off your feet. Fantastic.
!!! Somehow, in all of that noise and the roar of adrenaline, you manage to hear a child's whimper and dash back to save them, then proceed to parkour through the collapsing buildings as it strikes at you and then reverse back with speed to blitz its legs. I mean I still want Renarin to get here asap because you can't last forever, but I'm at least not as worried for your life as I was before, considering this display.
….yoink?
---
'It returned every memory he hated about himself. War and conflict. Times when he'd shouted Evi into submission. Anger that had driven him to the brink of madness. His shame.' Everyone is going to need a good, long series of therapy sessions after this is over, but you most of all. Oh Heralds, you most of all.
The thrill reacts to his thanks like a favoured axehound to its master's praise, reveling in his acceptance. It loves him, in its own strange, twisted way.
---
Venli! Back to you, finally – you weren't pushed back with Odium and the others when Dalinar opened Honor's Perpendicularity, and I am curious.
Rhythms are overlapping, drowning each other out, and yet, amidst all that chaos, she can pick out one of the old Rhythms, a Rhythm of her people, not of Odium, and the way that she can feel Timbre, like a magnified version of Maya's whisper not two pages before-
...I was wondering if it were possible for Parshendi to become Radiants. I thought I read somewhere that there'd never been a Parshendi Radiant before. Hah. While Dalinar might technically have been holding his hand out to Amaram, the message came across to someone else entirely. 'You can change. You can become a better person.'
You have Words.
'I choose!' Oh man, that gives me shivers. Not as much as 'you cannot have my pain', but damn that sent a jolt down my spine.
Okay, it's really silly, but I'm cackling myself out of my chair at the thought/sight of Venli hunching over, shoulders curling, practically talking to her chest.
'Journey before destination.'
[EXCITED SHIVERS]
(I do wonder, though, especially considering what we've seen of this Avalanche, if all of this generation of Radiants is something new, different from before.)
---
I am very amused but not at all surprised that Adolin can recognise sets of Shards on sight, even though he likely hasn't seen them in person before.
2v1 is better than nothing when you're facing a thunderclast (especially when this guy can take hits and you can't) but I still want Renarin there asap (WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE US BACK-TO-BACK KHOLIN BROTHERS, SANDERSON)
oh yes and then of course it ignores the bait and goes straight for Adolin. Fantastic, it holds grudges.
….did. did you just throw an over-six-foot-long Shardblade like it was a knife. And that's a move you somehow practiced.
his ability to read/react in battle situations is (tbqh) disgustingly good but that 'judging the shadow of the thunderclast's hand and dodging so it landed with him between the fingers'? What the actual fuck is your reaction time
...not good enough, apparently. Ouch. Even a glancing blow is enough to badly injure. (Broken rib, injured arm and injured leg (unknown severity), possible further internal injury)
Seven heartbeats. Panic conveyed to his mind as a warning, unprompted.
So. Uh. That's a thing.
Except then Thunderclast. He is so fucking lucky that that stomp didn't hit him or he'd be paste.
[winces] Between the previous injury from the sideswipe, the drop, and now the fall, his leg is busted. He can't run. He can barely even stand. But there's Maya again, reaching for him (there are no heartbeat counts no indication of summoning since the rooftop collapse and I wonder if that's significant or not) and-
Oh thank fuck Renarin is finally here
HAH THAT'S RIGHT YOU'D BETTER STEP BACK IN FEAR. A Shardbearer is one thing, but a Radiant? Whatever spren is animating the thunderclast, it recognises that glow of stormlight, and know that its death is nearing.
“I can handle it, Adolin. Just go! Please.” AHHHH, RENARIN GETTING TO BE THE ONE TO PROTECT HIS BROTHER THIS TIME I LOVE- (I still want back-to-back brothers sometime but this is awesome so I'll forgive BrandoSando for now)
………...Adolin is going to have nightmares about the thunderclast smashing Renarin for the rest of his life. That said, Jesus fuck what a fucking TANK- looks like Regrowth use in battle isn't just for healing others, but will accelerate the stormlight healing to the point of well I just got flattened by a boulder but that's okay I'm good
Seriously, though, Truthwatchers and Edgedancers must be just goddamn unkillable
Handing the Mayablade over is not something I'd expected, but better that Renarin have someone at his side that's uninjured and won't have to dodge every single blow and can instead focus more on the attack.
---
'Szeth of the Skybreakers had, fortunately, trained with all ten Surges.' Which means that you've already practiced with Division even though you're not trained with the power that you'll use as an actual Sybreaker, and you know what the other Surges look like and what to expect from them, which is more than any of the other Radiants here have.
Szeth on ice skates is something I need to see art of now
PFFFFFT okay I know that technically a Radiant doesn't have to transfer the stormlight with their hands, but for Szeth to do so with his face just sends me cackling
YOU GOT THE RUBY GO GO GO
Ahhhh, that's what you needed Shallan for. Good job on the switch; they definitely believed it, and now you have time
[winces] Yeaaaah – even if the Thrill never had a hold on Szeth, it'll take the memories of the fighting and the killing and break him all the more, and he does not have the stability to come out of that all right.
