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caramelcal · 3 years

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Request: Luke x reader? Luke tries to distract reader throughout the day (like he did to Julie) especially when she tries to talk to Nick? Which reader gets mad about and starts to ignore Luke (because she’s been trying to distract herself from her growing feels for him) and he eventually poofs into he room to talk to her about it?

Word Count: 2k

a/n: hi! sorry this took so long, instead of sitting down and working on one fic i’ve been working on five at the same time. incredibly stressful, i’ll try not to do that again lol especially considering it meant it took me ages to write them all...also someone pls give me something to name this lmao ty, and thank you for the request!

also just in case anyone asks i will not be making a part 2 sorry ! :(

disclaimer: I do not condone the use of my work/writing without my permission. The only place this has been posted is on my (rosemoonmist) tumblr account. This has not been posted on any other platform either. If you see any plagiarism of my work please let me know! <3 People work hard on their fics, so don’t steal them ty.

Masterlist

“So y/n I was thinking,” Luke starts, popping up out of thin air beside you whilst you walk along the corridors. At his unannounced presence beside you, you jump and let out a surprised squeal, gather attention from other students.

Looking around, you notice all of their stares and a blush coats your cheeks. They couldn’t see Luke, you knew that, so they thought you jumped at nothing and your squeal definitely didn’t help. Your head ducks down in embarrassment, trying to avoid the gazes of the students as you start to hurry to your locker.

“Y/n! I’m trying to talk to you here? Hello!” Luke shouts, following your quick, embarrassed walk to your locker. He leans against the locker beside you, arms crossed over his chest, “Y/n, stop ignoring me please.”

“You know Luke, normal people don’t sneak up on others so you definitely shouldn’t,” You mutter quietly, trying not to attract any more attention from those near you. You had already embarrassed yourself enough, you definitely didn’t need to be caught talking to yourself.

Luke watches you as you get your textbooks from your locker with soft, hazel eyes, shrugging his shoulders before he speaks again, “I don’t see what’s wrong with coming to share my ideas with you.”

“When you practically ambush me in the middle of the halls and embarrass me in front of my classmates then there’s something wrong,” You whisper harshly towards the teenage ghost, who gives you a playful smile in return.

“Don’t worry about it, I think your little scream was cute,” Luke tries to playfully comfort you, but you only end up more embarrassed. Ducking your head, you clear your throat, not meeting Luke’s eyes, “Plus, if I don’t talk to you then who is? Flynn and Julie aren’t here.”

“I have friends other than Julie and Flynn, you know,” You replied with a small smile, rolling your eyes at the boy whose eyes go slightly wider in amusement.

Leaning closer to you, he whispers, “Yeah, one of ‘ems behind you right now.”

With that he pulls back, his amused smirk going wider when he sees your eyes widen in panic. At least he’s getting some enjoyment out of this because you certainly weren’t. It was almost as if you were unfrozen, whipping around after several moments of doing nothing and just standing still to see him there.

“Heyyy y/n,” He says, trying to mask the slightly judgmental look he is giving you but you notice. At this rate, you just want the ground to swallow you whole, melt into the floor or just disappear.

“Nick! Hi,” You say, feeling your throat close up as you look at him. You try to keep your eyes on him, but they quickly stray when Luke appears behind him.

“You alright, L/N?” Nick asks, looking at you strangely with concern etched into his voice.

Waving your hand about weirdly, you nod your head wildly, trying to act natural but very much not. Luke glances at you with a judgmental glance, one that he wants you to see as you laugh, “Of course I am! Why would I not be?”

“I don’t know, you’re just acting a little strange.”

“Me? I’m always strange,” You try to wave it off, hoping that soon enough this nightmare would be over and you could go back home. This has to be the most embarrassing day to ever exist, for anyone. You would give anything just to disappear right now.

“Uh oh,” Luke’s voice sounds from behind Nick, his voice teasing as he looked at you with a smile, “has someone got a crush on Nick?”

“What! No!”

Your eyes snapped over to Luke, his smile growing wider. You know that he’s messing with you, but you couldn’t let him believe you had a crush on Nick of all people. No way. You already liked someone else, Luke, so to let Luke believe that you liked Nick was not going to happen. Your eyes hesitantly look back towards Nick, where he looks at you with a confused look.

You know that you can’t explain you were talking to a ghost, he’d think you were even crazier than you actually were. Giving him an awkward laugh you rub behind your neck, “Sorry, Flynn is across the hall and is trying to be distracting.”

“Flynn isn’t even in scho-”

“Sorry, Nick! Nice talking to you but I gotta go, bye!” Cutting Nick off quickly, you wave your hand before whirling around, walking in the opposite direction. A pair of shoes caught themselves up with you, and you knew who it was. The black and white vans were kind of a giveaway.

“I think that went well.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

. . .

Thankfully, your bad and embarrassing day didn’t get much worse. You managed to get through your first classes without Luke trying to annoy you anymore, which meant that you didn’t embarrass yourself even more and when it came to lunch you holed yourself up in the library. Being in the library meant that there was no one around to embarrass yourself in front of.

Your last class rolled around and you were trying to get your head down and do your work so that you could go home and forget that this day ever happened. It wasn’t going to get much worse than it already is considering the day was practically over, so you were just waiting for the time to pass by.

“Y/n, psst,” You hear a voice whisper from in front of you, making you look up. Maybe you spoke too soon, because there Luke is, sitting on the desk in front of yours, that was thankfully empty.

You knew that Luke just liked to talk to people other than Reggie and Alex from time-to-time and you were normally a good option but not in school. And especially not after the embarrassment that happened earlier on in the morning; that’s why you ignored him.

However, it seemed that Luke really wanted your attention and was willing to do anything to get it. Whether it be constantly talking to you, distracting you from doing your work, or humming new songs, he seemed to be doing anything to be annoying.

“What do you think about this one, n/n?”

Often, you were used to Luke just using your first name, so the sound of your endeared nickname falling off of his lips effortlessly caused your heart to flutter. Luke frowned a little, he knew you were listening, he could see you press your pencil down a little harder on your paper every time he spoke, almost as if you were trying to restrain yourself from answering him.

A smirk lit upon his lips, he knew exactly what to do. Jumping off of the table, he made his way over to your desk, taking the pencil out of your hand. Your eyes went wide but you knew you couldn’t make a big deal about it, imagine they seen you jumping after a floating pencil.

Looking up at Luke, you mouthed ‘Luke, put the pencil down’ with a glare, but Luke simply smirked at you. At this rate, you thought that Luke was just trying to get you grumpy. He brought the pencil down to your level to tease you but you caught onto it, tugging it closer to you.

Luke didn’t seem to want to let go, finally glad to get your attention but it shouldn’t have been a good thing, because he was just angering you even more.

Finally managing to yank the pencil off of Luke, you heard a voice whisper beside you, “Hey y/n, are you planning on actually doing any work, or are you gonna continue to cast spells with your pencil?”

The day definitely couldn’t get worse after that.

. . .

After that, you were determined to ignore Luke by any means necessary, even if he stole a pencil and let the class believe that the class was haunted. Thankfully enough, Luke realized that he shouldn’t push your buttons anymore and left you alone. On your walk home you practically wallowed in self-pity and embarrassment and found yourself swallowed in a hole of blankets and pillows watching a movie when you got into your bedroom.

You did not want to go back to school, and you found yourself dreading it more and more with each passing moment. After Luke realized how embarrassed you were the first time, he should've stopped, but he didn’t. Maybe he just liked to torture you and embarrass you in front of all of your peers.

It was a well-established thing that you liked Luke, not that he knew, of course, you knew he didn’t like you back like that. And after today, you struggled to believe he would ever see you as more; it was like he didn’t care about your feelings.

“Y/n, there you are,” Speak of the devil, “I need opinions on these new lyrics-”

“No, Luke. I’m busy.” You snap, eyes keeping on the screen. You hoped that he took the memo and stopped talking and left, but he didn’t, they never do.

Walking towards your bed, Luke sat beside you and grabs the remote that was tucked in between two blankets, holding it up to you, “No you aren’t, you’re only watching a movie. I’m sure you could stop it for two seconds.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You reply sassily, reaching for more popcorn that sat in the small bowl in front of you.

“What’s up with you?” Luke asks, his voice slightly annoyed as he looks at you. He seems confused like he’s completely oblivious to everything that happened today.

“What do you think is up with me?” You ask, finally turning to look at him, e/c eyes meeting the hazel ones you were so fond of.

Luke stares back at you with the same intensity, eyes looking over your blanket-covered figure before realization dawned on his face. Yet, with the realization, annoyance seemed to follow closely behind, “Is this because I embarrassed you in front of your crush?”

“I don’t have a crush on Nick!” Your voice is slightly louder than you had intended, but you don’t bother to apologize anyway.

Maybe you were both overreacting, and you were getting a little too defensive but you couldn’t help it. Luke didn’t seem to listen to you, you had already told him you didn’t like Nick, couldn’t he just listen to you for once in his life?

“Why are you shouting? I’m just asking a question,” Luke says, his voice calm. You had never expected the day where Luke would be the voice of reason between the two of you but here we are.

Eyes looking back up to meet Luke’s, a frown falls onto your face. Sighing, you feel guilt pool in your stomach, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

“It’s alright, y/n. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in the first place. I’m really sorry,” You’re pretty sure that’s the first time you have ever heard Luke apologize to anyone, and you’re surprised at how sincere he sounded. Maybe Luke does care about your feelings more than you expected him to.

Soon enough, the calm and comfortable atmosphere you have created in the room because uncomfortable as you both sit in a silence. You don’t know what to say, or what to do but thankfully, Luke saves you from that.

“Listen, I- uh,” Luke hesitates to speak, feeling nervous when your attention is turned back to him. His gaze looks down at the bed before glancing back up, looking very fidgety under your gaze, “I’m sorry for what I did this morning. I don’t know I just seen Nick, and I thought you guys liked each other and I didn’t like it so I embarrassed you in front of him and that’s not okay.”

“You didn’t like it?” You ask with a smirk, quoting what Luke said as your smirk goes a bit wider. Noticing your words, Luke’s eyes go a little bit wider as he starts to stutter but you quickly end his stuttering, “Were you jealous, Patterson?”

It takes him a few moments to respond, your full body turning towards him when you begin to tease him. You had hoped that he was going to get embarrassed in front of you but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Maybe I am, what are you gonna do about it?”

#luke julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie x y/n #julie and the phantoms x reader #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #jatp #julie and the phantoms luke #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie #luke jatp #luke patterson x y/n

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colormeyondublue · 3 years

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Chapter 8: Trenvik

Chapter 7 Here - Chapter 9 Here

The next morning, you wake up feeling a little nervous. Yondu’s words and anxious behavior are still fresh in your mind. You wonder to yourself who these disloyal men may be. You have an idea who a few might be, but they’ve never really bothered you apart from the occasional catcall. Most of the time if you made a snide comment back, they would leave you alone. You idly get ready and fix your hair in a braid. This morning feels strange.

A knock at your cabin door breaks your train of thought. You head toward the door, putting on that silver bracelet Yondu got you. You open your door and find the most unexpected face there to greet you.

It was Trenvik.

Trenvik was a race that you had never seen or heard of before boarding the Eclector. Kraglin told you he was Chorak. Apparently, they were an isolated kind and they were not sociable. He was…odd to say the least. He has lemon yellow skin, with puke green blotches covering his neck and face. His eyes are a piercing green with yellow speckles, and he has goat-like pupils. His facial features are sharp and hollow, and he is totally hairless. Trenvik leans against the doorframe with two of his 4 arms. The other two arms are above you, all 6 fingers gripping the ledge over your head. He was tall – very tall. You would guess around 7 feet. His body was lanky and lean. You recall he has a very unnerving gait to his walk. Something about him always made you very uncomfortable. Maybe it was the croaking sound that always seemed to seep from his throat when he would pass you on the ship. It could have been the fact that you had caught him staring at you a number of times in the mess. He’s never spoken to you – until now.

“Y/n.”

“Uhh…Hi. Trenvik – right?”

“Why are you hiding – in your room?”

His words are measured and unnerving. You begin to fidget with your feet, gripping the door handle tighter.

“I’m not hiding, I was actually getting ready to get some breakfast.”

“Breakfast? My dear, it’s almost halfway through the day. You are a bit late for that.” His mouth spreads into a nauseating grin. Sharp, needle-like teeth showing beneath his thin lips. He leans in closer to you.

“Oh my gosh! It’s that late?! I had no idea! I’m sorry, Trenvik, I really need to go.” You try to push past him through the doorway and pull the door closed behind you. “It was nice speaking to you!”

“Not so fast.” He grabs you by your wrist and pushes you against the wall next to your door. “Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

“I – I’m not. I’m just late. I have to get to w-work.” You stutter.

He slowly releases his grip on you. His eyes travel up and down your body, as if he is trying to decide if you’re lying or not. “Very well. We can finish this later.” He finally says.

He takes one step back and you turn to run down the walkway toward your office. Trenvik watching you as you flee.

As you reach your office, you slam the door behind you, breathing rapidly. You start to feel tears welling in your eyes when your wrist comm dings. It’s Yondu.

“Yondu?”

“Hey Darlin’, you alright? I haven’t seen ya all day.”

“Yondu! Umm…yeah. I slept through my alarm. And I’ve been dealing with some weird anxiety today. I just feel strange. On top of that, Trenvik came to my door a little while ago.”

“What did he want?” He asked with clear aggravation in his voice.

“I don’t know. He was just trying to talk to me I think, but it felt creepy – like there was something else. His whole demeanor was sketchy.”

“You in yer office?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Stay right there honey, I’m on my way.”

The comm beeped again, and Yondu was gone. You let out a heavy sigh, and sit down at your desk. Music…I need music. You reach for your holopad and pull up the music files that Kraglin got you a few days prior. You begin to find more and more American music. That was a huge comfort to you, regardless of what era the music was from. A song that came through your speakers almost broke you. “Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. You heard some of their music when you were back home, but this song was new to you.

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done?

I've fallen in love with a man on the run

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please

Don't take that sinner from me

Oh don't take that sinner from me

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what do I do?

I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you

He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone

Oh I just wanna take him home...

You begin to think about the events that unfolded that morning with Trenvik. What if something does happen? What if Yondu does make me go back to Earth? I can’t leave him. He’s everything I never knew I needed. He’s brave and strong and true. Sure, he’s a criminal…but I don’t care. Sure, he’s a pirate, but I love him. I don't want to live a life without him in it. You look up at the screen of the holopad and the tears begin to fall. The last thing you want is to be the reason that Yondu runs into trouble with his crew. You don't want to be the reason someone freaks out and he gets hurt. You definitely don't want to put him in a situation where he would have to hurt someone else. He’s been through so much in his life. From being a battle slave all those years ago, being exiled by Stakar, and now he’s questioning his crew’s loyalty.

...Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not

He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please

Don't take that sinner from me

Oh don't take that sinner from me

What you didn’t know, is that Yondu was already in the room. He’s been silently standing inside the door listening to the music, hearing the lyrics along with your short breaths.

“Y/n?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yondu!” You whip around, tears evident on your cheeks. “I didn’t hear you come in. What did you need?”

“Baby…what’s wrong? Did Trenvik bother ya?” You think his words over and absentmindedly rub your wrist where Trenvik grabbed you earlier. Yondu sees this and he raises his voice, “Did he put his hands on ya?!”

“Well…yes. He grabbed my wrist in the walkway. I’m a little scared of him, but he didn’t say anything hurtful or inappropriate. I just don't like the feeling he gives me. It’s…intrusive and creepy.”

Yondu's expression then turns angry. Eyes flashing with a seething light. Just as he is about to speak, the comm on his wrist beeps and Kraglin could be heard. “Cap’n, the crew is gathered in the mess fer the meeting.”

“Thanks, Kraglin, I’m headed yer way.” Yondu’s eyes meet yours, and he sees how worried you are. He forces his emotions to calm. “I’m gonna go talk to the crew. I’ll get this settled sweetheart, just ya wait and see.” He caresses your jaw with his hand, and places a single kiss on your lips. “Do ya wanna come with me? Ya can stand by me if that makes ya feel better ‘bout the whole thing?”

“I guess so.” You shrug.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He leads you out the doorway and toward the mess. Once there, you and Yondu walk up toward the officers table at the front. The platform you follow him to is raised and Yondu leans in close to you.

“Stay close ta me, I don’t expect much trouble, but I’d rather be safe in case anyone decides to get stupid.”

You take one small step back, but stay near Yondu’s side. The men in the mess are talking amongst themselves loudly. Kraglin approaches the Captain and murmurs, “Everyone is here sir, they’re all yers.”

Yondu clears his throat and lets out one loud, sharp whistle. His arrow flys up to his ear, and the room is immediately silent. Your heart is beating quickly, and you put your hands behind your back so you can fiddle with your fingers without being seen.

“Now…I bet ya’ll are wonderin’ why I called everyone here. It’s been brought ta my attention that some ‘a y’all think that I am keepin ya on a short leash around y/n fer no reason. It ain't fer no reason. Y/n is off limits, because she’s mine! It’s safe fer ya'll ta assume that she is my girl. I don’t want ta hear another complaint from anyone on this ship about y/n being off limits. If anyone has a problem with that, you are free to depart one of two ways: at our next port, which would be Knowhere, or out the airlock! If I get even the tiniest wind of more talk regarding y/n or this mutiny crap that’s been floating around, I will not hesitate to send this arrow straight through yer skull! Is that clear!?”

A resounding “Yes sir!” echoed through the mess.

“Not a single one ‘a ya is ta lay a hand on her. You do not speak to her in a manner she doesn’t like, and if ya do ya’ll can believe that I will know about it, and I will skin ya alive.”

The murmurs began again as Yondu turns to say something to the first mate. You scan over the crowd nervously. You catch Trenvik staring straight through you from the back of the room. His icy stare sending the worst chills down your spine. You overhear some mention of the Captain going soft, and something about you being his personal whore. The word “whore” lights your blood on fire, and you begin to see red. The murmurers start to get louder and the room is clouded with harsh laughter. The noise starts to get overwhelming. Without thinking, you yell into the room as loud and you can manage. Yondu snaps his head in your direction at the sound of your voice.

“SHUT IT!!” Your fists are clenched and your arms are shaking. Yondu can see the rage burning in your eyes. Anger is an emotion he has never seen you wear before. He isn’t sure if he should stop you, or let you continue. He keeps his eyes on you while you speak.

“Most of you in this room only know me as the Secretary – so to speak. Some of you have never spoken to me, where as some of you,” you glance in Tullk and Geff’s direction and smile softly, “talk to me on a regular basis. Yes, I am in a relationship with the Captain. Yes, I am his girl. Now, I have no authority here, but because I am his girl, I will not tolerate any mention of the Captain going soft! Some of you may have no idea what I am. Some of you might not be familiar with where I’m from. Sure, I’m Terran, but I’m more than that. I am human. We care for our own, deeply. We love, we defend and we protect. We Terrans may be small, we might be weak, and hell, we may not even be that smart by galactic standards – but back on my home planet, we have a saying: It takes a village. The meaning is simple…in order to survive, we have to work together. We have to care about each other. For thousands of years, my people have been beating the odds left and right. We’ve survived hostile environments, fierce predators, and devastating plagues. Just 4 Earth years ago, our global population reached over 7 and a half billion people! We survive because we figured out a long time ago that love is our strength, not our weakness.”

Apart from your words, the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You take a big breath in, and continue.

“The point is, this crew could be a whole hell of a lot better off if you guys would trash this idea that caring about someone makes you soft! It’s absolutely ridiculous! Love can bring on a strength in each and every one of you that you never knew you had. It doesn’t even have to be romantic love, it can be something as simple as friendship and respect for one another, and for your Captain. Just know that this entire crew would be so much stronger and much more resilient if you would consider my words. With this knowledge, and with Captain Udonta at the helm, this crew could do anything!”

The crew just stares back at you, with a mixture of bewilderment and confusion on their faces.

“However, Rome wasn’t built in a day. So…just think about it.” You smirk confidently, and cross your arms.

Yondu just stares at you. It’s hard to read what he’s thinking, as he remains expressionless. He looks back out over the crew. “Yer dismissed. Get back ta work!”

Kraglin discreetly says something to Yondu, and he glances at you before leaving the mess as well. Shit…I might have way overstepped my boundaries. Yondu is probably pissed. Great.

Yondu turns to you. “Yer done with yer work fer the day. Come with me.” You follow Yondu out of the mess and straight to his quarters.

#Yondu and The Secretary #Yondu Udonta #yondu x reader #marvel #fanfic #gotg #gotg fanfiction #ravager #kraglin obfonteri #kraglin #eclector

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years

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Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz

#gta v #grand theft auto v #michael de santa #trevor philips #young trikey #franklin clinton #lamar davis #lester crest #amanda de santa #steve haines #midnight city au

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thisnoodlewritesao3 · 3 years

Note

Alright alright alriiiight~ so again please don't do this if it stresses you out jsjdjdkdkkd

-Write something on your own skin, appears on the other’s skin as well

Idk i just feel like this one has so many possibilities ndkskkdisididkek and vibes (all the vibes) but it could be super fluffy and like look in middle school and high school i was constantly writing things on my skin, like from homework assignments to song lyrics that sounded good or like hit a little too close to home bdndjfjdjd but yeah I'm so excited to see what you come up with!!!! (Pronouns are open and if there's anything else you want to know message me!!!)

And this one came too easy to me. Omg I loved this so much sjfgsdjfhjsdhfsjfgsdhfghj Had to pick a little surprise (I say surprise but it is out of the 4 I told you, so we gonna ignore that okay? Okay). Enjoy all the fluff

----

“I promise, this is going to be so worth it.” Osamu was practically drooling as he led the team towards his favourite restaurant. “The food is so good.” That was high praise coming from Osamu - despite that he loved any food, he held his standards up and above.

So, for him to give such a small time restaurant such high praise, it must have been good. That was what Kita had deduced as the team was taken down a dingy alleyway and through the curtain of what looked almost like a shack.

They were greeted quickly, “Miya twins and friends,” the owner chuckled loudly, opening his arms wide as a woman poked her head from behind a door in the back, smiling at them so sweet they thought she might just be honey, “not here to cause trouble again are ya?” Kita cringed, because of course the Miya twins would cause trouble anywhere.

“Ain’t our fault that guy was a perv,” Atsumu shrugged, walking towards the back corner where the larger tables sat.

There was a friendly air about the establishment, regulars relaxing at the bar while talking idly with the owner. It was nice. The only thing that seemed slightly off about the place was the sound of a girl singing somewhere, but Kita couldn’t pinpoint from where. It was angelic, like the heavens had called out to him. He couldn’t have been more thankful that Miya Osamu existed- even though he’d be sure to eat those words one day.

The singing is cut off far too quickly and Kita is forced to talk to them - not that he doesn’t like it, but he’d just rather hear that voice. “They have great onigiri, and-” Kita takes a break from Osamu’s food rambling to actually look at the menu. Everything is reasonably priced, well within their budget.

In the midst of his looking, a voice calls out to them, “Samu, Tsumu,” you cheer, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and planting your hand on your hip, “and friends.” You glance around at the table, eyes lingering on Kita for a second. “Or are they enemies? Am I about to witness yer enemies-to-lovers trope?” You tap a pen only your chin, giggling to yourself.

“Yer mad, they’re just our team.” Atsumu rolls his eyes.

“Ya work well in a team?” You sound so shocked that it’s amusing.

“I wouldn’t say they work well…” Ginjima laughed. You only laughed harder when Atsumu practically threw himself across the table.

“That makes more sense.” You snort and smile so widely the corners of your eyes crinkle. A pen rests on the back of your ear as you start patting down your pockets, “so, what can I get ya today?” You ask. Osamu starts talking, but you’re almost too focused on something else, brows furrowing together. Eventually Osamu stops speaking - but only when you look over your shoulder, calling out, “Ma- Ah, nevermind,” and pulling the pen from behind your ear, holding the cap between your teeth.

It was like you’d committed Osamu’s order to memory, quickly writing it on your arm before glancing around the others.

Kita can’t help but comment, “aren’t you going to use a notepad?” You look up at him, pen floating above your arm.

“What’s it to ya?” A playful smirk tugs at your lips, something twinkling in your eyes, “I would if I had one, but ya didn’t exactly give me time to prep.” You shake your head lightly, looking at Atsumu.

“Ink isn’t good for your skin, you should get a notepad.” His simple way of showing that he cared about your well-being must have gone off well as you smiled brightly, giggling again.

“Yer a sweetheart, but fun fact,” you smirk again, making sure to stare him directly in the eyes as you speak, “did ya know that writing on your own skin can help ya meet yer soulmate?” You really are radiating something ethereal, so maybe that explains why Kita’s heart just skipped a beat.

“I suppose you’re right.” He clears his throat, hoping that the warmth in his cheeks isn’t showing itself.

You laugh softly again, finally taking all of their orders, walking away from them with such confidence that it leaves him stunned. He truly is entranced with you and he can’t explain why.

After that, nothing out of the ordinary happens. Not until he gets home and realises he has an entire menu written on his arm - or what seems like a menu. Kita would never write on himself, but he knew that his soulmate definitely had a habit of doing just that. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that this wasn’t just any order from a restaurant, but it’s they’re order (even down to the amount they all had to pay).

His heart stopped. Could it really be? Were you, the girl with the angel voice, his soulmate? He wanted to run back to that restaurant and tell you the great news. And he did - go back there - though he never seemed to be able to find the courage to tell you.

Instead, he found himself grateful that he could watch from afar. It had become far too often for him to appear at the restaurant by himself; some days you were there, other days you had to focus on studying. There were even times when you moved downstairs and studied with him next to you.

He found out so many things about you. Like how you used to sing for your school but quit because high school is tough, man. How you don’t always help out with the restaurant, but when you do, it brightens your day. He found out that when you first met the Miya twins, your dad was threatening to kick them out and the only reason they stopped fighting was because you glared at them - he liked that you could have that effect on people.

And for a while, he was happy keeping these meetings to himself, keeping you to himself.

But it’s not enough. He knows that - he can feel how his heart screams for you. So, how is he going to tell you that he’s fallen madly in love with you? Maybe in a way you’d understand. He took a pen from his desk, muttering a silent sorry to everyone he’d promised that he wouldn’t write on his own skin, before sending you a message. I think I love you.

What else can he do but wait? Nothing. He already finished studying for the night, he was actually ready to go to sleep before he decided to do this. Now his heart was racing too much for him to be able to do anything else.

He stared down at his wrists, breath hitching when he saw you responding. He squeezed his eyes shut because he didn’t want to see it. Not yet.

He waits an entire five minutes - he counted - before he opens his eyes and looks at the message.

Ink isn’t good for your skin, Kita, if you really want to confess. You should at least message me.

Your number is scribbled next to the words and he laughs, because of course you would say that. You loved to tease him far too much, but at some point you had stopped arguing that ink was bad for your skin. Maybe you had figured it out sooner than he thought.

Before he understands what he’s doing, he called you, and you’ve answered, giggling all over again, “and here I thought you’d keep giving me lectures for my little doodles.” He can’t help it when he laughs too, because you really are an angel. “Guess what, Kita?”

“What?”

“I think I love you, too.”

----

Taglist: @pies-writes-and-more @satan-ruler-of-hells @realcube

If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a DM or an ask!

#hq kita #kita x reader #kita shinsuke #haikyuu!!#soulmate

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commentaryvorg · 3 years

Text

Digimon Savers Commentary Episode 3 - The Genius Who Returned Home, Tohma! Crush Meramon!

In this episode, we’re introduced to Tohma, whose return to the Japanese branch of DATS immediately sparks a hostile rivalry between him and Masaru. Meanwhile, Masaru’s first mission as a DATS member presents him with the tricky conundrum of figuring out how to punch fire.

We open with Masaru and Agumon stuffing their faces at the Daimon family breakfast table.

Sayuri: “My, my. Masaru never usually gets up before the afternoon on a Sunday. This must be thanks to Agu-chan!”

Masaru habitually sleeping in on non-school days is deeply relatable.

But more importantly, it’s lovely that him meeting Agumon has changed that! Though Masaru might have got something out of fighting random street punks before, it seems that it wasn’t quite exciting enough to him to get him out of bed early for it. It was probably more just that he’d wander around town bored and pick fights with anyone who seemed up for it out of a lack of anything better to do.

But now that he and Agumon have got all these Digimon to fight, Masaru’s got a real reason to wake up as soon as possible to go do that! Meeting Agumon has genuinely made him a whole lot happier with his life.

Also it is adorable how Sayuri and Chika have already taken to calling Agumon “Agu-chan”. It’s a cute sign that they see him as exactly the dorky kid that he is rather than as some weird monster, and also that they see him as one of the family, which is absolutely what he is now.

Can we please appreciate Chika’s done-ness here. I love her.

Masaru: “What the hell, Mom! Serve me before Agumon!”

Sayuri: “I never said you wouldn’t have your share. Just wait for a bit. After all, Agu-chan’s still a child.”

Again with the just treating Agumon like the big kid that he is. Sayuri is so good.

We are also introduced to the glorious treasure that is Sayuri’s fried eggs! Agumon has certainly discovered how great they are.

(Technically, these are tamagoyaki, a Japanese miniature rolled omelette thing. But the subs go with fried eggs, which is close enough and rolls off the tongue quicker in English.)

Masaru: “Gimme that!”

Agumon: “I won’t hand over the last of Sayuri’s fried eggs, not even to you!”

Oh, won’t you, Agumon? Not ever?

(This is another line to keep in mind for a lot later.)

Chika: “What a child…”

As Masaru wrestles Agumon in an attempt to literally get the fried egg back from out of his mouth, Chika observes that she’s somehow the most mature of the three Daimon kids. (Yes, I said three, what of it.)

Meanwhile, Tohma is… having a gratuitous shower scene. Uhhh, sure. Apparently this totally needed to be his introduction. …Look, at least I appreciate that the fanservice is being equal-opportunity in terms of gender. (For now.)

He also has a butler, and is living in a pretty big but mostly quiet and empty mansion. This sequence is about showing the huge contrast between Masaru and Tohma’s home lives, but I do not know why the writers thought a shower scene was necessary for that.

(Tohma mentioned at the end of last episode that this country is his mom’s homeland, but he sure doesn’t appear to be staying with his mom right now, does he.)

Agumon attempts to fit himself into the basket of a bike which I can only imagine is Chika’s, because I don’t think Masaru’s bike would be pink. Agumon doesn’t seem to realise this. Chika doesn’t seem to want to tell him. He is such a ridiculous dork.

Meanwhile, Tohma gets seen off in the morning by the mansion’s staff bowing goodbye to him, and then is driven around in a limo.

Masaru’s “transportation”, on the other hand, is running down the street while giving Agumon a piggy back. Apparently this is so that Agumon can stay still and pretend to be a really big stuffed toy, but he’s kind of ruining that by talking and waving his arms around to cheer his aniki on.

(Of course, the most obvious way to not have Agumon raise suspicion would be to keep him in his Digivice, but it seems they’ve already agreed offscreen that that’s not an option because Agumon doesn’t like it in there. Yoshino and Satsuma would probably have some words to say to them about that, but hey, they’re not here, so Masaru’s gonna let his follower stay outside and be happier.)

Masaru: “Uh… what do I press again? This? No…”

Masaru, that DATS earpiece only has like two buttons on it, it can’t be that hard to figure out.

Yoshino: “We have a Digimon signal.”

Masaru: “Where?!”

Yoshino: “Area C-7. Can you get there directly?”

Masaru: “Yeah! Leave it to us!”

Not pictured: Masaru wondering where the heck “C-7” is and why he impulsively said he could definitely get there when it could be on the other side of the city for all he knows.

(Okay, that’s probably not actually what happens. Somehow we are supposed to believe that Masaru – Masaru – memorised all these location codes that DATS uses remarkably quickly. I imagine he knows the city quite well, but these codes for the areas are presumably a DATS-only thing that civilians wouldn’t be familiar with.)

Street punk #1: “So boring…”

Street punk #2: “Nothing’s going on at all…”

PetitMeramon: “Nothing at all!”

This is the first time we’ve seen a rampaging Digimon speak… but it doesn’t necessarily seem to be expressing its own thoughts. Rather, it’s just parroting these bored dudes. The PetitMeramon goes on to float down the street and set things on fire, which certainly makes it so that something interesting’s finally going on. It almost seems as if this is happening because these dudes were bored and wanted some kind of excitement, even if they weren’t necessarily wishing for this.

This is almost immediately followed by Masaru and Agumon showing up, which… the timing of that doesn’t exactly work out for the PetitMeramon to have only just appeared, assuming this is the Digimon signal Yoshino told him about while he was still in his own neighbourhood. But I’m still very sure that the writers want us to feel like these dudes’ boredom is related to the PetitMeramon being here, and honestly, showing us that is more important than getting meaningless details like the timing of things exactly right, so I don’t actually care.

Masaru: “Let’s fight!”

PetitMeramon: “Fight…”

Again, still not really speaking for itself, just parroting. Though this time it’s parroting a different person, so maybe what we can take from this is that there were some other bored people who originally brought it here and now it’s just parroting and acting on the thoughts of whoever happens to be nearby. (It’s true that we didn’t actually hear the sound of a Digital Gate opening just now.)

Unfortunately for our pair of dorks, a living fireball like PetitMeramon is immune to Agumon’s fire attacks and not solid enough for Masaru to punch. And without punching it, Masaru can’t get his Digisoul, so he can’t evolve Agumon either. This is the absolute worst possible enemy for them to try and fight.

Naturally, they just chase it further down the street anyway, giving absolutely no care to the random dudes who just watched a giant lizard and a living fireball duke it out. Despite being a DATS member now, Masaru is still really not here for all of the calculated government secrecy stuff.

Luckily, Tohma arrives on the scene in his limo and cleans up these loose ends Masaru left using a memory-wipe flashy thing. And, to be fair, I wouldn’t be surprised if Satsuma just didn’t even give one of those to Masaru in the first place. I’m not sure I’d trust him not to accidentally point it the wrong way when using it or something, given that he could barely figure out the two buttons on his earpiece. Masaru and technology do not mix.

(…Though I have to wonder why Gaomon then emerges from the limo and isn’t inside his Digivice. Sure, the flashy thing knocked out those dudes so they’re not a problem right now, but do you really not expect to run into any more people as you chase down the target? …But of course, the only real reason Gaomon is out right now is so that we can get a brief glimpse of him as a stinger before the opening.)

Okay! Okay!

I can jump over any limits!

Feel that excitement passionately!

Some more gung-ho opening lyrics! These feel appropriate here, as the idea of Masaru’s burning passionate excitement is going to be a bit of a thing in this episode, as is the idea that he brashly considers himself to have no limits whatsoever.

At DATS HQ, Masaru is grumpy about not being able to win.

Yoshino: “Well, I didn’t think it would go easily for you from the start.”

Honestly, having seen how easily Masaru handled the fights in the first two episodes, I would have expected things to go easily for him, at least in terms of fighting. It only didn’t because this specific enemy happens to be immune to all of his usual tactics. The more logistical side of things, such as the secrecy and the memory wiping stuff, I can see Masaru needing a while to get used to (though, spoiler, he’s, uh, never really going to become any good at that at all), but not the fighting.

Tohma shows up with the PetitMeramon’s Digiegg, presenting it to Yoshino and not even acknowledging Masaru’s presence.

Miki and Megumi, the two young women who work the tech side of things at HQ, begin fawning over him, which is, uh, a liiittle questionable when he’s fourteen and they’re… it’s never made clear exactly how old, but definitely at least adults. Thankfully, this mostly goes away and stops being much of a thing after this episode.

There is also Gaomon! He is a good dog. Though right now he’s being as dismissive as his master and ignoring Agumon when Agumon tries to ask who he is.

Masaru: “You bastard! You took away my prey!”

It’s so Masaru to be mad about this. That PetitMeramon was his opponent first, and now he can’t even settle the fight himself because this guy came in and defeated it before he could!

Tohma barely looks at him, and…

Masaru: “What, gonna fight?”

…of course Masaru is ready to start a fight over this, because this is how he’s used to settling disputes.

