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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Spooks

Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader

Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!

Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play

Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k

Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.

You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.

Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.

Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.

The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.

And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.

“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.

“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.

With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”

This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”

Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”

You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.

“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.

When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”

His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.

Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.

Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”

You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”

Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.

The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.

“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.

Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.

Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.

“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.

As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.

“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.

“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.

The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.

When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.

Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.

“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”

You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”

His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.

The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.

You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.

His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.

Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.

You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.

A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.

“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”

“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.

He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.

You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.

You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.

“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.

One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.

You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.

Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.

However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.

Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.

Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”

“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”

—-

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#raymond wadsworth x reader #raymond wadsworth #matthew gray gubler x reader #suburban gothic fanfic #matthew gray gubler #suburban gothic #raymond wadsworth smut #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg #mgg x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

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i’ll wait and i’ll listen

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of deafness/hearing loss, cursing, i think that’s it

recommended listening: new song | maggie rogers & del water gap

a/n: hi! first and foremost, i want to say that this is based off my own personal experiences with a deaf father, and it is in no way a reflection of how other people or families with hearing issues operate. this is just how we live and how my dad goes about life. with that out of the way, enjoy some soft nolan content i threw together in 45 minutes. pretty sure i made this gender neutral, but please point out any mistakes!

There’s no legitimate reason for you to be so apprehensive about Nolan meeting your parents.

He’s a great person who is all you could ever ask for in a partner. The two of you get along like peas in a pod, and honestly most of the time your relationship feels like two friends hanging out. Of course there’s a bit more romance involved – but being with Nolan is so easy you barely have to think about it.

Your parents aren’t the issue either. They’re both incredibly supportive of your relationship, and anything else you do. If it weren’t for them, you never would have left home – they’re the ones who packed the car and drove you all the way to Philadelphia. You never would have met Nolan if they hadn’t practically forced you out of the house and into the world.

Truthfully, both parties would probably get along great. Your mother is kind and welcoming, and your father has interests similar to Nolan’s. Your younger siblings adore him – they came to visit one weekend and you took them to an afternoon game at Wells Fargo Centre, and afterwards the four of you went out for burgers. Since then they talk to him regularly, and have been begging for you to return home with Nolan. You can tell your parents are getting antsy too – after all, you’ve been with Nolan for nearly two years.

Yes, Nolan has a busy schedule that doesn’t allow for much travel, but there have been plenty of opportunities over the years for everyone to get together. You’re the one who always comes up with a reason for him not to meet your parents. One time you were ‘sick’, another you were too busy with work to make the trip home. It isn’t that you’re worried they won’t approve or that Nolan will resent them. You’re apprehensive about bringing Nolan around because you’re worried there will be a communication barrier.

Your dad is deaf, and Nolan doesn’t exactly enunciate his words well. His voice is also exceptionally deep, which doesn’t help much. It isn’t a secret, your father’s hearing issues, and you’ve spoken to Nolan about them numerous times. Most of the time it’s you fretting about it getting worse and he listens intently while you sob into his chest. Since the hearing loss came from years of working around loud machines, it was gradual, which was frustrating for him. You were in high school when he got hearing aides, but eventually they lost their desired effect. Now your dad relies on reading lips and other non-aural markers like hand gestures to fill in the gaps.

“Babe, I have to meet them at some point,” Nolan says through a mouthful of pasta. “Especially since I plan on sticking around.”

Your mom had called earlier in the afternoon to ask when you were coming home next. The upcoming weekend is free in your schedule, and when you told her she insisted you bring Nolan. He’s out for the season with the migraine related issues so you couldn’t exactly lie and say he was going to be out of town. Instead, you fed her some bullshit excuse and said you’d check to see if he could move some stuff around.

“I know,” you sigh. “I just don’t want you or my dad getting frustrated if talking doesn’t go smoothly.”

Nolan pushes his chair back from the table and walks to stand behind you. He rubs your shoulders soothingly and leans down to whisper in your ear. “There are a million and ten other ways I can communicate with him Sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

Deep down, you know he’s right. There’s no reason the two of them can’t communicate, even if they can’t do it verbally. After discussing it more and ironing out all your doubts, you call your mom back to let her know both you and Nolan will be coming. A small weight lifts from your chest, knowing that you’ll get the first meeting over with, but dread slowly creeps in. There are so many ways it could go wrong.

☼☼☼☼

You and Nolan stand on the doorstep of your childhood home hand in hand. As if he can sense how nervous you are, Nolan squeezes gently, reminding you of his unwavering presence.

“Whatever happens isn’t going to change the fact that I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

To steady yourself from the negative thought swirling in your brain you lean closer to Nolan. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and uses his free hand to knock on the door. Less than two seconds your sister is bounding towards the door and flinging it open.

“Mom! Y/N and Nolan are here!”

She steps to the side and lets the pair of you in. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on the rack behind the door – Nolan copies. As soon as you’re inside the entryway your mother is wrapping you in a massive hug.

“I’m so glad you’re home darling,” she says, arms tight around you. “Was the drive okay?”

You go to answer her question but her attention is turned to your very tall boyfriend who is standing beside you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You must be Nolan. It’s so nice we could finally meet. Y/N has told me a lot about you.”

Nolan clears his throat before speaking, his deep voice echoing slightly off the ceiling. “All good things I hope,” he laughs, looking to you for reassurance.

Nodding your head, you join in his laughter. You travel farther into the house, giving your brother a fistbump when you pass him in the hall. When you moved out your parents converted your room into a sophisticated guest bedroom, so there aren’t any embarrassing posters from your teenage years on the walls for Nolan to make fun of. You quickly unpack your suitcase, wanting to get back downstairs and spend time with your family. It’s been a while since you’ve been home, and you missed them more than you thought.

“Is your dad here?” Nolan asks, hanging the couple of sweaters you guys brought up in the closet.

You glance at the clock on the wall, you shake your head. “He’ll be home from work just before dinner.”

The two of you head downstairs to chill with your siblings, but not without sharing a few kisses that make your spine tingle. At your brother’s insistence the four of you head to the basement to partake in an air hockey tournament. Though Nolan can hold his own in the NHL, he’s rather miserable at this iteration of the game. Your sister eliminates him in under five minutes, and after a hard fought battle you defeat your brother.

Nolan tries to coach you before the gold medal game but you laugh him off. “Nol, you were terrible. I think I can hold my own.”

He breathes out harshly through his nose, but you know he isn’t upset with your teasing. “Fine,” he mumbles, “See if you can win without my all-star advice.”

Your sister manages to win in a shootout. It was a close game, and you challenge her to a rematch after dinner. She accepts, insisting you’ll lose again. Nolan bets he can race her around the property, so you move outside. Your mom lets you know dinner will be ready soon, and you throw her a thumbs up.

Though your sister is a fast runner, she’s got nothing on Nolan’s six foot frame. He passes her with ease, cheekily throwing her the finger as he rushes by. You’re the finish line and instead of stopping when he reaches you, Nolan throws you over his shoulder and continues running through the yard.

Your laugh rings out as you kick your feet. “Put me down!” you shriek. When he makes no attempt to prove he listened to your cries, you try again. “Nol, come on, put me down. If you fall it’ll be really bad.”

Knowing you’re right, Nolan stops moving and gingerly places you on the ground. His hands move to cup your face and he plants a warm kiss on your lips. You refuse to let it get too far, but you lean into him slightly and sigh when he pulls away.

In the distance you hear your mom calling for dinner. “Kids, it’s time to eat,” she says. “Your father just got home.”

Your heart beat rises exponentially, and your steps drag slightly as you get closer to the door. Nolan notices, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he flashes you a smile that’s reserved just for you and makes your heart melt.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure I don’t mumble.”

In the dining room, you guide Nolan to sit beside your dad. You figure it’s the spot where he has the best chance of hearing your boyfriend, and no one seems to protest. They give each other a polite nod while the rest of you rush to place everything on the table and serve the food.

Once everyone is sitting, Nolan takes the initiative to introduce himself. “It’s nice to meet you Sir,” he says a bit slower than his normal speaking voice, making sure to clearly enunciate his words.

There’s no response from your father, and you suck in a breath. You watched him focus on Nolan’s lips while he spoke, but you fear he still couldn’t quite understand what your boyfriend said. It takes a few more beats for him to process what was spoken, but then your dad is cracking a smile and holding his hand out for Nolan to shake.

“Glad Y/N isn’t hiding you from us anymore. I thought the first time I’d meet you was at the engagement party.” His voice is a few decibels louder than everyone else’s, due to not being able to hear himself, but Nolan doesn’t seem to mind.

They slip into an easy conversation about work and hunting, asking each other a million questions. There’s barely room for any one else to contribute but the rest of you don’t mind – it’s been a long time since your dad has been able to go this long without asking someone for assistance. Of course there’s a few bumps in the road – Nolan not speaking clearly or looking elsewhere while telling a story, but that was to be expected. You step in when needed, repeating phrases and recreating scenes with hand actions. Overall, the meal goes swimmingly, and the two men leave the table eagerly to swap stories.

You spend the time catching up with your mother, and she gushes over how Nolan is handling everything. “He’s doing so well,” she exclaims. “He’s so patient with your dad, waiting to make he understood what was said before continuing, and he doesn’t have an issue repeating himself a few times. You really lucked out Y/N.”

“I know,” you say honestly. “He’s simply the best.”

It’s a few hours later that Nolan finds his way back to you. You arch your brow, wondering what he got up to, and he explains that your dad took him for a walk in the forest to show him the deer he’d been tracking the past couple of weeks. It’s heartwarming that they get along so well, and you feel a little silly for fretting over what would happen.

☼☼☼☼

“Your dad is nice,” Nolan shrugs as you crawl into bed beside him. “I could hardly tell he was deaf most of the time.”

You tuck yourself into his side and hum. “He does a great job of not letting it define him,” you agree. “But thank you for being so patient with him.”

A small peck is placed to your shoulder blade and you sigh at the contact of Nolan’s lips on your skin. “He did grumble about how my voice is too deep,” he laughs. “Said he could barely hear me. Once I knew that I made sure to speak clearly and let him read my lips.”

You’re speechless. None of your friends or past romantic partners had made that much of an effort to treat your dad like he was a person. They got short with him for needing them to slow down or repeat themselves, and often would refuse to see him again. It’s part of the reason you were so hesitant to introduce Nolan – you wanted to protect him from another person who might treat him differently because he can’t hear.

“I really fucking love you,” you whisper into the darkness.

You can practically hear the grin in Nolan’s voice as he speaks. “I really fucking love you too.”

The rest of your stay will go just fine, you think as you drift to sleep. There was nothing to worry about, and you can’t wait to watch a friendship blossom between your dad and boyfriend.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#this is kinda shit but i've been toying with this idea for a while #it's done now and my brain can move on #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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idesofrevolution · 3 years

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Black Leather

Sorry, I just have been in weird headspace yet again. But whatever we have a story, yay... By the way, I’m slightly inebriated so if there are typos, GENTLY DM me and I will fix them later or whatever. My boozy demeanor may also explain my very... colorful language on this one. Don’t be too offended. Wahhhhh

It was a dark and stormy night... Nah, I’m fuckin with ya. It was a pretty clear night, actually. A Friday night to be specific, and after a long couple of hours in my old office, I have to say, it was a fuck shit day. All in all, after doing a solid 12 hours behind my computer screen under the dim light of a flickering fluorescent bulb, I’d felt as if I had earned a drink or two. Every now and again I’d go out with a few work friends to grab a Vodka Soda or two, but ever since we’d moved office spaces across town, our watering hole was a little too far out of the way. I found myself going out alone that particular evening, when I came across the Raw Hide.

The moment I walked through the door into the bar, dimly lit with a scarlet red light, I knew that this wouldn’t be the same experience I’d been used to. The cement floors were dirty and littered with wet napkins and questionable puddles, the wallpaper was literally peeling off of the walls, the bartender was wearing only a leather vest with assless chaps... But at the end of the day, Svedka is still Svedka, and if I was lucky, he’d be heavy handed.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender spoke with a slightly slurred, but gruff timbre. I coughed out my Vodka Soda order and sat down on the barstool, pulling my phone out to hopefully avoid making eye contact with the other various patrons. Yet, past all the beasts of men clad in harnesses and netting was one single guy in the back booth. Couldn’t have been older than his mid twenties, and he sat there in the booth by himself, sipping on a Jameson on the rocks. The bartender placed my drink on the Miller Lite coaster on the bar and walked away, but my eyes did not break with the kid in the corner. That dark brunette hair, and deep abysmal eyes... Something felt different... Off... Wrong... And yet, so inviting, alluring, intriguing...

He raised a single eyebrow, and nodded toward the door. Completely lost in his gaze, I’d forgotten entirely about the drink sitting on the bar. I trotted along past booths of laughing bears and drunk twunks, until I met the mysterious man at the back door. He pushed it open, holding it with his arm. I walked outside, catching the subtle scent of aged leather, pomade, and masculine musk as I brushed past him. He followed and the door shut on it’s own. Out in the back alleyway, he leaned against the metal garage door, pulled out an American Spirits cigarette, and lit it with a mischievously intense glance. He offered me one, and not wanting to lose whatever semblance of interest he had in me, I obliged.

“What’s yer name, kid?” The man’s voice was relatively high pitched, but gruff and scratchy. I stammered, tripping not over words, but the very letters that build them. I couldn’t even give an audible response. “Heh, yer smitten. That’s what I thought.” He took a drag off of the cigarette, and smirked at me. He knew exactly the hold he hand on me, and I was powerless to prevent it; though it was not my intention nor desire to protest. “The name’s Westie, short for Weston. And his name is Nicky.” He pointed behind me at the second greaser I hadn’t even noticed had crept up behind me. I turned my head, feeling the heat of his close body looming over me.

Nicky was considerably bigger than me: height, muscles, hands, feet, chest... bulge... He stared at me with that bad boy smoulder one would expect from a rough and tumble “Rebel without a Cause.” I could smell the musk from his well worn ribbed beater shirt, and the greasy oil-stained harness boots; it was intoxicating. He gripped my chin between his thumb and finger, turning it to examine it.

“Yeah, Nicky is a picky guy. I had to bring him someone that would be a good fit for him, ya know? Though it’ll be one hell of a tight squeeze.” Westie laughed as Nicky got handsy with me. Pinching and prodding, even going so far as grope my growing bulge, not once breaking eye contact with me, nor budging from that scowlesque smoulder. His touch was rough, and not just in referencing the callouses on his meaty hands. His gropes, his pokes, everything was assertive and firm. Again, though I couldn’t protest, I didn’t want to... Everytime those rugged, jagged fingers ran across my skin, I wanted it even more. Nicky looked me over one last time, then turned to Westie with a single, apathetic nod. “Aight, boys, let’s make it happen.”

Westie flicked his lighter, and lit the cigarette that had sat between my lips unlit this entire time. I took a drag, but only got a small puff before it was pulled away by Nicky. My back now to him, I heard him inhale deeply, and a puff of smoke blew right past my head. I closed my eyes, as I felt Nicky’s breath on the back of my neck, his hands and leatherclad arms slowly wrapping themselves around my waist. His supple lips planted themselves on my lower neck, slowly and sensually kissing me. His arms raised from my waist, slowly rising to my chest, pulling into a tight hug. I felt the throbbing from his growing bulge against my behind, as he started to grind against me.

With every shallow breath, I could taste the smoky flavor of Nicky’s hot breath. I could smell the sweaty, dirty musk radiating from beneath his heavy leather jacket. I could feel his body pushing against mine... Or rather, into mine. Too caught up in the sensory overload he had given me, I didn’t see that the tip of Nicky’s firm pecs had begun to sink into my back. It was the pressure, the weirdest sensation of some gelatinous form pushing into me, through me, past my skin, my bones, my lungs and muscle. I could only moan in absolute euphoria as I felt his chest push out from beneath my skin. It was only then that I caught a glimpse of my corruption, my new physique, I glanced down to see two, meaty, thick slabs of pectorals where mine used to be. Nicky’s stained, smelly tank slithered across my torso, covering the popping abs that began to protrude from my stomach.

His entire upper body was submerged into mine, and my skin was struggling to accommodate him. I could hear the elastic stretches as his arms and hands were snaking their way from beneath my new abs up toward my shoulders. I knew where they were going and I was helpless, or rather delighted, to feel his thick biceps and manly hands slip my arms on like a pair of gloves. Our arms flexed their strong muscles beneath the worn leather sleeves of the sweaty old jacket. I could hear him laugh a little bit, and sigh in his own waves of endorphins. He put our hands onto my groin, unzipping my chinos and pulling down my boxers. His own pants followed quickly, his heavy, thick uncut snake closed in on my eager hole before plunging in. I gasped at his girth stretching me open, but after I felt his balls slap against my cheeks, the pain was gone. He just kept pushing forward until his balls were slurped into my body along with his crotch. Our hands grasped my erect cock, and I watched with bliss as his longer, thicker, bigger dick slipped into mine. It stretched malleably, as if he were thrusting into a pocket pussy, before it stretched lengthwise out and his hefty balls fell into mine, dropping substantially.

We both let out a cry of enrapturing pleasure, and he slammed his head into the back of mine. Things were blurry, as if I were experiencing a severe headrush. Dizziness, fuzziness, immense pressure, and then, clarity. Still grasping and now pumping our cock with one hand, we brought our second to our face, pulling the skin to adjust our combined visages. The skin snapped tightly against our new face, but the skin would remain elastic. His tongue thrusting into mine, we opened our mouth and took our first breath. Looking down, our legs the only unmerged part remaining.

We took off Nicky’s boots; hot, wet, heavy musk poured from the weathered opening. As his wet, socked toes began to push against the heel of the man I used to be, they slid effortlessly past the skin. Recalling that Nicky’s favorite part of the merging process was in fact the feet, we happily obliged, bringing the boot to our face and inhaling the rank, ripe funk of it’s cavernous confines. We felt the dank, sticky, yellowed socks wrap around our increasingly growing feet, his toes slipping into mine and wriggling with one last loud schlorp... We were now... me.

I blew my load, more than enough for two virile young men. There, in the dim light of the back alleyway, in a massive puddle of my hot, sticky cum I stood. Westie clapped, the wet stain of his own massive load adorning the front of his jeans. He walked towards me, and slapped my back. To him, I am and will always be Nicky. After all, as I slipped my deliciously ripe boot back onto my cum-soaked socked foot, I smiled. The police only know what Nicky ‘used’ to look like, they don’t know the NEW Nicky that you now know before you. Letting Westie sniff the other boot, one of a pair which had outlasted dozens of other Nicky’s before me, I knew that the one smell of consistency that we both enjoyed would continue on. Long after even the next... iteration of me is created and merged forward. As is the way we do things. And now that you know... Well... I’m sure you’re happy to know we’ll be heading your way soon. Very. Soon.

There ya go. Mergy, musky, greasy greasers. Coming next is going to be the creation of a new long term character, a collaborative effort with @floppyderp that we’re both very excited to unveil. If you liked it, PLEASE consider giving to my tip jar. Click on THIS LINK to toss me a few quid.

#male possession #male merging #male transformation #takeover #musk #smelly #feet #greaser #badass transformation #boots #leather #badboy #minionization #original

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 07 part one

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Clan Sanren

Lanny Granny gets a second wind and continues her Yin Iron Webinar.

Wei Wuxian explains that although he was adopted by the Jiang Clan, Baoshan Sanren is his grandmaster, via his mom. Lan Yi claims to think that this is pretty great.

