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#in fact backtracking crystallizes so much
spinningbuster98 · 2 months
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Castlevania Symphony of the Night Part 2: Sheer atmosphere
Symphony of the Night’s atmosphere is one of a kind
I love Super Metroid’s atmosphere but if I have to be honest I actually think that Sotn has it beat in this aspect
This game is dark, but not always in a gloomy way and certainly not in an edgy way. 
Depending on the area the atmosphere can vary quite a bit, from gloomy, to classy, to pumping, to larger than life to creepy. Yet despite this diversity it all somehow manages to feel cohesive, as all the areas have this underlying gothic feel to them. Descending into the Underground Caverns alone feels like a spiritual experience, with how the area gradually shifts from the Castle’s architecture to the rocky natural caves and then you make your way to the iconic, beautiful waterfall all the while Crystal Teardrops plays in the background!
People generally attribute Ayami Kojima’s artwork as a contributing factor to this game’s atmosphere and I’d say that Sotn, more than any other game, feels like a Kojima painting come to life in a way
A good chunk of the reason why this game has such a strong atmosphere is due to its soundtrack
I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that Sotn has one of my absolute favorite soundtracks in videogame history. They generally strike a perfect balance between being atmospheric and catchy while also being just as varied in their genres as the areas they play in. Even this game’s weakest tracks still manage to have value
Just the way that the theme of Dracula’s Castle only plays once you’ve taken a few steps into the Castle, meanwhile being accompanied by the sound of wind and thunder, is masterful, it’s almost on the same level as stepping on Zebes for the first time.
The actual structure of the Castle is also one of the best in the genre I believe, though not without its oddeties
For the first 30 minutes or so the game is mostly linear, subtly guiding you towards the Library, then it opens up two new areas at the same time, both of which require the player to have some memory of past rooms but not too much: newcomers are likely to either backtrack to the previous area which is likely to lead them to the Caverns or they will take the Warp Room that’s close by, which will take them at the entrance of the Alchemy Lab which itself contains the entrance to the Cathedral. Another example is later one when you get the Fog form. You’ll have to use it in a room in the Library which you may not remember perhaps, but look: there’s a library card right before the boss fight, which will teleport you to the Master Librarian! It’s like a hint!
These instances require some though by the player but the game does nudge them ever so slightly, and it’s like this throughout most of it, until you get the Bat transformation and then the Castle will be mostly completely open to you. All of this is made possible due to the fact that, much like Super Metroid, not only every area but every room feels really distinct and like it has its own identity, something that I think only one other CV game manages to do unfortunately, maybe 2.
Of course there are a couple of snags: the Clock Room is basically this game’s Maridia tube. Now I don’t think it’s too bad as it’s a very memorable and suspicious looking room and, if you’re lucky, you may get inside while the game’s internal clock is at just the right time for the statue to move, plus if you pay attention after the cutscene with Maria there you can see the statue move. But admittedly it is pretty out of place when compared to the rest of the game
Perhaps the weirdest thing about the Castle is how much of it is...basically optional
Now to be fair even in Super Metroid a lot of sections could be skipped, even without sequence breaking. About half of Norfair and Maridia were optional, but in Sotn the entirety of the Clock Tower is just there, serving little purpose outside of sidetracking new players, 200% map completion and having this play in the background which tbf is a very good reason
In fact while the game often allows you access to two areas at once with each powerup there’s usually only one correct way to progress. After getting the Unlock Jewel you’re meant to go to the Cathedral to find the Double Jump, if you go to the Caverns you’re essentially wasting your time for now as you’ll have to go back later. Now personally I’m of two minds here
On the one hand this is not a big issue, as the game almost never makes me feel like I’m wasting my time, plus you still have to visit about 85% of the normal Castle, and the Inverted one being mostly optional actually doesn’t bother me given its setup. Yeah I may not be making any actual progress, but if an area is fun and immersive to go through than it’s worth it in its own way, plus this being a game where finding your way forward is one of the main elements giving the player multiple choices in order to confuse them and disorient them a bit can actually be a good thing in moderation, as it encourages the player to memorize the map layout further, which, again, is made especially possible due to how memorable this place is
On the other hand though this has always felt wasteful to me, which bugs me, I’d rather have a game where I have to visit every locale at least once (save for potential secret areas), so that I may experience most of its content. I guess that the secret ending you get for 200% map completion is supposed to remedy that somehow, and it sort of does in a way, but not only is that a secrer that new players won’t know about without looking it up, getting 200% map completion can be a pain in the ass but we’ll get to it in time
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ladala99 · 6 months
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More Legend of Heroes: A Tear of Vermilion Rambling
Extreme spoilers edition - I'm about 7/8 of the way through the game, I think. Maybe a little less. My characters are level 36 and my completed file has them at like, 43.
After a big Detective Pikachu->Mewtwo Raid->preparing 3DS Pokemon games Pokemon for transfer (which I'm still in the middle of) break, I'm back to playing A Tear of Vermilion, at least during the weekdays.
At first I had a harder time getting into it, but then I actually got to the next story beat: the confirmation that Mile is alive.
I didn't actually remember this part - the part at the starting village. With Mile's possessed body being used by the main villain to cause problems in the village and corrupt the nature spirit.
Already, I am a sucker for games that take you back to the starting village, but something is wrong. Neopets: The Darkest Faerie in particular hit me hard since I played in the starting village as a kid and didn't beat the game until I was in college.
In this game it didn't hit me as hard, but it still hit. The darker music in the familiar town. The peaceful villagers being possessed by the villains and being used against Avin. And Mile in particular. The childhood friend. The healer in all aspects. Being used as a weapon against his best friend.
And now, past that, I've reached a plot point where Avin and co. are trying to find an explosive crystal and I'm like "why do I remember this of all things?" Although, by Michel's reaction to them, I wonder if what I remember is from Prophecy of the Moonlight Witch, as I've played that game twice. I do recognize Michel's full name and I know he's from that game, but I think he has green hair in that game while it's brown in this one? Unless I'm mixing him up with someone else.
Seems there is one nature spirit left to save, and then we'll be able to enter the final area. Writer guy says he's wrapping up his series, and I got the final book in the Swordsmaster series, so the game seems to be coming to a close.
It is interesting how the story changes to be much more videogame-y after the first half. In the first half, you're traveling the land with two goals: deliver a thing to one place, and then another, and find Eimelle, wherever she happens to be. Everything else that happens is incidental, and Avin and co. get involved because they're good people who want to help. This ends up making them friends who help Avin in his goals.
The second half, you go to a shrine and find out you need to backtrack across the land and go to 5 other shrines. Each shrine has a boss you must defeat to receive a token. Get all the tokens to unlock the final area.
And of course, getting back into the series, I get obsessed a bit and decided to think about/chart out my course through the Trails series to follow. Nevermind that I still have two more Gagharv games I want to beat before then, and nevermind that I have a ton of other games I'll be mixing in, meaning it will be literal years before I get to my first new game.
Perhaps my biggest problem - the fact that I own Trails in the Sky First Chapter and don't have any way to get the others - will be solved by then. Maybe they'll actually release that trilogy for Switch (or Switch 2 or whatever).
Or maybe not. And I'll have to make the decision then whether I want to watch a playthrough of the other two games to see their stories before moving on or accept the uncommon situation of having the information of the first game and not the others going into the second arc.
I should probably watch the videos. Since I think I'd be more confused knowing some but not all than I would knowing nothing going into the second arc. But I'm not going to not play the game I bought.
But this is also Not Something I Should Be Worrying About Right Now. Because, again, it'll be years before I reach the point where I'm starting the Trails series.
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terras-diary · 8 months
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game review - final fantasy xvi
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some context: the only thing i knew about this game was it had a medieval setting. literally did not bother to look up anything about it, i kind of got the feeling there wasn’t much out there to begin with. 
the story: the world and lore of ff16 is interesting. the idea that the crystals were bad and causing environmental problems, even though in the short term they helped society so much, you could tell it was a comparison to our world. similar to the whole environmental overlords and their private pinkerton army which was final fantasy 7. but how the story and game progression actually played out? well that’s kind of a different story.
it was much longer than it needed to be. after each story mission you always had to backtrack to our hideout, just to watch a cutscene to lead to another story mission. the plot never really picked up, it was always stilted and held back by the fact you never felt like you did much. you could all but guarantee that whatever you did would be met with, ‘let’s go back to the hideout.’ i just always got the feeling of we were in the first fetch-quest part of the story before it was suppose to pick up, but it just never did. 
it would have flowed so much better if you could just cut out the middle man hideaway cutscenes, like just keep going!! why do we keep traveling halfway across the globe just to turn back!! keep moving forward!!!
the characters: the two main characters (i contest jill being a main character, even if the ffwiki says otherwise, btw) were so bland. clive was just some guy, and jill was just there. pretty much every other characters whether good, bad, or neutral outshined these two wet blankets. i will admit they had their moments. for jill in particular when she killed that priest. this isn’t a dig on the voice acting, i actually thought it was okay, but just how those two are written... ugh....
clive was just noctis if he wasn’t a twink and didn’t have his iphone. he had black hair, was a prince, had a dog companion, and had antagonist induced headaches.
don’t even get me started on their ‘romance’. good lord. they were just together because clive was a man and jill was a woman. remember how i said i knew nothing about this game? yeah for like the first four hours of this game i thought they were siblings. it didn’t help they looked exactly the same. (on that note, i thought benedicta was anabella pretty much until her history with cid came to light.) 
speaking of anabella, literally what was her problem. she is the most cartoonishly evil villain i have ever seen in a piece of media that wants to be taken seriously and have a dark/gritty vibe to it. genuinely, why was she like that. i wanted her and benedikta to play a larger part but they never really did. i find the women of this game were severely undermined larger parts which i think they could have fulfilled. (the misogyny......)
another thing about jill, though: she is practically written out of the story after having sex with clive and giving him shiva!!!! what the fuck! she was practically demoted to a npc. and there was a sidequest to cheer her up because even the writers knew they threw her to the wayside after putting out! in the above paragraph i wrote the misogyny halfly joking but the more i think about it i am very serious.
ultima, oh ultima. you had buttholes for eyes and gaping holes for ears. when he was a mysterious character, i enjoyed the mystique, but after a while it just kind of wore off. the mystique i am interested in is leviathan the lost. that was a cool concept, i was wondering why some more common final fantasy summons did not make the cut. guess they are just lost eikons.
my favorite character: barnabas, the mega dilf. he was hot as fuck, i cannot tell a lie. his accent was hot as shit too. i love crazy men. and that other white haired motherfucker was his got damn horse. 
the battling: like it was okay, half the time i pressed R1 to defend it never worked. i guess i just couldn’t time it right. it was still pretty easy though. i played on the action focused version and the only time i really got game over were during the eikon fights and when i tried my hand at the s rank hunts.
the eikon fights, wow. some of the highest highs and lowest lows of this game. the beginning fights were pretty interesting, all the good things about them culminated in the hugo kupka fight. that was the best fight of this game, full stop. it was somehow cinematicly choreographed while still having some stakes that required you to actually try to beat it. i’ve never had more fun in a modern game’s fight than this battle. the subsequent bahamut and odin fight, well.... uhh..... they were definitely battles. 
this is kind of fits in the under characterization as well but, there is no dialogue when you are on the field between clive and any of the npc party members. it is absolute silence, i forgot who was in my party half the time because they were mute.
side quests: i did all the side quests that popped up and all the hunts bar the s ranks (because i thought i may be under leveled.) there were a lot. it was definitely a chore. a lot of characterization for secondary characters were found in the side quests that i thought should have made it to the main scenario, but whatever. by the end i was sick and tired of it, such a fucking slog.
other odds and ends: i liked walking around the map and finding all the little places, that felt rewarding. but the treasures you would find were absolutely useless. you’d get an abundance of crafting materials, yet there were so few recipes you’d learn (which most were single use creations i.e. armor and weapons) that you were left with an overabundance of useless shit. maybe it picks up in the post game? i haven’t really played the postgame much, maybe it changes. at least for the main scenario, completely and utterly useless.
overall: well, it wasn’t the worst final fantasy (8 and 12, i am looking at you two.) all modern games pale in comparison to their predecessors of the 1990s and 2000s. i will always believe this i think. ff16 is definitely better than other modern games i’ve played. but the hay day of the final fantasy franchise where a game could be enjoyed by anyone while also not really having any glaring problems is over. the final objectively great final fantasy was 10. i enjoyed 13 and 15, but they just aren't as good. the same can be said for final fantasy 16. it was alright.
ok, i think that’s all i have to say right now. maybe i’ll think of more later.
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mainscastle · 1 year
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Crash bandicoot 2 cold hard crash all boxes
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Oh, and unless you get another checkpoint, dying after respawning from the above will make the game remember the true amount of crates. However, it's possible for the box count to reach more than the level expects you to have, making you unable to get the "destroy all crates" gem, so one should watch out for the box count as they respawn and go to the level's finish while breaking just the right amount of crates. This allows the player to get more crates without taking the harder-to-get ones, allowing for easier box completion. This glitch is only possible if you have numerous enough crates in the bonus round and/or the bonus round finish platform brings you quickly enough to the main level. You can then break those same crates again and the game will still count them. That's normal, but what's not normal is that, due to the game still adding the box count after you respawn the crate count now counts both the crates in the bonus level and any of those crates that you broke before the bonus round, the latter of which normally shouldn't happen. You'll then respawn in the most recent checkpoint you made (or the start of the level, if you didn't break any) with the boxes between the bonus level and the checkpoint (that you might've broken) intact. note It occurs if you finish a bonus level, then die before all of box count of the bonus level are added to the level's total box count. You can also reduce the number of runs needed for Air Crash from 4 to just 2 by dying after getting the Death Route gem along with the crystal and finishing on the secret warp for Snow Go. This also allows you to get the purple gem in Bee-Having without getting through the rest of the secret path and get 2 gems at the same run from Turtle Woods, Hang Eight, Plant Food, Cold Hard Crash, and Spaced Out when you normally need separate runs for each of them. Since extra lives are handed out like confetti, simply killing yourself the moment you get a gem from an alternate path seems far more appealing than backtracking manually. Once you collect a crystal or gem, it will remain in Crash's inventory as long as he remains in the level, even after he dies. This is the source of many Sequence Breaking in the game. This can be done with the slide-jump (which isn't a glitch) for an even higher jump. You jump, then you immediately spin, causing Crash to jump higher than normal. The same moment in "Un-Bearable" is also avoidable, but this time, with a simple slide jump. In fact, this trick was one of the many objects of this game's Tool-Assisted Speedrun, kindly demonstrated here. Gameplay Derailment: Trying to grind some more lives on Turtle Woods? You think the moment when you fall into pit with cyberrats is annoying? Well, there is a legit way which, if it doesn't work at first, is possible to pull off with some skill: just jump above the pit through the faux-walls.Even Better Sequel: Many agree that Crash 2 and Crash Bandicoot 3: Warped are much better designed and more enjoyable than the original game, representing the pinnacle of the series, introducing most of the characters fans are familiar with.The only thing that makes the battle challenging is the awkward jetpack controls and the limited time to finish him off. And the final boss battle is extremely anticlimactic - Crash just chases after him and spin-attacks him three times, and he doesn't even attempt to defend himself or fight back. The final boss battle against Cortex is based around the jetpack mechanic - as in, the mechanic that was only introduced five levels ago in a game 25 levels long. Additionally, the camera is positioned directly behind Crash rather than above him facing downwards, as in the other levels, which makes discerning the relative positions of obstacles even harder than it ought to be. In contrast to the rest of the game's free-flowing fast-paced platforming, the jetpack uses a completely different control scheme to the rest of the game, is awkward and finicky to use, and requires the player to move extremely slowly and carefully around tightly enclosed areas. Disappointing Last Level: The final warp room introduces the jetpack mechanic, which is featured in two of the last five levels.Never mind in-game, considering how obviously shady he is while interacting with Crash. Captain Obvious Reveal: Cortex being the game's Big Bad and betraying Crash can be easily deduced by just looking at the game's subtitle.It makes a Blackout Basement, of all things, feel hard to get lost in, it offers a creative Bonus Stage that feels like an Auto-Scrolling Level you're in complete control over, and its music is also the credits music, serving to give off the sense of finality in the stage. For a Secret Level, it sure as heck feels fair and accommodating.
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likeshipsonthesea · 3 years
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I don’t know if you take requests for nurseydex fics... but if you do the song “omg did she call him baby” by Beth McCarthy screams a heartbroken Nursey when Dex has a girlfriend
i like really can’t do genuine heartbreak but i CAN do angst that ends happy, so here’s my best shot :)
Nursey’s got a red Solo cup in one hand and a plastic champagne flute in the other and it’s sometime after three but before five and he is definitely not thinking about her or him or them together when he looks up between one sip and another to see the telltale blue hair reflecting the murky spotlights of the basement.
Nursey squints. He could be making things up--his brain is nice like that-- but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. She’s got very distinctive hair, Dex’s--girlfriend. It’d been rather disappointing, actually, the blue hair. The whole thing had been easier to deal with when he’d been picturing some light-haired brunette going for an economics degree who smiled like a mom at soccer practice. Someone who Nursey could reasonably dislike on grounds of, like, predictability.
But no, Dex had to bring home a blue-haired physics major with a nose ring and good taste in music and the ability to out-argue Shitty while polishing off Bitty’s pie, i.e. perfect. Even Lardo couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t awesome for Nursey’s sake. Even Nursey can’t pretend like Amanda isn’t awesome for his own sake. She’s just so--so--
Nursey squints.
So-- making out with some random girl in a blouse at a frat party.
What the fuck.
Nursey is about two margaritas and three years too deep to be dealing with the emotional ramifications of catching the girlfriend of his best friend (who he’s also kind of sort of possibly maybe totally in love with) macking on some consultant for Goldman Sachs or some shit in the basement of arguably one of the worst frats at Samwell. This one doesn’t even have good music, Nursey’s only here to get drunk without the possibility of Dex calling Nursey Patrol and helping Nursey up the stairs and saying nothing about the poetry Nursey spills or the way his hands linger.
(Fuck does Nursey hate Nursey Patrol, fuck does he hate how much he loves it.)
Nursey downs the rest of the champagne flute--which was probably mostly orange juice at this point anyway-- and hands the red Solo cup to a freshman gearing himself up to talk to a cute boy a few feet away and then Nursey gets the fuck out of dodge. He manages to get a better look at the corporate recruiter Amanda is cheating on Dex with (and really, if you’re going to cheat on Dex, you’re really going to pick a chick in a blouse that probably has opinions on the stock market???) and if he hadn’t been sure before, the distinctive tattoo on Amanda’s shoulder proves that it’s really her.
(“Tattoos? Tattoos? I have tattoos.” “I know you do, Nurse.” “They’re really nice tattoos.” “I know they are, Nurse.”)
Emerging from the basement and then the frat house itself is instantly sobering. The chill from winter hasn’t quite left the air at night and Nursey wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t think about how Dex chirped him about not wearing a coat before he’d left. The frat isn’t far away from the Haus, thank god, but it is slightly farther when he turns left instead of right and then has to a backtrack a bit, but he still gets back in under ten minutes and he can still feel his hands, so overall, a win.
Attempting to get into the Haus quietly is a lost cause, given its one thousand year old floor and the fact that a ladybug could fart in the kitchen and wake up the guys in the attic. Still, Nursey gives it the good college try, which is why he’s creeping ridiculously through the living room when the light turns on suddenly and he screams, much to the amusement of Dex, standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Fuck, dude, what the fuck.”
Dex just smirks in that horribly attractive way of his. “How was the Psi-U basement?”
Nursey thinks of blue hair, washed out in the lights, Amanda’s hand on that girl’s cheek, the way Dex smiles when he’s around her. “Fine,” Nursey says, swaying.
The amusement falters and Nursey wishes he could figure out a way to keep the smile on Dex’s face the way Amanda does. Dex takes a step closer. “Are you alright?”
Nursey shakes his head violently and takes a step back, a step farther away. This is the part where he says yes, yes of course Dexy-darling, I’m right as rain, what about you? This is the part where Dex rolls his eyes and loops his arm around Nursey’s waist, his warm side pressed into Nursey’s. The part where they go upstairs, where Nursey writes his best poetry that he’s too embarrassed to write down when he’s sober, where Dex tells him to sleep well and lingers outside the doorway long enough for Nursey’s breathing to slow and then the floor creaks and Nursey knows he’s gone and wishes he’d held on just a little bit longer--
“Nursey, what’s wrong?”
Nursey shakes his head again. He means to say nothing, he means to say, I’m going to bed, he means to-- “Amanda, she--”
The concern turns to alarm. Why can’t Nursey ever make it better? “Is she alright? Did you see her? Is she okay?”
Nursey shakes his head again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “She’s fine, she--she--” He swallows, and it’s sticky, cloying, citrusy and sweet on the back of his tongue. “She--there was this girl, she-- Amanda, she--”
Dex won’t stop frowning, concern knitting his eyebrows together with three short wrinkles, and Nursey has wanted to smooth them out with his fingertips every time he sees them since sophomore year, and he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be telling Dex this while he’s drunk, shouldn’t be telling Dex this at all, but he’s Nursey’s friend first and Nursey has to believe he’d tell Dex regardless of the love thing, he must--
“She was kissing some girl. In the Psi-U basement.”