But actually Tohma was just turning to walk towards Satsuma, still pretty much entirely ignoring Masaru’s presence.

Tohma: “I’ve looked through the written reports, and it seems rather peculiar that there are a large number of Digimon detected in this country lately.”

[…]

Satsuma: “Is the frequency not as high in EU?”

Tohma: “No. It must be because it has a larger area.”

I do not understand what Tohma is trying to get at with that last part. Since Europe is bigger than just Japan, surely that means they’d expect more Digimon incidents in it, not less.

That weird part aside, though, it is a relevant point that Japan in particular has been seeing more Digimon incidents than anywhere else. There’s a reason for this.

Masaru is fed up with Tohma acting like he doesn’t exist and walks up to cough pointedly behind him. It’s actually rather unlike Masaru to be passive-aggressive and indirect like this, but it does amuse me.

Satsuma: “Oh, let me introduce you. This is…”

[Tohma barely even glances at Masaru; Masaru gets angry]

Masaru: “Hey! I don’t care if you’re called Tohma or Tonma… but around here, I’m your senpai! I’ve only been here for three days, but make sure to call me ‘Daimon-san’ or ‘Daimon-senpai’!”

Not that it takes much for Masaru to go back to his usual direct approach to things. Tohma just waltzing in here, easily defeating the opponent that Masaru was struggling against, getting immediate respect from everyone else in the room and barely even acknowledging Masaru as worthy of looking at makes Masaru feel inferior, which riles him up and gets him flailing to assert some kind of superiority in a really transparent way.

See, Masaru wouldn’t usually care all that much about people showing the appropriate politeness when referring to him, but when it’s this jerk who’s making him feel like this, damn right he’s going to insist that the three days more he’s been here is totally enough to count as making him a senpai. (A senpai means someone senior within the same group; it’s a Japanese concept that doesn’t quite have a direct English equivalent, hence the subs leaving it as-is and just giving us a translators’ note explaining it.)

Calling him “Tonma” – which another translators’ note informs us is a word for an idiot, so basically Masaru’s just insulting him in a very juvenile way – is, of course, not exactly the best way to establish himself as a mature and senior senpai.

Satsuma and Yoshino point out that actually Tohma is Masaru’s senpai, because he used to work here until he took a six-month trip to work at a DATS branch in Europe, which he’s just returned from.

Masaru: “B-But no matter how you look at it, he’s the same age as I am…”

Establishing Tohma’s age as being also fourteen. (Though technically Masaru wouldn’t necessarily know his exact age and is just saying he seems similarly aged, but whatever, Tohma is fourteen as well, let’s go with it. Their rivalry has a much more fun dynamic if they really are exactly the same age rather than one having a year or two of seniority over the other.)

They also go on to add that Tohma is a genius who already has a degree (and even more than that, as we’ll later learn). And, okay, while on paper Tohma’s genius achievements are probably wildly unrealistic for anyone to have managed at the age of fourteen no matter how clever they are, it doesn’t really bother me. In practice, the genius thing isn’t here to make Tohma magically unrealistically special; it’s here to make him interesting and a great foil for Masaru. Tohma is a very well-written character whom I really like, almost as much as Masaru, and I’m looking forward to getting to talk about him a lot here.

On top of this, the Norstein family is Austrian nobility, so Tohma’s practically a prince as well. (Again, there’s very much a point to this that’s relevant to his character and not just for the sake of making him special). And they add that Gaomon is the most accomplished battler they have among the Digimon at DATS (not that there’s that many for him to compete with there).

Satsuma: “Be sure to get along with each other, as you are colleagues.”

Yep, Masaru’s sure to have no problems getting along with this person whom you just lengthily explained is way more awesome than he is despite being the same age as him.

Masaru certainly doesn’t seem too happy about this.

Tohma: “I think it will be futile to do so, Captain Satsuma. There is not a chance that this person could benefit DATS.”

Masaru: “What d’you mean?!”

[Tohma only barely glances at Masaru before turning back to the Captain]

Tohma: “People like him should be dismissed at once.”

…Though, it turns out, Tohma is also equally unwilling to even attempt to play nice. All this barely even glancing at Masaru and talking about him rather than to him is kind of a dick move. Really, Masaru and Tohma are being equally as rude to each other here, albeit in completely different ways.

Masaru: “Say that to my face! Look into a person’s eyes when they’re talking!”

And I love that this in particular is what gets to Masaru the most. He’s always so straightforward, and being that way is important to him. He can’t stand people beating around the bush and being vague about their intentions rather than just coming out and saying what they really mean directly to the person involved.

To be fair to Tohma, he does actually listen and look Masaru straight in the eye this time.

Tohma: “You and your partner are not suited for DATS.”

Yoshino: “Tohma!”

I like Yoshino protesting here. Even she thinks this is going a bit far.

And it is a bit far, really – sure, Tohma caught a glimpse of Masaru and Agumon’s rather unfortunate fight against the PetitMeramon earlier, but that’s hardly enough evidence to decide that they have absolutely nothing to offer. This says less about Masaru and Agumon and more about Tohma himself: he’s something of a perfectionist, and he doesn’t like the idea of working with anyone who doesn’t match up to his very high standards.

(College degree as a teenager? Member of Austrian nobility? Yeah, we can already guess where some of that might come from.)

Masaru, being Masaru, has had enough and just tries to punch Tohma – but he blocks it easily.

Tohma: “Really, now. You want to face me with that level of power? How incredibly pathetic.”

Masaru: “What do you mean, ‘that level’? How strong does that make you, then?!”

This is the first person Masaru’s met in probably a really long time who’s said anything to the effect that he’s not strong enough, who’s implied that there’s some other, higher level of strength that Masaru just doesn’t have yet. He’s not used to thinking of his strength in those terms, and feeling inferior. Isn’t he supposed to be the number one street fighter in Japan? How can there be any kind of greater strength he doesn’t have?

Tohma: “Do I have to answer that?”

Masaru: “Yeah! Go on, show me! Let’s see the truth behind all that bragging!”

Of course Tohma has to answer that and actually prove himself! Masaru is all about actions rather than words; if someone’s claiming they’re stronger than him, there’s no way he’s going to just accept that until he tests it out for himself.

It turns out Tohma is indeed perfectly willing to put his money where his mouth is, because we cut to what’s presumably a gym somewhere in the DATS HQ, in which there is a boxing ring. I might call this awkwardly convenient, but no, actually, since Tohma used to work here (and he’s into boxing, as we’re about to see), it makes a lot of sense that he might have asked to have one installed for himself to use recreationally in between missions.

Yoshino: “Hey! Put on your headgear!”

Masaru: “I don’t need it! Besides, he’s not wearing any!”

Masaru and Tohma are both being reckless idiots here, pointlessly endangering themselves because of their pride. They’re both telling themselves “I don’t need to protect myself to win against him”, and they’re certainly not going to be the only one to wear headgear while the other doesn’t and end up looking like they’re only winning because they have an unfair advantage, or like they’re wearing it because they’re worried.

It is notable that Yoshino is only trying to encourage Masaru to wear the headgear. Apparently she’s already expecting Tohma to have the upper hand here? Ouch.

As you’d expect, the first few moves of the fight are Masaru throwing wild punches at Tohma while he easily dodges them all.

Tohma: “You put all your faith in power without using any strategy or tactics.”

Which pretty much sums up the entire Masaru-Tohma contrast going on here: reckless power versus careful strategy.

Tohma: “Why did you join DATS?”

Masaru: “Huh?! It was so I could win, obviously!”

Tohma: “Against who?”

Masaru: “Against strong guys!”

Look at how Masaru doesn’t even think to specify who he wants to win against at first, because the exact opponent he’s fighting isn’t the point. He just wants to challenge himself and prove to himself how strong he is by winning those challenges, and fighting Digimon happens to be the best way for him to do that right now.

Also look at how Masaru has completely stopped caring about the part where the other reason he joined was so that Agumon wouldn’t be taken from him. That genuinely does not matter to him any more, now that he’s here anyway because he wants to be.

(So it’s actually kind of a bit much that Tohma is insisting Masaru should be dismissed from DATS – because that would mean he’d lose not only this job, but also Agumon.)

Tohma finally stops just dodging and counters with a blow to Masaru’s stomach – the first punch that’s actually landed for either of them – giving him a sense of the high ground as he says these next words.

Tohma: “What a boring story. DATS has an important mission. Every member has an obligation and a responsibility to carry that out.”

It’s very appropriate that Tohma would be so disdainful of Masaru being here for entirely personal reasons, while he feels like this whole thing is supposed to be about a sense of duty for a greater purpose. That noble Norstein family heritage is showing just a little bit.

Obviously, DATS’s general mission of covering up Digimon incidents is indeed important, but so long as he helps them do that anyway, what does it actually matter if that’s not the reason Masaru’s here?

Masaru: “Shut up! Stop acting all elite!”

Masaru still does not like Tohma constantly acting like he’s better than him, like he’s just this perfect superhuman who doesn’t even have any personal desires of his own other than to do as he’s supposed to.

Tohma: (He’s beyond help.)

Geez, Tohma, that is going a bit far. Again, he’s just writing Masaru off entirely because he doesn’t fit Tohma’s idea of how things should be, rather than trying to understand his different view on things.

(But of course, Masaru is not really being any better about trying to understand Tohma’s perspective and is currently similarly writing him off as an elitist jerk who needs to be taken down a peg.)

Tohma follows this thought up by punching Masaru right in the face, implying he’s been going easy until now and has finally started getting serious, expecting this single blow to end this. Which it does, because Masaru is knocked to the ground and doesn’t manage to rise for Yoshino’s count of ten, making Tohma the winner of this boxing match.

(please appreciate this look on Masaru’s face as he realises that Tohma has arguably beaten him, that maybe he really is inferior)

…But of course Masaru’s not just gonna stand for that. As Tohma is about to leave the ring, Masaru finally manages to get to his feet anyway.

Masaru: “Wait right there… You really are… spouting a lot…”

Tohma: “The match is over.”

Masaru: “Match? What we’re having is a serious fight! It’s not a game!”

He doesn’t care about anything so pointlessly official as a match or a countdown to determine the winner. Settling their differences and proving who’s strongest goes way beyond those silly arbitrary restrictions!

With these words, Masaru manages to punch Tohma just as hard in the face… albeit only because Tohma was turned away and not quite ready to defend himself. Still, as far as Masaru would see it, in terms of his usual kind of fights, that’s on him! If he turned away from an opponent who’s still able and willing to fight him, that’s just letting his guard down!

Masaru: “A fight doesn’t end until one side admits defeat!”

That’s the only rule Masaru needs for his street fights. So long as the combatants are still willing to fight each other, anything goes!

In fairness to Tohma, he doesn’t even complain about Masaru catching him off guard and seems quite willing to accept these new “terms” for the fight, because they jump right back into beating each other up.

We cut to later in the main control room.

Masaru: “Damn it… That bastard…”

Yoshino: “You should be happy it was a draw!”

Who’s betting it was Yoshino’s decision that it was a draw. I can’t imagine either Masaru or Tohma being willing to even admit to that much. After a while of them trading blows and obviously being quite evenly matched to the point that this could end up going on forever, Yoshino probably stepped in and insisted they call it off as a draw before they seriously hurt each other.

Yoshino: “Tohma’s beaten Olympic champions in the past.”

…Yeah, so also on top of everything else, Tohma is a supremely talented boxer. But I don’t mind, because something like that is necessary for him to be able to equal Japan’s number one street fighter in a fistfight. And his fighting style being the precise and controlled sport of boxing rather than anything-goes street brawls once again serves to contrast their approaches. Tohma’s boxing talent is just another part of making him Masaru’s equal and opposite. These two are such good foils for each other.

Masaru: “Well, I’ve taken out the leader of the third Minato high school!”

That is totally an equivalent thing here, right. He’s successfully beaten tough guys, too, the context doesn’t matter. Masaru was expecting to win and not just draw, damn it!

Yoshino: “Really, the only things worthy of a gold medal around here are your pride and your competitive attitude.”

I love her snark. She’s not wrong. (Though really, Tohma’s pride would be giving Masaru just as much competition for that medal.)

I also love how pouty Masaru is.

It’s interesting how Yoshino’s putting band-aids on Masaru’s bruises, yet Tohma then walks into the room (still barely acknowledging Masaru) with an equally bruised face, and Yoshino’s not trying to tend to him. It’s like how she was only trying to get Masaru to wear the headgear earlier and not Tohma.

At this point, I doubt this is so much about thinking Masaru is weaker and more in need of this than Tohma, since she just watched them match each other in a fight. So maybe it’s more that Yoshino finds Masaru more approachable than Tohma. For all his reckless stubbornness, Masaru’s basically still a regular person, while Tohma’s from a whole other world to her. Perhaps she simply feels more comfortable directing this mom-friend behaviour at Masaru rather than Tohma, despite having known Tohma for longer.

The Digimon-signal alarm blares and Masaru instantly shifts to this excited grin. What a dork.

It’s more PetitMeramon. A lot of them. Turns out that if even the tiniest flame from their body is left behind, it can develop into a new PetitMeramon. Hearing this prompts Masaru to recall his earlier unsuccessful attempts to punch it, which only succeeded in sending little embers from its body flying everywhere.

Masaru: (This is my fault…)

It’s admirable of Masaru to immediately acknowledge this rather than stubbornly try and make excuses to himself and pretend he totally didn’t mess anything up at all. But it is notable that he’s not saying that out loud. Which is probably because Tohma’s in the room, and he doesn’t want to give Tohma even more ammo to keep claiming that he’s a liability here.

Kudamon: “It’s up to you, Tohma, Gaomon.”

Masaru: “Wait! Those fireballs are ours to beat!”

Masaru insists this partly because he’s still frustrated that he didn’t get to finish the fight himself earlier, but almost certainly also because he feels responsible for this. This is his mess, and he wants to at least make up for it by being the one to fix things.

Tohma: “Are you 100% certain you can secure these Digimon?”

Masaru: “Damn right! We’ll pull it off somehow using our spirits!”

Such certainty. Masaru is definitely the kind of person to optimistically throw himself into things without being sure what the outcome will be. Usually, it might be reasonable to bank on that, but against this particular enemy which Masaru and Agumon currently have no way of even damaging… probably not.

Satsuma: “This time, Tohma and Gaomon are best for the job.”

Satsuma realises this, too, of course. I like how he’s specifying that this is only because Tohma and Gaomon are more suited for this particular job, which is extremely true, and not that they’re better overall, which Masaru would not respond well to.

Satsuma: “Yoshino. You and Lalamon will go to support Tohma.”

Which is to say, Yoshino will drive the car, because Tohma isn’t old enough to do that. (Lalamon won’t really be doing anything at all.) Tohma came to the earlier fight from his limo, but it seems that was only because he was being driven to DATS HQ and happened across the Digimon on the way. Limousines are not the usual DATS-approved method of transportation to Digimon incidents, funnily enough.

Masaru, having been ordered to stay behind and just watch them, is left feeling frustrated and inadequate.

(It’s really only because you can’t punch fire, Masaru!)

Gaomon fighting alone against the swarm of PetitMeramon achieves basically nothing, so Tohma very quickly switches from “Plan A” to “Plan A-2” and evolves him. (I like how it’s not “Plan B” and is totally just an alternate version of the first plan. It’s definitely not that trying to fight a swarm of several Child-level Digimon with a single Child-level was ever a bad plan and really he should have evolved Gaomon from the start.)

It’s a neat detail that Tohma clicks his fingers to summon his Digisoul. Yoshino does kind of a similar thing, not clicking her fingers but instead making a very particular emphatic motion with her hand. It’s like they need some sort of psychological trigger to get it to work – which then also makes it slightly less ridiculous that Masaru needs to outright punch a Digimon to get his to show up. It’s just a stronger kind of psychological trigger, is all! And Tohma and Yoshino have been doing this for a long time. Maybe it usually takes a lot of practice to be able to get one’s Digisoul to show up on command, and the reason why Masaru’s has this extra condition to trigger it is actually because he’s new at this.

I want to take this moment to inform everyone that Gaogamon is a very good fuzzy doggy. He’s one of my favourite Digimon designs.

As an Adult-level, Gaogamon is exponentially stronger than these Child-level PetitMeramon and can easily take down the entire swarm of them in a single attack. Digimon evolution levels, everybody. This isn’t even Gaogamon being especially impressive; this is just how it was always going to turn out.

Tohma: “3 minutes, 47 seconds. We shortened it by another minute.”

Okay, so, some of Tohma’s genius traits can come across as a little bit silly in practice, such as this idea here that he and Gaomon have been timing themselves in their fights against rogue Digimon and constantly bringing that time down. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that each opponent they fight is different, so really it should be completely unreasonable to act like their times for each fight are at all comparable and that completing one fight faster than another means anything. (Plus, this is a thing that’s never going to come up again.)

Still, I do appreciate the narrative purpose of this bit – to show that Tohma is always pushing to improve himself and be better, despite being so incredibly hypercompetent at everything he does already. A lot like Masaru is always striving to challenge himself and get stronger despite already feeling like the strongest fighter in Japan! They are really not so different in a lot of ways.

Also, note how Tohma is getting to fight here, but it’s not the climactic fight of the episode. Just like I talked about for Yoshino in the previous episode: even though this is his introduction, this is not actually Tohma’s episode. It’s still Masaru’s. Tohma gets to have this fight and win it not for his own sake (the whole thing is so effortless that it’s not at all an interesting narrative from his point of view), but rather for the sake of Masaru’s conflict in this episode, because seeing how good Tohma is at this contributes to Masaru’s feelings of inferiority.

Agumon: “Wow…”

Having watched Tohma and Gaomon’s performance from HQ, even Agumon can’t help but be impressed. But then he catches himself and looks guiltily at Masaru, realising he’s just making him feel worse. Aww.

It is interesting to note how, despite all the similarities between him and Masaru, Agumon himself doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by being outclassed by Gaomon in the same way. After all, he’s still a kid who knows he’s got a lot to learn from his aniki; Agumon has never tried to present himself as the best person around at fighting like Masaru does.

Kudamon: “Understand now? This is the difference in ability between you and Tohma.”

Kudamon is apparently quite happy to imply that Masaru is significantly inferior to Tohma. Satsuma, though, doesn’t say anything to agree. I get the sense that Kudamon was a lot less on board with bringing Masaru into DATS, even though he ultimately accepted Satsuma’s decision to do so.

Masaru rushes out of the control room in frustration, with Agumon following.

Kudamon: “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

Satsuma: “Leave him alone.”

I like that Satsuma gets that this is something Masaru needs to figure out on his own, and that trying to talk to him directly about this is probably only going to make him feel worse.

(It’s this kind of approach of Satsuma’s that makes me think that him being so indirect about recruiting Masaru was on purpose out of him wanting Masaru to make the decision for himself.)

Masaru runs out of the DATS building through a tunnel that I’m pretty sure incidentally happens to be the same one we saw Agumon escaping through at the very beginning of the first episode.

Agumon: “Aniki… Why are you angry?”

Masaru: “Shut up!”

[Masaru trips in his running and falls to the ground]

Masaru: “Damn it…”

I enjoy how Masaru tripping over serves to illustrate how his unthinking recklessness doesn’t always end well.

Agumon: “Well, I think Tohma and Gaomon are nasty guys too, but…”

Aww, Agumon, trying to show that he’s still on his aniki’s side. And, yeah, he agrees that Tohma and Gaomon have been kind of dicks to them so far, but… (but still, he doesn’t get why Aniki is this upset about it.)

Masaru looks at Agumon with this bitter look for a moment, almost like he’s tempted to agree and just keep sniping at Tohma… but then he drops it.

Masaru: “No… It’s myself that I’m mad at, not them.”

Of course that’s been what this is really about. This is the first time in a long time that Masaru’s been given any sense that he’s not good enough at something he really wants to do. This isn’t about Tohma; Tohma’s presence just brought this out of him.

And hey, big props to Masaru for being willing to admit this! He couldn’t quite do so at HQ in front of everyone, and especially not in front of Tohma himself, but at least he’s willing to do so here in front of Agumon. A weaker person could easily have kept insisting that, no, this totally is all about that arrogant jerk Tohma, and avoided the necessary self-reflection, but Masaru is generally pretty good at being emotionally honest about things, even when it stings.

He also happens to pull the band-aid off his face at this moment, which I enjoy – needing his wounds patched up is a sign of weakness that he doesn’t like having.

Masaru: “Damn it! What am I doing? Really… what the hell am I doing?”

You’re doing your best, Masaru! Just like you’ve always, always been doing!

I really like how Masaru can’t actually properly articulate what the problem is. He knows there’s something wrong, something that’s frustrating him about himself, but he can’t put it into words. It doesn’t seem like he’s properly consciously aware of why he’s so into his whole fighting thing, and why he wanted to “fight stronger opponents” through joining DATS, so he can’t quite grasp why feeling like he’s not good enough at this bothers him so much.

Also, my compliments to the animators, and to Masaru’s VA. He looks and sounds like he’s on the brink of tears here, and it is good.

Masaru reaches the end of the tunnel… and who should he run into but the old man who gave him his Digivice, who’s sitting there cooking a fish like nothing is more natural.

Old man: “It’s hard lighting up a fire… The sparks go out easily whenever the wind gets a little too strong.”

Masaru: “Well, obviously!”

Old man: “But… once I get a larger flame going, it burns strongly no matter how much the wind blows. Fire is an interesting thing, isn’t it?”

What we learned about the old man last episode is that he finds Masaru interesting and likes randomly showing up whenever Masaru is acting in a way that he considers to be interesting. Apparently, he got wind somehow of the fact that Masaru has been having these doubts, and so he showed up to just… observe, and express his observations in metaphor form. He’s comparing Masaru to the fire, saying that right now his “sparks” aren’t quite strong enough to keep going when something challenges them – but that soon enough, if he just keeps growing more, he’ll become so strong that nothing will be able to stand in his way.

That said, I highly, highly doubt that the old man expects Masaru to actually learn anything from this metaphor – I’m sure he must know well enough to expect anything and everything metaphorical to go right over Masaru’s head. This isn’t actually an attempt to give Masaru advice. This guy just likes being a mysterious old man who makes abstract metaphors about people he finds interesting, that’s all. Sooner or later, Masaru’s flame is going to burn so brightly that nothing at all can blow it out, and won’t that be fascinating to watch?

(I agree, old man. It will. That’s why I’m here, too.)

[Masaru stares intently at the fire the old man has managed to light]

Masaru: “This is…”

And naturally, Masaru, who wouldn’t understand a metaphor if it punched him in the face, completely failed to pick up on what the old man was getting at. Instead, what this metaphor also coincidentally (or maybe not so coincidentally?) happened to be was some pretty useful advice on how to deal with the very literal, practical problem he’s been having today.

Before he can think on that further, Masaru hears a conversation over his earpiece. There’s more PetitMeramon signals, in a place where gas tanks are – not a great place for living fireballs to be flying around – and Yoshino and Tohma are 10 minutes away in their car.

Masaru: “Leave it to me!”

Yoshino: “Huh? What are you saying?”

Tohma: “You can’t do it!”

Masaru: “Shut up! I can get there in 3 minutes!”

The perfect opportunity for Masaru to get the chance to prove himself! Under other circumstances, it’d be arguably better for Masaru to stay back and leave this to Tohma again. Having shown some self-reflection on things, even Masaru himself would probably be willing to accept that and relent. But in an emergency like this, when he’s the closest one to it? Damn it, he has to at least try.

Since the “there” in question was only described as being “Area B-42”, what we have to conclude from this is that somehow Masaru has magically memorised all those location codes already. He doesn’t seem to be making this up to save face; he’s looking at an area off in the distance that he’d probably reasonably be able to sprint to in that time.

(Well, either that or he just assumed based on knowing that this is the only remotely nearby area with gas tanks. Maybe it’s that.)

Satsuma: “I won’t approve of this!”

Masaru: “Whatever, just watch! I’ll get ‘em this time!”

This isn’t Masaru arrogantly trying to show off and refusing to acknowledge that he’s unsuited for this. This is Masaru genuinely caring about trying to prevent the crisis if he can – and this time, he does have at least some idea of how to go about doing so.

Masaru makes it to the gas tanks, where there are indeed three PetitMeramon floating around.

Masaru: “Agumon! Use Baby Burner!”

I’m… not sure how Masaru knew that Agumon even has an attack called Baby Burner, since he’s never used it before. I would say he could have had some kind of offscreen fight as a DATS member already in the three days he’s been here, but Yoshino’s response to his failure earlier suggested that today was indeed his first proper DATS mission.

Agumon: “My attacks don’t work on them!”

Masaru: “You heard me, do it!”

Agumon: “Okay…”

Agumon is such a loyal follower! He doesn’t understand why this is a good idea – in fact, it seems like a thoroughly bad one – but he trusts his aniki’s judgement and does it anyway, even as it only seems to make the PetitMeramon stronger and Masaru keeps ordering more.

After enough fire, the three PetitMeramon grow strong enough to fuse together and evolve into Meramon. (Hey, at least this one’s a non-partnered evolution that makes sense to be happening right now.)

Agumon: “It evolved! What now, Aniki?”

[Masaru grins]

Masaru: “This is perfect!”

I love Masaru’s cocky taunting face here. He knows he’s got this, and he’s so ready to just have a good old fight again, like always.

Masaru: “Fire sparks easily go out whenever the wind blows on them. But… Once they burst into flame…!”

[Masaru leaps to punch the Meramon quite solidly in the face and lands with his Digisoul flaring]

Masaru: “They won’t be extinguished so easily!”

This was what he got out of the old man’s words. Not metaphorical advice about his emotional struggles, of course not – instead, just very literal advice on how to punch fire. He couldn’t punch the PetitMeramon because they were small enough that the wind of his punches just blew the flames out before he could connect. But if he makes the fire bigger and stronger? Then it’s no problem!

And you know what this is? This is Masaru using strategy. It’s a strategy that he needed someone else to nudge him towards – he’s still not really the kind of person to come up with something like this on his own – and it’s also a much more straightforward, reckless, Masaru-style strategy than someone cautious like Tohma would ever dare to use. But hey. It worked.

(Also, please appreciate this ridiculous shot of the DATS car skidding sideways as it dramatically arrives on the scene. That is not how cars work, but okay. …In fact, surely it’s been less than seven minutes that Masaru’s been here; I guess Yoshino floored it to get here as fast as she could, hence the dramatic skidding? She drives like a badass.)

Tohma: “He got it to evolve on purpose… by making the fire stronger…”

See, even Tohma appreciates what the strategy was, even if he’s kind of gobsmacked at it being something so reckless.

And then, as usual, GeoGreymon wins the fight in a single attack. But again, I don’t really mind. The interesting part was getting to this point in the first place.

The Meramon disintegrates into three eggs, appropriate for the three PetitMeramon it came from – but it kinda raises some questions that this single Adult-level Digimon was effectively three individual Digimon in one. It also raises some questions that PetitMeramon was able to multiply itself just by its embers setting stuff on fire, and each of those multiplied offshoots also had its own individual egg. Is this just a particularly unique method of Digimon reproduction? I am definitely not supposed to be thinking about it this much.

Masaru: “How’s that? I was able to take out the PetitMeramon, too!”

Having shown that he can do just as good of a job as Tohma after all, Masaru has bounced right back from his self-doubt and is feeling good about himself again. This kid doesn’t stay down for long.

Tohma: “Don’t let this go to your head. You were just lucky this time.”

It really was not luck. Masaru used an actual strategy that he had good reason to believe would work. Tohma himself even just about acknowledged this during the fight… but not now, now that Masaru is properly listening to him and he’d have to acknowledge that to Masaru.

(A bit like how Masaru only acknowledged his own sense of inadequacy when Tohma wasn’t around.)

Masaru: “It’s just like I told you. The ones who don’t give up until the end win the fight!”

Masaru claims this is like he told Tohma, but is it really about him? After all, Masaru himself was the one who had almost given up for a moment. It’s more like he’s saying this to remind himself that he shouldn’t have done that and should have just believed he could do it all along. (Like the old man said, he just needs to let his sparks grow into a bigger, unstoppable flame!)

We cut right from the location of the fight back to DATS HQ, while the argument amusingly continues as if there was no timeskip at all. They were probably arguing like this all the way back in the car, too. (Poor Yoshino.)

Tohma: “Don’t be absurd. You don’t come up with any strategy or tactics. Do you think using force all the time will let you win at everything?”

He literally did come up with a strategy, though, Tohma! Maybe a strategy that relied on force, maybe not the kind of careful, cautious strategy that you’d use, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t count as a strategy!

Masaru: “Hah, sounds like a sore loser to me.”

Yeah, I think Masaru’s spot on with this one. Tohma refusing to acknowledge Masaru’s approach in that fight as a legitimate if risky strategy really does seem like he’s just being a sore loser.

(Though I like how Masaru himself isn’t even trying to argue that it was strategic of him. Clearly that’s not something that he sees as being worth bragging about.)

Tohma: “What did you say?”

Masaru: “Wanna make somethin’ of it? I’ll knock you out with one hit to the face this time!”

Oh my god, Masaru. Look at this competitive dork. Now that he’s got his confidence back and feels like he is just as good or better than Tohma after all, he’s ready to have a rematch in the ring and certain that this totally means he’ll win this time!

Satsuma shuts them both up with his, quoth Yoshino, “thunderous demon roar” – apparently a regular thing of his – and declares that Masaru and Tohma will be working together as a team from now on. Naturally, they are both Not Happy about this.

Yoshino: “This is the worst…”

Neither is Yoshino. This is a catchphrase of hers, which is sometimes used when things are going badly in a crisis, but is just as often used simply to express her sheer exasperation at the people around her. I love her role as the Only Sane Man among these two ridiculous over-the-top dorks she’s wound up working with.

Overall thoughts

I like this episode a lot! It’s a great introduction to Tohma, specifically in the context of him serving as a foil to Masaru.

There will be a lot more things about Tohma’s own issues and situation (like I said, there’s a reason for all the genius stuff, I promise) that we’ll eventually get into, but that’ll be a gradual process, because Tohma is not the sort of person to talk about his personal problems to anyone else. For now, since Masaru is the single main character of this series and we therefore see a lot of things through his perspective, it’s appropriate that Tohma is introduced in terms of how he differs from Masaru (as well as a few hints at their similarities).

Then, because of this, we get spend a lot of the episode on Masaru feeling outclassed and how he deals with that, and it’s delightful and subtle and I love it. The first two episodes were setting up the deal with Masaru encountering Agumon and joining DATS, but now that we’ve settled into a little more of a status quo, it’s the perfect time to start digging into Masaru’s character and have things begin to challenge his conception of his own strength. There will be more of this, and I’m looking very much forward to covering those episodes in particular.

This won’t really ever come up again, but it’s incidentally neat to see Masaru struggling with an enemy he can’t punch, and eventually coming up with a strategy by interpreting the old man’s metaphor about his issues literally, because of course he does.

I also just love the old man being there making metaphors about Masaru’s issues simply because he felt like it and finds Masaru interesting. He serves as a nice little narrative device to help draw the audience’s attention to when things are going on with Masaru, as we’ll see in a few more episodes in this arc. I can’t help but appreciate that about the old man, because it’s also basically what I’m doing with this commentary.

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[Dub comparison]

#digimon #digimon savers #masaru daimon #tohma h norstein #the digivice old man

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remys-lucky-franc · 3 years

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I’m Bringing Sexy Back (To Regency England) - Immortal Heart Society

So this happened because I referred to new series IHS’s baddie Lord Montague as ‘Lord Timberlake’ due to the coiffuring similarities and it made @aquagirl1978 LOL and she made me this:

See how alike they look though?! I’m not crazy.

Literally no one in the world wants this fic, and it’s just stupid, but I had a giggle writing it, so 😆 Also, I genuinely know nothing about JT, if any of you are superfans and I’m way off, it’s just a bit of fun, no ill intent or offence meant 💕

Also it’s just in time for all the good old memes... (At the end if anyone needs a ref point)

Word Count ~3500 (yeah, I’ve gone off)

[MORE] [[MORE]]

In the grandiose but soulless marble bathroom of the Boston penthouse, Justin squeezed his eyes tight-shut, splashing his face with frigid water. He inhaled sharply as the moisture hit his skin, opening his eyes and staring intently at the reflection mirrored back at him. It had been quite a night so far. He’d been courted by ‘The Society’ for a couple of months now and on receiving their latest invite, he had finally acquiesced. Over the course of the evening he’d exchanged pleasantries and mingled with a fusion of intriguing individuals - all very different, very separate people, but all who clearly had gotten the memo: convince him to join. Justin suspected before he arrived, from the exclusive address on the invite alone, the sort of members The Society would have on its roster and he wasn’t surprised - even if most of them were no more than masked silhouettes. Initially when he had exited the elevator and caught sight of all those shaded faces, Justin’s heart stuttered: had he inadvertently accepted an invite to some sort of sexy party? How would he explain this one? ‘Hey Honey - funny story...’ But it didn’t take long to deduce that the disguises were all part of the prestige and served as identity protection rather than a conduit to anyone having any real sort of fun.

The mixer itself had been entertaining enough, but the hushed secrets shared in the drawing room were what had piqued his interested and saw him hiding in the restroom searching his own soul for answers. He’d been trading anecdotes with a handful of members before he was interrupter by a well dressed blonde and ushered through a side door, where he was greeted with a firm handshake by one of the top men within the society (apparently), Richard - Something. Initially Justin had smiled but internally rolled his eyes as he considered how these shady types only ever give out their first names - and how that felt particularly unfair when everyone here knew fine well what his surname was... Richard was perfectly charming and charismatic - in the same faux-caring, calculating way politicians are as they try to snare floating voters. His smile was bright and his words were warm, but his eyes were a stark contrast. The Society’s hoi-polloi were obviously deemed to have played their part in warming him up and now Richard was here to give him the hard-sell: and sell he did.

And at first, it sounded relatively normal. At first. Until Richard started with tall tales of how society members held all of the power in the world through power stones. Initially Justin got to his feet and scoffed - weren’t crystals just for spa days and hippies? This had to be a set up. He scanned the room looking for any clue of a hidden camera, Ashton Kutcher’s sneakers showing from behind a curtain perhaps - but nothing. It all sounded truly ridiculous, but as Richard stood, laying a firm hand on Justin’s shoulder, directing him towards a plush chair, pouring him two fingers of whisky, something held him; fascinated him. Stopped him from barging straight out of the room. Justin observed in silence as Richard thumbed through various documents, showing him photographs, pulling up search data online... Explaining. Convincing. Persuading. Justin didn’t trust the suave smarmy suit as far as he could throw him, but the more Richard divulged of the spiderweb of societal involvement in major global events and current affairs, the more sense it made... And in spite of himself, Justin started to succumb to this strange reality. Every word out of Clever Dick’s mouth was revelational, peeling away one layer after another, after another, until Justin’s mind was blown; his brain hurt the same way it did the first time he watched Inception. He couldn’t bend his mind around why Richard was telling him all this, or why a collective more powerful than The Walt Disney Company would want a musician to join their ranks? Richard shrugged coolly as he continued to play for Justin’s buy in, simply smiling and saying that, as a big pop star, it would be quid pro quo - a very mutually beneficial arrangement. The society had access to the best labels, the best A&R departments, they could get Justin as much airplay, fame and publicity as he wanted.

Justin couldn’t deny it sounded appealing - but what did they want in return? So far it was all ‘quid’ and no ‘quo’. He had to ask. Even the easy, practiced grin on Richard’s face couldn’t offset the glint of ice in his dark eyes and menace in his voice that chilled Justin’s blood.

“Justin, come! Everyone knows that music is what shapes the youth of today! The influence wielded by artists, the loyalty inspired by them, their marketability, it’s simply insurmountable! Think about it, dear boy? If The Society control the music, they control the populace.”

