#i am keeping my canon expectations for them low low low im not gonna get fooled but literally i am so happy to see any moments w them 😭 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

Note

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently.  And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”  “What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

#father-son bonding au #dad!spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #really happy with this one even if it took Way Too Fucking Long

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danniburgh · 3 years

Note

I will be eternally thankful for you if you could please write some smut with horracio and the reader calling him sir, like maybe she pisses him off at work and he just puts her in her place so quickly and is really rough and dominant with her AAARRGGHH after reading your little stint about him I have him in the feels HARD. Okay please and thank you queen 😇😇😇😍🥰

alright i received your request AND this one ↓ so i decided to combine them lol

i guess we all are thirsty for some Coronel Carrillo roughness looooool, let’s gooooo

context tho: Colonel Carrillo worked canonically for the Colombian National Police, which means for this, reader would have to be colombian and i would have to write this whole ordeal in spanish, which is fun for me bc i love my language but my readers are mostly english speakers lol, so im gonna have them speak mostly english and Carrillo not being her direct chain of command.

warnings: filth, smut!, dirty talk in spanish and english? im really using my bilingualism here guys lol, am, some spanking, rough rough unprotected sex, please don’t read this lol, some talk about violence because well, #theplot but very light

“Tienes que aprender a quedarte callada,” (you have to learn to be quiet) Carrillo said, closing his office door behind him after shoving you inside. You frowned to him.

“What the fuck?” you spat, he crossed his arms on his chest and looked at you “you expected me to just shut up after seeing that whole fucking plan was a mess?” you pointed to the door. Peña and Murphy had planned another raid and tried to get clearance from both the ambassador and the Colonel, you were there because you had to. But you weren’t blind, you knew everything those two fools had was as weak as a tweak and you just couldn’t not vocalize it.

“It’s not your place,” Carrillo’s voice was sturdy and harsh, low and commanding. It made you stiffen in place, but at the same time your lower belly turned at the sound. “you’re just so damn stubborn,”

“I’m just saying what I think, Colonel,”

“Well don’t,” he spat and stepped towards you, his eyes were deep in yours “I don’t wanna have to deal with your bullshit, ¿entiendes?” (understand?) this time your eyes hardened on his face and he took it as a sign of disobedience “you need to learn to shut up and listen, girl,”

“Don’t call me that,” your voice was deep and defiant, your chest rose and he stepped incredibly closer.

“It looks like you need to learn it,” his arms fell to your waist and your breath hitched, “turn around,”

“What?” he said nothing else and moved you from the waist so your back hit his chest, “Horacio,” your voice was thin, both with surprise and anticipation.

“Right now, I’m Coronel to you, ¿estamos?” he growled in your ear and his voice made your entire body shiver, you nodded twice.

“Si, señor,” you bit your lip when you heard him chuckle behind you, his hands started unbuttoning your shirt nimbly and you threw your head back to rest on his shoulder. His hands worked quickly, his touch was as hot as the sun, and your skin started trembling with the excitement of what he was about to do to you.

“You’re stubborn,” he stated, your shirt now opened and hanging from your shoulders, his hands moved your breasts over the thin fabric of your bra “you’re confrontational,” his voice was so deep and so low you could feel his words sinking into your belly and sliding out into your panties, Carrillo kneaded your breasts and slid both hands inside the bra, playing with your nipples “you’re difficult,” you were letting out soft moans while his hands roamed around your chest and down to your waist “you just don’t shut up.”

Your head was an entangled mess of angriness and horniness, his hands were rough, his touch was hot, his words were aggressive and you were loving it. His fingers played with the hem of your jeans and before you could react he was already unzipping them and sliding them of your hips.

“Te voy a enseñar a guardar silencio,” (I’m gonna teach you to keep quiet) his hands lifted your body as if it was made of rags and he leaned you down on his desk, face resting on your forearms, his hands rested on your hips, “you’re gonna learn your lesson and you’re gonna learn it good,” Carrillo slid down your panties and caressed your ass for a few seconds and then suddenly his hand fell harshly on your buttcheek, making you whimper and grow wetter, “don’t even dare to make a sound, niña,”

“Si, Coronel,” you muttered, biting your lip as his hand swatted again at your ass, your body bickered and you closed your eyes, Carrillo smirked when he saw your faced quirked in pleasure, his pants already tight against his erection, he slapped your ass again two consecutive times and you had to bite your own arm to stop yourself from moaning.

Suddenly, Horacio’s hand left your body and you opened your eyes, turning back to see him unbuckling his pants and getting out his hard cock. Your mouth watered at the sight of him and he pumped himself a few times at the sight of your reddened ass, marked with his hands.

You felt your core clench around the air and he almost lost himself in how your folds were already dripping with your arousal.

“Coronel, por favor,” you mumbled, moving your ass slowly, Horacio sighed and played the tip of his cock on your slit “shit,”

“Not a sound, remember?” you nodded desperately as he thrusted into you, setting a merciless pace in and out of your cunt, you bit your forearm again, his pounding was everything you had expected and more, his hands were gripping your hips and you were sure the sting you were feeling was because his nails were digging into your flesh “mierda, niña,”

Absentmindedly you moved your leg and lifted it, letting it rest on the desk and opening more for him. Horacio let out a groan and slapped you again, making you clench around him.

“Tan ansiosa,” (so eager) he leaned down to pound deeper into you, his forehead resting on your shoulder “te tenía tantas ganas,” (wanted you so much)

“Coronel, más,” you moaned as low as you could, he left a few kisses on your covered skin and angled his hips to thrust into you faster and harder.

“You understand why you need to shut up, ¿verdad?” Carrillo panted in your ear, you nodded, already so close to your orgasm you could barely hear his voice. His hand slid below you and started circling your clit, making you gasp “it’s so dangerous out there, chiquita,”

“It is, sir,” his free hand moved to stick a finger inside your mouth and you started sucking on it eagerly.

“If you shut up they can’t touch you,” you nodded again, your legs started shaking as he played your body like a master violinist would their instrument "I want you safe,” at his words you felt your climax explode inside you, you bit his finger and he felt you clench around his cock “¿dónde?” (where?)

“Inside, please, Horacio,” you begged around his wet finger, the Colonel closed his eyes as you milked his orgasm out of him and he stilled behind you, filling you of his hot, thick release with a soft groan that made you smile in satisfaction “fuck” you panted when he pulled his finger out of your mouth.

“Yeah,” he let out a tired chuckle as he moved out of you and you whined at the loss of him inside “¿estás bien?” his hands moved from your hips to your back and moved them softly through your covered skin, you nodded.

“I definitely learned my lesson,” you muttered, ripping a smile out of him.

#horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo #coronel carrillo #narcos #narcos netflix #horacio carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x reader #coronel carrillo x reader #narcos drabble #horacio carrillo drabble #maurice compte #maurice compte characters

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porschekittisawasds · 3 years

Note

I know you’ve said before that you’ve never fully believed buddie will become canon (same here), but has your opinion changed at all since last episode? I feel like I believe slightly more but I don’t want to be disappointed like always ):

mmm im always going to lean toward the skeptical side because that's how i am, but i will say this is the first buddie moment where im genuinely like... okay this might be something.

i mean there are a ton of moments between them that could easily be read as setting the stage for something romantic, but i also think they could be explained as platonic without it seeming too ridiculously far fetched.

i think trying to explain the sniper scene as platonic is difficult because like... they knew how people were going to interpret that and they still chose to shoot it in that exact way (no pun intended lmao). it didn't have to be only buck and eddie at the scene. chimney could have gone instead or as well. rather than buck and eddie crashing a 133 call they could have had the 118 take the call instead. having all of them see eddie get shot would have had maximum emotional impact if that's all the shooting scene was about. but buck was the only one there, so that means the scene was a significant moment between them. that's without even taking into account the slow mo and the prolonged eye contact and eddie reaching out for buck twice. the first time is before he falls, and i'd be willing to accept that was him trying to warn buck to get down, but after he falls? like yeah he could have just been reaching out as a general help me but if that's all it was i feel like it would have been shot differently.

idk man idk. i'm never going to fully, genuinely believe it unless it actually happens, but i am willing to admit all the choices they made makes it feel like a Significant Moment™.

i will say though if canon buddie is actually the plan i highly doubt anything is going to happen in the finale. like at most i could see eddie and ana breaking up, but i'm not even really betting on that. i think the writers would have to make it explicitly obvious that it was even a possibility before making it canon because you know a large number of viewers have never once given any thought to buddie considering they're both "straight" and would probably fully believe it came out of nowhere. if it's going to become canon i doubt it would be much before the middle to end of season 5.

but as always im gonna just keep enjoying my little corner of fandom and keep my expectations very low lmao ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#ask #anonymous #911 fox #911 spoilers

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cheseyre · 4 years

Text

good news, sluts! my brain's no longer being completely stupid (only mostly), i've seen the new asides and...have some thought-y thot thoughts:

*deep inhale*

Okay, first things first: this art style is soooo fucking cUTE and I'm a jealous, squealing bitch. Anyone who knows who the artist is, could you link me to them, stat? I think Thomas mentioned them at the beginning of the ep, but nYeh, brain hurt, doesn't wanna do wooork-

Okay, I'll admit, I was a little...apprehensive when I first saw the thumbnail and title. Part of it's just me being a bitter Remus Stan, but also...okay, deep breaths, controversial opinion time, get ready:

I don't ship Prinxiety.

Like, at all.

I can see the appeal, and these dorks were so very, VERY cute in this particular ep, but I was honestly turned off by the ship long ago due to how overwhelmingly popular it is and how some fans characterize these two and treat this relationship as if it's the only valid one, y'know, the works—slight tangent, but that's also why I don't ship Logicality or Remile. I honestly vibe much better with ships like Roceit or Analogical, y'know?

Cutting in for another brief tangent: I'm surprisingly okay with Demus/Dukeceit/Receit/Trashnoodle/Whatever-Their-Ship-Name-Is-Oh-God-Why-Do-They-Have-So-Many-Fucking-Names; maybe it's cause they haven't actually interacted in canon and the fan content gives me such good Gay Disney Villain content, idk man im weird—).

Still, their interactions were both hilarious and sweet and like I said, I see the appeal, it's just not my cup of tea. y'all Prinxiety fans got fucking FED and I'm happy for you nerds. Enjoy ze happy boys!

I guess another factor in my...low-key hesitance when I first saw what the ep was about is that...okay, get ready, another controversial opinion, le gasp: well, I'm not a big Virgil fan. In fact, at times, he swaps places with Patton as my least favorite sides—especially with some of his recent behavior in eps like DWIT (the "prohibit your breathing comment" really triggered me, for example). Sometimes, his attitude, especially around other sides like Roman or Janus, reminds me a little too much of my sister, who I don't have...a very good relationship with. Add to that how the more...intense side of the fandom has a disturbing tendency to turn him into the 'uwu precious woobie emo baby who can do no wrong' while unnecessarily villainizing other CERTAIN sides in the process, and...I think you all see where I'm going with this little rant 😅

However, upon actually watching the ep, he wasn't...that bad? I don't think? I enjoyed watching him be a flustered, disaster-y mess and genuinely excited at the end, his interactions with Roman were nice enough, and him literally pushing Thomas to make a move with Nico despite his obvious panic attack was a nice moment of genuine character development. I like seeing that, that's the good shit right there. And him being all flustered and shit, and smiling so much at the end of the vid was just...well, adorable. This man has no fucking right to be this cute, my god

alsoooo

pURPLE EYESHADOW

PURPLE EYESHADOW HE LOOKS?? SO GOOD?? WTF?? SLAY EMO, SLAAAAAAAY FUCK, DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO CHANGE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME NOW?

alsoooo

hAPPY ROMAN

YESSSSS~ MAH BOI MAH SON MAH DUMB BITCH HIMBO PRINCE MAH EXTRA MESSY CINNAMON ROLL

ITS BEEN SO LONG

AND HIS LITTLE HEART EYES THROUGHOUT THE VID, OH MY GOD-

IMMA JUST IGNORE THAT "ADDING [MISTAKE] TO THE LIST" COMMENT I AM LOOKING AWAY I DO NOT SEE IT LALALALALA

THOMATHY, SIR, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT MAKING THESE TWO GAY IDIOTS SO BAEBY

Okay, but Virgil not realizing that "cyberstalking in real life" is literally just stalking is both a big ass mood and further proof that, yes, Logan is indeed the only one holding the braincell out of this disaster of a lot. God help them all if he ducks out in the next ep.

👀

And Thomas x Trash Can is my new OTP. I dub thee ✨ "Trashmas" ✨

we sTAN TRASHMAS

Wait, does that mean Remus actually WAS in the ep? Cause, y'know, trash man?

hmmm

👀 👀

Okay, okay.

With how much Virgil and Roman were going off about Thomas constantly lying, I was (understandably) a tad bit disappointed my snek son didn't even make a fucking cameo, but y'know what? In hindsight, I'm okay with this it's fineee~

He was just off playing with shadow puppets and stealing money from us desperate, content-starved peasants with his sheer extra-ness and, honestly? Gotta respect the hustle.

Get that precious, precious coin, dapper snake! Wring us poor losers dryyyy!

*evil snek laugh*

Also, this is a breather ep and adding Janus in probably would've caused unnecessary drama with the Roceit breakup and the constant antagonism between Virgil and him. It probably would've distracted from the point of the ep (flirting with social anxiety, exactly what it says in the tin)—much like it wasn't really Virgil or Remus's place to show up during POF. Does that make sense? I think it makes sense. Sorry, brain going brr-

Still, I can't believe the "Fuck Janus Sanders" Club is actually canon now 😂

God, first Patton in a skirt and now this.

Thomas Sanders, you delight in fucking feEDING this gremlin nest of a fanbase, don’t you? You RELISH our screams of joy and pain and suffering, dON’T YOU?

What's next, actual canonical Janus and Remus interaction? Patton saying the fuck word? The Dragon Witch comes back? Janus's bowler hat gains sentience and takes over the world, Doris-style? What do you have planned, Thomas? Joan? WHAT ART THOU PLANNING, I MUST KNOW YOU HEATHENS YOU FIENDS-

And Virgil's little "would it be fair to him" comment, tho.

👀

Like, I get in the context of the ep, he was likely talking about Nico and how it wouldn’t be good for a potential relationship with Tomas to be founded on lies, but still...my anxceit heart aches, man.