But what of Lift? How will the Thrill affect her?
---
Um. Well. Looks like that transformation that Amaram's experiencing is not a painless one.
Unless we see another Surge use from him (which would mean more than two Surges), I think this confirms that Yelig-nar confers the Surges of Tension and Division(?), given that he's burning stone like we heard that the Dustbringers could do from the TWoK prologue and saw Malata do to Taravangian's table.
Ouch. This fight is really showing just how bad it can be for a Windrunner(/Skybreaker) to lighten themselves when their opponents are coming in with blows hard enough to fling them across the battlefield. Also he is once again getting dangerously low on stormlight, and unless he wants a successor-scene to the aerial chase he had in Shadesmar that ended with him plummeting, he'd better be very judicious and efficient in his stormlight use.
Um. Okay so- “Syl. Syl, that was a Lashing.” - confirmed that the Unmade can confer Surges beyond the strict two-Surge-limit on their host. That. That is terrifying.
Gotta agree with Kaladin that's it's not entirely Amaram that he's speaking with right then. While Amaram may still be present, he's been twisted even further – first by the Thrill and then by Yelig-nar – to a point beyond what probably even Meridas Amaram alone would have gone, despite being an utter shitsack of a man.
Then again, I could be wrong. The revelation of the Heralds 'betrayal' could very well have been a no-turning-back point for him, going over to Odium instead out of anger and hurt and spite when he found out that the Heralds he so trusted and believed in were revealed to be already on Roshar, and not as holy as he'd thought.
“After I was forced to kill your squad, I… hurt.” 'After I was forced-'? Oh, you despicable, putrid barf-stain of a human being, I hope one of those amethysts is stabbing you in the balls right now, because what the hell is that passive acceptance. Nobody forced you to murder men for a Blade. This is definitely your fault and you have zero remorse and I am going to cheer when you finally get your face stabbed like you deserve.
Igniting the air?! Oh fuuuuuuck, that's new- note, Division doesn't require solids or liquids it can just. Pull a full Colonel Mustang and ignite the air. Greeeeaaaaaat.
“Then why do you still hurt?” Oooo, that struck deeper than any of his physical hits have thus far, and it's making him angry and unstable – both of which could make him reckless and sloppy.
!!!!! UM. That's. Well then. That's a pretty sickening transformation. Here I thought he'd end up with more of a crystal carapace, but no, this is…. He's a hollowed geode curled around that dark light.
Oooop, yeaaah, and there he goes into the air – Kaladin's domain indeed. Especially with Kaladin so close (yet so far) from the Fourth Ideal, and with far, far more practice in the air, Amaram can't hope to match him.
Daaaaamn, but what an epic sight, Kaladin floating down like a wind spirit himself, the storm still raging in the background, hovering above Amaram as the light of Hatred flickers and fails - “All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.” How very Stoneward of you in that moment, Kal, especially with that parallel between ten spears and ten Heralds.
Aw, shit. Looks like the Fused got smart and brought backup, and now there's barely any Light left for you to fly/heal/Lash with. This is not good.
---
RENARIIIN – HELL YEAH MAN, YOU DID IT
Very good fighting indeed, especially when you're not used to battle – though the technicalities of battle with humanoid enemies is one thing, and going up against a thunderclast is entirely another, you still made it through the adrenaline and the nerves and the fear and you pushed through.
I think it already fears him, Glys; it feared him from the first time it saw him. Also Glys is really excitable and it's adorable.
Huh. So – a 'beacon' of stormlight, and that… did it force the voidspren to flee the thunderclast body and return to the Everstorm, then? I can't imagine that it was a powerful enough light to purge the voidspren into nonexistence, but this scene is a little sketchy on the detail of what the power is/is doing. WE NEED MORE DETAILS, SANDERSON.
Is this an echo of your worries from earlier, back in the temple, Renarin? Or do you mean you saw yourself die in battle – do Truthwatchers have some sort of psuedo-Atium-like ability?
---
...Shallan is Not in a mentally stable right now. Hopefully Jasnah gets there soon because this whole flowing identities thing in the midst of the effort of keeping her illusory army up, that army dying, and the energy drain of the slowly decreasing stormlight is very worrying.
YES thank the heralds there's Jasnah- ooooh, shit, but two of the three Shallans are illusions and the 'Shallan' one isn't her – this is, mmmmmmm… every new paragraph comes with a new name, Radiant to Shallan to Veil and around and around, the personalities not so much bleeding over into one another as flickering, each step accompanied by a different face. This does not bode well. It seemed like she was healing a little in Shadesmar, but this is as bad as if not worse than she's ever been, Veil and Radiant pulled into prominence by the stress.
For all that Jasnah hates teaching, she certainly doesn't hesitate to infodump on Shallan when the opportunity presents itself, even if that opportunity is when they're still in the middle of a battle! This is giving us-the-readers a lot of information on Soulcasting, as well as giving Shallan something to focus on – and it's not like the stream of information is keeping Jasnah from being utterly badass and fending off any Fused that approach, so it's not quite as inopportune as she might believe.