Justin cleared his throat as he sized himself up, readjusting his skinny black tie and squaring his shoulders. Richard must be insane. The Society’s logic was fatally flawed: they couldn’t seriously think that it was possible control the entire world’s population through having a singer in their ranks? It was infeasible. Impossible. But what they were offering him in exchange? Now, that was a very attractive proposition indeed. If he agreed to join, and got all of that out of it, it would be worth it? The Society would surely realise at some point that they couldn’t rule the world through the power of song? Yes, the power of a one-line harmony had already been proven by McDonald’s to sell a shit-tonne of burgers - and while it was a pretty convincing argument, selling fast-food to hungry people was one thing - but full-scale global domination?? That was something else entirely. But if he could ride along on their coat-tails and reap all the benefits until they realised just how crazy that idea had been in the first place...

—- two years later —-

Cash carded his hand through his dark hair, exasperated as he listened to Alana’s latest report, “You all understand that Timberlake is completely out of control, yes?”

Emilio grunted flatly as his head fell into his crossed arms on the table like a five year old ready to play heads-down-thumbs-up, “Yeeeeees.”

Cash bristled further as he looked to Rafe and Kiran for their input, both simply nodding back at him as though to say, ‘yes, we know.’

Alana looked down at her phone, worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth, “It’s worse than you think though, Cash.”

He was instantly on his feet staring at her, Rafe and Kiran leaned forward and Emilio raised one weary brow from his slumped pose, concern evident on all their faces.

Kiran was first to speak, “Alana how can it be worse? Richard’s vanished off the face of the earth. Justin’s last billboard count had him go multi-platinum - again, and his lyrics are becoming...”

Rafe offered flatly, “Odd.” He stood, cracked his neck from side to side and headed towards the small stove, absentmindedly filling a saucepan with water and a packet of instant noodles.

Cash shook his head at Rafe then turned back to glower at the rest of the Inner Circle, “Thank you all for the recap. It’s bleak, we know. Alana?”

Green eyes fixed the room as Alana cleared her throat and mouthed, “One hundred and ninety-four.”

Dumbfounded silence filled the room; jaws hung slack. Until Kiran broke the spell, a spluttering cough turning into an uncomfortable laugh, “One hundred and ninety-four what? Because I know you definitely can’t mean stones. We know the exactly location of over fifty percent of them? They’re safe?”

Rafe, back at the table with his ramen by now, paled as Alana shook her head at a loss for words, red curls bouncing around her shoulders, “How is that possible?”

Alana threw her hands in the air, confessing “I honestly don’t know. But he has ones that we knew the location of, and more besides.”

Cash paced the room, clearly agitated as he cursed and barked,

“That’s every stone in existence, except ours and one other.”

Alana puffed out her cheeks before huffing out the breath sharply, “Correct. He has the lot, excepts ours - and the Garnet.”

Emilio’s hand slid under his shirt, a double-check to be sure his Alexandrite remained firmly on the chain hidden beneath the dark fabric, fiddling with it like a child with a comfort blanket as he spoke, “I- I just don’t understand. How? How did he get so many without us knowing?”

Rafe shrugged as he shovelled a spoonful of noodles into his mouth and chewed thoroughly before answering, “Richard’s protege. His pet project. Nothing surprises me when he’s involved. Everything he touches gets tarnished.”

Alana sighed sadly, “Justin seemed like such a sweet guy when he first joined. I really liked him. I thought he could have been part of our Inner Circle someday.”

Rafe shot her a rueful smile before looking down into the noodles, “Same. He changed. Fast.” Coiling his fork in a thick helping, he swung them into his mouth without ceremony.

Cash pinched the bridge of his nose, stopping pacing for long enough to stare and snap at Rafe,

“What is it with you and those blasted ramen noodles??”

Rafe shook his head silently as though to say, ‘I don’t know’: he wasn’t entirely sure why, but every time someone mentioned Timberlake, he couldn’t stop himself from carb-loading. All he wanted a big bowl of ramen in his belly and he couldn’t think about anything else until he was full of noodley-goodness. He’d eaten more instant ramen in the past couple of years than he did during college, and that was saying something.

Kiran cut through the atmosphere between the two men, venturing, “So how are we going to shut him down?”

—-

Richard had been missing for months, and although all trails had gone cold and no one was one hundred percent clear on what had happened to him, there was very strong suspicion within the group of five that Justin had something to do with it. How else had he managed to acquire almost every power stone in existence? He must have dispensed of Richard and taken them for himself - there really didn’t seem, to be any other explanation. The Inner Circle had been aware that Richard was hoarding stones, but his haul had escalated significantly and quickly with Justin by his side - at the Circle’s last count maybe six to eight months ago, Richard only had sixty-five stones in his custody. The dirty duo had been busy.

Emilio shuddered solemnly as he thought about what must have happened to the rightful owners of those stones. He was at the tower with the Inner Circle, minus Cash. Cash would arrive soon, bringing Justin to the table with him. Creating a rouse of support, and then double-crossing him to recover the power stones had been deemed the only feasible plan. Emilio watched the rest of the group: Rafe stirring at a saucepan at the small kitchen set up, Kiran flipping aimlessly though a fashion magazine and Alana tapping at her cellphone. They were all feeling nervous about this, the stakes had never been so high. He scrubbed his brow as he ran through the various scenarios of what could possibly happen with Cash and Justin arrived.

He didn’t have long to wait as the door opened and laughter reverberated around the room. Cash was manoeuvring Timberlake expertly, and Justin seemed to be lapping up everything he said. A round of smiles and handshakes later everyone sat around the table, eyes expectantly on Cash.

“Justin, firstly, thank you for joining the group here today. As you know, with Richard... Let’s say, elsewhere. I’ve been standing in as the ‘interim leader’. And I’ll be frank, Justin, I always thought it would be for me, but it’s not. And it takes a lot for me to admit that. I can do the decision-making, the negotiations, but what I cannot abide is dealing with attitudes and egos all day long.”

Rafe chortled, “He thinks he should be the only one allowed an attitude and an ego!”

Justin grinned and visibly relaxed within the larger group.

Clearing his throat irately, Cash gestured towards Rafe, “Exactly what I’m talking about. Justin, my calling doesn’t lie in leading The Society. I am more interested in having a less ’public facing position’ shall we say, where I can really put my true talents to use. And that’s why I invited you to sit with us today, Justin.’

Timberlake nodded enthusiastically, “ I see.”

Cash stood, wearing a trail in the carpet as he walked back and forth,

“What are your goals, Justin? We understand you must be distraught about Richard’s disappearance, you two seemed close. Do you have aspirations for The Society’s Leadership? We’ve been observing you for some time, and feel that we could all benefit each other within this little group, everyone here wants to progress and wants ‘more’. And we feel like you may have some ideas that could help us all to achieve just that.”

Justin leaned back in his chair observing the group sat around the table. Of course he knew what his goals were. He’d never really considered leadership of The Society until recently - his mind had been consumed with his plan for ultimate pop domination over the past two years. And he’d progressed so far that it was within his grasp - and that was when he and Richard had begun to clash. Badly. Richard’s vision was so- So limited. He couldn’t see Justin’s potential past being a Society tool used to control the public. Justin knew his worth, he was more than a tool for Richard to implement as he saw fit. He felt the anger bubble inside him as he recalled the final fight with Richard. They could have controlled the entire world together: why couldn’t Richard have seen that? Why couldn’t he have got on board with Justin’s plans? As he sized up the twelve eyes watching him, he thought about the dozens of power stones locked securely in the safe in his apartment: these people could see his strength. His power. His star ascending. He leaned forward, his decision made,

“I have acquired many power stones and my plan is, to use our time-travelling abilities to go back in time and wipe other pop stars from existence, so that I am the single biggest pop star in the world today. Then with my influence, The Society will control everything. We, friends, will control the world.”

Alana and Kiran eyeballed each other as the men nodded at Justin.

Kiran interjected,

“There’s no doubt that The Society would benefit from that sort of influence, but what about all of the damage that would be done to culture and humanity without artists?”

Justin looked confused as he stared at her, “But they’d still have me?”

Kiran chewed the statement over before asking, “And who are you going after? Are we talking about Elvis? The Beatles? Frank Sinatra?”

Justin waved a hand as though he’d practiced this very conversation in the mirror a hundred times, “No, no. Only today’s artists. I can’t disrupt anyone who directly or indirectly influenced my career. Butterfly Effect and all.”

The Inner Circle nodded sagely as Justin continued, “And when my plan is complete, who, I ask you, will be the biggest pop star in the world??”

Alana glanced up grimacing, “I don’t know Justin, I mean Lady Gaga is pretty huge? Iconic, even.”

Emilio shook his head, “Right now, Ariana Grande’s the biggest artist in the world, I read it somewhere.”

Justin fixed them both with an affronted stare, “But think about it, if none of them ever existed... Then who would be the biggest pop star in the world?”

Alana and Emilio exchanged a world-weary glance as Justin cackled, “Guess what? It’s gonna be me.”

Rafe scrunched his nose, confused, speaking through a mouthful of ramen, “May? What? Are the Emmy’s not always in September?”

Cash shotshim a withering glance before grinning at Justin, “You’ve thought a lot about his haven’t you?”

Justin, visibly flattered, shrugged off Cash’s praise, “Just a little.”

Cash leaned towards Justin conspiratorially, “So tell us, what more do you need to make your dreams a reality, and how could we, as a group, facilitate that?”

—-

Over the next few weeks the Inner Circle had planned for two consecutive missions. One intricate scheme with Justin, that involved him travelling back over two hundred years to Regency England to secure the Garnet power stone from a Lady Foxworthy. And their own private secondary mission that involved luring Justin back to Regency England where there was no power stone to be found.

When the day to venture back in time arrived, Justin paraded around the tower preening in the mirror at his era-appropriate garb. Kiran had stitched it to perfection, a beautifully embroidered waistcoat over his cravat, fitted cream pants and a midnight blue, velvet long-tailed coat that really made his eyes pop. Rafe let out a low whistle, winking at Justin’s reflection in the mirror, “Looking sharp! Nice work Kiran.” This look was a definitely a step up from double denim!

Kiran moved around Justin turning him, dusting down his shoulders, “Oh hold up, you have a thread. Let me just get that for you. Can’t have you looking less than perfect!” She reached for her scissors and touched the back of his jacket whilst swiftly clipping a tuft of hair from the back of his head.

The corners of Cash’s mouth quirked upwards at her almost imperceptibly as he spoke, “Very elegant, good Sir. You look quite the part.”

Justin gave Cash a delighted twirl to show off his new threads before performing a low, sweeping bow - completely unaware of his missing locks - speaking in a haughty-sounding English accent, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Tarkhan, I am Lord Timberlake.”

Alana had to swig at a cup of water to stop herself from bursting into peals of laughter, it was like the only English person he’d ever heard speak before was Queen Elizabeth herself! Cash raised an eyebrow in her direction before addressing Justin, “You’re definitely comfortable travelling back alone, because it would only take Alana here a few minutes to change into something suitable and accompany you?”

Justin waved a hand dismissing the suggestion, quite honestly he didn’t want anyone cramping his style. It wasn’t Justin’s first time in Regency England - when he and Richard had travelled there previously he’d had a ball. He had exactly eight hours to get there, get the Garnet, have some fun in a previous era and get back - and then. Then a whole new era would begin. His era... Leader of the most powerful Society in the world and the biggest pop star in history. Justin grinned as he stepped forward, placing his hands around the ornate pocket watch and beginning the arcane chant to begin his voyage through time. The rest of the Inner Circle joined the chant, turning back the clocks within the tower as Justin’s world started to blur at the edges, drifting backwards through two hundred years of history.

After Justin was gone, a series of stealthy grins were exchanged around the group. Emilio breathed a sigh of relief, “We did it.”

Kiran tossed the little velvet bag with Justin’s hair inside to Cash - their insurance policy, should he need to be dealt with ‘more permanently’ at a later date. Today’s plan didn’t involve the singer being turned into a surprised-looking statue, just giving him an extended stay in Regency England instead... The garnet wasn’t there - in fact, there were no stones left there. It was common knowledge within the Inner Circle where the garnet was: firmly on the finger of Richard’s blissfully unaware and estranged daughter - passed down by his long-missing wife. A point that Timberlake was sadly remiss of: they all had banked on Richard never disclosing a topic so sore as his failure as a father out of pure pride and vanity - and they’d been correct...

Now there was nothing more to do than wind all the clocks back to the correct time, then sit and wait until Justin would try to get back.

—-

Seven and three-quarter hours later, the group within the tower saw a blurry portal loom in the corner of the room. Suddenly alert, they listened intently as Justin’s voice crackled through,

“Rafe, Cash, guys! Are you there? Help me! I can’t... I can’t get back! Alana?? The ritual, it’s not working, I’m not fading back through??”

Cash drawled as he examined his fingernails, looking thoroughly bored,

“Ah, so our little ritual worked then. Good to know.”

The passage through time became narrower and narrow as a sickening realisation suckerpunched Justin, panic rising like bile in his throat, “You... You did this on purpose!! You screwed me over!! You bastards!!!!”

As the portal flickered and shrunk to no more than a pinhole, echoes of the roars of their names reverberated around the room, until the gap sealed itself trapping Lord Timberlake in Regency England for ever more. Silence settled over the tower for a few moments, until Rafe glanced up at the rest of the group thorough his sweeping fringe, a smirk slowly stretching from ear to ear as he shrugs,

“Cry me a river...”

#immortal heart society #lovestruck

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pochitastan · 4 years

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Do I Wanna Know?

songfic based on Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

AN: this is my first posted fic so i'm sorry if it's shit. i try to make my fics inclusive and i know not all races blush or show red on their face but the song lyrics start that way so i'm sorry in advance. the effort i put into this is extraordinary im surprised i finished it.-

WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, slow burn, angst (not rlly), SMUT, unprotected sex, biting, overstimulation, light degradation, some choking, light bondage, he makes you cry lol, FLUFF- like wholesome shit? i really made myself feel even lonelier than i already do writing this.

word count- about 10k (this a whole ass book sorry) i don't have caps on purpose

i hope you guys enjoy this mess <3

"have you got color in your cheeks?"

"what?"you turn away from where- who - you were looking at and look at christa, meeting her worried gaze. She puts her hand on your forehead and sighs "are you feeling well y/n? you're burning up." you were completely fine physically, its your emotions making you heated. a foreign feeling was in your chest as you watched a new recruit sucking up to captain levi a little too obviously. "i'm fine christa, i'll be better once i get food in my system." she purses her lips and sighs "atleast let me get you a cool towel, i could use one myself." you curtly nod and turn back towards the scene before you.

do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?

the new girl, sienna, stands on a chair that she claimed was "wobbly" and "dangerous" so she asked the captain to "keep a hand on her" so she could be steady as she dusts off the top of the bookshelves she was in front of. what an airhead. she was using levi's annual cleaning day to her advantage alright. you lazily mop the floor as you watch how his hand stays on her leg, the bottom half of his face covered with his go to white bandana. his usual bored expression is apparent in his eyes as they trail around his surroundings, meeting yours from a room away. you try to correct your glare and immediately look back down at your mop on the floor. you missed the way his lip quirks up, hidden beneath the mask.

are there some aces up your sleeve? You weren't jealous, just pissed because of how unnecessarily loud sienna was being. you weren't thinking about what you would do if you were in her place-imagining his hand on your leg. no, you hate him because of how he holds himself with untouchable pride, acting like everyone is beneath him, how all the new recruits practically fan girl over "humanity's strongest." he's not all that. although he's older than you your kill count is quickly catching up to his, not to mention your untouchable skill when it comes to operating your ODM gear. although you two are at each other's necks, you have saved each other's lives on the battle field on multiple occasions- him saying something along the lines of "get your ass back up brat!" and you scolding him with "don't get lazy on me now asshole." no one dared speak to him like that- but when his life had almost ended seconds before, your words helped him snap back into battle mode. this "relationship" began when you first joined the scouts and sought out for him after your first exhibition outside of the walls. of course, this was before you knew how much of a douche the man really is. when you found him your conversation went something like this. "captain, i was wondering if you could teach me how to fight the way you do." "did you not pay attention in training?" "sir, i've seen some of the most dedicated soldiers i know have their limbs severed and be devoured before me. did they not pay attention in training, or were they just not as talented and gifted as you?" truthfully you thought he would smack you away right then and there due to the venom in your voice and blatant disrespect towards him. instead he narrows his eyes slightly "same time tomorrow, you better not be late, brat." you may not know it, but he took an interest in your bold personality, even though he knew it would end up pissing him off. have you no idea that you’re in deep? i’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week, how many secrets can you keep? your mind wonders to a week ago when the corps returned from a scouting mission in which countless lives were lost. you had seen a titan grab levi by the leg before you swiftly cut the giant baby down. he hid it well, but you saw his limp before he flew off. when you returned to base you couldn't find him anywhere "armin!" you ran towards the boy and he looked at you with wide eyes "y/n you're hurt!" he wasn't wrong. you had gotten your left forearm caught in a titan's jaw, luckily you were able to cut free before your limb was severed or broken- but your limb was still torn open from the titan's large teeth. armin takes the towel used to wipe his sweat and wraps it around your arm "you need medical-"you interrupt him "armin wheres captain levi?" you needed to remind him of how you saved his life once again, you weren't going to check up on him. no, you didn't want to see how badly his leg was hurt or make sure he really made it back alive. the boy looks around and points to the base "he went inside i- i think he was injur-" "thank you!" you sprint inside finding him in an unused room wrapping his injured leg with gauze. "captain!" now that you're alone with him you don't really know what to do or say, so you settle on standing in the doorway. he abruptly turns to see you standing at the door holding a stained red towel on your injured arm. "shit- you need to go to the medical tent for that dumbass!" god you were pale- your y/e/c eyes were dull from blood loss and you were practically swaying in front of him. he stands- wincing as he puts weight on his bad leg- and pulls you inside closing the door behind him. he sits you on the bed and gets down on his good knee before you. "you don't have time to get back out there- you can barely stand" he pulls the towel from you and throws it on the floor behind him. "shit- what a mess" he curses as he gently grabs your arm- ripping the gauze with his teeth and wrapping your wound. you could hear his deep breathing as you watch him and you start to relax, slightly leaning forward as tiredness starts to overtake you. he finishes his wrapping- the gauze strategically put around your elbow to the palm of your hand. "levi." you can barely keep your eyes open due to the amount of blood you lost. he meets your gaze, his face so close your noses are practically touching. a foreign feeling blooms in your chest as you look at him, his face betraying his usual disinterested expression, instead his brows are furrowed, his usually downcast gaze now upturned in worry. he clenches his jaw, looking to the side, and his expression returns to it's normal calm state. you hesitantly bring your uninjured hand to his cheek and lean your forehead into his, closing your eyes. "i saved your ass once again." you hear him hum a deep chuckle and you feel his rough hand come over yours, pushing your cold touch into his face. he brings his other hand to your chin pulling you away to look at him. god his clothes were stained with your blood and guilt courses through you. your usual resolve falls as your eyes tear up. how embarrassing. you've never dropped your composure like this, years of emotional abuse allowing you to hide what you feel from your face easily. you're definitely suffering from severe blood loss. "still a pain in my ass even when i'm the one taking care of you." "you love it." you retort as you look away, trying to hide your tears and your face heats from his words. "why did you come here y/n?" his deep voice was monotone as usual, but his expression was soft. "i-" you look at him again and suddenly the two of you were leaning in. you closed your eyes and his lips were on yours. they were soft, softer than you had imagined. his hand stayed on yours while the other tangled in your hair. if you thought you were lightheaded before- what you were feeling now was on a whole new level. he pulls away, trailing his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes following his finger's movements. god you were practically floating, your heartbeat was pumping rapidly in your chest, heat spreading all throughout your body and settling between your legs. your vision gets hazy and you blink struggling to maintain consciousness. levis eyes go wide and your vision goes black. you woke up the next day in the medical tent, levi no where in sight. cause there’s this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat until i fall asleep you snap back to reality. you hold up your injured arm. you had been avoiding him since then, trying(and failing) to convince yourself it was a dream you had due to the dangerous blood loss you experienced. even if it did happen it was only because the two of you were injured and not thinking straight. he would never be interested in you. suddenly you hear sienna yelp and fall back. you look back up and see levi holding her bridal style effortlessly. "oh captain! thank you you're so strong- oh" levi sets her down and rolls his eyes with a scowl, grabbing the duster from her hand and walking straight towards you. quickly, you look back at your mopping suddenly very interested in how shiny the wet floor looks. "cadet." his deep voice sends chills down your body and you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together to relieve the sudden heat in your core. you look up at him and see he's already looking down at you with an amused look in his eyes. "last i checked your assignment was to mop the floors correct?" duh. you fight the urge to roll your eyes. "correct sir." he pulls down his bandana and leans closer to you. in a voice just above a whisper he says "so why are you so distracted from your task?" you can't take your eyes away from his and your body flushes at his close proximity. he takes the mop from your hand, his calloused fingers grazing yours, and hands you the duster. "from now on you're in charge of dusting the underside of the tables and wiping down the trimming on the walls. maybe when you're on your knees you can learn a thing or two about finishing tasks."

spillin’ drinks on my settee

asshole! you swallow as anger blooms in your chest. how dare he tempt and tease you like this,first leading you on with a kiss and now making you get on your knees before him. you didn't know if you wanted to smack him or suck him off. a distant voice in the back of your head said imagine doing both. you know he's looking for a reaction. if he wants to tease you and push your limits, two can play at that game. you slowly get down on your knees before him, maintaining eye contact the whole way down. your heart beats rapidly in your chest and you try to ignore the fact that his cock is merely inches away from your mouth. "yes sir." you ignore the strong urge to look away from his eyes and down his body as he stares you down, his lips slightly parted. he lets out a breath and pulls his mask back up, leaving with the mop and moving upstairs. you let out the breath you were holding and sit back on your feet, running your hand through your hair. "here you go y/n! sorry it took me so long, eren and jean were arguing." christa hands you the wet towel and her eyes go wide "oh you really look dazed now, are you sure you're alright?" you bring the towel to your head "i guess i really am feeling a bit shaky." you can't stand him.

do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?

you lazily chew your bread, pretending to be interested in the conversation your friends were carrying on at the table. tensions were high after a long day of cleaning and being critiqued by the captain. eren and jean were going on about something once again. you swear the two are always at each others necks, no doubt because of jean's jealousy towards eren due to how close he is with mikasa. "you're all talk! i don't care if you're a titan- i'll kick your scrawny ass right now!" jean yells and stands causing eren to reciprocate "oh i'd love to see you try horse face" things were getting ugly fast. "come on guys let's calm down now" reiner stands with them "back off reiner i don't need your help!" eren practically growls. this is serious if reiner can't stop their advances. you stand and move between the pair "that's enough. you two need to set your differences aside and learn when to quit." you put your arm against eren's chest and look at him. "fine." he huffs. you sigh and jean grumbles under his breath "pussy, i knew you wouldn't do shit, no wonder you let your mother get killed." ... oh no. eren snaps and charges, causing jean to swing. eren quickly grabs your injured forearm, and roughly pulls you out of the way from jean's blow. you fall to the floor and chaos ensues with everyone rushing in between the two. you wince in pain as your gauze starts turning red from your now opened wound. you stand as you hear steps rapidly coming down the stairs towards the group. "guys please- the captains coming" your pleads fall on deaf ears and you mentally curse yourself for not doing more to stop this. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" levi's cold voice booms through the room and everyone freezes.

sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay

eren and jean abruptly pull away from each other and everyone takes a step back. levi stands with hange behind him. the captain's voice is rough as he growls "have you two sons of bitches got any intelligence in those nonexistent brains of yours? not only did you shitheads ruin a meal you also decided to fuck up a perfectly clean room." he glances over everyone but his eyes fall on you. "cadet, why is your arm hidden?" shit... shit! you freeze. taking a deep breath you glare back at him, trying to telepathically curse him for pointing it out and tell him that it's not a big deal. wordlessly you pull your arm out from behind you. all eyes look at the gauze on your arm stained red with blood, which was now dripping on the floor. the captain takes a breath. then two. "its fine, it's not as bad as it looks-"gods your arm is throbbing "i was too rough on it and i should've let it heal more, this is my doing." the lie falls smoothly from your lips and you try not to wince at the silence. "no y/n, i won't let you cover for me." eren steps forward and you mentally scold him. "sir i was the one who hurt her. i must've grabbed her injured arm when i pushed her out of the way." you know what's about to happen and it appears your comrades do too. a moment of silence passes before levi steps towards eren and you pray mikasa won't try to kill the captain. eren's eyes go wide with fear and he steps back, stumbling into the now flipped table, causing him to fall to the ground. he crawls backwards, his eyes never leaving the captain's. it's almost as if you can read his thoughts, his mind replaying one phrase: not again. mikasa takes a step forward and you know that if you don't act now things will take a turn for the worse. just as levi raises his good leg to deliver a blow and mikasa reaches for her blades, you're next to the captain with your good hand on his shoulder. "if eren hadn't moved me i would've gotten hit. because of him i didn't have to kick jean's ass myself."you quirk a brow and glance over to jean, who currently looks like he's about to vomit "and you know his injuries would be far worse than mine." a moment passes before levi puts his leg down, redirecting his glare to the rest of the group. "fix it or i will." and just like that he leaves, hange shrugging at us before following behind him.

baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day

eren stands and cant meet your eye "im sorry y/n" you shake your head with a chuckle and give him a closed eye smile, causing him to look at you in confusion. "you did nothing wrong eren." the boy clenches his jaw and gives you a curt nod before moving to set the table back up. mikasa nods at you and you pray eren will one day realize how much this girl cares for him. "yeah, next time you guys fight we're not stepping in." connie says with a smirk "i kinda wanna see who'd win anyway." you and a few others laugh with him. you grab a towel from the cabinet and wrap it tightly around your arm to stop the bleeding as you lean against the counter and look at your blood on the floor. no wonder levi reacted the way he did, that clean freak must've been pissed about the mess your blood made. he didn't even spare you a look when you were next to him, he had no reaction to your touch on his shoulder. you curse under your breath, gods why did you care so much? just being near the guy pisses you off. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. "he didn't look at the floor." armin stands in front of you. "what?" "he didn't notice the blood, he just looked at you." the boy seemed to be as surprised as you. you keep your face blank "what are you talking about?" armin ignores you and walks back to the others, leaving you alone once again.

crawlin’ back to you

it had been a few weeks since eren and jean's fight, each day dully passing as you sat out of the front lines due to your injury. since then your arm had healed enough to the point where you could use it again, in moderation of course. it is starting to scar and you can tell it will leave a gruesome mark behind, but you don't mind. although you were injured levi didn't go easy on you, giving you extra assignments like cleaning the stables or staying up late to re-mop the floors after your first attempt was "pathetic". yet even after ordering you around or ignoring you completely, he would always gently pull your arm to him and look it over before letting you do your tasks. what the hell is up with him? he was being unnecessarily cold and rude to you one minute then checking on your recovery the next. he never showed any inclination that he really cared- yet his touch was so soft and warm. you figured he was bitter towards you because of how you stopped him from hurting eren, maybe he saw your actions as disrespectful. you silence your thoughts as you sit at the table at which the scouts have their meetings. everyone was waiting for levi, eren, and hange to show. as if on cue the three come into the room, hange sitting at the head of the table and eren sitting at the opposite head. wait... why is eren sitting where levi usually sits? the only open seat was the one right next to you, to the right of eren. levi sits next to you and you give eren a confused look. levi didn't seem to mind where eren was sitting... weird. even reiner seemed to notice the seat change, raising a brow to you from his spot beside you. the meeting must be about the experiments hange has been using eren for, why else would levi trade his spot?

ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? cause i always do

the meeting went as usual, levi briefing us on the newest plan for returning to the walls and others offering up various information and ideas. levi passed the discussion over to hange and she started talking about her latest experiments on her titans and eren. after updating us she went into her usual rant on how she was inspired for these experiments and of course everyone knew this information already. usually levi was the one to suggest we change the topic or simply leaving the table, allowing us to follow, yet he sat to the left of you leaning his head against his hand, mirroring your position. you glance over to him and see he's already looking at you, his expression remains the same but he raises a brow when you make eye contact. he then turns his attention back to hange. you ignore how good he looks and turn your attention to the table, lazily tracing circles on the surface of the wood. you're caught up in your thoughts, zoning out into your own world when a finger lightly caresses your thigh. your hand freezes and you blink. did levi just touch your thigh? almost as if in response you feel him lazily trace his finger in circles leading to your upper thigh, mirroring what you did to the table moments before. you look around at everyone else at the table wondering if they could tell what was happening yet none of them were looking over to you, they're bored expressions showing no suspicion. you quickly glance to levi and see he looks stoic as ever, his attention appearing to still be on hange. how can he sit here and look so calm? his feather light touch moves further up your leg and you turn your head down to the table again, your cheeks heating up. how was no one else seeing this? damn this large ass table covering everything- even reiner couldn't see a thing. levi's touch was sending electricity all over your body, your core practically gushing at his teasing. he keeps on moving up your thigh, his circles dangerously close to your center, and you subconsciously part your legs, giving him more access. you don't notice how he wets his lips with his tongue, fighting off a small smirk. you swallow and as you do his finger runs over your clothed clit. you fight back a gasp causing your spit to go down the wrong pipe and you're sent into an embarrassing coughing fit, everyone's attention turning to you as you wave them off stuttering "sorry"'s and "i'm fine" in between coughs. for the first time in a while levi wants to laugh, he loves seeing you get worked up over his little teases, it amuses him. a selfish part of him wants to be the only one to get these reactions out of you, wanting to be the only one to have this affect on you. he'll think about those thoughts later. you finally get a hold of yourself and hange continues after you apologize for interrupting her. levis finger returned to your upper thigh and you mentally crossed your fingers hoping you would be able to control yourself if he tried that again. your mind was racing, imagining what you would do if no one else was here. oh how you wanted him to bend you over this table and pound you until you were crying- "are you ok y/n?"reiner whispers. levi's hand freezes and you immediately snap out of your thoughts. reiner was looking at you with his hand over yours on the table, his thumb lightly running over your knuckles. maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody knew, now i’ve thought it through it was no secret to levi, the looks the other men would give you and the many conversations your name and appearance were brought up in made him quickly realize how sought after you really are. your beauty was apparent to him, he often caught himself thinking of your smile or the cute way your eyebrows raise when you try not to laugh at the other cadets being stupid. your laugh is what he enjoys the most, it reminds him of his old friend isabel and the days he spent with farlan in the underground. regardless, he knew he'd be a fool to think he was the only one who thought this way about you, it was nearly impossible not to. you're brilliant but you were clueless when it came to other's attraction towards you. he'd often watch as you would laugh with other guys, your innocent touches and jokes easily being mistaken for flirting, ignoring the anger and jealousy he would feel as he wished he could drag you away from their lustful eyes. of course even reiner was apart of the y/n fan club. he takes his hand away from you and clenches his jaw, trying, and failing, to ignore reiner's hand on yours. you nod and pull both of your hands into your lap "i'm fine, thanks reiner." you chew the inside of your cheek hating how much you miss the captain's touch. your heart skips a beat when you replay how soft and sensual his touches were in your mind. no matter how hard you try you can't seem to shake him from your thoughts, even when other guys enter the picture he's always there. you need a damn break. the meeting finally ends and you abruptly get up, ignoring reiner's attempts at walking you to your room, and you don't notice how levi glares at reiner as you leave. crawlin back to you "alright! you should be good to go. i'm sorry i can't help the scarring-" "it's fine don't worry about it hanj! if anything it just makes me look bad ass." the woman laughs at the nickname you gave her and crosses her arms "you don't need a scar to do that, everyone remembers how you kicked bertolt's ass in your sparring match with him." you roll your eyes and the two of you laugh. you move your arm around freely for the first time in what feels like a while. you thank hange for watching over your recovery and leave her office, heading over to the girl's rooms for the night. "you're cleared already?" levi's voice freezes you in place. it's been a week since you last saw the captain one on one, him ignoring you completely unless he was assigning more trivial cleaning tasks. you let out an annoyed sigh and turn around. "yes, hange just gave the all clear." he's holding a small stack of papers in one hand and gestures for you to come closer with the other "let me see."

so have you got the guts?