Gimme that sweet, sweet angst with a side of mutual regret and possible future reconciliation and maybe something more wink wink nudge nudge on top, pls

...and fries.

Honestly, tho, that entire bathroom monologue was fucking beautiful, man. And relatable, too—i can't tell you how many times I've talked to myself in public restrooms because I just didn't know how to get the words I wanted to say out. It's...kind of embarrassing, tbh

Speaking of embarrassing, uh, crying stall guy.

Just...

Crying Stall Guy

Like, I was expecting someone to come out the bathroom stall after Thomas stopped talking, but...I honestly wasn't expecting that. God, that whole scene was so cringe worthy and fucking hilarious

Honestly, Thomas in the ep in general was a huge ass mOOD and we collective gay/bi disasters ALL related with him, and if you say you don't, you're either lying to yourself or a demon.

There is no in between

sorry I don't make the rules

Like, I get this series is literally a gay disaster talking to himself for thirty minutes or longer, but like- EMPHASIS on the 'disaster' part 😂

Like...Thomas, you're lucky you're such a goddamn bean, because GOD, I cringing so hard when he first started talking to Nico

Although, I too have apologized profusely for genuine mistakes and am a flustered bi mess around my crush sooo

😅

And god, Roman's "thirty = old man" jokes made me feel old...and I literally just turned twenty, like, come on, man!

Maybe that's because I was literally watching this ep after finishing my ACT and had been sitting with a bunch of high schoolers, with their tiny fucking desks and tiny fucking water fountains smeh

*clears throat*

Anyways, uh, we STAN Nico Pintrovert Florés in this house

He gives me such big Carlos from WTNV vibes for some reason and this makes me sooo happy

and YESS, he's a WRITER

And he's??? So sweet?? A pure bean?? Just sits on his laptop at the mall food court all day, like a god-fucking iCON?? A Nightmare Before Christmas fan?? weARS GLASSES??

my hEART

*cries*

The fandom seems torn between "Nicomas" and "Karrot Kings" as a ship name atm—personally speaking, I'm casting my vote for the latter

*crosses fingers* please dont be another janus x remus multiple ship name issue guys, please please please I can't keep track of them all-

*clears throat*

On that note, I'm guess I'm gonna go try and whoo over my crush with carrots now. If THIS disaster can do it and make it actually fucking work, god damnit, so cAN I

Meanwhile, in hell, my brain's just screaming "CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST-"

God, I hope Nico isn't just a one-shot character, he's too pure and Thomas and him are adorable gay Disney fans and I stan

Oh, I wonder how the other sides'll react to him.

Wait.

Oh god.

This ep just unleashed a new fresh hell of potential Nico x Sides ships, hasn't it?

Welp, time to prepare for ze incoming flood of fanfics, I guess. I'll get my umbrella and rain boots.

That last shot of Virgil during the endcard was so fucking ominous oh my god mom im scared can you come pick me up-

Goddammit, Thomas and Joan, I'm NOT fucking ready to be traumatized again, fUCK

I wish I wasn't a broke ass university student so I could contribute to Thomas's gloriously extra Patreon—both so I can support my favorite content creators who make this amazing blessed content and also, to join my boi Janus in fucking destroying society by giving money to the people who actually deserve it, fuck YOU GOVERNMENT-

Okay.

New headcanon time as to why Patton, Remus, and Logan weren't in the ep: they were helping Jan film that Patreon promotional video.

Remus directed it, Logan helped with the lighting and script, and Patton was just there as the cheerleader.

The reason Janus made a dog with shadow puppets wasn't just to flaunt his deity status and prove how he is truly above us mere wretched mortals

despite that being the absolute truth and we all know it, don't lie to yourselves

No, it was really him trying to do something cute and silly for Patton, because Moceit rights, daMMIT

*inhales*

noww

guys, gals, and nonbinary pals

it’s time forr

the most wonderful time of the yearrr

WAITING FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

Step right up, folks! Hear ye, hear ye, my prediction for the next episode: Prinxiety v. Moceit! With special guest stars: Karrot Kings vibing in adorable gay and Intrulogical, bitter at being excluded aGAIN

Who will win? Who will lose?

here’s a hint: we all will because in this sick twisted game they are no winners only losers-

Place your bets, folks! ✨

Haha im not readyyy~

tl;dr

this episode has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and ended my suffering—an adorable calm before the... angsty fucking shitstorm that’s coming far too soon. Prinxiety stans, enjoy your food. Place an 'F' in the chat for me and my fellow grieving Remus stans. Trashmas is the true OTP, but Karrot Kings is cute too I guess. I've only had Nico Florés for 24 minutes, but if anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. Purple eyeshadow Virgil makes me question my sexuality aGAIN, and happy gay disney prince rights y'all. Say a big ole 'fuck you' to capitalism by giving your local dapper snake moneys. Concussion makes brain go brr and imma go buy some carrots and be gay now.

psst hey @quarantinevibes2020 you wanna join me in being disaster-y? i’ll bring my best gay stare and you bring the wine

Until next time, my lovelies! ~ Ches 🖤

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mononyann · 4 years

Text

a while back people requested that i share some of my headcanons for certain bnha characters, so here's some of the characters that i did

Shota Aizawa

- he absolutely has at LEAST 3 cats, he spoils the heck out of them too. that's why he's always eating those gel packs... he spends too much on his cats.

- he really does love his class. and we all know honey??? u haven't expelled any of them. ur soft for them ok.

- he likes to sleep with his cats bc he gets lonely at night... he will not admit it, but he likes having someone/something there :)

- he has reuccuring nightmares about the usj attack and how he could have failed to save his students

- has a very low alcohol tolerance and often ends up getting dragged back to his apartment by mic or midnight when they go out whilst he rambles and whines the entire time

- he hates crying and tries his best to keep his emotions held in, he's only cried in front of a select few people

- he tries not to let others opinions on him rule his life and tends to block it out if someone hates him

- he doesn't know it, but he is the entirety of class 1-a's dad.

- he really likes tea, and dislikes sweets

- as you would expect, he takes his coffee black

Hanta Sero

- he really likes kpop! he stans multiple groups and really wants to attend a concert

- though he seems really chill on the outside, he's actually quite sensitive and has some self confidence issues

- he loves being around people and finds that he gets his energy from being around those he loves

- definitely into e-boy fashion, and he is open about it

- pierced his own ears at 3 am and called kaminari crying about how he screwed it up

- he actually likes to draw a lot in his free time, it's very relaxing. he puts on some nice low-fi music and draws for hours

- he hasn't had many crushes in his life and doesn't find romance to be a big issue currently, but he's open to anything

- accidentally taped his hamster to the ceiling in 2nd grade, he didn't mean to and cried for hours (the hamster was ok)

Nemuri Kayama

- she is a BRO, she likes to crack a cold one open with the boys on the weekends

- she is bisexual and thinks everyone is beautiful in their own unique ways

- most likely talks shit about her coworkers to her classes

- she thinks children are adorable and loves them, often scaring them with her enthusiasm

- very touchy, she loves hugs and will probably not pass up a chance to use you as an armrest if she has the chance

- she secretly worries about aizawa a lot and is scared that he lets the past effect him too much

- did you guys know she has a cat?!

- i like to think she and mic are like... EPIC bros, she loves to paint his nails and do his hair while gossiping with him (aizawa would NEVER let her do this to him lmao)

- she isn't a mom, but finds the idea of having her own children very nice, for now having a cat will suffice

- she enjoys trying to make all might flustered, she thinks his reactions to things are always very cute and funny (it's all in good fun!)

- she's the mom friend! though she may seem very sexual, which she undoubtedly is, she is also very caring and has a very nuturing motherly personality, she's a lot more than just fanservice !!!!!

Todoroki Shoto

- completely oblivious when it comes to love... he doesn't even understand his own crushes

- "of course you can borrow my credit card uraraka" *pulls out endeavors card which he sneakily took*

- would be the person to tell a child that their pet guinea pig didn't go to heaven and be confused when they start sobbing... like "what... don't be honest?"

- allows his friends to huddle up to his warm side when they are cold

- is confused when people show him copious amounts of love and affection

- he would beat up anyone if they tried to do ANYTHING bad to midoriya

- he wants more friends. he really is enjoying meeting new people and having some new friends at ua!

- he gives really good hugs, he doesn't try to hug you too tight, but he doesn't half ass it either, very nice and warm

- he hates his scar. like. a lot. he wants to cover it up so bad but it just doesn't work. he's afraid it'll make other people scared of him.

Shinsou Hitoshi

- loves patd! and fall out boy, a brendon urie STAN

- loves to kiss his kitties on the forehead but dreads human interaction

- he loves to squish his cats' toebeans... he takes pictures of them and posts them to his secret cat social media acc

- he is gay but doesn't know how to feel about it and/or come out, he's really nervous and doesn't trust people to accept him

- he doesn't smile often but when he does it's the cutest thing ever

- he secretly really likes deku and kaminari and is hesitant about accepting their friendship, but appreciates the gestures a lot

- he suffers with social anxiety and doesn't really know how to make friends very well??? like, in middle school people were total dickbags to him so he kinda just closed himself off and decided he was gonna like... not make friends, but now that there's nice people around him he just kind of- doesn't know how

- this is actually canon! but he feels guilty about having to manipulate people when he uses his quirk, during the 4th school briefs book he feels guilty when he overhears midoriya and ojiro talking about him using his quirk during the sports festival, and he's like "i wish ojiro would say something rude about me to show he's angry so i wouldn't have to feel so guilty about this" since ojiro showed no ill feelings towards him

Izuku Midoriya

- "hold on I'll go get a blanket!" *opens closet* *thousands of all might figurines tumble out*

- watches cat vine compilations until 2 am, than freaks out when he realizes it is 2 am

- very good with children!

- used to be very self conscious about his freckles bc of bakugou insulting them; hid them with concealer for a while until someone told him they were beautiful

- loves his momma so muchhh he would do anything for her, he likes to surprise her with small favors to see her happy

- does not understand the concept of letting people handle their own problems

- stays after to class to offer his teachers help

- he has a lot of self doubts and is still struggling to this day to come to terms with the fact that he is worthy of having one for all

- he wants to learn how to cook for his mom and friends

Kyoka Jirou

- she is a lesbian!!!!! she has a crush on momo but is completely convinced that it's unrequited

- struggled with judgmental kids in middle school because of her sexual identity and style

- gets very easily flustered by anyone complimenting her

- that one person sitting at the back of the bus with their earbuds blasting full volume

- was a GOD at guitar hero

- acts like she's fed up with kaminari's (which she can be sometimes), but truly he's one of the people she can trust the most. she secretly appreciates the way he hypes up her talents and how he really helps her through the day sometimes!

- she loves heroes so much... when she was a little girl and didn't know what to do she'd ask herself "what would my favorite heroes do!?"

- she also secretly buys hero merch but hides it in fear of her being seen as sappy

Amajiki Tamaki

- would have trouble standing up for himself but if he sees ANYONE messing with mirio he WILL throw hands

- likes to watch bob ross videos when hes feeling anxious

- he once went to a butterfly museum with his parents and cried out of joy when one landed on his nose

- leaves food out for strays in his neighborhood, ends up attracting an entire hoard of animals.

- he can paint very nicely, he began to paint after he discovered bob ross

- mirio then saw his paintings and showed the entire class to tamaki's dismay, but everyone absolutely LOVED them!!!

- every day he becomes more and more capable and sure of himself, he is still very anxious, but he's learning to open up and embrace his talents <3

- he really loves to listen to music and any time he's not around others he'll probably have earbuds in, gently swaying back and forth to whatever he has on

- nejire loves to try out new hairstyles on him, and strangely enough, tamaki lets her, he loves it when people play with his hair

Shirakumo Oboro

- shares one collective braincell with mic

- that one person that brings EVERYONE valentine treats on valentines day at school

- most likely plays ding dong ditch

- *draws stick figure* "ah yes. just like van goh" (he cannot draw)

- hates to see his friends (and even random strangers upset) and will go out of his way to do dumb things to make them smile

- probably played soccer

- he's a massive flirt and likes to believe he will become a stereotypical anime protagonist with a massive harem

- he really wants to see aizawa come out of his shell more and tries his best to encourage him to see the best in everything

- he has most likely worn a schoolgirl uniform to class once

- he's very affectionate and loves to hug his friends (even if they don't want hugs), it's his way of showing he likes people

Hizashi Yamada

- he lives off of caffeine. he is a teacher, pro hero, and radio show host, im honestly not sure how he does it

- gives out stickers when students get the correct answer in class and has class parties when they are well behaved for the semester

- just like everyone else, he has his own turmoil as well, he likes to stay busy because it prevents him from having a lot of time to dwell on the past

- he gives really good hugs, and loves to feel the touch of others, it's very comforting to him

- was probably pretty troublesome when he was very young while he learned to get control of his quirk

- overall a really happy and excitable guy, he loves being the center of attention and if he can make people happy by being what he is, that's awesome!

- he shows his appreciation for people in odd ways, but he always means good, even if his wild antics can be a bit stressful lol

- he likes to sing a lot and does it a bunch when he's alone, he can also play a lot of instruments

- he can be very serious if needed, he does often put on a persona when he's present mic

- when he's hizashi (out of hero persona) he's even more of a dork than usual, very goofy, awkward and pouty. a manchild.

OK so I reached my image limit, if u guys wanna see the rest I might post some more later PLUS feel free to request some in my asks, I don't really know how all that stuff works bc I'm kinda new to Tumblr but ILL FIGURE IT OUT

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damienthepious · 4 years

Text

im. heck. this is long. tuesday???!? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. forgive typos i’m RUSHING to get this up before i have to leave for work.

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 14)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [ao3] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: A homecoming.

Chapter Notes: These dang things just keep getting longer, don't they? Also I'm emotional. I'm so fucking emotional. Chapter specific warnings for an explicit threat of violence, not carried through with.

Arum insists on coming out to the front room for breakfast the next morning. Saving his strength is all well and good, but if Arum need be confined to that little bed for the entire time between now and their departure, he will certainly not make it that far. Amaryllis was right, that day he attempted escape. At least the view out there is different, and- well. He is comfortable in the room with the cot, by now, but it is far less clinical in Amaryllis' living space. It makes him feel less of a patient and more… more of a guest. Which he should not care about, of course.