The wrinkles smooth out. The amusement returns. Nursey--he can’t make sense of it over the ringing in his ears. Why is Dex smiling? Did--did Nursey do that?
“Did she look like a lawyer?” he asks, and at Nursey’s confusion clarifies, “The girl Amanda was kissing. Did she look like a lawyer?” Nursey nods dumbly. Dex’s smile only grows. Nursey is so, so confused and also more in love than he’s ever been. “Finally. I just won fifty bucks.”
What the fuck. “What the fuck.”
Dex laughs--laughs. “The girl’s name is Tammy. She graduated last year and moved to Boston. Amanda’s been in love with her forever, and I bet her that she’d get with Tammy before I--” Flush appears high on Dex’s cheeks, the soft pink one that means embarrassment and Nursey imagines would taste like cherry pie against his lips.
Nursey is--still quite a bit drunk. He needs--clarification. “You--you bet your girlfriend that she would get with her friend at a frat party?”
Dex’s nose scrunches up in Nursey’s favorite way--the same way it does when he’s trying to write humanities essays, the reason Nursey always says yes when Dex asks for help. “Girlfriend? Did you think Amanda was my girlfriend?”
Nursey remembers the start, hearing about Amanda every other day, then every day, then it was, sorry I can’t come, I’m meeting Amanda at-- and then one day at Annie’s, a girl with blue hair and a sharp grin yelled Babe! from across the room and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder, sipping from his coffee cup, getting him to smile like that--
“Well, yeah.” Nursey’s head is spinning and, for the first time tonight, not from the gin. “Is she--is she not?”
“Oh God, no, she’s so fucking gay, dude.” Laughter twinkles in Dex’s eyes. Nursey is drunker than he’s been since freshmen year of high school when Shitty snuck in some of his dad’s hard liquor and the janitors found them on the roof singing Disney songs at the moon. Dex’s girlfriend is gay. Dex’s girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend. Dex is--is smiling at him like he smiles at his girlfriend who isn’t his girlfriend.
“Oh,” Nursey says, dazed, “chill.”
“Oh wow,” Dex grins, leaning into the doorframe, “I can’t believe you thought--and you thought telling me my girlfriend was cheating on me at 3am while shit-drunk was a good idea?”
Nursey says, “Hey, honesty is important, and I’m not--” He stops. He remembers something. He squints. “Wait. If you bet 50 bucks on Amanda getting with Tammy, who did Amanda bet you would get with?”
The cherry pie blush is back. Nursey takes an absent-minded step forward. The room feels so much lighter now that Dex’s girlfriend isn’t cheating on him. The distance between them feels so much sillier now that Dex doesn’t have a girlfriend.
“Ah, well.” Dex rubs at the back of his neck, all country bumpkin sheepish to ask his sweetheart to the dance, and--and--
“I’m the sweetheart,” Nursey realizes with the kind of crystal clarity only afforded by the most copious amounts of alcohol.
Dex’s eyebrows furrow, those sweet little wrinkles appearing between them, and Nursey takes two long strides forward and presses his thumb into them. Dex goes cross-eyed trying to watch, but moves his eyes to meet Nursey’s after a moment.
Nursey grins, likely a bit sloppy from the gin, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “I’m the sweetheart,” he repeats, beaming.
Dex tries to repress the smile at his lips. “You’re not a sweetheart.”
“Yes I am,” Nursey sings, listing forwards. “You like me.”
“You’re an asshole.” Dex’s smile grows. Nursey watches its progress and sways.
“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he says, tracking the pink lips as they spread, revealing teeth and--and tongue and--
“I hate that you can still say mutually exclusive when you’re this drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm. See, I’ll prove it.”
“How do you plan on--”
If Dex’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied, he might say that the taste on Nursey’s tongue is a good indication that he is in fact fairly tipsy, but as it is--well. He’s got other things to do.
(Amanda asserts that they tied since it happened on the same night and only pays $25. Tammy throws in five more and a condom and they call it even. Nursey kisses away Dex’s protest and pockets the condom, much to Amanda’s amusement. Turns out, she’s even cooler when she isn’t dating the love of Nursey’s life.)
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sunflowergirl522 · 2 years
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Runaway: They Have An Encounter
Pairing: Tiefling!Bucky x Elf!Reader
Summary: Bucky takes a lot of jobs to make a living and this one was no different. Except for the fact that it’s for an elf prince and elves tend to avoid him in general. He accepts and with Sam and Steve they start their journey to find the elf prince’s runaway bride.
Word Count: 3015
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
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All of you stayed at the inn back in Tavin after you agreed to go with them. You had convinced them all to stay in town for a night to rest and prepare for the journey ahead of you. Sam was all for staying the minute you brought up having a hot meal. And Steve thought it was smart to stay and possibly get more supplies before continuing to the kingdom. It was harder to convince Bucky, he was convinced you just wanted to trick them so you could run off while they were all asleep, but Steve convinced him that it would be a good idea to stay and that you wouldn’t be able to run off with how light of a sleeper he was.
You and Sam really hit it off at the tavern, where the four of you ate dinner and had a few drinks. The two of you danced and sang, to which Bucky just groaned about Sam being twice as annoying now before storming off to the inn. Steve apologized for him and you just waved it off before pulling him up to join you and Sam.
Your new outfit reminds you a lot of when you traveled with a group of pirates a few years back. Especially the flowy white shirt and black corset and the high black boots help to remind you of many of your outfits on the ship. As you study your clothes you can hear Steve and Bucky who have been standing outside your room as you change. Their voices are muffled so you move closer to the door in order to make out what they’re saying.
“I just think this whole situation feels sticky.”
“Bucky, what do you mean?”
“Don’t you think finding her was a little too easy? Or how about getting her to lead us to the kingdom when she was just trying to go off on her own?” It’s silent for a minute while Steve takes in his friends' concerns. “I just don’t trust any of this Steve.” At that you open the door to distract them from what Bucky has said, you’ll have to be careful with how you go about this since he’s already onto you.
“Hey boys, did I miss anything?”
“Nothing at all princess.” Bucky storms off without sparing you a glance.
“Sorry about him Y/n.” You had given him and Sam the whole spiel last night about how if you have to go the whole journey with them all calling you princess you’d lose your mind. “He’s not very trusting and can be difficult to deal with at first, but he’s not a bad guy.”
“Yeah, he’s a real sweetheart.” You mumble under your breath, crossing your arms in front of you.
“Damn princess you clean up nice!” Sam whistles as he walks up to the two of you.
“Thanks Sammy. Brunnhilde knows me well, this is almost exactly what I wore as a pirate.” You do a little twirl as you follow Steve out of the inn. The town is alive with merchants calling out and musicians playing even though it’s still morning. How lively the town is is one of the reasons you love it so much, there’s never a dull moment unlike when you’re back home and mainly stuck in the throne room to help your father with business.
The three of you approach Bucky who’s standing in front of a weapon merchant's cart. A set of beautifully crafted crystal daggers catches your eye immediately and much to Bucky’s dismay you buy them and a sword belt with dagger holders. The merchant hands them to you before Bucky can even protest and when he does get ready to, Steve stops him. You wrap it around your waist as you lead the way out of town.
“Now, let’s go on an adventure, yeah?”
***
The four of you walk the rest of the day, you mainly joke around with Sam the whole time and Steve tells you stories of other adventures they’ve been on. Bucky stays behind you three, watching your every move. Each time you’ve backtracked to try to start a conversation with him, he just grunts and won’t actually talk to you.
“We should find somewhere to set up camp.” Bucky says as the sun starts to set.
“That’s probably a good idea. I can scout ahead if you want, see if I can find an area off of the trail.”
“No, you’re not leaving my sight Princess. Steve’s more than capable to do it.” At his words Steve nods at him and rolls his eyes before jogging ahead of all of you. It’s not long before Steve motions that there’s a spot right off of where he is. Once you’re all caught up with him you help Sam with one of the tents while Steve and Bucky work on the other.
“So does he always have a stick up his ass?” You speak in a hushed voice to Sam as he hammers it into the ground.
“Who, Bucky? Nah, he’s normally a lot easier to be around. I think he’s just wary of you trying to run, and your fiance sure didn’t help things. He got him all riled up, I think he’s taking that out on you.”
“He’s not my fiance.” Your voice is stern and serious as you quickly correct Sam. 
“You might want to tell him that then. Alright we should be done.” Sam stands up and walks around to the front to talk to Bucky and Steve. “So how’s this working. I volunteer to share a tent with Y/n.”
“She’s sharing a tent with me. You’re with Steve.”
“What if I don’t want to share a tent with you?” You step forward and Bucky matches your pace so you’re standing face to face.
“That’s not up to you Princess. You’re with me so I can make sure you don’t run off in the middle of the night. It’s not like I want to share one with you either.” You cross your arms as the two of you stare at each other for a while. “I’m gonna go get wood for a fire, Steve watch her.” He doesn’t look away from you as he speaks. 
“Do you want some help with that?”
“No.” And with that he leaves off into the forest.
When Bucky comes back it’s to you dancing around and singing while Sam plays music. He hangs back in the trees and watches as you pull Steve up to dance with you. He can’t deny that your voice is melodic and he’s almost in awe when you toss your head back in laughter. For a split second jealousy fills him as Steve spins you around but it disappears as he makes his presence known.
“Anyone wanna help with the fire instead of dancing about?” He starts setting the wood up before reaching behind him for his flint and steel.
“Yeah sure.” You kneel next to him before lighting a small fire in your palm before moving it to the wood and closing your hand to put it out. “Can we go back to having fun now?” When you turn your head to look at him your noses almost touch and he rolls his eyes at your words.
“Whatever, I’m going hunting.” He leaves and you groan while falling back and looking up at Steve.
“Why is he so against my help or having fun with us?”
“Bucky’s had a rough life, once he starts to trust you and open up just a little bit he’ll be better. You’ll see.”
“Okay.” You stay silent for a while, starting to feel bad for your whole plan to take them the long way to the kingdom and then ditching them at the entrance when you have your crown back. You can’t help but think about if things were different and you all just happened to meet while you were adventuring instead of getting away from the prince, that you still would’ve become fast friends with Sam but you a hundred percent would’ve started flirting with Bucky, especially if you all met in a tavern.
***
When Bucky gets back this time, the moon is in the sky and no one is at the campfire. Steve’s asleep in his tent and Bucky finds Sam asleep against a tree. You’re nowhere in sight and Bucky’s quick to drop his game by the still burning fire before running to look in the tent. When you aren’t in there either he starts to panic and rushes to wake Sam up.
“Sam wake the fuck up man!”
“What? Bucky? What’s wrong?” The sleep in Sam's voice starts to disappear as he sees the panic on his friend's face.
“Where’s the princess? Why’d you fall asleep watching her?” At this he rolls his eyes and yawns.
“Relax man, she’s up in the trees.” He stands up and stretches. “You should really start trusting her a bit. She's pretty cool. Anyway tag you’re it, I’m going to bed.” Sam slaps Bucky's thigh as he walks past him towards his and Steve’s tent.
Bucky climbs up the tree in a rush fully convinced that you had just used Sam’s trusting nature to escape. He sighs in relief when he sees you just sitting on a branch. He starts to climb up again but pauses two branches up from where he was when he gets a chance to really get a look at you. Your hands are resting on either side of you on the thick branch, your legs are swinging and you’re looking up at the sky. The moonlight is shining down on you illuminating your features.
“Woah.” Bucky can’t stop the word from escaping his mouth at how beautiful you look.He shakes his head before continuing to climb and plopping down next to you.
“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” You speak without looking at him as you feel him sit next to you.
“Who?” For a second Bucky thinks that you saw him watching you but he brushes that off pretty quickly.
“The moon. I could just sit and watch her for hours.”
“Oh, I guess so.” It’s quiet between the two of you for a minute before Bucky speaks again. “Do you refer to it like it’s a person often?” This makes you giggle.
“Well, yeah. I am a moon elf after all, silly.” You look at him and see his confused face and go on to explain it to him. “We worship the moon, she’s not just the moon, she’s a goddess who looks out for us all. She stands for peace and love above everything else really, but also creativity and hope.” You send him a closed eye smile when you finish speaking. The moon illuminates your face and Bucky fights the urge to tuck some hair behind your ear.
“What about the sun? Do you worship that too?”
“In a way you could say we do, I suppose. He’s definitely a part of it but as a culture moon elves just worship the moon more than anything else while the sun elves worship the Sun. He stands more for firmness and power and strength along with growth. Of course there are those in each culture that will choose to worship other gods or goddesses more than the main one, much like how everyone else worships certain deity’s or none at all.”
“It all sounds a bit ridiculous.” Bucky sits in silence taking in all of your words before his tough guy front is put back on. You just shrug and look down at your feet and Bucky wants to beat himself up for ruining whatever moment the two of you were having.
“It’s not for everyone, and that’s okay. Everyone is free to have their own beliefs.” You smile at him before beaming back up at the moon again. “I think I’m gonna go see if I can get some rest. It was nice to actually have a conversation with you for once Bucky, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Bucky watches as you jump from one branch to another until you’re at the bottom. You wave up to him before continuing back to camp. He sighs before looking up at the moon himself. Maybe Sam was right and he should start to trust you just a little bit and he should probably stop treating you like you’re one of the wanted criminals they’ve hunted down in the past. You haven’t given him a reason to not trust you and he’s been a bit of a dick admittingly. After a while he yawns and jumps down from the branch before heading to the tent to sleep.
You wake up in the morning to a rustling outside but quickly get distracted from it when you feel something tighten around your ankle. When you glance down at it you find Bucky’s tail wrapped securely around it and you can’t help but to feel safe while you lay back down with a smile on your face. It was really nice talking to him last night even if it was just you saying anything, you can’t help but feel like something changed between the two of you like he won’t just ignore you now. When there’s a louder noise outside Bucky shoots up into a sitting position and sniffs the air. You start to get anxious when he lets out a low growl.
“What, is it not Sam or Steve?” You lean up onto your hands as you watch him finish pulling on his shirt.
“No, stay here and hidden.”
“No, I can help.” He just sends you a look telling you to listen to him before grabbing one of his swords and leaving the tent.
As Bucky exits he finds Steve and Sam doing the same, Steve with his own sword ready and Sam stretching his arms above his head. Steve sends him a look Bucky knows as ‘what’s going on’ and he shrugs to answer his friend. 
“Well well well, would you look at this boys, it’s handlehead and his friends shin licker and spoon ear.” The orc from the bar comes out of the woods with two of his friends. Bucky snarls and grips his sword tighter. “Where’s the princess at?”
“We haven’t found her yet.” Steve says, catching onto the fact that she isn’t out of the tent yet. Sam stays quiet as he inches closer to the tent to grab his knife from his bag he left outside.
“Oh, really? Then who’s the other scent that’s here, smells posh.” You grimace as you the words waft into the tent. Smells posh, what the fuck does that mean?
“It’s none of your business. Now why don’t you leave before I embarrass you in front of your friends again?” Bucky takes a step closer to him as he speaks.
“It is my business, I want that reward for returning her and maybe some time alone with the maiden herself.” The anger that rises in Bucky at the orc's words and the thought of him even laying a hand on you causes him to lose control for a second and land a punch to his nose. “You son of a bitch!” One of his hands flies to his nose while the other hits Bucky right back before grabbing his own sword and going at it with Bucky. Steve starts fighting one of his friends while Sam climbs up the other one, who was getting ready to help attack Bucky, and starts to choke him out.
You peek out of the tent when you hear the fighting start. At seeing everyone in action you let out a huff of annoyance at the command to stay in the tent. Who was Bucky to tell you what to do huh? If you want to go out there and fight then you can go out there and fight. You grab Bucky’s other sword that he left in the tent before leaving it without bothering to put the corset back on or tuck the shirt into your pants. You watch as Bucky gets knocked to the ground and rush over in time for your sword and the one the orc’s holding to clang together as you block it from hitting the tiefling on the ground next to you.
“I told you to stay in the tent.”
“What, and let you have all the fun?” You wink down at him and kick the orc away.
“Ah Princess, so nice of you to join us. We’re here to escort you to your fiance's kingdom.” The orc gestures from himself to his friends that are still fighting with Steve and Sam. “Now you can come with us willingly or by force, your choice.” The way that he says the words as a threat and the words themselves fill you with rage. Why has everyone been wanting you to do things you don’t want to do lately.
“How about I don’t come with you at all.” With a wave of your hand his friends fly through the air, hitting trees behind them while their weapons land at your feet. The orcs sword flies out of his hand landing a few feet away. You walk up to him until the length of the sword in your hand that’s pointed at his chest is the only distance between the two of you. “Now you can leave or I can put this sword through your heart, your choice.” You use his words from before and send a sickly sweet smile his way.
“C’mon, Brock man, let’s get out of here.” One of his buddies grabs his arm and starts to pull him away.
“Whatever, you guys are going the wrong way anyway.” The orc, Brock, mutters under his breath as he shakes his friend off of him and walks away. You offer a hand to help Bucky up after he’s gone. When he’s up again his grip on your arm tightens and he pulls you into him.
“What did he mean we’re going the wrong way?”
Bucky Taglist: @puddinsqueen @koressecretidentity @stevieintheimpala @unmagically @peachytea01 @the-chocoholic-writer @perksofbeingatrex @99-cats @rachmmb @quokkatrash @vanillamaa @strawb3rrydr3ss @that-sarcastic-writer @spideyycents @mackycat11 @crystalsoul2 @rosiemotion @dissectiontime @lmf @jacelynenursalim @aiyanalevina @mooncaffeine @fanofallthefics @jewelsrocks99 @lharrietg @yoongisdumplingcheeks @clubcesspool @sailormajinmoon @girl-obsessed-with-things @corvusmorte @sophielovesbarnes @collywobbl​ @majo240820​ @alina02​ @toothhurtyam​ @gaya-is-weird-af​
Marvel Taglist: @its-the-autism-innit-luv​ @pogueslandia​ @obsessedwithbuckybarnes​ @rorysreallyrandom​ @sxtansqueen​ @myalupinblack​ @aya-fay @lieswithoutfairytales​ @kakakatey​ @sugarbutterbailey​ @1-800-ch3rry​ @amelia-song-pond​ @leyannrae​ @ficsnrec​ @slut-for-bucky-barnes​ @neenieweenie​ @officiallyunofficialperson​
Everything Taglist: @florenceyelena​ @ninuffi​ @i-love-superhero​ @kolakube9​ @lexy9716​ @hehehehannahthings​
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-slams fists on table- part two! Notes are that I miss Grumbot and I feel like Scar gives off worried dad vibes and Scar and Grian feel like they’d be bickering siblings. again a ping to @petrichormeraki​ for making this au.
In spite of the revelation of this bee apparently somehow being Tubbo, Tommy did not react with yelling or screaming. Instead he started by just staring at the hive where he had fallen after tripping, thinking about the new knowledge. And then he screamed.
Responding to the scream, the bee, uh, Tubbo. Tubbee? Yeah Tubbee. Tubbee popped out of his hive and flew over to Tommy. Tommy, still not completely okay with what was going on, scrambled back a few blocks. Tubbee didn’t care and just flew all the way until he settled in Tommy’s lap. He nuzzled against Tommy, the spinning compass that was now on the floor once again pointing towards Tubbee before returning to spinning wildly.
“Okay. Fuck. What the fuck. Tubbo I know you like bees but this?” Tommy gave a nervous chuckle. “This is too fucking far.”
Tubbee buzzed happily, not seeming to realize Tommy’s distress about his current form. He then started to fly around Tommy, bopping against him happily as Tommy pulled out his communicator to send a message to all the Hermits that were around. ‘Something really fucking weird happened and I need help. Even from Xisuma if he can come back.’
Almost immediately a new message came in with a buzz. It was from Stress scolding Tommy for his language. The next was from Scar who was surprised Tommy needed Xisuma’s help and asked what was going on. As Tommy typed a response, just along the lines that it was hard to explain, Xisuma replied in the chat saying he was on his way.
Tommy set his phone back down and just sat on the ground in silence as he waited for the admin to arrive. The phone buzzed a few more times, but Tommy ignored it for the most part. There was a distant sound of a firework launching and the teen figured that would have to be Xisuma. Tubbee also seemed to hear the noise, because immediately after it sounded, he flew and hid inside the nearby hive.
A few seconds later, the door opened to Xisuma. He started to speak but was pushed aside by a panicked looking Scar. “What happened?! Why do you need X’s help?”
Tommy shoved away the second hermit who was already looking him over for any injury. “God, stop acting like my fucking mom. I just have a weird bee.”
“A what?” Scar pulled away suddenly, causing Tommy to almost fall over. Tubbee decided this was the perfect time to come out of his hive and fly over to Tommy for comfort. “Oh, that kind of b.”