your frown deepens and you walk up to him, ignoring how his eyes follow you as you approach. you stand two feet away for good measure and hold your arm out in front of him. he gently grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, and turns his attention to your now scarred arm. you can't help but keep your eyes on his as his finger lightly traces the markings. he looks up at your face and you immediately turn your head away to the floor, hating the way your heart skips a beat. "it's healed up better than i thought it would." what the hell is wrong with you? it's like your whole body is set ablaze just from the tip of his finger. "y/n look at me." your eyes go wide and you face him. his mouth moves and your eyes are trained on his lips, not registering anything he's saying. been wonderin’ if your heart’s still open and if so i wanna know what time it shuts "good girl." the words send electricity straight to your core and an audible gasp slips from your lips. your eyes go wide and your face feels so hot you swear you could cook an egg on it. you pull your arm away step back "w-what?" you stutter out. the captain looks at you with a confused and frankly judgemental look "i said relax, you look like you could hurl." you swallow and nod, a giggle slipping out. levi watches you as your giggles turn into a short coughing fit and he raises a brow in amusement. you really need to learn how to not choke on your spit. "sorry, i thought you said something else." this is so humiliating. you need to pull yourself together. why can't you keep your usual stone-faced facade around the captain? his eyes narrow and it's almost like you can see the gears turning in his head. your embarrassment shows on your face and you watch his eyebrows raise as he registers what you heard. "you thought i said good girl." he says taking a step forward. simmer down and pucker up, i’m sorry to interrupt its just i’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you you struggle to keep your composure as the man before you looks down at you, now so close you can feel his breath fan over your face. you cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes "tch, so what if i did." your usual poker face has returned, yet your heart pounds rapidly in your chest. the captain brushes a lose strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down right next to your face. "can i try something?" your head nods on its own and your lips part as his eyes glance over them. you don't have time to react as his hand comes to the back of your head and massages your scalp before pulling your head to the side by your hair, giving himself access to your neck. you gasp and grip the front his dress shirt as he licks up your neck, biting into your sensitive skin. you stifle a moan and just like that he pulls away. your hand comes up to your neck, shock evident on your face. "wha-what was that?" the captain's lip twitches in an almost smirk, a deep hum rumbling his chest. "just as i thought." your skin is softer than he imagined. but i dont know if you feel the same as i do "oi there you are levi! i've been waiting for sawney's files for forever." levi turns around to face the section commander with his usual stone faced expression, as if he wasn't just sucking on your neck a few seconds before. he walks over to her, handing over the papers he's been holding. "don't go complaining now, you're lucky i even got them for you." hange looks over to you and raises a brow "cadet l/n what are you still doing here? i thought i dismissed you ages ago." as your superior you know you should be intimidated, scared even, from her questioning, but over the past month and a half you two have gotten pretty close from how often you would have to see her for your routine check ups. your hands come to your hips and you tease "captain levi wanted to check over my arm himself. Apparently he doubts your ability to oversee my recovery." to anyone else her movements would be undetectable but your keen observation skills easily spot how her eyes quickly dart to your neck, swiftly following over to levi's wrinkled button up and watch as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. if she put the dots together she didn't show it, instead going along with your joke. she lets out an exaggerated gasp and turns to levi "how dare you underestimate my healing abilities! i'll have you know i was top-" levi rolls his eyes "tch, i just wanted to make sure you weren't experimenting on her, four eyes. let's not forget about the blood test incident with mikasa." this makes you and hange laugh, levi letting a rare soft smile grace his lips as he watches you. "alright i'll leave you two, the girls are no doubt looking for me at this point." you and hange exchange a wave and levi watches your hips sway as you leave, mentally noting how good your uniform slacks make your ass look. he hears hange clear her throat and meets her gaze. his eyes slightly go wide as she gives him a knowing look and he looks away letting a "tch" out under his breath. "so i see you're finally going for it." levi glares at the woman and she smirks "i've seen you looking at her, and how protective you get with her-" levi glares "enough" he mumbles, looking like a pouting child as a rosy tint covers his cheeks. hange just continues her teasing "i heard her bunk is the cleanest out of all the girls'-" "shut up." hange just laughs and levi walks back to his office, avoiding further torment from the woman. but we could be together if you wanted to he was beginning to get pissed off. he expected you to cover the mark he left on you yesterday, you'd be a fool not to, but that's not what was bothering him. he watches from across the mess hall as reiner walks with you to get tea with his hand on your lower back. he knows reiner is using this as an excuse to make a move, as you are the only other person besides him and ymir who enjoys tea. how pathetic. he also notices how the other cadets are watching the two of you, excluding sasha who is too busy stuffing her face to notice anything. it was painfully obvious he was pining after you, yet your demeanor remained the same as always. with a grunt he focuses back on the conversation hange and erwin are having, subconsciously gripping the rim of his teacup tighter. do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? you laugh along with reiner as you pour your tea, trying to ignore how unnecessarily touchy he is today. you don't mind, his innocent touches never made you uncomfortable or made you feel anything really. reiner is a sweet guy, a lot of the other cadets look up to him and you respect that, but another man was occupying your thoughts. you sip your tea and tune in to what reiner is saying "-if i could i would build a cottage in the middle of nowhere with my own farm. it'd be perfect for my woman and i to start a family, and we wouldn't have to worry about the neighbors hearing us." he says the last part with a smirk and your face heats from his suggestive tone. "what about you gorgeous?" you take another sip and contemplate your answer. "well, if i could live beyond the walls i would probably explore. there has to be another civilization somewhere, we can't possibly be the last of the human race, there's no way i'm believing that bullshit." something in reiner's demeanor changes at your words. his face darkens and he steps closer to you, invading your space. the way he looks at you is unrecognizable, almost as if a different person stands before you. "how interesting." his hands come to your hips and he pulls you closer to him, his face hovering over yours, "who told you you could be this smart?" your eyes widen and you nervously laugh "my teachers i guess?" his grip on you tightens as you try to pull away. you really don't want to fight him and fear courses through you as he looks down at your neck. "oh? what's this?" one of his hands pull away to touch your neck and you use the opportunity to put a great distance between the two of you. your back hits someone's hard chest and their hand lightly rests against your lower back to steady you."i didn't know making women uncomfortable was something you enjoyed doing reiner." sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay the captain's voice sounds from behind you and your shoulders visibly relax. levi cooly steps around you and casually refills his teacup. reiner's eyes stay on him with a glare that would've sent anyone running if not directed at the captain. levi calmly sips his tea, "oi, what are you still standing there for? i know i'm a sight but you don't need to stare." levi doesn't even spare reiner a glance as he grunts and walks off. you begin to turn around until his deep voice stops you "not you. you're coming with me." baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day after levi finished his tea he silently lead you out of the mess hall toward his office. he walks in front of you, knowing you're following closely behind him. you don't speak until he opens the door to his office, walking in and gesturing for you to close the door. "you wanted to speak with me?" your voice comes out stronger than you thought it would due to the nerves coursing through you. you're alone with the captain in his office and it's just like you imagined. his desk is neatly organized with a few stacks of paper sitting in a straight line next to the edge. you notice a light ring the size of a teacup on the wood and a small smile rests on your face. "i didn't know i'd have to babysit you when you joined the scout regiment, if i had i wouldn't have let you." your smile is long forgotten. did you hear that right? "excuse me?" a look of disbelief graces your features and your head tilts to the side as you look at him. he couldn't help but find it endearing. "you heard me." though he knows it doesn't show on his face, he's pissed. he's sick of seeing all the other men openly lust over you as if you don't belong to him. no, he's done waiting around for you to realize how he feels. he crosses his arms and takes a step closer to you "you leading all the men on doesn't help your case either." your eyebrow twitches yet your face remains calm. is he trying to piss you off? "or are you so clueless that you can't see what you're doing to them?" he takes another step closer "to me?" you take a deep breath. "what is the point of this conversation, sir?" the title comes out harsher than you intended and the captain's eyebrow raises. "because if you're just going to shame me i'll be on my way." contrary to your words you don't make any move to leave his office. "no, i intend on doing other things." he lightly grabs ahold of one of your wrists and pulls you closer to him. "i cant have you acting like a slut now can i?" arousal courses through you and you gasp in shock as your other wrist moves to slap him before he gently grabs your hand, stopping it just before it hits him. "fuck you-" your voice catches in your throat as he traces his tongue up your wrist. your whole body heats and you forget to breathe as you watch him. he pulls away before kissing the area underneath your thumb, making eye contact as he lightly bites into your skin. crawlin back to you he relishes in the way your lips part, how intense and shocked your eyes look as they stay on his mouth. well that's one way to shut you up, but he doesn't want you to be quiet right now. he pulls away and a line of saliva connects your skin to his lips for a second. "cursing at your superior now are we?" you swallow and look back up into his eyes. oh how you regret doing that. the look he gives you sends heat straight to your core and you're sure your panties will be soaked soon."or-" he starts walking you backwards towards the door "does this little girl enjoy being a brat?" you don't even know how to respond. the man before you wears a small smirk "answer me." before your back can hit the door he turns you around, pulling your arms behind you and shoving your face against the cool wood. his chest is against your back and his scent fills your senses, making you dizzy with the pleasant smell of his cologne with a faint hint of soap and cleaning products. "asshole." your voice comes out in a quiet croak but he hears you clearly. he roughly pushes into you harder, causing his clothed cock to connect with your heat. a whimper falls from your lips from the contact and he feels you clench through his pants. his lips lightly caress your cheek as he speaks "how filthy, your cunt is already begging for me to fill you with my cock." your eyes widen at his words. you knew he had a foul mouth but this takes you by surprise. your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you're worried he can feel it against him. you push back into him, desperately searching for any kind of friction to relieve the pressure between your legs, and you thank the gods when he lets you grind against his hardening cock. he lets out a hiss and his hips start to grind with yours while his free hand unbuttons your pants and moves to rub circles on your aching clit. he mumbles against you "already so wet for me." before biting into your exposed shoulder. your breaths come out in light gasps, your movements becoming more desperate. you were already getting close and he could tell, but he doesn't want you cumming yet. your legs begin to shake as your release nears, small "yes"'s and "levi"'s falling from your lips. levi wants to hear those soft sounds on repeat, and he makes a mental note to find out how loud they can get. just as you're about to cum levi turns you around and pulls down your pants. your annoyance comes out in a huff as you step out of the slacks before he pushes you against the door again. your hands immediately move to touch him, and he lets you pull his shirt off, using your hands to feel the smooth muscles on his chest and run through his hair. he starts nibbling and sucking on your neck and you remember the warmth of his kiss, how soft and sensual his lips were and pray he'll let you feel them again. he looks at you, enjoying how beautifully fucked out you look already, before moving to connect your lips, yet he barely touches you before pulling away again. you try to lean forward to capture a real kiss from him but his hold on you doesn't budge. he's such a tease. a groan escapes you and levi tsks "now now y/n" they way he says your name makes you close your eyes and rest your head back against the door, trying to ground yourself and keep your composer. "you've made me wait this long-" his kisses trail down your neck before he gets on his knee before you. his calloused hands rub up your thighs and pull your panties off before he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder. he lightly trails his index finger along your slit and you visibly shudder at the sensation. "you're going to cum on my mouth, understand?" ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? cause i always do your body's so hot you're surprised you haven't passed out by now. he looks up at you expectantly and you wordlessly nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. a harsh slap lands on your ass and you jump with a moan. "use your words cadet." his voice sends vibrations into your core due to his close proximity and you close your eyes, putting your pride and dignity aside. "yes sir, please levi, please, please, please" your words are soft and levi's cock twitches at your begging. you're making him uncomfortably hard but he ignores it in favor of seeing you squirm above him. he can get his dick wet later. he brings his index finger up and lightly teases your clit, watching for your body's reactions to his touch. "have you ever been touched like this before?" he wants to ruin you, to have you crying and begging for him. he wants to make you forget all that isn't his name, but more importantly he wants you to be comfortable. right now he's focused on making you feel good, but not only out of selflessness. he wants to see how many orgasms he can pull from you before you're an incoherent mess from his touch. truthfully he wants to ruin any future sexual escapades with any other lover for you, him being the only one to make your body feel this good. he's selfish and he knows it. he licks along your slit, delicately tasting your folds and he feels your whole body react. you let out a high pitched whine and your hands grip onto his hair tightly. well there's his answer. levi groans into you, sending vibrations throughout your body, and digs in. maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody knew, now i’ve it through his tongue's languid strokes have you arching into him, your leg struggling to keep you standing. his movements have you quickly approaching the high you so desperately need. you throw your head back and a particularly loud moan slips out when he flicks his tongue over your clit just right. "levi-" he grunts in response and you have to grip the door handle to keep your knee from buckling. "s-sir im- so close" his hands roughly grip your ass and he harshly sucks your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge. your mouth falls open in a silent cry as your orgasm washes over you and levi swears he could cum just from the sight. he laps up your juices and your body jolts every time he runs his tongue over your sensitive clit. one of his hands squeezes your ass as the other trails up under your shirt and kneads your breast over your bra. with a kiss on your pelvic bone he stands and pulls you toward his desk. "sit." he orders. you sit on the edge of his desk and he immediately goes back in between your legs "levi i- ah- what are you doing?" his tongue makes your body jolt due to how sensitive your clit is. he stands and pulls your shirt off of you, your bra coming off soon after. he mumbles "so perfect." as he takes your breasts in his hands, sucking and flicking your nipple with his tongue while his fingers pinch and tease the other. your body is gorgeous, shit, you're gorgeous. his thoughts surround your beauty as he pleases you, enjoying the soft gasps you let out. he pulls away and looks at you while he slips a finger into your tight cunt and curls it causing you to lurch forward into him. his other hand grabs your face and forces you to look at him "take it." your moans only increase at the command and you feel yourself approaching another orgasm. he adds another finger, using his whole arm to perfectly hit a spot deep within you while he swirls his thumb on your clit. you hold onto him for dear life, finger nails leaving red marks across his back as you cum on his fingers. do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? suddenly he dips his face between your legs and harshly sucks onto your clit. "ah- fuck levi!" you practically scream as your body shakes from the overstimulation. your cunt clenches his fingers so well throughout your orgasm and he roughly holds your legs open, hard enough to leave bruises. the pain only fuels you more, and although you try to hold back your moans he knows anyone nearby can tell what the two of you are doing. you can barely keep yourself sitting up as you lean back on one arm while the other tugs your captain's hair between your legs. you've never felt this good before. sure, a few of your past partners made you finish but not like this. you don't have it in you to be embarrassed about the noises you're making, your mind only focusing on the man bringing you this pleasure. levi pulls his fingers out of you and you watch with half lidded eyes as he sucks your slick off of them. he's eating you as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted, and to him you are. his fingers move to your clit, harshly rubbing back and forth on your already too sensitive bud and your whole body reacts. levi watches in awe as your head falls back and you arch closer to him, your hips subconsciously moving in time with his fingers. your eyes go wide as you feel his tongue enter you, your hand tightening in his hair as you cry out. the groan he lets into you is pornographic and it's enough to send you over the edge a third time. sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay if only you could see how beautiful you look right now, he thinks as he stands before you once again. his hand comes around your throat, pulling you to face him before he roughly connects his lips to yours. his tongue explores your mouth and you can taste yourself on him as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. his clothed (extremely hard) cock rubs against your aching center, no doubt ruining his pants with your slick, and he grunts into your mouth. you pull away from the heated make out session, a trail of saliva connecting your lips "please let me touch you" you would give anything to get a taste of him. he doesn't respond, instead he pulls you down and bends you over his desk, fully exposing your soaked pussy and ass to him. you hear clothes rustling behind you and he pulls your wrists behind your back using his belt to tie them in place. you feel the head of his cock run through your folds and you can't help the shaky breath you release. a sudden smack lands on your ass and you gasp, the pain causing your eyes to tear up. "how pathetic." he lands another blow onto your other cheek, harsh enough to make you jump, and you moan. "you would do anything for my cock wouldn't you? what a perfect little slut i found." he continues his harsh assault on your ass and you can feel your juices run down your legs, the hot stinging on your skin only fueling your arousal. "do you know how long i've waited for this? i've wanted to fuck that pretty mouth of yours ever since your smart ass asked me to train you." his hands rub over your cheeks, parting them for a second. "but i'll have to save that for next time." next time. "right now you need to be put in your place." his tip stretches you open and you whimper when he stills, his cock barely in you. his hand harshly grips your hair and he pulls, making your head up come up off his desk while the other grips tightly onto your hip, no doubt leaving a bruise. "beg." the command sends heat to your face and you're embarrassed by how turned on it makes you, but at this point you don't care. "please levi, please fuck me-"he grunts "good girl". he roughly slams into you and due to the position your neck is in you can't help but let out a strangled moan. you can't hold back your cries as his hips set a steady pace. it feels like his fat cock is splitting you open and tears stream down your face as the pain and pleasure overwhelm you. you're a sobbing moaning mess beneath him, and he picks up the pace, roughly fucking your abused cunt. your strangled cries have him concerned until he feels how deliciously you pulse around his large cock. he can't seem to focus on anything else as he repeatedly slams into you, his cock hitting all the right places. in the back of his mind a voice tells him he should probably shut you up considering erwin's office is right next door, and dinner is no doubt long over by now. but he can't help it, your voice sounds so good like this, the repeated "unh"'s and occasional curses are a symphony to his music loving ears. erwin will just have to deal with it for now. he feels you flutter around him and he can't help but grunt. you feel so good he considers kicking you from the scouts and keeping you to himself. "l-levi" his name comes out in a choked sob and he can tell you're close again. "go ahead and cum on my cock, brat." he lands a particularly hard slap on your ass and you come undone around him. you grip him so tightly he can't help but to cum with you, gods your cunt is squeezing around him so deliciously. his hips stutter and a long growl rumbles in his chest as he fills you. baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day "i'm not done with you yet." you let out a sob as he grabs onto your bound wrists, pulling your shoulders flush against his chest so that you're standing against him with one leg bent on the table. contrary to your cries your pussy gushes around his still hard cock. your leg shakes, barely able to support your own weight, and his strong hold keeps you against him. his hand wraps around your throat and rubs circles into your skin with his thumb while his other hand brushes your hair out of your face and traces along your curves to rest on your hip. he lightly kisses across your shoulder blade. "one more y/n, you think you can do that for me?" your tears mix with the sweat on his chest and you lay your head back against his shoulder, struggling to catch your breath. you nod and he connects your lips in a tender kiss as his hips return to their thrusting. you are in heaven surely, levi must have killed you for cursing at him earlier and your sick fantasies must be playing out in your mind before you take your final breath. you can't even think properly, your mind producing only one clear thought "levi-". his name falls from your lips like a mantra and he decides that your moans are his favorite song. his hand tightens around your throat, your mind blanking as your oxygen is restricted. your pussy flutters around him and the small grunts and curses he lets out into your ear make your head spin. "p-please levi-" you can barely form the words as his cock reduces you to a blabbering mess. he loosens his hold on your throat and his other hand starts rubbing your clit. you yelp and tightly squeeze your eyes closed "please let me touch you." too busy bein’ yours to fall his thrusts slow and his hand stills, as if he's contemplating your request. he answers you by slowly pulling out of you, catching you when you nearly fall over. he removes the belt from your wrists and gently massages them with his hands. "c'mere" he mumbles. he helps you around his desk, choosing to ignore the papers spread on the floor, and sits in his chair. he helps you onto his lap and you slowly sink onto him, causing both of you to release an airy moan. you start to set a pace, your hands bracing yourself on his chest as you use his cock to get off. levi's breath catches in his throat as he watches you, mesmerized by how captivating you look like this. he silently tries to commit this moment to memory as vividly as possible. his fingertips lightly trace over your nipples and down the marks he's left over your body. he gently squeezes your hip when goosebumps appear across your skin from his touch. you ever thought of callin’ darlin’? you look at him and see him wearing a small smile and you can't fight back the smile that overtakes your features, he's perfect. levi curses under his breath at the sight, swearing that your smile is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his painful existence. he feels tears threaten to brim his eyes and he quickly pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. your arms come around his neck as the passion in his kiss makes you breathless. he never wants to stop kissing you, the taste of your lips is intoxicating to him and he thanks whatever is listening for bringing you into his life. you feel him twitch in you and you can tell he's close, yet he makes no move to control your pace. you smile against him and you pull away, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you put your hand on his cheek. a familiar feeling floods into your chest along with a sense of deja vu. levi puts his hand over yours and brings the other to rub your clit as a warmth he's grown accustomed to feeling around you blooms in his chest. he pulls your hand away from his face, interlacing your fingers together as he feels you approaching your climax. you squeeze his hand as you cum, your head falling to his shoulder and biting the crook of his neck to silence your cries. after a few seconds your name falls from his lips, his hand squeezing yours as he comes undone.

do you want me crawlin’ back to you?

——————————————————————————

"i can see why they say you're the best humanity has to offer." he chuckles at your comment and kisses your hand interlaced with his before his arms wrap around you, causing you to arch into him as you sit on his lap. his head rests in the crook of your neck and he responds with a gruff "not funny" into your skin. the vibrations tickle you and you laugh at his comment. you feel him smile against you. "you love it." your voice comes out just above a whisper. your hand runs through his hair as the other traces languid circles on his shoulder. he pulls you into him tighter, if that's even possible, and plants a light kiss on your cheek. "we need to clean." "levi i can't walk." "i know dumbass, by we i meant me. you can sit there and look pretty." "ok."

——————————————————————————

bro this shit is so hard to write

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #levi x reader smut #snk #levi ackerman fluff #aot fluff #attack on titan reiner #reader insert #im pretty proud of this #this made me realize how lonely i am

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sheron-c · 4 years

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XiSang Fic Recs

I haven’t seen any rec lists floating about, so for the XiSang Week 2020 challenge - Day 7 - Free choice, I wanted to create a rec list of my personal favourites for Nie Huaisang/Lan Xichen ship. There’s actually a lot of stories that are great and I don’t want to duplicate the entire ship tag, so these are just the top 10 that I found super enjoyable: 1. My Heart is a Saber by peskyjellyfish (~11k)

Summary: Huaisang is on his way to Xinglu Ridge when he gets sidetracked. Rec: This is the fic that gave me everything I wanted to read about them post-canon. Nie Huaisang is angry and damaged, Lan Xichen is hurt and curious, and they find the kind of hope in despair that can only be found together. 2. come and find me (lying in the bed i made) by ImaginationCake @demonic-cultivar (~22k)

Summary: After Jin Guangyao dies, Nie Huaisang is ready to enjoy his life free from the burden of revenge plots and subterfuge. But his decisions have resulted in a deep guilt that he can't shake, and he struggles to stay afloat with no one left to support him. To top it off, he finds himself tangled up in politics that he really couldn't care less about.What he does care about is Lan Xichen's opinion of him, but Lan Xichen won't even look at him anymore. Nie Huaisang can only hope that his life doesn't get any worse. Rec: The fic that got me into this ship! ♡ I did of course come to AO3 looking for more NHS & LXC content immediately after watching the Untamed. After seeing that ending scene with their conversation on the Temple’s steps I wanted more, but I wasn’t sure it was a romantic ship for me until I read this story. It’s got everything, a kidnapping, a rescue and a bad case of feelings :D 3. A Skilled Tactician is the Jewel of a Kingdom by Hypatia3 (~50k, WIP) Summary: During the Sunshot Campaign, Nie Huaisang wants to help despite his terrible sword skills. But there are other things he's good at, and nobody can say his mind is weak. But nobody has to know.After all, he wants to go back to his life of general uselessness after the war is over, and Nie Mingjue would never allow it if he saw a single sign of competence from him.But this has consequences that he didn't expect. Rec: One of the absolute best stories in this fandom when it comes to Nie Huaisang’s characterization -- he’s clever and yet so very Huaisang, in such a believable way that *hands* I can’t explain how much satisfaction I get out of reading and rereading this story. Honourable mention: A Decisive Victory by Hypatia3 (~24k, WIP) Summary: When Jin Guangyao acts against the Nie Sect a little earlier, Nie Huaisang ends up in over his head as acting sect leader. But he has a responsibility and a duty to his sect. His brother is counting on him until he recovers.Or Nie Huaisang loses his temper, starts a war, and impresses a lot of people along the way. Rec: This is not marked XiSang, and is a divergence from the earlier Tactician story (around chapter 7) but it’s such fun to read and Huaisang’s interactions with Lan Xichen are top notch, so I can’t help mentioning it here.

4. from tomb to tomb by @the-pretzel (~16k)

Summary: It's a lot easier to get truth out of someone, even one with a very good reason to lie, when they're drunk. Or, five times Nie Huaisang was drunk and once it was Lan Xichen's turn instead. Rec: Written to capture moments over the years during the course of the show, as Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang dance around each other, this story is absolutely beautiful and vivid. I can still see the scenes of the story pop up in my head like drawings, of Lan Xichen walking in on semi-hungover Nie Huaisang and the sheer tension between them enough to keep you breathlessly reading.

Honourable mention: when i'm reborn by @the-pretzel (~1.1k)

Summary: Nie Huaisang's daemon settles the day he finds out what Jin Guangyao has done. (His Dark Materials fusion) Rec: A very short, very lovely daemon AU, which I’m definitely reading as XiSang :)

5. What I had to do by @ibijau (~20k) Summary: After three years in seclusion, Lan Xichen gets an unexpected guest he would rather have avoided. Yet when he learns that Nie Huaisang is dying from a curse, he is forced to confront his guilt toward Jin Guangyao's fate and the people his sworn brother hurt. Rec: I’d say this is a fandom classic, so you’ve probably read it already :D But, one of my favourite things about this story is the way it captures Nie Huaisang running away from emotions, and Lan Xichen being selfless when it comes to those he cares about. 6. gather jewels from graveyards by LuckyDiceKirby (~15k) Summary: Nie Huaisang stole happiness from Lan Xichen. He stole peace. If he could just see him, and see for himself exactly what he’s done, and know—that will be enough. Then he’ll be able to paint again, and his hands won’t shake as he does it, and he’ll remember why he ever in his life bothered to put brush to ink to paper. After all, a man should have to live with his mistakes. There is no other way to learn from them. His brother believed that. Rec: One of the first stories I read for this ship and so well done! This is one where Nie Huaisang feels very guilty, and who doesn’t enjoy reading that? Nie Huaisang comes to the Hanshi to make amends, and doesn’t go away when Lan Xichen won’t see him.

7. When the world is cold (I will feel a glow) by @marsdiogenes (~3k)

Summary: Xichen is trying very hard to get his crush to notice him, but gallery curator Nie Huaisang has a job to do and would appreciate it if Lan Xichen's beautiful face would stop for a moment so he can focus. Mingjue just wants to have a nice, quiet family dinner and for everyone to respect his efforts.

Rec: I don’t normally go for Modern AUs for this ship, but this was so fun and sexy! Also Nie Mingjue’s knowing reaction is :3 8. to embrace doubt by fensandmarshes, Fleetling, idendreams, medievalfantasyqueen, space_enjolras, sxnshot (blasphemyincarnate)

Summary: Five times people thought they understood Nie Huaisang + one time someone admitted they didn’t - a collaborative, semi-chronological character study of Nie Huaisang through other characters’ eyes. Rec: Okay, it’s technically not marked shippy, but you tell me that someone who thinks about Nie Huaisang the way Lan Xichen does in this story, in the chapter that’s from his pov can possibly not love him, and I won’t believe it. The lyrical prose is the best description in a paragraph I’ve ever read of Nie Huaisang.

9. Love of my life, I hate you by Ibijau (~126k) Summary: With Qishan Wen growing ever more powerful and menacing, QInghe Nie and Gusu Lan decide to cement a firm alliance between their sects through a marriage between their children. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang are less than thrilled to learn this, but nobody is asking for their opinion anyway Rec: At first, I wasn’t sold on Lan Xichen being so thoughtless in his treatment of Nie Huaisang as a child and mostly wanted to smack him, but damn if the later events don’t make up for it, make him grow up, and turn the tables around. :D This story is utterly satisfying to read, like one of those novels that give your Id everything you want, eventually. I love slow burn and this is that in spades! So much fun, I’ve re-read parts of it multiple times already.

Honourable mention: Ibijau has so many interesting XiSang stories, like the one where Jin Rusong survives and Nie Huaisang ends up raising him (Second Chances For First Time Villains), and the one where Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang, both in love with someone else, make a marriage match and solve crimes together ( We can light a match and burn it down), the god!LXC AU, and many others. Check them out! And finally,

10. Chapter 95: LXC finds out about JGY and tells NHS, from MDZS short fics by nirejseki ( @robininthelabyrinth) (~1k) Summary: In that AU where LXC pretends to be LWJ and discovers NMJ's head, what if he went on a quest to put the body of his old friend together and along the way accidentally ran into NHS who's on the same mission. And they realize the other knows! Rec: Nirejseki writes a lot of great Nie brothers content, and this is one short story that can arguably turn into XiSang in the future. The possibilities of this AU make it so exciting, I had to include it on the list even though NHS and LXC only talk and nothing else happens. ...Okay, that was more than ten fics here, but can you blame me? 😍 I love these two together. And with the XiSang week running we have so much new stuff!

#xisangweek2020 #xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #the untamed #mdzs #fic recs #favourite xisang fic recs #watch tumblr eat this post because external links lol #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

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The Ballad Of Y/N Part 2 (Jaskier x Reader)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier

Fandom: The Witcher

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader, Pining

Warnings: Slight violence, injury and blood

Word Count: 7,7k words

Summary: After what happened in the mountains, Y/N is conflicted and must make a decision about Geralt and, especially, Jaskier.

Notes: This ended up being more focused on Jaskier, but I love the result as well. Enjoy part 2, I definitely did writing it. And thanks so much for all the feedback and support for the imagine :)

Links: AO3

THIS IS PART 2, READ PART 1 FIRST!

The harrowing sight of fire. A big cloud of smoke floating in the air. The smell of ashes of what used to be whole. Everything is now empty. Incomplete. Broken.

Embers came over to me, burning my skin and hurting me. My shirt caught fire, bringing a sharp pain to my stomach and my side.

“Y/N!” I awoke to meet with Jaskier’s face. His furrowed brows arched when our eyes met. “Wake up, it’s morning”

Slightly disoriented still, I looked around. The sun was slowly rising in the horizon, bringing warmth to where we were as its rays filtrated through the leaves. It was a much smaller forest than the one we had previously rested in, but the similarity with it made me uneasy.

“We need to continue” Geralt’s deep voice made itself heard in the silence.

Jaskier patted my shoulder and stood up, walking to stand next to the witcher and his horse. I scowled at the thought of my missing horse, and even grimaced when I tried to pull myself up.

The fire from the dream had carried on to real life, as the wound still burned in my torso. I looked down and remembered it was slowly closing, definitely leaving a scar. I sighed in resignation and walked after Geralt. Jaskier had been leaning his shoulder against a thick tree trunk, but easily went after me.

The quietness didn’t last longer while we walked.

“Slept well, Y/N?” He asked me, gently nudging me.

I noticed Geralt looking over his shoulder to us. He paused, letting go of Roach’s reins and turning to me.

“How’s your wound?” His deep voice put an end to Jaskier’s chatter.

I just shrugged, not wanting to bring attention to it. At least I hadn’t bled through the bandages, which was enough for now.

“Say, lady Y/N” Jaskier said to me, and he was grinning when I faced him. “Where are you going now?”

I rolled my eyes tiredly, thinking that for a poet he wasn’t always the most tactful. I didn’t reply to him, and just continued walking. Geralt emulated me, walking alongside Roach as we returned to the path.

Behind me I heard the sound of Jaskier’s lute as he absently played a tune. Its catchy yet soft tone filled the silence between us.

“Well?” He insisted, realizing he wasn’t getting an answer.

As all response, I looked at him over my shoulder. Displeased with my reaction, he made a comical face that nearly made me laugh. I couldn’t tell if it was deliberate, but I contained my chuckle in any case.

For a brief moment, the music stopped yet continued after a small sigh from the bard. He then began mumbling lyrics as he was apparently composing a song on the spot.

“Actually” Geralt said over the improvised music. “We need to know where we’re headed”

The witcher wasn’t looking at me, merely tilting his head in my direction. He was right, we needed a destination. I thought for a moment and resigned myself to the most obvious choice.

“I… suppose we should go to the nearest town” I clutched my side, realizing I wouldn’t be able to travel on foot all that long. They didn’t have to know, but I was planning on resting wherever we found an inn.

Geralt nodded his head, not replying to me. He then looked up ahead and caressed Roach’s neck.

“Blessed be the witcher” Jaskier suddenly sang in a dramatic voice, slightly elongating the syllables. “He can get in”

I quickly turned around and scrunched my nose at him in mockery.

“He’s not annoying me” I sang in the same tune, teasing the bard.

Much to my surprise, he suddenly stopped everything as his mouth fell wide open. Weren’t it because the lute hung from his torso, it would have dropped to the ground.

“You have a wonderful singing voice” Jaskier said with quite a silly grin. Not bothered at all, he instead appeared to be smitten.

I hesitated for a moment, secretly flustered at his adoring look. However, I quickly recovered and shrugged one shoulder.

“Do I? What an incredible discovery” Smirking as I glanced at him, I nodded towards Jaskier. “Keep playing, at least your singing voice isn’t as annoying as your chatter”

Geralt let out what sounded a lot like a chuckle. I knew our travelling companion hadn’t heard him, though, so I didn’t point it out.

At my petition, he continued playing his lute and lowly singing as he made up lyrics that he mumbled too low to hear. Despite the silence setting again aside from the music, the quietness was somewhat calm and comfortable.

A sudden thought popped up in my head, too curious about what the future might bring. If I had been affected by a dragon’s attack, who knew what else might endanger us next? But someone did know, and he was standing right before me.

“Can I ask you a question, Geralt?” I suddenly piped up, earning a surprised glance from him.

“Ask…”

“What other creatures are out there? I mean, what tales can you tell me about dangerous creatures I should be wary of?”

He tilted his head to the side in a resigned gesture, but just as he was opening his mouth, Geralt was interrupted.

“Excuse me, I am the bard!” Jaskier exclaimed, clearly offended. If I didn’t know any better, I could have thought he was… jealous. “Why are you not asking me?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know a common story-teller knew more about creatures than a witcher”

“Hm” Geralt amusedly hummed, glancing back at me and pretending Jaskier wasn’t there as the bard pouted at us.

“There’s the striga, kikimora, drowner, djinn…” Before he could continue listing creatures whose names didn’t sound friendly at all, he was interrupted once again.

“Ah, the djinn” Jaskier sighed, looking up to the sky with absent eyes. “Brings back memories”

“Did you get three wishes?” I asked him, turning to him in curiosity.

“Not… exactly” He quickened his pace a bit to catch up to us.

“If only I could have a djinn…” I couldn’t help but to say, daydreaming about the possibilities. I could right many wrongs and undo many tragedies.

“Be careful what you wish for” The two said at the same time, exchanging an eloquent glance. I stared at them in awe, but sensing those memories were quite tumultuous, I decided to change the subject.

“What can you tell me about, uh… strigas?” I asked Geralt, whose yellowish eyes landed on me.

“They are under a curse” He began to say, continuing to lead the way to our destination.

Returning to his music, Jaskier played his lute and sang while I listened to Geralt’s tale.

Just as I was considering risking my own safety to hold on to Roach out of pure exhaustion, we arrived to a town.

“Thank goodness…” I muttered under my breath at the sight.

Geralt had gotten tired of telling me stories, but Jaskier had barely stopped fiddling with his lute. It was refreshing to put an end to his singing for a bit, and to finally rest.

Needing some sort of relief, I leaned against a tree. At least that way I didn’t have to support my full weight.

The witcher got down from his horse and tied it to a close by post when we passed the entrance of the small town. He then turned to us, pointing a gloved finger at Jaskier.

“Stay here” As he lowered his hand, he nodded towards a nearby tavern. “I will ask where the closest inn is”

The second after, his eyes landed on me. I wondered if I appeared to be feeble and sick again. I certainly wasn’t feeling my best, but I was still injured and tired from all the walking. We had been fortunate that we weren’t too far from civilization.

If Geralt was thinking about my condition, he didn’t show it. Instead, he took a step back.

“We’ll come with you!” Jaskier suggested, smiling cheerfully and already making to move.

“No, wait here” Without a word, he faced his back to us. “Stay out of trouble”

I gawked at him, knowing he was more likely to get in trouble in there than us.

“Common folk don’t like witchers” I began, despite not really wanting to walk not even one more step. “Geralt, we should-“

“Exactly” Was his simple reply as he walked away from us.

“Don’t tell me you actually care about us!” Jaskier exclaimed so he was sure to be heard.

Geralt completely ignored him and carried on. I truly hoped they weren’t hostile towards him in that tavern. Jaskier had commented on how the witcher was treated as Geralt told me about their adventures.

“Well then” My remaining companion leaned a hand on the tree I was against. “Seems it’s just us now, we can chat for a bit”

“Of course” I tiredly plopped down on the ground, regretting it a little when my landing wasn’t exactly graceful. But I refused to rub my sore bum in front of Jaskier. “You never seem to run out of conversation”

He smirked and stared for a moment as he towered over me. His playful expression changed, however, and he crouched down to be at eye level with me.

“Are you feeling alright?” Jaskier’s hand fell on my knee. “Did Geralt move too quickly? Perhaps we should have maintained a slower pace”

I chuckled, secretly endeared by his concern. My hand rested over his, right over the bruises on his knuckles that he got for punching a man intent on attacking me when my back was turned to him. I nodded to comfort him.

“I’m fine” I leaned my head back on the tree. “Just tired”

“That witcher…” A playful smile appeared on his lips, spreading to his blue eyes as he watched me. “I’ll have a word with him”

“Good luck with that, Jaskier” I patted his hand before letting go of it. His glance fell over the place where my hand used to be over his.

“Tell me, my lady” The corner of his lips curved up further, now mischievously, at the nickname. “Where to from here?”

I hadn’t realized I would have to make my mind up again so soon. Averting my gaze in deep thought, I asked myself that very question. I really didn’t know. I felt completely lost.

“I suppose I could stay with you until we part ways…” He suddenly frowned at my words. “Actually, I… I think I would like to start again… Somewhere new, somewhere big with lots of people”

My eyes absently glanced around, seeing the too peaceful environment. After what happened, I knew deep within me that I would need the busy life of a big city. Certainly bigger than this little town.

“Oh…” Jaskier solely nodded. “I see”

The sudden sadness in his eyes made my heart falter. I enjoyed their company, but I couldn’t be with them always. I needed to be on my own, depending only on myself.

I opened my mouth to add a few encouraging words, but a loud sound stopped me. The both of us got startled and gazed over to the tavern, where the noise came from. Soon after, the door was violently swung open and a burly figure appeared.

Geralt was being jeered by the people, who threw things at him and called him names. Mutant, atrocity. Monster.

“I can’t believe it” Jaskier muttered between grit teeth, standing to his feet.

A group was gathering around the tavern to see why the commotion started. As soon as they spotted the witcher, the newcomers circled around him and joined the assault on him.

I wasn’t as spry as the bard at the moment, so I tiredly leaned on the tree to stand up and reunite with them. Jaskier was shouting at everyone, defending Geralt. The witcher didn’t seem surprised nor bothered by their treatment, merely resigned.

“Leave him alone, you dimwitted fools!” The bard was telling them, earning a tired glance from his friend. It seemed to silently tell him not to bother.

Someone pushed Jaskier, who retaliated in offence. I clicked my tongue, annoyed to put up with their hateful behavior, and did my best to hurry their way to intervene.

Geralt was shaking his head, but continued walking away from the tavern. Jaskier wasn’t content with his apparent indifference, and insisted on lecturing them. Chaos unleashed as everyone started shouting and hitting. The bard covered his head as things were being thrown and I started panicking.

I turned around, feeling out of breath at how wrong everything could go. There was no sight of Geralt. Facing Jaskier again, I faltered when I realized he had been struck and was now bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

Trying to make my way to him, I pushed through the crowd. Just as I was about to reach him, I gasped when they hit him in the head.

“Jaskier!” He fell limply to the ground, landing with a heavy thud.

