#plus like. i’m all for death to minimalism but this is just. strange

[cobble-stone]

the tumblr icon changed i dislike it greatly Go Back Please

#cobble’s tones #i have my apps in a specific order so they match the little los campesinos themed widgets i have #but now it’s the wrong color and fucking everything up. rude #plus like. i’m all for death to minimalism but this is just. strange #it looks like they tried to make a tbh creature out of the T and greatly failed

[celiabowens]

underrated SFF books (YA and Adult)

So uhm, since I keep seeing the same books on my dash all the time (and I like them too, just...there’s more! to read!) here’s a list of less popular SFF books, divided into YA and Adult. I’ve tried to mention when there is lgbt rep and the trigger warnings. Also, books written by poc will be in bold. Please point out any typo or mistake or if I’ve forgotten specific rep/tw mentions.

All of these are books that I’ve read and enjoyed (by enjoyed I mean anything from 3 stars and above), but if anyone wants to add titles please feel free to do so!!

YA:

The Star-Touched Queen by Roshani Chokshi: beautifully written, fairytale-like story rich in mythology (inspired by several Hindu myths. There’s a full list on goodreads indicated by the author herself). Roshani’s prose is gorgeous.

A Crown of Wishes by Roshani Chokshi: it’s a companion novel to The Star-Touched Queen, but both can be read as a standalone. I liked this one more than its companion and I particularly loved how the romance was written (slow burn, but specifically, the author really highlights the mutual respect between the characters, we love to see it).

The Young Elites by Marie Lu: fantasy trilogy set in a world inspired by Renaissance Italy, in which children who survived a mysterious and deadly illness ended up with strange and dangerous powers. Secret societies and a female villain!

The Kingdom of Back by Marie Lu: historical fantasy following Mozart’s sister, Nannerl, a girl as talented as her brother, but afraid of being forgotten because of the lack of opportunities she has to be seen and heard. Nuanced sibling relationship, no romance.  

The Midnight Lie by Marie Rutkoski: fantasy f/f romance! Both a coming of age story set in a society with a rigid class system and a slow burn f/f romance with a lot of banter. TW: abuse.

The Weight of Feathers by Anna-Marie McLemore: magical realism. The book follows two families of traveling performers that have been locked in a feud for over a generation. This was the author’s debut and I remember getting an arc of it and being impressed by both the prose and how the forbidden love trope was handled.

When the Moon was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore: another magical realism novel. One of the main characters is a trans boy and the book focuses on issues of racism and gender. One of my favorite YA!

Strange Grace by Tessa Gratton: fantasy romance set in a village that periodically sacrifices a young man in order to keep a deal with the devil that ensures their prosperity. Also, polyamorous and non-binary rep.

The Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee: first book in a duology following avatar Kyoshi’s life. It explores the political and cultural aspect of the Earth Kingdom and Kyoshi’s past. Bisexual rep.

Descendant of the Crane by Joan He: sort of a murder mystery fantasy, as the main character finds herself suddenly thrust into power once her father has been murdered. The story has a slow build up to a last part full of twists and machinations and it features lots of court intrigue. Warning: the ending is quite open and afaik there isn’t a sequel planned as of now.

The Bone Houses by Emily Lloyd-Jones: a quite unique take on zombies influenced by Welsh mythology (it’s super cool). The novel follows Ryn and their siblings, as they try to get by after their parents’ death by working as gravediggers. Only well, the dead don’t always stay dead. The characters read a bit younger than they are imo. There is chronic pain rep.

The Magnolia Sword by Sherry Thomas: retelling of the original ballad of Mulan. The book follows Mulan, who’s trained her whole life to win a duel for a priceless heirloom, as she joins the army. There’s a lot of political and historical details, which I really appreciated. Do not go into it expecting a fun adventure though. The descriptions of war aren’t extremely graphic, but be aware of the fact that most of the book is set during a conflict.

The Candle and The Flame by Nafiza Azad: standalone fantasy set in a city on the Silk Road! It’s a quite slow-paced tale about love, family and politics. It has lush descriptions of landscapes and cultures (and FOOD, there are some really great descriptions of food). It’s a very atmospheric book and while I struggled a bit with the pace I’d still recommend it.

Forest of a Thousand Lanters by Julie C. Dao: sort of an East Asian inspired retelling of Snow White, but following the Evil Queen before she became Snow White’s stepmother. I honestly haven’t read its sequel (which should focus on Snow White herself), but I do think this can be read and enjoyed as a standalone too.

The Queen’s Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner: it’s hard to point out exactly what this series is about because it has evolved so much with time. It starts out as classic quest/adventure series with The Thief (which may seem a classic and simple book, but is actually full of foreshadowing and has a really clever set up), but develops into a complex and intriguing political fantasy in The Queen of Attolia and The King of Attolia (and then goes back to the quest theme in book 5, Thick as Thieves).

Adult:

A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers by Alyssa Wong: I’m cheating with this one because it’s technically a short story but I love Alyssa Wong’s stories so I’m putting it here anyway. It can be read for free and you should just...read it.

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang: grimdark fantasy (TW: abuse, self harm, rape, drug abuse), inspired by Chinese history. It’s adult, but follows younger MCs and the unique blend of different historical periods/inspirations makes it extremely interesting. The characters are extremely fucked up in the best possible way, plus the use of shamanism is awesome. Please make sure you check all the TW before reading.

The Sword of Kaigen by M.L. Wang: a Japanese-inspired militaristic fantasy, with elemental magic, a badass housewife dealing with her past and hiding a sword in her kitchen’s floor. It has interesting and nuanced family dynamics and a great reflection on propaganda and the use of narratives.

Empire of Sand by Tasha Suri: first book in an epic fantasy duology inspired by Mughal India (TW: abuse, slavery). I really liked both Empire of Sand and its companion and I find them pretty underrated. Both books have great slow burn romance (with a focus on mutual trust and respect) and focus on culture, religion, self acceptance and politics.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia: a fantasy bildungsroman set in Mexico during the Jazz age. It’s a great approach to adult SFF as it follows a young girl on a life changing adventure. It features Mayan mythology and a god slowly becoming human (this trope is everything!).

The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden: a coming of age story inspired by Russian folklore. The trilogy as a whole has one of the best arcs I’ve ever seen: each book is perfectly self-contained and has its own arc, but also fits perfectly in the bigger picture of the trilogy. The atmosphere is amazing, the cast of characters is extremely well developed. Also frost demons are better than men.

The Binding by Bridget Collins: historical fantasy, but with very minimal fantasy elements. It’s set in a world vaguely reminiscent of 19th century England. I’d say this book is about humans and self discovery. It’s about cowardice and the lies we tell ourselves and those we wish we could tell ourselves. Gay rep. (TW: abuse, sexual assault, pretty graphic suicide scene).

The Divine Cities trilogy by Robert Jackson Bennett: starting with City of Stairs, it follows a female diplomat and spymaster(!!). The whole trilogy features an interesting discussion about godhood, religion, fanatism, politics, without ever being boring or preachy. It has complex and rich world building and a pretty compelling mystery.

Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett: heist fantasy following a thief as she’s hired to steal a powerful artifact that may change magical technology as she knows it. Set in a Venice-like merchant city. Also, slow burn f/f romance.

Jade City by Fonda Lee: sort of a gangster urban fantasy, heavily inspired by wuxia and set in an Asian-inspired metropolis. It follows a pretty big cast of characters, each with their own journey and development. It features nuanced family dynamics and a lot of political and economical subplots. Not extremely prominent, but book 2 features m/m side rep.

Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse: inspired by Native American culture and specifically by the idea of subsequent worlds. It has a kickass MC and a good mix of original elements and typical UF tropes. TW: the book isn’t extremely violent but there is death and some gore.

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine: space opera inspired by the Mexica and middle period Byzantium. It focuses on topics like colonialism and the power of narratives and language. It has one of the best descriptions of what it’s like to live in between spaces I’ve ever read. Also very interesting political intrigue and has a slow burn f/f romance (and a poly relationship recalled through flashbacks). I ranted a lot about it already.

Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee: a Korean-inspired space opera with a magic system based on math. It’s honestly quite convoluted and difficult to follow, but it also features some of the best political intrigue I’ve ever read. Plenty of lying, backstabbing and mind games. It also features lesbian and bisexual rep and an aroace side character (TW: mass shooting, sexual assault, abuse). I also really recommend Yoon Ha Lee’s short-story collection Conservation of Shadows.

The long way to a small angry planet by Becky Chambers: character driven space opera featuring a found family journeying through space. A fun read, that also deals with topics such as sexuality and race. Quite easy to go through, as the world building and plot aren’t particularly complex themselves. f/f romance.  

The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo: an Asian-inspired fantasy novella that gives a voice to people usually silenced by history. It follows a cleric (non binary rep) as they chronicle the story of the late empress, retold through objects that she used in her life. It focuses on bonds between women and the power that lies in being unnoticed. f/f side rep.

The Black God’s Drums by P. Djèlí Clark: an urban fantasy novella, based on Orisha mythology and set in an alternate, sort of steampunk, New Orleans. I really like how creative Clark’s worlds are and how good he is at writing female characters (which rarely happens with male authors).

The haunting of tram car 015 by P. Djèlí Clark: novella set in an alternate steampunk Cairo populated by supernatural entities. It’s set in the same world of a Dead Djinn in Cairo, which is a short story you can read for free.

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: epistolary novella set during a time-travel war. It has gorgeous writing and an amazing f/f romance. As a novella, it’s quite short but it’s beautifully crafted and so complex for such a short book!

The Citadel of Weeping Pearls by Aliette de Bodard: a novella set in the Xuya universe (a series of novellas/short stories set in a timeline where Asia became dominant, and where the space age has empires of Vietnamese and Chinese inspiration), but can be read as a standalone. It’s a space opera featuring a disappeared citadel and the complex relationship between the empress and her daughter as war threatens her empire.

One for My Enemy by Olivie Blake: self-published urban fantasy following two rival families in New York. Sort of a Romeo and Juliette retelling but with gangster families and magic. Honestly recommend all of her books, I love how Olivie writes and especially how she writes female characters.

#book recs #book recommendations #adult sff #ya literature #lgbt fiction #litblr #listen this doesn't show in tags i'm DONE #done with this tagging system lol #also if there are mistakes please tell me!! #book rec

[toomanyrobins]

MINIMAL LOSS

summary: Spencer and Y/N head into the Separtarian Sect and are greeted with trouble.

pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

content warnings: few swear words, guns, character death, violence, cult behavior

word count: 3.7k

It had been a few months since Y/N had joined the BAU. Despite initial worries, she fit right into the team. She had joined the women for girls’ night and even helped Garcia plan JJ’s baby shower. Hotch was truly showing how much trust he held by sending the two youngest teammates on their own assignment. Y/N and Spencer were in a car in La Plata with Nancy, a CPS worker, on their way to Liberty Ranch. Spencer played the call for the three of them: “He comes into my bedroom and lays with me. He says it's god's will. I'm only 15. And I'm not the only one. Please help me!” 

Y/N turned to Nancy, “Who is the ‘he’?”

“I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church's leader: Benjamin Cyrus.”

Reid flipped open the file and leaned forward so that Y/N could look at it too. She smiled appreciatively at him, “Benjamin Cyrus--No criminal record. No record at all, really. What else do you know about him?

Nancy shrugged, “It's rumored that he's practicing polygamy and forced marriages.

Y/N scanned the file as Spencer read aloud, “Do we know who the caller is?”

“Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, But...we can't be sure. I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn't easy.”

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn't identify us as FBI. Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Y/N and Reid left their badges and gun in the car. The trio pulled up and was greeted by a single man lounging on the stairs. He seemed unimpressed by their presence and continued to read his book. Y/N noted that the act seemed a bit over the top and a definite attempt to appear nonchalant about their visit.

Nancy walked up to him, “I'm looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.”

The man walked down the stairs, shutting the Bible in his hands, “You found him.”

“I'm Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“Savages they call us because our manners differ from theirs.”

“We didn't come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.

“Actually, It's a Benjamin Franklin.” Y/N smiled softly at the ever fact-driven Dr. Reid.

Nancy motioned at the two of them, “Y/N Emard and Spencer Reid -- they’re child victim

interview experts.”

“How far from God's word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?”

“We wish we didn't have to be here,” Y/N said.

So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school,” He pointed to the building behind him.

Nancy nodded and thanked him. The two women forged ahead, but Y/N stopped when she heard Spencer remark on the compound’s use of solar power.

“We're completely self-sufficient,” Cyrus explained, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said, ‘God helps those that help themselves.’ You look surprised.” Y/N noticed that Spencer was working to build a relationship with Cyrus and followed Nancy to begin interviews. They decide to start Jessica: the suspected victim. Y/N immediately noted the defensive posture that the 15-year-old held. Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her and looked much more submissive.

“So, what does a normal day on the ranch look like for you?” Y/N inquired.

“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect that God demands.”

“But you've never been off of the ranch?

Kathy spoke, “I brought Jessie here when she was 2.”

The young girl had a very sour look on her face and had her hands folded tightly in anger, “You've talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours? We devote ourselves to God.” Kathy put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder to calm her.

Y/N reassured the teen, “We are not here because of your religious beliefs.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You're talking about Cyrus.”

Reid had joined them and heard the last bit of the conversation, “What makes you say that?”

Kathy tried to stop her daughter, but the indignation was clear. “Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?

Y/N was shocked, “You are married to Cyrus?”

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It's an honor to bear his children.

“Jessica, you're 15 years old. The state of Colorado requires parental consent.”

Y/N stared at Kathy and saw the regret in her eyes. She looked up at Reid, “She gave consent.”

Before they could continue to question, they were interrupted by members of the ranch coming in armed. They forced the three outsiders back and pointed their weapons at them. ”What's going on?” Nancy demanded. Three men came over and patted them all down. Y/N dug her heel into the man’s toe when she felt him linger. He groaned and stepped back with a scowl, nodding to Cyrus to confirm that all three were weapon-free.

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me about a raid, maybe?” All three of them were shocked. Especially Y/n and Spencer since they knew that JJ had checked with other agencies before sending them in. Cyrus shook his head, “They don't know.” The men shepherded the woman and children through tunnels hidden under the buildings to a bunker filled with weapons. Gunfire could be heard overhead as instructions were given by Cyrus. 

Y/N and Spencer both saw how the guns lining the walls. She whispered, “Where did all these guns come from?”

Spencer shook his head, “I don't know. Garcia checked with the state police.” Nancy broke free of the group in the bunker and hurried up the church, thinking she could stop the raid from continuing. They heard the gunfire cease and he whispered again, “The raid is over.”

“What does that mean?”

“Either Cyrus convinced them to leave or this is over a lot faster than we thought.” When the men returned back down, Y/N realized that they were stuck in the compound again. Spencer inquired into where Nancy had gone and Cyrus explained that she had been shot by the Colorado authorities. 

“They’re pulling out.”

Reid shook his head, “Not for long.” They were stuck in the bunker while the male members of the cult all armed themselves. 

Y/N leaned over, “The team will have to be on its way now that a failed raid will be on the news. 

“With an average flight time of five and a half hours between DC and the La Plata County Airport plus the half hour drive out to the ranch, I estimate that they’ll be here by 4 o’clock, maybe 4:30 depending on who drives.” Y/N and Reid stayed trapped in the bunker, covered by an armed member at the door.

Y/N needed grounding and turned to Spencer, “What is the playbook here?”

“If the BAU is put in charge, which I imagine they will be because we are inside, they will go for the minimal loss situation. Statistically, it is improbable that they will get every member out, so they will do their best to save as many as possible. With the indoctrination in cults like this, some will be too far gone. It will be impossible to convince them that what they have been following is a lie. They’ll first try to get out 1 or 2, then 3 or 4, and then as many as possible before it goes bad,” Spencer stopped talking and looked confused, “You haven’t told me to stop rambling.”

“Why would I tell you to stop? This is valuable information,” Y/N’s cheeks warmed, “Plus you have a nice voice. We are going to be here a while until someone gets in contact with Cyrus. Best to be informed and it seems that you’re a wealth of information, Dr. Reid.” 

Despite the situation, Spencer smiled and continued talking quietly to Y/N about the tactics used. She asked him questions and let him answer them with as much information as he had. Y/N had seen him get cut off by the others before, and she understood why they did it, but she realized he probably didn’t get to share to his heart’s content often and currently they had a minimum 6 hours of waiting ahead of them. That plan was cut short by Cyrus coming back down. He brought them all up to the church. The duo were off to the side, watching as Rossi came in carrying a box. He was patted down and Cyrus spoke to him. Y/N and Spencer were both careful to keep any hint of recognition off of their face, knowing that even a twinge of weakness could seal their fates. 

Rossi let his eyes pass over the duo, before turning to Cryus, “I’d hope you let me take the children.”

“Nah, they’re our protection. I remember Waco... we all do. They stay for now. While I pray for God’s guidance. Please don’t try to force us out.”

“No one’s gonna try to force you out of here.” The two men walked to the door and Rossi left again. 

The moment he was out the door, Cyrus ordered a member to prepare wine, “We are celebrating. Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with him.”

Y/N watched a scene unfold in front of her and brushed her hand against Spencer’s to get his attention, “Look at Jessica’s body language. The way she looks at him. She literally worships him.”

Spencer nodded, “There is no way she made that 911 call.”

They both watched as Kathy stood up to speak to her daughter, “Look how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter. She's inserted herself between them. I don’t think Kathy is as devout a follower as she wants people to believe. Cyrus isn’t the most important thing to her; Jessica is.” Spencer squeezed her hand in silent agreement. 

Cyrus began preaching from the front as all the followers drank the wine, “Acknowledge him in all things and he will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way. We will be with him soon. We drank the poison together. Mothers… Fathers… Children, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil, for thou art with us.”

Y/N eyes widened and she looked up at Spencer, “What do we do?”

He shook his head, “Nothing.”

“We have to do something. These people just took poison.”

“Cyrus just told them they did. I think he's just bluffing. Just after he told them about the poison, he waited for them to start to react. Then, he nodded to Cole and he started writing. They're scanning the audience looking for reactions. They're writing down the names of the people who are crying.

Realization hit Y/N, “It's a loyalty list. So he knows who will follow him to the end.”

Cyrus spoke again, “Be still. There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the devil, waltzes about as a roaring lion, choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper.”

After the test, they forced Y/N and Spencer back into the bunker. A guard again stationed by the door. It wasn’t long before Cyrus came back into the bunker, anger written across his face, “Which one of you is it? Which one of you is an FBI agent?”

Spencer and Y/N shared a look. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?

“God will forgive me for what I must do.”

Spencer kept his face confused and innocent, “I--I don't know what you're talking about.”

Cyrus cocked a gun and pointed it at Spencer’s forehead. “One of you does. Who is it?”

Y/N knew that Spencer had built a rapport with the sect leader. She took a deep breath, “Me. It's me.”

Spencer looked at her worriedly as Cyrus uncocked the weapon. He flew forward and grabbed Y/N by her hair, dragging her into another room, “I told you not to put me in this position!” She tried to stand, but he backhanded her. She got up again, staring determinedly at him. This time, Cyrus threw her into the wall. Y/N crashed into a mirror and felt the shards cut her arms and face. He continued to preach while beating her, “Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.

Y/N remembered what Reid had said about the FBI trying to find a way to listen in, she had to stop them from coming in, “I can take it.” Cyrus thought she was antagonizing him and hit harder. She repeated herself, “I can take it.” Y/N hoped that the team understood that she could handle this fight and not blow the operation by trying to save her.

“Pride comes before the fall,” Cyrus punched her in the stomach and threw her to the floor. Y/N lay on the floor, trying to catch her breath after the last kick to her stomach knocked the wind out of her. He called for another man to come in, “Tie her up. Put her upstairs.

Kathy snuck into the room they had trapped Y/N in. She had brought a small first aid kit and cleaned the blood away from her face and removed bits of glass, “You should have told Cyrus who you were. He's a prophet. He predicted Satan's armies would come and lay siege to us.

Every inch of Y/N’s body hurt, but she knew she couldn’t give up. She looked at Kathy, “There's a name for that kind of prophecy-- self-fulfilling.”

“You don't know how dangerous It is to lie to him.”

“I know it would take a brave woman to defy him, Knowing the consequences. And that woman would have to have a damn good reason to do it. Kathy sucked in air when she realized that Y/N had suspicions about who made the 911 call that had led to them coming to the compound. She left the room and Y/N let her head fall back against the pillows, hoping that she was getting to the woman. 

She tried to track how long had passed but when the sun set, she had no measure of time. It hadn’t been long before the door to the room flew open and the same man who had tied her up entered. He roughly dragged her up and cut the rope binding her wrist. He kept his weapon trained on her and forced her into the church, where everyone else was. 

Cyrus stood at the altar, “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So when I call out your name, please stand.”

Spencer came up to her. She kept her eyes trained on the sect leader, “He looks pissed.” She turned to him and smiled softly when she saw the worry in his eyes, “Spencer, it's not as bad as it looks. I’ve had worse.”

“I'm so sorry,” Spencer scanned over Y/N’s body, taking in every injury inflicted by Cyrus. Moments like this, he hated his eidetic memory; knowing he would never forget the beating Y/N took to protect him. Their attention was drawn back to the members, 

“Look at who he's releasing. It's the ones who failed the loyalty test. I'll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come.” Spencer walked away from her to speak to Cyrus. He turned and nodded to her, before she was dragged back up the room. Her arms were tied again and she was thrown on the bed. 

Y/N nodded off for a few hours, but had woken up when the sun had started to rise, cursing herself for falling asleep. Y/N situated herself on the bed and used her shoe to pull the blinds down. She knew that the glass needed to vibrate in order for them to hear her, “If you can hear me, I know you're coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel, but I need to know when you're coming.” She continued to repeat herself, when a red dot shone on the opposite wall, “Ok. Ok. I got you. What time?” The dot held steady for a moment and then moved 90 degrees. “3 a.m.?” The dot moved up and down confirming, “Understood. Reid is on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus. And, please, remember there are children here.” Y/N heard someone coming and dropped her foot, letting the blind close again.

Kathy came back into Y/N’s room. She helped her sit up and gave her a glass of water. This was Y/N’s last chance to convince Kathy to held, “Cyrus is planning a mass suicide. You made that 911 call.”

The woman shook her head regretfully, “This is all my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn't of made that call.

“You were trying to protect your daughter. No one would fault you for that”

“There were other girls before Jessie. He--he would marry them in secret, and after a while he'd take another. And we weren't permitted to speak of it. So, when she asked for my consent, I wanted to just take her and run. But I was afraid she wouldn't leave him.”

“You wanted us to take her.”

“Well, I--I wanted to save her from Cyrus.”

“I can give you another chance. The FBI is coming here at 3 a.m. I need you to gather Jessica, the kids, the other women -- get them into the basement just before 3 a.m.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I have faith that you are a strong enough woman to do the right thing for Jessica.” Kathy stood and walked out of the room without another word. Y/N was left with the hope that she had gotten through to the woman. 

Only a few moments later, Kathy came back. She helped Y/N sit up and removed the bindings from her wrists, “You were right. They're setting the place to blow up. I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted her to gather the women and children.”

Y/N’s thoughts were on Spencer, “Where is the man I came in with?”

“He's in the chapel with Cyrus. It's 2:45, though, we gotta hurry.” Y/N and Kathy rushed to get the women and children down to the basement, careful to avoid any of the armed men. 

Once they got to the basement, Derek and Rossi were waiting for them. He rushed up to her, “Y/N, Y/N, you all right?

“Worry about me later, Derek. They've wired explosives.” Kathy and the agents rushed everyone out of the compound. 

“Where's Reid?”

“He's in the chapel with Cyrus.”

Rossi turned to her, “We gotta get you out of here.

“No. We've gotta get Reid!