Xisuma looked between Tubbee and the hive. “It looks like it’s using the hive correctly, though it is still attracted to you. Are you sure you don’t have any-”
“I don’t have any fuckin’ flowers. And it’s not a normal bee.” As Tommy talked, he wasn’t really paying attention to the fact that he was now subconsciously holding Tubbee and petting him. “I think my friend died and is a bee now.”
Both Scar and X just stood there, staring at Tommy and Tubbee. Before either of them could speak, the door slammed open again. “What happened?! Why do you need X’s help?” Grian shouted.
After a bit of calming down and making sure no more hermits would come racing over out of nowhere, Tommy explained about his friend who really liked bees, how the two of them had special compasses pointing to each other, how they would be in different servers but the compass was pointing to this bee. As the various Hermits talked, Tubbee decided it was a good time to explore and buzzed about the old hobbit hole.
“You’re saying this bee is your friend… reincarnated or something?” Grian asked skeptically.
“That’s the best clue I have.” Tommy answered with a shrug. “Not like I have much to go on. I’m not gonna drop back home and ask around saying ‘Hey, Tubbo die while I was gone?’ cause no matter what they wouldn’t let me back.”
“I can try and get some of my old magic crystals and try them on him.” Scar piped up before getting a shove from Grian.
“Those things don’t work.” Grian chided before being shoved back.
“A man-!” “Teen.” “-Teen has been turned into a bee, I doubt my crystals are that useless in a time like this.”
Xisuma carefully separated the two other Hermits. “Before you do that, I’m going to try having a look at his code. See if there’s any truth to the claim first.”
The comment hurt Tommy. “What, you don’t believe me?” Xisuma tried backtracking but Tommy stopped him. “Of course there’s something! Bees don’t just fucking act like that and compasses don’t just point at bees.” Tommy grabbed his compass from the floor and held it up. It spun wildly for a few seconds and one of the hermits was about to point that out when the needle changed its mind and pointed to Tubbee for the same amount of time before spinning around again.
Grian’s eyes widened and he managed to speak first. “That is bonkers. I’ve never seen that before! X, what does the bee say?”
“Can’t say much of anything.” Scar half mumbled, getting a jab in the ribs from Grian.
Xisuma turned his gaze to Tubbee and carefully grabbed him. Tubbee panicked for a few moments, but realized he wasn’t in any harm and let himself be held by such a large and kind looking bee.
X didn’t usually take advantage of his admin powers, at most messing with the end files every so often so the Hermits could get more shulker boxes. This was much different than that. Still Xisuma looked at the code of the bee. There was nothing there that directly seemed to be player code. There was something that resembled it, but nothing concrete. It just seemed like a, pardon the pun, a bugged bee.
“There’s something off, but it doesn’t seem like this bee is another player.” Xisuma informed Tommy, letting Tubbee go.
“What? Of course he is! This has to be Tubbo!” Tommy was taken aback by X’s claims. “Isn’t there someone else that’s better at this than you.”
“Tommy...” Scar spoke gently, but Tommy just turned and yelled at the mayor.
“Shut up! And don’t try using any magic mumbo jumbo on him!” Tommy grabbed Tubbee as he tried to explore again.
Grian tried holding in a laugh, but Tommy noticed and glared at him. “Look, I know some hermits had some machines last season that could tell fortunes or whatever, but we don’t really have that many here this season. I mean, there’s Grumbot, but he’s…”
No longer glaring, Tommy nearly jumped happily at the words. “Who’s Grumbot? Is ‘e another admin here?”
“No, no. He was uh, so I had Mumbo run for mayor and we built this robot to give us information on how to actually help him run for mayor and give mayoral advice, but he didn’t really-” Grian was scratching the back of his head, not sure how to explain it all to Tommy when the teen cut him off.
“Tubbo was president back home, maybe that’s close enough to mayor. Where is he?”
“Tommy, slow down.” Scar chimed in. “ I mean, uh, I’m the mayor, so Grumbot didn’t really help. Plus, didn’t you have to pay him diamonds for every question.”
Grian groaned. “Yes. I don’t know why that was ever a good design idea. He also had a mental breakdown when he thought Mumbo lost so we kinda… lied to him and told him Mumbo did become mayor and now he’s living in a virtual reality box.”
Tommy wracked his brain, trying to remember why that sounded familiar before he remembered. “You mean that mustache box off the coast of the shopping district? I’ve seen it a few times boating back home from there.”
Grian tried to backtrack, but it was obvious anything else was a lie. Tommy ran to the various chests, rummaging around until he found a spare lead.”C’mon Tubbo, let's go see this Grumbot.
Grian tried talking out of it, but Scar stopped him to talk with Tommy instead. Pulling the teen over to the side, he started to scold Tommy before lowering his voice. “Look, I don’t know if that machine is gonna work for you or not, but this seems important to you. From what I can tell you need to put the diamond in and press the buttons in order or something.” As Scar pretended to go back to scolding Tommy, he slipped a diamond into the boy’s hand. “Well, hopefully he’ll listen to reason.”
Getting what Scar was trying to do, Tommy put the lead away and sat down. “Yeah… guess I’ll just have to use what I know right now.”
Grian looked a little suspicious, but Scar managed to lead him out. Xisuma started to follow them out, but turned to Tommy and asked him to send updates. Tommy nodded and pet Tubbee, trying not to get too restless as he sat there to wait.
After waiting so long that Bdubs had to call the sun back, Tommy pulled out his lead again and built a boat. Carefully tying the lead around Tubbee, he climbed into the boat and tied the other end to one of the oars before paddling towards spawn. Eventually, he reached the large white box, and noticed that the mustache was not actually on the box, but a different building further on. Because of that, Tommy doubted about if Grumbot would be here, but when he found an opening and went in with Tubbee, he saw the computer.
Tommy expected something much smaller but Grumbot was huge and a bit overwhelming. He seemed to be staring off into the distance, and when Tommy looked that way, he saw recreation of the shopping district.
Pulling the diamond that Scar gave him out of his pocket, Tommy waked to the base of Grumbot and looked at the labeled buttons. He pressed the one labeled prime Grumbot and flinched at the slight grinding noise that came from the machine. While that made Tommy reluctant about the idea, he had already come all the way out here and started the process, so he might as well finish it up.
Next he pressed the boot load brain button and then the flood mayoral reservoirs one. More noises sounded from the machine and then Tommy looked at the last label. ‘Deposit Question Diamond.’ He was about to just put it in before he saw the anvils. After dying the other day, Tommy didn’t have many levels, but he had at least one.
Putting the diamond in an anvil, Tommy renamed it with a question and placed it in the machine and pressed the final button. Trying to help, Tubbee also bopped against the button as Tommy stepped back to look at the screen of Grumbot. The happy eyes changed to standard ones, and then they looked down as a paper dispensed.
Tommy ran back over to the machine and grabbed the paper to read it. There were only four words on it and just seeing the number nearly made Tommy tear it up, but then he actually comprehended the words. ‘Use the fourth button.’
Tommy looked back at the buttons and noticed the 4th one was made of a block. Pulling it out, he then placed it into the nearby mechanism and pressed the other three buttons. It took a bit of finagling to use the fourth button, what with it now missing. But then the screen glitched and then it glitched again. Tommy looked between the screen and the answer printer, angry to see no response. With that anger, he kicked Grumbot, and then the screen stopped glitching.
“Ah, just what I needed. A good kick to the ribs.” Tommy swore and fell to the ground at the booming voice that came from Grumbot. Tubbee was also scared by it and cowered next to Tommy. Looking up, he saw the screen no longer glitching and the previously stiff face looking very animated as it looked around, eventually looking down at Tommy.
“So, you’re the one who wants my help, yes?” The booming voice spoke again, making Tommy cover his ears this time. “Oh sorry, I guess I’m a bit too loud.” Grumbot apologized as he lowered his voice.
Tommy, having no clue how Grumbot was supposed to act, didn’t find his voice and much more emotive face odd. “Yeah, uh. So Grian told me that you did mayoral stuff and while it’s not the same, I have a friend who is, or was , a president and wondered if you could help with that?”
Grumbot’s face tilted as his computer head could not. “Your first diamond was asking about the status of a ‘President Tubbo’. While I have been here with only the occasional visit, I’ve had time for my redstone brain and so to upgrade and find new databases and reservoirs.”
“Uh… does that mean you know that-“ Tommy started to speak but was cut off.
“Yes. I know now my dad did not win the election. At the time, that was my only purpose. I was upset when I learned the truth when you activated me, but I have new purpose and my dads just did what they could to care for me.”
Tommy just nodded, not completely sure what all of that meant, more from not paying attention. “Okay, well I think my friend who was president elsewhere got turned into this bee.” And Tommy held up Tubbee.
Grumbot ‘leaned’ closer to see Tubbee and then looked at the data he received about a president Tubbo. “Your friend was not turned into a bee.”
Tommy frowned at the answer, arms falling to his sides, Tubbee now free to do more exploring. “What do you mean, my compass is supposed to point to Tubbo and it points to this bee, so it has to be Tubbo! He loves the things so much it makes sense he would become one.”
Grumbot added the new information to his data. “Well, that is neither your dead friend returned to life as a bee, nor your friend disguised as one. It is instead something else.”
Protests Tommy had been about to sling at the robot died in his throat and was replaced with a new question. “What is it then?”
Grumbot paused, making sure he could get all the data he had access to and could help. “Your world is… different.” The AI started slowly. “You can lose lives and eventually truly die. But you don’t just die and decide one is a true life lost. When that happens, you… lose a piece of you. Enough times and what makes you you can’t exist in a body anymore.”
Tommy interrupted Grumbot. “So Tubbo is a ghost possessing the bee?”
The AI glared at Tommy for a few seconds, screen background turning a certain shade of red. But then he calmed. “No, your friend is still alive, but he has had one of those special deaths happened. It was before you arrived here in Hermitcraft. That death broke off a piece of his soul and it managed to end up here. Whether the piece was active the whole time or it only activated once you, a familiar being, drew near, I cannot say.”
Tommy processed the information before asking a clarifying question. So, the bee is only like a piece of Tubbo?”
A piece of paper was printed out and then Grumbot’s screen went dark. Tommy grabbed the paper and read the word ‘Yes.’ There was also a post script asking for Tommy to kill Scar for the AI which Tommy laughed at. He then got the lead back around Tubbee and headed home.
Even if it wasn’t really Tubbo, Tommy found Tubbee comforting. Maybe even if this piece of Tubbo was here, Tubbo could feel Tommy on the other end, trying to care for his friend. Xisuma came to visit Tommy again after a few days and heard from Tommy what Grumbot had said. Grian came later that same day and freaked out when he learned about Grumbot, leaving almost immediately to go find Mumbo who was also online.
Scar was the last to show up. He was glad to find out that Tommy had piece of mind, but was also a bit salty about the fact he was stabbed and killed the moment he walked through the door, though it was his own fault for getting there at half a heart from crashing into so much while flying.
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asweetprologue · 3 years
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the process of rewarming
Octoberfest 6: Hypothermia (whumptober #21)
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Kaedwin was sharply beautiful in the winter. Every surface glinted like polished crystal, the world coated in a fine layer of ice and snow. Blankets of white muffled the countryside, broken by the intimidating bulk of the northern mountains. The thick pine forests were heavy with snow, the trees bowing under the weight of winter in full swing. Above them, the sky was a steel gray that promised more harsh weather to come. 
The path that they walked was narrow and slick, the unforgiving mass of the mountain rising on their left and sloping downwards treacherously on their right. Jaskier paused, his breath puffing out before him as he spared a moment to look out over the countryside. The entire scene was cast in sharp black and white, the snow, trees and mountains beyond forming a stunning but severe monotone. It was bitterly cold, the icy fingers of the northern wind stabbing under each and every gap in his thick winter clothing. 
“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice came from ahead. Jaskier looked away from the view, though the sight he turned to face was no less stunning. The witcher was just as bundled up as Jaskier, his armor traded out for a thick cloak and a padded coat, the rest of his usual gear loaded onto Roach. He looked even larger than usual, the bulky clothes adding extra breadth to his shoulders. His golden eyes glinted in the light reflecting off the snow, though the rest of his face was cast into shadow by the hood he had pulled over his head. Roach snorted beside him, shaking her mane out and tugging at the reins in Geralt’s hands. The path was small enough that Geralt had to walk her, not willing to risk a wrong step. “We need to keep moving,” he said, nodding up the mountain. “If we don’t reach Kaer Morhen by night we’ll be stuck in the snow.”
The clouds above did seem to be growing ever darker. Jaskier nodded, jaw clenched to hide his chattering teeth. Geralt’s eyebrows came together in a frown when he didn’t respond verbally, but Jaskier could do little to assuage his worries.
This was the first time that he’d been invited to travel to Kaer Morhen with Geralt, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up by complaining about the cold. If Geralt thought Jaskier couldn’t handle the journey, he’d never let him come along again. So yes, his fingers were nearly numb and his eyes were burning from the wind and his feet were clumsy as he followed Geralt up the path, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Not if it meant Geralt taking back his invitation in future years. 
So Jaskier hunched his shoulders and continued after the witcher in silence.
They were, Geralt said, no more than an hour or two away from the Kaer Morhen valley, and from there it was an easy walk up to the keep itself. The path that they currently walked was the most difficult part of the journey, made worse by the fact that they’d gotten a late start. Geralt had been finishing up a contract near Oxenfurt, and they’d only barely made it to the pass before it was closed for the winter. The snows had begun falling in earnest a week ago, and by the time they’d made it to the northern mountains they had been well and truly covered in ice and snow. There was nothing for it, however, so they’d started their reluctant way up. They’d been at it for a few days, but this area was clearly the riskiest. Jaskier had seen how Geralt’s mouth had gone thin when they discussed the last leg of the journey, but he hadn’t commented on it. 
They walked in silence for another half an hour or so before the path leveled out, splitting again into two diverging trails. The first led downwards, into what looked like a thin vale. As Jaskier followed Geralt along the other path leading further upwards, he could see that the trail below widened into a small valley. There was a river that ran parallel to their track, and here it widened into something almost large enough to be a lake. The water moved fast enough that it had not completely frozen over, only the edges glinting with sharp ice. It was some twenty feet below them, the mountainside sloping downwards sharply to meet the pool. The frigid waters reflected the light of the low hanging sun, throwing a shifting mosaic onto the cliffside across from them. It was a stunning scene, begging to be captured through pen or song. 
Perhaps it was because he was so taken by the environment that Jaskier stumbled. One moment he was staring out over the small valley, and the next his feet were rapidly sliding out from under him. The patch of ground in front of him that he’d assumed was solid crumbled beneath his heel, snow tumbling away and taking him with it. The thick blanket of snow on the path shifted, moving to fill the space abandoned through Jaskier’s misstep. He found himself slipping, drawn towards the edge of the cliff as if a tide was rushing over him. Jaskier fell, already half over the edge of the cliffside and headed towards the valley below.
Suddenly he was being tugged roughly up and to the side. Geralt’s hands were insistent, grabbing the front of Jaskier’s coat and pulling. Jaskier could feel the snow and ice beneath them still slipping, and he met Geralt’s eyes in a panic. If Geralt didn’t move, they would both go over with the crumbling mountainside. 
Geralt’s face was set with determination. With a heave, he pulled Jaskier up and twisted at the same time, shoving Jaskier out of the way even as Geralt tumbled over the side of the cliff.
“No!” Jaskier launched himself forward, trying to catch something - a sleeve, a hand, anything - but he met empty air. The snow under him shifted, and Jaskier scrambled backwards again to avoid going over the edge. He stared at the blank space where Geralt had been, dread making his breaths come in stuttering gasps. Across the decimated path, Roach snorted, pawing at the ground in agitation. 
Jaskier stumbled to his feet, heart in his throat. It wasn’t so far of a fall, he thought. Geralt could survive a twenty foot drop easily, especially if the snow had cushioned his fall. He was probably fine. Jaskier just had to find a way to get down to him, as quickly as possible. 
Once he’d managed to retrieve Roach, Jaskier swiftly backtracked down the path until he found the spot where the two roads diverged. He urged Roach down along the other trail until it began to widen out, leading into the little valley. The snow here was thick and heavy, having fallen from the nearby cliff sides and collected below. Jaskier had to shove himself through it, feeling the damp powder making its way into his boots. He ignored it, making his way as quickly as he could back towards the lake. Roach followed behind him slowly, her reins gripped tightly in his gloved hand. Geralt would be fine. He had to be. Jaskier just had to find him, and then they could continue to Kaer Morhen and he would have all winter to convince Geralt that this was all just a spot of bad luck. It would be a good argument. Jaskier just needed to find him. 
It took longer than he would have liked to make their way to the side of the pond. Jaskier began to look around frantically, trying to figure out exactly where Geralt had gone over. The upper path loomed above them, seeming higher up from this angle than Jaskier remembered. The snow was disrupted in many places, probably from various animals passing through the valley. Jaskier couldn’t tell where Geralt had come down, he couldn’t see anything but the snow, already covering up his own tracks, let alone any signs of Geralt - 
There was a cough. 
Jaskier sprang into action, abandoning Roach as he rushed toward the sound. There was a small overhang on the west side of the vale, against the wall their path had been on. When he neared, he could see that there was a line drawn through the snow from the side of the lake, as if something had been dragged through it in places. Jaskier felt his heart crawl up into his throat. Until now, he’d refused to think about what would happen if Geralt had fallen in the lake. He ran towards the overhang, following the shallow path through the snow. 
Geralt was slumped under it, in a small clearing where the snow had been unable to fully reach because of the overhang. Jaskier could immediately see that something was wrong as he crashed to Geralt’s side. The witcher’s skin was even paler than usual, his lips tinged blue. His white hair fell in frozen sheets around him, and his wet clothes had already turned icy in places. He looks dead, Jaskier thought suddenly, and it was the worst thought that he’d ever had. Bile pushed up into his throat, but he forced it back, instead cradling Geralt’s face in his hands. His skin was so cold Jaskier could feel it through his gloves. Holding his own breath, he moved his face close to Geralt’s slightly parted lips.
After a long moment, he felt a puff of air against his cheek. Relief hit Jaskier like a punch in the chest, his fingers tingling with it.
Witchers could survive low temperatures better than humans could, he knew, but he also knew that the process of warming them up was troublesome. Their hearts were so slow - a blessing and a curse. It would keep him alive even as his limbs shut down, but it would be harder to get him back to a normal temperature for the same reason. 
Alright. Alright. He had to focus. One step at a time. Geralt’s cloak was in a pile next to him, one edge slightly singed. He must have been trying to light a fire, Jaskier realized, but the cloth had been too saturated. Step one, he thought, forcing himself to concentrate on the problem at hand. Wet, freezing clothes had to come off. Jaskier hated the idea of exposing Geralt’s pale, damp skin to the open air, but he knew that the stiff coat he wore now wouldn’t do him any good. He reached out and started prying the fabric away, one layer at a time.
It was hard work, much of the clothing already coated in thin sheets of ice. Jaskier pulled and tugged and shifted until he finally wrestled Geralt out of his thick, useless coat. The layers underneath were just as soaked, but not yet quite as frozen. Jaskier stripped Geralt down as quickly as he could, leaving him bare. He didn’t even shiver, just lying on the cold ground with his breath barely forming clouds in the cold air. Jaskier hurried to Roach.
They had extra clothes in their saddlebags, cotton shirts and pants and a few blankets. Jaskier grabbed them without looking, arms piled high with material as he fell back to Geralt’s side. He pulled two shirts over Geralt’s head, and then laid down a blanket to protect him from the cold ground and rolled him onto it. The freezing earth would leach heat away from him just as surely as the snow or wet clothes would. Satisfied with Geralt’s position, Jaskier fumbled with his pants and socks until he was at least mostly clothed. 
Step one completed. Step two: shelter. The ledge was something, but they were still exposed to the elements. He didn’t have the time to go hunting for branches to make a lean-to, and there was very little foliage this high up the mountain anyways. They had a wax treated canvas sheet rolled up behind Roach’s saddle, but he had to find some way to mount it if he wanted to keep the snow off of them. 
Roach, bless her, was standing utterly still, clearly aware that something was going on. Jaskier headed back to her, and unclipped Geralt’s swords from their place against her side. They were all he had to work with in terms of any sort of scaffolding, so they would have to do. After grabbing the canvas, Jaskier shuffled through the path of snow back to Geralt. He leaned both swords against the back wall of the cliff, near Geralt’s head, spaced a fair distance apart. The canvas he dragged out and looped over each sword, the heavy weight of them pinning the rough fabric to the wall and holding it several feet above Geralt’s head. The other end of the canvas he dragged out until he reached the snow, half a foot or so away from Geralt’s toes. It was easy work to find a couple of stones to hold the end in place, resulting in a sloped little shelter. 
It would have to do for now. He wanted to make step three a fire, but Jaskier had to admit that he wasn’t great at starting them on the best of days. He never had to; Geralt always just snapped a finger and the kindling was crackling merrily away. They could make one later, when Geralt woke up and was cross about how cold their little tent was. They could always do it later. Grabbing the rest of the blankets from Roach, Jaskier gave her a quick kiss on the nose. He felt bad to leave her saddled and free to wander around, but he had to trust that she would be alright. Geralt needed him.