Lan Yi: Wow, amazing, my ex girlfriend who I dumped has settled down and started her own family Clan now, that’s so great. I’m so happy for her. So happy. So great. I mean, when I left I didn’t really picture her finding happiness first, you know? I kind of expected to have settled down myself by now but it’s hard to date when you’re trapped in an ice cave putting headbands on rabbits for 100 years. But it’s fine! I love my life and I’m sure eventually I’ll find that special rabbit person. Anyway I’m just...SUPER happy for Baoshan. Really. Really happy. For Baoshan.

Lan Wangji also appears to have thoughts about it, because he reacts pretty intently.

Lan+Sanren 4EvR.

Wang Yibo is looking extra fine in this cave sequence, with no headband to distract from his fierce eyebrows.

Lan Wangji asks Lan Yi if she’s the one who pulled them into the cave, and she says nope, and then nobody ever explains how they ended up in the cave. “Perhaps it’s destiny” does not count as an explanation.

Lan Gran explains that her battery is running down. The Lan bunnies are not energizer bunnies, apparently. She also tells them that it’s impossible to destroy the Yin Iron and that the only solution is to put it back in the cave and try to suppress it again.

(more after the cut)

However by Episode 23 it inexplicably becomes super easy to destroy the Yin Iron...

...meaning Lan Yi spent 100 years in a cave for nothing, other than writing the Definitive Guide to Rabbit Headbands.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji get back into Hardy Boys cultivator mode, but this time with an extremely long held gaze, which I think is their first time doing this.

I mean...even if these boys are 100% neurotypical (and hello, they are not), this is a LOT of eye contact. I can't gaze that long at anything except my phone screen.

We Will Achieve The Thing Together

Narrator: they will not achieve the thing

The reason I got into c-drama in the first place is, after decades of western storytelling tropes, it’s so refreshing to watch a story and have literally no idea what’s going to happen. Even when the story sets things up to happen a certain way according to my learned experience of stories, it just doesn’t play out that way. For example, if you’re watching The Lost Tomb Reboot and you expected the jade-mining sequence to end with a slave uprising, you were as surprised as I was.

Here Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian promise to do their best to find and suppress the Yin iron. Lan Wangji is going to fail at this, allowing this here piece to fall into the hands of the Wens, because unlike his uncle he's not willing to let his clan die to protect it.

Wei Wuxian is going to take his not-doing-the-thing several steps further, finding and refining his very own piece of extra-badass Yin iron. Yes, he has reasons for this and a lot of stuff happens along the way, but in terms of your typical quest storyline, it would be as if Frodo figured out how to use the one ring to kick Sauron’s ass, rather than (with help) destroying it. Again: this is why I LIKE c-drama.

Lan Wangji tries to shut Wei Wuxian out of his quest and Wei Wuxian makes a short but utterly character-defining speech.

You can’t stop me

I know what’s right.

And then he says that his Grandmaster Baoshan Sanren was isolated because of the Yin Iron, and he has a responsibility to her. Lan Yi agrees. So...he just kinda quit the Jiang Clan right there, didn’t he? In favor of eventually becoming a wandering cultivator like his Grandmaster and clan uncle (Xiao Xichen), and like his mother.

He is also going to follow in his father’s footsteps by upsetting his Clan Leader when he falls in love. Gosh, he also, like his parents, will die and leave an orphan to fend for himself. So -- the apple doesn't fall far from the tree I guess.

He doesn't realize the pickle he’s getting himself into, of course. Being Wei Wuxian, he thinks he can balance all of his increasing obligations, but being human, he won’t be able to.

Pardon Our Entwinement

Lan Yi leaves to catch the spiritual plane, the Yin iron drops, the ward breaks, and Wen Ning appears to download a new software update. The kind that breaks your video driver and photoshops your eyeballs.

Wen Qing comes nosing around the cave wall, and Jiang Cheng stops by to ask what she’s up to.

He hopes she’s trying to find his brother, just like he will fail to do for her & her brother one day.

The boys fall out of the wall together, in a nice example of the “oops I’m accidentally humping you” c-drama romance trope. To keep it censor-friendly, Wei Wuxian is actually on the ground next to Lan Wangji’s right knee but the shot is framed so that at a glance he appears to be in a much cozier position.

Lan Wangji goes on an expression journey don’t say facial through several “oh shit we’re caught” faces, while Wei Wuxian shows Lan Wangji a few iterations of his oh-face.

Jiang Cheng wants to know what the fuck they have been getting up to for a day and a night.

The movie wasn't so hot, it didn't have much of a plot, we fell asleep our goose is cooked our reputation is shot

Wen Qing detects that they were somewhere cold and decides it’s her turn to ask nosy questions. Lan Wangji does the guilty startle thing.

Fortunately Wei Wuxian doesn’t have that problem.

He turns his answer into a prolonged whine about how cold it was, how lost they were, etc. This annoys Jiang Cheng into dropping it and saying they should head back.

I’m awesome right? so awesome right?

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Wangji a significant look to show that he’s deploying a rhetorical strategy on purpose to distract his questioner. Lan Wangji super does not know how to do that.

Flute + Yin Iron = Profit

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji get to watch as Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen tame the hunk of iron and stick it in the bag of holding. Wei Wuxian pays verrrryyy careful attention to this whole “use a flute to control the Yin iron” lesson.

Lan Xichen really should reconsider his music-lessons side hustle. Arguably this one doesn’t turn out as badly for him personally as teaching guqin to Jin Guangyao does, but it doesn’t turn out great, either.

知己啊 - zhi-ji-ah

This mostly-tedious Yin Iron conversation with the elders includes a super-important WangXian moment.

Wei Wuxian calls Lan Wangji his zhiji. This is the same word he will use later in the “what am I to you?” conversation during the Jin night hunt, and the word Lan Xichen will use when saying why Lan Wangji wouldn’t repudiate him during his forced isolation. As always, for the full meaning of this word, @hunxi-guilai is brills.

A Wen spy bird shows up, and Lan Wangji really wants to chase it, but Lan Xichen says no.

This happens a lot, actually. Lan Wangji is not a cool-headed person, despite appearances. Likewise the boys want to go searching for the Yin Iron and the adults want them to slow their roll.

Being a teenager is frustrating, particularly with a classic “I didn’t actually listen to you before making a decision” adult like Lan Qiren in charge.

Lying is my First Class Spiritual Tool

Nie Huasang shows up and has his usual hilariously varied reaction to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji - an enthusiastic “Wei-Xiong!” followed by a nervous & meek “Lan Er Gongzi” and a bow to Lan Wangji.

He wants to know what happened and Wei Wuxian once again shows his powers of rhetoric.

I like to call it my “devil snake.”

He puts off all of Nie Huaisang’s potential questions by really knowing his questioner well and completely distracting him.

This time Lan Wangji seems impressed.

Jelly Jiang Cheng

Young Master Cockblock shows up and lets loose with a display of total naked jealousy. That carving on Wei Wuxian’s bed back in Lotus Pier...is that him and Jiang Cheng? Because damn, this boi is jealous.

...and so is Lan Wangji, apparently, or at least he’s disappointed to have Wei Wuxian taken away from him like that.

Yearn Mode Enabled

Club Ruohan’s Foyer

Wen Chao and Xue Yang stand awkwardly in Wen Ruohan’s vestibule talking to the boss through a giant door, because sure, why not.

This doesn’t bother Xue Yang, who as usual has no fucks to give. Except that today, Wen Ruohan tells him that the budget for his project finally got approved, which lifts his spirits quite a bit.

His project to single-handedly slaughter an entire clan, and he is super excited about the kickoff meeting.

Wen Chao is mopey because his brother gets all the good murder assignments and his dad doesn’t appreciate him. Boo fucking hoo.

Periodic reminder that He Peng looks like this when he’s not playing Wen Chao.

Part 2 coming soon!

Soundtrack: Wake Up, Little Susie by the Everly Brothers

Bonus

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed meta #wangxian #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed spoilers

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davids-cartoon-corkboard · 4 years

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I have said a Lot about the “Raph is a system” theory over the past several months, so this is something of a compilation post. It’s got some new stuff, it’s got some old stuff. (You’re reading Part 1) (Part 2 is here) (Part 3 is here)

---

Firstly, “system” is the term for someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID. (The term can also apply to some folks with OSDD.) Someone might develop DID after experiencing long-term trauma at an early age- roughly five or six years old. To paraphrase the DSM-V:

1. We’ve seen three (possibly four) distinct personality states who speak, act, and perceive others differently.

2. The personality states, or “alters”, don’t necessarily share memory, and Donnie insinuated in “The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle” that Raph has a bad memory in general.

3. Problems arise when alters don’t get along or aren’t on the same page. That none of them seem to be quite aware they’re a system doesn’t help either; it’s hard to work on communication and cooperation when you don’t know they need to be worked on!

4. This whole situation isn’t a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice, or just Raph playing make-believe. (Though I wonder if he had “imaginary friends” when he was younger...)

5. It’s also not because Raph’s been smoking the devil’s lettuce or whatever. “Pizza Puffs” was one long weed joke and he was the only one “sober” (not poisoned) throughout! We don’t see this happen to other mutants, so it’s not a bizarre side effect of mutagen either.

(I’ve seen a few people joke that Mikey has “multiple personalities”, but that’s a tad yikesy and also just plain incorrect. His “doctor” personas are something he does deliberately, and youngest siblings are just Like That.)

So yeah, Raph is pretty heavily DID-coded. We’ve seen four alters so far:

“Host” Raph (HR): He’s our everyday Raph. A “host” is an alter who fronts most of the time and takes care of “business as usual” situations. They are often unaware of past traumatic events, such that they can appear “normal”. (Ex: the host of a child who lives with an abusive parent could be unaware of the abuse. Otherwise, they might cry or be uncooperative whenever the parent is near, further invoking their wrath. This unawareness allows them to be a “good child”, and stay under the parent’s radar sometimes.) Some systems have more than one host, but that the others have shown up so rarely in this story suggests HR is the only host (for now?).

Savage Raph (SR): Debuting in “Man vs. Sewer”, he’s a survival-oriented alter. HR probably could have defeated the Sando Brothers on his own under normal circumstances, but being in the middle of a breakdown doesn’t do much for your fighting skills. SR got pulled to the front to deal with them instead.

“Red” Raph (RR): “Red” is just a placeholder since we don’t actually know his name yet (or even if he has one, not all alters do), though I’ve also heard folks call him “Angel”. He’s got a “tough love” approach to problem-solving, which was probably a helpful thing in the past. LDM were no doubt rowdy children! We were (officially) introduced to him in “Pizza Puffs”.

Mind Raph (MR): MR could just be a manifestation of HR's thought process via Cartoon Goofery, but that possibility doesn’t give me anything to work with so I’m ignoring it. He’s pretty similar to HR, maybe a tad more upbeat. We (officially) met him in “Raph’s Ride-Along”.

When “Pizza Puffs” first aired, I was like “ah yes, this is the alter who has the cranky edgelord tendencies we’ve seen in previous iterations of Raph. He probably broods on rooftops in the rain when he’s in a bad mood.” Combining that with the whole “Red Angel” thing gives off some Batman vibes. And, of course, SR is similar to the Hulk. Those two heroes are pretty different, but they do have one major thing in common...

A sudden, violent loss. Given how prevalent rushing water is throughout “Man vs. Sewer”, I’m thinking a flood came through and separated Raph from his family. (You could probably argue that turbulent water symbolizes a turbulent subconscious? 🤷) Again, DID stems from long-term trauma, so Raph must have been gone for... a while. A couple of months, maybe more? It’s hard to say exactly; we have a little wiggle room when applying human developmental psychology to a human/turtle mutant. Since Splinter still needed to care for the other three, he wouldn’t have been able to devote much time to searching for Raph, and the New York City sewers go on for miles and miles. The longer Raph was alone, the more convinced he would have been that the others had drowned and he was the only survivor.

How old would he have been? I know the turtles are “different ages”, but they were all mutated at the same time so I’m pretty sure Splinter was just like “the littlest one is the youngest, the biggest one is the oldest, and the medium-sized ones are the middle children.” They’re all probably fourteenish by “Finale”. Back in “MvS”, Leo said, “You know how savage Raph gets when he’s alone”. He didn’t say anything like, “You know how savage Raph gets when he’s alone ever since such-and-such an incident happened”. This suggests that LDM straight-up don’t know something traumatic happened to Raph; they were too little to retain concrete memories of that time. In their minds, Raph has always been like this. Draxum isn’t known for his patience, so even though he wasn’t able to immerse the hatchlings in mutagen for long, they probably mature a bit faster than humans. And since humans usually can’t remember anything from before four years of age, three sounds about right for the turtles, though they would have been stronger and steadier on their feet than any human toddler. I doubt Raph would have survived otherwise.

I think he’s sort of... “stuck” back in that trauma. Catching food, building a fire, making a weapon, and getting camouflage aren’t the behaviors of someone who’s only been gone for a few minutes.

When SR called for help, I don’t think he was expecting anyone to answer.

But Raph did manage to hang onto something as he was swept away! It wasn’t much, but that little ragdoll gave him comfort while he was scared and alone.

(The rabbit design on Bruce’s pajamas is probably a coincidence, but...)

Raph seems the type to have sympathy for odd-looking toys. His knockoff Mrs. Cuddles plushie was the emotional crutch he needed back then.

And then he was separated from that as well. Lowkey associating Mrs. Cuddles with this traumatic event would explain why HR was so scared of her. That he doesn’t remember the trauma means he has no context for this fear, making it seem silly and baseless to him (and to the rest of his family), which is why he denied being scared at all in the first part of the “Mrs. Cuddles” episode. It would also explain why he collects teddy bears instead these days, they are a “safe” toy. (The moral of the story is to not make fun of triggers that seem silly.)

(I wonder what would happen if Mrs. Cuddles encountered Savage Raph? Perhaps he’d be quite sympathetic towards such a lonely little raggedy thing! Timestuck as he is, he probably wouldn’t question why a stuffed animal can talk... and it wouldn't be hard for her to persuade her “new bestest fwiend” to get rid of some “mean ol’ nasty sewew monstews” for her.)

That whole “sewer monsters” thing suggests Raph ran into... something while he was wandering alone. Y’all have heard those rumors about alligators living in the New York City sewers, right? Encountering Leatherhead could trigger a flashback.

It would be pretty easy to introduce Leatherhead into the narrative. One of the episodes the Rise crew had planned was titled “The Island of Dr. Noe”, and alligators have very impressive teeth. The Mirage comics had a story where Leatherhead and several cryptids were brought to an island to be hunted for sport.

Noe seems to have quite a few cronies/friends/rivals he could entertain this way. Since he’s got that obsession with Raph, Noe captures him as well, knocking him out with those darts so he can’t waste his energy trying to escape too soon. (Let’s just assume everyone’s powers are glitchy because they all hit another wave of puberty, meaning they can’t just curbstomp the lower-level villains lol.)

HR wakes up on the island and, of course, starts to panic because he’s lost and alone. While wandering, he runs into Leatherhead, which would trigger a flashback to getting attacked by that alligator all those years ago. But Leatherhead doesn’t want to fight! He’s just as scared and confused as HR is, and could really use a partner to help him survive this island.

HR and SR come into conflict because Leatherhead is/isn’t/is/isn’t/is/isn’t a threat. HR eventually wins out, reasoning that even if Leatherhead is that alligator, it wouldn’t be fair to judge him for what he did back when he was an animal.

But time and dissociation can make memories unclear. That our first look at Leatherhead was in Draxum’s “bluh bluh I’m gonna mutate all the humans” bit in “Bug Busters” means he’s a human-base mutant. He wasn’t the alligator back then, but the hunter tracking it. Leatherhead isn’t one of Noe’s targets, he is one of Noe’s guests! And he wants no one to interfere with his quarry, so he’ll play nice long enough for him and the snapper to take out the rest of the hunters and the freaks. Then the two of them will have the island all to themselves...

Years and years ago, Jack Marlin was a big game hunter prowling the New York City sewers in search of an alligator. He did manage to find and kill one, only to realize it had also been hunting! He had inadvertently saved the strangest little turtle creature.

Marlin had become too skilled at this point, the hunt held no challenge for him. This turtle sounded very young, and he was quite big and strong already. An adult could be tough and intelligent enough to entertain him. Marlin tried to get Raph to lead him back to “the others”. But Raph had been lost for some time, and as far as he knew, his family was dead. Hearing that put Marlin in quite the sour mood. A little mutant snapper is a better catch than none at all, so Marlin tried to haul Raph off. Raph fought back and bit off Marlin’s hand. He escaped, but lost his rabbit in the scuffle. Marlin retreated as well, taking some time to recover, scheme, and hunt other game. (And to pocket that rabbit. The blood loss had made him woozy, and he wanted to have some kind of proof he hadn’t just hallucinated the snapper.) Perhaps he turned that alligator’s hide into a vest, which provided the genetic material for his mutation when he eventually got bit by an oozesquito. Like his Mirage counterpart, Marlin didn’t take losing a limb as a sign he should retire, and instead got a tricked-out prosthetic. Who knows what he could do with it in such a mystic setting as Rise.

Raph eventually reunited with his family, but those distrustful, high-strung survivalist traits he had picked up weren’t helpful anymore. He once again had to be the good and patient big brother who didn’t bite when someone play-tackled him or shook him awake at three in the morning because they’d had a nightmare. Those two states gradually got partitioned off more and more, and now they know little, if anything, about each other.

So Leatherhead and HR are chasing away some mothmen or whatever, and things are going pretty well... until one of them knocks Leatherhead over and a familiar ragdoll rabbit falls out of his pocket. SR realizes that Leatherhead is Marlin and switches in to fight him off again. They’re evenly matched, or perhaps SR is even in danger of losing, when LDM arrive to provide support. Leatherhead is enough of a tactician to know that he should retreat. Donnie and Mikey pursue him while Leo stays behind, placing the rabbit in his stunned brother’s hands. “Remember when Pops made this for you? You were always really gentle with it, ‘cause he wasn’t good at sewing back then...”

(This thing really needs patching up, he’s got sewing stuff for whenever he needs to fix his bears/Blue isn’t a threat on his own/Wasn’t he just back at the lair?/Blue gave back the rabbit/Why does he feel like he got hit by a train?/Blue doesn’t want to fight?/ ...Leo?) And that’s enough for HR to switch back in. He’s probably missing memory from his whole time on the island, so while Leo does his best to tell him what happened, they don’t have enough puzzle pieces between them to truly figure out what's going on.

They defeat the bad guys, release the cryptids, save the day, etc. (Leatherhead managed to lose Donnie and Mikey in the woods. A battle for another day.) Once they return to the lair, HR gets help from Draxum to modify the memory spell from “E-Turtle Sunshine” so he can try to fill in the gaps. Surely he wouldn’t get rejected by his own subconscious... right?

Cue part three in the saga of Raph Punches Himself In The Face. SR isn’t happy that HR is essentially trying to poke at an improperly-healed wound, and attempts to chase him off. HR assumes that SR is just a psychic white blood cell like the Lou Jitsu constructs in Splinter’s mind, and retaliates.

But, of course, fighting is not the answer here. All that accomplishes is giving the body bruises. Eventually HR realizes “stay away” and “back off” are a little different than “get out”, and that SR is just scared. So HR tries another tactic. Over the following days and weeks, he tunes in to calmer memories and just sort of... talks. About what happened yesterday, about his teddy bear collection, about how he finally managed to get a good picture of that pizza pigeon. It takes a while to establish a connection, and even then, it’s spotty at best. Using the spell too much can cause headaches and nightmares. There are days when SR is nearby, and days when he’s not there at all. But he shows up when he can.