Amaryllis relents rather quickly on the subject, provided that he agree to pick a spot and stick to it, until the evening. She is overly concerned with him, not quite paranoid but certainly delving into the territory of what Arum is comfortable referring to as fretting. She scowls when he calls it that, which is gratifying, but it also appears to make her more conscious of how delicate she is being with him, and she rolls her eyes at herself before she helps to lift him to his feet, shuffling slowly out to the table.

Amaryllis and Sir Damien keep their hands clasped between them throughout their breakfast together. Seems inconvenient, Arum thinks, pulling his eyes away from the easy way their fingers interlace. They do not have an overabundance of limbs to work with. Surely they should not impede themselves for such a- a pointless gesture.

They are-

Arum cannot say what, precisely, it is, but he feels as if something is strange between the pair of them. Or- or perhaps that something had been strange, and has now settled. They are sitting closer, and something about their proximity feels… easier. Sir Damien, in particular, seems more calm, though Amaryllis still has a layer of nervous energy to her.

Of course, Amaryllis is not particularly patient. She does not hold the tension inside of her for long, after they have finished eating.

"So," Amaryllis says, and Arum frowns instantly. "So… Damien is gonna be- coming with us for the trip."

Arum jerks his head to look at the knight, and Damien nods slightly.

"Wh-why?" Arum barks.

"Because… because I want to," Damien says quietly, and then he- smiles, soft and odd, and Arum remembers Damien's hand on his chin, despite himself, "and because I do not think it would be safe for only the pair of you to take that trip. Too many potential dangers, on both sides. I am certain that Rilla has discussed- ah, potential ways to disguise you, so that you will be in less danger from… knights."

Damien's voice has gone soft as well, and Arum can see some strange pain on his face, though Arum cannot say precisely what that indicates. How much separation can this creature feel from his own order?

"But of course that does not mean there will not still be some risk, if…" Damien pauses again. "I would feel better, being there. And… I have my part in this, as well."

"Your part ," Arum echoes. "What do you mean, your part in this?"

Damien pauses for a long moment, clearly considering his words.

"I want to see you home and safe as well, Arum. I have… committed this far. I will follow through."

"Committed?" Arum says. "I hardly think this counts as a commitment. You- you have allowed Amaryllis to- you have denied your duty in slaying me-"

Arum cuts himself off with a wince, then glances toward Amaryllis and away again. Damien does not rise to this statement, does not comment or deny.

It is clear, from the mild confusion on Amaryllis' face, that Damien has not told her the precise shape of what passed between the two of them, the previous day. What Arum nearly pushed Sir Damien to do.

"You…" Arum trails off. "Fine. If you should like to come, I do not see what it will hurt. I shall be curious to see how deep your treachery runs."

"Arum," Rilla warns.

Arum winces again, then sighs and looks away. "It is not as if I could stop you, anyway."

Damien tilts his head. Arum can see it, in his periphery.

"If it would… truly cause you distress, I would… I would worry rather deeply, but I would stay-"

"I said I could not stop you," Arum repeats in a sharp voice. "It is not as if you distress me, songbird, I simply- I do not understand."

"Yes," Damien says softly. "Well. That is… fair. It is a… somewhat complicated situation, is it not? But- but I will take this journey with you, if you allow me."

"I said I could not stop you, honeysuckle,” Arum growls, and judging by Amaryllis’ breath of laughter his tone must be unconvincing. “If that is your choice, that is your choice."

Damien's mouth curls slightly, a smile vague but pleasant, and Arum can't stand to keep his eyes on the pair of them together, though they keep drawing back, regardless.

"Very well. I will accompany you, then."

Arum huffs, wrinkling his snout. "I am surprised that your Citadel can spare you. I thought you creatures were rather strictly kept."

Damien purses his lips, then sighs. "We are… currently in something of a lull, I suppose. There was a thread our Investigator General intended to pull, but… well… when pulled, the pattern simply unraveled. There was a rash of monster attacks with similar stratagems, but they've dissipated like mist over the last… during the last few…" he trails off, his tone going blank. "The… the last few weeks."

Arum feels the twinge in his frill, knows perfectly well he is giving himself away, but Damien does not turn his eyes towards him, accusatory or otherwise.

The pause draws long, and Amaryllis is clearly hovering on the edge of words herself.

"Well?" Arum snaps, eventually. "Are you going to ask or aren't you? Go ahead, then. I told you I made weapons against your kind. What, precisely, were these consistent stratagems you were attempting to ferret out?"

"Arum," Rilla says gently, but Arum scowls more deeply as Sir Damien meets his eyes.

“Well, Sir Damien?”

Damien holds his gaze, for a quiet moment. "There were a number of creatures, in short time, utilizing powers of manipulation. Encouraging conflict, stoking self doubt, provoking pain. Assaulting the mind first, in order to more effectively destroy the body."

"Yes," Arum says in a hiss. "Yes, I am certain I created the creatures of which you speak. I cannot imagine any other could have managed to replicate my work."

"The mushrooms," Rilla murmurs, her brow furrowed. "It was- pain. Illusions of things we- things we were afraid of, things that hurt us."

Arum wishes he could burn the grubs a second time. The look on Amaryllis' face is unbearable, but then she looks up at him, raking her eyes over his face, her expression oddly desperate.

"Yes," he hisses again.

"I…" Damien's face goes mournful as Arum snaps his attention back to the knight. "I cannot say that no harm was done by the creatures, that none were killed. I cannot alleviate your guilt in that way-" Arum scoffs, but he cannot deny, not with the way Damien is looking at him. "But… but I can say that none are doing harm any longer."

Arum looks away, too uncomfortable to pretend otherwise. "If you say so."

"Regardless," Damien continues in a low, measured voice. "As to whether or not I may be spared by the Citadel- while the Investigator General searches for a new loose thread to worry over, the ranks await more specific direction, and-" Damien gives a very small laugh, and the corner of Rilla's mouth pulls into an answering smile. "And I very, very rarely use the time I am granted, for leave. More often than not, I am too worried over the prospect of leaving my fellow knights without assistance. So… none were troubled, that I wished to take my allotted time now, to assist my Rilla."

It is more of an answer than Arum expected. In truth, he had merely been trying to rile the knight again. He huffs out another breath, claws drumming on the table.

"Okay," Rilla says, drawing the word out into more syllables than it requires. "Okay. Uh, that seems settled enough for me, I think. This has been awkward enough for one morning. So, Arum, I, uh-"

She pauses, and Damien squeezes her hand, and Arum hears her breath come steadier, again. She sighs.

"So, I was thinking, we should leave either tomorrow or the day after." She pauses again. "Maybe the day after. You're standing better, and Damien's offered his horse, so- you'll ride, and we'll walk. It'll take longer, but even if we had three horses it probably wouldn't be safe for you to ride at speed anyway, you could jostle something open, or-" She bites her lip. "So. You on the horse, me and Damien walking, and- it'll be slow. What is it, two weeks to your swamp?"

"Something… something to that effect, yes. Though-" he clenches his teeth. "When we are close- we only need reach the border, I think, and we will not need to travel by foot any longer."

"The border. Okay. Okay, and, um, with the route we planned the other day, we should be…" her lips twitch into a smile. "We can do this. We can get you home, and then- ah… I've- I've made up a bunch of extra-"

Her voice- cracks a little, and some pain crosses her face. Arum blinks. He does not understand why she would be…

"For- um. For after I- for after we-" she pauses, inhaling sharply. "I made up a bunch of extra salves, and painkillers, and- and a replacement wrap, so your horn will- so your horn will keep together, and a new cast that should last until your wrist is healed and- so you won't have to worry… when I'm gone."

Arum stares at her, at the odd twisting of her almost-smile. "Ah."

I'm gonna miss him, is the only thing.

Amaryllis' voice on the recorder had been so keening and strange, and it had pulled on Arum's heart like his own yearning for the Keep and- and he could not help but believe her. She is … she is going to miss him. She will feel his absence. Such a terribly strange feeling-

And Arum had been honest, when he told her that he would miss her in return. Though, of course, Arum knows that had not been the whole of it. It is not the whole of it, but he will feel her absence, as well.

"Very…" he swallows. "Very forward thinking of you," he manages. "I… I had no fears, of course. And all I require is home, regardless. Seems a shame, I think, to make you waste an entire month ferrying me back and then needing to return. Certainly your other patients will be missing you, with your skill."

"Yeah, well, I may be the best doctor in the Citadel, but I'm not the only doctor in the Citadel. They'll manage." She smiles again, a little less certainly, and Damien squeezes her hand again.

"Do you feel ready enough for the trip, Lord Arum?" Damien asks.

Arum hates the way his own heart turns, slowly, like a key in a lock, every time Sir Damien calls him that. It is ridiculous. It is his name , it does not make sense , but- the way his tone curls around Lord, the way Arum seems to sit at the back of his mouth. Lord Arum. Respectful formality from a knight. It is … strange, that is all. It is still strange.

"I am… as ready as I shall be," he murmurs. "I cannot afford further delay. My swamp, my home, it… it has been…"

"Without its Lord," Damien finishes, gently.

"Yes. My swamp… and my Keep."

Rilla startles slightly, but Arum… Arum does not know why he has bothered to continue concealing the Keep's existence anyway, and Sir Damien has made it… abundantly clear, that his stance has changed. This stiff-spined little human has shifted his footing, has gained a new vantage, as incomprehensible as that seems.

Damien purses his lips, his face going questioning. "Have you… mentioned a Keep before?" He asks. "Or- no. I think- I think you have only nearly mentioned a Keep before."

"Perceptive," Arum grumbles, his tone hovering between irritated and impressed. "Yes. My home, my Keep." He pauses. "I have already explained it to Amaryllis, I do not- I do not feel-"

"You need not explain anything to me, Lord Arum. Home is…" he presses a hand over his heart. Arum hears his breath catch. "All creatures should be blessed with shelter, with home. It is…" he pauses again. "I am certain you will be glad to be returned to yours. We shall do all we can, to make that come to pass for you."

"Yes, well…" Arum glances aside, uncomfortable. "The sooner the better." He clasps his claws in front of himself, then glances towards Amaryllis. "The… the day after tomorrow, you said, Amaryllis. If you think I shall require the extra day."

Amaryllis nods, and Arum does not know what they will do in the interim. He had not been planning, truly, to make it this far. And now he has today, and tomorrow, to worry and wonder about this upcoming trip. To worry and wonder, about the softness of Sir Damien's hand on his chin. About the leaping of his own heart, at the gentleness with which the knight had lifted it. About the prospect of Amaryllis missing him. About all these strange and bitter hungers that have begun to curl within him.

Arum's eyes have found Amaryllis and Sir Damien's clasped hands again, tracking the way that Damien's thumb is brushing soft over the back of it, a slow, comforting rhythm, as Amaryllis' hand squeezes his. Arum's tongue flicks compulsively, and he buries the urge to-

He does not even know. He is not close enough to reach their hands, and what would he do even if he was? Even if he- if he reached out and wrapped his hand around both of their own (his hand is large enough to do so, his fingers longer than theirs, their stubby little mammal things with their blunt nails and their soft brown skin) (Arum knows the softness both of their hands, now), even if he were to do so-

Certainly they would not welcome his intrusion. Certainly not. They are both so eager to see him gone from their lives. And Arum is eager as well, of course, to return to his Keep, to return to his life. He is eager to close the door on this bizarre little chapter-

A lie. Too deep to stand.

He is not eager to close the door on this chapter. He is not ready. Two days. Two days- only two more days in this strange little hut, in this short-ceilinged human construction, full of herb smell and strange baubles and dangerous plants and skillful wordsmithing and a heretical, compassionate little doctor, and her knight.

Arum has never had a place outside of the Keep before, where he felt himself truly safe. Arum's mind is still… halved in a strange way, he still feels the absence of the Keep's thoughts at his edges, still feels where the Keep is meant to fit, where song should shift into… meaning, and affection, and shared memory, and home.

But if Arum could still feel the Keep here, he would be entirely unable to pretend, anymore, that he does not wish there was some way he could stay.

Arum intends to finish the translation, before they leave. It will not be difficult, all things considered. The tome is short, the material arranged in no particular order but with consistent notation for the entries, and he is familiar enough with a decent amount of the species listed that it speeds the process considerably. He needs not even attempt to scrawl the information out in his slightly more stilted attempt at human script, now that Amaryllis is in the room with him again. She simply sets her recorder beside him and he speaks as he works, occasionally drifting into conversation rather than translation, or narrowing his eyes at a particular peculiarity of the dialect, the drifting etymology of distance.

When he turns the page and sees the Moonlit Hermit, he freezes. After a moment, he drifts his claws down the page, tracing the single narrow line that depicts the flower's stem.

So small a thing, to cause so much trouble.

"The Moonlit Hermit," he murmurs, and Amaryllis drops a roll of bandages, the white ribboning off as it unrolls across her floor.

He raises an eyebrow as she scrambles to retrieve the roll, laughing awkwardly, and when she straightens she won't meet his eyes for a long moment.

"Amaryllis?"

"Just- forgot that one was in there too."

He tilts his head. "Why does it matter? What is the Hermit to you, then?" he asks, because if the Universe insists on piercing him through to make a point-

"My- my parents were researching it. It was a big part of their research, actually- the Hermit, what it could do- the potential it had-"

Arum frowns, automatically, remembering the particular results he had pulled from the potential of the Hermit in his possession.

"I've- I've been trying to… to find one," she says, her voice gone small, and Arum forces himself not to stare at her, at the longing on her face. He looks to the book, instead.

"I am afraid there is very little on the subject in this particular volume, Amaryllis," he says, gently, and she sighs.

"That… yeah, I kind of expected that. I couldn't read it, but- I could tell the entry was short. Shorter than most of the other ones, at least."

"It mentions the unnatural fragility of the stem," he murmurs, tracing his claw along the lettering. "Five pale petals, the glow of moonless night, the utter incongruity… hm," he traces the shape of the drawing on the paper again, remembering. "Volumes of this sort so rarely bother to note the sounds. It chimes, as well, at contact or in use. It is not the most beautiful song I have ever heard, but… it suits. Cool, and delicate."

He realizes, after a pause, that Amaryllis is staring at him. He pulls his eyes from the book, wary at her uncertain gaze.

"What?"

"You… you've heard it? You've- you've seen one. Arum- Arum, you've seen a Moonlit Hermit?" She sets her medical bag aside, her packing entirely forgotten. "Arum, please, you have to tell me where I can- how- I have to see it. I have to- to-"

His heart sinks, the hope in her voice too unfortunate to stand. "If it still existed, Amaryllis… I would certainly think it fair payment for the service you have provided me, but- it was destroyed." He pauses, sighs. "I destroyed it."