Decided, Jaskier scrambled inside of the makeshift shelter, careful not to pull too hard at the canvas. Geralt lie on the blanket inside, still absolutely still. Jaskier could see that his chest was rising and falling shallowly, but it didn’t truly assuage his fears. Tugging off a glove, he laid a hand on Geralt’s cheek and nearly winced. The witcher’s skin was freezing, as cold as the snow outside. 
There was nothing for it. Jaskier began tugging off his own clothes, wincing at the frigid air as it assaulted him. Geralt needed body heat to warm up, if they couldn’t have a fire. He left his boots and pants on, but everything else came off. After a moment of consideration he laid the coat and shirt along the seam of the canvas, blocking more of the harsh wind from entering their delicate abode. That done, he shucked off Geralt’s twin layers of shirts as well, now that they were no longer so exposed to the elements. Grabbing the remaining blankets that he’d pulled from Roach, Jaskier covered the both of them fully and laid down next to Geralt in the small, cold space he’d created. 
It was like laying down next to a block of ice, like one of the dazzling sculptures that sat in the square in Novigrad during the yule festivals. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s bare chest, gooseflesh erupting across his skin as it met Geralt’s. He was so cold, Jaskier thought, shivering as he huddled with Geralt beneath the mess of blankets. How could anyone survive being this cold? He felt dead already, his slow heartbeat even slower now as it sluggishly tried to keep his blood pumping. Jaskier tucked himself close, putting his head under Geralt’s chin as his own heart seized in his chest. He didn’t know what he would do if Geralt wasn’t okay - not just how he would get down this fucking mountain, or face Geralt’s family, or, fuck, how he would tell Ciri. He didn’t know what he would do, if Geralt wasn’t there anymore. A crushing void threatened to open in his chest just at the thought of it. 
And it would be his fault besides. All for forcing Geralt to take him on this bloody journey to Kaer Morhen, where he’d never even asked Jaskier to come. Jaskier had asked, begged even, said, But I want to meet your family and Ciri needs someone who knows how to tell a good story and I miss you, when we’re apart. And Geralt had caved, eventually, allowing Jaskier to come along where he wasn’t even wanted. Now he was going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere, because of Jaskier. 
A sob fell from his lips before he could stop it, a few stray tears sliding from his cheeks to land on Geralt’s collarbone. The small space under the blankets was growing, if not warm, then something less than freezing, so hopefully his tears wouldn’t freeze in place. Sniffling, Jaskier gathered Geralt’s hands in his own, still icy to the touch, and pressed them between their bodies. Geralt would be furious if he couldn’t wield a sword anymore because of something as silly as frostbite. 
It felt like they laid there for ages, and Geralt did not wake. Jaskier was anxious to the point of nausea and bored besides, wanting to pace and fret but unwilling to move an inch from his spot by Geralt. The occasional flurry and the cold ground under them ensured that the space never grew truly warm, but Jaskier found his skin becoming sticky with sweat where he was pressed to Geralt. How often had he thought of this, he wondered, on nights when they would share a bed or a bench in the tavern? He’d feel Geralt’s bulk against him through his clothes and his heart rate would pick up, his cheeks flushing as he thought about what it would be like, to feel Geralt skin to skin. To be held by him as a lover. They were silly thoughts. Geralt wasn’t interested, Jaskier knew that. He barely tolerated his presence after all these years. It wasn’t Geralt’s fault Jaskier couldn’t keep his heart to himself. 
After an age, Geralt started to shiver. Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief; it meant the worst had passed. 
Jaskier scrambled out of the small tent as soon as he was relatively sure Geralt wouldn’t immediately die without him there. Step four: fire. Before heading up into the mountains, Geralt had filled a burlap sack with some light pieces of wood, explaining that the terrain provided little by way of kindling along the mountain path. Jaskier tugged back on his coat and gloves and retrieved the sack from Roach, who was waiting with an air of impatience outside of their shelter. Jaskier dumped the bag to the side and set about clearing an area to put the fire. The extra snow he piled up around the little area, building a short wall that reached about halfway up to the overhang protecting their little spot. Hopefully it would help shelter them from the wind and keep the fire lit. 
It took him forever to get the flint and tinder to agree with him, even using a clean, dry shirt from his pack as tinder. His fingers were clumsy and numb with the cold, and he was inexperienced with the tools. Eventually a spark flew from the stone in his fingers to the fabric and caught, and Jaskier hurriedly leaned down to blow on it gently. Once the piece was well and truly burning, he pulled a few of the smaller sticks from the bag of kindling and added them until a little fire was casting odd shadowing against the wall of the cliff and Geralt’s unconscious form.
Sitting back with a sigh, Jaskier gave himself a brief moment to warm his fingers before he refocused on Geralt. The warmth of the fire would reach him better without the canvas in the way, and with the pile of snow now blocking more of the outside air, Jaskier felt it was better to expose him somewhat. He moved one of the swords holding up the canvas tent cover until it was open on one side, letting the warmth of the fire into the small space. 
Finally finished, Jaskier stripped his coat back off and huddled under the blankets with Geralt once again. Over the next hour or so, he stirred only to put more kindling on the fire, trying to keep it at a small, steady flame that wouldn’t burn through their supply of wood for too long. They would need it to last them through most of the night. 
He was dozing slightly when he felt Geralt shift beneath him. Instantly he was wide awake, shooting upwards and almost knocking over the canvas. He stared down at Geralt, who was blinking up at him sluggishly. The little tent was almost warm now, the heat of the fire trapped at least partially within the makeshift walls. Geralt moved as if he was going to sit up, but Jaskier put a hand on his chest to still him, the movement agitated. 
“Don’t,” he said, quietly. “You - Are you alright? How do you feel?”
Geralt was still looking at him with a confused expression on his face, like he was trying to piece together exactly where he was and what Jaskier was doing there. “Jaskier,” he said, his voice full of gravel and grit, “what happened?”
Unable to be anything but blunt, Jaskier said, “You fell in a lake. My fault, I’m afraid. Can you feel your toes? I’m terribly worried about them.”
Geralt made a face. “They burn, so yeah,” he said with a grunt. In the small space between their chests, his fingers twitched. Jaskier forced himself not to flush. “Witchers don’t get frostbite,” Geralt continued, still shifting here and there as if to assess the damage.
“How does that track,” Jaskier said faintly. The relief he felt was dizzying; now that he was awake, Geralt seemed to be recovering even faster. His cheeks had a slightly pink tinge to them, and Jaskier could feel that his heart rate was elevated. 
“We heal from it, if we get it,” Geralt replied. “Roach?”
“Just outside,” Jaskier said, unable to stop a fond smile from flitting across his lips. Of course Geralt would be more worried about the horse than his own health. “Very cross at us for making her stand out in the wind, I’m sure.”
“I should take a White Raffords, probably,” Geralt mused, almost to himself. He looked tired; his eyes had that half present quality they sometimes did when he came out of a long meditation session. He met Jaskier’s gaze again, tracing over Jaskier’s face and then down his neck and chest. Jaskier swallowed. “Are you alright?” Geralt asked him, tone subdued. 
Jaskier felt a spike of anger and grief shoot through him, forcing him to inhale sharply. He wanted to box Geralt around the ears a bit, and only refrained because the man was in a delicate state. “Of course I’m alright, Geralt, you self sacrificing piece of horse shit! I’m the one you shoved out of the way and fell into a frozen lake at the bottom of a ravine for!” He fisted one hand in the blankets around them, mortified to find tears pricking at his eyes. He looked away, trying to hide the evidence of his guilt. 
He felt cool fingers suddenly on his jaw, forcing him to turn back towards Geralt. The witcher’s face was soft, eyes hooded with exhaustion and what looked like affection. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. “I’d do it again,” Geralt said, tired but full of conviction. 
“I’m not worth it,” Jaskier said, sniffling. Geralt’s palm was warming up on his face, more and more alive with each passing moment. Jaskier wished he could do that all the time - give Geralt more warmth and life and love just through a touch. “Not your life.”
“You are,” Geralt said, with a finality that brokered no argument. His fingers skimmed down from Jaskier’s jaw and over his shoulder, until it stopped to rest against the center of his back. Holding him close. Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, a barely there press. His lips were still a little cold, drawing a shiver from the bard. When he collapsed back, he pulled Jaskier with him, curling around him beneath the blankets. “You are,” he said again, into Jaskier’s hair. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I wasn’t prepared to protect you.”
“You didn’t ask,” Jaskier said, blinking against the skin of Geralt’s neck. He was a bit dazed, still feeling the phantom of the kiss like a cool burn. “I did.”
Geralt huffed against him. “I said Ciri missed you,” he said, his fingers spread wide and comforting on Jaskier's back. Tracing around his spine in soothing circles. “I said you’d beat Lambert at gwent, and that Eskel would like that egg thing you make in the mornings, and that you would find a million songs to write about Kaer Morhen in the winter. I thought I was clear enough.” Jaskier felt a puff of warm air against the top of his head, a cold nose in his hair. “Sorry. Will you come to Kaer Morhen with me?”
Jaskier laughed, a sound half choked by tears. “It’s a bit late in the year,” he said, shuffling closer. “A bit of a big thing to spring on a fellow at the last minute.”
Geralt hummed, a sleepy sound that Jaskier knew meant he was dropping off. The little shelter around them was warm, and he knew they would be alright until Geralt woke again. “Next year,” Geralt murmured into his hair, “I’ll ask sooner.”
“And then maybe you won’t fall into a ravine because there’s so much damn snow,” Jaskier said, sighing as he tucked himself deeper into Geralt’s side. Next year. 
“Melitele willing,” Geralt said, and Jaskier felt warm all the way through.
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nicknellie · 3 years
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Anonymous requested: Alex is meant to meet up with Willie for a date, he doesn’t go because he’s having a bad anxiety day and doesn’t feel up to it. When he’s stood up Willie is worried so goes to the studio looking for him. He comes across Alex having an anxiety spiral, hands shaking, not breathing right. So Willie helps him. After he’s calmed down Alex explains why he couldn’t meet up with him, Willie tells him it’s ok to stay in sometimes if you need to we can have a sofa date. They watch films.
This fic is out a hell of a lot sooner than I had planned because I wrote most of it while I was trying to combat my own anxiety by projecting onto Alex, and I actually really liked it, so I managed to get it done quickly. Anyway, thank you for the prompt, it was absolutely lovely and a joy to write!!
Sidenote: For the 5 senses exercise, I changed the order to better fit the fic. If you try it yourself, it should be See 5, Touch 4, Hear 3, Smell 2, Taste 1!
TW: anxiety, anxiety spiral/attack right from the beginning
To Keep the Dark at Bay
It came gradually. It was one of those panics that would sneak up on him and he wouldn’t realise how worried he was until it was far too late. Alex had been excited, he was always excited when it came to dates with Willie, but at some indeterminable point that excitement had been swapped out for anxiety and now it was too late to backtrack.
It came quickly. All of a sudden he found himself punching the palm of his hand with one tightly clenched fist, pacing back and forth across the length of the studio, coughing up breaths that he held too long or not long enough. He’d only been alone for five minutes; he had been hanging out with Julie and she had gone back up to the house when he was supposed to leave to meet Willie, but the moment she had gone he had broken.
It came painfully. His hands were aching, his legs were numb, his chest heaved, and his scalp throbbed where he had been yanking at his hair. Alex hated how his body did this to him, made him distract himself through pain and pain only, made him ache and hurt outside to detract from the ache and hurt inside.
And no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t make it stop.
Because the problem was this: the moment Alex tried to focus on any singular negative thought, another popped up like its demonic offspring. Usually he would try and lay the situation out in his mind, plain and simple so that he could sort through each thing as it came, but that day it simply made things worse.
He tried to breathe. It burned.
He tried to count to relax his mind. He lost track.
He tried to stand still. He almost lost his balance.
Dates with Willie weren’t supposed to cause him stress; they never had in the past, not even their very first one. It wasn’t as if he had been having a bad day before hand – no, he had been having a wonderful day. He and Julie had spent hours making friendship bracelets for each other, the rest of the band, and Willie and Flynn. They had talked about their love lives and gushed about Luke and Willie respectively; they had told each other stories from before they met, Alex reliving his best tales from the nineties, Julie telling him about when she, Carrie, and Flynn had been friends; they had shared advice, shared secrets, shared laughs and tears and hugs, and Alex hadn’t had such a nice time in as long as he could remember.
So why, he thought bitterly, was this happening now?
He wasn’t supposed to be here – he was supposed to be outside the Orpheum, where he had agreed to meet Willie for their date. In fact, if his watch was right, then he was supposed to have been there twenty minutes ago, which meant he had been in the studio, unable to face leaving, for at least half an hour.
He never worried about his dates with Willie. That was part of his boyfriend’s magic; whenever he was around, Alex was compelled to relax, as if it didn’t make sense to do anything else at all. But the thought of leaving the studio, of poofing to the Orpheum, of moving too far or going anywhere at all, made him feel sick to the pit of the stomach he didn’t have.
Alex barely registered the flash of lilac light and the noise that ghosts made when they poofed. If there was anything going on around him then he simply wasn’t aware of it at all. All that was going through his mind were flashing thoughts of indescribable worry, so he didn’t even notice that someone was talking to him until they touched his arm.
He jumped back, out of the way; being touched felt like being suffocated. But he finally stopped his pacing, stopped watching his feet and looked up to see Willie looking at him, expression neutral.
Alex hadn’t had time to think about what Willie would have been going through while this was happening to him. While Alex had been in the studio, Willie would have been waiting outside the Orpheum for him, probably worried sick. These were dangerous times – although Caleb hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks, he could still be around any corner. As far as anybody knew, time spent apart was time spent in danger. Willie would have had no idea where Alex was, for all he knew he could have been captured by Caleb at last.
The thought made Alex’s jaw lock. Not the idea of being captured by Caleb, but the thought of worrying Willie. Because if Willie was worried for Alex’s safety while Alex was perfectly fine then he might get angry at Alex for worrying him unnecessarily, and if he was angry at Alex then he might not want to see him again, and if that happened then Alex would lose him forever and that was the last thing he wanted.
He tried to breathe again but couldn’t, and Willie was still watching him with that careful expression, like he was trying not to scare him off.
By some miracle, Alex found his voice. It was raspy and blunt and it hurt to talk, but he managed to say, “I’m sorry.”
And he was pacing again, hands threaded through his hair, yanking at it like he was trying to rip it out.
“Alex,” came Willie’s voice, distant. “Alex, can you hear me?”
Alex nodded, watching the ground as he walked, unable to look up.
“Alex.” Willie’s voice again. Clearer. Louder. Perhaps he was stood closer. “I need you to stop walking. Sit down on the couch. I’m right here.”
He did as Willie said, collapsing down onto the worn leather cushions. His legs simultaneously thanked him and protested, partially glad to be resting, partially restless for movement. He compromised, bouncing a leg up and down.
There was too much in the studio. Usually Alex kind of liked the disorder and the bright colours – it felt homely and inviting – but that day there was too much going on. So he covered his face with his hands, propped his elbows up on his legs, and blocked everything into darkness.
“Can I touch you?” Willie asked gently. His voice was crystal clear now, Alex could hear the words as if they were spoken directly into his ear. But he shook his head – if anything touched him then he was sure he would break.
While he couldn’t feel Willie physically, he felt his presence, and in some strange connection to normality, he felt it calm him that little bit.
“Alright,” said Willie softly, “no touching. That isn’t a problem. Alex, you need to breathe.”
That’s what he had been trying to do for nearly forty minutes, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t because ghosts didn’t have lungs, because the motions and the feelings could still be replicated. It was because every time he inhaled and tried to hold it, it slipped away from him like soap. He couldn’t hold on, he couldn’t calm down, he couldn’t do it because it hurt.
So he shook his head wildly.
Willie wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Breathe with me, Alex. I know it’s difficult, but you need to do it or this whole thing will go on for much longer.”
Again, he tried. For Willie. He breathed in and Willie counted along with him, but the breath sputtered out from him in a choked, dry sob.
“Sorry,” he whispered, unable to make himself any louder.
“It’s alright, Alex,” Willie assured him. “We’ll just try again. Breathe in…”
They tried again. Alex failed again. So Willie started them over. They kept going, persevering until Alex could breathe with the efficiency of a lifer. Eventually, his chest felt lighter, like Willie had pulled up the anchor that was weighing it down and Alex could almost set sail again.
But his hands, still covering his eyes, were shaking.
He could hear Willie moving about the studio, clearly looking for something. The shuffle of objects moving about wasn’t as unpleasant as it might have been ten minutes earlier.
After a minute or so, he sensed Willie come back, crouching down in front of him.
“You don’t have to open your eyes just yet,” he began, “but I want you to hold your hands out for me.”
Alex wasn’t sure he could. It felt as if his arms were stuck stiff, and if he forced himself to move his hands away from his eyes then… well, he wasn’t sure what would happen. But he couldn’t do it. So he sat still, not moving a muscle, shaking hands pressed to his face.
Willie asked again, “Can I touch you?”
How was Alex supposed to know? Maybe he was a little calmer, but he still felt detached and drawn and a hundred other emotions he couldn’t have named if he tried. He gave Willie a non-committal shrug.
Willie’s cold hand brushed Alex’s bare forearm. For a moment, he tensed, uncomfortable with the light touch, but as Willie wrapped his fingers around Alex’s arm a little tighter, he relaxed. Where the touch would have stung before, now it felt grounding. Rigid and secure, reliable.
He let Willie pull his left hand away from his face, and then his right, very slowly. He kept his eyes clamped shut, but left his hands outstretched. He felt Willie place something in his palm and turned it over in his fingers – he felt that it was one of Reggie’s many fidget toys, something Julie had suggested he get and that he had barely left alone since then. This must have been one of his spares.
Alex felt it all over, settling for fiddling with a tiny joystick on it, moving his thumb in repetitive circular motions. Willie’s hand came to rest on his arm again, cold and callused, grounding.
“Keep doing that,” Willie said. “Good. We’re going to try something, alright? I want you to tell me five things you can hear right now.”
Taking a deep breath, Alex listened, and rattled off a slow but steady list to Willie. “Wind. Birds. Cars. Ray’s lawnmower. Your breathing.”
“Great,” Willie said. “Now four things you can feel. Things that are touching you, or just any sort of sensation.”
“The fidget toy. My bracelets. My hat is too tight on my head. Your hand on my arm.”
Alex felt his muscles begin to relax just that little bit, and he could hear Willie’s smile when he spoke. “Amazing. You’re doing so well. Now I want you to tell me three things that you can smell.”
Ordinarily, Alex wouldn’t have noticed any particular smell in the studio, but he made himself focus and connect and said with a little more confidence, “Freshly mowed grass. Wood, lots of wood. You, your natural scent.”
He might have been embarrassed about ending with that another time, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel that way right then.
“Perfect. Here’s a trickier one – two things you can taste.”
Scrunching his nose in concentration, Alex paid attention to himself. “Blood. I think I was biting my tongue. And salt. That’s probably the tears.”
Willie squeezed his forearm, a gentle reassurance. “Good job. This is the last one, but it’s going to be the hardest one because I need you to open your eyes. Alex?”
He did. Seeing everything felt almost blinding, but he kept his eyes open.
Ever so quietly, Willie gave him one last instruction. “What’s one thing you can see?”
“You,” Alex replied.
Willie beamed. “Are you feeling any better?”
In response, Alex threw his arms around Willie’s neck, throwing them both off balance and sending them flailing to the floor. Alex scrambled off of Willie, apologising profusely for landing atop him in a rather inelegant manner, but Willie just laughed it off. He took Alex’s hand, pulled them both up, and sat them back on the couch.
“So,” Willie said, almost conversationally, “what was that about?”
Alex gave a noise that was some strange mix of a laugh, a sob, and a sigh. “I really don’t know. I was just thinking about leaving to go and meet you, but I couldn’t make myself leave, and I don’t even know why. Then I got more worried because I was going to ruin our date because I was keeping you waiting and that just made it all even more difficult and– and I’m going to stop before I get lost again.”
Willie’s expression was unreadable again. He was looking at Alex almost like he was a puzzle he was close to cracking but couldn’t find the final clue for. If anyone else had looked at him that way, Alex might have felt insulted, but when Willie did it he felt important and cared for. He felt loved.
But Willie still hadn’t said anything so Alex broke the silence with, “I’m sorry I ruined today.”
Shaking his head, Willie returned, “You don’t need to apologise. I saw you just then, man, you weren’t in any fit state to go anywhere. You know, not every date has to be a date.”
Alex quirked an eyebrow, asking a silent question.
Smiling like he was proud of himself for coming up with the idea, Willie elaborated, “I’m serious, dude. We can go on dates without going on dates. If one of us doesn’t feel up to going somewhere, we can just chill here – I mean, we have an eternity, it’s not like we’re in any rush. I’m just saying, we don’t always have to do things to be together; it’s the together part that matters. And if I’m honest, sitting here for the rest of the day, watching movies with you sounds way better than anything I could have planned.”