And then there’s awkward, stilted conversation and questions neither of them know how to answer and questions neither of them want to answer and more scrapes and bruises and strained silences and apologies, but they finally, finally reach a compromise. SR still doesn’t let HR near those memories, but he tells HR what happened as best he can. (The audience would see those memories, with SR as a voiceover.) Afterwards, HR still visits the mindscape that’s starting to become more solid. They talk some more, they watch light and shadow flow around them, they listen to half-forgotten lullabies on scratchy old cassette tapes. Eventually, HR doesn’t even need to use the memory spell, meditation is enough.

They’ll never get along all the time. But it’s a start.

(SR is going to be so clingy when it finally clicks for him when he finally lets himself believe that his family is alive.)

---

This took eight million years lmao. Parts 2 and 3 will come out eventually, they’ll focus more on MR and RR. Let me know if I need to tag this stuff as anything.

The usual disclaimer applies, I am not a system or a mental health professional so if you’re one or both of those things then feel free to give me some of that good good constructive criticism.

#you called for help... but nobody came.#rottmnt #rottmnt theory #the 'raph is a system' theory #rottmnt raph #savage raph #mrs. cuddles #leatherhead #jack marlin #plot bunnies free to a good home lmao #long post

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elliewritessometimes · 3 years

Text

IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

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seafleece · 4 years

Note

Hey, random question, but what do you think are the M9's love languages?

oh, anon, you absolutely did not sign up for this and i am so sorry, but here we are. i had to look up the five types and keep them in the google doc to remind myself what they were, but uhh here’s almost 4000 words of character analysis and discussion of debatable quality

jester:

my initial thought was quality time— an obvious and painful one, as it’s the one her mother wasn’t able to provide. i think the sleeper, though, for jester, is acts of service.

with beau, this especially shows up in reference to healing— jester having a more healing-focused cleric around is a big relief, especially for someone so close to warlock status that she almost was one, but very notably, she very much wants to heal beau. she specifically apologizes for not doing so in the chantry, and attributes that to beau’s absence rather than anything else; more generally, there’s a huge amount of distress on jester’s part when beau is hurt, and that she wants to be the one to heal beau (notably, with the gorgon, she RAN to beau, was immediately upset both times beau started getting petrified, and even dissuaded caduceus or caleb from using their turn to heal beau so she could instead, making sure to be Right There even while nott was applying the oil). she also seems to really value the instances when beau does things for her, especially since there are specific acts that beau reserves for jester (engaging with religion in any capacity, wearing a dress for jester and more broadly allowing jester to pick her clothes, a concept which beau probably has an explicitly negative association with from her mother).

it’s also muddled jester up the worst when it comes to relationships she understands less— the “kiss” with fjord in the temple that was a vehicle for giving jester air, most specifically, comes to mind— and she’s really come to terms with this by realizing that romantic feelings weren’t really what he was expressing, and that it wasn’t necessarily what she was feeling, either. it’s noticeable in how she describes her relationship with the traveler— she feels like her service to him is doing little things for him, and asks, when she’s unsure, when the traveler failed to act on her behalf when they were kidnapped, if she did something wrong to make him angry, and literally desecrates a temple to make up for it as soon as they’re back in town.

and the thing is, quality time isn’t really what was lacking in her relationship with marion— marion probably did have time to spend with jester for at least a little while every day. the problem is that marion simply couldn’t provide jester with things that she needed: access to the outside world and companionship. she had to learn from near-scratch how to navigate relationships of varying intensities, and it shows with her initial zeroing in on fjord as an iteration of the dashing sailor her momma told her about, as well as her more slow-burn come to trust and really invest in and love beau, because she’s never had a relationship like that with a girl, and maybe didn’t even know it was something she could have, or something she could want.

jester’s her proudest when she’s doing things for other people, even if they maybe wouldn’t love her doing it if they knew— threatening beau’s dad because she hates that he hurt her, hearing that beau was thinking about leaving and marching in to modify memory a hag, writing astrid a letter because caleb seems like he liked her, asking essek if he likes caleb because caleb seems to like essek, painting yasha’s room in the xhorhaus, finding outfits for everyone. she struggles with how to rein in showing it and thinking first about the potential consequences, and is unsure how to navigate what it means when she’s shown it in return, but it’s messy and heartfelt and sincere. with her mom, she really clearly appreciates when her mom does do things for her— providing a home for her friend’s family, allowing the m9 to stay in the chateau, coming to the party with them despite her agoraphobia. i’m sort of banking on a scene where jester talks to her about it, apologizes for leaving, and reaffirms that it means a lot to her that marion is stepping out of her comfort zone for her.

beau:

words of affirmation. this is NO DOUBT something her parents didn’t give her, maybe ever. this is baked into her relationship with them— she knew that her father wanted a boy, he probably Told her this, and she wasn’t one. it’s something she could literally never be, an aspect she would be forever resented for, that would tinge everything her father ever said to her. her mother also probably didn’t give her much if any affirmation, as she was trying to police and fix beau’s behavior to avoid thoreau’s anger for both of them, and never properly elaborated to beau that her intention was to keep beau from being punished (not that it would have made it okay, for the record). it’s also why her conversation with her parents in 92 immediately threw her off, because for once they actually told her she’d impressed them, that she’d done good, and it’s rough as hell to see that.

unfortunately, it’s also the thing she’s least likely to get from everyone else unless she’s at her worst, because almost everyone else, including fanon, seems to have profoundly absorbed this idea that beau is rude and abrasive and sarcastic and she’s just. not. she might have been at the start, but she’s always been especially soft with jester, she and caleb are very mutually assured about the sort of affection they show each other, she’s always been either openly flirting with or just sort of tenderly awkward with and trying around yasha, she and caduceus have a fun and pretty peaceful dynamic i always love to see, and we know caduceus, for at least a while, considered beau his favorite.

then, there’s the characters she’s known for butting heads with the most: fjord, with whom she’s developing a sibling dynamic to rival hers with caleb and really obviously is ride or die for; nott, who used to openly insult beau and just about everyone else, and who is now 1/3 of the chaos crew beau is also in; and molly, whose death was a HUGE turning point for beau in terms of a) taking stock of her morals and how she intended to act on them and b) expressing love for someone so you know they know it, before it’s too late.

jester seems to see this the most, no surprise there, and dairon also sees a lot of potential in beau not because she’s strong or fast (she’s from a martially focused monastery), but because she’s smart. dairon talks about and to beau very affectionately compared to other mentor/guardian figures she’s had, and i think it means a lot to her coming from both jester and dairon. she certainly returns the favor for both of them.

fjord:

this one isn’t immediately apparent, so i’m gonna start by talking about the nature of his relationship with caduceus (and see where it gets me).

okay, i lied, i’m starting with molly.

fjord and molly had a thing. it’s clear in retrospect, and i’ve talked about it, but i think it has to do with where fjord was in his quest to reinvent himself. molly was someone who, for all intents and purposes, had flawlessly become a new person— not necessarily because of a concerted effort to change who lucien was, but a different person nonetheless. fjord wanted desperately to believe that that was attainable for him, and thus saw a lot in investing in molly. molly was a silent affirmation that fjord could really pull this off, could really reinvent himself and be fine.

also, molly was hot. enough said.

caduceus, on the other hand, offered something different. caduceus came along right before fjord’s willingness to help uk’otoa was first tested— fjord rose to the occasion, but the whole time there was someone new along, someone whose faith in his deity seemed assured. assured, that’s something fjord never had.

afterward, he got to see what it meant to believe in a god like that, and he started to want in. caduceus seems like a very honest person— though really, it’s just because m9 doesn’t know the right questions to ask him— and his god is the god of the sea, too, right? fjord really lost a rock in molly the way i don’t think a lot of people realize, and it’s why his swallowing the summer’s dance felt so meaningful. he was keeping a part of molly with him, and i wonder if he misses that part of his falchion. after he lost his inspiration for recreation, he started to put stock into authenticity as the answer, and caduceus as the vehicle. and the wildmother was very accepting, too, took him in like a lost sheep.

where fjord is now, i think he values the covenant (which i realize i actually define later, so if i forget to reorganize these before i post, then oops) in a similar way to caleb. more specifically, though, he decidedly the word owe in talking to beau about the group’s relationship, which, among other things, speaks to acts of service. fjord has work to do to earn his place as a paladin of the wildmother (and a good amount of work to do indeed, if getting trounced by darrow was any indication), and he feels the need to repay caduceus for his help, companionship, and guidance. fjord also gets hurt and KO’d. a lot. i think he takes it on the chin as his role in the group— that’s his job, and he has faith in caduceus and jester to keep him up. they’re not done yet, they haven’t finished serving one another, so beau leaving is of considerable offense (near-mutinous, to be specific).

caleb:

words MEAN SHIT to caleb, you can tell in the way he talks. everyone remembers the times he’s told nott he loves her, he responds best to beau because i think he really loves the way she talks, he shows his feelings in really passionate speeches to nott, to beauregard, and most recently to essek. there’s absolutely a reason why so many goddamn quotes from campaign 2 are attributed to this dude, and it’s because he monologues like a fucking champ. their group is named after his accent.

as for receiving love, though, i think it’s a little different. we know from talks that he’s placed a lot of value on the things jester has done for him, and moreover to be herself as someone who gives recklessly, but as far as we know he doesn’t intend to do anything with it. with nott, i’m tempted to create a new category that’s something like a covenant? he and nott agreed to travel together and help each other under the worst conditions, and they’ve stuck to this fastidiously. this covenant, this commitment to the group, is something he extends to everyone— he is not willing to walk away from this, and hasn’t been for a long time, he believes in all of them, truly, what they can do— and cherishes the fact that everyone has kept this, except for two very specific moments. beau, when she introduced the threat of her leaving the party, and yasha, when she was taken over by obann. for beau, he actually seemed fairly quiet compared to fjord, and i’m not sure yet on why this is, other that i think he trusted fjord and jester to talk her down. as for yasha, he seems to be really invested in commiserating with yasha as two haunted ones (literally), and sees her as someone who also really values the group but sees her ability to belong as tarnished by what she’s done.

for the purposes of this, i’m gonna refer to it as that, as a covenant (yes i’m a failed church kid, what of it) and as separate from acts of service, because it’s more akin to the promise of one major, permanent act of service to each other. i wonder if it’s this steadfastness in that idea that partially led caduceus to continue and develop the idea of his role, because caleb and the rest of team cockroach, as i call them, were gonna keep that covenant if it killed them, and caduceus could keep them from getting killed, at the very least, if he entered into it.

but anyway, that covenant now extends to essek, if he decides to take it. and if he does, that will mean something infinite to caleb, i think.

caduceus: acts of service.

okay. i wanna talk about caduceus and danger.

caduceus doesn’t heal himself. we know this. he heals everyone else, and not himself.

i’ve been checking critrole stats on this, and if i’m reading correctly, he has taken the most damage (157) in one episode than anyone else. and it’s not a small margin. the closest is yasha (129) and i’m almost certain that’s from the episode where she decided to literally get attacked until she passed out. i was trying to guess which episode this was from, and then it hit me: probably the episode where he fucking died, right? because it really just never came up again.

caduceus has: started to drown at least 3 times in his first month on the job, been killed by nott, been beaten near to death when yasha was charmed, and been very quietly and very badly stabbed in the back by a disappearing assassin. he’s also died at home, as a family tradition.

there’s a million better meta posts about caduceus’s relationship with death, or even about him not healing himself, but I just want to set it as potential precedent for the idea that caduceus, to some degree, sees value in himself as someone who doesn’t mind dying in a fight. for one thing, it’s been a temporary thing almost from day one with m9, as jester immediately invested in diamonds when they got back to town. it’s not his first rodeo, either, and his family has normalized death to an, and i say this more because of how it’s affected him rather than because i dislike the idea of normalizing death, an upsetting degree.

giving healing, that’s his job, but eliminating himself as someone who needs help or healing, well, that’s healing in a way, too, right? if he doesn’t get healed, it’s more for everyone else. worst comes to worst, jester can heal him if need be. or, y’know. not heal him.

caduceus’s relationship with m9 has noticeable transaction rhetoric, and i wonder where that really fits in with his family. obviously, his role in the family was implied as the one who stayed behind, and his parents definitely imparted a need for him to be stable, a role he’s continued to fill for m9 to his quiet detriment but i think he’s also jumped on the opportunity to finally be the older one, the wiser one, of the group. there’s a power caduceus has over the group that’s really understated— they just sort of listen to him, even if what he’s saying doesn’t actually make sense, because he started with nott, beau, and caleb as a wise savior, a protector, and upon finding the others, it’s not like jester, fjord, or yasha were filling that role. molly certainly wasn’t either— it’s funny, how in retrospect caduceus seems inevitable to the group because they really didn’t have anyone like him. the closest thing to a voice of reason they had was fjord and caleb, and early on, caleb was not in great standing because of his and nott’s perceived standoffishness, and fjord threw up ocean water, so like, what’s up with that, right?

at the very least, he definitely believes he owes the mighty nein something, a role to fill, a job to perform. a service to act out, if you will. his job is to heal, and he does less healing if he heals himself. he seems to view him taking a hit as a win, in a way— it’s a hit that someone else doesn’t take.

i have a lot of hope that reconnecting with his family and seeing how he’s grown while they haven’t allows him to revisit his notions of what he needs to be, and i have a lot of hope that moving forward, he’ll be able to invest more in the other motif he’s developed, which is gift-giving: fjord, with the star razor; his sisters, with the hat (which seems small but like. boy’s had it for a while) and the flute; and, most recently, in helping jester pick out everyone’s outfits. it allows him to feel like he’s giving something to the people he cares about without it hurting him.

yasha:

truly everything. it’s hard to get a read because yasha really just soaks in all the love m9 wants to give her. if i had to guess further, i’d say we should look at her and molly’s relationship, because molly’s the only character we’ve seen her unabashedly love, and the thing that stood out most to me was physical touch. that echoes really depressingly with her “fight” in 89— she got something out of being that close to someone, even if it felt like reparation or atonement, and i think the only person in m9 who’s been really unafraid to touch yasha is jester.

i’ll admit i have a soft spot for yashter, but, like, it’s there, right? the obvious trust, the faith jester has in yasha and the fear and turmoil when that was tested? i remember really clearly jester giving yasha a piggyback ride in zadash in an early ep, and like— when’s the last time someone was strong enough to do that? when’s the last time someone wanted to do that for yasha? everyone’s mistrusted yasha to some degree for the entire run of the campaign, and, like, how much did her hopes to get close to everyone else just evaporate after the king’s cage? does she really even believe she can have it again? she was so close— jester trusted her fully, she and beau were in a comfortable mutual place with flirting, she’d talked to caduceus and jester about zuala, she even felt comfortable picking up nott and throwing her around (which, by the way, i love their dynamic).

she seems to have leaned more into the protective, threatening stance since they got her back, which, if she’s comfortable with it, is just fine— maybe she’s shifting more towards acts of service, but i just hope it isn’t her just accepting the idea that everyone will always be afraid of her, that she won’t be close like that again. because molly wasn’t afraid of her. jester wasn’t, and i don’t think she is, now— but fjord showed a lot of distrust, and i think yasha’s scared of the degree to which she hurt beau and how to even broach that discussion, and she attacked them, how could they ever forgive her or trust she wouldn’t do it again?

(i wish i had a happier end to this, so i’ll just say that she did seem comfortable last ep, and that she may or may not have interest in getting a tattoo from jester? interesting stuff.)

veth:

on a person to person level, veth definitely feels she and caleb are acting on the promise they’ve made to help each other— now she’s reached it, things are a bit more nebulous, but it’s obvious she wants to stick around for him. i’ll admit, her words to everyone in 97 were a bit surprising to me— she hasn’t really been good at conveying emotion like that before unless she’s desperate or really upset, and i imagine it was something she started planning in her head to say to everyone as soon as the first ritual didn’t work. that might be, i think, what she felt as relief, just not being able to articulate what she wanted to say to everyone.

as for her family, veth believes she owes her best self to yeza and luc— she kept herself from them not because she couldn’t have gone back, but because she felt like someone else, like someone worse, and the exaggerated tendencies from her previous life only reinforced this— she didn’t believe she deserved to be around them, before now. before caleb, i don’t know if she had any hope for returning to them at all, and he changed that entirely.

i’m also very interested in why veth is able to reconcile her marriage with yeza as veth with her loving caleb as nott, and if she sort of considers herself as two different people. we’ve seen so little of what she feels comfortable expecting from other people— for now, i’d say acts of service seems appropriate? but maybe something closer to just. fulfilling promises.

bonus: for the other two who are considered part of the mighty nein

kiri:

words of affirmation. i’m a HUGE kenku stan, anyone who’s played d&d with me knows this, and i’m especially fascinated with the relationship with words when you can only speak the words you hear/remember. on the most basic level, if you speak to kiri, you are giving her a gift, you’re giving her the ability to speak, too. and if those words are affirming, then she can say them back! and you’re giving them to her, in a sense, to use as she pleases and repeat them to herself, even, and i just love that image— her, to herself, saying “i love you” in other people’s voices. i’m ride or die for kenkus, and kiri started it.

essek:

okay, so almost everyone in the m9 could be read as needing words of affirmation, because it’s so clear that they need more love and knowledge of love than they’ve received, and have found it in each other. essek has quite literally found it in m9 for the first time. he absolutely needs all of these, like, ASAP, but i think it’s what everyone says to him that get him the most. caleb’s speech, obviously, but it’s also them casually referring to him as their friend, it’s jester’s messages, even if he’s busy. it’s important to say, though, that i think it’s a specific type of affirmation: things that have nothing to do with his magic ability (and moreover, any of these gifts that have nothing to do with it). essek’s built his entire life on the idea that he is someone incredibly powerful and smart for his age— m9 are probably the first people to make him feel like he was more than that, because they want to know about the rest of him, and in becoming friends with them, he’s confronting the fact that he doesn’t really believe there is a rest of him. they want to know a part of himself that he at best has neglected and has been neglected by others, and at worst that he believes does not exist. when they talk about him as a friend, it adds to who he can be. he’s seeing, for the first time, that he can exist as someone else than his abilities and his ambition.

i initially started off with words of affirmation and he clearly needs that, but i think he really just needs all of these in a very specific way: he needs to feel love that is not based in merit, that pertains to who he actually is in this life rather than what he can become in the next, that values the life he’s living right now, because he’s not getting that from the dynasty. it seems like a low bar, maybe, to people who only have the one life, as far as we know, but his arc this campaign shows that it really, really isn’t.

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unluckyadept · 3 years

Text

Character Journal Entry

{EASTER SUNDAY, 2021T}

The journey does not end here.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[It had been a long time since he had properly written. A very, very long time. So much had happened. It wasn’t just A long story—it was SEVERAL long stories.

But he had to at least try. Had to put in the effort, during this lull, this brief respite.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

It is something I have had to remind myself, now. More often than before.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He had one particular person in mind as he reflected. If only he had proper time for a letter….

Maybe he could draft one as he wrote down his thoughts.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

How easily a man’s fortunes may change! It was not too long ago that I looked out to a new sunrise, a life of my own choosing.