---
'He was… unaccustomed to being able to do things like this. Not only using the Shardblade, but being physical. He'd always been afraid of his fits, always worried that a moment of strength would instantly become a moment of invalidity. Living like that, you leaned to stay back. Just in case.' I'm so, so glad that Renarin's finally getting the chance to step forward and do these things that he's always wanted to do – what is a moment of freezing up in a fit if he can heal from getting smeared by a thunderclast, after all? I don't think its likely that the stormlight 'healed' his epilepsy, though I'd have to wait for a WoB to be sure – but it sounds like the stormlight might be acting as a sort of buffer? idk, I don't know enough about epilepsy to give any kind of informed opinion
All of this sound and activity and frenetic energy sounds like it's playing hell on his nerves, oh man. You've gone through so much today, Renarin, it sounds like you need some serious recharge time after everything's done here.
Uh oh. Yeaaah, a thunderclast was one thing, but twelve small, fast Fused with weapons, and your stormlight running out… that's not something you can face right about now.
OH GOOD they have spanreeds to Urithiru; they're not entirely in the dark about why their forces aren't coming through
[narrows eyes] I'll bet that their inability to contact the Kharbranthians isn't an accident, but not in the way that they're thinking it is.
“There's nobody else.” R e n a r i n. He knows this could mean his death, even with stormlight healing, but then again, when has that ever stopped him? Certainly not in the first book when he tried to charge out, and not in the second when he stepped out into the ring to help his brother. But this time, no one is stopping him. No calls of 'That's not for you. You can't do that. You're not well.' This time, they're seeing Renarin Kholin as the man who can step forward and make a stand.
'Not very noble or brave, now was he?' Hah, it looks like you're one more that doesn't understand the definition of bravery, 'Rin.
Fffffffft, damn, but those stained-glass visions are still the coolest shit. 'These had always been right. Until today – until they had proclaimed that Jasnah Kholin's love would fail.' But it didn't. It didn't, in the greatest middle finger ever to anyone who thinks that Jasnah Kholin cannot feel.
AAAHAHAHAHAHA BOOOM, here come the REINFORCEMENTS. ENDGAME, MOTHERFUCKERS.
---
Shallan is still personality-flickering with no sign of stopping. She needs an anchor of some kind or I feel like this is just going to keep going, and that's. not healthy.
“We're getting too good at pretending.” YEAH, NO SHIT, Y'THINK.
“You don't have to worry. After I rest, I'll recover and settle down to being just one. I actually… actually don't think I'm quite as lost as I was before.” ...okay that's heartening but I'm still worried. That alone isn't gonna stop me worrying.
Oh, great. Looks like the humans aren't the only ones with reinforcements.
---
Yessss, Renarin giving orders like the prince he is! Lopen/B4 following them without a hint of hesitation!
Three shardbearers and two thousand troops? Plus B4 in the air once again and tackling the problem of the Fused? Considering how many of the Sadeas troops have already likely been defeated and the fact that the vast majority of the Singers have absolutely no battle training? It wouldn't be a complete rout, but the tides have turned to where the end outcome is a certainty, I believe.
D u d e, twenty times you healed yourself from getting smacked and/or smushed by that thunderclast-! Hooooly fuck, you're a tank, Renarin.
Carrying an injured Rock all the way down to the Oathgate had to be a trial without stormlight. Good thing they all know how to heave a heavy bridge!
“I think I used up all my Radianting for the day.” I feel you, Renarin. Working the Gate means you'll still be helping but won't be required to interact, and it'll be quieter. Not exactly recharge time, but it's the closest you'll probably get for now.
SUDDEN ROCK HUG. Ahhh, that's a nice thought, Rock, but sudden hugs from not-family prooobably aren't the best thing for Renarin. (Though he does need some time just Being Around his Bridge Four friends for a while, I think.)
'Renarin settled down nearby on some steps, trembling from it all, but grinning anyway.' Good. Even overwhemed and with the city buzzing too-loud around you, you can grin wide. You were awesome today, Renarin, and you deserve every second to bask in that.
---
Lift doesn't seem affected at all by the Thrill, at least from the outside. The Nahel bond can't help guard against its influence, but perhaps her boon/curse from the Nightwatcher can?
You are going to try to capture the Thrill. 'You lure the spren with something it loves.' At least Taravangian gave Dalinar some good advice at least once. And the Thrill… it does love Dalinar, is familiar with him, was probably all but bonded to him during those past years. If anything could tempt the Thrill into that ruby, it's Dalinar.
'“Thank you,” he whispered again to the Thrill, “for giving me the strength when I needed it. … Now, old friend, it is time to rest.” It… it really is amazing to see just how far Dalinar has come, from the first flashback and through the books up until now, and see how it all shaped him, each step of the way, so he could make that decision – and this one – at the crucial point.
---
I'm worried that you're not going to last long enough, Kaladin. Outrunning all those Fused takes power, and you're running out.
[winces] This is just a beatdown, and it's painful to watch. For every step he manages to get ahead, something else rises to take away that clawed-for advantage.
Well, shit. And there's the last of the light.
….except that they're turning tail-? OH, THE THRILL-
But Amaram didn't run. Amethyst-creature that he is now, despite the crack in his gemheart, he's still able to rise and make his way over to the broken, injured Radiant.