"You-" she looks too stunned to be properly furious, but Arum suspects that will come soon enough. " What?"

"Those who attacked me," he says softly, "desired to take it for themselves. To use it. Just as I had been using it, of course, to create weapons against your kind." He pauses, exhales. "I wish I could say, Amaryllis, that it had been a choice made of morality, but- I did not yet know you. I- there are many things I did not yet know, when I…" he traces the shape of the petals again, one, two, three, four, five, and his lip curls in an almost smile. "I ensured that our meeting occurred in daylight, as insurance. It was easy enough, when I realized I had been betrayed, to lift so fragile a thing into the light."

"Arum-"

"Spite. I destroyed the Hermit in spite, Amaryllis, because I knew they intended to kill me, and I did not want to give them the satisfaction of beating me, as well. Of taking what I rightfully found. I threw myself into the river for the sake of that same spite. I would rather drown than let them slit my throat, so…"

She is touching his shoulder, now. He does not look at her.

"I do not regret my actions. The Hermit could have… would have done some good, in your hands, of that I am certain, but… I am glad it was destroyed, rather than be misused again. Rather than being twisted to further bloodshed."

Her hand on his shoulder lifts, and she almost touches his face. Almost. He keeps his eyes safely away.

After a breath, she drops the hand, and turns, and returns to her packing. Arum feels his stomach twisting, regret and shame, fear, desire, all of it colliding together within him like a collapsing building, but still he does not look. He breathes and breathes until he is certain that his voice will not shake, and then he turns the page, and resumes his translation.

It feels as if Arum simply blinks, and two full days have passed. Sir Damien wakes before dawn, and Arum, his nerves sharp and heightened, wakes at his careful noise, at the click of the door behind him as he goes outside to run through his routine.

Amaryllis wakes not long after, throwing together a quick sort of breakfast and quietly going through a checklist of their supplies before she comes to, in theory, wake him.

She smiles, clearly unsurprised when she finds him already awake, already digging his claws into the sheets, and the smile stays as she helps him to his feet.

She wraps him in layers. A simple strategy, but simplicity is more reliable than the delicacy of complication, in Arum's experience. He keeps the cape on beneath the rest, and she smiles when she is done wrapping the rest around him. He can see the crooked shape of it through the sheer scarf covering his face.

And then, for the first time since he woke in Amaryllis’ hut, he steps outside.

Arum does not want to look back, to acknowledge the finality of walking away from this hut, of stepping up into the saddle and riding away from this shelter, riding back towards his true home.

He does not wish to look back.

Rather- he wishes that he did not want to.

He turns despite himself as Amaryllis adjusts the robes that hide his scales, ensuring that his tail is hidden as he curls it around his own ankle. He does not mean to, but he turns, and-

It looks so much smaller, from the outside. Squat and friendly and warm, with flowering vines curling familiar across trellises and a clean little herb garden and the mossy stump where Damien likes to sit and compose when he is finished with his exercises, and the curtained window Arum knows the shape of so terribly well, from the other side.

So many days. So very long, he has spent in such a small, strange space. And now-

He cannot imagine that he will ever see it again.

Arum is almost grateful for the ridiculous layers. At least neither of the humans can see the way his face twists, as his heart lurches with the grief of parting.

They travel light; there’s not much they need to take with them. Rilla keeps her medical bag, of course, in case of emergencies or in case the traveling impedes Arum’s recovery in some way, along with her bag of extra supplies she's gonna leave with him when they get him back home. Damien pretty much just has his armor, his bow, and his usual traveling supplies: bedroll, rations, canteen, et cetera. Arum has nothing to bring, obviously. Nothing except for his mended cape, which is wrapped secure around his shoulders beneath the rest of his mild disguise. Rilla covered him in strategic layers, scarves and shawls and large loose pants that collectively obscure his form and face as he sits sideways in the saddle of Damien’s horse, who only required minimal acclimating to adjust to the weight of a monster. Currently, Arum looks enough like an excessively ill person swaddled like an infant, or like a particularly old-fashioned noble, and hopefully they won’t need to do much by the way of explanation on the less-traveled roads they intend to use.

It’s slow going, of course. Anything more than the lightest movement could be a risk for Arum; jostling around on top of a horse isn’t exactly healthy for healing stab and slash wounds, obviously.

Every time they pass another group, Damien looks like he’s about to be sick, face twisting in a completely unconvincing smile and his voice going high and reedy if he tries to greet them. Rilla does most of the talking, for a change, and Arum sits tense and stiff and dignified astride the horse, and occasionally nods through his scarves at whomever happens to be passing by.

Nights are more difficult. They need to wander far from the road to set up camp, and they need to obscure the fire on one side to make it more difficult to see from where they came, to avoid other eyes, and they wait until it is safely dark every night before Arum can remove his layers of disguise and sigh in the open air again. He always keeps his cape safely draped around his shoulders after the rest has been left in a pile nearby, a claw curled along the edge of the fabric as he settles close and warm by the fire.

He’s tired , Rilla can tell. The travel on top of his recovery, and the constant strain of worry that comes from the threat of discovery- it’s no wonder, really. She wishes she could make this easier for him, wishes she could just snap her fingers and have him home to his Keep, but- this is the best she can do, for now. She’ll get him home, long way around or no.

"Sir Damien."

They are preparing to resume their travel in the morning, Damien packing the last of their supplies back up from their makeshift camp while Rilla tends to Damien's horse, and Arum is wrapped already in his layers as they wait for Rilla to return, to help Arum back into the saddle for the day. Damien glances down at the obscured monster, lips pursing nervously, but he does not think the monster is looking back at him. It is difficult to tell, with the layers, but Damien thinks that Arum is looking towards Rilla again.

"Yes, Lord Arum?"

He continues to stare for a moment, and then Arum glances away. His voice comes even quieter, then. "We are still close to your Citadel, little knight," he murmurs. "There is still time between us and my home, and many opportunities for this expedition to fall apart."

"Pessimism will not help the situation, Lord Arum," Damien says mildly.

"Perhaps not. But pragmatism-" he pauses, sighs. "If the worst is to happen, if I am discovered along this mad little journey… Amaryllis must not be seen as guilty for helping a monster. I refuse to have her suffer for this absurd kindness."

Damien pauses, his heart doing a swooping little flip, and he looks at Arum again in disbelief. "What-"

"If we are discovered, they must believe that I forced her to treat me, forced her to escort me home. They must believe that she was made to do it, that I threatened or coerced or- she must not be seen a traitor for my sake. Do you understand me, Sir Damien?"

Damien presses a hand over his heart, presses as hard as the thudding pressing out. He forces his breath to come steady enough for words, just for one sentence. "Rilla would not be happy, with that particular deception," he rasps, looking at his fiance through the rosy morning light.

"That," Arum says with a growl, "is precisely why I am asking you, and not the doctor herself. I trust that you will protect her. I know that you will."

Damien wishes so dearly that he could see the monster's face, just now. That he could see the look in his violet eyes.

"Honeysuckle," Arum says quietly, roughly. "Tell me that I am correct."

"This- this is not like the other day, is it? This is not more of the same, again, more of you trying to- to-"

"This is not an act of self destruction, honeysuckle." Arum stares up at him, or at least, Damien assumes that is the direction the monster is aiming his eyes. "But she must be safe."

Damien inhales, exhales, inhales.

"Rilla would never forgive me, if I caused you to be hurt in her stead. You must know that, Lord Arum."

The monster clenches his hands, his head ducking just slightly. "It is more important that she be alive, to forgive you or not." He turns his head a little further away, then, his voice going even quieter. "Of course she will forgive you, little fool. She loves you."

Damien's throat goes tight and hot and uncomfortable, his heart thrumming and thrumming, and the words boil within him but he cannot say-

Do you think I do not know that you love her as well? Can you not see that she loves you in return?

His lips part, he is going to say something too foolish for their unspoken understanding to survive, but-

Rilla is returning.

Arum's shoulders go stiff, and before she is in hearing distance he mutters, "I must trust that you will do what is right, Sir Damien."

Damien breathes slow, summoning tranquility as best he can, listening to the drumming of his own heart, and he knows that he will. He will do what is right, even if that is not the same as what Arum has asked of him.

Rilla is fairly bored on the road. She can't read effectively while walking, and they only have the one horse. She can only glean so much amusement out of cataloging the wildlife as they pass it by, but Damien knows her far too well to let her boredom sit. He starts reciting as they travel, spinning stories, sharing newer compositions, weaving tales in the air between them, accompanied by jungle noises and the hum of insects.

Rilla sings, as well, when Damien's poor voice needs a rest, and she pretends not to notice when she starts a song and Arum stiffens in recognition. Pretends even harder not to notice when he hums along, when he harmonizes in his low, careful voice. She pretends, poorly, not to grin in delight, the smile tipping her singing voice even brighter.

If she didn't feel like she was riding off to break her own stupid, stupid heart, this would be the most fun she's had on a trip in ages.

Unnatural quiet in the jungle dark, and Sir Damien comes awake with the fingers of one hand already gripped on his bow, a strange and familiar rushing in his ears.

He remembers where he is without strain. He can feel the dirt beneath him through the bedroll, can feel Rilla close beside him, can hear her breathing light.

He can hear little else besides. A stillness hangs in the night air, and Damien feels it. He feels attack waiting, can taste tension on the air. He can almost hear the source. Almost.

Damien breathes slow. Panic is a faraway thing, just now. A faraway thing that cannot possibly touch him. The rushing in his ears has gone slowly rhythmic, and Damien waits, Damien waits, Damien waits for the precise moment. For the strike. For his parry.

His heart. Rilla's breath. The rustle of leaf and soil. The padding, just low, of paws. Damien tenses, poised and prepared and waiting, waiting for just the right moment-

"If you take one… single… step… closer," says a low, guttural, growling voice, and Sir Damien realizes after a startled breath that he recognizes it. He recognizes the voice, because it belongs to Lord Arum, though it has been pitched dangerous as it echoes strange and placeless among the trees. "If you take just one more step… I will make a meal of your entrails while you still live."

There is a pause, a stillness deeper, even, than the one which came before it.

"Do not test me," Arum continues, dark and certain. "These creatures are not yours to hunt."

Another pause. Slowly, slowly, the sense of danger recedes. The night noises of the jungle resume in its absence, the whine of insects and the rustle of small creatures, and Damien knows they are safe again.

Damien has never heard Lord Arum sound quite like that, before. Dark. Dangerous. Protective. And Damien does not feel an ounce of fear, at that voice, though his heart is thudding hot.

Not yours to hunt.

Not yours, he said. Does that mean, then, that Arum considers them his?

Another long pause draws out in the darkness as Damien tries to shake the memory of Arum's voice, as he feels the gooseflesh shiver across his skin, and then there is a noise, shifting close by.

"You are awake, aren't you, honeysuckle?"

Arum's voice no longer sounds strange. It no longer echoes oddly, and the venom is gone from it, leaving the monster sounding only soft, murmuring through the black of night.

"Yes," Damien whispers.

"I did not intend to wake you," Arum hisses.

"You did not," Damien says, just as low. "I… I felt that something was wrong. I woke before you… scared the creature away. Will it return, do you think?"

"Certainly not," Arum drawls, gently. "We are close to my territory now, little songbird, and I know the sorts of scavengers that prowl my borders. I know a coward when I smell one," he hisses. "She expected an easy meal. That, we most certainly are not. She will not try again."

"How…" Damien needs to pause, to swallow. "How did you know I was awake?"

"Your breathing shifted… your heartbeat. I can hear them both from here."

It is difficult, for Damien, not to feel exposed, knowing that. He is certain that his heart is still beating hard. Harder, now.

"And… and did you slip into the trees, to frighten the creature away? I will be compelled to tell Rilla if you exerted yourself while she slept-"

"I did not budge an inch, honeysuckle. Don't be foolish."

Damien blinks, for all the good it does him. The bare hint of stars between the canopy above flickers, just for a moment. "But- but your voice, Arum," he murmurs, and when Arum chuckles low Damien can feel heat pooling odd in his stomach. "You sounded as if…"

"As if I could be anywhere," Arum murmurs , and his voice echoes again, placeless, but close and worrying. "Yes … I told you, honeysuckle, that I had some skill, some tricks up my sleeves…"

Even more worrying than Arum's voice itself: the way the low heat of it makes the answering heat in Damien's stomach pulse.

"A-Arum," Damien whispers, and he releases his grip on his bow, reaching into the dark instead, grasping in the direction that Arum's voice had seemed to come from, for those few words where he had sounded ordinary again. "Where… where are you?"

There is a brief pause, a more gentle laugh in the dark.

"I am close enough to pluck you, still, little honeysuckle," he says in a rumble that rolls down Damien's spine, and he cannot help the way his breath catches, his eyes darting in the darkness as he tries to pin Arum's place. "Have no fear." Another laugh, even warmer. "Unless… unless my proximity is what worries you, of course."

"Arum," Damien breathes, reaching his hand our further.

"I'm here," Arum hisses. "I forget the limitations of your senses. I can see you, blue as you are in the starlight. Can you truly not see me?"

"I…" Damien swallows roughly, feeling Rilla warm beside him, feeling the coolness of the dirt beneath him, knowing that this monster is somewhere, so close by, watching him through the dark. Damien shakes his head, testing.

"How interesting," Arum murmurs, and his voice is still bouncing strange, as if it could be coming from the whole of the jungle itself.

A pause drags out, then, and Damien grasps, feeling across the scattered leaves, towards where Arum's bedroll should be.

Arum's hand intercepts his own, and when the monster laughs soft again, he sounds only close, only ordinary again. "I told you, honeysuckle. I am here."

"Arum," Damien whispers, the texture of scales so strange against his palm, and Arum pulls his hand closer, touching it to- to his cheek, Damien imagines, and he can feel the rumbling of his throat and the rumbling of his voice as he speaks again.

"I did not budge an inch," he hisses again, and Damien can feel him speaking, even as his voice echoes in the canopy above.

Damien can barely focus on the fascination he feels at that, though, because the reality of Arum's face in his hand, again- the reality of the monster laying so close beside them in the dark- it is twisting so- so-

So pleasantly, within him. Damien's mouth has gone dry.

"Go back to sleep, honeysuckle," Arum murmurs, his voice gone quiet and normal again, and he squeezes Damien's hand as he moves it away from his face again. "Go back to sleep. We are safe, I assure you."