My friends and I were well. Our families were well. Our lives were secure, and our allies were prospering. The common man could travel freely, secure in the knowledge that he need only concern himself with the {[business/matter/reason]} that drives his journey—others maintained security within the towns and across the countryside, and would maintain order and enforce justice should lawlessness prey upon him.

Everything was so secure, in fact, that I no longer held it a concern. Yes, even then, the tension was growing—and the Prideful summer season of the Colosso was a month of (what felt like torturous, at the time, before we learned what it was like when it’s even worse) hatred and disdain, and unpleasant as usual—but I was certain that with the sunrise, peace could be made possible by reaching out in joyful prosperity to the common human nature that is within all people.

It was not so long ago that all was right in our worlds, and we eagerly climbed out of the dust of mere survival and into the sunlight of true Living.

Not so long ago, indeed, that all was well for us in the world.

We had all we could ask for; health, family, friends, purpose, security, justice, fair recompense, resources, joy, peace, and—for the first time in an incredibly long time, on my part—

Hope.

It seemed, in those golden days, that against all odds—against all I’d been told, all that I’ve suffered, all that holds contempt for me, despite all my previous perpetual misfortunes, the repeated betrayals, the years of futile struggling!—against all odds, at last, all was well and we could all begin to know a life of true Joy in a happy and prosperous peace.

The years of darkness were finally behind us, and in that hour—brief as it was, and all too quickly and most painfully stolen—it was all worth it.

It had all been worth it.

To experience such true peace, surrounded by blessing, unburdened by darkness—

Oh, it was so, so worth it!

=-=-=-=-=-=

[…And then it was gone.

His heart ached as he sat in silence and sorrow, thinking back on how it started to fall apart, piece by piece.

Worse, and worse,

and worse

and worse and worse and worse and WORSE until at last, it had stuck so incredibly deep that it could only distinctly get worse if the walls continued to close in and suffocate him entirely.

It was so profoundly and inexplicably terrible that it sounded like a wild story written by an inexperienced Writer, too intent on giving suffering to the main characters that they failed to appreciate how it muddied the main plot and was too arbitrary to be realistic.

If he weren’t currently LIVING through this Purgatorial suffering, he wouldn’t believe it were even possible to be “realistic” for things to go so suddenly, so terribly, and so thoroughly wrong.

Each day was a year, now. His wretched and arduous labor was compounded by the yawning abyss that was the hopelessness of seeing no end in sight to such misery.

How quaint of poetic irony to strike him in such a way, that he was truly blind of the world as much as he was (and in fact, because he was) blind of true Hope.

Oh, he knew what it “looked” like, well enough. He knew he had once held such confidence and serenity, and that it had been worth it, to press on until his burdens were lifted. Abstractly, he did believe—within a given set of necessary requirements for it to be possible—that it could happen again.

He knew it existed. Logic dictated it was still true.

But he could no longer feel it.

Not in its true state.

=-=-=-=-=-=

What is a man’s life, to toil away, and have tyrants destroy all he worked for? How easy it is to be so burdened by suffering under hateful tyrants that such a mindset drains the will to live.

Even I ask myself this, in my own iteration.

For mine is a terrible fate, a burden one would not wish on any man. And indeed, my whole life has been filled with sorrow and pain. All my joy has been fleeting in comparison. And it seems to me now, in this hour, as our enemies close in on us once more… that what little good I have managed to do will be meaningless. Soon to be forgotten, even sooner to be lied about, and already been robbed of any credit for what people DO acknowledge as positive.

But there was something that a good friend said, shortly before I lost

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He stopped there, feeling the terrible weight on his chest—from all the tension, all the strain— making it hard to breathe.

And he clenched his jaw, trying to fight off the inclination to be overcome by the raw pain that still ran deep.

For this was the message he was getting at, after all, wasn’t it?

And yet a single tear still managed to escape and mar his face, betraying the lonely sorrow that persisted despite an adult appreciation of reality and a mature acceptance of the inevitability.

Taking a moment to close his eyes and let it pass, he took in a deep breath and let out a sigh before he continued.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

It is not Man’s fate to have to rely on the whims of the world to determine whether or not existence will have meaning.

The journey does not end with losing everything over time, until at last, even the connection to this world is permanently severed.

It does not end in sorrow, in loss, in suffering, in misery, having long forgotten even starlight in the grim darkness of years without a sunrise.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[And his heart was less burdened now, reminding himself of this fact.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

Did not our ancestors toil away in thankless drudgery, generation after generation, subject to the greed of entitled ignorance, before we ever came to know those moments of prosperity and peace?

If we endure, if we stay true, then if nothing else, those who come after shall benefit from the good we have done and the foundations we placed—even if it had been torn asunder again and again, still, able to pick up the pieces—and build the world we wish to see.

And so we must remain strong, we must continue, for it is a certainty that there is good in all people, and it is never too late for the true repentance of past evils to contribute to a genuine reconciliation and peace.

For how many could honestly say that there is naught in their life that they regretted so deeply, so truly, that they were moved to become a better person? When we learn from our mistakes and desire to do better—to do good—then we do indeed turn aside from the darkness and work to build a better future.

How, then, can we say so readily that it is impossible for others to do the same? Are we not all equal?

We are not identical, but that is not necessary to be equal in dignity.

Therefore, let us resist the despair that “they” will never change, and are dead set on hatred and misery.

It is writ upon every heart this indelible truth: just as we know our hopes, dreams, dramas, sorrows, anguish, labors, friendships, enmities, joys, and rewards of time and effort…

…so does every human soul. I refuse to accept the notion that judgment must be made upon entire groups for the sins of individuals. And it is unfounded, cruel, unjust, and bafflingly pointless to treat people poorly for the sins—real or imagined or generalized—of their ancestors, let alone the ancestors of people who are judged to be similar in appearance.

So too do I reject the notion that it is impossible for things to change.

Everything is impossible if no one puts forth the effort to make any given “impossibility” a reality.

Such true Joy and Hope as I had known was indeed a prosperity such as been admired in ancient ballad and inherited dream.

If I had known it then, against all odds, having healed from the wounds and sickliness of years of suffering—

If I did indeed live long enough to Live, however briefly, then might it not be possible again?

The journey does not end here, my friends.

This is not the end.

Darkness does not have the final say—nor is anyone barred from true change, such as drives one to grow strong, work hard, and do good in this world.

For it is not indeed about whether we knew luxury, in the end of this life. Nay, rather, what lingers, what is carried over, is this—

We live to build the world around us. Each labor we undertake that adheres to the paths of virtue provides the resources used to build a better world. As we continue down this road along the shoreline, yearning for those who have already taken the road to dawn, we know this—

The good others have done for us has brightened our lives and brought us higher out of the darkness and into the sunlight, and has had meaning.

So, too, do our good deeds impact others.

The journey does not end here, my friends…

This is where it BEGINS.

—Felix

#cje #still relevant

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chestnut-b · 4 years

Text

Himawari - Chapter 3

“You’ve never thought of killing Naruto? Of having your revenge?”

“What makes you think I haven't?”

Chapter 3 of a Kimetsu no Yaiba-verse AU

Kakashi sat in his room and looked gravely at the mess of scrolls and papers before him. It was just past midnight on a cloudy evening, and the only light available was from a paper lamp that was just a bit weaker than he would have liked. Beside him, Uhei snored softly with only an occasional twitch of the nose, clearly exhausted from sprinting through the countryside.

He looked over the latest report.

“I brought Dango-chan along with me up North this time. The trace we found was pretty fresh. She estimates it couldn’t be older than a few months. Unfortunately, there aren’t any locals left for us to question, so we don’t have any clues about his latest form. We may have bought ourselves a bit more time, but judging from his trajectory, I can’t say it looks promising. Don’t slack off too much. I’ll be sending Dango-chan back, rendezvous with her when you can.”

This was bad news as much as it was not-so-terrible news, Kakashi mused.

He dipped a brush into some fresh ink, and marked a cross onto the map before him. With one efficient stroke, a line soon connected this latest cross to an older marking in the South-west direction. Kakashi surveyed the work before him; a serpentine constellation of lines, crosses and notations collected on Orochimaru’s whereabouts over the generations across the country.

Jiraiya was right. Having just taken over a new host, Orochimaru would be unable to switch bodies for a while. Past records told them he needed time to recover his strength after each possession, but the overall trend was undeniably disturbing. The periods between were getting shorter and shorter; the collateral damage growing in devastation with each iteration. Did he require less recovery time now, or was he just getting desperate?

Kakashi grimaced. Too little information. There had only been a handful of sightings of the great demon himself over the generations, and even then only a few reports existed from people who had lived to tell of their encounters, one of whom was Jiraiya. His own Father, as great of a warrior he was, had not survived his.

He looked over the map once more, taking in Orochimaru’s journey and his inevitable destination.

Really, they had a few years at best.

The Pillar let out a small sigh, allowing his thoughts to drift to the pair he knew were sleeping just across the courtyard from him.

-------------------------------------

“You’ve never thought of killing Naruto? Of having your revenge?”

It was a question born out of curiosity. He really just wanted to get to know Iruka a little better.

Then came his answer.

“What makes you think I haven't?”

If there was any brevity in the air before this, it was nowhere to be found now.

An amber-brown gaze was fixed on him, and for the first time he found himself unable to read Iruka. Between them now was only the crackle of a flame, and they waited to see who would break their silence first.

Well, he’d started this inquiry, Kakashi thought. Time to see where it would take them.

“Seeing how well you get along, it’s a bit surprising…that’s all.”

It was sincere, without a hint of sarcasm.

Sensing this, Iruka broke eye contact and dipped his head, staring at his own reflection in the cup of tea still in his hands, his expression somber. Kakashi refused to press choosing instead to observe silently; the subtle signs of exhaustion, usually camouflaged by a smile and good humor. Iruka never let it show in front of Naruto or his students, but if the other evening was anything to go by, he mustn't have had a decent night's sleep in a while now.

“Sarutobi-sama can be unexpectedly cruel sometimes, you know.” Iruka whispered. His lips turned in a wry smile.

If Minato-sensei and Jiraiya had been any indication, Kakashi thought he might have had some kind of clue, but he held his tongue. Hopefully, they’d be able to joke about it later.

“Kakashi-san, how do you think we came to find out about Naruto’s immunity to sunlight?”

Ah. This was something that had bothered him for a while, and certainly not something he’d expected to find out so soon, not from Iruka, anyway.

When Kakashi had delivered his sensei’s newborn child to Jiraiya, it had been a few hours before dawn. It was the last time he ever saw Naruto before coming here. Meeting him out in the open with Iruka that first day was something completely unexpected.

“Am I even allowed to hear this?”

“It was left to my discretion. I think...it will be good for you to know.”

To Iruka’s discretion?

Add another entry onto the pile of mysteries that was Umino Iruka.

“You’ll have my silence, I swear it.”

Iruka put down his cup before finally lifting his head to meet his gaze again. There was a kind of condemned relief in his expression, Kakashi found. Almost like he’d been waiting for the day he could speak of whatever it was that haunted him.

-------------------------------------

Iruka found some comfort in the thought that Kakashi would be the one to hear his confession.

He had come to like the man. Behind the cool, bored exterior was not just a genuine ability to care, but a sense of humor and a smile (though he couldn’t see most of it, but he could definitely feel it) that Iruka found strangely refreshing.

Would he be able to see Iruka in the same way once this was said and done?

As unlikely as it was, it would be nice if he could.

Iruka took in another breath to steady himself.

Slowly, the memories he had tried to lock away came bubbling to the surface.

“It was just over a year after I lost my parents to the Kyuubi.” He started. “Sarutobi offered to take me in, and I only agreed on the condition he’d teach me the skills I needed to defeat the fox. Stupid, I know.” He sighed. Iruka remembered the days of endless reading, pouring over texts and scrolls till his head spinned. The physical training was just as punishing. Sarutobi was a harsh taskmaster, but Iruka had gotten what he’d asked for.

“I’d just started living in his estate when he introduced us.” He paused, and his smile turned just a bit sadder.

He also lost his parents, the same night you did, Iruka.

“Naruto was so small. I’d babysit him after training in the evenings. It was the only time I ever saw him.” Only Iruka would have been able to tell of a time when Naruto’s inability to be understood came from not having even learned words yet.

“But the wounds, they never healed. I was still so angry.” The fists in his lap clenched involuntarily. “When I came of age, I demanded to know how I could kill the fox once and for all, and I needed to know where I could find it. It was what we’d agreed on.”

He’d been standing in the rock garden that afternoon, and Iruka recalled the look on Sarutobi’s face as he sat in the shadow of the study.

Even through the veil of pipe smoke; it was a picture of concern and unmistakable disappointment.

All that training, even the time with a child like Naruto hadn’t been enough to quell the hurt that had been building inside.

“Sarutobi’s a man of his word though. He fully intended to give me the answers I wanted. So he called the attendants to bring Naruto, it was the first time I ever saw him in the day.”

Naruto was still asleep, and was placed before Sarutobi. But soon there was a yawn, and he started shifting and eventually awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. Iruka remembered staring at the scene in growing horror, the realisation slowly dawning upon him.

“If you would take what it is you seek, Iruka, you know what you must do. This was all he said.” Iruka repeated, feeling his throat tighten.

Kakashi hadn’t said a word since he started, and Iruka wished in the back of his mind that he had. Anything to take him out of the flow of this painful recollection, he would have welcomed. But there were no words, just a softened gaze without judgement, and somehow that made it hurt all the more.

“This was all I’d lived for after my parents died. Although thinking back, it was so pathetic. Sarutobi had never lied to me, he had no reason to then either. So I waited.”

If he’s a demon. All I would have to do is wait right here.

There wasn’t a single rational thought going through his head at the time. In his mind he saw his parent’s broken bodies, smelled the blood in the air that night. Even the groggy smile on Naruto’s face when he saw Iruka wasn’t enough to snap him out of his delirium.

Then he got on his feet, slow and unsteady as newly awoken toddlers did.

“Ruukaa!”

Those had been one of his first words too.

“He started walking towards me...and I just stood there.” He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, spreading across his face. Shame. Shame.

Every step Naruto took closer to the boundary of shade and light pounded like thunder in his ears. Between them both, a sinister parody of Yin and Yang.

“Then he fell. I wasn’t in time to stop him completely.”

Naruto reached out his small arms towards him, and tripped on his next step. If time was crawling before then, it stopped for him now. The last thing Iruka remembered seeing was the light hitting tiny hands, and a surprised yelp. Iruka’s body had moved on its own then. But he was too late. He knew it. He felt Naruto’s body against his as he crashed back into the study.

What would he see when he finally opened his eyes? He remembered once, a demon tied to a tree, slowly disintegrating into blackened, glowing ash as the first rays of dawn hit him.

But the body against him was still solid, and that gave him the courage to pry his eyes open.

“But Naruto was still there. He was whole. His arms were completely untouched.” Iruka felt the tears of shame and relief flow freely, and rubbed them away with the back of his hand. Crying in front of a Hashira, as if the shame he felt wasn’t enough.

Naruto was smiling at him, his eyes so wide Iruka saw his own reflection in them. Something in him shattered then, and he embraced Naruto, crying. The toddler merely patted his head with his tiny hands.

Behind them, Sarutobi looked on, dumbfounded. His pipe dropped and forgotten on the floor.

“That was how we realised Naruto could live under the sun.”

Yes, even if it was only because, for a moment, Iruka had been willing to let Naruto get hurt, for a sin that wasn’t even his.

-------------------------------------

Kakashi could have been mad, perhaps he should have been.

His sensei’s child, the baby he had to fight so hard to save on that massacre of a night, could have died for a boy’s revenge if it weren’t for a strange twist of fate.

He’d been granted the chance to live normally in the light of day, something his clan never had the ability to do, and Iruka was the reason for that, even if the circumstances were less than ideal.

Could he bring himself to be angry at Iruka?

The youth was a wreck before him, even if he was doing his best to hide it.

Kakashi certainly didn’t expect this, going into the afternoon. But he’d gotten what he’d asked for, and then some.

He didn’t get a chance to ponder for long before Iruka spoke again.

“You have a visitor, Kakashi-san. By the sounds of it, it’s an important message. I’ll get out of your way.” He bowed, before taking his sword and rising. As he broke the seal on the door and parted the shoji, a familiar bark reached his ears. It was Uhei, Kakashi realised.

“Thank you for the tea.”

He didn’t even give Kakashi the chance to respond before he disappeared into the hallway.

-------------------------------------

Dinner that night was an awkward affair. At the school they ate communally, the offerings of the day depending on what the older students could scavenge from the surrounding forests. Survival training was a daily affair here, after all. Staples like rice and salt they received from headquarters, anything else was up to them to procure.

It was a simple meal of rice, bamboo shoots, pickled plum and mackerel, fished from the river a distance away.

Kakashi had rejected any attempts to seat him as an ‘honored guest’ the day he arrived, and because he’d been placed under Iruka’s care, they normally sat together with the other Instructors. Tonight, Iruka was nowhere to be found.

“Oi Naruto, what’s up with your brother?” Across Kakashi sat Izumo today, one of the guards and assistant Instructors. He’d turned around to nudge Naruto in the back. The boy, who’d just snuck Lee his bamboo shoots, merely turned to Kakashi and sent a nasty glare his way.

Oh dear.

“He said he wasn’t feeling well. I’m bringing him dinner later.”

“Again? You sure you aren’t giving Iruka a hard time? It’s been happening more often lately.” This time it was the other guard, Kotetsu who interjected. Naruto looked utterly indignant, his glare towards Kakashi only intensifying.

“Ask baka-Kakashi over there! He was just fine during class today!”

“Naruto you idiot! Show the Hashira some respect.” Mizuki hissed from his seat. Naruto stuck out his tongue at him before turning around to continue his dinner. Watching the exchange, Lee looked a little greener than usual.

“My apologies, Hatake-dono. The kids here forget their manners sometimes. Naruto in particular overreacts when Iruka’s involved” Izumo sighed. Kakashi shook his head and waved it off. He had to admit ticking Naruto off was just a bit enjoyable, but really, he couldn’t blame the kid.

Naruto had good reason to be upset at him.

-------------------------------------

Kakashi’s terrible habit of letting his curiosity get the better of him seemed to have gotten worse since he arrived here.

That was probably why he found himself crouched upon one of the wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling, his presence carefully masked, above a sleeping Naruto and his guardian. Iruka looked exhausted, but slept without the tremors that disturbed him the previous evening. Naruto was curled up close, facing him, almost as if he was the one on guard that night.

In hindsight, the conversation in the afternoon was undeniably revealing, but also produced more unanswered questions than Kakashi was comfortable with.

He also wasn’t usually this impulsive, but this was home ground. There would be little risk in getting at least one of those questions answered here tonight.

With blade in hand, he descended.

No, he wasn’t expecting his blade to sink into flesh, but he didn’t quite expect what happened in the next instant either.

As soon as he’d leapt from the beam, Naruto was snatched from his futon by an obviously very awake Iruka, who rolled them both right past a curtained partition, before being seemingly swallowed by a wall just behind it.

A misdirection seal, here?

Kakashi felt a presence materialise above him.

He only had time to free his blade from the stabbed futon under him before turning his body to block the weapon and the subsequent mass that descended upon him. The ring of metal meeting metal pierced the air. Having found focus, Kakashi’s eye was met with a gaze that was only unfamiliar in its intensity and the sheer annoyance it radiated. Though, if he looked carefully, he could find some barely hidden amusement mixed in there too.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Hatake-dono?”