My heart was racing wildly. He wasn’t moving. I hurried to check on him, but didn’t get to. A heavy blow landed on my own head, and my knees buckled as the pain and blackness engulfed me like an old friend.

Everything hurt. It took me a few seconds to understand why my side felt like it was on fire, until I remembered my wound. The distant yet unforgettable sensation of a blade piercing my skin made me feel like it all happened so long ago. Even if it occurred merely one day ago.

“Y/N?” Despite the hushed tone, the sudden voice was strident to my ears and gave me a headache. I frowned and moved my head trying to get away from the hurtful sound.

A force gently shook my shoulder as that someone called me again. Wait, I recognized that voice…

“Y/N” Making an effort to slowly open my eyes, I was received with a worried Jaskier. His expression relaxed when his blue eyes met mine.

I groaned when I remembered the commotion outside the tavern. The shouting and fighting. Objects flying and hitting us. Being knocked out. Now it made sense why my head hurt so terribly and the blood seemed to throb in my temples.

“Are you alright?” The bard was kneeling down, not moving as he watched me carefully.

I noticed his eyes lowering down to my abdomen. Following their direction, I could see blood seeping through my bandages and clothes. I sighed tiredly.

I didn’t reply, though, too disoriented to form a coherent sentence. Instead I looked around to find myself in a small dirty cell.

“What happened?” I managed to put together, even if my voice was hoarse.

“They threw us in here, said we were ‘disturbing the order’ if you can believe it” Jaskier huffed in outrage. “They took my lute…”

“Remind me to thank them later” I forced myself to say, making him laugh a little.

My tired body complained when I tried to sit up, hence I ended up lying down again. Jaskier knitted his eyebrows together at the sight and offered me a hand. It was tiring to even reach out to take it.

“Up you go!” He encouraged me as he pulled at me, grunting in effort.

Once I was sitting up, I heaved a sigh. At least my mind felt a bit clearer already.

I looked up to him, holding the back of my head and feeling a bump there. He also had dry blood on his face, a sight that made me wince.

“Where’s Geralt?”

“Wish I knew, but I think he left”

Jaskier was now pacing, but I urged him to get closer with a hand gesture. He fidgeted around and rushed over when he noticed my petition, taking me by the arm. I stood to my feet with his help. As soon as I was up, however, I separated myself from him.

My headache was slowly but surely subsiding. Taking a few deep breaths after I was hit with a head rush, I then turned to the bard.

“Maybe Geralt thought we had the common sense to run away”

Jaskier seemed confused at my statement, and I curiously awaited his reply.

“He thought wrong” Was what he came up with, reluctantly pulling a smile out of me.

He relaxed his tense shoulders when I chuckled, but then stared. To divert the attention off me, I reached out a hand towards his face.

“Those townspeople are barbaric” Just as my finger was about to brush against the cut on his cheek, I pulled away. “I… saw them knocking you out too”

Jaskier blinked several times and cleared his throat before showing me a smirk.

“Where you worried about me, my lady Y/N?”

“No, and if you ever call me that again it will be me knocking you out with a fist to your face”

“Hold on, are you blushing?!”

Frustrated that he found my behavior so oddly endearing, I faced my back to him and went to lean on the closest wall. I was truly tired, even if the blow to the head had luckily been fleeting with its pain.

“What are we going to do now?” I spoke over my shoulder, still not facing him.

The bard paused for a moment before replying. I heard him lowly laughing to himself before regaining his composure. He would never forget my brief moment of bashfulness, would he? I blamed my possibly concussed state and my sore wound.

He threw his arms up in uncertainty and they slapped back against his thighs. That was his whole answer. I heaved a sigh, repressing a grunt when the slight movement brought a pang to my side.

“Great…”

“I’m sure we’ll think of-“

Jaskier was cut off by a distant sound that startled us both. We exchanged a preoccupied glance. The sound of fighting brought hope to our hearts to escape our predicament, but it also worried us that things might not get better, but worse.

“Uh…” He abruptly broke the tense silence. “What… What was that?”

“Geralt, perhaps…?” I replied, squeezing my arm against my stomach.

Jaskier stared at me and raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head, nearly in doubt.

The two of us jolted up in startle with a loud bang that felt closer than the previous commotion. The bard frowned and anxiously moved closer to me, so much so that our sides ended up gracing against each other.

The door at the end of the corridor opened, and so a figure dressed in all black appeared.

“Geralt!” Jaskier breathed out, taking a step towards the witcher. “Am I glad to see you, old friend”

It truly was a welcome sight as he approached us, as strong and determined as ever.

“Stand aside” Geralt gestured for us to move, and so we did as he asked, pressing ourselves against the lateral wall.

As soon as the path was clear, he held his hand up and a wave of power blasted through the big door with bars. It fell down with a very loud metallic noise and landed where we were standing just mere seconds ago.

“Excellent!” Jaskier jumped over the fallen door and went to reunite with Geralt.

The witcher’s yellowish eyes fell over him before turning to me. I felt inhibited with his close scrutiny and hurried to exit that dreaded place. My headache was nearly gone, but the feebleness that accompanied it lingered.

“Are you hurt?” Geralt asked me, causing Jaskier to turn to me again.

“Yes” I rolled my eyes, limping my way out of the cell and bearing a sarcastic grin. “But then again, I was hurt before those lovely folks went crazy over nothing”

“Where were you, by the way?” Asked Jaskier, but Geralt deadpanned. It occurred to me that he had fled the scene, but... what was he going to do otherwise, kill everyone there that opposed him?

The bard retrieved his steps to be by my side, holding his hand up. I didn’t take it even as it continued to hover in the air.

“There’s no time for that, hurry” Geralt replied in a flat voice.

“I’m going as fast as I can” I closed my hand in a fist when I noticed, but was adamant in getting out on my own.

“Let me bloody help you!” Jaskier went to wrap an arm around my waist, but I quickened my pace before he could. “Y/N, we need to get out of here!”

“For once, Jaskier is right” The witcher’s words baffled us both, but it was what he did next that made me speechless.

“Ah!” I couldn’t help but to yelp when he swept me up over his shoulder and carried me without breaking a sweat. “Put me down!”

“That will do it” Jaskier muttered under his breath, jogging to leave our undeserved imprisonment.

“Put me down, Geralt” I hit my fists against his back, but it was so sturdy that I doubted he felt it at all. “Witcher, I swear…!”

“You are injured, even more than before” As he walked, mindlessly carrying me on his shoulder, he seemed completely unfazed by the whole situation. “We don’t have time for your stubbornness”

Knowing I had no other option but to be carried off there, I crossed my arms and seethed in silence.

I still didn’t say anything when Geralt finally put me down. He only did when we were outside of that town and at a safe distance from those people that hated witchers.

The two of them didn’t seem bothered by what had just happened. Jaskier was even feverishly writing on a piece of paper he had taken out of his pocket. The inspiration of his lifetime, apparently.

Waiting for Geralt to perhaps apologize, I stared at him expectantly.

“You’re welcome” The witcher told me, unperturbed by my sharp glare. He just eyed me.

Stomping my feet, I walked up ahead, leading the way even without truly knowing where we were headed.

“I think I prefer her being mouthy than being quiet” Jaskier mumbled, and grimaced when I glared over my shoulder to him.

Shaking my head, I merely continued walking. I was so frustrated. Until they walked into my life, I was fine. Everything was calm. I had never been injured, thrown into jail or challenged in such way.

Instead of dwelling on such negative emotions, I attempted to take deep breaths and distract my mind from it. Hence, I focused on my surroundings. We had made it to quite a beautiful meadow, separated by a dusty path in the middle that contrasted with the greenness around us.

“I didn’t hear you say thank you” Geralt’s voice sounded deeper than usual. If it was deliberate, I couldn’t tell. In any case, I wasn’t intimidated by it, nor him.

“Thank you?” A sarcastic chuckle escaped my lips as I turned my whole body to face him. “Don’t pretend you’re any better than me, witcher”

“What do you mean?” He replied, still calm and collected.

“You pretend to be a lone wolf and be annoyed at our mere existence” A dangerous look flashed on his eyes when I pushed my hand against his shoulder. “Why did you come back for us then? Why do you let us come with you if it isn’t because you care about us?”

“I could ask you the same question, Y/N” Geralt walked closer to me, but I defiantly held his gaze. Even with that contained rage in it and a vein popping up in his forehead.

“Alright, alright” Jaskier patted Geralt’s shoulder and tugged at my arm to put some distance between us. “We’re all friends here, calm down!”

I pressed on, but the bard pulled at me until I was forced to glance away. Reluctantly heeding his request, we took a step back and dropped the subject. It truly wasn’t worth it, and I knew that. I just couldn’t let him get away with it. Even if he was right, and I didn’t… even if I liked them and… I... Well... If Geralt thought he knew me was because he was just like me anyway.

“I know what might cheer you up!” The bard piped up in a cheerful tone that clashed with the tense atmosphere. “I’ll fetch you a beautiful flower! All ladies love flowers, right? Everyone does, anyway. What’s there not to like?”

We were forced to share a glance when we noticed Jaskier going into the meadow where the flowers and weeds reached up to his hips. I had a bad feeling about him blindly wandering there.

“Jaskier” Geralt simply called him, still not moving from the spot.

“It will be just a moment!” The bard brushed him off, focused on picking up flowers.

If I weren’t so vexed still, I would smile at how silly yet endearing he was being. However, all my resentment faded anyway when I spotted a shadow amongst the tall weed.

“Did something just move in there?” I uttered, throwing my hand to my dagger and walking closer to Jaskier.

“It did” Geralt said too, running over to him. “Jaskier!!”

Annoyed by the interruption, the bard turned around to us. Seeing our panic, he looked behind him again just as a beast mildly resembling a wolf left its hiding place. Jaskier exclaimed in surprise and fear and threw himself away from it, trying to meet us.

Geralt unsheathed his sword and attacked the beast so quickly that I was barely able to follow his movements. I was left behind, still slower, while the two of them faced the danger.

“Geralt!” Even if I knew he was the most capable out of all of us, I couldn’t help but to worry. Just like I did back on the mountain. This time I didn’t regret jumping into action either, even with the reminder of that moment in the form of a wound in my stomach.

The witcher looked to us, being distracted for a moment as he shouted at us to run away. It was just long enough for that beast to lunge at him. When Geralt was down, it went back to Jaskier, I assumed that for being the one to disturb its tranquility.

I wasn’t fast enough to get to it before it reached him, and Jaskier exclaimed under its weight. The beast let out a shriek when I threw myself to it and sunk my dagger on its back. That seemed to bring its attention away from my friend, but made me its target as a result. It casted its claw against me, and I instinctively shielded my face with an arm, feeling it tearing my sensitive skin and making it burn. I held up my dagger again and was about to try and fight back when Geralt came to help.

The witcher kicked the beast off me, away from Jaskier as well, and struggled with it. The bard immediately dragged himself towards me, and it was a relief to see him still in one piece. The both of us breathed heavily, turning our attention to Geralt when we ensured the other was alright.

Beast and witcher continued to struggle, but soon a sword sunk into the animal’s flesh and it perished with a last cry. The sudden silence after the chaos made me aware of the ringing in my ears and the sound of my heartbeat resonating within me.

I nearly got startled when Geralt violently turned to us. His eyes appeared to be darker than usual. I shivered.

We must have presented a terrible state, lying there in the ground, shaking and gasping. He closed in the distance between us as he saved his sword on its place behind his back.

“It got you both” Was all he said, pointing at Jaskier’s chest. “Next time don’t be so reckless”

When he looked down to himself, seeing the front of his shirt shred to pieces and filled with blood, the bard’s face went several shades paler.

“Oh, gods! Was it venomous?” He helplessly looked from Geralt to me. “Am I dying? Am I?!”

“No!” The witcher said in exasperation to his panic.

“You’re fine, you big baby” I grumbled, making a titanic effort to sink a knee to the ground and pull myself up from that position.

Geralt helped Jaskier up and patted his shoulder once the bard was to his feet.

“What was that?” He choked out, gulping as he caught his breath.

“A warg” The witcher threw a glance to the beast’s body. “A rare breed of wolf”

Restlessness settled on my stomach at the strange feeling in the air, so I opened my mouth to say something. Noticing this, Geralt’s stern glance fell over me.

“Don’t do that again” He took my wrist with an iron grasp, making me realize I still clutched my dagger stained with crimson.

“What, save Jaskier?” I complained, annoyed by his accusatory tone.

“My job” Geralt pushed my hand away with disdain. His voice was deep and dangerous again. “You’re lucky this is steel”

I stared at my blade and thought about what he had just said. In reality, I hadn’t known anything about that beast. I would have lost my time if it weren’t vulnerable to my weapon, and then I could be dead. As a witcher, he did know the creature’s vulnerabilities and how to fight it. I had been too impulsive. Still, I only wanted to save my friends! Well, my… companions. My travelling companions. No matter what, I didn’t regret it still.

“Y/N” Jaskier shook my shoulder, since I was immersed in my thoughts. “Your arm...”

Blinking in an attempt to focus on what he was telling me, I glanced at him. It took a few seconds to assimilate what he said to me. I paused to save my weapon and then followed his gaze to see what he was talking about.

“Perfect, just perfect!” A nasty looking scratch now covered the outside of my forearm, profusely bleeding. At least it wasn’t as deep. Besides, as I peered at Jaskier I remembered he was hurt too.

“We’re matching” He forced out a smile as he pointed from the claw marks on his chest to the ones I presented.

With that simple and stupid comment, all my anxiety seemed to vanish. It was so foolish and unexpected that I found myself smiling. I took a deep breath when I realized I had been holding it in.

“Here” Geralt called us, seemingly telling us to remember he was there with us.

Roach was now walking alongside him, and I assumed he had gone looking for his horse. That was a loyal horse, patiently waiting for him like that.

Jaskier clutched his injured chest as he dragged his feet to walk over to Geralt. I followed after him just as the witcher, along with the horse, distanced himself from the path.

“We should rest and treat those wounds” He didn’t look at us as he pointed to a patch of grass that we were supposed to wait for him in.

“W-Where are you going?” Jaskier asked, confused that he was walking away.

“To get some wood and light a fire” Geralt muttered, not stopping. “It will be night soon”

“Is there a problem?” Even if things were slightly tense between us still, I felt the need to ask.

“Yes” Finally, the witcher halted. After a few seconds of hesitance, he faced us. “I don’t want to be around you two when you are like this”

“Like what?” Jaskier put a hand on his hip, watching him in defiance.

Geralt didn’t answer, just sunk his hand on his pocket and tossed something to him. The bard managed to catch it and observed the bandages in his hands. That done, the witcher continued on his way to search for some firewood.

When I tore my glance away from his burly figure, I met with Jaskier’s eyes intently focused on me. A sudden heat had arrived to my cheeks, making me blush. He only smiled at me.

“Come on” He said, moving to the exact spot the witcher pointed to before. “I’ll bandage that arm up”

While I followed after him, I glued my eyes to the ground. With the corner of my eye I saw him sitting by a big boulder and occupied the space next to him. As soon as we were sitting together, he carefully took my arm in his hands.

I observed Jaskier as he tightly but gently wrapped the bandage around my bloody arm. His warm hands were soft and I felt butterflies in my stomach when his fingers squeezed lightly as his other hand handled the bandage.

“Um…” I was honestly so rattled by his tender cares that I needed to say something. “What do you think he was talking about?”

He lifted his head, staring at me for a moment. A sweet smile occupied his lips as he lightly tilted his head. I had to purse my lips not to smile myself at the cute gesture.

“I don’t know” He said, however. I wished I could read his thoughts.

“Maybe he’s still mad at me” Thinking back, I shouldn’t have talked to him like that. I was just... angry and frustrated.

Jaskier chuckled in amusement, like I had just said something funny.

“No offence, Y/N, but you started it”

“He implied I couldn’t do it myself and carried me against my will!”

“Geralt saved you back there, you were bleeding and…” He stopped covering my arm to look into my eyes, knitting his brow. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because I thought I would be brave!”

When I realized what I just said, it was too late. I was irritable, unwell and exhausted. The intense activity of these days had proved too much for me to handle, especially since I kept bottling everything up.

Feeling his eyes on me that refused to move, I dared to look up at Jaskier. His expression of confusion turned to sadness at my words. I mentally cursed myself for saying it out loud. For saying it in front of him. For feeling hot tears in my eyes.

“And you aren’t?” His voice was soft and low as a whisper.

I didn’t reply right away. It felt like the lump in my throat wouldn’t let me speak, but I did. Might as well continue what I started. Besides, I couldn’t bear to see that sympathetic glint in his blue eyes.

“No, I’m terrified all the time” I averted my eyes when my voice trembled.

Jaskier was quiet for several seconds. His eyes wouldn’t leave me, and I mentally begged him to continue bandaging my arm instead.

“And despite it all, you’re still here” Almost like he heard my thoughts, his hands slowly returned to their task. “Afraid or not”

“Well, I don’t want to be afraid” Because he was taking too long, I moved my arm and tried to do it myself. “And I don’t want to show it”

Much to my dismay, Jaskier’s hands didn’t let me go. Even if carefully, he tugged at me to return my arm to its previous position.

“How is that helping?”

I rolled my eyes and heaved a big sigh. Even then, breathing was still a bit difficult. Everything had changed so much in so little time…

“Now that I know your secret…” He made a pause as he finished with my arm and gingerly patted it with a flourish. “I’m not going to like you any less”

Jaskier lifted a hand, moving my hair out of my face and leaving something over my ear. Utterly astonished, I reached out to touch it and find that he had managed to get a flower from the meadow after all.

Forgetting all bashfulness to avoid eye contact, I threw him an astonished glance. Jaskier only smirked a bit, despite the gesture’s tender nature. I couldn’t tell what exactly he meant by that. Or rather, I wasn’t sure. Nor did I want to make the wrong assumptions and get both our hearts broken.

After spending the night in that meadow, taking turns to ensure we wouldn’t be attacked again, we continued on our way. We had treated all our wounds and I had changed my bandages, which was an improvement on my mood. The arrival of a brand new day seemed to bring hope and a fresh start with it.

A sense of normality returned to our group. Jaskier alternated between writing down some lyrics and talking to Geralt. The other in return resigned himself to bearing the bard’s endless prattle.

I had blocked out the sound of their voices and footsteps, paying mind to the many thoughts in my head. For that very reason, I had not opened my mouth ever since we left the meadow.

Save for a few small glances, neither of them commented on it. I appreciated that they gave me time and space to think things over as I fell behind.

We would soon arrive to the city, and I had expressed my wish to stay there while they carried on to new adventures. I had promised myself to start anew in another city, somewhere big with lots of opportunities. Somewhere I could create a new routine.

Jaskier’s soft chuckle and Geralt’s amused noise, snippets of their conversation, brought me out of my thoughts for a brief moment. I might never see them again if we drifted away once there. Thinking to myself, I knew I would miss them. They were my friends after all.

In such short period of time I had grown accustomed to the sound of Jaskier’s pleasant voice. His jokes, comments and playful nicknames. To Geralt’s reluctant and exasperated protection as well as his annoyed grunts and his amused hums. Even Roach, I would miss.

Did I really want to leave all that for a monotonous existence that I had already experienced all my life? Would I really be able to abandon them after all we had been through? The thought of never being with them again broke my heart.

My mouth tasted bitter, and I knew exactly how to fix it.

“Geralt” I spoke up, surprising even myself after hours of quietness.

There was a clear resignation in his demeanor when he turned at the sound of his name.

“What is it?” The dangerous warning tone was present on his voice once more.

I could feel Jaskier’s eyes on me, quickly drifting to Geralt as he anxiously witnessed the scene. I showed a conciliatory smile that hopefully expressed I didn’t mean any harm.

“I shouldn’t have said all those things” The moment felt extremely awkward and so I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “It was uncalled for... You were helping me after all”

He might not have expected that, because I received no response at first. Behind him, Jaskier nudged him with a smile and Geralt reluctantly nodded.

“I might have been wrong to say what I did too” He spoke with some reluctance, but established eye contact. His were light and serene as he nodded.

When I thought he wouldn’t address the subject again, the corner of his lips curved up. I smiled back warmly.

“Wonderful” Jaskier clapped at our reconciliation. “Now we can enter Temeria as friends”

I rolled my eyes and teased him with just a glance. He solely smirked in retaliation. Taking a bow with flourish in my direction and a wink, Jaskier turned to Geralt again and kept talking about whatever he was boring him with.

The city was in sight now, and my nerves made my fingers tingle as we continued walking. It was closer and closer with each passing second. With every single step. I had to make a decision, stay there forever or continue with Geralt and Jaskier. Remain alone and safe or accompanied but vulnerable?

Everything felt slightly overwhelming as I forced myself to keep walking. My legs carried me in silence for what it felt like hours.

As we passed the frontier into the city’s territory, the world seemed to evolve before my very eyes. There was movement anywhere I looked, new faces and places, new opportunities.

“Y/N” Jaskier was suddenly next to me, grinning widely. “Have I ever told you about what Geralt did in Temeria the time he-“

He must have noticed my absent-mindedness and interrupted himself. When I took a look at him, that frown and sad expression had returned.

“Oh, right” His cheery tone had dropped as well. “This is where we part ways, isn’t it?”

I thought that we could travel together for a little longer. Just until I found a stable place where I could find my new home in Temeria. Nonetheless, they seemed to have business to take care of. Creatures to hunt, people to save, stories to tell and songs to sing.

Jaskier hesitated and so Geralt approached me first. Before doing anything, he took a few seconds and sighed. His hand then heavily fell on my shoulder.

“Goodbye, Y/N” He simply said to me, patting my back now. “Try to stay alive”

“You too, witcher” I grinned as we stared at each other, silently expressing what we wanted to say without needing any words. I considered hugging him, but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

He was about to turn around, but showed me a smile. A genuine wide smile that nearly felt out of place in his expression yet was heartwarming to see.

“Uh…” Jaskier briefly motioned to Geralt, who nodded and gave us a moment. The bard then offered me something with a blank expression. “I want you to have this”

Watching him closer, I recognized the badly hidden sadness of the moment. Despite it all, his hand was firm as our fingers brushed together. I hardly even glanced at the paper I took from him.

His neat handwriting covered most of it. The text was composed of short lines, making me wonder whether it was a poem or a song.

“What’s this?”

“Your song. I mean… my song for you”

“You actually wrote me a song, you sap?”

We both chuckled, but I felt warm and giddy at the gift. My fingers tightly held on to the paper as I cradled it against my chest. Something so simple, yet it felt like a treasure.

There was a long pause. The uncertainty of how to say goodbye to him was harrowing. He hesitated too, but resolved to do nothing more. It would only make our farewell more heartbreaking.

“Take care, Y/N” Despite having known him for only two days, I was aware of the fact that such serious tone was rare. And unbearable to me.

“Y-You too” I forced myself to say, nearly being unable to speak up.

Jaskier nodded and turned around, achingly slowly. Geralt waved at me one last time and walked with his friend. With my friend. They were both my friends.

Finding it impossible to watch them leave, I lowered my glance to the paper in my hands. A sudden melody, unhurried and romantic, played in my head. Nearly like he had put it there himself. The familiar sound of his voice accompanied it as I read the lyrics.

‘Tis the ballad of Y/N

As beautiful as fierce

Oh, valiant lovely Y/N

Soul of a warrior and heart of steel

My lovely lady Y/N

Oh how she makes me feel

Just with the beginning, I smiled widely. That warmth in my heart felt too wonderful to abandon. Despite everything that happened, I couldn’t leave them like that. I had never met anyone like them, I never had real friends. They had already found a special place in my heart, how could I deny that?

“Wait!” I loudly exclaimed, earning the attention of not only them, but of startled people around as well. But I didn’t mind them, only my friends.

The unlikely pair turned around to me. Geralt stood there patiently and nearly expectant. Jaskier seemed hopeful and excited like a puppy. I laughed under my breath and ran to them.

“You and your stupid songs, bard” I told the latter, shoving the paper against his chest.

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” His hand went for the paper, but it landed over mine. He didn’t retrieve it.

“Who will make sure you don’t annoy Geralt to death?”

“Hm” The aforesaid humored me, watching our every move.

“Let’s go, troubadour” I took his other hand in mine and began walking with him.

“Ohohoho!” He exclaimed, squeezing my palm against his. “Do you see this, Geralt? Geralt!”

The witcher let out one of his annoyed grunts and rolled his eyes. I didn’t have to be a mage to know he already grumbled about it in his mind.

“Geralt, look at this! She’s holding my hand”

I giggled and shoved him a little, deep down endeared by his excitement. I stopped laughing, however, when Jaskier leaned in and kissed me in the cheek. It greatly flustered me, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing it.

“If you’re going to do it, do it right” I tilted his head to face me again and smacked my lips against his. “You coward”

The kiss was too short and light. Hopefully, though, many more would follow it.

Jaskier gaped at the air and gawked at me, still not letting go of my hand. The rare sight of a speechless bard was delightful once more. He squeaked and pointed at me, blushing at my bluntness.

“Go ahead, pretend like I’m not here” Geralt said a few meters from us, not stopping his walking.

I grinned and tugged at Jaskier’s hand as he recovered. And to think that I could have missed out on that. While he regained his ability to speak, I took a deep breath. I felt a little lighter now.

Jaskier began going on about the countless adventures that awaited us. He wildly gestured, not letting go of my hand, as he excitedly rambled on. Geralt completely ignored him, but I smiled.

The wound on my stomach sent a pang to my torso, yet I didn’t mind it. It would surely leave a scar, still it would heal. Especially knowing Geralt and Jaskier were there to help me on my recovery.

I WROTE A SERIES BASED ON THIS, CALLED SOUL OF A WARRIOR, CHECK IT OUT! ;)

Tag list: @kingniazx / @greensadmoon / @they-call-me-thewildrose / @aviankin / @jasper-the-stan / @v3nusc3 / @kisabellar / @breezyfails / @iwannaendme5 / @squirrel-saloli / @saveatruckrideoptimusprime / @ultracolorfulnerdcollection / @creativemayhems / @bands-messed-me-up / @pantrashtic / @buckyness-intensifies / @kylosdankdealer / @angelias134 / @team-wang-puppy / @btsxtrbl / @szhead31 / @drunkonbuckybarnes // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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yoongiverse · 4 years

Text

hireath

(noun) a homesickness to a home which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was, the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

summary: when home no longer feels like “home”

pairing: yoongi x female!reader

genre: angst and lots of it

rating: sfw

word count: 1.8k

warnings: foul language, very sad yoongi

index: bolded marks the date and time, bolded and italicized marks a flashback with the date and time, (e/c) means “eye color,” (y/n) means “your name,”

song: when i was your man by bruno mars

author’s note: this was originally a levi ackerman fic but because i stopped writing for the attack on titans fandom, i’ve since then decided to change the character to be yoongi! the prompt of this came from ! please enjoy… unless you’ve read it already

december fifteenth, two thousand twenty

eleven forty-eight p.m

after what seems to be millions of years, yoongi comes home from work. being an idol at bighit entertainment was not an easy job. he’s either dancing his ass off with the rest of the members in the dance practice room, having photo shoots for god knows what, producing more songs than he can count on his hands, for fucks sake he’s just over worked with whatever the hell the company throws his way.

walking into his decently sized condo, yoongi slides off his heavy winter jacket and places it into the shoe/jacket cabinet that was ever so placed in probably the best spot ever, right next to the front door. following his jacket, he slides off his work shoes and places them on their designated spot.

now free from the constricting clothes, he walks into his study to place his bag down, which was full of the songs lyrics he didn’t manage to finish because he was way too damn busy doing some other shit that bang pd made him do. weirdly enough, yoongi doesn’t immediately launch into the comfort of his bed; instead, he walks out of his study and into his living room, which lies a very comfy white couch.

instead of sitting down on the couch like a normal person, his gaze lingers on the very prominent dent on one of the couch seats, and right next to it is another dent,

before, the couch was a safe haven, meant for two bodies cuddling closer in the harsh winter temperatures, but now, the white couch is barren holding onto the memories of him and his significant other.

december fifteenth, two thousand eighteen

ten twenty-five p.m

very prominent spells of laughter echo through the living room of yoongi’s condo. here he was laying down on the white couch with his girlfriend (y/n).

“yoongi, stop!” yells his dear girlfriend of two years as he places small, fleeting butterfly kisses down the side of her neck. to (y/n) and even yoongi himself, as something as simple as placing small kisses down her neck, it was a big surprise to both of them since yoongi never acted so openly loving.

never did it cross yoongi’s mind that he would ever have a girlfriend, yet here he is. for someone as busy and straightforward as him, he always thought that people would never love him, much less like him, but somehow, fate always seems to surprise. for some reason, that thought always seemed to cross his mind ever so often and it just so happened to make yoongi have such an urge to kiss her that he did.

“babe,” yoongi begins, ceasing his kisses to his and her dismay. calming down, she looks down at him, curiosity gleaming throughout her beautiful (e/c) eyes. ever so quietly yoongi says “i love you,” and proceeds to hold onto her tighter while stuffing his red kissed cheeks into her shoulder.

with her heart so full, she responds back with “i love you too yoongi, so much,” and hugs him back with all her might.

present

breaking away from his trance, he scoffs at nothing in particular and walks past the couch to the kitchen. within a few steps from the couch, he makes it into his semi-used kitchen.

he really never had the time to use the kitchen since he was always coming home late and eating mediocre takeout food. but over the past few years, the kitchen seemed to be a place to wind down.

looking around the counter tops, he notices the little details floating around. he noticed the small container of sugar next to his coffee maker. the sugar definitely did not belong to him, he fucking hated sugar in his coffee and was an avid black coffee drinker. he also noticed the coffee mugs with stupid sayings like “a.m juice” and “dwight you ignorant slut” placed around the counter tops of his kitchen, and for sure those mugs did not belong to him.

he then notices the very lonely ring placed on the counter top placed on top of a pink sticky note. a single “i’m sorry yoongi” is all that is written.

moving slowly and with a blank mind, he takes the ring and simply admires where it came from.

august fifth, two thousand nineteen

four thirty-two a.m

“(y/n),” is all he says as he stops walking. behind him, tree leaves are blowing softly through the wind, chirping birds creating a song that he’ll never understand. people clear of the surrounding area, it truly was just him and her.

“yoongi?” she questions, turning around in what seems to be the most beautiful manner yoongi has ever seen. her hair lightly billowing behind her, her dress ruffling from the wind, and her eyes so clear, brightly gleaming towards his.

it was clear to her that yoongi was extremely nervous, something quite shocking to her as yoongi was somehow a professional at hiding his emotions. so to ease his nervousness, she places a soft hand on his bicep. this causes his downcast eyes to meet hers as yoongi brings his dark chocolate eyes up.

with a sigh, he composes himself and manages out “(y/n), i’m not the best when it comes to giving what you want. i don’t give you the hugs or kisses that you want. i don’t always give you the words you want. honestly, i don’t give you anything that you want. but you stayed with me. you stayed with me even through the tour even when i wasn’t there with you. even through it all, you’re still with me. and even if i don’t show it, you mean so much to me. you are the very reason why i am here today, you’re my rock, you’re my home. and i know i don’t say this enough, but i love you so much. i love you so much that i want to stay with you forever.”

he pauses as he goes on to take the black, velvet box out of his jacket pocket and kneels on one knee.

“will you marry me?”

present

he swallows back the pain and walks away heading to his bedroom. he opens the door to his bedroom and continues to walk to his closet. he debates on what to wear, ultimately deciding to wear a black t-shirt with matching sweats to shield himself from the winter’s cold.

with his newly acquired clothes, he walks into the bathroom dismissing the clear doubles of everything. the blatant fact that there are two toothbrushes, two cups, and nearly two of everything, leaves his thoughts quicker than they came in.

without paying too much mind he quickly changes into said clothes and walks out padding over to the bed, finally hoping he can relieve the stresses of the day.

walking over to the right side of the bed, he takes the covers and lifts them up giving him the opportunity to slip under. gazing to the other side, he notices the emptiness of it clearly remembering the times that the space next to him wasn’t empty.

without him wanting to, his steel eyes take in the lack of a body that no longer lays with him, memories flowing back up to his conscience.

january nineteenth, twenty seventeen

ten forty-three p.m

“you ready to go to bed yoongi?” (y/n) asks from the door frame of his study. pointing his gaze up to his girlfriend and admires her choice of clothing. all she wears is a shirt way too big that is definitely his and shorts that are way too short, but he doesn’t care.

“hm, i’m coming, head off to bed first. i’ll be there shortly.” he returns back without bringing his gaze towards her. he hears her pad off to the bedroom.

yoongi then begins finishing up his last piece of his song, as he starts organizing his studio desk, putting his headphones back where they belong on his stand, pushing his mic back into its own little corner, and most importantly saving the file before closing the browser.

once he deems the papers to be organized enough, he turns off the light as he walks out of his study and into the bedroom. let me just say, the view that he sees when he walks in should be painted because damn she was cute.

she was cutely holding onto his side of the bed, it was as if she was trying to catch his scent. her legs were tangled between the comforter and tucked up to her chest, hair splayed out behind her, hands placed so gently by her face grasping yoongi’s pillow.

snapping out of his thoughts, he walks over to his side of the bed. carefully, he lifts (y/n) up and wraps her legs around his torso. now, in the comfort of his wonderful bed and his significant other, he feels all of the stress and tension leave his body.

with a sigh, he takes a quick glance at the girl hugging his chest and places a quick kiss on her forehead. “goodnight (y/n),” he whispers.

“i love you,” he finally says.

present

quickly, he turns over, no longer facing the empty side of the bed, not wanting to deal with the fact that the love of his life is absent from their bed.

“she’s gone.”

“she never loved me.”

“where did i go wrong?”

“i wasn’t a good enough fiance.”

“i wasn’t good enough.”

he kept chanting over and over again in his head. spiraling through his mind were all the things that he’s done wrong as a boyfriend and the things he should’ve done. everything and anything bad floated through his mind, making him feel like such a shitty person for how he treated you.

now, yoongi was a man of action, never was he able to clearly speak out his emotions and the thoughts floating through his mind. it seemed to him and others that his actions were very simple, never really portraying his love for her.

(y/n) always seemed to understand. she never cared, every action yoongi did no matter how small they were, she understood the weight of them. she simply understood him, unlike everybody else he’s come into contact with.

but, he’s lost her. she’s no longer his. she’s no longer here.

she’s gone.

to yoongi, the weight of those words brings him down further than he’s ever been. it brings him down so far, a lone tear escapes his eye.

more and more escape his eyes and he doesn’t even notice it, too caught up in his thoughts to even notice. soon enough, he’s sobbing quietly in the expanse of his lonely room.

time passes and he’s on the brink of falling asleep with tears still damp on his cheek. right before he falls into slumber, he whispers out:

“i’m sorry (y/n)”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts x reader #bangtan x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #agust d x reader #min yoongi x reader #myg x reader #yoongi angst #suga angst #agust d angst #bts angst #myg angst #agustd x reader

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a-vintage-snake · 3 years

Text

9. In All My Dreams I Drown

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Dukeceit

First chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter

Warnings: Implied child abuse, vomiting, dirty humor, basically Remus is Very Thirsty™ for that Snake Booty Characters: Janus “Deceit” Sanders, Remus Sanders

Summary: It is time for Remus’ first magic lessons

Word Count: 10213

Author’s Note: Heeeey there... Been a while, huh? Sorry if this took so long, I had to take a mental health break from writing for a while. But the good news is that I joined NaNoWriMo! I didn't hit 50k unfortunately, but I did hit nearly 30k! Anyways, enjoy!

Taglist: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme, @bihighandgivinghighfives, @atticusfinchthelegend, @hekking-happy-nonsense, @lockmcduckwoodchuck

If you want to be removed or added to the taglist, just ask!

Read on AO3

He was floating.

Remus wasn’t sure how, but it didn’t matter. He felt light as a feather, a drowsy grin stretching on his face. His gaze idly, unhurriedly, moved up. Stars and galaxies twinkled above him; shining in a symphony of colours that made him half-heartedly wish he had his sketchbook with him. Their light was filtered however… As if he was looking at them from underwater. Was he in the ocean? How was he even breathing?