A small smile crept its way onto Alex’s face. Sometimes he didn’t understand how he’d been lucky enough to have Willie skateboard his way into his afterlife. The fact that anyone could be so understanding, so reliable, so perceptive and resourceful was unbelievable to him, but there Willie was in all his glory, beaming at him with the brightness of the sun.
Alex put Reggie’s fidget toy down and took Willie’s hand, threading their fingers together. He smiled at Willie, gentle, tired.
“Are you sure?” he checked. “It’s really okay?”
“Of course it is,” Willie replied, covering their clasped hands with his other. “Hotdog, if you don’t want to do something then I will never force you into it.”
“I’d never do that to you either,” Alex said sombrely. Sometimes he worried that he – well, that both of them – lost sight of the fact that they were both in this relationship. Sure, Alex tended to worry more often and more severely, but Willie wasn’t without his issues, and Alex wanted to ensure that he never felt uncomfortable. He wanted to make sure that he was as present for Willie as Willie was for him.
Willie grinned. “I know. Right – shall we get on with our stay-at-home date?”
“Yes,” Alex returned, smiling as he got up to locate the old TV the Molinas kept in the studio, the one he and all his friends had spent countless nights in front of, watching reruns of classic gameshows, or having movie marathons.
He and Willie set it up together, pressed play on the DVD player, and snuggled beneath a blanket that Willie had dragged off the back of the sofa. Alex folded himself to Willie, resting his head on his chest as the opening credits of Mamma Mia started rolling, listening for a heartbeat though he knew there would be none.
And at last he felt relaxed.
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theatresweetheart · 3 years
Note
For the bad thing happens bingo prompts: broken wrist and analogical? could you make it g/t too, somehow?
Student Struggles
Summary: He knew it was illogical and ridiculous to make such an emotionally biased decision. Yet, Logan did it anyway.
Warnings: Broken limb (non graphic), humans treated as lesser, main character referred to as an “it” (non malicious), fear.
Pairings: Platonic Analogical 
Characters: Logan, Virgil
Word Count: 3463 words
                                        ——————————
It was a precarious predicament.
It certainly wasn’t everyday he tried to sneak out of his university’s anthropology lab harbouring an injured and terrified human in his pocket.
As one of the more respected senior’s of his class, most of the professors that were still there hardly paid Logan another look as he left the lab for the evening.
Still, that didn’t change the fact that he was nervous. Smuggling a human out of the lab without a professor’s explicit permission was an offence punishable by suspension. The suspension itself wouldn’t last much longer than a couple days, but it would leave a bad mark on his crystal clean school record. It would change the reputation he had with his professors—all of which he had so carefully tailored right from his first year in the program.
In fact, most of them greeted him warmly. Asking about his classes earlier, wishing him a good weekend and giving a teasing reminder to study for the upcoming midterms. None of these conversations lasted longer than a few minutes and normally, Logan would have been glad to speak with them. But as of that moment, the longer he was stuck there standing with them, the larger the chance was of him being found out. He knew his professors were very well trained in spotting things that seemed off—an example would be students sitting in the very back row, the furthest away from the lecturer and still getting called out for not paying enough attention.
Long story short, if Logan got caught he was risking his entire future in this field.
A part of him still questioned if this whole thing was even worth the risk. Humans got hurt all the time in his practicum; especially when other students weren’t being careful enough. It happened, so why was this one any different?
Why was the human that had looked up at him with wide frightened eyes any different than the others?
Still, whether or not it was worth the risk, Logan was too far into it now to backtrack. Retracing his steps back to the lab may be considered suspicious, so it was all or nothing whether he wanted it to be or not. Besides, he was also positive that the doors would be locked anyhow, so backpedaling would be pointless. Not that he didn’t have a key to get back in if he truly needed to.
Logan ducked around another professor expertly and he went unnoticed, as the professor in question seemed to be engaged in a particularly interesting conversation.
Or so he thought.
Just as he was about to push the door to the building open, he heard the man bidding his quick farewells for the night before easily catching up with the student.
“Logan,” his professor greeted him with a grin, pushing the other door open before Logan had the chance to escape.
“Dr. Coleman,” he replied after a moment, shouldering his book bag a little more securely.
“You seem to be in quite the rush,” Dr. Coleman said, pulling his coat closer as the cool autumn air swept in through the doors. “Mind if I join you to the parking lot?”
As if he had a choice. Logan only gave a nod.
The squirming in his pocket started up again, this time with more vigor. Slightly paranoid that the little motions would show through the soft fabric, Logan make the quick decision to fully wrap his hand around the human—keeping it still and silent. While that stopped the slight movement from the outside, he could still feel the terrified motions pushing helplessly against his fingertips. Trying fruitlessly to budge his fingers. Of course, to no avail.
While he did feel bad about physically restraining it when it was so obviously in distress, Logan really couldn’t risk being found out this far into the endeavor.
He only hoped the little thing’s heart wouldn’t stop entirely.
However, during the entire ordeal he kept his features mindfully neutral, careful to keep from alerting Dr. Coleman of his current plight.
Dr. Coleman didn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes flickered over the student and Logan pretended not to notice. Acting off would only make the professor suspicious. Something he really did not need right now.
The professor only hummed softly before turning his attention forward, toward the cars sitting silently under the streetlights illuminating the parking lot in a warm yellow glow. Logan must have spent more time in the lab than he had meant to, if twilight was already falling.
“Busy night tonight, I assume?” Dr. Coleman finally broke the silence and Logan only shrugged nonchalantly.
“You could say that,” he relented. While it technically wasn’t untrue, it wouldn’t be school work like the professor would assume.
Dr. Coleman snickered, reaching into his pocket to draw out his car keys. He clicked the buttons and his car’s headlights flashed in response. “Getting some studying done?”
In a way.
Logan forced himself to relax a little, knowing that the professor had no idea of his little stowaway. “Certainly. Can never be too over prepared for an exam.”
“True,” Dr. Coleman stuck his hands into his pockets. Logan felt relief wash over him when the professor reached his own vehicle. This was the very type of interaction he had been trying so hard to avoid. “This is why you’re one of my favourite students, Logan.”
The praise was nice, but really not what he needed right now. “I appreciate that, Dr. Coleman. But I really do have to get going, as pleasant as this conversation has been.”
As stinted as it had been too, it seemed. Usually, talking with Dr. Coleman didn’t take that much energy. He had engaged the professor in many heated debates over his four years of study. And he would be glad to engage in those types of conversations once more! Just as soon as the human was no longer on his person and in range of being confiscated, only to be placed right back into the same area where it had gotten hurt in the first place.
Whether or not this whole thing was the correct course of action, Logan was sick of witnessing humans getting injured and then being disposed of as if their injuries made them completely useless.
If given the proper treatment and time to heal, they would have a far less percentage of humans succumbing to their injuries or illnesses.
It was unfortunate that so many of his peers thought of the small creatures as disposable. While, no, it was not difficult for professionals to retrieve more right out of their lives on earth, it didn’t make the practice any less morbid or underhanded. Anthropology students should be learning how to assist humans in healing and recovering, not tossing them the minute they were no longer “perfect” in their eyes.
“Fair enough,” Dr. Coleman said, stepping back and placing a hand on the door handle of his car. “I won’t keep you from your studies any longer. Have a good night and take care of yourself. Don’t you be pulling all-nighters, understand?”
“I understand,” Logan repeated back as if on instinct. It wouldn’t stop him from doing it, but it was…nice, he supposed, to know that the professor cared.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends that wouldn’t check up on him, he did, but it was different when it was someone that was higher status than you were. Held more sway over what happened in the department. Dr. Coleman was the dean of the anthropology department and he had a lot of power.
The professor nodded his head with a grin, before pulling open his car and stepping in.
Logan let out a breath and turned on his heel. Quickening his pace to his own vehicle, he fished in his bag for his keys. He found them after a moment of struggling one-handed and unlocked his car. He slid inside just as Dr. Coleman’s headlights flashed over him and the professor pulled out of the parking lot, disappearing over the hill leading down to the highway.
Letting his head rest back against the seat’s headrest, he finally released the human from the confines of his hand. Using his now freed one, he ran them through his hair before pulling his glasses off.
What was he even doing?
So what if there was a cruel practice going on at the school underneath everyone’s noses? Just because he was privy to it didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. He was just one person. Logan had friends that were very much human rights activists and into studies and politics concerning the creatures, but none of their campaigns had really gotten the traction necessary to make a true difference. It was a difficult field of study to be in when there were people opposing everything you did.
While Logan always made sure his interactions with the creatures were careful and calculated, a part of him wished he could say the same thing for his classmates.
You would think, at a senior level of study, students would be taking it more seriously. Many of them did, but many of them still used this advantage to handle the humans they dealt with rough and carelessly. To which, the creature would get injured and would then be gone by next morning.
The human currently stuck within the confines of his pocket had been one of the unlucky ones. Injured thanks to a student who had been working in the lab outside of class just a few feet away from Logan—who had conducting his own experiments—they’d dropped the human from a dangerous height on accident, causing the little one to cry out.
His classmate had panicked immediately, obviously unsure of what to do or where to go from there. They’d even gone as far as to check over at Logan to gauge if he’d seen anything and snitch. The student had then gathered the human up as if nothing had happened. They’d packed their papers, shoved it all into their backpack and then deposited the human right back into the large glass terrarium in the middle of the lab, just waiting for someone else to find the injured creature in the morning and get rid of it.
Logan didn’t even have any connection to the human currently struggling to right itself in the soft fabric. Hadn’t conducted any studies with it, observed it or anything else of the such. He’d only heard the helpless cry and decided he wasn’t going to let it suffer in its own agony all night.
The move was illogical and he knew that. Yet, he was still risking absolutely everything for this one little human. His future career was banking on the hope he never got found out.
Logan slipped his glasses back on before sliding the keys into the ignition.
“The amount of trouble you could get me in is unbelievable,” he mused after a moment, unsure if he was talking to the human or not. Either way, the only reaction he got for his efforts was more struggling. So, pulling the gear shift out of park, he made his way back home.
“Oh, would you stop fighting me for five seconds,” the student groused, quickly managing to corral the human between his hands again without fully touching him. “If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done that by now? Or perhaps, better yet, just left you back in the lab’s terrarium for someone else to find?”
The human only twitched away from his hands, just as he had been doing for the past fifteen minutes. Logan really didn’t want to have to pin him down to get the fidgety creature to be still, but he was quickly running out of options and patience.
“I don’t want to restrain you,” Logan’s voice finally seemed to get the human’s flickering attention. However, now the human’s eyes were locked solely on him, with an uncanny ability to follow his every miniature movement with unwavering attention. It was, all things considered, slightly disturbing to be watched so intensely with such obvious fright and distrust. “But I will if you force my hand.”
The human’s face contorted in an expression that resembled a sneer, before he tucked his injured wrist closer to his chest.
Logan pulled his hands back to himself, watching quietly as the human flinched further into himself. It was very much obvious the little one was touch shy and Logan really wanted to refrain from handling him as much as possible– lest he frighten the human so bad his little heart stopped altogether. “You must understand that leaving your wrist like that will only do you more harm than good. I can assist you in starting your healing progress.”
The human seemed open enough to the idea and Logan carefully extended his fingertips forward, a blatant show of nonaggression and allowing the creature to come to him in its own time. Giving the human the slightest semblance of control may make this entire interaction even the tiniest bit easier on them both.
Its eyes flickered uneasily from its wrist back to Logan’s outstretched hand. It twisted to look over its shoulders, as if searching out an escape route. It hadn’t worked before and Logan knew trying to escape wouldn’t work again. His reaction time was much faster than the human’s, so it wouldn’t make it very far anyhow.
The human in question turned back to Logan, almost as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to act like any other careless student that was ready to mishandle him. The human’s wrist was thin as it was, but now that it was injured (and Logan speculated, broken), it was even more vulnerable than before. Giving up a vulnerable piece of you was a frightening thing and Logan could hardly imagine looking at it from any other perspective but his own. Though, he could safely assume that he, himself, would not be very fond of this situation either if their positions had happened to be switched.
Truthfully, there would be nothing about the human’s life Logan would enjoy. Depending on whether or not he came straight from the earth’s surface and nicked directly from his own life, or if he had been born into a breeding facility.
In all reality, he understood the hesitance in letting him assist. If the human had been handled as recklessly as Logan theorized he had, coming face to face with someone that wouldn’t mishandle him purposefully would be unknown, suspicious and daunting new territory.
“I’m not going to ask you to trust me,” he said finally, the human’s eyes flickered up to meet his own. Surprise lingered in those colourful eyes. “I know you’re frightened and that’s alright. It may be hard to believe, but I really can help you. Only if you’ll allow me, of course. Though, I do think you and I both know that sleeping on that hurt wrist of yours would be uncomfortable at least.”
The human’s good hand clenched, showing Logan the inner battle the little one was facing.
Wanting to ease a little more of it’s stress, he quietly urged; “I will not hurt you, you have my word.”
A moment passed and the human hesitantly stepped forward, his wrist extended enough for Logan to start bandaging.
“Why’d you do it?”
The sudden voice very nearly startled Logan out of his thoughts. Virgil had been sitting so quietly next to him, that he’d almost forgotten the human was even there in the first place.
When Logan’s attention fell down to said human, Virgil wasn’t looking at him. He was instead focused intently on his wrist, carefully wrapped in bandages and hanging in a makeshift sling, the best either of them could have done. Logan had almost no experience bandaging such a small subject, so getting it done and in a place where he was satisfied with it was difficult. And Virgil had been working one-handed, so getting the sling to hold properly had been a fight all in itself.
Though, the question was what really nabbed Logan’s attention. “Do what?”
Virgil gave him a look—Logan was getting very familiar with Virgil’s looks and they all usually meant something different—which was a mix between annoyance and genuine confusion, as if Logan really didn’t understand what he meant; which was untrue “Smuggled me out of the lab,” he clarified a moment later, his fingers trailing over the white piece of fabric wrapped around his arm and shoulder again. “You didn’t have to do it, we both know that. I just want to know why you did.”
That was the true question, wasn’t it?
An inquiry that had been on Logan’s mind since that night’s ordeal.
In all honesty, Logan wasn’t entirely sure what had metaphorically possessed him in that particular moment. And while he wanted to be able to give Virgil a straight answer, he didn’t have one.
Logan sat back in his chair, hands resting idly in his lap. The silence was thoughtful, if a bit awkward. As far as they had come in their acquaintanceship (maybe even going as far as saying tentative friendship), there were still pauses that felt tense and heavy. Virgil had certainly come a long way from the first time they had met and Logan was grateful for it, since he was no longer having one-sided conversations.
There were, of course, some topics that Virgil was still too sensitive about to really learn anything, but they were getting there. Logan really hoped that he would eventually get to learn more about what it was like for the human, and be able to go off of that firsthand information to do something. However, until then building his trust was Logan’s priority.
“I don’t exactly have an answer for you,” Logan said after a moment’s pause of brief deliberation. He knew that giving Virgil solid answers was more preferable, since it would ease his anxiety. But this topic was one where Logan, regrettably, didn’t have any solid answers to give.
“Oh.” There was that dejected slump of Virgil’s shoulders, a position Logan was also very familiar with when dealing with him. Disappointment was clear in Virgil’s tone, but he made no move to push for further answers.
Logan felt as though he had let him down somehow. Which was certainly not something he would let stand. He took a long moment, carefully mulling over and debating his next words. “I suppose I did what I did because I couldn’t stand the way they were treating you anymore.” Now that seemed to have drawn Virgil’s attention right back up to him, though he had a brow quirked in question. So, Logan continued. “I know we didn’t have a working relationship prior to my thoughtless, albeit successful, actions. Though, I do feel… better, knowing that you’re safe here.”
Going from whatever kind of relationship they had established here now, Logan couldn’t bear the idea of someone else getting their hands on Virgil. Especially if they meant him any harm. While he could be mean and sharp, there was that anxious and unsure side to him, which proved that a lot of his bark was worse than his bite.
It also did give him peace of mind that Virgil was safe in his care. No more mishandling, no more purposeful injuries and no more testing with stuff that shouldn’t be anywhere near a human.
Virgil’s nose scrunched. “That makes no sense.”
“I suppose it doesn’t,” Logan relented, the ghost of a smile gracing his features. He leaned forwards once more, returning to his laptop to type again. “Though, I’m sure it’s nice for you to know your arm will heal properly.”
Virgil shrugged his good shoulder, leaning back on his hand and looking up toward the student. “Still hurts,” he mused.
Logan hummed. “I’d be surprised if it didn’t.”
The two fell back into a more comfortable quiet. It was broken periodically by soft conversation, but it was mostly filled by the sound of Logan’s keyboard click clacking.
“…thanks,” Virgil eventually said, gently enough that Logan had almost entirely missed it. He paused his typing and his eyes flickered over Virgil’s form, whom of which was tucked comfortably into his hoodie, his eyes looking anywhere other than Logan. “For doing it, I mean. Even though you didn’t have to.”
Logan didn’t force Virgil to meet his eyes, as that would only put unnecessary stress on him. “You’re welcome,” he replied, “I find that your company is quite pleasant.”
While the consequences of his actions were still a very real threat, Logan couldn’t find it in himself to regret his decision.
                                        ——————————
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225 notes · View notes
artificialqueens · 3 years
Text
Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega
fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.
a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo
last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.
this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.
***
“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”
A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.
“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”
“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.
She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.
And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.
This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).
“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.
Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”
“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.
Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”
“What else’ve you got?”
“That’s it so far.”
A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”
“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.
“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”
“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.
Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.
“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.
“Yeah? And?”
Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”
“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.
“How were your lectures, huns?”
“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”
“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.
“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.
The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.
“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”
Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”
“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.
“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”
“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.
The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.
It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.
“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.
“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.
“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.
Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”
A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”
“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”
“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"
“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.
“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.
“Well what alcohol do you like?”
“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”
Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”
As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.
A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”
“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”
“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”
“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”
“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”
“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”
A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”
Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”
“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.
“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”
A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”
Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”
“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.
“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.
“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.
In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”
A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”
“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”
At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”
A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”
Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”
Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.
A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.
“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”
“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”
Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”
The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.
“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”
“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”
Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”
A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”
Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”
“Yes.”
“And ditch the bralet.”
“Yes.”
“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-
The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.
“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.
Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”
“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.  
“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.
She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”
“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.
“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”
“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.
The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.
Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”
“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.
“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.
“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”
A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”
“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”
“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”
Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.
“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.
Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”
“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.
She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.
“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”
“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.
“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”
“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.
“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”
“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.
“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”
The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.
“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”
Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.
“There’s no way this’ll work.”
Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”
Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”
As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”    
“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”
“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”
A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.
“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.
“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”
“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”
Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”
A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”
Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.
“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.
“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”
A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.
She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”
Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”
A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”
“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”
Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”
A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.
So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?
If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”
A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?
And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.
“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.
And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.
Oh.
Fuck.
She’s screwed.
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quickspinner · 3 years
Text
The Magic of You - Part 1
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3
Wandering the forest in search of a place with strong magical energy, Luka finds exactly what he needs--only someone else claims this particular spot, and she's rather shy. When Luka finally does meet her face to face, well...he's got a problem.
Marinette is content in her own little territory, until a human minstrel-mage wanders into it. She's not especially happy about it at first, but the more she watches him, the more she thinks maybe he's not that bad.
Warning for blood and injuries, and there will be some implied sexual content in Part 2.
Written for @bloody-no-kissu. Love you friend!
It was, at least, a lovely day for a walk, Luka thought as he wandered through the forest. He touched the pouch at his belt absently, though in this quiet part of the forest he could hear the crystals within clicking softly together as he walked, so he knew he hadn’t lost it. It was a habit, born of one too many incidents where he had to backtrack to find where it had slipped from his belt. 
He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his instrument, and kept walking, listening as he went. It shouldn’t be too hard to find what he needed here; it was early summer, and the growing things were full of life. Luka was picky, though; it was part of what made his wares so highly sought. He’d know when he found the right place, and so he listened, as he walked, and let his intuition lead him. 
A little before noon, he reached a clearing through the trees—more than a clearing, a wide meadow, ringed by the forest trees but covered in grass and flowers. There was a gap in the trees on one side, and a cliff edge beyond where the land dropped away sharply, as if there had been a landslide here sometime in the distant past. Luka emerged into the meadow slowly, head cocked slightly as he listened. 
The earth was strong here, and it was a beautiful place even just on aesthetic level, dotted with flowers in clumps and groups—almost like a garden. Perhaps he had stumbled on the sanctuary of some magical creature of the forest? If so, he was grateful for their work. It was lovely.
It was dotted with large rocks, but one in particular drew him. It was largely flat, but slanted up on one side, and unusually smooth. Luka ran his hand over it thoughtfully. For a rock, it looked like it would make a comfortable seat, and reminded him in fact of the one-armed sofas he sometimes saw in ladies’ parlors. It didn’t look man-made, and didn’t have the feeling of a fey circle, but...Luka looked around the meadow again, and shrugged. Perhaps this was a tended place, but there was no one here now, and he saw none of the markers of ownership that he recognized. 