He couldn’t quite see the smirk that was definitely on his lips, but his eyes had a tendency to reveal too much.

“Oh, just thought I’d drop in and see how you were doing, Iruka-sensei. You didn’t show up at dinner.”

Kakashi smiled, how thoughtful he was.

A small shift reminded Kakashi of his current position. His back was pressed against Iruka’s futon, with its owner currently straddling his waist as he put more of his body weight onto the blade threatening to bite into Kakashi’s throat. It was not the slayer katana he would have expected, no, Iruka’s still lay in its sheath by his hip. Instead, gripped in his hands was a kunai, longer and deadlier looking than the ones usually kept hidden in clothing. A fascinating choice of weapon for someone who was supposed to be a swordsman.

Kakashi would have commented on it sooner, but instead he took a moment to take in the view. Feathers from the ripped futon had been released into the air from their commotion, and some were still continuing their sleepy descent. Combined with the pale light and his intense glare, it gave Iruka an otherworldly look.

Kakashi found himself thinking that with the addition of some wings, he’d make for a fine tengu. Although, his face was much too dignified to play the part. He chuckled at the thought.

“Something amusing, Kakashi-san?”

“I was just thinking you looked a little annoyed, Iruka-sensei.”

“What would I have to be annoyed about? “

Interrupted sleep, spent seals that needed resetting, a ripped bed and blanket, having to fetch Naruto back from wherever he was hidden.

He could think of a few more things.

But for now, he found that he didn’t mind at all being the main object of Iruka’s irritation.

“Nice kunai you have there.” The force against his blade increased by just a nudge, an offer for a closer look.

“Our blades weren’t created to be used against humans.”

A teacher even outside the classroom.

“A gift from Sarutobi?”

“The best blade-,”

“-is the one you have on you” Kakashi finished. How many times had he heard Minato recite that line, but there was no denying the truth in it. After all, who knows how many slayers had died for want of a blade, even one as small as a kunai.

Iruka looked satisfied enough with his answer though. A small smile had slipped through the cracks.

The killing intent in the air had died down, and Kakashi thought it a good time to get some answers. He looked Iruka straight in the eyes, intending to start with the most important one:

“Have I incurred your anger, sensei?”

It came out softer and more apologetic than he’d intended.

That was enough for Iruka to falter, his eyes widening in surprise. The kunai was swiftly withdrawn, and in that moment he seemed to gain an acute awareness of his current position. It took mere seconds before his face was ablaze, right to the tips of his ears, making the scar across his face stand out more than usual. The warmth against Kakashi’s body soon disappeared, and before he could stop him, Iruka had his forehead and palms pressed against the wooden floor beside him.

“Forgive me, Kakashi-san. I forgot my station.”

“Iruka.”

Silence.

“Iruka-sensei, I won’t repeat myself. Raise your head.”

He did as he was instructed, but refused to meet his eye. Kakashi sat up on the futon across him, reached out, and placed a hand on the teacher’s shoulder.

“Our conversation this afternoon has obviously caused you a lot of grief, sensei. It wasn’t my intention. I apologise.”

Iruka merely shook his head in response.

“Please. Don’t.” He pleaded under his breath. “If anyone has cause for anger, it’s you.”

“Sarutobi-sama told me you were the one who saved Naruto that night. If it wasn’t for my stupidity, Naruto-,”

“Naruto wouldn’t be living the life he does now. Like a normal child, with friends, family - you. He’d be kept in the dark, alone and not even knowing why, when he could actually live under the sun with everyone else.”

Iruka was finally looking at him now, albeit dumbstruck. Like he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Iruka, we’ve all made mistakes, but Naruto’s alive, and it will be our job to make sure he stays that way.” Yes, Iruka’s and his, most likely. He wasn’t sure if the other Hashira would be so keen on the idea.

This time, Iruka didn’t argue with him, which he was grateful for. It had been a long, exhausting day. Instead, he favoured Kakashi with a look of considerable relief, and just a glint of hope to have found a comrade who considered Naruto worth protecting, despite the truth of his existence.

“By the way, Iruka-sensei, where’s Naruto?”

“Ah.” He froze. It took a whole three seconds before he took to his feet and started for the door leading to the back yard.

“Kakashi-san, it would probably be best if you weren’t here when we return. Naruto was spewing some awful things about you when he delivered dinner. I’d hate to get him riled up this late.” It was quiet, teasing, but noticeably lighter than it had been all day. He was about to set off when Kakashi interrupted.

“See you later?”

“For tea? Only if you’re making it. It was good.”

“All right. I’ll help you with your beddings too.”

“I’d expect no less. Have a good night, Kakashi-san.”

With that he disappeared beyond the wall and into the night.

Kakashi stood to leave, but not before looking up at the spot where Iruka had descended from. He’d had to squint; engraved into the wood was the faintest misdirection seal he’d ever seen.

If Iruka doesn’t stop with the surprises, I’m going to have to keep bothering him.

He sighed. But somewhere at the back of his mind, a voice was telling him it might not be so bad.

-------------------------------------

End of Chapter 3

Author’s Notes:

Wow, a long one after a long break! Hope you guys enjoyed it! It took a while to figure out what direction I wanted this to go in, but it was a very fun chapter to write. It’s going to be a surprisingly slow burn, this one.

The art is of an awkward Iruka babysitting young Naruto.

This chapter is also on AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there sometime. Any comments at all will be most appreciated and devoured with thanks. : )

#kakairu #iruka #iruka umino #umino iruka #naruto #kakashi

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onthepageoftears · 4 years

Text

Kill Your Darlings Ch. 9 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Omg we finally got to 1k followers! Thank you to everyone who has followed me from the beginning and just yesterday lol, I appreciate you all so much 😭💞Be on the lookout for a giveaway (probably an imagine one)

Also, as a treat I’m releasing this chapter earlier than usual! Sorry it’s a bit shorter, but next chapter will be action packed so get ready for that 👀👀

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me!

Summary: Finding a lost child might be harder than you thought.

Warnings: language, mentions of killing/kidnapping, lost child, sad father lol

Words: 1,769

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

“What a beautiful piece of land you have here.” Jaskier’s smile was genuine as he gestured to the cabin in front of you. The man, who you learned was called Toby, could only nod, his eyes nervous as he looked between all of you.

The walk here wasn’t long at all — it was just outside the village, closer to the entrance of the woods and a large body of water. It was the perfect spot for a fisherman, but still risky with the woods right in the backyard. Unless Toby was a hunter as well, having the open forest in your backyard was pretty much a death sentence. Monsters lurked, day and night, and often strayed from their forest home.

The cabin itself was in pretty good condition — no major damage, and though it was small, it was big enough for a father and daughter. Hell, it was much bigger than the place you used to call home, but you pushed that thought aside as you followed Toby around the outside of the house.

Toby cleared his throat. “I last saw my daughter playing in the back, as usual. I turned my back, just for a moment, and then she was gone.”

Jaskier frowned. “Just like that?”

“Well, I thought she just went to play in the woods. Sometimes she’d just run off after a squirrel, or go pick a flower for me. So I didn’t think much of it.”

“The woods are pretty dangerous for a child.” You lifted your chin up; a challenge.

Toby was quick to answer. “We have a hunter in town who goes in there to check around, make sure no large…beasts are…lurking. I usually go with my daughter when she runs off, but this time—“

You nodded, taking a step back from him. Part of you felt guilty for inquiring about his parenting, especially because of the hurt look in his eyes. But you wanted to make sure that when you found this little girl, she would be returning to a safe home.

Geralt quickly filled the silence, “How long until you looked for her?”

“It wasn’t that long before I started to worry. I went out to look for her, where she usually went. There’s a small stream in the woods that she likes to play in. That’s where I found this.”

He walked up to his back porch and grabbed something. When he came back to the three of you, his eyes were glazed over. In his hands was a small doll, stitched with a smile that made your stomach drop.

Toby looked at it carefully, his hands shaking under its weight. “Her mother made it for her. Before she—“ He stopped, swallowing a sob. The three of your stood quietly, waiting patiently for him to compose himself. Once he did, his jaw was clenched with anger. “She’s only a child, but she wouldn’t run off without her doll, not this one. I fear that she was…taken.”

“Taken?” You stepped forward, making Toby look at you. He shamefully looked away, back toward the edge of the woods.

“Bandits have been traveling around these parts recently. Stole from Ivon’s farm just up the road.”

“And where were they seen last?”

“Just up the trail, yesterday. You don’t think they—“

Geralt spoke before you could, his voice as cold as usual but somehow, reassuring. “We’ll follow the trail in the woods first, try to track her from there.”

Toby nodded, his eyes still lingering on the forests’ edge, almost like his daughter would emerge any second. You followed his gaze, taking a deep breath as you searched for something that wasn’t there. You wondered what your mother or father would have done if this happened to you as a child — if they were still alive. Would they be as concerned as Toby? Would they post parchments all over the village and in the city, doing anything they could to find you?

This case shouldn’t have been affecting you this much. It was simple: find a little girl. You shouldn’t have been thinking so deeply into it.

Get the job done. Get the pay. Then leave.

Rauf’s voice left your mind as soon as you heard Toby’s, an almost polar opposite to your iteration of Rauf’s. Toby’s was small and frightened — broken. “I like to think I’m a good father.”

You peeled your eyes from the woods and back to Toby. His hands were wringing at the doll in his hands, before one of them reached up to wipe the beads of sweat that were pouring down his face. You stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, the look in your eyes just as set as your firm jaw.

“We’ll find her,” you said. And you meant it.

“What’s her name? The girl?” You didn’t realize Jaskier was writing in his notebook until just then. His face was stern — there wasn’t a spark of malcontent, though you wouldn’t blame Toby for being angry that he was jotting down details.

But Toby didn’t seem to mind at all. Instead, he stepped forward, nodded Jaskier on. “Lilla.” Then, he turned back to you, his eyes full of hope. “And here, you should take this. In case you find her.” He handed you the doll, and you took it gently, knowing this meant the world to his little girl.

“When we find her,” you corrected, then gestured to the doll that was now in your hands. “She’ll be happy to have it.”

“Let’s go. We’ve only got so much time before dark.” Geralt turned towards Toby, “We’ll come back here as soon as we find something.”

“Okay. Thank you, again.”

Geralt didn’t answer, and instead began walking towards the woods. You nodded to Toby, grabbed Jaskier by the arm, and followed after him.

—

The quiet noise of the woods surrounded you as the three of you followed the little girl — Lilla’s — tracks. Though it was three days past when she was presumably there, Geralt’s senses were heightened to the point where he could still make out a clear enough trail. You and Jaskier followed behind him, practically useless at the moment.

To be honest, you were worried. About Lilla, yes, but also about being in the open. You had doubts that anything would happen to Jaskier out here — you were far from the city, and you hadn’t noticed any strange people lurking in the village. Still, being so vulnerable made your skin crawl, and every now and then you felt a chill go up your spine.

Then again, it was probably better that the three of you were on the move rather than being sitting ducks at that small tavern. There was less of a chance for any other assassins to find you now, especially since you were in the middle of the woods. You guessed the mere idea of being on the run, needing to hide — it made you want to stay inside until you could figure this out. But now, that wasn’t an option.

You turned your attention to Jaskier. He was walking beside you, more quiet than usual. His eyes were glued to the pages of his notebook, which he was scribbling who knows what in the pages. His face was scrunched in concentration, not even noticing the small amount of hair that was falling in his eyes. You let yourself smile, just for a moment, before remembering when Toby first approached your table at the tavern. Despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to stay quiet, you couldn’t help your curiosity.

“Why did you want to take this job?” You asked. Jaskier looked up hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure you were talking to him. Once he realized you were, he shrugged.

“I’m always looking for a new adventure.”

You rolled your eyes — he was a bad liar.

Instead of calling him out, you continued to stare at him, waiting for him to break.

He scoffed. “I didn’t want to stay in another room for hours on end.”

You blinked.

“Fine.” Jaskier shoved his notebook in his pocket, this time avoiding your eyes. “When Toby was explaining everything, you looked really…concerned. And from the short amount of time I’ve known you, you would never admit it. So I said something.”

You were silent for a second, and found yourself looking up at the darkening sky.

“I’m thankful you did.”

Jaskier’s head snapped up, his nose scrunched in confusion.“Really?”

You nodded, a smile creeping on your face. A sigh soon escaped your lips. “The thought of a child, alone and scared—“ You shook your head. “I’m glad we didn’t walk away.”

“Me too.” Jaskier smiled his contagious smile, eyes twinkling in the near darkness.

“Stop.” You ripped your gaze away from Jaskier, almost walking into Geralt. He was kneeled down on the ground, his fingers tracing the dirt below.

You looked around, eyes stopping on a small stream. This must be where Toby found the doll.

“Her tracks end here.” He stood up, eyes scanning the surrounding area. You looked around the area, trying to find any other tracks. You definitely weren’t as skilled as Geralt, being that his witcher senses made him, well, super human, but Rauf had taught you a thing or two about tracking.

You stopped short, just a couple feet from the stream. “There are more tracks over here.”

Geralt walked over, careful not to disturb the marks. “Two sets.”

You sighed, “Shit.”

“What does that mean?” Jaskier stood a little aways from the two of you, trying to stay still so he didn’t compromise the tracks.

“Most likely?” You met Jaskier’s gaze. “Bandits.”

Geralt walked back the other way, along the stream. His eyes were trained on the ground, face scrunched in a frown. “They must have snatched her up, taken her that way.” He continued walking forward, and with a grunt, turned back to you. ”The tracks are still clear.”

Jaskier scratched under his chin, then rubbed a hand over his face. Though he was a couple feet away, you could see the fear in his eyes. But it wasn’t fear for himself.

He spoke, “What do we do? Go tell Toby that it was bandits?”

You shook your head, trudging over to him through the dirt. “There’s no time. It’s already been three days. Who knows what’s happened since then.”

“So…what does that mean?”

“It means,” you turned to Geralt, who nodded slightly at you with a knowing glance. You turned to Jaskier with a sigh. “We’re going to invade a bandit camp."

———————————————————————————————————

Let me know your thoughts! :)

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blackhavilliard · 4 years

Text

Modern Manorian AU - Royals Magazine - Feature: Dorian Havilliard

And Dorian’s feaure is finally here! Hope you all enjoy it. Manon’s feature is coming afterwards and I’m soooo excited for that ;D

Includes full interview under the cut. Read on AO3 here.

Tagging: @rufousnmacska, @heir2chaos and @gimmedafood (to say thank you for your comment!) Let me know if you want to be included or you can also subscribe on AO3 too :)

In the midst of a geopolitical crisis that had threatened the existence of the realm of Erilea stood a young king bent, broken but unbowed as he raced against time to thwart the enemy that has long kept his father's kingdom and now his own in its shadows. Now, years after the passing of the storm, King Dorian Havilliard II finds himself in reflection of the years lost and the years found as he governs Adarlan in stride.

Since the first appearance of the then heir apparent on the tabloids of the Rifthold Journal in a splendid attire fit for the handsome royal, it was a lascivious rumour of the young prince’s escapades inside the glass palace that permanently marked Dorian as that of an aristocratic hedonist whose existence lived off the extravagance and luxuries of the wealthy, knowing that he could absolutely get away with it.

While Dorian played the game of pomp and distraction amongst celebrity A-listers, prime ministers, and the one percent, a sinister plot by political conspirators had slowly been brewing – the overthrow of the Havilliard bloodline that has governed Adarlan for a thousand generations.

In the highest tower of Rifthold Palace is where Dorian prefers to spend his time perched on a deep-red velvet armchair sipping on a cold glass of what looked to be a fruity beverage as he pores over the latest fiction novel – a pleasure he shares with his dear friend, Queen Aelin of Terrasen. Their shared bookshelf, The Royal Fleetfoot Bookclub (named after Aelin’s beloved golden retriever, a present from the king one Yulemas) is Erilea’s most popular Book Club. And decidedly so.

Dorian’s misplaced faith on his father, then King Dorian Havilliard I, had been his constant companion after his untimely death that led to Dorian’s premature appointment as sovereign. But as the war raged on between the countries of Erilea, the formalities accustomed to a monarch were lost, which ultimately led to Dorian’s displacement from Adarlan. The young king was lost, angry, and untethered as he navigated the political landscape alongside his powerful friends: Queen Aelin of Terrasen, Lord Rowan of Doranelle, Queen Manon of the Wastes, and his closest friend and confidante, Lord Westfall, whom he sent as an envoy to the Khaganate in the Southern Continent. Dorian became known as The King Without a Crown.

Dorian ushers me to a leathered couch next to an occasional table where he pours a cup of brewed tea. He asks if I’d be interested in something stronger and I decline. He winks, a promise of our eventual liquored celebration after the successful sit-down.

King Dorian is charming, refined and a proud intellectual with a taste of an epicurean. Delegates from all over Erilea would comment on the king’s graceful charisma as he fulfilled his role of a sovereign in all its stringent social specifications. It’s as if the dark years of his early adulthood never existed when you’re in his presence. Dorian is adored by the masses and the politicians alike, and it isn’t hard to see why.

While we share a few niceties – he’s become quite a dear friend over the years – you can’t miss the way his sapphire eyes would steal longing glances out the open balcony. One can observe that it overlooks Rifthold Palace’s private airstrip, and soon everything makes more sense.

King Dorian’s wife Queen Manon Blackbeak rules from her kingdom in the Western Wastes, a two-hour plane ride from the Adarlan capital. After settling into their roles as respective monarchs of their kingdoms, the pair continued their relationship, much to delight of the common people, who were far too enamoured by their relationship for it to be considered healthy. No surprises there though. They’re really that pairing that’s pretty much straight out of a YA fantasy novel with their unbelievable good looks, seemingly opposite yet highly complementary personalities and the kind of sexual tension you could only dream of.

Nonetheless, despite the distance and their responsibilities, no one can deny just how smitten the king is of his wife. He assures me, in his usual playful charm, that she’s most likely missing him more than he is. I laugh. Even he doesn’t believe his own lie.

He makes himself comfortable, draping his suit jacket on the back of his armchair as he settles down and shows off his polished Derbys almost as if he’d like to take them off.

LYSANDRA: Should we both take our shoes off? I think we should both take our shoes off.

DORIAN: I thought you’d never ask!

LYSANDRA: I may not be born royal, Your Majesty, but I do know when someone just wants to let loose.

DORIAN: Gods, I want to let loose all the time. Do you think they’ll conspire against me if I do?

LYSANDRA: Judging from your friends in all the high and right places, I’d say there’s a higher chance of Aelin breathing ice than that happening. And even if they tried, I’m sure no one would get past Manon Blackbeak’s wrath.

DORIAN: She’s terrifying, isn’t she?

LYSANDRA: You don’t sound scared of the fact.

DORIAN: Are you scared of your husband, Lady Lysandra?

LYSANDRA: He’s a soft little mushy bear.

DORIAN: Exactly my description of Manon.

LYSANDRA: I really have to ask – for me, for Rowan and for your rabid fans. How did you convince the High Queen of the Witches to get married? Was it ever in the books for you two?

DORIAN: It wasn’t so much as my convincing her as her convincing me.

LYSANDRA: Oh, please.

DORIAN: You’d be surprised to know that she asked me to marry her first. Of course, it was all political expedience at that time coupled with a reasonable amount of care and affection.

LYSANDRA: And you said no?

DORIAN: Not technically.

LYSANDRA: So… technically yes?

DORIAN: I was drunk on self-loathing. I didn’t think I deserved her.