Derek grabbed her shoulders, “I will get Reid. Get out of here. Get to safety. Go now.” Y/N nodded and followed after the rest of the members. She stayed watching the building as the other continued to run. Y/N had to know that Spencer was okay. The church exploded and Y/N fell to the ground, covering her head. Once the smoke cleared, she stood up, “Reid! Morgan? Reid? Morgan!”

“We're ok!” Derek called.

Spencer ran up to her and wrapped her in a hug, “Are you okay?” She nodded and he put his arm around her, helping her to walk to get medical attention. Only once he was certain she was getting help did he leave.

Y/N sat in the back of an ambulance as the paramedic pulled shards of glass from her arms, and bandaged and disinfected the cuts on her face. JJ came over to check on her, “How bad is it?”

“Everything is sore, but the worst is cuts from the mirror he slammed me into. They said I don’t even need to go to the hospital.”

“Take it easy and don’t move until one of us comes to help you. Understand?”

Y/N smiled, “You’re already such a mom, JJ.” The blonde laughed and sat next to her, one hand on her belly.  The rest of the night passed quickly and soon the team was on the jet back to DC. Y/N sat next to Spencer on the couch, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Y/N gently pulled the book out of his hands and put her hand in his, forcing him to put all of his attention on her, “I need you to listen to me. What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision, and I would do it again. Do you hear me?” Spencer nodded. Y/N smiled at him and handed him his book back. She tucked her feet under the blanket and put her head on his shoulder, exhaustion weighing her eyelids down. Spencer read to her, remembering what she said about his voice, until he was sure she was asleep. The team all shared looks at the familiarity between the youngest teammates and smiled.

When they landed, Spencer offered to drive her home. The duo ended up at Y/N’s apartment. They ordered Chinese food and Y/N let him turn on Star Trek and explain all of the science and how it was ahead of its time. By the end of the night, Y/N had her legs slung across his lap and a frozen pea bag on her bruised face. She fell asleep sometime during the fourth episode. Spencer turned the TV off and covered her with a blanket. He quickly put the leftovers and peas away, and even laid out some Advil and water on the coffee with a note for when she woke up. 

Y/N,

You fell asleep and I decided you need your sleep. I put the food away and the peas back in the freezer. Take the Advil when you wake up. You’re going to need it. Text me when you wake up and I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive until you’ve healed.

Dr. Spencer Reid

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #toomanyrobins

[glitxhwayventeen]

Lonely Together

Jihoon: Chapter 2 (Dark Side)

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide, runaways, health issue mentions, weapon mentions, panic attack description? (Though honestly it’s more of an anxiety attack), death mentions, child abandonment mentions. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Dark Side by R5. I thought the actual lyrics to the song gave off a solid vibe that I wanted to transfer to the start of this particular chapter.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀 & ☁️

Lonely Together Master List

Chapter 2: Dark Side

When you woke up this morning, you had the sweet scent of Vanilla and honey hit your nose. It was warm and inviting and made you feel safe. You were glad, normally you’d never feel safe in the wild. The pack helped a lot with that issue. But when you woke up today, you noticed that you had woken up to a quiet house. Which was… strange to say the least. There was always some sort of ruckus going on downstairs in the early hours. So you figured you’d go investigate cautiously, in case something had happened. You grabbed your thigh garter belt with your knives attached before you quietly made your way down the stairs. You saw and heard no one. Nothing was wrong or out of place. Everyone was just… gone. But why?

“Boy, you come prepared don’t you?” A male voice said from the stairs, causing you to jolt back in surprise, automatically drawing your knife from its holster on sheer instinct, ready to release it at any given moment.

You relaxed and placed it back to your thigh as you realized it was just Jihoon, one of the less spoken wolves of the pack.

He was only a few inches taller than you, but you were still incredibly intimidated by him. You weren’t sure why all the others were terrified to piss him off, even the alphas, but you were never worried he’d get mad at you. Which was weird, you were always skeptical of everyone, it was just in your nature as a rogue wolf.

However, with him, it wasn’t horror that overtook your veins, it was nervousness. Like you had some sort of school girl crush on him and you were worried you’d mess something up in front of him and die from the embarrassment of it. But why? Why would you care what some rando wolf would think of you when you’d probably be leaving in a bit when your wounds were healed better?

“Jesus Jihoon! You know I could’ve killed you right? Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to fuck with a bitch with knives?” You huffed out in annoyance while slapping you hands over your face, praying that he hadn’t seen your cherry red cheeks yet.

Of course he had though. He never took his eyes off of you whenever you were in a room. You were just too zoned off to notice

“Uh no… Not really. Never had them so they didn’t teach me shit. Not that any of that matters. We both know you’d never hurt anyone if you could help it.” He shrugged, nudging past you to make his way to the fridge for a bite to eat with a small smile pasted on his glorious lips. God he annoyed you.

“You don’t know that. I always come prepared, I could be a serial killer for all any of you know” you cooly threw his way as you let your guard down slightly, for some reason trusting him enough to have a semi civilized conversation alone.

“Yeah yeah you’re a little vicious killer. Whatever you say kid” He laughed out, trying to keep his amusement in check at your quick replies.

You gritted your teeth, “Hey I am not a kid! I’m centuries old! MUCH older than you.” You smugly responded to his bitch ass nickname for you.

Jihoon looked you up and down for a second, making you a bit self conscious and spreading a heat down to your lower belly, “You don’t look older than me. Matter of fact, you look like the youngest one here. So I’m gonna keep calling you kid, kid.” He leaned in close to you and whispered seductively in your ear.

“Where- where is everyone?” You stuttered out, trying your best not to focus on the minimal contact Jihoon had made with your shoulder while brushing past you moments ago. Curse your dumb instincts. Why did you have to find him attractive? Couldn’t your wolf side ever just stay in check?

“The market? No, to Taeyong’s? Maybe it was to the river? I dont know by the time they left it didn’t seem like they even knew where they were going so I stopped listening.” He answered while taking a bit of an apple he had snagged from the fruit basket on the counter.

“W-why didn’t you go with them?” You questioned him as you tried your best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Didn’t feel like third wheeling a bunch of mated coupled wolves.” He shrugged once more while sitting himself on the kitchen table you were next to, “Plus, someone needed to stay here and keep an eye on the house.”

“I would’ve been here.” You chimed in, as if he would’ve ever seriously left you alone.

Whether you were a Werewolf or not, he was NOT gonna leave you without some sort of safety net if he could help it. If he had it his way, you wouldn’t even go down to the market with the other mates when supplies were needed. He knew you could handle yourself as a fellow wolf, and he knew you were the best to go because you weren’t marked yet, but he was worried for you.

You definitely had people looking at you because of your different appearance. You were drop dead gorgeous to anyone with eyes, and that greatly concerned him every-time you went out shopping. He may have been more of a lone wolf, but he wanted to protect you at all cost, even if you didn’t realize that’s what he was doing yet.

“Doesn’t count. You’re a FANCY werewolf, remember?” He emphasized the word fancy in a condescending way that irked your nerves all the way to your core.

“We don’t know what you can do yet. Besides, you act like I’d actually want to go watch them make goo goo eyes at each other all day long. Seeing them cuddle and dry hump the whole time we’re doing something isn’t my idea of fun. I’d rather be here and enjoy the peace and quiet while I can.” He said as he tossed the remains of his apple in the garbage can in one swift motion.

“I can do everything you guys can and more!” You defended yourself, getting a bit frustrated at the younger wolf for doubting your abilities.

“Then prove it. Do something… super wolfy” he chuckled out, half jokingly and half seriously in what a normal person would recognize as a flirty manner.

He hadn’t had too many girlfriends. His experience with girls was limited compared to his brothers. So sticking to his sarcastic edgy tone was the only way he knew how to engage with you.

He was curious as to what your powers entailed anyways. They all were, none of them had met a wolf like you before. All the wolves they knew were modern, and the only seriously powerful wolf they knew was from a Chinese pack that had fled to their area who could communicate with heaven, hell, and the nether realms. They had heard stories that had been passed down for some generations about what wolves were like long ago, but none of it was confirmed because nearly all had been killed or died off. So they wanted to see if you could actually do all the things from the legends they heard about your people. For all they knew, you could fly.

You hesitated for a moment, trying your best to think of something, anything that you could do that would shut him up and prove your point. But everything you thought of required you to be much stronger than you currently were. None of the visible powers you had were working right now due to the small amount of silver still running through your system. Even if you were working at full strength and weren’t hurt, you had never been able to use your powers to their full extent do to something having been wrong with you since birth.

“… I- I cant.” You sighed in defeat while bringing your head down to look at your hands.

“Why not?” He wondered aloud, not even really meaning to tease you, he just let the innocent question slip from his lips without thinking.

“Because I got hurt and I have no way to get better! My entire pack is dead! Everyone I love is dead! I don’t have a mate! I need some sort of connection to the people around me to heal faster and I don’t have one anymore! I need one or the other to have my powers come back this quickly after such a traumatic incident and I have neither! I’m fucked up and I’ve been fucked up for a long time okay!” You snapped, your eyes now bleeding and turning emerald green from anger as you yelled at him.

Once you saw his confused and remorseful expression, you quickly closed your eyes and turned around to try and calm down. You didn’t mean to go after him like that, but you were already very worried about your own health not coming back and the taunting tone in his voice just made you break. You could feel the hurt in his heart. It made you want to cry, you didn’t mean to yell at him. You were just a very touchy person who had been asked about a very touchy subject.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get upset. I just- I’m concerned for myself and this conversation… well it made the concerns I already had skyrocket. But that’s not your fault. You would’ve had no way of knowing that. I apologize for getting mad at you over something so childish.” You earnestly said, trying your best to look him in the eyes without blushing from embarrassment.

He quickly moved his head down to look at his lap. He understood your pain. He could feel it everyday. You were his mate, he already did have a connection to you. He knew when you were sad or hurt or worried. He knew that you weren’t just in physical pain, but emotional pain as well. He wished he could take it all away from you so you never felt a negative feeling again. But he just couldn’t. Though, he was upset at himself for making it worse for you. Why did he always have to try and stir the pot? Couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? Couldn’t he just be cool around you and know when to stop?

“It’s okay. I… I understand what it’s like. To not have anyone I mean. I didn’t realize that you actually had to have those things in order to heal better though. With wolves now, we don’t necessarily have to have those things. I mean having them helps, but we get better eventually anyways as long as we get the wound cleaned properly. I didn’t know it was different for you...” He bit his lip as he continued, “But you know, our pack can be your pack, if you want anyway. There’s an opening for another ticking time bomb now that Chan’s found a mate. You’d be perfect for the job” he joked, though you could tell he was serious at the offer for you to join the pack.

“Yeah… how much does it pay an hour?” You played along, trying to lighten the mood from the tension you had made appear due to your little anger outburst.

You hurriedly propped yourself up on the table next to Jihoon, who gave you a small smile in return. It gave you goosebumps all over your skin. So you were thankful you had grabbed a large sweater the pack had given you before you went downstairs this morning.

You were given a bunch of them. They made you feel safe, and you loved the way they smelt. So when the other mates apologized and said they didn’t have many ‘girly clothing items’ to give you as getting clothing was sparse at the moment, you didn’t complain. You were perfectly content with your bigger clothing.

When you sat up on the table, you smelt the same scent of vanilla and honeysuckle that you nostrils had been absorbing from the clothing given to you…

“Not a lot.” Jihoon confessed, “we only offer housing, protection, and being around people who would do anything for you. But honestly, you could do a lot worse in terms of a career.” He bit his lip once more, the action drawing a small pur from your chest, which you tried to cover with a small cough. Of course he still caught the sound though. You weren’t even sure why looking at him made you that happy. The sound made Jihoon swoon, he loved that he already had such an impact on you.

“Of course there’s also some downside like with all jobs… like having to constantly break up fights, having a complete jackass for a mate, and well… you know… sharing bathrooms…” he trailed on, rubbing his neck while he attempted to make it seem like the middle part was casual.

“Wait! A complete WHAT for a WHO and WHERE was I???” You all but yell out in shock, making Jihoon wince.

He couldn’t tell if you were upset that he’d just burst it out like that. He honestly couldn’t even tell if you knew you were his mate or not. He didn’t know if you WANTED a mate or not. From what he knew of you, you usually stayed away from people unless you had to be around them. You told the others that staying alone is how you’d survived all these centuries. But Would you make an exception to your rules for survival to stay with him?

“Uh… yeah. A mate. That would- that would be me. I’m your mate…” He whispered, attempting as best as he could to regain control of his heartbeat that was now almost pounding out of his chest.

That’s when it all clicked in your head. Why they let you eat first with the mates, with the OTHER mates. You were one of them. It’s why they found you when you needed help, he must’ve felt you were in danger. It’s why you didn’t die that day even though your wounds would’ve been normally fatal even to you, because he was near you and never left your side. It’s why you weren’t scared of him like everyone else, you knew he’d never hurt you because he loved you. It’s why the pack always giggled anytime you and Jihoon would get near each other. It’s why the smell on your sweaters and his smell were so familiar, he gave them to you because you were his. You two were mates. It all made sense.

“We’re- we’re mates?” You reaffirmed out loud, but you started to feel dizzy. You weren’t sure what was happening.

Everything was going too fast, it felt like you were moving in slow motion but the entire world was spinning as fast as it could around you. The edges of your vision started becoming fuzzy and dark. You started to feel like you were going to pass out, but before you could fall flat on your face to the floor, Jihoon caught your fragile body in his arms.

“Yes. We are. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I wanted to give you some time to adjust to being around normal people before I told you.” He assured you as he started moving towards the stairs, bringing you to his room and setting you down on his bed. He was incredibly worried for you, he could hear your heart rate slowing by the second.

“You might need to lay down. You don’t look well” he spoke softly as he held the back of one of his larger hands to your clammy forehead.

“Yeah… okay… rest… that makes sense… I’m sorry I- I just wasn’t expecting-” You tried to say as you start to give into the panicking darkness, not wanting to fight the urge to black out anymore.

“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in. Just try and sleep okay?” He shushed you as he moved his blankets over your petite form, hesitant to touch you as he didn’t want to make matters worse. But his inner wolf was screaming at him to hold you and rock you to help you.

Everything you had heard about Jihoon told you he wasn’t someone who could have a relationship. All the others always talked about him wanting no one around him ever. They called him a grumpy old rogue wolf who miraculously got stuck in their pack. They said that He did things his own way. He did things alone. So did you.

“Jihoon, how the hell are we supposed to be together when we’re both lone wolves?” You whimpered out to him before everything went dark.

Another Author’s Note: alright so you guys know the drill. I wrote this close to midnight and I’m too tired to care about revising rn. So i shall look at it and fix any mistakes tomorrow when I get the time. Tomorrow I don’t think I’ll be praying more than once. Sorry, I’m working a doubt shift. But Wednesday I’m hoping to post three times! Here’s to hoping!

(Updated 9/6)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi fluff #svt woozi #woozi drabble #woozi angst #woozi x reader

[firefly464]

The Gilded Cage - Chapter 3

I felt like you guys could use some nice fluff after yesterday, so we zoomed to get this chapter out. Also, oh my god i have so many ideas im so excited ahahahahah

ALSO!! IMPORTANT NOTICE!!! The first section of Chapter 5 of The Real World has been edited slightly. I recommend you go back and reread it :)

Written in collaboration with @i-have-this-now :D

Thank you @rivys for beta reading, editing, and writing :D

Master Post

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~~~

“Alright then, Eret. Talk to me.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. “George, it’s all…” he trailed off, unable to explain exactly what he was thinking. “What… what happened to me?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

George scoffed. “Did you not hear me when I said you got shot? Did you miss that bit?”

Bad hit him lightly on the arm. “George! That’s not how you support a friend through a trying time!”

“What?! I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Eret, here.” Bad moved himself over on the bed to sit right next to Eret. “We found you passed out in the woods with an arrow sticking out of your arm, so we brought you back here and patched you up.”

“You also were nearly frozen to death. Honestly, I think the reason you didn’t bleed out sooner is because the blood froze over or… something.” George shrugged, a little too nonchalant for Eret’s tastes. “I dunno, I’m not a doctor.”

Bad frowned. “That reminds me… Why were you even out there without a coat? It’s the middle of winter!” 

“I- what?” Eret asked, caught off guard by the question. Hadn’t it just been mid summer? He shook his head. He was in some sort of fucked up world, why was he surprised by a change in seasons? 

Even so, it made sense. It explained why he had passed out in the first place. After all, running through the woods in the dead of winter without anything to protect him from the cold was a surefire way to give himself hypothermia. Thinking back on it, it was surprising that he managed to last as long as he did. Any longer, and he very likely would have died. 

George cleared his throat, dragging Eret back to the present. He realized that his friends were looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “I uh…” He stammered, trying to come up with a decent excuse. “I didn’t exactly have time to grab a jacket. They were kinda chasing me out…” 

George’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Bad’s let out a small gasp of surprise as he realized what Eret meant. He quickly stood, trying to take the heat off his friend. “Well, you don’t need to worry about them now!” he exclaimed, trying to hint to George that now wasn’t the time. “Here, how about we get you situated? Do you want something to drink?”

Eret stared numbly up at him. “Why are you being so… nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends,” Bad stated as though it were fact. “And you deserve it. Come on, I’ll make some cookies, and you can rest while I do that, okay? George, give him your jacket.”

“What?!” He sputtered. “Bad, I’m not giving him my--”

“Give it.” Something in Bad’s eyes must have made George decide to change his mind right then. The man nodded and grabbed a coat from a nearby hanger and chucked it over to Eret. 

Almost instinctively, Eret tried to raise his arm to swat away the incoming coat. Pain tore through him, causing him to let out a small gasp. 

“Hey, careful! You don’t want to tear your stitches,” Bad said quickly, rushing to check that the stitches were undamaged. “You’re still healing.”

Eret only watched as his friend undid the bandages that wrapped around his bicep, trying not to wince. His eyes widened when he saw the torn skin, slightly swollen around the places where string held it together. It wasn’t red or bloody, in fact, it looked like it was at least a few days old. He frowned. 

“How long was I out?” He asked. 

“A day, maybe?” Bad held out his hand towards George, not looking away from the wound. “Could you grab some of the gauze I just prepped? I might as well replace it.” 

Eret frowned as he watched George walk out of the small, curtained room. He could hear the sounds of shuffling in what he assumed to be the kitchen. 

“A day…?” He asked, glancing down at the scar on his arm. The faint, red line looked several days old, with only a minimal amount of swelling around it. There was no way it had only been a day. Injuries just didn’t heal that quickly. “How is it healing so fast?” 

“We tried our best to close the wound as quickly as possible. It would have been better if we had been able to get to you sooner, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” Bad sighed. “It didn’t help that you were half frozen to death, so we needed to take care of that first before we could even begin thinking about your arm -- hey George! Grab some regen pots while you’re out there please!”

“Splash potions or normal?” George called from beyond the curtains.

“Normal. We’ve already taken care of most of the outer damage. Now it’s just a matter of getting back all that blood he lost” 

Eret sat in confusion, his gaze darting back and forth between the shadow creature in front of him, and the curtain. “That uh… That doesn’t explain how this looks a week old.” 

“Well, your buddy Bad knows a thing or two about healing people,” the demon chuckled. “I soaked the bandages in healing potions so that your wound would close up safely.”

Eret stared at the scar on his arm in wonder. “Holy shit, Bad, that’s genius.”

“Language!”

He looked down, having the courtesy to at least look somewhat ashamed “Sorry…” 

“It’s alright, you muffin,” Bad laughed. “Didn’t I tell you guys to use this technique already? You know it’s really not healthy to just drink health potions, right? Have you not been taking care of yourself?”

Eret grimaced. “Well, it wasn’t exactly… common in L’Manberg, per se?”

Bad’s face fell. “Don’t tell me. Did Wilbur forget? I know I told him how to!”

“I honestly have no clue,” Eret shrugged. It wasn’t technically a lie, he really didn’t know, but the reason why was entirely different than the implication.

Bad nodded, pride shining on his face. “Well, Eret, I can guarantee you that as long as you stay here with us, we’ll take good care of you.”

~~~

Eret woke slowly and peacefully, a surprise to everyone in the community house. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of a knocking in the doorway, and was startled to see Bad tapping his knuckle against the wall, a plate in his other hand.

“Heya, sleepy-head!”

“What are you--” Eret sat up and rearranged his pillows to support his aching back. “What are you doing?”

The demon grinned. “I’m bringing you cookies, what does it look like?” He sat the plate he was holding down on Eret’s nightstand with a clink.

Eret stared, dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Lots of reasons!” Bad replied, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket. “I figured you weren’t feeling too great, so I wanted to do something nice for you to cheer you up!”

“Oh.”

“Plus, cookies taste better than potions, so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone and put the regeneration potion into the cookies.”

“Oh.”

“You have to make sure you eat all of them, okay? Doctor’s orders! I made sure to keep it a small batch so you wouldn’t get stuffed.”

“Oh...” Eret could only stare at the six perfectly round cookies sitting on the plate next to him. This was real, physical proof that somebody here cared about him -- really cared.

Why?

Eret couldn’t think of a good reason why anyone here should care about him. He had betrayed L’Manburg, or so everyone in this world thought. He was untrustworthy. He could turn on his friends at any moment. It would have been in Bad’s best interest to leave him freezing out in the snow, to leave him to die, but he hadn’t. Bad had done the opposite. So--

“Why?” he muttered.

The demon furrowed his brow. “Why what? What do you mean?”

“Why do you…” Eret stared down at his hands, unsure of what exactly he felt. “Why do you care? You have no reason to, I-- I’m a traitor. For all you know, I could turn on you, I could stab you in the back, I could...” he trailed off, not daring to finish his sentence.

A small scoff sounded from the open curtain. “Please, you wouldn’t do that.” 

Eret glanced up. George was once more standing in the makeshift doorway, his arms crossed in front of him. “You’ve already invested way too much into this, you wouldn’t just throw it away. Besides, I like to think of it as a double agent. Sounds much cooler than being a traitor.” 

Bad turned and faced George with a disappointed frown. “George.”

“What?” The man glanced around nervously. “I’m not wrong.”

Bad sighed and faced Eret once more. “Well, I guess…” He trailed off, seemingly deciding what words fit his answer best. “I think that everyone deserves to have someone that cares about them. And I already cared about you before I found you in the snow.”

“Besides, we all knew what would happen once you pressed that button,” George added, a soft smile on his face. “We all accepted it, and we knew what would happen. You weren’t the only one in the final control room. We’re in this together.” 

He could only watch as Bad took a seat on the side of his bed.“You’re our friend, Eret. You still deserve love, and a warm bed, and some nice cookies, no matter what you’ve done. And I want to be able to give that to you, for as long as you’ll let me.”

Eret blinked hard, trying to clear away the tears that threatened to spill over. “Do you mean that?”

A warm smile crossed his face. “Of course! Besides, I may have not approved of your plan, but I still vowed to stay neutral. I knew that this was going to happen, and I’m here to help you through it.” 

Eret gave up. The dams he had put up broke, and tears began to stream down his face. He tackled his friend and held him in a tight hug, not daring to let him go. It was slightly strange, considering the fact that his friend was some sort of shadowy-demon monster, but it didn’t matter. The hug was still filled with warmth and love.

It was enough to make a traitor cry.

He could feel a second pair of arms wrap around them as George nestled his head in the space between the other two’s bodies and let out a content sigh. Their tangle of limbs was slightly awkward, but none of them cared. Both George and Bad were too focused on trying to support their friend, and Eret wasn’t focused at all. 

Bad rubbed Eret’s back, trying to comfort him as much as he possibly could. Eret’s throat was too tight for him to say what he meant just then, but he hoped that this embrace said it for him.

Thank you.