Damien believes him instantly. Damien believed him the first time, when he insisted the other monster would not return. He knows that they are safe, that the three of them together are more dangerous than anything the wilds could possibly assail them with.

"Are you certain?" he asks again, regardless, because his heart is racing and he knows that Arum can hear it, and certainly he requires this excuse for the pounding rhythm, and for the way he has not pulled his hand away from Arum's.

Arum has not pulled his hand away, either.

"We are safe," Arum repeats in a hiss. "I promise. Go back to sleep, Damien."

Damien squeezes his eyes shut, despite the dark, hoping that Arum is no longer looking at his face, that he cannot see Damien's expression in the dark.

Damien pretends that he has forgotten their hands, clasped together. He steadies his own breathing, pretends not to feel his own heat permeating Arum's hand, and-

And Arum does not pull his hand away, either.

Arum does not pull his hand away. Not before Damien falls back asleep in truth, at least.

The rumors are true, apparently.

They can see it in the distance when they round the crest of a hill, a gap in the canopy of trees above the road giving them a decent look towards the swamp in the distance that is apparently Arum’s home.

The swamp that is also, apparently, creeping outward.

They can see outcroppings of new-grown swamp greenery that stands out among the wider jungle, pushing past the usual border between the two, and even at this distance Rilla can see the speckling of purple from the blooms that give the swamp its name as well, and from this perspective the growth looks like curling fingers, reaching out.

Searching, Rilla thinks. A desperate hand, combing through the jungle to look for the missing ruler currently bundled up on the horse behind her. She glances back towards him, and even hidden behind the layers of cloth she can see the tension in his frame, can feel the impatient energy radiating from him.

“Almost there,” she says, and he tilts his head down towards her with a sharp breath. “Not much farther, now.”

He nods, and she sees him hesitate for only a moment before his eagerness gets the better of him.

“If one of those- those outgrowths is close enough, we should aim for it. We may be afforded a shortcut. Save further time,” he hisses quietly, and that’s pretty confusing but Rilla nods in response. He knows this place better than she does, after all.

Damien holds his own tongue for a moment before he points out one in particular, a vivid purple growth curling out, and quietly suggests a path they could take in that direction, a smaller road that should take them close.

Arum grows more and more agitated as they make their approach, and they all notice at the same moment that the outgrowths aren't the only strange thing about the swamp's border, nor are they the only new growth. She understands belatedly why the border was so easy to see from a distance-

There is a wall. The foliage on the edge is tightly packed, unnaturally so, the trees interwoven with newer saplings and quick vines, an enormous wicker boundary spotted with bright splotches of poisonous plants (Rilla can tell, even at this distance). Arum picks up a low growl, compulsive and continuous, and Rilla clenches her hands tight but she doesn't warn him against the noise. She doubts any other humans would be coming this close while the swamp is doing… whatever this is, and honestly, she can't blame him for the distress.

He's practically snarling to himself by the time they reach the border, his tail thrashing noticeably beneath his layers, and Rilla's stomach gives a sympathetic twist as Damien carefully, carefully helps Arum lower himself from the saddle.

"Okay," Rilla says. "Obviously this is… less than ideal."

"An understatement, Amaryllis. Look at- look at this! What- what could it possibly-" he gestures sharply towards the wall, then hisses in pain and draws the limb back to himself.

Damien makes a worried noise, an arm still supporting the monster as he fidgets, growling low, and then he eyes the wall with a considering look. "Hm. Perhaps I will close the borders entirely," Damien murmurs, and Rilla doesn't understand his words or his tone until he looks to Arum again. "I think you said that, when I asked what you intended to do when you returned home. It seems that others had similar thoughts, in your absence, Lord Arum."

Arum scoffs, then gently pushes himself from Damien's grip, standing straighter on his own, stiff and strained. "Foolishness. Ridiculous," he mutters as he starts to pull the layers off, unwinding scarves from his neck. "All this will do is draw undue attention-"

The sound of wings above compels Damien to draw his bow instantly, and his eyes dart to the foliage above more quickly than Rilla can follow, fixing on the source, the wide wingspan and gleaming threat of talons as they descend, and Damien's stance tightens, drawing the string more taut-

"Wait- stop-"

At Arum's choking cry Damien's poise falters, his aim going wide, the arrow finding purchase in the wicker wall instead of the quickly dropping- thing-

Arum tears the hood from his head, tears the last of the layers off beside his cape, his frill flaring and a grin curving his mouth, and he makes a strange warbling call, clear and loud and near to birdsong, and the wings above startle, fluttering sharp, and then there is an answering cry before the shape descends even faster.

"Arum-"

"Lord A-"

Arum nearly falls as the feathered shape collides with him, but he is laughing, now, as he makes more of those strange noises, and Rilla finally manages to parse exactly what the hell just happened, because there is an enormous heron shuffling from one taloned foot to the other on top of Arum's shoulders, shoving its beaked face into Arum's horns and squawking in a way that sounds both irritable and excited.

"Yes- foolish thing," Arum breaks into another laugh, and then into another strange warble as he lifts a hand to gently push the beaked face from pecking at the edge of his frill. "Obviously. Of course I did. Of course I did, you little- did you doubt? No-" he trills again, bright, and the heron ruffles up and makes a chuffing noise. "Of course I did," Arum says again, gentler, tapping the bird softly beneath the beak, and then he seems to remember Rilla and Damien, still watching.

Rilla's breathing hasn't entirely slowed from the shock, yet, but she's smiling now as she watches him, and Damien has come close beside her, stowing his bow again and pressing a hand over his mouth to bury his own smile, and Arum's frill ruffles by his neck at their observation.

"Er-"

"A friend?" Rilla asks, an eyebrow raising.

"One of my- my subjects, I suppose you could say," Arum murmurs, and he can't seem to help the smile as the bird presses its head into his horns again, trilling sternly. "Yes, I know. Hush." He gives the bird an equally stern look despite the laugh he gives, and then he lifts an arm for the creature to step to. "I know," he says quietly. "But you are frightening the horse, and I would rather not be kicked, little creature. I am nearly mended once, I would not like to suffer recovery a second time. Find your flock, spread the word if you must."

The bird squawks irritably, aiming its beak towards the humans for a moment before it turns back to Arum and flaps its wings at him.

"I said find your flock," he says in a low, fond growl. "Go on, you ridiculous thing. You need not worry for me. Go on."

The bird shifts from foot to foot on Arum's arm, chattering lightly, and then it pecks at the tip of Arum's snout and flaps before it lifts off, flying back up into the canopy again, singing something loud and joyous as it goes.

Arum sighs, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the creature is gone from him, but he clearly can't bury his smile. Damien takes Rilla's hand, and then they both come close to Arum, and Rilla lifts her other hand to touch the monster's elbow.

"Seemed excited to see you," she says, her tone only barely teasing, and his smile is so entirely warm, and Rilla and Damien's hands tighten together, each squeezing at the same moment.

"Yes, well," he makes a rattling noise low in his chest, still smiling. "I imagine they will all be quite ready for the swamp to return to normal."

"What do we do, then, about the wall?" Damien asks, gently, and Arum's smile flickers off.

He frowns, eyeing the woven greenery, and then he grumbles, "Bring me closer. It should still answer… it should still… still be able to hear."

Rilla doesn't exactly understand what that means, but- she figures he knows what to do in this situation better than she does, anyway, so she helps him. After a step or two Damien steps up on his other side, supporting him further.

"Thank you," Arum murmurs when they are close enough, and then he very gently pulls away from their hands. He lifts his own hand, and just barely touches the tangle of foliage, and then he swallows, chest rumbling. "Keep?"

Rilla barely manages to stop herself from reaching for him again. He sounds so- so desperate, and the urge to help him is-

"Keep. Can you hear me?" He pauses, and Rilla can see that he's trying not to cringe as he runs his hand along the vines. "Keep, I'm here, I- I need you to let me in."

Nothing changes, for a long moment. Beside her, Damien reaches a hand out, gripping Rilla's hand tight again, his nerves mirroring her own.

"Keep," he says again, keening clear in his voice. "Keep, please-"

Arum stumbles back as vines burst from the ground, new and accompanied by harmonious song, overtaking the wall and forming an archway that fills with magic, with- with a door, leading somewhere quite different from the swamp they could see past the wall.

Arum chokes a breath, warbles in further harmony with the song, and on shaking legs he bolts through the archway.

The Keep winds its vines around him so quickly that he is in the air before his feet even touch the floor of his home, before he has time to even breathe a syllable. It sings bright and clear and joyful, and it slots its mind soft against his again, precisely as their minds are meant to fit, in tune again so instantly that the vines don’t even come close to accidentally brushing any of the healing wounds that might still suffer from the pressure, and Arum can’t help the way he chokes, the way his throat goes tight and his eyes go hot, because-

He has missed his Keep so, so unbearably much.

He was never meant to be away for this long. His limbs are shaking with the relief of it even as he clings to its supportive vines, as he brushes his palms over the new bursts of flowers it is gleefully blooming around him. He’s so tightly enmeshed, so thoroughly cocooned, he wouldn’t have even noticed Amaryllis and Damien following through the portal if he could not feel the precise moment the Keep notices them.

The Keep notices them, and it is filled instantly with terror.

The humans are wound tight in vines nearly as quickly as Arum himself was, though these new vines are substantially less friendly as they pin Amaryllis and Damien against the wall with a discordant trill.

Arum feels the wash of terror pulse through with confusion, fury, protectiveness, and the vines around the humans continue to tighten. Arum’s heart skips, and he scrambles, reaching a hand through the bramble around him towards his- his- whatever, precisely, they are to him.

“Stop-” he snarls, the full force of his denial pushing out into his home, compelling the Keep to pause. The vines cease tightening, though they do not release. “Don’t hurt- don’t hurt them. They did not harm me, Keep, of that I can assure you,” he says in a breathless rush. “They did not harm me. They- they-”

The Keep stills, feeling his thoughts, and the grip it has upon the humans is already loosening. Arum needs not say more; the Keep understands him. It understands, and it loves him, and he needs not say a single word more.

He will say it anyway. It is true.

“They brought me back to you,” he says, his voice ragged and too full, and the both of them stare at him as they are lowered gently back to the floor. “They brought me home.”

[->]

#elle's fanfic #scattered on my shore #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #YELLIN AND YELLING I BEG U TO TELL ME FEEDBACK

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caracalfeather · 4 years

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WARNING- Cats and Birds is a mob AU fanfiction of the Arcana game, and is not meant for young audiences and is not meant to offend anyone. Some writing choices were made so characters are out of their canon way of acting and thinking. Please do not be offended by character choices made by the authors and content creators, this story was made for fun and in the way we wanted it to be. The story was not hijacked by any of the authors to make any ships or characters overshadow any other. All content contained in this story has been agreed upon and accepted by all parties in it’s creation.

TW- Cats and Birds contains scenes that may not be suitable with some readers, including themes of violence, smoking/drug use, sex, cursing and various other strong themes. Special warnings for scenes will be posted with chapters. Proceed with caution and Reader’s discretion is advised.

12 part 1

The streets seemed to be crawling with mobsters that hot day, some blended well with random crowds while others were obviously searching for something. Three families were in the raven’s territory, all armed and ready for a fight.

Portia got word first, Julian was out for the entire day. She ran to Bèa and ordered a full scale lockdown of The Nest.

“Lock everything! I don’t care! No one gets in or out!” She barked.

Everyone followed orders. No one questioned Portia. She opened the door to her brother’s room.

The one thing he held dear jumped up startled by the sudden blaring of alarms.

“Wh-what’s going on?” She asked, Madeve standing up with her.

“We’re on lockdown, some goons are trying to overrun The Nest. Just stay here, turn off the lights and stay hidden.” Portia said, pulling out her keys, Lyra nodded.

“Madeve come! You’ll guard outside.” Portia waved to the dog and he followed, giving Lyra a short woof of encouragement.

As soon as she heard the key turn the lock Lyra followed instructions and hid in the actual bedroom of the large room.

Outside, trucks and cars had surrounded the nest, many armed men with gold ram symbols stood around, yelling and throwing bricks at the windows, one fired his gun at the door, sparking rage in the men as they surged forward.

“HOLD THEM BACK!” Bèa shouted. Not noticing the group that was starting to make their way around back. The siege was all a distraction.

Portia called her brother to tell him the situation. “Ilya! We’re getting raided! You better get your ass down here fast otherwise we’re all gonna die!”

The front windows shattered as the door was rammed, more firing sounding outside. Some men had started to aim for the higher levels while one revved a truck.

Lyra tried to keep calm, rubbing the sapphire on her collar.

“Stay calm….” she breathed

“Stay calm.”

Portia retreated some of the forces inside, deciding they had to pick them off one by one. Portia cocked her pistol and hid behind a wall. Waiting for the trespassers to enter.

The door was busted down and a surge of men entered, carrying heavy artillery and revolvers. Antonio had made sure they were well stocked with vests and guns. Some immediately surged upstairs as the others opened fire.

“CAN WE COME TO A COMPROMISE?!?!” Portia shouted over the gunfire. “You obviously want something from my brother and he’s not here right now! But why don’t you tell us what you want!”

Madeve paced like a lion between the two other guards who stood at the ready.

The men didn't care about portia or the others. They simply were told to kill and grab the target from her nest. Upstairs a group began to shoot the guards and yell for lyra.

Madeve barked and charged avoiding bullets best he could. The other guards dodged a few but were no match. Portia hasn’t expected them to get that far.

Lyra heard the muffled gunshots outside, she covered her mouth and gasped into it.

Curling up on the bed in fear. She hoped Julian would arrive soon.

It wasn’t looking too good for the Raven’s nest.

Outside, Antonio watched from his seat on a car hood, chuckling to himself “That's it my boys.” Next to him two slender white hounds emerged and ran inside, his hunting dogs were going to fetch a new fur coat for him. He knew they could do it. He smirked “Fetch my babies. While I wait for the main show to come home.”

She could hear the handle. The game was up.

Lyra stood up and ran down the list of all the other places to hide. This was the safest room, the locks were complex but not invincible. If they were here to see Julian he would’ve shown up already. What were they here for? She knew it couldn’t have been her. The Nest was sworn to secrecy.

Portia called a fast retreat into the basement of The Nest. Hoping that the locks wouldn’t fail her on any of the doors. She called her brother again, practically screaming into the phone.

The hounds howled as they got to Madeve and outside, Antonio lounged, loading his gun and mumbling “Any day now raven. Come home to your nest.”