Well, he could protect himself well enough if someone returned and took offense. Right now, this was perfect for his purposes. He took his gittern from his back and set it down carefully. Then he knelt and drew a crystal from his pouch. He put it down in the moss, making sure it had contact with the earth beneath, and then reclined on the rock, stretching his legs along the length and leaning back against the raised side. Not exactly a lady’s divan, but certainly a more comfortable seat than he often found.
Luka reached and picked up his gittern from where he had set it, and strummed the strings softly, adjusting the tuning. When he was satisfied, he silenced the strings, and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing, taking in the sounds around him, and centering himself in the rock beneath him and the earth beneath that. 
Then he began to play. First, the key tune that helped him fall into trance, and then, as the song of the earth swelled in his soul, he blended his tune with it. It was beautiful here, in this place, full of creation power. He played, separating the tones, the energies, he needed from the larger song, and drawing them up into the crystal resting on the ground, where they swirled lazily, unbothered by their captivity. Good. This place was good, its energies healthy and content, and willing to be coaxed into his keeping. The earth gave up its surplus without complaint, and he smiled. 
He continued playing, even after the crystal was fully charged, just for the sheer joy of it, and the beauty of the earth’s song in this place. 
Gradually, Luka became aware that he was no longer alone, and he opened his eyes. The meadow still seemed empty and still, but there was a new note in the song, and he tilted his head slightly as he listened to it, played alongside it for a time. It clearly belonged here; it meshed seamlessly with the song of this place, and added a richness to the song that Luka hadn’t realized was missing. It was lovely, and it didn’t seem hostile, only...curious. Possibly a little annoyed, a little afraid, but mostly intrigued. Perhaps this was its place, then, where he was intruding. 
“I mean you no harm,” Luka spoke softly, still playing. “It’s only that this place was so lovely, I had to stop here.” 
There was no answer, though surprise trilled at the edges of the song, tainted with a jangle of alarm, and...embarrassment?” That amused him and the corners of his mouth tilted up a little further. 
“You’re welcome to join me, or just stay and listen if you like,” Luka suggested, and closed his eyes again. He fell back into the earth’s song, resisting the temptation to probe the new melody any further. Whatever creature it belonged to, they were intelligent and emotionally aware, so he would respect their privacy unless he sensed malevolent intent. 
It was a lovely melody, though. Perhaps, if the being it belonged to lived nearby, one day they would show themselves, and he could learn more of them. For now, though, he’d best keep his mind to his work. He paused his playing long enough to slip a handful of crystals from his pouch, and lined them up on the ground below his rock seat. Then he sat back, and began to play again, beginning the slow process of charging the crystals. 
***
Marinette had been annoyed at first at finding her territory invaded and even her favorite sunning stone occupied, but the music the human mage made was so beautiful, that her frustration was short-lived. She understood the basics of human magic, but she’d never seen anyone use music to channel it before. She wasn’t upset when he returned a few days later, and came regularly every few days after that. Marinette stayed out of sight, hiding her nature from him, but he always seemed to know she was there, so she didn’t bother with much else in the way of stealth. He always sensed her, but never sought her out. He sometimes spoke to her, inviting her indirectly to show herself to him, but Marinette neither spoke nor ventured out of the shelter of the trees. She didn’t want to frighten him away, and she didn’t want to bring danger on herself. He was human, and a mage, and though she sensed no ill intent from him, it was only prudent to take precautions. 
He always brought a pouch full of crystals of different kinds. Marinette knew that human mages used crystals charged with nature magic to boost their own power, and she could see, or rather... sense, with an unconscious awareness intrinsic to her own magical nature, that he was pulling earth power from her meadow into the crystals. At first she couldn’t imagine why he needed so many, but eventually it occurred to her that this was perhaps how he made his living. That thought was distasteful at first, but he was so careful in the way he siphoned the power of her meadow, so attentive to the balance and never taking too much at once, that she began to reconsider. Better a man like this one, skilled and careful, should take the power and sell it, than clumsy, inattentive, careless mages tear it thoughtlessly from the earth. And he must, after all, find means to live somehow—Marinette herself made trade goods to secure the things she couldn’t make or hunt on her own—and there were many worse professions he could have chosen. 
Marinette had no magic beyond the inherent abilities of her kind, which were largely passive, and she had no use for the energy he took, which replenished itself before his next visit anyway, so she didn’t mind what some creatures might have seen as theft. He was polite and respectful, and paid her in music...and as she became accustomed to his presence, she began to feel he paid her in company as well. She wasn’t sure how someone she had never spoken to could feel like a friend, but she began to realize that her once-perfect meadow felt lonely when he didn’t come. The days when she found a warm, sunny spot in the trees and worked on her embroidery or jewelry while listening to his music began to be be dearer to her than the days when she lounged on her sunning rock in peaceful solitude, staring idly over her empty domain. She hadn’t thought she was bothered by her largely solitary life, being in the stage of her life where it was natural for her to distance herself from the family den, but his presence became welcome as it became familiar. 
As time passed she drew nearer, even slithering up a tree one day to watch him from the branches. She couldn’t venture out too far without being seen—or breaking the branch she rested on—but it gave her a slightly better view of him, his dark hair and angular features and soft eyes with their round human pupils that made him look perpetually surprised or—she blushed a little. He was handsome from the waist up, well-built and cleaner than the human traders she sometimes met with. 
And his legs weren’t... repulsive. They were muscular enough at least, in their own way, though without the sinuous grace and sleek lines of a naga’s tail. 
I’ve been without company too long, she thought with some amusement as she realized the direction her thoughts had taken. Well, this was also the time of life where she was meant to seek and take a mate, so it wasn’t so unnatural for her to be considering every angle, even if it was idle. She touched the tip of her long tongue to one fang and wondered what he would think of her, if he knew her. Probably whether or not she was beddable would be the last thing on his mind, she thought ruefully, idly scratching a chunk of bark off the tree with one long claw. 
Well, she could still think he was handsome, and if he had been a naga, she would have certainly introduced herself a long time ago. 
 ***
“These are good, Lu,” Juleka said, as he lined the crystals up on the counter in front of her. 
“I found a new spot,” Luka confessed, shaking the last few out of his pouch onto the cloth she’d put out to catch them. She had one in her hand, examining it. “I think some kind of parasite infected the trees at the birch grove, and it needs all its energy to purge the infection, so I figured I’d go looking elsewhere. The new place is strong and someone tends to it, so the energy is more ordered there and easier to work with.” He shrugged as Juleka looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I know, I can’t explain it very well, it’s just how it feels to me.”
“You’re the expert,” Juleka murmured, picking up another crystal. “I think these might fetch a higher price than what we’ve been asking.”
Luka nodded. “Just pay me the usual for now, and if you are able to get more, we can work out the split then.” He smiled at Rose as she brought him a box of fresh, or freshly exhausted, crystals. “Thanks.”  
“Are you being safe, Luka?” Juleka asked suddenly, and both Luka and Rose looked at her.
“Of course,” Luka smiled, and reached over the counter to ruffle her hair. “I wouldn’t make you guys worry over me. It’d taint the spells.” 
Juleka batted his hands away and rolled her eyes, smoothing her long hair back. “It’s just, you said this place is tended. You’d better not be getting on the wrong side of a fey just for stupid power crystals.” 
Luka shook her head. “She’s not fey.”
Both girls raised their eyebrows. “She?” they said in unison, and Luka snorted.
“She’s never shown herself, so I don’t know for sure, but I can sense her lingering nearby. The song feels female to me, so I think of her as a she.” Luka shrugged. “I’ve never sensed anything angry or hostile from her. If she doesn’t like what I’m doing, I assume she’d let me know somehow.” 
Juleka rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you don’t accidentally propose to some smitten fairy or something.” 
Luka laughed, and tilted his head towards Rose, who had wandered back to the corner of the shop she rented from Juleka, and was puttering around arranging her wares while she hummed. She looked very much like a true pixie in that moment with the sun streaming through the windows, gleaming on her golden hair and shining through her pink gauze dress. “I think that’s more likely to happen to you than me.” 
Juleka flushed deeply, dipping her head forward so her hair covered her face. “Get out of here,” she muttered. Luka chuckled, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
“Love you too, sis,” he winked, before taking his box and making a quick exit, lest Juleka decide to retaliate. 
***
This was a stupid idea, Marinette told herself, but she laid her small package on the rock and quickly hid in the trees. She needn’t have rushed; she was early and she had to frighten away more than one greedy crow before the man made his appearance. It was a stupid idea, and a stupid gift, Marinette scolded herself. It was stupid to give him a gift at all, but she could at least have come up with something better. She sharpened her claws on the dead log she leaned on in frustration as she fretted. It had been a whim, really, to save him a piece of her weekly baking, to leave an offering to thank him for his beautiful songs and his care for the magic of her meadow, but perhaps— 
He stepped out of the trees at the far end of the meadow, and Marinette gasped. It was too late now; she wouldn’t be able to retrieve the gift without being seen, and he was already heading straight towards the rock. 
Marinette slapped a hand over her mouth to keep back the agonized moan that wanted to burst out when he saw the gift and stilled, looking around. For a moment he stood and looked at it, and Marinette ducked her head into her arms. She couldn’t stop watching for long, though, so she peeked out again to see he had untied the package and was now sitting pensively looking at the little loaf of bread she had wrapped in the cloth. After a moment, he took his gittern from his back and prepared to play it. He began with that same tune he always used, like a keyword, she supposed, for the trance he entered to work his magic. Then he played a tune that resonated, not with the earth below her as usual, but against her own being. It made her gasp slightly.  
“Hello friend,” he said in his soft way, with a slight smile. “You seem to have left something behind today. I assume this is yours.” 
Marinette whined softly. How was she supposed to let him know that she’d meant it for him, in thanks for his music?
His head tilted slightly, and he smiled a little more. “A gift? For me? 
For a moment she was stunned. He wasn’t reading her mind, was he? Panic bubbled up.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said quickly. “I will stop if you wish. I only wanted to understand your intentions, and this way you don’t have to speak to me if you don’t want. I’m only…” he hesitated, forehead creasing slightly. “It’s hard to explain, but I can only sense your emotions.” He smiled slightly. “I’m an empath, not a mind reader, and I have to be in at least a light trance to get anything clear.” 
Her fear eased, at that. Empath...that meant feelings, right? She tried to concentrate on gratitude and welcome, and hoped he couldn’t feel her embarrassment too clearly.
His smile widened into something pleased and genuine, rather than the polite expression he’d mostly warm up until now. “Thank you, but...won’t you come out and share it with me?” 
No! She thought desperately. I’m not ready. 
He rocked slightly on his feet. “Do I frighten you so much?” he asked, his tone slightly mournful. 
No, she didn’t fear him, not really. Only...she just wasn’t ready. 
“As you wish,” he sighed, and the touch of his power withdrew as his song faded. He sat down on her rock, and picked up the little loaf of bread and the cloth and set it on his lap. He ate it, slowly and deliberately. “It’s very good,” he said, and Marinette was glad he wasn’t ‘listening’ to her, or whatever he did that let him sense her when he played. She didn’t want him to hear the pleased squeal she was trying to muffle. 
He ate half of the bread, and then took a cloth of his own out of his pack and wrapped up the rest. He put it bread in his pack, and took out his usual handful of crystals, laying them in a line on the ground as he always did. He picked up her cloth, shook the crumbs off of it, and folded it neatly before setting it out of his way. Then he took his usual place, lounging on her sunning rock almost like one of her own kind, and began to play. 
Marinette smiled, and her tight coils relaxed. She circled into a looser, more comfortable arrangement, and rested her arms on her body, picking idly at a bit of shed skin clinging to her pink scales and trying to contain her smile. 
To her delight, he stayed that day even beyond the time it took him to fill his crystals, and began playing something she’d never heard before. Not magic, she realized. It didn’t have the... resonance of the music he played to channel his magic, but it was lovely anyway. The thought that he was playing now solely for her pleasure brought a flush to her cheeks. She smiled, and felt the pressure of her fangs on her lower lip. Her smile dimmed slightly, as she brought a hand to cover her mouth. What kind of thoughts was she entertaining, anyway? He’d certainly be terrified if she showed herself to him, no matter how calm and accepting he seemed now. He surely had to know she wasn’t human or outright fey, but that still left many possibilities, quite a few less dangerous than she. He was soft and unarmored and she had claws and fangs and could easily crush the life out of him without using either. And anyway, what kind of reasoning was he seemed nice for revealing herself unnecessarily to a human—a human mage at that—this close to her lair? 
Not that she had any specific fears, really, it just...seemed unwise. There wasn’t any particular animosity between the two species, it was just that generally humans were annoying and more trouble than they were worth. 
No, better to keep things like this.
But...if he would play for her after a simple loaf of bread, then perhaps she ought to leave more offerings, and see if he would play more of his own music for her. Just...little things, and maybe not every time, but…she would try it, she decided. Her simple little offering clearly made him happy, and she liked that he was happy. She wanted him to keep coming back.
***
Luka was growing more and more intrigued about his mysterious host. She—he was growing more certain it was a she, if her species recognized gender at all—was the keeper of this little meadow, he was sure, but she seemed unbothered by his intrusion, and even grateful for his presence. 
Luka, in turn, was grateful, for of all the places he visited regularly this one was by far the most pleasant to spend time in and the easiest to draw from. It was tempting to come more often, but he didn’t want to overstrain the place or overstep his welcome with his shy observer. 
He was a little embarrassed by the gifts she left him, because to his mind if anyone owed anything, it was he that owed her for not driving him out of her territory, but he was also grateful and flattered that she enjoyed his music so much. He tried to respect her privacy and her desire to remain anonymous, but it was growing harder by the day, his awareness of her song growing as they spent more time together—if you could call it that. 
He wanted so much to meet her, but Luka had no choice but to be patient and wait for her to decide she wanted to meet him. 
***
He was early. Marinette had to dive into the trees when she sensed him coming. She could move quicker than sight when she had to, despite her size, and so she made it under cover before he could catch sight of her. Panting slightly from the fright, Marinette leaned on a tree to watch him, peeping through the leaves.
Something about the way he strode into the meadow bothered her. There was a...tightness about him she couldn’t quite describe, and while he didn’t stomp, he was not stepping as lightly as she was accustomed to seeing. 
He seemed restless, too. He didn’t sit on her rock and play. He picked up the little cake she had left for him, but merely set it down again, dropped his pack and his instrument in a pile next to the rock, and walked restlessly around the meadow.
Marinette drew back in alarm when he passed close to the trees concealing her, but he passed her without even looking in her direction, clearly agitated. Frowning, Marinette followed him at a safe distance, keeping hidden in the trees. The minstrel mage passed the ring of trees that marked the edge of her meadow and over to the cliff beyond, where he stood, looking pensively out over the forest below. 
He shouldn’t walk so close to the cliff, Marinette fretted as she watched from the edge of the trees. It was hard to tell from this side but that overhang wasn’t as sturdy as it looked, and it had rained only a few days ago— 
Even as she thought it, she felt the vibration in the earth, and heard the grinding of earth and loose rocks.
She didn’t even think. She just moved.
***
It all happened so fast that it was over before Luka understood what was happening. There was a rumble and a rush and he was falling, and then excruciating pain in his arm that tore a scream of agony from his throat. 
There was a rush of earth past him, below him, and his legs were dangling in midair; he was dangling, hanging only by the arm that hurt so very, very much. Luka looked up—and for a moment he forgot everything else in his shock. Everything else that happened was a blur, but he would remember the face above him for the rest of his life, he was sure. A woman’s face, pale with fear, fangs peeking from parted lips and blue, slit-pupiled eyes wide and staring. Midnight blue hair tumbled forward over strong shoulders, and one clawed hand gripped the edge of the cliff. 
The other, he realized, was the source of the pain in his arm. Understanding came to him; the cliff had given way beneath him and this woman—creature— being had stopped him from falling, but her long claws had plunged into his wrist. Blood streamed down his arm and dripped on the rocks below. Luka gasped as he looked down. His good hand scrabbled at the cliffside, but he had no claws to grip with, and his fingers crumbled the earth and slid off the rock where he grabbed at it. He kicked his feet, but that made his savior yelp, increased the pain in his arm, and he didn’t find any purchase, so he stilled, gasping and dizzy from the pain.  
Luka cried out in pain and surprise when the grip on his wrist tightened, but he bit down on it as he looked back up. Above him, his rescuer shifted her body a little more, bracing her free arm on an intact part of the cliff, and then heaved, pulling back from the cliff edge and dragging Luka along with her.
It hurt—oh, it hurt, so much that his vision went black for a moment—but Luka was enough in possession of his senses now to realize that he was dangling over a drop that would surely kill him, so he muffled his cries as best he could, and tried not to thrash too much. 
It felt like an eternity before she pulled him up high enough that he could see over the cliff and grab (uselessly) at the grassy top. He almost slipped off again in surprise when he got a full look at his savior. It had been obvious even in his confused state that she was not human, but he was unprepared to find that somewhere around her waist, her human torso tapered into the body of a gigantic serpent. Naga, some part of his brain supplied. No, female, so...nagi. 
She pulled him up a little farther, and when his shoulders had cleared the top of the cliff, she curled a loop of her tail—body? Around in front of him. “Hold on to me,” she told him, indicating that he should wrap his arms around her serpent body. He did so, clumsily and not very effectively with his wounded arm, but it was enough to keep him secure while she leaned down over the cliff edge again and grabbed his belt on either side of his waist with both hands, using it to haul him the rest of the way over the cliff.
That was not particularly comfortable either, but preferable to more claws in his flesh, and regardless, he was back on solid ground. He crawled on his elbows a little father from the cliff edge and collapsed, panting. After a moment he rolled on his side to look at the nagi. 
She was panting too, and her slit pupils had so blown wide they were almost round in her frightened face. Her expression was stricken as she stared at his blood on her hand, painting the long claws that had pierced his flesh. 
Luka rolled over and got to his knees. It made him dizzy—he’d probably lost a lot of blood. He put his undamaged hand quickly over the wound and began to sing, his voice quick and tight with pain but true. The undamaged hand glowed, and so did the wound. His savior shifted beside him, but Luka had no attention to spare for anything but the healing; it was not a magic that came easily to him, and it was difficult enough to concentrate past the pain and the fear of losing the use of his hand. 
It took longer than it would have taken his sister, but he was able to complete the healing, and when he flexed his hand he found that he had full motion and sensation. He still felt weak and shaky with blood loss and reaction, but all of that would pass. Luka breathed a sigh of relief and turned a smile up at the being who had saved his life. 
“Thank you,” he said warmly. 
She made a distressed sound, still holding her bloodstained hand out as if it didn’t belong to her.  
Luka wrapped his now-healed but still bloody fingers gently around hers. “A broken neck would have been much harder to fix,” he told her gently. “And so I thank you. I had rather lose the use of my hand than my life.” He smiled, tilting his head a little to look up into her face. “And as I have lost neither, there is no need for guilt or grief.” He unhooked his waterskin from his belt, and pulled out the stopper with his teeth. He took her hand again and poured the water over it, rinsing away his blood from both their hands. He would have rinsed her scales too where he had clung to her, but he feared that might be offensive, so he offered her the skin and let her do it herself. 
Some of the tension left her, and she sat back a little, sinking slightly onto her...tail-body. Luka tried not to let his glance become a stare. “Forgive me,” he said, tearing his eyes away and forcing them back up to hers, snake-slitted but so very, very blue. “I’ve never met a nagi before, and I don’t know your customs, so I hope it isn’t very rude to ask your name?” 
She smiled a little, the hint of fangs peeping from between her lips before she caught herself  and tightened the smile to hide them. “It is customary to give yours first, since this is my home,” she said, and Luka was vaguely surprised to hear only a hint of hissing on the sibilants. Prejudice, he scolded himself. 
“I do it gladly. My name is Luka.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. 
Her hand fluttered uncertainly to her chest, and she did the same, dipping slightly awkwardly as she swayed forward on her serpent half rather than bending at the waist as he had. “I am Marinette,” she told him, and then she blushed—a very human reaction that gave Luka an odd little thrill. “I have been listening to your music.” 
“Ah,” Luka nodded in understanding. “It is your song I have been hearing, coming to visit me,” he grinned, and Marinette’s blush deepened. Her tail shifted to coil beneath her, and he glanced down without meaning to, but caught himself quickly. Even so, something about motion spoke of discomfort, and he thought back to the fluctuations in her song when he’d spoken to her in the past. Without the trance he heard only faint echoes of her melody, but he thought he was embarrassing her. “I’m very happy to finally meet you. Thank you for the gifts.” 
Marinette looked away, the fingers of her clawed hands playing nervously across the scales of her tail like a maiden might twist her hands in her lap. “I only wanted to thank you, for your music. It’s...beautiful. I’ve loved hearing you play.”
“I’ve enjoyed having the company,” he told her honestly, and smiled at her look of surprise. “I always play better with an audience, even a shy one.” 
Marinette blushed and covered her face with her hands. Luka found himself reaching to touch her before he thought the better of it. Her arm felt very solid under his hand, but also very human. “Don’t be embarrassed. I truly did enjoy your presence, and I’m not offended that you chose to stay secret. The world is not a safe place, and you didn’t know me.”