LYSANDRA: Doesn’t love usually overcome these sorts of things?

DORIAN: To some extent. We were at the climax of the war and we both needed to make important decisions for ourselves, for both our kingdoms and for the future we desperately wanted to have. It wasn’t the right time.

LYSANDRA: But you wanted to say yes to her, didn’t you?

DORIAN: Desperately.

LYSANDRA: If it helps, I was really rooting for you both.

DORIAN: So was I.

LYSANDRA: You know, I admit this is quite a treat being your very own interrogator.

DORIAN: Our plans to make Aelin jealous are succeeding.

LYSANDRA: Oh, she'll definitely be furious.

DORIAN: I've always admired her fiery rage. Despite it being extremely dangerous to those unfortunate enough to be close in range.

LYSANDRA: I've had my share of that.

DORIAN: I think we all have.

LYSANDRA: Tell us about Adarlan's relations with Terrasen. Even better, tell us about yours and Queen Aelin's.

DORIAN: It's tabloid worthy.

LYSANDRA: I'm not saying I've read all about it...

DORIAN: I met Celaena first before I met Aelin. And in some ways Aelin also met some counterpart of myself all those years ago. We were young and generally when you’re that young, you’re also that stupid.

LYSANDRA: But isn't it just a perfect time to make mistakes?

DORIAN: Not for a prince. Though, I did not care at that time. Sometimes I still think I don’t. But you want to know about Aelin. One thing, you see her more than I do, and I admit, it does break my heart.

LYSANDRA: Technology helps though, doesn’t it? I can’t remember how many times I’ve interrupted one of your virtual repartees.

DORIAN: She can get quite heated in our discussions. Especially if she has to wait a year or more for the next instalment of a book series.

LYSANDRA: What makes the great King Dorian Havilliard furiously out of element?

DORIAN: The monarchy.

LYSANDRA: Do you ever think back on the good old days?

DORIAN: Mm.

LYSANDRA: What did that consist of for you?

DORIAN: Well, I don’t know if I could really call it the good old days. As heir, I wasted away on frivolity and debauchery. Chaol once remarked on my depravity, and I could have resented him if it hadn’t opened my eyes to the truth.

LYSANDRA: Well, that’s an insight. I noticed the construction of the new palace has been coming along nicely.

DORIAN: It is.

LYSANDRA: The Glass Palace once stood as a symbol of Adarlan’s wealth and power. Now, you’ve opted to modernise the construction except for the addition of the thirteen towers.

DORIAN: The Rifthold Journal has been nagging me about their meaning since the blueprints were made public. They’re relentless.

LYSANDRA: I don’t want to be that friend but I’m dying to know…thirteen? Really?

DORIAN: You caught me.

LYSANDRA: Gods, I knew it. Rowan will have a fit.

DORIAN: As much as I’d like to take credit for being a Royal Romeo (but feel free to use that from now on), they each symbolise an iteration of hope, love and life. Every single one of them deserves their own monument.

LYSANDRA: What a beautiful gesture, Your Majesty. And it’s true. I will never forget them.

DORIAN: Sobering thought for a Yulemas special, isn’t it?

LYSANDRA: More like a winter exclusive, so we’re good there. But speaking of, I do have a serious bone to pick with you, Your Majesty.

DORIAN: Don’t tell me it’s the time I coerced you and Aedion to go on that Giant Swing when we were in Terrasen, is it? If I remembered correctly, you really enjoyed that.

LYSANDRA: We almost died!

DORIAN: And that makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?

LYSANDRA: You’d be surprised at how many people who don’t think of near-death experiences as something exciting.

DORIAN: [laughs] Am I that cruel?

LYSANDRA: Remember that snow leopard bobble head I once gifted you for Yulemas? Remind me again what you did to it, Your Majesty?

DORIAN: It was godsdamned terrifying, Lysandra. Why are the eyes glowing? Why are they glowing green!

LYSANDRA: That was the whole point of Bad Yulemas!

DORIAN: Manon fished it out of the trash anyway. She has it on my side of the bed at the Wastes. Should I be concerned with this friendship?

LYSANDRA: You and Aedion are lucky bastards, Your Majesty.

DORIAN: Touché

Lysandra Ennar is the Lady of Caraverre and the editor for ROYALS magazine.

MANON: I don't think this will go well.

DORIAN: You think? I really had to charm my way to do this, you know.

MANON: You charm your way out of everything.

DORIAN: And into things too.

MANON: Your favourite past time.

DORIAN: Are you angry? Here, let me compliment you.

MANON: Dorian...

DORIAN: Witchling.

A sneak peek of the Royals Spring Issue featuring Queen Manon Blackbeak and interviewd by King Dorian Havilliard.

#manorian #manon and dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #manorian fanfic #manorian fic #manorian modern au #manorian mag au

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hadestownmodern · 4 years

Text

A Cosmic Suggestion

Here’s me being the literal only bee man stan. More Orphydice to come later.

(Danielle)

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Demeter doesn’t just wake up wishing for a baby.

No, she thinks; that would be crazy.

Only, she does wake up wishing for a baby-her baby, with her big, dark eyes and her dimpled smile, the presence she felt so vividly in a dream escaping her hold as soon as she regains her presence in the physical world. She rolls over in bed feeling empty-lost-as if a piece of her soul had come and gone all in one night. Demeter rises from bed wearily, recognizing the weight on her chest as a hole she can not fill. She’d known the infant in the dream she’d had, felt her presence as an extension of her own being. She’d never felt this before-not in any dream, not from any iteration of the present or future. This is something entirely new, slightly frightening.

She begins her morning the same way as usual; putting the kettle on the stove, walking out into the fresh air to gather eggs for the chickens. Then she gathers up her canvas bags, slips on her well-worn sandals, and makes her weekly trek down to the farmers market. She had thought by now that the same sort of monotony she’d had in the city would catch up to her. Following a routine here is much different than the city; she still wields the powerful freedom that comes with being tied only to the sun’s position in the sky and the length of the labor that tending her plants or working on a new knit or stitch will take. Today, she brings a host of small gifts; a pair of potholders in exchange for some flour, a patched up pair of overalls for a small harvest of zucchini. She prefers life this way, in which she can work her own land, where the community works together to raise each other in unity.

She attempts to make her rounds in some semblance of an order, one tent at a time, but the sensation of prickling anxiety settles in the space behind her heart, pulls her toward the stand with painted honeybees. She stands bemused, one hand on her hip, as she watches Theo. His back is turned toward the crowd and he’s bent down low, rifling trough his wheeled cart. She brings her attention to his wares; bottles of the sweet nectar in varying colors, hand-drawn labels boasting flavor infusions and uses. There’s lavender for sleep and tea, a light honey for sweetness, juniper for its medicinal properties. When he turns around he gives a slight jump at the sight of her, grinning immediately and coming around his booth to hug her tight. Where she’s only slightly taller than average he still has a good deal of height on her, and her lithe body nearly disappears in his embrace.

“I was wondering where you were,” he teases, leaning one arm on his self-made booth. “Didn’t think you’d show up today.”

“I got caught up finishing a project, almost lost track of time.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” She smiles, Theo standing straight and moving back behind his booth to help an older man with three bottles in his hand. She takes up her place atop his wheeled cart, sitting cross-legged and tossing her bags to the grass, letting the sun sink into her skin. There is a sudden glow about her not just brought by the weather, a glow that settles where her anxiety had once sat. Now it is only a pull, a longing. She closes her eyes, puts her hand over the space the new feeling rests and takes a breath. Demeter sends her energy down to the spot behind her heart, pictures the glowing, attempts to capture the feeling and label it. In the noise of the market she can hear soft vocals with plucking folk guitar, children laughing and running and Theo’s charismatic smile as he jests with the older man, a loyal customer.

It’s him.

She’s consumed with the hole in her chest from the morning, from the sudden longing for a child to raise on her farm, for the solitary motherhood she knows she’s meant to have. Demeter sits in this feeling for a while; the emptiness, the yearning, the new truth of her future. Then, she’s interrupted. Theo’s hand is on her shoulder, resting there.

“Anxious?” He asks, and when she opens her eyes he’s gesturing to her hand over her heart, taking her physical cues to guess her ailment. The moment she meets his eyes, the pieces of her own mind connect. It’s him. He’s the answer.

She’s taken back by her own thoughts at first, staring at her friend with an undeniable curiosity. It surprises her, not because he seems unworthy but because he seems the most worthy of all; Theo is kind, charismatic. His soul is gentle, soft. She wonders if-when-she takes her cosmic suggestion, he will be willing to help her. It’s a strange request to ask of anyone, let alone a new yet very good friend. She’d only met him two weeks ago, had only seen him both Saturdays and one weekday between. They’d become close in that time, close enough for a comfort to be found in these long days at the farmers’ market, where she’d sit on the grass and keep him company while he charmed the crowd into buying his stock.

“Well, your grandfather was right about you being a good salesman.”

“I think it’s just about being honest-people want to know what we do and I’m here to give them the truth. We’ve been at this for years now, we know how to treat them humanely and not overharvest. And they’re always welcome to the apiary if they want-that always gets people nervous. Nobody wants to be around the bees but they all want to pretend they know how to take care of them.”

“Well, I think you’re doing a great job.” The crowd has slowed down a bit, just enough for Theo to stop and sit beside her and take half of the sandwich she’d gotten from a neighboring booth. He reaches over and touches his half to hers, saying cheers before digging in.

They watch the bustle of the momentarily thinned-out crowd, most booth owners pausing for lunch just as they are. Theo leans back on one arm, kicking his long legs out in front of him. He’s in his typical dress-khaki colored cargo shorts, a Henley, and Birkenstocks. He wears a little honeybee button on his shirt, only a slight contrast to the mustard yellow he’d chosen to wear. Demeter watches him intently, attempts to gauge his mood and predict his reaction.

As always, Theo is calm; a patch of sunshine manifesting in a tall, well-built body and a goofy sort of smile. He takes the day in stride, gets up to help another customer and ends up chatting with them for a long while, asking about her family and the kids she hadn’t brought to the market that day. Even as a newcomer he knows these details, knows the people who have become Demeter’s community. She’s struck by the brightness with which he maneuvers conversation, how he’s able to strike up conversation with seemingly anyone that walks by his booth. In the moments where it’s just them, he shares stories of growing up at the apiary.

“My grandfather seems like he’d be really stern-mean. He likes to put up this front that nobody believes because in reality, he’s the nicest man you’ll ever meet. My mom was a stay-at-home mom all my life, and my dad worked with my grandfather. He’s the son-in-law; my grandfather never had any actual sons. But my dad took over where nobody else would. He wanted to help. I always admired that about him. Besides, I love being at the farm. What about you?”

Demeter lets her curls fall over her shoulders, shrugs and turns her cheek against the sun to look back at him. She’s neither upset or enthused, simply relaying the facts of her story, the way she’d gotten to where she is.

“I grew up in the city. My father left us when I was old enough to feel the sting of it, my mother worked and became obsessed with things. It was always about what she could buy, never about when she could be with me. My nana owned this beautiful, tiny little farmhouse I used to be able to visit once a week for a sleepover, when my mom would work overnights and get sick of having me around. I helped her with all the chores. It was my favorite time of the week-I looked forward to it more than anything else. She was a tiny woman, got more of my dad’s genes than my mom’s. I was taller than her by a head or two, but she still called me her little one. She used to let me eat her tomatoes right off the stem, full bite like an apple.” She laughs at the memory, freckle-dappled skin glowing gold against the warmth of the day. “I moved out here right when I graduated high school, right when she started getting sick. I took care of her until her last day. She left that beautiful little house to me, and now I’m watching it like she watched me.”

Theo nods attentively, puts one hand over hers on the grass.

“Well, for what it’s worth I think your nana knows that her house is in good hands.” He smiles, boundless optimism showing as he holds a jar of golden honey to the sun, opens it and sticks a wooden spoon inside. In one swift movement he’s eaten it, offered her the jar to do the same. She dips in, bumps her stick against his and feels the soothing texture coat her throat.

“Hey Theo?” The anxiety settles at the base of her heart when he turns to look at her, and suddenly things aren’t as clear as they had been when she’d woken up. The reality between what she believes in her soul dances threateningly along societal norms, a friendship she does not want to break. And when he hums, holds out the honey for her to dip her spoon again, she feels herself walk right to that precipice. “Can I show you my nana’s house?”

#hadestown #hadestown modern #demeter #demeter and theo #bee man #young demeter #danielle writes

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shemakesmusic-uk · 4 years

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After releasing her film Black Is King as a Disney+ exclusive a few weeks ago, Beyoncé has shared the visual 'Brown Skin Girl' on YouTube. Featuring SAINt JHN, WizKid, and daughter Blue Ivy, the clip features appearances by former bandmate Kelly Rowland, Noami Campell, Lupita Nyong’o, and more. The video coincided with a special message the star shared with Good Morning America. "It was so important to me in 'Brown Skin Girl' that we represented all different shades of brown," Beyoncé said of the video, crediting director Jenn Nkiru with the concept. "It was important that we are all in this together and we're all celebrating each other." [via The FADER]

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Eivør releases a new single and video, ‘Let It Come’, the latest lifted from her forthcoming album Segl. The transportive new clip - filmed in Iceland - is a prequel to the video for previous single release ‘Sleep On It’, which Eivør released last month. Both videos are directed by Einar Egils and feature actor Tómas Lemarquis (Blade Runner 2049, X-Men: Apocalypse). Speaking about ‘Let It Come’, Eivør says; "It’s one of those songs that took many shapes before it reached its final destination and I guess the opening line pretty much explains it all: “Sometimes I overthink the most simple things”. This song is a follow up to my previous single 'Sleep On It' - whilst that was about insomnia and making difficult choices, 'Let It Come' is about coming out at the other end of this struggle, embracing the uncertainties you might find yourself in and finding the courage to believe that something good will come your way." Of the interplay between the two music videos he has created for Eivør, director Einar Eglis adds; "'Let It Come' is a prequel to the end of the world that was portrayed in the ‘Sleep On It’ video. Eivør has been stuck in a loop of uncertainty for years, until she sees a vision that will end everything as we know it, and she is the key towards redemption. She must face these facts and embrace the golden idol she is to become."

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The gentle, hypnotic sway of 'god's chariots' is central to MaryLou Mayniel's first full-length project Galore. Her catalogue of experimental electronica is impressive whichever way you look at it. Creating everything from video game soundtracks to an EP sampling the likes of Miley Cyrus and Carly Rae Jepsen to vast instrumental odysseys and empowering pop anthems, Mayniel can turn her hand to almost anything. 'god's chariots' is at the helm of the singer-songwriter's latest drop of new music. “It’s a fantasy, a place you’re in to escape reality, but it’s also about being so lonely that you kind of lose your mind,” explains Manyiel. A fragment of her forthcoming debut full-length project 'god's chariots' is just one piece of the ever-expanding story which Oklou shares on Galore. With additional tracks 'nightmare' and 'rosebud', also out n ow, we get to piece more of Galore's narrative of emotional rebirth together. Already an illuminating experience with its first six songs out in the world, soon you'll be able to witness Manyiel's first masterpiece in all its glory when the rest of the project is released next month. [via Line Of Best Fit]

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Madeline Kenney has shared the visual for her Sucker's Lunch album track 'Cut the Real'. 'Cut the Real' is one of the most lyrically confrontational tracks on Kenney's new album Sucker's Lunch. Kenney has unveiled the accompanying self-directed visual filmed in Oakland that sees her dressed in a Rococo style suit and makeup, giving a heartfelt performance of the song's fierce lyrics. Madeline Kenney: "I wrote 'Cut the Real' when I was feeling particularly insane / depressed /"out of my mind" as I was starting a new relationship. I really struggle with self confidence and found myself spiraling out into deep holes of self-loathing -- even though I knew what was going on I couldn't stop that cycle. The concept was inspired by the aesthetic choices in recent Aldous Harding videos as well as old Annie Lennox videos. I wanted to put on a gender-neutral Rococo outfit and just really allow myself to ham it up, and occupy that same spinning-out headspace as I was in while writing the song." [via Line Of Best Fit]

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Four years after she released her solo debut Slugger, Speedy Ortiz leader Sadie Dupuis is getting ready to release Haunted Painting, the second album released under her Sad13 alias. The album comes out next month, and now we get another new song, and it’s got a pretty great music video attached. The new Sad13 track is called 'Hysterical,' and it’s a zippy synthpop track with layered lyrics: “I wanna see you disappear and laugh like I don’t need permission.” In a press release, Dupuis says that the song is about “unfunny comedians [who] love to argue that ‘PC culture’ destroys comedy.” Dupuis plays almost all the instruments herself. The video, directed by Kate Banford and Jamie Loftus, features Dupuis alongside comedy-world mainstays like Loftus, Mitra Jouhari, and Demi Adejuyigbe. Like the new horror movie Host, the whole thing takes place on a computer screen, and it’s all about what happens when a ghost shows up in a Zoom party and kills everyone. [via Stereogum]

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When Cross Record’s Emily Cross and Dan Duszynski teamed up with Shearwater’s Jonathan Meiburg to form Loma, it seemed like it might be one-off endeavor. But then last month we got news that they’d be following their 2017 debut with a new album, Don’t Shy Away. Along with the announcement, they shared a stunning new track called 'Ocotillo'. Today, they’re back with another one. The latest preview of Don’t Shy Away arrives in the form of 'Half Silences,' which the band shared an earlier iteration of last year. 'Half Silences' was the first song we recorded for Don’t Shy Away, and we kept tinkering with it after we soft-released an early version last year,” Meiburg explained in a statement. “When you start making a record, you don’t know which songs will make the cut — but this one always seemed to belong, and we wanted to give the final mix (and its DIY video) a proper debut. People have asked if the fireworks are CGI. They aren’t.” 'Ocotillo' was an almost foreboding song, cresting into horn arrangements that teetered on the brink of chaos. In comparison, 'Half Silences' is a dreamier and hazier composition. But in either form, Loma are making some gorgeous, otherworldly music. [via Stereogum]

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Back in June, the Bristol songwriter Fenne Lily announced her sophomore album, BREACH. So far we’ve heard advance singles 'Alapathy' and 'Berlin,' and today she’s back with another one. Lily’s latest is called 'Solipsism.' Here’s what she had to say about it: "A lot of situations make me uncomfortable — some parties, most dates, every time I’m stoned in the supermarket. 'Solipsism' is a song about being comfortable with being uncomfortable and the freedom that comes with that. If you feel weird for long enough it becomes normal, and feeling anything is better than feeling nothing. I wanted this video to be a reflection of the scary thought that I’ll have to live with myself forever. It’s surreal to realize you’ll never live apart from someone you sometimes hate. Dad, if you’re reading this you killed it as shopper number 2." The song comes with a video directed by Tom Clover with the non-profit Film Co. “I asked Fenne what products she wanted to be and then worked backwards from there with the illustrators,” Clover explained. “Most of the references came from Asian Supermarket packaging — they are way more interesting. The most important thing was making sure that it reflected upon Fenne’s personality — there’s a bunch of details you might miss on the first watch!” [via Stereogum]

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About two weeks ago Oceanator shared 'Heartbeat,' the third and final single from their upcoming full length debut, Things I Never Said and now it has a video. The highly anticipated album via Plastic Miracles captures Elise Okusami’s songwriting at it’s best, a strong effort that sits between pop, rock, fuzzy punk, and alternative radio gold. The video, directed by David Combs and Ben Epstein, is every bit as delightful as the song itself, opening with the same magnetic energy as we find Okusami seemingly lost and looking for companionship. She finds it eventually in the form of herself, quite literally, as she joins herself at a bus stop, and then again in a field, with ten of more copies, al rocking out, all enjoying each other’s company. There’s a brilliant barbershop quartet moment, cool animation, and enough smiles to keep you going throughout your day. Speaking about the song, Okusami shared: “This song is loosely about having a crush, and both the grounding feeling and the anxiety that feeling brings. We recorded it all together like a live performance, and then I went back and added the lead guitars and the vocals. Guitar and vocals by me, bass Eva Lawitts (they), drums Aaron Silberstein (he)." [via Post Trash]

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Ontario-based project Falcon Jane – the moniker for primary songwriter of the group, Sara May – have released their soaring new single, ‘The Other Moon’ via Pittsburgh-based label, Darling Recordings – you can watch the new video that comes co-directed by May and Dominique van Olm above. ‘The Other Moon’, which is lifted from a larger body of material set to come from Sara May further down the line, finds the artist exploring deeply sentimental and personal themes, from death to memory, and the miscommunication that can take place between generations. May has a penchant for unpacking these emotions in succinct and comprehensible forms, making something so personal and idiosyncratic to her feel so familiar to the rest of us. Much of May’s forthcoming work found its source of inspiration in early 2019 when her songwriting synched up with a string of deaths that occurred in her immediate family; ‘The Other Moon’ pays a touching testament to her Nonna with May lacing the track’s stark honesty with swooning guitar and her enchanting vocal palette, a sound that co-director, van Olm visualized as May’s DIY journey through space. Speaking about the new track, May says: “‘The Other Moon’ is a letter and tribute to my late Nonna whose death inspired me to start recording this album. Despite being from two completely different generations, and speaking two different languages, my Nonna and I had a very special connection. We understood each other and cared about each other, even if we couldn’t find the words to express it. My Nonna would always cheekily joke about her own death, and through her broken English, she claimed that when she died she’d be going to “The Other Moon”. This song is not a story about a happy-go-lucky relationship between grandmother and granddaughter,” May continues. “It accurately depicts the contrasting dynamic of a very loving friendship mixed with a lifelong trauma-ridden miscommunication. The big hole in my heart, the black cloud over our love. This song feels like the message I always wanted to send to her; pushing through the darkness to find the deep love we shared and continue to share now.”