Remus leaned back against his partner, and all those silly questions left his head. The man behind him was the only solid thing in this floaty, tranquil world of his, and the only thing that mattered right now. Hands ran down Remus’ body, lazily exploring his skin. They traced down his back in small circles, before sliding up and pulling through his hair, making him almost purr in contentment.

“Aren’t you a lovely thing, my little prince.” A voice amusedly crooned into his ear. It was not just a voice. It was without a doubt the loveliest voice Remus had ever heard, and he would never tire of listening to it.

“I’m your lovely thing.” Remus answered with a grin.

“Are you now? Does that mean…” Remus felt a playful bite in his neck, scales dragging along his skin. “You want to stay with me?”

“Yes…” Remus answered in a haze.

“Will you be loyal to me?”

“Yes…”

“Will you help me?”

“Yes…” Remus moaned. “Yes.”

Abruptly the man behind him disappeared and Remus fell. He shouted in surprise as gravity suddenly had its hold back on him as he crashed hard into the painfully solid ground beneath him. Bewildered, he sat up and looked around. The stars above his head died away, one by one. Until he was left in pitch-black darkness.

“Worthless traitor.” A chorus of new voices echoed, the sheer disgust in them making Remus’ stomach turn.

“No! I’m not-! I don’t-!”

“Turn your back on us, after all that we have done for you.”

“You’ve done NOTHING for me!” Remus screamed as he shuffled back. “You deserve what’s coming for you!

“Deserve?” The voices laughed coldly. “You know what you deserve?”

A harsh wind knocked Remus back onto his back.

“You deserve to be punished.”

No! Anything but that! He tried to stand and run, but painfully bumped his head into a sudden low ceiling. He crumpled to the ground, nursing his aching head. The groaning sound of wood and stone surrounded him, deafening him.

The walls-! The walls were closing in!

“No… No!! NO!!” Remus screamed as the room became smaller and smaller, pushing onto him until they were squishing him down. It didn’t stop him from kicking and banging at the unyielding walls, his arms and legs barely able to move in the space that kept getting smaller and smaller. Even as he screamed as hard as he could, he could feel the air becoming thinner and thinner. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe-!!

Then he heard it. The sound he always dreaded. A lock falling into place and a key being turned.

“That is what you deserve.” The cold chorus of disgusted voices said from beyond the walls.

“NO!! PLEASE NO!! LET ME OUT, PLEASE LET ME OUT I WON’T THINK I WON’T SPEAK!!” Remus banged and pounded as the walls pressed in, slowly suffocating him. “JUST LET ME OUT PLEASE!!”

“PLEASE!!” Remus screamed as he rolled over, fighting against the hold the walls had on him. Funnily enough, now they seemed to yield a little easier. They felt a lot softer too. They were white. They were… Sheets?

Panting Remus sat up and looked around wildly. Rough stonewalls, large windows showing mountaintops and a sky slowly turning bright, a small desk and a fireplace… This was not his room-! Where the FUCK was he-??

-Lovely mismatched eyes, looking at him like he was a puzzle he wasn’t quite sure how to solve yet-

Slowly Remus’ breath evened. Oh. Right. Not a hopeful fantasy then. The last few days actually happened.

“Stupid fucking dream…” Remus muttered, trying to free his arms from their cotton prison. Fuck it, the dream had started out so nice too! The ghost memory of the hands in his hair made him sigh. Couldn’t that part just have continued for a little while?

As he sat up and tried to shake away the lingering dread the dream had caused, he looked around his chambers. Heh, funny how his actual life had become more dreamlike in just three days. It was almost impossible to believe!

…Unless he was still dreaming?

He pinched his arm. Nope, definitely awake, and still in the castle of a legendary warlock, who somehow seemed to tolerate his company enough to let him stay here.

…Not only that, he remembered. He was going to be taught magic.

Instantly erasing any leftover terror the dream had caused, Remus grinned widely.

“WOOO!!” He yelled, throwing himself back onto the very soft bed. He rolled around giggling wildly. It got him tangled in the sheets even further, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t hold in all the sheer excitement even if he wanted to try. Him! Him, learning magic!! Remus, the wizard! Remus, the sorcerer! Perhaps some day even… Remus the warlock!

Finally slowing to a halt Remus stared up at the ceiling for a while, his mind reeling with the options of what could happen today. Would he be taught how to do light illusions, just like he had seen on his ninth birthday? Or would he make potions like Virgil did? Perhaps he would be taught how to summon fire!

And let’s not forget just exactly who would be doing the teaching... Remus bit his bottom lip, excited anticipation making him squirm in his place. He had never understood people who had Sexy Teacher fantasies, but oooooh man did he get them now. It would just be the two of them, literal magic in the air… The idea alone made his heart flutter. Ugh, gross, his heart fluttered. Was this how Roman felt whenever he saw Patty-cakes? How did he ever get anything done?

Finally untangling himself from his sheets, Remus jumped out of bed and sprinted towards his luxurious bathroom with an eagerness he hadn’t felt in, well… Ever. He washed and dressed himself hurriedly.

“Right,” He said to his reflection. “Rough start yesterday! But it doesn’t matter! I can still turn this around!”

Can you though? The voice of reason chimed in. Oh wow, he was early today.

“Yes I can! I just need to make sure to act like Roman, and everything will work out just fine!”

Your disillusions could almost be called cute, if they weren’t so damn pathetic.

“Whatever,” Remus dismissed, ignoring the swirl of uncertainty in his stomach. “I just have to channel my inner Roman! I gotta think like Roman!” He placed his fingers at his temples. “Become the Roman! Right! What does Roman like??” He slapped his cheeks. “What. Does. Roman. Like?”

Remus wracked his brain for a few minutes, staring at his reflection with all the concentration of a child trying to win a staring contest.

“…Horse riding!” He eventually blurted. “Chubby men! The latest fashion trends! Boring dinners! What’s that? Why, I certainly want to kiss that ugly ass baby of yours! Just as long as it doesn’t drool on my ivory jacket! No, it’s not white, it’s ivory, you uncivilized peasant! Oh, let me just flip my luscious locks in this non-existent breeze as I trot towards the dance floor!”

Satisfied Remus nodded at himself. Oh yeah. He had this in the bag.

Leaving his chambers Remus took off towards the dining room. It had taken him a couple of hours yesterday, but eventually he had found his bedchambers again, where a small lunch was waiting for him. He had taken the rest of the day to map out the route between his bedchambers and the dining room until he was confident he could find it without too much trouble. Honestly, this place was a goddamn maze.

In the end he took only one wrong turn before he found the dining room again. The warlock wasn’t there yet. Remus shrugged off his disappointment as he took the same seat as he did the day before. He supposed he was too early anyway. The sober food hadn’t changed; they were still the same plates filled with fruits, dark bread and dried fish. Not exactly a varied diet in this castle, heh?

No matter. Remus' stomach growled anyhow. He already reached out to fill his plate, but paused midway. Uncertainly his hand hovered over the food. Was he… Allowed to eat now? His host hadn’t arrived yet… What if he accidentally insulted him by not waiting for him?

He shook his head. It was not worth the potential reprimand if he did eat. So Remus sat back and waited.

And waited.

Remus wiggled in his seat, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table. Boredom quickly took over. Fuck, he shouldn’t have arrived this early. Now what was he supposed to do?

He eyed the spare firewood for a second, but the dinner knife turned out to be too dull for whittling. He really missed his sketchbook by now. Why oh why hadn’t he brought it on his quest with him?

With nothing else to do Remus let his head fall back against the chair and started to tap out a little tune on the table. He hummed lowly, little no nonsense lyrics floating to his brain as he experimented with the melody.

“Went to the mountains today,” He sang to himself. “Went to the mountains and expected to slay… Little did I know that I would stay, oooh that I would stay…”

Really getting into it, Remus gently started tapping a knife against his glass alongside his other hand that still tapped the table, creating a whole new melody.

“Went to the mountains to find my destiny,” He now rocked back and forth in his chair. “How could I know that instead destiny would find me?”

“Very lovely.” A voice commented. Remus jumped in his chair with a shout, knocking over his glass. His heart beat a mile a minute as he turned to the right, finding the warlock sitting in the opposite chair, looking as hot as ever. Eris was once more wrapped around his shoulders, and the cobra glowered suspiciously at him.

“An original?” Deceit asked with a half smirk.

“Uuh, yeah,” Remus nodded as he looked between Deceit and the door, which he confirmed with a quick glance was still closed. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or is scaring people shitless just a hobby of yours?”

Fuck, Remus cringed, that was too forward, wasn’t it? Too Remus, not enough Roman. Luckily the warlock only shrugged.

“Nothing like a little scare in the morning to get the blood pumping, as I totally always say,” Deceit grabbed an apple from the fruit plate. “Don’t you agree?”

Remus quickly nodded. He would agree with anything as long as the warlock just kept talking in that velvety voice. Somehow he kept forgetting just how brain meltingly gorgeous it was.

“You’re quite early.” The warlock said as he rubbed the apple against his sleeve. “Bad night or just eager to start the day?”

“Eager to start the day!” Remus beamed, cheerfully ignoring his dream from last night. “I am ready to do some magic!” Enthusiastically he started piling his plate full. “Let me just eat something real quick and then I’m ready-!”

“You haven’t eaten yet?” The warlock frowned.

Remus halted. “No…?” He said uncertainly.

“Why ever not?”

“I… Uhh…” Remus fidgeted. “I wasn’t sure if it was… Allowed?”

“Allowed? Oh stars above…”

Remus cringed. He did something wrong. Already. For fuck’s sake, the day hadn’t even started yet!

Obviously. What did you expect?

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly.

“No, you don’t need to-! Remus, understand this,” The warlock’s voice lost all its teasing quality. “You are completely free to do whatever you need to make yourself at home here. You don’t need my permission to eat, drink or otherwise make yourself comfortable. I mean, goodness,” The warlock huffed a laugh as he lifted the apple to his lips. “Next you’ll ask me to bathe you.”

Remus quickly shoved a forkful of fish in his mouth before he could moan out ‘Oh, please do’. The salty flavour sobered him up enough to not let any delightful bathing fantasies grab his attention for too long. Chewing like his sanity depended on it Remus quickly shoved a few more bites into his mouth, looking to his right to show that yes! He was eating now! Only to find that the warlock paid him no mind, focusing on his own food instead. Deceit’s fangs glistened in the light of the fire as he finally sunk his teeth into the apple, breaking the skin and taking a bite. A drop of juice gathered at the corner of his mouth, and he absentmindedly licked it away. Did Remus’ eyes fool him, or had it been a split tongue he had gotten a brief flash of?

Remus had to gulp and swallow his food, even though it was too big of a mouthful to go down comfortably. This was unfair; this was so unfair! No one was allowed to be this hot while just eating a fucking apple, of all things.

He wanted to lean forward and kiss him breathless. He wanted to taste the sweetness of the apple on his tongue. He wanted those fangs to bite his bottom lip, a low growl emitting from the warlock. He wanted to pull back, look in those mismatched eyes and hear him say-

“You’re stabbing your face with a fork.”

Remus blinked, the images disappearing, leaving him with the very real warlock giving him a weird look. “Wha…?” He asked dumbly.

“The fork you’re currently stabbing in your own face?” Deceit repeated deadpan, and now Remus finally noticed the pricking sensation in his cheek. He floundered, almost dropping the utensil as he quickly threw the fork over his shoulder.

“I do that! Sometimes!” Remus fumbled as the fork landed behind him with a ting. “Part of my, uuuhm…” Shit, shit! Quick! What would Roman say, what would Roman say??

“…Skin care routine?”

Somewhere, somehow, Remus’ inner Roman started crying.

“Ah, of course!” Deceit said. “How silly of me, to just forget the single most important step of every skincare routine!”

“HAhahahha, yeaaah…” Remus choked. “So silly!”

“Well then,” The warlock dropped the half eaten apple on his plate. “If you’re finished with eating and your, ahem- skin care routine,” Deceit rose from his chair. “How about we get started?”

“What are we going to do first??” Remus asked, barely able to keep himself from hopping up and down as he followed the warlock through the castle’s halls. “Fire from my hands?? Light illusions?? Holy shit, am I going to learn how to teleport??”

Eris gave him a disapproving glare, but the warlock only chuckled. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, we’re going to start with something different.”

“Oh.” Remus shoulders sagged. “Like what?”

Deceit threw him an amused look over his shoulder. “Like some beginners lessons, perhaps?”

“Aaaw…”

“No need to sound so disappointed! We’ll get where you want eventually.”

“Tomorrow?” Remus hopefully asked.

“No.”

“Aaaw!”

“Honestly,” The warlock laughed and stopped in his tracks to turn to him. “Do you expect to become an expert at everything you do within a day?”

“No, but I would sure as hell would like to!”

“Don’t we all…” The warlock shook his head. “But I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Magic, like all crafts, requires studying, time and discipline.”

Remus grimaced. Oh great, his least favourite STD.

“Look, I know you said you’re an amazing teacher, and I believe you!” Remus tried again. “But I was not joking when I said I’m horrible at learning!”

“I still don’t believe that.”

Trust me, you will, the voice of reason piped in, making Remus wince.

“Isn’t there like a magical amulet or something that can give me super instant magic?” Remus asked. “Instead of wasting your time?

“That’s now how magical amulets work, or even how magic works,” Deceit laughed. “A magical amulet can only enhance a person’s magic, not create it.”

Not even trying to stifle the desperate whine that left his throat Remus threw his hands up in frustration. “Then how does magic work??”

The warlock thought that over a few seconds. “Imagine…” Deceit eventually slowly said. “Imagine the world around you as a calm lake. And see magic as dropping a stone in the middle of that lake. One small act creates a ripple, which spreads over the water. Changing the world as its waves surge through it. Of course, that calm lake would have remained a calm lake if you had never been there. Because those ripples start…” Deceit tapped a finger against Remus’ chest. “With you.”

Remus held a hand over the place where the warlock touched. His heart thrummed against his palm.

“So…” Remus frowned, his head slightly spinning. “Magic is like water where I dropped a stone in…?”

“Correct.”

“…But if that stone sinks, does that mean the world will just swallow up my magic? And if they’re ripples, does that mean that magic eventually becomes less powerful the more it spreads?

“I-” Deceit blinked a few times, looking mildly bewildered. “No? I mean, that’s not-! Look, it’s not a perfect metaphor-!”

“Also how big is the stone? I mean a stone won’t give much ripples! Why not throw a rock in? A boulder?? An entire mountain-!”

“The point is!” Deceit interrupted. “That all the things you wish to do won’t be possible if you don’t summon your own core magic first! That is the key to magic, not spells or potions!”

“Does that mean spells are the ripples-?”

“Forget the ripples!” Deceit said through gritted teeth.

“Right, sorry.”

The warlock raised a hand. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, his eyes were burning in that now familiar spellbinding molten gold. The gold spread through his veins, his face and hands coming alive like rivers of lava rushed through him instead of blood. Even Eris lit up, the ridges between her scales glowing gold as if red hot coals burned inside of her. Remus stared breathlessly as Deceit became a living golden statue, light pouring from him and Eris, lighting up the dark hallway like they trapped sunlight in their very forms.

“Summon your core magic,” Deceit spoke, gold pouring from his mouth. “With it you can accomplish anything your heart desires, and change your world.”

Currently what Remus’ heart desired was finding out if Deceit’s tongue would burn his if he leaned in and captured those lovely lips in a kiss, but somehow he didn’t think that’s exactly what the warlock meant.

“Summoning my core magic!” Remus grinned and clapped his hands. “Awesome!” His grin tempered somewhat. “How do I do that?”

Deceit closed his hand, and the glow in his eyes and veins disappeared. Eris returned to her normal state as well. Remus blinked some spots in his vision away. His eyes had to get used to the sudden darkness of the hallway again. Taking a calming breath Deceit crossed his arms at the small of his back.

“Close your eyes.”

Remus frowned but obeyed, uncertainly closing his eyes.

“Breathe in deeply,” The warlock’s voice ordered. Remus inhaled. “Very good. Now exhale through your mouth. Think of nothing. Let all thoughts pass by and leave you…”

Think of nothing? Well shit, if that was a requirement for using magic he was fucked.

“Relax your muscles. That includes that frown you currently have.”

Remus quickly relaxed the muscles in his face, allowing his shoulders to sag.

“Continue to breathe deeply. Inhale… Exhale. Inhale… Exhale.”

Remus followed the pattern that the warlock set for a few minutes. He felt a little silly, standing in a hallway and breathing like he was an old man trying to calm his heart after running a marathon. But if it meant listening to that voice for a little longer he was more than happy to continue this odd little exercise.

“Continue breathing in this same pattern,” Deceit said. His voice was slower now, softer. “Now, as you continue breathing… Allow the world to fall away. In this very moment, there is nothing in this universe but you and my voice. Everything else ceases to exist.”

Nothing else existed? Man, what he wouldn’t give for a universe where it was just the two of them…

“Continue breathing like I showed you,” The warlock’s voice had shifted. Now it came from his right, still ever so quiet. “With every breath the world falls away bit by bit, until the only thing left is you. You, and my voice… At this very moment, you need nothing else.”

The warlock’s voice continued to circle him, closer and closer, yet Remus heard no footsteps. Not even when he strained his ears. His head felt incredibly fuzzy. If it weren’t for the solid ground beneath his feet he would think that the warlock spoke the truth. That in this moment Deceit had taken away everything and left only them, drifting in the vastness of space. The thought was exhilarating.

“Turn yourself inwards…” The warlock said, slower and softer, closer to him than before. “Feel every inhale, every beat of your heart. Search deep inside yourself…”

Remus’ head spun. The world truly became a distant mirage for a brief second, and he distinctly felt like he was floating outside of his own body. Now even the ground felt distant and far away, as if he had left behind such commonalities as stone and mortar. Perhaps, in this moment he really didn’t need them. Fuck, he felt weird… Weird… But amazing.

“Very good, Remus.” Deceit’s voice suddenly came from right behind him, and just like that Remus fell and was slamdunked back into his own body. He jolted, acutely aware of the world around him. The ground beneath his feet, every itch on his arm, every blow of the wind outside and most concerning of all, the very real and solid presence behind him. Warm breath hit the back of his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Turn yourself inwards,” Deceit whispered in his silk on leather voice, making all kinds of delicious shivers roll down Remus’ spine and his head fill with warm, bed-tousled fantasies. “Feel your heart beating, in rhythm with every little part of you. Here, at this very place… You will find your core magic.”

Don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, Remus thought desperately. Don’t get a boner, don’t get a-

Suddenly, Deceit pressed a hand between his shoulder blades, and Remus’ head snapped back with a sharp gasp.

Magic!

Like lightening it struck, alighting every nerve in his body in response. Magic streamed through his blood, bold and confident, filling his head and making it spin with light. This was not like how the hypnotizing had felt. That had filled only his head, dulling his senses and making him feel lazy. This sparked up every cell, every inch of him awakened by its call. His heart beat out an enthusiastic rhythm, answering the thrum of magic that rushed through his body with a melody of its own. Remus blinked his eyes open and gasped again at the sight of his hands. His veins were lit up in a golden glow, making his hands tingle and tremble. He did not need a mirror to know his eyes were alighted in that same golden flare.

The warlock pulled his hand back, and just like that the magic rushed away. Remus wanted to howl when the magic started to leave him. He wanted to grab onto the feeling with claws and teeth, to try to keep it inside of him like a dragon guarding its hoard. Let him have that confident feeling just a little longer, please!

No use. The magic left, leaving him feeling empty as Remus grasped his heart and resisted the urge to cry. He was shaking. Shaking as every fibre of him wanted that feeling back.

“And that,” Deceit said casually, as if he hadn’t just reduced Remus to a trembling mess. “Is magic. Do you understand now why you must summon that first?”

Remus turned to him, shakily. “I want to do that too.” He said breathlessly.

“You will. In time.” Deceit said lightly. “Here is your first assignment. From this day on you will do this breathing exercise every day, until your core magic is brought forth. Understand?”

Remus nodded wildly. “What are some other beginners lessons??” He asked eagerly. He had to get that feeling back, no matter what it took. The warlock smiled, and Remus felt his heart skip a beat. If that happened every time this man so much as looked his way, he would have died from a heart attack by nightfall.

“I know the perfect place to start.” Deceit said.

He really had to get used to infinite stairs if he was going to live here for the near future, huh? Remus would never have called himself unfit, but right now the sweat was starting to bead on his forehead and his breath came in heavy pants. The warlock ahead of him didn’t appear to be troubled at all. They had done nothing but climb stairs for what felt like ages, yet he still looked as if he freshly stumbled out of a dark fairy-tale. Eris hadn’t moved from her spot on Deceit’s shoulders, and occasionally she casted a look down at him full of mocking disdain. Remus had no idea how a cobra could convey this sheer amount of dignified disgust at him when she didn’t even have facial features, yet here he was.

“You try climbing all these stairs!” He mouthed at her when she gave him again another look as if she smelled something foul (to be fair, he had been climbing for a while now). Eris pulled up her nose at him with an “Hmph!”movement and nestled her head into the warlock’s curls. Remus squinted bitterly.

He was not going to be jealous of a snake, he was not going to be jealous of a snake-!

As if she tasted his bitterness in the air, Eris burrowed herself a little deeper into the warlock’s hair and threw him such a smug look Remus considered strangling her for a brief second. He settled on sticking his tongue out at her instead, grinning at insulted hiss he got in return.

“Will you two stop fighting?” Deceit exasperatedly said over his shoulder. Remus jumped. How the fuck did he-?

“You,” Deceit said as he scratched Eris’ yellow and black scales. “I told you to be nice.” Eris grumbled and moodily slithered her head inside the warlock’s cloak.

“As for you,” The warlock stopped and turned to Remus, who halted sheepishly in his steps. “Please stop antagonizing my familiar. Trust me, it’s not going to help you endear yourself to her. She’s a delicate lady.”

Remus took one glance at the cobra, who stuck her head out from her hiding place just enough to bare her fangs at him, the murder clear in her eyes and was just about to comment that they had a very different definition of what ‘delicate’ meant, when he frowned.

“Wait, what’s a fami-?”

“Keep up, we’re almost there.” The warlock interrupted as he resumed climbing the stairs. Remus cursed and quickly followed, despite his lungs and legs protesting.

Eventually they reached the top of the stairs, which led them to a narrow hallway with worn double doors at the end. Remus felt some of the sweat on his back turn cold. Hurriedly scrambling after Deceit he tried his best to ignore how the walls seemed to grow narrower and narrower the closer they got the doors.

“Doors!” Remus giggled nervously, trying to distract himself from the hallway. “Obviously the most magical thing of all!”

The warlock chuckled. “You might be more right than you think…” And with that, he pushed the doors open.

Remus blinked at the unexpected brightness that came pouring from the open doors. When he was adjusted to the sudden influx of light and looked around his mouth dropped open. Funny, it had been doing that a lot recently.

They were in a greenhouse. Somehow, at the high top of this mountain, there was a fucking greenhouse. Following the warlock in and instantly forgetting the narrow hallway, Remus spun on his feet to take everything in. The temperature was much milder in here than the rest of the castle, making him relax at the warmth. The distant sound of rushing water filled his ears. Suddenly he wished he had been born with a head completely covered in eyeballs just so he could take in every little detail of the greenhouse and its multitude of greenery. The high glass pane ceiling illuminated the vast array of plants, some he recognized, and some he didn’t. An apple tree stood next to a long elongated plant with large purple flowers, whose leaves swayed as if they were tousled in a non-existent wind. Familiar flowers like roses, daffodils and lilies grew alongside flowers who looked like see-through pink glass, or ones whose petals flickered like a small candle flame. Plants folded their leaves open like silk green fans, others let theirs droop like little golden bells. A willowy tree that carried curtains of silver clustered flowers opened its petals as Deceit and Remus walked past them, and unfurled to reveal long yellow stamens thick with pollen.

“Keep up, will you.” The warlock’s voice came from further ahead. Remus shook his head and tore his gaze away from the plants for now to catch up with Deceit. Hidden amongst the green there stood a worn table, wedged against a rocky wall where a modest indoor waterfall steadily rushed. Remus guessed this had to be where the castle stopped and the mountains began. The steady sound of rushing water became louder, louder than the small stream could be. Remus curiously walked up to the large windows that were opposite of the wall. They were foggy with little water droplets, but could not hide the massive waterfall right next to the window, plunging into a depth that made Remus’ legs feel all jumbly.

“Wicked…” Remus breathed.

“It is quite spectacular, isn’t it?” Deceit said, a pleased undertone in his voice. Remus tore his gaze away from the waterfall to look back at the warlock, who rummaged through the equipment that was scattered all over the table. As Deceit searched through a short pile of books that stood at the edge, Remus stepped closer and curiously inspected the table’s contents. There was a mortar and pestle, a watering can, a wooden cutting board and a knife etched with runes on the side, a book flipped open to a page explaining the anatomy of a plant he did not recognize and more dried plants than he ever saw. More so even than the collection Virgil had hanging from his ceiling, back home.

“What do these do??” He asked, pointing at the runes on the knife.

“A bit more patience, I will start the lesson shortly. But before I do that… Aha!” Finally founding what he was looking for, Deceit turned back to him. “This…” He held something out for him. “Is for you.”

Remus hesitantly took what the warlock held out for him. It was a book. A small, leather-bound tome. Curiously Remus flipped through it, only to find that the pages were all blank.

“What is this? Horrid Spells written in invisible ink?” Remus frowned up at the warlock, who chuckled.

“I’m so tempted to say yes, but no. This,” Deceit tapped a finger against the leather cover. “Is your very own grimoire.”

Remus blinked. “My what now?”

“Your grimoire. Or Book of Shadows, spell book, whatever you wish to call it. The name is not as important as its purpose.”

“Which… is?”

“To document your journey. Everything you learn about magic you put it here. Not only to track your progress, but also to look back if you ever need to remember something you might have forgotten. A grimoire marks a diligent student, and later a true magic user.”

“Wow… Uhm, okay.” Remus turned the book over in his hands, inspecting the simple black leather and the yellowed pages. Now that he thought about it, hadn’t Virgil always read and written in a tattered tome bound in black leather? He wondered if he got his own grimoire from the warlock too…

Oooh, how cool would it be if he used the blood of his enemies to write in this?? Now THAT would make it a properly badass cursed spellbook-

Remus quickly shook his head and repressed that thought faster than Logan would dismiss his weird experiment ideas. Oh nice, he was getting good at that!

“Thank you.” Remus said sincerely as he held the book against his chest. It had been years since anyone had given him something, anything, even as simple as a book. He wished he could give something back in return. What would Roman do? Pay him a compliment maybe…? But what was a good non-weird compliment?

Tell him his face is magnificent, and you totally want to sit on-

Remus quickly squashed that down. Nope, nope, definitely not!

“Now then,” Deceit smiled as he handed Remus a short pencil. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes!!” Remus grabbed the pencil, bouncing in his spot. Finally! “Yes, yes, yes please!!”

“I like your attitude. Here is your first study subject,” Deceit gestured to their surroundings. “Herbology.”

Remus blinked a few times. “Hebelowhatnow?”

“Herbology, meaning the study of magical and mundane plants and their use in occult practices. It is the perfect start for a beginner, as herbology is a type of magic where you don’t necessarily need to have other magical qualities to become an expert in.” Deceit explained as he grabbed and filled the watering can at the indoor waterfall. “And much like potions, it is more of a science than an art.��

“Right, awesome!” Remus opened the book and hastily scribbled ‘Hebelogie’ on the first page. “So is herbology just a fancy name for gardening?”

Deceit chuckled. “Not exactly.” He took his watering can and took off into the greenhouse. Remus followed.

“While it’s true that there are obvious similarities between gardening and herbology, they are two very different things,” Deceit explained while they walked, occasionally watering one of the plants. “For one, gardening is for plants used for either beautification or consumption. A herbology garden is explicitly used for magical purposes.”

“Makes sense, makes sense…” Remus nodded seriously, hoping to sound very knowledgeable.

“Secondly,” Deceit halted for a minute and drew a rune in the dirt of a small bush with heart shaped fruits. “While spells and runes can absolutely be applied in an ordinary garden as well, it’s more common to do these things in a herbology garden.”

“Spells and runes, gotcha!” Remus tried to see what kind of rune Deceit had drawn, but he had to catch up to the other before he could get a clear look.

“Lastly, and most importantly, there are some plants that no gardener without magical experience should ever handle. For example.”

The warlock halted before the tree with the silver clusters of flowers. Once again the flowers unfurled to reveal their yellow stamens. The warlock stooped down and grabbed a bucket with a tightly closed lid, which had been hidden under the greenery of another plant.

“Observe.” He said as he opened the lid. Immediately the sickly stench of rotten meat drifted upwards, making the warlock draw back with a small flinch. Even so though he reached into the bucket with his bare hand, grabbing a handful of slimy, rancid meat and righting himself. Remus’ head completely blanched on the many questions he had as he saw how the tree’s stamens righted themselves, swaying back and forth, as if it reacted to the smell.

“Putidus Carptus.” Deceit said as he threw the meat right into the awaiting flowers. The branches immediately wrapped themselves around the meat, pulling it inwards and out of sight. “Otherwise known as ‘Soldier’s Despair’ in farmer’s tongue. A tree known for sprouting in the midst of a ravaged battlefield, eating away any rot and decay around it. Whole forests have been known to sprout in prior combat zones.” He threw another piece of meat into the flowers, which was met with equal enthusiasm. “Usually it dies out if it has eaten all the decay, but when hungry enough in its final days of bloom it has been known for eating fresh meat as well in its desperation.” The warlock murmured a quick spell and the filth on his hand disappeared. “Funnily enough, it’s flowers and stamens can be used to create multiple healing potions for various illnesses. Just goes to show you even Mother Nature likes irony sometimes.”

Remus nodded, open mouthed and only half hearing the explanation. He stared, starry eyed, at the moving branches as they ate away at the meat.

“That… Is…” He said with a growing grin on his face. “So…” Amazing, awesome, fucking cool as SHIT, his mind supplies, but he said none. Biting back his grin he considered his options. Yes, he thinks it’s cool, but Roman would hate the plant. In fact, he would probably be disgusted by it!

Be like Roman, he reminded himself. Be. Like. Roman.

“…Disturbing,” Remus said finally, despite his heart wanting to stick his hand in the flowers and see if they would nibble on him too. “So very disturbing.”

The warlock gave a short hum. “Its beauty may be lost to those who look no further than what purpose it can serve, but I can appreciate its willingness to do a dirty job.”

Suddenly uncertain if he had said the right thing, Remus turned to the other to ask more. Deceit however seemed to already have moved on, now picking away dead branches of a very normal looking apple tree.

“But if this is a magical garden,” He asked, repressing his doubt for now. “Why are things like apples here? Isn’t that regular garden stuff?”

“Hardly. While it’s true that some plants have more… Obvious magical qualities than others,” Deceit picked away another branch, “More ‘mundane’ plants can actually enhance intentions in spells and potions.”

“Right. Because…” Remus thought for a second. “You choose them based on what your intent with a spell is…?” He hesitantly asked. He was rewarded for his question with another brain melting smile from the warlock.

“That is correct. Well deduced.”

Remus felt something in him swell with pride. He couldn’t remember the last time a teacher (or anyone really) complimented him. Usually people either looked disgusted or annoyed when he asked questions.

Then it hit him. The perfect compliment. One that wasn’t gross or inappropriate. Wiggling his shoulders in excitement he propped his elbow on the tree next to the warlock and planted his other hand on his side.

“So… He started, hoping he sounded casual and failing miserably. “Herbology, potions, spells…” He smiled what he thought was a good imitation of Roman’s signature golden smile. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

The warlock’s smile fell. A flash of some emotion crossed his face, but it was gone before Remus could decipher what it was.

“…Let’s continue.” Deceit said flatly as he turned away from the tree, leaving Remus in his prime flirting pose feeling very confused. After a few seconds of him puzzling what the fuck just happened Remus hastily scrambled after him. Obviously he had said something wrong… But what? For the life of him he could not figure out what.

He’s probably just disgusted by you. Accept it.

“Uuuh, hey!” Remus called out to drown the voice of reason. Deceit stopped and turned.

“What?” He said in that same flat tone. Remus winced, his eyes darting for something, anything-!

“Roses!” Remus quickly said.

“…What about them?” Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“Well, uhm- What kind of magical qualities do roses have?” Remus gestured to the plants in question, which grew alongside the path they currently walked. “I mean the gardens back home were full of them! Don’t tell me I had a secret stash of magic supplies right under my nose and wasted an opportunity to sell them off to the highest bidder!”

Deceit’s stance eased. “Ah, good question.” He said. Remus sagged in relief. Good save there.

“It’s true that roses have no overt magical qualities,” The warlock said made his way to Remus and smoothed out some of the roses. “But they’re used in plenty of potions and spells as enhancers.”

“Like what kind?” Remus asked curiously.

“The thorns can be used in protection spells and minor curses,” Deceit fussed over a white rose, one that hadn’t quite bloomed yet. “With the petals it depends on the colour. Remember, intent is everything. White petals for example can be used for blessings, while yellow petals are useful in anti-depressant potions.”

“Right,” Remus nodded as he scribbled ‘patels and colur meening’ in his grimoire. “And red petals?”

“Oh, those are used for love potions, aphrodisiacs, that kind of thing.”

“R-Really…?” Remus gave himself a mental pat on the back as he managed to push away the delightfully delicious images that the word aphrodisiacs conjured up. “That- That’s interesting…”

“You know,” Deceit said slowly as he looked at the rosebud. “It’s here you find the real difference between gardeners and herbalists.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. While we both agree that nature will always do the most work, sometimes we can give…” Deceit gently touched the bud. A spark of gold flickered at his fingertips, before it spread through the veins of the flower like thin glowing rivers. “A helping hand.”

The flower trembled as it slowly, ever so slowly, unfurled its petals. The golden veins glimmered, casting Deceit’s face in soft light. Lightly Deceit cupped the flower and leaned in to inhale its scent. Remus couldn’t help but stare as a smile softened the sharp angles of the warlock’s face.

“I wish I was that rose…” Remus muttered reverently.

“What did you say?” Deceit blinked up at him.

“I SAID YOU’RE GROSS!!” Remus blurted.

Slapping a hand in front of his mouth, Remus stared at the warlock’s stunned face. Oh fuck oh fuck OH FUCK-

How the fuck do I get myself out of this, what do I do what do I DO-??? Don’t let him ask questions do something follow your instinct QUICK!!!

Turning, Remus grabbed and pulled the nearest plant from the ground and shoved it into his mouth.

“No wait, DON’T EAT THAT-!!”

Remus hurled, and added some more of his stomach fluids into the empty flowerpot he was currently hunched over. He lost count at this point how many times he had puked into the clay pot by now, and yet the vomit still came at an alarming speed. The cool hands that diligently brushed his hair back as he was unpleasantly reacquainted with his breakfast only made this whole situation so much worse.

“Well then,” The warlock said dryly. “Hopefully this will be a wise lesson not to eat any plant you’ve never seen before.”

Another miserable roll of his stomach made Remus heave out some more fluids. At this point it was nothing but bile. “W-What the fuck did I eat…?” He managed to miserably whine out.

“That was a little plant called “Atrejeci”. Or, as it is more commonly known, Charcoal Root. In its diluted form it can purify mild poisons from your bloodstream. In its undiluted form however it just purifies the body…” Deceit paused as Remus puked out some more stomach acid. “…In a more literal sense.”

“Cool,” Remus muttered pitifully. “Cool cool cool cool cool. How long is this going to last exactly…?”

“Seeing as you ate nearly half a plant, you’ll probably be here a while.”

“Great…”

“Not to worry, it shouldn’t be fatal in the long run as long as we treat it well.” The warlock patted him between the shoulder blades. “I’m going to get you some water. You’ll be losing a lot of liquids in the coming hour, and we need to make sure you don’t get dehydrated.”

“Okay, you do that…” Remus babbled as footsteps echoed away from him. “I’ll be here…!” He heaved again and leaned his sweaty forehead against the flowerpot’s cool edge. “Not going anywhere…”

Nice going, idiot. Nothing quite says “romance” like gratuitous vomiting!