“I did know you,” she said quickly, peeking out from her fingers—a sweet, childlike gesture, he would have thought it, though those deadly sharp claws were at odds with the image. “At least, I felt like I did, eventually. I haven’t been afraid of you for a long time.” 
“I shouldn’t think you’d be frightened of much,” Luka teased, tugging a hand away from her face and turning it so her claws shone in the light. “You’re very strong, for which I’m extremely grateful.” He winked at her, and she giggled. 
“You shouldn’t have gone so close to the cliff, especially if it’s rained recently,” she admonished, rising up slightly as her tail uncoiled from beneath her. Before he could blink it shot out like a whip, striking the edge of the cliff. A chunk of earth crumbled beneath the blow and he could hear the rocks rattle down the other side. “It’s not safe. It erodes underneath when the storms come, and then the edge is unstable.” She pointed at the pale purple flowers growing in the grass. “You shouldn’t go beyond where the asters grow.” 
Luka saw now, what he hadn’t before, that they formed a boundary that followed the curve of the cliff, but left a good size border. “I consider myself warned for the future,” Luka observed, shivering a little. Marnette moved closer to him, a hand hovering near his cheek.
“You’re so pale,” she fretted.
Luka sighed, and tried to stand. He swayed and Marinette had to catch him—gently, this time, keeping her claws from his skin. He smiled gratefully at her. Clearly he was going to have to do something about the blood loss, but he couldn’t focus unaided any longer. “I need my gittern,” he told her, and she slipped under his arm, pressing against his side. She raised her body up to a height comfortable for him, and then helped him back towards the meadow.
They found his gittern and pack where he’d left it. Marinette helped him sit on the rock and recline against it as he usually did. She wound around the rock, and hovered over him, pressing his instrument into his hands, her expression still worried. 
“I need to deep trance,” he told her, as he set shaking fingers to the strings and took up the plectrum. “I can sense you in trance as I did before, but I won’t have attention to speak.” He smiled weakly. “Please forgive my rudeness.” He glanced at her through only half-open lids.
Marinette nodded slowly. “Do as you must,” she said, sinking back a little and folding her hands across the bend in her tail that would have been a human lap. “I want you to be well. I want to be sure I haven’t harmed you badly.” 
Luka chuckled. “Lady, you saved my life.” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look into hers. “And whatever harm I have taken from it, I consider it a price well paid to have met you at last.” 
Marinette blushed like any human maid, and Luka smiled before settling his head back and strumming the tune that triggered his trance. He fell into the song of the earth then, drawing the power from it that he needed to speed his body’s recovery. 
After a time, he felt the rich tones of Marinette’s presence withdraw, and mourned their loss, but he wasn’t recovered enough to break trance to try and call her back. He was almost finished when her music returned, and he found it more beautiful than ever now that he had the proper context for it. 
When he opened his eyes at last, she was there, resting in a nest of loose coils on the grass near him, and pink tinted her cheeks again when he smiled at her. He sat up slowly, setting the gittern aside, breathing through the slight dizziness he felt once he was upright. It cleared quickly, to his relief. 
“I brought food,” Marinette said a little uncertainly. “I thought you might need it, after...that.” 
“I do,” Luka smiled. “Will you join me this time?” 
She gave a tiny nod and busied herself with the basket sitting next to her, so that he only saw the corner of her smile. Luka had been trying desperately to be polite but now that she was distracted he couldn’t help satisfying his curiosity. Her serpent half, sleek and muscular, was a deep pink, almost red, with darker, splotchy spots down her body. The scales reached to her human waist, and then became patchy as they gave way to human skin—he couldn’t see quite how far up the scales continued, since she wore a vest over her human torso, covering very human curves that he quickly averted his eyes from, not wanting to be caught staring at that any more than at her tail. The vest was pretty, a soft grey edged with pink, laced up the front rather than the back as he was accustomed to seeing on women’s clothes. It was embroidered as prettily as any maiden’s gown, with little flowers along the bottom hems and vines twisting up the front, and fitted very well, moving with her as she bent and swayed in ways that were definitely not human as she arranged a small picnic before him. 
He slid off the stone to sit on the grass instead, though he still leaned back against it. His weakness now was only from the exertion of healing himself, at least; once he had eaten and rested he should be able to stand on his own two feet. 
“...was something wrong?” Marinette asked suddenly, and Luka looked up at her in slight surprise. “When you went to the cliff...you seemed like something was bothering you,” she clarified.
“Oh, that.” Luka chuckled, taking another bite of his honeyed bread before he answered. “I was upset,” he admitted, a slight blush coloring his own cheeks, “but, ah...after the events of this morning, I’m finding my perspective has been altered a bit.” He grinned at her, and she giggled. “Now it hardly seems worth talking about. I’d much rather hear about you. You made this place?” He gestured at the meadow garden. “It’s beautiful, and the care you put into it shows.” 
“Thank you,” Marinette said, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear—her ear was pointed, he realized, and told himself not to stare.  “Eat,” she said, nudging a plate to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything fresh, but…anyway, you should eat.” 
Luka tucked in to the smoked meat and bread gratefully, needing the fuel. Marinette only nibbled a piece of bread, watching him with quick glances. Luka’s subconscious had apparently been at work while he was in trance, and all the observations, all of the things he had sensed from her over the past few months, fell into place, and even though she was clearly not quite comfortable being in the open with him yet, she didn’t feel at all like a stranger. 
By the time he felt able to attempt the trip home, the sun was setting. No sooner had he gotten to his feet, though, than Marinette had risen up beside him and taken his arm in a careful grip. 
“I’m coming with you,” she said decisively. 
“That’s not necessary,” Luka told her, frowning. “I can make it on my own. You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t want you to risk yourself.
Marinette snorted. “There is nothing in this forest I need fear. You, on the other hand, are screaming prey right now.”
Luka winced. “I can protect myself.”
“If I am with you, you won’t have to,” Marinette said firmly. “Nothing in this forest will come near you while I am with you. There’s no point in arguing, because you can’t stop me, anyway.” 
Luka had to admit that was true, so he might as well be gracious about it. “Thank you,” he told her, and they started off on their journey.
Luka had good reason to be grateful by the time they reached the edge of the forest. He might have made it home without Marinette but it would have taken him a long time. The slightest obstacle was too much for him and without her support he would have had to stop and rest more often than he did. 
At the edge of the forest, though, he begged her to turn back. It was an easy walk from here, and not so great a distance, and knowing how careful she was, he didn’t want her to reveal herself without need. 
Marinette lost a bit of her bravado as she looked toward the human settlement in the distance, and reluctantly agreed. 
“It may be longer than usual before I can come again,” Luka admitted with a tired smile. “That is, if I would be welcome.”
Marinette raised her eyebrows slightly. “You never asked before,” she chided, but she didn’t sound very stern, and she didn’t let go of his arm.
“I didn’t know you before,” Luka reminded her. “I might push the goodwill of a stranger, but I would never trespass on the privacy of a friend.” 
Marinette looked away for a moment, and then laid her other hand on his arm. “A friend is never unwelcome,” she said at last, meeting his eyes, and when he smiled, she smiled back. 
“Then I will come as soon as I am able,” he said, laying his hand over hers. “Thank you for everything, Marinette.” He lifted her clawed hand carefully and kissed her knuckles lightly. 
She drew her hands back slowly and wrapped her arms around herself. “Be safe, Luka.” She turned quickly and disappeared back into the forest. Luka stood a moment longer, and then sighed, turning to make his own way home, where he was duly fussed over and scolded by his family for his late return and weakened state. 
At his request, the next day Juleka brought home every book she could find that mentioned nagas at all. 
***
She checked the meadow every day, even though he had said it would be some time before he could come again. She even started through the forest, more than once, to go and check on him herself. That was silly, though, since all she would have been able to do was hover at the edge of the forest, and the only way she would see him would be if he was coming to her anyway.
Not to her. He wasn’t coming to her, but to this place, but those two things now essentially meant the same thing, now that he knew of her. She settled for spending as much time in her meadow as possible, which wasn’t such a change from her usual routine anyway. Her lair was cozy but her meadow was the best place for sun and fresh air and the inspiration of nature’s beauty. 
Somehow, though, she got a lot less done than usual, unaware how often she interrupted her work to look in the direction that he would come, or to sigh and try to figure out how many days would reasonably pass before he would return.
***
Luka made his way to the meadow the first day that Juleka let him out of the house. Fully recovered now, he made his way to the meadow with none of the woolgathering and leisurely strolling that he usually engaged in. 
He could see her even before he stepped out of the trees, draped over the large couchlike stone in such a natural way that he couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t guessed her nature before this. Of course the rock was worn smooth, scraped daily by her scales, and wasn’t she beautiful, gleaming in the sun. She was half-asleep, fangs peeping through her lips as she smiled at some idle, sleepy thought. 
Luka thought to find a seat on the grass and perhaps play something soft, but Marinette woke before he had taken many steps into the meadow. 
“Oh,” she said, raising herself with a close-lipped smile. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was waiting for you, and the sun felt so good.” She stretched luxuriantly, and he watched in fascination the rippling motion that traveled the length of her body. 
Then what she said clicked in his mind. “You were waiting for me?” She hadn’t known when he would come. He hadn’t known, since he had wanted to come two days ago and Juleka threatened to tie him to his bed if he even hinted at doing any such thing. Surely she didn’t mean...she had been waiting for him all this time?
Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and she blushed, and Luka had the distinct impression that she hadn’t intended to admit that. “Oh, well,” she waved her hand as if it meant nothing, and slid down from the stone to slither towards him. “You know I’m here, and now you know what I am, so…” She shrugged those strong shoulders, coiling her body beneath her. “It seemed silly to hide any longer. Unless you’d rather I leave you to concentrate.” 
That wasn’t really an answer, but Luka let it go. “I would hardly kick you out of your own garden,” he laughed, indicating the meadow with a wave of his hand. “If you don’t mind my presence, then I would be glad for your company.” 
“I’m glad to see you’re well,” she said, looking him over critically. 
“Thanks to you, and my mother-hen of a sister,” Luka chuckled. “Who kept me in bed at least two days longer than I wanted to be, despite complaining that I was ruining her business for the month by lounging in bed instead of working.” He grinned at her, leaning in slightly. “I’m afraid I may have to stay a little longer than usual today to make up for it.” 
The way her face lit up set his heart racing, before she composed herself and said, “Well, then I had best not keep you any longer.” She glided over to a basket under a nearby tree and took what looked like an embroidery hoop out of it, before looking back at him and raising her eyebrows. 
Chuckling, Luka went to the rock she had abandoned and readied himself as usual. Except now his seat was warmed from her body resting there, and he could look across the meadow at Marinette somehow working her embroidery despite her claws, and she could look up and meet his gaze.
And when he sank into the song, hers was there alongside it, vibrant and beautiful, still shy, but beautiful in its happiness. It seemed to resonate with his own, and it took effort not to follow it, to touch it and sense all that she was feeling.
Luka focused his mind on his work as best he could, and whenever paused to switch the crystals and opened his eyes, Marinette was there, as lovely as her melody, strong and fearsome, ten feet of muscle and grace that took his breath away, sweetly working on her own strangely domestic projects. When she sensed his eyes on her, she looked up to meet them with a small smile. 
When he finished his work, he played for her as had become his habit, though it was growing late and he would need to leave soon. Marinette put down her work and came to circle the stone where he sat, propping her chin on her arms as she looked up at him. 
At last, Luka had to pack up his things with a sigh and an apologetic smile. 
“You will come again?” she asked casually. 
“With your permission,” he replied, and she snorted.
“You always have that,” she said, and then blushed, ducking her head beneath her arms.
“Marinette,” he said, and she took her head from her arms, sitting up and lifting her body a little to look at him. “Will you smile at me?” he asked, impulsively. “For real?” 
Marinette put a hand over her mouth, looking distressed, and Luka shook his head slightly, smiling fondly. “Don’t hide who you are, especially if you do it for my comfort,” he told her gently. “I’m not frightened of you, no matter how fearsome your strength or your claws—or your fangs. You are lovely as it is, and I assure your smile will not make me think you less so.”
That crimson shade he was quickly coming to love spread over her cheeks, and though she was clearly fighting it, she did smile fully at him, for just a moment, before looking down at her hands. 
Impulsively, Luka put his fingers under her chin and lifted it back up to look at him, but he quickly drew his hand back, afraid he had overstepped. “Much better,” he said as casually as he could manage, sitting back, his stomach suddenly full of butterflies.
He got another glimpse of Marinette’s full, fanged smile, before she looked away shyly. Luka sighed to himself.
Oh, I’m in trouble.
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Rules/// Draco Malfoy x Reader
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SUMMARY: Apparently Draco’s a rule breaker.
WORD COUNT: a lil under 2k
WARNING(S): none?? you could say it’s suggestive ig
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   You’d never considered yourself a rule-breaker but you’d never seen any reason to break any of the rules set for you. All of the rules set by your parents, Dumbledore, and any other authority figures were always reasonable and made sense. You never had to question them.
   That was until Dolores Umbridge. The High Inquisitor, herself, seemed to have an iron tight hold on Hogwarts. Even when she wasn’t around, her presence was almost palpable. And there was also the fact that her little minions were constantly lurking the hall. What’d she call them again? The Inquisitorial Squad. A bunch of subservient assholes, is what you would’ve called them if anyone asked (including Umbridge).
   With them hiding around every corner, it was hard to get any peace of mind walking through the halls. Especially when your were out way past curfew. And on your way back from a Dumbledore’s Army meeting, which was definitely against the rules.
  You prayed you didn’t see anyone. But you were a fool to think you’d be that lucky.
   You heard footsteps coming down the hall and mumbled a curse word under your breath. You tried to be as quiet as you could, pressing yourself against the wall and just hoping whoever it was would walk right past you.
   At least it wasn’t Umbridge. You would’ve easily recognized the quick tapping of her heels against the floor. The footsteps were quiet and slow and frowing closer to your hiding spot. You squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation.
   Then the footsteps stopped, right in front of the hall. You held your breath, and there was a moment where everything was so still that you thought maybe you’d get away with it.
   But it wasn’t enough. Somehow they still spotted you. “Who’s there?” And of course, it had to be Draco Malfoy. That made the entire situation that much worse. It had to be the ringleader of that group of idiots. Crabbe or Goyle you could’ve tricked or Blaise you could’ve at least reasoned with, but not Draco.
   Draco was going to give you hell.
   “Don’t make me ask again! I know there’s someone down there, come out!” With a sigh, you stepped into the open corridor. As soon as Draco’s eyes fell on you, he smirked.
   “Well, well, well…” He came swaggering over to you and everything about his demeanor told you he knew he was in charge and he loved it.
   When he was about a foot away from you, he stopped, giving you the once over. “(Y/L/N), are you aware it’s after curfew?”
   “I am,” you said through gritted teeth. That was all you could do to stop yourself from pulling your wand out on him.
   “And you know, students’ being in bed by curfew is a strictly enforced rule now. This isn’t like when Dumbledore was headmaster and certain students could get away with anything.”
   You smiled at him, as sweetly as you could, although, it probably looked like a grimace. “Right, which is why I’m heading back to my dorm. Don’t want to be too far past curfew, right?” You tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm, pulling you close enough that you could make out every detail in his grey irises. His stupid, beautifully grey irises.
“Not so fast.” He was glaring down at you, eyebrows lowered. “Where have you been?” You ripped your arm out of his hand.
He already knew the answer to that—at least, he thought he did—but he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted you to rat out Harry and the entirety of Dumbledore’s Army. Instead, you return smirked.
   You titled your head to the side slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Draco, you’d better take a step away from me.” He seemed to take that as a challenge and took a half step closer to you, as if that would make you back down.
   “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
   “Well, your precious Umbridge made a rule just the other week that ‘boys and girls are not permitted within eight inches of each other’.” Your voice became shrill as you mimicked Umbridge. You found that more amusing than he did. “And you’re definitely in violation of that ‘Educational Decree’.”
“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?” You’d thought he was as close as he could be but somehow he came closer still. Close enough that he wasn’t quite pressed against you but one of you took a breath your chests would graze against one another.
Neither of you showed any sign of backing down. “I’m perfectly fine with it, I just did peg an arsekisser like you to be a rule breaker.”
He chuckled slightly. “Don’t you get it? I’m the leader of the Inquisitorial Squad,” he said that with a touch of pride, “I can do whatever the hell I want. I run this school, (Y/L/N). I don’t answer to anyone, not you and certainly not Um—”
“Who’s down there?” Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Umbridge’s voice. You'd heard her coming and you could’ve warned him but then again, where’s the fun in that?
You smirked as he quickly turned around and started stumbling over his words. “Professor—Headmaster Umbridge, it’s just me.”
She came forward slowly, looking at both of you curiously. “And what’s going on here?”
“I um...I caught (Y/L/N), here, wandering the halls after curfew.” He grabbed you by your forearm and pulled you towards him.
“Is that so?” Umbridge’s beady eyes peered into yours. You would’ve been intimidated if she weren’t under five feet tall and wearing all pink.
You tried to rip your arm out of Draco’s grip but he seemed to anticipate this and tightened his grasp. “Yes, I’ve given her a pretty stern talking to, which I think will suffice this time, right (Y/L/N)?” When you didn’t reply, he dug his elbow into your side. “Right,” he repeated sternly.
His eyes were telling you something that he didn’t want to say aloud: Just go with it. You rolled your eyes but looked at Umbridge and nodded.
“Right.” Her gaze drifted between the two of you.
“I was just going to escort her back to her dorm to make sure she doesn’t continue to wander the halls.” Draco took a step forward, only to be halted by Umbridge raising her hand.
“The next time you purposefully disobey one of my rules, you will get much more than a warning. Is that clear?”
   A few thoughts ran through your head at that moment. You could probably pull your wand out and cast a spell before she had time to react. Or you could just punch her. You felt Draco’s squeeze your arm tighter and for a moment you looked up at him. 
   When your eyes returned to Umbridge, you spoke through clenched teeth. “Crystal.” 
   Anger seemed to shine in her eyes at your sarcasm. She opened her mouth to speak, but Draco began to talk before she could. “Right,” Draco exclaimed. “So have a good evening, Headmaster, and I’m sure (Y/N) has learned her lesson.” 
   She eyed you for a moment. She didn’t like your nonchelant expression at all and if it wasn’t for Draco you’d probably be in real trouble. She looked back at him and nodded. “Alright then. Goodnight to the both of you.”
   Draco smiled at her and you rolled your eyes as Draco led you away. You both walked down the hallway in silence as Umbridge watched you carefully. Once you rounded the corner, you heard her heels clicking off in the other direction. You pulled your arm away from Draco, rubbing the skin that he had been holding so tightly. 
   “Thanks,” you said reluctantly. 
   He didn’t meet your eye when you looked over at him. “Come on.” You followed him without really thinking. After a few moments however, you realized he was heading in the wrong direction. 
   “My dorm’s the other way.” He looked down at you, a hint of annoyance evident in his eyes. His jaw was set as he shook his head, completely ignoring your comment.
   “Come on,” he muttered again. You wanted to be combative but something in you told you to just be quiet and see where this would go. So you did.
   He led you down corridor after corridor in a seemingly random pattern but he never once backtracked or second guessed himself. So you figured he knew where he was going. You walked side by side the entire time and frequently your hands brushed against each other and there were moment where you thought about taking his hand. Your self control got the better of you and every time this happened you pulled your hand away from his.
   Finally, Draco stopped. You were in the middle of an empty corridor in what you thought was the east side of the castle. There were windows on the wall across from you and moonlight streamed in through them. You turned back to Draco and for a moment caught him staring at you—no, studying you. 
   He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t looking, didn’t bother tearing his eyes away. He simply took you in, smiling slightly as you looked away from him, not being able to maintain the intense eye contact. 
   “Draco, where have you taken me?” He didn’t answer. He came closer to you until he was close enough to touch you. Gently placing his hands on your hips, in one swift motion he pivoted you around until your back was placed against the wall. 
   You gasped at the sudden movement but you didn’t try moving away from him. His chest was pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your hips, pressing them into the cold stone of the wall. You felt him leaned into you, taking in the scent of your hair before moving his nose to the curve of your jaw. 
   His breath fanned against your neck and you wished you had some sarcastic comment to mask your obvious exhileration but your mind went blank as he placed a soft kiss to the place where your jaw and neck met. You craned your neck to the side to give him better access and he chuckled at your reaction.
   You turned your head to look at him. The moon illuminated his skin making him look almost ghostly pale. You reached up to touch his hair, running your fingers through the blonde strands and he let you. 
   The silence was finally broken when he said, “Do you honestly think I give a damn about Umbridge’s rules?” 
   Before you could come up with a reply, his lips were against yours. He pressed into you with a searing kiss that left you practically breathless. You arched up from the wall, trying to get as close to him as possible. You tugged at his hair gently and his teeth came down involuntarily to drag against your bottom lip. 
  He pulled away from you, gazing casually down at you. His eyes were glazed and practically alight with desire. 
   He toyed with a strand of your hair, tucking it neatly behind your ear. “Especially if those rules keep me from the things I want.” 