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Baby Queen has released her third track 'Medicine' with a fab new video. The follow-up to ‘Buzzkill', it arrives ahead of her debut EP later this year. "It's about a tangle of mental health and navigating your way through this world,” Bella says of the song, “whilst being so unhappy and equally disillusioned with the cyber landscape that we are forced to live inside, and the different ways people might numb themselves, or try to find a place where they can exist in amongst all of this fucking chaos." [via Dork]

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Oklahoma-born, LA-based electro-pop songstress Mothica has released her debut album Blue Hour, accompanied by the official music video for her single 'VICES.' The album was written over the course of a few months, starting with one of the worst moments of Mothica’s life: a psych ward stay for self-harm and ends with a song about never wanting to feel the “crash” of drugs ever again. “Following that incident, I sought therapy and wrote lyrics detailing my journey into sobriety. I am now 13 months sober at the time of writing this, and have never been in a better place emotionally.” With her new album Blue Hour, she chronicles her deep struggle with addiction + mental health and the process of getting sober. “Someone told me that every artist has their ‘getting sober album’ eventually,” she explains. “I find it ironic that my debut album is my ‘getting sober’ album, because I think that’s indicative of how quickly I was forced to grow up."

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FKA twigs has always made incredible music videos, and 'sad day' ranks right up there with her best. For this clip, twigs worked with the director Hiro Murai, one of the best music-video directors to emerge in the last decade. Murai has mostly moved on from music videos in recent years. Instead, he’s directed episodes of Atlanta and Barry, two of the best shows on TV, as well as Donald Glover’s Amazon short film Guava Island and the forthcoming apocalyptic miniseries Station Eleven. The 'sad day' video is Murai’s first clip since he made the instantly iconic 'This Is America' with Donald Glover in 2018. I don’t want to give away much of the 'sad day' video, which starts out in a dingy takeout spot and transforms into a surreal dream-logic head trip. But you should know that twigs only made this video after spending three years studying martial arts at the Shaolin Wushu Center, and you can tell. A dancer named Teake, who twigs discovered via social media, co-stars. [via Stereogum]

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The latest of Silly Boy Blue's ongoing build is 'Hi, It's Me Again,' a song she describes as the "too long text I didn't want to send at 3 AM to my ex." Like the rumination behind a loaded, emotional message to a former lover, she adds that it took months to assemble the words in her head but only one night to write out the lyrics. "I needed to write a song about this, because it's a very special place between the hate and the void during a breakup." With an almost lullaby melody, the spacey tune slowly builds into the ultimate warning: "You'll be the one I always haunt," Silly Boy Blue sings, her voice beautifully layered and atmospheric. All her thoughts throughout the song are interlaced with the relatable, somewhat insecure backpedal, "I'm sorry," capturing the headspace "just before resilience," as she describes. It's "when you start to understand the breakup, but you still have so many questions popping in your head." In the 'Hi, It's Me Again' video, Silly Boy Blue says she "needed to show the different parts" of her identity. "Some of them are masculine, some of them are feminine, some of them seem confident, some seem shy, some seem to suffocate, some stand proudly." Much like the nuanced feelings during a breakup, she expresses without binaries — and especially through fashion, as she opens the clip in only an oversized men's button-down. Scenes in the new visual roll by like memories or fleeting emotions, ranging from subdued drama to full on meltdowns. At one point, she's shown with a plastic bag pulled over her head to capture the most extreme feelings of dread, juxtaposed against a more innocent shot of Silly Boy Blue in all white with two lone tear drops fixated on her cheek. The artist also loaded in "important" references to her favorite movies, from the Titanic's necklace to The Rocky Horror Picture Show's big mouth. [via PAPER]

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Dream Nails have released a video for their new single, 'This Is The Summer'. It's a song from their new Tarek Musa of Spring King-produced, self-titled record out now via Alcopop!. “[It's] a song about how our climate is breaking down irreversibly,” says singer Janey Starling. “Colonial capitalism, waged by UK governments and corporations for centuries, has ravaged our earth. “We need to be urgently fighting for migrant rights so the UK welcomes climate refugees displaced by countries hit by extreme weather. We must demand transparency from oil companies who relentlessly put profit before people, even as the world burns." Guitarist Anya Pearson adds: “We wrote ‘This Is The Summer’ in the heatwave of 2018, recorded it in another heatwave in 2019 and now we are releasing it in yet another heatwave! Our video for the track shows how the current pandemic, white supremacy and climate change are not separate issues but interlinked. The song is about the brazen complacency of getting drunk and catching a tan in the park while the world burns.” [via Dork]

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BBC Sound Of 2020 winner Celeste has shared her new single 'Little Runaway'. Out now, the single is about a crisis of faith, and features a towering vocal from the London artist. A song about succumbing to the depths before emerging renewed, 'Little Runaway' began as a jazz sample, before taking on a life of its own. Celeste says... “‘Little Runaway’ is a song about losing your faith, even if just momentarily, and seeking answers from spirits and ghosts as nothing seems to make sense on this planet. My favourite line in the song is ‘good news I could use some’ – I believe everyone has a guardian angel, a protector, and this is me talking to mine.” “The verses actually started as this saxophone sample we were playing around with and eventually it transformed into the melody. I always play the sax back in my head even though it’s not in the song.” 'Little Runaway' features an innovative music video, steered by Celeste’s frequent collaborator Sophie Jones. [via Clash]

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Anna Sofia released a brand new music video for her song 'Don’t Play Pretend'. 'Don’t Play Pretend' is from her latest EP Broken Perfection. Over a million streams into her career, Anna Sofia sings this song about her own life. She might not be perfect. She might make mistakes. All that said, at least she doesn’t pretend to be something she’s not. Sofia said she doesn’t have a message. “It’s just real life,” she said. “One day, I hope to fill stadiums all over the world. I want to have fans everywhere and have some way of helping them or guiding them through my music. My confidence comes from being myself and connecting with people.” [via The 360 Mag]

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Last year, the K-pop group BLACKPINK made big moves in America with their Kill This Love EP, becoming the highest-charting women-led Korean act on both the Billboard 200 and the Hot 100 (with its title track). They also played Coachella. Earlier this year, they had a guest feature on Lady Gaga’s Chromatica with ‘Sour Candy,’ a single that matched their previous chart record at #33. They’re releasing a new album in a couple months, which was led off by ‘How You Like That’ in June. Now, they’re putting out another song from it, a collaboration with Selena Gomez called ‘Ice Cream.’ The food angle of the track is appropriate for Gomez, who has most recently been in the headlines for her new HBO Max cooking show. [via Stereogum]

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Tel-Aviv based artist Noga Erez shares the next in a series of game-changing singles leading into her mysterious second album (details yet to be announced). 'You So Done' and its striking accompanying video are out now via City Slang. Following the sparkling sass of 'VIEWS' and the irresistibly upbeat lockdown anthem 'NO news on TV', Noga Erez and her collaborative partner Ori Rousso's latest offering 'You So Done' has been highly anticipated online since appearing on NBC's Good Girls earlier this year. It sees Erez shift from outward looking political themes to personal soul-searching, opening up for a stirring track about rejection, toxic and emotionally violent relationships, and ones own inner violence. Along with the track she has shared a moving statement, saying: "At some point, exactly one year ago, I started flashing back to one of the darkest times in my life. I was young, incredibly confused and lonely... There was a moment during this period where I was actually so weak, insecure and in need of love that I was not able to step out of what I know now to be an emotionally abusive relationship." She concludes: "It really, truly means the world to me to give this song to you. I hope this story can help some of you to realise that you are not alone. And I really do hope to make it clear that even the darkest places are not impossible to free yourself from. They are eventually an opportunity to learn, grow and to become a stronger person." Erez has created a reputation for the captivating videos that accompany her songs, and this latest video sees her step it up a level yet again. Her third collaboration with Tel Aviv-based director Indy Hait sees Erez as a puppet in a dystopian future, being violently flung to-and-fro by an unknown captor. "The video for 'You So Done' was a big risk taker for me" she comments. "Usually, I have an idea or I work with a director on an idea together. Since this was my third video with Indy Hait, I decided to let him do his thing. He offered up an idea that included a robot and I immediately hated it. I was just not able to imagine how it wouldn't come off as a science fiction video and felt it wasn't my style. But after talking and tearing the idea apart, I realised that this is a truly meaningful character. The robot in this video is actually not the violent character. Its job was to portray the act of violence through transferring the moves from an unseen character and helping them come alive visually. The video uses muscle memory as the 'engine' to that violent dance act, and muscle memory is something that fascinates me. Eventually this video is far from being science fiction, it is my most personal video to date."

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shooter-nobunagun · 4 years

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Quarantine UST 4

//Probably gonna have sexual content scattered throughout the chapters...warning, ero content this time includes some masturbation (though not super explicit)

The ocean breeze felt wonderful, Sio enjoying the cool, briny mist as the car zipped along the shoreline. At last they were taking some time to get out of the house, and although the beaches were closed, it was much better than spending yet another day cooped up inside.

“Aaah, this feels soo nice...it really is too bad we can’t go down to the beach itself.” Sighing, the sniper rested her head against the window, letting the wind blow through her hair. There were few other vehicles along the road, and though Mahesh jokingly suggested to Adam (who was driving) that he should test the limits of this car, they only sped up a few times on straight stretches when nobody else was around.

The car wasn’t exactly designed to be sporty, but Adam revved the engine a few times as he shifted the gears with amazing accuracy, Sio shrieking with delight as they blew down the straightaways. “Who would’ve thought you’d also be a speed freak,” Mahesh teased in good humor, the sniper blushing but she wouldn’t deny it was thrilling.

“W-Well, it’s not like I’d go around doing that, normally...besides, Tokyo’s no place to drive, not with all the public transit. Not that I can drive anyways...”

“Sounds like London, honestly. Though I suppose if you had a motorbike it’d be a tad easier to get around. Like Adam—you had one back in London, didn’t you?” Jess queried.

“And so what if I did? ‘S not like it’ll do us any good out here.”

“No, but maybe when the opportunity comes up you can take Sio-chan for a ride; I’m sure she’d enjoy it.” The sniper turned red as a tomato at that comment, and Adam made an odd noise in his throat.

“A-Anyway, we can worry about that later; is there a place where we can get out for a bit? Or are they all closed?” Sio desperately changed the subject, not wanting to get into yet another fit of ‘why do I feel so hot when talking about Adam’.

“According to local news, we may be able to get off and walk around the trail head, so long as we have masks and maintain distance,” Mahesh reported. As soon as they parked to a stop Sio opened the door and breathed in the fresh air. Adam’s driving was impeccable, especially for stick-shift, but she had to admit the winding hills of San Francisco were making her just a touch carsick.

“Oy squirt, don’t forget your mask; can’t be careless,” Adam chided as he handed the sniper hers, “let’s not get complacent.” Sio blushed with embarrassment, but was grateful Adam didn’t make snide remarks anymore. In fact, ever since he granted her permission to call him by his real first name, he seemed to have mellowed out quite a bit. There were several instances where they’d even been able to have small talk, mostly during times like cleaning up or when she insisted on helping with cooking (so she could learn was her argument), but it no longer felt as forced or awkward.

‘Hopefully this quarantine will get him to open up a bit more...’cause Adam, he’s really not a bad guy once you get to know him...sure he’s a little rough around the edges, but who doesn’t have something they’re trying to improve?’

“What’re you thinking about, Sio?” The blonde suddenly appeared in her view, Sio jumping back a bit on instinct; luckily ever since that discussion, she’d been a lot better about giving the girl her space. After that outburst, Adam called for a squad meeting to lay down some ground rules, including very explicit warnings that harassment of any kind, malicious or otherwise, was not to be tolerated.

‘An’ I don’t give a shit if that’s what you’re used to, but I will not condone any such behavior moving forward, pandemic or not; do I make myself clear?’

The other three members nodded solemnly as their leader gave them all a stern look. Both Jess and Mahesh were unusually serious for once, perhaps even remorseful as Adam lectured them on their unsavory behaviors. The sniper couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty; but afterwards, when they were all going to bed and both came by personally to apologize, she knew she’d done the right thing.

“Ah, n-not much...just once again, kind of amazed at how Adam can do...well, pretty much anything,” the girl muttered. “Stick-shift, motorcycles...that’s so cool. Maybe I’m just too young to learn about all these things, right now...”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say that, dear. You were in your last year of secondary, correct?” Sio nodded. “He’s not that much older, you know. Adam, I mean. If I recall, they picked him up right after he got into university, a year or two before we discovered you.”

Sio’s eyes widened in surprise. So Adam really wasn’t that much older than her, though he sure acted way more mature. “Really? I didn’t know that...I’d always assumed, he’d been with DOGOO forever...”

“Some people grow up faster, depending on their circumstances. That’s all there is to it,” Jess shrugged. “I’m actually one of the earlier members of DOGOO...well, the first among the Second Platoon, anyway.”

She turned around in shock. “Wait, you’re the first member of the Second Platoon?!”

“Sort of. It’s a bit...complicated,” the blonde suddenly looked hesitant. “...If you must know, there was actually a ‘first iteration’, so to speak. Before any of us came along...well, technically that’s not true; I was with DOGOO pretty early on, but not as part of the Second Platoon...”

The sniper stayed quiet as the blonde muttered to herself. So, there had been an earlier version of their platoon? ‘But then what happened? Where are they now? Are they still with DOGOO?’

“You know old man Capa, right?” Sio nodded. “He, along with e-gene holders William Tell and Christopher Columbus...comprised of the original Second Platoon. But then...”

“Then...?” She definitely had not forgotten (nor forgiven) Capa’s trespasses, but she’d only ever heard of William Tell in passing, and Sio didn’t even know Columbus existed. “But Capa’s retired now, isn’t he? Did those two also retire?”

For some reason Jess grew somber at her question. “...William Tell is now part of the Special Squad, same as Hunter and Galileo. And Columbus...he—”

“Oy, what’s the hold up you two? Don’t fall behind!” From far ahead, their leader’s voice barked at the two girls.

“Nevermind. I’ll tell you that story some other time. Let’s go before he loses his temper, again.” Jess rolled her eyes as the two picked up the pace. Sio was dying to know just what happened, but given Jess’ reaction, it was probably better she didn’t pry anymore.

“Doesn’t he ever stop yelling at people?” Sio grumbled as they finally caught up with the guys. “Seriously, and here I thought we were making some progress on being civil with each other...”

“Adam’s not the type to have a heart-to-heart, but I must say, you must be doing him some good. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him quite so relaxed as when he’s around you.” Jess winked, causing the sniper to blush. “Seems to me you’ve got a secret touch around him...”

“J-Jess-san...! I-I don’t, I don’t think so...” Her cheeks were still pink though, even as they wandered around the trail, everyone else taking in the sights of the ocean.

“Hmm? Really...well, regardless he’s definitely loosened up a bit. Less scowling, and I think I actually saw him smile the other day! Or was that just a smirk,” Jess mused as the two girls walked along the path.

‘It can’t be; I-I mean, it’s only because now we’re taking a break from all those battles and stuff that he can relax, so naturally it’s a lot easier to chat with him...isn’t it? Why would he be particularly nice to me?’ The sniper continued to be lost in her thoughts as the group hiked along the cliffs. She hadn’t been paying much attention, but now that she thought about it, Adam’s behavior towards Jess and Mahesh hadn’t changed that much (he was still griping about their lack of modesty), but she definitely noticed a change in his tone of voice and words around her.

No way...it can’t be true, are we becoming...friends?!

Even Asao-san brought it up last night, after the sniper spent a solid 30 minutes regaling about how Adam taught her three different ways to make eggs. ‘So, I see someone’s getting cozy with their leader, yeah? Good thing you guys aren’t regular military—’cause I’m pretty sure fraternizing with your squadmates would be a big no-no’ her friend had teased, which lead to another 20 minutes of sputtering and denial.

‘Yeah, well, didn’t the Commander say this would be a good opportunity to get to know each other and strengthen bonds? I’m just doing that,’ Sio thought to herself, though that didn’t exactly explain why her pulse increased and her body got hot whenever she stared at Adam or thought about him too much. ‘And yeah, I’ll admit he’s...pretty hot, and physically I find him attractive...b-but that’s completely normal! I’m a growing, girl, I have...needs...’

As if on cue her loins throbbed slightly, to Sio’s horror. Ever since she discovered masturbating, it had become something of a nightly activity for her; doubling as both a sleep aid and stress reliever. (And also, hey, it felt really fucking good.) Groaning, she forced herself to act normal and tag along with the rest of the group, though she was definitely going to need some ‘alone time’ as soon as they got back. ------ “Phew, that was a pleasant outing...see Adam, going out every once in a while isn’t going to kill us,” Jess commented as they finally made it back to the house, after stopping by for some takeout from a seaside shack. According to the Brits, the fish and chips were almost as good as any chippy establishment in London. Almost. Naturally Sio, not being familiar with British food, found it to be extremely tasty, and even Adam begrudgingly admitted that Americans could do a few things right, on occasion.

“Why’s it in pieces though, it’s better when the fish is whole...”