~~~

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Taglist (feel free to send me an ask if you want to be added) @hismilw @violet–majesty​ @chiera99​ @koi-boye​ @waffle-time-god​ @miss-oleum​ @porkgavor​ @crafted-dreams @harley-the-pancake @lemonaid-ruru @luminousart @somethingtocrowabout @bee-tubbo @firepowder @boombahey @rayjayo @carry-on-my-wayward-why @echo-delta​ @star-fruit23

#this chapter is so self-indulgent #i just wanted fluff #thats it #thats the only reason this chapter exists #eret #the_eret #badboyhalo #georgenotfound #dreamsmp #dream smp #dream team #dreamteam #bbh #mcyt #The Gilded Cage #Split Realities #mcyt au #my writing #the real world

[simping-i-guess]

Shared Scars (Part 1)

          You remembered the first time you saw the legendary Vash the Stampede. He came to your little town, made a bit of a racket with the kids, and was soon carried away with the wind. You were young then, probably only 17- but he left a lasting impression. Being willing to give you, a poor beggar, the time of day was rare- especially for a non resident. His face burned into your memory, the sight of his bright smile always being present within your mind. You wanted to see him again... However, the next time you'd meet him, you had been hardened by the strenuous life you led in order to survive.

26. That's how old you were when you ran into Vash again. Within a small bar, far from where you'd originally met him, far from the village that you hailed from- the village that was wracked with poverty and death. Far from your least favorite place... You remembered to thank you lucky stars that you made it out of that town with your head on straight.

You took a seat beside the taller figure cloaked in crimson, buying him the same thing you had seen him drinking many years ago- whiskey. With only a brief moment of confusion, Vash's expression became one of shock.

"Hey, do I know you from somewhere..?" Vash asked, a hand coming to his chin. "You look awfully familiar..."

You stifled a laugh behind your gloved hand. "Yes, about nine years ago now. You happened to stumble into a little town for a drink- but I never forgot your face." You smiled, leaning against the bar. "I'm surprised you remembered me, though. You must see a lot of people."

"Ah, yeah." Vash chuckled, the sound filling your ears. How pleasant. "I'm pretty good at recognizing faces, though, and I certainly remember yours. How is everyone from the town doing? All the little tykes grown up?" Vash asked, taking a swig from his whiskey. You shrugged.

"No clue, haven't been there in years. Last I heard, one of the old folks controlling the water supply died, and the whole town fought to take control of the estate. Glad I wasn't there for that."

"That's... unfortunate." Vash commented, face falling only briefly. "Well then, what about you? You seem well."

The two of you spent the night talking, sharing the stories you'd both gotten over your years of wandering. Vash hung on to every word you said, even the mundane. He... he cared. That was strange, but it was what you remembered about him from all those years ago.

How you then ended up tagging along on his travels was, a bit fuzzy in your mind. A few drinks could make you do and say some crazy things, seemingly. But it didn't matter much... you were happy to go along with him, allowing the wind to blow you both wherever it desired.

However, things grew more complicated as your feelings for the gunman emerged, and your desire to hold your secrets even closer intensified.

...

"Vash, I can't wear that..." You frowned at the garment that was being presented to you.

"What? Why not? Is it the wrong size?" Vash flipped the shirt over in his hands, looking for the inner tag.

"No, it's... it's the right size, that's not the issue." Your eyes drifted to the sleeves, examining their short length. "But, ah... it looks like it might be a little short... for my torso..."

"Well, I think it's supposed to be that way. It's cool and breathable, and I mean, you don't need to always wear that sweater- it's so hot out!"

"Vash, you're always in a jacket."

"Yeah, but its fabric protects me. Yours is just hot for no good reason."

Vash made a valid point, but you didn't want to admit it. No, you just didn't want to put on anything more revealing. You were much too nervous.

"C'mon, just try it on?" Vash insisted, giving you a pleading smile. "I'll even get on my knees and beg!"

"No no no- stand back up!" You caught Vash by his waist, not allowing him to finish his kneel. "I'll- I'll wear it-"

"Yes!" Vash pumped his fist in the air.

"...but not right now."

"Oh." He deflated. You sighed, your hands coming to your hips.

"... a date." You mumbled.

"Hm?" Vash tilted his head, questioning.

"A date. I'll wear it if you take me out on a date. Does that sound fair?" You raised a brow, waiting to see if Vash would accept the proposal.

"A date..? Oooh..." Vash elbowed you softly, a mischievous expression overtaking his features. "Have you just been trying to get me into your bed his whole time? Ow-" Vash rubbed his cheek, trying to will the sting from your pinch away.

"Look, is it a yes or no? If you're not interested-"

"I'll take you out, that's no problem." Vash answered, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "I'm just a bit surprised that you'd want that. Dates don't seem like your thing."

"Hey, dates can be fun. Plus, I like food. There's usually food on dates."

"Are you just trying to get me to buy you dinner again?"

"Shhh. Don't think too much about it, you already agreed."

...

Vash decided to meet you at a nice diner. You insisted that you two meet there rather than go together, because you had to get ready first. In truth, you were just giving yourself ample time to psych yourself into actually going.

"C'mon... I don't look that bad..." You muttered to yourself as you looked in the mirror, wearing the shirt Vash had gotten for you. It was a comfortable form fitted shirt in a color that was flattering on you. But, the lack of long sleeves, the fact that it revealed a lot of your back, and its length on your torso wasn't favorable for you.

It showed off the myriad of scars laden across your body, both shallow and deep. Most you had gotten from minor scuffles, or when foraging for scrap to sell. However, a few long slashes on your partially exposed back were clearly an intentional infliction, having gotten them while being robbed many years ago. You shook your head, urging the returning memories from your mind.

Even if you had seen Vash's scarred body before, it didn't change that you were still nervous about revealing your own scars, especially to someone you wanted to seem appealing to. So, before you could talk yourself out of going, you threw on a jacket and left to meet Vash at the diner you had agreed on.

...

"Hey, (Y/n)!" Vash called you over, waving exaggeratively. You gaped, looking at your shadow in an attempt to gage the time. Were you late, or was he just super early?

"Yoohoo, (Y/n), can you hear me~?" Vash called again, hopping up. He was probably scaring off potential customers, bouncing around so boisterously right near the entrance of the establishment. You hurried over to him, trying to get him to stop making a scene.

"Vash, people are gonna look at us funny!" You complained, grabbing hold of one of his arms.

"Aw, what's the problem with that? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? Hey, aren't you supposed to be wearing that shirt I got you?" Vash asked, jumping from one topic to the other faster than you could fully comprehend.

"I am wearing it, I'm just also wearing a jacket." You explained, crossing your arms.

"Oh, well then allow me to get that for you-" Vash moved to stand behind you, ready to help remove your jacket.

"No!!" You stepped out of his reach, glancing away from him. "N...not here. Let's go somewhere a bit more private."

"Oh~? Well-"

"No funny business." You pointed a finger at Vash, trying to muster up a scowl. "We're just stepping aside for privacy, no getting handsy."

"Hey hey, I won't! I'd never do something without a lady's permission first." Vash put his hands up, his palms bared in a defeated way. You sighed, waving Vash over to the side of the building.

The town wasn't particularly busy at this hour, so just moving away from the entrance minimized your chances of anyone stumbling on you two. With one final glance around, you began slowly undoing the clasps on your jacket. Vash hummed, watching with anticipation.

"I'm sure the shirt'll look good on you! I have an eye for that sort of stuff. Here, let me." Vash again reached out, helping to pull the jacket off of your shoulders. He took it, folding it over his arms and ensuring it'd not get wrinkled in the position it was in. "Ookay, well~" Vash grinned as he looked over you, though you could tell he was a bit surprised at what he was seeing. His eyes mostly stayed on the shirt, seemingly examining the way it fit you, but you knew he was just being courteous. "It-" Vash was quickly cut off, and he leaned back to dodge your swift movement.

"Don't say anything yet!" You exclaimed, having put a finger up to his lips. You felt your face heat up as Vash watched you, seemingly confused at your display. You pulled back, crossing your arms protectively over your chest. "I know it must seem a little dumb... getting all embarrassed over this." You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing the intense urge to look away from Vash's expression.

"Dumb?" Vash raised a brow. "Why would it be dumb?"

"Because you've let me see your scars before, so it's not... it's not like I've been under the impression that you'd be repulsed by mine or anything..." You shifted your weight, swaying nervously under Vash's gaze. "A-And even if you did find mine ugly or whatever, I knew you'd be nice about it. Even then, I was still too nervous... I just feel silly..." You shook your head slowly and held a hand out to Vash, now giving in and averting your gaze. "C...Could I have my jacket back now..?"

You heard Vash approach you with a few steps, and then felt your jacket being draped over your shoulders where Vash's hands settled as well. You glanced up at him to see his soft smile, which made your legs feel like jelly.

"You're beautiful, (Y/n)." Vash said simply. "You don't have to be embarrassed about your scars, especially not in front of me. But you don't have to show them off if it makes you uncomfortable or self conscious- I understand how that feels." Vash's knuckles softly stroked down your cheek, and he gave you one of the most breathtaking smiles you had ever seen. "Your comfort is the most important thing to me. I'm sorry if I made you feel as if you had to reveal this before you were ready to."

You sighed, feeling silly again. "You always know what to say, don't you?" With a little shrug of your shoulders, Vash moved his hands, and your jacket fell onto the sandy ground. You tried to match Vash's smile, though yours was a bit more forced.

"Can I touch your arms?" Vash asked, his thumbs rubbing idly on your shoulders.

You answered Vash in a small voice. "Yeah, that's fine."

With hesitant movements, Vash slowly smoothed his hands down your arms, his smile never faltering. "I'm surprised, you're more muscular than I thought you'd be." Vash commented, his fingers barley ghosting over the prominent scars.

"Hmf, I coulda said the same about you. You look real lanky until your jacket comes off." You tugged on the front of Vash's red jacket, wanting to busy your hands.

"Yeah, you aren't the first person to tell me that." Vash said, his hands stopping at your elbows. "Now... I think maybe it's time we actually start our date. Here, I'll grab your jacket-"

"No, it's... it's okay." You smiled hesitantly, grabbing your jacket up off of the ground. "I... I think I'll just hold it. I mean, it is hot out..."

Vash hummed. "It is, isn't it?" His hands quickly found the buttons on his jacket, undoing them swiftly. "I think you might have the right idea."

"Vash, you don't have to do that." Despite your words, you smiled as Vash's jacket was removed, revealing a bit more of his toned body to you.

"I don't, but I also don't feel like sweating right now. Plus, I don't see anyone getting handsy with their guns here, so I think I'm fine. Now," Vash draped an arm over your shoulder. "Shall we go inside?"

You chuckled, leaning your head against the side of his chest. "Yeah. I hope they have some good food, here."

#trigun #vash the stampede #fanfiction #my writing

[plus-size-reader]

Stranger

Zuko x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1284 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Finding Zuko in the Northern water tribe and hiding him away from the others. 

——————————————————————————————————

“What are you doing here?” you barked out, holding your knife high as you looked at the firebender. He had just crawled out of a hole in the ice, and as far as you were concerned, he was the enemy. 

After all, the soot in the sand made him look as guilty as anything else. 

However, the man didn’t even look phased at your appearance as he tried to breathe. It must have been strange for him, being out of his element…

Good. 

“I asked you a question” you repeated, glaring daggers at the man though you had no idea what you would do if he decided to enter into a fight.

You could hold him off for a while, but eventually, he would likely best you. The waterbending you did know was very minimal, all things considered. 

“I heard you” he grumbled out, sitting up slowly. 

It was a casual movement, compared to what you had been expecting, but you didn’t let up your guard. After all, you had no idea what he was capable of but you weren’t going to let him leave this cave. 

If he got out into the city, there was no telling who he could hurt. Not that he really looked to be in the position to hurt anyone right now. 

When he pulled his wet hood away from his face, you saw that he was covered in bruises and marks, making it obvious he had been hurt before now. 

If he was weakened, you may have had a fighting chance at taking him down. 

“Who are you?” he asked finally, taking note of the fact you hadn’t relaxed since he’d arrived here. What kind of person just hung out in the cold like this? All alone. 

It baffled Zuko, and that was saying a lot. After all, he loved to be alone and understood the benefits of solitude, but this was a tad excessive. 

You sighed. 

Firebenders always talked so much. “They call me Y/N. Who are you? What are you doing here?” you repeated, trying to get all the information you could out of him.

He didn’t seem like a threat, but you couldn’t let yourself think that way. He was fire nation, and he was dangerous. He was the enemy and he would kill you if he got the chance. 

You couldn’t forget that. 

“Are you a fire nation soldier?” you asked then, not even letting him answer the first set of questions you had fired off before it hit you. If he was, you should have just shoved him back into that hole now. 

Your people were on the verge of full annihilation and you couldn’t allow him to get out of here. 

“No.” 

It was an answer, but not a very good one. Especially not considering all the things you had asked him just now. Though, if you knew anything about Zuko, it wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“I’m here for the avatar. Once I get him, I’ll be on my way” he assured, shocking you. He didn’t want to kill all of you? You didn’t believe it. 

You had never met a firebender before, but from what you had been told, that wasn’t true. The fire nation brought nothing more than death and destruction and this stranger would be no different. 

“You’re freezing” you pointed out, noticing the way he shivered as he sat. Firebenders didn’t belong in the north, and he should have known that. 

Not that you could really blame him. 

“It’s cold” 

A lot of attitude from someone who would be drown if you so much as called for help. 

“Get up” you decided finally, offering a hand to the man, ignoring the obvious danger you were facing by doing so. You should have just kicked him into the water, but you couldn’t do it. 

It wasn’t in your nature to condemn someone to their death, knowing you could stop it. 

“You really don’t want to hurt my people? As long as you get the avatar” you clarified, helping him to his feet. It didn’t make any sense but Zuko nodded. He didn’t care about these people, as long as he got the avatar. 

That was what he’d come for, after all. 

“Do you know where I can find him?” He asked, looking at you with a newfound interest. Perhaps you had a use to him after all, even if you were a bit annoying at first. 

You did.

It was wrong to give Aang up, you knew that, but it was too dangerous to let anyone else into this place. You had to protect your people first, and you had to assume that the avatar could handle himself. 

After all, the fire nation could tear this place apart, and you couldn’t allow that.

“I’ll take you. But first, you have to warm up. You’ll be no good frozen solid” you teased, not getting much of a reaction from this stranger. He clearly was not easily amused, but you didn’t care. 

For some reason, you felt like there was something about this stranger, something that you couldn’t just ignore. He was a person, he felt things and had weaknesses. 

It was something you’d never imagined would be possible in the devils of the fire nation. Perhaps that was what prompted you to believe in him so much, but in any case, you couldn’t go back now. 

You needed to help him. 

“Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you stranger?” you wondered, walking with the man to your home as carefully as you could. 

No one was around these back ways right now, seeing as they were preparing for a war, so you didn’t have to worry about getting caught with him. 

If you could get a fire started, or at least get him out of the cold, you could get him out of here before anyone else had to find out about a fire bender in the northern water tribe.

It was the most you could hope for. 

“Zuko” he grumbled out, keeping close to you though you were only serving to annoy him more and more as you kept talking. You didn’t seem to understand what was at stake if he let the avatar go. 

Though he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

You didn’t seem to understand much about what was going on at all outside this small island. If only he could make you understand...it would be so much easier.

“You’re the prince, aren’t you?” you realized, putting together everything you should have realized right away. From the scar to his determined way of speaking, you should have known.

They talked of his banishment on every corner of the four nations, and you should have recognized him. No wonder he wasn’t just some heartless killer.

He really wasn’t a soldier. 

“Not anymore” 

It was so flippant, and you could hardly believe it. He was the prince, he would always be the prince, and he should have known it. “Don’t say that, it isn’t true” you reasoned, sitting down beside him on the ice. 

It didn’t make any sense that you were so emotionally involved with him already, or that you cared so much but that was just the effect that Zuko had on you. 

He was so powerful, and for being the first firebender you’d ever met, he wasn’t some monster. He was just someone who had been dealt a really rough hand by someone who should have cared for him. 

It wasn’t fair but that was just the truth.

It was what he’d been through. 

“Whatever you say, stranger” you teased, knowing this conversation was far from over. 

#avatar #atla #zuko #prince zuko #avatar the last airbender #avatar x ps reader #avatar x plus size reader #avatar x reader #avatar imagine #atla x ps reader #atla x plus size reader #atla x reader #atla imagine #zuko x ps reader #zuko x plus size reader #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x ps reader #prince zuko x plus size reader #prince zuko imagine #avatar the last airbender x ps reader #avatar the last airbender x plus size reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar the last airbender imagine

[bookofmirth]

Hi!You wanted to talk about Mor more often and I so happen to be quite confused about her.

I liked her character in the first books. But in ACOSF she simply disappeared. I can't remember any significant scenes or chapters with her in it. She has a great friendship with Cassian, they used to go out till the death of night often according to the previous books. Suddenly she doesn't even have a private conversation with Cassian at all throughout a whole massive book with Cass' POV too? I'm not sure if i'm right about them not have a single conversation on their own. Nonetheless their friendship feels nonexistent in ACOSF.

Is it because SJM is anticipating Mor's own book? But that wouldn't explain why their friendship suddenly changed so much? I understand she's off to other lands to do whatever it is she is doing. I only remember Mor eating with the IC once I think. And some dance classes.

Her absence made me think it was just a convenient timing thing. No Mor/Nesta/Cassian altercation. Even during the dance classes scenes there is not really any growth between Nesta and Mor, they are simply civil. Nothing more nothing less. As a good friend/almost family of Cass I'd expect there to be more, atleast trying to get to know eachother for the sake of Cass? Does that make sense? Idk it felt strange that Mor had no growth in either relationships.

Secondly do you think she's leading Azriel on by not telling him for 500 years that's she is not interested in him? Is she so scared of his reaction? Feyre is the only one who she explained it to. I also kinda find it ridiculous that as a Spymaster he hasn't figured it out yet. She also sleeps with Helion to make it clear to Az that she's not interested in him romantically. The sadest part is that she said she doesn't quite enjoy it entirely.

I think she needs tons of healing still too. And things are going on on that other continent (Hybern? Vallahan? ) and i'm confused it feels like she is not succeeding at all with negotiations. And it's just a vague plot point imo that will lead to war, just for the sake of having some more stories to be told.

Thank you for reading my chaotic thoughts :)

Okay I am finally getting to this, thanks for being patient!!!

So for background, Mor has always been one of my favorite characters in this series, and I am not a huge fan of what has happened to her past her coming out in acowar. Her brotp with Cassian is one of my favorite things ever to headcanon. I had written fanfic with her and Az, her and Nesta, her and Elain. I think that's it.

But yeah, to have a whole book where Cassian was a major character and to hardly get any Mor content, it's weird??? I can see it being an issue if Nesta was jealous, but now that I think about it, Nesta never displayed any jealousy toward Mor in all of acosf, not where Cassian was concerned. I think that Nesta did regret not being closer to Mor when she first got to the Night Court, because she sees how everyone else treats Mor like she is kindness personified and so Nesta reflects on how she treated Mor. But people in the fandom have had the impression that Mor was in the way between Nesta and Cassian, which I never understood, and which acosf proved is incorrect, even from Nesta's POV.

The only conversation I can think of Cassian and Mor having was when he thinks about how she is as beautiful inside as out and how he thinks she doesn't know. (Sidenote, my heart, he is so precious.) But there was nothing of substance. WHYYYYY. I would rather have had zero stupid plot and 800 pages of character development than what we got.

I think that, besides the pregnancy plot, the thing that bothers me most about acosf is the fact that Mor not only disappeared from the narrative, but that her queerness is basically erased because it's not relevant to the plot. And queerness is not a plot device. It's not a "gotcha" moment to change who the fandom ships.

Nesta and Mor did get to know each other a bit, like you said with the dancing lessons, but it was super minimal. I would expect that Nesta's relationship with Mor would have grown in the same way that her relationship with Azriel did, because Azriel and Mor are arguably Cassian's closest friends. (Besides Rhys, but Nesta and Rhys had their own issues.) So why didn't it? I'm trying to be generous with sjm on this one, but I think that it again comes down to Mor not being useful because her queerness wouldn't be useful to the acosf plot. Maybe I'm wrong. I hope that I am.

The one thing about Mor in acosf was that she kept leaving and when she returned she was upset about something, which you mentioned. I assume we will find out what this is all about eventually? Because we got Mor's POV in acofas too, and even then she was off on her own and there was something watching her from the woods, and a lot of people think it was Bryaxis, but we haven't had confirmation. Plus, we have the whole deal with Keir coming to Velaris. She has stuff coming up for sure, and so maybe Mor, like Elain and Lucien, have been put on the back burner because other stories are coming first.

The thing with Az - I don't think that she has been leading him on. She tries to tell him in her own way, without having to come out, that she isn't going to be interested. I wish that she felt safe enough just tell Azriel, but there is a combination of things keeping her from doing that: the homophobia of the Court of Nightmares and her family, her desire to keep that part of herself sacred, and maybe (maybe?) Azriel's reaction to that discussion. I think she knows that Az is particularly fragile and they have gone so long without talking that at this point it's just festering. Ugh, when they finally do talk it's going to be intense. But I do hesitate to say she is scared of his reaction because...

I don't think that Az really loves her the way he seemed to in acomaf. After seeing how he has treated her and now how he treats Elain, I think that Mor (and Elain) are actually convenient people because his "infatuation" with them keeps people from looking too deeply at what Az is actually doing - or not doing. So if anything, Mor and Azriel having that conversation would be a huge relief where they could both stop having to pretend around each other all the time. I'm torn because I think he does have a temper and he has a history of not thinking about how that temper impacts Mor, but I also don't think that, ultimately, his feelings are deep enough to make him react that way. The only reason he would do that is a cover for the things he is really afraid of. Which I have a whole different ask about haha.

Okay, number three in my acosf pet peeves is that there was NO HINT that Rhys, or Cassian, or Azriel know that Mor is queer. I was CONVINCED that we would find out in acosf that at least one of them knows. It doesn't make any sense for them to not! After all this time, and them supposedly being so close. I hope that it's not being reserved for plot reasons because EW. Like, there is a reason that sexual assault shouldn't be used for plot or character development, right? It's the same thing with queerness and I hope that that is not what is coming.

It might all come down to the way that as the series progresses, sjm seems incapable of thinking about a character if they aren't on the page at that moment. It's why Elain seems to have been held in suspension since the end of acowar. And now Mor does. And honestly Lucien does too. Amren just never changes because she's so old. I think she's ready to break Azriel out of the cryogenic ice stuff now but I don't really like this style of writing where characters' motivations are completely hidden just because they aren't the main character.

#sjm critical #acosf #acotar: morrigan #morrigan #ask #heleencollier

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: rorveth + isendain + throne3 snips!

Y’all, I have been up since 5:30am and somehow still have not accomplished a damn thing today. But I HAVE played an awful lot of Sims Medieval and I’m having fun! So far I’ve made Lyria and Rivia with Meve as the monarch and the Free Pontar Valley with Saskia as monarch and Philippa as wizard. Also, they gay.

Anyway, here’s a bit from the next chapter of To Claim You As My Own. Warnings for seriously dubious consent in the premise (Roche is captured by the Scoia’tael) and straightforward discussion of sex and sexual assault.

Iorveth/Vernon Roche:

“I’m not your therapist,” Roche pointed out, “and you should definitely have one. But I can tell you that snapping at him and humiliating him is not gonna help things.”

Eldain’s snarl made Roche question if the no-torture thing would stay true – but then Eldain slumped back down. “Fuck,” the elf grunted. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to apologize like, real well. Time to break out the flowers and jewelry and shit.”

Eldain stared up at him in bafflement – what, did elves not apologize for fuck ups the same way? – and then seemed to notice the state of him.

“Wow, you are disgusting! Is that smell you!?”