The massive dog growled as the two other hounds met him in the hall. Madeve barked but waited to charge. Blood dropped from his maw as he growled.

The dogs launched and circled him, snapping at him with sharp fangs and growling as they tried to corner him.

Madeve stood his ground, this wasn’t going to be an easy fight. But it was his job to protect his master, and his master’s mistress. He barked at the two, trying to see which was weaker.

Portia sealed the door to the basement. Everyone who was alive, was safe. They just had to hope that Antonio came in for what he was after and left.

After what seemed like hours, everyone was gone. One of the men had knocked out madeve, while the others had napped the precious jewel of the nest. Lyra’s room was empty, and the cars had disappeared towards Antonio’s base in the deep rich part of the city.

Portia took a headcount and surveyed the damage just as her older brother was pulling up in the driveway.

“Damn.” He looked around at all the blood and corpses. “Well, Monty was desperate.”

Portia came outside to greet him.

“Do you know what he took yet?” Julian asked his sister. She shook her head.

“We’re still looking. But Madeve was knocked out.” She sighed.

Julian frowned and went inside, seeing his beloved dog limp on the floor. With a sharp grunt he lifted the dog. Madeve whined, arousing from his sleep.

“C’mon let's go see Lyra.” He sighed Madeve scrambling in his arms as his body came around.

He set down the mutt and he took off barking.

That….wasn’t good.

Julian’s eyes grew wide and he ran after the dog. He saw what he feared, the door to his room was ajar. He threw open the doors.

“LYRA! Lyr! Are you here!?” He called out in the empty space, he searched his room frantically searching for her.

“Dearest! If you're hurt please say something!”

He opened the door to the bedroom, and there sitting on the bed was the symbol of Antonio’s mob.

Julian shouted in rage and ran down stairs to his men. He held up the ram’s head to his best Men.

“I know what Antonio stole.” He growled, “he took what is MINE.”

Lyra was blind folded and tied up. A goon set her on a metal chair. They were in Antonio’s condo, it was bovious from the smell of sex, champenge and the sound of beethoven from the other room. Antonio laughed at the sight of her “This is the raven’s pretty little jewel? Im almost applaud that he was the one who stole the blue blood’s prized possession.”

She didn’t say anything. If there is anything Julian had taught her than it was to stay silent. The less she talked the more he would stay safe, no matter what happened to her.

Antonio slapped her with a hiss “Im talking to you little songbird.” he leaned down and ran a hand under her jaw with a smirk “I have some questions for you.”

She had rehearsed this line so many times in her head. “I am The Raven’s plaything. He uses me for pleasure. I have no information to give you.” It was a bold faced lie, but it got her out of some previous situations.

Antonio smirked and took off her blindfold “We both know that's bullshit.” He held up the photos a goon had taken. Pictures of her and ilya together, one even a little scandalous from a club only taken last week.

Her eyes flashed, they were so careful. “You think he tells me what happens in his work? As I said, I am his possession, that’s what all women are to you. I’m used as pleasure for him.” She nodded at one of the photos. “Clearly.”

“And that's why he gave you this?” he yanked the sapphire from her neck, examining it “And why you've been at the hospital so much before? Little song bird was trying to have a family with the raven?” He laughed

Lyra narrowed her eyes, “you’re a dead man walking.” She spat at his feet, “you’ll be dead by the end of the night once he knows what you’ve taken.”

“Oh doll i'm aware of what's going to happen.” he tossed the jewel away and smirked “So for now, you and i are going to have a little chat.” He snapped and a goon brought in a cart of sharp objects and hot metal “And if you don't talk? Well i guess i have a new toy.”

Torture. Lyra’s mind started to race, she wouldn’t survive. She had to compromise, to her there was no option. “You’re trying to get under his skin? Hurting me will anger him.” She swallowed hard, “but if you want him furious….you already have what’s his…”

“Maybe. But I could take more…” He squeezed her thigh and circled behind her, tracing her skin way too close to some areas “Now… you gonna tell me anything i need to know? Or shall I use you until he gets here?”

Her heart started to pound. Her wrists flinching against the binds. “I. won’t. Talk.” She stammered, she was trying to sound fearless, but on the inside she was trembling.

Julian had gathered his men. “Alright listen up. Antonio is expecting us to show up tonight. He has what’s mine and that won’t stand.” He growled. “ we need to get in and get out. We’ll wait until tomorrow, we’ll catch him off guard and his defenses will be low.”

Portia nodded, “it will give us some time to gather resources.”

The men were dispersed quickly and Julian sat back in his chair, all he felt was rage. If that bastard laid one finger on her, Julian would Seaver his head off himself.

Antonio spent the night torturing lyra with minor things like tasers, groping and slapping. He was furious by sunrise, soaking her with ice cold water before going to give his men orders for the day.

Lyra hardly said anything. She refused to talk, she knew Julian would come for her and all would be fine. She couldn’t fail him now, there was no way. Her collar was a reminder of the love she had, and who she wanted to be with. If Lyra had to die tonight then so be it, Julian was worth dying for and the engraving in the back of her collar was proof of that. Even though now after years of wearing it, Julian’s name was duller and looked a little cheap.

Julian made sure security was tight before returning and sitting at eye level with Lyra, quiet for a moment before smirking “Bold choice by the way. To try and have kids in this life.” he was trying to mess with her.

“He has to pass down his line to someone.” She averted his gaze,“not that it matters anyway. As you already know, there aren't any children.”

Everything was ready, it was just a waiting game as Julian sat a few blocks from Antonio’s turf. He was watching the guard looking for inconsistencies. Scouting the easiest way for a rescue.

“I wonder who’s fault that is.” Antonio smirked and stood “ I mean the raven is a fine specimen. I wonder… did he choose a lame mate?” He laughed “Cant even produce a sire.”

Antonio wasn’t fighting physically, now he was fighting with words. That was something Lyra hadn’t had the crash course in. She tried to shove down the guilt. “I’m loved...despite my ability to have children. We haven’t given up, just you wait.”

Outside, the guard shift changed. Antonio smiled and grabbed lyra’s chin “But just imagine all the heartbreak and disappointment that you caused. I wonder why he kept you around?” He dropped his grip and sighed “Must just be a useful cocksleeve.”

“I am more than that. We both grieved that day.” She muttered, her eyes threatened tears but she couldn’t let him see that he was winning. “He loves me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be wearing his name with pride everyday.”

“Right.” Antonio grabbed a sharp cutter and walked behind her “Maybe it’s time we took his name off, Hm? That way you no longer bear his name. Just like your inability to bear his sire.” He was just being cruel now, but he yanked the collar.

She flinched, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Julian sighed and saw what he was looking for, a pitfall in the system. With a satisfied chuckle, he drove out of his hiding place and returned back home.

Antonio did dare. He was going to prove a point. That same day, an unmarked package arrived at the nest. Inside was Lyra's torn and cut collar and it’s broken sapphire. This was Antonio’s push at the raven.

Julian punched a nearby wall looking out the window, dusk was starting to arrive.

“THAT'S IT!” He shouted. “IT'S CLOSE ENOUGH, PASHA! Rally up the men!!! We’re GOING.”

Portia tried to talk some sense into Julian but his mind was made up, he wanted his precious star safe. He wanted her NOW.

At Antonio’s condo it was already a heated zone. The Pride had shown up to confront Antonio on his stupidity. All he wanted to do was show off his bait.

Julian arrived as darkness was starting to fall, everyone was hiding in the streets waiting for the right moment. Portia had a bad feeling about all of this, but she trusted her brother enough to let him do this. Even if it was reckless love blinding him in the moment.

#the arcane game #arcana apprentice #the arcana #the arcane julian #julian devorak #arcana #the arcane mc #the arcana julian #cats and birds #rose sagenea #rose the apprentice #lyra the apprentice #mob au

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musashi · 5 years

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So I've got some questions about Fi, because I borrowed Skyward Sword once, beat it, had to return it immediately, and have forgotten a bunch... But, does she have what we could call emotions? Moods? She always seemed like this wonderful little robot (and a bit sassy) and now I'm upset I can't remember much about her character! Could you talk a bit about how games and/or memories would characterize her? Any favorite interactions?

vespyyyy iluuuuuu. im putting this under a cut cause i dont think anyone follows me for zelda lol

[ALSO IF YOU’RE MOBILE READ THIS ASK ON BROWSER, THE TUMBLR APP CUTS HALF OF IT OFF :(( ]

by fi’s own words, she “does not possess the capability to understand the human spirit.” she follows that sentence up, however, by saying she DOES experience feelings, or at the very least she suspects that she has in her time with link become capable of feeling happiness and gratitude. she frames this with uncertainty, because before their journey, she had never experienced anything like that. in fi-like fashion she basically says “i have data on how people act when they feel happy, and it lines up with how I want to act right now.”

fi is basically as you said. she’s a smart sword. she’s alexa/siri for your sword. she was created for the purpose of being a personal assistant to the goddess’ chosen hero and most of who she is revolves around that, but not in a way that makes her, like… soulless. i think a lot of people would disagree with me on that but whatever fi haters dont interact. im not gonna talk much about fi as a game mechanic. i understand why ppl dislike her in that regard but that’s not what i’m interested in cause my hatred of game mechanics doesn’t bleed into the characters that carry them.

fi is analytical, data-interested, unemotional, and calculating. she does this without being particularly cold and disinterested, because she has a bit of a sarcastic edge that makes her seem like she is banking a more playful spirit for the purpose of her duties. it is incredibly cute. you get the impression there is more to her, but she has a job to do so she doesn’t want too much of it to show.

the reason that i like fi is because she fills a specific dynamic that i adore when juxtaposed against link specifically. it can be any character who fills this dynamic but fi is one of the folks who fills it best. simply put: my favourite characterization of link is when he is interpreted as an emotionally driven reckless dumbass. with triforce bearers, i adore when their one facet of the trinity cancels out the other two–so i like for link to be courageous, but unwisely so, and not because he’s all-powerful, but just because he can’t not move forward. the way i interpret all links is “too big-hearted/hyperempathetic to sit still”

skyward link is fucking exemplary of this. skyward sword is like, the most on the nose romantic telling of link and zelda we get, maybe up there with botw. childhood friends to lovers and everything, like they are incredibly tender and sweet. and link’s super emotive, you don’t really have to guess what he’s thinking. his dialogue options reflect this–there’s always one thats basically just ‘ZELDA???’ like he’s incredibly impatient to reunite with his friend. skyward sword contains what is, to this day, one of the most heart-wrenching expressions link has ever made–

hate this!!!! you watch him physically crumble in this scene. its probably the most emotion he’s ever shown in canon.

skyward link is bar none the most emotionally motivated link. i think i can say with certainty that saving the world is an afterthought to him. he’s following his destiny because he has to, but what is keeping him from falling into despair is his love for zelda.

this all ties back to fi because fi is the exact opposite. if she has emotions, they have no baring on her. her method of tackling a problem is to run calculations and probabilities and do what seems like it will have the highest turnout rate. she’s a well-oiled machine designed to produce results from gathered data, and she is link’s constant companion.

in her first scene with link, she tries to tell him of his grand destiny, and he is so emotionally shaken from losing his best friend in the world that he doesn’t really respond. fi says “to minimize your uncertainty, i will offer you some information that has a high probability of altering your current emotional state,” and then proceeds to tell him zelda is still alive. he snaps out of it, runs toward the sword, and immediately accepts his burdens.

ok so now tapping out of canon territory and into kin memories, this interaction was common. i’m kin with the hero’s spirit as a whole, and i remember so many lifetimes under my belt–but this one was the rawest. that spirit, though unbreakable, was so new. unbreakable doesn’t mean untouched by despair. i hadn’t done this before, not enough to have half the level-head i would in later lifetimes. everything hurt so much. there were so many hopeless nights.

but fi always had calculations for why that hurt, while real, wasn’t logical. she would butt into my breakdowns at the sound of her master too compromised to fight. i would spew anxious ramblings at her in a full-on panic and she would stay utterly silent until she was sure i was done and refute every one of them, point for point. hard statistics. numbers and percentages. it’s so hard for an anxious brain to hold its own against raw data. i would crumble into calm so quickly, because she never ever said things like “it’s going to be okay” or “she’s probably just x.” fi always told the truth, the numbers. I can’t articulate why, but I vastly preferred that to sentiments, because my anxious heart would just tear sentiments up.

fi existed to guide me. It made sense that she’d calm me down from those traumatic nights, because a boy too constantly gripped by panic can’t be atlas with the world on his shoulders. and when i’d thank her, she’d say that– “your gratitude need not show, master link. i am simply doing what i must.”

but over time, she stopped saying that. the more time we spent with one another, her outright refusal turned into pivots– “get some rest, master. by my calculations, we’re due for an early morning if we’re to reach our destination on time.”

eventually, the pivots turned to silence. i would thank her, and she would bow her head, and return to the sword.

so stepping back into canon, i love fi because she’s link’s brain cell. not only his intelligence and problem solving, but also his emotional & impulsive check. this is the same reason i fell so hard for zelink in BOTW specifically–because zelda is a calculating, analytical scholar/scientist type, obsessed with data and research. i love that juxtaposed against link, who i, again, view as emotional and impulsive and more keen to act than think.

and then, on TOP of all that dynamic, you think about the implications of skyward sword being first in the timeline. that, to me, is what takes link & fi’s relationship from cute and interesting to absolutely heartwarming. i don’t mean this in a shippy way, but link and fi are utterly romantic.

at the end of the game, she goes to sleep in the sword forever, and it’s with a hesitance in her heart she doesn’t expect, because before her master she’s not known love and gratitude, we don’t even know if she knew she was capable at all. she doesn’t want to part with him, but she knows she has to, and thats why she says that prayer to him, that’s why its her last words as she’s fading–“may we meet again in another life.”

she doesn’t want to go. she wants to stay beside him, serving him, seeing the world with him, being the serenity and logic his wavering heart needs. she wants to remain the searing blade beneath his fingertips, protective and strong. she wants to stay beside her master, she wants to keep him safe from all they know is out there. she wishes, she hopes, she prays.

and for hundreds of thousands of years thereafter, link’s spirit breathes again and again and again. and for hundreds of thousands of years thereafter, he finds her in a forest grove with a beam of sunlight keeping her warm as she sleeps, and he holds her tight and reverently, and as long as time continues its march onward, they will always remain hand in hand.

until breath of the wild came out, i always found this a little bittersweet. they’re always together, but they can’t speak. fi knows link, but link doesn’t know fi in the same way–he knows he feels warm when he holds the master sword. he knows that the first time he lays eyes on it, it feels like a reunion, feels like he’s done it a million times before. he knows that he must bow his head in reverence as he draws it, not because of the sword’s power, but simply because he feels it’s what she–she?–deserves. but he doesn’t know what his previous life all those centuries ago knew. not that the sword has a smile, a laugh, a cadence, a face. not that she translates ancient runes into interpretive dance, not the way she sounds when she sings.

but botw knew i probably wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

the ambiguity of this line is beautiful. maybe there were a hundred links who journeyed far and wide and, in their most dire lows, heard a chime of ancient hylian from their sword that they knew spoke the truth of how they had to carry on. maybe it was just one solitary hero leaving gifts and offerings to a blade stuck in stone, whispering fears and anxieties to her and falling asleep at her pedestal.

whatever the case, fi lives. though she sleeps, she breathes. fi lives.

my tag for fi is “hand of sorrow” which is a song i associate with her, solely because it contains the line–

“still, i’ll be the hand that serves you, though you’ll not see that it is me.”