   You tried to bring him back in for another kiss and he stepped away from you. He smirked at you. “Ah ah.” He wagged his finger at you. “Remember the rules.” 
   You groaned slightly, once again trying to close the distance between the two of you. He took another step away from you, leaving you pressed against the wall, pouting. He laughed slightly eying you playfully. 
   Without another word, he turned and began walking down the corridor. You watched him, not quite knowing what to do. Once he was at the end of the hallway, he looked at you over his shoulder.
   “Head back to your dorm and do be careful not to get caught. Someone else might not be as lenient as me.”
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A/N: yo should i do a sequel to this orrrrrr
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girlsbtrs · 3 years
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How Being a Woman in Hardcore Helped Me Learn to Love Myself
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Written by Jen Moglia. Graphic by Laura Cross. 
Since this is my first piece written for Girls Behind the Rock Show, I figured that I should introduce myself; hi, my name is Jennifer, but most people call me Jen. I live on Long Island in New York, and my favorite things include my cats, the color pink, giving gifts to my Animal Crossing villagers, and watching sports. Above all else, however, I love music.
I frequently refer to music as the love of my life. It somehow plays a role in everything that I do. I got my first iPod when I was five years old, stacked with everything from Miranda Cosgrove and Avril Lavigne to Tool and Deftones. Some of my favorite memories growing up are sitting in my pink and purple bedroom singing and dancing along to Paramore’s crushcrushcrush and Fall Out Boy’s Thnks Fr Th Mmrs on the local alternative radio station. I danced for 12 years, played cello for seven, and am currently a wannabe ukulele rockstar after buying one on impulse and starting to teach myself how to play four years ago. Even on the simplest, barely noticeable levels, music has been everywhere in my life for as long as I can remember; even now, I can’t complete a basic task without a song playing in my headphones.
Music became an even bigger part of my life when I started attending live shows. I went to my first concerts at age 10, seeing my two favorite artists - Nickelodeon boy band Big Time Rush and classic progressive rock band Rush - within one month of each other. By the time I was 15, I had been to my fair share of arena/seated shows with one or both of my parents, from Fifth Harmony to Fitz and the Tantrums to Alice in Chains. My first general admission show was seeing the Foo Fighters at Citi Field with both my mom and dad when I was 12, but my first pop-punk general admission show (yes, they’re different) came a few years later. I had the typical list of favorite bands that you would expect from a young teenager getting into alternative music: Neck Deep, Knuckle Puck, Real Friends, and State Champs. 
In late 2018, I was able to see all four of these bands for the first time, and I am a firm believer that it changed the course of my life. I met, cried-during, and eventually got the setlist for Neck Deep at Stereo Garden on Long Island in September. I sang all of “Untitled” at the barricade for Knuckle Puck at SI Hall at the Fairgrounds in Syracuse in October. I had my first minor concussion scare (yay!) before Real Friends’ set at Irving Plaza in New York City in November. Finally, I crowd surfed for the first time during State Champs’ anniversary show for The Finer Things at House of Independents in Asbury Park in December. After just a few shows, I had fallen in love with this new brand of live music that I had just been introduced too. There was something so magical to me about skin covered in sweat and Sharpie marks, feet hurting from dancing in the pit all night, and meeting strangers on line outside the venue who would become your best friends and know your deepest secrets by the end of the night.
After making some friends at all of the pop-punk shows I was going to, they started to tell me that I should get into hardcore music. I was hesitant at first - the heaviest thing I had listened to at that point was nowhere near the snippets of hardcore that my friends had played for me - but, eventually, I decided to give it a chance. I was bored and home alone with nothing to do one night over the summer of 2019 when I listened to my first hardcore album, Laugh Tracks by Knocked Loose. Immediately, I got that gut feeling that you have when you know you’ve heard one of your favorite bands for the first time. I knew that this was something special that I was meant to find at this point in my life. For the rest of the summer, I worked my way through the rest of my friends’ hardcore and hardcore-adjacent recommendations, with Cost of Living by Incendiary, Stage Four by Touche Amore, You’re Not You Anymore by Counterparts, Time & Space by Turnstile, Springtime and Blind by Fiddlehead, Smile! Aren’t You Happy by Absence of Mine, Bad to my World by Backtrack, and Reality Approaches by Harms Way being some of my favorites. By the time the next school year started, I was hooked, and I already had tickets to my first few hardcore shows in the fall.
My first hardcore show was in November 2019, seeing Knocked Loose at Webster Hall in New York City - fitting, right? They were on tour supporting their new record A Different Shade of Blue, which I had become obsessed with the minute I heard it for the first time. Although I was ridiculously scared of getting stepped on and breaking all my bones (yes, that was an actual fear of mine), I had the time of my life at that show. There was something about this newer kind of live music that prompted a cathartic release, one that I hadn’t found anywhere else before. As soon as the show was over, I was counting the days until my next one.
My love for live hardcore music (and live music and hardcore music in general) has only grown since then, and that story sort of ends there. However, I want to go back to that first hardcore band that I listened to, Knocked Loose, and the album they put out that first summer that stole my heart. I was taken by storm as soon as the first notes of A Different Shade of Blue rang through my headphones, but something was different about the third track, A Serpent’s Touch, particularly the ending; I heard a voice that sounded a little bit more like my own.
This song features Emma Boster, who does vocals for one of my favorite hardcore bands right now, Dying Wish. When I heard A Serpent’s Touch for the first time, though, I had no idea who she was. I was used to the aggressive vocal delivery of frontmen in hardcore, particularly that of Knocked Loose’s Bryan Garris, but hearing it come from her changed my perspective on a lot of things. It’s not like the song was super angry and changed its tune to be lighter once the token girl came along; in her verse, Boster sings, “I watched the venom / Overcome your spirit / Jealousy holds you now / Distorting your appearance / Bleed out.” These were lyrics that held the same intensity that the lines screamed by the men held, and they sounded just as cool coming out of her mouth. As cheesy as it sounds, it had never even occurred to me that women had a place in this new world that I had discovered. The audiences in the live videos I watched (and eventually at the shows I attended) were made up of mostly men who looked bigger and older than me. When I did start going to shows, most of the non-man population consisted of my friends and I. Emma Boster, along with so many others, began to open my eyes to the fact that a place for people like me existed in this community. It didn’t matter that I had bright red hair or liked butterflies or wore pink - I was just as much a part of this magic as the men multiple feet taller than me with tattoo-covered arms, and I belonged there just as much as they did.
As time went on and I got more involved in the genre’s music and community, I discovered more bands with women in them, and it only fueled this fire of empowerment inside of me. When I felt insecure, I’d watch live sets from Krimewatch, a hardcore band from New York City, just half an hour away from my hometown. They have multiple women as members, including their energetic badass of a vocalist, Rhylli Ogiura. Year of the Knife became one of my all-time favorites, and their bassist Madison Watkins became a serious inspiration to me; the way that she can balance killing it on stage and running the cutest, most pink apparel brand I’ve ever seen (aptly titled Candy Corpse) amazes me. Even some of the bands I’ve found more recently have had an impact on me. I started listening to Initiate last year when their EP Lavender came out, and their beautifully colorful cover art caught my eye before I had heard any of their songs. Their vocalist, Crystal Pak, is also a woman, and she’s insanely talented. Discovering this kind of representation in this new universe that I had come to feel so at home in introduced me to a world of confidence and determination that I had never known before.
When people ask me why I love hardcore so much, I often give the easy answer; “the music sounds good.” If the person allows me to ramble on for a little longer, the answer becomes much more emotional and cheesy. Hardcore taught me that speaking up for what I believe in is important, and if there’s something I’m passionate about, it’s worth shouting about. I became familiar with this when listening to one of my favorite bands ever, Incendiary (the second hardcore band I ever checked out), before quickly realizing that politics are a pretty common topic within the genre - it’s what this music was practically built on. The first time I heard their vocalist Brendan Garrone singing about police brutality and injustice on songs like Force of Neglect and Sell Your Cause, I realized that there is so much more to music than just sounding good.
However, at its core, the thing I love so much about hardcore is what it taught me about being a woman. Growing up, I was the loud girl with the personality bigger than the room who always had something to say and had a never ending supply of excitement about just about everything. As I got older, I was taught that this was not okay. People didn’t like how enthusiastic I was about everything, or that I constantly had new ideas and new discoveries I wanted to talk about. As cliche as it sounds, I felt like everyone around me was trying to dull my sparkle, especially some of the men that I was encountering on a day-to-day basis. Even when I started to come to terms with my big and bright personality, in turn also coming to terms with my own femininity, I was told that this wasn’t how girls acted. I had to pick one - I could watch Disney princess movies and wear Hello Kitty hair clips, or I could be outspoken about my beliefs; but never both. The women that I mentioned earlier, along with so, so many more, helped me unlearn these toxic mindsets. Seeing someone like Emma Boster take the stage and scream ferociously for a full set helped me see that I could be a girl and still be a powerhouse. Following Madi Watkins around on social media showed me that I could love bands like Year of the Knife and also love heart-shaped purses and wear pink from head to toe. My aggression and passion didn’t make me any less of a woman, and my femininity didn’t make me any less of a force to be reckoned with. 
So, at the end of this love letter to hardcore and the women who run it, I say this; thank you for teaching me that I don’t have to shrink myself anymore. It has made a world of a difference.
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shinylitwick94 · 3 years
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Shinylitwick's summer (SF/)Fantasy reads - Part I
As it turns out trying to complete the r/fantasy book bingo and not wanting to get into heavy reads this year meant that I spent most of my summer reading almost exclusively SFF, and I read a lot of it. I'm sharing my thoughts on these with anyone who might be interested in them. This covers books I read between july and the first week of september 2021. I'll be doing this in two parts because it would be too long otherwise.
As a reminder, these are personal thoughts, not professional reviews, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.
Without further ado:
Under Heaven, by Guy Gavriel Kay
By this point I think I can say pretty firmly I’m a fan of GGK. I just really enjoy his “alternate history with a dash of fantasy” stuff, and I like his writing and the fact that he’s so good at capturing that sort of bittersweet melancholy I’m a huge junkie for.
That being said, Under Heaven started off amazing, spent a lot of time in eh, and finished solid. I like it, but it’s my least favorite of his books so far. I think it essentially suffers from making promises it doesn’t deliver on. There’s a lot of stories which go nowhere, which I’m sometimes fine with, but I don’t think it worked here. Especially with the sister. I have very little familiarity with Chinese history, but from what I’ve read in other reviews, he stuck rather more closely to the history here than he usually does, which maybe limited his ability to maneuver his characters. Still, I would recommend it, if this is your style.
The Last Wish, by Andrzej Sapkowski
I’ve tried reading this before…in Russian. Don’t know why I thought that was a good idea (something about maybe a better translation?). Anyway, my Russian obviously wasn’t up to scratch and the books are polish anyway.
So, English translation it was. As many of you will know this is actually a short story collection, which is the first part of the Witcher book series. I’d already watched the tv show, and played a bit of the game, so some of the stories were new to me, and others weren’t.
I liked how the book highlighted the “twisted fairytale” aspect of some of these (e.g Snow White, Rumplestiltskin) – that didn’t really come across so well in the adaptations. I think altogether it was a fun and enjoyable read.
The Farthest Shore, by Ursula Le Guin (Book 3 in the Earthsea Cycle)
Ursula Le Guin made me cry again. I’ve been talking about Le Guin a lot recently, with a friend who’s read a lot of her nonfiction, but none of her fiction, while I’ve for the most part just read the fiction. She’s one of those authors who just seems to get it, and who knows how to use the genre to its full extent. Magic and dragons aren’t just a toy, but a tool to actually say something.
She does that across the board, of course, but Farthest Shore hit me harder than the other Earthsea books have, maybe because imho it’s the saddest so far. There’s a lot about death, acceptance, and time passing, and responsibility in this which I really liked. I feel like it manages to get its themes across in a way that is crystal clear, but not ham-fisted. I loved this book, I really did, but I feel like I will need to read it again in a few years, and I’m sure it will be a different read then.
One of many nice quotes:
“When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.”
The Black Company, by Glen Cook (Book 1 in the Chronicles of the Black Company)
This was sold to me as the granddaddy of grimdark fantasy, and I can certainly see it. It’s clearly influenced a lot of later fantasy authors (Erikson, Abercrombie, to some extent Martin). Yet somehow it manages to be less explicit, or graphic, than some modern grimdark. It can be pretty gross too, but it knows how to cut away when necessary and is usually smart about implying things. I also really liked the basic concept of following characters who work for the Dark Lord (or Dark Lady in this case). The characters themselves are interesting enough – in this first book we don’t go super in depth on a lot of them, but the ones we’re stuck with are decent, and the story holds. Still, I felt like this was more a worldbuilding book than a character book, if that makes sense. And I did like the world. It’s appropriately dark and petty and sucks, but hey that’s what we’re here for.
So overall, I enjoyed it and would recommend to anyone who is interested into the more grimdark side of fantasy. Stay away from it if that’s not your thing or you’re super squeamish.
(most of Tumblr dni I guess)
The Empress of Salt and Fortune, by Nghi Vo
This was a fun little read. I had no idea what to expect going in and I ended up enjoying it. The story follows a nonbinary monk as they go through the affairs of a deceased empress and in discussion with Rabbit, the said empress’s servant, learn her story. The story is mostly told by Rabbit and each section follows a particular object. I liked how that was set up and the way in which the whole picture was slowly revealed to the reader. It’s apparently been read as a feminist story and I can see where that reading comes from, and it was likely intentionally so. It wasn’t the most important part of this to me, but up to you to judge.
I will say though, and this is not the book’s fault, but mine, that reading a story where the POV character uses they/them pronouns was more confusing than I anticipated. I kept expecting there to be more of them at random points in the narrative, and having to backtrack to understand.
It’s a short nice read, but definitely something I feel more comfortable recommending to people here than irl.
Equal Rites, by Terry Pratchett (Discworld)
Not much to say here. Discworld is Discworld and can do no wrong, apparently. This might be one of my favorites so far. Loved Granny to pieces, it was fun, it was funny, it was thoughtful without being heavy. It’s the Discworld, what can you do.
The House in the Cerulean Sea, by T.J. Klune
This was pure tooth-rotting fluff, which I think I kind of needed to balance out my reading. It’s cute, it’s cheesy, it’s wholesome it owns it and is proud of it. It’s very LGBT friendly. It’s a good guys win, bad guys lose, discrimination dies today kind of thing.
I’m surprised it’s not bigger on Tumblr tbh (it’s not non-existent either, I checked, just smaller than expected; maybe it’s too nice?).
Anyway, I did like it, and I’m exaggerating just a little bit on the cheesiness. It’s a sweet little story about a character who would normally be played by Martin Freeman (if a bit chubbier) learning that there is more to life than Rules and Regulations and finding love and a family.
If that’s your sort of thing, give it a shot.
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honeyjaez · 3 years
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Y’all ready for my shitty opinion on the Introduction Kingdom performances that literally no one asked for?
I preface this by saying I love every single group equally and each of these groups (with the sad exception of iKON) I am a hard core fan of. But I also love practicing thinking subjectively and I pride myself on not being too biased when it comes to performances and Kpop, like I know how to understand sometimes my ult might not be the best vocally or whatnot. I like being unbiased with this. So without further ado.
This is not based on scores already known, just my own thoughts.
(And also like these ranking do not reflect my love for a group or if I think they are untalented because all these groups are so massively talented. but rankings have to happen right?  Like someones gotta be last but i don’t love them any less lol) 
6. Stray Kids (and this hurts as a Stray Kids Ult)
A group that I think really hurt with forced to having to perform the song that they did. (Their only other option was Back Door or levanter but it doesn’t really hit the same as Miroh so I understand why they chose it). The song is still my favorite title track by them (Also Im such a hoe for center Minho like....), but it’s SUCH a hard song to perform live. I remember all the issues they had during the era and still saw a lot of that here, more specifically with the insane rap parts. Its just not something easily done live (I say this like I know how to rap) but it doesn’t take a lot to realize that Changbin’s rap is so insanely fast (which props to him) that it can still be difficult for him. Also I think the backtrack of the song really hindered the performance. It was just too loud. Like you know those performances when you can really tell a group has some relying on the backtrack and others don’t? I have nothing wrong with lip synching, honestly, I could care less by it because I understand they are doing so much movement on stage that I couldn’t understand how to do both. But it takes away from the performance when you hear the difference in members performing live and those who are relying a bit more on it. Stray Kids are AMAZING performers and CAN sing/rap live. It was very cool though I guess with props but it was like they were trying to distract people from the lack of performance. I just think that having to perform Miroh (I know they didn’t get to pick really) was their downfall to me. But the outfits were cool! Regardless, they are still #1 in my heart and I look forward to the other performances!!!  But with more Seungmin!!!!!
6. ATEEZ
Next to The Boyz, I am most excited about seeing ATEEZ on Kingdom. One because Korea seriously needs to stop sleeping on them, but two because they are such intense and talented performers.  True to form they came in crashing! Unfortunately, the only reason they are so low is that there wasn’t anything that really made them stand out from the others to me. I do appreciate the classic ATEEZ intensity (but like also Hongjoong please don’t be all serious and death stare while suddenly saying Hakuna Matata, I couldn’t take it seriously). But the VOCALS win most intense which sells towards their performance. I appreciated Ateez so much for their intense singing (looking at you Seonghwa and Jongho). I do think that having to perform Wave didn’t really help them. (From my understanding is that MNET told them they had to perform a song that placed #1 which for them was only Wave, or Inception  which they already performed at MAMAs (we did Wonderland so dirty)) Not that I hate Wave (its actually my favorite title track by them) and I did enjoy the composition of this new darker Wave, but could you imagine if they had come in swinging with Pirate King or Wonderland? Hell fucking yes. Regardless, looking forward to see how they grow as the youngest group on there! I have nothing but high hopes for them!
4. SF9 
Now You guys know how much I love SF9. They are practically an unofficial ult group for me. But this is not based off song because I actually can’t stand Good Guy (I overplayed it when it came out and now I hate it (not really but ya know) ) I remember people saying SF9′s performance wasn’t really memorable, but I didn’t see that. I saw an idol group coming out for the first time to prove something and actually shocking me with how intense they were. They really looked like Gang Members (handsome ones at that) ready to rule the world with their performance. Their looks and their dancing was great. I love SF9 and they haven’t had a lot of opportunities to showcase their talents like this so I look forward to how they shock the other group (also if they don’t do the wheel from K.O in a single performance I will riot) but all in all I think this was a solid performance by them! I laughed at the beginning with Inseong holding the crystal diamond because I couldn’t help but think back to tbz and the crown on rtk. I hope they also do story driven performances on here because I haven’t seen that from them before and I think it would be great!
3. BTOB
Can I just say I appreciate the fact that they are staying true to their vocal roots? So much Kpop these days is intense and in your face with everything, and I worried about a vocally driving group like BTOB being on this program because they’ve never been about the choreography (though I’ll be your man was lit) but just like how everyone reacted, BTOB focusing on their vocals rather than dance was such a breath of fresh air in this round. They really are vocal kings in KPop and the chills that some of those idols felt were so important. Like Wooyoung said after their performance “Vocals are so powerful” (or something like that) and I sometimes feel that people forget that. Intense dancing is great and all, but to wow people with just your voice like they did is a feat not every group can do. The  acapella was such a nice tough too. Beautiful Pain is such a beautiful song (ha) and the remix they did for it was just so nice. My only complaint is that we didn’t get enough Minhyuk vocals :(((((
2. The Boyz
Aight, people might accuse me of being biased based on how whipped I was for The Boyz back during RTK, but I’m really not. Like the other groups agreed on, you can tell The Boyz were on RTK. You can tell they have been through a program like this and they came in swinging. They have a lot of pressure on them after the wonderful performances on RTK and I think the opening performance they did didn’t disappoint. They are such good storytellers when it comes to performances (something Ateez is also really good at as well). They just get you immersed in their performances and thats something unique to certain groups. They were just meant to perform. Regardless of scores, The Boyz are proving to be fierce competitor from the get go and not to name names, but Sunwoo is such an amazing rapper live like holy shit. He needs more credit. RTK was amazing for them and I am sure Kingdom will be just that as well!
1. iKON
God I hope Kingdom will turn me from a casual fan to a hardcore ikonic. What I loved about iKON’s performance is a lot like BTOB’s or even SF9′s. There was a sense of branding, like this style was their’s and theirs alone. Also their performance brought so many smiling and happy faces to the crowd. A lot of younger groups look up to iKON and you even heard how many idols there and evaluations to their songs or what not. They just had so much fun on stage and that reflected on the audience who in turn also had a blast. I wasn’t sure how I would feel watching them since out of all the groups I’m least attached to iKON, but just with that causal, fun, but intense performance of rytham-ta one could easily see them as Kings already.  I didn’t notice any thing out of place because I was just enjoying the performance completely. And to me, thats the most important part of a performance.
Again, these were just my opinions on this introduction stage. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the performances. Your rankings, and who you look forward to see more from! We will have a fun time with Kingdom on my blog! <3 :3
I look forward to future rounds and what other groups have to offer!
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