Roche scowled. “Considering I’m your captive, how I smell is rather your fault.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess it is. Well, this is my tent now, and I absolutely cannot have a stinky tentpole captive in the middle of my tent. So we’ll just have to fix that.”

Blinking, Roche’s brow furrowed. Was Eldain kicking him out of his own prison cell? 

Instead, Eldain leaned out of the tent and flagged someone down to call for a bath. Like, an actual bath with a tub and everything. Roche blinked.

Was he going to do something like bathe himself in front of Roche but not actually let Roche be clean? As torture methods go, it would be untraditional, but mental manipulation did play a large role in torture.

Only instead of rolling a basin into the tent, Eldain began to pick the knots on his bindings. Did that mean he was getting kicked out? What the fuck?

Eldain kept his wrists bound behind him and walked him outside the tent – where numerous elves were pouring buckets of water into a massive tub.

“Uh?”

“What, humans don’t do communal bathing?” Eldain asked in amusement, stopping them next to the tub. “Here’s how this is gonna work. I will untie your wrists so you can wash yourself, ‘cause uh, gross, but I’m tying your ankles, plus you’re surrounded by Scoia’tael, so like, don’t even try it. Do not make me have to tell Iorveth that his dh’oine was stupidly killed trying to run away.”

Roche opened his mouth, blinked, then closed it as he realized he had no idea what to say. 

Eldain didn’t appear to expect an answer, because the elf untied his wrists – and gods, that was a relief, they’d been tied too tight – and wrapped the rope around his ankles. Then Eldain handed him some soap and a bucket and flourished his hand to indicate that Roche should go ahead.

Clearing his throat as Eldain stepped back, Roche awkwardly attempted to clean himself of all the evidence of how he’d been used and how he’d liked it. He grit his teeth, breathing deeply, and pretended that he was working in his mom’s brothel, a weekend shift to take over for someone like he often did. Yeah, he’d had sex. Yes, he was covered in evidence of it. No, it was no longer hot and now just annoying and crusty and he scrubbed hard to remove it.

The other Scoia’tael elves were definitely looking at him – curious, perhaps? Or plotting his death? – but there was nothing Roche could do about that, so he pretended they were just other patrons at the Clarabelle. It was at least enough to keep his blush limited to his face.

Then he was done and he poured the bucket over his head, rinsing off. He looked back to Eldain. “So… how exactly do I get in the tub with bound ankles?”

Eldain’s smirk did not bode well for him and he held out his arms uselessly.

“No, wait–” 

Eldain grabbed him, hauled him up overhead, and then dropped him directly into the tub. It wasn’t really that deep, but Roche still flailed as he struggled to surface. Finally, he was tossing back wet hair and sputtering, just to find Eldain laughing his ass off.

Roche narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t the mean kind of laughter Eldain had given before when insulting Isengrim, so he wasn’t actually that bothered by it, but he did think it was only fair if he got to retaliate.

He moved to the edge of the bath as Eldain kept laughing and it was honestly far too easy to pick him up and pull him into the tub by his tunic.

Eldain splashed around a lot more than Roche had, and when he surfaced, he slowly spit the water out of his mouth through frowning lips. “This tunic was new,” he whined, face downcast.

Roche rolled his eyes. “Meaning newly salvaged from the corpse of whatever poor sod wandered into your forest?”

“Sometimes they come from corpses that you put there,” an elf nearby murmured, glaring at Roche. And that hit Roche… weirdly hard, considering he was just a soldier doing his job. 

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, because his and Eldain’s presence in the bath apparently signalled that it was Time to Bathe and a number of elves hopped into the tub next to them. Roche stiffened, but they mostly seemed occupied with settling in the tub or chatting with each other. 

Eldain wiggled out of wet clothes and threw them over the rim to deal with later, then settled next to Roche. Which meant that Roche was sitting naked in a bathtub along with 10 other entirely nude elves. And a lot of them kept glancing at him. Some were definitely angry, but others were… curious?

He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from staring at all the elves around him. But they were just so unreasonably beautiful, so instead, he made himself look too closely, until he could notice the flaws. 

Every single elf here had at least one scar that he could see. Every single one. He gulped again.

One elf noticed him staring at a healed gash in their shoulder and bared their teeth at him. “Recognize it? I was the one that got lucky. You didn’t kill me. My entire squad, on the other hand…” 

They growled and Roche wondered how he was supposed to fight with his ankles bound in a bathtub filled with elves.

“Enough,” Eldain snapped, and where his voice had been whiny and amicable before, it was now stern and commanding, reminding Roche that the elf beside him was a commander, an equal to Iorveth. And Eldain’s reputation was even worse than Iorveth’s.

Several elves huffed in irritation, but they did turn away from him. Since they were mostly gathered on the far side of the tub, Roche didn’t really care. But the ones near him still kept staring.

“What?” he demanded when a dark skinned elf with her hair in pompoms continued to stare.

Her lips twisted. “I’m just wondering – how do you know how to make someone come so hard they scream like a siren?”

Next to him, Eldain choked, flushing, but he just blinked at her. “The same way anyone else does?” he answered hesitantly. 

Blank faces answered him, and for the first time in his captivity, he worried for the wellbeing of these elves. He took a deep breath, “okay, so first thing is erogenous zones.” He launched into the kind of lecture he’d often had to give young men whose groomsmen had brought to a brothel to ‘get rid of that pesky virginity’. 

The good ones just wanted to know how to make their soon-to-be spouse feel good.

It happened often enough that Roche had multiple versions of the speech – the three minute version, the ten minute, the half hour version, even one that was an hour long. He picked and chose which parts of the speech to include based on the knowledge and availability of his audience.

This audience? Very minimal prior knowledge, even about themselves. It was honestly kind of sad.

He was just in the middle of explaining how a soft touch to the back of the neck could make an elf melt into a puddle when he noticed Iorveth standing a few paces away gaping at him. 

“Are you teaching my men how to have sex!?” Iorveth’s voice was incredulous and high pitched and Roche kind of reveled in having garnered such a response.

“Well, nobody else has,” he shrugged, keeping his eyes on Iorveth even as his previously captive audience blushed and ducked down. “There’s only two ways to learn: experience, and being taught. And obviously experience is more fun, but it’s much better if you’ve been taught some stuff to bring to the experience.” 

He wasn’t sure if his words actually reassured any of them, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Iorveth. Iorveth stared back at him with just as much intensity and he could feel his breath starting to come faster.

Isengrim/Eldain:

Okay, this WiP is actually part of the Love Breeds Love ‘verse, but it’s kind of concurrent with the rorveth plot of that. The two storylines will meet eventually and work out some of their trauma and issues, but we’re a ways away from that. ‘cause the FIRST thing that has to happen is the breeding lol. If pregnancy squicks you out, this is NOT the series for you. Seriously.

Anyway, this bit is after Isengrim and Eldain have partnered up for this “let’s get pregnant and save our species” event and after chatting for a bit, Eldain invited Isengrim up to his room to ‘hear him play’. 😉

As the last notes rang out, Isengrim’s eyes met his and Eldain found himself strangely breathless. 

“You’re very good,” Isengrim intoned and Eldain smiled on instinct. 

“I am,” he agreed with a wink. “Thank you.”

Isengrim was very close to him and Eldain found that all he could focus on was the slight distance between them. Then Isengrim licked his lips, and Eldain’s eyes snapped back to Isengrim’s face.

“We’re expected to have sex later,” Isengrim murmured, voice deep and washing over Eldain like a warm fire. 

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes half-lidded.

Staring into his eyes, Isengrim stepped even closer and said, “we could get a head start.”

“For practice,” Eldain nodded, tilting his head back and licking his own lips.

“Exactly,” Isengrim’s whisper fluttered over his mouth just before Isengrim kissed him, and Eldain melted into the meeting of their lips, so soft and sweet and hungry.

Eventually, the pulled apart and Eldain shivered when Isengrim growled, “put your lute away.”

Later, he would think about how Isengrim must really have understood musicians, because as much as he wanted Isengrim to jump him, he absolutely would not be okay with his lute getting damaged, no matter what his horny brain said. But in the moment, he was mostly just desperate to touch, so he set the lute aside and seized Isengrim’s face, drawing him into another kiss.

Isengrim sighed into the kiss, guiding them to shuffle back into the bed until the mattress was against the back of Eldain’s knees and he had to either sit down or fall down. Instead of climbing into his lap like he’d half been hoping, Isengrim dropped to his knees and dragged Eldain’s hips closer to the edge of the bed, pressing his face into Eldain’s crotch.

“Fuck,” Eldain whispered shakily. “Oh, fuck, please!”

Given permission, Isengrim’s fingers were quick to undo his belt and tear down his trousers, letting them tangle around his knees. Then Isengrim pulled his hips closer again and glanced up at him before licking across his already-wet folds. Eldain shivered, hand reaching out to stroke through Isengrim’s hair, pushing long strands behind one ear and tweaking it.

Isengrim’s body twitched, but he was not distracted from his quest, exploring what kinds of sounds he could pull from Eldain’s throat and what sorts of movements made Eldain jerk and what made him gasp and what made him scream. 

Some time later, he felt dazed and hazy, body humming with pleasure and delight. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, reaching out to tangle his hands in Isengrim’s hair again. “Yeah, somehow I really don’t think we’ll have a problem later.”

Isengrim laughed, mouthing across Eldain’s chest. “No?”

Eldain huffed a laugh. “How is it no one every mentioned that the Iron Wolf is a fucking god in bed?”

Isengrim stiffened, not responding, and Eldain belatedly recalled that Isengrim… didn’t particularly seem to like his moniker.

“Sorry,” Eldain said softly, stroking through Isengrim’s hair. “I’m just a little surprised that the gossipmongers never got ahold of that one.” He tugged on Isengrim’s hair until Isengrim rose enough for Eldain to kiss him. “God knows after the one fucking time my people overheard me, they never stopped bringing it up.”

Snorting, Isengrim relaxed slightly. Eldain wagered he could get him to relax a lot more.

Meve/Reynard/Gascon

Ugh, I have so many WiPs for these 3 and yet, nothing finished. 😭😭😭 But amongst my list of WiPs is one that’s actually more Reynard/Gascon without Meve in the equation (sorta) and it was started for the @witcherkinktober‘s prompts “Dacryphilia | Dirty Talk | Sounding”. No actual porn here, but much discussion of it XD

General Reynard Odo regarded his strict self control with pride. Gascon, on the other hand, took just as much pride in attempting to poke through that control until Reynard blew up. Until recently, Gascon had assumed Reynard half-hated him for that, but someone – probably Meve – seemed to have let Reynard in on the idea of antagonistic flirting. 

Next thing Gascon knew, Reynard was backing him up into the wall and kissing him fiercely. Since then, Gascon had gained a delightfully well-rounded education on all possible permutations on how a stern general and a bratty bandit could fit together. And he loved getting wrecked by his silver fox of a general, he really did. But it would be nice if, on occasion, he could see Reynard lose control.

In retrospect, Meve was probably just sick of their shit, because she was the one who drove Reynard to act – and now it was Gascon’s turn.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?” Gascon announced his presence, pointedly not bowing. 

Meve turned to face him, tapping her fingertips together. “How old are you?”

Gascon blinked. “Why?”

The way she looked him over was assessing, but her narrowed eyes showed that it was not his appeal that she was measuring. “Reynard,” she said eventually, just as he was starting to get antsy.

“Uh… yeah? What about him?”

“You want to see him fall apart,” she said bluntly and Gascon’s face flushed bright red.

“Uh, I mean–” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Meve cut him of, clearly impatient with his embarrassment. “Reynard would never say it, but he wants that too.”

Taken aback, Gascon inhaled sharply, wondering if he could truly trust in those words. It seemed far too convenient for Reynard to wish to give up control to someone like him. 

“So,” she continued, “I am going to tell you what you need to know.”

Glancing around and half expecting this to be a joke, Gascon arched an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Sounding drives him wild. Every time, guaranteed.”

Gascon’s forehead creased. Sounding? What that some musical thing? “What is sounding?”

Meve sighed, lips pressed together. “I suspected as much,” she muttered to herself. “Perhaps we should start with what experience you do have.”

“I – what?”

“Sex,” Meve grunted, blunt and factual, “I’m talking about sex.”

Swallowing hard, Gascon really, really hoped that none of her guards could hear them. “It – you – why!?”

Meve rolled her eyes, apparently entirely comfortable with this conversation. She was very much alone in that, because Gascon had never been more uncomfortable. The queen was giving him sexual advice to fuck her top general. There had to be a catch. As far as he could tell, she didn’t even like him terribly much. She tolerated him because she had to, because without him, she had about two dozen men and absolutely no chance at all of reclaiming Lyria. So why would she give him advice to bag her second in command?

“For reasons that escape me, Reynard adores you.” She ignored Gascon’s surprised squeak. “Which is fine, except that you’ve got him lovestruck and distracted and frankly, I need my general at his sharpest. So fix it.”

Bewildered, Gascon sputtered wordlessly for several moments. “Fix what!?”

Her sigh was clearly disappointed and his gut clenched at the idea of disappointing her. “Fix him. Right now, you drive him to distraction. So I’m officially ordering you – go drive him out of his mind and give him everything he needs to be able to think straight again.”

Gascon’s jaw dropped. “You – are you serious!?”

Meve’s look was dripping with judgement. “Believe me, if I ever joke, you will know it.”

#rorveth #isendain #throne3 #iorveth x roche #meve x reynard x gascon #isengrim x eldain #thronebreaker #the witcher #wip wednesday

[aerialsquid]

How to Bury a Gentile

I wrote a short vaguely historical vaguely spooky ghost story about Jews and burial rites and I have to justify it existing so here it is.

“Are you the leader of the Jews?”

There was no good that ever came from that question. Rabbi Jacob stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame, ready to yank it closed at a moment’s notice.

“Well, not all of the Jews.”

The man at the door made a frustrated little grunt. He was clad almost completely in dark grey clothing that seemed to fade into the shadows of the darkened street behind him. The collar of his coat was pulled up so high that it was impossible to make out more than a pair of sharp grey eyes beneath the brim of his hat, and the cloak he wore over the top of it concealed most of his body. There could be any number of guns, knives, or angry mobs hidden under there.

“But the ones in this town, yes? You are their priest, you lead prayers and weddings and so on?” the man said impatiently.

“Rabbi. Yes. I’m the rabbi, that’s correct.” Jacob said, stiffening his posture and assuming the most neutral expression he could manage. Being completely ignorant didn't exclude someone from being completely dangerous--if anything, that heightened the risk. "What can I do for you?"

“Rabbi,” the man repeated, as if to seal it into his memory properly. One gloved hand squeezed the pommel of his walking stick. “And you preside over the funerals of your people, and perform the rites to send them to the next world?”

“Yyyyyes?” Jacob shifted his weight to his back foot, poised to slam the door in his face. This sounded unpleasantly like an opening for a death threat.

“To any of them, regardless of the sins they carried in life?” An eagerness entered the man’s voice.

“Of course. Though sin as a Jewish concept differs from the Christian…mm. Yes, of course.” The scholars of old might have debated the nature of the evil in men’s souls until the crack of dawn but Jacob had no intention of doing so at half-past midnight with a complete stranger.

The shadowed man took a half step forward and Jacob leaned back to maintain the distance between him. “What about a gentile?” the man pressed. "Would you tend to his corpse too?"

“Huh?”

“There is a man needing to be buried tonight who requires absolution. He is not a Jew, but a Jew’s prayers may be close enough for what is needed.”

“Um. It’s not usually a request I get.” Jacob tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. There was some kind of entrapment lingering in the conversation, he just knew it. That or a giant box of crazy that had managed to dress itself stylishly. Gentiles asking Jews intrusive but urgent questions never turned out well for their target--a day-long case of irritation was the best outcome the target could hope for.

The man’s hands pressed together as he completed the full step forward, making Jacob back up into the doorframe. Desperation was in his tone and Jacob was forced back over the threshold just to stay out of his grip “All I need is someone to accompany me to the cemetery to consecrate the body and pray for its soul. Barely an hour of your time. I cannot pay you with anything but my gratitude, but you will have it eternally.”

“And you came to me?”

The man sighed. Even the top hat seemed to slouch slightly as his body slumped. “I have asked every holy man in the city, Catholic and Protestant alike, and they have refused to come to the cemetery," he bemoaned. "The last one told me to visit you. Likely a ploy to make me leave faster, but you are all I have left.”

“What did this man do, that so many people refused him? Who was he?”

The man at the door hesitated. The sharp eyes vanished as his eyelids slid down, and then appeared a few moments later.

“Must you ask?” he said quietly. “Is it not enough that it is a corpse which can do no man harm any longer, and you will lose nothing but a half-night of sleep?”

The inside of Jacob’s head was ringing with warning bells like the frantic clanging of gongs announcing a fire. He swallowed and tried to ignore them.

“You say he wasn’t Jewish?”

“He was not…much of anything. He felt God had no interest in him, and returned a lack of interest in kind. Perhaps if he had been more attentive he wouldn’t lie in a pauper’s grave…or perhaps he would have not changed a whit.” The man’s voice was bitter and the sharp eyes briefly looked away from Jacob, to Jacob’s deep relief.

“Who was this man, to you?” he asked.

“Close. I would prefer to say no more. Please, rabbi. It must be done, and it must be tonight.”

Seminary did not prepare me for this, Jacob thought, and then thought again. There is absolutely something in the Talmud about this and I’ve just forgotten it, because I’m an idiot and I’m half asleep and there is a goy on my doorstep asking me to go out to the cemetery with him at midnight to bury a man whose name he won’t tell me.

“Look, I’ll need someone to help dig the grave.”

“Of course."

“And a coffin. A plain pine box. And I’ll need to get my supplies from the--”

“But you’ll do it?” said the man excitedly, standing up even taller. “And do it tonight, before the cock crows?”

Jacob held up his hands to keep the man from getting even further into his personal space. “Fine. Yes. Give me half an hour and a lazy rooster.”

The cloak almost seem to inflate as the man gasped for joy. He grabbed Jacob’s hands and shook both with enthusiasm, sending Jacob stumbling. “Thank God for you, my good rabbit! Whatever God there is, thank God for you!”

The man ran off into the shadowed streets and was out of sight almost immediately.

Jacob’s hands slowly fell back to his side as he mumbled, “Rabbi,” to the darkness.

My wife is going to kill me if whatever’s at the cemetery doesn’t.

Twenty six minutes later, going by his watch, Jacob showed up at the Jewish cemetery that back-ended the only synagogue in town. It was guarded by high brick walls that made it impossible to see inside, but when Jacob went to put his key into the wrought iron gates he found them already unlocked.

Only a few other people had the key, and he briefly prayed that it was one of them who’d opened it. Then he prayed again, a more general ‘please keep me from being murdered in my own cemetery’ plea as he passed through the gates. One hand patted his pocket, feeling the edges of the folded knife he’d brought along just in case matters went nasty.

In the very corner of the cemetery a lantern burned beside an open grave, a long wooden box, and three figures with two shovels. As he approached he recognized Maud, the gravedigger’s wife and her two eldest children.

The city’s Jews and Christians kept separate cemeteries but shovels didn’t need any particular religious affiliation and neither did the hands who were paid to hold them. Maud’s husband served the dead of all faiths as long as they needed a few feet of dirt to rest their heads in.

“You’re out late,” Jacob said, casual, like they'd met at the grocer's instead of the graveyard.

Maud shrugged. She was thin with unkempt, slightly greasy hair that fell around her face in soft waves and a dress that had no functions besides the practical. Jacob knew her to be much like her husband – not bereft of compassion, but very straightforward when it came to the rites of death. It happened. The mourners mourned, but someone had to dig the holes and move the coffins, and tears only hindered the process. “And what are you, out for an evening constitutional among the headstones?”

“Let me guess, a man in grey showed up on your doorstep and asked you to come out here in the middle of the night with minimal justification but great urgency."

Maud laughed bitterly. “The same.”

“Where’s your husband?”

“Visiting family. Had to bring them instead.” She gestured to the two young people with her, one a stringy and acne-ridden lad of thirteen and one a sixteen year old young woman who was growing into having her father’s thick arms. Both looked profoundly uncomfortable with the situation.

“And he’d put up a storming fuss if a mysterious stranger asked him to dig a grave at half past nonsense at night. Me, I know better.” Maud put a finger next to her nose and tapped it. “There’s something strange going on about this. Otherworldly. Not to be trifled with.”

“Do you have any idea who this man is?”

“Not a clue. Wouldn’t give me a name, even.”

Jacob gestured to the open grave. “Who are we burying here, Cain? A murder victim?”

Maud shrugged, followed by shrugs from her two children. “Whatever he is and whoever wants him in the ground, I’m of no mind to tell him no. He’s too determined for someone who’d take it for a good answer.”

They waited in the stillness, listening to crickets softly chirp in the bushes lining the graveyard. Suddenly Jacob could see movement in the fog, then the billowing of a grey cloak, and then the shape of a man dragging something behind him on a pull cart.

Sticking out over the rim of the cart was a large, curved piece of  rock that Jacob recognized as the rough draft of a gravestone. There was a crack down one side of the stone, indicating it had likely been tossed aside as defective before it could be engraved. Beside it was a long bundle wrapped in a dirty sheet.

The four at the grave steeled their nerves in the way that best suited their spiritual preferences as the man in grey approached.

“That’s our man, is it?” Jacob asked, pointing at the bundle. The man in grey nodded.

“Do what you need to tend to him, rabbi. But do it quickly.”

Jacob uncovered the man and winced at the smell. The man had obviously been dead for at least a day, and hadn’t died in any particular state of valor. There were ligature marks around his neck, which tilted at an uncomfortable angle. That plus the bulging of his eyes and the shape of his face meant he’d died of strangulation—a slow death on the gallows, with no kind executioner ensuring that he fell fast and far enough to snap his neck at the bottom. He’d also been stripped down to his underclothes by whoever’d taken him down off the rope, and those garments that remained were…messy.

“Lay him out flat,” Jacob said. “We’ll need to get his clothes off first.”

The man winced. “Must you? He’s endured enough humiliation.”

“Do you want him purified or not? He’s covered in his own…ugh. Covered in a number of things.”

Maud took out a long pocket knife and began cutting the undergarments off the corpse, nose wrinkling. “Hate hanged corpses,” she muttered. “Wish they’d just behead them, it’d look neater and go faster.”

“But then you’ve got the body in two pieces,” said the son.

His sister rebutted, “You could tie it back on afterwards under the shirt.” The pair descended into a discussion of ideal execution methods that Jacob tried to block out with sheer willpower.

As a distraction, he studied the dead man's face. Besides the strangulation the man wasn’t unhandsome. Jacob would put him at an elegantly-aging 45 at the oldest, with stylishly cut ruddy hair and a strong jaw. It wasn't the kind of man you'd expect to find on the gallows.

“I’m going to need a name,” Jacob said, looking to the man in grey.

The man in grey hesitated, staring down at the corpse.

“James,” he said finally.

“That’s the truth, right?" Jacob pressed, in the tone he used on children who were too young to lie effectively.  “It’s actually James?”

“Yes, actually James,” the man snapped.

“James…son of…?”

“Haven’t a clue.” The sharp eyes stared daggers into Jacob’s face. Jacob sighed and went with the one sure bet he had for ancestry.

“…James ben Adam, I ask forgiveness for you, for your family and friends, and for

all of Israel, and I ask forgiveness from you for any mistakes or indiscretions I may unintentionally commit during this service.”

“He’s dead,” the man in grey interjected. “Don’t waste time asking him how he feels, just prepare him.”

“It’s part of the ritual. Besides, I hardly want him coming back tomorrow to complain.”

Jacob ran quickly through the rest of the prayers in Hebrew– the prayer for forgiveness from the corpse, the prayer for those preparing it, the prayer for compassion for the dead. The man in grey was silent. Maud and her children answered with a hasty ‘amen’ after each paragraph, even though they had no real idea what he was saying. Their religious policy seemed to be ‘whatever gets the job done’.