#agoldenshinywireofhope #wendy answers #wendy rambles #kin ramblings #song of the hero #to the sky #hand of sorrow #character: [is reckless and overemotional and impulsive]#other character: [is their patient calculating better half and also is blue and kinda their therapist]#me: OH FUCK [FALLS IN LOVE]

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moondoon · 5 years

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Okay so uhhh heres my AU. I’m going to just copy and past for the most part what was posted on Amino. Keep in mind I wrote this all down last night while pulling an all nighter so lets go babe!! I super duper hope you think its a neat idea and I will post more on it later. tumblr wont let me upload any more images and im very mad right now!!!!! so dig through my blog for more. I have plenty and I will post more.

Anyways, lets start with Majora. The main big baddie of the actual game. My version of Majora is actually not technically a bad guy. Not even a guy at all. She is 20 ft tall, has a skull for a face, long whips that can slink out of her wrists, and 3 separate forms. Wrath being the final.

Her canon design is a tad eyesore so I decided to fix it up. Shes the one thing I am actually proud of in this whole AU thats why I started with her. The third eye on her head, and the eyes on her chest can move but rarely do. Theres no need.She’s extremely monster like and doesn’t necessarily think like you and I.Shes very powerful and all of that power is sealed away in the mask.Most of the events of Majoras mask still remain true to this AU, I simply add backstory and some characters.

I cant explain much of Majora until later when things get extra spicy but trust me she has more to her than just this.

so lets move onto Fierce.

This character I have a lot more to explain of, less to show. I draw him plenty you know who he is. He’s 8ft5, messy long hair that can be found braided, and has a bad attitude.

This fella is almost always angry and really just likes to intimidate people. He’s the kind of guy to throw hands before arguing. Prefers to work alone and doesn’t stick around for praise nor offerings.

The people of Termina respect Fierce, they try to avoid getting in his way. Where he refuses to harm and or interact with them currently (post game) they still refrain from distracting him.

Before the events of the game, before being sealed in the mask, he was a lot more interactive between the people of clocktown. He was a tad friendlier and actually had a few people he liked to visit from time to time.

Shortly after being sealed away unexpectedly for hundreds of years he realized its not worth the pain of losing the people he loves.

Hes going to be around for a long time and feels at this point, that its best he not make friends with mortals anymore.

He had a very close relationship with the deity of the Deku people, Odolwa. They were very close. Odolwa came in a long time ago back when the original god of Termina arrived. he is not related to Mr Termina but they respect eachother. Odolwa may be very old compared to Fierce but he gets along great with him, shares a love for big cool swords, and even will stay up at night with him from time to time and just hang out.

This god was made for Termina, to represent, and protect the people of Termina.

No matter what area they are from he was created to protect them. He is very active and can be seen wandering around both clocktown, and around Termina field until he is needed.

Fierce is uhh,,,, not quite ready for a job as big as this. Atleast not in the eyes of the true and current god.

This man does not quite have a name yet im working on it shh im gonna refer to him as many things.

He is very tall and very slender. He is dressed in long golden robes that almost look like a cape at times, and wears a lot of jewelry. He is the man who made fierce for one reason and one reason only. To replace him.

He’s been around for a very long time and watched over the people of this land.

Having the same type of authoritative intimidation as white diamond from SU, he stands very tall, moves very gracefully, shows no fear, and is constantly smiling.

There is a minor god who follows this man. He’s pretty much just backup who agrees with everything Mr.Termina says. Hes no where near as strong no where near as intimidating but he is his right hand man.

Mr.Termina and his Right hand man want to go run away and never come back to this hellhole. They want to be free to relax and no longer have duties of a god.

He creeped out a lot of people so uhhh,,,, he’s sort of been a holy being in the sky who watches rather than be a part of the people. They barely know him and by the time Fierce is made he is the only icon in their eyes.

Fierce was made to be just as powerful if not more powerful than this god. Pretty much just condensed and improved. Mr.Termina wanted him to have a mortal form so he can fit in better with humans rather than being a big scary monster/deity who would scare them away.

He has been keeping Fierce in check, cares little to nothing about sentimental value nor emotions and will even go as far as calling Fierce weak and or soft for a god. This really starts to corrupt and hurt him and he gets very self conscious about appearing as “weak” so he really tends to beat himself up. He’s sounding a tad mentally abusive towards his creation. This only makes Fierce hate him more and more each day.

He really just wants to make Fierce as perfect as he can be before passing the baton over to him but isnt doing it right.

Meaning, he can’t give him all of his powers at once. In fact he hasn’t taught him any out of fear that things wont be working out and fierce may kill him. Hes afraid of what he made lmao. This is why Fierce mostly stays in the physical strength area. He is a very strong man and does have some abilities that he doesn’t control. (Some healing factors)

Fierce has become kind of... rebellious? He’s acting more human than god. Granted hes an angry little man but but it should be expected considering he wanted him to fit in with the humans.

All of this was fine and dandy until Fierce was fed up with what this god was doing to him, killed his right hand man, and was banished to be a mask for a few hundred years. Pretty much papa put his son into timeout without letting him say goodbye to the people he loved back in clocktown.

All of this gods creations have a “if all else fails turn them into a mask so they cant harm me” thing. He cant turn anyone into a mask only his creations.

This is where link found him during the events of MM, used his mask, and set him free in the end of Majoras mask.

This not only benefited Fierce by him studying link and learning how to use magic blasts from his sword,(though he will never admit it) it revealed a dark secret about the old god. One that truly had Fierce scared, yet ready to kill the man.

I refuse to tell you what yet because I want to make more posts on this later on.

After chasing link off he pretty much spends his time lying low. He’s not supposed to be out of timeout. Hes trying his best to learn how to use any other powers he may have currently to be able to last longer than 5 minutes in a fight with the true god. Fierce wants this man dead. No retirement for him mwuahaha

He will attempt to forcefully take his place and do this job right and as much as he hates to make this horrible man proud by doing so, its the only way to save himself and people in the future. ________________________________________________________________ SO uh anyways thanks for reading i love you. I miiight take asks for this au? I certianly will be happy if anyones actually curious... just to help do something cause im not the best at story telling... I hope what I have posted makes sense. I love yall see ya later

#Majoras Mask #Fierce Deity #legend of zelda #idk what to tag it as im not hella worried abt it

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five-hour-anxiety · 6 years

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depresssion vlog 😥😴👎💭🏳️ | The Theory Of Real Activity | thursday vlogs

Taglist: @zerogettie @spacevirgil@tree4life25@thebiggestnaturaldisaster @pailettehazel@jordandobbertin@thecityofthefireflies @the-fabulous-kimball@azuranightsong@virmillion @erlenmeyertrash @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @the-sanders-sides @punch-you-with-friendship@captaincantatrice@clovenpinetree @jughead-is-canonically-aroace@aplaceinthevoid@that-random-fandom-girl @zennyo

Word Count: 4431

Warnings: depression and talks of anxiety

Pairings: platonic prinxiety, platonic logicality, platonic analogical

Summary: Virgil is in the middle of a spiral and the back to back bad days are making it hard to function. He texts a few friends for help, and this is the result.

Designated Nerd: Virgil, it has been some time since I’ve heard from you. Are you feeling well?

Me: i mean, am i ever fine

Designated Nerd: Well that is indeed worrying. Is there anything I can do for you, or would you rather I contact our more… emotional friends? Do you need me to come visit?

Me: no, i dont want anyone over right now. this is gonna sound so stupid but,,, could u tell me what u do when ur upset

Designated Nerd: If it helps, of course. I tend to listen to stimulating music and take hot showers. Please try to brush your teeth sometime soon as well, as hygiene is something that we all tend to be lax with in these states.

Me: i should have expected advice like that

Designated Nerd: Is it not useful? I apologize.

Me: o no, its good. thx lo

Designated Nerd: Anytime Virgil. Do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything else.

***

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hey panic at the everywhere, u still breathing

Me: wow didnt kno u cared that much

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: of course i care u ass how u doing

Me: i mean im not dead. thats a fucking victory dude can i get a hell yeah

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hell fucking yeah bro im proud of u

Me: hey while ur here,,,, how do u deal with ur bad days.

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: poorly

Me: damn dude

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: yeah well thats life but i also light candles and fucking moisturize. unlike u u heathen

Me: thanks u fucking prick

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hate u too u asshole c u this weekend~

***

Pat-Dad: hey kiddo!! haven’t heard a peep outta you lately, just wanna make sure you’re still okay!!

Me: im not okay, actually. but im glad u texted bc i have a q for u

Pat-Dad: anything for you kiddo, tell me how i can help!! :)

Me: wat do u do on bad days. like, how do u deal with the shitty emotions

Pat-Dad: language kiddo.

Me: hellcrab.png

Pat-Dad: i dont have the profanity manatee on me so just pretend i sent that. anyway! i like to watch a bunch of funny shows and sit around in my favorite clothes! gotta feel good somehow!! and like, a lot of pillows are involved.

Me: is this permission to turn my living room into a pillow fort

Pat-Dad: absolutely!!! but make sure you eat something today kiddo,,, making food is gonna be better than takeout btw. Feels good to have made something, trick the brian into enjoying the food more.

Me: brian

Pat-Dad: *brain, oh hush up

Me: thanks 4 the help. <3 u

Pat-Dad: anytime kiddo!!!! :) <3 love you more!!!!!

***

“Welcome back to the Theory of Real Activity -- today’s vlog: not what you all signed up for.” Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “As I’m sure a lot of you have noticed, or at least the twitter crew has, I haven’t been as active on the channel lately. And I’m sorry about that, but I think I’m ready to talk about why now.

“As many of you know, I have depression and anxiety. No way around it, there’s the truth. Often, these diseases prevent me from functioning like a healthy person would. That’s what’s been happening to me for the last few months. I’ve had a hard time getting up and dragging myself anywhere, much less making new content for all of you. Talking to friends via text is really hard too, so Twitter is something I can’t deal with either.

“And I know a lot of you out there are the same way -- heck, when I do use Twitter and the likes, I see messages like that all the time. And I’m happy I’m able to help you all through those days when I can. But I can’t always be around to make stuff like that, so today I’m gonna talk you guys through helping yourselves when the days get bad and the voices get loud, okay?

“But don’t let the start of this video fool you -- this isn’t a ‘oh we’re all gonna be okay if we just believe!’ kinda thing. Because there’s a lot of those. Don’t get me wrong, those are all wonderful messages and I really appreciate them, but I don’t think we need another one right now. What’s the point in trying to be motivated when the energy just isn’t there? I don’t know about any of you, but I almost feel worse when I watch those because I know whoever is on the other side of the screen wants me to work for happiness and I just… can’t. I can’t do it when I’m that low. So, no, this is not one of those videos.

“This is something completely different, I really hope it clicks with a few of you.”

The camera switches out of selfie mode to reveal a table full of shopping bags. Virgil laughs off-screen and there’s the sound of papers shuffling.

“Ladies, Gents, and everyone beyond the binary welcome to ‘How to Kinda Cope with Shit Brains’, starring yours truly. Let’s begin, shall we?”

***

“Logan, you didn’t tell me you were uploading a video today! What’s this one about?” Patton squealed, clicking on the notification. Logan peered over his shoulder, trying to make out the display behind layers of smudges and a few cracks.

“I- I did not upload a video today as Thursdays are typically reserved for anything Virgil wishes to post. That’s why there have not been any midweek videos recently.” Logan pulled out his own phone, giving up on Patton’s, and quickly unlocked the screen. “There is no one else with access to the account, so who- oh never mind. That is clearly something of Virgil’s creation.”

“My goodness, he sure loves emojis, huh?” Patton giggled, reaching into his pockets. Logan groaned something like ‘you have no idea’ and pulled out a screen cloth for Patton. The younger man took it and quickly cleaned off his screen before pulling out his earbuds

“Do you wanna watch it together?” He asked, dangling them in front of Logan. Logan stared at him, grimacing.

“Do you know how unsanitary sharing earphones is, Patton? I have a split connector in my bag, allow me to retrieve it and we shall view it together.”

***

“So, I have compiled a list of things my friends do when they’re having bad days, as well as a few activities of my own, and we’re gonna test them. I’ll take note of how I feel before I start, do the activities, and then I’ll rate them by how I feel afterward. And if that sounds complicated, it is! Kinda. Logan says it’s the proper way to test things, by having a starting point and an end point, so go ask him? I don’t know, he’s always talking about control groups and I don’t know about any of you but I don’t want to make myself have bad days back to back just so I can test a bunch of things ‘fairly’.

“Anyway, first up: Roman’s list. He- he actually didn’t have much to say, just “moisturize bitch’ so I just pulled ideas from what he normally does on off-days. Sorry, Ro, but you brought this upon yourself.”

Virgil reaches into the bag marked “Bed, Bath, and Beyond” and fishes out a bottle of something pink, as well as a purple container of lotion and a green candle.

“I know for a fact Roman prefers grapefruit face wash, so that’s what we got here,” he shakes the pink bottle, “so we can gift this to him when we’re done here. And we have a bottle of lavender-scented lotion to go with it. I read somewhere that lavender helps with anxiety or something, but like,” he points at the camera, “it just smells good, and I am not ashamed to admit to that. Don’t read too much into this.