'Bridge Four.'
[quiet, internal screaming]
---
Looks like the Rosharans have their own version of '300 Spartans vs the entire Persian army' legend. It doesn't look like they're even going to need the battalion of reinforcements from Urithiru, though, because with the capture of the Thrill, they're collapsing like puppets with cut strings. Some are choosing to stay and some are choosing to split and run with the retreat, though, which. Hmmm. They're not under Unmade influence, but yet they're choosing to go with Odium's forces anyway? I'm actually surprised that there's not more of them that are simply too shell-shocked to move.
And the Everstorm passes as well, its power sucked away – why? Did it take that much energy to stay there in one spot in the first place, or does the removal of Nergaoul and the fleeing of Yelig-nar diminish its power here, or did Odium simply decide that he wasn't going to waste any more of his effort on this battle?
---
GOOD Lopen got light over to Kaladin so he's not lying there suffering from all the pains of his broken body
Haaaaaaaah – Rock broke his vow of pacifism. He'll probably be the next to swear Words, or at least do so soon, I think. We caught a glimpse of the cracks during his POV chapter, and this might well be the tipping point; he killed to protect.
Rock drawing the bow does indeed beg the question of how he did it if stormlight's not enough, and even if he was a Windrunner already, which apparently he's not, gravity and air pressure aren't gonna do squat against a bow's draw weight.
Another scene that needs to be done justice via art – the light breaking through as Dalinar kneels on the stone, the ruby that holds the Thrill (old friend) held gently, Lift resting her hand on his shoulder.
Tears of joy, maybe, but also of relief, and regret, and pain. There's nothing simple about it.
#blink reads oathbringer#oathbringer spoilers#this was like fourteen and a half goddamn pages of bullet points#yeah I'm just going to let this chapter be the only one in the post
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Ramiel Valentine’s Extra
Here’s extra three, featuring Ramiel. It’s a little more mature than the other two, but nothing explicit. This is probably about as far as the game will go into detail, but that’s not entirely set in stone. I’m not sure it would exactly qualify as mature, but better to be on the safe side.
To that end, I’m sort of struggling with how... intense?... to make the romance scenes, I suppose. I tend not to have a filter in most writing (at least when it comes to sex). I curbed this scene intentionally. I’m going to talk a little more about this in the CoG forum post.
Anyways, enjoy!
You fumble with the keys to the loft, cursing as you drop them. It was late, you were tired, and you knew you needed food even though the thought was unappetizing at the moment. The gruesome nature of the double homicide that you had been woken up to at four am this morning had put you in a bad mood from the start. The scene had been so contaminated by the time you had arrived, both by the well-meaning group of teenagers who had found them—some of which you suspected had been less well-meaning and more morbidly curious—and the damned rain, that the evidence had been less than helpful.
You were still waiting on the lab for the toxicology reports, and with Zaria on vacation, you had had to sit through a rather bumbling excuse for an initial autopsy report from the poor substitute who was working in her stead. The death notifications had gone over worse than normal, to the point that one of the distressed relatives had actually broken a vase in their grief. Preliminary interviews hadn’t revealed any good motivations—they were such a nice couple, no one ever had any problems with them, they weren’t in any financial trouble, they had no jealous exes, nobody had any problems with them whatsoever.
In other words, it was a load of bullshit that you were still wading through, trying to find the thread to unravel the tangled snarl that this case was turning out to be. That was on top of the fact that you had had green tea spilled on you, and then your computer had gone on the fritz—probably a reaction to your Grace, but that wasn’t an explanation you could give tech support—causing you to lose what you had been working on, and to compound the lousy day, some idiot rookie had gotten off on your floor with a rowdy suspect for a completely different case who had knocked over your murder board, causing you and your partner to have to waste time redoing the whole thing, in addition to subduing the man. You may or may not have cheated and knocked him unconscious with your Grace.
All in all, you were ready to be done with this day.
As you bend over to grab your keys, the door opens, and you glance up, ready to chide Daniel for being up this late. He still had school in the morning, and waiting up for you was not a valid—
The words die in your throat as you take in the pressed slacks leading up to a trim waist, a white-collared button-up tucked in, but as you trace the buttons upwards, you can see that the owner of the shirt had popped the top couple buttons and—
“And it’s more comfortable that way, especially when I wasn’t sure when or if you would be home,” Ramiel states, and you close your mouth, wondering exactly what you had said out loud.
“You look like you had a rough day,” Ramiel says, somewhat amusedly as he pulls you to your feet, plucking the keys out of your hand as he ushers you into your own apartment with a hand on your lower back.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, as Ramiel continues guiding you to the couch. He relieves you of your jacket and other personal items, including your personal sidearm with an ease that vaguely alarms you.
“I have watched you take it off, love,” Ramiel says, smiling up at you from where he was crouched by your feet, busy removing your shoes.
Apparently you had been speaking out loud. Again.