Jacob sighed. “All right, let’s get to the business.”

Maud and her children huddled by the corpse as Jacob poured water over it and recited the familiar words. He is pure, he is pure, he is pure. Amen, amen.

Between pourings the four rubbed the filth from the man’s skin. There were bruises on the man’s body, and scars ranging from years old to less than a month. As he cleaned under the fingernails Jacob noticed how soft his hands were, as if he’d lived in wealth and luxury until recently.

Tahara was usually the domain of the synagogue’s chevra kadisha, the funeral society, not something one rabbi did on his own. Jacob hoped that whoever was supervising the legalities of the affair would accept one rabbi and four multi-gender gentiles as a valid substitute for meeting adult male Jewish quorum.

Jacob looked up at the grey-clothed man, who’d taken a seat on a nearby headstone, cane resting beneath his folded hands. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help?”

The man shook his head. “Willing, yes. Able, no.”

“Why?”

The man angled his head to the side, voice going soft and hoarse. “There are a lot of things I cannot say. If I did, it would not…be what was necessary.”

“And what is necessary?”

“That he be buried tonight before the cock crowed, with full funeral and rites, by a man of faith, without promise of wealth or other reward for the deed,” the man rattled off as if by rote.

“You say that like it’s in a contract of some kind.”

“It is legally binding, in its own way. Now please, enough questions, we’ve not much time.” The man looked up nervously to the moon.

“Fine. Can you at least go fetch us more water?” Jacob asked the man in grey. Once he’d left with the jug, Maud huddled down next to him.

“Think I know who this dead man is,” Maud whispered.  “Heard about him over the local gossip from my cousin. He was a criminal. Nasty one, a thief and a murderer. Mutilated bodies. They say he even made a deal with Lucifer himself. Must be why this one sought you out.”

“You know we don’t believe in your Devil, right?” Jacob muttered, almost by reflex. “Let alone have any positive relationship with him.”

“The people what hanged him this week in the next town over believed in the Devil. What else would be so bad the church wants nothing to do with him And why else would he need consecrating so badly and so quickly, if he’s not got something he needs absolving form?”

Jacob watched the fog for the return of the man in grey. “And this gentleman who’s such an advocate for him, you think he’s…”

Maud followed his gaze. “If I believed in such things, I’d think it,” she whispered.

“But you don’t?”

Maud gave him a sharp look. “You think a gravedigger’s wife can afford to believe in ghosts? It’s bad for business, Rabbi.”

“Might not be, if you convince them a ghost prefers an expensive grave. Ah, hush, he’s coming back.”

Rather than put it into Jacob’s hands, the man in grey set the jug on the ground and stepped back from it. Jacob continued to pray as they wiped the corpse down and combed through his ruddy hair, reciting so quickly that Jacob ran out of prayer before he was done and ventured off into additional prayers that couldn’t hurt to add on top of the pile.

Jacob reached for the bag next to him and pulled out piles of white linen. “Now we dress him.”

“You just finished undressing him! He’s a corpse and he’s going to rot, does it matter?”

Jacob gritted his teeth, half-rising to his feet. “It. Is. The. Tradition,” he hissed.

The man in grey put his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. Do what you will. Just do it quickly.”

Jacob wrapped the corpse gently in the burial clothes – pants, shirt, belt. As he laid the white cloth in place over the face he felt the tension growing in the air, an odd pressure he’d previously chalked to humidity.

You can’t buy and sell a soul, he told himself. All souls belong to God. That’s how it works.

On the other hand, God might rent them out on commission. If he made it out of this intact he really needed to see what the Talmud said on the subject.

The man in grey was fidgeting. He kept looking to the moon, then to the watch in his hand, and then worrying the cane between his legs until it dug a long furrow in the dirt in front of him.

“Get his feet, I’ll take his shoulders.”

“Yes, mum.”

Maud and her daughter dropped the corpse into its plain pine box.

“Nails,” Maud said over her shoulder.

“Here, mum.”

The gravedigger’s son brought the hammer down hard. The resounding noise of the pine box being nailed shut jangled Jacob’s nerves after all the hushed prayers. The youth gave the nails a few extra swings each, just to make sure that nothing inside the box decided to come back out again.

The four of them lifted the coffin and crab-walked with it until it was vaguely over the grave, then dropped it in.  The man in grey leapt to his feet. “Now. Funeral. Perform it, and quickly,” he insisted.

Jacob steadied himself at the edge of the grave. Maud and the children took up the politely sympathetic stances identical to the one the gravedigger did when waiting for the funeral to finally end so he could get to his business.

Jacob was used to these. He was just used to them during the daytime, with a row of mourners lined up neatly with their ritually torn ribbons pinned to their chests as a substitute for rending their actual clothing. Even the most loathsome of people had someone to show up in order to keep up social status. A funeral for a man with no mourners to comfort was novel.

He looked at the man in grey, who was standing well back with his arms folded. “I will say, I’ve never done a eulogy for someone I don’t know the identity of, so I can’t promise anything quality.”

“I don’t care. Do it.”

Jacob took a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. He thought back to other eulogies, pulling together scraps of them and tying it nicely with a scriptural bow.

“We are all cracked vessels,” he pronounced in his Official Rabbi Voice. “But we are all vessels made in the image of God, and even in death that vessel is subject to respect. As the Torah says, even if a man commits a sin so severe that he is sentenced to death, his body shall not be left out overnight, but buried that same day, for a hanging corpse is a blasphemy to God and a defilement of the land.”

The man in grey made a small noise, like a half-stifled bitter laugh. Jacob forced his voice to be steady.

“And from this we see that there is no crime that separates man from God. He is not spared from judgment, but he is still in God’s image, and to disrespect his right to burial is to disrespect God himself. May those that James ben Adam has harmed in life forgive him and gain healing, and those whose lives he has enriched remember him. Amen.”

And may this not come back to bite me in the arse, whatever strange theological zone I may be playing in.

“Amen,” echoed Maud and her children. Maud’s daughter shivered, a strange act when the night’s heat seemed to be growing ever more oppressive on Jacob’s shoulders.

The words of Kel Maleh Rachamim felt heavy on Jacob’s tongue. Towards the end he felt himself slurring vowels and having to stop and go back to repeat them properly. His throat burned, and he took a swig from the dirty water jug just to soothe it, but found it brought no relief.

“Please,” whispered the man in grey.  “Now! Bury him now!”

Jacob could feel dawn coming somehow, though he hadn’t checked his watch since they began. He could feel it in his bones as the heat surged through him. Maud and her children went for the shovels.

Jacob kept the prayer flowing, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mey rabah!” he muttered as dirt flew into the grave. The words of the Mourner’s Kaddish were some of the most familiar he knew. They were said every Shabbat morning, and the same words were repeated for their own reasons several other times during the service. In the dense air they seemed to be the only thing keeping his throat clear, when he would otherwise suffocate.

The two children shoveled as fast as they could but they were slumping under some unseen pressure. The girl winced, gritting her teeth, and tears were gathering at the corners of the boy’s eyes.

The man in grey jumped to stand beside them, waving his hands. “Faster!” he shouted.

“You heard him, faster!” shouted Maud.

“Mum, my arms hurt, let me rest!”

“Keep going!” the man in grey snarled. “We haven’t much time!”

When the shovel fell from the young man’s limp hands Jacob grabbed it and began piling in the dirt furiously. He felt claws dig into his arms draining the strength from his muscles. The man in grey urged them onward, with pleas and with threats, and Jacob tried to ignore both. There were whispers invading his mind and he drove them out by chanting at double speed. Beside him Maud was saying the prayers of her own people and her daughter was fumbling along behind her in repeating them. It made a rhythm to shovel to, up and down and deep into the dirt again, until the coffin was covered completely. Maud’s son heaved the crudely-carved rock from the cart and nearly dropped it on his own foot as he planted it at the head of the grave.

“Amen!” the young man shouted.

“Amen, amen, for god’s sake, are we done?” asked the daughter, thick arms limp at her sides.

“We’re done!” said Jacob, barely getting the words out.

“You’re not!” shouted the man in grey. He had his arms around himself, head bowed as if under unseen blows. “It’s not finished!”

Jacob ground his teeth, his muscles screaming in pain. “There’s nothing left!” The gravedigger’s son was on his knees trembling.

“You must have forgotten something!” yelled the man in gray in a shaking voice, huddled inside his cloak.

“I didn’t—"

Oh.

Of course.

Jacob pulled the knife from his pocket. The act of opening it felt like moving a boulder. He took his shirt cuff and with great effort jabbed the knife into it, dragging it down until he reached the hem.. The sound of the cloth tearing reverberated through the graveyard and magnified a hundred times, until it was shaking Jacob down to his bones.

Like rain breaking on a broiling July day, the tension snapped and vanished. The pained sniffles of the gravedigger’s son faded into silence. Across the graveyard, the crickets started up their song once more.

The man in grey uncurled slowly. “What did you…do?” he asked, looking to Jacob in awe.

“Mourners,” Jacob gasped, the knife falling from his hands. “There were no mourners. Had to—you tear your clothing, when you’re mourning. Funeral’s not just for the dead. It’s for the living. It needed mourners.”

A feeling of cool mist enveloped Jacob as the man in grey launched at him for a deep embrace. It was the first time the man had touched any of them since the night began. “Thank you,” the man said, voice nearly a sob.

Jacob patted his back. The man felt like a damp blanket cloying to his skin. “Shalom Aleichem, James.”

“Whatever that means, the same to you, Rabbi.” The weight of the man vanished from his arms, followed by the man himself. The first rays of morning light shone down upon wet grass dented by absent boots.

Maud’s daughter slumped against her mother. Maud’s arm reached around her and gave her a hard squeeze, a weak smile coming to her face.

“Do we get to believe in ghosts now, Mum?”

“No, dear. It’s bad for business.”

#ghosts #ghost story #judaism #jews #burial #spoopy #writing #writeblr #original fiction #squid writes

[thronesofshadows]

Salt Bridges (pt. 2) || Nicole & Evelyn

TIMING: A couple weeks before Christmas, right after this LOCATION: The Artesian PARTIES: @nicsalazar​ and @thronesofshadows SUMMARY: Shared honesty can be scary but sometimes, just sometimes, it turns out alright. CONTENT: Mentions of parental death

“Oh, shit. So— this is...it’s pretty”. It was an understatement, but Nicole wasn’t sure how else to put it. If she had felt uncomfortable at Al’s, being inside Evelyn’s bar was on a different level. She was rarely seen in the East End, and there was a reason for that. She didn’t belong, the luxurious beach houses on the way to the bar were a cold reminder of that. But Evelyn had wanted her company. It was another, more hopeful reminder. She obviously didn’t care if she wasn’t refined enough. She looked around, admiring the decoration inside. No wonder the woman spoke with so much pride about it. She swung a paper bag in her hands, lips pressed into a line. She had brought her food—she was technically still hungry— but she wasn’t sure she’d want to unpack the greasy diner meal anymore. “You…how—” she glanced at Evelyn then, partly waiting for instructions, partly trying to check on her after everything that happened at the diner. Her bar, on the other hand,  appeared empty, safe. No salt shakers in sight. There was no reason for things not to significantly improve throughout the evening. “You okay, right? I can still leave if— wouldn’t hurt my feelings” the corner of her mouth curved into a grin, her bag bouncing again.

Evelyn couldn’t help but grin as they’d arrived at the bar and made their way inside. She had a good deal of confidence in her bar, but she always enjoyed seeing people’s reactions to it, and knowing that yes, she had done a good job of it. Besides, even after everything at the diner, Nicole still wanted to be around her, she hadn’t bowed out with some sort of excuse and Evelyn highly doubted that she was a hunter. She seemed human and if anything, she’d seemed alarmed by the salt as well. Nicole wasn’t a ghost, though - for one, others could see her, and for another, despite how much she’d longed for that sort of ability, she knew that was one that her species lacked. (Though, she was once again reminded of what Deirdre and Nadia had told her, she supposed that she wasn’t really missing much). “You can sit wherever you please, though might I recommend at the bar? That way we do not have to yell in order to speak while I get you a drink.” She twisted her lips around at Nicole’s question. “I am quite alright, yes - and no, please stay. I - I want you to stay, okay?” She looked over to her. “Besides, if you have more questions or anything, we are alone now and therefore I am more able to answer.”

Nicole turned, eyes landing on the bar. Of course. “Right...that’d be—don’t know what I was waiting for”. It was less intimidating than the rest of the lounge, but she still had a nagging thought that even the napkins were worth more than anything she owned. “Okay” she said quietly, once Evelyn confirmed she was fine. “I do— I have a lot of questions, I don’t know if...” she hesitated before walking over to the bar. She didn’t know where the line was drawn when it came to questions. Maybe some could wait until both had alcohol in their systems. Though, that raised another question: If food didn’t do much for her, could Evelyn get drunk then? She leaned half of her body against the chair — afraid to touch it too much— and rested her elbows on the counter, eyeing the bottles behind with a childlike smile. She didn’t dare to get her paper bag anywhere near the counter, placing it on the next chair instead. “Just so you know, I’ll drink anything you recommend” she trusted Evelyn’s judgment. Selecting one of the dozens of questions she had in mind was not an easy task. She watched Evelyn in silence, studying her while she decided on one. The beginning, she figured. The moment that shaped people like her or Evelyn differently than humans. “How did you know? That you were...”

“I mean, normally I have staff in the front telling people where to go, so it is not an issue. I know this can be a lot to take in.” Evelyn shrugged. “All the more reason for you to just come by when it is not open, because trust me, some of my clientele are…” Jerks. Over-entitled, which is really saying something. “Well, I think that they are not everyone’s first choice of person to spend time with. Truthfully, they are not my first choice, but they pay well and I - well, if any of them especially bother me I have fed on them. Not in the bar, but later. Trust me when I say that they absolutely deserved it. Deserve, even.” Perhaps this wasn’t the most appropriate bit of conversation to continue with, but it was true, and though revealing everything about herself to anyone felt uncomfortable and unnatural, but she’d already told some things to Nicole, and she certainly didn’t regret what she’d done to feed on some of her patrons. “You can ask whatever you wish. Should it be something I do not want to answer, I will not.” She nodded. “Do you like tequila? Somehow you do not strike me as someone who drinks wine, and I have some tequila that I like to send to a friend,” Nadia, “but I keep a stock of it myself, too.” She pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “Or anything else, whatever suits your fancy. I do have imported beer somewhere, if you want that.” She was pleased when Nicole finally settled on a question. “Not human? Well, I got trapped by salt when I was a kid and watching one of my chefs cook, that was something… knew that some of my physiology is a bit odd - always had to see a special doctor. Found my mother’s journals when I was ten and broke into my father’s home office. That pretty much confirmed it all.”

“Oh—” Nicole raised her eyebrows, surprised by Evelyn’s honesty to discuss feeding habits. Even the word feeding felt strange still, but she wanted to roll with it. She remained quiet, trying to process how it made her feel. She found that she didn’t mind it. If Evelyn had to feed to stay alive, she couldn’t see the flaw in picking deplorable people to do so. She figured it was the only alternative.  “Can’t judge that”, she nodded simply. “Hey! I...I could be a wine person, you don’t know that”, she scoffed, but couldn't wipe the grin off her face. Evelyn wasn’t wrong, technically. She was predictable and boring when it came to alcohol. She didn't drink because she liked it, but for what it offered. A chance to be free of her mental prison for a couple hours. How it tasted had never mattered. She couldn't think of a single drink she’d order just for the sake of enjoying it. “I’ll take the wine. Gonna switch it up, I’m never drinking anywhere fancier than this”. Evelyn’s story sounded horrifying, and what had happened earlier in the diner punched her in the stomach again. She glanced down at the countertop, almost hoping to find the right words there. “Shit, I’m sorry—” her forehead wrinkled with concern, “couldn’t be easy”. She tried to recall previous mentions of Evelyn’s mother, but she was blanking. “I’m not sure I’m following. Your mom, she’s...like you?”  

Perhaps she was being a bit too blunt and forthcoming with all that she was saying, but at the same time, Evelyn felt safe around Nicole, and at least so far there hadn’t been any sort of judgement (at least not that she could tell). The eyebrow raising gave her a moment of pause, but any would-be anxieties went away as she saw Nicole was grinning. “I mean, sure, you could be, but I like to think I can get a read on people in that way if nothing else. No judgement, if you have met enough people who love wine you will soon find that some of them can be incredible snobs. Not all - I have a friend,” Jasmine, “who knows her way around wine quite well and is not obnoxious, but some people who come in here very much are.” At Nicole’s next comment she shrugged. “Alright, I’ll find something good. You would be correct, at least not within a good number of miles around here.” She turned for a moment, grabbing a bottle of wine - Musigny Grand Cru - one of the nicest ones she had, because Nicole certainly deserved that. “It is fine, I have grown to manage now. Plus, you know, I was a bit of a spoiled child so it is not as though my throwing a tantrum was entirely… well, not entirely unexpected.” She finished pouring the wine into two glasses and brought them over to Nicole. “Yes. She was a mara, like myself. My father is very human. Did not love having a daughter who was not human, and so made me pretend to be human for much of my life. It is why I ran away and found this place. I - well, there are others like me and others who are not human in other ways too.” She took a sip of her wine. “I am quite terribly sorry if this is too much to process right now.”

Nicole forced a smile, eyes finding the counter. Her fingers began to drum again. It was unnerving, to realize someone could give a correct assessment about her so shortly after meeting her. To be known, to be “read”. She pushed past the feeling, standing her ground against the alarms going off in her brain. It was okay. A fun, harmless comment. Social interactions shouldn’t activate her flight or fight response. She exhaled, and it was over. “You’re a wine snob too, or just take advantage of them?” she gave a one shoulder shrug, willing herself back into the conversation. She watched Evelyn pour the wine with furrowed brows. She admired her ability to minimize traumatic situations, but part of her wondered if it was just a way of coping. Being a spoiled kid didn’t justify anything she had to endure. She figured Evelyn had come to realize that. Or she hoped someone had told her, at least. “So, do I do the whole…” with the glass in hand, she motioned small circles, a teasing smile on her lips before bringing the glass closer to her nose. Snobbery aside, she did always smell things before tasting them. The mix of aromas prickled her nose. It was intense. Maybe in another —better— life, her senses could’ve been useful. Her mouth went dry after taking a sip. “It’s not... bad. You like it?”.

She fell quiet then, replaying Evelyn’s words for better understanding. Nicole found that pauses didn’t feel so terrifying right now. “No— no, it’s not. Eh— okay yes, it’s...I’ll get there” it was better to be honest. “I think everything is too much to process for me, honestly”. For a brief moment, there was an opening. When Evelyn mentioned other non-humans, she considered weighing in. Sharing. Like she had tried at the diner. But the words never reached her mouth. ”How did he— he didn’t know your mom...” she shook her head in disbelief. Despite having money, none of Evelyn’s upbringing sounded positive. “I’m glad you got away”.

“Would you think me quite terrible if I said I might be both?” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. It was true - though the idea of being defined by her taste in alcohol was not something she ever would have imagined her life turning into, but there were a good number of things that she never would have expected. “Only the ones who deserve it. If I find pleasure in the company of someone who likes wine, then I will only converse, nothing more.” The fact that she could be so blunt (or at least nearly as blunt and open as she found herself) with Nicole still unnerved her, but even if the other woman was entirely human, she was also someone who Evelyn felt comfortable around. “You can if you wish,” she watched Nicole swirl her glass around, watched her take a sip. “I do, but truly, if you do not, you can say so. No offense will be had on my part.” She took a sip of her wine as she watched Nicole carefully. Gently, even - though that was not an adjective she normally would have attributed to herself.

“I can understand that. For what it is worth, you are still handling it better than some.” You have yet to run out on me, which is always a positive. Evelyn looked down at her hands for a moment, not wanting to overwhelm Nicole. “He met her after one of her performances with the ballet. Asked her out, she consented, he did not know until she was due to have me and was planning to divorce her once I was born, except she died when I was only a couple of days over and I suppose that abandoning your child does not sit well with the noble classes, and so he raised me.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Thank you - he meant well, I think, but I am glad to be away from that life.”

“No—” Nicole replied slowly, but paused for a moment to ponder on the question. She didn’t think she cared too much what people chose to do with their money, and if Evelyn and others found pleasure and enjoyment in expensive wine, then it was their prerogative. “I drink cheap beer, I’ve no room to judge” she laughed, busying herself with her fancy wine again.  She took a gulp, probably bigger than she should’ve, before humming a rebuttal. “Will keep that in mind, but I think I’m warming up to it—  gonna be an expert by the time we’re done with the bottle” she examined the glass again, lighthearted laugh turning nervous when Evelyn mentioned her positive response to the information. She had to bite the inside of her cheek. “No, guess I haven’t and, I’m pretty good at running”. Of course, she had the advantage of not being human. Not many people out there shared her nature. She could interject, explain why she understood better than most. Repay some of Evelyn’s trust and honesty. Out with it. I get it, I’m not human either. Easy. Concise. Let someone else carry the weight of the words. She clicked her tongue, frustrated. Breaking a ten year deadlock on her secret turned out, was not that easy.

Nicole clenched her jaw after Evelyn continued to explain her background. “I’m—” she breathed out, shaking her head. “I’m—” sorry didn’t cover it. Sorry wouldn't work. Because Evelyn seemed to shrug off incredible painful moments with an ease that was terrifying at times. Did she feed on her own fear and she had nothing more to be afraid of? She looked at her, frowning. She wanted to understand. She had never wanted to be in somebody’s mind before. “Parents can mean well— but we deal with the aftermath” with the mess they make. She tilted her glass, finishing the content with a swift motion.

“You are more than welcome to judge,” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Though I am rather pleased that you do not think me quite so terrible.” She wasn’t sure what she would have done, were that the case - namely because she was so unaccustomed to caring for others and in doing so, she found that she truly cared for what others thought. Didn’t want them to hate her, or find her off-putting. Because she’d seen that in the eyes of too many, back home. When she stared for just a little too long, or talked about something that her father had said she should not talk about. “Though I think that I like the sound of you being an expert,” she trailed her fingers along the bar top. “I can help with that, thankfully.” She took another sip of her wine, grateful that at least it still tasted like something to her, grateful that it was somehow more satisfying than most human food. “Of course.” Of course. Her head felt light for a moment, before she re-focused back on Nicole.

“We do.” Evelyn held the words on her tongue. Though she had met many more people since moving here who told her how wrong her father’s beliefs had been. Both those who knew the full extent of it as well as those who only knew the surface. Know that my father did not understand me, wanted me to be different. She assumed that most of them figured it had to do with her sexuality or something that, while important and likely something else Lord Robert would not have approved of, only truly brushed the surface. “Thank you, I - telling you means a lot, and I do not mean this in a way of asking you to take on all of this for me.” She let her lips curve up into a soft smile, a kind one. Since when was she kind?

Nicole laughed, “yeah, not too terrible”. She focused briefly on Evelyn’s, gaze traveling behind the counter, to the wine. She silently asked permission for another glass. She knew chugging the wine as if it were beer was a terrible idea. Especially on an empty stomach. She eyed her food briefly considering it, but too embarrassed to grab it. Maybe she’d slow down before the wine crept up on her. On the other hand, she did plan on finishing the bottle. It would be okay, she had good tolerance. She let out a bitter sigh, glancing down. Without all the details, she could still relate to Evelyn’s story. How much of her life was really hers and how much was the consequences of her parents’ decisions? She let everything dawn on her.