“I also bought a scented candle, because that’s the only other thing Roman offered advice-wise. I fact-checked this one, and apparently good scents are supposed to help you think more clearly? Or something. I don’t know, I read the article at four in the morning, there’s not much I can really remember about it. Four am Virgil is really bad at retaining information.”

The camera jostles as Virgil picks it up and walks into his bathroom. “Uh, just for like, the starting point? The best way to describe this type of anxiety is the buzzing and tensing of your muscles and the tightness in your chest. There’s nothing I want more than to dive under my bed sheets and sleep until tomorrow and try again later.

“But I’m going to do this, so wish me luck.” He mutters, turning the tap on and grabbing a washcloth. The screen cuts away to black as an upbeat nineties song plays, and the text on the screen reads ‘Roman’s results’.

“So,” Virgil starts, his face covered in white foam, “this stuff kinda burns? Roman, what the hell is wrong with you, you like this stuff? Ugh. Also, just so everyone knows, the smell of artificial grapefruit and lavender do not mix. Like separate, they are really good smells but just… don’t mix them together. It’s a really bad idea. We may have to do my list next so I can let the house air out for a while. As it is, I didn’t even try to light the candle, we do not need to add spearmint to this stink bomb.

“Beyond that? The face wash is definitely waking me up. I feel a little more ‘oh hey, I’m a person’ that I did before so, yeah. This wasn’t a total bust. And my skin is soft! I understand the appeal of moisturizing now! Roman, how dare you keep this a secret from me?” Virgil laughs, rubbing his hands together. “Holy shit I feel like a million bucks. I am keeping the lotion, you can take this demon face scrub.” Virgil reaches off screen and picks up the pink bottle, scanning the back panel of text.

“So overall, I’d say Roman’s tactics work. You just gotta like, make sure you get complimentary smells so you don’t stink yourself out of your house,” He says, still reading the bottle, “And you should definitely read the instructions on the bottles because this,” He holds up the pink bottle, “says to wash off after a few minutes, and it’s been ten. I’m gonna go get this off my face now.”

***

“Babe, you seriously didn’t read the instructions?” Roman howled, throwing his head back into the couch. He could hear Virgil scoff from the kitchen.

“Excuse me, but I thought it was like one of those face masks you leave on for half an hour! How was I supposed to know!” He asked, walking back into the room and plopping down beside Roman. “They look the same when you put them on, and you have a few long-lasting ones that smell like grapefruit! I had no way of knowing!”

“You could’ve called, man. I would have helped you!” Roman lifted his arm, inviting Virgil to crawl under it. He took it and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s chest. “You bought face scrub, which is definitely not the same thing. Both are good though! Just, not that same.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now,” Virgil muttered, burying his head in Roman’s hoodie.

“We can do actual face masks after this if you want.” Roman offered, picking his phone back up. “Your pores could really benefit from one.”

“You’re a dick. Turn that thing off.”

“Love you too, bastard, but there’s no way in hell I’m turning this off.”

***

The camera cuts again, and this time Virgil is in his bedroom. The window is open, and the sound of passing cars is almost inaudible but still present. His peach walls are bathed in a warm glow of the setting sun, a light breeze pushing his bangs up every so often.

“Okay so, next up is Patton’s list. As per my own ‘rules’, I’m feeling mentally exhausted and ready to check the fuck out right now. But despite this, I’m actually… really excited for this one? It involves food, there’s no way this can go poorly.”

The video cuts to footage of Virgil screaming as food on the stove erupts into flame. The 1812 Overture is playing the background. Whatever was in the pan is no longer food, as the burnt sustenance is bubbling in an ominous manner. The oven mitt is no longer on Virgil’s hand and is instead in a smoky heap on the kitchen counter.

“No way this can go poorly” Virgil’s voice echoes as he runs off camera screaming. He returns with a fire extinguisher, the lens becoming jammed with foam just before the video cuts back to Virgil in his room eating Chinese takeout.

“Okay so. It turns out it can go poorly. Patton said that making sure you eat, like, actual food and not six servings of chocolate cake with a glass of cherry coke on the side is supposed to help with the depression thing but like. It definitely didn’t help with the anxiety. Something about the food you worked to make tasting better?

“So, I cheated and ordered take out. But hey! This stuff has got a bunch of veggies in it, so I think I won this round. Moving on,” Virgil puts the food down and leans down to grab something off the floor, “Patton also recommended watching some shows that I know I enjoy, so let’s do that next.” Virgil puts on the purple headphones he had grabbed and pulled his laptop onto his lap. He clicks off the light on his desk and plunges the room into darkness with only his computer light illuminating his face.

“We’re watching the entirety of the Brooklyn Nine-Nine Halloween episodes, so be prepared for a highlight reel of that while I stuff my face with rice.” He twirls his finger around in a ‘roll film’ motion and kicks his feet up on the desk.

The camera cuts to a black screen once more, the same upbeat music playing in the background. The text now read’s “Patton’s results”.

The next few minutes is a series of clips strung together, many of them consisting of Virgil mouthing the lines along with the characters, and screeching with laughter. The last one shows him crying into his takeout, mumbling about how much he loves the relationship between Jake and Amy. He had taken his feet down from the desk at some point, now curled into his chair and bundled in his hoodie almost entirely.

The video cuts away to a slightly more composed Virgil, who is now cuddling a pillow and scraping the bottom of the takeout box. His eye makeup had run down his face over the last few hours and he looked unnaturally pale in the weird lighting.

“Yeah that uh,” He coughs awkwardly, “that worked. Ten out of three Patton, way to go. Got my brain to shut up for like, I don’t know, two hours?” He takes a deep breath and puts the takeout container on the desk. “It’s late, I think I’m gonna just do Logan’s and I’s lists tomorrow.”

***

“Should I be concerned that he set the kitchen on fire and didn’t call anyone?” Patton whispered, pausing the video. “Why didn’t he call anyone? Did he get burned?”

“I do not think you speeding to his house would have done any good, Patton, as he got the fire out by himself. That being said,” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, “he is not allowed to cook for game night. Ever. What was he even trying to make?”

“He can join me in the kitchen ban, then. The store-bought cookie club just gained a new member.”

“God help us if you ever cook together. I’d have to take out a loan for a new apartment. I already cannot pay my student loans, I fear the possibility of adding to my life debt.” Logan shuddered, reaching over to unpause the video.

***

“Okay, good morning internet. It’s buttcrack early outside, I don’t even think the sun is up yet? That’s good, actually, and I’ll get to why later.

“So, all that’s left is Logan and I’s lists, and to be honest? Logan may have already won the whole thing, looking at this on paper. He actually cares about like, not dying by germs or some shit.,I can guarantee his list will be practical. I gotta go set some stuff up for my list, so hang tight.” The screen cuts to a slightly more awake Virgil.

He grins and gives a tiny wave before tapping the screen to switch the camera and show a hammock.

“So, I’m next. I’m also gonna save Logan’s advice for the end of the video so you guys watch this whole thing. Give people an incentive for sticking around. Because I can see the stats on this, I know half of you like, exit the video halfway through. Stay for the whole thing, dammit, I need the ad money.” He laughs, gently putting the camera down. The screen shows a new sunrise, one full of soft purples and oranges. Above the sun and its halo are a few stars that have yet to go out for the day, barely visible behind the hazy clouds. Virgil picks the camera back up, the footage shaky.

The camera stills to a shot of Virgil’s legs, the hammock swaying gently in the breeze. A few frogs can be heard singing in the background and Virgil hums a few notes. His voice is low as he speaks, still rough from sleep.

“Again, to follow my own rules: I feel so awful I don’t even want to talk about it, guys. Sorry.” Virgil is quiet for a while longer, the occasional whispered lyric picked up by the microphone. Eventually, he speaks once more, a lighter tone to his voice.

“Sure, this looks peaceful, but if you could all hear what kind of music I’m listening to right now, you’d be calling my therapist. Hey, Paul, I apologize my bro, but wow are you not gonna like me the next time I’m in.

“So yeah, my list is just ‘get sun and get songs’. You Gucci fam, just stay out here until you either feel good or get cold. Probably gonna be the last one but, hey, you tried. Gold star. Bring a blanket if you wanna aim for the best possible outcome.”

The camera cuts again, this time looking down from what is assumed to be a porch. The sky is dark once more, and the only source of light is a small candle.

“Huh. What do you know, the candle works after all. Spearmint -- the poor man’s anti-anxiety. You know, I actually looked that up. Spearmint is supposed to be a good stress reliever and some kind of mood booster. The more you know, huh?”

***

“Virgil, what the hell does that mean?” Roman chuckled, rubbing Virgil’s arm.

“It means that when I’m panicking at work I just pop in a breath mint and BAM I am suddenly closer to reality than I was ten seconds ago.”

“Do I wanna know how you discovered that?”

“I had a hangry panic attack in high school and the only thing I had to eat in my bag were breath mints I was meaning to gift to you.”

“Oh, that’s pretty- hey.”

“You could still use some, man. Keep your nasty breath away from me.”

Roman just hummed, looking at Virgil from the corner of his eyes. He smiled softly, his eyes sad and concerned. Pulling him closer, he unpaused the video and listened as he continued to hold his friend.

***

“And last but certainly not least, is the list of the late, great Logan. He’s not dead. He’s just always late to dinner dates. Like a pretentious nerd, his excuses are ‘oh, I was studying’, ‘oh, I had an exam’, or ‘Patton set the kitchen on fire again, call 911’. What an ass.

“Anyway. This list, which doesn’t have a cool name because Logan is against emojis and stuff, just has like, five items on it. In order that is: brush your teeth, put on some clean clothes, wash your hair, put on some socks, and the last one is a surprise. Because it really took me off guard and I need you all to be as surprised as I was.

“And right now, I just feel apathetic. In case someone gets upset that I didn’t mention I felt going into this, I just feel apathetic.”

The video cuts away to Virgil’s bathroom once more, and the leftover mess from the other day can be seen in the sink.

“Uh. Just, just ignore that mess. You know what it’s from, I don’t feel bad about that. Anyway, teeth brushing. Let me just find the toothpaste…

“You know, I can’t remember if I bought toothpaste at the store. Of all the crap I bought, don’t think toothpaste made it into the bin. So, let’s just see if I still have any of the travel samples from the dentist.”

Virgil riffles through his cabinets, pulling out items such as combs, hair dye, bleach, and a bottle of pills. He hums for a second, before crouching down to look under the sink.

“I feel like, and I could be the only one who experiences this, I feel like anything that gets put under the sink will never see the light of day. So maybe I won’t be brushing my teeth today- wait. Wait! Oh gosh, thank you Jesus- there’s a- there is a bottle in the back there, but I can’t reach it. Outta my way, makeup kit, I got teeth to be cleaned!”

Virgil pops back into view, holding up a half used mini bottle of toothpaste. It’s the kid’s kind, that tastes like berries and bubblegum. He uncaps it and starts to squeeze it out onto his toothbrush buts stops short.

“Why the hell are there sparkles in this thing? That- isn’t that a, like, choking hazard or some shit? Okay, sorry Logan, teeth brushing is not happening in this video. I think you’d agree with me on this. When you get to this point in the video, feel free to add toothpaste to our shopping list.”

***

“Jokes on you, Virgil, I added it yesterday when I spent the night and had to use that monstrosity.”

“I use that stuff all the time, Logan, there’s nothing wrong with it! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine!”

“That’s… that’s a, uh, great point Patton. Explains a lot.”

***

“Okay, so next on the list was clean clothes. I’m doing that off camera, you nasties, so hang tight for a word from our sponsors.”

The screen is black, with white text reading “crofters plz sponsor us logan is desperate.”

Virgil reappears, in the same hoodie and shirt. He smirks, pointing at a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Ha, I own two of these hoodies and three of these shirts. I am a cartoon character, y’all will never see me in a different outfit. You can dream, but my job is to crush those dreams.” He makes a fist as he says this, laughing through his teeth as he tries to appear tough.

The camera cuts again, this time showing Virgil singing into a hairbrush while a towel is wrapped around his head. The scene doesn’t last long, as we are once again taken back to Virgil’s bedroom where he is set up with a laptop. This time he’s on his bed and the curtains are drawn.

“It said to wash your hair, and you can’t wash hair without serenading the monsters living behind the shower curtains we all feared when we were little. Just because we aren’t afraid of them doesn’t mean they aren’t real!

“Anyway, this is the last part of Logan’s list. It’s actually really sweet? Like, I am a grown ass man, and I am not ashamed to say I sobbed over this.” He continues, voice starting to tremor.

Virgil spins his laptop around to show a YouTube video that’s about half an hour long. The title reads, ‘the best of Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street’. Virgil sniffs real fast, raking a fist over his eyes.

“He uh, he knew these guys were my heroes growing up. And he knew it would cheer me up. Guess w-hat man,” Virgil sniffs again, “It- it worked like a fu-fucking charm. I uh, I’m actually feeling things after going through your list, so like. Nice work, I guess, I owe you dinner. Like, dinner at a restaurant, not a cooking dinner because I don’t want to poison you.

“Ahem. Anyway. That’s the best thing in this whole video, you win Logan. And that about wraps up the Thursday vlog. Thanks for listening everyone, here’s the obligatory ‘we’re gonna be okay’ message, because as corny as that is -- it’s true. Find yourself a Bert to go with your Ernie and it’ll be okay. Maybe throw in an Elmo or a Zoey if you wanna round out the group. And my metaphor is getting too complicated, so! Virgil out! See you this weekend for the next Theory of Real Activity -- Logan and I are joined by Patton this time and we get into wild shit this week, let me tell you.”

***

“Well, what are we still waiting around here for?” Patton asked, turning his phone off. He disconnected the earbuds, stuffing his haphazardly into his front pocket. Logan winced at the sight, and quickly but carefully wound his up into their case.

“I’ll text Virgil to make sure he knows to expect us. Patton, if you could text Roman?” Logan asks, standing up and smoothing out his shirt. Patton nods, already poking away at his phone.

Me: Greetings, Virgil. Patton and I are on our way over to your house if that is okay?

Virgil Jackson: cant tell you no, you practically live here

Me: Yes, well, that is true. Is there anything I should bring with us?

Virgil Jackson: would it be lame to say a hug

Me: Not at all. If there is anything this group is good for, it’s hugging and crying. The occasional yelling, but that could go either way.

Virgil Jackson: whatever nerd, get over here already

#sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #analogical #ali writes #its another vlog fic sue me #i wanted to you all can fight me later #the theory of real activity

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