“Just stay here and tell me about your day,” he says, rising gracefully to his feet with your clothing and other items. It wasn’t fair how relaxed he looked, still dressed in his slacks from his ‘day job’ as a lawyer and dress top. He had rolled up the sleeves though, and his tie was missing—something you should have noted when you were staring at the sliver of his chest you could see through the open collar, so he had been here for a while.
Daniel must have let him in. You hadn’t gotten around to making another key, and the wards wouldn’t let him in unless you or Daniel opened the door for him. Maybe it should be a bit alarming that your kid was letting in your boyfriend without discussing it with you first, but right now you didn’t have the energy to care.
“Here.” You look up as a plastic tumbler, complete with cap and bendy straw, appear in front of your face.
“A sippy-cup?” you ask, frowning. Ramiel leans further over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Love, you would be upset if you spilled the wine on yourself or the couch, and as rough as you are looking right now, I dare not give you anything fragile or anything with an open top,” he says, still sounding far too amused by this whole situation.
You scowl, but take the cup anyways, sucking noisily on the straw just to be irritating. Ramiel moves back, ruffling your hair as he moves into your kitchen. The microwave goes off, and you can smell something delicious. Your stomach seems to concur, rumbling loudly.
Ramiel moves around the couch into your view, carrying a tray with a plate of leftover chicken parmigiana with a side of asparagus and a slice of garlic bread. He sets it gently on your lap before taking a seat beside you.
“You may be an angel, Gabriel, but your shell still needs fuel. Especially given that you’ve had a very long day.” You nod your head as you half-listen to him, mostly preoccupied with scarfing down your food and satisfying the pit in your stomach. It was warm, it was right in front of you, and you were fairly sure it was delicious though you were devouring it too fast to be sure on that last point.
“Alright, I don’t think there’s anything left,” Ramiel says, reaching over and relieving you of the tray. You stare forlornly at the plate, scraped clean, only reluctantly relinquishing the tray into Ramiel’s grasp. He gets up, and as soon as he was off the couch you flop over onto his side, enjoying the heated cushion, curling your feet up onto the side you’d mostly vacated.
“Lift your legs.” Ramiel had returned, and he was staring down at you, a fond smile on his face. Grumbling, you do so, and your Fallen boyfriend slides under them. He was pleasantly warm, and you twist your torso so you can look at him better.
“Work sucked,” you say, only slightly whining. “Humans are so—so—” the word you want eludes you, so you settle for waving a hand in the air.
“I hear it is generally more tolerable when one has sufficient sleep,” Ramiel says, starting to massage your feet. You let out a quiet groan at the feeling, pressing into his strong fingers.
“That’s nice,” you tell him, as he continues his ministrations.
“Well, I had come over to have dinner with you and Daniel. We figured the case was keeping you late, but we didn’t anticipate it would keep you this late especially since you were called out so early this morning,” he says softly. You blink slowly at him, before it hits you.
“Oh shit. Dinner. Tonight. We talked about it last week.” You feel a faint niggle of guilt in your gut, but Ramiel just shake his head gently.
“Gabriel, it’s fine. I know how important your work is to you. Daniel and I had a pleasant meal and a good discussion, though he did seem intent on determining my exact intentions towards you,” Ramiel says, his massage moving up your feet to your calves.
“He what?” you ask, half-sitting up. Ramiel breaks out into a boisterous laugh at the expression on your face, his head falling back. Not for the first time, you think that he might be one of the most human angels you’ve ever met. No, not angel, you remind yourself. Fallen.
But looking at him now, you would dare anyone to tell you that he was any different than he had been before. Maybe a little older, a little wiser, and not as scruffy, but he was still Ramiel.
And of course, now he was yours.
You forget what you were asking about, moving so you were straddling his lap on the couch. Ramiel sobers up, his head dropping so he can look inquisitively at you.
“I like it when you laugh,” you say, tracing the faint laugh lines around his mouth with one finger.
“That’s good,” he says, turning his head to playfully nip at the offending finger.
Your brain tracks back to what he was saying earlier, and you sit up a little straighter, trying to stare down at Ramiel. “So, Ramiel,” you start, putting on your best ‘bad cop’ impersonation, “what are your intentions with me?”
Ramiel’s eyes darken, the pupils dilating as he tilts his head back slightly to look up at you in your raised position. “Well,” he drawls slowly, his hands coming up to gently stroke up your arms, pausing at your shoulders before wandering back down, stopping at your elbows and shifting so he can grasp your waist.
“My original intentions were to feed you and ensure you had a relaxing evening. I’ve accomplished the former, and you sort of missed the entire evening at work.” You narrow your eyes at him as he rubs his thumbs over your hip bones in small circles, the touch intimate but not overtly sexual.
“Well, I do appreciate the food,” you say, leaning down and hovering with your lips just above his, watching the way his eyes track every minute change in your face. “But with the day I’ve had, I’m thinking I could do with some other forms of distraction.”
His hands tighten abruptly, pulling your body snug against his. Without warning he stands up, and you let out an undignified squawk of protest, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. “Warn me!” you say breathlessly, even as one of his arms moves down to support your bottom and the other shifts up higher on your back.
“You started it,” Ramiel tells you, moving effortlessly with you through your apartment towards your bedroom. You couldn’t help but be a little envious of his inhuman strength, given the limitations you had to deal with in your mortal shell.