Somehow Evelyn had trusted her enough to open up. She could’ve excused herself after the salt incident. Come up with lies and leave it there, yet she didn’t. And now Nicole carried part of her story, just like she had begun to carry Solomon’s. Was that what friends did— lighten eachother’s weights? She realized she didn’t mind picking up the load for somebody else. She only briefly glanced at Evelyn, too self conscious, too aware of everything at the moment to accept her kind smile. “Don’t need to—guess that’s what…” she furrowed her eyebrows. What was a good way of saying she appreciated the trust without assumptions? "Can I—" No. She shook her head. She offered no follow up, bringing the newly poured glass to her lips. She stopped before drinking, laying back. She let out a nervous laugh. Maybe she could try and finish a sentence. "I should— there's something I want you to—”  No. She couldn't do it. She had been close enough, just thinking about it was new for her. Maybe another day. “I understand. It’s okay. Guessing...not many know?"

She’d made someone laugh. Properly, actually laugh. The thought of that made Evelyn’s lips curve up and into a smile, though she still caught Nicole’s gaze, looking behind her, at the bottle of wine on display. Evelyn turned around for a moment and grabbed the bottle that had been opened before, “unless you would like to try another sort?” She held it up, raising an eyebrow. “Either way is good, many of my patrons can absolutely without-a-doubt be persuaded to finish this off. So really, your choice.”

She still wasn't entirely sure why Nicole was someone who she’d decided to open up to so much. Even Shiloh only knew the bare minimum - and Miriam knew a bit more, because she wasn’t human - but here Nicole was, human and everything, and Evelyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so open. So unafraid (outside of her natural abilities) to just talk about herself. “It is quite alright, I know that I am the more talkative of us two.” Especially now. She poured a glass of wine then, still the first bottle - just for now, to give the two of them something to focus on, “if you want to try something else after, just let me know.” She took a sip of her own wine. “You want me to what?” She looked quizzically at Nicole. “However, you are correct - not many know. It - well, some respond without kindness, and if certain groups know, it can put me in danger. Not to put a damper on our evening, but it is the truth of the world.” One I still wish I did not know about.

Her negative was silent, only shaking her head as Evelyn suggested a different drink. Nicole didn’t want that. She gave a pointed look at the open bottle, before she focused on the woman. She smiled coyly, patiently waiting for the refill. “Not changing my mind. I can be stubborn too”. She could only nod when Evelyn pointed out the fact that wasn’t the most talkative. It was the truth. She didn’t know how to let her know she appreciated her patience. She drank instead, this time more calmly. She could savor it, she supposed. It didn’t come as a surprise that not many knew about Evelyn’s nature, of course. She didn’t think anyone walked the town telling others about what they were for fun. “Right. Pretty shitty world”, despite not being the intention, her words did change the atmosphere. They were always going to be in danger just for existing.

“Uh— I want you to...” Nicole repeated, letting out a nervous sigh. “There’s something you should know about—” she tilted her head, almost wishing her next words would find each other in her brain. No, Evelyn shouldn’t know. Telling her wasn’t meant to be a warning. If she stayed quiet nothing would change between them. It wasn’t about what she should or shouldn’t do. “Something I need— want to tell you” she hesitated again between buying herself time with her glass or speaking out. She clenched her jaw, lifting her head to meet Evelyn’s gaze. She pleaded for her to read her mind, somehow. To pick up on the clues written all over her face, and put her out of her misery. “About… about— ”. The way her heart began to hammer in her chest loud enough that she could hear it told her the words inched closer. The truth was on the tip of her tongue. Sharing always gave her the most uncomfortable adrenaline rush. “I’m—”.

Evelyn nodded. She hadn’t expected for Nicole to wish for her to open another bottle - she felt as though Nicole would be very much the sort to not wish to waste anything - but the hostess side of her begged for her to at least offer that. She couldn’t entirely ignore it all. “Well, perhaps this is part of why I so enjoy your company.” She knew that there were more reasons, but it was still easier, sometimes, to only go surface-level. At least for now, even though she knew that Nicole’s friendship meant more to her than that. Even if she couldn’t quite always voice it. “It can be.” Given the dangers she had discovered more about in recent years, it truly could be. She didn’t like to think of things that way - in part because coming to White Crest was supposed to be a new (and safer) beginning for her. Not one where she’d ended up having to fear for her life. She’d never wished to go back to her life in England, but there were certainly parts of the life she’d created here that she could do without.

“Yes?” Nicole’s body language shifted - and she appeared far more nervous than usual - which made Evelyn raise an eyebrow.  “You want to tell me something. Right?” This was who she was - even though she knew she’d turned out to not be the loudest person in the room, but she also knew that she could be matter-of-fact if need be. “It is okay, whatever you need to tell me.” If she was a hunter, she’d have to deal with that. “I’m hardly in a place to judge you, now am I?”

Nicole merely chuckled at the comment, fighting the urge to drop some self-deprecating jab. Evelyn liked her company, even if she didn’t understand why. She had to deal with it.  Letting out a dejected hum, she considered her wine again. The depressing state of the world was reason enough to drown her sorrows in that glass, no? “It can be” she repeated. And yet, despite the constant danger the town offered, she had started to consider it home. She couldn’t picture herself anywhere else anymore. She had to be some sort of masochist.

Nicole nodded in confirmation, bracing herself. Just the thought of opening her mouth, made her heart jump into her throat. “I’m—” She looked up to the ceiling, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. It would be okay. There was no reason for Evelyn to react negatively. Especially not after what she learned earlier. Finding anyone better equipped to understand would be a hard task.  But it wasn’t just sharing a part of herself that terrified her. It all came down to admitting things to herself in the process. If it was okay for Evelyn to be Mara, did the same apply for her? Was it alright for her to be— That? Almost a decade had passed since she used the right word.  “I understand you better than— I’’m not—” channeling her own frustration, she clenched her fist as tight as she could. “I’m not...human”. She was sure she couldn’t breathe properly. She couldn’t look at Evelyn in the eye either. There was no moment of clarity after she spoke. No weight lifted off her shoulders or emotional release. Just confusion throbbing in her throat, fear stinging her eyes. She anticipated the first question she assumed Evelyn would have, opening her mouth before she could take her words back or run away from the bar. Before she turned into a coward again. “I’m—” she gripped the countertop, maybe she could write it somewhere. “I...I can turn— shift— I’m...I shapeshift. Animal— I turn into one”.

She took another sip as Nicole repeated her words, not choosing to add on to that - for now. It didn’t need to be repeated a third time, that much she knew. Except she’d found Nicole’s repetition comforting, in its own sort of way. Evelyn took another sort of sip - she’d never truly considered leaving town in the few years that she’d lived there, but there had been a moment of overwhelming, wondering if it was all too much, especially after everything with Melanie.

Evelyn did her best to hold her posture steady, to not react - because Nicole was telling her something clearly important. Important, and as the words began, Evelyn felt a wave of relief wash over her. She focused in on the word understand, but quickly shook that thought out of her mind because she didn’t want to miss anything that Nicole was saying. Nicole, who was usually so careful with her words, but who was now seemingly nervous made Evelyn feel bad, for a moment. She hadn’t wanted to force her into any of this, but she also wanted to be there for her however she could, be someone who people could tell things to. Since when are you like this? She asked herself, memories of actively ignoring others from when she was a child up through when she was a teenager at least. Because none of them really mattered - they were all far too human to matter beyond understanding how to blend in. Not human. In lieu of a smile, Evelyn sucked in her lower lip. Like a werewolf? She wondered, for a moment. Let Nicole’s words settle between them before she nodded. Finally allowed a smile to cover her face - though it was small, gentle, as welcoming as she was able. “Nicole, thank you for sharing that with me. If I may - I do find that to be quite extraordinary. If I also may, might I ask if there is a name for what you are? I only ask because I am not aware of all too many beings - and I do not want to assume the wrong thing.”

Many times Nicole heard that sharing worked for people. Getting things out. It was supposed to be therapeutic or cathartic or whatever. But everytime she dared to mention something about herself other than what she considered safe and superficial, a deeply uncomfortable sensation sat in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure why, but it certainly didn’t tempt her to do it often. She unclenched her fist, but her breathing remained shallow. Her heart was the loudest thing in the room, as Evelyn granted them some silence. She gave her one shy look, to ensure things had gone okay. She was smiling and it almost made her want to smile back at her. She didn’t remember how.

Her gaze stayed low when Evelyn thanked her, guilt gnawing at her. A bitter laugh caught in her throat at the word extraordinary. It sounded familiar, yet distant. Too many years had passed since she last heard her family boast about themselves. Since they would lecture her about their lineage, their culture, and everything she used to roll her eyes at. Evelyn’s tone was different, however. Gentle. It didn’t feel earned, but she wasn’t gonna contradict her. “A-a name?”. Nicole took a shaky breath through her mouth, eyes brimming with unshed tears after she heard the woman’s question. A name. She shook her head curtly, not because she was refusing, but because she didn’t think she’d be able to answer. Even in her thoughts she worked around that word. Twisting sentences and meanings just to evade it. Saying it was heavier. More meaningful. She had no means to untangle that word from her most painful memories. From everything that cost her. Family, friends, love. Her chance to grow into adulthood like a normal teenager. Being that thing took everything from her.  Ripped her apart. And she was still trying —and failing— to pick up the pieces ten years later.

“Uh—” The chance of changing all that was there, even if Nicole couldn’t consciously grasp it. Evelyn didn’t have to know how much it hurt. Not now. She only wanted a name. A small request. Yet in her curiosity, she was unknowingly helping her unlock a door she had never been able to open by herself. She just had to be brave enough to cross the threshold. “Balam...” her body tensed and for the first time, she understood what heartache really meant. Her chest tightened, but she managed to keep the tears in. She was proud of that, at least. “Means...it means jaguar”.

She hoped that she didn’t come off as cold to Nicole. Evelyn knew that she could be that way, sometimes. The newspapers back home had reveled in it - though if she thought about it enough now, she became more acutely aware that it was more due to remaining only in her home rather than being allowed to go out into the world. Though she liked to think that she understood humans at least well enough, she also knew that being given everything material that she could have wished for did lead her to be spoiled, and to perhaps look down upon others. She knew that she certainly didn’t feel that way with Nicole, and so she could only hope that the other woman didn’t think she was anything but at least somewhat warm. At least enough to not make Nicole regret choosing to share this with her.

Perhaps asking more specifically had been too much, but Evelyn was also not about to back down now. If Nicole knew, then Evelyn wanted to know. Wanted to understand more beyond the basics that she had. Beyond what she was and only a bit else. Finally knowing the name for what she was had been such a relief, though she had come to realize over the years that that same sentiment didn’t apply to everyone. Not that she’d been able to use the name of what she was outloud much at all until running away to White Crest. Balam. Before she let herself speak, Evelyn’s hands found Nicole’s own and she held them softly, gently, for just a few moments - letting her gaze rest on the other woman. “Thank you for telling me.” She kept her breathing steady - hoping, on some level, that it would help to steady Nicole’s. “That - that sounds quite,” she bit her lip. “Brilliant, if I am permitted to say so. I promise I will keep your secret. I - it means a lot that you told me.” She gave Nicole’s hands another squeeze, not yet moving her own hands away.

The moments that followed her confession were all blurry and jumbled together, and Nicole only managed to endure them thanks to the adrenaline running through her veins. Once she found herself alone with her thoughts, she would be able to process the events of the day. Only then, the magnitude of what she had done would dawn on her. And there would be time for regrets and fear. But at the moment, it seemed her brain had disconnected. Her leg bounced without permission. As it was always the case, she was hit by an instinctive urge to run. Physically and figuratively running came before everything. Running kept her safe. But running had gotten her nowhere in life. A change in tactics was needed. She was lightheaded. Drained. The only thing she could focus on was her erratic heartbeat and the counter. Looking at Evelyn wasn’t an option.

It took seconds for Nicole to register the touch. The surprise clear in her tear-filled eyes when she finally glanced up. Any other time, she would have resisted it. Not because it was unwanted, but because she didn’t know how to accept it. It would have startled her. But she seemed to be out of her body at the moment, and whoever was at the wheel didn’t mind Evelyn’s hands on her own, keeping her grounded. “Y-Yeah…” She squeezed briefly, just a few seconds, in hopes the woman understood the gesture was appreciated. Gently, she let go. The smile that reached her lips was foreign. Sheepish. Yet her shoulders relaxed, as if she had gotten away with something. She didn’t know how to reply to any of what Evelyn was saying. If it had been allowed, she would have said nothing at all. She took advantage of the small momentum she had gained, choosing honesty. “I don’t really get along with— what’s inside. So, you’re the first— it’s been a while— real long time...since I’ve told...” she explained, letting out a laugh. She found her glass again, slowly sliding it closer. “Uh— think...I think— uh, that’s as far as I can go” she hoped her words sounded apologetic, but she didn’t trust herself in finding the appropriate tone.

At least Nicole was responding to her gesture, which meant that she’d done something right, she figured. Though in the past year more people had chosen to come to her for advice or had remarked that she appeared to know what she was doing, Evelyn never felt entirely certain. She understood how things worked from an objective, sometimes clinical, standpoint, but being vulnerable to others and allowing others to be vulnerable to her without some sort of ulterior motive was still wholly new to her. She let Nicole drop her hand when it seemed necessary, though she kept her hands laid out on the bar top, just in case. “Thank you for letting me be the first you have told.” She glanced down at her hands for a moment. It was almost too much, she thought. Almost, but not quite. Just enough that it stung but not so much she couldn’t manage. Nicole trusted her. Trusted her and was not terrified of her - though Evelyn figured that thanking her for either of those things might just throw everything for even more of a loop.

“You do not have to say anything more.” She shook her head. “You - I appreciate you confiding in me.” Evelyn found her own glass in turn with Nicole. Took another sip. Part of her longed to say something more, but letting at least this part of the conversation was perhaps, by now, for the best. “So, am I going to turn you onto wine?” She grinned. “Not so bad, is it?”

A weary sigh escaped through Nicole’s lips when Evelyn threw her a lifeline. A way out of the conversation. Her frown softened, and the relief almost flipped her stomach. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to repay Evelyn's understanding anytime soon. A laugh caught in her throat. It helped her body shake some of the tension she held since the saltshaker. She could use a laugh. Even a smile, so she allowed herself that. Whether it was genuine or down to nerves, she’d figure it out later. Giving her opinion on wine seemed exactly the kind of thing she had the mental energy for. “Eh, maybe?” lifting one shoulder, her eyes narrowed playfully. “Guess I’ll need more to really make up my mind”. It was still in her plans, to drink all the expensive wine she could. And though Evelyn had given her the perfect excuse to let the conversation move, there was still something bothering. Something she wasn’t able to say before. She didn’t care if it was implied. It didn’t matter how understanding Evelyn was of her inability to say words. It felt too important to be left unsaid.

Nicole’s smile grew slowly, eager to say it now that her mind was on a break. She was surprised by how composed she sounded when she spoke again.“Thank you”. It wasn’t just for the free wine, or the friendly ear, not even for Evelyn’s own vulnerability earlier. She couldn't navigate all the feelings at the moment, but she knew it was more than that. She examined Evelyn’s face, making sure she was alright with that particular conversation to continue another time. “I am...very ready to finish that bottle,” she admitted. And hopefully, there would be more superficial matters to discuss. For once, she wouldn’t mind small talk.

#wickedswriting #c nicole #chatzy #salt bridges #// mary is still a gem #as is nicole #i love these two so much #just soft 🥺 #parent death tw

[aeide-thea]

This is a gentle request for any Geraskier fics you want to rec, because the number of them in the tag is a bit overwhelming but I KNOW there are gems in there 👀

i’m pretty sure i’ve reblogged things in the past! but it’s true that i haven’t done that in any systematic way, so—let’s see. under the cut are 20-ish recs alphabetized by author, which seemed like a good way of avoiding having to make any hierarchical declarations:

o, empathy by almostnectarine/@nectarine-pit: bodyswap! i forgot how much i loved this fic. geralt and jaskier walk a mile in each other’s shoes, and learn to appreciate each other better; this is keenly observed and thought-through, and frequently extremely funny. a thoroughgoing delight.

Jaskier pulled a face and swiveled the straps such that both swords almost fell from their scabbards at once, ruining the moment. “Geralt,” he said, “this leather itches. You’ve lived five lifetimes—” “Not that old,” said Geralt, in protest, and then, considering: “Maybe three.” “—and you never once thought, hm— oh, I see why you do that all the time, it is quite fun, isn’t it— hm, maybe I’ll add a little padding?!” His mimicry of Geralt’s tone was very good, although perhaps it was cheating, when the voice was already the same.

public displays of affection by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: geralt and jaskier go to a sex party! (not to be confused with the other fic by sospes in which geralt and jaskier go to a sex party, which is also excellent.) if that wasn’t enough of a sell, well, you confuse me, but—the flavor of the power dynamic here is a little complex and unusual in a way i enjoyed, plus frankly the description of geralt stripped down for this party is really, uh. really A Lot. i admit to being biased in favor of sex party stories in general but this one is definitely a keeper.

to you always, also by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: in which geralt is a demanding, insatiable bottom. ...honestly, this fic has significantly more emotional weight to it than that description might suggest, but i still stand by it. also the initial setup is just really funny to me, because jaskier getting hilariously outraged by geralt’s sheer infuriating geralt-ness is, like, my fave flavor of jaskier. (that’s a lie, every flavor of jaskier is my favorite flavor of jaskier, but i do really delight in this one.)

@blossomsinthemist’s mixing memory and desire series (wip) is basically my favorite thing ever, like, just truly perfectly crafted to please me personally. it’s h/c, and just astonishingly luxuriant and languorous and lovely—or, okay, let me actually just quote a comment i left on an early chapter:

this is just so exquisitely tender and molasses-lovely-sweet so far, my god the glimpses we get dimly through geralt’s hazy bemused perception of what jaskier’s feeling are so heart-clenchingly poignant—and then of course the glimpses of what geralt himself is feeling for jaskier without understanding it, this stunned rapt gratitude for everything jaskier is doing but also everything jaskier is, the lovely gentle sturdy solicitous gift he is & keeps making of himself to geralt, who would probably call it undeserved except that of course we can see precisely what in geralt has tugged this tenderness from jaskier, this terrible aching wounded gallantry that’s so astonished to meet with respite…

the meet death sitting (wip) series by @bomberqueen17 is my other favorite thing—much plottier than the previous, with a much wider cast of characters, and while i’m ultimately in it for the geralt/jaskier and therefore being strung along in exquisite agony while all sorts of plot things get in the way of any real resolution of that, it’s honestly worth it; what you lose in immediate gratification you gain in, like, a sense that this story inhabits a real, full world, with real events that aren’t just arranged to suit our heroes’ convenience. if i could only get you to read two things it would be this series and the previous one: between them they have my heart. anyway i guess i may as well quote myself again:

it’s the rich realistic interweaving of things that’s so remarkable here, how the absolute throat-thickening aches run abruptly up against the entirely mundane and all of it has to be coped with, because that’s life, and this story has life within it, in a realer way than probably anything else in the fandom, maybe anything else i’ve read in a long time. and of course a large part of me is so, so desperate for geralt and jaskier to finally come back together, with enough time and space to settle into a mutual secure tenderness instead of the current wordless, longing, poised-always-to-spring-away-like-deer-in-a-forest situation; but the story is coaxing me into a more adult patience, an appreciation for the smaller quieter incidental pleasures that aren’t the one subsuming great love, and then also teaching me to live with the wounds one inevitably acquired along the way, the pull and ache of those that makes the whole thing real, not a shining fantasy but a homely pie with a rich satisfying filling, savory and bolstering.

my body bruises at your touch by @brawlite: jaskier gets tied up by geralt as bait for the monster of the week, and discovers he likes it quite a bit. smut (and then aftercare) ensues.

demand an encore (wip) by emamel/@theaceace: jaskier is a witcher of the viper school, or used to be. he doesn’t remember it, but geralt does.

it’s been a while since i read this, but the way the layers slowly start fitting together is really satisfying: all the joy of what i think the kids call ‘identity porn,’ with the twist that here, it’s geralt who knows both identities, and jaskier who’s still in ignorance. ugh, i want chapter 3 now.

musica universalis by flirtygaybrit is bookverse and clearly so—it’s not romantic, but there’s a particular ambiguous flavor of solicitous tenderness that elevates this ‘friendly drunken hookup’ scenario to something memorable for me.

of cherries and dandelions by heyriel: in which a still-virginal jaskier bites off more than he can chew, and tries to disguise it until he can’t anymore. as i said to the author:

this is lovely and realistic in its navigation of, like, trying to Be Cool and the ways that can sometimes get you in trouble as a young sexplorer—geralt is so good to jaskier here and i’m having feelings about it!

also geralt uses a dildo on jaskier, which was not a thing i’d known i wanted before reading this, but it turns out i’m very decidedly here for it! i haven’t seen a ton of sex toys in geraskier fic and this story makes me wish there were more.

gentle-sharp and strange by lisztful has some excellent touch-starved pining geralt, also a performatively public bath scene with very satisfactory sexual tension, also an Ancient Tradition which is maybe the thing i remember most about this fic.

i know that you would want it (if i could sink my teeth into you) by objectlesson is... look, there’s an actual emotional arc to this story, but really what i always remember about it is that it’s got the most overwhelmingly visceral rimming scene i’ve maybe ever read? it’s a lot, it’s a gift, go read it.

@pasdecoeur has several stories that are very funny with some very piercingly erotic moments! briefly sketched in some ways and more pining than porny but no less effective for it.

benefits by @shastafirecracker is a pwp story in which jaskier is first surprised to find geralt wants him to top, and then determined to give geralt the best dicking he’s ever had. jaskier’s inner dialogue in this one is really fun; geralt’s exterior dialogue is true to the show in that it’s minimal but nonetheless includes a bad pun. :)

even a small love by shecrows/@leighway is like. you think you know how things are going to go, and then jaskier balks and it abruptly swerves sideways and develops a whole plot, and then comes back around to where it started, but deeper and better. don’t you love how you can summarize a fic without saying anything meaningful or even helpful about it? anyway: read this one.

snowmelt by silklace/@silkcoeur is a/b/o and somehow both extremely hilarious and extremely hot in full measure. the banter is a fucking delight but so are the tension/sex/feelings.

It wasn’t until they were well on the road away from town that it really hit him, though possibly he should have been paying attention to the way the backs of his knees had started sweating the minute he’d seen Geralt walking towards him outside of Yennefer’s manor, or to the way his throat had gone hot and dry despite the taste of sweetness still on the back of his teeth from the wine skin he’d pilfered from her pantry on his way out. In his defense, he’d still been recovering from spending the prior evening steadfastly spitting his insides up onto his outsides. Also, he tended to always get a little sweaty around Geralt, a fact they were both apparently extremely united in assiduously pretending was not happening.

the sevenfold path by star_flaming/@europeansdomusicalsbetter: in which jaskier is demonstrably extremely well educated, and geralt has feelings about it. (i also have feelings about it, but mine are in my pants.)

you are in my blood by @suzukiblu​: au where jaskier is a bruxa. this alters his character significantly—hard to be too skittish about bloodletting when you’re a vampire!—but the story’s so engaging you probably won’t care? plus, uh, hot. :)

Jaskier’s just debating how much trouble he’s actually in when Geralt, marvelously, talks them out of it. After that, well... Jaskier still wants to eat him very badly, but he supposes it’d be a bit ungrateful of him. Geralt isn’t very impressed with the song he writes for him, unfortunately—which, rude—but doesn’t try to run off and leave him either, so.. Well, Jaskier’s a bit smitten. A delicious-smelling witcher who can talk his way out of being murdered is very impressive. And he always has wanted a pet.

taran (@iamtaran)’s manhandling without plot series has no sex but lots of violent, compellingly visceral hijinks and i like to think of it as preslash. three times geralt hauls jaskier out of trouble.