“Well at least I distracted him…” Remus muttered. His stomach felt like it was determined to burn a hole through his flesh and turn him into the world’s most horrifying fountain.

Ah yes, at least you did that… All the while showing how you are nothing but a screw-up. How long do you think those magic lessons will last now?

“Shut up-” Remus murmured miserably before he felt another hurl coming up and he had to spit out more bile.

The serene sounds of vomiting followed Deceit as he made his way to his little indoor waterfall. His new student was an… Odd one, to say the least.

“he’s an idiot.” Eris contributed from his shoulders.

“Be nice, dear.” Deceit distractedly muttered.

“he does not take this seriously. why do you bother?”

“On the contrary,” Deceit answered as he grabbed a wooden pitcher from his supply table. “I think he takes it incredibly seriously.”

Eris gave him a disbelieving head tilt. “how can you tell?”

“Because, my sceptical serpent,” Deceit gave Eris a small flick on her nose, earning him an offended hiss and a snap at his fingers in return. “He wants this chance to prove himself to a near desperate degree.”

Yes, spending more time with Remus this day had given him a clearer image of the prince. The eagerness to please, the careless willingness to put his life into the hands of a complete stranger, the disbelieving joy when he got even the smallest of compliments, the fear and badly hidden flinches when he did something wrong… All of it was starting to paint a picture, and not a very pretty one.

With a scowl he held a pitcher in the waterfall. Goodness, just when he thought he couldn’t hate Augusto more… The man unfortunately just kept surprising him.

Oh well… In a weird sense he supposed he should be thankful that his nemesis had screwed up his parenting this badly. If he hadn’t, it would have been so much harder to persuade Remus to his side. Now he didn’t even need to do anything! The ease almost unnerved him a little bit. Although he definitely could have used that same kind of ease with his… Previous student…

He had wandered quite a bit further from the castle than he usually did. He tried to convince himself it was because he was looking for a specific herb for one of his potions, but in truth… It had been for no other reason than pure restlessness.

The lights of the small city at the base of the mountain gleamed in the darkness of the night. Occasionally shouting of drunken folk would echo upwards to where Deceit stood, silent and observing. He had gotten close enough to the houses that he could see the people walking in the streets, crawling around like busy little ants. Usually he avoided coming this close but alas, it appeared that his hubris had gotten the better of him yet again. Though he doubted anyone would see him even if they did bother to look up. His black cloak made him one with the shadows. Invisible to those unsuspecting fools who cowered at the mere mention of his existence.

The night sky deepened, and one by one the lights went out in the city. People sought out their warm homes and comfy beds, yet the warlock kept looking until the quiet of the mountains pressed in on him once more. Like he was suffocated under a pillow.

Deceit sighed. Why did he come here? More importantly, why did he stay here so long? Reluctantly he tore his gaze away from the darkened city and started to walk up the path he walked a thousand times before. Eris would probably have started to worry by now. He better try to come up with some good excuse-

He stopped. He perked his ears, frowning. Deceit had been in the mountains for a very, very long time. He knew every sound these peaks and valleys made at night by heart, every creature’s howl, every whisper the wind would carry.

What he heard now however? That decidedly did not belong here.

Curiously he followed the sound. To him it almost sounded like a wounded animal, but the closer and closer he got he slowly realized that couldn’t be it. That’s how he found the ravine.

The ravines could be found all throughout the mountains. Treacherous, gaping chasms hidden in the rough landscape. Invisible to the eye until it was too late. Especially in the dark, when the shadows would hide their depths until someone stumbled into them. Deceit suspected that these fissures had added more people to the missing list than he ever did. Unless you were very careful or knew the mountain paths well it was almost impossible to avoid them.

Treading carefully towards the rocky edge of the fissure, Deceit peered in. It was not as deep as some of these ravines could get, but still deep enough that the moonlight did not reach all the way down. Luckily Deceit’s night vision had always been very good, so he could just make out the figure squirming at the bottom. Hurt grunts floated up towards him as the person in the fissure tried to wobbly stand, only to fall back over with an anguished wail.

Deceit tilted his head. Why on earth had they tried to enter the Desolate Mountains? Surely if they lived this close they must have heard the stories of him and his infamous reputation. Hadn’t those been enough? He almost felt a little insulted.

Well, he supposed it didn’t matter now. Whoever the poor sod was, if they were hurt they wouldn’t be able to climb out of the fissure by themselves. They would just become another disappearance. Another rumour for the gossipers down below. Deceit shrugged and turned to leave.

“Shit-! Come on, get up get up-! OW!!”

Deceit froze on the spot. The voice that drifted upwards from the fissure kept on babbling, panicked, pained and…

And they sounded so young.

Another distressed ‘No, no! Get up please!’ floating up only confirmed it. Whoever it was down there, they were young. Hell, they sounded like they hadn’t quite hit puberty yet. Maybe it was one of those snot-lipped city kids who dared each other to go in the mountains to prove how brave they were. But even then they never got this far up! Why had this kid travelled all this way?

Deceit shook his head. It was none of his business. Surely if their parents missed them they would come and look for them.

…But would they be on time? Even if they dared to enter the mountains for a rescue mission (which was unlikely) it did not guarantee that the kid was found before a predator with less mercy than Deceit would. Or before he starved to death, or any other gruesome fate. The mountains were cruel, especially to those who were hurt. By this rate the kid would most likely be dead by morning…

No, this was ridiculous! He didn’t know the little idiot, and besides! They knew the dangers when they went into the mountains! It was their own fault for coming here!

Deceit knew all that, and yet his feet refused to move away from the fissure. A pained cry echoed towards him, causing something to tug at the tattered strings of his heart and- Oh no, was that his conscious talking??? He thought he got rid of that thing years ago!

Another distressed wail. Deceit closed his eyes, frustration and resignation coming out in a long grunting sigh before he snapped his fingers and transported himself. Right before the teenager stuck at the bottom of the ravine.

At first they didn’t notice him. The boy- Or at least, Deceit thought it was a boy- looked to be around twelve or thirteen. Dark locks fell down in unruly bangs, hiding away his eyes behind a thick curtain of hair. The boy grunted and grabbed the rocky wall to try to stand up once more. Incredibly dumb of him. If Deceit had to judge from the sight of the boy’s ankle, which was wrapped in improvised bandages darkened with blood and bent at an angle that couldn’t mean anything good, he had made quite a nasty fall.

As Deceit moved to get a better look, the boy finally noticed him and fell back down with a startled shout.

“Who are you?!” The boy yelled, shuffling backwards. Deceit held up his hands in a calming gesture.

“I’m not here to harm you.”

“Like hell you are!”

Deceit rolled his eyes impatiently and didn’t answer. What use was explaining now when that ankle was in such desperate need for a healing?

“Stay back!” The boy yelled as Deceit kept advancing in on him. “I’m warning you!”

“Foolish boy, I’m just here to help you-!”

“I am the warlock of these mountains!” The boy growled with a ferocity that made Deceit pause in his steps. “Dare to come any closer and I will hex your ass!”

Blinking a few times in surprise, Deceit fought against the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Now that was one he hadn’t heard before. If it hadn’t been for the underlying prepubescent quality of the boy’s voice, he would have actually sounded threatening enough to fool someone.

“I said stay back!!” The boy growled once more as Deceit stepped closer. “Didn’t you hear me?! I am the warlock of these mountains!!”

“Oooh?” Deceit said amusedly as he kneeled to the boy’s eye height. A snap of his fingers made a small flame flicker to life in his palm, illuminating his face in threatening shadows. “Are you now…?” He grinned, his fangs flashing in the flickering light.

In the light of the flame Deceit saw the colour drain from the boy’s cheeks as he realized his mistake.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit- I’m sorry-!” The boy babbled as he tried his best to crawl even further back, despite the stone behind him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-! I didn’t mean to insult you, I’m sorry-!”

“Look into my eyes.” Deceit said calmly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, I didn’t mean it-!”

“I said look into my eyes.”

At the commanding hiss the boy’s eyes unwillingly snapped up and looked right into the bright glow of Deceit’s hypnotizing gaze. As he saw the boy’s eyes glaze over in molten gold obedience Deceit smirked.

“There we go! Was that so hard?” Deceit drawled. “Now, tell me the truth. What is your name?”

“V-Virgil…” The boy stammered. “Virgil Becker.”

“Virgil.” Deceit nodded. “Such a pleasure to meet you! What exactly are you doing in my mountains, Virgil?”

“I… I…” Virgil seemed to struggle to find the words. Trying to lie already? Goodness, what a shame.

“No use lying to me, boy. Why are you here?”

“I ran away!” The truth finally came out in a rush.

“Right,” Deceit nodded. “And your first idea was to come here? That seems a little foolish, don’t you agree? What, were you looking to prove yourself? Hoping to earn your peers’ praise by pretending you’re brave?”

“N-No…” Virgil shook his head. “I came here because… Because…”

“Because…?”

“Because he wouldn’t follow me if I went into the mountains.”

Deceit paused. Forgetting his ‘dreaded warlock’ act for a second, he finally fully took in the boy in front of him. His thin frame, the hollowed out face. He squinted. Now that he took a closer look, there seemed to be something… Hiddenbehind the boy’s long bangs.

Virgil flinched as Deceit reached out his hand, but all he did was gently brush away his bangs from his eyes. Deceit’s breath hitched. Virgil’s left eye was almost swollen shut, dark purple and yellow bruising pulling most of his eye white from sight. It didn’t look like he had gotten it falling down. It looked to be at least a few days old.

“Oh dear…” Deceit said softly. “This world has hurt you terribly, hasn’t it…?”

Perhaps it was Deceit’s words, or his drastically gentler tone, but the fear seemed to disappear from the boy’s shaking frame. Confusion seemed to take its place as Virgil openly gawked at Deceit. Suddenly uncomfortable under the boy’s stare Deceit grappled to find back his control.

“Sssleep.” Deceit hurriedly commanded. Immediately Virgil’s eyes started drooping, and though he valiantly tried to fight it off it was no use. Deceit breathed a sigh of relief as Virgil’s head eventually nodded forward and he fell into a deep slumber.

Hoping to get rid of the uncomfortable ache in his stomach, Deceit finally focused on the boy’s ankle. As he unwrapped the boy’s improvised bandages he fought back a wince. Up close it was even worse than he had initially thought. The skin had broken, and if he saw it correctly through all the clotted blood the bone was actually sticking out. Not only that, but also the too warm skin and the beginning of blackened veins surrounding the wound suggested that the boy was developing an infection. This was not something he could just heal then and there. The boy needed five separate healing sessions at the very least.

He shook his head. No. No, this was not his problem. He would heal the boy just enough that he wouldn’t die for the next 24 hours and leave him at the edge of the mountains. He would go back to his life thinking this encounter was just a fever dream, and they would go their happy separate ways.

Except… What if he didn’t survive it? What if he couldn’t stop the infection from spreading to his heart, and the boy would die a miserable death before he could even reach his hometown again? Besides, there were still other predators on the loose. Deceit highly doubted a mountain lion or one of the Fair Folk would be as kind as him.

Not only that, what if the boy did somehow survive and didn’t think it was a dream? What if he told everyone about this encounter? Yes, most people would probably declare him crazy, but there would always be people who would believe him. Who would know the warlock they feared had not only spared, but also healed someone who went into his mountains. The reputation he had so carefully cultivated would slowly fall apart, and before you know it some brainless knights would march into the mountains again to come for him. He couldn’t let that happen!

Or, some traitorous part of Deceit whispered as he looked at the unconscious boy, what if the one he fled away from will find him first…?

He didn’t realize he had dug his talons into the flesh of his own palms until his skin broke and small beads of red trickled from his clenched fists. Cursing the traitorous little voice and every deity he could think of, Deceit spat out a spell under his breath. The boy levitated from the ground, his head rolling backwards like a marionette without its strings as he floated in mid-air. Deceit rose, already dreading the journey home.

How on earth was he going to explain this to Eris?

The sound of another hurl pulled him out of his memories. Deceit shook his head and grabbed the pitcher, which was full by now. There was no use dwelling on his past mistakes. All he had to do was make sure he wouldn’t repeat them.

Walking back to his newest student with the pitcher in hand, Deceit carefully thought over his next step. Perhaps it was wiser to not jump to his next course of action too quick. It appeared he was compromised anyhow. He shuddered. At first he had thought he had finally found the person who could actually successfully lie to him... Wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

But thank the stars that hadn’t been the case. He just hadn’t seen his honesty. True honesty… Now that was something he hadn’t seen in a long while. No wonder he hadn’t recognized it at first.

Nevertheless, better to tread more carefully. He had always prided himself on his talent to see right through people, but it appeared that his years of isolation had damaged that talent. Deceit snorted. Hell, if he didn’t know any better he would think Remus was attracted to him.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #dukeceit #demus #janus sanders #remus sanders #tw abuse #tw vomit

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happymetalgirl · 3 years

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Five* Outside albums of 2020

I do this little list every year of my favorite albums that fall mostly “outside” the metal sphere and weren’t so metal-adjacent that I reviewed them formally during the year. The past three times I have written this little piece, I have kept it to five, but *this year, I’ve just had a hard time narrowing it down, so I figured, why do that? Well, I could go through a few dozen albums or so that I fucked with this year outside the metal sphere, but I’m compromising with the addition of a new, quick (we’ll see) honorable mention section.

So, in the interest of keeping my verbose tendencies in check, I’ll cut this introduction off and get into the honorable mentions.

Honorable Mentions:

Anna von Hausswolff - All Thoughts Fly

I did review Anna von Hausswolff’s previous record, Dead Magic, back in 2018 as part of my bunch of metal albums reviews that year, because it was kind of tangentially metallic. It wasn’t a lot at a technical level, only a few metallic elements here no there, but it had a lot of harrowing qualities that I thought metal listeners might appreciate. For the Swedish singer and pipe-organist, that album really was the closest she ever came to metal’s territory, and I don’t think any flirting with the genre was intentional on her part. Most of what she does is haunting, neoclassical, organ-based music that’s usually not as wild as what Dead Magic was, and this year’s album is a real scale back to her roots and an appreciation for the pipe organ. While I do miss her bewitching vocals on this entirely instrumental album, All Thoughts Fly stands well on its own merits as both a solid tribute to von Hausswolff’s organ playing and as a beautiful, incredibly immersive ambient album that does so much with its relatively small palette. I’ve talked a few times on here about really shitty ambient music that’s approached with a clearly lazy attitude because of its supposed background role. Rather than being made to be ignored, All Thoughts Fly pulls you in and around in a swirl of lush sounds that aren’t too common in ambient music, and with a relatively minimal approach, relying on the naturally serene tambre of the instrument to fill the space with a lightening, floating ambience and well-structured movements to do the gentle moving. It’s a beautiful example of what an ambient album can achieve if it’s actually made with a lot of love and care.

Shabaka & The Ancestors - We Are Sent Here by History

Okay, that first one went pretty long. I’ll try to keep the rest of these here relatively short. Sons of Kemet band leader, Shabaka Hutchings, takes his other group on slightly less chaotic Afro-jazz odessey that what Sons of Kemet have been delivering us. While more contained on the surface within the genre’s usual light grey areas, Shabaka & The Ancestors move with freedom and flexibility on this album in a way that highlights the natural appeals of the Afro-jazz sound pallet through constantly engaging arrangements from masters of the craft.

Lady Gaga - Chromatica

I know we’re all well aware of Lady Gaga, but the pop icon has been relatively quietly been making the best music of her career since taking the edge rather than the center of the spotlight, from 2013’s diverse Artpop to 2016’s more bare-bones Joanne. And now, after her mellower, more traditional Americana-influenced album in 2016, Gaga cranks the volume and the fun way back up. Chromatica is a blast of an album whose wide span of dance pop albums influences new and old keeps it varied and lively all the way through. This album feels very much like it’s Gaga unleashed, just doing her thing and having a good time with a bunch of dance music styles that she’s always loved, and it’s impossible not to feel that enthusiasm secondhand, and groove the hell out along with it.

Black Thought - Streams of Thought, Vol. 3: Cane & Abel

Black Thought has had nothing to prove since the relative inactivity of The Roots this past decade, but he has sure been rapping as if he does have something to prove on his solo work. The Philadelphia rapper put out a couple of EPs back in 2018 that showcased his impressive modern lyricism and flow, and the third, LP-sized installment in the series is just another offering of further proof of the man’s lyrical chops. There’s a little bit of an understated delivery in the music overall, but Black Thought really lets his words speak for themselves more than his moderate bravado. It’s not super flashy because it doesn’t need to be.

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher

Indie folk has always loved to soak in the puddles of personal sadness, but Californian singer Phoebe Bridgers takes the style to whole new depths of personally gripping, bordering on the outright emo, and that is by all means a compliment for rather than a shot at. The album’s candid journaling of Bridgers’ personal struggles is so tangible and so genuine that it would probably rival Connor Oberst’s best work with Bright Eyes. It is just a beautiful, yet tear-inducing album.

Alright, now on to the five “main” “non-metal” albums of the “list proper”.

Hexvessel - Kindred

Hexvessel are a Finnish six-piece whose sixth album of psychedelic folk here manages to touch on the same haunting, gothic tones that groups like Opeth and Gazpacho do at their most forest-y. Indeed, Kindred is an enchanting album, with sprawling styles and a full-bodied sonic pallet to keep it interesting the whole way through. And it’s as strong in its more bombastic song like that which opens the album as it is in its more stripped back acoustic tracks like that which closes it. Songs like “Magical and Damned” straight-up evoke Mount Eerie, while songs like “Kindred Moon” hearken to The Beatles at their most minimal and folky, and there’s plenty of spooky, mystical energy to go around. Definitely one of the best finds of the year for me.

The Strokes - The New Abnormal

Coming at the end of a seven-year gap between it and their previous album, 2013’s somewhat fan-polarizing Comedown Machine (which I liked a lot), The Strokes’ aptly named return is a return to the spotlight, but hardly to normalcy or the musical roots in garage rock that so many of the band’s fans have been sweating for. Twisting the electronic alternative rock of their Angles era into some odd, but mesmerizing forms, The New Abnormal is a subtly wild ride of an album through lots of melancholic overtones and undertones whose impact is made all the more potent by the occasional teasing of sorts with the few more traditionally rockin’ moments on here. It doesn’t take long to pull back the seemingly preppy synth rock or 80’s rock curtains to find the melancholy beneath “Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus” and “Bad Decisions”, respectively. But the band aren’t even that subtle with the immediate depression of just the straight-up guitar melodies on songs like “Selfless”, “Not the Same Anymore”, and the chill-inducing soar of “Ode to the Mets”. The album’s prize piece, though, has to be the utterly gorgeous and empathetic minimalist synth song, “At the Door”, whose simple melodies and bare delivery make for one of the most gently heart-piercing songs I know and of my favorite songs of the year and probably my favorite Strokes song ever, as hard as it is to listen to. Welcome back Julien and company.

Rina Sawayama - Sawayama

Quite possibly the best outright pop album I have heard in a long while, Sawayama sounds simultaneously fresh and vintage in the landscape it was born into, making use of a lot of early 2000’s pop rock instrumentation, even some heavy metal guitars here and there, but most importantly, a real sense of passion that seems to be flat-out absent from so much of the pop that I (usually inadvertently) hear. I don’t want to overstate the prominence of the metal elements, but the album does have a bubbling, infectious energy both vocally and instrumentally from front to back that the occasional bursts of heavy guitars between Sawayama’s charismatic, dance-inducing performances do provide a good snapshot of. Furthermore, there’s a rich diversity of song types across the album that dive into the pop sphere beyond the standard trend-hopping that dominates streaming playlists and make for a dynamic and fun, rather than disjointed, pop album. And that’s all only possible with the consistently tight compositions o the album. Indeed, this is one of the best pop albums I have ever heard, certainly in recent years.

clipping. - Visions of Bodies Being Burned

clipping. are the second artist to be on here two years in a row after last year’s spectacularly spooky There Existed an Addiction to Blood, and Denzel Curry’s one-two punch of TA13OO and Zuu in 2018 and 2019 respectively. There Existed an Addiction to Blood was a thrilling and fresh take on many tropes of horrorcore with the band’s already forward-thinking and creative noise-driven instrumental production guiding harrowing stories of femme fatales and street violence in a more modern setting that often flipped the script on victims and perpetrators, as well as settings themselves. Visions of Bodies Being Burned is quite literally a continuing sequel to that explosive album, also released in time for Halloween this year; the material was recorded in the same sessions as the previous album and in the same unique vein. Consequently, there’s not really a whole lot I can say about this album in contrast with the last without getting way too in-depth and spoiling the fun. Whereas MC Daveed Diggs’ hooks were one of the biggest strong points of last year’s album, the creatively noisy production is the big star on this album. The fans seem to be leaning a bit more toward this year’s release, but I think I’m still a little partial to There Existed an Addiction to Blood. Nevertheless, Visions of Bodies Being Burned is a blood-pumping follow-up not to be missed.

Mac Miller - Circles

The posthumous release from Pennsylvanian rapper Mac Miller captures the man at his most chill and contemplative. The album is more of a minimalist ambient singer-songwriter sort of album than hip hop and its serene atmosphere becomes kind of inadvertently tragic in the posthumous context, but it serves as a beautiful swan song for the creative rapper whose struggles with addiction sadly prevented him from being able to bask in the deserved wide appreciation of his sixth album. Circles is a soulful, bittersweet cap to Mac Miller’s legacy that I think anyone will be able to feel the love and raw humanness of.

#Black Thought #Streams of Thought #Streams of Thought Vol 3 #Anna Von Hausswolff #All Thoughts Fly #The Strokes #The New Abnormal #Hexvessel #Kindred #Rina Sawayama #Sawayama #Phoebe Bridgers #Punisher #Lady Gaga #Chromatica #Shabaka and the Ancestors #We Are Sent Here by History

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heartofsnark · 3 years

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This Is Love (Chapter Eleven): Angels of Doubt, Bearing Broken Halos

Notes; The chapter title is pretentious as fuck, but I don’t care. I’m very happy with the beginning of this chapter so I’m very excite to finally let y’all read it fully. Overall, this chapter definitely is more of the build up that this uhhhh nice little religious family mayyyyyhaps be a bit less nice than originally thought.

Word Count: 10451

Chapter Warnings: Cult Angels, Animal Death (in the context of dangerous wildlife needing to be put down), A Judge Wolf, Indoctrination, Assault, Me Awkwardly trying to write himbo Nick Rye for the first time

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

They don’t go to The Spread Eagle that night, staying too late making plans. But it’s all for the best in the end, Casey would be more busy in the evening and if she’s interrupting his work, he’ll be less likely to listen. It’ll be easier to talk to him tomorrow just as the bar opens, before anyone arrives and during down time. Regardless, when she comes back to the trailer park. She breaks next to the registration building, checking her mailbox in case Cassie or Joseph had wrote her back, but no such luck. Maybe it will take a while for them to even get it?

A breeze passes through as she leaves the building, that familiar flower smell itching at her nose. The trailer park has fields of those white flowers surrounding it, the delicate petals seem ghostly in the moonlight. Moonflowers, the trailer park has to be named after them, these flowers that haunt her in her dreams. A shift of movement, far back in the expanse of flowers catches her eye. Someone tending to the flowers with a hoe, but she doesn’t know anyone in the trailer park who takes care of the flowers. Surely, if they had a grounds keeper, they’d start with the trash within area; not the flowers surrounding it.

Dahlia decides to park her bike before investigating, not wanting to leave it in the open while she journeys through the flowers. She pulls out her phone once she’s parked, tucking one earbud in. If only to ease her nerves as she walks to confront the odd stranger.

“When you told me I should text your brother.

I was walking with a blunt in my hand.

Double Jameson was in the other.

I was drinking like a spiritual man.”

She stands at the edge of the field of flowers, little the scent tickle her nose, watching the…person in the distance. Their gender, or at least presentation of it, unidentifiable. She blinks her eyes, when did she start seeing spots? Her tension eases, body and mind relaxing.

“I was just talkin’ to Jesus in my hotel room.

I was just talkin’ to Jesus in my hotel room”

And she walks further through the flowers, brushing through them, fractals blurring her vision with every step. Her head swims and floats away, fuzzy as the smell surrounds her. She drags her fingers along the blossoms as she walks, grounding herself with their velvet touch, the contrast of her black painted fingernails against them.

“And I could barely stand

He said, "Get some water, man"

'Cause they don't understand

I'm not what they think I am”

As she nears them with every unsteady step, she sees them more clearly. And truly they’re a ghastly sight. Shaved head and dirty white clothes; the smell of the flowers strengthens as she nears them, turning acrid with an edge. That smell comes from them, like they’d bathed in chemicals infused with the flowers. The mask latched around their grime coated face, covering their mouth is marked with the Eden’s Gate symbol. They pay her no mind, focused on tending to the moonflowers, their eyes are glazed nearly white and milky. Like Dahlia’s eyes looked her first night in Hope County, when she dreamed of Faith despite having never met her.

“They can never ever understand me, no

What I came from, what I was before”

“Are you…okay?” She asks them, despite her own swimming vision and weak knees.

“HelpmeFaithhelpmeFaithshieldmefromsorrow.”

They grumble, not sing, the lyrics to one of Eden’s Gate’s songs. Their voice a rasp as if they can hardly breathe, each word running into the other, energy manic. The moonlight shining on gaunt cheeks and white eyes makes them look dead, a walking corpse before her. She reaches out, gingerly touching their shoulder, hoping touch can break through whatever state they’re in.

And then they scream, swing the garden hoe and bashing it against the side of Dahlia’s head. She’s knocked to the ground, head hitting rock and dirt. The creature screams out and jumps on her, trying to maul her. Vacant eyes staring down at her, her body and head too fuzzy to even give it the reaction it deserves. She should be scared, she should be terrified, but she isn’t.

Gently, she puts her hands on each side of the person’s neck, applying pressure, not enough to strangle but to hold it at slight distance. It tries to dig dirty fingers into her flesh through her jacket, screaming mangled cries of pain or anger, she can’t tell as she looks over its face. The haunting glow of moonlight on their dirty face.

“How you get to heaven with a broke halo?

How you get to heaven with a broke halo?”

“Help me, Faith,” Dahlia sings the song it used to soothe itself, “help me Faith, shield me from sorrow… From fear of tomorrow…”

And a switch has been flipped, it stops screaming. Body going lax, fingers no longer trying to tear her apart as she sings the church song, own voice overlapping the contrasting melody of her music.

“Help me Faith, help me Faith, shield me from sadness…From worry and madness…”

And it’s slipping out of her loosening hold and climbing off her, resuming it’s gardening work, as if she never existed at all. On trembling legs and with her vision still blurring, she leaves, not sure of what else to do. A part of her knows she should be more panicked, more concerned, more anything, but then she takes another inhale the floral scent around her and she can’t find the energy. It fades as she leaves the flowers and their scent behind, vision steadying as she enters her trailer, the full reality dawning on her just as she shuts the door behind her.

“What the actual fuck!?” She screams at her empty living room, because what the actual fuck did she just see? Her mouth is dry and her brain a mess as distress finally shines through the haze.

Dahlia digs her phone out, shutting off her music and doing a search. Her vision is still fuzzy with prisms of shifting colors, body still light and floaty. They were there the first time she saw Faith, they constantly itch her nose and make her eyes see things. The church compound was covered in bushels of them.

Moonflowers, she searches, and sure enough the images show the white trumpet shaped blossoms. Also called datura, angel trumpets and it’s down a rabbit hole. They’re toxic and hallucinogenic, can be harvested for either medication or poison. Scopolamine and atropine are in them; Dahlia does not even remotely know jack shit about chemistry. But a quick search shows scopolamine has been used in everything from nausea medicine to truth serum. So…she may have just hallucinated the person? From the flowers… but when she touches her forehead, where the person stuck her, blood stains her fingers. She really did get hurt…

Dahlia grabs her sketchbook, sitting down on the floor before her coffee table as she’s done so many times before, and she draws what she saw. Painstakingly she tries to recreate them, to draw the gaunt of their cheeks and the grime on their skin. To catch the white emptiness of their eyes. And she dates the drawing, scratching out the date in as neatly as she can. And on the next page she draws her first weird dream, sketching herself vomiting flowers and blood, those moonflowers. She adds the rough date she remembers it happening in the corner when she’s satisfied. Then she draws herself burnt and marred with flowers blooming from her mangled remains, hand moving of it’s own accord to match the details, shutting out the rest of the world as she works to carefully craft every line. She dates it as well and then draws the newest one, smears of ink on bare skin with flowers blooming from them.

Once each image is created with a date etched in its corner, she sits back and rakes a hand through her hair. She’s had nightmares before this, certainly, but never as frequent or vivid as these. Flowers are the recurring theme and she’s not sure why; maybe the datura are doing it? The scent of them always present, making her sleeping brain conjure odd images. She already has a list of things to do; the apple festival is the highest priority, but she still wants to know what each flower means and what on earth is working in those flower fields, what connection it has to Eden’s Gate.

She’s exhausted, graphite from her pencil smudged and sticking to her hand. But she feels more at ease having put her demons into art, having created something out of this. There’s still a lot of questions in her mind. This constant back in forth of trusting the church only to doubt them again is frustrating.

Dahlia barely manages not to fall asleep in the shower that night, exhaustion clinging heavy to her leaden muscles and pulling at her eyelids when she lays down on her couch.

The junior deputy is running on two hours of sleep, coffee, and an energy drink the next morning. But that doesn’t stop her from swinging into The Spread Eagle as soon as it opens, Pratt in tow since they’re technically on shift.

“Something wrong, deputies?” Mary May asks when they stride in, Dahlia can already see Casey through the kitchen window, prepping food for the later in the evening.

“No, we actually just wanted to talk to you and Casey about something.”

“What’s up?” Mary May raises an eyebrow and the chef’s head perks up.

Dahlia explains Debbie and Doug’s situation, that John is trying to buy them out, at the very mention of the Seed sibling’s name she can see Mary May tense. But the tension lessens, smiles on the bartender and cook’s face when the deputy mentions their plans for an apple festival.

“I know we could use more cooks selling food there and Debbie mentioned you work with the Testy Festy, Casey.”

“Plus, figured the band that plays here, might be willing to work a night or two if you talked to ‘em Mary May.”

“Look, you had me at pissing off John Seed,” Mary May says, grinning, “I’ll talk to the band and Casey, you damn well better help them out.”

“Come around here, sister,” Casey calls out, voice deep and booming as she walks around into the kitchen already warm as starts prepping food, he spares her a glance as he minces vegetables, “your destiny hangs off you like a coat, the soul of a warrior, and the heart of a hero.”

Dahlia blinks, taken aback by his unabashed and weirdly soulful compliments. She doesn’t really believe in destiny nor does she see herself as a warrior or hero, but she certainly appreciates the thought. Her heart, that of a hero apparently, warms and she smiles after another second.

“So…you’ll help?”

“It’s important for people to gather, to bond, and feel a sense of community. I’ll call Deb and Doug to offer any help I can.”

“Thank you so much!” Dahlia grins: Casey is definitely an odd duck, but he cares about the community and willing to help. So, a fantastic guy in her book.

“Happy to help, sister.”

First two people dragged into their plan, Pratt and Dahlia give some friendly goodbyes before being on their way. This is already coming together and Stray is nearly vibrating with excitement as they leave the bar.

The pair continue to do their patrol while swinging in to talk with folks about the festival. They swing by Lorna’s Truck Stop, Dahlia unable to resist snapping a picture of the giant cheesy cow statue outside of it before they walk in, door chiming. An older woman is talking to someone in a green hood, the woman with chubby cheeks and blue eyes pushing a little bag of mini pies into the hooded person’s bruised hands.

“Here you go, Jess, on the house as always.”

“Thanks,” the hooded girl responds, an awkward gruff to the words before she leaves. When Dahlia catches a sight of her, Jess has a face of mottled bruises and cuts.

“Anything I do for you, Deputies?”

“We were hoping you could help us out, Lorna,” Pratt starts.

And just like Casey and Mary May; Lorna’s all bright smiles and kind eyes, happy to help. Even pushing bags of the free small handmade pies into the deputy’s hands before they go. There is something undeniably heartwarming at everyone’s willingness to help. She crams one of the little pasties into her mouth, sugary berries on her tongue as they get back into the cruiser.

The shift passes by with ticketing traffic violations and stopping in to rope people into helping out. Hudson and Brennan sending texts letting Dahlia know that Grace has agreed to help and Adelaide will too if only so her boytoy Xander can have a smoothie stand during the festival. Riding through the valley, Dahlia sees a billboard advertising gun lubricant, Grace Armstrong’s face plastered on it, though her eyes on the board seem off. Dahlia too far away to put her finger on it, but it looks like that part of the advert has been damaged. An award-winning sniper and veteran; well loved in the community. Dahlia only saw a glimpse of her at the barbecue, talking with Hudson, but it seems clear just how important she is to the county.

Within an hour of their shift ending, Doug and Debbie have them called out to the orchard. Their smiles are bright, the middle-aged couple holding each when the deputies pull in. Pratt’s still trying to pretend to have a grumpy face but there’s still a slight smile pulling at his lips as they get out of the cruiser.

Arms are wrapping around Dahlia in a second, Debbie pulling her into a tight hug, the young deputy tenses hands hovering awkwardly at the woman’s sides.

“Thank you, so much,” Debbie says, pulling away but her hands still on Dahlia’s shoulders, “we’ve been getting calls all day, everyone wants to help us do this, thank you so much.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s no problem…just happy to help,” Dahlia flusters under the attention, proud of what she’s done, but squirming under the weight of gratitude.

“Well, we certainly appreciate it,” Doug tells her with a smile, “but we called you out ‘cause we got some flyers made, figure’d it help advertise, though word of mouth already seems to be doing us a lot of good.”

“We could definitely hand them out, see if some places are willing to hang them up too.”

“And now we’re the flyer brigade,” Pratt grumbles under his breath and Dahlia jabs her elbow into his side.

“I’ve already been coming up with everything I wanna sell at the festival, but if you two have some free time Sunday, I could use some taste testers too,” Debbie offers, with a smile, “least I can do is feed you for all your help.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Dahlia agrees readily.

“I…could probably swing by.” Pratt tries so hard to sound above it all, but free apple pie can apparently draw even him in.

“Can’t wait to see you both then!”

They wave goodbye to the couple, Dahlia packing the flyers with her into the cruiser car. The ending hours of their shift and the day is spent finding places to hang them up. Mary May posting them in The Spread Eagle, hanging in the window of the garage and general store, Whitehorse even letting it be posted up in the window of the department. Dahlia’s ride home that night takes longer as she stops at places to ask if they’d hang up the advertisement; after getting Lorna’s Truck Stop and Audrey’s Diner to put them up. Dahlia stops at the Hollyhock Saloon, bartender agreeing to hang it up in the small bar, the rookie deputy giving a quick hello to Brennan and some of the other officers gathered at his table. The 8-bit Pizza bar hangs them up without any question, happy to help, and Dahlia manages to convince Darcy to hang it up in the registration building of the trailer park before she heads in for the night. Dahlia crashes easily that night, sleep finding her as soon as she hits the couch.

The next day Stray is hit with déjà vu as they’re called out to deal with Eden’s Gate blocking another road. She’s still not sure why this is apparently a thing they do. And to her misfortune it’s not Waylon or members of the church she likes waiting behind the cement block when they pull up this time; but Theodore and Lonny. Because of course.

“Deputies,” Lonny forces a smile, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Well, you’re breaking the law, so there’s that,” Pratt says with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, heard you two gave some of our members a hard time about blocking off a road,” Theodore comments, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll refer you back to the fact it’s against the law,” Dahlia grumbles, “why on earth are you blocking the road anyway?”

“Got some property nearby that needs some work.”

“The church own a lot a property?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, that was Waylon’s reasoning too.

“Soon to be even more when John secures the orchard for us,” Lonny has too wide of a grin as he looks Dahlia over, “though rumor has it some little cop is trying to get in the way.”

“Irrelevant, you’re breaking the law. Just scram and there won’t be any issues.”