“As long as you finish it,” you retort, wincing slightly as the words escape you. You peek at Ramiel’s face, seeing his arched eyebrow.
“I think the people at my work are rubbing off on me,” you say, chagrined.
“I don’t think that’s bad at all. And trust me, I do plan on… finishing… you,” he says, the innuendo heavy in his words. You flush, feeling heat jolt through you. Your earlier tiredness was fading away as Ramiel backs into the door to your room, and you only just remember to duck so as not to hit your head on the frame.
He kicks the door shut with his foot and moves towards the bed with increased speed. You realize what’s about to happen almost too late as he abruptly drops his arms away. Instead of dropping to the bed as he intended, you cling tightly to him. “Not. Funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Ramiel says into your shoulder. “But I can’t take my or your clothes off with you clinging to me.”
“I don’t like being dropped,” you respond. Ramiel huffs softly, but slowly bends over, lowering you gently to the bed. Reluctantly you release him and he draws back to look into your face. “That better, love?” he asks, kissing the tip of your nose before standing up.
You hum softly as you scoot up the bed, watching eagerly as Ramiel starts to unbutton his top. Catching your gaze, he slows his movements, making a show of it. Part of you feels annoyed, but part of you is also enjoying the slow revelation of his flawless skin, inhumanly perfect. As he finishes stripping off the shirt, your eyes trace down his well-defined chest, abruptly struck by the strange absence of a belly-button. Angels don’t have them, but you had grown so accustomed to your mortal shell that the lack of it was momentarily disconcerting.
You blink, shaking off the strange thought as Ramiel carefully tosses his shirt into the hamper in the closet, not even looking. He hooks his thumbs into his pants, drawing them down over his hips with almost agonizing slowness.
“You know, I’m almost done undressing, but you still seem to have too many clothes on,” he says, his eyes raking over your still clothed form. You scowl and sit up, impatiently tugging your top off. Your pants and underclothes take a bit more maneuvering, requiring you to do a little flopping about like a fish as you wriggle them off your hips.
You hear a suspicious snort as you finally free yourself of the confines of your clothes, chucking them haphazardly in the direction of the hamper, aware that none of them probably hit their target.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” you tell Ramiel, sitting back up and folding your arms across your bare chest. Ramiel hastily schools his face into something more neutral.
“Of course not. I would never,” he says, finishing baring himself to you. “My eyes are up here, love,” he adds, and you tear your gaze back up to his face.
“You’re the one standing naked at the foot of my bed. Can’t blame me for admiring the view,” you inform him, as he slowly kneels on the bed. He starts to crawl his way up the bed towards you, reaching up with one hand to remove his hair tie, letting the dark waves fall around his face.
He reaches out a hand and snags one of your ankles, and before you can protest, he tugs you flat onto your back, drawing you under him with ease. “I rather like the view myself,” he murmurs, before closing the distance between you and kissing you sensuously. He moves from your mouth to your neck, down to the junction where it meets your shoulder. There’s a momentary sting and you swat at him.
“No marks above the collar,” you hiss, as he draws back. “I don’t need the flak that will get me at work,” you add.
“It won’t be there in the morning,” he says in response, shifting his weight to balance on one hand, his brows furrowing briefly. “I just wanted to show you this,” he adds softly, lifting his free hand to the mark he had made.
For a brief moment, you sense discomfort, a side-effect of a Fallen’s Grace brushing against your own. But then the discomfort is gone, replaced by a soothing warmth all too familiar to you, the scent of cedar flooding your senses.
“Your Grace!” you say, startled. He shouldn’t be able to heal you like that, not as a Fallen. You sit up, almost knocking your head into him. “What—how—”
“You.” Ramiel’s reply was simple, but he holds your gaze, a mixture of pride and pain in his eyes. “I don’t really know, but I know that it has to do with you.”
You open your mouth to ask more questions but he silences you with a kiss, stealing your breath. “Not now. Not tonight,” he says, voice taking on a rough quality.
“Tonight is about you.” He cups your chin with his hand, slowly guiding you back onto the bed, following you down, his weight warm and firm against your body without being uncomfortable. “After all, I do have to finish what I started, don’t I?” he whispers into your ear, before biting gently on the earlobe.
“I plan on making sure that you are quite satisfied tonight, perhaps into this morning,” he continues, once more trailing kisses down your neck and across your collar bone, deviating to the area above your mortal heart.
“Let me worship you, my love. Tonight, just let me take care of you. Tomorrow you can go back to saving the world by putting away one murderer at a time,” he says into your skin. “Just for right now, be mine, and mine alone.”
“I’m always yours,” you say to the top of his head. “It’s a side effect of being in love. Just like you’re mine.”
He shifts his head to look up at you, eyes warm and soft underneath the desire. “And I’m yours, for the rest of my existence,” he says. “And yes, I love you too.” He raises himself up to free his hands, letting them resume their somewhat possessive hold on your waist. “Now let me show you some of the ways I plan on regularly reminding you of how much I love you,” he adds, roguish grin telling you that you were going to be in for quite the satisfying night.