Jaskier is flat on his back with his chemise rucked up to his armpits, salve burning on his bruised ribs, breathing hard; he is drunk, but not nearly as drunk as he was when he threw that first punch; Geralt is stupidly strong and has him pinned beneath one hand and the sheer girth of his own hips, looking grumpy and short on patience, and under everything—the aromatic menthol and chamomile smell of the salve, the aching of his cheek and lip, the relief of seeing Geralt just as upright and uninjured as he had been when he left, Jaskier is… He had thought he was furious. He still is, somewhat. Like… like a seed is a flower. It was, at first, before it became something else. And given enough time it might become such again. It is what it is in the meantime, however. Fury. Seeds.

last but not least, @toyhto​ has a bunch of fics that crack me the fuck up: geralt is unbelievably oblivious to his own emotions even as he acts on them, and it’s just—it’s so, so funny. also sometimes quite sweet, and sometimes quite painful! there’s a particular air of, i don’t know, almost see-spot-run impenetrability to the writing here that lends itself perfectly to the thing the stories are doing, where geralt is just operating totally on a surface level and, like, feelings are moving in the deep but he can’t quite see them...

...and that’s all for now! more to come later, maybe; but this seems like plenty for a first pass, and anyway i’m blurbed out.

#the witcher #geraskier #fic #recs

[yicruz48]

On CBR Community, there's debate about Event Leviathan : Checkmate is being indefinitely l postponed, is it related to Damian's fate after TT annual (lose Robin title, missing, etc). Because on Leviathan Dawn Damian is still Robin, so if Checkmate event want to use him as Robin, that will confuse the timeline. But on the other hand, the postponing is after pandemic break, and before pandemic break, Damian supposed to lose Robin title after issue 41. So what do you think about this?

First of all, I am so sorry for taking too much time to answer your question! 

I’ve been taking my time thinking about how to answer this post and how approach answering. 

Me and @wesavegotham discussed this a bit after the news broke, so this will be a culmination of our thoughts on it. 

To reiterate, a lot of things seemed to have changed at DC Comics since Dan DiDio left and quarantine put the comic industry on pause for a few weeks. These events coinciding with each other seemed to have given writers a chance to cancel and/or pause events (5G), expand events (Death Metal), extend their time on books (Tynion) and add new stories. Even Teen Titans changed during this time:

-> Annual being pushed an arc later than after the Djinn Arc.

-> Solicitations for issue 42 not making sense with the actual storyline in 42.

-> Eduardo Pansica was supposed to draw the interior in TT 42-44 not Javier Fernandez. And Javier Fernandez was supposed to draw the interior of the annual not Pansica but as you seen that has switched. Which means either stories were either scrapped or extended.  

-> You could even see Robbie Thompson’s entry as new main writer as a change brought upon TT. He has seemed to have returned Damian some what back in character, or more in character. That could’ve lead to changes. 

So it didn’t surprise me very much to see Leviathan indefinitely postponed. But as you said, it does brings a lot questions about Damian. 

Bendis’s upcoming Leviathan event is well about...Leviathan. And Leviathan not only has history with Talia but also Damian. And this is something Bendis himself empathized in Leviathan Dawn: 

Leviathan was Talia’s and Damian’s (whether he wants or not) family business. Initiated by Talia to be passed down to Damian. In other words, this event not only is important for Talia, but also for Damian. The future of Leviathan will make an impact in Damian’s life.

This comic is also supposed to ‘restructure the DC Universe’ (Surprise, surprise, name a comic Bendis doesn’t claim to ‘change’ the DC Universe). It also supposed to clean up all the similar organizations in the DC Universe and have a lasting impact.   

It is also important to note that this comic came into fruition between Dan Didio and Bendis and well...DiDio is not at DC anymore so who knows if that has had an impact on how big this event is suppose be. The one thing I know is that Manhunter: Secret Origins was canceled so it looks like this Leviathan thing has been minimized and/or changed. 

Now that I have established the apparent importance of this event, let me finally answer your main question:

“Because on Leviathan Dawn Damian is still Robin, so if Checkmate event want to use him as Robin, that will confuse the timeline. But on the other hand, the postponing is after pandemic break, and before pandemic break, Damian supposed to lose Robin title after issue 41. So what do you think about this?”

I am assuming your big question is; Do you think that Leviathan: Checkmate being indefinitely postponed has any relevance to Damian losing his Robin title or was impacted by DC’s future plans for Damian? 

Well, first we have to acknowledge we have a lot events going on at the moment in DC not just the situation with TT:

-> Joker War 

-> Nightwing Returning

-> Death Metal 

 And that DC said this about Leviathan being postponed: “ rescheduled to align with upcoming DC Universe storylines.“

So one of my thoughts is that they have so many events going on at he same time, they are trying to space it out by postponing it. 

But as you said, Damian is Robin in Leviathan: Dawn so it wouldn’t make sense to have 6 part series that runs through the time Robin supposedly loses his Robin title and goes missing. Plus its kind of strange to have Batman involved in this story if he’s out dealing with the Joker elsewhere. 

I think they are either waiting for Damian to return as Robin in the future in order to publish the series. Tynion did say that he going to demonstrate what the future of Batfamily will look like at Batman #100 and also that he had “big, big plans for Damian in bat-books” which could mean something positive or negative. On a positive note it could mean that Damian will return to work on Bruce’s side more often and separate from TT.

But also this is a theory, but Damian going ‘missing’  in TT could have something to do with Event Leviathan: Checkmate. Crazy thought, but Mark Shaw (Current Leviathan leader) could’ve kidnapped Damian to use as leverage against Talia in order for her give up Leviathan forever. Would be a great opportunity to patch Damian and Talia’s relationship although the thought of Bendis writing it makes me uncomfortable.

Or if we are inevitability going through this “Damian becoming an anti-hero/ Villian path” we could have Damian running off and working with Mark Shaw. Either because he wants to infiltrate Leviathan or because his current opinions about the world kinda aligns with Mark Shaw:

They both look like taking/willing to make radical decisions in order to change the world for ‘better’. So after the annual if Bruce does hurt Damian, it could be the final straw for Damian to decide to fully work against him and his mother. This also works with Tynion’s “big, big plans” for Damian. As I said before this could either a positive or negative thing. And the negative would be Damian returning as Batman’s enemy (which by the way making a child a threat to big hero is always a bad idea for the child. They wouldn’t be taken seriously by the readers or heroes alike, I mean see the Trickster in the Flash).   

But again, my second prediction would only work if Damian is gone for awhile. And we need too wait for the solicitations of TT #46 to get a hint if Damian missing is temporary or going to last longer than the Joker War.

Again, I’m sorry this took awhile to get out. 

Also, I am interested to hear your thoughts and also anybody else’s theories for that matter in the comments or in re-blogs.

#There is honestly so much possibilities for what DC could be planning for Damian's future #Damian Wayne #Robin #Batman #Bruce Wayne #Bendis #Brian Michael Bendis #leviathan #Talia al Ghul #League of Assassins #yicruz48 #Teen Titans #Mark Shaw #Green Arrow #Lois Lane #The question #The bones #colonel #the king #event leviathan checkmate

[stainedglassgardens]

Watched in May

A Russian Youth (Мальчик русский) Sicario Fedora LoveTrue The Platform Water Lilies (Naissance des pieuvres) The Assistant The Half of It Tomboy The Last Man on Earth Beanpole (Дылда) Mommy The Fall Girlhood (Bande de filles) Carnival of Souls Marguerite & Julien Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu) This Magnificent Cake! (Ce Magnifique Gâteau!) Romantic Comedy Transnistra Eraserhhead The Farewell Emma. Late Night Charlie's Angels Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) The Ancestors Came Suicide by Sunlight Anthropocene: The Human Epoch A Perfect 14 Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist Free Radicals Aniara Vivarium La Pointe-Courte Diary of a Pregnant Woman (L'Opéra-Mouffe) Salut les Cubains Uncle Yanco (Oncle Yanco) GUO4 Atlantiques Sitara: Let Girls Dream Lions Love (Lions Love... And Lies) Živan Makes a Punk Festival (Živan pravi pank festival) Plastic and Glass The So-Called Caryatids (Les Dites Cariatides) The Octopus (La Pieuvre) Hyas and Stenorhynchus (Hyas et sténorinques, crustacés marins) Sea Urchins (Les Oursins) Bernard-L'Hermite (Bernard-l'Ermite) The Sea Horse (L'Hippocampe ou "cheval marin") Voyage to the Sky (Voyage dans le ciel) Le Vampire Freshwater Assassins (Assassins d'eau douce) How Some Jellyfish Are Born (Comment naissent des méduses) Shrimp Stories (Histoires de crevettes) The Love Life of the Octopus (Les Amours de la pieuvre) Acera, or The Witches' Dance (Acera, ou le Bal des Sorcières) Pigeons of the Square (Les Pigeons du square) The Slumber Party Massacre Jane B. par Agnès V. The Cranes Are Flying (Летят журавли) Crystal Swan (Хрусталь) Take Me Somewhere Nice Microhabitat ( 소공녀) The Unforeseen

Did not finish

Swiss Army Man (Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, 2016) Braid (Mitzi Peirone, 2018) A Secret Love (Chris Bolan, 2020) Calder's 1927 Great Circus (Le Grand Cirque Calder 1927, Jean Painlevé, 1955)

Did not like

Sicario (Denis Villeneuve, 2015) The Platform (Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia, 2019) The Half of It (Alice Wu, 2020) Sitara: Let Girls Dream (Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, 2019)

I could take them or leave them

Fedora (Billy Wilder, 1978) LoveTrue (Alma Har'el, 2016) This Magnificent Cake! (Ce Magnifique Gâteau!, Emma De Swaef & Marc James Roels, 2018) Romantic Comedy (Elizabeth Sankey, 2019) Eraserhhead (David Lynch, 1977) Late Night (Nisha Ganatra, 2019) Charlie's Angels (Elizabeth Banks, 2019) Free Radicals (Len Lye, 1958) Aniara (Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja, 2018) Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan, 2020) The Ancestors Came (Cecile Emeke, 2017) GUO4 (Peter Strickland, 2019) Živan Makes a Punk Festival (Živan pravi pank festival, Ognjen Glavonić, 2014) The Unforeseen (Laura Dunn, 2007)

Films I enjoyed

A Russian Youth (Мальчик русский, Alexander Zolotukhin, 2019): Went into this with the single aim of improving my Russian. Loved the back-and-forth between “the story” and the orchestra playing the score to said story. The “story” itself is also tragically moving

Water Lilies (Naissance des pieuvres), Tomboy, Girlhood (Bande de filles) and Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu) (Céline Sciamma, 2007, 2011, 2014, 2019): I saw all four of Céline Sciamma’s films practically in a row! I liked all of them, don’t think I prefer one over another. And I recognise she’s a talented filmmaker, even though she’ll probably never be a favourite

The Last Man on Earth (Ubaldo Ragona and Sidney Salkow, 1964): A good... vampire-zombie film... that is worth sticking with even though you might find it too ordinary at first

Beanpole (Дылда, Kantemir Balagov, 2019): This story is fucked up! I liked it up to a certain extent, but I suspect it was mainly because of the historical and geographical setting. If you like post-WW2 Russia and this is the film for you

Mommy (Xavier Dolan, 2014): The portrayal of the titular mother hit a bit too close to home... This was my first Xavier Dolan film and I was not disappointed. Only drawback: Céline Dion’s song “On ne change pas” has been stuck in my head ever since

The Fall (Jonathan Glazer, 2020): It was... good? From the publicity it received on Mubi, I thought this was going to be a feature film, so yeah, I was disappointed, I loved Sexy Beast and Under the Skin so much

The Farewell (Lulu Wang, 2019): I really liked it, I think this didn’t get nearly enough praise -- but I was expecting something life-changing when I “only” found this very good

Emma. (Autumn de Wilde, 2020): This adaptation felt like Autumn de Wilde really, really wanted her film to be shown in as many classrooms as possible. It was enjoyable! I liked her additions to the book, and I appreciate the challenge she took up

Suicide by Sunlight (Nikyatu Jusu, 2019): A good short vampire film about Black vampires who are protected from daylight by their melanin

Anthropocene: The Human Epoch (Edward Burtynsky, Jennifer Baichwal, Nicholas de Pencier, 2018): Stunning visuals, sobering message. Somewhere between Koyaanisqatsi and Unser Täglich Brot in tone

A Perfect 14 (Giovanna Morales Vargas, 2018): This, by necessity, doesn’t cover everything on the subject of plus-size models, and practically speaking I didn’t learn anything -- but it’s well-made, and the personal stories of the main interviewees make a good, contrasted portrait

Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist (Lorna Tucker, 2018): I came out of this feeling as if Vivienne Westwood wasn’t that interesting of a person, which I’m sure wasn’t the director’s intention... still, it was informative enough

Plastic and Glass (Tessa Joosse, 2009): A short somewhat-documentary about a choir in a recycling facility. Good music

The Slumber Party Massacre (Amy Holden Jones, 1982): Finally saw this! Very surprised to learn this was written by Rita Mae Brown. It was good as far as slashers go and of course, it is nice to watch something from that era that is not appallingly sexist

The Cranes Are Flying (Летят журавли, Mikhail Kalatozov, 1957): I guess I had to read about this afterwards in order to see how unusual it was for the time it was made. While I watched it I enjoyed the way it was filmed but the story left me indifferent, and I thought it lacked subtlety

Crystal Swan (Хрусталь, Darya Zhuk, 2018): A very aesthetically pleasing story set in 1990s Belarus, about a young woman who wants to emigrate to Chicago for the love of house music... the story will keep taking you unexpected places from there. The costumes are perfect, the soundtrack is interesting. It does feel a little as if it were made for export, and I thought it relied quite heavily on stereotypes about Slavs

Take Me Somewhere Nice (Ena Sendijarević, 2019): This coming-of-age road movie about a Bosnian girl who was raised in the Netherlands and comes back to visit her father in hospital has everything... drugs, violence, death, even cute dogs. The pastel palette makes it very satisfying

Microhabitat ( 소공녀, Jeon Go-woon, 2017): This film about a woman with a minimum-wage job who would rather leave her flat than quit smoking and drinking whisky just spoke to me

La Pointe-Courte, Diary of a Pregnant Woman (L'Opéra-Mouffe), Salut les Cubains, Uncle Yanco (Oncle Yanco), Lions Love (Lions Love... And Lies), The So-Called Caryatids (Les Dites Cariatides), Jane B. par Agnès V. (Agnès Varda, 1955, 1958, 1964, 1967, 1969, 1984, 1988): I decided to watch all of Agnès Varda’s films that are on Mubi France and that I haven’t seen already, in chronological order. This feels a bit like a chore sometimes, but I find it rewarding. It’s strange to think that even a few years ago hers was a name I’d heard a few times but that didn’t mean anything to me. And I know I can be merciless when it comes to French cinema. Anyway... I like what I’ve seen so far (the above plus Cléo and Vagabond), I like that someone can just pick up her film camera and make a short about caryatids... generally speaking I like Varda’s approach to film that makes it seem more accessible to people like me. I don’t think all of her films are particularly good, but I like that she made all of them. I never did particularly like Cléo, and I didn’t particularly like La Pointe-Courte in spite of the fact that it was shot very close to where I’m from. Of the above, my fave was probably Lions Love, even though (or because?) it doesn’t very much feel like a Varda film. Uncle Yanco is a close second. I’ve got three feature films left now

Films I loved

The Assistant (Kitty Green, 2019): Unfortunately enough, this reminded me of an internship I did a few years ago... I found it uncomfortably realistic, and thus very good. Julia Garner is perfect, as usual

Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962): I watched this because it is a classic, expecting it to be over-the-top and not nearly as scary as I found it... a very good surprise

Marguerite & Julien (Valérie Donzelli, 2015): It’s hard to talk about this in a way that will make people want to see it without making me sound like a huge weirdo but here goes. It’s a story about a brother and sister who are madly in love with each other. It takes place in a fantasy past and is told like a fairytale. If you think it’s impossible to turn this premise into a good film please watch this

Transnistra (Anna Eborn, 2019): With this film I discovered the existence of the tiny unrecognised state named Transnistria... I also discovered Alla Pugacheva, who is part of a great nostalgic Russian soundtrack with Kino amongst others. The story is one of those documentaries about youth that punches you right in the gut. Definitely recommended

Vivarium (Lorcan Finnegan, 2019): This is the type of what, for lack of a better term, I call “minimal science fiction” that I really enjoy. I’ve thought about it a lot since then. I don’t know why people generally didn’t seem to like it. I thought the premise was terrifying and nightmarish, and the actual film effectively claustrophobic. Plu:s Imogen Poots

Atlantiques (Mati Diop, 2009): This is the short, not the feature film of the same name. I’ve heard a lot about Mati Diop and I saw this the second it became available on Mubi France -- and I didn’t regret it. Can’t wait to see Atlantiques, long form

The Octopus (La Pieuvre), Hyas and Stenorhynchus (Hyas et sténorinques, crustacés marins), Sea Urchins (Les Oursins), Bernard-L'Hermite (Bernard-l'Ermite), The Sea Horse (L'Hippocampe ou "cheval marin"), Voyage to the Sky (Voyage dans le ciel), Le Vampire, Freshwater Assassins (Assassins d'eau douce), How Some Jellyfish Are Born (Comment naissent des méduses), Shrimp Stories (Histoires de crevettes), The Love Life of the Octopus (Les Amours de la pieuvre), Acera, or The Witches' Dance (Acera, ou le Bal des Sorcières), Pigeons of the Square (Les Pigeons du square) (Jean Painlevé, 1928, 1929, 1929, 1930, 1934, 1937, 1945, 1947; Jean Painlevé and Geneviève Hamon, 1960, 1964, 1965, 1972; Jean Painlevé, 1982): I didn’t know who Jean Painlevé was before I decided to watch The Octopus. As it turns out, I am a sucker for well-made nature documentaries, and since all of these are short films, I ended up watching them all, in order of release, over the course of one afternoon. It’s a little bit crazy that these were getting made as early as the 1920s, and I can’t imagine what it would have been like to see them in theatres nearly a hundred years ago. Anyway these are all good, although I wasn’t expecting the vivisection that seems to have been par for the course in the early days

*

Yes, I really did watch 65 films in May. It becomes a little less impressive considering a fair amount of those were shorts, but still. Unemployment!

I have access to Outbuster now in addition to Mubi and Netflix, this time through my boyfriend’s account. It’s a French thing I think, and very cheap, but I’ve only just tried it with Microhabitat. Of course it was the Mubi Library thing that just completely sent me over the edge, and I want to watch all the things.

In June I hope to finish Agnès Varda’s filmography on Mubi and maybe watch some more Tarkovsky!

#watched in 2020 #films

[bahamutgames]

Nier Automata: [A]fterthoughts

Game: Nier Automata: Become As Gods Edition (June 26, 2018)

Console: Xbox One (Via Xbox Game Pass)

Alright so I’m trying something a little different this time with my opinions on a game. Usually I will share this on Twitter in a thread. However, I feel like I’m having more and more to say on games I play lately. And Twitter threads just don’t feel right for sharing massive amounts of text. So I thought I’d give this a shot now. However, this isn’t meant to be a review or an indication of whether or not YOU should try the game. This is just me pouring my heart out about what I’ve played and giving my honest opinions about what I just experienced. This is just for anyone interested, and I highly recommend you try out this game and any other game I choose to talk about in the future, to get your own opinions on how you feel for it.

As such, this isn’t a very well written piece either. It’s mostly just me throwing up thoughts into a post. But, if that’s your thing or you’re just curious about what I have to say, you can read my huge info dump on my feelings about Nier Automata in the readmore! 

Spoiler Warning for some parts of the game, including the finale and ending.

Opening

About 2 days ago, I sat down and beat Nier Automata for the first time. And after sitting on it for a bit, I’m ready to talk about my time with it. I wasn’t originally planning on doing a big thing for playing this game (I was saving it for a different game.) But plans got sidetracked, and by that I mean Microsoft had a sale on 3 months of Game Pass for $1. And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try it out. I was really excited to see they had the game on the service, as I’ve been wanting to play it since it came out. So naturally, I jumped at the chance.

Stuff I liked

Honestly, I really liked this game. I thought was cool and loved a lot of the topics it covered, as they’re things I really enjoy seeing games tackle. Evolution of life, the existence of religion and our relationships with god and death, strange surreal things, androids and robots becoming more than just androids and robots. The story has so many aspects I really loved seeing. A highlight for me was seeing the robots start to become sentient and deal with grief, family bonds, how they should live outside of what they were programmed to do. It was endlessly fascinating to me.

Game also had tons of fantastic characters. I think my favorites may have been 6O and Pascal, if I’m being honest with myself. But also also really liked all 3 of the main playable Androids, and I found myself falling totally in love with the pods too. There’s tons of other great and interesting characters you don’t even get to play as or see that much, it has a fantastic cast I really loved. Particularly, I thought the designs of the androids were really interesting. Dressed in all black with white hair is a cool aesthetic. My favorite design may have been 2B’s, obviously I thought she was really hot. But I think her outfit is actually very cool and classy in a way that understands how to make a character hot without just being in your face about it? If that makes sense. I also really loved A2′s look, being able to see her joints is a really cool underused aspect for an android design. I wasn’t super into the robots themselves at first, but I found myself really loving how they looked by the end of it. Their weird and minimalist designs really leant themselves to the sad and peculiar story they had to tell.

Nier has a fantastic gameplay style too. I was shocked to learn that it was a Bullet Hell! Bullet Hells and Shmups are my “secret favorite” genre, that I really love but rarely actually tap into. I thought the game had really fun use of Bullet Hell gameplay, with fun Shmup sections and fun action RPG sections. I was particularly impressed with how much fun the crossover of the two genres would be. Fighting back against a bullet hell in this type of gameplay style was incredibly fun and endearing. And I think it handles these two completely different genres really well in a pretty cool way. I also loved being able to get multiple weapons for the androids and pods, though I did mostly stick with the same the whole way through. Just the standard weapons and the beast slayer. Plus the laser for my pod. Hey, if it works, why fix it, right? I also really liked the chip system. I had a ton of fun figuring out which chips suited my style the most, and I liked feeling powerful because of them.

Outside of all that, the game looks and sounds AMAZING. The aesthetics particularly really got to me. I’m a huge fan of cities and buildings reclaimed by nature, and I’m a huge fan of sci-fi aesthetics mixed with modern and medieval aesthetics. And the game has both of these used in really great ways. Mix in some of the weird and creepy visuals thrown in throughout some of the game’s darker and sadder scenes? And it’s beautiful. I thought the music was really good too. I wasn’t crazy about it while playing it. But listening to it in the background while writing this makes me realize how good of an OST it is. I really love Pascal’s village theme, Treasured Times, and the credits music.

I also really adored a lot of the interested 4th wall breaks and ways they play with game mechanics and tie them into the functionality of the androids. A scene that really comes to mind is that the settings are actually your android settings. And having to go through them for the story mode, then getting to see it again as 9S. I also thought parts where your vision gets glitched out was very interesting, and things like that were really charming to me.

One of my favorite parts of the game, was absolutely the finale. Huge spoilers for this part obviously. I was teetering between not really liking the game anymore, and loving the game by the end. So the finale was really going to make or break it for me. But ultimately, I think the finale was AWESOME. Having to play as the pods fighting the credits to get a better ending was really cool and genuinely exciting to me. I had a total blast blazing through one final, tough bullet hell finale. Also, seeing all the cool little messages players left was so nice and genuinely heartwarming. I got messages from the USA, Mexico, even one from North Korea! It was so cool! And such a good idea. And getting help from everyone at the end was so awesome. Ultimately, I chose to give up my save data because the ending scene was actually pretty tough for me and I’m not that bad at bullet hells. So I figured it’d be selfish not to lend someone a hand out there in the world. (plus... to be fair, when my game pass expires, I won’t be playing this game much more lol.)