“Next time we should try curry; I’ve heard this area’s got a ton of Indian restaurants,” Mahesh suggested. “I’d be curious to see if any of them can actually do ‘Indian spicy’...”

“I, Indian spicy?” The sniper shuddered a bit at that description. Japanese people weren’t exactly the best with spicy food, despite wasabi. “Not sure I wanna find out what that means...”

Mahesh winked at her. “Well, you’ll just have to find out for yourself, Sio. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” The sniper doubted that, but Indian curry did sound good. Hopefully there would be milder options as well.

“What should we do about dinner? Do we want to do delivery again, or is our esteemed leader going to grace us with his home cooking?” The Indian managed to once again dodge a fork from the silver-haired man. “Hey now, I’m being serious! You’re becoming quite the cook, Adam. It’s a wonder we went all this time without sampling any of your dishes.

Adam grumbled, but Sio noticed his ears were turning slightly pink. Was he...bashful? It was bizarre to see their acerbic leader act so shy, but it was nice for a change, she decided. And kind of cute.

“Do you know how to cook, Mirza-san?”

The Indian turned to their sniper with a start. “Me? Cook? Oh, well I can...but I have to admit, ever since I joined DOGOO I haven’t had much time. Or a reason. It’s a lot simpler when someone else prepares things for you...”

“Like your servants?” Adam snorted, hinting at the Indian’s wealthy background. “You just snap your fingers and someone comes running, eh?”

“I’m not that dependent,” Mahesh’s gaze narrowed, slightly offended. “Just because I grew up with hired help doesn’t mean I can’t do things for myself. I just prefer doing things in the most efficient manner. In any case, if you are interested in trying my cooking, Sio-chan, I’d be happy to make something.”

“O-Oh, well, I don’t want you to go out of your way or anything—”

“Nonsense; after all, it seems like we’re all using this time to try new things, no? Plus it might be nice to give it a go...maybe we can even have some kind of group cooking night.”

The rest of the platoon murmured in agreement, though Sio was a bit nervous. She’d barely just managed to cook eggs decently, there was no way she could whip up something as fancy as Adam or probably even Mahesh could.

“Well, you can count me out, unless you want food poisoning,” Jess commented dryly. “I’m not going to deny it, but cooking is definitely not one of my stronger skills...”

“You can be my sous-chef,” Mahesh gave a cheeky grin, which was met with a napkin to the face. “Oof, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just leave the actual cooking part to me. So, it seems we’ve decided then? We’re cooking?”

Sio nodded, starting to warm up to the idea. It might even be fun, if everybody pitched in. “I-I mean, I can only make eggs, but...I’d be happy to help.”

“You can never go wrong with eggs. Don’t worry Sio-chan; now, to make sure I don’t decimate your taste buds with vindaloo...I guess I’ll make tikka masala as well. What’re you thinking of cooking, Adam?”

Their leader gave a noncommittal grunt. “Eh, don’t expect anythin’ fancy. Probably Shepard's pie tonight, glazed carrots.”

Even though they’d just eaten lunch, Sio’s mouth was watering just at the descriptions of those dishes. Dinner was bound to be good tonight; she couldn’t wait to try and sample some more Indian and British cuisine, and vowed to do her best to make enough fried eggs and toast for everybody.

“By the way, do you think we can do something before dinner? I kinda wanted to try some of those board games we found...”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea Sio! I think we’ve earned a bit of entertainment. One can only watch so much Netflix...” The group had played a few card games already, but board games were the next level. Sio wasn’t familiar with any of them beyond Monopoly, but the other members assured her there were much better prospects.

“Mirza, Beckham, how about you two clean up for a change; Ogura and I aren’t your servants,” Adam gave the two a knowing look. “Speaking of which Ogura, you wanted me to spot you today at training, right?”

“O-Oh! R, Right, I almost forgot...thanks.” The petite girl quickly changed into her workout clothes and the two trooped into the exercise room, Mahesh and Jess staring and waiting until the two of them disappeared from view.

“...Oh yeah, there’s definitely something going on between the two. I’ll bet you a quid before the end of this quarantine they’ll be shagging.”

Mahesh laughed. “That’s a pretty bold assumption; I don’t doubt they’ll get together eventually, but in only a few weeks? That’s pretty quick...for both of them.” It was pretty obvious that Sio never had a boyfriend or even much friends before all this, and despite how secretive Adam was with his private life, Mahesh was pretty sure if their leader ever had a lover, he’d have caught wind of it by now. “I have a pretty good hunch this would be a first time for both of them...and given that neither of them are great with their feelings...”

“You don’t trust my feminine instincts?”

“I never said that. In any case, you’re on.” ------- “Ugh...twenty-seven...twenty-eight...twenty...nine...thir...thirty!” Heaving a sigh of relief, Sio let the weights clash onto the stand, her arms feeling like limp noodles after that rep. Her limit had increased by 5 lbs since the beginning, and she could now do 30 reps without stopping, but that was nothing compared to Adam; last time he did 50 reps with almost twice the weight, and barely broke a sweat. “Whew, my arms are gonna be sore tomorrow...”

“Not bad, Ogura. You’ve improved; I can tell your form is much better than when you first started,” Adam nodded in satisfaction as they switched spots. “This should help with your accuracy, so you can better control your shots—instead of firing all over the place.”

“H-Hey! I’m not that bad anymore...not that I’m hoping for an attack to prove my point,” Sio muttered, helping Adam lift the bar up as she spotted for him.

“No, you aren’t...but you’ve got a ways to go, squirt,” he grunted as he started his set. “If we let our guard down for even a second...I don’t wanna think about that.”

“...Do you think this war is going to be that bad?”

Adam eyed her with a stare as he lifted the weight. “...Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not something I like to think about...but I’d rather prepare for the worst case scenario, in case this does end up being some long-term fight.”

Sio nodded. “Yeah, you’re right...heh, it’s strange; out of everyone, I probably have the best e-gene suited for warfare and strategy...and yet, when I really think about it, like, it hits me—holy crap, we’re actually fighting against freaking aliens from outer space, who really are out to just destroy us all. How the heck am I supposed to figure that out...” The sniper grew melancholy as she recalled that conversation with Asao in the hospital, right after Taiwan. “...Even now, I still can’t believe...this is happening. That, this is the state of our lives, now...”

“...Do you regret joinin’ DOGOO?”

“Huh? W-Well, no...I,” the sniper paused, looking away slightly. “I...even though I was scared, I also knew in my heart it was something I wanted to do. No, it was something I needed to do,” she emphasized. “If I just went back and pretended nothing changed...I’d never forgive myself.”

“Heh...a sense of...duty, ‘ey?” Adam let out a breath as he finished the rep, Sio helping him return the bar to its resting place. “I think that’s what drew most of us here, in the first place. No matter what folks say about other motivations or whatnot...in the end, if you don’t have that kind of inner conviction, you wouldn’t have lasted this long in the first place.”

“Mn.” Though he wasn’t directly complimenting her, for some reason, hearing his words made her feel warm. “You definitely have that, Adam-san.”

“Oh, uh...sure.” If the sniper was looking his way, she would’ve seen a slight blush on his cheeks; but as it was she was busy wiping down the equipment and looking at the pull-up bar with dread. “Anyway, let’s see if you can get more than 5 today.”

“Aww, seriously? I just did a bunch of weights too...” She whined, but one stern look from Adam and she sighed, and got into position. “S, Seriously...h-how do, people, do...this...! O-One...!”

“Less talking, more breathing. Don’t waste your breath; remember your breathing patterns,” Adam coached, as Sio strained to lift her chin over the bar. “C’mon, yeh that’s it, three more to go.”

After the fifth one Sio gasped as her hand slipped, her grip too weak to hold on. “Whoa—!”

“Careful—!” Adam caught her just in the nick of time, Sio squinting her eyes open. “You alright, squirt?”

“Un...y-yeah, sorry about that...guess I’m pretty tired out.” She laid there for a bit, palms stinging from exertion. Adam nodded, but interestingly he didn’t set her down, instead letting her rest in his arms for a bit.

There was something soothing about it, being held by someone; granted this wasn’t the first time he’d held her, but that had been during a mission, with plenty of stakes and yelling. This time though, Sio became acutely aware of everything else; including how strong his arms were, and the sound of his breath, the heat from his skin, his heartbeat... Suddenly those odd tingles came back again, Sio now squirming with the uncomfortable realization that she was feeling ‘this’ again.

‘Seriously body, you do this to me now?! Screw you, hormones...’

“A-Ah, I’m feeling better now...thanks,” she stood on wobbly legs as Adam set her down. “Well, at least I did five...”

“Yeh. Anyway, if you’re tired, you can go up and take a shower first. I’m just gonna finish up here,” Adam launched himself up onto the bars.

“O-Oh, it’s okay, I can wait. I mean, it’d be rude of me to not finish spotting for you, since I asked you first...”

There’s not much to spot for pull-ups, Adam thought, but he didn’t say anything. If the squirt wanted to hang around, it was her choice. Though, he felt a bit self-conscious with her just staring at him; for some reason he felt like he had to impress her, even though he was dead tired himself and suddenly 15 seemed almost impossible.

But his pride would never let him live it down, and so 15 pull-ups it was.

As Adam forced himself through the punishment of 15 reps, Sio sat on the bench and watched him. His form was nearly perfect, barely even a tremble as he lifted and lowered himself at an even rate. ‘Damn, I wonder how long it’ll take before my muscles are that strong...speaking of muscles, holy crap his arms are so buff! No wonder he could carry me like that...also those abs...’ She tried not to stare so intensely, but it wasn’t her fault all holders had to wear what were essentially crop tops underneath their armor.

‘I wonder what they feel like...’ Her head flushed and Sio felt her heart rate speed up. ‘No no, stop thinking horny thoughts! Bad Sio!’ To her relief, Adam finished his set, and she could finally head back up to to the privacy of her own room.

“O, Otsukaresama desu; thanks for helping me out today, Adam-san.”

“You did well, Ogura. Who knows, maybe we will get called to action and you’ll get a chance to prove me wrong with your aim,” he teased, grinning slightly as he wiped off the sweat.

“What?! Oh just you wait, mister, I’ll show you!”

Adam chuckled to himself as the girl stomped off with a huff. She really was too cute not to tease. Admittedly he did feel a little bad for always bursting her bubble right at the peak, but he couldn’t help it. Her reactions and those pouty lips were just too good.

‘An’ since when did you start caring so much about that squirt, ‘ey?’ He took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror. ‘Or is it because that’s the only way you know how to defuse the situation before you get too close—’

No. Those were dangerous thoughts. While not strictly forbidden, common sense said fraternizing with one’s teammates was always a risky affair. Adam shook his head and got in the shower, making sure to turn the tap to cold. Not only was it hot, but a certain...other part of his body was stirring, especially after holding the girl. The feeling of her warm, heavy weight in his arms, the soft skin and even a certain scent; not sweat, but a distinctly human odor...

Adam groaned softly as he took hold of his member. It was already hot and stiff, despite the cold shower. ‘Shit, so much for that...you really are a pervert, aren’t yeh?’ But he couldn’t help it; it’d been weeks since he’d been able to let off any steam, and staying in close quarters with everybody else 24/7 made it hard to ensure much privacy.

Hoping nobody needed to use the toilet, he started stroking himself; water poured over his throbbing length as his hand squeezed and pulled, Adam biting back another moan as he slowly jerked himself off. The sniper had definitely been staring at him when they were working out. ‘Don’t think I didn’t notice those wandering eyes, hanninmae...’ Initially, he’d been a bit surprised she’d be so bold; but then again when she’d walked in on him the very first time before their first mission, she hadn’t looked away, either.

‘Does this mean she’s...interested? Or am I just another body to her?’ His jaw ached from trying to keep his voice down, Adam trembling as he edged towards his climax. ‘No, it’s only...natural, when you spend so much time together, with the same people...it can’t be...’

But what if she is? A little voice rang in his head and Adam, already hazy with lust, decided to indulge that fantasy a bit. What if Sio Ogura really was interested in him, beyond just teammates or even friends? At this point, he didn’t doubt that they would be on friendly terms after this quarantine, but anything more?

Is this something she wants? Is this something I want?

To go from comrades to friends, to something more than that... Funnily enough, the thought of entering a relationship with her made him even harder than simply thinking about her lithe, slender body. ‘Impossible...am I...actually falling for her?!’

“W-Well, that’s why I’m learning now, aren’t I? So I can do it myself.”

“Th-thanks for helping me, again...heh, it seems like that’s all I’m doing these days...”

“You definitely have that, Adam-san. Conviction.”

“Guh—! Fuck...!” Hand pumping rapidly, Adam came hard as those large maroon eyes firmly embedded itself in his mind, along with that rare, shy smile she only showed around him. So cute. She was so cute whenever she tried so hard, determined to prove him wrong and do her best to improve...well, anything. A sudden rush of heat bloomed from his core, a low moan tearing from his throat as the last of his spunk shot out, chills running up and down his spine.

The effect one petite sniper could have on him...

“Shit...oh fuck...” Heaving, he rinsed off the mess from his hands and the shower walls, before finally turning off the water. The post-orgasm haze was settling in, causing everything to be slightly out-of-focus as Adam slowly towelled off. “Goddammit Adam, you’re really fucked now...”

Even as his mind argued with himself that it was just because he needed to relieve some stress, and she did have a pretty nice body, Adam knew in his heart that wasn’t the real reason. No, before his brain even realized it, his heart had already made the decision; perhaps even before all this virus business.

He was falling in love the Sio Ogura. And there was nothing he could do but take it and run with it.

#documentation #//a bit shorter than i usually would like #//but i don't want to force the pacing

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merryfortune · 4 years

Text

Day 6: Bad Timing & Disastrous Consequences

Ship: Earth/Spectre

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,231

Tags: Canon Divergent

Spectre’s eyes widened. The blue of his irises glittered as he grasped at all their words, clinging to them. He gasped. Jaw slackened and he felt breathless as he processed them, over and over. From the moment everything was explained, he held all that information with a crystalline clarity in his heart. It meant the world to him. Not only did he have value, he possessed qualities which were life-changing; world-changing. Even when it turned bitter, the fact remained. He was something special and that specialness had been used to create something better than he ever could have imagined during those six months of captivity.

True, it was a shame that that specialness couldn’t have worked out the way the assistants and Dr Kogami had wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that Spectre had contributed as one of the six to be experimented upon. His duelling had created an Ignis.

But his bonds to young Kogami Ryoken outweighed that so, even younger Spectre took no issue with the new goal of the Hanoi: to exterminate the Ignis, the very creatures that they had created. Thus, Spectre swore fealty to that cause on behalf of his master. Wherever Ryoken went, Spectre would follow with all the trust in the world and more. Unquestioning loyalty which Spectre had been certain was genuinely endless.

And yet…

And yet, here he was. He had the damn thing in his hands, he could strangle the living daylights out of it; surely that wouldn’t be too hard and yet, Spectre stared it down, clutched in the slats of his thin fingers, and he couldn’t find the strength. Then again, he had always been weak. Incomplete.

Spectre swallowed. It looked up back unto him. It seemed to think that he was weak too – or, at the very least, presently, it did not think that he had the strength to go through with the deed.

It was orange with brown stripes and these startlingly blue, prismatic eyes which Spectre really shouldn’t be staring directly at and, yet, it was all he could do... It was bulky, too. Difficult to hold. Odd-looking and very square.

Ryoken had never told him how the elements had been assigned or otherwise allotted. He didn’t know if they were preordained by chance or by the schematics of the scientists who had worked on the Hanoi Project or some combination thereof. Ryoken had never told him what element that he had produced regardless of such circumstances just beyond him but, Spectre was confident that he could guess.

The Earth Ignis.

It was the Earth Ignis which had come for him and him alone. His heart pounded and scowled as best he could, yet all villainy was slowly slipping away. Spectre was envious. He was envious by nature. Always wanting what he could never have and therefore coveting those who could have it. Right now, all such emotional energy that Spectre possessed was being channelled towards that heinous Soulburner. Those two had become quite the hot topic online since they were cosying up to Playmaker and then, for those privy to the information which regarded the Fire Ignis, that made them a threat. Not to mention, they got along like a house on fire.

So, in Spectre’s malicious opinion, up until right this instant, rather unfair that his Ignis had never sought him out since two, possibly three, of the six had made contact with their Origins and now, it was here. On this godforsaken yacht with him and Spectre, unwittingly, found himself at a crosshair which he had never expected.

The Earth Ignis was… adorable.

All Spectre needed was one look and apparently, he was gone. He didn’t know what it was about the creature, but it was truly adorable. Its eyes were so expressive and glamourous. Its skin was smooth like a worn-down rock and warm too. It was both huge and tiny at once. Everything about it just appealed to Spectre in a way which was so deep and visceral that it had completely blown away all his defences which he had been so diligently working on for the past decade lest this very situation unfold.

He always thought that if his Ignis even dared to seek him out, he would have no hesitation eliminating it. He would easily kill the little bastard. But no matter how hard Spectre willed himself to think such thoughts, they were disarmed so easily with just an expressive – and honestly, rather confused – look from its eyes. All he wanted to do was coo over it. It was disgusting.

Spectre hesitated. He gave the Earth Ignis a squeeze. It squirmed in his grip, but he let it go. Spectre’s fingers dropped away slowly. The Earth Ignis sighed in relief. It looked up at him, again: confused but innocently so. Spectre then cast his glare downwards, more onto himself, really. It was mostly to avoid such a look that the Earth Ignis was giving him. It was too cute for him to bear and that just made his grimace worsen. He felt something like disappointment in himself. He was weak. Always had been; always will be. His feelings were funny and got in the way of things. Especially important things. It was important to Master Ryoken that the Ignis were exterminated.

And yet, Spectre felt differently. It was only a slight deviation, he swears. Really, it’s coming from a place of devotion but that was soon twisting. This was purer, more childlike than that. After all, Spectre’s greatest pride and happiness came from being needed, from being wanted, and nothing had sated such cravings like the experimentation of the Lost Incident.

He took a breath. “I’m sorry.” He was ginger in his reply; he didn’t know if it was aimed at the Earth Ignis before him or the iteration of Master Ryoken that he had in his mind.

The Earth Ignis blinked. “Don’t be…?” he said.

“Why are you here?” Spectre asked.

“Something big is about to happen. My friend has gone missing. I want you to help find her. She asked me to choose: humans or Ignis. I have chosen both.”

Spectre snickered. What a strange creature. Not that he could speak. He smiled. “Very well, then we ought to partner up then, yes?” He wondered if the slate between them was refreshed or not; he was beginning to doubt whether or not his Ignis even knew his history and for some reason, that potential obliviousness was very endearing.

The Earth Ignis smiled. “That sounds perfect. Thank you so much.”

The Earth Ignis raised his hand to Spectre. Spectre regarded it, this time, in confusion but he accepted it. He let the paradoxically big little creature hold onto his index finger which he offered it. Its grip was familiar, comforting it. A tear rolled down Spectre’s cheek. It flustered him: it felt hot and embarrassing in its slick wake down his face. He swallowed. He was fortunate that it was just one, little tear.

Spectre took another breath. It was hasty and selfish. In his chest, his heart pounded, mending itself in ways that he didn’t know needed mending. Master Ryoken be damned. This Ignis was different. His Ignis was different. He was keeping it. And they were going to be partners and they were going to live happily ever after; Spectre would ensure it.

#writing tag #vrainsrarepairweeks #vrainsrarepairweeks2019 #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #spectre (vrains)#earth (vrains)#motherearthshipping

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