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I've been in such a writing funk lately like... God, I finally start posting something on ao3 that I've been working on for months (the whole thing is at over 50K words at this point), and I've posted the first SIX chapters and received no worthwhile feedback whatsoever. And I gotta say, it feels like absolute shit. Because I can See that people are Reading it!! But do they like it? Do they think it's awful? Do they have any interest in reading the rest? Do they think my characterizations are accurate, does my plot seem contrived, does the romance seem to be progressing organically??? I've got no clue!!!!!!! All I know is that some people are readily consuming this thing I've sunk hours and days and weeks into creating, but don't feel strongly enough about it to take a minute out of their day to say "hey, thanks." And the worst part? The worst part is that this whole damn behemoth of a fanfic was initially only intended for my own consumption and enjoyment, but it seemed silly to have put so much work and effort into something no one else would ever see, so I posted it online for others to enjoy with me. All this grief over something I never intended to share in the first place. But now here I am, feeling so down on myself and my writing skill, that I don't wanna touch that fic ever again, and I can't find the vanity to work on any of my original fiction, because Christ on a Cracker if my writing isn't good enough for fandom, what kind of idiot must I be to think a publisher would ever come near me with a 10-foot pole?????????? I know that's not true. At least, I hope it isn't, and I've been clinging desperately to that hope for years now, and it will be that hope that pulls me, eventually, out of this mess. But, honestly, I never thought I'd miss the old days of fanfic. I like ao3, I think it's a great system, but I think it has nurtured a culture of unyielding consumption. Somewhere down the line, we decided that fic writers don't deserve feedback, that for a writer to ask for (let alone demand) it is desperate and shameful. But that feedback is absolutely all we get in return. We don't get paid for this, can't use it in a portfolio. You don't see patreon accounts for writing. I know a lot of writers use fanfic as practice for original work, but I also know that a lot of writers get discouraged, like I do, by the sheer absence of any response from their readers that they give up all hope of ever getting around to that original work. It's like you're on one side of this brick wall, creating art, pouring your heart and soul into it, working tirelessly for weeks or squeezing in an hour or two where you can. Every so often, someone comes and takes what you've been working on to tack it up on the other side of the wall. But what's happening over there? You can hear people walking by, can hear when their footsteps stop so they can look (you hope) at this thing you've created. Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll hear somebody sigh, or laugh; but mostly you just hear their footsteps continue as they walk away. You wish and beg and pray that someone will say something about it, out loud. Don't they know you're back there, just on the other side of that wall? Don't they realize that a person made the thing they're looking at? How long before you stop seeing the point? How long before you give up on your art forever? Yeesh. Sorry, I'm tired and I've been stewing on this too long. Just...be kind to your fic authors, okay?
#personal#writing#fanfiction#uggggghhhhhhhh#im probably gonna delete this later#just needed to get it out of my system
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35. Contemplating Moves
[Three Months Later, Clubhouse chapel]
“Jax? Baby did you hear me?” Gemma’s concern clearly laced the words that she relayed to her son without a single reaction from him. Since the loss of Cain, Jackson had become a shell of a man; one that seemed to not care whether he lived or died despite the son that he still had to raise and love.
Jax had zero interest in anything Gemma had to say to him; there was only one thing on his mind and it was something he knew shouldn’t be there but he couldn’t stop the impulses that invaded his inner thoughts. The anger that he had pent up deep within himself needed a release, he knew that. And it needed to happen soon. But what disturbed him the most is knowing anything he did to allow the fierce emotions out they would not be smoldered if he didn’t do exactly what he knew needed to be done to satisfy some sort of revenge.
“Get out.”
With a huff Gemma stood from the chair to the right of the current president of SAMCRO, pushing herself away from the reaper table.
“We fuckin’ lost him too Jackson! Don’t forget your other son needs you. Abel. Remember him?” Without another word Gemma pivoted out of the chapel, letting the door close behind her, allowing Jax to remain with only his thoughts surrounding him.
The day he laid his premature son to rest was etched clearly into Jax’s mind, eating away at him every moment his thoughts weren’t consumed with something club related. Even when it was the memories of that fateful day at TM still there to haunt him. He couldn’t help the hatred he felt towards the woman he thought he once loved for it was her past that caused him to put his child into the ground. The feelings that he once felt as affection were now nothing more than the same hatred he felt towards Wendy yet it was magnified to an extent he couldn’t even explain. He knew it was wrong to allow such gruesome considerations to plague his subconscious yet he couldn’t refrain from wanting to act on them. Someday, he thought, someone would pay for this tragedy with their own life. And he already knew who that someone would be.
If the loss of Tara hadn’t completely hardened Jackson Teller’s heart, the loss of Cain certainly did. He had become even more of a cold hearted killer. Not thinking twice about lodging a bullet into someone’s skull. At this point it was nearly a pleasure to watch life being taken away because of him. He got off on it - it was almost the only emotion that made sense anymore. Being able to watch the pain a person endures at that moment just before death made him feel at least something. Not the emotion most would feel but to him it was the only one that made him feel like a little bit of the shitload of anger he carried was unloaded with the bullet that left the barrel of his Glock.