Stuff I didn’t like

With all that praise though, I don’t necessarily think the game was perfect either though. There was a lot of stuff that really rubbed me the wrong way. The gameplay had a lot of stuff that just didn’t feel right and was oddly frustrating. A big one for me was the lock on just being completely useless for some parts of the game, jumping around the enemies far off when there was something right in front of me ready to get hit. It made killing some enemies genuinely more challenging than needed. A huge issue I had with the gameplay was actually that there aren’t enough Shmup sections in the flight units. Most of them take place in hacking sections, which, in my opinion. Aren’t that fun, or at least considerably less fun than the way superior flight unit sections. And that’s the type of gameplay the ending uses. Which is a shame.

And there are some parts I sang praises about but I still have issues with. Like, I enjoy the game messing with the way you play because you’re controlling androids. But when you have to walk somewhere and the game disables your movement, or you have to kill something and the game disables your combat. It’s mostly just annoying. I really love the concept, and I think it’s not THAT bad. But it’s still annoying enough that I thought to mention it. And while I didn’t run into this issue, the really cute and touching aspects of the finale. Are you just completely locked out of them if you can’t pay for online? That really sucks and kind of kills the vibe of that ending. Same with having to delete your save data to help others. It’s cute! But why is it there? It all just feels so antagonizing for no reason.

I also had a big issue with Story B. You play through nearly the entirety of Story A again as 9S. Normally, I love stuff like this. Sonic games come to mind right away for games I enjoy that do this. But for Story B, it is the exact same game and story with minimal changes through it. Sure the opening and towards the ending, it’s different. But mostly, it’s identical. And then there’s just small snippets of way more interesting stuff with the way robots became sentient lightly peppered in to break up the monotony of doing the same thing twice. This second playthrough should’ve focuses HEAVILY on the robots. Even if it’s from 9S’ perspective, more should’ve been changed to show the robots. The part with the singing robot was BRUTAL, and I LOVED it. But you get very few new scenes like that. Perhaps Story B should’ve followed Pascal or a random enemy robot instead of 9S. Considering you also play as 9S for a lot of Story C. Imagine how gut wrenching it would be if Story B followed a random enemy robot evolving and learning about life and free will, only to get killed at the end by 9S or A2 or something. Idunno.

There’s also some gripes with the story. A big one is the fact that, and this is a HUGE spoiler. But 2B doesn’t feel like the main character. It feels like the main character is 9S, who I like, but isn’t as cool as 2B by a long shot. You barely play as 2B or even A2. SO MUCH of the game feels like it’s all about 9S and I gotta be honest, I’m not that interested in 9S. I like him, but maybe we could learn some more about the robots and their interesting problems instead of just seeing more about how 9S is so smart and awesome and genius so he has to be killed a bunch. Speaking of which, I don’t think I care for that aspect of 2B either? She has to kill 9S over and over because he keeps learning the truth about Yorha. In the end, even 2B is just a part of 9S’ story. Maybe that’s just me though. I feel like that whole concept could’ve been removed, and you could’ve had 2B and 9S having to deal with learning about the truth together. idk.

Overall, my biggest complaint is just that the game spends a little too much time on 9S and not enough time on all the interesting aspects it skims over. Again, the robots, I talked about this at length but I really would’ve loved to learn more about them. How about the existential reality that androids and robots have been fighting a meaningless war for dead masters for centuries? WHAT THE HELL WAS EMIL? There’s so much cool stuff in the world of Nier Automata that feels like it’s all skimmed over in favor of stuff that just didn’t really need to be there? I think a lot of these are relegated to sidequests, but they should’ve been a part of the main story. Maybe it’s just me.

Final Thoughts

Well, even after all those complaints and nitpicks. I have to say, I liked Nier Automata. I think it’s a cool game that explores things I thought most people weren’t interested in exploring. Both in its world and its gameplay. Especially not from a big triple A title. Some of these are things I’d like to explore in my own games so it’s nice to see a game with an interest in the same weird topics as me. I’m certainly interested in this series. I only own Drakengaurd, but I’d like to give it and Nier a shot sometime in the future if I can.

I like the hopeful nature of the ending and I liked the emotions I felt through the whole playthrough. Even when the game was scary and sad, I still had a good time with it, and I hope somewhere out there in the multiverse, the characters are living a much better life in peace.

Thank you so much for reading, or just skimming through. Or just scrolling to the end! I appreciate it a lot! This is my first time really writing up my feelings about a game in a huge more organized way like this, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m certainly going to try and do more stuff like this in the future, maybe I’ll still make some of them twitter threads if I’m lazy or don’t have much to say lol. But, regardless, thanks for your time! I hope you have a fantastic evening! Play a video game that makes you feel something :)

#2021 #Thoughts

[autisticbee]

What, no ring?

Master Frown twirls spaghetti around his fork, the only joy (ha.) being watching the strands break. He's known to be a complainer but this is without exaggeration the worst spaghetti he's ever had, it doesn't even slightly compare to what he and Brock can make at home.

"Dude, are you not gonna eat that?" Brock eyes his plate like it's not too much of an abomination to even call food.

Frown's brow creases even more. "Nope." Without any further words he shoves the detested plate to Brock's side of the table.

Brock shrugs. "It's not that bad, not that good either but not that bad." He shoves a fork full of the discarded meal into his mouth and Frown isn't sure what to make of the fact he keeps thinking about how that fork was in his own mouth a few minutes ago.

Stop being weird, brain. He thinks to himself.

"I dunno why we even had to come here, their food is shi-" Frown cuts himself off realising there are kids at a table nearby and then internally scolds himself for being soft and to stop letting Unikitty, or Brock for that matter, rub off on him. "-Garbage."

Brock stifles a laugh. "C'mon, eating out once in a while is cool, I don't wanna cook alllll the time."

"Well, maybe I do." Frown crosses his arms in petulance. "We don't even have the money for desert, which is the only good part about eating in a stuffy place full of too many happy-dappy people." He glares indiscriminately around the room.

Brock rolls his eyes. "Whatever man, just, stick it out for a little while longer, Okay?" He asks, pleadingly.

Frown keeps his glare for 3 seconds, before heaving a heavy sigh. "Fine. But we are getting dessert."

"What? You just said we don't have the money-"

Frown waves an arm wildly. "Gimme a second, I'll think of something." He has like 2 cents so yeah, he's broke. Could order something then not pay but then they'd get banned and maybe he'd do that on his own but Brock would be pretty peeved off because for some reason he actually likes this place sooooo-

He leaps up from the table, a slightly maniacal smile on his face. "Ha! I got it."

"Got...what?"

"The perfect plan to score free dessert."

"Oooh, fake a birthday?"

"What? No! no one falls for that anymore." Yeah he had kinda used that one to death.

"Then....? Can you kinda hurry up I need to pee."

"Wait, you're part of the plan you can't go yet." Frown reaches across the table and grabs Brock's hands in a vice grip. "Fake. Proposal." He whispers.

"Um, I don't know...how about we just go home now and I can make cookies, my treat!"

"Dude, we could get like the most expensive dessert on the menu! People love all that sappy stuff, especially people who work at restaurants." He leans back into his seat and sticks out his tongue in (faux, not that he'd admit) disgust.

Brock glances at the menu nervously. "It does sound really good. Aren't you worried something like that could get back to the doom lords though, pretty sure that'd damage your image."

"Pffft. It won't, even it did I'd just tell them the truth and we could have a good laugh about it. Look I've been really good with minimal complaining today, can't I do a little something to tip the balance to the other side?"

"Okay, but I'm not taking the blame if they figure us out, this is the only good place we're still allowed into."

"Yeah, sure." Frown loudly screeches his chair back, drawing the attention of various patrons. "Play along." He whispers to Brock before standing up on the chair. "Brock, baby," He pitches his voice a bit louder. "Will you marry me?"

Brock feels unexpected heat in his cheeks and wills it to go away. "What, no ring?"

"Uhhhhhh." Frown rubs the back of his head. "It's...taking longer than expected to get it engraved...?"

"Then maybe you should have thought about that before proposing? Kind of a let down."

"The ring isn't important!" 

"Oh wow, if that's how you feel about it I'm not sure I should say yes." 

Frown face-palms, willing Brock to remember the plan. "Can we not argue before we've even had dessert." He says pointedly.

"Oh. Oooh, yeah you know what you're right it doesn't matter, so yes, I guess."

"You guess?" This was not working out well, why the heck did Brock have to get so into it?

"I think I'm just still kinda hungry, also I still need to pee and it's making me cranky, heh that rhymed." Brock smiles to himself. "Uh-Anyway, 'course I'll marry you, who else is gonna be by my side." 

Frown tries to ignore how that almost sounded genuine, and plasters on a fake smile. "That's great, go to the bathroom and I'll order us something special."

He notices a waiter approaching as Brock gets up and practically runs to the closest toilet. "Hey can we have Ultimate Desse-....oh nooooo, I seem to be out of cash." Frown says in a dramatic tone.

The waiter rolls their eyes. "It's on the house, for the sake of your poor fiance."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Frown sulks back into his chair.

By the time the order arrives, which makes Frown cringe at how it must have been prepared for quite a while to come so quick, Brock has come back to the table.

In theory every dessert on the menu mixed together sounds great but in actuality it's a monstrous mix of ice cream and chocolate and cheesecake and bananas and...gingerbread? And jelly and sprinkles and it just...

"Wait, you don't even like sweet stuff." Brock points out, the 'except for my cookies' is left unsaid.

Realisation hits Frown like a brick. 

Brock just looks uncomfortable. "I don't think I can eat all this, why did we want this again?"

"I don't know." Frown bangs his head against the table top.

______________

"That was pretty impressive I've got to admit." 

"I made myself eat half of it and then I threw up." Brock clutches his stomach as they enter their apartment. "All that mess..."

"Uh yeah! That's why it was so impressive, think of how much longer the person who has to clean that up will have stay after work." Frown tries his attempt at evil laughter, which in the past has earned mocking from his fellow doom lords.

Brock collapses on the sofa. "I can't think about it anymore, I just wanna sleep for like ten thousand years."

Frown fits himself in the gap at the free end of the sofa. "Does that mean I can have the TV to myself?"

"Go for it man, just not too loud." 

But Brock starts shifting about on the sofa, which Irritates Frown too much to let him watch tv. "What's wrong with you?"

"I can't get comfy, and my tummy hurts." Brock whines. 

Frown rolls his eyes. "Come here, dork."

Brock does as told and Frown motions for him to rest his head on his lap. "Hey that's no way to talk to your fiance." He giggles then regrets it as his stomach jolts.

Frown starts rubbing his stomach, it's not really something entirely out of the usual for them both but for some reason things this have started seeming more and more intense. "...You're never gonna let that go, are you."

"Nah." Brock grins lazily, the motion making him want to sleep even more. Frown's rarely soft with anyone but him and he'd be lying if he said he didn't sorta revel in it. Brock wonders for a moment what would change between them if earlier hadn't been a ploy for free food, what it'd be like if they actually got married. They basically bicker like a old married couple already and they even kiss every night.

Just not, you know, in a romantic way.

They just kiss on the lips every night in a totally platonic bro way. Yep. 

Brock leaps up, startled by a sudden revelation. 

"Hey what the heck, you need to puke again or something?" 

"No! Just decided I'mma head to bed, haha." 

"Oookay." Frown stares at him strangely. "Want me to tuck you in and-"

"Nope! I'm good!"

"Thought you couldn't sleep without your nighty-"

"I'm good! Goodnight!" Brock rushes off to his room and slams the door.

"That was weird." Frown stares at the closed door for a minute, feeling oddly disappointed, then he shrugs and turns up the TV. 

________________

"Whoa, look at that." Brock points to poster on a nearby building. "Free vacation."

Frown raises an eyebrow, and reads it closely. "Yeah, for couples. And it's a competition in the unikingdom, ew."

"Well...what if we...pretended again?"

"What?" Frown baulks. He did consider the idea himself but wouldn't have imagined Brock being the one to bring it up. "Why?"

"We could never afford something like that, plus you could always like, tell Unikitty it was fake after the holiday and that would make her pretty sad maybe?"

"...I'm listening." Frown pauses in thought. "We'd have to play it up more."

"By play it up more do you mean holding hands orrr french kissing?" 

"I don't know! just whatever it takes." The blush on Frown's cheeks could in fact ruin his reputation and he needed it stop like right now, There's no reason to blush about the idea of kissing your best friend on a more...intimate...level like a teenager with a crush. 

Because obviously he doesn't have one. "When does this thing happen anyway?"

"In about, twenty minutes." Brock squints at the poster. "How long has this been here?"

______________

"Where the heck is everyone?" Frown glances around the empty gymnasium that was supposed to be the setting for the vacation competition.

"I hear crying behind that curtain on the podium." Said crying abruptly stops.

Frown rubs a hand down his face. "Oh boy."

There's a quiet like the lull before a storm before a pink and glittery blur flies out from behind the curtain. "OHMYGOSH THERE'S ANOTHER COUPLE HERE PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE NOT FAKE-" Unikitty cuts herself off and glances down at Frown and Brock. "Oh it's you two...Master Frown if you're here to ruin this you're too late! Everyone was a bunch of fakers." Unikitty bursts into tears.

Frown groans. "No, we're here to enter your stupid competition, buuuut since no once is here I guess we win by default." 

Unikitty's tears stop again. "Whaaa? You guys are TOGETHER? LIKE REALLY TOGETHER?! SO THAT PROPOSAL RUMOUR WAS TRUE!"

Frown scowls. "How do you know about that." Great, now they really needed to put on a ruse.

"I have my sources." Unikitty says mysteriously. "I am sO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS OH MY GOSH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME HELP YOU WITH THE WEDDING OH! WE COULD THROW IT IN THE UNIKINGDOM MY PEOPLE LOVE A WEDDING-"

"Uh, Unikitty, the competition?" Brock prompts kindly.

"Sorry, sorry! I can't help it I just looooOve weddings, ahem, I can't just let you guys win, Hawkodile needs to make sure you're the real deal because everyone who else who came earlier were just pretending to be a couple, can you believe it! It's so sad." Unikitty pauses to suck in a deep breath. "But I'm sure you're not lying, I always knew there was a thing between you two." She winks.

"Since when-Ow!" Frown glares at Brock after getting jabbed in the ribs.

"Dude, you'll blow our cover." Brock tries to subtly whisper, despite being a bit taken back too. Sure they're close but did they really give off that vibe? Or was that just because of Unikitty's rose coloured glasses?

"Princess, do I really need to test them? They're obviously faking! I mean, it's Master Frown." Hawkodile gestures exaggeratedly at Frown.

Frown creases his brow. "When did you get here." 

"Yeah but it's also Brock! We can trust him." Unikitty looks pleadingly at Hawkodile.

Brock winces.

"Ugh, fine. But they're gonna have to pass the quiz of true love to convince me." Hawkodile crosses his arms.

"That's a ridiculous quiz name." Frown tries to ignore the fact he's started sweating.

"You're ridiculous!" Hawkodile turns his gaze to Brock and points a finger at him. "You!"

"Yeah...?" Brock tries to keep a neutral face.

"What's Master Frown's favourite colour?" 

Frown bursts out laughing. "Oh come on that's an easy one-"

"Black?" Brock speaks tentatively.

"WHAT THE HECK DUDE YOU KNOW IT'S BLUE." Frown shouts. 

"Wait it is? I just thought black would be your thing because darkness and all that sort of stuff."

"Blue is the colour of sadness and tears!" Frown pouts, aghast that that they had failed on the very first question.

"Hmmm." Hawkodile strokes his chin. "Okay, Frown you're up."

"Huh?" 

"What's Brock's favourite video game?"

"Uhhhhh, the dead one 7?" 

"Are you serious?! Don't you remember me saying how I had to wait out in the rain to get a hold of dawn-breaker 3 and that it was all worth it because it was the greatest game ever?" 

We are not getting that trip. Frown thought, as Brock looked ready to cry.

"Guess I was wrong about you two." Hawkodile speaks.

"You were? I mean, uh yeah you were." Frown fakes confidence.

"Yeah, anyone actually faking would have memorised each other's favourite things too well, like they had only just found out that day, and tried to look like the perfect couple but clearly you guys have some issues." 

"No kidding." Brock turns away from Frown with a 'Hmph.'

Unikitty, who had been unusually quiet for the last few minutes, flies around and groups up Frown and Brock into a hug. "Yaaaay, I'm so happy you guys didn't let me down, HEY! If you get married at the beginning of next year you could use this holiday as your honeymoon!!! WOULDN'T THAT BE AMAZING."

"Get off." Frown struggles out of her grip, leading to a short fall to the ground. "Ugh."

"Wait, why did you say next year?" Brock asks in befuddlement. 

"Didn't you read the poster? The vacation is for next year! This competition was kindaaaa a last minute idea what with valentine's day coming up and all and it turns out that everything was already booked up for this year...sooo..." Unikitty sets Brock on the ground gently.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" Frown screams, face down on the floor. 

"It's still better than never, right?" Brock laughs nervously. "Sorry bro, I must have missed that part..."

"She did write it in really small print." Hawkodile points out.

"Shhhhhh, thanks for your help Hawkodile! But I need to discuss something with Master Frown and Brock in private please." 

Hawkodile squints, turning to leave. "Uh, okay. I'm watching you, Frown."

Frown gets up, dusting himself off. "Can we leave now." 

"Hang on." Unikitty pulls out a piece of folded up paper. "While you two were busy with Hawkodile I decided to write down some wedding planning ideas!" The folded piece of paper unfolds into a very, very long list.

"Well, I would really like to hear your ideas, Unikitty." Brock smirks at Frown.

"I should have just stayed on the floor." 

_______________

"Did you seriously have to listen to every single one of her hare-brained ideas in excruciating detail?" Frown gestures wildly, standing in front of the TV.

Brock moves his head to the side, trying to see and continue playing his game. "You really hurt my feelings, you know how important gaming is to me." Brock exits the game in frustration as Frown moves to block him even more. "I thought we had gotten better at this communication stuff since...you know..."

"And you know how important misery is to me! You couldn't even remember my favourite colour." Frown glances down at the ground. He knows he's being childish...but he's naturally defensive.

"That's not the same thing, this is a huge part of my life! One day I could be one of those gamers that wins those like huge tournaments and bringing in the big money! And then we could live in a huge awesome house and wouldn't have to worry about landlords, or the rat infestation we can't afford to deal with or-"

"Hang on, you still see us living together even if you became a big shot gamer?" 

"Duh! Look we've been faking a lot of stuff but I meant it when I said 'Who else is gonna be by my side', you're always gonna be a part of my future no matter what happens. I just wish you'd support me more..."

The guilt Frown had been pushing down for this entire conversation pushes it's way out at the sight of Brock's sad eyes. "Look...I'm sorry, okay? You're right, I just expect you to go along with my schemes and then I don't support you enough with what you wanna do, I'll...work on that." Frown rubs his arm.

"I mean, you did support with that holiday thing, and there was cheerleading thing..."

"...Maybe, you should do the cheerleading thing again sometime, you were pretty good at it and it could be a back up plan in case the gaming falls through."

A small smile appears on Brock's face. "You really thought I was good at it?"

Frown rolls his eyes. "Uh, yeah. You were awesome. Uniform suited you too-I mean, yeah, pretty good." 

Brock contemplates on if he should risk saying something, to test the waters for a whole other kind of thing I wants to ask. "I thought you looked pretty cute in the uniform too." 

Frown splutters. "I-I'm not cute! What are you even-Cool and handsome maybe, but cute? Seriously?!" 

Despite his protests, Brock notes how Frown's face is turning incredibly red. "Nah, you're definitely really cute."

"Yeah?! Well, you're really handsome, so there." Frown's head screams a chorus of WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING. 

Brock stifles a laugh. "Was that supposed to be a comeback? You think I'm handsome? Oh no I'm so hurt." This time he can't stop the laughter and doesn't even mind the pink on his own face. 

Frown scrunches his face up. "Whatever! You realise Unikitty is never gonna leave us alone now, it's my worst nightmare." He walks over to the couch and sits down next to Brock, quietly fuming.

Brock coughs to clear his throat. "I mean...there is a way we could stop that happening in the long term."

"Like what?"

"She just wants to help us plan our 'wedding' right? As soon as that's over it'll be back to the usual."

"Which is never going to happen since a wedding is not actually going to happen, how does that help." 

"What if it did?" 

"What if...what did?" 

Brock taps his hands together, focusing on them. "What if we got married, like, for real."

"...You've lost me."

"Think about it, we kiss every night-"

"That's just to get you to sleep."

"-We have baths together-"

"It saves time!"

"-We've even shared a bed before-"

"Look sometimes I just get really cold, and it saves on heating in the winter."

"What I'm saying is, it's already like we're married, and if we were actually married we could get the benefits that come with that too. It makes sense, right?"

"Like one of those platonic marriages? Between bros?" 

Brock sighs. "Is that how you feel? I just thought-Never mind."

It dawns on Frown that all the confusing thoughts and feelings he's had for a while now, proved that was in fact not how he felt at all. He'd been trying to deny it the whole time but truth is... "No. I kinda...enjoyed pretending we were together, we didn't do much but just knowing people thought that-" Thrilled him, didn't seem like the right words. "I might be...in love with you or something." He refuses to look at Brock.

"Phew, that's a relief. Pretty sure I'm in love with you too, dude."

"Oh." Still stubbornly not looking. 

"C'mon, look at me." Brock reaches out and cups Frown's face, turning him to face him. "I love you."

"Oh." Frown repeats, in a much softer tone. He's not really good with words, more so with actions, he leans in without thinking. 

They've kissed many times before, but they were always brief pecks and without overt romantic intentions. Because of that, it's still a fairly light kiss but with more passion, more feeling given into it. 

"Mmm." Frown finds himself moaning as Brock pulls away. "That was embarrassing." He mumbles.

"Nuh uh, that was great. I like kissing you."

"Stop, this is already too mushy. Hey, is that why you ask for one every night?" 

"Huh? You don't remember?" Brock asks, clearly perplexed.

"Remember what?"

"When were kids, and I had my first sleepover at your house but I couldn't sleep because Mama used to kiss me on the cheek every night, so you offered to do it-"

"Ugh, yeah. You never specified where so I kissed you on the mouth and you said I did it wrong." 

"And youuuu said you weren't my mom so 'Of course I'll kiss you different, silly'." Brock mimics the high pitch child's voice he can still hear in his mind. 

Frown groans. "Don't remind me, I was a weird kid."

Brock snorts. "Weird adult too. Also really sweet, I mean you're still willing to give me a nighty-night kiss so you're not as bad as you like to make out."

Frown gasps. "You take that back! I'm a menace!" 

"Oh yeah, sure. A real menace who gives his best friend tummy rubs when he's sick, kisses him before bed, and who just said he's in love with me."

"Yeah...but you're different, yanno? There's no one I like as much as you, I wouldn't do that stuff for just anyone." Frown recoils at his own words. "Gross, I'm being sappy again." 

"Aw, I don't know dude, I like it." 

"Can we just go back to the kissing?" Frown pouts.

"Not until you answer my question."

"What questi--Ohhhh." It's Frown's turn to look nervous. "I'm not opposed to it, as long as we have a loooong engagement period, there's no way we're actually gonna have our honeymoon early next year."

"Wait, so that's a yes? You're really okay to jump straight from a blooming relationship to engaged?"

"I'm saying, yes, I will probably marry you at some not yet set date in the future. Thought you'd be thrilled."

"I am! I totally am! Just, if you don't want to you don't have to...I know it's kinda rushing things."

"I know I don't have to, I want to. Is it that hard to believe that I wanna marry your dorky butt and grow old together or whatever." 

"We gotta do this right then, and go ring shopping."

"...I don't think you're supposed to do that together."

"I thought you were a bad boy." 

"You better believe I am, baby! In fact, maybe we should go steal rings."

"Okay, not that far. What was that you said about going back to the kissing?"

Frown grins as he draws closer. "Now that's a better idea."

#frock #unikitty frock #stormfic #emet warning-