“Look, h-“

“We’ll be going then, deputy,” Theodore puts a hand on Lonny’s back, reigning him in. Though the way Lonny sneers tells Dahlia that their conflict is only resolved for the moment.

Regardless, Pratt and her watch as the men yet again pack away the blocks and clear the road out. Dahlia still can’t quite figure out why on earth they’d need to or would want to block the roads. Between that and the strange person she saw in the flowers, bearing the churches symbol, things just seem to get weirder and weirder. She considers for a moment asking the church members there about the person with the shaved head, but she has a feeling asking more questions will just put her higher up on Lonny and Theodore’s shit-lists.

“Still don’t get why they keep blocking the roads,” Dahlia comments when they get back in the patrol car.

“They’re assholes, what more reason they need.” Pratt shrugs before starting the cruiser engine and Dahlia just doesn’t feel like it’s that simple.

“Well, if they do it again, we don’t really have a choice but to arrest ‘em do we?”

“Can’t let them get away with shit forever; three strikes seem fair.”

Questions still run through her mind; but there’s no way of getting answers at the moment, left to bury her curiosity as they leave back down the winding roads. Hours pass and bright blues shift to pastel pinks as the sun sets upon Hope County.

That evening at The Spread Eagle, she’s listening to Pratt and Hudson argue about something; she can’t even be sure what but she’s just amused to not be at the butt of the humor tonight. She’s cramming fries into her mouth when she feels eyes on her.

“That’d be her right there,” Mary May says, pointed out at Dahlia as she talks to a man the young officer has only seen in passing. Shaggy dark hair under a cap and beard on his face, though the last time she saw him he’d been wearing glasses. She thinks it’s Nick, only having seen a glance of him at his own barbecue.

“If I’m in some sort of trouble, I’d like fair warning, Mary May.” Dahlia comments, unsure why anyone would be trying to find her in a crowd. The blonde’s smile eases her nerves as she comes across the bar, the man walking Dahlia’s way.

“No trouble, Deputy, Nick here was just wanting to know which one of you started the apple festival. He’s going fly a banner ad around for Debbie and Doug.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.”

“I just wanted to find out who was helping them out, Nick Rye,” he introduces himself, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ve been crop dusting for Doug and Debbie for years, last thing anyone needs is for John to get his hands on that place.”

“That seems to be most people’s sentiment.”

“Told ya just about everyone is sick of his shit,” Mary May says with a shake of her head, “it’s about time he doesn’t get what he wants.”

“That son of a bitch has been hounding me and Kim for months now, trying to buy our place.” Nick’s jaw clenches, irritation coming off him in waves.

“I know Kim damn near broke his nose for it.”

“Wait what?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow; how often does John harass people?

“Listen to this,” Nick gesture emphatically, now sitting down next to Dahlia, “asshole shows up to the house while I’m gone, trying to bully Kim into selling the damn place, while she’s pregnant. What kind of sick fuck shows up at a man’s house while he’s gone and tries to strongarm his wife into signing the place over. Fuckers lucky I wasn’t home.”

“You not being home was kind of the point of when he showed up.,” Mary May reminds him, “besides, no offense, but even ready to pop I think I trust Kim’s right hook protected her more than yours ever could.”

“Now, that’s just mean,” Nick says with a slight pout to his face, reminding Dahlia of a tall puppy dog.

“It’s okay Nick, anything you lack in strength you make up for in…” Mary May seems to have to search for the next word, normally brains would be the natural contrast, “well, you just keep being you.”

“Never really thought about being anyone else; well except maybe an eagle, but I don’t think that counts.”

“No, it doesn’t really count, Nick,” Mary May says with a slight laugh.

Dahlia stifles her own laugh raising an eyebrow at the ridiculous turn of the conversation. Nick is sweet and willing to help out with the festival, so she won’t spend too much time questioning his desire to be an eagle. It’s not long before Pratt and Hudson fall into conversation with the pilot; allowing Dahlia to comfortably settle into the background as the night winds down.

It’s not even the noon the following day before things around Hope County manage to pick up pace. Sirens and lights flashing as Pratt rushes them up north towards the mountain; there’s a palpable tension. Crisis situations are rare; most days filled with handing out traffic tickets and dealing with roadblocks. Hell, the county is boring enough that the sheriff would allow them to actively work on a festival during shift hours. So, a call requesting EMS, all deputies and units, and the F.A.N.G Center; is definitely out of the normal.

They see the gathering of people as they pull up, Whitehorse is talking with workers in F.A.N.G Center shirts, Hudson and other officers gathered around and EMS workers carrying someone into the back of an ambulance.

“Pratt, Rookie; over here now!” The sheriff calls out for them and they rush over.

“What’s going on?” Pratt is the one to ask.

“Wolf, possibly rabid, but we don’t know. It attacked a pair of hikers. We tried to tranq it but nothing is bringing it down, we gotta find it and put it down before it hurts anyone else.” The F.A.N.G Center employee explains to them.

“No way to get around killing it?” Dahlia asks, she understands it can’t always be avoided, but she would prefer not to.

“We hit that damn thing with enough tranq to take down an elephant and it still tried to maul us before running off; tried to get it with a snare pole and it broke it. We can’t rehabilitate an animal we can’t get near and if we let it go; it’ll hurt someone else.”

“You heard the man, alright,” Whitehorse’s voice booms as he starts addressing everyone, commanding attention “we got a wolf to find, grown wolf, white fur and aggressive. I want everyone to stay in groups; we have tranquilizers, snare poles, and what’s used to put ‘em down. We want to try to do it as humanely as possible but protect yourselves and keep an ear to your radio. We need to make sure the trails are safe and can’t let anyone else get bit; move out!”

The deputies are given tranquilizer guns, the snare poles, and syringes filled with pentobarbital. Though, given what they’ve been told, she’s not completely sure how effective any of it will be. If the wolf has enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant in it already and is still moving; as well as having previously broken one of the snare poles, then how on earth is any of this suppose to work?

But she doesn’t voice these concerns as she follows after Pratt, Hudson, and another police officer tagging along so they can maintain a decent sized group per Whitehorse’s instructions.

The mountains are beautiful, she thought that when she’s gone hiking before, but even during this tense situation she finds herself amazed by how gorgeous it is. Bright green summer grass and towering trees as far as the eye can see. Mountains that reach up to kiss the bright blue sky.

Dahlia stays at the back of the group, letting Pratt and Hudson lead as she keeps her ears and eyes peeled for anything suspicious. The sneer pole is across her shoulders, her wrists on top and holding it there as she walks. She half listens to Pratt and Hudson talk; something about people making up werewolf rumors because the wolves have been acting wilder and wilder lately. She’s reminded of her meal at the Grill Steak, that man who warned a group of people about wolves. He claimed they were trained by Eden’s Gate; but those still just sound like conspiracy theories.

Tension crawls up Stray’s spine, skin forming goosebumps at the sensation of being watched, then the sound of snapping branches coming from forests that surround the trail she walks along. She moves without thinking, leaving the trail and her group behind, following where she heard the noise.

Branches and brush scratch at her arms as she ventures deeper into the wooded area; then she sees his back. Jacob Seed, why does there always seem to be a member of their family just around the corner when trouble happens?

“Something you need,” he says, not bothering to turn and face her, examining his red rifle.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I shouldn’t be,” he spares her a glance over his shoulder, blue eyes rife with condescension, “last time I checked it’s a free country, ain’t it?”

“That’s not what I mean. There’s a wolf running around; possibly rabid. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”

And he laughs; dry and deep, the sound making her raise her eyebrows. Why is the idea of being mauled by a rabid wolf so funny to him?

“You worrying about me?” He asks, finally turning to face her in full, shifting the bright red gun to the holster on his back.

“I mean, yes? My job is keeping the public safe and you are a member of the public.”

“Pfff, you’re just a pup,” he says walking past her, “be better off watching out for yourself.”

His hand is large and rough as it ruffles her hair while he walks by; his palm and fingers nearly encompassing the entire top of her head. His hand is probably bigger than her face she realizes, heat flushing up her face though she’s not sure of why. He’s so condescending and patronizing and fucking giant; the last point isn’t entirely relevant but it’s still true.

“I’m a deputy, don’t patronize me.” She says, reaching up to grab his hand from her head, capturing it in her own. His rough scarred hand is nearly double the size of her own; warm calloused skin against her own.

“You having fun there?” He asks, when she doesn’t let go of his hand right away, instead pressing her small hand back against his palm, comparing the immense size difference. He really could probably wrap one hand around her entire head.

“Your hands are so big, wow.”

“’Preciate it pup.”

And he laughs again, still dry and brief in it’s sound, pulling his giant hand from her smaller one before he leaves. She glares at his back; corded muscle shifting beneath his black tee shirt. Despite her pout, she can understand why he’d see her unable to defend herself in comparison to him. She’s been confident in her physical abilities for a while; but she imagines a man like Jacob isn’t scared of anything.

“Rook, where the hell are you?” Pratt’s voice crackles over her radio as Jacob walks off.

“There was a hunter out here, I was warning him about the wolf,” Dahlia explains herself, she wasn’t suppose to leave the group per Whitehorse’s orders, but no one could blame her for warning a civilian. There’s something odd about thinking of Jacob as just a hunter or civilian; though she’s not quite sure why.

“We’re in the woods near the Visitor’s Center, get over here, you pain in the ass.”

The radio crackles out and Dahlia gets on her way; she knows the Visitor’s Center is south of where she is. Though she has no sense of direction, so that has little bearing on her ability to find it. She hikes down, feeling that’s the closest approximation to south that she can get, sticking a little closer to the woods than the paths. She prefers the shade and atmosphere of being surrounded by the trees.

But the further she travels down, the sparser the trees grow, exposing Dahlia to the sun. Green grass and branches crushing underfoot as she stumbles down the terrain. She can just imagine Pratt and Hudson’s frustration, but warning someone about a rabid wolf is certainly understandable.

A drawn-out howl echoes through the woods, making the deputy freeze. Sunlight is warm on her face and stinging at her eyes as she turns towards the sound. A spire of craggy rocks coming off the mountain; the silhouette of a wolf howling with the sun behind it. She uses her hand to shield from the sunlight, straining to see more detail. Seven distinct darts stick from the wolves back; tranquilizers.

Dahlia quickly tugs her uniform shirt off from over her black tank top, wrapping the fabric around her forearm. Not quite the cushioned guard they use for training police dogs, but it will provide some barrier between it’s bite and her skin. Worse case scenario, she’ll be taking rabies shots once everything is done. She holds the syringe of pentobarbital in one hand, she has her firearm too if that’s unable to bring the wolf down, but she prefers to let it go peacefully if she can.

She stays crouched down as she approaches the peaked edge of the mountain, craggy rock building up to a spire, levels to climb up to reach the clearing where the wolf sits. Dahlia stays low as she climbs, moving as quietly as she can, using a blue grappling hook handle to help lift herself up to the final level. There’s a gap in the clearing; a log showing a passage between craggy rock to craggy rock; boulders surrounded by grass. She can see the wolf, but it’s yet to noticed her, another howl echoing out as it cries out to the sky.

It’s beautiful and she’s all at once ashamed that it has to be put down. Matted white fur with a black nose and lips; it’s eyes are luminously silver, like moonlight. Red is mottled across it’s face, red frothing around it’s mouth, as well as a brighter crimson stroked across it’s brow and down it’s nose. Across it’s furred shoulder blade and spine are seven different tranquilizer darts that were shot at it, how has it not passed out? It doesn’t see her not right away, then it’s nostrils twitch and it’s lips pull back to snarl, red tinged drool dripping down it’s maw. Then it’s gaze is on her, growling and baring it’s teeth.

And then it pounces.

She puts up her cloth wrapped forearm, the force of it’s body hitting hers knocks her onto her back. It’s teeth snap into the fabric, as it tries to chew through her arm, the edges of fangs just grazing the flesh beneath. One large paw presses against her wrist, attempting to pin her limb down so it can rip the meat off her bones.

Dahlia pulls back the plunger on the syringe before slamming the needle into the thick of the wolves neck, sinking through fur and flesh before she pushes the chemical through. The wolf snarls through it’s bite on it, then she watches that shine in it’s silver eyes die. It’s mouth goes slack and then it’s body falls limp on top of her.

The deputy pushes the wolves dead weight off of her, getting up onto her feet, she touches the torn shirt wrapped around her forearm. Drool and blood has stained the green, small damage done to her skin under. It stings but nothing she can’t deal with; the idea of getting rabies shots worries her more. She crouches over the wolf and looks at it’s face, the red around it’s mouth is darker, rusted and clearly blood. But the brighter more purposeful crimson looks like paint.

She remembers the warnings she overheard in the Grill Steak before; someone warning conservationists about wolves owned by Eden’s Gate. Though, he called them a cult. It’s not for sure or a real connection; conspiracy theories and paint. But, who could have gotten close enough to paint the wolf’s face? Who would want to?

“Rookie,” Pratt’s voice crackles over her radio.

“Pratt…”

“Rook, if you’re not here in five minutes, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Hudson threatens in the background.

“Please, she’d probably like that.”

Dahlia’s face flushes at Pratt’s teasing, she can’t say he’s completely wrong, but that’s not the point. She hefts the wolf’s corpse up onto her shoulder, carrying it’s heavy weight, the head of the furry creature beside her head. It’s fur is soft and thick despite the matted nature. She’s not big on hunting culture, but the wolf would make a nice rug.

“I got the wolf,” she says into her radio, holding it in one hand while the other keeps the carcass steady on her shoulder as she carefully makes her way down the craggy rocks.

“What?”

“I got the wolf,” she repeats to Pratt’s flat question.

“What? Wh-where the fuck are you?.”

“I’m on a big ass like spirally mountain thing.”

“That tells us literally nothing,” Hudson informs her.

“Uhhhh,” Dahlia looks over the edge, of the elevated mountainside, “I think I see a helipad nearby?”

“Fuck, I know where you are, stay put. Okay, do not approach the wolf.”

“Uhhh, I think you misunderstood me.”

“What do you mean?” Pratt asks and she can just imagine his raised eyebrow.

“I mean, I got the wolf, I already put it down. We can call off the search, but, uh, I think we have bigger issues.”

“Did you get hurt again?”

“Hey,” she objects to his tone, “you make it sound like I’m always getting hurt.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“No, I did not get…seriously hurt.”

“Oh lord,” Hudson grumbles in the background.

“Look, that’s not the issue, alright. Just get up here and let Whitehorse know what’s going on, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Dahlia finds a steady rock in the clearing to pull herself up onto as she waits, since apparently Hudson and Pratt have figured out where she is. She tries to look for anything else on the wolf that could indicate it being owned; but nothing. Dahlia does find herself wondering why it’s fur is white? Aren’t white wolves usually those in snowy climates, for camouflage?

She doubts she’ll receive any answers, so she tries to quiet her mind. The sun warms her skin where she sits on the rock, white wolf still up on her shoulder, ripped uniform shirt still wrapped around her forearm. It all forms an odd picture, she’s certain.

It’s less than an hour or so before she hears the rustle of footsteps; Hudson and Pratt along with the other officer walking up the way to her. Pratt just stops a second and shakes his head, Hudson is rolling her eyes.

“Hello,” Dahlia says with a soft wave.

“What the actual fuck, Rook?”

And she cracks up; unable to help but laugh at the absolute absurdity of the situation and Hudson’s flat response. She may have already hit the highlight of her career here.

“Stop laughing; it’s not funny, you could have gotten seriously hurt!” Pratt tries to scold her but he’s laughing through his words, the oddity of it all must be hitting him as well. Dahlia presses a hand to mouth to try and stifle her laughter as Hudson gets her radio out.

The senior deputy radios Whitehorse, letting him know they’ve gotten the wolf. He tells them where to meet him with the body, so the veterinarian and F.A.N.G Center workers can examine it. Dahlia will be reliant on actually listening and following obediently behind the older deputies.

“C’mon, Rookie, let go.”

“Alright.” Dahlia hops down from her rock and starts to follow after them down the mountain.

“You need help packing that?” Pratt offers, probably because the wolf is nearly the length of her entire body.

“Nah.”

“You just feel cool packing the wolf on your back, don’t you?” Hudson is the one to call her out, raising her eyebrow with a soft smirk on her lips, looking entirely too pretty.

“Uhhh….”

“God, you’re a dork.”

“I can’t really argue with that,” Dahlia admits with a red face and shrug of her shoulders, happy to see Pratt and Hudson smiling at her dorkiness.

“What happened with the hunter you were warning?” Pratt asks after a beat of silence as they keep walking, helping her over a craggy step with a hand on her hip to keep her steady as the weight of the wolf limits her movements.

“Uh, asshole just patronized me and left. I don’t know why I still talk to him, he’s always a dick,” she says, rolling her eyes when she thinks about Jacob calling her a pup. He likes to comment on her being a puppy a lot.

“Someone you knew?” Hudson asks, offering a hand to help Dahlia get over a large branch in the way of the path. The ease at which the two older deputies silently help her, makes a soft smile pull at Dahlia’s lips. Silently grateful for them as she answers their questions.

“Jacob Seed.”

“Seriously?’

“What?”

“You don’t find it a little fuckin’ weird how the Seeds are always around you?”

“I mean, they’re not around me anymore than anyone else.”

“They really fucking are; you went to the barbecue, John jumped at the chance to rope you into that.”

“Churches like new blood, it’s n-“

“You’ve apparently talked to Jacob more than once; I didn’t even know he could talk,” Hudson says rolling her eyes, “all he ever does at anyone outside the church is glare.”

“She’s talked to Faith a lot too, apparently.”

“I still don’t even know where she fucking came from.”

“I’m still not fully convinced she isn’t a ghost,” Pratt tells Hudson.

“She’s not a ghost,” Dahlia says with a roll of her eyes.

“And you would know, because they cling to you like leeches, right?”

“Shut up.”

“You know what I think it is,” Hudson says after a moment, “you put up with Joseph’s creepy ass speeches and they realized you’d put up with anything.”

“He’s not….that…creepy…” Dahlia says with zero conviction, because, well. He’s definitely off, but despite all the weird little red flags, he did help her and Cassie. So, he can’t be all bad. Even if his brother is taking people’s shit…and well…she still doesn’t know what the hell was up with the shaved head person.

“You can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“Look, we’ve had run ins with him before, he’s the weirdest creepiest person in this whole damn county and that is saying something,” Hudson shudders, “I’d take Zip lecturing me on being a government shill for nine hours over Joseph even looking at me for even a second.”

“His stare is weirdly intense…”

“All of them are weird; John’s skeevy, Jacob looks like he skins people alive in his spare time…Faith’s kinda cute, but at what cost,” Pratt tells her and eh, Faith’s not really her type. The Church Mouse is pretty, but a bit too delicate for the young deputy to really get those weird stomach feelings she gets around women like Hudson or Mary May.

“Really, I didn’t think you liked women who are taller than you?” Hudson asks.

“Faith is like barely taller than me,” Dahlia says with a snort, watching the pure look of offense on Pratt’s face, how could she be taller than Pratt?

“How short do you think I am, Joey?’

“What?” Hudson raises an eyebrow, confused by their confusion, “ heard she was like six foot something with black hair.”

“She’s like this tall,” Pratt puts his hand maybe two inches above Dahlia’s head, “and blonde.”

“Kinda blonde,” Dahlia corrects, thinking of the youngest Seed siblings dirty blonde hair that fades to a slightly light color at the ends. It toes the line between brown and blonde fairly well.

“Whatever.”

“Someone told me she was taller than John, I know they did, am I losing my mind?” Hudson tries to think for a moment; gears visibly turning behind her green eyes.

“Did you ever really have it?” Pratt taunts her.

“Keep it up, asshole, see what fuckin’ happens.”

The trio makes it down to where the sheriff asked, a parking place within the northern area of the county with little gas pumps but not much else. The F.A.N.G Center employees and the veterinarian with a stethoscope around his neck waiting for them as they make their way over. A worker with the center helps get the stiffening wolf off of Dahlia’s back, putting it into the back of a van so they can take it to be examined.

“Good work, Deputies,” Whitehorse congratulates them and Dahlia grins at the praise.

“To be completely fair,” Hudson interjects, “it was Rook who was able to get him.”

“Hey, we helped…move the body…” Pratt jokes, in their own ways they’re both ensuring Dahlia gets her due credit and she can’t help but smile.

“Well, outstanding work, Rookie.”

“Thanks, but uh, I’m kind worried about something.”

“What’s that?’ The sheriff asks, the attention of him, the veterinarian, and center workers all falling on Dahlia.

“The wolf has paint on it’s face, like a cross or something…which kinda makes me think someone owned it or…something?’

“Yeah, that’s definitely not all blood.” A worker looking over the wolf’s face in the van confirms.

“There’s nothing else on it, but we definitely will have to keep that in mind.”

“But, uh, what happens from here?” Dahlia asks.

“I’ll test to see if it’s rabid or if anything else might be the cause for the aggression,” the veterinarian, his name tag she finally catches says Dr. Charles Lindsay, “I’ll let the hospital know and if needed, the hiker will get treated for rabies.”

“Ah, uhh, is there any possible way you could let us know at the same time…well let me know…?”

“Why…?”

“I may have been slightly bit.”

“Slightly?” Pratt is the one to yell out, incredulous at Dahlia’s description of her injury.

“Just a little bit,” She brings two fingers close together in front of her for added effect.

“Jesus fuck, can you just not get hurt for like a week?”

“No, clearly not.”

“Pratt, take her out to the clinic,” Whitehorse says with a heavy sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“Yes, you do. Even if the bite ain’t too bad, you never know if it’s infected. Not only could the wolf be carrying something, but it had someone else’s blood in it’s mouth. This isn’t optional, Rookie, you’re going to the clinic and that’s an order.”

Dahlia can’t and won’t argue with the sheriff on that. Instead shrinking slightly at the realization that her own disregard for her own safety has gotten her scolded despite her accomplishment. She doesn’t think about risks to herself; she needed the wolf put down to save others and if the worst case scenario is her own well-being being sacrificed, that’s worth it to help others, isn’t it?

“C’mon, Wolf-Bait lets get going,” Pratt says, giving her a light smack on the shoulder to follow him.

“I’m coming, asshole.”

She follows behind Pratt, back to the cruiser where they parked at the beginning of this day. The sun has long since set, the moon now bright and high in the sky as she climbs into the passenger side seat. Unable to stop herself from pouting slightly that she’s being forced to go to the clinic again. Even if she understands why.

“Hey,” Pratt gets her attention as he starts up the cruiser engine, “if it makes you feel any better. I’ll be happy to put you out of your misery if it turns out to be a werewolf.”

“Fuck you!” She yells out through a laugh; his dumb joke bringing a smile back to her face as they go off to the clinic.

She’s at the clinic late that night, her injury doesn’t need stitches just some bandaging, some bloodwork and tests done to account for anything that could be wrong. Then she’s sent home with antibiotics; the entire time Pratt making jokes about werewolves and silver bullets like a nerd. All that’s left is crashing for the night and eventually hearing if she has rabies.

Dahlia sleeps easily that night; thanks to her adrenaline crashing down. She sleeps in the night morning, Saturday never being such a blissful treat for her as she manages to not wake up until around noon.

The young deputy takes her time when she gets up, eating cereal and grabbing a shower. Faith mentioned her being able to see Cassie at the convent this weekend spending a day together, so that’s her plan on top of doing the rounds on roping folks into the Apple Festival.

The Convent isn’t far from the trailer park, two buildings seated before the edge of a cliff with craggy staggered mountain range covered in trees beside it. So many mountains and cliffs within the county. The larger of the buildings has dark roofing, a smaller white church with white latticing canopies between them. Like the material used to construct a gazebo and fields upon fields of the white moonflowers.

Before Dahlia can step too far onto the property, a woman with long baby blonde hair with flower tattoos spiraling up her arms and the sin of GREED across her chest runs up to stop her.

“Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, I was here to see Cassie.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but our sister Cassandra is busy today.”

“Sister?” Dahlia asks, blood running cold for a moment. She can’t seriously mean…Cassie wasn’t interested in joining, she just needed shelter.

“Well yes, she’s opened her heart to the Father, a child of Eden’s Gate now.”

“Interesting…” Dahlia clenches her jaw, “Faith said that I could come see her today.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not possible, she’s been busy with finding salvation. She’s with herald John, giving her confession, she can’t possibly be bothered right now.”

“I-”

“Deputy~!” Faith’s sing song voice rings out and Dahlia can’t help but still feel angry, they were supposed to help Cassie, not convert her. The youngest Seed sibling rushes over, nearly floating with the ethereal energy only she can manage. Her white floral dress of the day has a halter neckline and flowers are woven into her braided hair.

“Faith…”

“I’m so sorry; I heard, I know you were excited to spend time with me and Cassie today, but I’m afraid things just became too busy with her deciding to join us here.”

“Yeah…what the fuck?”

“Excuse me?” Faith says, her pretty little smile fading for a moment.

“Cassie needed shelter, not Jesus, so I reiterate…what the fuck?” Dahlia gestures wildly, anger tinging her words. Her blood pressure rising and heat crawling up under her skin like pins and needles.

“Cassie is an adult, she made a choice to join us. Surely, you can’t deny her that freedom, deputy?” Faith’s face pulls into a pout, making Dahlia feel unreasonable all at once, but Cassie was never interested in the religion aspect.

“Yes, she’s an adult, but she was vulnerable, and I don’t think leaping into a religion when you’re in a shitty place is the best move. I-I wanna talk to her myself.”

“Well, I’m afraid that can’t happen, not today. But, maybe next weekend or you could write a letter of course.”

“She still hasn’t responded to my last letter…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Faith puts a hand on Dahlia’s shoulder, meant to be comforting but the deputy flinches away, “as I said, it’s been impossibly busy, she’s been studying our beliefs and methods of joining. It’s a long process at times, very time consuming, but I assure you…Cassie opening her heart to the Father doesn’t mean it’s been closed to you.”

“Yeah, sure, just too busy.”

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy too, haven’t you?” She tilts her head delicately to the side, still smiling.

“I have?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow.

“Mmm hmm, John’s already learned of you helping put together an apple festival.”

“Oh, yeah, Debbie and Doug wanna save that place so why not, I figure.”

“Yes, we’ve been hearing all about it, John’s not exactly thrilled.”

“Nothing personal to it…”

“I figured, I’m not upset, I promise,” Faith offers a soft smile, “the orchard will end up in the rightful hands no matter what. John just worries a lot about getting land for our church, after all we’re growing by the day and need space for our people.”

“And Debbie and Doug worry a lot about keeping their livelihood, ya know?”

“Like, I said, I have no ill will over it, I’m just interested to see you’re so full of surprises.”

“I am?”

“Mmm hmm,” she giggles, but offers no more information, like she knows a secret that Dahlia doesn’t. But before Dahlia can ask another question, a sight among the convent makes her breath catch in her throat.

Shaved head men and women; tending to fields of those flowers, masks across their face. So, they’re definitely with Eden’s Gate as if she really had to question. They work silently, tending to the fields of moonflowers in their white sweaters.

“Who are they?” Dahlia asks, giving Faith a pointed look. The girl’s eyes move back and forth from the deputy to the workers.

“Oh, those are our angels,” she answers, grinning, “they’re high ranking members of our church, so devoted to The Father they’ve taken vows of silence and dedicate their lives to helping The Project. Amazing, aren’t they?”

“Vows of silence, huh?” Dahlia says, more to herself than Faith. Then why did they mumble lyrics and scream out…why would they attack Dahlia? Is Faith lying to her, she’s got to be, right?

“You know, deputy, if you’re so interested in The Project, The Father would still happily let you join our family.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure, didn’t realize there was a huge process to it though…” Dahlia comments, hoping Faith will elaborate, what the hell kind of hoops did Cassie jump through? Confession, is all she really knows.

“Well, “ Faith grabs both of Dahlia’s hands in her own, smiling, “we ask for our new family members to prove they see the truth of our faith, to prove their dedication, rid themselves of their sins and make sacrifices in order to truly cut their ties with sin.”

“That’s-“

“Faith, there’s a call from the conservatory!” Someone calls out and Dahlia’s words die on her lips; the notion that Faith’s description is vague and generally unhelpful.

“I’ll be right there, see you later deputy, hopefully we can meet with Cassie next weekend.” Faith waves her goodbye and then leaves.

Stray straightens her jacket before leaving the convent, a flood of unanswered questions and doubts in her mind. Everyday something new worries her about Eden’s Gate. If Faith’s lying…that’s fucking bullshit. She doesn’t want to imagine that Faith would lie to her face like that. But, why would their oh so special angels, even the name makes her roll her eyes, be screaming and murmuring despite vows of silences? Why would they attack her?

The rest of her Saturday is spent speaking to people about the Apple Festival, roping Chad from the Grill Steak into it. At least, she believes she did, she’s not completely sure of anything he says. His dialect unintelligible, so she just upped her cajun dialect until she barely knew what she was saying either. Its good busy work, getting places to hang up advertisements, though her heart and mind are somewhere else the entire time. She’s thankful that most people are just genuinely invested in helping; because she certainly isn’t getting by on her charisma.

Her night is spent with trying to distract herself, but thoughts always coming back to the weirdness of Eden’s Gate, to her doubts. Wondering what exactly led to Cassie’s conversion… She’s being silly, she tells herself time and time again, but something just doesn’t feel right lately. Maybe she’s overeating; seeing connections and red flags where none exists. But, the case remains that no tv, manga, music, or drawing can distract her that night.

There’s still a slight cloud looming over Dahlia when she arrives at the orchard Sunday, ready to taste Debbie’s baked apple goods. The sun is high in sky and the smell of apples lifts her mood slightly; but she finds herself still distracted as she parks her bike.

“Deputy!” Debbie greets her and Dahlia gives the warmest smile she can muster. The older woman’s smile helping lift some of that cloud.

“Hey.”

“Staci’s already here, c’mon, we’ll sit in the market stall,” Debbie gushes bring Dahlia over to the picnic tables that are under the covering; where they first talked about the festival.

Pratt is already there; the smell of baked sugar and apples hits Dahlia’s nose before she even sees the array of food Debbie’s put out. Apple pie, apple dumplings, apple scones, and she’s sure that’s just the beginning.

“Hey dumbass,” Pratt greets her around a mouthful of apple pie as she sits down next to him.

“You couldn’t wait like five minutes?”

“Nope.”

“Ass.”

The deputy’s feedback is predominantly noises of happiness; neither really food critics but happy to be shoving it in their mouths. The gloomy cloud is starting to lift by the time they’ve finished off a pie; cinnamon, sugar, and apples warm on her tongue. Apple dumplings settle warm in her stomach and she forgets why she was ever upset. The scones are munched down next; cream sticking to her fingers and lips as she eats.

“God you’re a mess,” Pratt taunts and she sputters a laugh when she turns to face him.

“You have food in your beard, asshole.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and starts wiping at his face.

The stuff their faces for a long while longer; strudel, apple cake, apple cobbler, candy apples, and fritters. Pratt leans back from the table, pressing a hand to his face after a while.

“You alright?” Dahlia asks, raising her eyebrow.

“Debbie is gonna have to roll me out of here at this rate; are you not fuckin’ full yet?”

“…No…” She pauses, before shoving more cobbler and whip cream in her mouth. Debbie and Dough are off rushing to get more goodies.

“Jesus fuck, Rook.”

“You’re just a baby.”

“Shut up,” he leans back away from the table and runs a hand back into his hair, “hey, Rook?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever gonna shoot your shot with Joey?”

“What?!” She chokes on her food, just barely stopping it from flying out of her mouth, where the actual fuck did that come from?

“Your little crush on her, you ever gonna do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“Ask her out, you know, like people do.”

“Yeah…why the fuck would I do that?” She cannot grasp his logic here.

“I don’t know how to explain to you that when people have crushes; they ask the person out.”

“I don’t know how to explain to you that that would be really fucking stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I already know the answer, there’s no way she’d say yes, and frankly if she did I’d be concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Yeah, who in their right fuckin’ mind would say yes to me?!”

“So, you wanna act weird around her forever and never deal with it?”

“That was the plan.”

“I’m just saying the sooner you rip the band-aid off, the quicker you can act like a normal person around her.”

Dahlia sighs, she doesn’t want to act like a freak around Hudson for the rest of her life or for her little crush or whatever to get the way of life. Pratt knows more about this crap than her, because everyone does. So, if he’s saying this would help, maybe it would? But, her brain still is struggling.

“But I already know she’s gonna say no, you know she’s gonna say no, literally anyone with a functioning braincell knows she’d say no. So, why would hearing her say no make a difference?”

“Its like closure and shit; I think it’d help.”

“Ugh, just sounds like an excuse to make an idiot out of myself.”

“Compared to the genius you usually are?”

“Fuck off.”

She swallows down a mouthful of strudel before the conversation can continue, but Pratt’s words stick with her. It’s not as if she needed any more on her mind, but she got it anyway. The two continue taste testing for Debbie, though the subject of Hudson never comes up. She’s not sure why Pratt is suddenly so keen on helping her work through her little crush, a friendly gesture, she figures. Maybe her life would be a little easier if she could stop turning into a red-faced mess around the oldest deputy.

It’s late when they finally finish tasting everything; Dahlia giving friendly goodbyes to Pratt and the couple before she goes back home. Her weekend coming to a close with her falling asleep with a stomach full of baked apples.

She’s woken up to her phone ringing; instead of her alarm. Dahlia already knows well that despite shift hours, the nature of their work and the higher level of being deputy means that being called out at odd hours is expected. But her blood runs cold when she sees sheriff Whitehorse is the one calling, something is wrong.

“Sheriff?” She answers, sitting up on the couch.

“Rook; I already called Pratt and Hudson, I want you all at the clinic now! It’s an emergency!”

And that’s all she gets before the call ends. She throws on a uniform and runs out the door, jumping on her motorcycle. Mind racing with each passing second. The hurried and frantic tone in Whitehorse’s voice flaring anxiety inside of her. A million possibilities shooting through her mind as she rides towards the clinic; is it about the wolf? Has there been a murder? Is someone she knows hurt? Could it be an officer?

She’s practically tripping over herself as she climbs off her bike, running into the clinic. The staff is a mess, nurses rushing frantically to attend to someone. Words of transferring, stabilizing, blood transfusion. Something is wrong. Each word swims around her head, but she doesn’t know who they’re talking about. Then she sees Whitehorse, Hudson, and Pratt at the front desk. The three living closer than her.

“What’s wrong?” Dahlia asks running over; all three’s expressions are tense. Pratt shaking his leg, Hudson digging her nails into her arms until her knuckles turn white, and Whitehorse looking a moment away from collapsing.

“It’s Pastor Jerome,” Whitehorse tells her, “someone attacked him.”

“Left for fucking dead,” Hudson interjects, a crack in her voice that Dahlia’s never heard before.

“They’re trying to stabilize him long enough to transfer him to a hospital in Missoula. We need to make sure it stays secure, no telling if whoever did this won’t try to do something again, and we need to be there to ask questions once he’s out of the woods. I don’t want this slipping through the cracks, Jerome’s a good man and he damn well deserves our best effort.”

“Got it,” Dahlia nods in agreement to the sheriffs words.

Images of the man in the priest collar coming to mind. She’s seen him in passing, never a conversation between the two. But she saw him speak with Whitehorse; Pratt implied that both him and Hudson went to Jerome’s church as kids. He means something to them all and that’s clear in just how serious it’s being taken; obvious in how shaken up they all seem to be.

She stands next to Pratt, squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort, wishing she could offer more. He tries to give her a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, too worried about the pastor.

Why would anyone attack him? His church is modest, nearly dying out from everything she’s been told, it wouldn’t make sense to rob him. Hope County has some less than accepting residents; but the idea of a potential hate crime is a hard pill to swallow…

All Dahlia can do is wait with her coworkers, listening to the frantic yells of nurses struggling to save a man’s life. Heart in her throat, anxiety telling her that any second this will become a murder investigation as she watches the hands on a clock ticking away…

#far cry 5 #fc5 #jacob seed #staci pratt #faith seed #uhhh they're the most prevalent this chapter

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