Scrubbing a hand down over the three day old stubble that consumed his cheeks before reaching the longer, coarse hairs of his beard his gaze stared straight ahead, his expression blank, no show of anything whatsoever. Just a man that was lost on the outside just as much as what was within. Sitting in the quietness of the room he contemplated his options. Did he actually have the heart to do what he wanted to do? It didn’t take much to throw his ex wife against the wall and smash a speedball in her arm. It actually felt good. Real fuckin’ good. Just as he knew this could have the same effect. He knew she was in pain of her own with losing a child but to him it was Wendy all over again. Maybe the circumstances were different but in the end it resulted in a loss for Jax. Another one that was the breaking point for the young man that had lost one too many significant people in his life.
He knew he should have been there for her, been more consoling and aware of her grief and her needs but he couldn’t, not when he was being torn up from the inside. He wasn’t there for her, he got that but seeing her throwing herself at another man from a rival MC, that shit made his blood boil even more. Sure he might have been known to fuck his problems away at times but despite her accusations he’d not been with anyone. Pussy wasn’t going to fix what he needed fixing, the solution was far more complex than that.
Reaching out in front of him he retrieved his pack of smokes, pushing it open from the bottom with his thumb to pluck one from the wrapper. If he hadn’t smoked the last of his weed before he arrived at the clubhouse he would have been drawing some of that shit into his lungs instead of the nicotine. The Marlboro would have no choice but to do.
As the grey smoke began to swirl into the air above him the door pushed open, Tig and Chibs making their way inside. It wasn’t unusual for them to find Jax sitting alone in the room just pondering life but by the look on their faces there was evidence they knew something was up. Placing a hand to Jax’s leather covered shoulder Chibs squeezed, reassuring his brother that no matter what he was there for him.
“Ye a’right Jackie? Gem tore outta ‘ere pretty fast. Somet’in goin’ on we need ta know about?” The VP spoke in a level tone, not wanting to set Jax off in any way. Since Cain he had a very short fuse.
“Family shit, brotha. Nothin’ to worry about. S’all good.” The prez turned his head to meet the Scot’s gaze, mustering a smile in hopes to shield any of his previous thoughts where his ex was concerned. He was sure they would know soon enough what his plan was. Whether they liked it or not they weren’t going to stop him. No matter how hard they tried.
In the moments that passed each member of the MC entered the sacred room, taking their usual seats around the carved reaper as Jackson looked on to each of the men that would die for the one sitting next to him. In years past Jax began to think the brotherhood and the vision his old man had back in ‘67 was crumbling but in recent weeks after losing his son the true meaning of brotherhood shone through.
Turning half sideways in his high back chair Jax twirled his ring on his finger with his thumb while waiting for the boys to take their seats. Church would be short this evening, the only round of business they needed to discuss was the proposition Pope had laid out for him a few days prior. Picking up the end of the wooden gavel Jax pounded it down on the block several times to bring church to order.
“Only a couple things on the agenda tonight boys.” Jax began, sitting up straighter in his seat, folding his hands out in front of him. “I had that meet with Pope. Seems he has a little proposition for us.”
The hushed mumbles and curious looks shot around the room from each man, each of them wondering just what Damon Pope had up his sleeve.
“How much further we wanna get in bed with Pope, Jax?” Bobby questioned, looking at the MC president over the top of his reading glasses.
“It’s no greater risk for us but a lot more cash in our pockets boys. We are already hauling 30 keys up north. Pope wants to triple that...90 keys up the coast. Either way, we get caught it’s the same sentence.” As the last words left his mouth his shoulders rolled up in a shrug, his finger and thumb now stroking his goatee to a point.
“We really could use the extra cash. The bank is getting low, boys.” Bobby chimed in, seeming to give his approval.
“What the hell? If we are gonna be in bed with ‘em and get fucked, might as well get fucked hard.” Tig offered his two cents.
“We ready to vote this shit then? All in favor of tripling the load for Pope?...yay.” Jax raised his hand slightly to start the vote, the unanimous decision making its way around the table in a multitude of ‘yays’.
“I got one more thing to discuss.” Jax continued, his eyes scanning over the men clad in leather till his gaze stopped on Juice. “Juice, I need you to get me some info…”
“Jackie..” Chibs’ seemed to sit up straighter in his seat to the left of the young president, almost as if he knew what was coming. Jax never said a word, only shot him a look that told the Scot not to fight him on what he was about to do.
“I need all the info you can get me on that fucker my ex has been seen with. Real name, home address, rank... I want everything. Even the last time he had his fuckin dick sucked.” Obviously he didn’t give a shit about that, or did he? He was sure it was probably one of the whores that hung around their bullshit clubhouse cause if his ex sucked dick like she used to, well, that poor fucker would have no choice.
“On it Jax.” Juice eagerly opened the laptop that sat in front of him and went straight to work. When the man sitting at the head of table wanted something, you didn’t object, especially lately. Once again lifting the gavel Jackson dropped it on the wooden block several times, ending the meeting. By this time tomorrow Jax expected to have the information that he needed to help release some of the pent up aggression he had inside.
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